#just a little thing I wanted to point out as it bothers me

[muqingslover]

Hi! If you're open to requests, what would you think the lads men (or just one guy of your choice!!) would do in the following scenario?

They are out with mc when they run into mc's ex, and mc's ex says, "Damn, your taste in men changed a lot" in like a condescending manner. (Or something along those lines)

I hope you have a great time!! I love reading your stories!!

[ Thank you for the request! <3 I did a little of everyone so enjoy! ]

Sylus

"Your tastes sure have changed since the last time I saw you." is the first thing that actually catches his attention during the otherwise boring conversation.

Sylus is not an overly jealous person simply because he is very secure of his love for you and how good he is to you. The only thing your ex does is greatly amuse him because the difference is too great to even be considered fair.

"Naturally. You surely don't expect someone to eat trash forever, do you?" He would answer for you in a smooth voice while he towers over the both of you with that confident expression of his on his face.

He feels almost sorry for you, who had to make do with such men, but, not to worry, he's here now and he's not going anywhere.

Xavier

Taunting his jealous side is the same as playing with fire while knowing you're going to get burn.

"Is that the type of guy you prefer?" He'd ask the second the two of you are alone again. His hands pin you to the closest surface so you're unable to run from the conversation and he keeps his face very close to yours to watch for even the smallest reactions "Do you like him more than me?"

My advice? Say no as quickly as possible and give him a kiss to shush him otherwise you're in for the long, loooooong haul. Xavier is not easily soothed once he's worked up and he WILL hold grudges.

The next time your ex shows up he is quick to cut the conversation before they can even get a good morning in and makes it clear you belong to him now.

Rafayel

"What did you just say?" His head never whipped back faster mans almost twisted his own neck.

Arguably the most aggressive per se because he's SO obvious. To him it's just staggering you ever went out with anyone else, especially a thing like that, and that it's here, again, approaching you. Does it not see him? He's right there for god's sake!

"She's on duty so she can't talk to you right now. Or ever." He'd grab you by the shoulder as he sized the guy up and down with the most condescending and judgmental look on his face before scoffing. what a diva

He'll nag at you later for being "distracted while on the job" and say you're supposed to pay attention to him at all times otherwise how will his dear bodyguard protect him? Please be more mindful!

Caleb

It was a school reunion party when your old high school sweetheart came up to the both of you.

"Oh hey, I remember you! Weren't you the guy who got kicked out for cheating on his graduation exam?" He says with an innocent grin on his face knowing full well the guy is a deadbeat and making sure others heard it too.

It's canon he kept track of all crushes MC had while growing up and I'm sure he goes out of his way to show you their bad points so you won't even consider looking their way.

In some cases, Caleb had to get rid of them by manipulating things behind the scenes if they didn't take the hint and this one was one of those cases.

The guy was struggling with his grades and who is he to deny a helping hand? All he did was slip the sheet of answers to the test without anyone knowing, it's not his fault if the idiot accepted it knowing it was against the rules. Such an angel, isn't he.

This interaction will lead to him being even more territorial around you and he wants you to just stay home with him where it's safe. Pretty please?

Zayne

He will step in if they are bothering you by pretending he needs your immediate help in the office but otherwise Zayne merely listening in the background.

Once they're gone the silence is so loud.

You can basically feel that he's bothered by something, but he won't open his mouth even if you ask him about it because it's 'petty and childish'.

"Are you happy with me?" He'd eventually ask you after stewing in his own thoughts for the day. What if your tastes hadn't changed and you were just too nice to tell him he's not doing enough? That he is not enough.

Please reassure this sweet man that you're happy in the relationship. Especially so if your ex is the type that is super extroverted and easy to get along with since that's one of the points he struggles with the most.

The problem goes away on its own after some good quality time together and affectionate words.

[saltynsassy31]

Full disclaimer, I have to read any of the fics written for Shockwave and the kids yet as I've been busy and off Tumblr for a bit for my own mental health lol

But I recently saw a photo of an abandoned carousel in some underground area filled with puddles and it reminded me of that one deleted scene from Detroit: Become Human where the Jerry's make a broken carousel work again for Alice and they all just watched her happily play on it as the world around them crumbled.

And, with that thought, it also reminded me of Shockwave and the kids and I simply HAD to write a small drabble fic of it. Sorry if it isn't accurate for the characters or the story already made, but I hope it's enjoyed regardless :3

And, I hope, with all the angst going on, this fluffy story will satisfy yall a bit XD

[This is the post I saw that inspired me to write this, if anyone wants a visual of the place: https://www.instagram.com/reel/DGog_W_vDiR/?igsh=b3FsYm50enJhM3ln ]

AU belongs to @keferon

Carousel

~☆~

As the days went by, the situation they all found themselves in was slowly starting to get far too real. It was fun, at first, running around abandoned buildings and scavenging for whatever they could find, spending time with their newly acquired aquatic dad friend who kept them safe and well fed.

But then things started to show up and it scared them. Shockwave tried to avoid the areas with the most floating bodies, the children having seen enough of that (and he hoped they hadn't seen any they would recognise), but every now and then something would float up and startle them. Other times they'd run into bigger problems while scavenging and they had far too many close calls for Shockwave's liking.

They tend to keep themselves entertained, for the most part. Shockwave only occasionally indulged. But, usually, he could simply gently float on the surface of the water and let the kids tire themselves out. However, they've become more quiet lately.

It was hard to tell what caused it. Could be a myriad of things, as listed before, maybe it was finally starting to dawn on them how the situation was far from ideal. Maybe it was the conversation they had with that Orca - Jazz, was it? Shockwave couldn't tell, and it bothered him.

He missed their lively chatter (it still happened, but few and far between). A part of him was starting to wonder if the humans who called him out on the fact that this wasn't normal behaviour for human children were right, a small pang of regret reaching the back of his mind.

But he shook those thoughts away. Now wasn't the time. Nothing about their situation was normal anyway, he was already providing more than enough for them to survive this cruel world.

Shockwave was aggressively pulled out of his drifting thoughts by an ear piercing screech that immediately put him on high alert.

“Guys! Guys! Look!” He heard Skids say. Turning to look at him, he followed where the boy was pointing at.

It looked to be some kind of fair or theme part, it was a little hard to tell. Half of it was submerged, but there were some areas in which the water had receded. Shockwave relaxed once he deemed the situation safe, but still gave a small scrutinising glare at Skids for causing unnecessary concern - which went, of course, completely ignored.

“Oh wow, it looks pretty banged up, huh?” Tc noted, crawling closer to the edge of Shockwave's back to get a better look.

“But there might still be some things left over. You know how much they tend to sell in these places? And now we can just snag them!” Warp argued, already getting excited at the thought.

“Do we really need more useless things to carry around?” Trailbreaker argued, the bag he carried strangely heavier on his back.

“There are other things we could do there.” Skids quickly chimed in. “We could check out some of the games they have.”

“Would there be any still working?”

“Carnival games easy to fix, Soundwave up to the task.”

They all turned to look at Soundwave, seemingly to silently fall into an agreement.

Warp turned to face Shockwave, clasping his hands together as he pleaded. “Can we go there? Pretty pleaaaase?” Before he could even answer, the others had joined them.

He wasn't going to say no. This was the exact type of fun distraction they needed, maybe it would help them go back to their usual, energetic selves. So the theatrics were unnecessary. Still, he couldn't help the small amusement it brought him. He pretended to think it over, as if he didn't already have their answer.

“Hmm, I don't know…”

Those simple words were enough to make them all Start to plead harder, making their eyes as big as possible, throwing promises he knew they'd never actually follow through.

That broke the façade he was trying to play up, causing him to laugh. “Alright, alright. We can go.” The kids erupted into celebratory cheers, hugging each other and jumping on Shockwave's back. “But don't stray so far where I can't reach you, okay?”

They all nodded, but he only had trust in some of them to actually obey his orders.

Regardless, he swam over to the abandoned park and waited until they had slid off of him before crawling over onto land. The ground was still pretty wet, so it made it easier for him to slide around and follow them, keeping himself to the more deeper puddles when possible.

He watched as they all went to different directions with their own, small group. Tc and Warp, always tied to the hip, ran over to some of the stands that still had some prizes hanging. Windcharger and Trailbreaker followed Damus as he ran to play some of the games that didn't require power to work. And Skids and Soundwave went…

Where did they go?

Panic immediately followed the realisation. Shockwave stood up straighter and began to spin his head around in search of the two missing kids. The others didn't seem to have noticed their absence, too enthralled in their own activity.

He was about to start calling when he heard a familiar boisterous voice call from not too far. “Guys! Over here! Come see what me and Soundwave just discovered!”

Immediately, all of the attention was on Skids who had a smile so wide Shockwave was worried he'd hurt himself with it. The others looked at each other briefly before making their way over, Damus hesitating a bit before putting down the fishing rod he held and following the rest.

Shockwave did so as well, to the best of his abilities anyway. The further they went, the tighter the space became and less water reached the surface for him to easily slide around. He wanted to voice his complaint of them going too far, like he had explicitly told them not to before coming here (and really, he thought Warp would have disobeyed first before Soundwave. Skids made sense, but him?) But before he could even think of what to say, Skids noticed his struggle and seemed to remember something.

“Oh, right! Almost forgot.” He jogged over to the mer shark and gently grabbed at one of his fingers to guide him elsewhere. “There's an opening that takes you directly to the area we found. You have to swim underneath some rubble, but it should fit you.”

The boy took him to some dilapidated attraction of the park, it was too broken to tell what it used to be, but it did create an opening that allowed Shockwave to fit through perfectly fine. “Just swim straight ahead and it should take you to the area, we'll meet you there.”

Immediately, Shockwave didn't like that idea, and he didn't need to voice his thoughts for the teen to catch on, his glare doing the job just fine. “It'll be fine, don't worry! It's not that far. Less than a minute, probably less than a second for you since you're so big you'll just have to slide in and out. Besides, there's nothing here, the place is completely barren.”

Shockwave was still unconvinced.

Skids took to pleading. “Please! It'll be quick, I promise you. And worth it too! It's the exact thing we've been needing, and Soundwave put a lot of work on it. I know you don't like leaving us alone for even a second, but give it a chance?”

They stared at each other for a moment, Skids making his eyes as wide and innocent as possible and Shockwave hoping the stubborn teen would dispel this idea with his glare alone.

In the end, Skids guppy eyes were far too powerful even for a great shak such as Shockwave. And the kid was right, wasn't this what he wanted for them to begin with?

He let out a heavy sigh of defeat and reluctantly agreed to it. “Fine. I trust you, but if anything shows up–”

“We don't engage with it and call for you, yes, I know. Now go! Soundwave is waiting!” Skids ushered Shockwave to submerge himself into the large opening with the wave of his hands and only joined back with the others once he could no longer see the large mer.

One relief Shockwave had was that the tunnel formed was large enough that he could easily turn around and pop back out if he heard any of the kids in danger, though it also lacked any proper escape for him as it only had one direction for him to go. Straight ahead or backwards. 

But Skids was right in saying the trip was short, he could already hear the muffled voices of his children. Soon enough, he found himself resurfacing, the lively chatter being the first thing his senses picked up on.

When the children heard the splash of water, they all turned to look towards the source of the noise, their excitement almost blindingly radiat in contrast to the dark, murky room they found themselves in.

The place was closed off by fallen buildings that created a sort of cave around them, plenty of fauna already making its home here. It was fairly empty as well, save for the large, round attraction in the middle of the room. It had horses stuck to poles inside it, a dim pink and gold decorating the whole thing, the paintings that littered it had long since faded and it was hard to tell what it once was.

“Okay, you're here, good.” Skids turned to Soundwave, who was standing next to what looked to be a control panel. “Soundwave, would you do us the honours?”

The other teen nodded, bending down to start pulling at some wires in place of pressing the buttons offered. Warp scoffed, crossing his arms and looking skeptically at his friend. “There's no power here, how in the world are you going to get it to work? I swear, if you brought us all the way here for nothing I–”

Before he could finish his sentence, a blast of music and light echoed loudly around the empty space, causing everyone to flinch back and cover their ears. Shockwave nervously looked around, worried that the loud noise might have attracted some unwanted attention. Once the shock faded, Skids ran up to Soundwave and gestured proudly at the now working carousel.

“Ta-da!”

“Wh…how is this possible!?” Warp questioned, looking at Soundwave for answers, to not only be ignored, but shoved around by the other kids who ran towards the attraction. “Seriously?! Is no one else even a little bit concerned on how this is possible?”

Tc placed a hand over his shoulder, bringing his attention to him. “Warp, just enjoy the miracle. When are we going to get another chance like this?”

Warp could only grumble. Tc was right, they wouldn't, not for a long time. That didn't mean he had to accept it though.

Shockwave watched as they all walked over and picked their favourite horse, Tc and Skids fighting over the same blue one before Trailbreaker broke their fight up and offered his to Tc, walking up to help Damus up and sit with him instead. Shockwave observed the way Soundwave continued to pick at the control panel and looked up at the other children, waiting for their confirmation that they were ready before clicking something and closing the panel. As soon as he did that, the carousel began to slowly move, the horses bobbing up and down in gentle motions, causing the kids to excitedly cheer.

Soundwave stepped on the moving platform while it was still picking up speed and sat on a random horse near Windcharger. Although not as vocal as the others, he was clearly enjoying it.

Shockwave couldn't quite get what was so entertaining about the thing. It was slow, even after it picked up some speed, and the music was painful to the ears. But that didn't quite matter, did it? They were happy, and they were having fun.

It clearly was something they knew about before the tsunami, before their civilization fell apart. A simple joy of life that they missed.

And, in a world dimmed by tragedy and destruction, where at every corner something threatens their very existence, isn't that all they could ask for?

So, in a small moment of peace, Shockwave let himself relax. He bent forward and rested his chin over his crossed arms and watched as his children sang along with the screechy music, bouncing on their fake horses and pretending they were in some high chase in their little imaginary world.

In this dreary reality, even the artificial light of a broken past could make it all worth it. 

[lexalith]

FRIENDS || Choi Su-Bong (Thanos)

summary: after late-night sexting with your best friend, everything changes. the bond you thought was purely platonic starts to feel deeper. were these feelings always there, hidden beneath the surface? or did something just… click? is this the start of something real, or the beginning of a mistake that could ruin everything?

warnings: aged up female reader (they’re both in their late twenties) (MDNI), smut (masturbation, fingering, public sex, p in v, oral sex (f and m), sexting, edging, praising, unprotected sex (don’t be silly)) semi and minsu are victims of the reader’s and subong’s freakiness, angst (name calling, miscommunication, pushing, throwing things, lying, deception, fear of commitment, reader refuses to help him at some point, slapping, slutshame remarks), overuse of the words ‘fuck’ and ‘fucking’ (lmaoo), subong should be a warning himself, fwb dynamic, reader uses someone to forget subong, drug use and addiction.

a/n: i’ve never ever written anything here on tumblr before, so i don’t really know what i’m doing, help. also, english isn’t my first language, so mistakes should be present!! lowercase is intentional. this is an au with no games. text messages are in different colors (orange for the reader, purple for subong). the reader’s dialogue is in bold. mind you, this is LOOOONG (it’s a whole fic)

songs that inspired me to write this: friends — chase atlantic || back to friends — sombr || heartbeat — childish gambino || casual — chappell roan

this fic was also inspired by @jedisupernova ‘s writing, check out her page and fics!!! (they’re soooo good)

you’re still thinking about what that guy said. it wasn’t even a big deal, not really. just some random jerk at the club who’d had a few too many drinks and decided to share his unfiltered thoughts about your body. “you’re not really my type,” he’d said, like you’d asked. then he’d laughed and added, “not many guys would go for that.”

it shouldn’t bother you. you know it shouldn’t. but now, a few nights later, it’s stuck in your head, looping like a song you can’t turn off. so, lying in bed, scrolling aimlessly, you do what you always do when something’s bugging you—you text him. your best friend.

subong. are you awake?

yes ma’am. why?

i got a random question. but like, it’s not that deep

???

do you think i’m attractive?

you fire it off without overthinking, like it’s no big deal. it’s not weird to ask your best friend something like this. right?

it takes him a few minutes to reply.

what kind of question is that?

just answer

i’m too high for this shit, bro

you’re not high🙄 liar

i wish i were

omfg can you just say yes or no? please? but be honest, i promise i won’t get mad

yeah, i think u are

really?

sure thinggg, u’re hot mama

dude quit playing, i’m being serious over here

i’m not fucking playing

okay you think i’m attractive but like… what kind of attractive? cute attractive? like awwww. or i’d-fuck-you-raw attractive?

what are we even talking about

why can’t you just answer?😭

what is this for?

for my knowledge

tf is that supposed to mean?

you stare at the screen, mentally deciding whether you should tell him about what happened or not. you hadn’t told him before, not wanting to give it more attention. but this time, you decide to.

ugh, remember i went clubbing the other day? well this dude was being an asshole to me and he said some stuff and i can’t stop thinking about it so just be fucking honest and answer my question

some stuff? what stuff?

he said, and i quote ‘not many guys would go for that’. ‘that’ is me, btw💀

who tf is this dude?

bruh idk, some random guy, it doesn’t matter

it does?

are you gonna answer my question or no?

yeah. i think u r both kinds.

good, good, you think to yourself. his reply makes you relax a little, the knot in your stomach loosening. he thinks you’re attractive. of course he does—he’s your best friend, and best friends are supposed to hype you up.

for a moment, you stare at your phone, chewing on your bottom lip. you know you should leave it there, let it go. but something keeps tugging at you.

so, hypothetically, would you… yk, with me?

the second you hit send, panic sets in. your pulse skyrockets, and you almost want to throw your phone across the room. why did you do that? why couldn’t you just shut up? but you don’t have time to spiral, because the dots appear almost immediately.

are u serious?

and you freeze. your fingers hover over the screen, but you can’t bring yourself to type anything back. what kind of answer is that?

alr, imma be honest. yeah i would

your heart stops. you blink at the message, reading it again and again, like the words might change if you look long enough. you weren’t prepared for this.

subong’s typing…

would u? with me?

you want to lie, to brush it off, but your fingers move before your brain can stop them.

maybe

the dots pop up again. then disappear. then pop up again.

maybe?? that means yes. cmon i’m hot as hell, baby, u know it. u’ve probably touched yourself thinking about me at least once

wtf bro you’re giving me the biggest ick rn 💀

but have u?

and you? i bet you jerk off to my insta photos, perv. don’t even start lmaoo

can’t help it when u look that good💯

you stare at his message, your mind scrambling to process it. you feel your breath catch in your throat. the shock should be overwhelming, but instead, you feel a strange warmth spread through you.

you didn’t expect this. the idea that he’s been thinking about you like that… it sends a shiver down your spine. you should probably tell him to stop, tell him it’s too much, but instead, you feel yourself leaning in, pulled toward this conversation in a way you didn’t think you would be.

i may or may not have done the same with your insta pics

i knew itttt señorita 🙏🏼

shut up

how many times?

why do you wanna know?🤨

i answered ur stupid ass questions, now u answer mine

maybe like idk, two?

no fucking way, just two????????

you think it’s not enough or what???? how many times have you done it?

more than u wanna know

how bad are we talking?

so bad i’ve lost count. u really want me to get into details?

maybe i do

bro, let’s just say that everytime u post i’m over here fighting a battle

you do realize i’m your bestfriend right?

yeah, so?

so aren’t there any girls to jerk off to instead of me???

yeah but they don’t make me as hard

you stare at the screen, your heart pounding, your legs squeezing together instinctively. what the hell is happening right now? and then another message comes through.

even saying this shit is getting me worked up

what???😭 you’re hard??

yeah bro, what's a guy supposed to do when his best friend asks if he would fuck her?

it was hypothetical

hypothetically speaking, if a guy was attracted to his best friend, he'd probably be rock fucking hard right now. so yeah, i'm fucking hard, girl

your stomach flips at the bluntness of his words. you can feel the blood rushing to your face as you stare at the message.

too much info, subong

nahhh, u asked. u wanted details, so here they are

okay… should i leave you to it?

fuck no

damn alr, suffer then🙄

could u help me out?

help you out?????????????

with a pic of u or smth

boy whatttttttttt

what?

i’m not sending you fucking nudes wtf 💀💀

no one asked for that, stupid. just a pic of u

just a pic of you. the request feels so simple. he’s your bestfriend—it’s not that big of a deal, right? especially after everything you’ve both just confessed to each other.

your eyes flick toward the mirror in your room. you’re in your pajamas. no bra. you know how it looks. it’s the kind of thing you wouldn’t think twice about wearing around him in person, but now, with this conversation, it feels different. your legs carry you to the mirror almost on autopilot. you pick up your phone and angle it toward your reflection. you shouldn’t even be entertaining this. but instead, you snap the picture. you stare at it for a moment, biting your lip. it’s not explicit—it’s just you. but still… you know exactly how he’ll see it.

your thumb hovers over the send button, hesitation gripping you. a hundred reasons not to do this race through your head, but one single thought drowns them all out: you want to know how he’ll react. before you can second-guess yourself, you hit send. the moment it delivers, your stomach drops, a mix of adrenaline and regret washing over you. you sit down on the edge of your bed, staring at the screen, waiting for his response, your heart pounding louder with every passing second.

hoooooooooly shitttttttttt

it’s just a pic

yeah, a pic of u looking like that

im just in my pajamas

and i’m hornier now, if that’s even possible

subong you can’t just say stuff like that

why not? we always tell each other everything

i should’ve thrown on a hoodie

i’d still be thinking of what’s underneath

well, glad i could help your horny ass🫡 enjoy or whatever

subong’s typing…

subong’s online

subong’s typing…

subong’s online

you watch the dots—flickering like they're mocking you. you can't help but wonder what he's typing—or if he's second-guessing whatever bold thing he's about to say. but then, they disappear. nothing. you frown, staring at the screen, waiting a few more seconds. still nothing. you realize exactly what he's probably doing. you bite your lip, heat creeping up your neck as the image forms in your mind: him, sitting there, hand wrapped around his dick, staring at the picture you sent.

you feel like you need to do something—anything—to distract yourself. you toss your phone onto the bed and reach for the remote, flipping on a random tv show. you let the noise fill the silence, but your mind keeps drifting back to him. it's a few minutes later when your phone dings. the sound cuts through the room like a knife, and you hesitate for a moment, staring at the screen, before finally reaching for it.

it's him. he sent a picture.

these are my pajamas. now we’re even, baby

him, standing in front of the mirror, shirtless and wearing only a pair of tight black briefs. the way he's posing is so over the top... he's trying way too hard. his expression is almost comical, like he's not really sure if he's pulling it off but is hoping you'll think he is. you can't help it—you stifle a laugh. but then your eyes drop, and that laughter dies in your throat. the bulge is so obvious, pushing against the fabric in a way that's impossible to ignore. it's not just visible, it's big. big enough that your pulse spikes, and you forget to breathe for a second. that laughter you were holding back? gone. you glance back at his goofy grin in the mirror, but it's no longer funny. shit. you’re wet.

you don't even know how it happens. one moment, you're staring at his picture, then a teasing comment here, a bold reply there—and before you know it, you're lying on your bed, your phone clutched in one hand and your other slipping between your thighs, pressed against the growing ache he's stoked with every message. you've never gone this far with him before—always ignoring his obvious flirting. but you can’t stop now. and he isn’t shy about it either, telling you with detail everything he would do to you.

u'd look soooo fucking good begging under me, baby

and what if i don’t?

then i'd make u

mhmmm, how?

fuck, i’d bury my face between those thighs and eat u out until u can’t take it anymore

a soft gasp escapes your lips as you read, your body reacting to the vivid images his words paint in your mind. you know you shouldn't be doing this—not with him—but the way he's describing everything makes you forget about all the reasons why. you’re far past the point of feeling shy too. you bite your lip, barely believing yourself as you hit send.

i wish you could feel how wet i am just thinking about you fucking me from behind

god damn girl, i’d stretch that pussy so good my dick is the only thing u’d think about for weeks

and then, it's not just texting anymore—you're sending pictures, even though you swore you wouldn't. the first one is a close-up of your fingers, glistening with your juices. his reply comes almost instantly, not as a text but as a voice message. “shit, baby, you're f-fucking killing me... mhmm... look at that. you're so fucking wet f’me, I can almost taste it through the screen... fuck...” his voice is low and rough, broken by soft, shaky breaths. you can hear him stroking himself, moans slipping out between words. you're losing your damn mind over it, replaying the voice message again and again—fingers curling inside of you as you push them in and out, wishing it were his fingers instead of yours.

he sends a pic too. this time, he leaves nothing to the imagination. it’s a selfie, his face barely visible at the corner. the center of attention is his hard dick, hand wrapped around it, tip leaking precum. and the only thing that comes to your mind right there and then is just how badly you want to take him in your mouth.

one picture leads to another, the messages growing dirtier with every exchange. his words are filthy, his photos even filthier, and the way he talks about your body—what he'd do to it, what he's imagining—fucking hell. your breathing quickens, your body burning with need, and before you know it, that familiar tension starts to coil low in your stomach.

shit, subong… i’m close

u’re gonna cum for me? cmon pretty girl, let me hear you

you hit record just as your orgasm crashes over you, moaning his name loudly as you cum on your fingers. after a few minutes, he sends a voice message back “you sound so fucking good… shit, look what you’ve done t-to me… mmm… fuck, fuck, fuck… i’m gonna cum thinking about fucking you, baby. i’m gonna cum thinking about you making those… s-sounds while i fucking pound into you.”

the next few days are a blur. he hasn’t texted, and you haven’t either. but no matter what you do, you can’t stop thinking about what happened. no matter how hard you try to shake it off, it’s there. his voice, the way he sounded saying your name, the damn nudes, the way your heart raced as you typed those things to him.

you don’t know how to feel about it. on one hand, you can’t deny how much you wanted it in the moment. but now? now you’re not sure. did you cross a line? did he? part of you regrets it, wishes you could just rewind and stop yourself before things spiraled. but another part—one you’re trying to ignore—remembers how good it felt, how right it seemed in the moment.

and then there’s the friendship. years of it. he’s been your best friend for a few years now. he knows things about you no one else does and he’s seen you at your absolute worst. like that night you showed up at his door after a horrible breakup. mascara streaked down your cheeks, and he didn’t say a word—just handed you a blanket, put on your favorite movie, and sat there with you until you fell asleep on his shoulder.

but it wasn’t always serious. like the time he tried rapping one of his freestyles for you, all cocky, and you laughed so hard you couldn’t breathe. or like the time you tripped over absolutely nothing at the mall, and he laughed so hard he cried, then spent weeks reenacting it whenever you were around. or when he clogged your toilet and tried to fix it himself instead of just telling you. or when he picked a fight with some guy at a club because the guy bumped into you and didn’t apologize. he got all puffed up and said, “you got a problem, man?” like he was some kind of action movie hero. but the guy was huge, like, rugby player huge, and before you could drag subong away, he swung and missed, and the dude took him down in one hit. he spent the rest of the night with a bloody nose and ice pressed to his face, grumbling, “he got lucky.” you still remind him of how he ‘lost a fight in one punch,’ and it always makes him groan.

you’ve got a thousand stupid inside jokes that no one else would understand, like how you always text each other ‘don’t die’ instead of ‘goodnight’ because of some dumb horror movie you watched together. or the fact that he nicknamed you ‘señorita’ when you said you wanted to visit spain one day.

he’s a walking disaster, an endless source of secondhand embarrassment, and somehow, that’s what makes subong… subong. being around him has always felt easy, like slipping into your favorite hoodie—comfortable, familiar, safe.

but friends don’t do… that. what if it’s never the same again? you’ve always been comfortable with him, never overthinking what you said or did around him. now, you can’t imagine looking him in the eye without thinking about what you two did together. you keep telling yourself that things will go back to normal, but deep down, you’re scared they won’t. because you’re not sure you can go back—not after knowing what it felt like to be wanted by him in that way. not after letting yourself want him back.

one day, out of the blue, he texts you like nothing happened. just casually, like you didn't have your hand between your thighs while listening to him moan your name a few nights ago.

yoooo, wanna hop on call and play videogames? i’m bored

at first, you stare at the text, because... what does this mean? is this his way of brushing it under the rug? of pretending nothing ever happened? still, you say yes. because what else can you do? you hop into the call, and there he is—joking, laughing, completely normal. like the two of you didn't cross every possible line. he's so good at acting like nothing's changed, it almost convinces you. you match his energy, responding with the same casual ease. maybe this is fine. maybe you're fine.

then the group chat lights up a few days later: a cinema meet-up. everyone's throwing out ideas for what movie to watch, talking about snacks, debating over showtimes. he's there, throwing in jokes about popcorn sizes and his infamous sweet tooth, and you're sitting there trying to decide if you can handle seeing him face to face. you hesitate, debating if you should just make up an excuse not to go. but then he replies to the chat, tagging you specifically.

u better be there señorita

i will🙃

the day arrives faster than you’d like, and before you know it, you’re standing outside the cinema, stomach flipping as you spot namgyu, minsu, gyeongsu, and semi waving at you. you force a smile and walk over, doing your best to focus on their chatter and ignore the nerves crawling up your spine. but then you see him—subong, leaning against the wall, vape in hand. and when his eyes land on you, he smirks. he knows damn well. he knows exactly what you’re thinking, and he’s not going to make this easy for you. “finally,” he says when you’re close enough. “i was starting to doubt you’d come.” “why wouldn’t i?” you reply. he shrugs, taking a puff from his vape “thought you might’ve had better things to do.” the way he says it feels loaded, but he doesn’t give you time to respond, turning his attention to namgyu instead.

when it’s time to head into the cinema, you try to position yourself far from him, making a beeline for a seat between minsu and semi. you settle in, thinking you’re safe, but of course, subong has other plans. “yo, minsu, my boy,” he says as he walks down the aisle, stopping directly in front of you. “mind scooting over? i’ll sit here.” “uh, sure,” minsu says, shifting down without hesitation. you open your mouth to object, but before you can say anything, subong is sliding into the seat next to you, drink in one hand and a bag of popcorn in the other. “hope you don’t mind,” he murmurs, leaning a little closer than necessary. you grit your teeth, keeping your gaze locked on the screen as the previews start. “not at all,” you mutter under your breath.

you think that’s it. but, of course, it doesn’t end there. he shifts in his seat, his arm brushing against yours every now and then, like he’s waiting for you to react. you swear you catch him smirking out of the corner of your eye multiple times. you try to focus on the movie, but it’s impossible when his presence is so loud. every little movement, every tiny glance, has your nerves on edge. and he knows it.

then, you feel it. his hand—light at first— rests on your bare thigh, the heat of his palm sending a jolt through you. you freeze, your breath catching in your throat. what the hell is he doing? his fingers trace a soft line along your skin, caressing just above your knee. you stay still, unsure of what to do, but your body betrays you, not pulling away.

