#it's a small concept i took from another blog

[real-sun-wukong-fan01]

Wukong is that one guy who stims whenever something makes him happy

once he won a paint fight (the ones with guns where you have to eliminate the enemies) and he was happy and he cheered.

He asked what the prize was and:

"i won- what's the prize?"

"oh, Mr. Monkey king, there wasn't really a prize, but i can give you a peach for winning!"

And wukong just takes the peach and hops and swings his arms around very fast because he likes peaches and he got one for free for winning :))

He didn't get a horrible headache for winning a fight, he finally got a good thing and PRAISES FOR IT!! He's super happy dude he's stimming a lot.

Whenever he did that with Tripitaka and co. He got always told that it was impolite and that he shouldn't be hopping around and cheering loudly. Or screaming like a monkey.

[russellsppttemplates]

Fighting a losing battle (Lando Norris)

Even though Lando would never lash out, he didn't feel great after the race and he needed someone to be there for him

Note: english is not my first language. Another example of how whenever I see something I enjoy, I hyperfixate on it and I don't put it down until I get it done and how saying no is hard for me! Jokes aside, hopefully you enjoy it!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: japanese grand prix '24

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

Everyone expected the qualifying sessions to be tougher, but the MCL38 showed pace as Lando did beautifully going from Q1 to Q3,

The spirits were high in the garage as they congratulated eachother, some of the mechanics from Lando's side even flashing you two big thumbs up as they carried on what they needed to do to get the car back and prepare it for race day.

"I got P3!", Lando gave you a big smile that made his eyes squinty as he walked closer to you, having finished his media duties outside of the ones the social media team needed.

"Congratulations, baby! Only two tenths off of the RedBulls!", you cheered, wrapping your arms around his neck in a hug before kissing his lips.

"The pace is kind of there, and the weather for tomorrow looks nice, too, should be a good race!", he smiled, kissing your forehead one last time before he pulled you two apart, "are you good to wait here for me? The debrief should be long, but not gigantic".

"Yes, I'll wait here, go before they come for me and never let me be here again", you squeezed his hand before he let go, blowing you a kiss as he walked to the meeting room.

After the debrief, you went straight to a small dinner to celebrate Oscar's birthday and then back to the hotel, "would you perhaps want to shower with me?", you mused as Lando set his backpack in one of the chairs, "yes, sounds great", he smirked as he followed you into the bathroom.

You both peeled away all the clothes on your bodies, Lando doing it faster than you and turning on the water so it would warm up, "baby, you're so gorgeous", he groaned, taking your hand when you took off your panties and pulling you to him, his hands grasping your hips.

Lando couldn't take his eyes away from your body, whispering "I can't believe you're all mine" in your ear while squeezing your thighs, lightly tapping your butt and feeling your body jiggle from the small impact, "I love you, baby".

"I love you too, Lan", you let your fingers trail all the way from his damp curls to his chest, following the delicate lines and kissing his wet chest.

"Can I wash your hair?", he asked as he got the bottle from the indented shelf on the wall, letting you turn around and getting a full on view from your butt, sighing as he lathered the product on your hair.

Neither of you stepped inside the shower with a full on shower sex moment in mind, feeling satisfied with just spending intimate time together and caressing eachother's bodies to show how much you appreciated eachother.

"I want to wash your back", you claimed, Lando turning around this time and letting your rub his skin, delicate fingers untangling some knots and relieving pressure on his muscles before he felt your lips littering kisses everywhere you could reach. Any other time, he would joke about your infatuation for his back and how you seemed to prefer the part of his body that didn't show his face, but right now he was enjoying this as much as you were.

"Careful, don't slip", Lando encouraged you as he wrapped the towell around you after he did the same to himself, holding your hand as you stepped out and into the bedroom, changing in your sleeping attire, so shorts for him and a nightshirt for you.

You brushed your teeth together and did your skincare routine, kissing Lando's lips before putting on your lip balm.

Lando spooned you on the bed, tucking you in properly and kissing your cheek, "Good night, my love, sleep tight", he whispered as you softly snored away for the night.

You certainly weren't the point person any team would go to have opinion on any engineering or performance matters for the cars, but you weren't a stranger to it either.

The red flag at the beggining of the race definitely opened the possibility for tyre changes, but the team seemed happy with how they were running.

After the restart, everyone recognised the efforts Lando was making to hold his P3, Jon exchanging a few words with you every now and again, going as far as pointing out how long Charles' stint was to with those tyres, "He's loosing grip, though", you pointed out.

When you heard the request for Lando to come to the pits, you scrunched up your face for good. It didn't feel right and, even though you didn't have the data in front of you, their explanation on the radio didn't make too much sense, "George will get in front at the pit lane exit", you groaned as you watched it happen on the screen.

Lando kept mostly quiet until the end of the race, and whenever he spoke, both you and Jon noticed the bitterness in his voice, exchanging a look with you this time.

At the end, Charles climbed up to fourth place and after a few brilliant overtakes from your boyfriend, he ended up in P5.

As he dropped two places, your heart sank, realising that the team's strategy really didn't work well and that the looks you exchanged with your boyfriend's trainer definitely had some reason to it.

Lando went on for his media duties, politely answering all the questions and refusing to engage in the ones where the reporters mentioned a potential mistake from the team and wanted to perhaps get a more efusive reaction from him.

As Lando walked closer to the garage, you could feel an antsy aura around it, quickly dissipating as he smiled and thanked them for their work and efforts, mentioning the debrief and how they would discuss it then.

You set the headphones back in their place and leaned against the wall on the corridor to the driver's rooms, not wanting to be in the way as everyone tidied, organised and got ready for the work they still had ahead.

Lando walked by you, squeezing your waist and kissing your forehead, "I'm going to change for the debrief, then we need to record the wrap up video of the weekend and then we can go to the hotel, okay?", he checked with you.

"Of course, I'm not in a rush, love", you smiled, kissing his cheek and squeezing his hand in yours for a bit.

Patting Oscar's back as he passed by you, you found a spot in the lounge where you could hang out, overlooking the track while reading your book when your phone beeped with a text from Adam.

From Adam

Hey, Y/N!

I'm sure Lando is in debrief now - we dropped him a text -, but we just wanted to know how he is doing after that race!

Love, Adam and Cisca

The fact that his parents trusted your enough to send that message was enough to warm your heart, quickly typing a reply so they wouldn't get worried.

To Adam

Hello! I guess it's good morning for you 😊

Yes, and I think this is going to be a long one! He's okay, not showing much, you know how he is - if he let's me, I'll get more information out of him!

From Adam

Yes, early wake up call today for us!

We're glad you're there with him, definitely eases our worries 🤗

Smiling at the text, you couldn't help but agree. You knew Lando well enough to the point where you knew where his mind was taking him - dating for almost four years did that to a couple -, so you were happy that maybe you could be a sounding voice when it was just the two of you.

"Video is filmed - I have my shoes on now -", Lando offered and you quirked a brow at him, "so we can go, I'll just tell Jon since he's riding with us", he smiled, kissing the top of your head before you got up, grabbing your cardigan from his driver's room and bidding goodbye to everyone.

As you were being driven back to the hotel, Lando sat next to you while Jon was sitting facing you two, you let your fingers walk along your boyfriend's thigh until it found his hand, touching it with your pinky to begin with and test the waters. Lando reacted quickly, lacing your hands together and giving them a squeeze while looking at your eyes as a silent thank you, a tight lipped smile playing on his lips.

"Tomorrow's flight is quite early, so we'll just meet here and then head to the airport then?", Jon checked with Lando.

"Yes, I'll send you the details", the McLaren driver retrieved his phone from his pocket, tapping the screen as he confirmed the details of the flight.

"Have a good night then, see you tomorrow!", Jon said as he waved, getting inside his room before you and Lando made your way to the one you spent the last couple of nights in.

Lando went straight to the bathroom, feeling bad for needing to be on his own for a bit. You had been there for him for all the highs and the lows and he recognised the voice in his head saying he didn't deserve your support was probably lying to him. Still, he quickly showered alone and got out of the bathroom, a white towell hanging low on his hips as he looked for his shorts and underwear in his suitcase, putting them on and scrunching up his curls with the towell in an attempt of drying the locks while giving them some shape.

After placing the towels back in the bathroom, he got back to the room and looked at you, making you stretch your arms so he could lay his head on your chest and cuddle himself against your body.

"Hey, I love you and I'm proud of you", you said, wanting to push the subject but not wanting to do something he didn't want to.

"Will you still love me if I never get on the podium again?", he asked, half joking but also half speaking his true thoughts.

"Lando, I'll love you regardless of whether or not you stand on the podium or anything like that", you stated, "a year ago, P5 and P8 would've been a good result for McLaren and this weekend, a series of events can explain most of what happened for that - the development they have done and have been working on will pay off".

"We didn't bring anything new and still managed to be the third fastest car on the grid", Lando agreed with you, "but it's like I'm fighting a losing battle. RedBull are in their own league and Ferrari brought big, positive changes - it's everything from the speed, to how long they can go for, how longs they can stretch their stints and so on", he sighed, "I can't do much more than what I'm doing, can I?", he mused.

"You got the maximum points you could get considering where your car stands compared to the others, Lando, you did the best you could", you comforted.

"We spoke about it in the debrief and we all learned with it, it seems", he commented, "and overall, that was the most we could do".

"It was, and I'm so proud of you, your fans are proud of you, the team are proud of you, your parents are proud of you - have you texted them back?", you questioned.

"How did you know they texted me?", he raised his eyebrows in question. They always called him after a race, so it wasn't like you knew it out of habit.

"Your father texted me asking how you were - they were a little worried, too", you noted.

"I'm surprised mum didn't call you straight away - she's not shy on telling her children in-law how much she loves them, but I swear every time she talks about you, it's like you've been one of our own forever, which is only a matter of time realistically", Lando said, not thinking much about it until the words sunk in, "what I meant was that she always says you're really good for me and that I'm really lucky to have you - which I agree with - and I was-", he rambled on and you were sure he wouldn't shut up unless you stopped him.

Kissing his lips once he shifted enough and looked up at you, you cupped his face, "I lived hearing that", you mumbled.

"Good, that's good", he assured, "but yes, I texted them back and I called after we filmed the video - mum told me to give you a kiss on her behalf", he smirked.

"I haven't received such kiss", you pretended to wonder, looking around the room, "maybe I need to go and get that kiss from someone el-", this time you were the one interrupted with a bunch of kisses being pressed all the way from your forehead to your chin, stopping on your lips a couple of times before Lando settled his chin back above your sternum.

"I have no idea what I did to deserve you in my life", Lando mused, a smile playing on his lips as his hands crawled under your t-shirt and squeezed your tummy and waist softly, "but I'm glad you're here, with me", landing his head back in your chest, "I love you".

"Is that comfy?", you giggled, "your boobs? Always! They're the best, baby", he smiled, seeming a little more positive from the initial assessment you did on his mood earlier.

[eddiessluttywaist]

the boy is mine (eddiessluttywaist's edition)

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES.

summary: romantic night at the trailer, based off of this prompt!

pairing: bf!eddie x gf!reader

word count: 1, 944 words

content/warnings: MDNI, fluff, kissing, lots of touchy feels, a lil smutty?

a/n: creds to whoever owns and posted those ^ photos! they’re not mine, i just made the collage! also would like to credit @carolmunson for this prompt and @mrsjellymunson for tagging me! I haven’t written for eddie in so long, and this was a great way to get back into it <3 thank you! hope you enjoy my contribution <3

You basked in the scent of Eddie’s bedding, how he was ingrained into each and every fiber. Every motion, every shift of the sheets, you could smell him. He had foolishly left you to your own devices in his bedroom (which was surprising since the last time he did that, you almost dared touch his Sweetheart) so you indulged.

You curled up in the sprawling mess of blankets and sheets then grabbed the small throw pillow you had embroidered for him and buried your face in it. It was a delicate, pretty, little thing that stood out in his room even with its DnD theme, but he loved it. He loved that you made it, that you put so much effort into it just for him, so he slept with it every night. Unfamiliar with the concept of purely decorative pillows, he didn’t realize most people tucked such things off to the side before getting into bed each night. So, it smelled like cigarettes, convenience store aftershave, and his shampoo. The scent filled you with dizzying affection, only pulling it away from your face to then hug it to your chest as he walked back into his room.

“I ran out of, like, nice cups. This okay?” he asked as he blew into one of the mugs and then used the bottom of his shirt to wipe it down. He was planning on cleaning those cartoon-themed cups properly for some absurdly fancy hot chocolate you had brought back from your family vacation. He was even planning on making another case for not wasting it on him, but, of course, his attention strayed easily when you were in his bed.

When his gaze finally fell on you, a lazy smile quirked up one side of his mouth. The handles of the mugs hung off the curl of his fingers which rested against his hips now as he took in the sight of you. He tilted his head to put it at the same angle as yours, his favorite pillow in your arms. You were an unbelievably endearing sight. The love that filled him was fluttery and overwhelming.

“And who said you could hold my favorite pillow?” He teased, sauntering over to the bed.

“I made it,” you scoffed with a smile.

He hums lazily in response, that crooked grin still hanging around as he shoved at the clutter on his bedside table. He picked up a small notebook, brow furrowed as he observed it only to haphazardly toss it towards his dresser to make more room. It was that or your tub of Betty Crocker, and he knew better.

You stared at his forearms, drinking in the movement of the musculature underneath. The warmth of his bedside lamp made it even better to watch the lines and curves of his tattoos beneath its comforting, golden light. How could something so simple be so beautiful? Your focus then trailed to the perfect structure of his hands as the mugs slid down his fingers. The ceramic cups clinked against the surface of the old table.

“I think as the creator, I have some right to hold it too,” you continued to make your case while he crawled into bed with you, giving you that subtle mischievous look he always got when he was toying with you.

His strong arms wrapped around you to secure you closer to him.

“I worked very hard on it, y’know.”

Eddie let out an “Is that right?” kind of sound, the texture of his jeans scratching against the bedding. He pulled you into him with such a desperate need to squish you as close as possible as if he thought you might be leaving soon. Those brown curls tickled your jaw while he nuzzled the side of your neck, audibly breathing you in.

“And it wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to embroider all that Dungeons and—”

He finally pulled back to cut you off, smushing his face against yours in a way that made you giggle. Eddie’s kisses were always lazy and sloppy this late at night, but you loved them that way. His lips were warm albeit a bit rough from all the anxious biting that he abused them with. A pleased hum left him and vibrated deep in his throat, his large hands encasing the sides of your face and his fingers tangling in your hair. His rings would probably tug a strand or two when he pulled them away, but you couldn’t be bothered to care.

The way your body relaxed reassured him, and he slid his arms down to pull you in again so your stomach could be flat against his own. Then, he let out a small chuckle when he had to separate from you to pluck the throw pillow out from between you. Eddie placed it elsewhere with emphasized tenderness while you stared at those ruddy lips that you missed already.

“Pillow was in the way,” he murmured in a low tone, kissing you back as you pulled him in for a few more pecks.

“And here I was thinking you were starting to love it more than me.”

“Aw, now don’t be like that. You know that’s not true,” Eddie drawled, grinning over that unconvincing little pout you gave him.

He sat back on his legs to move the bedding out of his way, then pulled you forward by your thighs which he readily settled in between. There was nothing he wanted more than to be thoroughly pressed against you. It wasn’t even about sex, at least not always. He just loved the feeling of you being so close to him. The softness of your stomach against his taut abdomen. The plushness of your chest pressed against the flat planes of his own. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love the way your bodies fit together too, but he’d melt into you if he could.

Eddie was the type to lean into you while you were walking together, ending up so close that his wallet chain would keep bumping against you. He always sought out your hand to hold or your shoulders for him to drape his arm across (which of course always ended up with him folding you into him so your face would press against a Hellfire symbol or band name, and he could settle his chin on the top of your head). 

“I don’t think I believe you.”

You crossed your arms, failing to keep up with your façade, especially with that smile and those dimples.

“Well then, my dramatic lil lady,” He spoke with that same theatrical cadence that he used during campaigns, his brow furrowed with determination. You groaned over the incoming mawkishness, rolling your gaze up to the ceiling and smiling to the point that the apples of your cheeks ached.

“I suppose I must convince you.”

His hand settled on the side of your neck, thumb brushing against the center of your throat as he dipped down for another kiss.

“You’re so corny,” you laughed against his lips. 

“And you… taste like vanilla,” he sighed, laughing with you after.

“Mm, well, that is the work of Ms. Betty Crocker,” you smiled up at him, gently tapping his nose. “Speaking of…”

Eddie groaned, mentally cursing himself for even bringing it up as you squirmed out from underneath him to grab the container from behind the abandoned mugs. He watched you intently while you sucked a scoop of frosting off your finger. When you met his gaze, he gave you a cheeky grin that he failed to conceal by biting his lip and then wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“You’re a child,” you snorted, reaching out to tap some frosting onto the tip of his nose.

“And you’re devastating,” he countered in a voice so sickeningly saccharine with love that you wiped the frosting right back off. He caught your hand and sucked the sugar from the pad of your thumb before you could fully pull back.

“Who knew the local bad boy could be such a softie,” you teased softly, scooping some more frosting to feed it to him. Eddie playfully bit down just enough to make you laugh.

“I believe you mean ‘the local freak.’”

“Mm, tomato, tomahto,” you shrugged, lapping up some more frosting off your finger. His rich umber eyes seemed to glitter in the dull lighting, his pupils dilating. You looked up at him through your lashes when you felt his stare.

“We’re gonna have a problem if you keep doing that,” Eddie’s voice was rough even as he smiled over you.

“What?” you laughed, full of faux innocence. He just smirked. “No, what?”

“You know what.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” you shrug, going to scoop some more frosting out when he snags the tub from you.

“Wh— hey!”

You already missed his warmth when he sank back onto folded legs, dipping his forefinger into the tub.

“You’re gonna get your rings all sticky,”

You blushed when that made him cackle, but you at least got the comfort of his body again as he hunched over you. His smile was tangible against the side of your neck, his hair tickling you again.

“Not the only thing that—”

“Eddie, shu-u-ush,” you laughed, and he flattened himself on top of you again, leaving tacky, sugary kisses on your neck while you pried the vanilla frosting from his hand. He gave up on keeping it from you, happy to have a free hand again to seek out your waist with.

Holding the container with one hand, you arched your other arm over him to scoop just one more—you swore just one more! —fingertip of frosting, but he was pulling back before you could even dip into it.

“Gimme that—”

“So rude taking things from me today,” you tutted, watching with a pout as he fed himself some of your treat.

“Have to have you all to myself,” he mimicked some toxic-alpha-dude-type bravado, but he couldn’t even get through it without chuckling at the end.

Eddie prodded at the dwindling supply of Betty Crocker’s then tossed the container back onto his bedside table. But you reached out to catch his wrist and brought his index finger to your mouth before he could bring it to his own.

He groaned, leaning onto one elbow while he gawked at you. His full lips parted at the sight of you, his thumb brushing against your cheek as you sucked on his finger. Damn.

“You never play fair.”

“And you like that,” you stated proudly once he slid his finger back out of your mouth.

“Course I do,” he grunted, sliding the pad of his thumb over your lower lip. “May have taken a few attempts to graduate, but I’m not that dumb.”

Your following giggle was breathy and fleeting as you sunk into the tension filling the room. You took in the growing heat in his gaze that tracked his thumb while it hooked your bottom lip. He mimicked opening his own mouth as you did so without even being asked, making him smile and drag his tongue over his lip. He slid his pointer finger down your tongue again, letting it trail down until he was holding your chin between his curled finger and thumb. Keeping your chin down and lips parted, he leaned in. The kiss was firmer—more determined—and desperate. He was putting every ounce of his desire into you, and this time you were the one melting. You felt like you were sinking deeper into that old mattress, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him with you.

[masterjedilenawrites]

Take Me Out

Bad Batch x Reader Exchange 2024

Crosshair x fem!reader | 4.7k words

Content: drinking, light angst, introspection, fluff, light humor, crushes, relationships, friendship, mentions of war and death, weapons (practice setting)

Prompts: "What am I even looking for?" - "I don't know" & "Sometimes I think some work on your communication skills wouldn't be such a bad idea."

My gift is for the event host - @ghostofskywalker! I was so excited to draw your name and I really hope you enjoy the fic. You put so much work and care into hosting these events for the fandom, it really is appreciated 🤗

I've actually had this story concept in mind for quite a while. I love that pretty much all of your prompts/wish-list items were able to fit in! We've got some platonic Hunter, romantic Crosshair, a little angst, a bit of fluff... Perfect!

Oh, and to keep things spoiler free (on my blog and for the event), this takes place before Order 66 and Omega.

Please go check out the @cloneficgiftexchange blog for all the other contributions to this great event! Fics are being posted all throughout today (4/13/24). Spread the love for fandom writers/creators by reblogging!

Vandor-3. Clone training facility: recreation sector. Winter.

You sat slumped over the bar, a drink cradled in your arms. You took lazy sips at the liquid, long past its effervescence, in between chewing on the straw. You could smell the evidence of your waning hygiene, being curled in on yourself like this. It disgusted you but not enough to do anything beyond self loathing. To say you were miserable was an understatement.

"Morning, Captain. A bit early for a drink, isn't it?"

The husky voice of the bar's newcomer was unmistakeable in who it belonged to. There were clones abound on this small moon, hundreds of identical-sounding men. But every once in a while you had the pleasure of hearing the one that was different.

You sluggishly swiveled your head and gave Sergeant Hunter a mock salute. He leaned against the bar beside you, seemingly torn between being amused and concerned by what he was seeing.

"Back so soon?" you asked, ignoring his own question. Though your speech wasn't slurred, your voice still betrayed some of the numbness you were working to surround yourself in. Which helped your friend make up his mind on how to feel.

"Easy mission," Hunter shrugged off the topic. "You okay? Did something happen?"

"No," you sighed and forced yourself to sit upright. Best to appear more in control and not give him reason to drag you to the med bay. "That's the problem. Nothing's happened."

Hunter frowned and slid onto the barstool next to you. You caught a whiff of soap as he did, a harsh contrast to your own odor that made you even more upset.

"I don't understand."

Your hands cupped around your glass, condensation pooling around your fingers, and you stared at the melting ice wishing to be as frozen and unfeeling.

"I don't understand, either," you whispered. "Why I'm still so... alone."

"Ah." Hunter placed a sympathetic hand on your shoulder. "That's right, you had that date you were going on. Another dud, then?"

You nodded, still refusing to look away from the ice cubes.

He hummed in thought. Your poor friend. How many times had he now had to come up with some sort of reassuring comment after another one of your failed attempts to find love? At least you were grateful you had such a friend, though. Where others would have made you feel guilty for admitting to loneliness, would have insisted they were company enough and all you had to do was ask for it, it's as simple as that, how dare you feel lonely when you aren't actually alone... Hunter was the one who always saw through to what you really meant. You were not what the other wanted, but you were both wanting, craving that kind of deep, romantic connection that seemed to allude you both. For Hunter, it was obviously his schedule that got in his way. For you... well, that was the mystery.

"You have to keep looking," was the sentiment Hunter settled on this time. He rubbed at your shoulder a bit, as if trying to smooth out your misery.

You huffed. His attempts to comfort were sweet, but not enough. You couldn't help but protest. "But with everyone I meet, I just find out what I don't want. What am I even looking for?"

"I don't know," Hunter shook his head sadly. "I don't know if anyone knows until they find it."

You groaned and slumped back forward, facepalming the bar top and wishing you could sink right into it. Sink down, down, down until you disappeared completely.

"Sorry, Cap," Hunter's now muffled voice attempted to chuckle, lighten the mood. "If I could track down your soul mate, I would. You know I would."

That comment was sweet enough. You forced yourself to stop sinking, lift yourself up again, and face your friend properly.

"I know. And I appreciate that. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be such a bummer today. It's just... it's been getting harder, is all."

He nodded and you nodded back and nothing further needed to be understood on the matter.

"Were you needing something from me?" you changed the subject. "Or did you come to day drink as well?"

"Ha, ha." Hunter started to get up. "Yeah no, I just wanted to let you know we were back for a few rotations, see if you'd have some time to finally come out and meet the boys."

You lifted up your glass and shook it a bit. "You're too late, I'm afraid. If I'd known you'd be back so soon, I wouldn't have started on this journey of self destruction."

Hunter titled his head at you, some of that trademark concern still showing. "This isn't going to be an all week thing, is it?"

You shrugged. Truthfully, you had no idea what to do with yourself. Making decisions even a day in advance seemed like too big of a commitment in your fragile state.

"I'd rather not meet any more new people right now, if it's all the same to you."

"I wouldn't consider them new. You've heard enough stories about each other by now. It's starting to get weird that you're not meeting, quite frankly."

You wanted to laugh, but the thought of introductions, stiff pleasantries, awkward small talk... It reminded you of every first date that never turned into a second, every dating app chat thread that went nowhere, every high hope you watched turn into disappointment. Even with a group like Hunter's brothers, the Bad Batch, with a reputation of being unconventional, who you'd only be making friends with just like you had with Hunter and every other clone on this moon... it was still too much for you to stomach.

"Sorry, maybe next time."

Hunter frowned, but he didn't overstep. "Suit yourself. Door's still open though. You know where to find us."

He made to walk out but paused to turn back to you for a moment.

"And hey, don't lose hope. We'll find our people soon enough. In the meantime, take care of yourself, alright?"

You waited until the bar doors closed behind him to let your tears fall.

* * *

Vandor-3. Woodland outskirts. Spring.

You were here. Finally.

You weren't able to pinpoint exactly where the turning point occurred, between crying yourself to sleep every night and being able to wake up with a smile on your face. A small one, of course, but a smile nonetheless. You weren't even sure it was something that had happened overnight. Slowly, eventually, the frost over your heart melted, the shadows in your thoughts grew thinner and lighter. Without even realizing you were drawing back the curtains and dusting off the shelves and each day being a little more open than you were the day before.

Your loneliness still existed. It came and went in waves, so while still devastating at times, you were at least afforded with periods of relief. Periods where you could smile again, find fulfillment in your work, and even dare to allow yourself to dream again. And not to mention taking more regular showers. It was always the little things that made the biggest difference, wasn't it?

And now here you were, standing in the early morning sun out in one of the training fields, the Havoc Marauder silhouetted against the sunrise as you shook hands with its crew in a meeting long overdue.

Hunter's stories had done the boys justice. Wrecker was just as larger than life as you'd pictured, aptly choosing to push past your outstretched hand and go in for a bone-crushing hug instead. Tech, who you'd come to know as the brains of the batch, only spared a second to be properly introduced before returning to fidget with some gadget. Echo was all politeness and disciplined respect, with his scomp-salute and ma'ams. And Crosshair... well, he was still on the ship asleep, which you supposed fit with the few facts you knew about him, too.

Hunter beamed beside them, clearly happy you had finally made the effort to meet his squad. His family, really. As a Captain overseeing drill training for the GAR, you knew better than anyone the close bonds these clones formed even before they stepped foot on a battlefield. This meant a lot to him, you being here. You felt awful for postponing so many times.

Once introductions were out of the way, and some pleasant conversation had passed, you eventually ventured out to the part of the training field that actually housed elements for training - your excuse for coming out here to meet everyone. A munitions crate full of shiny new blasters was carried between you and Wrecker while Hunter ran ahead to set up some targets. Tech and Echo went back to the ship to work on repairs.

"Aaaaugh. Only blasters?" Wrecker lamented upon opening the crate.

"Sorry, more budget cuts. This was all I could scrounge up for you guys."

Hunter was much more excited by the new weapons, though Wrecker still picked one up to try out. You held one as well but only used it to demonstrate different techniques. Just because you were good at training didn't mean you were the best at actually fighting.

The three of you picked off the various bottles, pots, and pans that Hunter had set up amongst the tree branches at the edge of the field for a short while. And on more than one occasion you found yourself pausing to breathe in the air and remind yourself that life was good. Maybe not how you wanted it, but it was still good and you'd need to continue to work on appreciating what you had.

After about an hour, there were only three bottles and a pan left, all proving tricky targets due to distance and angle. Hunter had even tried slinging a few knives to no avail.

"Okay I'm calling it," Wrecker announced with a huff. "One more missed shot and I'm blowing them up."

"I'll take that bet."

A new voice, one you'd never heard before, carried across the field. It was delicate and drawling and confident. Hunter chuckled and Wrecker rolled his eyes. And you... you had no idea that everything was about to change.

It was like he was moving in slow motion. Your surroundings blurred as the lanky figure caught the corner of your eye, your heart rate slowing as you turned and took him in. One confident step planted firmly in front of the other as he inched across the field. A sniper rifle perched on his shoulder. A toothpick between pursed lips. An eye surrounded by a reticle and narrowed in determination. He didn't even spare you a glance, and thank the gods, because if he had, you were sure your heart would've stopped beating altogether.

He squared off as soon as he reached the marks, bringing his rile forward to aim in a swift and careful motion. His head rested against the shaft, his tattooed eye squinted through the scope. You imagined him taking this stance a thousand times in his short life. It looked as natural a position as curling up on a couch might look for you.

You couldn't look away, not wanting to miss a single second of whatever this mesmerizing man was about to do. He was still for a moment, impressively so. You realized you were holding your breath as you watched, not wanting even your exhale to interfere with his process.