his touch grows bolder, creeping higher up your leg, slipping under your skirt. you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. he's still watching the movie, acting like nothing is happening, like his hand isn't inches away from your clothed pussy. “what are you doing?” you finally ask, your voice barely above a whisper. he turns his head toward you, looking innocent, like he's just minding his own business. “nothing.” “subong—” “i'll stop if you want me to.” you don't answer, torn between wanting to push him away and not wanting him to stop at all. “do you want me to stop? be honest,” he says, still waiting for your response. “no,” you reply, looking away with embarrassment. he chuckles softly—hand rubbing the inside of your thigh.

you drape the thin jacket you brought over your legs, a flimsy attempt to shield his hand from semi’s view. every nerve in your body screams that you shouldn’t be letting this happen, but you don’t stop him. he spreads your legs with his hand for better access, and soon you feel two of his fingers pressing against your clit over the fabric of your panties. your breath hitches, and you try not to move—not even a sound escapes you—but your lips part at the feeling of his touch. he moves them slow—too slow—in a way that has you shifting against him, your hips bucking against his hand, desperate for more. and he gives it to you. his hand slips beneath your soaked underwear, and a low chuckle leaves him when he feels just how wet you are.

subong knows what he is doing. he rubs your clit in circles, gently but with enough pressure to have you biting your bottom lip. and god, his fingers feel so much better than you ever imagined. when he quickens the pace, a soft moan escapes your lips before you can stop it, and you quickly slap a hand over your mouth, pretending to be focused on the screen. but the rapid rise and fall of your chest betrays your so-called calm. before you can collect yourself, semi leans in. “are you okay?” “mhm,” you nod quickly, forcing a smile. “yeah, don't worry, i—” your words falter when his fingers move faster. you bite your lip, trying to hold it together, but he's clearly enjoying watching you struggle. “i-i'm fine,” you manage to stutter. semi raises an eyebrow. “you sure?” “yeah,” you nod. “alright,” semi says before shrugging and turning her attention back to the screen.

you let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through you. your head snaps toward subong, eyes narrowing in a glare that’s meant to convey exactly how ridiculous he’s being right now. you dig your nails into his wrist, “are you crazy?” but he only pauses for a second, leaning in close enough to whisper, “relax, girl. no one noticed.” the audacity of him sends heat rushing to your face. but he doesn’t back down, his fingers resuming their slow, torturous movements. and just as you’re about to reach your orgasm… he stops. your body jerks in frustration, and you whip your head toward him, confused. his smirk only deepens as he pulls his hand from under your skirt, bringing his fingers to his lips and licking them clean. “what the fuck?” you whisper, a soft groan escaping at the loss of his touch. “what?” he whispers back, feigning innocence. “you know what.” “i don't. you'll have to spell it out for me.” “subong—” “tell me what you want.” the frustration wells up in your chest. to him, this is probably hilarious—you being so desperate. but for you? it's humiliating. pathetic. begging your best friend for something like this. still, the need outweighs your pride. you lean in, your lips almost brushing his ear, “i wanna... i wanna cum. please, make me cum.” “yeah? be fucking quiet, then.”

his fingers slip back under your skirt. your breath catches, and you press your lips together, your body already trembling from how close you were before—gripping the armrest, barely able to keep still. every nerve in your body feels like it's on fire, and when his fingers circle just right, you're done. the release hits hard, and you muffle your moans by biting down on your lip so hard it stings.

the days after are... strange. again. no texting, no acknowledgment, no teasing, nothing. it's like it never happened. and when he does text again, it's so casual it throws you off. he sends a random picture, a meme he has found on instagram.

this shit is so funny bro loooololol

i fear your humor is broken😐

naahhh u just don’t get ittt babyy

you reply like everything's fine because, well, isn't it? you don’t even know at this point.

another day, he messages the group chat:

pentagon this weekend?🔥

the replies come fast. namgyu’s working that night. semi has plans with her girlfriend. gyeongsu says he’s too exhausted for it. minsu doesn’t even reply. everyone has an excuse, and eventually, the chat goes dead. then, a private message from subong popps up.

wbu? still down to go?

you and subong had gone clubbing together hundreds of times. hell, most nights it was just the two of you, dancing until your legs gave out, taking blurry selfies, and laughing over cheap drinks. it was normal. so, you type:

yeah, sureee

bet. see u saturday, señorita

when the night comes, your phone buzzes as you’re double-checking your look in the mirror.

outside

outsideeee

outsideeeeeeeee

hellooooooooooooooooooo

one minute, let me grab my jacket

i’m freezing man

one minute my ass

patience is a virtue ❤️

cmooooooooon

u knitting the jacket or what

girl i just hit retirement age waiting for u

you’re so dramatic

and u r so slow, balance baby

you grab your jacket and head out, the bass from his car already thudding through the air when you step outside. you see him leaning against the passenger door, dressed in his usual baggy style—a loose graphic tee, cargo pants, and sneakers that probably cost more than your entire outfit (the only damn thing he saves up for…)—vape dangling lazily from his fingers. when he sees you, his eyes trail over you for a second too long. “you’re overdressed,” he teases with a smile. “you’re underdressed,” you shoot back.

the drive to club pentagon is easy, filled with a mix of rap tracks and subong��s singing. when you finally pull up, the line’s already stretching down the block, but subong doesn’t even blink. “namgyu’s working, right?” he asks, sliding out of the car. you nod. “yeah, he’ll let us in.” inside, the music is already pulsing, bass heavy enough to shake the floors. subong grabs your wrist. “drinks first?” “obviously,” you answer. you follow subong to the bar, the pounding music buzzing in your ears. “what are we starting with?” he asks, leaning against the bar. “shots,” you say, already reaching into your bag. he raises an eyebrow. “you’re paying?” “you’re broke,” you remind him, rolling your eyes before ordering four shots of tequila. when the glasses arrive, he grabs two and hands you one. “guess i’ll owe you,” he says, clinking his glass against yours. “you already do,” you reply, downing the first shot without hesitation. the familiar burn of tequila trails down your throat, and you chase it with a quick breath.

you can feel his eyes on you as you throw back the second shot. you don’t meet his gaze, but you can feel it—the weight of it, the way it makes your stomach flutter. shaking it off, you slam your glass on the counter and signal for one more round. “last one,” you say, mostly to yourself, pulling out more cash. he doesn’t argue, just picks up his shot, watching you as you pick up yours. you both toss back the final shot, and the alcohol is just enough to loosen the knot in your chest. but the way his gaze lingers as he sets his glass down makes it tighten again. “dancing?” you ask. he nods. you push through the crowd till you find a spot on the dance floor. the techno track thuds through your chest as you sway to the rhythm. subong moves with you, not particularly in sync with the beat, but in his own way that somehow works. every now and then, his eyes catch yours, and you have to force yourself to look away.

the music builds, and you let yourself get lost in it, the alcohol buzzing through your veins and the tension from earlier slowly dissolving into the haze of the moment. after a while, he stops moving and pulls his phone from his pocket. you glance at him, curious, as he squints at the screen. whatever he sees makes him smile faintly before he shoves the phone back into his pocket. “i need to hit the bathroom!” he says, leaning close so you can hear. you blink at him, confused. “right now?” he nods, gesturing for you to follow. you don’t argue—it’s not exactly safe to hang around the dance floor by yourself. reluctantly, you let him lead you off the floor.

he disappears into the men’s room, leaving you standing against the wall, arms crossed. you tap your foot, watching drunk strangers stumble past. a few minutes later, the door swings open, and subong walks out, a small smirk playing on his lips. “what took you so long?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him. instead of answering, he holds up a small plastic bag between his fingers. your stomach flips when you see the little colorful pills inside. “what the hell is that?” you ask, but you already know. he grins, tilting his head. “new stuff.” your brows furrow. “what?” “my plug got these,” he says, holding up the bag slightly. “said they hit different. figured i’d try.” he slides one pill between his fingers, studying it like it’s no big deal. then he brings it to his mouth, about to toss it back. “wait,” you say, grabbing his wrist. he scoffs. “what? you want it instead?” you glare at him. “no, subong. what are you even doing? you don’t need that!” he rolls his eyes, freeing his wrist from your grip. “come on, it’s nothing. we’ve had worse.” “worse?” you scoff. “you’re really gonna compare getting blackout drunk and smoking pot to this?” “you’re fucking overthinking it. it’s just one pill. just tonight. trust me.” he says.

you glance at the bag again, at the little pills that seem so harmless yet scream bad idea. “subong…” you start, but your voice trails off. “look,” he cuts in, his voice softer now. “we’re having a good fucking time, yeah? it’ll be just this once, okay? i promise.” “okay,” you say suddenly, lifting your chin. “but if you do one, i’ll do one.” his smirk falters for half a second. “no.” you frown. “what do you mean, no?” “i mean no. you’re not taking one.” “but you can?” you challenge, crossing your arms.“yeah.” you scoff. “that’s bullshit.” he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “this isn’t your thing, señorita.” “since when it’s yours?” you snap. “if you’re gonna do it, then so am i.”

he looks at you, really looks at you. then, with an exasperated groan, he reaches into the bag. “fucking stubborn,” he mutters, pulling out another pill. “just this once.” he holds it delicately between his fingers before stepping closer. “open up,” he says, his voice dropping a notch. you hesitate for a second but eventually part your lips, sticking out your tongue. he places the pill gently on it. “there you go,” he says, stepping back and popping his own pill. you swallow it quickly, trying not to think about what you’ve just decided to do.

you move back onto the dance floor, the pill's effects creeping in like a warm wave washing over you. the flashing lights seem brighter now and everything blurs together—colors, sounds, the heat of the crowd—but it feels good. better than it should. your limbs feel lighter, like you're floating, and the energy buzzing inside you pushes you to move. subong is right there beside you, dancing with his hand raised, and you can't stop staring at him. his messy hair sticks to his forehead, sweat glistening on his tanned skin.

before you know it, your arms are around his neck, pulling him in like it’s the only thing keeping you steady. his eyes burn into yours for half a second, like he’s daring you to close the distance. then his hands are on your waist, rough fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt, warm against your skin, and he drags you closer until you’re pressed against him. the music is pounding, but it feels distant—like the only rhythm you can hear now is the way your bodies move together, hips rolling in time, every brush of his skin against yours making you burn.

his breath fans across your lips, hot and tasting of tequila and something bitter—maybe the pill he took earlier—and it makes your head spin. then your mouth crashes into his. there’s nothing soft about it. it’s messy and sloppy, urgent—like you’re both too far gone to think about anything but this. his lips part against yours immediately, and your tongues meet in a dizzying clash of heat and need. his hands slide up your back, fingers threading into your hair, tugging just hard enough to make you gasp into his mouth.

you tilt your head, chasing the kiss even deeper. you feel the sharp graze of his teeth against your bottom lip, a bite that makes you whimper before he soothes it with his tongue. the sound you make pushes him further—he groans into your mouth, his other hand gripping your jaw, tilting your face exactly how he wants it.

you’re not sure where the desperation is coming from, but it feels like if he stops touching you, you’ll shatter. your fingers clutch at his shirt, twisting the fabric as you grind just a little closer, a little harder. he’s breathing just as heavy as you are, lips red and swollen from kissing you like he never wants to stop.

you’ve kissed people before but nothing’s ever felt like this. nothing’s ever felt this fucking good. the two of you stumble out of the club. your legs feel like jelly as you hold onto subong, and his arm wraps around your waist to steady you. his car is parked a few streets over, tucked away in a dark, hidden corner under some trees. “thank god for this spot,” he mutters as he unlocks the doors.

you barely make it into the backseat before he’s on you again—his lips crashing into yours like he’s been waiting for this forever. his hands are all over you, rough and desperate, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. but you’re not going anywhere. his fingers dig into your thighs as he pulls you into his lap, and the second you straddle him, you feel it—hard and thick, pressing right against the heat between your legs. a soft gasp slips out of you, but he swallows it with another kiss, his tongue sliding against yours. fuck, he’s good.

your hands tangle in his hair, pulling as your hips start to move, grinding down on him. his grip tightens immediately, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he guides your movements, rocking you against him harder. the friction creates a delicious, aching pressure that makes you whimper against his lips. “fuck,” he breathes, breaking the kiss just long enough to let his head fall back against the seat. his fingers squeeze your ass, dragging you down against him rougher. “keep doing that.” so you do. you roll your hips, slow at first, letting yourself feel everything. you’re already soaked, already throbbing for more, and from the way his hands are gripping you, the way his breathing is getting heavier, you know he feels it too. “i need to eat you out,” he says, trailing kisses down your neck. “want you to cum on my tongue.” you do exactly what he wants—legs spread wide, thighs trembling as his head dips between them. his breath is hot against your soaked pussy, teasing, before his tongue finally makes contact—slow at first, a long, deliberate lick from your entrance to your clit that makes your whole body jolt.

you gasp at the feeling, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging hard, but it only makes him groan against you, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure straight through you. he doesn’t hold back. he devours you, eating you out like a man starved, his tongue flicking against your clit before he sucks it into his mouth. and when two of his fingers slip inside you, curling deep, pressing against that perfect spot, you swear you see stars. “you taste so fucking good,” he groans against you, his lips slick with your arousal before he flattens his tongue and laps up every drop. the way he’s working you—his mouth, his fingers, the filthy sounds coming from between your legs—it’s too much, too good, and your whole body is trembling, hips rolling against his face, chasing more. “shit—subong!” your voice breaks as the pleasure crashes over you all at once. your thighs clamp around his head, your body arching off the seat as you cum hard against his mouth. but he doesn’t stop—his tongue keeps moving, drinking you in, dragging out your release until you’re shaking.

when he comes back up to kiss you—chin shining with the evidence of your release— your hand instinctively moves to rub him through his pants, the hard outline of his dick impossible to miss. he hisses at the contact, his hips bucking eagerly against your touch. “you got a condom?” you ask. he pauses. “yeah, hold on.” reluctantly, he pulls away and starts patting his pockets. his brows furrow in concentration as he checks one side, then the other. finally, with a relieved grin, he pulls a condom out and holds it up. “got it,” he says before kissing the wrapper, making you chuckle.

he looks so fucking hot as he rolls the condom onto his cock, his chest rising and falling with anticipation. but nothing gets him off more than watching you climb back onto his lap, your soaked folds teasing the head of his dick as you line yourself up. his breath stutters, his hands gripping your thighs, barely holding himself back. “fuck, you’re so wet,” he says, voice tight with restraint. then, slowly you sink down onto him. inch by inch, he stretches you open, filling you up until there’s no space left between your bodies. “shit,” he hisses, watching as your slick coats him, making every movement easy, effortless—like your body was made to take him. and when you start moving, lifting your hips before sliding back down, a broken moan escapes his lips. “fuck, baby,” he breathes, hands roaming up your back, gripping your ass, anything to ground himself as you ride him. “you feel so f-fucking good—look at you, taking me so… mmm… so fucking well.” his voice is needy, and when you slam down harder, his hips jerk up to meet yours, pushing even deeper. “oh my—fuck, subong!” you cry out, your walls clenching around him so tight it makes his whole body tense beneath you.

he almost fucking loses it the second he feels you clench around him, his face twisting in pleasure, jaw going slack. his hands grip your hips, guiding you—faster, rougher—eyes locked on where your bodies meet, watching his cock disappear inside you over and over again. he forces himself to meet your gaze, even though his eyes keep threatening to roll back. “fuck, if i’d known how fucking good this pussy is… i would’ve f-fucked you sooner.” he moans as you move faster, bouncing on his cock—every thrust making obscene, slick sounds that only turn him on more. his eyes drop to your tits, bouncing perfectly in time with your movements, and fuck, he can’t decide what he wants more—to keep watching you ride him like this or to flip you over and ruin you.

but then you tighten around him, your rhythm stuttering as you throw your head back, moaning so loud he swears the whole damn neighborhood can hear you. “fuck— i’m gonna—! i-i’m gonna cum!” you cry out, your whole body trembling, thighs shaking as you cum around his cock. and that’s it. that’s all it takes to break him. “shit—ngh!” his body jerks beneath you, his abs tensing as he spills into the condom, his head falling back, mouth open.

his hands are still gripping you, holding you down against him as he rides out every last pulse of his release, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. and fuck—you’re still wrapped around him, warm and wet and perfect. you end up laughing for a solid twenty minutes after that, still too high to fully process what the fuck just happened between you two. but even in your haze, every single detail stays with you the next day.

fucking your best friend while high as fuck one night might’ve been an accident. but then it happens again. and again. and again. and you can’t call it an accident anymore.

it happens everywhere.

in his car, where the windows are always fogged up, your moans echoing in the tight space. in your apartment, where he barely gets the door shut before he’s got you pinned against it, hands rough and greedy, yanking your clothes off like he’s been waiting all fucking day for this. sometimes he doesn’t even make it past the kitchen—he just lifts you onto the counter, knocking over whatever’s in his way, too impatient to care as his mouth moves down your neck. in his bed, where the sheets are always a mess, tangled from how hard he fucks you into the mattress, his hands gripping your wrists, pinning them above your head. even in a club bathroom, right after he gives a show, still high off the energy, sweat dripping down his temple. you’re barely inside before he’s got you bent over the sink, hiking your dress up, shoving your panties to the side, fucking into you so deep you have to bite your hand to keep from screaming his name.

wherever. the second you’re alone, it’s happening. it becomes a thing. a need.

you always figured subong would fuck good. he never shut up about the girls he’s been with, the shit he’s done, bragging like he was the best lay any of them ever had. and every time he talked about it, you’d feel heat pool between your thighs, wondering if he was really that good or just full of shit.

now you knew. and fuck, he wasn’t lying.

he’s rough and passionate—the kind of lover who takes without hesitation but gives just as much, maybe even more. he loves watching you squirm, loves the way your body responds to him like it was made for this. like it needs this. his fingers trail down your skin, barely touching, making you shiver before he finally gives you what you want. and fuck, he lives for it—the way you gasp when he finally presses his mouth between your legs, the way your back arches when he fills you up, stretching you wide, making you take every inch.

some days, he drags it out, torturing you with slow touches, lazy kisses, making you beg before he finally gives in. he’ll tease you until you’re trembling, hands gripping at him desperately, “please, subong… need you so bad.” and then, maybe then, he’ll give you what you’re begging for. other days? he doesn’t bother waiting. before you can say a word, he’s got you pinned to the mattress, yanking your legs apart, pressing himself against you, making you feel just how hard he is. “been thinking about this all fucking day.” then he’s inside you, fucking you like he’s been starving for it.

it’s been months now—this thing between you and subong. but you don’t talk about it. not once. there’s no late-night confessions, no whispered ‘what are we?’ between tangled sheets. he doesn’t ask who else you’re seeing, and you sure as hell don’t ask him. but the uncertainty lingers. because he’s still your best friend. you still laugh at his dumb ass jokes, roll your eyes when he’s being his cocky self, and feel that weird, warm twist in your stomach when you catch him watching you from across the room.

and yet, there are a bunch of little things that scream something more. like that time you sat on his rumpled bed while he was writing a song, and you helped him hammer out stupid-ass verses—even when he swore they’d never work. you teased him for his cheesy lines and then watched his face light up like he’d just discovered a new fucking world. hell, he even calls you his muse sometimes, and you hate how damn proud that makes you feel.

or that stormy night. the rain was lashing against the windows, and you two were locked in his tiny studio apartment. one minute you were laughing, taking silly pictures of him with a digital camera while he smoked, and the next, he had your face pressed against the wooden table as he fucked you from behind—your ass cheeks burning from his vigorous spanking. after, he pulled you close, running his fingers through your hair as if trying to memorize every inch of you.

that one night he showed up at your door at 2 a.m., high off his ass, slurring your name with that cocky grin, his knuckles tapping too fast against the wood. “couldn’t sleep,” he mumbled, leaning against the doorframe. “fucking missed you.” you should’ve told him to fuck off, should’ve rolled your eyes and slammed the door in his face because he promised he wouldn’t do that shit again. instead, you let him in, let him collapse onto your bed with a heavy sigh, pulling you down with him. his arms caged you in, the scent of his cheap cologne filling your senses.

then there was the time you caught him staring at you while you were getting ready. you were fixing your hair in his mirror, wearing nothing but his oversized t-shirt, and when you turned around, he was just standing there—arms crossed. “what?” you asked, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. he just shook his head, smirking a little. “nothing,” he said. “you just—you look good in my clothes, mama.”

and when you called him crying after a shitty day at work, voice shaking so bad he could barely understand you. you didn’t even have to ask—he just showed up, no questions. drove way too fucking fast to get to you, and pulled you into his chest so tight it felt like he was trying to hold you together. “who do i need to punch?” he asked, half-joking, half-dead serious. and you laughed, even through your tears, because that was him—always trying to make you smile. he let you cry into his hoodie, let you hold onto him like a fucking lifeline, and then, when you finally calmed down, he kissed your forehead like it was second nature. “you’re okay, baby” he murmured. “i got you.” he always had you.

or the night he took you to some shitty underground concert, knowing damn well you didn’t even like the band. “it’s not about the music,” he told you, grinning like an idiot. “it’s about the experience.” you rolled your eyes, but you still let him pull you into the crowd, still let him wrap an arm around you when the pit got too wild, still let him hold your hand. afterward, sweaty and breathless, you sat on the curb outside, sharing a cigarette while he rambled about how sick the show was. “you should play up there one day,” you told him, nudging his shoulder. “your songs have gotten better.” “you think?” “yeah. you’re good, bong-bong.” the nickname made him laugh. a week later, he showed you something he wrote. something raw and messy and fucking beautiful. he let you hear a part of him no one else ever did.

you even helped him rebrand himself. it started with him pacing his room, muttering to himself, stopping every few seconds like he was about to say something, then changing his mind. eventually, you sighed, rolling onto your stomach while watching him from his bed. “are you having a breakdown or just being dramatic?” he ignored you, still pacing. and then, out of nowhere, he stopped. snapped his fingers. looked at you like he just discovered the secret to life itself. “i’m gonna dye my hair purple.” you stared at him for a long second, waiting for him to laugh or tell you he was joking. but he just stood there, completely serious, shoulders squared like he was about to go to war.

within twenty minutes, you were in his bathroom, gloves on, a box of purple dye sitting between you. you didn’t even ask how he got it so fast. knowing him, he’d probably been sitting on this idea for weeks, just waiting for the right moment to drag you into it. he sat on the closed toilet lid, legs spread, while you stood over him, parting his hair and working the dye through. up close, he looked smug as hell, like he knew he was onto something. the whole rap game was about standing out, and he was done waiting for people to notice him.

the name ‘thanos’ caught on faster than you expected. at first, it was a joke—you called him that to be annoying, and then he used it in a song, and suddenly, people were saying it back to him. dms started piling up. more people started listening. before you knew it, subong wasn’t just some guy making music in his bedroom—he was thanos. and, of course, he acted like he knew it was gonna work all along.

and fuck, the time he brought you home to meet his family. his mom fussed over you like you were the perfect daughter-in-law, laying on your favorite dish and insisting you have seconds. then, saying, “he talks about you a lot”, making subong choke on his food while his sister goaded him about how he treats you like his damn girlfriend. you felt so out-of-place and yet so damn loved by the way he proudly introduced you to everyone, as if you were the missing piece in his fucked-up puzzle. he even opened up to you about his dad—how he never gave a shit about him, never looked at him unless it was to point out everything he did wrong. maybe that was why he kept stealing glances at you like he was trying to make sense of it—of being wanted, of being next to someone who actually cared.

and later that night, when you were both lying on his couch, full and sleepy, he nudged your knee with his. “thanks for coming, señorita,” he mumbled, eyes half-lidded. “they liked you.” you turned your head to look at him, saying, “of course they did. i’m fucking amazing.” he smirked, but it faded quick, his gaze lingering on you a little too long. “yeah,” he murmured. “you are.”

nights that weren’t about sex at all. the ones where he just wanted you close, his hands resting on your back, his lips pressed to your shoulder, his voice low and sleepy in the dark. “you’re warm,” he’d mumble, pulling you closer. “don’t leave.” “i work tomorrow, baby,” you’d say. “i’ll drive you… stay with me,” he’d always replied.

and you did. every single time.

and there were the nights he fucked you like he meant it. not just like you were some girl he was hooking up with, but like you were the only one who had ever mattered. like he was trying to prove something with every touch, every kiss, every time he pressed his sweaty forehead to yours and whispered your name like a prayer.

like he loved you. but he never said it. and neither did you.

so instead, you settled for the quiet moments—for the way he always pulled you into his lap at parties, his hands resting lazily on your thighs; for the way he let you pick the music when you drove anywhere, even though he always bitched about your taste; for the way he let you steal his fries, let you doodle on his lyrics notebook, let you wear his hoodies even when you didn’t ask; for the way he texted you ‘good morning, baby❤️,’ and it made you smile for no damn reason; for the way you woke up to find him still asleep beside you, hair a damn mess on the pillow, and traced lazy circles on his chest while he mumbled some half-remembered melody. for the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching.

you can’t help but hope that one day you’ll both just say the damn words and finally admit that all these little moments mean something. you hope that maybe, just maybe, one day you’ll stop wondering if you’re more than just friends with benefits.

are u busy?

no, why?

good, i’ll be there in 10

i’m on my period

who gives a shitttt, i sure as hell don’t, mama

subong.

yeah?🙏🏼

not in the mood❤️

oh

alr cool👍🏼💯

can i still come over tho? we could watch a movie or something

yeah okayyy, bring snacks (or else i won’t let you in)

i’m the only snack u need, girl

you don’t expect him to show up with anything, but when you open the door, subong’s standing there, hands full—one holding a plastic bag, the other gripping a bottle of soda. “what’s all this?” you ask, raising a brow. he steps inside without waiting for an invite, kicking off his shoes. “you said ‘bring snacks’, didn’t you?” he says, dropping the bag onto your coffee table. “figured you’d want something sweet.” you peek inside—chocolate bars, a pack of strawberry pocky, even a container of sliced fruit. your chest tightens at the thought of him actually remembering the little things you like.“what, no painkillers?” you tease, flopping onto the couch. he scoffs, collapsing next to you, way too comfortable in your space. “what do i look like, a pharmacy?”

you give him a knowing look, and his lips twitch, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. grabbing the remote, you ask, “so, what are we watching?” “something i won’t fall asleep to,” he says, stretching an arm across the back of the couch. “which means no boring indie shit.” you nudge his thigh with your foot. “first of all, my movie taste is elite. second, if you fall asleep, i’m taking pictures.” he grins, lazy and cocky. “yeah? what will you use them for?” heat rushes to your face, and you smack his arm without thinking. “shut up.”

the movie plays, and for a while, it’s normal. easy. you snack on the pocky while subong steals pieces of fruit from the container, acting like he’s doing you a favor by eating the ones you don’t like. he stretches out on the couch, legs spread, one arm draped lazily over the backrest. goddamn.

it's barely been a few minutes when you find yourself on your knees in front of the couch, his strong hand fisting in your hair as you hungrily suck his dick like your life depends on it. you couldn’t help it. he just looked too fucking good. you take him deep, your nose pressing against his abs, gagging slightly but refusing to back off. he lets out a groan as you take him, the head of his dick hitting the back of your throat. His hand tightens in your hair, guiding your head up and down. “fuck, just like that baby... show me how much you love this dick.” his hips thrust forward, making you gag slightly. “you're so f-fucking good for me... mmm such a pretty little mouth, choking on my cock.”

drool slips down your chin as you struggle to breathe but maintain eye contact, wanting him to see how much you love taking him in your mouth. the wet, obscene sounds of you slurping and gagging fill the room. he watches you intently, pupils blown wide with lust, his dick throbbing against your tongue. moaning around him, the vibrations make his thighs quake. "shit... you’re gonna make me fucking c-cum," he breathes out. “you gonna… you gonna let me cum in that s-sweet mouth of yours, hm?” “mhmm,” you purr around his length, looking up at him with hooded eyes. you double your efforts, sucking him hard and fast, your hand pumping what you can’t reach. he holds your head in place as he comes, making you to swallow every last drop. you take a moment to catch your breath, wiping your mouth before sitting back up.

the bathroom lights hum to life as you rinse your mouth and splash cool water on your face, trying to shake off the heat thrumming through you. you press your palms against the sink, inhaling deep in an attempt to look less flustered. the movie’s still on when you come back. you get comfortable, leaning into subong just slightly. he doesn’t say anything, just lifts his arm and lets you settle in against his side. the warmth of him seeps into you, and you rest your head on his shoulder. subong smiles at you before kissing your forehead, something that shouldn’t mean anything but somehow does.

you shift slightly, but he just pulls you in closer, his body solid and warm against yours. your heart stutters in your chest, and the thought of what you are—what you actually mean to him—becomes impossible to ignore. the longer you sit there, the harder it is to pretend this is normal. your heart is beating too fast, your mind racing with thoughts you’ve been shoving down for months. finally, you tilt your head to glance up. “subong,” you start, your voice quieter than you mean it to be. he hums, eyes still on the screen, but you can tell he’s listening. you swallow, suddenly nervous. “what… what are we doing?” that gets his attention. “what do you mean?” you sit up a little, putting some space between you—enough to see him clearly. “this. us. it’s been months, and we’ve never talked about it.” “what’s there to talk?” “i mean, is this just sex to you?”

he doesn’t answer right away. his jaw tenses, his eyes flicking away for a second like he’s weighing his words. “does it feel like just sex to you?” he finally asks. your chest tightens. “no.” his lips part slightly, like he wasn’t expecting you to admit it so easily. like maybe he’s been trying to convince himself of something different. “right. it’s not just sex, we’re friends, too,” he says. “then why are we acting like this?” you push. he rubs a hand over his face. “i don’t know.” he leans forward, elbows on his knees. the silence stretches thick between you, but you refuse to let it suffocate you. you need to know. “what do you want this to be?”

subong exhales hard, dragging a hand through his hair. he looks frustrated, like he doesn’t even want to have this conversation. like you’re ruining something by asking. “why do we have to call it something?” he says finally, and your stomach twists. you blink, sitting up a little. “because it’s been months, subong. because we’re not—we’re not just fucking and then going our separate ways. because we’re sitting here, cuddling, watching a damn movie, and it feels like more.” his jaw clenches, his fingers tightening around his knee. “it doesn’t have to mean anything.” that stings. worse than you were expecting. you swallow around the lump forming in your throat. “it does to me.” his face twists, like he hates hearing that. “shit, don’t fucking do this,” he mutters, shaking his head. “why can’t we just keep things the way they are?” “because i’m tired of pretending this is casual when it’s not,” you snap, your voice cracking. “not for me, at least.”

he squeezes his eyes shut for a second, like he’s trying to hold something back. when he looks at you again, his expression is unreadable, but his next words hit like a punch to the gut. “then maybe you shouldn’t have let it get this fucking far.” you feel like the air has been sucked out of the room. “what?” “i never promised you shit.” the words cut deep, sharper than anything he’s ever said to you before. you open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. because he’s right. he never did. but the way he touched you, the way he held you after—none of that felt like nothing. you shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your voice steady. “are you fucking kidding me?”

he hesitates for a second too long. and that’s all you need to know. you force yourself to nod, pressing your lips together. “okay.” his brows furrow, like he wasn’t expecting you to take it like that, but you don’t give him the chance to say anything else. you grab the remote, press stop on the movie, and push yourself off the couch. “you should go.” “are you fucking serious?” you cross your arms over your chest, fighting to keep your composure. “yeah, i’m serious. get the fuck out.” “we have one fucking shitty conversation, and now you don’t want me here?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “what the fuck do you want from me, subong?” your voice shakes, and you can feel it crack, but you force it out. “sit here and pretend like i didn’t just fucking tell you how i feel? pretend i’m not fucking hurt because you—” you stop yourself, biting your lip so hard it almost bleeds. his jaw clenches. “what?” you let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and bitter. “because you don’t fucking care.” “i never said i don’t care.” “you might as well have,” you snap, voice breaking with frustration. “you just don’t give a shit enough to do anything about it.” he presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, breathing hard through his nose. “just because i care doesn’t mean we have to slap a fucking label on it!” “and i just have to be okay with that?!” you snap, your voice rising. “i have to sit here like a dumbass and pretend this is fine when it’s not?”

he throws his hands up, his face twisting in frustration. “for fuck’s sake, why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?” “difficult?!” you let out a humorless laugh. “you’re the one acting like a fucking idiot, subong! you want to fuck me, cuddle me, act like i’m your fucking girlfriend, but the second i ask you to be honest about what this is, suddenly i’m the problem?! you even introduced me to your damn family!” he freezes for half a second when the words leave your mouth, then he stands up, jabbing a finger in your face. “what the fuck did you just call me?!” you swat his hand away, your glare burning into him. “don’t fucking point at me like that!” his jaw tightens, and his nostrils flare like he’s barely keeping himself from snapping. “you wanna talk about being a fucking idiot?! look in the fucking mirror!” he spits. “you’re the one acting like some needy little bitch because i won’t say what you wanna hear.” “fuck you, subong!” you don’t say anything else. you just turn on your heel and walk out of the living room, heading straight for the kitchen. your hands are shaking, your chest tight, and you just need to put some distance between you and him before you completely fall apart. behind you, you hear him scoff. “seriously? you’re just gonna walk away mid-fucking-conversation?”

you grip the edge of the counter, squeezing your eyes shut. maybe if you stay quiet, he’ll take the fucking hint and leave. but of course, he doesn’t. you hear his footsteps as he follows you in. “you always do this shit,” he mutters, his voice dripping with irritation. “running off the second things don’t go your way.” you whirl around, your eyes burning. “what should i do, then? hm? get on my knees and suck your fucking dick again?!” he clenches his fists at his sides, his mouth opening like he’s about to argue—but then he hesitates. because the truth is, you do mean something to him. he just doesn’t know how to fucking deal with it. subong has never done this before—never been in something that wasn’t just fucking around, never had to deal with real feelings, real expectations. and the idea of fucking it up? it scares the shit out of him. but instead of admitting that, instead of being honest for once in his life, he just does what he does best—pushes, lashes out. it seems easier than dealing with what he feels when he’s around you.