And then he fired. Once, twice, threefourfive times. Bang, bang, bang. Each in a different direction but no less precise than the one before. The first ricocheted off the pan and hit the green bottle, just as the second hit the red bottle. The three-shot volley was aimed at the branch the bottles sat on, causing it to crack and dangle even closer to the ground. And just when you thought the show couldn't be more over the top, the sniper swiveled his rifle toward the sky at a passing bird, clipped its wing with a shot, and then whipped out a pistol from his hip and fired at the remaining blue bottle just before the branch snapped and fell to the ground.

A few seconds later, the bird tumbled on top of the pile of shattered glass and splintered wood.

"Aaaand training is now over," said Hunter with a nod of his head. He raised his voice as he called out to his brother. "You'd better clean that shit up!"

The sniper flipped him the bird before sauntering off to clean up.

"Uh, you alright?"

Hunter paused in his own packing of gear to give you a concerned look. You were still staring after the newcomer, undoubtedly the lone Batcher you had yet to meet. Crosshair. Your brain had short-circuited with what you had witnessed him do, yes. But it was more than that. There was something about him. Something intriguing and attractive. Different than anyone you had ever known, and yet, somehow feeling so real and comfortable at the same time.

After a few waves of your friend's hand in your face, you snapped back.

"That," you breathed.

Hunter cocked a confused eyebrow.

"That is what I'm looking for."

* * *

Vandor-3. Clone training facility: recreation sector. Summer.

You were insanely busy. Separatist activity was ramping up in almost every corner of the galaxy and the GAR was responding to each new threat with full force. Rotations of new clone units were frequently arriving at the facility, one after another. You'd cycle them through a few trainings to get them certified on whatever was needed and then ship them right back out. And in between were all the additional tasks that needed to be taken care of. Piles of paperwork and coordinating schedules and ship inspections and updated security debriefings.

And yet through it all, you still had time to entertain the one thought that buzzed in the background of your mind: Crosshair. Every meeting, every meal, every training sim, first thing in the morning and last thing at night. He was there. Crosshair, Crosshair, Crosshair. On your mind, in your heart, driving you absolutely mad.

In the beginning you'd pretended it wasn't about him, specifically. You were simply happy to know what you wanted now, that you had a type and it existed. That was all. Hunter had turned up his nose, completely bewildered as to why that would be your type. You hadn't been able to give him much at the time; it would take you many rotations more to start describing the details of your newly discovered attraction.

But over time, it became harder to push aside the nagging thought that you hadn't found what you were looking for, but rather who. Specifically. Exactly. Why try to find someone like him when you already liked... him?

Oh there were plenty of ways you could answer that question, all of them self-deprecating and none of them productive. You could count on one hand now the number of times you had been in the same room as him, let alone interacted with him. The Batch may be frequenting the place more often as the war picked up, but not nearly as often as you needed to gauge whether someone like Crosshair would, could, or honestly even should be as interested in you as you were in him.

Today they were back on the grounds so Hunter could fill out some paperwork, and your heart had not stopped racing all morning. It was practically threatening to punch right out of your chest and run away. You weren't sure why, considering you'd probably only end up seeing Hunter this time. The rest of the Batch usually didn't venture into the facility unless they were staying overnight. But it seemed even knowing Crosshair was on the same planet as you got you worked up these days.

You carried Hunter's stack of paperwork with you now, intending to drop it off to him in between some meetings you had. As you hustled down the halls, you rehearsed a few ways you could subtly ask him how Crosshair was doing.

But as it turned out, you would have the opportunity to ask him yourself. If you could get over your frazzled shock at finding him in the rec room instead of Hunter.

The room was conveniently empty, making the silence between you that much more potent. Crosshair was standing awkwardly to the side, just behind one of the battered sofas, as if he had already been confused about what he should be doing before you pushed through the door. He stared at you and you stared at him and the moment only lasted for a few seconds but it felt like an eternity.

"Oh, um. Hi. Crosshair." You averted your gaze, despite having prayed the past several nights that you could see his face again soon. "I was... expecting Hunter."

That didn't sound right. You hoped he didn't take that to mean that you'd prefer if Hunter was here now. Obviously you didn't.

"He stepped out," Crosshair responded in that cool, even tone of his. Your eyes couldn't help but snap back to his as he talked. You wanted him to say more but he never did.

"Oh, okay. I just had some paperwork to give him."

Crosshair only hummed at first. You shuffled your feet a bit, debating whether you should make an attempt at small talk, try to coax more out of him, maybe even hint that you were interested in him. The thought terrified you, but not as much as the thought of being alone. You couldn't complain about that if you continued to let these opportunities pass by without at least trying to make a connection.

You shifted your weight again, intending to keep your feet planted so you wouldn't make a run for it, and Crosshair uttered your name hurriedly.

"Wait," he said. He'd thought you were leaving. You widened your eyes at him, waiting to hear what he'd wanted to tell you first. He seemed to hesitate before finally saying, "I was wondering if you knew what soup they were serving today?"

"Oh. Uh, potato, I think."

"How boring."

You smirked. "I know, right? They could at least serve it with some hot sauce."

Crosshair hummed.

The silence settled back in, though now you felt better about things. You'd practically had a conversation. Learned a little more about each other. It was a good start. 

Your commlink suddenly beeped at your side and you blanched, remembering the meeting you were supposed to be heading to.

"I uh, I've got to go. It was nice talking to you."

It pained you to cut off your moment with him so quickly, but alas you were left with no choice. You shuffled back out into the corridor, though you only made it a few steps before realizing you still had Hunter's paperwork and could just leave it with Crosshair.

The rec room had an old school door that swung in and out on hinges. It was slightly ajar from when you passed through, and already in the few seconds since something was happening on the other side of it. You could hear more voices.

"...the kriff was that?" First, the deep tones of Hunter, equal parts annoyed and weary.

"That wasn't the plan." Then, the resolute voice of Echo, backing him up.

"What?" Crosshair bit back at them.

"You were supposed to ask her out," Hunter clarified.

"No, that was not the plan," Crosshair countered. "I needed to lay some groundwork first."

"You call that groundwork? You were talking about soup."

"And she agreed. No one ever agrees with me on the soup around here."

"What a special connection," Echo said.

Hunter sighed so hard you swore you could feel the breeze through the doorway. "You know, sometimes I think some work on your communication skills wouldn't be such a bad idea."

"What?"

"Never mind. Do what you like. Keep pushing away anyone who tries to love you and see where that gets you. Just know that it's exhausting, watching the two of you dance around each other like this."

"And kind of pathetic," added Echo.

You were against the wall by the door, holding in your breath for so long you were about to pass out. Or maybe it was the euphoria of knowing Crosshair was interested that made your head sway. Regardless, you had mere moments to make a move or let the opportunity pass. You dug into your pocket, fished out a pen, and scribbled a note on the top page of paperwork. Was it professional? Absolutely not. But the GAR would get over it. You left the papers by the door, making sure your note was turned to face it.

There's better soups on Coruscant. Let's go out sometime.

* * *

Vandor-3. Woodland outskirts. Autumn.

You were alone, standing in the middle of the training field, the early setting sun behind you casting a dim shadow across the remains of your latest training exercise. A chill was just starting to set in, causing you to tug at your jacket and pull it around you a bit tighter. You liked these moments, rare as they were recently. A quiet time to yourself. Not even to think, but simply to be. Present and comfortable. And you.

The wind picked up and sang through the taller blades of grass as a ship approached for landing. Your moment was over, but a new happiness settled in its place. Minutes later, the Havoc Marauder was opening its hatch and spitting out its soldiers.

"Captain," Hunter gave you a two-finger salute as he passed by.

"Sergeant," you returned with a smile.

Echo was close behind, giving you a respectful nod. Wrecker hauled a munitions crate in one hand and hit you up for a high five with the other. Tech was oblivious as he hunched over a data pad.

They filed by, one after the other, headed straight for the barracks, and what you hoped were the showers. They all knew not to linger, that you'd catch up with them later. This was your time with Crosshair.

The sniper was leaning up against the hatch opening, arms folded across a plastoid chest and a toothpick lazily perched between slightly curled lips. He took you in for a moment and you could feel yourself glowing in response to his soft gaze.

"Showing those clankers who's boss, I see," he said as he made his way down the gangway. He nodded his head toward the mess of scrap metal behind you.

You gave a half shrug. "My reaction time is getting better, but I still can't get the angles right with those pucks."

Crosshair inched up to you, gently resting his hands on either side of your waist. "Have you been doing the breathing exercises like I showed you?"

You nodded. Your hands instinctually came up to his run along his arms until they found the crook of his elbows, the only place not barring your touch by armor.

"And using the laser sight?"

You nodded a little slower and Crosshair tsked.

"I want to be good without it. Like you." You added a little extra honey to your words so he wouldn't reprimand you too much. It had been an adjustment for the two of you at first, he stepping into a training role and you stepping back to receive instruction for once. Thankfully the frustrations seemed to diminish the more your relationship progressed.

"You have to be patient," he said, giving your waist a slight squeeze to accentuate his point. "You aren't like the regs you train. You're building your skills, taking care of yourself."

You hummed, more in thought than agreement. "Will I ever have to use these skills someday, do you think? Is it really getting that bad out there?"

You tried not to think about how many soldiers you had trained only to be sent to a battlefield to die. How many of the shinies you were drilling right now would likely be killed soon. How many more would be brought in to take their place. You'd thought you'd known what you were getting yourself into with this job. But the relentless cycle of it all was getting to you more and more, especially as the Republic continued to be challenged in larger scales and higher stakes. It never seemed to end.

"It's hard to say," Crosshair responded. "We have to prepare for the worst."

You hated that answer, but you wouldn't let him see it. Not yet. Your fears and your displeasures, anger and sorrow, were things yet to be fully explored in this new relationship. All in due time. So you simply smiled, plucked the toothpick out of his mouth and tossed it aside. 

"And hope for the best, right?"

He smiled back, or at least moved his mouth in the direction of a smile, as much as you could usually get from the reserved man. "Yes, of course."

He leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours. You both closed your eyes and breathed each other in. There was warmth in his embrace. A promise in the steady hands he held you with. Vulnerability in the skin that gently touched yours. To have someone this close, someone who was still more stranger than friend, though no less beloved, was what you had always wanted. And for once, what you wanted was just as lovely and fulfilling as you'd hoped. No catch. No deals. No unintended consequences. Just you and him and happiness.

All too soon he pulled away. His hand sought yours as he turned in the direction of the barracks. The longer you stayed behind, the worse the teasing from the others would be. They were only respectful of your relationship to a point, and after that it was fair game for a laugh. So you willingly followed.

"Crosshair?"

"Hm?"

"I was thinking about Hunter...."

The sniper glanced at you suspiciously.

"Well, you know he and I have been friends for a while. And he's confided a few things in me before. About what he wants. Or thinks he wants. He's changed his mind a few times on the specifics. But all in the same gist."

"Where are you going with this?"

"I don't know, I just feel like I owe him for helping me get through a tough time. And if it weren't for him, I wouldn't have ever met you. So--"

Crosshair cut you off with a groan. "If you're trying to get me to play matchmaker..."

"It would get some of the attention off of us," you quickly offered. "If Hunter had someone he was bringing around, too. Or even just interested in."

Crosshair frowned in thought. "There was a bartender on Scarif he kept checking out..."

You grinned and squeezed his hand affectionately. "See? Just keep an eye out and nudge him a bit. Who knows what could happen."

You could tell he was trying not to roll his eyes for your sake. Instead he squeezed your hand in return. "Or you could come with us and nudge him yourself?"

Your walking slowed, right as you were about to cross the facility boundary line. You would have to let go of his hand once you crossed it, keep a professional distance, share your company with others. And once the Batch's business here concluded, then you would have to let him go and watch him disappear into the sky with all the prayers you could possibly send with him. And then you would be on your own. Waiting, waiting, always waiting. And maybe he would return, and maybe he wouldn't.

And heaven forbid you would ever end up alone again.

"Or you can stay," he said. The quietness of his voice betrayed what he really meant, what he really wanted. 

And you knew what you wanted, too. Without you realizing, it was getting easier and easier for you to define your desires. And not only that, but to pursue them, too. To know your happiness was worth the risk of disappointment. It was clear to you now that you were not only worthy, but also capable. The man standing before you, holding your hand, gazing at you like nothing else mattered, was proof enough.

And so you said, "Take me with you."

Every Character Tag: @dangerousstrawberrypie, @justanothersadperson93, @arctrooper69, @sleepycreativewriter, @techie-bear, @theroguesully, @cw80831, @cdblake1565

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[ironboyxs]

Unseen Hearts

Fandom: Stray Kids

Pairing: Felix x Male Reader

Word Count: 4652

Summary: Y/N is a young actor and singer on the rise who has great admiration for Stray Kids, especially a certain member with a huskier voice.

p.s. this is the first time I write about kpop on this blog, I hope you like it! In fact, I was extremely inspired because I've never written so much! and another thing: I mention a Korean ideogram in the story, I tried to do my research but my Korean is terrible, forgive any mistakes. and always remembering REQUESTS ARE OPEN, in the pinned there are the fandons for which I write

You never thought you would be in a serious relationship with a K-pop artist. Of course, you've been a fan of Korean culture since you were 13 and a friend introduced you to the concept of K-pop, dramas and all the rest.

You were lucky enough to have well-off parents who let you study Korean from the age of 13 because you had become completely obsessed with everything about Korea.

But obviously your life didn't revolve around just that, of course you went to shows whenever you could, once you even got a trip to South Korea as a gift to go to a fan meeting.

But one thing that the idol life showed you was that you also wanted to be an artist, you were in doubt between acting and music. After all, you were good at both. In school plays you always got the lead.

Your mother played the piano and from a very early age taught you everything she knew about music, so one of your hobbies, and also a form of therapy, was writing songs.

When you were 18, a family friend who worked for Netflix knew he had a casting call that was a perfect fit for you. You took the test, with zero faith that you would pass.

But it ended up happening, the series was about a fantasy world, four wizard friends fighting an evil entity, you had a lot of fun recording the first season, you made incredible friends, but you never thought the series would be successful.

Until it exploded. And it became the number 1 series on Netflix, with everyone talking about it. And obviously you and your co-stars started doing press tours.

Jimmy Fallon Show

- Hey guys! Welcome back to the Tonight Show! Today we have a very special guest, a talented young man who is having great success with the new Netflix series: Witchbound Chronicles. Let's welcome the amazing Y/N! How are you, Y/N?

- Hi Jimmy! I'm great, thanks for having me here.

- It's a pleasure to have you. Firstly, congratulations on the success of your series! What has the experience been like seeing your face everywhere?

- It's surreal, Jimmy. I never imagined things would happen so quickly. I'm just enjoying every moment.

- This is amazing! Tell us a little about the series. What can fans expect?

- Well, the series is called "Witchbound Chronicles" and it takes place in a completely new world full of magic, fantastic creatures and lots of exciting twists. I play one of the main characters, a young man named Ethan, who discovers he has incredible magical abilities.

- This looks amazing! And what was the audition process like to get the role?

- It was a little crazy, actually. I auditioned without much expectation, and when I got the call that I had gotten the role, I couldn't believe it. It was a dream come true.

- And what was it like working with the cast and crew?

- Everyone was incredible. The cast is very talented, and the team behind the cameras did an incredible job bringing this magical world to life. I learned a lot from all of them.

- I'm sure fans would love to know if there are any funny or interesting behind-the-scenes stories you can share.

- Oh, definitely! One day, we were filming a scene with intense special effects, and one of the animatronics that plays the magical creatures ended up going out of control. It was hilarious to see everyone running for cover, but in the end, everything worked out, and the scene was incredible.

- And what can we expect from the future, Y/N? More projects on the small screen or maybe even the big screen?

- Absolutely, Jimmy! I love acting, and I hope to continue exploring different roles and challenges. Who knows what the future holds, right?

- Hey Y/N, our research team made some interesting discoveries on your social media. It seems like you're a big K-pop fan, is that right?

- Oh yes, Jimmy! I'm completely obsessed with K-pop, it's one of my passions.

- This is amazing! Any specific groups or artists that you really admire?

- For sure! I'm a big fan of Stray Kids.

- Oh, and our team also noticed that you have a certain “bias” as they say in K-pop at Felix! You've been expressing your crush on Felix a lot on social media. Any funny stories or embarrassing moments related to this?

- Well, now that you mention that this is public I would say that all my posts about Felix are kind of funny and embarrassing, actually. I try to keep it light and humorous, but of course, my friends always tease me a little about it.

- That is great! And if Felix or any of the Stray Kids were watching right now, what would you say to them?

- Wow, that's a tough question. I guess I would say how much they mean to me as an artist and as a person. Their work really inspires me, and I really admire their talent.

- I hope Felix sees this and who knows, maybe you can meet one day!

Some time later, on a live that Felix was doing, a fan asked if he had seen this interview.

Chat: Felix, did you see Jimmy Fallon's interview with Y/N, the actor from the series "Witchbound Chronicles"?

- Oh yeah! I saw! It was amazing. I couldn't stop smiling throughout the entire interview.

Chat: Y/N mentioned that he's a big fan of Stray Kids and that he has a crush on you. What was your reaction when you watched this?

- Oh, really? This is so cool! I was very flattered to learn that he is a Stray Kids fan. I think it's an honor when talented people like our work.

Chat: Would you have a message to send to Y/N?

For sure! Y/N, if you're watching, thank you so much for your support! It's amazing to know that you enjoy our work, and who knows, maybe one day we can meet. Keep being amazing!

Chat: It would be great to see a collaboration between Stray Kids and the series' soundtrack, wouldn't it?

- Absolutely! We would love it! Who knows what the future holds for us, right? Let's hope something like this happens.

Meanwhile at your house

- Y/N did you watch Felix's last live? - Your sister came running to ask you.

- No, I saw the notification but I was busy so I couldn't watch it.

- You NEED to see this excerpt!

Your sister takes the phone to you with a cut from the live stream where Felix Yongbok Lee is simply talking about you, and of course you completely freak out!

- MY GOD! FELIX KNOWS I EXIST!

- Imagine if you could meet him in person?

You stop and reflect for a second

- What is it? - Your sister asks.

- My Twitter account simply has 1001 posts about how handsome and hot I think he is! I need to deprive that now!

- Wow, but it's great that he knows you have a crush on him!

- He already knows because of that stupid interview, I don't need to be embarrassed anymore! - You run out to get your cell phone.

A while later on a gossip page

“Recently Y/N S/N deprived his Twitter account and opened a new one saying that it would be his professional account. Does the young actor have something to hide?”

/-/

Months later, with the end of recording the first season of the series, and the end of the press conferences, you feel that it is time to return to music. You had loved that whole period of recording and promoting the series but you felt the urge to write about it all, to put it all in the form of music, and deep in your heart, you wanted to write about something, something that you thought was really silly. actually, but your mother always told you that music was made to express all your feelings.

Unseen Hearts

🎶 Unseen hearts, a world apart,

In the shadows, you're the spark.

A crush so sweet, yet out of reach,

Dreams we chase, lessons we teach. 🎶

- This song is AMAZING! - A music producer friend of your mother said when he heard it.

- Did you really think so? I think it's no big deal.

- Is beautiful! What was the inspiration?

- Ah, silly thing, you know... stupid youthful passion - You said with a bit of shame.

- Y/N, I know you've been wanting to combine acting and music for so long, Bobby can give you that opportunity. – Your mother said

- You have so much potential Y/N. - Said Bobby, the producer and owner of the record company you were now part of.

- Now, ideas for a music video?

The Unseen Hearts video was a success, number 1 in views on YouTube. The clip takes place in a magical setting, reminiscent of the world of the series that you are part of. Include enchanted forests, ancient ruins and mystical locations, having a sense of magic and mystery. The story of the music video centers on you, showing your magical journey in search of your unreachable crush. Throughout the clip you searche for a masked figure who wears a necklace with the Korean character:  리

Comments on Twitter

🌟 Just watched the "Unseen Hearts" music video by @Y/NActorOfficial and I'm absolutely enchanted! The magical symbolism and emotional depth in every scene got me hooked. Matt's talent is truly spellbinding! 🔮💖 #UnseenHearts #Y/NMagic

✨ The "Unseen Hearts" music video is a masterpiece! 🎬✨ Y/N's portrayal of an unattainable crush, wrapped in magical elements, is pure art. The visuals, the symbolism – everything is on point! 🌌🎶 #WitchboundChronicles #MagicalMusic

🌌 Theory time! What if the "Unseen Hearts" video is a metaphor for the struggles we face in expressing our feelings? The crush, shrouded in magic, symbolizes the elusive nature of emotions. Y/N's journey represents the pursuit of self-discovery. 🧐💭 #UnseenHeartsTheory

📜 Lyric interpretation theory: What if the lyrics in "Unseen Hearts" reflect Y/N's emotions towards Felix? The masked figure embodies the lyrical expression of an unspoken crush, with the ideogram pendant serving as a musical symbol of admiration. 🎤💔 #LyricConnection #UnseenHeartsEmotion

🎵 Melodic connection theory: The musical journey in "Unseen Hearts" might represent Y/N's emotional connection to Felix. The masked figure, with Felix's ideogram, is the elusive muse driving the rhythm of Y/N's heart. 🎭💖 #MusicalMuse #UnseenHeartsMelody

//

The Kelly Clarkson Show

- Hey guys! We're here with the talented Y/N, who recently released the amazing music video "Unseen Hearts." Y/N, first, I want to say that the music video is amazing, but everyone is wondering: what is the meaning behind it?

- Hi Kelly! First of all, thank you for the compliment. You know, "Unseen Hearts" is a magical journey, an exploration of emotions and personal challenges. I wanted to convey the idea of pursuing something that seems unattainable, but at the same time, it is an experience of self-discovery.

- Oh, this is fascinating! And many fans are curious about the character that appears in the clip. Can you tell us more about this?

- Of course, Kelly. The ideogram is an artistic representation, a kind of personal symbol. It's a way to add a layer of mystery to the story, allowing each person to find their own meaning in the song and video.

- I get it, I love this enigmatic approach! And what would you say to fans speculating about the music video?

- Well, it's amazing to see the enthusiasm of the fans and the different interpretations they are creating. The beauty of art is in its subjectivity, right? I love seeing the theories and stories that people are coming up with. It's a gift to see how music resonates in unique ways for everyone.

//

Live from Felix a few days later

Chat: Hi, Felix! Did you see Y/N's new video, "Unseen Hearts"? What did you think?

- Oh, sure! I watched it, and I have to say Y/N did an amazing job. The magical atmosphere, the emotional narrative, everything was very well done. I really liked.

Chat: And the music? Do you think it has some connection with you? After all, the character with your name appears in the clip!

- Well, it's interesting, right? I think art is interpretive, and each person can have their own vision. If music is an artistic expression, it's hard to say exactly what it means to Y/N. But I loved seeing how fans are creating their own theories and stories around it.

Chat: We are really curious! Do you think Y/N might have been inspired by you for the song?

- You know, Y/N is an incredible artist, and I'm just one of the many artists who can inspire him. I think the beauty of music is its ability to connect with different experiences and emotions. If Y/N found inspiration in something we experienced, it's an honor.

Chat: Hey Felix, we know Y/N mentioned he's a Stray Kids fan. Do you think he could have a crush on you?

- Oh, really? That's kind of funny to think about. I think it's always flattering to know that people admire our work, whether as artists or as people. And well, I don't really know about that. I'm grateful for the fans' support and affection, but personal relationships are something private, right? Let's focus on the music and Y/N's work, which is incredible.

Chat: We're just kidding, Felix! But seriously, what was it like for you to see your character in his video?

It was a pleasant surprise, for sure! Y/N is a talented artist, and it was cool to see that special touch in the video. I think he did a wonderful job of creating something unique and meaningful.

//

A few weeks later you are invited to perform at the Billboard Music Awards, it would be your first time performing Unseen Hearts in front of such a large audience, you were nervous obviously, but something made you even more nervous.

- Y/N you have no idea what I discovered! - Bobby, who was now your manager, called you excitedly.

- What was it?

- So I was organizing your participation in this year's BMAs, and you know who will be there, STRAY KIDS! They will also participate

You froze, you had followed the news, given interviews, seen Felix's live and knew that everyone already knew the obvious, you had burst out writing a song about the crush you had on a boy you saw once at a fan meeting.

- Y/N… are you there? - Bobby asked from the other side.

- I'm sorry, I just got a little distracted.

- I thought you would be more excited.

- Yes, I'm excited, of course, it's going to be really cool - You said a little disconcerted.

- Now are you ready for the big news?

- My God, is there more?

- It has! So the organization was talking to me, and they asked me if you would be willing to sit at the same table as them, you know, you speak Korean, so you can help the members who don't speak it to fit in.

- BOBBY WHAT DID YOU ANSWER?

- I confirmed your place with them of course, I thought you would love it!

- ARE YOU TELLING ME I'M GOING TO COME FACE TO FACE WITH THE GUY I WROTE A SONG ABOUT?????

- Wait, was the song really about Felix?

- My God Bobby, I thought you were my manager and paid attention to the nuances.

You wanted to pass out obviously.

//

Billboard Music Awards Day - Red carpet.

- Hi Matt! We are excited to see your performance today. What can we expect from this presentation?

- Hello! I'm looking forward to the night, it's going to be amazing. The performance will be full of energy, with a touch of magic and emotion. I hope everyone enjoys it!

- Good luck! Now, we've heard rumors that you and Stray Kids have a special connection. Any future collaborations on the horizon?

- Well, I'm a big fan of Stray Kids, they're so talented. Who knows what the future holds? I'm always open to surprising collaborations. - You say with a bright smile

- Hmm, intriguing! And regarding the "Unseen Hearts" video, many fans speculate about the inspiration behind it. Any subliminal messages?

- Ah, "Unseen Hearts" is an emotional journey, an exploration of personal feelings and challenges. Fan interpretations are fascinating, and I like to leave the song open to different meanings.

- What about the ideograms? We saw Felix from Stray Kids in the video. Any special meaning? - The interviewer asks with an insinuating smile

- Ideograms are like artistic elements, each one can find its own meaning. Sometimes it's just a way to add a special touch to the visual narrative. - You say, wanting to curse yourself for when you had the brilliant idea of putting one of the ideograms of Felix's name in the music video

Interview with Stray Kids

- And we're here with Stray Kids! You guys are killing it as always. We're curious to know, are there any secret collaborations you have in mind? Maybe something with our dear Y/N, who is also here today?

- Well, you know, we are always open to new musical experiences. Y/N is an amazing artist, so who knows what could happen in the future? - Felix responds.

- Interesting! And speaking of collaborations, we saw Felix's character in Y/N's "Unseen Hearts" video. Any idea what this could mean?

- It seems like Y/N wanted to add a special touch to the video. I don't know if there's a deeper meaning, but it's an honor to be included in his art in some way. - Felix says smiling

- What if we talk about the music itself? Any thoughts on "Unseen Hearts"? - The interviewer says wanting to provoke.

- Of course, we all watched the clip and were impressed. The song has a unique vibe, and Y/N's performance is engaging. It's great to see artists exploring different styles. - Bang Chan responds

- It seems like there are a lot of secrets being kept! Speaking of secrets, do you have any future projects that you haven't revealed yet?

- Well, we never reveal all our secrets, do we? You can expect more surprises in the future. - Hyunjin responds, ending the interview.

//

Later, after the red carpet, you have to face reality and go to your seat next to the members of Stray Kids. You're dying of embarrassment, not only because you meet artists you admire so much, but because you know what the topic of the moment is.

You greet everyone in Korean, trying to be as polite as possible, they are all incredibly kind to you.

When it's time to sit down, it's as if fate hates you, and of course your seat was next to Felix.

- I really enjoyed your series on Netflix. - Felix said trying to start a conversation.

- Serious? Didn't you find it a little too fanciful?

- It's too fanciful, but I like things like that, it's really cool.

- Thank you very much - You said blushing.

He looked incredibly handsome that night, you were trying very hard not to stare.

- I really liked Unseen Hearts too, it's a beautiful song.

- Oh thank you, but it doesn't even compare to your work, I'm still quite an amateur. - You always had this habit of diminishing yourself.

- Hey don't say that, your work is incredible. - He takes a strand of your hair and puts it back. - Your eyes are very E/C

He immediately takes his hand out of your hair and apologizes. There was a slight awkward atmosphere but the touch of his fingers in your hair were still there. “You’re not living a fanfic, focus on reality”, you forced yourself to think.

You didn't want to do it but you had to, you didn't want them to keep bothering the boy because of the damn ideogram in the clip.

- Look at the clip, and the ideogram, I'm sorry they keep disturbing you with this, I saw some of your lives and how embarrassed you were.

- Hey no, I thought it was really cool! Was it really a reference for me?

You look down, well, there was no point in lying anymore, right? At least you would leave with the knowledge that your idol would never see you as anything more

- Yes, it was, but you know we all have crushes on famous people, don't worry, it doesn't mean anything big.

- What a shame - He said looking down

What? - You were shocked.

- I wouldn't mind, you know, if it was a genuine crush.

You didn't have time to respond because Bobby came to call you to say that you needed to get ready for your presentation. You ran away with your heart racing, what did that mean, what did Felix mean?

//

- Ladies and gentlemen, singing Unseen Hearts Y/N S/N

On the Billboard Music Awards stage, the "Unseen Hearts" moment begins with you positioned center stage, radiating a magnetic presence. The mesmerizing melody fills the room, creating a magical atmosphere that captures everyone's attention.

The scenery is full of fantastic elements, as you immerse yourself in the performance, conveying the emotion of the music through each note. The audience, enveloped by the magic of the presentation, watches attentively.

During the performance, the camera occasionally cuts to the audience, where Felix from Stray Kids is sitting. His eyes meet at various moments, creating a visual connection that transcends the stage. You, while singing, exchange intense glances with Felix in the audience, conveying deep emotions and a unique harmony.

The exchange of glances is loaded with meaning, as if you were sharing your story not only with the audience, but also with Felix. Every facial expression reflects the intensity of the song, as your eyes meet Felix's, conveying a silent, emotional narrative.

At the end of the performance, the audience bursts into applause, recognizing the beauty and emotion of the performance. You, as you come down from the stage, exchange a final look with Felix, a moment that remains suspended in the air before being lost in the effervescence of the applause.

On twitter

🌟 The exchange of looks between Y/N and Felix during "Unseen Hearts" at the #BBMAs was simply magical! This emotional connection transcended the stage. ✨🎶 #UnseenHeartsMagic

😍 I can't get over the intensity of the looks between Y/N and Felix during the performance! Their chemistry is palpable, and "Unseen Hearts" became even more special. 🔥💖 #BBMAs # Y/N xFelixMoment

🧙‍♂️ I'm absolutely delighted with the performance of "Unseen Hearts" at the #BBMAs. The looks between Y/N and Felix added an extra layer of magic to the performance! 🌈🔮 #EnchantedConnection

🎭 "Unseen Hearts" at the #BBMAs was an emotional journey! The looks between Y/N and Felix brought a unique depth to the presentation. A masterpiece of connection and magic. 🌌🎶 #MysticalPerformance

🤩 The performance of "Unseen Hearts" at the #BBMAs was a visual and emotional spectacle! Y/N and Felix exchanging looks made everything even more captivating. 😊💫 #KPopMagicMoment

😭 I cried at the beauty of the performance of "Unseen Hearts". The intensity of the looks between Y/N and Felix is heartbreaking. A unique emotional experience. 💔🌟 #BBMAs #EmotionalJourney

🎶 The chemistry between Y/N and Felix during "Unseen Hearts" at the #BBMAs is something that cannot be described in words. A perfect fusion of music, emotion and connection. Angry! 👏🌈 #MusicalAlchemy

🌀 "Unseen Hearts" at #BBMAs left my soul vibrating. The looks between Y/N and Felix transcended the stage, creating a unique and magical experience. 🔮✨ #MysticVibes #UnseenHeartsVibes

//

You couldn't believe what had just happened, you had performed Unseen Hearts in front of hundreds of people but it was as if you could only see Felix, you were completely embarrassed by it. How could you be so unprofessional to stare at the boy like that? What would they say about you? What would they say about him?

A knock on the dressing room door makes you stand up. It was the boys from Stray Kids and you quickly rushed to open it.

- Y/N, man, you just killed it on stage! It was amazing! - Bang Chan says hugging you.

You're grateful for the compliment, but a wave of self-consciousness hits you. Did they notice your distraction? Did they notice the prolonged glances in Felix's direction?

- Oh, thanks, Chan! I'm glad you liked it. - You say smiling, trying to hide it.

- Did you see the audience? Everyone was mesmerized. It looks like you worked some real magic up there! - Jeongin says.

Everyone laughs, and you join in the laughter, trying to keep your self-critical thoughts away.

- Y/N, that performance was incredible. You brought such a unique energy to the song. - Felix says with a shy smile.

- And I think our friend here needs to speak to you in private. - Changbin says leading the others to leave the room.

Okay, you thought: now he's going to say that what I did was horrible, that it could cause gossip and horrible repercussions for his career. And so you will have ruined the mere chance of having a friendship with someone you admire.

But his response was very different from what you imagined.

- Yeah… I wanted to ask… if you want to go out with me, do you know after the awards?

The initial perplexity is replaced by a mixture of relief and surprise. You expected the worst, but here Felix is, not mentioning anything about the intense stares, but rather extending an invitation to hang out.

- Wow, of course, I would love to! It would be amazing. - You smile trying to hide your surprise.

Felix seems to relax a little, like he's relieved by his answer.

- Great so! Will be cool. The awards are going to be incredible, but I think after that we can relax a little, what do you think?

- I will love it!

- Excellent! See you after the awards, then. - He says with a dazzling smile

He turns to leave the dressing room, and you stay there, processing the unexpected turn of events. What seemed like a potential uncomfortable situation turned into an invitation to hang out. Perhaps the intense looks were perceived differently by Felix.

Later that night…

"Y/N from 'Unseen Hearts' and Felix from Stray Kids spotted holding hands after the Billboard Music Awards!"

"The beginning of a new ship? Y/N and Felix, moments of romance after the awards."

"Fans are ecstatic over photos of Y/N and Felix together. Could this be the start of a new friendship or something more?"

And on Twitter…

😱 Holding hands? This is real? Y/N and Felix together? I'm freaking out! 😍🥰 # #Y/NxFelix  #UnseenHeartsLove

🚢 Is a new ship being born? The internet needs to know! 😏🚀 # Y/Nlix #ShipSpeculation

🌟 The friendship between Y/N and Felix is so beautiful! We loved seeing the two together. 🤝💖 #FriendshipGoals # Y/NAndFelix

🧐 Holding hands? Are we all witnessing the beginning of something special? 🤔🌈 # Y/NAndFelix #SpeculationsRising

📸 Exclusive photos of Matt and Felix leaving the event. Are we seeing the birth of a new partnership? 🤝💫 #CelebrityNews # Y/NFelixMoments

📚 What do you think of a fanfic based on these photos? 😏💕 # Y/NlixFanfic #ShippingDreams

And so maybe Unseen Hearts weren't so unseen...

[tonicandjins]

find your way back home | lee donghyuck

pairing: lee donghyuck | haechan x female reader

word count: 22.5k

genre: fluff, some mentions of sex, ANGST and nostalgia lots of it, haechan-centric, slow burn

warnings: mentions of sex, excessive drinking, will talk about insomnia and depression

summary: nct’s haechan gets into a scandal after a night of drinking his ass off in hongdae, which prompts the management to put him in an indefinite hiatus. and it’s not like it’s the first time, because over the past months, haechan’s drinking problem had gone worse. hence, his parents send him back to jeju island for some healing time because his parents and managers think that maybe some time home would help. haechan laughs at the thought. if medication can’t, what can jeju island do? besides, he hasn’t been there in literal years.

author's note: this is my favorite work so far, which is why it took this long. i put my heart in here. please let me know which one is your favorite line/scene. this is also very heachan-centric, so please don't expect a lot of the reader's POV. also, may i recommend you to listen to Moon, Be There For You, Never Goodbye by NCT DREAM, Good Person by Haechan himself, and Black Clouds by NCT 127 as you read this! :) TIP ME HERE.

taglist: @mosviqu @matchahyuck @sirens-dreams @sundamariis @lovingvoidgoatee @anjaenha @thiccfullsun @665321-more @hyuckiesoftie @aliceinwhateverland @tddyhyck @anniebyanto @novawona @gimmehyuck @blxshqueen @blitz-fall @byungbyungbaek @calssunflower @funkygoose @carelessshootanonymous-blog @jungwooforever @budibbly @positionslab @beomyomom @jexizia @4everhyucks

disclaimer: names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of my imagination or used in a fictitious manner. i do not claim to own or to have invented any copyrighted characters or concepts that i write about.  

Y/N = your name, Y/C/N = your childhood nickname

Haechan’s dream has always been the spotlight.

His Mother would tell her friends stories of how he would always tell her he’d be a star someday, a grin flashing across his small face on pictures and clips of him taking a stage as small as the podium in his first grade classroom, and would proudly brag that his first-born son made it to the world stage. She was so proud that she’d have his portfolio picture as her display image in her social media accounts. As a musician herself, she’d play NCT’s music out loud and would even go an extra mile by using their b-side songs when teaching their students at their small but proud music academy in the big city of Seoul. Haechan’s pictures are all over the small place they’d rented for their small business, two floors—the vocal lessons facilitated on the second floor and piano and guitar on the ground floor—and the humble husband and wife would proudly say the most successful student they’d ever had was Lee Donghyuck, now better known as Haechan.

Haechan allows her to take credit of it all, his success, because after all, she’d been the one to encourage her to take a chance at SM Entertainment’s infamous Saturday auditions. People tell Haechan he works hard, but nobody really works harder than his Mother. With sheer determination and a passionate heart, his mother would take little Donghyuck to every stage—no matter how small. Young and bright, he remembers being dragged from one contest to another, even when their family still lived in Jeju, and he’d win all of them for her. He’d take the spotlight just to see her happy and proud.

At times, Haechan wonders how much effort his mother had really put into his career. If he thinks about it now, it started with their entire family moving out of Jeju Island, completely uprooting their entire lives from the simple life in the island to give her dream a chance. People say that Haechan was born a star, that SM got lucky to have a child prodigy offer himself—bare and whole and real—who was willing to give up his childhood and education for a shot in the dark. His father had been reluctant about it, saying that they’d have to give up their entire life savings to merely move to Seoul—considering plane tickets and security deposits need to be sent prior to moving—and that taking a loan wouldn’t be ideal when they could barely make ends meet with four children growing up too fast. A shot in the dark, a flip of a coin, the luck of a draw. They say he was meant for this, was meant for the stage and the lights and the applause, but to Haechan, it’s not really fate. It’s just his mother doing all the work, and he’d take the spotlight for her.

Because Haechan likes the attention. He likes the good and the bad. The cheers and the applause. The painful arm slaps from Mark when he’s annoyed him enough. The head pats and hugs Taeil gives him when he’s being cute and when he lives up to his maknae image. The viral videos of him all over the internet for simply walking down the stage.

And his mother couldn’t be prouder to have a reliable son like him. She had always dreamed of the spotlight herself, but the timing was never right for her—hence Haechan living her dream, her spotlight, had been one of, if not the biggest accomplishments of her life.

The night is cold. Haechan feels dizzy when flashes of the lights coming from the small window of the bar’s building hit his face. He hates the lights, he hates being seen, and it makes him throw up when, as soon as he closes his eyes, it’s his mother that he sees.

Would his mother still be so proud when she learns that, after a long weekend of a back to back concert with NCT 127, his son would be getting a blowjob from a stranger at the back of some sleazy bar he had found online?

“Please tell me this isn’t real.”

Mark Lee is only twenty-three, but with how his forehead’s skin is wrinkling, he might as well invest in several sessions of botox shots. He’s holding his phone up to Haechan’s face, as if bringing the device closer to the younger’s eyes would deny the article that Dispatch uploaded at five in the fucking morning.

“I didn’t sleep with her,” Haechan denies, voice bored, tired. “We might have done other things, but I didn’t sleep with her.”

Mark lets out a groan of frustration, throwing his phone behind Haechan, the device landing on the carpeted floor. Haechan doesn’t even flinch even though it almost hit him.

“Haechan, what the fuck is going on, man?” Mark asks, demands to know what really is going on with his best friend, or whoever he’s speaking with now. “You know SM is going to kill you, right?”

Haechan shrugs. “What are they gonna do? Fire me?”

“You know they can!” Mark shouts, walking back and forth while Haechan remains seated on the couch, unbothered. “You’ve seen them do it! To our seniors! To the people you trained with. You think you’re big time, huh? That just because you’re essential in both units, they wouldn’t send you to some dungeon?”

Haechan laughs bitterly. He reckons being placed in a dungeon would be much better than the hell he’s living in now. “Now that,” he mocks. “Would be the ultimate dream.”

“You’re a fucking nightmare,” Mark says, pointing a finger to Haechan, enunciating each syllable so it goes through his skull.

But nothing can really make Lee Haechan budge anymore—not an expensive, hard device laterally thrown to his face, and not even his best friend (if he could still call him that) blatantly showing how disgusted he is with him—and he can’t really blame anyone. It used to he frightening to see Mark angry at something he did. Used to.

Haechan doesn’t really know what to say, so he chuckles bitterly and leans his head back so that it’s against the backrest, pondering whether it’s a good time to drink the bottle of vodka he’s been keeping under his bed.

“It’s funny because I don’t even know what having a nightmare feels like.”

Mark huffs, seemingly had given up on Haechan, then leaves the room alongside the small piece of sanity that the younger had left. Haechan bolts, sitting up real quick, but too slow because Mark is already out of the door. Haechan likes attention, and even though Mark Lee makes his head hurt, he likes the attention. Haechan likes that Mark is angry at him.

His manager calls him next, (as expected) voice angry as if he’s about to explode, and tells him his publicist is doing her very best to answer every god damn call from every magazine and news outlet. But none of those magazine and news outlets who have called had posted something to clear the situation; none of them were buying it. Haechan thinks it’s fucking ridiculous anyway. There were pictures and videos of him sneaking out with Hana or Hari, whatever her name was, and a clip of him zipping his pants up as they try to hide from the flashes of lights. Who the fuck would believe he was just out exploring with his 35-year old, happily-married-with-kids personal assistant?

And it’s too late, anyway, because what was the point of it all when his most loyal and long-time fan sites have all shut down overnight, his Instagram followers reducing down to five million in a matter of hours since Dispatch posted that article, and his best friends blatantly ignoring him with the exception of Mark confronting him, but of course, Haechan had to screw that up, too.

“They’re calling you in for a meeting,” his manager concludes with a sigh after elaborating what had been done to patch up the entire mess. “Be ready for whatever they have to say. Don’t expect me to have your back because I’m over it, Haechan. Whatever they decide to do with you, you fucking deserve it.”

The call ends. Haechan didn’t even get to talk.

He looks at the screen of his phone. There were a million of calls and text messages from his agency, half of it were from his mother, and the last thing he really wants now is to hear her voice. He scrolls through it all, chest tightening when he realizes nobody from Jaemin, Renjun and Jeno had tried to call him. Haechan knows he’s an asshole, deserving to be the receiving end of all the shouting and cussing, and he’s probably made the dumbest mistake of his entire life, but he’d live the stardom’s life long enough, he’d be okay. But a call from his best friends would have been a breather.

Haechan understands, what his manager said, that he shouldn’t really expect anyone to have his back after all that’s transpired in the last few of months.

You see, Haechan developed insomnia. He’d look the symptoms up in the internet, and it’s described as a common sleeping disorder that can make it hard for people to fall asleep, or if one’s attempt to drift off is successful, to stay asleep. Taeyong had said it’s a common disorder for idols, that their seniors from groups like EXO and SHINEE had all gone to psychologists for help, but Haechan didn’t really want to make a big deal out of it. He relied on what Naver offered him one morning when the sun’s already out and his eyes are still wide open.

Stress and anxiety were the major causes. Some resources say it could be from a poor sleeping environment such as an uncomfortable bed or bad lighting or temperature. One claims that it could also be from one’s lifestyle, like jetlag from traveling frequently, or drinking one too many caffeine-infused doses of fluids. It all could be factors why Haechan’s been getting 8-10 hours of sleep a week, and he acknowledges that he doesn’t really have the best lifestyle—and it’s not like he’s ever had the choice since NCT blew up.

So, he’d consulted Taeyong again, through a text, and all he’d gotten was a link to a study that insomnia can be caused by mental health conditions such as depression, followed by his therapist’s phone number.

Among all the causes he’d gathered, Haechan could confidently rule out depression because there’s no fucking way he’s sad. There’s barely any reason to be sad. Sure, he’d miss his siblings most of the time and he hates the feeling of seeing any of them cry whenever he had to leave, but nothing is more gratifying than the relief of seeing them happy whenever he comes home with luxurious gifts or plane tickets to Tokyo for a vacation. Haechan likes making people happy, and Mark tells him he’s always been a people pleaser. At times, he’d think his happiness depends on the happiness of the people he loves and values, and people around him are happy.

Hence, Haechan is happy.

Or at least, was happy.

Because the insomnia got worse—not that Haechan’s dealt with it enough to know whether it’s getting better or worse—but it was bad. He would come home exhausted as fuck after an entire day of dancing and singing, and he knows he’s tired because his body tells him so. Haechan would lie on bed, body drained from all energy, but his eyes would be wide open for an entire night. He’d only fall asleep when the sun’s started to seep through his curtains, a good hour before his manager would wake him for the next schedule. It was manageable, and the tour was a good excuse for the insomnia, but it followed him even on his days off, even in the beginning of the pandemic when there little to zero schedules that would have caused him anxiety or stress.

Therefore, reluctantly, he’d visited a doctor to get a prescription for some meds he could take to help him sleep. He’d lied, though, that it wasn’t that bad and that he would need it only on nights after shows, because he knew they’d only refer him to a therapist. Haechan doesn’t need a therapist. He could just talk to his mother about it, and she’d know what to say to make him feel better. To make him keep going.

It was fine until the melatonin supplements stopped working. Sometime last year, if he remembers right, when he thought he’d gone crazy because everything stopped working for him. There was a bottle of soju, half empty, from the fridge he had in the corner of the room he shared with Johnny, and he reckoned it could help. As soon as the bottle was empty, Haechan felt drowsy; he was out like the light half an hour later.

But just like the prescription from the doctor he can’t even remember the name of, drinking half a bottle worked. Johnny would give him suspicious looks when he would see Haechan stocking up soju inside their room, but he doesn’t ever say anything. Because alcohol made him sleep, until it didn’t. Until half a bottle stopped working. Until an entire bottle is no longer enough. Until Taeyong’s decided that there should be no alcohol inside anyone’s fridge, both fifth and tenth floors.

Hence, the drinking problem.

Haechan wonders what’s next. The sleeping problem, then the drinking problem. It looks like here is it, the next one: the scandal.

When Haechan was a trainee, his greatest fear was getting removed from the agency.

There was an assessment every quarter, and the CEO himself would sit down in a panel alongside other producers and choreographers to identify which of the trainees would move on to another level and which ones would have to go home. Each time they had to go through the assessment, Haechan, alongside other existing members of NCT, would spend long days inside the training room. He would fear that the CEO would ask him to rap all of a sudden because Haechan can’t rap to save his god damn life at that time. He would fear that his mother would receive a call and find out his beloved son, whom she spent so much money on just to get ballet classes, failed and would need to go home.

Today, Haechan fears none of those.

The decision to put him in an indefinite hiatus was quick to make, not that Haechan expected anything less.

The news was out the second they threw him out of the meeting room (but not before the CEO slapping him right across the face, his left cheek throbbing in pain he’s oddly happy he could feel) and his bags were packed before he could even tell his members. The dorms were empty when he arrived, and there was no time to visit Dream’s place; Haechan knew he could just call, or visit. His family lives twenty minutes away, a short ride from downtown. He’d figure it out, like he always would.

What fazes him is what he comes home to.

His father offers him a one-way ticket, says his mother is still too upset to look even at Haechan in the face, that she’s spending the night in her friend’s house. The domestic flight ticket is bound to Jeju Island, and it boards tomorrow morning.

“Your grandmother will be waiting for you,” his father says, eyes everywhere but Haechan’s. “Your mother thinks it would be the best for now. Your agency knows, of course, and they’re helping us ensure you get your privacy in Jeju-do. We just need you to stay there for a bit, Donghyuck. Might help.”

“Dad,” Haechan pleads, Dad sounding foreign to him now. He’s stopped calling him Dad years ago, right before he debuted in NCT, and had been calling him Father. He’s not sure why he’a suddenly calling him that now, perhaps it’s the sinking feeling in his stomach, but Haechan is desperate for another solution. “You can’t send me back in the island. I haven’t lived in grandmother’s house since I was twelve.”

“Don’t act like the place isn’t civilized, Donghyuck,” his father sighs. “You’ll be okay. You can take your expensive gaming laptop with you so you can entertain yourself while you’re on vacation. It’s only going to be a few months.”

“A few months?” Haechan cries. “I can’t live there anymore!”

“The agency decided not to terminate their contract with you,” his father reveals. “Apparently, you’re too talented to let go of. Your mother and I are very grateful they didn’t. All they want in return is for you to go back in six months—sober and full of life again. Your therapist suggests you go to a vacation.”

“I don’t have a therapist?”

“The doctor who prescribed you sleeping pills? You didn’t tell us you had insomnia.”

“Fuck you,” Haechan spits before he could even think about it. “Neither you nor mother thought of asking me what’s been going on. Dad, I wanted you to scold me. To punch me in the fucking gut and tell me I’ve ruined everything. I wanted mother to yell at me until my ear bleeds, so I can find the motivation to work hard and make her happy again.”

“Donghyuck, we–”

“Don’t call me that!” He yells. “The first thing that came to your mind was how grateful you are that I’m not fired from my job? I’m not some retirement plan! I’m your son!”

“Keep it down. Your siblings are–”

”Donghyuck-hyung?” Haechan turns. Gyeom stands at the end of the hallway, seemingly woken up from his slumber, and Dongmin hides behind the younger one to see what’s going on. Haechan doesn’t even see Seungyeon come out of her room. He just hears her door shut loudly, the lock clicking, and realize he fucked up big time.

He takes a look at the ticket from his father’s hand.

It’s ridiculous. If the melatonin pills he’s taking are not helping with his stupid insomnia, and drinking a bottle of soju works as equally as useless, what the fuck could work? They think a recreational vacation to fucking Jeju Island would do shit?

Fuck his parents, honestly.

Fuck his siblings for not even giving him a hug as soon as he entered their home.

Fuck his members for not checking up on him.

Fuck the entire god damn world.

He rips the ticket from his father’s hand and turns to leave, taking the same bags he’d brought in a few minutes ago. The flight is tomorrow morning, but Haechan calls a taxi to take him to the airport.

Sleeping (or at least, trying to) in the uncomfortable airport seats is a fucking pain in the ass, literally. But nothing more hurts than the look on his family’s face: the blankness in his father’s and the fright from his siblings.

Jeju fucking Island. Way to end the day.

When Haechan was younger, his grandmother would take him to the Camellia Hills on the weekends. While kids his age would be taken in Aqua Planet to see thousands of animals and plant species to ease their shoulders from studies, Haechan would be running around fields of camellia and hydrangea flowers. They would spend hours just walking around trees of over five hundred different kinds of wildflowers. His grandmother would take pictures of him and let him eat whatever he wanted at a nearby restaurant, and his siblings would always cry and complain why Nana only wanted to bring Haechan. There wasn’t a particular reason, of course, it was only because the younger ones were too difficult for their grandmother to look after on a trip to Camellia Hill. Little Donghyuckie was well-behaved albeit his bold and obnoxious nature. He would do whatever his Nana would ask him.

Haechan’s always claimed that he’s the favorite despite his grandmother repeatedly saying she doesn’t do favorites, and he knows deep in his heart that he is. He is, after all, the first grandchild, and he spent a lot of time with his Nana alone for many years while they were in Jeju.

His grandmother used to sing him to sleep at night. When his younger sister was born, Nana stayed with them in Seoul for a while to help his parents adjust to having two kids, considering Haechan’s age gap with Seungyeon is only a year. Nana made sure Haechan slept well every night, in a separate room from his parents because newborn Seungyeon who wouldn’t let anyone sleep past one in the morning. She’d sing him songs from The Beatles in broken English, and Haechan likes to think that even though both his parents were musicians, the reason why he could sing well was his Nana.

She eventually had to move back to Jeju Island as soon as the family had settled, but years later, at the age of seven, his grandfather died and Nana was left all alone to tend to their land and business, hence the Lee family packed their bags to stay at Nana’s supposedly for the summer, but ended up with the decision of staying for her.

Nana had problems sleeping when his grandfather died. Haechan used to find her awake when he’d need a glass of water or to go to the toilet at two in the morning. She’d be watching television, a nighttime talk show she used to like, or reading a book from his grandfather’s shelf. The lights in her home were always on.

So, Haechan started singing her to sleep just like how she did when he was a child.

She’d tell him, “Oh, my Donghyuckie, you have such a nice voice. Why don’t you sing more?”

Then she’d fall asleep while Haechan wondered why lovers die at different times, why one has to go first and the other is left on Earth trying to sleep well every night.

Upon his arrival in Jeju-do, his grandmother doesn’t pick him up from the airport like he’d expected, so he takes a taxi from the airport to her house. Haechan knows what their home looks like despite not visiting since his training days. They own a small hectare of land filled with tangerine trees, and his grandmother had been the sole operator of it all for many years until she had to start hiring people here and there to manage things for her when her age caught up with her. His father used to travel back and forth to see how things are here and there, but eventually stopped when Nana had found people she can rely on—which Haechan is very glad about.

He must be an asshole, or a prick, or a hypocrite to even say this but he’s been thinking about her more often than he calls. If he recalls right, the last time he’d called was three months ago, on her birthday, but it was two-minute exchange of generic how are yous and please stay healthys. She would call, of course, but Haechan would always have something as an excuse: a dance practice, a trip to Japan for a show, a photoshoot, something. Something to cover up the fact that he hasn’t been the best grandson to her in a long time.

He arrives and the first thing he notices is a hammock hanging in between the posts of her patio. A kick of nostalgia hits him because grandfather put up a hammock at the back of their home once, when Haechan was around five years old and they were visiting the couple for the summer. Her grandmother used to tell Haechan that the hammock is the best place to take his afternoon naps, hence little Donghyuck would spend most of his afternoons lying on a hammock made of strong nylon.

Shaking off the nostalgia, Haechan clears his throat. “Nana! I’m home!”

“Donghyuckie, is that you?” she calls from somewhere. Haechan walks over to the patio and drops his bags.

Nana comes out from the side of the house, her favorite pink apron on, grey hair hidden by a hair cap. “Oh, sweetheart.”

Haechan sees her age simply by the way she stands. Her back is hunched more than it was the last time he saw her during Chuseok last year. The wrinkles in the edges of her eyes and around her mouth are much more evident. The skin on her neck is loose, and so is the skin on her arms and everywhere.

For a second, Haechan feels like he’s seven again, seeing her for the first time since summer, her eyes not as happy as they were from the last time they’d been in Jeju-do, when grandfather was still alive. Haechan suddenly is taken back to when she’d hug him so, so tightly, crying to his shoulder, telling him harabeoji had left her while she was asleep. He remembers his heart dropping down to the ground when he saw her breaking down, his loving grandmother—who was always bright and happy, whom people would say he got his personality from—at her lowest. It’s the same wave of sadness Haechan feels looking at her now—looking at the years painted in her skin. Her memories blurring out the color of her eyes. Decades of hard work and labor tainted on the callouses on her fingers. Glints of loneliness spread throughout the wrinkles on her face.

Haechan has been all over the world for years now. Years of training and sleepless nights perfecting a performance had led him to where he is now. People who speak different languages love him and cheer for him even with countries and continents in between. He’s made millions happy by simply singing songs or saying hi in a fan call. And while he’s done of all of these, what had he done for his grandmother? People have been watching him grow up, who was watching Nana all this time?

Haechan chokes on his own tears. His grandmother, his Nana, opens her arms like Haechan is not the person the world hates right now. She hugs him like Haechan is not the person who had potentially ruined the group his best friend Mark had worked hard on. She holds him in her arms like Haechan is not the person who scared his siblings and cursed his own father. Nana takes him inside her home like he’s her Donghyuck again.

Haechan feels like he’s her Donghyuckie again.

Contrary to popular belief, Donghyuck doesn’t like affection as much as Haechan does.

He believes that being offered tenderness is the very proof that you’ve been ruined, and Haechan likes to think that with the life he has now, he’s not really in the position to talk about his life’s struggles. Because there are more people in the world who deserves to talk about their pain. Donghyuck doesn’t deserve as much.

Hence, the nostalgia goes away as quickly as it arrives. Haechan spends the rest of the day trying to sleep in his grandmother’s spare room and doesn’t even bother answering when his grandmother knocked on his door to invite him for lunch despite him being wide awake.

Haechan gets up at five in the afternoon, just when the sun is about to set, eyes heavy. The sky looks a lot like the color of his own skin, he notices, and he thinks about how beautiful the sky would be in Han River and recalls how him and Mark (and sometimes Doyoung) would lie on the ground, letting their skin soak in the sun slowly sinking down to its rest.

But none of that is close to happening because he’s here. In Jeju-do. Stuck like some twelve-year old sent to camp for an entire summer because his parents can’t stand him.

Haechan’s train of (bitter) thoughts is interrupted with a loud plonk from the wooden patio, which is right outside his window. He pulls his curtains slightly to peek, and he finds you on the floor on your side, groaning like a kid and massaging your back. It looks like you’d just fallen out of the hammock.

Curious, Haechan gets up and quickly slips out of his room to see you on their front porch.

“And Nana says it’s the most comfortable place to sleep on,” he hears you mumble as you get up, eyes meeting his as soon as you see him. Your eyes widen in shock, probably recognizing him, but you quickly catch yourself and look down.

“You are?” Haechan asks, towering over you.

You clear your throat. “Y/N.”

“I don’t mean your name, pumpkin,” he replies. “What do you do here?”

Haechan smirks at the way one of your eyebrows raised, clearly already infuriated at his attitude. You’re wearing a white shirt that’s too big for you underneath your denim overalls. The pair of boots sitting under the hammock is a clear sign that you’re a farmer tending to the tangerine trees on the land right beside the house, separated by a fence and his grandmother’s home garden.