“why do you care so fucking much about not calling it something?” you ask, your voice softer now. “if we’re not seeing other people, if we’re always together, if you do care about me, then why?” his throat bobs as he swallows hard. and then—because he’s a fucking coward—he lies. “who says i’m not seeing other people?” you freeze. his face is unreadable, but you can see the way his fingers twitch at his sides, like he already regrets saying it. “you’re lying.” your voice is quiet. he just shrugs, “i’ve been seeing this girl.” “who?” you raise your voice, taking a step closer as tears start falling down your face. “who?!” “i’m not fucking telling you!” “are you serious?! aren’t we supposed to be friends too?! we used to tell each other everything!”

his eyes flick to yours, and for a second—just a second—something flashes in them. something like guilt. but then he shuts it down, scoffing as he shakes his head. you continue, “but we’re not even friends anymore, are we?” “don’t say that.” “why not? it’s true, isn’t it? friends don’t do what we do,” you wipe at your face, even though the tears won’t stop fucking falling. he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, pressing it against the inside of his cheek like he’s trying to hold something back. but then he just shrugs again, voice flat. “guess we’re not fucking friends either, then.”

your vision blurs as you cry, no matter how hard you try to keep it together. “get the fuck out, subong.” your voice breaks on the last word, and you hate how fucking weak you sound, how pathetic. and the second the first real sob rips out of your throat, something in him shifts. “fuck. no, i—” he exhales, raking a hand through his hair, his voice softer now, like he’s realizing he went too far. “i didn’t mean it. i’m sorry—i’m sorry, baby.” “don’t fucking call me that!” “you gotta listen to me!” you shake your head, taking a step back, your whole body trembling. “no. i’m done listening to your fucking bullshit.” “baby, please.” his voice cracks, and his hands reach for you—hesitant, like he doesn’t know if you’ll let him touch you. “please.” you slap them away instantly. “don’t fucking touch me.” “you’re really just gonna shut me out like this?!” “you shut me out first!” “i fucking care about you!” “not enough!” his breath catches in his throat, and for a second, he just stares at you. “you’re being fucking dramatic.” “get the fuck out of my house, subong.” “why are you being such a fucking—” “say it.” your voice is a challenge, daring him to go there. he doesn’t hesitate. “bitch. a fucking bitch. you—you’re acting like a bitch.”

you’ve had enough. without thinking, you shove him—hard. he stumbles back a step, caught off guard, but you don't stop. you shove him again, your palms flat against his chest. “you’re a fucking asshole! fuck you! get out! get the fuck out!” his jaw tightens, like he wants to argue, like he wants to throw something else back at you, but you're already stepping forward again, grabbing his arm and shoving him toward the front door. subong wrenches his arm away, but you don't let it stop you. you push him again, shoving him past the threshold. but he’s not moving, so you grab the nearest thing—his damn sneakers—and chuck them at him, one after the other. the first one bounces off his chest, the second one catches him square in the shoulder. “what the fuck, man?!” subong barks, flinching back, his face twisting in irritation. he barely catches the second shoe before it can hit the ground. “you’re a crazy bitch!”

“fuck off!” your voice cracks again, but you don’t care. you’re already stepping forward, already reaching for the door—and you slam it in his face. the sound echoing through the room. for a moment, silence. a long, awful pause where your breath hitches, where your chest tightens so much it feels like you’re suffocating. then—“open the door. c’mon, open—open the fucking door!” he slams his fist against the wood. “stop being so fucking childish!” “you’re calling me childish?! grow up, subong! you’re twenty six, you don’t know what you want and you still dress like a fucking kid!” he bangs the door. “you’re one to talk, girl! always dressed like a damn slut!”

you squeeze your eyes shut and stumble to your room until your knees hit the bed, and then you’re collapsing onto it. the first sob breaks out of you before you can stop it, and then another, and another. you curl into yourself, pulling the blanket over your head, pressing your hands against your ears. but it doesn’t block him out. “fucking talk to me!” another bang. you hear the doorknob rattle. “baby, please! i’m sorry, okay?! c’mon, don’t do this! we’re fucking friends!” your voice is muffled when it finally comes, thick with tears, but loud enough for him to hear you. “go away!” “not fucking happening! open the damn door!” “go away or i’m calling the fucking cops, motherfucker!” that seems to work. you curl tighter, press your face into the pillow, and sob until the sound of his fists against the door fades away. he did this. he made you feel this way. and he fucking hates himself for it. but it’s too late.

the next few days are absolute shit. you barely leave your bed at first. your body feels too heavy, your chest too tight, your eyes too sore from crying. when you do finally move, it’s only to go through the motions—brushing your teeth, pulling on the same oversized hoodie, forcing down a few bites of food even when everything tastes like nothing, and going to work. you don’t check your phone at first. you can’t. but eventually, the screen lights up, and you don’t have to look to know who it is. subong. you let it ring. he calls again. and again. when it finally stops, the texts start.

pick up the fucking phone

cmon baby please

i fucking miss u

don’t do this shit to me

u make me so fucking angry

bro istfg

please

you turn the phone face down. but he doesn’t stop. every time you glance at your screen, his name is there.

i know u r reading these

don’t fucking ignore me bro

at least tell me u r okay

minsu asked why u didn’t come with us today

just fucking answer

is it that hard?

years and years of friendship man and u throw it all away like that?

u r fucking selfish

i hope u know that

the texts keep coming. always at random times. but the worst ones come at night. one day, at 4:12 a.m., your phone buzzes against your nightstand. you try to ignore it, try to pretend you’re asleep, but something tells you to look.

im highhg as fuvckk bro

look whatu vdone to me

fukcing bittvhhh

its urA fault

i mis uu

u r myybhaby❤️❤️❤️❤️

its fucking 4am. i wake up at 6 to go to work, stfu and leave me alone

can i cone over? plewaasse

answer bitchj

fuck you, subong. i don’t want to see you again

come bsck

i loveyouy

you block him, roll over, and squeeze your eyes shut. but sleep doesn’t come easy. not when the last words he sent are still glowing behind your eyelids, burning into your brain.

blocking him should have brought peace. should have been the final step, the clean break. but it doesn’t feel like that. instead, it feels like holding your breath underwater, waiting to resurface, except there’s no hand to pull you up this time. the first few days, you keep checking your phone out of habit. unlocking it without thinking. but there’s nothing. you still reach for him in small ways—almost texting him when something funny happens, almost turning to tell him about your day. but you can’t do that. you won’t do that. so you keep yourself busy. you pick up a book, let your eyes scan the words without really absorbing them. go on long walks, let the cold air bite at your skin, hoping it shocks you out of your thoughts. start journaling, writing down everything except his name, except the way your chest still feels hollow. you even try new things—take a yoga class with a friend, bake cookies at 2 a.m., cut your hair just to feel something different. but memories of him are stitched into the fabric of your life.

you hear his voice on the radio sometimes now, when they play a song of his that went viral. see him in the reflection of dark car windows, like he’s just a step behind you. hear a joke and immediately think about how he’d laugh, head thrown back, eyes crinkling at the edges. you tell yourself that eventually, you’ll forget. but some nights, you lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if he’s staring at his too. if he’s thinking about you. and the ache doesn’t go away.

your phone rings one night, when you’re already in bed. you almost don’t answer, but when you see semi’s name flash across the screen, you pick up. “hello?” your voice is groggy, tired. “hey,” semi says. “sorry, did i wake you?” “no,” you lie. “what’s up?” there’s a pause. hesitation. then, “it’s subong.” your stomach drops. “we’re worried about him.” she rushes the words out, like she’s been holding them in for too long. “he’s been acting weird lately—worse than usual.” you close your eyes, already knowing where this is going. already knowing what she’s about to say before she even says it. “he’s been taking those pills,” she continues. “the ones he used to mess with sometimes, but now he’s on them all the time. it’s like he’s not even—shit. he was out,” she says, frantic. “namgyu couldn’t wake him up at first, it was fucking bad, dude. and now he’s still high as hell, barely making sense, and he keeps—” she hesitates. you frown. “he keeps what?” “he keeps mumbling your name.” you feel like you’ve been punched in the chest. you press your fingers to your temple, trying to stop the pounding in your head. “fuck.” “he’s not okay,” she says. “he’s barely sleeping, barely eating. he looks like shit. well, he always does, but you know what i mean. and when he does talk, it’s like he’s—like he’s not there.”

you take a shaky breath. you shouldn’t care. you don’t care. he’s not your problem anymore. but your stomach still twists at the thought of him like that. “maybe you could talk to him?” semi says, hopeful. “when he feels better. i think he’d listen to you. gyeongsu is gonna take us to the hospital in a few minutes, maybe you could come too? we’ll pick you up. we’re at namgyu’s apartment, we had to take him—” “we’re not friends anymore, semi,” you cut off, swallowing down the lump in your throat. silence. “what?” she says. “what do you mean?” “he hasn’t told you?” “told us what?” “it doesn’t matter,” you say finally, letting out a heavy sigh. “i can’t help him.” “but—” “i can’t, semi.” the words come out sharper than you mean them to. she falls quiet. after a long moment, she sighs. “alright, okay,” she says, voice heavy with disappointment. “i just… i didn’t know.”

and even though you tell yourself it’s not your problem, even though you tell yourself you did the right thing—you don’t sleep that night. maybe you’re the most horrible person ever. for not helping him. that’s what you think to yourself as the days go by. you don’t go to see him. you don’t text semi back. you tell yourself that there’s nothing you could have done, that he made his choices, that you’re not responsible for saving him. but the guilt sticks to your ribs.

you keep moving forward. and then, somewhere along the way, you meet him. he’s nothing like subong. not really. but sometimes, in the way he leans back in his chair, in the way he runs his fingers through his hair, in the way he laughs when he’s had one too many drinks—he almost is. (he even likes rap!) and maybe that’s why you let him take you out. why you let him kiss you. why you let him press his hands against your skin and pretend it feels right. it doesn’t. but you let it happen anyway. because it’s easier. because when you close your eyes, you can almost pretend it’s subong. it’s fucked up. you know it’s fucked up. but you tell yourself it’s fine. that it doesn’t matter. that this is what moving on is supposed to look like. but it’s not fair. you know you shouldn’t be doing this. and when he asks what’s wrong, why you get quiet sometimes, why you look at him like you’re seeing someone else—you just smile. shake your head. press a kiss to his lips and hope he never realizes that you don’t mean it. hope he never realizes that no matter how hard you try—subong is still the only one you see.

he invites you to a show one night, says it’ll be fun. you don’t really know much about it—just that it’s some rap battle tournament called ‘rap battlegrounds’—but you’re bored, and it’s something to do. you don’t ask too many questions because, honestly, you don’t care that much. he picks you up, and you follow him through the neon-lit streets to a club you’ve never seen before, the bass already thumping from inside. he leads you through the crowd to a small corner of the club. it’s dark, gritty, with exposed brick walls and dim, flickering lights that barely cut through the haze of smoke hanging in the air. the floor is sticky. it’s the kind of place you usually avoid, but tonight, you let it slide.

you're barely paying attention, your eyes drifting over the crowd, the noise just background filler. the battles blur together, the hype not really doing anything for you. you're zoning out, tapping your foot to the rhythm of the beat, hoping this night will pass quickly—regretting all your life choices when he wraps his arm around your shoulders. when suddenly, a voice crackles through the mic, cutting through the noise. “yo, yo, yo, we got a real one up next! fresh off that new heat, straight killin’ the game—make some noise for ‘thanos’!” you freeze, snapping your head to the stage as the crowd cheers. “…and he’s goin’ up against the beast, the local legend, the one and only jace ‘the hammer!’”

there’s no way. you blink, trying to process it, but everything’s too dark, shadows everywhere, making you second-guess yourself. but then, you hear it—his voice. your stomach sinks. this is real. subong is here. for a second, you think you might pass out. he’s standing there, center stage, all cocky confidence, rapping like he owns the room. you wish you could ignore it, wish you could pretend he’s just another guy on stage, but he isn’t. and you can’t. and then it happens. his eyes sweep across the crowd, like he’s eating up the attention, and then they land on you. he freezes. just for a second—just long enough for his flow to falter, the words dying on his tongue. the beat keeps going, but he doesn’t, and the guy he’s battling jumps in, taking advantage of the opening. subong blinks, shakes his head, tries to recover—but it’s too late. he’s lost the rhythm, lost the momentum, and the battle ends with subong’s opponent eating up the win. the crowd erupts, but subong doesn’t hear any of it. he stands there for a second, chest rising and falling like he can’t believe it—like he can’t believe he actually lost. then, without another word, he shoves the mic into someone’s hand and disappears behind the stage.

someone else takes the spotlight almost immediately, the next rappers stepping up, music booming through the speakers again. you turn to the guy beside you, grabbing his wrist. “i wanna leave.” he frowns. “what? why?” you glance toward the side of the stage, your stomach twisting. subong won’t just leave it alone—you know him. “i’m just—i’m kinda tired.” the nervousness in your voice alarms him. “are you okay? what’s wrong?” “nothing. i just don’t wanna be here right now.” he studies you, and you can tell the exact moment he realizes how tense you are, how your shoulders are stiff, how you haven’t stopped glancing over your shoulder. his expression softens, just a little. “hey,” he says, voice quieter now. “it’s okay. i’ll take you home.” “yeah?” “of course.” you don’t move when he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. and it feels like… nothing. just lips on lips, a fleeting warmth that barely registers. your chest feels tight, like you need to shake something off, drown something out. so you kiss him back, harder this time, pressing in, searching for something. maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s the way seeing subong on that stage messed with your head, knocked you off center. maybe you just want to prove to yourself that you can feel that rush with someone else. but you don’t. no matter how deep the kiss goes, no matter how much you try to lose yourself in it, there’s nothing there.

and just a second later, he’s ripped away from you—shoved back so hard he stumbles, nearly knocking into the bar behind him. and when you look up, you already know. subong stands there, shoulders tense, and his eyes locked on you. “what the fuck are you doing?!” “me?! what the fuck are you doing, subong?!” the guy composes himself and goes back next to you with a strained expression, one of his hands caressing his side. “what’s your problem, man?!” “who the fuck is this?” subong demands, his eyes never leaving yours. you exhale sharply. “just leave me alone.” disbelief flashes across his face like you’ve just insulted him. “nah, what the fuck is this?” he gestures vaguely between you and the guy. “this who you’re with now?” the guy straightens up. “is there a problem?” subong laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “yeah, there’s a fucking problem. who the fuck are you?” “just go, subong.” you cut in quickly. “no. i’m not fucking leaving.”

the guy beside you steps in, placing himself between you and subong. “you know this asshole?” he asks you. you sigh, “he’s… we used to be friends,” you reply. “yeah, and i’ve probably fucked her more times than you have, bro,” subong adds, a smirk on his face. “don’t listen to him,” you tell the guy before redirecting your attention to subong. “you’re being more than ridiculous right now. stop it. leave us alone.” he just stares, like he didn’t even hear you. like you didn’t just tell him to fuck off. “ridiculous?” he repeats, like the word itself it’s funny to him. “you wanna know what’s fucking ridiculous? you showing up here with—” he finally looks at the guy, eyes dragging over him like he’s barely worth acknowledging “—this.” “enough! i said… leave us alone.” “no, we need need to talk.” “she told you to leave, man.” the guy interrupts. wrong move. subong’s lips curl into something mean. “and who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?” he sizes him up, scoffing. the guy doesn’t back down. he squares his shoulders, keeping himself between you and subong like he actually thinks that’ll stop him. subong steps closer, just enough to invade his space. you step forward, grabbing the guy’s arm. “seriously, let’s just go—”

subong’s hand shoots out, grabbing his collar. the guy shoves him back instantly, and that’s all it takes. subong’s always been quick to anger, and now he’s pissed. “relax,” the guy says, lifting his hands like he’s trying to de-escalate, but subong’s past that. “relax? you want me to relax when you’re out here kissing my girl?” the guy exhales through his nose. “you wanna fight me over her that bad?” he shakes his head. “man, you already lost once tonight.” subong’s expression shifts in an instant. his shoulders go tense, his nostrils flare, and his jaw locks so tight you swear you can hear his teeth grind. he snaps, swinging first. it’s fast, a punch aimed straight for the guy’s jaw, but he dodges, stepping back just in time. the guy doesn’t waste time. he drives forward, ramming his shoulder into subong’s chest, sending him stumbling back. for a second, you think it might end there—but of course, it doesn’t. subong recovers quick, too quick. he surges forward, grabbing the guy’s shirt and yanking him down just to throw a knee into his ribs. the guy grunts, shoving him off, and then they’re both swinging. fists connect, curses fly, and you can barely keep up. the guy tries to hold his own, landing a few hits, but subong barely flinches. he’s fueled by something else, and he’s not stopping. one punch lands hard against the guy’s cheek, snapping his head to the side. another follows, a brutal hit to his jaw that makes him stumble. then another. and another. the guy grunts, arms coming up to shield himself, but subong doesn’t let up. he grabs the front of his shirt, yanking him forward just to slam his fist into his face again.

blood splatters. and that’s when you snap out of it. “subong, stop!” he doesn’t hear you. “subong!” he pulls back for another hit, and you move before you even think. you grab him by his shirt, using all your strength to shove him back. he stumbles, losing his grip on the guy, his eyes wild when they snap to yours. “what the fuck is wrong with you?!” you scream, chest heaving. subong’s nostrils flare, hands still clenched into fists like he’s seconds away from going back for more. the guy groans, wiping blood from his face. “you broke my fucking nose, man! you’re insane!” he yells. “shut the fuck up,” subong spits, but before he can go at him again, you shove him harder. “leave him alone!” his breathing is heavy, his eyes dark, burning into yours. for a second, you think he might listen, that the fight might finally be over. but then, in one swift movement, he grabs your wrist. “what are you—” you barely get the words out before he pulls you with him, dragging you through the crowd, past the stage. “let go of me!” you struggle against his grip, but he doesn’t stop. people turn to look, but no one moves to intervene. they just watch. before you know it, you’re backstage, away from the lights, away from the eyes—trapped in a space that feels too small.

subong finally stops, shoving you back against the wall. you barely have a second to catch your breath before you’re shoving him off. “what the fuck is wrong with you?! what the fuck was all of that about?! huh?!” you slam your hands against his chest, but he barely moves. his jaw clenches, and when he speaks, his voice is rough. “what the fuck is wrong with me?! you’re really asking me that?! when you’re the one out there acting like a desperate fucking slut?!” your head jerks back, a bitter laugh ripping from your throat. “are you fucking serious right now?! you just beat the shit out of him, and you’re mad at me?! for what?! for moving the fuck on?!” “yeah, i fucking am!” he snaps. before you can react, he steps in, closing the space between you in an instant. his hands come up, slamming against the wall on either side of your head. your whole body tenses. he’s seething, breath ragged and reeking of cheap liquor and god knows what else. “why?!” “because you’re mine!” “yours?! fuck off!” you shove at him again, hard. “and take a goddamn shower while you’re at it. you smell like a fucking alleyway.”

his nostrils flare. “yeah? well, you smell like a cheap whore.” rage flares hot in your chest. “right, because you’d fucking know, wouldn’t you?” you sneer. his head tilts, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “at least i don’t pretend to have fucking standards. what’s his name, huh?” your stomach turns, but you don’t let it show. instead, you smile. “why? you jealous? go cry about it, asshole.” he leans in, voice dropping to a whisper. “you know he’s just using you, right? you’re nothing but a warm hole to him.” your hand flies up before you can think better of it, shoving his face away. “yeah. like that wasn’t exactly what i was to you too, motherfucker.” he stumbles back a step, running a hand over his jaw. “we never talked about what the fuck we wanted, or what we expected from each other. so don’t—don’t—” “that’s what you tell yourself? that you didn’t lead me on? that you didn’t fuck with my head for months?!” you cut him off. “you’re a fucking coward, subong. too fucking scared to admit you wanted me, but the second i move on, suddenly you give a shit?” “move on? to who? that fucking loser? you think he actually gives a shit about you?” “and you do?” “you can’t just act like we never fucking happened!” “we didn’t happen, that’s the thing!” you shoot back. “you didn’t want to be with me like that,” your voice wavers, but you force yourself to hold your ground. “so you don’t get to fucking act like this. you don’t get to be jealous, you don’t get to start fights over me, and you sure as hell don’t get to drag me back here like you own me.”

his throat bobs as he swallows. he looks away for a second, like if he doesn’t meet your eyes, this won’t sting as much. like he can pretend this isn’t hitting him the way it is. his fingers twitch at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching like he’s trying to hold onto something—maybe the last shred of whatever this used to be. his breath comes sharp through his nose, the kind that’s meant to steady him but doesn’t do a damn thing. “i didn’t mean it like that,” he mutters, voice rough around the edges. “i don’t—i don’t own you.” but there’s something bitter in the way he says it, like he hates that it’s true. like he hates that he ever let it get to this point. you’re not his anymore. you never were, really. “then stop acting like it! don’t try to ruin everything just because you can’t handle the fact that i moved the fuck on!” for a second, he doesn’t say anything. his eyes flick over your face, tongue running over his teeth like he’s trying to stop himself from saying something worse. but then— “if you had, you wouldn’t have let that motherfucker shove his tongue down your throat right in front of me.” you scoff. “you think i did that on purpose?” he steps in, too close, and you instinctively take a step back. “fuck yeah, you did. you wanted me to see it. you wanted to fucking piss me off.” “you piss yourself off, subong! newsflash! not everything is about you! get over yourself.” “get over myself? you made me look like a fucking idiot out there!” “what the fuck are you talking about?” his eyes flash. “you made me lose the fucking battle, man!” you blink, caught off guard for half a second, then roll your eyes. “first of all, i’m not a man. second of all, don’t blame that shit on me.” “right. it’s never your fucking fault, huh?” he shakes his head. “you just get to do whatever the fuck you want and act like it doesn’t affect me.” you throw your hands up. “if you weren’t such a fucking asshole, maybe this wouldn’t have happened!” “yeah?!” “yeah!”

and then there’s silence. thick, heavy silence. his breathing is still ragged, his hands still curled into fists at his sides. your heart is pounding, your own fists clenched just as tight. then subong scoffs, shaking his head. “you’re so fucking full of shit.” “excuse me?” “you wanna talk about me being an asshole when you’ve been ignoring me for months? like i didn’t fucking exist.” the pain in his voice is evident and it catches you off guard. “i wasn’t—i didn’t ignore you. i was trying to heal. you’re seriously throwing that in my face right now?” “yeah, i am. don’t act like you’re the only one who got hurt.” “don’t do that.” “do what? tell the truth? you fucking blocked me, girl!” “no! don’t—don’t twist shit around just to make yourself feel better,” you snap. “you know exactly why i did it. don’t act like you’re the fucking victim.” “who is it then? you?” he scoffs. “oh, eat shit, subong! you never fucking came to see me!” you throw your arms out, exasperated. “not once! you could’ve fixed this, but you didn’t.” his jaw clenches, but he doesn’t look away. “you think i didn’t want to?” “i don’t know what the fuck you wanted!” your voice cracks, but you don’t care. “i called! and texted you every single fucking day!” “and you think that’s enough?! after everything?!” "i almost fucking overdosed!" he yells. "i was at my fucking lowest, and you—" he lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "you weren't there." you shake your head, anger bubbling in your chest. "don't put that on me, subong. you did that to yourself," you snap, voice sharp. "don't fucking guilt trip me with that." "are you serious?" “what do you want me to say? did you expect me to just forget everything and come back to you like nothing happened? you promised me—how many times?—that you weren’t gonna do that shit anymore, and here we are! and not only are you trying to make me feel like a fucking piece of shit for it, but you’re also acting like this—all of this—is my fault? when you were the one who decided i wasn’t good enough to be anything more than a fuck buddy?”

his expression falters—just a flash of something almost guilty—but then he scoffs, masking it with anger. “you’re really trying to act like you didn’t fucking replace me the second i was gone?” “replace you?” you repeat, incredulous. “you can’t be serious right now. i wasn’t the one fucking other people when we were…. whatever we were!” he freezes, his face draining of color for a split second. “don’t bring that shit up.” “oh, I’ll bring it up, alright. because you can’t say that shit to me when you were too busy screwing around while i was waiting for you to call me your fucking girlfriend.” he opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, a group of people walk past, glancing over at the scene. a couple of them whisper, eyes flicking nervously from you to subong. his face hardens, irritation flashing across his features, and without warning, he grabs your wrist. “what the fuck are you looking at?” he snaps at them. the group quickly averts their gazes, pretending they weren’t just watching him. he yanks you away and you struggle for a moment, trying to free yourself from his grip, but he doesn’t let go. you’re too caught up in the heat of the moment to really think about where he’s taking you. before you know it, you’re being shoved through a door into a dimly lit room backstage, the door slamming shut behind him with a force that echoes in the silence. the room is small, cluttered with his belongings—bags, jackets, and scattered items. a mirror with round vanity lights casts a dull glow over the space, reflecting the mess on the counter: a half-empty water bottle, energy drink cans, his vape, a lighter, a bunch of candy wrappers and a few crumpled papers.