“I manage your grandmother’s land,” you answer, stance defensive. “And it looks like you’re the delinquent grandson they sent away for the summer?”

Haechan chuckles, liking how you’re bark and bite, wondering how far he can push you, because the last thing he really wants is someone staying at his grandmother’s house. Too close. Too easy to see everything. You’d make millions selling him to the tabloids. He’d honestly rather hear people saying how much of an asshole he is, than have people invading his grandmother’s privacy while he’s here.

“You mean the world star, right?” he brags, licking his upper lip. “And you manage the land we own? Sounds a lot like a farmer to me.”

You stifle a laugh. You’re not at all intimidated. “Oh, pumpkin, I think the last thing you’d want to do in Jeju-do is insult a farmer for their job. The agricultural structure of Jeju Island has done more than you thrusting your hips up on the air for young, easily-manipulated teenage girls, Donghyuck.”

“So, you know my name?”

You click your tongue and turn around, proceeding to slip your boots back on. “How could I not know?”

“Because I’m a world star, right. How could you not know?”

Haechan watches you tie the laces up of your boots. You don’t give him another glance and leave, stomping your feet down the stairs to the ground until you’re out of his sight.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Nana says from inside. The door is wide open. “Where’s Y/N?”

She walks towards where Haechan stands, looking around for you. “That girl. I told her to stay for dinner. What’d you do, Donghyuck-ah?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles, annoyed at how Nana is more concerned about you leaving than ensuring his privacy. He’s a star, for god’s sake. “Why’d you let her sleep here, anyway? And have her stay for dinner? Aren’t you scared she might sell me off to some magazine for, I don’t know, one million won?”

“Why would Y/N sell you—“ his grandmother sighs. “Not everyone is out to get you, Donghyuck-ah.”

“Why does she even know my birth name?” he questions. “That’s like, too much, Nana. Don’t share things like that.”

His grandmother slaps his arm. “Ow! What’d you do that for?”

“You’re a moron!” she screeches. “That was Y/N! She waited for you to wake up all day!”

“That’s creepy!”

“Y/C/N,” Nana enunciates. Haechan remembers. “Her childhood nickname. Does it ring a bell?”

“Y/N—” he breathes out. Frozen. “—is Y/C/N?”

Haechan has always had an affinity with flowers, long before he named his fans sunflowers.

His grandparents had a larger flower garden as compared to how it is now. They’d planted tangerine trees in place of the fields of beautiful red azalea and rhododendron blossoms. On spring days, the cherry blossoms were infinite, and little Donghyuck used to spend a lot of time looking at the flowers and making necklaces out of them.

You used to (still do, perhaps) live down the street, and your parents used to help out in the farm when your grandparents needed another pair of hands to harvest the tangerines. Little Donghyuck met you when he was six.

If he recalls it right, it was the second day of summer, a hundred something days before they had to return back to Seoul. He found you lying under a cherry blossom tree, eyes closed, allowing hundreds of pink petals to drown you in their beauty. Little Donghyuck lied down beside you, upside-down but his head is right beside yours. He’s always been a curious kid, so he wanted to know why you were letting the pink petals rain on you. There was nothing special about it. Just petals falling when the wind blows a certain direction.

When he opened his eyes, you turn to look at him, your eyebrows were furrowed the way they were when Haechan found you on the floor of his patio earlier, right after you’d fallen from the hammock.

“Hey,” you had said. “You’re the kid from Nana’s house, right?”

“She’s my Nana,” he corrected, closing his eyes once again. “And yes, I’m the kid from Nana’s house. You are?”

“My mom calls me Y/C/N,” you answered. “Are you staying for the summer?”

He nodded. “Only for the summer. We’re leaving before school starts.”

“Do you like flowers?” you asked.

“We don’t have a lot of flowers in Seoul,” Little Donghyuck mumbled. “But I love flowers. Last summer, Nana took me to Camellia Hills to see the flowers bloom in May.”

“Then you should stay,” you trailed off. “If you love flowers and Seoul doesn’t offer much, then you should stay.”

“What about school?” Donghyuck had asked, opening his eyes to look at you. You’re looking at him, upside-down and all. Donghyuck’s never seen someone more beautiful. “You’re pretty.”

Your eyes widened. You immediately hide your face from him using your hands. “We’re only five. I can’t have a boyfriend at five years old.”

“Maybe when we’re older.”

Haechan doesn’t remember much from the day you met, but he got close to you during that summer in 2006, even more when his family moved back to Jeju-do in 2007. Your friendship blossomed from walking together in first grade throughout primary school until he’d graduated and eventually moved back to Seoul.

He can’t believe that he’d forgotten your name, and a part of him knows it’s because he’s always called you by your childhood nickname, but a larger part of him likes to think that it’s because he’s almost twenty-three now—it’s been almost ten years. He’s met probably thousands of people at this point, and with the lifestyle he has, he really can’t afford to remember each person he spends time with. Not even the girl he spent his entire childhood in Jeju-do with.

So, Haechan forgives himself before he could ask for yours. He reckons you’d understand. You know him, somehow. You kept in touch until Haechan got into SM in 2013 and high school and training got the best of him. He changed his number and lost contact with almost everyone in Jeju-do, even his closest friends, and you were one them.

Life as a singer means Haechan had to sacrifice a lot of things.

Most people know an idol sacrifices having a normal life—playing in the streets, trying out to be a part of the basketball team, dating at fifteen years old, prom, staying at one classmate’s house for a group project—and it includes forgetting the people you used to be close with.

One of the rules in SM when he was a trainee was to not get in touch with the people from their past. One of their managers used to tell them that their lives are divided into two parts: before training and after training; and to be successful in the industry means to forget who you were before training. They’d deleted all of his social media, which means he disconnected from the people he knew before he was Haechan. They’d deleted who he was before Haechan.

Many sacrifices, indeed. The list goes on, and at the end of it was your name.

“She never left Jeju-do?” Haechan asks, curious, as he ate the dinner Nana made for him. “Like not even for college?”

“She didn’t go to college at all,” Nana answers. “And she likes it here. Why do you make staying in Jeju-do sound like a living hell?”

Haechan shrugs. “It’s not like that, Nana. I mean, God knows what I’d do to get a normal life and go to college in Seoul and do what normal people in their early twenties do.”

Nana smiles at him. “This is probably what normal is for her. Not everyone has big dreams like you.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Haechan asks. “Dreams are free. It doesn’t cost anything to dream. Why wouldn’t people want to have big dreams?”

“Aren’t you the lucky one to have a dream and to be able to live your dream?” Nana says. She finishes up her meal and watches Haechan eat. “How are you, Donghyuck-ah?”

Haechan stops chewing and braces himself. Nobody’s asked him how he is. He continues chewing like it’s not a question that’s been weighing him under.

“I’m okay,” he answers, mouth full of food. “They didn’t fire me. So, I guess I should be grateful. I’m okay.”

“You know that you don’t have to lie to Nana, right?” She asks, smile kind and warm.

And Haechan wants to say it all. Out loud. Maybe even cry.

But he is not about to let his grandmother carry his burdens with her. Burdens that shouldn’t even matter because he’s so lucky to have the life he has now. Burdens that are nothing compared to other people’s.

“Come on, Donghyuck-ah,” she urges. “Talk to Nana. Tell me what’s wrong, my dear.”

“Halmeoni,” he firmly says. “I said I’m okay. I’m tired. Thank you for the meal.” He bows and stands to leave.

Life has a singer means Haechan had to sacrifice a lot, indeed.

Nana leaves a box of things Haechan would need while he’s in Jeju-do before her trusted chauffeur takes her to the town’s market for some business.

Haechan finds himself wearing the same fit as you the day before: a pair of overalls, an old, non-branded shirt that looks like it’s been worn and washed 300 times. Nana left a list of chores to do, and there’s no way Haechan is doing all of those. He’s taking a walk around the fields, supervise like how the owner’s grandson should, bask on the sunlight for a bit, then go back to his room and play some games with strangers online.

You’re waiting by the patio, sitting and looking at the opposite direction so he only sees your back, when Haechan comes out, dressed up for the role but not ready for whatever today brings him.

“Took you long enough,” you grumble as he steps out of the house. You stand and turn to look at him. “Lock the door and let’s get going. You’re late on your first day.”

“Chill out, sweet cheeks,” he scoffs, reaching behind the door and locking it before slamming it shut. “You’re not the boss of me.”

You nod, chuckling. “I’m not. But your grandmother is. And she added your list to the name of workers joining us to harvest today. You will be paid by the hour.”

Haechan gasps lightly in disbelief. “I don’t need to work. We own this place.”

“Hmm,” you hum, feigning curiosity as you tap your index finger to your chin as if you’re thinking hard. “You know I manage this whole place, right? Which means I also manage its taxes and permits annually. I’ve never seen your name in any of the papers I play with every day.”

“Same fucking thing,” he mumbles, walking past you to reach the gate. Haechan finds two horses waiting for him outside. He turns, ready to ask you what kind of joke you’re pulling on him, but he finds you going around the house, perhaps to make sure everything’s locked and all. You catch up on him, eyebrows raised when he points to the horses.

“Don’t tell me you can’t ride a horse,” you ask, seemingly in disbelief that someone like him isn’t capable of riding a horse. “You can’t work in the fields just walking. You’ll tire yourself out and will waste most of your working hours just walking.”

“I—I’m really not—” Haechan falters for a second, but comes back as quickly as he goes. “It’s been years since the last time I rode a horse. I’m not certain if I can do that now.” You give him a questioning look. “Besides. I’m a celebrity if you haven’t noticed it already. What if I break a bone?”

“You’ll live.”

“What if I fall and break my face?”

“Seoul has the best plastic surgeons.”

“My legs! They were injured before. I can’t afford to get another injury!”

“You’ll be fine. You’re such a drama queen.”

“I’m a star!”

At that, you burst out into a fit of laughter, the kind that Haechan would normally join in, because what he just said is truly ridiculous. He can’t believe he said that himself. But, of course, he can’t just laugh with, basically, a stranger.

“Oh my God, Lee Donghyuck,” you say in between laughter.

Something ignites something in him, the way you just said his name.

Haechan is a name he loves, an alter-ego he adores, a character he lives. Full sun, because that’s what he wants to be. He wants to bring light to everyone looking up to him, and he wants to be remembered by the way his voice warms the entire planet. He loves hearing cheers and applause when he introduces himself as Haechan. Because Haechan is talented. Haechan is an ace, an all-rounder who can do anything an idol is expected to do, perhaps even more. Haechan is bright and positive, and he likes making people laugh and at the same time uncomfortable of the influx of skinship he offers. Haechan loves the lights and cameras on stage, and he adores the way his name is in every city he goes to.

Meanwhile, Lee Donghyuck, he’s heard in a million times. Mark still calls him Donghyuck like they never aged since 2013, even Doyoung and Jeno. His parents seldom call him Haechan, never for Nana. His fans also have been calling him Donghyuck since they learned his birth name is Donghyuck, sometimes Hyuck or Hyuckie, which he finds really endearing.

Yet no one’s ever called him his name like he’s nothing but just Lee Donghyuck. Not for a long time. Not from someone before Haechan.

Donghyuck suddenly feels like he’s twelve again, the year he left Jeju-do and had to say goodbye to all of his friends with a promise to keep in touch and to never forget. Donghyuck finds himself looking at the way you’re laughing, how you have your eyes closed, mouth agape and melodies of your amusement coming out like a song he thought he’d forgotten but know all the words to, and he finds himself thinking, maybe being Lee Donghyuck isn’t so bad.

His first day at the farm didn’t go as quick as expected and if Donghyuck could say so himself, it’s the longest fucking day in his entire life.

Evidently, he couldn’t ride a horse to save his life. He doesn’t even know why he’d told you it’s been a long time when the only time he ever rode a horse was when he was eleven for a field trip and only to take a god damn picture to make his mother smile. You and him were only a couple of horse steps or whatever away from Nana’s home and his horse was already squirming and more like threatening to throw him ten meters away, hence, you begrudgingly offered to have him ride with you. Donghyuck didn’t decline, of course, because it was either walk around the place under the hot sun or die at the hands of a stupid horse. You had let him sit behind you, skillfully and impressively holding the other horse by its rope, Donghyuck’s arms reluctantly wrapped around your waist because he didn’t want to fall, and if you were uncomfortable, you didn’t say anything about it.

You had taken him to a tour within his grandparents’ land, and Donghyuck is already twenty-three when he realized his grandparents are big time, like for real. The land isn’t as big as the others, ones that are owned by a big corporation, people who aren’t even from Jeju-do but like to play agricultural monopoly, but it’s bigger than most. Nana was too humbled when she’d told him the night before that he would need to help out in their “small” business.

The business is nowhere near small, with hundreds of tangerine trees scattered around, blooming in the famous Jeju-do delicacy, and she had forty to fifty employees working for her.

“Not really like full-time employees,” you had explained when Donghyuck verbalized his surprise with the number of people working for the farm. “Normally, it’s just me and Nana and a few other people who handle the delivery, quality assurance, and sales in the farmer’s market, which I’d need to take you to tomorrow, and also some folks from Seoul who handle the cargo shipping to the cities. But when it’s harvest season, we really would need more than ten pairs of hands to help out.”

“So, like, all year, there’s only around ten people are here,” Donghyuck confirmed, hands still on your waist as the horse came to a stop. “And on harvest season, Nana hires more people to help out. That’s really nice. Could be a good summer job for students and all.”

You hummed in agreement, patting the horse that Donghyuck learned you named as Daisy. “But normally, you’d find older people working here instead of the younger ones.”

“Oh?” Donghyuck’s curious. “That’s a little odd. I mean, isn’t the job physically tiring?”

You shrugged. “The elderly, well, they don’t really have a lot of opportunities to work here, you know, considering that Jeju-do has become more of like a tourist island than a self-sufficient, thriving agricultural place. You’ve probably heard of the water park they’d built nearby the airport and other big corporations taking over and building their stores here and there. And of course, they’d most likely hire younger people who can relate to the Korean Wave your group caused, right?”

“Keeping tabs?”

You scoffed at that. “As if! Now, get down before I ask Daisy to wiggle her ass and throw you off.”

After the supposed short tour that took an hour because, well, their land is enormous, you take him where some of the elderly people are harvesting.

“This is Donghyuck,” you’d introduced. “Nana’s grandson from Seoul. He’ll be helping us today. So, halmeoni, don’t even think about getting him off the hook because he’s Nana’s grandson. He will be paid for the day like everyone else. You wouldn’t want someone to get paid the same, only to work half of what you do, right?”

The older women laughed at the way you’d introduced him, and he feels his heart swell with the way you’re laughing with them and how they looked at him with so much tenderness. And normally, Donghyuck doesn’t like the look of tenderness, especially when directed to him, but today, it felt warm. Warmth like never before.

“You grew up so handsome, Donghyuck-ah,” one of the women said. “But I thought you’d be taller, you know. You had such long limbs when you were younger.”

Donghyuck feigned offense, clutching his chest. “Ahjumma, you should’ve stopped at the word handsome.”

“Tangerines ripen earlier than other citruses, so they can escape damage from freezes that will harm midseason varieties such as grapefruit and sweet oranges. Most varieties will be ready for picking during the winter and early spring, although the exact tangerine harvest time depends on the cultivar and region,” you explain, following the lead while Donghyuck and two other guys around yours and his age trail behind you. He apparently needs some training before he can start working.

“How do we know if they’re ready to be picked?” Joohyuk, one of the part-timers, ask.

You will know it’s about harvest time for tangerines when the fruit is a good shade of orange and begins to soften a bit. This is your chance to do a taste test,” you answer, stopping to show an abundant tangerine tree. You pick one out and show it to Donghyuck and the rest. “Cut the fruit from the tree at the stem with hand pruners. If after your taste test the fruit has reached its ideal juicy sweetness, proceed to snip other fruit from the tree with the hand pruners.”

You proceed to show them how it’s cut and hand them a piece each. Donghyuck likes that the fruit is sweet, not sour.

The ahjummas find your group and start handing baskets to Donghyuck and the guys, telling them they’d guide them all throughout.

He found himself spending the rest of the morning getting to know the people harvesting tangerines and making them laugh like it’s his job. He learned all their names one by one, their families briefly, and what they used to do before they retired. By the time it’s lunch, Donghyuck was about to say goodbye and perhaps ask you to take him back to his house, the group from the other side of the farm joined their area, all packed with bags of lunch.

They asked him to join, of course, but Donghyuck refused, in respect of their time to relax and take a break, and asked if you could take him home instead. You agreed, of course, mumbling that you would also need to go home to feed your dog.

“I’ll pick you up at 1:15,” you say as soon as Donghyuck lands on his feet. “Don’t sleep, please. The ahjummas will be expecting you. It’ll be a lot hotter, so drench your celebrity skin with twice the amount of sunscreen you’d normally use.”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck responds, itching to say thank you, but not enough to actually say it. He rubs Daisy’s neck instead. “You—I, okay.”

“O-kay,” you nod and whistle to signal Daisy to turn and walk the other way.

Nana waits for him by the patio. “How was your first day?”

“It’s not even over yet,” he sighs, slumping his butt on one of the patio’s stairs. “Nana, I can’t believe you’re making me work while I’m on vacation.”

“Your father never said anything about a vacation,” she responds, smiling as she struggles to sit beside him. Donghyuck helps her. “You’re here for some time away from work, right?”

“Yeah, a vacation,” he emphasizes.

Nana reaches to move the fringe covering a part of his eyes. “Let’s call this your healing time. But I wouldn’t call it a vacation because a vacation for you only means playing computer games until the sun rises then sleeping all day.”

“You should stop talking to Seungyeon about me,” he mumbles, looking sideways to find his grandmother looking at him lovingly. “And I don’t only play computer games. I also listen to a lot of music.”

“Try not to think about the limelight while you’re here,” she says. “The farm needs some help now. And it’s the best time for you to learn about the family business in case you don’t make it back in Seoul.” Donghyuck groans, burying his face in his hands, and Nana laughs at him. “That’s a possibility you should be considering, Donghyuck-ah.”

“Nana, you’re making me feel worse,” he whines. “You just told me not to think about the limelight, how can I not when you just said what you said!”

“I’m only joking,” she admits. “No one is ever going to take the limelight away from you, Donghyuck-ah, even if they try. You were born for the stage, and I know it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.”

Donghyuck looks up at her. “Is it bad that it’s all I want?”

Nana shakes her head and offers a kind smile. “Having a dream like yours is never bad, Donghyuck-ah. I know that eventually you’d have to leave and go back to where you really belong: the limelight. But all I’m saying is, stepping out of the light isn’t as bad as you think it is.”

“Right.”

“Tell me how it was in the farm.”

“The ladies love me,” he chuckles. “I’m quite popular even in the small villages of Jeju-do, aren’t I?”

“You sure are,” she agrees. “They’ve been asking about you for a long time. Looks like your Nana isn’t the only one who missed you.”

“How come they still remember me?” he asks before he can think about it. “I mean, I’m sorry, but I’ve forgotten about most people here. They still remember how I used to play around and sing for small events.”

It’s true. It caught him by surprise that the workers still remembered him—and not only because he’s a celebrity now, but they remember him by the small, insignificant happenstances when he was younger. Like for example, one of them mentioned how he was once was injured, his pinky finger to be exact, because he was running like a madman when his mother had given him permission to go play computer games with his cousin. He doesn’t remember that person being there, but he knows his grandmother talked about it like it was a news about a hurricane hitting Seoul at that time it happened.

It makes Donghyuck wonder how many people remember him, and how many people he’d forgotten and left behind for his dreams.

“Our world here in Jeju-do is small,” Nana explains. “People like you, who left, well, while ours remain humble and small, while we fade into the background and slowly become insignificant, yours become bigger. So, while we remember, you forget, slowly, one by one—and nobody blames you for forgetting, Donghyuck-ah.”

Oh, look. Another burden, another truth that Donghyuck has to carry for the rest of his life. Another reason not to fall asleep tonight.

There is a small, local store located down the road from his grandmother’s house. They don’t sell nearly half the number the ones local convenience stores in Seoul would, but Donghyuck likes to think it’ll do. Soju and beer taste the same anyway, regardless of where he buys it.

With the faint, beaten yellow paint from its exterior, the store has been around even before Donghyuck was born. It’s the village’s very own convenience store, after all. There weren’t any rival stores like how it would look like in Seoul where every corner of every street one would find a convenience store. From where Donghyuck stands, the store doesn’t like look like it’s changed much in a decade.

For some reason, Donghyuck remembers how much Renjun likes reading neuroscience studies for fun. He doesn’t know anyone else who would read neuroscience studies. For fun. But anyway, back to his point, there was a neuroscience study that Renjun has been blabbing about during their US tour. It was something about when someone recalls an old memory, a representation of the entire event is instantaneously reactivated in the brain that often includes the people, location, smells, music, and other trivia. Recalling old memories can have a cinematic quality. Memories often seem to play out in the mind's eye like an old Super 8 home movie or vintage Technicolor film. Neuroscientists discovered that when someone tries to remember a singular aspect of an event from his or her past—such as a recent birthday party—that a complete representation of the entire scene is reactivated in the brain like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle coming together to create a vivid recollection. The new research reveals that humans remember life events using individual threads, that are coupled together into a tapestry of associations.

Donghyuck’s never really understood what Renjun meant at that time, except now.

He stands there, a good ten-meter distance from where you’re sitting. The pavement on the sidewalk isn’t the most comfortable place to sit in, but Donghyuck thinks it might just be, with how comfortable and at peace you look: legs stretched out to the street, headphones covering your ears, a book (or a journal perhaps, Donghyuck can’t see well from here) in one of your hands while the other is twirling a pen.

The scene takes him back to ten years ago, in the exact same place where you’re sitting, and if Donghyuck thinks about it now, it seems like nothing’s really change—except he’s almost twenty-three now, and despite him standing a few meters away from you, it feels like you and him are worlds away. And from what it looks like, you still love writing as much as Donghyuck loves singing.

It was a warm evening in May 2013, a couple of weeks before school ended and summer would officially start, counting down the nights when Donghyuck would have to move back to Seoul, and it was way too hot for Donghyuck’s liking. Nana didn’t have an air-conditioning system yet; his father was working hard to get her one before they leave for Seoul because summers can be crazy hot in Jeju-do. And Donghyuck needed a popsicle so bad, otherwise, he’d probably explode.

He found you the same place where you are now. Donghyuck thought your SHINEE shirt looked cute because while girls your age liked the newly debuted EXO, you still listened to SHINEE like a religion. You were sitting with your legs sprawled on the street, right under the streetlight, a pen in one hand and your old, beaten up journal on the other. Your eyebrows were furrowed, and Donghyuck caught himself before he could start thinking about how pretty you looked like that: focused and doing what you loved.

Donghyuck decided not to disrupt your focus and opted to go straight inside the small store, spending the last of his money on yours and his favorite: lime and cherry twin popsicle—the kind that’s packaged in one, two flavors in one, lime green and cherry red colors separated in the middle between popsicle sticks. Lime for you, cherry for him. You didn’t look up when he sat beside you, but took the lime-flavored popsicle from his hand when he handed it to you after peeling off the plastic cover and breaking it into two.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking the ice-cold treat in your mouth. Donghyuck couldn’t help but think his cherry-flavored popsicle resembled the color of your lips.

Donghyuck nodded his thoughts away, leaning in to peak at the page you’re working on. “What are you working on?” he asked it while the popsicle rested on one side of his mouth, his left cheek protruding.

You shrugged, taking the popsicle off your mouth, showing your work to him. Donghyuck found it endearing that you write all over the pages of your journals, it was as though he could see your train of thoughts: some smudged, some erased under ink but not really because he could still read through it, some clear as day, some to never see daylight again.

“I was in Science class today,” you started.

“We’re in the same homeroom, dumbass. I was there.”

“I’m talking,” you whined. “And I doubt you were even listening. You hate Science more than anything.”

“Fair point,” he hummed. “Okay, what about Science class? Please don’t tell me you’ll start writing about Science. Because I’m so sorry. I’ll never read any of your work ever again if you decide to do that.”

You laughed, the melody of your fondness of his jokes creating its own room inside the crevices of Donghyuck’s brain. “Teacher Kim was talking about symbiosis.”

“I’m not even going to pretend I know what that means.”

“Symbiosis is a term describing any relationship or interaction between two dissimilar organisms. The specific kind of symbiosis depends on whether either or both organisms benefit from the relationship,” you continued. “Butterflies and flowers, they are the best examples of symbiosis.”

Donghyuck nodded, savoring the sweetness of his cherry-flavored treat.

“Hence I did some research and read more about butterflies and flowers, and I read something a little sad,” you trailed off. “I learned that certain flowers bloom when butterflies hatch and depends on how they match each other. Butterflies, they prefer light-colored flowers they can perch on. So, when the timing is off, the flower misses the butterfly. The butterfly, therefore, finds another flower.”

“Then what happens to the flower?” Donghyuck asked, watching as you try to catch the melting piece off your popsicle, taking it back to your mouth. Your lips looked really pretty. “If it misses all the timing?”

“Well,” you shrugged, looking up to the night sky. The stars in Jeju-do that night were much prettier than it is in Seoul. “They bloom again next year, and hope that maybe next time, the timing is better. That the butterfly arrives just in time for the flowers to bloom.

“That is a little sad,” Donghyuck acknowledged. He watched you look back down, grimacing a little as you take the popsicle off your mouth. “Wanna try mine?” he asked before he could think about it.

You looked back at him. The stars in Jeju-do turned out to be nothing compared to your eyes. “Yeah?”

Donghyuck pulled the sweet treat from his mouth just as you hand him your lime-flavored one. He took it in his mouth, and Donghyuck had never been the biggest fan of anything sour, but for some reason, the lime flavor tasted sweeter than ever. You took his cherry-flavored ones, groaning in delight as you taste the treat’s sweetness.

“Cherry has always been my favorite,” you’d confessed, and Donghyuck was surprised because you’d always gotten the lime-flavored ones. The twin pops were your thing since you met summer of 2006—it was cheap, practical for two kids, two-in-one; you’d always choose the lime ones. “God, this is good.”

“You literally always take the lime ones,” he argued. “My whole life has been a lie. I’ve always thought lime was your favorite because you always take it whenever we get this!”

You shrugged. “You never liked anything sour,” you said like it’s the easiest thing to say, like it didn’t make Donghyuck’s heart somersault. “And I can take a little bit of sourness if it means you enjoy your cherry-flavored popsicle.”

Donghyuck was only twelve. He didn’t know anything about falling in love, but that night might just be the closest thing.

“So, you drink alcohol to help you fall asleep?” you ask as if it’s the most interesting solution to insomnia. Donghyuck thinks it isn’t; he’s read somewhere online that alcohol really helps. “That’s stupid.”

Donghyuck shrugs. “It’s not really working great right now. But it helps.”

He sits beside you on the sidewalk, legs sprawled out just like yours, a can of cold beer one hand while the other holds him up, flat on the rough pavement. There’s no particular reason why Donghyuck’s talking to you now. You and him got off the wrong foot, and it’s not like you can really blame Donghyuck for seeing a (supposed) stranger sleeping at his grandmother’s patio. And you were friends. Even though it’s been years, Donghyuck reckons talking to you would do no harm. Besides, if he’s staying here for a few months, a companion would probably make it less miserable.

“And your father thinks coming to Jeju-do would help, too?” you ask.

Donghyuck chuckles. “I guess you could say that. What else have you heard about me?”

You look at him, away from the street and right into his eyes. Donghyuck wonders why he didn’t recognize you the first time he saw you. Your face looks the same from the day he bid you goodbye a decade ago—lips colored in cherry, eyes bright as the stars, cheeks soft all over.

“A lot,” you answer. “But I’ve never been one to believe in rumors anyway.”

Donghyuck licks his lips. “The rumors are true.”

“Not about the sleeping around and getting drunk, pabo,” you mutter. “That, I believe.”

“Which ones?” he asks.

“People are saying you no longer like being on stage,” you say. It’s not the first time Donghyuck’s heard it. “That you’ve been burnt out from working all these years. And that you don’t care about music anymore.”

Donghyuck snickers. “That’s true, too.” He throws his head back, chugging on the cold beer. “I’m so over it. I don’t even care what happens after this.”

“Oh, Donghyuckie,” you whisper softly, eyes still glued to his face. “What has the limelight done to you?”

Donghyuck only shrugs, finishing off the rest of the cold beer, helping himself up and taking the plastic bag full of iced cold beer from the store.

“I don’t think that’s something you should be worried about,” Donghyuck says. You keep your eyes on him, so you’re looking up from where you’re seated and Donghyuck looks down on you. “It’s getting late. Wanna go drink at Nana’s?”

“Nana would kill you if she finds alcohol inside her house,” you say.

“I’ve snuck in about twenty bottles since I arrived last week and she hasn’t noticed,” he confesses.

“You’re a fucking nightmare,” you laugh.

Donghyuck freezes for a moment, watching you stand in between giggles. Mark said the same think a couple of weeks ago, but it doesn’t sting when you say it. You say it in laughter. Like it’s okay. Like it doesn’t scare you.

“My house is down the street,” you say, helping yourself up and standing in front of him. Donghyuck remembers. “I’ll call Nana and let her know you’re with me.”

A bark startles Donghyuck for a second. You and him turn to find a golden Labrador running towards where you stand.

“Aw, my baby’s here to pick me up,” you announce with the softest voice. The lab runs, almost dashes towards you, and Donghyuck is taken aback when it tackles him—not you—knocking the plastic bag off his hands and resulting to him landing his butt back to the pavement. “Pororo!” you shriek, not in surprise but with a tone of betrayal. “I’m your mother!”

Donghyuck hears you shriek, but laughs through it because the golden lab is hogging him, licking him all over as if he’d miss him all these years. “Oh, baby, you’re so cute,” he coos, cradling the dog by its face, looking up at you as the dog licks his face. “This is yours?”

You fight back a smile, but you lose immediately because your face breaks with a grin. “What has the limelight done to you?” you ask, the same question from earlier, but a different tone—teasing, nostalgic, like years ago.

The dog sniffs him all over and you stand there watching them.

“Can’t even recognize your own dog now?” you tease, walking so you could pet the dog and have him follow you. “It’s the puppy Nana got you a month before you left Seoul. You couldn’t bring him with you, and Nana couldn’t take care of him when you left, so I adopted him, pabo.”

“Pororo?” Donghyuck finally, finally recognizes. Pororo looks like he’s nodding, like saying thank God, you remembered me! The dog goes back to tackle him. “Oh, Pororo! My baby!”

You lead the way to your house, Pororo following after you. He watches you take several steps ahead of him. He feels dizzy watching the scene in front of him. Donghyuck understands what Renjun is talking about now.

Humans remember a singular aspect of an event from his or her past that a complete representation of the entire scene is reactivated in the brain like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle coming together to create a vivid recollection. You’re the representation of his entire life in Jeju-do, a clear image before Haechan, and he’s fucking sorry he forgot about you all these years.

But that’s an apology you’d never hear from him. Instead, he watches you, taking a small step towards you, and decides he’ll allow his unsaid apology to be added on the long list of reasons why he can’t sleep at night.

Nostalgia comes in waves, they say, but why do you bring it to him like a hurricane?

Donghyuck could say that Nana is impressed with the drastic change of character in the span of six weeks.

She’s been treating him better these days; by “better”, Donghyuck means she’s been cutting off a few hours from work so he could spend more time at her home, guarding the hens and roosters that serve at her alarm clock and watering her plants from her small vegetable garden. She’s also been paying him, giving him a small envelope with cash and a small paper that resembled a payslip showing the number of hours he’d work for the week, and Donghyuck ignores the quick jump from his heart when he sees your signature at the end of it, affirming that the hours listed are accurate. Donghyuck takes the money, of course, after Nana threatened to beat him up because she’d be breaking Korea’s labor laws if he doesn’t accept it, and he keeps it all in a small box in his room, planning to show it to his members when he goes back to Seoul and brag about working like a normal civilian at the age of 23.

There is a pinch in his heart when he remembers his members. While Donghyuck has been working on (and failing to) sober up for an entire month, his members have not called nor texted him. He’d been reaching out, of course. Some of his members have been assigned solo projects and activities in the last month, and he ensures to congratulate them. All he’s gotten so far are the receipts that his messages have been read.

Donghyuck convinces himself that it’s probably SM that advised everyone not to give him a time of their day, that they probably think being away from work means disconnecting from everyone, too, that his members love him and also believe that he needs some time off from everything.

But the convincing can only do much. The convincing distracts him while he’s at work, or while he’s watering Nana’s plants, but it doesn’t do much at night. Still, after six weeks, Donghyuck is nowhere near clean.

He wakes up with a terrible headache every day (from lack of sleep or hangover, he’s not really certain), and his Nana has been oddly making hangover soup for breakfast. Donghyuck wonders whether you’d ratted him out or his mother had called her about it. Either way, she probably knows something’s up.

His mother had called him a few times now, Seungyeon, too, and it’s been casual. His mother’s voice always sounded like she’s walking on eggshells whenever she’d call, blurting a half-assed apology for not seeing him before he left and telling him she’d forgiven him and that she’s looking forward to seeing her in a few months. Seungyeon talks to him the most, almost every day, in short text messages and 10-minute calls on the weekends when she doesn’t have to worry about waking up early the next day.  And she talks to him about the most random thing, nothing ever related to his obsession with drinking or the scandal, which makes Donghyuck feel better somehow.

Six weeks didn’t make much of a difference, not that Donghyuck was expecting any. The only thing that’s changed so far is that, he’s not as exhausted as he was in Seoul despite his shitty sleeping schedule continuously fucking up his already deteriorated mental health. He hasn’t been listening to songs for quite a while, and he’s been drinking every night. And if it means anything to him, you’ve been hanging out with him while he drinks.

In six weeks, he learns that you’re not much of a drinker. You don’t have many friends that you could really invite for a drink in a nearby pub or in a samgyeopsal restaurant. You’d mentioned that most people your age have all moved on to different places, spewing names that were once familiar to Donghyuck and telling him where they are now. Donghyuck is yet to learn why you had stayed in Jeju-do, not once stepping in Seoul, when the world off this island’s shores are much, much bigger than you think.

It’s two in the morning. You’d taken him home because he could barely keep his head up with the number of soju bottles he had downed, and he appreciates that you try to stay quiet when you put him to bed and leave, keeping the blinds closed because he’d told you once that the morning sunlight seeping through spaces between the curtains hurt his eyes. You’d left when Donghyuck’s barely awake.

His phone dings a notification. Donghyuck probably won’t remember so he reaches over, checking it and recognizing his mother’s name.

She sends him an article about the upcoming debut of NCT DoJaeJung, and Donghyuck’s seen it in the groupchat for some time now. Donghyuck isn’t even halfway down the article when she sends another one: Mark’s solo song.

She doesn’t add another message, and he sees her status change from online to offline in a split second, but she doesn’t really have to say anything else for him to understand.

Donghyuck’s dream has always been the spotlight.

Or at least, as he recognizes now, his mother’s dream for him has always been the spotlight.

Donghyuck always thought he loved making people happy and singing equally.

While people called him kind and a ray of sunshine, Mark’s always called him out for being a people-pleaser, reminding him that he doesn’t have to make sure everyone is happy with the choices he’d make, telling him he doesn’t have to feel the strong urge to please everyone. And Donghyuck never understood it until now, now that he’s wide awake and looking at his mother’s messages. She’s probably expecting a solo project for him, too, and she sends these things that make her happy, and she’s already expecting him he’d do it no matter what. Donghyuck’s mother is a good person; he’d look up at her and think to himself that when he grows up, he’d want to be as supportive as his mother, and don’t get him wrong when he says she expects him to do anything that’d make her happy. Because this is all Donghyuck’s fault, anyway.

With his desire to make her the happiest, he’s done everything he could to make her happy, even at his own expense.

The infamous Saturday audition at SM was something Donghyuck never thought about—not at the age of 13 when he had just gotten back in Seoul after five years of staying in Jeju-do. His accent has changed and he reckons he could have a good relationship with boys his age who grew up in the city. And as much as he loved performing, Donghyuck doesn’t like being criticized. He doesn’t like rejection, and he can’t bare the thought of adults telling him he couldn’t sing.

Hence, his initial answer to his mother’s proposal to visit SM Entertainment and give it a try was no. The only thing that had made him go, knees shaking and palms sweaty, was his mother’s words: “It’ll truly make me happy if you give it a try.”

She’d said it in many occasions, and Donghyuck’s given everything that’d make her happy a try. She’d never said a bad thing and even told him a few times that it’s okay if he doesn’t want to, but he does it anyway.

Donghyuck was afraid that she’d love him less if he didn’t make her happy. He was only thirteen, and his twenty-three now, and his biggest fear hasn’t changed: to be loved less because he didn’t make them happy enough.

So, Haechan blurts out the most random jokes when the cameras are on and initiates skinship with the member even if they abhor him for it and style his hair a different way, because it makes the fans happy. Haechan stays up learning the tune of the new song and recording himself in his phone for hours even after an entire day of physical activities, because it makes the producers happy. Haechan takes his friends and the younger members to dinner after a 16-hour flight from the west on the night of his birthday—his eyes barely open the entire time—because it makes them happy. Haechan plays the maknae role perfectly, even when at times he’s tired of it, because it makes the older members happy. Haechan continues to be a sunny and bright character even on days when he’s exhausted, because it makes his managers happy.

But the truth is, Donghyuck doesn’t like dyeing his hair. His hair’s gotten so unhealthy from dyeing it different colors last year.

Donghyuck feels awful sometimes, when his friends do not return his affection, but he plays it off, feigning hurt even when it actually does.

Donghyuck wants to sleep after a 16-hour flight.

Donghyuck wants to drink with his hyungs, too.

Donghyuck just wants to sing and write songs when he’s learned enough.

Donghyuck doesn’t want to be like Mark, or Doyoung, or anyone else.

Donghyuck wants Haechan to be… Donghyuck.

Donghyuck wants to be happy—in his own terms, by his own choices.

But how can he be happy when he’s always depended his happiness on the people he loves?

Donghyuck feels like a dead man walking.

You and Donghyuck are tasked to bring the harvested fruits at the farmer’s market in the early hours of Sunday.

It’s barely five in the morning, and the sun’s not even out yet, but you had forced him to sleep early the night before to make sure he’d accompany you to the market. (He didn’t sleep though; he lied awake until his phone rang and you’re calling from outside.) You’d driven the farm’s truck to get here, and Donghyuck can’t help but admire the way you hold the steering wheel with one hand.

Donghyuck helps you carry the boxes out of the truck, arranging them in front of his grandmother’s store. You had walked in while he carries the rest inside and Donghyuck hears you talk to Eunseuk, his Nana’s sales person who handles and manages their place in the public market.

“That’s awful,” Donghyuck hears you say as soon as he places the last of the boxes in a corner. “Can’t the mayor do anything about it?

Eunseuk sighs, shaking her head. “Unfortunately, it looks like the donation project Nana’s driven wasn’t enough. She barely made enough profit last quarter because she’d donated most of it to the project.”

“What is awful and what project are we talking about?” Donghyuck interrupts.

Eunseuk smiles sadly at him. “The clinic that Nana’s been proposing to the mayor for years now. The town’s mayor thinks it’s not going to be built this year.” Donghyuck’s never heard of it.

“The community has a lot of elderly people who live alone in Jeju-do,” you explain when you notice his curiosity. “Especially in here in the island, even more here in our town. Most people leave Jeju-do at the age of eighteen to find a better life in Seoul, which is ridiculous because there’s no place better than Jeju-do, and Nana thought it’d be great if she built a small clinic for the elderly nearby, that way they wouldn’t have to travel fifty kilometers to visit the nearest hospital. It’d be great if the elderly can have themselves checked for free and to have, if not all, most equipment they’d need.”

“How is that possible?” Donghyuck asks.

“Well,” Eunseuk starts. “First, we need the funds to actually build the clinic itself. Nana is halfway through the amount needed. The mayor’s children are doctors, and if he wants to keep winning the next elections, I’m sure he’d be happy to have them volunteer.”

“What about maintenance?” he asks.

“Good question,” you say. “And good thinking. I like it, you’re already thinking ahead, Donghyuck-ah. Anyway, the elderly is very much willing to do community service in exchange of the maintenance of the small clinic. And don’t worry, it’s not like Nana’s going to make them work like horses.”

“Services like crocheting products for the local market,” Eunseuk adds. “Food manufacturing—the kind that would allow them to make while sitting down, local farming, jewelry-making, and the like. Things we can sell in the market. You know how tourists are so keen on buying anything hand-made.”

“So, a clinic for the elderly built and maintained by the elderly?” Donghyuck sums up.

“Exactly!”

“How much are we looking at in terms of money?” He asks.

You chuckle. “If you’re grandmother wanted to ask money from you, she would have already. She has some kind of pride, you know.”

“Well, I’ll give it you and you tell her it’s an anonymous donation.”

“As if she’d believe that bullshit,” you answer. “Anyway, Eunseuk-eonnie, what do we do now?”

The older woman shrugs. “We’ll keep selling tangerines until we reach the goal, I guess.”

Donghyuck talks before he could think about it. “I can do something.”

You and Eunseuk look at him like you’d just seen a ghost.

“I don’t know what I can offer,” he says right away. “But I’ll… I think I can do something.”

“Donghyuck,” you say. “You can sing.”

“I am aware,” he jokes.

“No, you can sing,” you repeat. Donghyuck looks back at you. “You can sing, so I’m sure you can teach people how to sing.”

“And?” He doesn’t get it.

“It’s summer,” you answer. “Most kids are bored and are probably looking for something meaningful to do while they wait for school to start again. Teach kids how to sing and have their parents pay for it!”

Donghyuck thinks it’s a good idea. “And you can write.”

You freeze. “No.”

“Teach kids how to write and have their parents pay for it.”

“Over my dead body!”

“I will do it only if you do it.”

Eunseuk laughs, “Oh, this is good.”

“No, Donghyuck. I’m not a professional writer. I didn’t even go to college. I don’t have the credentials for it.”

“You don’t have to go college to be a writer,” he snorts. “Scott Fitzgerald didn’t even finish college.”

“Where’d you even learn that?”

“You told me when we were kids!” he answers, laughing. “Come on, Y/N. I’m sure Nana can find someone to do your job in the farm while we teach kids.”

“I don’t know, Donghyuck,” you sigh.

Eunseuk lightly slaps your arm. “Come on, young lady. Do it for the elderly.”

“Yeah, Y/N, do it for the elderly.”

The sparkle in your eyes and the smile on your lips tell Donghyuck you agree.

And so, the plan goes accordingly.

Donghyuck could say that Nana is more than delighted to learn that his delinquent and embarrassing grandson, who’s spent all this time pretending he doesn’t care, had decided to help out. You’d done the most part, of course— obtaining the permit from the mayor’s office and settling all the paperwork needed. All Donghyuck had to do was to help clean up and renovate his grandfather’s old office in the farm. Everyone else who had some free time helped because apparently, that’s what this community does. Donghyuck could probably get used to receiving help without him asking for it.

So, in more or less five days, his grandfather’s old office, which is about forty square meters, had turned into the community’s summer class headquarters. You and Donghyuck decided to call it Nana’s Music and Literature Classes. And with the help of Eunseuk and some of the workers, the word spread like news from the radio. In a week’s time, you and Donghyuck have over twenty student each. Mondays and Wednesdays were his schedule; yours were Tuesdays and Thursdays. Fridays were called Hyuckie and Y/C/N’s day—which means you and him would dedicate an entire day brainstorming and talking about your class’ progress.

The summer courses would take eight weeks to complete, and at the end of it would be a competition, in which the Mayor promised he’d give a very big reward for. Those who enrolled in Donghyuck’s classes would have a recital at the end of summer where the kids will hold a small concert for the town—tickets to be sold as part of the drive, of course—and the judges will be identified to select three winners. As for your classes, it will be a short story competition, and the winners will be announced on the night of the small concert, which Donghyuck is the best ending any summer could have.

The place is cramped, and Donghyuck’s never been more excited his entire life.

He’s gone to many places and met with many prominent people in this lifetime. But he’s decided that this is the most exhilarating day of his life.

The parents leave as soon as Donghyuck assures them that the kids will be safe and will be all set for pick up by 3 in the afternoon. You’re talking to the kids while he ensures that the room is cool enough for everybody. The room is filled with excitement that Donghyuck could feel inside him. He learned from the parents he’d met just a few minutes ago that the town doesn’t really offer things like this for children and that they’d have to send their kids to summer camp in the mainland if they wanted them to experience this, and the fact that you and him are doing this for a cause makes it even better.

Donghyuck views this like it’s not as big as the drives NCT had been doing, or the charity concerts he takes part in, or the money he donates to various causes, but to the people of the town, it’s bigger than anything they had ever known.

“Aigoo,” one of the parents cooed when she’d seen Donghyuck greet everybody outside. “Your grandparents have always been kind. They’d been the pillar of this small town for quite some time now. I’m glad you’re growing up a good man.”

You’d smiled at him when you heard that, and Donghyuck wonders if you also think he’s growing up a good man, because he thinks you grew up to be such an amazing, compassionate person.

“Hello, kids!” Donghyuck greets. Everybody says it back with the same enthusiasm, and despite having been in hundreds of shows with thousands of people in the audience, he can’t remember the last time a crowd made him feel alive.

Donghyuck hates being recognized.

When his career had just started, he thought that the greatest compliment was to be recognized. He thought that he’d measure his success with the number of people from the general public who could recognize him under a hat and with a face mask covering half his face. But in the latter years of his career, he’d learned the hard way that he hated being seen and being recognized.

There had been many happenstances in his job in which he’d just wish he was invisible for a moment. Anytime he’s in an airport, regardless it was for an event or concert overseas, or worst of it all, a vacation with his family, all Donghyuck wants is for people not to know who he is. In afternoon runs by himself, all he needs is a time alone and not girls following him and taking pictures of him. On days when he’s out with friends and family, all he hopes is peace. This comes with the job, Johnny would tell him whenever he’d get frisky and annoyed, but Donghyuck never really understood why his privacy is anyone’s business. Never really understood why he had to go through this when all he’s ever really wanted was sing.

Donghyuck hates being seen.

More than anything. Especially when he’s trying hard to hide. And he wishes he’s only talking about his physical appearance being seen. He hates that his grandmother sees through him but doesn’t say anything about it unless he opens up first. He hates that Mark, his best friend in the entire world, sees right through his walls and that all Donghyuck’s done is push him away and make him hate him even more. He hates that his father sees his pain, but doesn’t talk about it for some reason. He hates that you see him—all of him—but you don’t look at him with disgust or pity or anything of that sort.

It’s Friday, yours and his day, the second one since summer school’s started, and he’d started calling you by your childhood nickname again. You’d grimaced the first time and told him nobody’s called you that in a long time, but allowed him nonetheless.

The clock strikes six in the afternoon and the dusk had just settled in the horizon. You and him are sitting on the floor of his room, facing each other, separated by a small table, notepads scattered, ideas running a hundred miles per second.

“This is perfect,” you comment when you and him had finished planning out next week’s daily agenda. “The kids are going to love it!”

Donghyuck stays silent, eyes on you as you finally set your pen down.

“What should we have for dinner?” you ask, eyes still on the notepad. “Nana’s probably heating up some leftover galbi, but I think we should make some kimchi stew, too.”

Donghyuck hums. You look up at him. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. I just had something in mind.”

You tilt your head. “Tell me.”

“It’s a question,” he says. “And if I say it, you’d have to answer.”

You think about it for a moment. Donghyuck almost takes it back. “Sure.”

“Really?”

You nod. “As long as you answer a question from me, too.”

Donghyuck pretends to think about it. “Can we set some rules?”

“It’s literally one question,” you snort. “Come on. Ask me.”

“No, ask me first,” he insists.

“You asked first.”

“No. Ask me first,” he repeats.

You scoff. “Fine. You have to tell me the truth, yeah?” A nod. “Ready?” Another.

Donghyuck holds his breath for a moment and you don’t say anything for about a minute, probably thinking the same as him: this is the only chance both of you are honest and open, might as well ask a question one wouldn’t answer on a normal day.

“How are you?”

He exhales the breath he’s been holding and nearly breaks down in tears when he hears the question you’d decided to ask. He’s sure you’ve heard of it all. Everything’s been all over the internet for the past two months he’d been in hiding in Jeju-do: the drinking, the nights in clubs and bars, the fights with the members, the cherry on top which is the scandal. It’d all spiraled into everything he was initially afraid of. The girl he’d met at the back of the club had sold him to reporters and had made up a story of how they’ve been in a sexual relationship for quite some time. The media had dug up stories of him being out of control in the streets when he’s shitfaced from all the soju he had and had posted tales of him asking multiple women to sleep with him whenever he’s drunk.

The agency sued everyone for making shit up, of course, but Donghyuck knows half of those are the truth. He has not been the best group member in a long time: always late in practices, grumpy and hangover during fan signs, lethargic during concerts, and fucking up performances. He’s lost himself, and he’s losing everyone in the process of it.

People ask him if he’d really had sex with someone at the back of a bar. They’d ask him why he never asked for help with his drinking problem. Comments from his Instagram would tell him to back off and just leave the group. Fans from calls and fan signs would ask him why he’d stop making covers of the songs he loved and why he hasn’t been on Bubble in a long period of time.

But nobody else had really asked him how he’s been aside from Nana, who he doesn’t have the heart to open up to.

“I—” He starts but swallows, breathing in. You wait for him. “I’m—I don’t really—I’m not sure if I can.”

You nod. “Take your time, Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck reminds himself to breathe.

How is he? How has been holding up after everything that’s happened?

He’s lost his spark. He’s lost his love for music, his passion for the stage, the sparkle in his eyes. He’s losing the people he loves. He’s losing his friends. And he’s losing a battle with himself.

He’s—

“I’m, ” he tries again. “Y/N, I’m not okay.”

It pours like rain, his tears. He shakes when he cries and his chest is tight and it’s hard to breathe, but he keeps crying because it’s the only time he ever will. He sobs in pain and holds himself when his entire body shakes from the ache of it all.

He’s grieving, weeping, like how one would in a funeral, because how does he ask for forgiveness? How does he ask forgiveness from his parents and siblings? From his members? From his fans? From the staff and the people who’d brought him to where he is? How does he ask forgiveness from little Donghyuck when all he’d wanted was for him to grow up a good man?

You let him cry, and only reach out to hand him a handkerchief when he’s done. You don’t say anything. Instead you kneel and reach over to hug him from the other side. Donghyuck accepts your tenderness.

“I don’t have anything else to ask,” you murmur against his hair. “But I do want to say that you’re loved in ways you probably have forgotten already. You’ve probably been used to love that’s loud—screaming and flamboyant and beautiful and everything anyone would want—but you’re also loved quietly. In a small, serene room. In a way you’ve forgotten.”

“Thank you,” he says, sniffling, a little embarrassed now. “I’m sorry. I probably ruined the moment.”

You chuckle, pulling away, and Donghyuck’s heart does flips when you kiss the top of his head like you always did when you were younger. He doesn’t know why he remembers all of a sudden.

“Stop apologizing,” you reply. “There’s nothing to apologize about.”

“There’s a lot,” he admits. “I didn’t recognize you the first time I saw you. We did everything when we were kids, and I didn’t recognize you.”

“And it’s okay,” you assure, holding the top of his hand that’s resting on the small table. “I didn’t expect you to recognize me right away. You were worlds away from me. We forget people and that’s okay.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not. I promised to keep in touch, and I never did. I’m sorry.”

You nod. “You’re forgiven.”

Donghyuck sighs in relief. “I doubt, but okay.”

“Trust me.” He does. “Anyway, you were going to ask me something. You’re not allowed to ask the same thing because I’d just answer that I’m tired and I want to sleep. Nothing big happens in my life.”

Donghyuck smiles again. “Ready?” A nod. “Why’d you never leave Jeju-do?”

It seems like you didn’t expect the question because your face tells Donghyuck you’re surprised by what he just asked. You lick your lip and exhale largely, looking everywhere but his eyes. Donghyuck allows you to take your time, and you’re not running away so he’s assuming you’re thinking of an answer for him.

“I don’t have a dream,” is your answer. “My parents think it’s not normal. Because even they had already left the town and moved to a bigger place off the island. People think it’s impossible that I don’t have a dream, that I must want something in life, I just haven’t discovered it yet. And I’m twenty-three, I’m still waiting for my awakening, for dreams to find me, but it hasn’t. I don’t want to do anything in life but just… survive.”

Donghyuck only listens. “In high school, when we were deciding what to take up in college and which college we’d go to, I had nothing in mind. I didn’t want a career—not an engineer, not a teacher, not a doctor, none of those. I couldn’t think of anything. Writing is something that I love doing, but I really can’t see myself pursuing it as a career. I don’t want to end up hating it. I’ve always been convinced that I wasn’t specifically good at anything apart from that. I’m okay with all subjects at school, average grades and all, but nothing ever stood out for me. I never stood out. And I was okay with it for a reason I still don’t know. I was okay with not having dreams. College was the only reason for me to leave Jeju-do. There’s nothing else, therefore I’m still here. At twenty-three, I haven’t accomplished much, and if you want me to be all out and honest,” you sigh. “It’s… it’s starting to scare me.”

“What scares you?”

“That I haven’t accomplished anything yet,” you admit. “I’m not one to, you know, force myself to people and make them remember me. I wasn’t scared of oblivion. Until… these days, I’ve been asking myself, how are people going to remember me?”

Donghyuck nods, urges you to continue.

“Are they going to remember me as someone who helps out in your Nana’s farm because I had nothing to do?” you voice out. “Are they going to remember me as someone who brings all the deliveries to the farmer’s market when the staff is unavailable? Are they going to remember be as Eunseuk’s co-worker? Are they going to remember me at all?”

 “Can I tell you something?” he asks but doesn’t wait for you to answer. “I know I’m not in the position to say anything about remembering you when I couldn’t recognize you the first time we met after a decade, but I remember you by the way I see cherry blossoms.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Is that a good thing?”

“We met in a puddle of fallen cherry blossoms in summer of 2006,” he explains. “I remember you by the way you admired flowers that fall off from its stem, by the way you loved fallen and broken things equally when they were perfect and when they stood still. I may have awfully forgotten you all these years, but the way I see cherry blossoms is the exact same way you see them.”

Donghyuck continues, “You know how they say we’re a manifestation of all the people we met, right? That we’re a mosaic of everything we’ve ever learned from them. To me, I remember you as the clear image of who I was before… before everything that’s happened. I remember you as someone helping me find my way back home.”

“Donghyuck,” you trail off. “That’s the… best thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Donghyuck smiles. “And so, what if you don’t have big dreams? Dreams are just dreams anyway. You don’t have to have one if you don’t want to. You shouldn’t have to struggle so much in order to live.”

“Do people know you’re this kind and profound?” you chuckle. “People should see this side of Lee Donghyuck.”

“Call yourself lucky you’re the only one,” he answers.

“What’s wrong with people seeing this side?”

Donghyuck shrugs. “I don’t think they’d want the boring kind. I think they like me better when I’m funny and over the top and a sucker for attention.”

“Well,” you click your tongue. “I like you either way.”

Donghyuck is barely twenty-three. And if he knows anything about falling in love, this might just be the moment he truly learns it.

You and him end up falling asleep on his bed. Donghyuck likes to think he doesn’t really remember how it happened. You’d told him you’d sleep in the hammock at his house’s patio, but he’d insisted to sleep in his room, of course. Reason? Mosquitoes, of course. Donghyuck said he’d sleep on the floor, taking an extra pillow, but you were already half asleep, moving so your body is right by the wall, safe and sound. You’d save the extra space for him to sleep beside you. Donghyuck likes to think he’d fallen asleep because he was exhausted and not because he felt safe around you.

It’s the longest sleep he’s had in a long time.

He wakes up at eight in the morning, the room already warm despite the air-conditioning system still switched on. You are no longer beside him, but he clearly hears your voice from outside.

Donghyuck gets up, going straight outside and finds everyone from the farm gathered around for breakfast outside his grandmother’s house. He’d forgotten that his Nana invited everybody for a scrumptious breakfast today, Saturday, and he wonders why neither you nor Nana herself had woken him up to help out.

Farmers and harvesters pass a plate to one another. A long table is set up in the middle of Nana’s driveway space, various of dishes laid out, and Donghyuck finds you holding two pitchers of tangerine juice, walking around to fill up the workers’ cups.

It’s Eunseuk who sees Donghyuck standing by the patio watching everybody move around.

“There’s our Donghyuckie!” she announces.

Everyone looks at him and greets him a good morning. Nana shouts his name and asks him to come over and eat some breakfast. You squint when you look at him, the sun blinding your eyes, but you smile as soon as he waves hi.

Donghyuck can’t help but think being recognized is not so bad after all.

Donghyuck spends the rest of summer like a kid.

Except he goes to work at Nana’s Music and Literature Classes on Mondays and Wednesdays, goes to the farm on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and spends his Fridays with you. He learns many things over the summer, especially about the community and the town itself. He meets more people as Donghyuck, Nana’s grandson who teaches children how to sing and who helps out in the farm two days a week. They accept him as he is, and he feels like seven again, meeting new people every day until they all remember him by his name.

Among the things he’s learned, he likes learning how your lips taste the most.

It was sudden, unplanned, the kind where he didn’t know he was doing it until he’s done it. You and him were ending a Friday session at your place that time, the place where he used to hide his drinks, and he was so elated that he wasn’t going home drunk for the first time since he arrived in Jeju-do. And he was bidding you goodbye. He’d leaned it like it was the most natural thing to do and caught your lips in his. You shrieked in surprise, unable to say anything, but tipped on your toes and gave him a second kiss before turning and running inside your house.

You didn’t talk about it, and Donghyuck felt like it was not something to talk about. You had voiced out you liked him in many occasions, and Donghyuck’s been relentlessly flirting with you since the night you fell asleep in his room. The signs were never mixed and the lines were never blurred. Donghyuck’s grown much closer to you more than anyone else in the world, and he’s been falling asleep in the safety of your arms these days. It was safe to say the kisses weren’t meaningless.

The night of his class’ recital comes quickly.

Donghyuck spend the entire two days practicing with each of his students while you were busy reading all of your students’ works and giving them feedback before they submit it to the Mayor’s office. You find him getting ready in his room, dressed in the only button-down shirt he brought from Seoul and a pair of slacks. Meanwhile, it’s the first time he’s seeing you in a dress that somehow matches the colors of his outfit.