“you need to stop doing that!” you snap. “dragging me around like i’m—i don’t know—like i’m some puppet!” he ignores your words. “listen,” he says, “i tried to make it right, okay? i did.” “calling me? texting me?” you scoff, disbelief laced in your voice. “that’s what you think making it right looks like? all you ever did was send bullshit messages—half insults, half nothing at all.” you shake your head. “if you actually meant it, you would’ve come to me. you know where i live, where i work—you had every chance to show up, to prove that you actually gave a damn. but you didn’t.” his voice shakes now. “i thought… i thought you didn’t fucking need me anymore! i thought you’d be better off without me!” “better off without you?! that’s the dumbest excuse i’ve ever heard!” before you can stop yourself, you shove him, hard enough that he stumbles back a step. “you were my fucking best friend, you idiot!” your voice cracks as a tear rolls down your cheek, and you have to look away. “and i…” the words tangle in your throat. you swallow hard, forcing them out. “i fucking loved you.”

the words hit him like a fist to the gut. he swallows, his throat suddenly dry. because he knows. he knows exactly how that feels. he’s loved you too—probably longer than he even realized. but he’s never said it. not properly. not in a way that mattered anyway. and now? now it sounds like it’s too fucking late. “loved,” he repeats. “past tense?” you don’t answer. “you don’t—you don’t love me anymore?” the words slip out before he can stop them, and he hates how pathetic they sound, how fucking vulnerable they make him. “subong i—i’m sorry, i can’t… i can’t do this,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper. “answer me,” he presses, stepping closer, his pulse thundering in his ears. “please.” “i’m not talking about this,” you say firmly, reaching for the door. but he moves faster, pressing his hand against it, keeping you trapped in the small room with him. you squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling sharply. “i don’t want to see you again, subong.” “i do.” “well, i don’t.” “why not?” “because it fucking hurts!” the words barely leave your lips before the weight of everything crashes down on you all at once. “it… it hurts.” your throat burns, and suddenly, you can’t hold it back anymore. a choked sob rips through you, and before you can stop yourself, you’re crying.

subong’s eyes widen for half a second, like he doesn’t know what to do with the sight of you breaking down in front of him. but then, without hesitation, he reaches for you. “i know,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. “i know, baby.” the warmth of him, the familiarity, the way he holds you…it all feels too fucking good. too safe. too much like home. you sob into his shirt, fists clutching at the fabric, body shaking as months’ worth of pain and anger pour out of you. he holds you tighter, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other resting firm against your waist. “i’m sorry,” he breathes.

you suck in a sharp breath, realization slamming into you. and just like that, the warmth turns suffocating. “no,” you whisper, pushing against his chest. he stiffens. “what—” “get off me.” he hesitates, grip loosening slightly, but you shove harder, forcing space between you. “fuck, subong, what the hell am i doing?” he looks at you, confused, almost dazed, like he doesn’t understand why you’re suddenly pulling away. “baby—” “don’t call me that,” you cut him off. “i can’t—i can’t do this with you.” his jaw tightens. “you don’t mean that. you know you don’t.” “i do! because you fucking broke me!” you yell, hands trembling. “and i hate that you still make me feel like this!” you pause, trying to catch your breath, wiping at your face furiously. you hate the way the tears cling to your skin. you hate even more that he’s standing there, watching you cry. you force yourself to steady your voice. “i’m leaving.” “no, you’re not.” he’s there—blocking the door. you let out a frustrated breath, shoving at him again, but he doesn’t move an inch. “subong, move.” nothing. he doesn’t even blink. “is he your boyfriend?” the question throws you off balance. your brows furrow, and for a moment, the anger is eclipsed by confusion. “what?” “that guy. is he your boyfriend?” you exhale sharply, shaking your head as you glare at him. “jesus christ, subong, really?” “is he?” “it’s none of your business,” the words are clipped, laced with venom. his eyes darken. “none of my—?” he drags a hand through his hair, like he’s barely keeping himself together. for a second, it looks like he might actually lose it. “seriously? you can’t even say no?” “why does it matter?!” you snap. “it fucking matters to me!” your heart pounds. you don’t know why it’s so hard to answer, why the words feel like they’re lodged in your throat. his patience wears thin. “fucking hell, just—” “no!” you cut him off. “he’s not my boyfriend, okay?!” you shake your head. “did you fuck him?” “are you serious right now?” “answer the fucking question,” he demands, stepping closer. you scoff, shaking your head. “you’re actually insane.” “fucking answer!” “yes!” the word rips out of you before you can stop it. “yeah, i did. happy now?”

for a moment, he doesn’t react. he just stares at you, like the air has been knocked from his lungs. his jaw clenches, his nostrils flare. but nothing can stop the thought from sinking its claws into him—someone else touching you, having you, getting what he let slip through his fingers. it makes him sick. and it’s his own damn fault. he knows he has no right to be angry. no right to feel this way. but the jealousy curdles in his stomach, and before he can stop himself, the words tear from his mouth like a whip. “you’re a fucking whore.” the second he says it, he hates himself for it. but he doesn’t take it back. your fury is instant, white-hot.“fuck you! don’t call me that!” “i’ll call you whatever the fuck i want!” he snaps. he needs to hurt you, to make you feel even a fraction of what he’s feeling. “you really don’t see how fucking pathetic that is? spreading your legs for some guy who doesn’t even matter?” the words taste like acid in his mouth, but he spits them out anyway. he doesn’t know how else to deal with the anger, the self-hatred he feels. it’s easier to take it out on you than to admit the truth—that he ruined everything, that he’s the reason you were with someone else.

your vision goes red. before you can think, before you can stop yourself, your hand swings up and smacks across his face. his head jerks to the side from the impact, and for a moment, everything is dead silent except for the sharp sound of your ragged breathing. then, slowly, he turns back to you, his jaw tightening, his tongue running over the inside of his cheek like he’s tasting the sting of your palm. “did you just hit me?” his voice is low. oh, he’s angry. “yeah, i fucking did,” you say, your hands trembling. “because you’re a fucking piece of shit!” “you’ve got some fucking nerve!” he seethes, shoving your forehead with two of his fingers, forcing your head back slightly. you slap his hand away, your own anger doubling at the touch. “do that again, and i’ll break your fucking fingers, motherfucker,” you warn. “you just slapped me!” “and you called me a whore twice, subong! i wonder how the fuck i was ever friends with you! you’re a hypocrite!” he steps closer, jabbing a finger in your face. “don’t fucking talk to me like that!” “and i told you many times not to fucking point your finger at me!” you yell, shoving his hand away harder this time. so hard his arm jerks back. “who the fuck do you think you are?! you can’t fucking judge me when you’re the one who—”

his patience snaps. he grabs a nearby chair and hurls it at the wall. it hits with a loud crack, rattling from the impact before toppling over. you flinch, but you don't back down. “real fucking mature.” “you don’t fucking get it.” “why do you even care, huh? you have plenty of other girls to fuck, don’t you?” you spit. “so why the fuck does it matter who i’m with? why is it a problem when you do the exact same shit?” he doesn’t say anything. fine. you’re done here. you reach for the door again, shoving past him. “i’m leaving—” “i lied.” his voice stops you cold. slowly, you turn back, brows furrowing. “what?” he swallows hard. “i lied about it. there was never another girl.” you stare at him in disbelief. “i just—i said that shit to piss you off. to make you hate me. but i never—” he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “i never touched anyone else when i was with you.”

your mind spins, struggling to piece together what he’s saying. he’s lying again. he has to be. “you expect me to believe that?” your voice is defensive. “i don’t give a fuck if you believe me,” he snaps back. “it’s the truth.” your throat tightens. there’s something in his eyes, something desperate, something you’re not used to seeing. “why?” he hesitates. his lips part, then press into a thin line. “because i—” he exhales sharply, looking away for a moment before forcing himself to look at you again. “because i love you. i’ve—” “don’t fucking lie to me, subong.” frustration flashes across his face. “i’m not lying, okay?! i’ve—” “sure as hell you aren’t.” “jesus—can i fucking talk?!” you huff, arms crossing tightly over your chest. your jaw aches from how hard you’re clenching it. but you don’t interrupt again. you let him speak. “i’ve loved you for so fucking long, and it scared the shit out of me. you were my best friend and i didn’t—i didn’t know how to do it. how to be with you without fucking it all up.” you shake your head, gripping your arms tighter. “you can’t just say this shit and think it fixes everything,” you whisper, voice trembling. “you loved me, and you never told me. you preferred this… this shit between us rather than just… being fucking honest. you—” your breath shudders and you stop to breathe for a moment. “you’re confusing me, subong.”

he sighs. you can see it in his eyes—the regret, the pain, the anger at himself. then, he steps closer. his hands find your face, fingers gentle as they cup your cheeks. his thumbs move carefully, wiping away the tears you hadn’t even realized were still falling. his touch is soft—so fucking soft it almost breaks you. you squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing against the lump in your throat. you shouldn’t let him do this. shouldn’t let him hold you like this, shouldn’t let yourself sink into the warmth of his hands. but you do. because it’s him. “i’m sorry, baby” he murmurs, his breath warm against your face. “fuck, i’m so sorry.” his voice is lower now, and when you open your eyes, he’s already looking at you—his brows furrowed. “i didn’t mean to hurt you,” he continues, his hands steady on your face. “i swear to god, i didn’t.” “but you did.” “i know,” he whispers. “i was a fucking idiot.” his thumbs still trace slow paths along your skin, like he’s trying to ground himself in the feel of you. you try to look away, but he won’t let you. his grip isn’t forceful, but it’s firm—just enough to keep you there. “i can’t stop thinking about you,” he says, his brows furrowing deeper, like it physically hurts him to admit it. “no matter what i do—it’s always you.” “don’t—” “it’s the truth,” he cuts in, his hands sliding down to your jaw, his fingers just barely brushing your neck. “i wake up thinking about you. i fall asleep thinking about you. every fucking song i write is about you. every stupid little thing reminds me of you.” you shake your head, blinking back tears. “stop it.” “i can’t,” he breathes. “i don’t know how.”

he leans in slightly, his lips barely an inch from yours. “tell me you don’t feel the same, and i’ll go.” your heart pounds so hard it hurts. he’s so close… and the way he’s looking at you, like he’s daring you to push him away, makes something snap inside you. before he can say another word, you grab his shirt and yank him down, crashing your lips against his. subong freezes for half a second, like he wasn’t expecting it, but then he groans into your mouth, his hands gripping at your waist as he kisses you back just as hard. he barely gives you a second to breathe before he’s backing you up, walking you straight into the wall. the impact makes a sharp gasp escape you, but he swallows it down, one hand threading into your hair, tilting your head back as his mouth moves against yours.

then it happens—your breath catches, and before you can stop it, a tear slips down your cheek. he stops. his lips hover just over yours, his chest rising and falling against you, and he pulls back just enough to look at you. “are you okay?” you don’t answer. instead, you pull him back in, your fingers curling around the back of his neck. you kiss him harder, and he lets you—lets you take what you need, lets you pour everything you can’t say into this. his fingers tangle in your hair, tugging just enough to pull your head back before pressing his forehead to yours. “tell me what’s wrong,” he murmurs, breath hot against your lips. in a broken whisper, you finally say it. “i need you.” he’s been waiting to hear that. for months, it’s been the only thing on his mind—you. every time he got high, every time he tried to flirt with someone else, every time he told himself it didn’t matter, that you didn’t matter. but it was all a lie. because you did. you always did. and now you’re here, in his arms, needing him. and he’s so fucking mad at himself for wasting all this time, for pushing you away, for pretending he didn’t want this when you’ve been the only thing he’s wanted.

that’s all it takes. he’s on you in an instant, his hands gripping your waist as his mouth crashes against yours. he walks with you, never breaking the kiss, his fingers pressing into your sides, guiding you until your legs bump against the edge of a small table. before you can steady yourself, his hands move to your hips, helping you up until you’re perched on top of it. his lips leave yours, dragging along your jaw and your neck. one hand slides up, fingers curving over your breast through the thin fabric of your shirt. the touch alone makes a soft moan slip past your lips. he swallows the sound with another kiss, deep and greedy, before tugging your shirt up, his palms skimming your skin as he pulls it over your head. his other hand moves with purpose, working the clasp of your bra. the second it falls away, his mouth is on you. you gasp when his tongue flicks over your nipple, your head falling back as pleasure shoots through you. “gonna make you feel good, baby,” he promises, his breath hot on your skin as he switches to your other breast, his teeth grazing your nipple just enough to make you squirm. his free hand slides down your stomach, unbuttoning your pants with practiced ease before slipping between your thighs. you spread them instinctively, your breath hitching when his fingers brush against the damp fabric of your panties. “you’re so wet for me already,” he says, pulling back to look at you, his eyes dark with hunger.

subong takes his time peeling your pants off, pressing soft kisses to your thighs, your knees, your ankles. once they’re gone, he hooks his fingers into your panties, dragging them down at the same agonizing pace, his lips following their path. he tosses them aside without a second thought. then he’s on his knees, hands spreading your thighs wider as the cool air hits your skin, making you shiver. “let me show you how sorry i am, yeah?” you nod slowly in response. subong leans in, his breath hot against you, and you bite your lip, anticipation coiling tight in your stomach. and then his tongue is on you, licking a long stripe up your center, parting your delicate folds, exploring your wetness. you gasp when it finds your clit, your hands flying to his purple hair as his tongue swirls around it in slow circles. “f-fuck, yeah, right there,” you whimper, and he hums against you in approval.

he focuses all his attention on it, flicking his tongue over the sensitive nub before sucking it gently into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing out as he applies gentle pressure. you feel one of his fingers slide inside you, then two, curling them upwards and hitting that spot that makes your eyes roll back. his tongue never leaves your clit, licking and sucking in perfect rhythm with his fingers, and you can feel that familiar pressure building in your lower stomach. your hand travels to the side of his face, your thumb caressing his cheek as he works you. moans grow louder, your hips bucking involuntarily against his face. “subong—” you try to speak, but the words die in your throat—the pleasure too strong. he smirks, feeling you tightening around his fingers. “that’s it, baby” his voice is muffled against you. “cum for me.” and you do, your back arching, knuckles white from gripping the side of the table, a cry tearing from your throat as you fall apart. his mouth never stops, drawing every last wave of pleasure from you until you’re boneless, panting.

you try to catch your breath as he stands, pulling you into him, his mouth claiming yours again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. your fingers tremble slightly as they find the hem of his shirt, slipping beneath the fabric. he shudders under your touch, muscles tensing before he exhales, letting you lift the shirt over his head. it falls somewhere behind him as your hands roam his chest. this isn’t like before. like the other times you’ve had sex. there’s something different in the way his fingers brush your skin, in the way he watches you like he’s afraid to blink, afraid to miss a second of this. you reach for his waistband, tugging at it, and he lets you, his breathing uneven as he watches your hands work him free. his pants and boxers slip to the floor, and he steps out of them, never once breaking contact.

“do you… do you have a condom?” you ask quietly. he stills, his hands resting on your hips as he looks at you. his brows pull together slightly. “no,” he admits, then asks, “do you?” you shake your head. “no.” “shit,” he exhales, his forehead falling to your shoulder. you can tell he’s frustrated—not at you, but at the situation. “it’s… it’s okay. we don’t need one,” you add softly. his head snaps back up. “you sure?” he asks, and you nod. “i want to feel you.” your words are the confirmation he needs. he grabs your thighs before pulling you closer to the edge of the table, spreading them apart to find room between them. his raw tip presses against your clit and you take a deep breath when he starts grinding against you, his stiff dick sliding across your wet slit. you both moan at the feeling, but nothing compares to the gasp that escapes both of your lips the moment he slides inside of you.

he’s slow at first, letting you adjust to the feeling, his hands holding you in place as he sinks in deeper, stretching you around him. you try to steady yourself, holding onto the side of the table with one of your hands again. his breath is uneven, and each slow, measured thrust makes you ache for more. but then his pace shifts. his grip tightens, fingers digging into your skin as he pulls back and thrusts in harder and faster. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the space between you, mixed with your breathless moans and his ragged groans. when you meet his gaze, his brows are furrowed, his lips parted. you can see it all written on his face: how much he’s wanted this, how long he’s been waiting, how badly he’s yearned for you. he looks like he’s barely holding himself together, like he’s afraid he won’t last because you feel too fucking good. “fuck,” he grits out, voice strained, his fingers flexing against your hips. “i missed you s-so fucking much…” his words cut off in a groan, his head dropping forward, forehead pressing to yours as he fucks you like he’s trying to make up for all the lost time. “i missed this… mmm… missed this pretty pussy of y-yours.” he drives into you harder, like he’s trying to claim you, like he’s trying to erase every trace of anyone else who’s ever touched you—muttering curses under his breath like he’s punishing himself as much as he’s fucking you. your nails scrape down his back, leaving red streaks in their wake, and he groans at the sting, at the way you cling to him. “fuck, baby—” he gasps, voice rough. “was he better than me? tell me,” he demands, his thrusts turning brutal, each one punctuating his words. “did he—did he fuck you like this? mmh? shit… did he make you cum like i-i do?” there’s anger in his voice. not at you—at himself. for waiting too long, for not telling you the truth when he had the chance, for letting someone else have you. you shake your head in response. his hand grips your chin, forcing you to look at him. “answer me.” “n-no!” you whimper “he… he didn’t, baby. only you—mmph!—only you make me f-feel this good.”

his grip on your chin tightens for a second before he releases you, his hand sliding down to wrap around your throat instead. not squeezing, just holding—just feeling you. his pace doesn’t slow, if anything, it gets rougher, like your answer wasn’t enough to satisfy the anger. “that’s right,” he grits out, sweat slicking his skin. “he could never…he could never fuck you like this.” his other hand grips your hip hard enough to bruise as he slams into you, making you cry out. you hold onto him, and he loves it—loves feeling you claim him the way he’s claiming you now. and fuck, he needs this, needs to remind himself that you’re here, wrapped around him—that you’re his. “look,” he mutters, commanding. “look how fucking g-good you’re taking me.” your breath hitches as your eyes drop, and fuck—seeing it is different. watching the way his dick disappears inside you, the way your body clenches around him, the way he’s completely buried in you, over and over again… “see that?” he pants. “you were made for me. this was fucking made for me.” his hand moves again, sliding between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, precise circles. “shit—subong!” you let out a broken moan. “y-yeah… fuck, yeah, just like that!” a whimper slips from your lips when subong fists your hair, tugging your head back up until your eyes meet his again. “say it,” he practically pleads. “say that you're mine.” “i-i'm yours!" you gasp, your voice shaking, your whole body trembling from the intensity of him. “i'm fucking yours…mmm… always been.” “i’m yours too, baby.”

his thrusts grow frantic and his breath comes in harsh, uneven bursts. all he can hear is the sound of his name falling from your lips in desperate, breathless moans. he swears he’s never heard something as beautiful. you can tell he is close, holding you in place as he leans over you, his forehead pressing against yours. your body tenses, your gummy walls clenching around him, his fingers still pressed on your clit as he pounds into you, making it impossible for you to hold back. your body tenses, and your free hand clings to the back of his neck with desperation as you kiss him, trying to muffle your whimpering. “gonna cum for me, b-baby?” he whispers, pulling away for a moment. “gonna—mmh! gonna cum on my cock?” you can’t even nod. his words are like a spark, and you can’t hold it back anymore. your body snaps, the pleasure flooding you. “subong!” you cry out, legs shaking. he watches you, his name on your lips, and the sight of you completely undone drives him to the edge. with a final, deep thrust, he follows you, quickly pulling out, his release spilling into your lower stomach. his face contorts, a strangled gasp escaping him as he rides out his own climax. he stays there for a moment, his body pressed against yours, both of you breathing heavily, sweat-slicked skin sticking together. “i love you,” you whisper, hands running through his messy hair. “i love you too, señorita,” he smirks, his hand cupping your cheek before leaning in to give you a small peck on the lips. “i missed you.”

subong is a good boyfriend. or at least he tries to be. he still messes up sometimes, still says things without thinking, still gets into fights he shouldn’t, but he’s trying. you see it in the way he waits for you after work, hands shoved into his pockets like he’s trying to play it cool, but you know he’s been standing there for a while. in the way he walks on the outside of the sidewalk, even though you never asked him to. you see it in the way he always grabs an extra drink when he stops by the convenience store, handing it to you without a word, like he just knew you’d want one. in the way he texts you did you eat? before he even says hello. in the way he always grumbles about carrying your bag when it looks too heavy, but takes it anyway. in the way he lets you steal his hoodies, rolling his eyes when you show up wearing one but never actually asking for it back. you see it in the way he lets you mess with his hair, even when he pretends to hate it. in the way he looks at you, like he still can’t believe you’re his. in the way he says your name, soft around the edges. in the way he tells you he loves you—not just with words, but in a hundred different ways, every single day.

there’s no confusion anymore. no second-guessing, no wondering where you stand with each other. he wants you, and he’s not afraid to say it. he tells you all the time, in every way he knows how. sometimes it’s casual, like when he looks at you in the middle of a conversation, something soft in his eyes, and says, “you know i love you, right?” like he just needs you to know. and then there are times when he’s shameless about it. like the time he made it his entire mission to embarrass you in front of both of your friends, throwing an arm around your shoulders and grinning as he declared, “isn’t my girlfriend the prettiest woman you’ve ever seen? no offense to you, semi.” there’s a beat of silence before half of them go “what?!” while the others just exchange knowing looks. “wait—dude, since when?!” namgyu asks. “oh, come on,” semi scoffs, rolling her eyes. “like we didn’t all see this coming.” subong just smirks, pulling you a little closer, dropping a kiss to your cheek. he’s here, and he’s yours, and he makes sure you know it.

you’re still best friends. you still laugh until your stomach hurts, still steal food off each other’s plates, still shove at each other like you’re kids. except now he kisses you after. or before. or sometimes instead of shoving you back. he’s still stubborn, still gets on your nerves more than anyone else. he’s not perfect, but he never pretends to be. and maybe that’s what makes it feel so easy. there’s nothing to prove, nothing to question. just the two of you, exactly as you are, exactly as you’ve always been. just you and him.

if you’ve read this far, i love you, let’s get married pookie ong

[daeniradraconis]

plz a auston matthews with fluff prompt 5 or 6!

Thank you for requesting! 💖

Exactly the Way You Are

Auston Matthews had never been one to care what people thought of him. On the ice, he was ruthless, a powerhouse of skill and precision. Off the ice, he was a little different. A little softer, a little more particular about things like fashion, skincare, or the way he folded his sweaters. And it had never really bothered him before.

Until you.

Because suddenly, he found himself second-guessing. Suddenly, he caught himself hesitating before ordering sushi instead of a steak, before tossing on a designer coat instead of a flannel, before meticulously applying his moisturizer in the morning. Suddenly, he was hyper-aware of every single way he might not measure up to the men you had been with before.

For the first time in his life, a relationship wasn’t just about having fun—it was about you. It was about keeping you. And only two weeks in, he knew. He was in love with you, and he never wanted to let you go.

Which was why the thought of you realizing he might not be enough for you, scared the absolute hell out of him.

Because your exes? They were the kind of men who made Auston feel like he was playing pretend. A soldier, a farmer and a firefighter. Guys who could chop wood with their bare hands and fix an engine without breaking a sweat. Men who probably thought a ten-step skincare routine was some kind of witchcraft and would rather eat raw meat than admit they’d ever used lip balm.

So Auston tried. God, did he try.

He took you to steakhouses, even though he much preferred sushi. He wore rugged flannels—even though he hated how they felt, all stiff and itchy—and made a point of rolling up his sleeves when he was fixing things around the house (which, let’s be honest, usually meant watching a YouTube tutorial for an hour before calling a professional). He threw around words like “torque” and “horsepower,” even though he had no real clue what they meant.

But then, there were moments when he slipped—when the real Auston surfaced, whether he meant to or not. Like when you caught him meticulously folding his sweaters, using a technique he’d picked up from some high-end fashion influencer, just to keep his wool cardigan in pristine condition. Or when he helped you pick out the perfect moisturizer for Toronto’s brutal winter, because after just a month in the cold, your skin always felt like sandpaper. Or when he let out a frustrated sigh after a particularly bad game and you found him later in bed, a lavender sheet mask on his face and an expensive candle burning on the nightstand.

And tonight? Tonight was one of those nights.

You watched as he carefully plated the pasta he’d just made, placing each strand with precision before garnishing it with fresh basil. His brows were slightly furrowed, lips pressed together in concentration—he looked like an artist at work.

“You know,” you mused, leaning against the counter with a smirk, “you don’t have to pretend with me.”

Auston shot you a puzzled look. “Pretend what?”

“That you’re something you’re not.” You reached across the counter, letting your hand gently slide down his forearm. “That you’re this rugged, tough guy all the time. I mean, I love that you try so hard, but Aus…” You tilted your head, offering him a warm smile. “It’s actually really sexy that you care about this kind of stuff.”

His fingers froze over the plate. “What stuff?” He tried to play it off, like he had no idea what you were talking about.

“This.” You gestured to the food, the perfectly pressed shirt he wore, the way his skin practically glowed—thanks to whatever magic serum he used—and the accessories that matched effortlessly with his outfit, right down to the purple beanie perched on his head.

Even if Auston had toned down his fashion choices a bit, trying to seem more traditionally “manly” for you, he still looked perfectly put together. Stylish. And, honestly? Mouthwateringly sexy.

“You take care of yourself. You care about the details. And honestly? That’s peak masculinity to me.”

He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “But your exes—”

“They’re my exes for a reason,” you interrupted, stepping around the counter and wrapping your arms around his neck. “I want you, Matty. Believe it or not.”

You could feel the tension in his shoulders, the way he hesitated, like he was waiting for you to take it all back. Like he was still unsure whether the way he was was enough for you.

“I know you use a women’s deodorant just because you love the smell,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I know you put SPF on your face every morning, then secretly reapply it every few hours, thinking I don’t notice.” A small smile played on your lips. “I see you spending hours in the kitchen, making sure everything is perfect, just to do something nice for us. You try to hide those things, like they don’t fit into some idea of what a man is supposed to be.”

You leaned in, pressing your cheek against his chest. “But Matty, I love those things about you. I love that you care, that you pay attention, that you take care of yourself—and us. That’s not something to hide. That’s not less masculine.” Your voice softened, becoming a gentle reassurance. “That’s what makes you, you. And that’s exactly who I want.”

His arms circled your waist, but there was still a hint of hesitation in his touch. “Yeah, but… what if you wake up one day and realize you’d rather be with someone who can actually build you a bookshelf, instead of paying someone else to do it?”

You laughed softly, standing on your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Baby, I’m not looking for a guy who can build a bookshelf—I need someone to build a life with me. And, ideally, someone who knows the difference between La Mer and drugstore moisturizer. Because if I ever get pregnant and can’t use retinol, at least one of us needs to keep my skincare game strong.”

He huffed out a laugh, pulling you closer. “You really don’t want me to start chopping wood in the backyard?”

You grinned, dragging your fingers through his hair. “I mean, you could, just for fun. But let’s be real—you’d spend more time making sure your flannel matched your beanie than actually chopping.”

“Wow.” He pulled back just enough to raise an eyebrow at you. “You’re really coming for me right now.”

“I’m just saying,” you teased, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, “I love you exactly the way you are. No flannel required.”

He exhaled, something in his expression softening. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, pulling him down for another soft kiss. “But for the record, if you ever do grow a full blown beard, I reserve the right to call you Lumberjack Papi.”

Auston groaned. “Oh my God, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” You smiled mischievously.

He shook his head with a playful grin before crashing his lips against yours, deeper this time, his hands sliding to your waist as he pulled you even closer. The kiss became more urgent, more desperate, as the world around you seemed to blur. The pasta sat forgotten on the counter, the only thing that mattered was the heat between you.

–

Later that night, you both found yourselves tangled in the sheets, his head resting against your chest, the warmth of his body pressing into yours like he belonged there. His slow, steady breathing was like a soft rhythm, a lullaby that pulled you into a calm, peaceful quiet. His arm was draped over you, fingers lightly curling into the fabric of your shirt, as if trying to keep you close. You lovingly ran your fingers through his hair, the soft curls brushing against your fingertips as his breath warmed your skin.

His golden tan glowed faintly under the dim light, the perfect contrast to the dark mess of his hair, and every now and then, the faintest shadow of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. You felt his chest rise and fall with each breath, the steady beat of his heart a comforting presence against yours. His mustache—still that goofy, charming thing—brushed against your skin as he shifted slightly, mumbling something you couldn’t quite make out.

"You look so peaceful when you sleep," you murmured softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head, feeling his warmth sink deeper into you.

Auston hummed, a soft, contented noise that sounded like a mix between a sigh and a half-chuckle. His grip on you tightened just a little, pulling you in closer as his sleepy eyes flickered open, barely adjusting to the dark. His gaze was hazy, unfocused, the deep brown of his eyes soft and distant, as if he was still caught in the in-between of sleep and wakefulness.

"'S’cause of you," he mumbled in that thick, sleepy voice of his, barely more than a whisper. "Always you. Don’ ever wanna let you go, babe."

Your heart skipped a beat, a gentle ache blossoming in your chest. It wasn’t even intentional, the way he said it—his words muffled by sleep, heavy with the warmth of his affection, like a confession he didn’t even realize he was sharing.

"You’re not even awake right now," you teased gently, your fingers grazing over his jawline.

He huffed a little, a sleepy laugh escaping him, and his arms tightened around you instinctively, pulling you closer, like he wanted to make sure you were right there. His face nuzzled into your chest, his nose brushing against your skin, and he sighed deeply, like the world could melt away as long as he stayed wrapped up in you.

As you lay there, his warmth surrounding you, everything else felt so distant. There were no worries, no doubts—just the steady beat of his heart against yours. He was exactly what you needed—his quiet strength, the little ways he cared for you, the way he made you feel safe even in the simplest moments. It was those small, real things that mattered most.

In his arms, there was no pressure to be anything other than what you were. Just him—Auston. The guy who could make you laugh, who made you feel seen and heard, and most importantly, who made you feel loved.

And as you drifted off to sleep, tangled in him, you just knew. He was yours. Forever.

[pinkyqily]

ONLY YOURS - JUJU WATKINS X READER

Summary: Because of recent speculation, online, it makes you rethink your relationship with juju.

Warning: cursing, angst to fluff, reader bluffing, miscommunication from r

Author's note: this fic was requested by @atditsitzjt and I hope you enjoy reading this, we love Otto in this house, I just needed someone who juju is close to build up fic tension.

feedbacks are always welcome and happy readings readers 💐

To be honest, you had no reason to think that juju would cheat on you.

But overthinking is a bitch and that how you and juju found yourself in this messy position in you're relationship.

It all started with when you saw a comment about how juju is always with Otto and doesn't she have a girlfriend to go to.

That comment didn't bother you at all until the sudden change of your algorithm.

You started seeing post of people shipping them together, pictures that looked way too intimate.

how they are always together from practice to hanging outside of campus together.

You felt like your heart got twisted and toyed with. You waited until she would come over to your place to try and bring it up, not wanting to jump into conclusion yet wanting to give her the benefit of doubt.

Juju came around, and she could tell something was wrong, but she didn't want to push your buttons after the long day she had.

You both enjoyed each other company, but the sense of lingering tension was obviously in the air and if anyone was to enter the room they would most likely feel suffocated.

You were laying on your girlfriend as she scrolled through her phone on Instagram.

But you couldn't keep quite anymore and got off her, she looked at you a confused.

you cleared your throat to speak.

"So you and Otto hang out with each other a lot." You started with.

"Yeah, she's my best friend, you know that." She said.

"You guys are really close for best friend".

"What point are you trying to make?". She said, looking irritated.

"I'm gonna be straight with you, Juju are you cheatin-. Before you could finish you heard her cut you off. "Don't you finish that sentence, what made you come to this." The way she reacted caught you off guard.

"Oh, I'm sorry that my supposed girlfriend loves hanging out with her best friend more than her actual gf, that it has the internet speculating if you guys are dating".

"You have to be serious, you're getting your claims from delusional people on the internet?". She said looking really hurt by the not so accusation you put against her.

"Yeah because they make more sense than whatever your fucking saying juju".

"What can't you understand she's my best friend just because we're always together, means nothing to me." You heard her say, she tired grabbing your hands but you simply moved back creating more space between the two of you.

"But it does to me do you ever think about how I would feel huh, you don't see me always hanging out with my best friend like that". You told her getting upset that she couldn't understand your point of view.

"One she's been with me since day one, she works with the team too, so of course we're always gonna be at the same place two just because we're always together means nothing to me". She explained to you. Grabbing both your hands as she continued speaking

"You're my girlfriend, not her, the person I love and adore you make me feel all sorts of things when we're together."

You felt a little shakend, she was someone who was always straight foward but doesn't to pushy with it. You had nothing to say to her they only thing you could do was leave the living room.

where you both we're staying so you could get some air.

You felt like a huge asshole for doubting her. What type of partner accuses there significant other, onto of that you use the internet as some type of excuses just because of your insecurities instead of communicating with her.

Oh you felt bad, after what felt likes hours but was only a few minutes you went back inside after staying outside. Juju was just how you left her, she was sitting on the arm of the couch fidgeting with her fingers.

You stood in front of her, but there was still the lack of distance between two of you.

You started by saying

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have accused you like that I don't know what wrong with me everything people were saying just got to me". You told her.

"I'm not gonna lie, your accusations hurt me, especially when you know I would never do you like that." She said, pulling you closer as she laid her head on your shoulder.

After your conversation with her that night, you expected her not to stay over like she normally does but she did.

You're both laying down in bed you couldn't fall asleep yet.

"Baby, I just wanted you to know I'm really sorry, and I feel so stupid thinking about it." You said, thinking she fell asleep.

"It okay, just go back to bed mhm". You heard her say as she pulled you closer by your waist.

"Goodnight, I love you." You said to her as you slowly able to fall asleep and be at peace without your mind playing tricks on you.

"I love you too." She said her arms stil wrapped around your body.

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

Always the Exception

You were a scared, fidgety, ever-wide-eyed demon who barely managed to squeak out your desire to move into the Hotel. Charlie had of course accepted you with open arms and the others tended to either avoid you or baby you. Alastor found you both incredibly pitiful and far too hilarious. You were easy to scare. You were easy to make uneasy. You’d jump at everything and flinch at every sound. Such a jittery thing. He enjoyed toying with you.

Now he was wondering just how much you were hiding from them all. He stood with the rest of the hotel’s residents, watching intently as you mowed down the mob that had appeared at the Hotel. More sharks Mimzy owed, and the cowardly wretch once again hid within the Hotel’s walls. Alastor had started to throw her out when you had left through the front door. Charlie tried to stop you, Vaggie physically picked you up but you leapt over them both and prowled out the front door.

“I’ll ask you twice. Please leave.” You said.

They, predictably, refused.

“Please leave.”

Once again, a predictable (and rather rude) refusal.

And now here you were, eyes still as wide as ever as you flattened the loan sharks one after the other, swatting them around like they were flies and blasting them with bursts of magic that left them twitching and convulsing in agony. Strange to see such a bug-eyed expression on such a powerful force. You left them alive but the message you sent them was very very clear.

“Done.” You said as you strolled back inside. It was like someone flipped a switch, the moment your foot crossed the threshold of the lobby you were back to the perpetually terrified trembling demon. “Okay bye.” And off you went.

Mimzy was kicked out by Husk and Alastor waved her a cheery farewell (and threatened her because he told her NOT TO COME BACK). Then the hotel went about its business, it’s residents confused to varying levels. The only one unphased by your display of power was Nifty. Though the little maid simply wasn’t bothered by much in general.

Alastor went to your room. You opened the door just a little bit, peering out through the crack with one wide, terrified eye.

“Hello, my dear! May we talk?”

You shook your head but Alastor ignored you and shadowed into your room. You jumped with a little squeak and darted to hide beneath your bed. Alastor’s eye twitched.

“Darling, your little coward schtick isn’t going to work on me anymore. I’ve seen what you’re capable of, now.”

“Not an act.” You muttered, peering out from your hiding space. “M’scared.”

“Were you scared when you were mauling those sharks?”

“Terrified.”

Alastor paused. Crimson eyes observed your trembling visage. Your claws dug into the floorboards, your pupils shook with fear, your whole body was shaking to the point he thought you were trying to shake off death itself.

“…You’re being serious…”

You nodded quickly.

“You destroyed those people while remaining completely untouched.”

You nodded again.

“…You were TERRIFIED of them?” He said, tilting his head so far he broke his own neck. You flinched at the sound ( you always do ) but you nodded again.

“Are you scared of me?”

Another nod.

“Why don’t you maul me, then?”

“Because I don’t want to?” You muttered “you might be nice.”

“HA! Unlikely.”

“Well you haven’t done anything to hurt me.”

“I frighten you.”

“Everyone and everything frightens me, you’re not special.”

Alastor’s eye twitched. “…Pardon?”

“Everyone and everything frightens me. You’re not special.”

Alastor’s eye twitched again. “…So if you felt you were SAFE with someone….?”

“Um… It’d be. Weird? Not very likely-“

“WELL THEN” Alastor interrupted, dragging you out from your hiding place to wrap an arm around your shoulders “Let’s restart our relationship then! I’m Alastor, the Radio Demon! And I’ll ensure your safety, my dear.”

“…Wow. Um.”

“HMMMM?” Alastor said with a too-wide grin.

You didn’t say anything, choosing instead to look anywhere else. Alastor was… something. Now determined to be your protector simply because he wants to be something everyone else isn’t.

…Maybe you should just maul him.

[ficnation]

Dead Girl Walkin'#2

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female! Reader

Warnings: sickness, usual the walking dead themes

Word count: 1k+

A/n: Let's get into those flashbacks! Hope you enjoy it!

Main Masterlist || Daryl Dixon Masterlist

PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Your sickness got worse. So much worse.

And you were all alone with it—until Daryl and Merle showed up.

At first, Daryl didn’t know why Merle bothered. He wasn’t the kind of guy to play nursemaid, and he sure as hell wasn’t the type to stick around when things got tough. But for some reason, he kept dragging Daryl back to that rundown trailer in the middle of nowhere, like it was just another stop on their endless list of bad decisions.

Being there for you was probably the best decision the two of them had ever made.

But it wasn’t.

And you let them in—not just into your house but into your life and heart.

Daryl didn’t get that either. You should’ve known better, should’ve realized they would only bring trouble and heartbreak. It never ended well with him and Merle around. Then again, Daryl figured you didn’t have much left to lose anyway.

You were getting worse by the day, skin paler than it had any right to be, bones jutting out where they hadn’t before. Every time he saw you, it was like looking at a ghost that hadn’t figured out it was dead yet.

And still, you smiled.

Even now, coughing up blood into a tissue, you grinned at them from your spot on the couch like it was just another Tuesday.

“At this point, the Grim Reaper must be scared of me,” you wheezed, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Just doesn’t wanna show the fuck up.”

Merle let out one of those wild, barking laughs of his, shaking his head. “Shit, girl, I don’t blame him. You’re stubborn as hell.”

“Damn right.” You stretched, wincing, but you didn’t let it show too much. “I oughta start charging him rent if he’s just gonna keep circling and never really move in.”

Daryl didn’t laugh. He just stood there, arms crossed, watching you like you might disappear between one breath and the next.

Because you might.

Merle, either oblivious or just refusing to acknowledge reality, sprawled out in the recliner across from you, kicking his boots up on the coffee table. “So, what? You gonna outlive all of us just to spite that bony bastard?”

“That’s the plan.”

You and Merle grinned at each other like it was all some big joke.

Daryl didn’t think it was funny.

You were wrapped in that same old blanket you always had, the one with holes in it, the one you swore was perfectly fine even though Daryl had half a mind to steal it and replace it with something that wasn’t falling apart.

That night, when Merle was outside smoking and talking shit on the phone to some guy Daryl didn’t care about, he sat on the couch beside you. Not too close—just close enough to remind himself you were still here.

Your hands trembled when you reached for the glass of water on the coffee table. Daryl saw it before you could pretend otherwise and handed it to you instead.

You nodded in thanks, taking a slow sip before leaning your head back against the couch. “You’re quiet tonight.”

Daryl huffed, staring at a crack in the wall. “Ain’t got nothin’ to say.”

“Yeah, you do.”

He glanced at you, scowling. “No, I don’t.”

You smirked like you knew some big secret. “You get all quiet when you’re mad about something.”

Daryl looked away. He didn’t want to admit you were right. Didn’t want to admit that his heart skipped a beat because you noticed that little fact about him.

You sighed, running your fingers over the rim of the glass. “You don’t gotta be mad for me, y’know.”

He clenched his jaw. “Ain’t mad.”

You gave him a look, all sharp and knowing. “Bullshit.”

Daryl inhaled through his nose, tapping his fingers against his knee. His hands felt restless, like they should be doing something—fixing something, fighting something. But there wasn’t shit to fight. Nothing he could win anyway.

“I don’t like seein’ you like this.” The words came out rougher than he meant, but they were the truth.

You exhaled slowly. “I know.”

“Feels like…” He trailed off, frowning.

“Like what?”

Daryl shook his head, restless energy thrumming under his skin. “Like you’re just sittin’ here waitin’ to die.”

You didn’t look surprised by that. Maybe you’d already thought the same thing yourself. Maybe you’d been thinking it longer than he had.

After a long pause, you said, “I don’t think I’m waiting to die. I think I’m just trying to live while I still can.”

Daryl swallowed hard, shifting in his seat. “That ain’t much better.”

You shrugged. “It’s all I got.”

And maybe that was what pissed him off the most.

That you’d accepted it. That you weren’t fighting. That you were making jokes about the damn Grim Reaper instead of doing something.

He knew it wasn’t fair. Knew this wasn’t something you could punch your way out of. But that didn’t stop the anger from curling hot and sharp in his chest.

Didn’t stop him from wanting to do something.

You must’ve seen it written all over his face because you sighed and nudged his arm with your knee. “C’mere, Dixon.”

He frowned. “For what?”

You patted the couch beside you. “Just come here.”

Daryl hesitated, then shifted closer. You tugged the edge of your blanket over his lap and leaned your head against his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Daryl froze, shoulders tense. “The hell you doin’?”

“Relax, would you?” You sighed, closing your eyes. “You feel like a damn rock.”

He let out a breath through his nose but didn’t move away.

“You ever just let yourself be still?” you murmured.

He didn’t answer.

You hummed, like you already knew. “You should try it sometime.”

Daryl stayed stiff for a long moment before slowly letting himself relax.

Just a little.

Your breathing was steady, soft—like maybe, for the first time in a while, you weren’t in pain. Like his presence was better than any painkiller you’d ever taken.

And for the first time in a while, Daryl let himself believe—for just a second—that maybe you’d still be here tomorrow.

If not for yourself, then for him.

[finniestoncrane]

Hi finnie! Sorry to bother you but u was wondering if you could write something for young Justice Riddler from your list maybe 15 and 51? He is just a cutie! Sorry I don't send request a lot! (≡^∇^≡)

Young Justice!Riddler x Fem!Reader, word count: 719 oooooooh yes please!! these are perfect for him, get ready for some nervous first time eddie!! 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: virginity loss, reader has a vagina but no gendered terms are used, first time sex, nervous eddie

"You're ok with this, yeah?"

As you straddled Eddie's waist, it only then occurred to you that he hadn't replied as confidently as you would have liked when you asked him if he wanted you to be on top. Rather, he'd offered a nervous nod, a stammered 'yes' and then a sharp inhale that never seemed to come back out.

You'd shifted out from underneath his weak grip on your sides, then pushed him gently down onto the mattress, taking care to lift his glasses gently from his face and place them carefully next to the bed. He'd been so willing, so pliant, and you worried about whether he felt like he was just going through the motions.

"If it's not ok, Eddie, we can wait and try again some other time. I really don't-"

"No! No, no. Please, no. I want this to happen. I think I need this to happen. I just... I was nervous. I am nervous."

With a slight giggle, intended to be warming and reassuring rather than patronising, you sat up straight. As you moved, you brushed past his cock, twitching against your body as his eyes closed tight.

"Why are you so nervous?"

One of your hands rested on his abdomen, almost keeping him steady as he trembled with nerves. The other moved up his torso, fingers walking towards the tiny patch of hair on his chest before stopping to stroke it delicately. He couldn't help but smile as he made out the pattern your finger was moving it. A question mark, drawn over and over again as he spoke.

"I don't want to get it wrong."

"What do you think you're going to get wrong, Eddie? You're the Riddler. You don't get things wrong."

That little boost of confidence seemed to have done wonders for him as he reached his slightly quivering hands up and placed them on either side of your waist.

"I'm just worried about... I've not quite practised enough... bucking my hips. I wanted to get it perfect for the first time."

"Ah... did you receive bad feedback from someone else?"

He glanced to the side, lips pressed tightly shut. Somehow, everything fell into place, and you reached your hand to his cheek, stroking against his pointed sideburns and feeling the heat from the deep, red flush on his skin.

"Oh, Eddie. You mean your first time?"

Eddie nodded bashfully, his whole body seeming a shade pinker than it had moments ago. Your own body seemed warmer too, the idea that you were going to be important to Eddie, someone who was in turn so important to you, caused your heartbeat to rise steadily, your blood heating as you began to subconsciously grind your hips a little against him.

"Come here, you sweet little thing. You don't have to be embarrassed."

You helped him shift upright slightly, leaning into him and bringing his face to your bare chest, holding it close as you played with the longer hair at the nape of his neck.

"Of course not. This is actually a bit of a turn on."

"R-really?"

There was a hesitance in his voice, as though he couldn't quite believe that you might be telling the truth. But as you brought one hand from him and helped to position his head against your now desperate cunt, he realised he might have to take your word for it.

With only a smile and a subtle bite of your lip, you began to ease yourself back and forth on his cock, feeling it throbbing against your walls as he quickly tore his hands away from you and found the sheets, clutching them with whitening knuckles and reddening fingertips.

"Are you ok, Eddie? Is this pace good for you?"

He could only nod, he feared that opening his mouth might make him whine, and whining might make him lose control, and losing conrol meant that the tiny bit of restraint he had in him would snap and his quickly formed orgasm would be released.

No, he could hold out, just a little bit longer, if only to make sure he could take it for just a little bit longer the next time.

God, he hoped there would be a next time. Practice was the only way he would get better, after all.

[rhiannonsknife]

DROP UR HOT TAKE GIRLIE WE SUPPORT YOU

-🔆

okay, listen!!! in the grand scheme of things, this is such a non-issue. the show raises way more important questions than this, and i wasn’t even planning on posting this note. it was just a silly little rant in my notes app because my brain latched onto it, so here we are! i wrote this before episode 4 so it’s spoiler free :) (the only things i edited just now are in italics)

also, for context, this is coming from someone who genuinely could not care less about shaving and will never not stand for the fact that body hair is beautiful. if this wasn’t clear from the great bush discourse yet.

anyway. to the people saying ‘it’s a hallucination’ in response to the (minimal but very important) no armpit hair discourse: first of all, be ready to hear from me again if shauna still doesn’t have armpit hair in other scenes, because by your logic, it should definitely be there then. (yeah…this whole argument was proven wrong since then, so…)

but also!!! also!!! while a part of me wants to say this is kind of irrelevant, i really don’t think it is. name more than three movies and/or tv shows where all of the cast actually have a realistic portrayal of body hair, especially the women/non-men. i’ll wait.

like, sure, coach ben has a full face of hair because he (obviously) can’t be bothered to shave out there/probably didn’t even bring a fuck-ass razor for a weekend trip, but most (not all, but most) of the girls have clean-shaven legs, armpits etc etc (we’ve already seen this outside of hallucinations, so don’t tell me it’s about that again)

and yeah, maybe it’s just about the cast’s personal preference, but if you’re on a show about being stranded in the wilderness for nineteen months, giving up shaving for a couple of weeks before filming to reflect a more realistic portrayal of the female body doesn’t seem like that much of a stretch idk 😭

it just highlights a bigger issue in media, which is basically my whole point here: how women’s bodies are always portrayed in a way that conforms to beauty standards, even in situations where it makes no sense. we see men with stubble, unkempt hair to sell the idea that they’re surviving, but when it comes to women? smooth legs, shaved armpits. you could be watching a post-apocalyptic movie, a historical drama, even something like yellowjackets, and still, the natural way women’s bodies actually look is rarely ever acknowledged.

and i get that, to some extent, actors might not want to change their grooming habits for a role. like, obviously, no one should be forced to do something that makes them uncomfortable! there are actors who put their bodies through extreme changes for roles, whether it’s major weight loss/gain, muscle gain etc. and it’s completely reasonable for someone to set their own boundaries with that. but the thing is…growing body hair out isn’t some huge, irreversible transformation. it’s not a physical strain, it’s not a health risk, it’s literally just skipping a step in your routine. it saves time rather than adding any sort of challenge, so what exactly is speaking against doing it? because if it’s just that we, as a society, still think women with body hair don’t “look good” on screen, then yeah. that’s kind of the whole issue. (chat again: not that deep. I KNOW. this is just my take here)

but at the same time, why is body hair seen as something so unthinkable for women to have on screen in the first place? like, we’ve been conditioned to think it’s “unhygienic” or “unappealing,” when in reality, it’s literally just…hair. men get to be scruffy and unshaven in movies all the time for the sake of realism!!

— a/n: guys again: it really isn’t that big of a deal, i know, and i was literally just yapping in my notes app, that’s all this is about. because i feel very strongly about the way our bodies tend to be portrayed in media. but after the great bush discourse, i just felt like pointing it out!!

[inkjam-moon]

Red Sky - Part One

Summary: After the death of your uncle, you make friends with his estranged roommate, a handsome young man, around your age that disappears for days at a time. When you find out something you're not supposed to, you learn exactly why the locals aren't particularly welcoming towards him. You want to help Jeongguk, but will he trust you enough to let you in?

Pairing: Siren!Jeongguk x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut, Angst

Word Count: 18k (I have nothing to say...)

TW: Sexually explicit content, mentions of suicide/death, physical altercation, drowning mentions, near death experience, drinking, verbal altercation, panic attack

A/N: tumblr literally won't let me post this in one part it's so long so part 2 will be up immediately!

.

"Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky in the morning, sailor's warning..."

.

It’s overcast and misty where the boat finally stops. The late winter sun has just started to sink below the horizon, not that you can tell with all the clouds, but they are a slightly darker shade of grey. You wake yourself, stretching after the long trip from Busan, and grab your things, thanking the captain as you step onto the creaking wood of the old dock. The pungent smells of salt and low tide immediately assault your nose, your raincoat doing little to keep the relentless mist off your face, but you tug it closer nonetheless. You pull the paper out of your pocket and double check the hastily scribbled address that’s starting to smear. Honestly, you don’t even know if you’re in the right place. 

You look to your left and see nothing but the ocean, as far as the horizon. You can’t help but stare out at the crashing white foam of the waves, wondering how you ended up here on this miserable island. Well, you know how you ended up here, but you begin to think about what life choices you could’ve made to bring you to this point.

When you say island, you don’t mean a tropical paradise with palm trees and coconuts everywhere. You mean the North Pacific; a small fishing village off the coast of Korea that means little to the world. Honestly, if it sank into the sea one day, you don’t think anyone would mind too terribly.

You scan the surroundings to your right and see a row of dismal buildings. You tuck into the closest one that you can enter, jumping when the door slams shut behind you, causing everyone in the place to look up at you.

You seem to be in some sort of a bar, a small number of people scattered at tables, having probably just got back from being out at sea; a hot bowl of some sort of stew, and a beer in front of each of them. You walk up to the counter where a man stands on the opposite side, cleaning a glass.

“Excuse me?”

The man, older, rather large, and a bit scary looking, turns to you. “Yeah?”

“Uh-um, sorry to bother you, I was wondering if you knew this address?” You hold the paper out to him. 

He takes it from your hand and squints at it for a moment before looking up at you in surprise. “Hogeun’s place, huh?” He questions, his voice thick with the island’s harsh satoori. 

“Yes, I’m here to collect his things.” You explain. “I’m his niece.” 

"Y/N?"

"Um, yes?" Does this man know you?

"Wow, I can't believe it’s you. You're all grown up now.” He laughs. “Last time I saw you was maybe 20 years ago."

"We’ve met?"

He nods. "You don't remember?"

"No." You shake your head.

"You were pretty young, maybe four or five? But I guess when your mom stopped coming around you did too. I'm Donghyun." He reaches his hand across the counter and you shake it. "I was friends with your uncle, so if you need anything let me know, yeah?"

You nod. "Thank you. Um, his house is...?"

"Right, sorry." He hands you back the piece of paper. "Follow the road east to the cliffs. When you get to the fork go right and follow that to the lighthouse. His place is the only one down there.”

“Thank you.” You nod politely as you take your leave, thanking him once more as you head out the door. 

As you step outside, pulling your coat tighter around you, you look around to see there’s only one road in this town, so you set off to follow in the opposite direction of the setting sun, but just as you step off the curb, a voice startles you, making you jump as you nearly miss your step. 

“Hey there missy!” An old man you hadn’t noticed before is sitting in a chair next to the door of the bar. He seems to revel in the fact that he scared you. “Not often do we get travelers here. What brings you to Gageodo?”

“I’m here to settle my uncle’s estate.” 

“You Hogeun’s niece, eh?” He raises an eyebrow. You only nod, not sure how much information you want to give to him. “Old Hogeun kept some strange company. Some a them is monsters out there in the sea.” He points out toward the ocean. “You best read up on how to deal with ‘em.”

“Um, right.” You nod again before trying to turn away, but the old man stops you with a yell. 

“You best heed my words! They can be dangerous!”

“Are you saying there’s… mermaids? In the ocean here?” You scoff.

“I didn’t say it…” He looks around to make sure no one else is listening before whispering. “But I ain’t denying it either.”

“Right. I have to go.” You turn and head toward the road, ignoring the man as he continues calling to you, hurrying yourself along until you’re out of earshot. 

It’s about twenty minutes before you reach the eastern cliffs, finally seeing your uncle’s home emerge from the shadows of the heavy forest that covers the island. You recognize it from the picture he sent you. With the ocean to the front, and the forest to the back, the house sits modestly between them with the old rundown lighthouse in the distance. A grand view for a one story uh... house? Can you even call it a house? It looks more like a shack. You sigh and dig the spare key out of your pocket, walking up to the door and unlocking it, letting yourself in.

You fumble for a light switch, but can’t seem to find one so you turn on the flashlight on your phone to aid you. When you find the switch, you flick it on and the whole place seems to whirr to life. 

You have to admit, it’s bigger on the inside, sparse, but somehow cozy. There’s hardly any furniture; a table, and two old wooden chairs, a small, very worn couch in front of a large television, which is probably the newest thing in here, but that’s it for this room. You take your time exploring the rest of the house; two bedrooms, one bathroom, a decent kitchen, and a creepy basement.

In a normal house, you’d expect to see pictures hanging, things on the walls, little adornments that make a house a home, but this… this is just a house. It isn’t until you nearly trip over a dresser drawer that you find a picture inside. It’s in a simple dark green frame with a stand on the back of it, and when you look on top of the dresser, you can see the square where it once stood, the only spot not covered in dust, but what gets you is that it’s not a picture of his late wife, or friends, it’s a picture of your mom, his sister, leaning over your much younger uncle as he holds an even younger tiny baby you. She must’ve sent it to him before the fight they had. It warms your heart that he kept the picture after all these years. 

You were very close to your uncle. Back when you were little, he got into a fight with your mother, his older sister by about twenty years, that alienated him from the rest of the family and cut off any contact you had with him. When you got older, you took matters into your own hands and contacted him. The two of you became close as you kept him updated on the rest of your family. You’d always get a card on your birthday from him with some money in it; the older you were the more money you’d receive, he even sent you a spare key to his house, asking you to come visit; unfortunately, you never had the chance. That’s why you were the one that got called out here when he passed away; your number was the only one they could find. 

You place the picture frame back up on the dresser where it belongs, wondering why he put it away. Maybe he was afraid your mother would be the one to empty his place? You shrug, and walk into the spare bedroom, lifting your suitcase on the bed to unpack it, knowing you’ll be here at least a week to sort through his things. 

You head to the kitchen, deciding to start sorting tomorrow as you open the fridge to see what kind of food there might be. You’re disappointed as you only see a few wilting vegetables, some eggs, an assortment of sauces and pastes, and a few other scattered foods in take-out containers that have probably been in here longer than you want to think about. There’s also an entire case of beer, and half a container of orange juice. You’ll have to go get some groceries tomorrow.

Your stomach rumbles as you crack open a beer, taking a swig as you search the pantries for anything edible. Instant oatmeal. Well, it’s better than nothing. You grab a packet and toss it into a bowl, adding hot water from the kettle and waiting for it to set. When it’s ready, you grab it and your beer and head over to the couch, turning on the tv to find something to waste the time. 

It isn’t long after you eat that you find yourself dozing on the couch, the trip here from home having taken its toll on you. You turn the tv off, placing your dishes in the sink before locking the front door and then heading into the guest room. You put on your pajamas and climb under the sheets, the bed squeaking as you get comfortable, and then quickly drifting off into sleep. 

.

You’re startled awake by a loud banging noise, trying to wake yourself up enough to get your bearings before you realize it’s coming from the living room. Did someone break in? You check your phone to see it’s about three in the morning. What on earth? You slip a sweatshirt over your pajamas and grab the baseball bat from the corner of the room you stashed earlier before very quietly opening the door to the room to investigate. You don’t see anything, but you still hear the banging. You walk further into the living room to hear someone knocking rapidly on the front door. You’ve only met two people, who could be bothering you at this ungodly hour? The banging continues until you hear a voice above it.

“Hyung! Hyung let me in, please!”

You stand in front of the door, slightly terrified. Should you answer it?

“Hogeun hyung, please!”

At the mention of your uncle’s name, you lean the bat against the wall, step forward and unlock the door, opening it to see something you never thought you’d see. In front of you stands a soaking wet young man with dark hair that just barely covers his wide eyes. He looks like a stunned deer as he takes you in just as you do him, searching for something, his breathing ragged as if he ran here.

“Can I help you?” You ask.

“Are you…? Are you Y/N?”

You look at him surprised as your name leaves his lips. You’re starting to get tired of people knowing you before you know them. “Um, yes?”

“W-where’s Hogeun?”

You look at him, confused. Does he not know? “He’s not here. He’s-”

“Oh, can I come in?”

“I-”

“Please?” He pleads, his voice desperate. You step to the side and allow him to enter; he does so quickly and shuts the door behind him, locking it and relaxing a bit.

“How did you-”

“Hyung told me you might be coming to visit soon. Where is he? Is he sleeping?”

“Who are you?”

“Oh! Sorry. My name is Jeongguk.” He bows politely. “I’m a friend of your uncles.”

“A friend?” You ask in disbelief. Your uncle never mentioned Jeongguk which immediately makes you suspicious… But on the other hand, your uncle told Jeongguk about you.

“I know this sounds ironic since he’s your actual uncle, but he’s like an uncle to me. Or like a brother. He helped me out of a pretty bad situation once and I’ve been helping him ever since.”

That reminds you. “Right, um speaking of bad situations, were you running from something?” You ask, remembering his frantic entrance. 

“Running? Um…” He hesitates obviously not wanting to discuss the matter.

“Yeah, you seemed to be in a hurry to get in here. Like you were in trouble.”

“Let’s just say the people in this town don’t like me very much, okay? Now, where’s Hogeun?”

“You really don’t know?”

“Know what?”

You sigh, walking over to the sofa and taking a seat on it. Jeongguk follows close behind, taking a seat next to you, obviously comfortable in this home, by the way he tucks his feet under himself. “I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, but he…” You pause, taking a deep breath. “Hogeun is dead.” You whisper. It still hurts to admit it.

“W-what?” You look up to see Jeongguk’s doe eyes go even wider in shock. “What are you talking about?”

“They-” You take a deep breath, holding back your tears before continuing. “They found his body at the bottom of the cliffs a few days ago; the police said he must’ve jumped. They called me to come get his stuff sorted out, that’s why I’m here.”

The room goes silent. You look at Jeongguk to see his face twisted in what seems to be rage before he speaks, so low you almost can’t hear him. “Hyung didn’t jump.”

“Jeongguk-”

“He didn’t!” Jeongguk suddenly yells. “He-” Jeongguk stops and looks at you, seeming to contemplate something before continuing. “I know hyung. He didn’t jump.”

“I’m sorry, Jeongguk but there isn’t really any other explanation…” You sigh. “How come you didn’t know? It happened almost a week ago now. Where have you been?”

“I-” Jeongguk stops, closing his mouth and looking at the floor. He’s silent for a few moments before he suddenly gets up and walks toward the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” You ask, watching as he rummages around on the table and in drawers, looking for something, ignoring you. You get up and walk over to him. “Look, I’m sorry you had to find out like this, but I don’t really know who you are or why you’re here and it’s very late, so I’m going to have to ask you to-”

“Here.” He suddenly shoves an envelope in your face.

“What is this?” You take the envelope from his outstretched hand.

“Read it. I’m going to sleep.”

“What?” You turn as he walks away from you toward your uncle’s room. “You can’t just- this isn’t your house!” But it’s too late, Jeongguk has already disappeared into the room and shut the door behind him. Before you can huff off after him, you feel the envelope in your hand and sigh, lifting it to see what it says. 

In case of Emergency: For Y/N

That’s your uncle’s handwriting. You take one last look over at the closed door before tearing open the envelope to find one of your uncle’s letters inside, addressed to you.

Y/N, I wish I was writing to you under better circumstances, but unfortunately if you’re reading this, it’s likely something has happened to me and I’m sorry that you have to be the one to pick up after my mess. You’ve already met Jeongguk, I hope; he’s a good kid. I hope you two become friends and show him the same kindness you showed me. He’ll watch over the house so you don’t have to go through the hassle of selling it. Take anything you need; the account numbers for my bank are written below. Everything in them is for you as a thank you for letting me back into your life. Hopefully it’ll help. I hope you get things sorted out quickly, ask Jeongguk for help if you need any. He’s a little strange, but he’ll be good to you. Give the family my love and apologies, especially your mother. Hogeun

Well, at least that’s one thing you don’t have to worry about. You turn and walk over to the door Jeongguk disappeared behind and knock lightly, when there’s no response, you open the door just a crack and peek inside to see Jeongguk fast asleep on the bed. You sigh and close the door again, there’s no use waking him. You head back into your room and shut the door, crawling back under the covers and closing your eyes to drift off.

.

You wake up to a loud clap of thunder, startled as you shoot up in bed. Man, are you always going to wake up to loud noises when you’re here? You stretch, checking your phone to see it’s a little after ten in the morning. You sit up, shivering. It got cold here last night. You’ll have to look at the thermostat after you eat something.

You grab your sweatshirt and slip it back on, remembering the intruder you had last night as you stand and make your way out to the kitchen. You manage to find some rice, grab the eggs, and a few vegetables that still look edible. You shrug and slice them up before throwing everything in a pan with some soy sauce, and sesame oil, making a very sad looking fried rice. Well, it’s better than nothing. As you dump about a quarter of it into a bowl, you hear a door open behind you and Jeongguk comes stumbling out, still half asleep.

“Is that food?” He asks, running up to your side.

“It’s not much, just some fried rice.”

"Can I have some?" He asks hopefully.

"Sure, there’s plenty. Take what you want."

Jeongguk grabs a bowl and dumps the rest of the rice into it before grabbing a spoon and walking over to the table, sitting down as he immediately begins stuffing his face.

"This is amazing." He groans.

You can’t help but giggle at his enthusiasm. "Thanks, it would've been better with fresh veggies, but-"

His eyes widen as he looks at you. "You can make it taste better?"

"Well, yeah. I'll just have to get some things at the grocery store."

"What else can you make?" He asks, scooting closer.

"Uh, pretty much anything as long as I have a recipe. What do you like?"

"Everything! I love food! I used to love when Hogeun cooked!"

"Oh? What did he cook for you?"

"Mostly seafood stuff. He'd tell me what he'd want and I'd pick it up fresh for him. Crab, tuna, shrimp, mackerel, whatever he needed."

"Is there a fish market nearby? Do they have a lot of variety? I thought they sold everything to the mainland?"

"Oh, um..." Jeongguk hesitates. "I have a friend... One that fishes and stuff."

"Oh, if I give you a list can you get some stuff for me?"

"I can get anything from the sea that you need."

"Okay. Um, thank you. How- uh, how old are you anyway?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Oh, okay, I’m twenty-eight.”

Jeongguk simply nods as he goes back to eating like he's starved. When he's finished, he puts his bowl down and looks back at you. "Okay, I'm ready." He states.

"For what?" You ask as you continue to eat.

"To go to the store."

You chuckle again. “After I eat. And I’m going to shower first.”

"How long will that take?" Jeongguk tilts his head in what seems to be confusion.

“Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes?”

“Hm.” Jeongguk seems to pout at this.

“I’ll try to be quick.” You take another bite of your breakfast. "So, where are you from? If you don’t mind me asking."