“Looking great, handsome,” you say.

Donghyuck pulls you for a kiss. “Could say the same to you, beautiful.”

“Why are you so touchy these days?” you whine but lean back to kiss him again anyway. “Ready? One of the parents called and said his kid is already in the venue. They’re excited.”

Donghyuck nods, grabbing a jacket just in case it gets cold later tonight, and leads the way out. Nana is dressed in a pretty dress Donghyuck gave her for Christmas last year. Donghyuck drives to the venue and finds himself nervous for the first time in a long time.

 You’d managed to convince him to sing tonight despite his persistent refusal.

“Come on, Donghyuck,” you begged, pulling him by the end of his shirt as he harvests tangerines. “The audience will love you!”

“They paid their tickets to watch the kids of the community sing, not me,” he argued. “And besides, I haven’t sung in like, four months. Who knows? I may have forgotten to sing already.”

“Bullshit,” you said. “Your Nana would want to hear you sing live.”

“She’s already heard me sing live many times,” he replied. “She’s been to many concerts.”

You tilt you head, a habit he’s grown to really like. “But I haven’t.”

Donghyuck had wanted to kiss the pout off your lips at that time. “Watch it from Youtube.”

“You don’t get many lines!” you said.

“So, you do watch my performances in Youtube, huh?” he teased. “Only in NCT 127 I don’t get so much lines because there are more members. Try to listen to NCT Dream.”

“Donghyuck!” you bellowed in frustration as you follow him around the farm. “Please!”

He stopped and turned, a little too late for you to step back because you’re already pressed up against his chest. “Okay.”

“Really?” you asked, voice lower because your faces were just inches apart—one wrong move and you’d be kissing in the middle of tangerine trees.

He nodded, purposely moving his face closer. “Only if you start reviewing for the SAT again and start sending your drafted college applications from your laptop.”

“Who told you to sneak in and open my files!” you gasped.

“I was checking if you’ve ever watched porn in your life and I found something better: your college applications.”

“I hate you, you know?”

Donghyuck chuckled, moving even closer to intimidate you but he hoped you couldn’t his heart hammering against his chest. “I know. Now. Do we have a deal? I’ll sing at recital night and you start reviewing for the upcoming SAT and send out your college applications when it’s time.”

“I’m—I’m not sure.”

Donghyuck let you go, you almost falling back but he held your hand before you could. “Then I’m not singing.”

“But Donghyuck!” He turned to leave while you scream behind him, pleading.

Ten steps forward and he finally got what he wanted: “Okay! I’ll do it! I’ll start reviewing and will send all the drafted college applications! I’ll do it!”

Hence, the singing stunt for tonight.

The event goes as planned.

The night starts with Donghyuck’s entire class singing their own rendition of a famous traditional song that the crowd truly loved. One by one, the kids would sing, with intermission numbers in groups in between, and by the end of it, it was Donghyuck’s turn.

The minus one track is ready and Donghyuck takes a deep breath as he walks up the stage. It’s smaller than any of the stages he’s been on—perhaps the smallest—and the lights aren’t as bright than the ones he’s used to. Big stages mean big lights, and if he’s being completely honest, he doesn’t see a single face when he’s on stage. The illuminations to ensure the fans would see them are blinding, beyond what people think. While his mother thinks his eyesight has gotten worse due to the long hours of playing APEX on his days off, Donghyuck believes it’s because of the blinding lights from the stage and everywhere he goes.

However, this stage has the gentlest lights he’s ever seen. The crowd is small, about two hundred people including their students, and from here, he can see their faces clearly. He stands not too far away, not to high, and he smiles when the crowd cheers when he reaches the middle of the stage.

“Hello, I’m Donghyuck,” he says on the mic. “I’m the teacher of the talented kids we watched this evening, and I can’t be prouder with how they sang their hearts out tonight. To show my gratitude, I also prepared a song for you.”

The crowd cheers again, your voice standing out as you stand right beside the stage, your phone already up probably recording him.

“I sang this song some time last year,” he continues. “This is Good Person.”

The instrumental plays and the crowd claps before he even starts. Donghyuck breathes, closing his eyes, and sings: “What’s going on today? Your face looks like it’s been crying. Did he break your heart? You’re the most precious person in the world to me.”

He hasn’t sung in a long time, and he barely practiced this song yesterday. Donghyuck, for some time before everything went to crumbles, felt scared going on stage. He felt as though he wouldn’t do well enough to deserve the applause and cheers, and he spent a lot of time doubting his own capabilities.

Whoever he is now, Donghyuck truly worked hard for it. At first, he only knew how to sing and it was the only thing he ever loved. And then he learned how to dance, how to stand like an idol, how to answer like a celebrity, how to have his “candid” photos taken, how to be a proper artist—even when he only wants to sing.

Standing here, now, in a small crowd, singing a song he wished was his own, he wished he had written, Donghyuck feels safe.

In Jeju-do, he feels safe. Donghyuck feels like he’s found his way home. The people he’s spent all these months with brought him comfort he’s never known—like coming home after a whole day of being pestered in the real world—and he knows that he’ll never find ease and serenity the same way Jeju-do had given him. The town took him in with open arms, like he’s not some idol who ruined their career for fleeting pleasure, like he’s not some person who’d forgotten about all of them. His Nana embraced him like he was seven again, like making mistakes is normal and that forgiving is easy when you love the person. You accepted him and taught him what falling in love means as though he was deserving of love and comfort.

The song ends with his voice dragging out the last words, his eyes closed: “I can only comfort you.”

When Donghyuck opens his eyes, the lights don’t blind him and the people he knows and love clap, cheering for him. It comes to him like pouring rain. And he allows himself to drench in it—the tenderness, the warmth, the love.

Because he deserves it. He deserves the love, therefore he takes, takes, takes, until he’s full of it.

Like many times in Donghyuck’s life, the ease and serenity end as quickly as it arrives.

You’d spent the night in his home, Donghyuck for the first time learned how to make love in bed. He’s had sex before, of course, but never like how you and him connected in his bed—moans and music of pleasure hushed by each other’s mouth, his honey-colored skin’s warmth pressed against yours, his lips and tongue tasting every inch of you. He’d said he loves you, and you’d said it back as you and him take each other.

This morning he wakes up without a headache, and he’s been waking up without one for a few weeks now. He usually wakes up with the sound of roosters from his grandmother’s backyard, or the sound of you and his Nana talking over your morning coffee. But today, he wakes up with the sound of his grandmother knocking profusely, seemingly frightened by the sound of her voice calling his name.

“Donghyuck-ah,” she shouts. “Please wake up. I don’t know what to do.”

You and Donghyuck get up startled, scrambling to put some clothes on and hurrying to open the door—only to find Nana on the verge of tears. Nana never falters, she’d only shown strength but Donghyuck finds her shaking. Nana doesn’t get the chance to answer because Joohyuk barges in, sweaty and catching his breath.

“The mayor’s security team is here,” he announces. “Let’s get going.”

“Go where?” Donghyuck asks, but Joohyuk is already pulling him.

The door opens, and Donghyuck finally realizes what’s going on.

They’d found him. Men and women with cameras shout his name—he recognizes a few from the conferences he’d attended—and flashes of lights and the stuttering sound of shutters devour him. He looks around and he can’t see you and he hears his Nana cry, and Donghyuck doesn’t understand what the fuck is going on, but he feels his legs give out. Joohyuk practically carries him to the SUV waiting outside their home.

Inside the car, Donghyuck catches a glimpse of the crowd—a crowd that looks like twice the amount of the people from the recital last night. He hears them screaming his name and he sees glints of neon green and posters as they pass by. His Nana, who sits beside him, cries and says she doesn’t understand why they’d found him. The mayor had specifically ensured that the town’s residents do not say a word about his visit way before he’d arrived and she’d done her best to protect him from the lights. He doesn’t say anything and only hugs her tight.

On the other side of Nana is you. You’re staring off the window, the fields far more interesting than what just happened, and you’re biting off the nails of your fingers and your legs wouldn’t stop bouncing. And you’re silent, and Donghyuck wonders why all of a—

Donghyuck doesn’t have to ask you to know.

You’d sold him off.

“I’m sorry,” is all you had to say when you and him are left inside the mayor’s office’s lounge. Donghyuck asked everybody to leave.

You’re sitting on the couch, eyes on the floor, while Donghyuck walks back and forth, angry. “I didn’t mean to.”

He stops walking right in front of you. “What do you mean you didn’t mean to post me on your Instagram? How could you possibly accidentally do that?!”

You keep your head low. “I—I forgot that it wasn’t on private and I didn’t have that many of followers to even be bothered by it. And one of our old friends commented and asked me if it was you—”

“And you said yes?” he enunciated. “You consciously, deliberately said yes?”

You start crying at this point. “Yes, and I’m sorry!”

“That’s a little too late now, isn’t it?”

“I just—”

“You just what? You want to play the girlfriend role so fucking bad?”

“Donghyuck, please, listen—” You get up and hold him by his arms but he backs off and rips his body from yours. “I just—I wanted the world to know that you can be kind and warm and you’re nothing like what the tabloids say—”

“So, you admit you purposely posted it!” he shouts. “What a fucking—”

“Yes!” you admit, still crying. “Because I can’t live knowing the world sees you differently when you’re generous and loving and amazing!”

Donghyuck takes a deep breath, hands on his waist, head tilted up so he can focus on the ceiling instead of the image of you crying. “You have no idea how the world fucking works, do you?”

“You always loved singing,” you reason out. “And the world shouldn’t take that away from you because of one mistake. I’m so sorry for what I’ve done. I didn’t think it through, but please understand my purpose.”

“You really have no fucking idea,” he concludes, looking down at you, right in your eyes and says: “How would you have any knowledge of what goes on outside of Jeju-do, anyway? You have never left this god damn place in your entire life and you know nothing aside from stringing words beautifully to get what you want. And you think you’re fucking cool for not having a dream and staying in an island, living your small-town girl fantasy, when in fact you’ve done nothing in life and people won’t even remember you. Why would you think you can make this decision for me? You’re just some girl who didn’t even go to college!”

“That’s enough, Donghyuck!” Nana interrupts.

Donghyuck turns and finds his Nana, Joohyuk, some of the Mayor’s security staff, his manager, and his Mother standing right outside the now opened door.

He looks back at you and you’re no longer crying. Your expression is just empty, like a light bulb burnt out.

Indeed, like many times in Donghyuck’s life, the ease and serenity end as quickly as it arrives.

They take the first flight to Seoul after successfully shooing the media and fans away. Nana travels with them, his mother deciding that it’s the best for now until everything calms down.

Donghyuck finds out during the flight that yours and his old friend from middle school had reposted the video of him singing from last night and it went viral in multiple social media platforms. Overnight, people had found out his location and the media had started interviewing people in the town. Despite the mayor instructing everyone not to say a thing, some had answered questions, even submitted entries on some forums about Haechan online.

His manager talks about how their PR team sort of thinks this might just be what he needed, says something about the locals of the town had said so many good things about him. He confirms that the post originated from your Instagram account and you had deactivated at this point and that they’re in the process of contacting your old schoolmate because the agency wants to press charges for invading his grandmother’s privacy and for bothering him on an unofficial schedule.

His mother holds his hand all through, and she offers a kind smile and kisses the top of his head.

Donghyuck cries like baby, and his mother only holds him, and perhaps that’s all he truly needs.

The crowd is just as bad when his plane lands. Donghyuck can barely see and hear considering the lights and people shouting his name. They take him to a separate SUV, away from his mother and Nana to keep them off the radar, and he sits in the car beside his manager.

“Here,” his manager hands him a phone as soon as the car starts moving. Donghyuck had forgotten his phone. It’s probably still in his room back in Nana’s house. People are still screaming his name. Donghyuck stares at his manager’s phone blankly. The screen shows he’s in a call with Mark.

Donghyuck’s hand shakes when he takes it. He puts the device over his ear and doesn’t wait for Mark to say anything.

“Mark-hyung,” he cries.

And cries. And cries. And cries. Until he arrives in SM’s headquarters and the manager has to take the phone away from him. Mark tells him he’s on the way to the headquarters with Renjun and Doyoung and that the others should be on their way after their individual schedules.

They arrive and immediately their staff take care of him like a baby, and he realizes that he’s back. He’s back. Right where he’s supposed to belong.

They take him to the PR teams office, and none of them ask how he’s doing and he’s spiraling again—already starting to think how he could please the staff and make them happy, not even an entire day of landing in Seoul and he’s already thinking about other people at his own expense.

Hence, Donghyuck makes a decision he’s never considered before.

While one of the PR associates discuss how he’s ranked number one in Naver’s most searched term, Donghyuck raises his hand.

They all look at him.

And finally, Donghyuck says: “Please get me a therapist. Please get someone who can help me.”

The room is clean and if Donghyuck’s being honest, a little too perfect for a therapist’s office. A tiny part of his fucked-up brain tries to convince him that they’d probably set him up for a documentary he’s not aware of to clean his image, so he looks around and tries to check if there are any cameras setup.

“Truly a celebrity,” Dr. Yoon says, which makes Donghyuck jump a little. The doctor stands from the door way, closing it as he steps inside. “Please, feel comfortable.”

Donghyuck thinks that’s a little impossible, but he takes a seat one of the single couches.

“The first thing that celebrities do in my office is look around for cameras,” the doctor comments, sitting on a similar chair across Donghyuck. “And I assure you that no amount of money can buy my integrity as a psychologist.”

“I’m relieved,” Donghyuck mumbles. “Hello, I’m Donghyuck.”

“Hello, Donghyuck,” the doctor greets; Donghyuck bows. “I had a quick glimpse of your situation from the form you filled out online. Are you feeling better today?”

“I guess,” Donghyuck shrugs. Dr. Yoon smiles.

“How about I ask questions and if you don’t want to answer, stay silent instead of lying to me?” He asks. Donghyuck sighs but nods. “And if you want to answer, answer as truthfully as you can, yes?” Donghyuck agrees. “Let’s start with simple questions.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

Dr. Yoon asks him many close-ended questions, to which Donghyuck had given him all the answers to, then proceeds to ask him what’s on his mind. The doctor’s notepad sits on the table between them, left open and blank even after asking so many questions.

Donghyuck is not really sure whether he’d done the right thing by seeking help, but he can’t keep hurting people just because he’s fucked up in the head. And he can’t keep hurting himself just because he can’t make the entire fucking world happy. He can’t keep drinking his insomnia away because he’s scared a doctor may tell him he’s fucked up in the head, which he knows already, he just doesn’t want it written in his medical records. He can’t keep fucking up his group’s image just because the alcohol doesn’t help his insomnia anymore. He can’t keep drowning himself in his sadness and the thought of disappointing so many people in his life—the people he left behind in Jeju-do, the members, his fans, the staff, his parents and siblings, his Nana, you.

If melatonin didn’t work, if the alcohol didn’t work, and if Jeju-do didn’t work, then perhaps a therapist is his best shot at getting better.

Donghyuck takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and begins.

“I keep thinking about how I can make everyone happy without sacrificing anything.”

The doctor finally picks up the pen and starts scribbling down.

Donghyuck keeps talking.

Donghyuck goes to therapy on Tuesdays and Fridays, and SM keeps his hiatus status active until Donghyuck decides to come back himself. It’s an agreement his parents, Donghyuck, and the agency settled while things are still chaotic.

The members are supportive of this, especially Mark and Taeyong. They’d send him cheerful messages every Tuesday and Friday, when they know that his session would begin. Sometimes, Jeno, Jisung, and Jaemin would pick him up and take him to a barbecue restaurant after. Donghyuck can’t remember how many times Renjun and Chenle had driven him to therapy and had waited for a couple of hours, only to take him to his favorite Chinese restaurant that serves the best hotpot. The older members have also driven him to therapy once or twice, with Jungwoo even signing up for therapy one time, and they’ve all given him love and tenderness—which Donghyuck accepted.

Donghyuck learns many things from Dr. Yoon. He learns that people pleasing isn't a mental illness, but it can be an issue that adversely affects how many people, with or without mental illness, relate to others. Most of all, people pleasers try to nourish other people without adequately nourishing themselves. Dr. Yoon called it Sociotrophy. He described it as the tendency to place an inordinate value on relationships over personal independence in response to the loss of relationships or conflict.

Those with sociotropic tendencies, wish to make other people happy, often at the sake of their own needs or values. While being warm, kind, and helpful are positive traits, they can result in strong feelings of resentment, anxiety, stress, and emotional depletion when they come at your expense.

People-pleasing, apparently, falls at the opposite end of the scale from autonomy. Autonomy places emphasis on independence whereas people-pleasers prioritize interpersonal relationships above all else. People-pleasers are often extremely empathic and attuned to others’ needs. A people-pleaser therefore tends to pursue intimate, affectionate, and confiding relationships. These people have a strong desire for external validation and avoid, or are sensitive to, situations where conflict may arise.  They will go above and beyond to avoid displeasing others out of fear of diminished social acceptance.

This behavior can have detrimental effects on a person’s self-worth and self-esteem.  A never-ending pursuit of approval, a desire for acceptance, and a sense of validation that arise from others happiness often result in a negative self-image. The person is likely to feel unworthy, powerless, or resentful, which may result in a lack of self-care.

The way Dr. Yoon had described it basically sums up Donghyuck as a human being.

He also learns that Sociotropic tendencies are often associated with mental health disorders such as anxiety or depression, which finally gave them Donghyuck’s diagnosis: clinical depression, also known as major depressive disorder abbreviated as MDD.

Clinical depression is a chronic condition, but it usually occurs in episodes, which can last several weeks or months. Dr. Yoon says one would likely have more than one episode in a lifetime. Donghyuck had asked him what was the difference between MDD and depression as it is.

Dr. Yoon explained that it’s normal to feel sad when you’re faced with difficult life situations, such as losing your job or a relationship. Some people may say they feel depressed during these situations. MDD is different in that it persists practically every day for at least two weeks and involves other symptoms than just sadness alone. It can be confusing because many people call clinical depression or major depressive disorder just “depression.”

Dr. Yoon also blabbered about chemicals in his brain that, well, Donghyuck really doesn’t understand much. All he knows at this point is that the treatment involves some medication and most specially psychotherapy. Apparently, studies show that the combination of these treatments is more effective than either of them alone.

Donghyuck has been investing a lot of his time in psychotherapy. His normal sessions were every Friday, thirty minutes to a maximum of an hour each. Like how his prescription doses went up, he also requested his psychotherapy sessions to be more frequent, hence Tuesdays and Fridays, minimum of one hour a session, maximum of an hour and a half.

Donghyuck likes to think that over the course of eight weeks, he’d gotten a little better. It turns out that being honest with your doctor means you’d get prescribed the right pills to take to help you fall asleep. No wonder the melatonin pills he’d taken didn’t work in the long run; he was taking the wrong ones and the wrong dosage—just like how he’d been looking for happiness in the wrong places.

From today’s session, Dr. Yoon asked him if he could talk to his mother about how he’d felt for so many years—the pressure, the urge to do whatever pleases her, the comparisons with other members, everything. Hence, Donghyuck finds himself knocking on his parents’ room.

He’s staying at their home during his hiatus. He reckons it’s the best time to speak with her as his father and the kids are out for work and school.

“Come in, Donghyuck-ah,” she says softly from the other side. He opens the door and finds his mother writing something in her journal. “You need anything, baby? Do you want to eat?”

He shakes his head and walks towards their bed, sitting on its edge. His mother puts the pen down and sits beside him. “Something wrong?”

“Eomma,” he says in the softest voice. “Can I sleep here?”

The question brings tears to his mother’s eyes. She nods and leads him to bed, Donghyuck lying on his side and his mother cradling him from behind. He looks like he’s thirteen again, the day before the audition at SM, young and anxious about what the next day would bring, and his mother seems like she’s never aged a day, still determined and only wants the best for her children.

Donghyuck can feel her crying.

“I’m sorry, Donghyuck-ah,” is all she says.

And Donghyuck knows deep in his heart that even before she’d uttered her apology, he’s already forgiven her.

Haechan comes back right before Chuseok.

NCT Dream is invited to perform at a music festival held in the Seoul Olympic Stadium alongside many other artists. When news broke that this would be Haechan’s come back stage, the ticket sites went crazy—crashing every second because everybody wanted to get tickets to see the most-awaited comeback.

Over the course of seven months of Donghyuck’s hiatus, many things have changed. He gained more fans in the latter parts of the hiatus after the world learned his life in Jeju-do. He’d gotten a new piercing in his cartilage, which the fans love, but only Donghyuck probably understands what it means. Old videos of him going on stage went viral years later, the world seeing how talented and passionate he truly is. Clips of him randomly singing without autotune circulated for quite some time, and his fondness of children and respect for the elder have been the talk of the KPop industry for the last months or so, calling him the most well-mannered idol. The scandal had not been erased from history, of course; some people still hate him for it. Some of his old fan sites did not return to support him, and if we’re talking about old Donghyuck, he’d probably be pretty bummed about it. He’d probably start compromising his privacy to give them a glimpse of his life off the stage to get them back.

But the sessions with Dr. Yoon have been working well, because Donghyuck doesn’t really care about pleasing the entire world anymore. Donghyuck thinks that as long as there’s a good number of people supporting him and loving him for who he is—as a person and as a singer—then he’d be okay. He didn’t have to make the entire planet roar his name.

The dress rehearsals are done by the time the clock hit four in the afternoon. The members argue where to go eat. Jisung announces he’s going shopping for a new pair of wired headphones because he lost his on the way to the stadium, to which Renjun says he’d go with him. The others decide to go eat with the staff, some opt to go home and rest so they’d be ready for the next day.

Donghyuck decides to go buy the book that Johnny recommended him: The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. He’s told that the book is about a boy growing up, and that it might strike his thoughts if he’s up to reading a children’s book meant for adults.

Hence, Donghyuck finds himself going through shelves and sections of children’s book after picking up The Little Prince and wondering if Gyeom would want to read any of these.

You see, Lee Donghyuck is not much of a believer of fate. As he’d say before, his career didn’t happen by fate because it was all his mother doing all the hard work. But what are the odds of him choosing to visit this exact book store at this exact moment over elsewhere and another time?

And what are the odds of him finding you leaning against the wall in the corner of the store, hair longer than the last time, nose red and body bundled up in layers of clothes, a book in your hand as you read through it?

Donghyuck stops, stares at you, as if he’s waiting for you to look up from the book, and thinks about how much he’d missed you all this time and how much he’d regretted ending things with foul, unacceptable words. He thinks about remembering you anytime he sees tangerines and flowers around the city. He thinks about the odds of finding you again and again in this lifetime. He thinks about the flowers only blooming as soon as the butterflies have left, missing their timing, and how they bloom again next spring, hoping that this time, the timing is right.

He thinks about you in silence. He thinks about love hiding in the corners of his chest, convincing him he’ll get over it—he’ll get over you. He thinks about his dreams.

A few people pass by the space between you and him. The distance is about three meters. It’s silent for the most part.

Donghyuck is not much of a believer of fate, and you look up to prove him otherwise.

It’s only then that Donghyuck takes a really good look on you: new hairstyle, backpack slung in one arm, a student ID badge hanging right below your chest.

“Y/N!” A girl whisper-shouts from behind fDonghyuck. “Have you found the book?”

You don’t tear your glance away from him, but you nod and say, “Yeah. I’ll go check it out and I’ll meet you outside.”

The other girl doesn’t notice him and proceeds to leave. You take two, three, five, seven steps, and you’re right in front of him.

“Hi, Donghyuck-ah,” you say in the softest voice as soon as you’re close enough.

Donghyuck wonders whether this is just a dream or if he’d started hallucinating you because of the medicines he’s been taking, but then he catches a whiff of your scent, and Donghyuck believes.

Donghyuck believes in fate. In forgiveness. In healing. In love. In finding one’s way back home.

END

author's note: PLEASE tell me what you think of this in the comments or reblogs. I'd also appreciate if you send me you favorite line here. Thank you so much for reading until the end!

optional as always: TIP ME HERE.

[nerdieforpedro]

Muted Peach

Dave York x plus size AFAB

This fic and my blog overall is for readers 18+

Word Count: 921

Summary: The run in your stockings is annoying but is quickly an afterthought with Dave’s arrival. He brings you two things you need and leaves you with a promise you want. The two of you don’t need any more words than necessary.

Warnings: handling dangerous plants, soft Dave - geez, government corruption, planning for murder, use of a knife, HANDS (be weird if Nerdie didn’t have it), unprotected P in V, aftercare, more soft Dave (👀 Not mad at it, just surprised myself)

Notes: Another entry for Jett’s Flora and Fauna Challenge by @morallyinept I’m enjoying writing about flowers 💐 This is my first, primarily smut fic in a while (if you mention Frankie I dunno what you mean 👀 that was only like the first 4-5 parts).

Let me know what you think 🤔

I also found these flower meaning references to help anyone who might wanna do the challenge but either doesn’t know a flower to do or what they mean: Botanical Headcannons

This one was for the flower I chose Belladonna: How does your muse respond to silence ? Do they take comfort in soundlessness , or seek to fill the void with noise ?

Main Masterlist/ Dave York Masterlist

The run in your stockings was inevitable. They were old, a size too small but you didn’t want to wear leggings under your skirt, and you felt you could wait until the weekend to buy a new pair. You thought they might have ripped randomly when you sat down for meetings or even when your knee hit that idiot Jim’s desk when you confronted him about why his reports aren’t in. You should not be coming to his office to inquire about them after sending him a reminder email like the rest of the team. His quarterly evaluation just took a dip. Keeping up appearances outside of your real function at the CIA is exhausting and mind-numbing.

You’ve gotten back to your office after five in the evening to make some notes before leaving. That’s when he appears in your doorway. He’s brought a plant for you. It’s small, a deep violet with dark green leaves, he needs to wear gloves while handling it. The flower is called belladonna - deadly nightshade. The smile on your fellow CIA agent’s face gives away his intent. He was able to get it for you. A special project in addition to your weekend shopping. A visit would be had with one of the US diplomats that were skimming money from the embassy. That wasn’t enough to warrant their death. It was when they began dabbling in the drug trade that the department received notice to remove him from the equation to maintain the integrity of US diplomats everywhere.

Such an original concept, for the greater whole and good.

“At least how they die will be elegant,” The only words Dave says to you before noting your stockings with their run. He chuckles and reaches in his jacket pocket. Of course he keeps his knife on him, though he didn’t need to cut your stockings and panties off. You were going to take them off anyway, but now they’re in his pocket. Sometimes you wonder what he does with them all? The plant is set in the windowsill and he discards the gloves and runs his hands over your large thighs before putting you up on your own desk.

With his lips on yours, he bites on your bottom lip and has you open for him, allowing him to explore your mouth. Unbuckling his belt and reaching into his boxers, you find what you need. Having his throbbing length in your palm, you scoot your ass to the edge of the desk. York’s dripping head is sliding against your folds, you softly whimper into Dave’s mouth, opening your legs wider for him. The smirk on his face while he leans back enough you get his pants around his knees and plunges within you. There’s no preamble, just the squelches of your cunt sucking his cock back within you to kiss your cervix. He pushed you on your back and had your wrists pinned to the desk. The thickness of his turgid member gives you the pleasurable stretch that you craved when he passed behind you after the meeting ended. Purposely cupping your ass, taking a moment to reach for a pen on the table in front of you, his hand sliding across your stomach, giving it a small pat. Switching his hold on your wrists from one hand to two, that same hand roamed over your stomach, feeling its softness and jiggle. He pats it again and mouths, “You’re doing well. Stay quiet for me a little longer, Peach.” Two of his fingers reach between your legs where he can see himself entering and exiting you while he circles your small sensitive bud.

The small gasps released from your throat, you’ve gotten skilled at keeping the noise to a minimum outside of your wet core. The pressure’s building with the unevenness of his drags, Dave’s close and you’ll be painted soon. Quickly he pulls out of you and lobs his ropes across your mound and thighs while your walls contract around air. Your moist folds miss his cock already, but it’s time to go. Dave sits you up and pulls a small packet of wipes out of another pocket in his jacket, wiping you down and himself before pulling his pants up and fixing his belt. The peppered kisses to your cheeks and neck are his goodbye to you as he exits the office. The notes you’d been writing and files are on the floor, it’s not his concern, though Dave makes a point to come back after thinking about it for a minute. Touching your shoulder, you stand and he picks up the papers off the floor.

“Didn’t want anyone to see?” Teasing him leads to another peck and a hand on your hip.

“Of course not. I should be the only one to see you sloppy. Take care of it this weekend and I can swing by Sunday night. We might even get breakfast Monday if there’s time sweetheart.” You pat his chest and nod, giving him one more kiss before he really does leave this time.

A fresh pair of gloves is on your desk. York left you those so you can get your new plant home safely - to be repotted you tell the janitor on your way out, the cool air tickling your clit. A job well done means a lazy Sunday night and Monday morning with Dave, so what if you work on different ends of the ‘special operations section’ of the CIA?

Being Dave York’s sweet Peach has definite perks.