"I'm from... Uh... The island."

"This Island?"

"N-no, the big one, to the south."

"Jeju?"

"That's the one." He nods satisfactorily.

"Right..." You shake your head.

After you eat, you excuse yourself to jump in the shower, wanting to wash the bus and boat feeling off of you. You wash yourself quickly, not entirely sure if you trust the lock on the bathroom door. When you’re finished and clothed, you grab your hair dryer and plug it in, starting to dry your hair when you see Jeongguk poke his head around the corner, observing you closely through the open door.

“Can I help you?” You ask over the whirr of the dryer. He mumbles something, but you don’t catch it, turning the dryer off to hear him better. “Hm?”

“What… What is that? It’s loud.”

“My hair dryer?” You wiggle it at him and he nods. “It’s for drying your hair faster when it’s wet. Your mom didn’t have one?” 

He shakes his head. “I never met my mom.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

He shrugs, tossing your sympathy away with his shoulders. “She died when I was born. It’s not a big deal.”

You don’t know how to respond to that so you turn back to the mirror. “I should be done in a few minutes, okay?”

Jeongguk nods, heading back to sit on the couch and wait as you finish drying your hair. When you’re done, you throw on your rain jacket and boots and grab the keys to your uncle’s old rusted, red truck. You and Jeongguk climb in head back toward town to buy some food.

Jeongguk also does not know where the grocery store is, so you drive around for a bit until you find it. It’s about as big as you expected, which is to say not at all, but it’s the only one on the island. You pull into a parking space and lead Jeongguk inside, watching his eyes go wide in amazement at all the food. 

You putter around the store, grabbing this and that every so often to add to the baskets you and Jeongguk are carrying, trying to think of meals Jeongguk might enjoy. You occasionally ask him his opinion, but he just says yes to everything, following you around like a lost puppy. Surprisingly enough, as you're rounding the corner where the meats sit, you nearly run right into Donghyun.

"Y/N!" He smiles brightly at you.

"Ah, hello!" You smile back. "Fancy meeting you here."

He shrugs, "Picking up groceries for the bar on my day off."

"Oh, are you closed on Sundays?"

He nods, eyeing the nearly filled basket in your arms. "I guess you don't have much food at the house?"

"Ah, no not really. Plus Jeongguk eats like he's starved."

"Jeongguk? Do you have a dog or something?"

"No, he's my uncle's friend.” You explain. “Do you not know him?"

"No, I can't say I've ever heard the name before. His friend you say?"

"Yeah. He’s right-” You turn around to see Jeongguk is no longer behind you. “He was just here… Well, he's about my age, tall, brown hair, big eyes."

Donghyun's eyes go wide as though he knows who you're describing, but he doesn't say anything further, he simply shrugs again and shakes his head. "Oh, I saw Hajoon stopped you yesterday?"

"Hajoon?"

"Crazy old man, sits outside of the bar."

"Oh, right yeah. He was talking about mermaids or something." You laugh. "Can you imagine?"

"Yeah that's what I figured. He’s a nice guy, but I think all those years on the ocean turned his brain to seawater. So just... Don't pay attention to the things he says."

"Alright. I mean, I figured with the mermaids and all."

Donghyun smiles and nods. "Hey, why don’t you come by my house tomorrow? My wife and I would be happy to have some company to cook for.”

“Really? That’s so kind of you.”

“Absolutely. Our house is the one right behind the bar. Come by around seven, and bring your friend if you can find him!"

"Thank you, I'll see you then." And with that he walks off.

As soon as Donghyun disappears down the next aisle, Jeongguk’s voice startles you from behind. “Who was that?”

“Where did you go?”

“Hm? I was just around the corner. I found this.” Jeongguk holds up a box of sweet cakes. “Hyung always had these.”

“Alright.” You grab the box from him and stick it in his basket. “Come on, I think we have enough.”

After your shopping, you head back home, walking in the door to find you forgot to change the thermostat. You put everything down in the kitchen and then walk over to check it. 

“Holy shit, why is this only set to 60 in March?” You ask out loud, quickly turning the temperature up to 70. “Haven’t you been cold?” You ask Jeongguk as you put your groceries away.

“Cold? Not really.” He shrugs.

You shake your head and whip up some quick sandwiches for lunch before you begin organizing your uncle's belongings. Keep, donate, and trash are the three labelled boxes that sit adjacent to you on the floor. Keep- photographs, letters, money left in sock drawers; Donate- old clothes, out of date electronics, anything Jeongguk doesn’t want to keep; Trash - ashtray, empty cigarette cartons, beer bottles, shoes with holes in them.

It feels strange to you, compartmentalizing someone's life like this. Especially someone you knew. Someone you loved. You think about your own important things, what would someone keep of yours? Some clothes, maybe jewelry, probably your camera once they found it where it’s stuffed in the back of your closet, shelved with your dreams.

You sigh as you throw the last shirt in the closet into the donation box, finished with the guest room. You look at the time and realize you've been doing this for seven hours. No wonder you're hungry, it's nearly nine o'clock. You pick yourself up and make your way to the kitchen, cooking a simple stew for dinner to help stave off the cold outside.

You earn several grunts of happiness from Jeongguk as he continues to tell you how amazing everything tastes. When you’re finished eating, you do the dishes quickly before joining Jeongguk on the couch, grabbing the remote control and turning on the tv. "What do you want to watch?"

"Watch?" He questions again.

"Yeah, you know, watch. On tv? Like a show, or a movie?"

"I don't know. I never had one." He points at the tv. 

"Okay." You pull up Netflix , and start scrolling. "Stop me if you see something interesting." You scroll, not really focusing on the screen, but more on Jeongguk's reaction to it. It looks like he's really never seen a tv before; his eyes are blown wide in awe as he stares at it.

"That one!" He suddenly shouts, causing you to refocus on the screen.

"Boys over Flowers? Really?"

He nods. "I wanna watch that one."

"Okay, if you really want to." You click on the show and the first episode starts up.

You watch Jeongguk as he stares at the screen, enraptured by the scenes in front of him, and you take the time to study him. His hair is long, down to his shoulders, and a dark chocolate brown, almost black. His eyes are a lighter shade of brown, but sometimes you swear they shimmer like golden topaz when he gets excited. He’s on the taller side, his tan body toned and muscular beneath the clothes he borrows from your uncle’s closet. His nose is a little big, but it suits him, especially when he smiles, his eyes crinkling up and his lips pulling back to reveal his cute smile, reminding you of a rabbit.

There’s something about him… Something almost inhumanly beautiful as your eyes follow the lines of his body. Once he looks over and catches you staring, causing you to blush and pull your focus back to the tv. After the first three episodes, you decide to go to bed, the day's events finally catching up to you.

"Jeongguk, I'm going to bed." You state. He only nods, watching the final scene of the episode intently until the credits begin to roll. As you get up, the 'are you still watching' screen appears and Jeongguk panics.

"What happened?" He whines.

"Nothing, it just wants to make sure you're still watching." You hand him the remote. "Just press the 'okay' button and it'll keep going."

Jeongguk presses the button and is relieved when the show starts to play again. Knowing he's content, you take your leave and head off to bed, shutting the door behind you.

As you settle in, you have to admit that Jeongguk is slightly amusing, but he's a bit strange. Especially with all the things he doesn’t seem to know about. Is living on this island really that different than living on the mainland? Something about him feels off to you, but you can't seem to put your finger on it. Hogeun trusted him, so he can't be bad, right?

.

When you wake up the next morning, you have to check your phone for the time because it's so dark out it might still be night. 10:33 am. You get up and stretch, walking over to the window and peeking through the blinds to see it's pouring down rain again. Or is it, ‘still’? You see a bright flash of lightning in the distance. What a miserable place. You miss the sun. You sigh as you slip some pants on and walk out into the hall to see your uncle's bedroom door is open. Jeongguk must already be awake. You head towards the main room to see the tv is still on and is currently displaying the "More you might enjoy" screen from after you finish watching something in its entirety.

"Jeongguk, did you watch that whole show last night?" You call out, but there's no response. "Jeongguk?" You call again as you search the kitchen and bathroom, but Jeongguk is nowhere to be found. "That's weird…" You comment to yourself as you walk into the kitchen. Well, maybe if you make some breakfast, the smell of food will summon him. You cook up some eggs for a delicious egg sammy, but surprisingly, Jeongguk doesn’t crawl out of wherever he’s disappeared to, and you eat by yourself. 

As the day goes on, you continue sorting through your uncle’s things, wondering if maybe the stress of all of this made you hallucinate Jeongguk for some company. Was he really a dream? You shake your head, taping up the last box and carrying it out to the truck. You figure Donghyun might know where you can donate the clothes, so you’re bringing them with you to dinner tonight. At half past six you ready yourself for dinner, brushing your hair, and pulling on a warm flannel over your grey shirt and jeans, adjusting the necklace your uncle gave you in the mirror before hiding it under the collar of your shirt, slipping on your rain gear and heading out to the truck. 

You drive through the rain, up the road and into town, pulling in behind the bar to find Donghyun’s house. It’s not quite attached to the bar, but it might as well be. You park on the street and walk up to the door, knocking lightly. Donghyun answers the door with a wide smile. 

“Y/N! So glad you could make it.” He moves to the side and lets you in, taking your coat and hanging it up as you slip off your boots. He leads you into the small kitchen where a woman stands over the stove, cooking something. “This is my wife, Saki.”

“It’s nice to meet you!” She offers you a warm smile and you hear a lilt in her words.

“You too! Thank you for having me over.”

“Oh of course!” She puts down the spoon she was holding, wiping her hands on her apron. “Any excuse to cook for someone other than him.” Saki teases. “Why don’t you two sit, dinner will be ready in just a second!”

You thank her again before following Donghyun to the adjacent dining room, surprised to find a kotatsu as the main piece of furniture. You sit down on the pillow across from your host, pulling the blanket over your lap and feeling the warmth of the heater greet your chilled legs. 

“I hope you don’t mind the table, Saki’s from Japan originally. She insists she can’t live without it.”

That explains the accent. “Not at all! It’s delightful, I might have to invest in one for my apartment.”

“It’s good for those rainy days.” He agrees. “Which is almost every day here.”

“Time for dinner!” Saki exclaims as she walks into the room carrying two trays. She sets them both on the table and you see three large bowls of curry and rice, along with several side dishes, and cups of steaming hot tea. 

“Wow, it smells amazing.” You state as she places a bowl in front of you, the smell dancing through the air as you pick up your spoon. 

“Dig in!”

The three of you eat, sharing stories and laughs in the low lighting of the room. Donghyun tells you stories about your uncle; they both got jobs on the same fishing boat when they were eighteen and became close friends, your uncle eventually buying his own boat, and Donghyun taking over the bar for his father’s friend. They remained friends up until his passing, and the memory seems to hurt him as he tells you about how Hogeun used to join them for dinner just like you are now. Saki’s curry was his favorite.

“He always spoke so highly of you. He couldn’t wait for you to come visit.”

A pang of sorrow rings through your chest. “I wish I could’ve come sooner…” 

Donghyun smiles bittersweetly, placing a hand on your shoulder. “He knows you were busy.”

You’re thankful for the comforting gesture, nodding in acknowledgment. After the meal is finished, Donghyun brings out old photo albums and shows you the years of your uncle’s life that you missed, showing you what he was like without the stress of your family’s ideals weighing on him. He looked so happy. 

So why did he end his life? The question nags in the back of your mind, but you don’t want to bring it up right now. 

“So could your friend not make it tonight?” Saki questions. “Dongie said you might be bringing one.”

You shake your head. “Unfortunately not.”

“Too busy?”

“I’m not really sure.” You shrug. “I couldn’t find him.”

“You don’t know where he is?” Donghyun asks. 

“This probably sounds terrible, but I don't really know that much about him.” Donghyun and Saki exchange a concerned glance. “Hogeun told me about him in a letter. Said he could be trusted. I guess they were pretty close. He said Hogeun was like a brother to him. Hogeun even left the house to him so I don’t have to sell it.”

“What’s his name again?”

“Jeongguk.”

Saki thinks on this for a moment. “What’s his family name?”

“I… I don’t know. I never asked.”

Donghyun shakes his head. “I can’t say I’ve ever heard that name, not even in passing at the bar.”

“He’s harmless, honestly. I swear all he does is eat.” You explain. Another glance exchanged. It’s pointless to try and make them understand.

After a few more conversations, you bid goodbye, thanking them again for the meal before slipping your coat back on and heading out to the truck. You wave as you pull away, driving up the dark road back toward the lighthouse. When you pull into your uncle’s driveway, the house is dark. Jeongguk must not be back. As you unlock the front door, you can’t help but think once more, did he ever really exist? Or Was he something your mind made up due to the stress.

You close and lock the door behind you, walking into the kitchen and placing your leftovers in the fridge along with some assorted banchan they gifted you. You slide off your flannel tossing it on the back of the couch before settling down onto the cushions, running your hands through your hair as you take it down and then turning on the tv. You take off your necklace and twirl the medallion in your fingers.

A few hours later, there’s a bang against the front door that scares the shit out of you, causing you to jump out of the sleep you had fallen into. Just when you start to think you imagined it, you hear light knocking, getting up and walking over to investigate. You can’t see anything through the peephole, so you open the door a crack, peeking out to find Jeongguk standing there in the dark.

“Jeongguk? What the hell?” You open the door and he pushes past you, waltzing into the house, seemingly unbothered, though he is absolutely drenched from head to toe. “Are you alright?”

“Hm?” He barely turns toward you as he walks to the kitchen, tracking water across the floor. “I’m starving, do we have anything to eat?”

“Where have- Eugh, Jeongguk…” Your sentence is interrupted as you move to cover your nose, catching a whiff of him, the strong scents of salt and sea wafting off of his body in waves. “You smell like low tide.”

You watch him lift his arm up to sniff himself before shrugging. “It’s not that bad.”

“Yes it is.” You disagree, walking over to him and grabbing his arm. “You’re dripping all over the floor! And is this…?” You grab something off of the back of his shirt. “Seaweed?” You hold the green plant up between the two of you to show him. “What the hell have you been doing?” 

“N-nothing, I was just-”

“Come on.” You start dragging him toward the bathroom.

“What? Hey-”

You open the bathroom and pull him inside with you. “You’re not eating until you shower.”

“A shower?”

“Yeah you know, when you wash yourself with soap and water?”

He groans. “Do I have to?”

“Yes. Jeongguk, you stink.” You explain, turning the shower on for him. “Please.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “Fine.” He states, grabbing his shirt and pulling the wet fabric off over his head, allowing you full visual access to his toned torso. You blush, only allowing yourself a quick glimpse before turning your head to look away.

“I-I’ll have something ready for you to eat when you’re done.” You mumble, immediately leaving the bathroom and shutting the door behind you.

Pausing for a moment against the door to slow your heart rate, the image flashes in your mind again; was that a tattoo you saw? You shake your head in an attempt to clear it. Why couldn’t your uncle have befriended some weird old man instead of a hot guy your age? And why was he so goddamn weird?

You sigh to yourself as you walk to the kitchen, flicking on the lights and taking your leftover curry out of the fridge, putting it in a bowl and then sticking it in the microwave to warm up. You grab a towel and use it to mop up the puddles of water Jeongguk leaked all over the floor. When you finish that, you realize Jeongguk will need a change of clothes so you walk into your uncle’s room, or you suppose it’s Jeongguk’s room now… You walk into the room, and grab Jeongguk some sweatpants, boxers, and a shirt. You can hear the microwave start to beep back in the kitchen, so you walk back out to shut it off, but as you pass by the bathroom, you hear the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. 

It’s low, but melodious, immediately catching your attention. You don’t know what it is, it almost sounds like the distant crashing waves, the lull of the open sea, a sweet word on the wind, filling your heart with so much emotion you feel like it might burst, and yet, you feel nothing at all, only a deep want, a voracious need in your chest that has you turning toward the bathroom and opening the door before you can stop yourself. 

Your vision goes blurry as you open the door, the sweet sound hitting your ears at a higher volume, echoing off the round acoustics of the bathroom walls and bouncing right back into your brain. As you walk toward the source, the shower curtain pulls back and the final barrier between you and the voice is removed, your reach for it when suddenly the sound stops. Your eyes focus to find Jeongguk standing before you, a terrified expression on his face as he takes in your drugged-like state. 

“Y/N?”

“J-Jeongguk? What-” You suddenly notice Jeongguk is still standing in the tub, naked as he’ll ever be and you turn away. “Oh god! I’m sorry I was, uh-” What were you doing? You look around for clues and see the pile of clean clothes you dropped to the floor. “Ah!” You bend over and pick them up. “I was just bringing you some dry clothes.” You place the clothes on the sink counter. “You can use my towel to dry off, I’ll wash it tomorrow.” You mumble before quickly leaving and shutting the door behind you.

What the hell was that? You don’t remember anything, it’s like you blacked out as soon as you came out of Jeongguk’s room. Weird. Maybe it’s just because you’re tired? Despite the odd feeling creeping up the back of your neck, you walk back into the kitchen, pulling Jeongguk’s food out of the microwave and setting it on the table for him just as he walks out of the bathroom. 

You’re still a bit too flushed to face him, looking down at your lap as you sit down at the table, watching out of the corner of your eye as he takes a seat next to you. He seems oblivious to your embarrassment as he immediately digs into the food, shoveling mouthfuls past his lips, making you wonder if he breathes when he eats. When he finally starts to slow down, nearing the end of his meal, you lift your head, still unable to meet his gaze as you mumble an apology. 

“I-I’m sorry for, you know, walking in on you. Like that.”

“It’s alright.” He says between bites.

“I don’t even know why I did that. Honestly, I don’t remember doing it.”

“You don't?” He quirks an eyebrow, eyeing you under the hair that falls across his face. 

“It’s the weirdest thing, right? I must be really tired or something.”

“Hm. Maybe…” He stretches and yawns, his spoon clinking against the bowl as he stretches his arms above his head. “Thanks for the food.” He smiles, taking his dishes to the sink and washing them quickly. 

“So, where did you go, if you don’t mind me asking.”

He shrugs, “Just had a couple things I had to do.”

“In the rain? Without a jacket? Or shoes?” You question, having noticed his footprints in the water he left on the floor. 

“Shoes are uncomfortable.”

“Right…” you watch him as he places his dishes in the rack to dry before turning and walking towards his room. “Jeongguk-” You call out to stop him. 

“Hm?” He stops, spinning back around to face you, his doe eyes wide in question. 

“N-nothing, never mind. I’ll talk to you in the morning I guess. If you’ll be here?”

“Sure.” He simply nods before walking away into his room and shutting the door. 

You sit at the table, temporarily stunned at the interaction you just had. God he’s strange. You get up, grabbing your necklace where it fell on the floor, shutting off the tv, and flicking the lights off on your way to your own room. You place the necklace on your nightstand, slip into some pajamas, and crawl into bed.

Just a few more days. You think to yourself. And then you can go back to your normal life. Or… at least what’s left of it.

.

Jeongguk quickly shuts the door behind him, glad to finally be alone as he takes a deep breath. Damn. He’s going to have to be more careful. He didn’t think he was being loud enough for you to hear him over the sound of the shower, that could’ve been a disaster if he hadn’t opened the curtain and seen you. Jeongguk drags his hand over his face, trying to wipe away the worry as he strips out of his clothes and flops down into bed with an exasperated sigh.

Jeongguk appreciates you. He’s grateful that you let him into your home, or, well, his home he guesses. You don’t ask too many questions. And you’re nice. You’re so much nicer than he ever thought you would be for some reason. Most people, especially in this town, aren’t particularly welcoming when it comes to him. He wishes Hogeun was here. It would make things so much easier…

He wishes he could tell you something.

He wishes he could tell you everything.

He wants to tell you everything, but Hogeun specifically told him to keep you out of it. He already hid all of their research in his room, hoping you won’t find it. Jeongguk pulls the letter addressed to him out of the bedside table, the one he found with yours, reading over it again.

Figure out what happened to me. Hide the research. And most importantly, make sure Y/N gets out of here as soon as possible. I would only blame myself if she got caught up in this mess that I made…

 Hogeun didn’t want you anywhere near the Ineo, so being near Jeongguk while you sorted things out was as close as you were going to get. Jeongguk has put up a firm wall, and tonight was too close for comfort. Jeongguk has to continue like this, sneaking away in the early hours to do what he needs to do. To find the answers. Jeongguk is determined to find a way to lift this curse.

.

When you wake up the next morning, it’s cold again. It’s early, you check your phone, unable to sleep because of the cold; it’s only just turning to eight o’clock. It takes everything in you to get out from underneath the warmth of the blankets; wanting to stay cocooned in them for the rest of the day, but you have things to sort. You shiver as your bare feet hit the cold wood of the floor, quickly reaching for warmer clothes; socks, a sweater and sweatpants, and slipping them onto your body.

You open your door and walk out to the living room to check the thermostat again. 60 degrees. What the hell? You turn the temperature back up to 70, feeling the heat immediately pouring out of the vent beneath your feet. Much better. But how did it get turned down? There isn't an automatic adjustment feature on it, it’s too old. Did Jeongguk…?

You huff, walking over to his room and knocking while you open the door to see Jeongguk sprawled across the mattress in nothing but shorts, blissfully unaware of the temperature. You walk over to him and are about to wake him when you see the tattoo etched into his skin, swirls of dark blue ink surrounding hands as they sink into the depths of color. You swear you’ve seen this before, but you can’t place where. Oh well, back to the task at hand. 

“Hey!” You smack Jeongguk in his bare chest, startling him awake. His eyes dart around the room until they land on you standing over him. 

“Y-Y/N?”

“Did you mess with the thermostat?”

“The what?” He sits up.

“The thing that changes the temperature. Did you turn it back down?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” He nods, unbothered. “I’m used to cold weather.”

“Aren’t you from Jeju?” He tilts his head as though he doesn’t understand why that matters. You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Okay, normal people get cold at this temperature, so I’m going to turn it up. Can you leave it alone until I’m gone please?”

He shrugs. “Sure.” 

You’re about to say more, but decide against it. He doesn’t talk much anyway. “Thank you.” You state as you turn and walk out, closing his door behind you. You barely make it three steps before the door opens again and Jeongguk follows behind you, he reminds you of a lost puppy sometimes. 

“Are you… going to make food?” He asks, pulling a shirt on. 

You chuckle, should’ve known that was coming. “I can, what would you like?”

He thinks for a moment before his eyes light up. “Hyung used to make these things,” He forms a circle with his hands. “Like little cakes? They were sweet.”

Sweet cakes? “Like, rice cakes?”

“No. Um… fluffy?”

“Hotteok?”

“Hotteok!” He points at you as he says it, clearly excited.

“Okay,” You giggle, turning to fish ingredients out of the cabinets. “I can make Hotteok, but you’ll have to wait for the dough to rise.”

Jeongguk nods, taking a seat on the couch and watching closely as you mix up the dough, putting it in a bowl and covering it before joining him. You set a timer for an hour and turn on the tv. You put on something mindless, dozing off as you watch until the timer goes off and jolts you awake. You get up and check the dough, kneading it before covering it for another 20 minutes or so. When that times up, you get the skillet ready, turning the heat on, and Jeongguk watches you carefully.

You look at him over your shoulder. How is he going to take care of himself after you leave? “Do you… want to help?”

His eyes go wide. “Can I?”

“Sure.” You wave him over. “It’s easy once you have the dough.”

You turn the dough out onto a floured cutting board and instruct Jeongguk how to separate it into balls while you mix cinnamon and sugar for the filling. You show him how to add the filling to the dough balls and then have him watch as you fry one up, waiting until it turns a golden brown before flipping it, squishing it down with the spatula, and then covering the pan with a lid so the sugar melts into a syrup. When it’s done, you scoop the pastry up out of the pan and place it on a plate.

“Voila.” You hold the plate out to him. “Hotteok.”

Jeongguk takes the plate, smiling. “Amazing.”

“It’s hot, be careful.” You scold when he picks it up immediately, burning the tips of his fingers. 

“Hot. Right.” He nods, blowing on it carefully.

He waits for you to cook a few more before you both sit down at the table together and eat. You can’t help but watch him, fascinated by the way everything seems new to him. He carefully eats the hot pastries, focused on nothing but the food in front of him the entire time. If anything, at least he’s amusing to spend time with. You smile as you observe him and his odd mannerisms. 

“So what are you going to do today?” He asks as he licks the remains off his fingers, you barely hear him, entranced by the flick of his pink tongue. No. You scold yourself. You can’t start thinking about him like that.

“Um, I’m going to try and bring some things up from the basement to go through.” You state, leaning back in your chair. “I didn’t realize how much was down there until yesterday. It’s going to take me a while to get through it all.”

“Can I help?”

“You want to spend all day going through boxes of junk with me?”

He shrugs. “I don’t really have much else to do.”

“Sure. I could use your muscles.” You nod. It’ll be easier to have Jeongguk lug everything up the stairs for you since you don’t want to do anything in that creepy basement. 

As you do the dishes, Jeongguk carries up box after box for you, covering most of the floor in the kitchen. You tell him that should be enough for now, and the two of you get to work sifting through the miscellaneous items your uncle collected over the years. One box has old movies on VHS and a video camera that doesn’t work anymore. Another is full of old fishing ledgers that he never got rid of. Jeongguk opens a third box and pulls out a series of old CD’s and vinyl albums. 

“What are these?”

“Hm?” You look up from the notebook you’re skimming through. “Oh those are just CD’s. You know. Music?”

“Music?” He takes one out and turns it over in his hands. “Who is Sonyeo Sidae?”

“Did you really just ask me that?” You scoff. He looks up at you with wide eyes. “You’ve never heard of Girl’s Generation? The nation’s girl group?” He shakes his head. “God have you been living under a rock?” You mumble, grabbing your phone and crawling over to Jeongguk, sitting down at his side and pulling up youtube. “Here,” You hand the phone to him. “This is their debut song. It’s one of their most iconic.”

The intro to Into the New World plays, and you immediately feel nostalgic, reminded of all the times you listened to this very song with your uncle when you were younger. His favorite was Gee. You watch Jeongguk, his head nodding along to the beat of the song as it plays, enraptured by the scene on the screen.

Several hours later, you and Jeongguk are dancing around the living room, having just taught him the moves to I Got a Boy, the two of you scream-singing along as the song blasts from the tv. 

“Ayo stop! Lemme put it down another way!”

The two of you dance like crazy until at some point during the last chorus you both crash into each other and fall to the floor in a heap, laughing until you can’t breathe. As the song fades out, the two of you catch your breath, both of you sweating from the unprompted exercise. 

“I didn’t know dancing could be so much fun.” Jeongguk smiles as he sits up, his breath heavy. 

“Would you believe me if I told you Hogeun knows every step to that song by heart?”

“Hyung? No.”

“Oh yeah, he is… well, was the biggest SNSD fan.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah…” You nod softly, pulling your knees into your chest. 

Jeongguk studies you for a moment, taking in your suddenly silent state. “You miss him.” It’s not a question, but a statement. An observation. 

You sigh. “I do miss him.” Jeongguk opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, you stand up, stretching. “Wow, four o clock already?” You look at the mess on the floor, realizing that you didn’t get much done as your stomach rumbles. “Hey, why don’t we have seafood tonight?” Jeongguk’s head perks up at this. “Would you be able to get stuff from your friend this late?”

“Of course.” Jeongguk stands with you. “What do you need?”

“Hmm, mussels and shrimp if he has them. Maybe some clams? Oh, and squid! I have everything for the stock, I just need to run to the store and get some noodles and veggies.”

“Okay, I’ll bring everything back here.”

“How much?”

“Hm?” He turns back to you. 

“You know, money? How much will it cost?”

Jeongguk shakes his head, smirking. “Don’t worry about it.” And with that he walks out into the rain, barefoot. You watch him walk down the path toward the lighthouse and disappear into the mist. 

.

About an hour later, you come back from the store with a bag full of ingredients as you hurry to the kitchen and start on the stock. Just as the stock is finishing, Jeongguk comes back through the front door, a bag of his own in hand, once again, soaking wet from head to toe. 

“What the-”

“Here!” He walks over and hands you the bag, shaking his hair as he does and sprinkling you with salty droplets. 

“Jeongguk!” You squeak, wiping some of the drops off your face. You open the bag and look inside to see everything you asked for. It’s all extremely fresh, so fresh that some of it is still moving. “Did you just dive into the ocean and pluck these out?” You ask incredulously.

“What? N-no, my friend had them.”

You eye him suspiciously, giggling. “I was joking, but you sound defensive.”

He looks anywhere but at you. “I’m going to go shower!” He runs off before you can ask him any more questions. 

“Clean up the floor when you’re done!” You call after him as the bathroom door closes. 

You quickly clean and prepare your seafood, chop up the veggies and stir fry the pork while your noodles cook. You add the pork and veggies together and pour in some broth before adding your seafood and noodles and covering the pot, letting everything marinate together for a few minutes until your mussels all open up. 

Jeongguk strides out of the bathroom just as you pull the lid off, filling the house with the warm scent of salty broth and seafood. He quickly mops up the floor as you divvy out two large servings into bowls, placing them on the table and waiting for Jeongguk to join you before you both dig in. 

It's delicious; the freshness of the seafood only adds to the delectability of the broth. The table is silent aside from the sounds of slurping broth and noodles, occasionally a groan or grunt of contentment slipping into the mix. When you’re done, you lean back in your chair, lifting your arms and resting your hands on your forehead to help you get a full breath. 

“That was so good.” Jeongguk states, putting his bowl back down from slurping up the extra liquid, the shells from the mussels clanking together against the porcelain as it hits the table. 

You smile, letting your hands drop back down into your lap. “I'm glad you enjoyed it.” You look back over at the living room and the mess you left before checking the time with a sigh. Only seven? God it feels like midnight. It’s hard to keep track of the time when the sky’s always dark. You suppose you should sort a few more things before bed. 

Jeongguk insists on keeping the entirety of Hogeun’s album collection, stashing them all away in his room. You pick through a few more boxes of clothes, as well as old books; text books that don’t even look like they were cracked, almanac’s where the pages are worn thin, and a few cookbooks with recipes missing; separating everything into sell, donate, and toss piles. When you finish it’s about ten pm, and decide to shower before heading to bed, wanting to wipe some of the feeling of dust off of yourself.

You grab a change of clothes from your room before heading into the bathroom and locking the door. You start up the shower, letting it get warm before you strip down and hop in, letting the water wash over you. As you wash your hair, you can’t help but let your mind wander to Jeongguk, thinking about him licking his fingers clean this morning.

You sigh in frustration; you know it’s been a while since you’ve had sex, but thinking about him like this… Your mind flashes to the glimpse of his nude form that you saw in this very shower. God he looked so good with the water trailing over his muscles. Stop it. You’re not going to be here long enough for it to be worth starting any sort of situationship, and a one night stand feels like it wouldn’t be… enough. You need to focus on finishing what you came here to do, and then get back home to… To fix the mess you made when you left. 