Peaches 🍑 that might be in that jacket of Dave’s 🧥: @yorksgirl @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @goodwithcheese @musings-of-a-rose @iamasaddie

@legendary-pink-dot @bitchwitch1981 @for-a-longlongtime @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @megamindsecretlair

@daddy-dins-girl @soft-persephone @soft-girl-musings @magpiepills @harriedandharassed

@maggiemayhemnj @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @avastrasposts @survivingandenduring

@pedroshotwifey @connectioneverywhere @djarinmuse @604to647 @secretelephanttattoo

@rhoorl @sherala007 @schnarfer @bishtrouille @ohforficsake

[shuadotcom]

All my Love | BSK (M)

💍Pairing: Boo Seungkwan x Afab!Reader

💍Genres & AUs: Romance, fluff, smut, established relationship au, soulmate au

💍Summary: You and your husband spend your first night as newlyweds together, still as in love with each other as you've been since day one.

💍Rating: 18+ (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)

💍Warnings: Profanity, fingering, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, creampie, cum eating, so much fluff!!! Like they are so in love!!!

💍Words: 3.4k

💍Note: Written for @k-vanity Idols over Flowers event. The bouquet I put together is: roses (romance), fresia (own genre idea), amaranthus (marriage & co), thistle (own au), myrtle (soulmate), band of satin (weddings).

I’ve been in my Seungkwan feels lately and just wanted some fluffy smut 🥺 Thank you @agustdealer for betaing this for me!!! 💖

💍Net Tag: @kflixnet

You had never given much thought to the concept of finding your soulmate or even marriage. Growing up, when all of your friends were finding their soulmates around you, all of them having their tiny heart-shaped birthmarks on their wrists filled in a deep shade of scarlet while your own stayed empty and nothing but an outline, you barely cared much.

When you graduated high school and went to college, even more people in your life were finding the person that the universe told them they’d be spending their life with. You watched and congratulated them and wished them well. You accepted that maybe it would take longer for you to find your person. Even after you graduated college and entered the working world and wedding invitations showed up in your email left and right, you remained unphased. 

At least since you were single you only had to be responsible for yourself and didn’t have the extra baggage of another person to worry about. A few partners entered your life here and there, but none of them wanted anything too serious. 

You weren’t their soulmate after all since their tattoos stayed an empty heart like yours when you were together.

And that was fine. You were content and as your twenties went on that all remained the same and it was okay - you were okay. You’d nearly forgotten about the concept of soulmates and had long since stopped fantasizing about your own wedding.

And then Boo Seungkwan popped into your life and all of that changed.

You met him through a friend at your new job, everything. Your co-worker Hansol introduced you both at a company party that Seungkwan had been his plus one for, and upon bringing your hand up in a small, shy wave to him, you saw it. The little black heart outline on the inside of your right wrist - the one that had stayed empty for years - slowly began to fill with the brilliant red that signified you had met your soulmate.

Instantly, you understood everything that you’ve heard your entire life. That finding your soulmate is like finding the other half of yourself that’s been missing within you. That the feeling of seeing your soulmate for the first time would resemble an almost out-of-body experience as everything immediately clicked into place. 

Seungkwan had also stared at his wrist in awe, slackjawed at the revelation. In no time, he became a constant in your life after that, the two of you instantly knowing that the universe had been oh so right in determining that you were meant for each other. He was the complete opposite of you in so many ways but he was also the most perfect man you had ever met in every possible way.

It took three years to know that Seungkwan is all you want for the rest of forever so when he proposed to you one spring afternoon you didn’t think twice about saying yes.

A year later, on another spring afternoon, you marry your soulmate, and everything for both of you is like a dream come true, feeling the happiest you’ve ever been.

“Wow! They really went all out with this room!” 

Seungkwan admires the trail of roses that lead from the hotel room door, across the carpet, and to the bed with the heart made of petals decorating the white linens. The room is bathed in a warm glow, so cozy and inviting with a few electric tealight candles strewn about. It’s all straight out of a romance movie with the champagne chilling near the bed and fruit sitting on the table - a true honeymoon suite.

You can’t help yourself as you skip over to the bed and flop backward onto the middle of it, the light scent of the rose petals invading your nose. 

“This is the nicest hotel room I’ve ever been in!” You admit, spreading your limbs to stretch your body on the king-sized bed. 

“Well, I had to make sure I booked us the nicest honeymoon suite. I can’t have my perfect, amazing wife stay in just any old room.” Seungkwan beams at you, your heart leaping in response.

“My husband is so thoughtful and always thinks of me. He truly is my soulmate, huh?” 

“Yeah, he is. He’s the luckiest man in the entire world to be able to call himself your soulmate.” Seungkwan saunters over to you, lying on his side next to you. He dips his head so that he speaks against your lips, his breath tickling you.

“I’m the lucky one. Not only is my husband extremely thoughtful but he’s also so insanely good-looking.” You run your hand down his arm, his muscles flexing under your touch from beneath the fabric of his tuxedo jacket. 

Seungkwan is always handsome and has been since the day you met, but something about seeing him today: his perfectly tailored suit hugging his body, his megawatt smile permanently etched onto his face, the sheer joy in his demeanor - it was enough to have you falling in love with him all over again. 

“Not as good-looking as my lovely, divine, phenomenal, wife is though.” He whispers against the shell of your ear, admiring the way you giggle at his words before finally kissing you, your lips moving together in perfect rhythm.

Kissing Seungkwan is always akin to a cliche romance movie moment no matter how many times you do it. The world around you melts away and everything you think about and feel and know is Seungkwan and Seungkwan only. 

His elegant hand cups your face with nothing but tenderness as yours snakes around his waist and under his jacket to pull him close. 

Gingerly and with nothing but tenderness, Seungkwan slips his tongue into your mouth, his tongue tangling with yours as his hand eagerly begins its descent. He moves from your cheeks, trailing down your chin, to your neck, then reaching its final destination of your breasts, still nestled in your white dress. 

He gives your mounds a few squeezes, eliciting a yelp from you. The reaction Seungkwan gets from you spurs him on, palming you a few more times, relishing in the whines you let out.

Soft, tender lips move away from your mouth, landing on your cheeks and then to your neck, the plunging neckline of your dress giving him easy access. Your husband lavishes your neck in kisses, loving the breathy symphony of sounds that you make for him. He spends extra time on your most sensitive of spots, using his teeth to ensure he leaves marks in his wake. 

“Kwannie…”

“Yes, baby?” 

“Please give me more!”

“What do you want?” he murmurs between nibbles.

“I want you.”

“Oh? You wanna consummate our marriage already?” He’s teasing you now, his lips moving back to your cleavage, licking a stripe back up to your neck.

“Well, you can’t just kiss me like this and not do anything else!” 

Seungkwan’s endearing laugh reaches your ears and you smile between squeals. 

“I can’t say no to you even if I wanted to, sweetheart.” 

His lips move to your cleavage again, leaving open-mouth kisses as his hand eases over your side to the zipper on the back of your dress. He unzips you with gentle hands, helping you lay on your back, and slides the dress off and onto the floor. Before he can get your panties off, you’re making grabby hands for him to help slip his jacket off. Seungkwan lets you undress him piece by piece until you’re both in your underwear, gaping at one another like teenagers during your first time.

His hands are on you again, unhooking your lace bra and shimmying the matching panties down your legs. Seungkwan takes a minute to admire you. Your skin, as smooth and supple as it always is, practically glows before him. Your eyes that he could look into and get lost in every day, shine as you stare up at him, your need for him so blatant. 

Seungkwan climbs onto the bed, between your legs to hover over you, and swoops down to smother your bare breasts in kisses, taking a nipple between his lips and suckling. A gasp leaves your lips as he flicks his tongue over the bud, leaving you squirming under him once again.

Teeth graze your nipple as Seungkwan continues, letting out deep hums against your skin. He switches between each breast, biting and sucking even more hickeys onto you. Your arms wrap around his shoulders as you huff out his name, pushing your chest to his face for more. 

The hand that Seungkwan isn’t using to grope you slides down your stomach, slowly inching towards your pussy, and his long, skilled digits trail up and down your sticky folds.

“You’re so wet, my love. Is that all for me?”

“It’s always for you.” And you mean every single word. Seungkwan is all that you need and want and so much more.

Seungkwan eases a finger into you, your overwhelming wetness making it easy. 

Your body always has an immediate reaction to your soulmate, going lax in his hold, but you still want so much more. Your thirst for Seungkwan is almost insatiable at times. All it takes is a few dirty words and a deep kiss to have you gushing for him and tonight is no different.

Seungkwan’s finger works you open as his thumb flicks at your swollen clit. A tiny shriek jumps from your throat, hands scrambling to latch onto Seungkwan’s arms, but he pays you no mind. His eyes only stay trained on you, quickening his movements to pull more melodic sounds from you.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” The words are hushed as they leave your husband’s mouth.

“You’ve said that about fifty times today,” you mewl as Seungkwan plunges a second finger into your greedy pussy.

“And I’ll say it another fifty times every single day for the rest of our lives.” He leans down to kiss you, and your eyes flutter shut both at the warmth of his lips and the way that his fingers crook up just the way you crave for them to.

Seungkwan’s wonderful fingers spear in and out of you while he continues to coo words of love and adoration at you. Seungkwan has never been shy in detailing the ways he loves you and the reasons why, but the sweet words he’s using to compliment everything from your laugh and your smile to your admirable selflessness and even the way that you sing to yourself when you think no one’s listening, has tears welling in your eyes.

It’s him singing your praises so genuinely and the pressure of his thumb circling your clit with the right amount of pressure that has you seeing stars as you come undone on his fingers. He works you through it, telling you how stunning you look and how lucky he is that he gets to see you like this for the rest of your lives.

Your husband kisses away the couple of wayward tears that manage to fall and gathers you in his arms, with the delicacy of handling a piece of fine porcelain.

“How are you, my love?” Seungkwan checks, inspecting your half-lidded eyes.

“I’m okay, but I’d be much better if you continued making love to me,” you run your fingers down one of his round cheeks, making sure to gently poke at the beauty mark under his eye that you love so much.

Seungkwan’s soft eyes darken with lust again at your words, his pretty lips quirking up at the corners.

“Whatever my baby wants, my baby gets.” He accentuates his words with a peck and bites at your lower lip. 

When Seungkwan buries his cock into you, his girth stretching your sensitive walls, it feels as though a fuse has been lit inside of you. Your eyes flutter as he begins moving his hips, thrusting into you deep, his pelvis pressing firmly into the back of your thighs. Seungkwan knows everything there is to know about you, like just how hard you like him to fuck you to all the spots on your body that have you squirming.

“Fuck, Seungkwan…yes.”

“My beautiful baby. So pretty and always willing for me.”

“Always.” Even with knitted brows, you give him a loving smile, your soulmate returning the gesture.

You wrap your legs around Seungkwan’s waist, pulling him as close as possible. His soft skin is so hot against yours, flushed in a way that makes him look even more perfect. Your arms wind around his neck and you pull him close enough to you that you can bury your face into his neck, inhaling the lingering smell of his cologne mixed with a hint of perspiration.

With every drag of his cock against your spongy walls, your cries of Seungkwan’s name only get louder. He shares your desperation though, as he starts to roll his hips into you faster, and he moans out for you in the same high-pitched tone he uses when he playfully throws a tantrum.

“You feel so good, darling. You feel so fucking good.”

“More, please Kwannie, gimme more!”

“Yeah? My baby wants more?”

“Mmhmm, need it. Need all of you.” Seungkwan stares back at you, eyes full of nothing but hearts and stars for you. He’d given you all of himself from the moment you met and would continue giving you any and every new piece you’d ask for.

Seungkwan dips his head down, his lips meeting yours. He kisses you with a tenderness that’s a stark contrast to the now bruising force of his thrusts, your body bouncing wildly on the mattress. Your loud, almost shrill-sounding squeals that escape between your mouths seem too loud to your ears and you almost worry you’re being too loud in the room. But when Seungkwan’s length pummels your g-spot, the thought is quite literally knocked out of you.

“You’re so perfect,” your soulmate mumbles into your mouth before sitting up straight to look down at you. 

You stare back at him in awe. Even with sweat beading on his forehead and nose and his skin as red as the ripest of tomatoes, Boo Seungkwan is still the most stunning man you’ve ever seen. When you voice this to him, he seems to blush even more, smiling at you in the most dazzling of ways.

He takes a moment to adjust, bringing his knees closer to the backs of your thighs and taking hold of your hips. You run your eyes over his arms and the way they bulge as he holds on, then move to his bare chest, wanting so badly to feel him under your fingers.

“Like what you see?” He teases, catching the way you ogle him as he slowly rolls his hips into you.

“Always, baby.” Reaching up, you drag your fingernails over his chest and down his stomach, goosebumps breaking out across his arms. 

Seungkwan pulls back, almost all the way out of you before driving his hips forward with a force that makes your eyes screw shut at the pleasure.

“Keep your eyes open for me, sweetheart. I wanna see you,” Seungkwan pants out and you oblige, forcing your lids open. 

The sight of your perfect soulmate, knitting his brows, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. His chocolate eyes fixed - on you and only you - is enough to cause your heart to swell and your legs to shake almost violently as your orgasm rushes you.

“Seungkwan, I’m so close!” You do your best to roll your hips in sync with Seungkwan’s, your pace faltering as the pressure in your belly builds.

“Cum for me, baby. Let go for me,” his voice is like the finest silk, wrapping you up gently and making you impossibly warmer.

When you cum, it’s with Seungkwan’s name on your tongue as always is the case. Your lips part as you gasp for the air that’s knocked out of your lungs in the most glorious of ways. Your eyes roll back and your mouth hangs open - a tiny bit of you thinks about shying away from Seungkwan’s gaze but he doesn’t let you.

He loves you in every conceivable way and thinks that everything you do is breathtaking, including when you cum. Your skin glistens and glows, your perspiration like the finest of glitters. Your pillow-soft lips part and sing his name which is enough to have Seungkwan falling apart right after you. His eyes flutter closed, and it’s your name this time that bounces off of the hotel room walls as he empties himself inside of your velvety walls.

Seungkwan fills you up, the both of you sharing a long moan at the intense warmth as he pumps you full and digs his nails into the outer parts of your thighs.

He huffs out a breath when he’s empty, slowly pulling out and watching his seed seeping out of your hole and dripping down your ass cheeks. He’s transfixed at the sight, licking his lips.

“Seungkwan? What-!” Your question ends in a choke as he suddenly drops to his stomach and shimmies to move his head between your legs, plunging his tongue as far into your entrance as he can. Your hands shoot down to grip his hair, his thick tongue moving in and out of your messy cunt, slurping up both your juices and his cum.

As he tends to do, Seungkwan eats you out as if you’re his last meal. The man truly never gets tired of being between your legs for as long as you’ll let him. One of his hands reaches up to grab your hand that’s tangled in his once neatly styled hair. He threads his fingers with yours, letting you squeeze him. The act is sweet, but it doesn’t overtake the lewd sounds he’s making as he moans into you, sending vibrations through your body.

It doesn’t take long at all for Seungkwan to have you releasing again, this time on his tongue as you cry out for him, your back bowing off of the bed dramatically.

He cleans you up, much more gentle this time, aware of just how sensitive you are now. Once he’s done, he crawls back up your body to look at you with those eyes again - so full of adoration for you.

Seungkwan kisses you once more, this one much more innocent, even with your scent on his face. 

After quite literally stealing the remaining breath out of you, Seungkwan flops onto the bed next to you. His hand finds yours between your bodies and threads your fingers together. He raises your hand, your wedding ring shining bright even in the dim lighting of the room.

“I can’t believe I get to call you my wife,” Seungkwan sighs, bringing the back of your hand down to his lips. “I love you so much, my sweet Y/n.”

“And I love you, my precious boo.”

The two of you lie there for a little longer, time nearly slowing as you admire every part of your husband, him doing the same. 

“You know, if I’m remembering what was on the website correctly, I think there’s a giant soaking tub in the bathroom,” he mentions. “We could both use a warm bath after the day we’ve had.”

“Yeah, I think we could too,” you smile. “You think they have bubbles?”

“Not sure, but I think we need to go find out.” 

Seungkwan helps you off the bed and holds your hand as you enter the other part of the suite. He lets you sit on the edge of the jacuzzi tub as he runs the water, ensuring it’s warm enough to soothe your sore muscles and adds the strawberry-scented bubbles he found on the countertop as it fills.

He keeps a close eye on the water, finally sparing you another glance once the tub is adequately full of warm bubbles. The smile that he sends your way is one that you’ve seen all night and even more times in the years you’ve been with him but it still doesn’t fail to make your heart race and have you sending him a shy one in return.

You’ve only been married for about ten hours now and it’s been the most magical ten hours of your life. You’re more than ready to be graced with a million more hours of loving and being loved by Boo Seungkwan, the soulmate that you’ve waited all this time for, and he was well worth the wait.

[speckle-meow-meow]

STOP YOU DID SO WELL!!!!!!!!!

I know this is a lot all of a sudden but you're my favorite writer writing about my favorite fandom!

But if you aren't busy at all, can we get Eddie and Frank being parents to an emotionless (something happened and now they don't show any emotions) teen reader who only seems to show emotions around Wally or butterflies?

Like how do you think they'd react?

Your fine! I honestly didn't expect people to like my content so soon lmao!!

It took me so long to fine a goddamn image with these to together holy cap.

Edit: I had an idea that readers emotionless would relate to abuse but I completely forgot abt it so no trigger warning I'm terribly sorry about that.

Eddie and frank felt that their house was always missing something

It felt so empty

Until one day

You came falling from the sky

Right next to eddie

You of course startled him but he soon gained his composer

He was surprised to see a child? (again to them your still a kid)

But he realized that you might have been hurt due to the fall so he carried you all the way to him and Franks residents

Since Frank has a vast knowledge of many things Eddie thought he could help you

But they don't really have a concept of fleshy bodies nor injuries at least not cuts or blood

Only bruises

But he did the best he could

It's been at least 3 days since they brought you to their place

They fixed up the guest bed room to be yours since they figured you didn't have a home

When you woke up you seemed so neutral

Definitely not normal

At least to them

They asked you questions and you answered with a monotone voice

They practically adopted you after a week of having you

You were the thing, or person that they've been needing

To fill that empty space

After month you were able to leave their home with or without them

But you usually stayed by their side choosing to

The first person to really see your emotions was Frank

He was in his butterfly dome and you joined him

Frank was studying a new butterfly that he had captured, after a while he started to hear soft giggling.

Soon the giggles turned into laughs of joy

Frank turned to see you well a form of you, you were covered head to toe in butterflies, laughing, smiling.

He's glad you were able to show emotions to at least something, he was also extatic to know that it was butterflies.

After a while you decided to join Eddie on his journey to deliver mail to the other residents and friends

You went to every house

The last one was the home of Wally darling

A small yellow man with blue puffy hair

Puffy hair that you couldn't resist to touch

You stared in awe of the blue haired man or puppet.

And wally noticed

"Well hello neighbor!" Wally said greeting you.

You didn't say anything only stared

You didn't even hear Eddie say to wally about you being emotionless and a bit mute

Before both of them knew it you were touching Wally's hair like it was a cat, making sure not to rough it up or destroy it.

Wally of course was surprised but chuckled and invited you into his home allowing Eddie to continue delivering mail.

Before Eddie left he told you he'd be back to pick you up.

You spent the rest of your day with Wally laughing and smiling. He became your uncle.

It's been 2 years now you still haven't seemed to age but you didn't mind

Your parents still haven't seen any emotions from you

Unless your with Wally or the butterflies

Which makes them sad

But you slowly show them emotions little by little which is definitely progress

Progress that they will cherish

{Thank you anon for requesting another fic! And I'm glad you liked the last one! And as always hearts and re-blogs are always welcomed along with requests and questions!}

[oneeyedgrimes]

Copies.

A/N: this is my first time trying this concept! This was based off a blog I saw if i can find it I’ll tag the person! If this does well enough or people like it enough I’ll do a part 2 this is just testing the waters! Also the gif is what Daryl looks like when they see each other

Y/n and Daryl were raised very similarly growing up, both with shitty dad’s and a mother that would’ve done anything for them but was take from them early, which also caused them to have VERY similar personalities, like damn near the same people.

When y/n found the group she had been on the brink of starving to death she was the last person alive after watching the small group that consisted of 5 other people that she’d been with almost since, die right in front of her her sister included and there was nothing she could do but run. She was by herself for weeks or what felt like it anyway when 3 men found her in the middle of the woods leaning up against a tree with an empty water bottle next to her.

The moment y/n realized she wasn’t alone she hurriedly stood up picking up her crossbow pointing it at one of the men as he did the same to her, though she was outnumbered with a the other dude pointing his gun at her, she looked at the 3rd boy who seemed to be nervous about the whole situation “ I-I’m Glenn, this is Shane and Daryl, we uh heard something out here thought you were a walker-“ “ walkers? Tha’s wha ya’ll are callin’ these sick sons of bitches?” Y/n scoffed lifting her crossbow higher, she let go watching as her bow flew past ‘Daryl’s’ ear shooting a walker right thru its head watching as its body dropped to the ground. “ tell me why I shouldn’t put one in the three of you next” she grabbed another bow putting it back into her arrow. Daryl started to speak “ ‘cause we’ll have ya on yur ass before you can’t even try.” “ oh is that a bet?-“ You raised your crossbow higher before the boy with the baseball cap started to talk. “We have a camp!“ “ Hey- aye man the hell you doin.’ ” Shane cut Glenn off but y/n heard what she needed to.

She slowly lowered her bow finally taking a good look at the three guys, they looked clean, well Glenn and Shane did, Daryl looked a bit dusty but it was nothing compared to you. You looked at Glenn “y’all’s got a camp somewhere ‘round here? Ya got room for one more?” She cocked her head to the side watching as Shane leaned over to talk to Glenn, she took the time to look over at Daryl who hadn’t talked the entire time, though he’s sat his crossbow down against a tree and was watching as Shane and Glenn bickered about letting y/n come to the camp before he finally spoke up “ jus’ let ‘er come if she tries anythang’ we can handle her ass” y/n lifted her brows at him and she felt the tiniest hint of a smile on her face, he too had the redneck accent though his was a bit thicker than y/n’s.

It was Shane who snapped you out of your thoughts, a bit rudely. “ hey listen here, we gon take you to our camp, ‘cause you look like a pound of shit alright but if you try anything we’ll have your ass on a platter you got it?” Y/n just rolled her eyes huffing “ yea’ I got it asshole” she mumbled the last part under her breath as she picked up her bag and swung her crossbow over her head watching as Daryl did the same.

[goodluckclove]

How Clove Gardener Writes (an Overview)

I definitely told myself when I started this blog a billion years ago, at the dawn of human civilization, that I wouldn't make any attempt to tell you how to write. You know - other than saying just do it do the thing write it close the blog open the document type type three sentences bam look you did it good job i love you now go get yourself a treat.

But I've spoken to a few writers who seem to benefit from the insight of me just explaining how I write. So I thought I'd give a little peek into my own mindset. I cannot stress enough that this is what works for me. It's a methodology that I've built up over the course of like fifteen years of trying different things, keeping what works, and throwing the rest right out the goddamned window.

If any of this seems new and appealing give it a try. If it doesn't help I'm wrong and bad as a person (no I'm kidding but seriously if it doesn't work that's fine and we're both fine). If it helps you owe me a picture of a frog drawn from memory.

Let's see how long I ramble. Follow me under the read more!

Okay, so let's get this out of the way. I've never taken a writing class. No, that's not true. I took one when I was thirteen and another one in high school and I don't remember anything either of them taught me. Oh and I took an online creative writing class in college, but I also didn't retain anything and the next year I dropped out of college. So I also don't have a degree in jack shit.

What else? I don't outline. I've written upwards of 15 novels (13-15, I honestly can't remember) and I did not outline any of them. This includes character sheets and worldbuilding lore. My first published novel Blind Trust was born from the concept of the Lover's Knot, which is just like some witchy magic lore. I thought it would be cool so I was like "who could maybe be some guys" and then I introduced some guys and then bam 180k later it was Scott and Edgar.

I do virtually no preparation to write a novel other than the vaguest premise and maybe like one cool scene. I did not have a cool scene for Blind Trust, but I do have one for Migration Patterns. What I don't have is an ending. I don't think I've ever written a novel knowing how it ends.

Literally here's what I do. This is all I do. I sit down and I write until I don't know what's going to happen next, at which point I step away and I listen to some music or I go to the museum or I take a nap until I decide how to continue. That's it.

For me it's going to the zoo every day and seeing the monkeys. And every day they're doing something different. Sometimes they're sleeping, or they're pawing at each other, or they're gathering sticks. I can call out to them and offer to show them a card trick or share my Bugles with them, and they might come up to the wall of the enclosure to see what I'm doing. Or they might not. I do not really have control of the situation, but it doesn't matter because they aren't fully aware of me.

At some point either I have to leave the zoo for some reason. Maybe I'm tired, or maybe the monkeys have been pulled in to be fed their lunch (it's bananas and peanuts). Either way I add that day's behavior to the pile and then come back tomorrow.

Once I find an ending I go back and I read through the book again and trim any fat that's in the wrong places while adding flesh to some naked bones. Then I wait a week or more (usually I can only wait a week) and go back and do it again. By that point it's ready to hopefully have someone read it, after which I make small edits and tweaks.

That's how I do it. Or at least, that's how I do it for longform prose projects that I plan to publish. I've written plenty of novels that just stayed first drafts because I didn't feel like revising them and then I moved on to the next one. I don't regret that. I don't consider it a waste of time.

I would never consider a trip to the zoo a waste of time.

Anyways, that's what works for me. I don't know if all of this will apply to other brains. I don't know if any of it will. I figure it might just be useful to get an in-depth look at what I personally vibe with.

I'm so down to talk writing at any time, by the way. I love to do it. Tell me why you aren't writing and I would be happy to listen and try to help. Or just brainstorm. Seriously, my DMs and inbox are perpetually open. Talking about writing is one of my favorite things to do.

Let's go look at some monkeys together.

[cosmicdream222]

have you entered the void before?

I'm asking cause I've seen you post about it a bunch times with different methods to enter

Also, thank you for introducing me to the phase method! I'm using it and another method (one I created) to enter

Hey! Glad to hear the Phase has been helpful for you! Happy to answer your question, but it’s a bit more complicated than a yes/no answer and I’m feeling rambly today so you’re gonna get a whole backstory on how this blog came to be 😂

Backstory about me & this blog

I’d been in the personal development manifestation community since around 2016, and it was my life for a long time. But the kind of manifesting these people taught was basically like… wake up at 5am, work out, journal, meditate, shadow work, tarot cards, affirmations, cold showers, start a business, post no less than 10 times a day across your 5+ social media channels, and maybe if you hustle hard enough and cleared enough past life karma and Mercury isn’t retrograde, then the universe might grant your wishes... (if you don’t die of exhaustion first. 😅)

It really was a mess and realize now despite the facade of positive thinking and good vibes, the whole community really just keeps themselves identifying with lack & victim mentality so the coaches at the top profit off everyone else’s misery.

I believed in manifesting and had faith I would achieve my goals, but despite years of trying a million different things, only saw small or short-term successes and never seemed to get anywhere. I was feeling pretty burnt out and miserable, so summer 2023 I decided to stop trying so hard and just spend some time focused on myself and what I wanted. I went back to the two methods that I’ve always loved and had success with: affirmations and tapping.

I tapped every day and started making affirmation art and lockscreen wallpaper for fun. I posted the affirmations on Pinterest, which eventually lead me to finding affirmations pinned from tumblr. I think it was a screenshot from blushydior I saw at first, but her blog was deactivated by then. So I started stumbling around tumblr (around Aug-Sept 2023 at this point), where I eventually came across loa, the void, and shifting.

I was surprised because despite my extreme research into all things personal development & spiritual, I’d never heard of it. Although I’d read about quantum physics and more supernatural things, every coach/teacher had major limits. “Manifesting” only meant getting logical earth things like making 6 figures in your business through hard work and hustle so you can afford to travel and buy luxury cars & Chanel bags. Stuff like changing the past, waking up with all your desires, etc was absolutely impossible and not even talked about except “you can’t change the past”.

So having only heard about these incredible overnight life-changing manifestations from tumblr, I was skeptical and wanted more information. I basically started this blog to collect information from outside tumblr to prove it to myself and share with others. Which of course sent me down a rabbit hole of research and overconsumption and overcomplicating the void 😅

I did get kinda obsessed and throw myself into trying every shifting & void method I saw right away, which just left me frustrated with “failed” attempts. But I see now I was just repeating the same victim mentality from the old community - that everything had to be hard and a struggle, that I was a victim of circumstance and limited by a higher power. (This is also a really commonly held limiting belief in religion and society in general that affects many people.)

It took me more than a few months to realize, but I’m finally switching my default programming to that of a creator instead of a victim. Because I don’t want to be obsessed and put the void on a pedestal, I’m currently just working on my self concept that I am in control of my reality and can manifest whatever I want - with or without the void. I still do want to experience it of course, just want to make sure I’m going at it with a healthy mindset.

However!

About a week or two ago I read someone’s void success story that triggered a memory from many years ago: I realized I actually did wake up in the void and manifested something, long before I even knew what manifesting or the void was 😭 Because I’d always believed in supernatural things, I thought I had a “psychic dream” but now I know it was the void! (If anyone wants storytime I can make another post with more detail).

And since at the time, I entered without even knowing about the void’s existence, I realize we here or tumblr really do overcomplicate it. Like the video I posted where the void is described as the midway point between wake and sleep - it really is that simple!

I’ve noticed now that whenever I wake up naturally (not getting woken up by an alarm, outside noise, or cat jumping on me) I do always seem to wake up in the void. It’s the same kind of experience, and I don’t hear anything, but my first natural instinct when I wake up is to wonder where the sounds of my environment are. So I end up tuning in to my room and snapping out of the void.

I guess I just have to train myself to make my first thought an affirmation for my desires instead of just wondering where the sounds are 😅 But regardless, now I know it’s absolutely real and possible for me, I know it’s only a matter of time until I figure it out!

[harlowsbby]

Fluff concept: Maybe Jack is having writers block in your home studio so you go and give him some words of encouragement 🥹

My baby love

“Where is he at?” You mumbled to yourself and looked at the time seeing it was almost 4 in the afternoon.

You’ve spent the entire day deep cleaning your house with Jack he said he’d be in the home studio for a few hours to finish up a few verses and unfinished songs but that was at 7am that morning.

You quickly finished platting your dinner which consisted of pasta noddles and meatballs, tonight was a easy meal type of night. Once you finished you went to the indoor studio Jack had built.

You smiled and traced all the pictures placed in the hallways. They were pictures of Jack and Yourself throughout the years and some of Jack with his family or You with yours. You stopped for a second when you came across your latest picture.

It was Jack standing behind you with his hands resting on your baby bump. You coo’d at the picture before placing your hands on your belly.

“We can’t wait to meet you baby girl.” To which she responded by a few kicks, you giggled and shook your head she was definitely going to be one smart cookie.

“Jack? Are you in here baby it’s dinner time.” You opened the door to the studio quietly just incase he was recording something.

“I’m over here baby.” His voice came from inside the booth. Once you made it fully inside you were met by a somewhat happy Jack.

His curls were a mess probably from him running his fingers through his curls due to him being frustrated. He looked as if he hasn’t slept in ages and he just looked overall drained.

“Hi baby how are my girls doing?” His attitude picked up a bit seeing you. When you were close enough he was able to place his hands on your belly before leaving a few kisses here and there.

“And what about my kisses? I am the one that’s carrying your little Princess for another four months.” You sassily spoke and tried your best to cross your arms over your chest but the belly in your way was preventing that.

“You know I couldn’t forget about my main girl now pucker up.” You puckered your lips out and Jack gave you a few pecks here and there before sitting back down again.

“What’s got you so stressed? And don’t say it’s nothing because I can see how tired you look.” You threatened him.

“It’s just I have to get this song done and sent to Drama and Neelam by tomorrow and I don’t know where I’m going with it, I don’t want to seem like some one hit wonder you know.”

His eyes grew teary, lately the blogs and articles have been calling Jack a one hit wonder or everyone’s favorite rapper as of last year. They’ve also stated how he’s quote on quote “disappeared from the scene.”

“Look at me Jack.” He sniffled but didn’t look up he hated whenever you saw him cry. “Jack please look at me.” You rubbed his back in small circles and eventually he looked up. His nose was red and his cheeks were a bit puffy.

You hated seeing him so upset especially since he’s been working himself out and trying his hardest. You knew him not winning any Grammys took its tole on him mentally but he’ll win one eventually.

“Jack, you’re no one hit wonder and I know lately you’ve been feeling a bit discouraged but trust me you can do anything you put your heart and mind to.”

Jack hated feeling this way but the pressure was on he wanted to make it known that he was here to stay and that he wasn’t some temporary rapper.

“You’re right baby.” You huffed “I know I’m right.” He rolled his eyes playfully at you and went back to writing some lyrics down but you stopped him.

“No you’re taking the rest of the night off you’re spending it with me because I’ve been missing you. I’ll text Neelam and tell her you need more time but for now you’re mine.”

He couldn’t help but to laugh. “Yes ma’am I’m all yours.” He saluted you and let you take him to the kitchen. The both of you ate in a peaceful silence after you were done eating he cleaned up and went to put a movie on for the both of you.

Jack sat behind you in the bed while you laid between his legs. The two of you were watching The Little Mermaid.

“I wonder if our girl is going to be a singer.” You sleepy asked Jack. “If she wants to be a singer I’ll support it but we’ll see what she’ll wanna be when she’s older.” You nodded and closed your eyes before dozing off into a peaceful slumber.

“Thank you baby for always taking care of me I appreciate you baby girl.” When you didn’t respond he sat up and noticed you were fast asleep, he chuckled and placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“Ima love you forever my little love bug.” He finished up the rest of the movie and rubbed your belly the entire time. Once the movie was over he managed to tuck you into bed and fell asleep shortly after.

[nonbinaryeggrolls]

Battle of the Larynx I

Miguel O’Hara x afab!reader

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4

Synopsis: Having Spider-Man as a boyfriend was becoming increasingly more difficult, and his reoccurring absence is tearing you apart

A/N: hi y’all! ik ive been so MIA with my stories lately. if im being honest sometimes i just don’t have ideas for new chapters or how to continue in progress stories, but hopefully i can get some more done soon! but for now enjoy this quick Miguel O’Hara story cuz i am OBSESSED with this man atm

Inspired by Battle of the Larynx by Melanie Martinez!

Warning: smut (fingering), toxic relationship, ANGST (yk i fucking live that shit), neglectful Miguel, LONG ASS CHAPTERS

MINORS DNI. AGELESS AND MINOR BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

You knew what you were getting yourself into when he told you. You knew the nights that laid ahead for both of you filled with his crying and screaming after a failed mission led to a loss of innocent life. You knew the days would consist of hours holding your breath wondering if he was alive or not, and finally exhaling when he arrived there at your doorstep; battered and bloody but still, he was there. That was really the only promised you asked Miguel to keep— be there. You could handle him leaving randomly and not coming home until 2 in the morning, it was his obligation as a hero and that came before anything else. But he also took an obligation as your partner to be present when it mattered most, and according to him he cherished that concept with his life. So if that was the case why wasn’t he here now?

Miguel had been gone for 5 days now, longer than he’s ever been gone for. Five days of nothing, no calls, texts, emails, even an owl with a note would’ve sufficed at this point but he chose to leave you in the dark yet again. You touched up your mascara in the shiny elevator door reflection as you prepped yourself for the celebration party you and your art school classmates planned after you all landed the animation internship. What was supposed to be a chance for your friends to finally get to know Miguel was clearly turning into yet another evening third wheeling other couples. Another night of watching girls curl up with their lovers while you downed a spiked lemonade to forget about yours. This was the 26th time Miguel had abandoned an important event with no notice whatsoever (yes you’ve been keeping track). It started with simple things like picnic dates or small get togethers, then his absence gradually became more impactful. Missed family dinner’s, birthdays…anniversaries. Disappearing for days on end with no check ins, it was becoming torture. It was becoming increasingly obvious that people started to question whether or not you even had a boyfriend, and slowly you did too…

To Miggy 🧸:

please tell me you’re coming tonight, you know this means a lot to me Miguel

4:23

can you just call me and let me know youre alive at least????

4:49

i hope youre chaffing in your suit asshole

8:14

The elevator door opened letting you onto the top floor of Alchamex, it was pointless checking but you always did anyways. You crept your way into his office hoping to see his usual tired figure slumped over in his chair, ready for you to nag him like you usually do to take a break and eat something, but the only thing occupying the space was scattered papers. You looked through his window that towered over the Nueva York city streets trying desperately to hold back the tears that were fighting their way out.

“Y/N?”

Y/N: “Jess! Im- Im really sorry.” You turned your head only slightly so she couldn’t see your puffy eyes.

Jess: “Y/N, you’re part of reception you know you can get in a lot of trouble being up here without authorization.”

Y/N: “I know I know I just…I thought Miguel be here.” You mumbled between hiccups that came up from you failing to hide your sobs. Jess wasn’t stupid, it didnt take a genius to know what you were upset about, or who you were upset about, “If you um… if you see him can you just ask him to come home please.” Working through your sniffles, you wiped your face with your sleeve and made your way out of the office before she even had time to respond

Jess sighed feeling a twitch of anger brew inside her towards the young man, she scowled and muttered obscenities under her breath as she dialed Miguels number…

The next week came and you missed the party entirely, the calls from all your friends and colleagues went unanswered. Honestly, your self esteem couldn’t take another embarrassing, lonely entrance into an event that Miguel was supposed to accompany you too. Another endless night of sympathetic looks and pity hugs. 

The clock read 7:48 pm when you arrived home from work, another day of taking calls and booking meetings for a man that wasn’t even there half of the time. With a heavy sigh you set the bags of groceries you had in hand down in order to get your keys out of your back pocket. The space was dark and cold when you walked in, it had been for the last week. You stocked the fridge with your new groceries then before taking a quick shower and finishing your nightly routine. You were in the middle of applying your night cream when you heard a loud thud causing you to finally leave the bathroom. In the corner of your eye you caught a glimpse of a tall dark figure emerging from the window. You let out a shriek managing to fumble everything in hand as you scrambled to find your pepper spray.

Miguel: “Woah woah! Relax it’s just me! it’s me Y/N!” Usually you’d be used to Miguel’s late night window entrances but it had been so long since you last saw him you forgot he even did it. He turned on the living room light revealing his tired and bruised figure. He was still dressed in his spider suit, the suit you excitedly spent hours on your ipad drawing and redrawing to get the perfect design; now you hated the sight of that thing.

Y/N: “Miguel?”, seeing him gave you relief knowing it wasn’t an intruder, but the anger that’s been stirring in you for the last 2 weeks slapped you back to reality. Silence filled the space between you two, neither of you taking the initiative to speak first. It took 2 weeks for him to come back and you weren’t going to wait another second waiting for him to find the balls to say something.

Miguel: “Y/N please wait!…” he pleaded when you turned away and slammed the bedroom door behind you. You plopped down onto your mattress, you were exhausted and couldn’t stand to look at his face anymore, but you felt the empty bed space behind you dip with his weight.

Miguel: “Congratulations on your internship cariño, I knew you’d get it…” No response. “I…I got this for you. Y/N?” If you turned around you’d see the small gift wrapped box he held in his hand but you were motionless. This new silence terrified him. The possibility of you finally giving up on him made his heart sink a little

Miguel: “Y/N I’m really really sor—

Y/N: “Just shut up Miguel, shut up already…” you finally spoke through gritted teeth, “You’ve never cared about a single thing that I care about, if you did then you would’ve been there like you said you would but you weren’t! SO JUST FUCKING SHUT UP!” you sobbed and curled your legs closer to your chest

Miguel: “I know you’re angry at me… but Y/N I really am sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t call you or text you. I’m sorry it took Jess calling me to make me realize how terrible I was being. I should’ve been there to take you to your friends party, like I promised I would. I wanna be someone you can count on and trust but I’m screwing it all up.”

At this point Miguel had already stood up from the bed, you could feel the floor thump as he paced back and forth trying to find the right words to say to you. You couldn’t help but peek over at him, he looked horrible with his head in his hands and blood and dirt still caked on his suit. Regardless of how angry you felt towards Miguel you always took pity on the poor man. He loved you with everything he was and everything he wasn’t, all he wanted was to be everything you ever needed, but you were the first woman he had ever been with since Dana and Gabriella passed. You knew loving you was like learning to walk again.

You called his name in your soft voice. His head shot up, you were finally facing him with your arms open inviting him in for a hug. Miguel practically jumped from his seat and into your arms. Words couldn’t describe how good it felt to feel your touch and even though he smelled like ash and rubble you felt exactly the same, practically crying as you melted into his hold

Y/N: “I thought you were dead Miggy, you can’t keep putting me through this I can’t take it.” He settled deeper into your embrace and rested his head into the crook of your neck

Miguel: “I know, I’ll be better for you…” You felt his lips latch onto your neck and pepper you in small kisses, “I love you Y/N. I love you so much.” He groaned against you, pushing his stiffened member against your groan and pulling out a desperate moan from your lips

Y/N: “I…I love you too Miggy…fuck!” You screamed has he drove his thick fingers into your already soaking cunt. Every curl and thrust against your plush walls pushed you closer and closer to your edge.

You cried against his shoulders. There were times when the space that was wedged between you two felt infinite then dwindled every time he came back home to you.

It was euphoria, to feel him with you again.

But every high has to come down at some point.

The sound of arguing pulled you from your sleep. It was 2 in the morning when you rolled over to see a space where Miguel was originally sleeping beside you. It wasn’t unusual for Miguel to wake up in the middle of the night to work at the kitchen table or yell to Jess about some other spider variant that messed up a mission; one named Peter seemed to come up very frequently. However it seemed like this specific conversation went on for a fairly long time, you could even begin to here Miguel’s voice shake with whoever he was speaking to.

You slipped on a new t shirt from Miguel’s drawer since the clothes you previously had on had been ripped to shreds. His voice became more and more clear as you made your way down the hall

Miguel: “Do you already have an idea on who it could be?…Fuck. Okay, I’ll *sigh* I’ll be there soon.” He hung up and pinched the bridge of his nose in a mixture of frustration and disappointment.

Y/N: “Youre leaving again aren’t you?” Your voice startled him out of his sulk.

Miguel: “…Jess suspects there’s a spider variant that’s purposely letting anomalies run loose in other dimensions. I have to handle this Y/N...”

7 hours, it took 7 hours to fall into the same old routine. It was honestly amusing at this point, all you could do was laugh. How stupid you were to think things could be any different. How stupid you were to think that HE could be any different.

Y/N: “Are you fucking serious?!” You shouted

Miguel: “Y/N Stop it, not right now please. I need you to just go back to bed and let me—

Y/N: “Let you what?! Let you leave me and come back anytime you find it convenient? How long are you gonna be gone this time Miguel, a month this time? Do you even care about the promise you kept to me? Or do I even cross your mind when you’re out there dimensions away from home playing hero for everyone else but me? This isn’t a hotel Miguel, this is our home! At least that what it fucking used to be!” You fumed. He towered above you but that didn’t stop from getting in his face, “It’s not fair Miguel! You don’t get to leave me alone for weeks and come back and fuck me thinking that’ll make it all better! You have to be better!”

Miguel: “You need to stop acting like you’re the only person in my world that needs my attention! I’m not a monster for putting the safety of the multiverse first. Im sorry I can’t be here to rock you to bed and give you a kiss goodnight all the time. Sometimes we have to put personal matters on the back burner Y/N, it’s called responsibility!” He gathered his phone and the rest of his belongings off the kitchen table

Miguel: “I have enough to worry about as it is, having you and Jess blowing up my phone to go to some party with people I don’t even know doesn’t he—

Y/N: “What?” Your tone was softer and started to become laced with hurt, it was evident in the way your voice started to shake, “Jess called you that night and it took you a week to come back?”

Realization of what he just said settles in and it makes his brows furrow in frustration and both himself and you. When he looks over at you with that same stupid emotionless face he always has you can’t help but boil with anger. His nonchalance towards your problems made you curl your fist until your knuckles turned white

Y/N: “No you’re not a monster, but you are an ASSHOLE for making me believe you could balance work and me! Why are you even with me if you can’t—

Miguel: “This conversation is over, I have a job to do and youre keeping me from doing it.” He cut you off harshly, dismissing your concerns yet again.

Y/N: “I never asked you to sacrifice your obligations! I said from the beginning that being a hero comes first, just make some goddamn time for me now and then! Why Miguel? Why do I have to beg you to see my family at Christmas?! Why do I have to beg you to meet my friends or give me an ounce of attention?! Why do I have to ask you to care about me?!”, This was frustrating him too much, your lack of understanding was infuriating. Miguel had to leave before he said something he might regret. He turned away from you and your manic sobbing and made his way to the window seal without another word, afraid that he might damage things worse than they already were by speaking

Y/N: “If we switched places I wouldn’t DARE treat you as terribly as you treat me—

Miguel: “WELL YOURE NOT ME! YOU SIT AT A DESK AND DOODLE ON A FUCKING COMPUTER! YOUR CAREER IS A JOKE, A CHILD COULD DO WHAT YOU DO. YOU CONTRIBUTE NOTHING TO THIS WORLD, I DO.” His nostrils flared and his eyes burned red with anger, “SO DONT YOU DARE SPEAK ABOUT MY LIFE LIKE YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT IT, WHAT IVE HAD TO SACRIFICE JUST TO MAKE THINGS RIGHT IN THIS WORLD!”

Y/N: “GOD. YOU ARE SUCH A CUNT!”

Miguel: “AND YOURE A REPLACEMENT!”

Miguels eyes widened and his rampage instantly stopped. You couldn’t believe the words that had just left his mouth, and honestly he couldn’t either. He didn’t mean it at all, he wanted to take back those words as soon as the left his mouth, he just wanted to leave. Why didn’t you just let him leave? He wouldve been right back. The air was thick and uncomfortable, your combined heavy breathing was the only thing filled the space between the two of you.

Miguel: “I…I’ll be right back.” There was a shakiness in his voice and in his movement when he stepped out onto the fire escape.

Y/N: “Dont come back. If you leave tonight…don’t come back Miguel.” You spoke in a tone barely above a whisper

Miguel: “We’ve said things we don’t mean…I’ll be back later to fix things.” His suit integrated onto his body and he leapt off of the building ledge. A blur of blue and red was the only trace he left behind.

The truth was out now, how Miguel really felt towards you. You were never a first priority or even a second or third, you were nothing but a soul to fill the space where something else was missing. His wife, his daughter, you never tried to stand in their place or become what they were to him, but now you knew that’s the only reason Miguel kept you around. You were his vice

Your heavy cries carried throughout the apartment as you laid in bed cradling the maroon cardigan that was in the gift box Miguel got you.

The spider society headquarters was empty and calm, but the office at the top floor was anything but. Miguel sat atop of his hovering platform brooding in silence in front of his computer monitors, It’d been like this since he arrived. Miguel was always stern and reserved, he never held a conversation with anyone other than Jess or Lyla so him being fairly quiet was normal. But for Miguel to not say anything at all was strange, and it didn’t take long for others to take notice of his behavior shift since leaving your apartment

Margo, Peter, and Jess were the last people at headquarters, after a long day of interrogating potential rogue variants the crew was finally successful and able to apprehend Spiderman on Earth-3360. What will happen to the young man wasn’t decided yet but catching him was a cause for celebration. The group sat around the cafeteria table sharing empanadas and Soju for a few minutes before they went back to their own universes

Margo: “Yeah Ive been in his office all day with him and Lyla and he’s barely said 2 sentences, he wasn’t even mean during interrogation. It’s like he didn’t have it in him to yell. I think he’s depressed or something.”

Peter: “I thought he was always depressed, that’s like his thing isn’t it? That’s why he’s not funny.” He joked and finished off the last empanada

Jess: “I don’t know but I need to get home, my back is killing me and I can’t deal with The Grinch any longer.” She said taking letters hand to help her up from the chair.

The group said goodnight to each other, Margo logged off and Jess went home to some much needed rest, honestly this line of work seems too dangerous for a pregnant woman. Peter made his way up to Miguel’s office, who he knew could hear the entire conversation thanks to his enhanced hearing.

Peter: “You know they’re right Miguel…” he shouted up to Miguel who was brooding on his platform

Miguel: “About what?” he asked in a condescending tone

Peter: “About you, you don’t think we’ve noticed you moping around all day. Do you wanna tell me what the deal is so you can stop pouting?” he swung onto the platform and took a seat next to Miguel, crossing his arms and sitting firm in place waiting for Miguel’s response but he was met with silence, “Is it the rogue variant? Cuz we’re not gonna let this happen again…”

Miguel: “No.”

Peter: “Miles? Gwen? Ben?”

Miguel: “No it’s none of them.” He turned his attention away from him and focused on organizing the handful of papers on his desk

Peter: “Then what is it? Is it Y/N?”

Miguel: “Did I say anything about Y/N?! Why even bring her up?!” He snapped, it was exhausting having to work and act like every terrible thing he said wasn’t weighing on his mind. Miguel couldn’t even interrogate the variant with losing focus, having to have Jess switch him out is gonna remain one of the most embarrassing points in his Spider-Man career. Peter was never a first choice for a sounding board, but it was only going to get worse for Miguel if he didn’t turn to someone for advice, because Lord knows he was terrible at handling relationship problems on his own

Miguel: “I said something bad, really really bad Peter…” he confessed. He took a seat in the chair next to him

Peter: “Do you wanna be more specific?”

Miguel: “I told her that her career was a joke. Then I called her…a replacement.” Peters eyes widened, he knew Miguel was capable of harsh words, he’d seen it first hand with Miles but this was unexpected. Especially with you, the girl he fawned over and practically stalked at work until you made the first move.

Peter: “Shit, Miguel. That’s really messed up…Did you mean it?” He asked

Miguel: “No of course not! I didn’t mean any of it, I was just frustrated. I’m not the bad guy for prioritizing my duties! She just wasn’t listening Peter, she wasn’t understanding any of what I was saying or where I was coming from. I didn’t mean what I said.”

Peter: “So why did you say it?!” Peter exclaimed

Miguel: “I DONT KNOW!”, He slouched over in his chair and cradled his head in his hands, his own words made him sick to his stomach. How he urged to tell you how guilty he was for what he said, for never being there, for making you feel like you didn’t mean anything, “I just wanted her to be quiet, everything she was saying was right but it made me feel guilty and awful. I wanted to make her feel worse than I felt. God I’m so fucking dumb…”

Peter: “You know I’m not good with this, it wasn’t long ago that I was a sad piece of shit too with a partner at home who basically couldn’t stand me. That being said, I also know that when it feels like nothing you say can make up for everything you said, and you said A LOT, maybe too much. I would never say something like that, that was insane…”

Miguel: “Peter…” he said through gritted teeth

Peter: “Sorry sorry, that being said when it feels like there’s nothing you can say that could make up for everything you said, a simple apology means more than you think it does. A real apology Miguel.” Peter looked at him, he didn’t need words to know that Peter was basically tell him to finally get his shit together.

Miguel: “What if she doesn’t accept it?”

Peter: “She will if you mean it…”

Passing buildings were a blur to Miguel, he was racing home so fast he couldn’t even focus on anything around him. While he swung from structure to structure he planned out every single thing he’d say to you, how he’s sorry for failing you in this relationship and he’d change for the both of you. He even tried to remember if there was still cinnamon in the spice cabinet so he could make you your favorite comfort drink, champurrado.

Miguel soon landed on the fire escape outside your apartment, you made a habit of leaving the curtains open for him so he could see if you were up or not and now it was an involuntary part of your routine. He peeked inside and saw you sleeping peacefully on your bed, hoping to come join you he tried to open the window but it wasn’t budging.

‘Had you locked it on purpose?’ He thought to himself, no you couldn’t have, you always left in unlocked for him. But when he saw the book you had used to block the window from being moved he panicked. Miguel knocked on your window, frantic and desperate

Miguel: “Y/N! Y/N! Unlock the window!” He pleaded. His knocking stirred you out of your sleep and you sat up in your bed, your puffy eyes on full display. When you finally looked over at him you were emotionless just as he was to you, it terrified him seeing you look at him with no longing or affection

Miguel: “Let me in…please cariño”, he begged

You were so tired, you were so tired of wondering why your boyfriend left you to question his love for you and now after tonight you know why. You stood face to face with him, the window still a barrier between you and him. It ate away at you but you couldn’t stand another night asking yourself why you weren’t getting the love you deserved. You had your answer and you didn’t need Miguel around anymore, not if you were going to be another substitute for what was missing.

Miguel: “Y/N…Y/N please wait!—

You closed the curtain in his face and went back to bed but it didn’t stop his knocking and pleading, begging for you to let him in and mend what he broke. It continued for an hour until you were convinced he eventually gave up and left. Him being gone finally gave you a chance to break down once again into your sheets, but Miguel sat on the fire escape listening to every choked out sob and hiccup you let out. Every painful cry the he caused you and now he wondered if he’d ever be able to fix it.

[time-travelling-chaos]

🍓🛼🥤❄️🏜️☁️

Thank you so much for the ask!

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? 

Oh I never had to get into it, I was into fanfiction even before understanding the concept of fanfiction. It always made sense for me to do something (art stories...) from the things I loved. Like when I was a kid, I loved writing and stories, and I also loved this children's book series the famous five, so of course, when I was around 9, I decided to write my own story with the characters (I had no internet at the time, so I had no clue it was actually a thing). I never finished that story but I had like one or two chapters written. Then I got into code lyoko and thought about creating my own fanzine with some of my own stories (still had no idea it was a thing as well). I spent a lot of my middle school doing some rp with my best friend for diverse fandoms by sending each other SMS (and it was at the time you had to pay for each individual SMS). But I got introduced to the actual concept when I got into the Doctor Who fandom and I read a lot, thought of writing some (I had so much ideas) but I never actually managed to write more than a few lines. Then we started actually writing a story together with a friend, based on a game we had played (still on the doctor who fandom). It might still be somewhere online btw but I'm not sure I'll even be able to find it. And then I got a bit away from fandom, but two years ago I went back to it with the le visiteur du futur fandom, and my friend was talking about their ideas for fanfiction, so I went back to reading some, got some ideas myself and started writing once more.

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

👼🏞🌳🎻📚

I'm curious to see if someone will find out what it is about 👀

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

Oh no, this won't work. This is where my ability to follow rules stops. I can't recommend one author or fic, it doesn't work like that you know. It depends on so many things and without even looking at my bookmarks I have three coming on top of my head. So I'll recommend some, but not only one. (I'll do that in another post though to keep my recs at the same place)

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

I have plenty of ideas for fics (and I'm not going to share them right now to not lose my motivation too much) but when it is my ideas, I often think I'm the best person to write it, because I know exactly what I want in it.

Though if I had to chose one that I don't want to write, I'd like a neurodivergent equivalent to the queer guardian angel Aziraphale /demon Crowley one, but I don't know who I'd see as the best writer for it (if anyone wants to give it a try though...)

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

All of them, I love comments ! But once again, if I have to chose, I'd say those who discuss specific parts of the stories or the small details I decided to put, or the ones that makes theories about what is to come next.

☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username?

My AO3 one is Eweryan and it comes from my friend's universe and the language they created. It means nocturnal and I took it because I'm a night owl and I love the night. For my tumblr one, it comes from my reddit one, which is similar except for the last part. The last part was about chemistry, and I changed it because this is no longer something that I am sure is a big part of who I am. I put chaos instead, because, well, my mind is chaotic and so is this blog. The time travelling part comes from doctor who.

[subdee]

B and E for the ask game?

Pretending I answered this two days ago... Aha.

B:  What was the first fandom you read fic in?  Which was the first you wrote fic for?

First fandom: It was Ranma 1/2! In second grade we got a PC for the first time, a few years later we got a dial-up internet connection. The only people on the internet at that time - as far as I knew anyway - were adult nerds and college students. The college students had the fast college internet, so their pages were unusable because they all had huge fancy anime JPEG headers that took 10 minutes to load.

I starting reading fanfiction because plaintext loaded quicker, and my favorite page on the entire internet was someone's boring HTML page that was literally nothing but a manually-updated list of links to every Ranma/Akane fanfiction that existed on the internet in English.

I was probably in 6th or 7th grade. I'd never read the comics, which were expensive as they were still being sold in the western comics format, where you charged a lot of $$$ for a small number of (flipped) pages. The tankobans came out a year or two later. I'm probably mixing all this up. I saw some of the anime, eventually, renting tapes from a going out of business video rental store near my high school boyfriend's house.

Uhh where was I. Yeah, to this day I've never seen or read all of Ranma 1/2, but I read literally every English language Ranma/Akane fanfic that existed on the internet circa 1995. I liked the ones where Akane was in love with girl Ranma, and Ranma didn't care that they were dating a lesbian, the best.

First fandom I wrote in: Naruto! I was still in high school, or maybe just starting college? I started some ambitious WIP, specofically to make friends with a group of livejournalers whose blogs I'd been lurking for several years (I succeeded in this btw, just not with the Naruto fic - with Death Note mainly). Since I didn't have any real plan for the fic, I didn't make it very far before I gave up.

There's another one I wrote, close to around that time, that I wish I could orphan or at least delete from my ff.net account, but alas I can't as the email I used to sign up for ff.net no longer exists. It was a fic about Sasuke and Hinata in an arranged marriage, there's a rape in it, I wrote it as a proof of concept for how horrible that pairing would be, but it got positive feedback from Sasuke fans invested in how I was going to redeem him. Yeah, lesson learned, never write an anti-fic.

E: What character do you identify with most?  Is there a certain fic of yours that captures these qualities particularly well?

Hmmmmmm. Usually I'd say, Yukino Arizawa from His and Her circumstances? She is insanely competitive and ambitious but hides it so she can get more adulation from her high school fanbase. I'm not exactly like this but I admire it, and it's closer to my mental image of myself than the majority of female characters. "They think I'm sweet, but I want to beat them all into the ground with the best test scores, best grades, AND be the best athlete! Haha!"

In general I'm not really trying to write characters who are like me when I write, though. It's like, write my essay about the canon, pretend it's fiction and not an essay; or join a fandom event to make friends and write an AU I can put some of my personal experiences in to make it more interesting. Fanfic as a social thing, more than a way to explore myself.

I'll plug the way I wrote Ging (HxH) in "Pariging Coffee Shop AU" though (though you just said you don't read AUs and especially not coffee shop AUs). I like the way he's a mystery in that and then... Revealed to be SOMEWHAT interesting but in a way that only appeals to like, the niche of the niche. (Academic genius only popular among sociology grad students, etc.) Hah.

Here's the fic:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32737069

Thanks for the ask <333