When you’re done, you turn off the water, stepping out to grab your towel and dry yourself off. You dress and then /dry your hair. After that, you come back out to the living room to see Jeongguk sprawled out on the couch watching tv. You smile at the way he reacts to the scene on screen; some sort of horror drama.

Damn. He really is handsome.

You turn into your room and shut the door behind you, heaving out another heavy breath before flopping down onto your bed and checking your phone to find a text. It’s from Donghyun.

Donghyun (11:03pm): Hey, how’s the sorting going? Listen, we’re having a memorial tomorrow night at the bar for Hogeun if you want to come. There will be food and drinks and friends!

A memorial? That’s so nice of them. You deserve a drink or two.

You (11:07pm): What time? Donghyun (11:07pm): 8pm! You (11:08pm): I’ll be there!

And with that you close your phone and set it on the nightstand before the energy you spent today catches up to you, and you fall asleep. 

.

The next morning you wake up to the sound of birds chirping. That’s weird. You don’t think you’ve heard a single bird since you arrived here five days ago… Your eyes flutter awake to see a bright beam of light streaming in through the slits in the blinds. You’re so used to the gloomy weather, the sight of light confuses you as you sit up and reach a hand out, turning it around in the beam where it lands on the bed. Sunlight. You jump out of bed and race to the window, immediately opening the blinds to see that sure enough, the clouds have dispersed enough to let the sun poke through above the trees as it starts its journey across the sky. 

You practically sprint to the front door, sliding into your slippers and throwing the door open to feel a warm breeze immediately caress your face as you step onto the front porch. You inhale deeply, the warm mix of early spring and late winter air filling your lungs. 

“Noona…?” 

You turn around to see Jeongguk walking groggily out of his room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Jeongguk, the sun’s out!” You don’t know why you whisper it like a secret the island isn’t supposed to know; feeling like if you say it too loud, the sun might disappear and then the rain will come back, but as you look outside again, it rises steadily from the horizon, showing more and more of itself every minute, a few rays landing on your face where you stand, warming your skin. 

“Wow…” Jeongguk breathes, walking up behind you and observing the sky as it lightens. “Hey, why don’t I show you around the island a little bit todau?”

Hope springs in your chest, but you stuff it back down. “You- You don’t have to do anything else?”

He shakes his head. “Not on a day like this.”

You smile. “Breakfast first?”

.`

You make breakfast and you both eat before getting dressed. You pack a quick lunch for the both of you which Jeongguk offers to carry, not knowing how long you’ll be out. He slings the backpack over his shoulder and you both put on your sneakers before Jeongguk leads you out of the house and up the road.

Jeongguk shows you around the island, everything feeling vaguely familiar from long ago when you spent time here as a child. You walk around town on the south side of the island before making your way up the eastern coast, following along the pathway as you chase the sun, over rocky outcroppings and through dense forests, talking casually the whole way about nothing.

You stop to take pictures, showing Jeongguk how your phone works and having him take some for you, as well as selfies of the two of you together and taking pictures of him alone as well. For someone who’s never used a camera, he’s surprisingly photogenic. No matter how many you take, Jeongguk doesn’t seem to have a bad angle. In more than one, he stares wistfully out at the ocean, and you wonder what he’s thinking about. 

You and Jeongguk cut across the island to the west side, settling down to eat your lunch on one of the rocky outcroppings in the sea that Jeongguk convinces you to jump to, laughing every time a large wave comes and mists you both as you munch on your sandwiches. 

After you’re finished, you both wander along the coast back toward the house, enjoying the scenery as you arrive back at the dilapidated lighthouse. You stroll up to the side of the old white building, looking up at the glass paneling at the top, wondering what this must’ve looked like in its prime. 

“I guess ships don’t come to this side of the island anymore.” You think out loud. 

“Not really. Most of them try to avoid it.”

“Why?” You ask, continuing to walk forward until you’re on the cliffs in front of the building, taking a seat in the grass. 

Jeongguk shrugs as he walks over and takes a seat next to you. “Rumors.”

“Rumors?” You repeat. “What kind of rumors?”

“Mermaids mostly.” Jeongguk chuckles. 

“Mermaids? Mermaids put an entire lighthouse out of service?”

“You know how superstitious sailors are.” Jeongguk explains. “One or two ‘sightings’ and suddenly this side of the island was basically deserted.”

“Mermaids…” You scoff. “Well, I guess if they can cause a rift in my family, they can stop boats.”

Jeongguk scoots closer to you. “Hyung never told me why you stopped visiting him.”

“It was my mother.” You sigh. “When I was little, she used to bring me here all the time to visit her parents; this is where my family is from originally.” You begin. “Since Hogeun was so much younger, he still lived here with them. The two of them never really got along, they were constantly fighting with each other.

“One day when we were visiting, Hogeun took me out to sightsee, and my mother, not trusting him, tagged along. We were walking along the low cliffs, when my mother suddenly fell into the water. My uncle followed to make sure she was okay, and ended up saving her. When she came to, she was convinced that Hogeun had pushed her in. She claimed she heard someone tell him to do it and she never forgave him.”

“What… What does that have to do with mermaids?”

“Well, mother doesn’t remember anything from after she fell, but Hogeun… When he jumped in to save her, he claims he saw… something. It looked like a human, but their teeth were razor sharp, and their skin was painted with swirls of blue. They had grabbed hold of mother, and he had to fight them off of her. I don’t know if you ever noticed the scar on his face.”

“The one on his eye?”

You nod. “That was from them, they cut him with something during the fight. Hogeun became obsessed with finding it again, convinced the island was home to these mermaid-like creatures, but no one wanted to hear it. My mother’s parents moved to Busan a few years later to be closer to my parents and me, but Hogeun stayed behind here, saying he wasn’t finished. My mother never took me here again, still convinced that Hogeun had tried to kill her that day.”

It’s quiet for a moment before Jeongguk repeats a phrase he’s already said to you. “You miss him.” Another observation, but this time, it’s an invitation to talk about it.

“I reached out to him a few years ago without my mother knowing and we became like family again.” You mumble, looking down at your lap. “I… I regret not coming here sooner to see him… And now it’s too late.”

“He talked about you a lot.” Jeongguk states.

“Really?” You look to see Jeongguk’s focus on you. 

He nods. “Every time he got a letter or message from you, he got so excited. He was really proud of you.”

“Thanks, Jeongguk.”

“Did you ever figure out what you wanted to do?”

“What do you mean?”

Jeongguk looks out at the ocean again before looking back at you. “Well, he always said you didn’t seem happy. He said you needed to figure out what you wanted to do. Did you?”

You shake your head, pulling at the grass under you. “No, I… I Didn't. And sometimes I think it’s too late for me to change my mind.”

“It’s not too late.” 

You chuckle as you lay back against the grass. “Jeongguk, no offense, but I don’t think you know enough about the world outside of this island to decide that.”

“Maybe not.” Jeongguk lays down next to you as you both watch the sinking sun begin to paint the sky with bright streaks of oranges and pinks. “But I know he was right, you’re not happy.”

You smile bittersweetly. “I don’t have to be. As long as I’m doing what I’m supposed to do.”

“Why do that, when you could do what you want to do instead? You could do that picture stuff he talked about. He said you loved doing that.”

“Photography?”

“Yeah!” Jeongguk smiles. “He said you were good at it.”

Hogeun was the only one you ever told about photography; how it was what you really wanted to do, but you never had the nerve to tell your parents, so you shoved your want down, and settled for something realistic that they would approve of; taking over your father’s business. “I could’ve been. But it was just a silly dream… It doesn’t matter anymore.” You sigh. 

“Why not?”

“I’m almost done with school for business, I’m learning how to operate the shop, I did what I had to do and I have what I need, nothing… Nothing more.”

“But is that what you want?”

“I don’t know what I want…”

The two of you lay there in silence for a long minute, nothing but the sound of the wind through the grass, and the crashing waves far below. You can feel Jeongguk’s gaze flick towards you on occasion, but you can’t bring yourself to meet it. As the sun finally dips below the horizon, you sit up, taking one last look out at the ocean before standing and walking up the path back toward the house. You hear Jeongguk’s footsteps behind you, and you slow down, allowing him to fall into step beside you. As you reach the front door, you pull out your phone to check the time; seven thirty. The memorial starts soon. As Jeongguk walks into the house ahead of you, you stop in the entryway to grab your keys.

“Jeongguk,” You catch his attention and he stops in his tracks and turns to you. “They’re having a memorial for Hogeun tonight at the bar if you want to come.”

“A memorial?”

“Yeah, it’ll probably just be a few people; mostly drinking and telling old stories about him.”

“And you want me to come?” He checks.

“Of course. I feel like you were the closest to him.” You remind him. “You should be there. To help honor his memory.”

“Okay.” He nods, walking back over to stand in front of you. “I’d be happy to.”

.

Thirty two minutes later, you park the truck in front of the bar and the two of you hop out. It’s dark as you and Jeongguk walk up to the front door, a chill settling in the air now that the sun has disappeared. You tug your jacket closer as you open the door, stepping foot into the bar. 

“Y/N!” It’s Saki. “You made it.” She walks over and gives you a tight hug. 

“Hi Saki.” You return the embrace and as you step back she notices Jeongguk next to you, her eyes going wide as her demeanor suddenly changes, she seems almost nervous.

“A-and who’s this?” She questions, looking him over. 

“This is Jeongguk, the friend I told you about.” 

Jeongguk nods shyly in greeting. “Hello.” 

“Nice to finally meet you.” Saki smiles politely. “I’m glad you could come.” And with that she walks away behind the counter where Donghyun stands talking to someone. You watch as she tugs his arm, grabbing his attention to whisper something in his ear and then nod in your direction.  Donghyun looks up and meets your gaze, offering a small smile as he walks over. 

“Y/N! You’re here!” He places a hand on your shoulder as he gives Jeongguk a once over. “And this is Jeongguk?” You nod and Donghyun sticks out his hand. “I’m glad you’re here to help us honor Hogeun.”

“Of course.” Jeongguk shakes his hand. “Anything for Hogeun hyung.”

“Great, well, there’s food on the table, and if you want a drink just come ask, they’re on me tonight.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind of you.” You smile warmly at him.

“Feel free to walk around, we hung up some pictures of your uncle. We’ll do a toast in a bit.” Donghyun nods again before walking away back behind the bar.

You turn to Jeongguk. “Hungry?”

You walk over to the food table and pile some warm food onto your plate before finding an empty table where you have Jeongguk sit as you grab drinks. Hogeun pours you both ‘something strong’ as he calls it, and you take the drinks back to the table, handing one to Jeongguk, his plate already halfway empty. He takes a drink and lets out a harsh cough as he sets the glass back down. 

“What is that?” He asks, his face twisted in disgust.

“Alcohol.” You explain. “You’ve never had it before?”

Jeongguk shakes his head. “Hyung used to share his beer, but they didn’t taste like this.”

“This is a stronger kind. It’s more concentrated.” You take your own swig, your face matching his at the taste. 

“What's the point of drinking something you don’t like the taste of?”

“It helps.”

“Helps with what?”

“It helps with this.” You gesture to the sad faces around you. “It dulls your senses. Makes it so it doesn’t hurt as bad.”

Jeongguk looks around the room before drinking the rest of the glass in one go. You stare at him in surprise, watching as he goes back to eating. After you finish what’s on your plate, Jeongguk goes back for seconds, and you take your time strolling around the room, looking at the different photos of your uncle that have been temporarily hung along the walls.

Mostly the pictures are of him with a blank expression as he holds various sizes of the catch of the day. There’s one of him mid-wrangling a very large fish, shock and surprise on his features as the fish attempts to wiggle out of his grasp. You chuckle, closing your eyes you can almost imagine yourself standing on the deck of the boat, drenched by sea spray as you watch the scene unfold; Hogeun yelling in surprise as you cackle at him, trying to take the picture before the fish escapes. 

When you open your eyes, you feel a presence next to you and turn to see Jeongguk laughing at the image in front of you, a sad fondness on his face as he’s reminded of the brother he lost. You circle around to the last photo, the big one they chose as the centerpiece on the small altar they built, a few envelopes on the table in front of it with words of condolences written on the front. The picture is of Hogeun when he was younger, in his prime, and in his lap sits a small child.

It’s you.

You’ve never seen this picture before, but the sight of it has a tear slipping down your cheek. Mostly because he’s smiling. Your uncle wasn’t known to smile in pictures, like shown in the rest of the photos around the room, but in this one, he’s beaming at the camera and you realize you know why. 

This was taken when he still had a family that loved him…

“Is that you?” Jeongguk walks up behind you, pointing at the picture.  He looks at you and sees you crying. “Noona? What’s wrong?”

“Hm? Nothing.” You turn away from him and wipe away your tears before standing upright again. “He just looks so happy.”

Jeongguk nods as if he didn’t realize it before. “He does.”

Just then Donghyun walks up to the two of you with two more drinks. “Another round?”

You nod, taking the drink from him and taking a long sip from it. “Where um, where did you get this picture?”

“I took it!” Donghyun explains, handing Jeongguk his drink and watching as the younger boy downs it in one go. “Hogeun brought you down to the dock one day, he said you wanted to see what he did. I was still working on a boat with him back then. I found it in one of our albums.”

“It’s perfect.” You state. 

“Are you ready to toast?” Donghyun asks. 

You shake your head. “You go ahead and do it.”

“Are you sure?”

You only nod, turning to watch as Donghyun grabs the attention of the room. He thanks everyone for coming before starting in on his speech. He talks about how he met Hogeun, and how they became friends working on the same boat. He tells several stories about Hogeun, getting several laughs from the other sailors in the room. When he’s finished, he raises his glass and toasts to the memory of his beloved friend. 

“To Hogeun!”

“To Hogeun!” The crowd repeats, and then you all take a drink. 

As you turn back to look at the picture again, out of the corner of your eye you see someone enter the bar.  His eyes immediately scan the room, searching for something until they finally land on it: Jeongguk. He starts walking over to you and something inside you is screaming to run away. Instead, you stand your ground and nudge Donghyun who turns to see what you need as you nod your head at the stranger. 

Donghyun’s eyes go wide before he moves to stand in front of you, blocking the stranger's path to Jeongguk. As he gets closer you see that he’s tall, his hair has greyed with age, and his beard has the same salt and pepper look. His eyes are different, one dark brown, and one cloudy grey with an unknown blindness. 

“Hwan, what are you doing here? Bar’s closed tonight for a private party.”

“Private party?” Hwan looks around at the tables. “Over half the town’s here.”

“And you still didn’t get the hint that maybe you’re not invited?” Saki spits as she walks over to stand beside her husband. 

Hwan scoffs. “I heard the prince of the Ineo himself was here. I simply wanted to come pay my respects. Ask him to stop crashing my ships.” He pushes Donghyun and Saki out of the way and stalks up to where you stand in front of Jeongguk. 

“I don’t know who you are, but you’re being extremely disrespectful disturbing the memorial service of my-”

“Protecting them just like your uncle, huh?” Hwan glowers down at you, his blind eye shining in the low light, before elbowing you aside, effectively shoving you to the ground.

“Y/N!” Jeongguk immediately bends down to check on you, but he’s pulled back up by the back of his shirt as Hwan yanks him upright, standing toe to toe with the younger boy, a perpetual frown plastered to his face. You see anger flash across Jeongguk’s features as Saki and Donghyun help you to your feet. 

“Hwan-” Donghyun tries to interrupt, but Hwan ignores him.

“It’s nice to see you up close. Now I know who to look for in my nets.” Hwan hisses. 

“What do you want?” Jeongguk stares down at the shorter man, suddenly seeming much more intimidating than you’ve ever thought with his tall, muscular stature. 

“To remind your kind that you’re not supposed to be here.”

His kind? He called Jeongguk an Ineo. Does he think Jeongguk is a mermaid? What the hell is this crazy guy talking about? Jeongguk only rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You know exactly what I mean.” Hwan inches closer to Jeongguk’s face, cracking his knuckles. If it comes to a fight, you're sure Jeongguk could handle himself, but you don’t want it to get that far. 

“Stop!” You yell, grabbing Jeongguk’s arm and tugging him away from Hwan. “We’re leaving.”

“Y/N, don’t-” Saki tries to protest, but you shake your head.

“It’s alright.” You turn to Hwan. “Listen, I don’t know who you think you are, but you need to back the hell off. Jeongguk is a good person. You’ve got salt in your brain. Ineo don’t exist.” And with that, you drag Jeongguk with you as you walk toward the door.

“Be careful young miss. I may have salt in my brain, but you’re sleeping with the enemy!”

“Bye Donghyun, Saki, thank you for tonight!” You call as you open the door.

“What do you think happened to your uncle?” Hwan yells after you. You can still hear him as the door shuts behind Jeongguk. “It’s only a matter of time before he kills you too-”

You huff as you drag Jeongguk over to the truck, both of you climbing in. “What the fuck was that guy’s problem?” You mumble as you start the truck up, quickly pulling out of the spot and driving up the road back towards the house. “He was crazy, right?” You flash a glance at Jeongguk who laughs. 

“Very crazy.”

“God, just because you’re not from this god-forsaken island.” You curse. “Obviously you have to be evil, right?” You didn’t realize how upset that encounter made you, but now that you’re outside it, you realize your heart is racing, and your hands are gripping the steering wheel tightly as you drive. 

Jeongguk seems to notice this as he puts a hand on your arm. “Are you alright, noona? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. “No, he just knocked me off balance. I’m alright…”

Jeongguk squeezes your arm in understanding, and the small gesture comforts you. You pull into the drive, parking before you both get out and walk into the house. You both slip off your shoes, but as you go to move further inside, Jeongguk slides in front of you, cupping your chin out of nowhere.

“W-what are-”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks again, concern evident in his big brown eyes as he gazes down at you. 

You get caught in his stare for only a moment before you shake him off. “I’m fine. I promise.” You assure him before walking into the kitchen and grabbing a beer out of the fridge, cracking it open before taking a long swig. Jeongguk watches as you kick the fridge closed with your foot before walking towards your room. “Goodnight Jeongguk.” You nod at him before shutting the door, leaning against it for good measure as you take a deep breath. You chug the rest of your beer before changing into some pajamas and flopping onto the mattress, face first, with a long sigh. 

You lay there for several hours, unable to sleep as your thoughts churn like the sea itself. Mermaids. Mermaids? There’s no way they exist, but at the same time, it can’t be a coincidence how many times you’ve been warned about them since you arrived. The crazy old man outside the bar when you arrived, the north side of the island being shut down, your own uncle having seen one, and now this Hwan character… 

You toss and turn as your brain attempts to put the pieces of an incomprehensible puzzle together without a guide. You check the time on your phone, groaning when you see it’s already 4:03 in the morning and you aren’t the least bit tired. You huff as you get up, tugging on a sweatshirt as you quietly walk back out to the living room, looking around for something to do. You decide you might as well sort through some more things while you have the time. The faster you’re done, the faster you can get off this island. 

.

You flick on the basement light, heading down into the murky room to grab a box before quickly bringing it back up the stairs. It only takes you about twenty minutes to get through this box, and when you’re done you head down to grab another. This one is full of old picture albums, and you take your time paging through it, but it’s mostly just pictures of fish from when he still worked on boats.

When you reach the bottom of the second box, you head back down the stairs to grab a third full of books, but as you pick this one up, an old worn book falls off the top of the pile and onto the ground. You put the box back down and pick the book up, dusting it off when you notice the single word stamped on the spine. Ineo. Your heartbeat thumps at the sight and you turn the book over in your hands. The front cover is dull, bleached from the sun, but you can still see the faint outline of words: Legends of the Ineo. You roll your eyes as you flip through the pages. Of course your uncle would have something like this lying around. How could anyone ever-

You nearly miss it, but the splay of blue ink across the page catches your eye, causing you to flip back, wanting to make sure you didn’t just see what you thought you saw. But sure enough, as you flatten the page with your palm, there it sits. 

A drawing identical to the tattoo adorning Jeongguk’s ribs.

You hurry upstairs, needing better light to read the faded words on the page. You sit on the couch and grab your phone flashlight, shining it on the book as you read: 

The Drowning Mark – A dark, swirling tattoo resembling water pulling downward, hands dragging the wearer into the depths. It slowly spreads over time, symbolizing the fate of the Ineo, the blue becoming more pronounced the more lives they take; until eventually they lose their soul completely, along with their human nature. Their skin then turns a deep cerulean, matching the color of the waters they inhabit.

Your breathing suddenly feels heavy. There’s no possible way that Jeongguk could be… He couldn’t…

Right?

It has to be a coincidence.

A million thoughts rush through your mind at light speed, not giving you a chance to focus on any one thing. You shake your head in an attempt to clear it as you slip back to the start of the book, wanting to learn as much as you can.

As the hours tick on and you make your way through the book, your incomprehensible puzzle starts to become, unfortunately, comprehensible. He eats and sleeps so much because using their human form takes more energy. He’s ethereally beautiful like they’re all said to be. He doesn’t know a lot about how the human world works. His general disdain for shoes. They way that he’s never cold. Piece by piece things slot into place and the thought you didn’t want starts to form in the back of your mind. 

Is Jeongguk… an Ineo?

You run your hands through your hair as you flip back to the page with the tattoo and stare down at it. It taunts you, the blue swirls seeming to come off the page and twirl in the air directly in front of you, and yet just out of your reach. You’re going crazy, right? It’s just because you haven’t slept. You need air.

The book falls to the floor as you get up off the couch, rushing to slip on some shoes and fumbling as you unlock the door, quickly rushing out of the house so fast that you don’t even close the door behind you. It’s not enough. As the sun rises behind the low clouds, mist hanging in the air, you race to the edge of the cliffs, gasping for breath as you stand at the edge. Your eyes flick over the scenery, from the overcast skies, to the roiling waves far below you as you attempt to breathe.

Could everything you’ve ever known be a lie? Could creatures like Ineo really be out there? You stare down at the rocks, the very same place where they found your uncle’s body. Could this have been the reason? Did he know? Did he feel this too? This feeling of betrayal, like nothing is actually real. You gasp, trying to force air to your lungs as you fall to your knees, everything feeling like it’s just too much.

“Noona!”

It comes from the direction of the house, but you can’t bear to turn and look, still trying to ground yourself. You can hear him running through the dirt and grass until he skids to a halt beside you, crouching down next to you.

“Noona? You left the door open, I was worried.”

It doesn’t hit you until he touches you. Until this creature you thought was your friend rests his hand on your shoulder, his breath ghosting your face as he tries to get you to look at him. You throw him off with surprising force, causing him to fall back on his behind as you scramble a few inches away from him. 

“Don’t touch me!” You hiss, lifting your foot with an obvious threat to kick his gorgeous face. 

“N-noona?” His eyes are wide with concern as he takes in your semi-rabid state. “What’s going on?”

“You lied to me!” You cry, tears suddenly streaming down your face as you grab a handful of dirt and chuck it in his direction. “Did you do it? Did you really kill him?”

Jeongguk’s hands are out in front of him like he’s corralling a feral animal as he gets back up on his knees. “What are you talking about? Come on, it’s not safe out here.”

Looking into Jeongguk’s eyes, for some reason, you are no longer afraid of what he is, you’re no longer afraid of him, only angry, furious with him. “I want you to tell me the truth.” You state, trying to calm the shake in your voice. He nods. “Are you an Ineo?”

“Noona I-”

“The truth!” You remind him. “Only the truth.”

Jeongguk sighs, glancing out over the water before looking back down at the ground between you. “I will tell you everything if you come back inside.”

You hesitate. Could this be a trick? Although, you suppose if he wanted to hurt you, he could just push you off the cliffs right now. You sniffle, wiping your face as you nod. He tries to help you to your feet but you smack his hands away, standing by yourself and cautiously leading him back toward the house. 

You both walk in, slipping off your shoes as you walk over to the living room. Jeongguk sits down on the couch and pats the cushion next to him, but you ignore him, choosing to pace in front of the tv instead. Jeongguk runs an exasperated hand through his hair, looking down at the floor, and that’s when he sees it; the book. He chuckles to himself as he picks it up.

“Where did you get this?”

You see what he’s holding and immediately snatch it out of his grip. “In the basement.” You state, flipping through it until you find the page with the drawing. “I didn’t think anything of it until I saw this.” You turn the book toward him and show him the picture. His hand immediately moves to his ribcage, his thumb rubbing over the fabric of his shirt. 

“Ah, I see…”

“Tell me.” You slam the book shut and put it down on the table in front of you. 

Jeongguk takes a deep breath as he looks up at you, his hands folded neatly in his lap. “It’s true.”

“And you?”

“I am.” He nods. “An Ineo.”

A lump forms in your throat but you force yourself to swallow it back down. “And Hogeun?”

Jeongguk’s face twists in anger. “I didn’t do that.”

“But you kill people.”

“No.” 

“No?”

“It’s… complicated.” He shakes his head. You simply cross your arms, waiting for him to explain and he sighs again. “Ineo are more like mythological sirens than mermaids. We are born of trauma, of death, and accidents. We’re made to lure humans to their deaths, to crash their ships, or tangle them in their nets. When a human dies by the ocean, some of them are given a second life as an Ineo; a slave to the sea, forced to do her bidding for her. We are given human features to help our purpose, but meant to spend our lives beneath the waves. Sometimes, Ineo can be born the natural way. It’s rare, but it happens.

“That’s what it was for me. My mother, like me, was born of another Ineo. She mated with another Ineo.” Jeongguk pauses. “She died of complications during my birth, so Yeongsu, my birth father, was left in charge. Something you have to understand, not all Ineo want to be what we are, we resist it, we fight it; and then there are some that give themselves over to the ocean fully, those are the true monsters.

“That’s what happened to Yeongsu. After my mother died, he became inconsolable. And went on a rampage. He is the reason the north side of this island isn’t inhabited. He set up just off shore, killing anyone he could get his hands on. He claimed so many lives that day…” Jeongguk trails off. “In the book, did you read about our marks? And how they spread?”

You nod. “It spreads with every life you take, eventually turning your skin blue as you lose your soul.”

“Right. And it does.” Jeongguk confirms. “My father… He killed enough people that his mark spread instantly. So much so that his mark had covered him completely in a matter of seconds.”

You walk over and sit next to Jeongguk on the couch as you process everything he’s said. “Why… Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because Hogeun, he didn’t want you anywhere near this. Humans aren’t supposed to know about us. It’s dangerous.”

“Then why did he know?”

“He was helping me. Which is even more dangerous.”

“Helping with what?”

Jeongguk looks down at his feet for the first time. “He was helping me find a way out of this. To not be what I am.”

This surprises you. “Like a cure? Why?”

“I don’t want to be a monster…” Jeongguk holds his head with his hands.

You’re afraid to ask it, but your curiosity gets the best of you. “How many have you…?”

“One. But it was an accident.” He explains. “I was young. I didn’t know what I was capable of. I was just by the shore singing and someone heard my song. He jumped from the cliffs on the east side of the island and hit the rocks. I was a mess for days… I-I didn’t understand what had happened until I went back home and someone explained it to me.”

“Then my uncle…”

“If any Ineo knew he was helping me, or that he even knew about me, they would have tried everything in their power to kill him. ”

“Jeongguk-”

“Y/N, you can’t let anyone know what you know. Hyung’s death is on my hands, but I won’t let yours be too. Please.” He pleads, grabbing your hands and looking at you with a certain desperate sadness in his eyes, the feeling nearly tangible. 

“I won’t. I promise, but Jeongguk I need you to know that Hogeun’s death was not your fault. If someone killed him or not, it will never be your fault.”

Jeongguk offers you a weak smile. “Thank you…”

It’s silent for a long moment before you stand up. “I should get some sleep.”

“You were up all night, weren’t you?”

“Yeah…” You admit, walking toward your room. “If you need anything just wake me, okay?”

“I’ll be alright, noona, sleep well.”

You give him one last nod before disappearing behind your closed door, tossing your sweatshirt to the ground before crawling under the covers. Images of scaly tails and gills flash in your mind until sleep overtakes you.

.

When you wake up next, it’s some time in the afternoon. The house is quiet except for the pitter-pat of rain against the roof. Still tired, you get up, stretching your arms as you stand and change out of your pajamas, into some jeans and a t-shirt and securing your necklace around your neck. It was a long morning, but you have things you need to do anyway; like go to the grocery store. With the way Jeongguk eats, it’s no surprise you’re already running low on food. 

When you walk out of your room, you still don’t hear anything. When you check Jeongguk’s room, it’s empty. You hope he doesn’t disappear for too long this time… You grab your wallet and keys before heading out to the truck and making your way to town. 

You decide to stop in at the bar and grab some lunch since you haven’t eaten yet today. You park and head inside the dimly lit building to find it mostly empty, with Donghyun wiping down the bar. He looks up as the door jangles, his eyes widening when he spots you. 

“Y/N!”

“Hey,” You walk over to him and take a seat at the bar in front of him. “Is the kitchen open?”

“For you? Always.” He offers you a warm smile. “What’re ya having?”

Donghyun quickly whips you up a spectacular lunch as the two of you chat. It isn’t until you’re finished your meal and go to pay that he finally brings up the previous day.

“Nonsense, it’s on the house. An apology for last night.”

You wave your hand at him. “There’s nothing for you to apologize for. I know better than anyone that new people in a small town aren’t the most welcome; and Jeongguk is no exception.” You place a handful of small bills on the counter. 

“Y/N-”

“Please, it’s the least I can do to thank you and Saki for everything you’ve done for me already.” You push the money toward him until you’re sure he’s going to take it before taking your hand off the counter. 

“At least take this.” Donghyun slides something across the counter for you. You pick it up to find the original picture of you and your uncle used to make the larger copy from last night. “He’d want you to have it.”

You offer him a smile. “Thank you. I’m still in town for a few more days, so I’ll see you around.”

“Alright, we’ll have to have dinner again before you leave!” He calls as you start to walk to the door. 

“Of course!” You wave one last time before walking back out to the truck. 

You drive the short trip to the grocery store and grab a basket as you head in. You take your time shopping, perusing the aisles as you think of things Jeongguk might enjoy, even though he’s never had a bad thing to say about anything you’ve made. You grab the box of sweet cakes he likes as you wander over to the meat section. They have some fresh seafood options, but nothing can compare to the fresh seafood Jeongguk brought you. You wonder if he actually just went out into the ocean and caught it himself. You suppose that would make sense…

You stop in your tracks as you realize just how much you’re thinking about him during this simple trip to the grocery store. You begin to wonder when exactly your mind became a whirlwind of all things Jeongguk. You shake your head. You have been living with him for the last week, so it’s only natural that he’s become the focus of your thoughts, right? You start to wonder about what he and your uncle were working on, if they had actually found anything worthwhile about a cure. Or if there even is one…

You finish your shopping, packing everything in the seat next to you so it doesn’t get wet. As you start the truck, a light dings on the dashboard and tells you that you’re almost out of gasoline. You drive to the gas station by the docks to stop and get some gas. As you’re pumping, you start to hear the strangest noise.

It sounds like singing, but you’re the only one in sight. It almost sounds like it’s coming from offshore somewhere. You hold your hand up to block the relentless drizzle from falling in your eyes as you search the waves around the dock. It sounds… familiar. Like you’ve heard it before, but you can’t place it, the song sounding too similar to the crashing waves against the cliffs nearby.

You look around one more time, and when your gaze passes by one of the rocky outcroppings, you swear you see something moving. A shadow of some sort. Is that a person? You run over to the edge of the gas station where the cliff drops off, thinking they might need help, but when you look again, the shadow is gone. 

The sound of the gas nozzle clanking as it shuts off brings your attention back to your truck. You look out over the waves one more time, but there’s nothing there. You have a strange feeling in your gut as you walk back over and put the gas nozzle back in its place, screwing the gas cap back on the truck before climbing back into the cab. As you pull out of the gas  station and drive back up the road, you hear the sound again, but it fades into the distance as you drive away. 

.

Jeongguk comes home as you’re putting groceries away and you watch him out of the corner of your eye as he kicks his shoes off and walks over to you, smelling of salt. His eyes go wide when he sees the snack cakes, immediately ripping into the box and pulling one out, making you giggle at how excited he seems. He offers you one and you take it, observing him as you both munch on the cakes. You take in the sight of his strong jawline and soft eyes, wondering what he might look like underwater.

“So where’d you go today?”

He looks up at you as he unwraps another cake. “Nowhere, just around.”

“Jeongguk, you don’t have to lie to me anymore, remember?”

“I was just asking around about some stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Stuff.” He repeats.

Suddenly it clicks inside you, the final piece of the puzzle. “You’re looking into Hogeun’s death, aren’t you?”

He avoids your gaze, guilt on his features. “Noona, I told you, you shouldn’t get involved in this.”

“But-”

“Trust me, the less you know, the better.” He shoves the cake in his mouth and then turns away, walking toward the bathroom. 

“Hey,” You grab his arm, forcing him to turn back. “Listen, I know it’s risky, but-”

He shakes his head. “No, you really don’t know.”

“Jeongguk if you’re looking into my uncle’s death I want to help.”

“No.” His voice is firm as he shakes you off of him. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“But if you’re still looking for a cure-”

“Noona!” Jeongguk spins and pins you against the fridge, his hands on either side of your head as he stares at you. You’re caught in his gaze, unable to look away; he’s so close, too close; the smell of sweet cakes on his breath ghosting across your face. “Hyung said no. Please, just let it go.”

“I won’t.” You can’t stop the words before they’re out of your mouth. He drops one arm, moving back a bit in surprise at your stubbornness. “Jeongguk, he’s gone. And I could be next, but even if I am, you’re my friend. As long as you’re searching for a cure, I’m going to want to help you. No matter how dangerous it is.”

Jeongguk sighs, taking another step back as he rubs his hands over his face. “Noona-”

“You said you guys had research. At least let me look at what you have already.” You offer. “I might see something you didn’t.”

“Fine.” Jeongguk nods, starting to walk away again as he strips his shirt off over his head. “After dinner.” And with that he disappears into the bathroom.

.

Just as you finish cooking, Jeongguk emerges from the bathroom wrapped in a towel and heads to his room, coming back out a few minutes later in a change of clothes. You can feel his eyes on you as you put everything on the table. You sneak your own glances as you sit down and eat. His hair’s still wet, all of it pushed back off of his face, small droplets falling onto his shirt as he eats. God, you can’t stand how beautiful he is. Couldn’t he have been average looking? Once he glances up at you at the same time and you both panic, nearly choking as you immediately avert your gazes. You want to try to fix the awkward silence, but you can’t think of anything to say. 

After you eat, Jeongguk gets up and disappears into his room. You hear him rooting around in there while you put dishes in the sink, and as you finish packing away the leftovers, Jeongguk comes back out with a box. He places it on the table in front of the couch with a loud thunk and then turns to you. 

“Here you go.” He sits on the couch as you walk over to investigate. “This is everything we had.”

You look in the box to see papers with notes scribbled haphazardly on them on top. You begin pulling things out and sorting them, a stack of loose-leaf papers, several large books, and even more notebooks with notes and pictures all taped inside with no sense of order or organization in sight.

Jeongguk turns on the tv and you eye him closely. You run to your room and grab a spare notebook and a pen before heading back out to the living room and sitting down next to him, beginning to read through things. You take notes as you read, writing down what you think might be important, or things you want to come back to or look up later. 

You read into the early hours of the morning, quietly going over everything you can get your hands on, and Jeongguk sits beside you as you do. He watches you, mumbling to yourself, but you can feel his eyes on you as you turn page after page. 

At some point, you must fall asleep, because you wake up to the feeling of Jeongguk’s arms around you and you stir just enough to feel your bed underneath you as he sets you down on it, pulling the covers up over you. You relax back against the mattress when you feel him brush his fingers over your cheek. The touch is fleeting, and you’re not entirely sure it was real, but as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone. And then you hear your door shut. You touch your cheek where you felt his fingers only moments ago, humming pleasantly as you are pulled back into slumber.

.

.

Part 2 ->

Copyright © Inkjam-Moon 2025

[marzipanilla]

chewing on the corner of the fandom particle board table like a dog w anxiety. there's something up there. I know there's something up there. there are so many people at this table there must be something Up There

lol who knows, but prolly not. I generally have to be at least a little mad at a piece of media in order to want to write fic for it, and I pretty much liked SU/F xD Though that might be a bad habit to have and I could try and break it ??? lol

When Steven finally does have a shitty moment w her bc being travel buddies CAN be straining and she's just like MUAHAHAH FINALLY and Steven just being all what was the point of leaving if you're still here !! what happened to the cave, loner Jasper ?? huh ?? What happened to the damn cave that was supposed to solve all your problems ?? idk how, but he'd have to hit a nerve eventually...

idk how you feel about that one film in particular, but Michael Keaton as the Vulture vibes for sure at that family dinner xD Bowls accidentally sticking to Peter's hands as he tries to help pass things around the table. Him desperate to get his damn web slingers... Nolan just like Why Am I At This Event, bored af. Mark just like Mooo-om you don't have to arrange playdates for me anymore, I'm not five. Peter and I can hang out on our own! Aunt May just all it's lovely to have company : )

lol Nolan like yes my human-sona is doing excellently in the friend department. success. Cecil wondering why the hell a guy known for wanting to unmask a kid vigilante is suddenly hanging out w a top tier hero... on a boat on a lake. what is going on there. JJ and Art just snarking at each other the whole time would be so hilarious. esp since Art would know they're chillin w Omni-Man and JJ doesn't.

You got web on me one(1) time and now I want you dead is a pretty hilarious thing. Debbie just having to be like ??? you don't even talk about villains this much! wtf is going on ! Nolan refusing to admit he basically had toilet paper stuck to the bottom of his foot one day. it is also just enough of an excuse for him to justify putting things off again, 'cause you know that man was desperate to stall for time xD Can't take over the planet until this one guy is on lock down ! clearly! totally rational ! it just fuels his obsession bc if he does succeed it means he has to carry on w Everything Else and that's a whole ass can of worms he refuses to think about. he actually has a truly disturbing number of images that show Peter IS Spidey but refuses to use them because he just wants to fuck W spider-man. the plan was to fuck w spiderman. he cant deviate from a plan. clearly. once he wraps up here he'll move on with everything else. promise.

Character decisions affecting the plot rather than external forces my beloved. where did you go. where.

I always figured an 'evil' AU of Debbie (that keeps her human) would be that she's like, a tv personality real estate mogul (making Mark not only a hero nepo baby but a genuine rich boy brat, and Nolan doesn't even bother w a job just hangs out as her kept husband when not acting as Omni-Man lol) - and like, branching off of that just her actually using her career to fund/manage a group of.. individuals.. would be awesome. Bc real estate capital CAN be used for so much ! her 'fighting crime' w real estate is actually something I have come up rather as a side note in two fic (tho one hasn't actually gotten to that point yet) and it's like ! she doesn't need powers to be useful! you can influence the world in many ways ! Which is Amber's whole fucking deal ! it's what Eve decided to do when she quit the main stream hero game ! let more normies in on that shit ! show the importance of the ground level ! No you don't save the damn planet Paul, but you're the reason the planet is interesting and doesn't suck ass !!

like have people point out Powerplex wasn't after justice, he was after retribution! if there aren't any laws in place for when heroes do shit like this, why NOT form a group who gets a stink worked up about that and makes it so there are? How opposed would Cecil be to not being the main authority on who gets punished for what? pretty pissed I think ! or does he twist it to his use? How nervous would heroes be to operate when they are suddenly faced with repercussions for collateral? does Cecil fight against it bc of shit like that, or does he say if you join my List of Approved People I will make you immune to that and end up consolidating a lot of power over a lot of people? How is any of it enforced? Give us a Civil War esque divide that's actually interesting ! Okay Mark, you're obsessed w people who fuck up going to prison- now the people have decided you need to go to prison. what you going to do? (tho I would like to tell mr prison is for criminals that you stole Shapesmith from his peoples' laws against his crime, tho it was a death sentence but that DOES raise another factor- what happens when his magical non-lethal solution gets turned into a lethal one by a court?) how do you justify the cost of keeping a being made of pure energy contained if it takes a cities worth of power to fuel one cell ?? give us fucked up shit like that !!

if it's the GoG on Cecil's pre-appoved list taking you in bc they're immune for staying in line? Your brother sure as shit isn't going to listen to anything these people say. Eve wouldn't want to kill people, but you know she'd be pissed ! How does new yet-to-be-renamed TT fit into all of it ?? If Debbie has resources at her disposal what is she doing about all of this ?? if shes doesn't is she just going for appeals in the court case?? having lawyers and media pick apart her fucking life in order to try and get her son out of this mess? pictures of Mark in the hospital bed after Nolan kicked the shit out of him plastered all over the internet as news stories run w it ??? what if Mark gets released bc yeah, you were trying to help, but his mom gets sentenced for aiding and abetting a terrorist? You figured out what he did and didn't alert anyone ! again what are the spouse testifying against spouse laws like in superhero world... do people pull the fucked up shit like 'he wasn't human and the law as written defines marriage as...' shit ?? do they call his false identity tax fraud and throw those charges at her too?? what are the immigration laws for space aliens in this universe...

alright back to the other point xD

Art being a big contributor and Debbie's connection to him resulting in a lot of ppl stepping in line bc of how important he is would be great! New player but w Old money. she knows a lot about the internal workings of the GDA due to what Nolan told her over the years and what she's seen herself ! she has important information on shit that has been confiscated from assorted villains over the years. She knows who the GDA prioritizes and who they don't! she recognizes their agents on sight !! forget the cameras in her house the last few years, they've apparently been stalking her since she met Nolan if her annoyance w the nanny plants was anything to go by. Was it a game they played while dating ? spot the GDA tail?

Titan being like this is MY city block and Debbie being like hmm : ) but is now MY city and Mark's incredible annoyance that their turf war seems to be about who can clean up the streets the most- who can support their civilians while collecting up the goons to go hit the GDA- promising stability and security for families while just fucking the government approved heroes in the process. Or Debbie trying to start a larger war like that but Titan holding on to loyalty to people who dont WANT to escalate. who is pushed out, who is pushed around- give me the fucked up bits and the beneficial to all the dynamics ! give me 'villains' like the ones we saw robbing the bank getting hired on as defenders / private security to new public works in an area. fuck your criminal record ! we don't care ! give us people who are terrified of the regime change ! who dont like heroes at all and want a non-powered person in charge and get pissed when they find out Debbie employs them ! maybe she doesn't ! maybe it boils into a fucked up divide about that outside her intention !! god have SoS have been an anti-hero group like many people speculated. Have Debbie have MET Scott ! have known him ! have been someone she chatted at meetings w ! have the betrayal come not in one episode while at a bar w a guy who instantly finds out who her husband was, but to someone she's been hanging out w ! whose kid and wife she knows ! who tried to get Debbie to help him build his court case against invincible but she pulled out, and then he finds out she's his mom??? GOD that would have been beautiful.

gah. the wider world politics on Invincible is just so threadbare. you're either one person in a storm whose life has barely any meaning while someone punches someone, or you're a psychotic dictator and there's no inbetween. there's a lot of inbetweens !! I don't think there's any leadership that isn't some form of totalitarianism?? Cecil expects utter loyalty (and is NEVER shown answering to anybody despite arguably being a branch of US government), Titan expects utter loyalty (he just helps swap out dictators for the Order in order to get a favor to be left alone lol), there really isn't enough info on the Coalition but one guy seems to be in charge of all of them at the end of the day, the viltrumites definitely !! the thraxans apparently demand Nolan do that to them !! I just !! there's more than one form of government. Even the hero teams runs off of 'one guy says stuff and we all have to adhere or else' and like !! can we see literally any other dynamic between people ??? show us the pros and cons of both !! no system is unfallable !! no collection of people is without friction !! 'the power has been returned to the people' the robots intone. ELABORATE ON THAT ??

While I'm not too familiar with the DCU- your batfam meta posts are intiguing- so in transfering some of the broader strokes from them- I think you tackling a 'Mark isn't Nolan's biological son' fic would be fascinating. Sort of a step to the side of the 'what if Mark never got his powers' fic that sometimes pop up in the fandom

OOOOOO chewing on this currently, hm, the much a distinct flavor of exactly what you’re talking about, but the potential for more family drama depending on WHO knows. Does Mark know?? Is he waiting every day only to be crushed? Does he confused non-Debbie features with Nolan’s? I suppose I’m not the most enthusiastic about non-power AUs, but I think there’s something very fun to explore about Mark having to settle with, if he knows all his life, he will never have powers? I think the trajectory of his dreams will obviously shift, I can see him still having that distinct fatherly idolization, but perhaps embraces being useful to the GDA? Cecil’s number one intern—only intern—curtesy of nepotism, ha! There is something tickling me about Mark taking the Robin Route/Role for the Teen Team in terms of having no powers, just insane skills, BUT there’s something way more delicious about intern Mark when s1e01 happens and Mark tries snooping around to find out the truth about what happened to his Dad.

I wonder if, with Mark having a whole another father, if they’re more or less distant relationship, depending on WHEN Nolan entered Mark’s life? Like if Debbie met Nolan later for this, or just for fun, they dated once, separated (Mark being born during then), then they happened to stumble into each others lives again and Mark’s already been born, anywhere from tween to teenager so there’s a gap in how close they are. I feel like one important aspect of the whole Family Drama is how close they’re supposed to be, a functional, loving family turned upside down? So I wonder what more distance does. I wonder how Nolan copes when his family is entirely human and he can’t project onto Mark.

I love thinking about these, omg.

[puppppppppy]

learning abt friendship decay and "not reaching out to your friends for months at a time unprompted is not neurotypical behaviour" has me feeling a certain way

[lale-txt]

i don't know which writer needs to hear this, but delete that self-depricating paragraph in your author's note. it will alter your reader's view on your fic and you. seriously, even if you wholeheartedly believe it's the worst thing you've ever written and you don't feel proud of it at all, don't tell your audience. let them form their own opinion, and if you want to or not, it will make you feel better about your own work as well in the long run.

[rasmodius-nuisance]

I think this might be a good starting point for my new blog, I have a draft with my main farmer's actual profile, but this will be really helpful for me too! <3 I'll start this post by showing you how she looked 2 irl days ago, I've finally been able to get the blue bow since so that's a bonus! (I'll try to get a screenshot of that as well!) I wanted to dye her skirt to match the overall part of the shirt, but I think it ended up leaning more towards a greyish blue if something. (I'll show what it would look irl as a funfact, since I found a pic on pinterest that looked pretty similar!) I also got the longer skirt recently but I must say I like the short one better. My game is currently on fall (almost winter) so I decided to keep the long one on for now. Btw, I've realised the eyes look blue as well, they're supposed to be grey... Is this a sign that I'm going blind? lol Btw my current icon is supposed to be her too!

With that out of the way, let's begin! (Beware, long post ahead!)

(Little note, when I say "lore-wise" I mean my own lore, it doesn't necessarily have to be accurate to the canon in-game lore!)

Introduction:

Since I wanted for my main farmer to be based on me, I decided to name her Luna. "Luna" means "moon", it's like my signature thing. I love everything universe/galaxy/moon/stars related. On the other side, it sounds like a witchy name so I felt it would fit too. (I hate my irl name so that one wasn't an option.)

Spring 18

Keeping in mind that she's supposed to look like me, and giving you the earlier pic as an example, let's say she's pale and short, with grey eyes and short curly hair that she dyes black (and pressumably straightens just by brushing it), with a round face that a certain guy likes to compare with the full moon (lore-wise, lmao)

I'd say the witch hat, *insert the IF I HAD ONE meme*, but since I haven't gotten that one yet, I'm not sure. Let's say the blue bow for now!

It's supposed to be a mix between blue, dark, cold and earthy tones with witchy and cottagecore vibes, somehow? I wouldn't know how to put it into words tbh

I'm not sure yet, I'll think about it!

I'll say a lot of rock and similar (but not the hardcore one), pop and maybe a little bit of kpop. Once again, based on me lol, although my irl playlist does have a lot of kpop.

Drawing, reading, writing, gaming, listening to music, things you can pretty much do on your own. Oh, and bothering the Wizard >:3

I'd say laying on the bed while petting her (ghost) cat, thinking back to the social interactions she might have gone through that day, feeling anxious or embarrassed for most of them or shy if they involve a certain guy... But her cat won't hesitate to make her calm down, to feel at peace, trying to protect her from the bad thoughts.

I'm not good at cooking (I don't know how to do anything at all, sad lmao) so she isn't either. I haven't gotten that far on the cooking part of the game though, I do know I've already unlocked a lot of recipes but I've barely checked them, oops. I'd say cookies or pancakes!

Rainy! You don't have to water the crops nor the pet's bowl and if you struggle like me when it comes to remember about doing so, it's really helpful. However, just like I do irl, I HATE the thunders and lightnings.

Fall!

Dance of the Moonlight Jellies and Spirit's Eve

I think it's foraging. I feel like that's the easier one out of them all.

An artist or a writer

That's a hard one because I'd always say "at home" but since the in-game home doesn't look good yet I wouldn't know. Let's say the Wizard's tower or Marnie's ranch

Farm Life:

Chaos. Chaos everywhere. I'm about to finish year 2 but it still looks pretty basic. I recently tried to get rid of all the wood and rocks laying on the ground, as well as a lot of trees so it's not good yet. Going back to her aesthetic, I guess I'll try to follow the dark cottagecore witch theme.

The grey and white cat, his name is Yuki (as in "winter") and lore-wise he's supposed to be grandpa's wild late cat (he didn't really own him), poor boy passed away a little bit after grandpa did, waiting for him to come back since he didn't really know he couldn't, still waiting to this day... But he's gotten really attached to Luna, feeling a stronger connection with her than the one he felt with grandpa.

Once again, Yuki. I don't even want to get any more pets for her, he's really special to me. However, I'd love to get a black cat since those are my favorite type, but I'd still have to think about how that could fit lore-wise.

If by cabin we mean the extra houses, yes but no. One of them is currently my storage room, really basic. I think the other one still has the starting decor. I struggle with getting money lol. (I hate that you can't pick up the presents though)

Not sure!

...I haven't gotten to grow any of those yet :'D

I can't tell if I've already gotten any of these besides the first two, but I'll say the ornamental fan, dried starfish, elvish jewelry and strange doll.

Midnight carp and ghostfish

 I've recently gotten new swords, I can't remember which one I'm currently using though

 Let's beging with the ones I ABSOLUTELY HATE so far, the stupid serpents are number 1, they were the reason I "died" most of the times on the Skull Cavern. The other one so far would be the slimes. As for the one I like... I'll say mummies because they seem to drop a lot of cool stuff AND CLOTH! And aesthetic/lore wise so far, I'll say ghosts :D

If that means they won't be aggressive nor attack anyone anymore (including animals) I think she would. I'd say bats, skeletons, ghosts and those shadow guys.

Relationships Platonic and Romantic:

Ignoring that certain guy, sweet Evelyn (I love her, I see her as both mine and Luna's pixel grandma, I guess she just reminds me of my irl one somehow), Krobus lore-wise but he's still scared of me in-game, the Wizard (but he still hates me, although that's kinda canon lore-wise too lmao) and maybe Linus, I don't usually interact with him that much but I love him, his lore-wise story gets somehow deeper so that adds to my love for him.

Maybe Maru, Harvey, Jas and Marnie? Abigail's hearts are pretty high too but there's a reason behind that (she's Luna's ex), although they aren't as close as they used to be anymore. I'm still trying to level up everyone's but specially those I like the most, bad thing is I'm usually doing my own thing so I forget about that.

Alex for the win. He recently told me something about how you need to tan on the beach, otherwise I'll end up looking like milk (I'M ALREADY PALE AS FUCK WITH A SUN ALLERGY AND SENSITIVE SKIN ALEX), to follow up by saying how much he'd like to see me on a swimsuit. He didn't even know my name earlier today. I LOVE to check the trash cans while he's around <3 Besides him, I'll say Clint and Lewis. I almost died yesterday because of the underwear monster btw

Well, well, well (I say while looking at that well I made Robin build for me on my first days just to use it twice since)... I fell in love with Abigail a few years ago while watching a gameplay of Stardew Valley (for the first time) from an art youtuber I love. You could say it was love at first sight. I used to love her, I loved looking at fanart of her too. But Tumblr made me fall in love with Shane. I'll mention (but not tag) the main reason I fell for him, being this artist who happens to love both him and making comics about him and her farmer. I haven't been able to stop the obsession for him ever since *sigh* Tumblr and Pinterest are dangerous places, kids

For Abigail, she's a lot of things I like. From witchy stuff, to gothic, to hair-dye, videogames, amethysts, SHE OWNS A GUINEA PIG, she's weird like me (I love women too lmao)... For Shane, I wouldn't know. It's a mix of things I've gotten to love about him from each piece of fanart I've seen for the most part. As a fun fact, going back to that gameplay I was talking about, the youtuber hated him because he was really mean to her so I still hated him too even when I first started to play the game, like 2 years ago. However, I feel like I/Luna was attracted to her on a more aesthetic/superficial level but I think it's different with Shane. (ignoring the fact that all of them are pixels) I genuinely care about him, I want him to get healthy, to feel and get better (for him to begin with, for Marnie and specially Jas as well), to learn that even if he thinks no one does, there's people who deeply love and care about him, that he deserves happiness too. That he- *sigh* Okay, I'll stop now, this is getting too long of a reply.

Not yet!

Not yet!

For the Player:

I think this is a really common one among Stardew Valley fans, but Sandy. Just look at her. I get why Emily loves her.

I don't know tbh, I'd have to look it up or something, but I must say I actually get sad whenever the music stops playing on its own :(

Hmm... There are probably a few, but there's one I recently got while playing today. I'm not sure if this one is only on the spanish version or not but Vincent told me that I'm not as boring as other adults (although I totally am, but still) :'3 Oh! The one you get from Evelyn and George on the jellyfish event too! I recently saw a fanart on pinterest that almost made me tear up.

Spoilers! Emily's dressing-up thingie (I honestly thought punk Shane was just a random thing/meme though! omg!!). Shane's 2, first-7 and 8 heart event maybe. There are more but I have memory issues so I'd have to look it up as well.

Shane's 6 heart event for the win. His 4 heart event too. Emily's 6 heart event so far as well, don't ask me on that one though :) There might be more, but once again, I'm bad at remembering stuff :'D

Krobus plushie! I'd say the junimos too but I think that's actually a thing. Maybe a WIzard's journal too? Like, both a empty notebook type with his aesthetic and something like either the Gravity Falls or Star vs The Forces of Evil one (there's apparently another one with spells too just like in the show though??), talking about his wizard life, the magical languages he's learn (with its actual alphabet for you to have fun with it just like in the Geronimo Stilton fantasy kingdom series!, monsters, etc.

I think that's it?? I didn't expect to write THAT much to be fair so I apologize for it. It was really fun to come up with each reply though, thank you so much to @missrandomdreamer for making this little Stardew Valley quiz, I hope this was what you expected when you made it, some of my replies aren't that good so I apologize again.

I hope this helps a little to get to know both me and my main farmer, I'm not very active since I have a lot of blogs to manage (which actually overwhelms me and makes me go on hiatus most of the time, among other reasons tbh) but I hope I can find my little place on this amazing Tumblr Stardew Valley community at some point! I plan on writting too, both little fanfics and also about Luna's story, since that was supposed to be my strong point when I first started to be active on Tumblr. I also love to read those as well so I'd like to thank all of you who create. Fanfics, fanarts, moodboards... I appreciate sooo much your little magic here, you're doing an amazing job, keep it up! <3

Stardew Valley Farmer Asks

This might have been done before, but I kind of wanted to do my own spin on it! Anyone can do it but it’s just a fun Stardew Valley Farmer Asks and or Q&A list. I want to talk about my farmer and I want to hear other people talk about their farmers and experiences in the game! <3

Introduction:

What’s your farmer’s name and what is the origin of the name?

What is your farmer’s birthday?

What do they look like?

What is their signature accessory?

What is their aesthetic?

If they had a theme song what would it be?

On music, what does their playlist look like?

What are some of their hobbies not including farming?

Similar to the previous question: what does your farmer do after a long day of work? How do they relax?

Do they have a favorite food recipe? What are their favorite foods?

Favorite type of weather?

Do they have a favorite season?

What is their favorite holiday?

 What is their specialty? (angling, foraging, combat etc.)

If they weren’t a farmer, what would they be?

What is their favorite place to be in Stardew Valley?

Farm Life:

What type of farm do they have?

What was their chosen animal (cat or dog) and what is the pet’s name?

Is there an animal that your farmer has a strong attachment to? Could be all, could be the fish in their chosen pond or aquarium any little animal. :3

Do you like to decorate your cabin? If so, what does your cabin look like?

What is their favorite crop?

What is their favorite fruit tree?

What is their favorite artifact/stone or other dug up item?

Do they have a favorite fish? Either for looks, food,  for their pond or aquarium?

 What is their weapon of choice when they have to go battle in the mines?

 What is their favorite enemy in the mines ? What is the one they hate the most?

If it was possible to tame one of the monsters in the mines would your farmer do it? And if so what would be the monster they would tame? 

Relationships Platonic and Romantic:

Whose your farmer’s best friends?

Who in the Valley is more acquainted with your farmer? Not a super close friend or an enemy but are just kind of like: someone they say hi to but don’t get super close to?

Is there someone your farmer has absolute beef with? Someone they honestly can’t stand and would probably get in a  fight with?

Who did your farmer romance? Or did they not romance anyone?

What made your farmer fall in love with said character that they romanced? Could  be in the canon game story or in your own story you write with your farmer. 

If they did marry a bachelor or bachelorette  or got Krobus as a roommate: what does a day in their life look like with them?

Did your farmer have children or adopt any? Tell us about them.

For the Player:

 Is there someone as the player that you wish was romanceable? If so, who and why?

What is your favorite song(s) in the Stardew Valley Soundtrack?

What is your favorite dialogue in Stardew Valley? 

Favorite moments in Stardew Valley?

Least Favorite moments in Stardew Valley?

What would be your dream official merch of Stardew Valley? Like what would you like to see more of or what is something you wish they made into official merch from the game? Could be a character or anything :3

[pocketsizedquasar-3]

if i had a nickel for every time white trans friends / mutuals suddenly blocked me without a word (usually immediately after i’ve dared to talk abt TPOC issues) id have like so many goddamn nickels lmfaooo

[angy-grrr]

Lets get it straight:

Some ppl spamming Horikoshi's tweets are not actual Japanese ppl, but wrote it in Japanese so he would understand what they are saying (Japanese fandom tends to dislike leaks).

I have seen the 38 pages from a completely different account that seemed pretty random, one of those that says "ill delete in an hour" which has happened before; the most convincing thing about this is the amount of pages and how it looks at first glance pretty legit, with complex details but badly executed.

Besides the art looking pretty empty -there is just one slightly more detailed background, but its a small space and the rest has minimal effort to make it look like its a city- we need to keep in mind this could not be changed; in weekly released, some stuff changes as they are still working on things before a official release the chapter online, but this time we are talking about the publication of the volume. If we are supposed to believe these are real leaks, then it would just literally look like that. Empty. The other solution, in this hypothetical example, would be that these are old drafts or the first ones, but it doesnt make sense to me personally as the mistakes cant be just fixed adding more ink -you need to errase many parts.

Many things look dirty, not because of it being a leak -as you said, this is a weirdly clean full release- but because they add too much shadows in places that dont make that much sense. It also looks like multiple separate ppl worked on it, instead of being a clear teamwork where everyone has a particular job (like a messy group project).

At the same time two different pictures depicting the same scene with different qualities and styles were released. Small details like the suitcase, the seats, the seatbelts look pretty different, along with the drawing style. I dont remember if the person who showed the "full leaks" used both or just the right one, but its still weird that we have just two completely different formats (left one looks like it was a scan even with a watermark, and the right one is completely digital).

Hands weren't great, and many mistakes typical for artists happened but as we know, Horikoshi is the king of drawing hands, specially meaningful ones.

Some ppl are saying hj hsrs that horikoshi could just be taking revenge on SJ for not letting him make the actual ending he wanted, so he ended anything ppl could enjoy (no villains, no bkdk hero partners, no dadmight, no dadzawa, no hopeful message, no actual romantic handhold nor declaration of feelings...) but idk if he would do something like that and at the same time work with so much care in the redraws for the volume.

That reminds me, we supposedly got a full extra chapter, 38 pages, but we didnt get the leaks for all the redraws? As far as I know there are still more panels not revealed, and again, the volume is ready, in a few days ppl will be able to buy it.

The comments the leakers made feel so wrong to me... how this was so VERY WELL drawn and cute... when its empty, lacks emotional building and has so many drawing errors unlikely to happen with the high quality of the art. The whole Deku just beat all allegations, all of them... like making fun of shippers/ppl who like to hc him as queer? idk, its really weird.

A part of me believes it could be true -there are many pages and many complicated things to introduce like the suitcases that become hero suits- but at the same time this looks so bad, and goes against everything this whole series is about. How could this shit be approved, while working on making the other pages look even better? How could we just ignore the plus ultra message the last time? This isnt extra random content, this is a new chapter, 431. Where is it? where's bnha? this is a dj to hate on everyone while trying to keep it "realistic enough" to pass as real.

What if it's confirmed these aren't real pages and we've been upset over some fanart???

Like this looks like hori's old art style (or in some panels not at all like his art??) Like here's his re-draw of that one Deku scene compared to a scene in the epilogue

like??? He's had so much time to work on it,so why would it look like his old art style? Especially if we can expect to see THAT (on the right) in the same volume??? Something is fishy here.

like the only people confirming this is real/cannon are leakers,and even some of the Japanese fandom is confused/upset about this. I haven't seem any of the official announcements for this,and a TON of the pages are missing. Like they're meant to be 30+and there's only like what the same ten going around?

If these were leaks they wouldn't be so high quality and they would,y'know,look like hori's art style? I know I said some of it looked ai generated,and I still do think some panels do,but this really feels like a different manga.

Story and art wise this feels empty and disconnected from the series. Like it's the exact opposite of what happened in 430. Like Hori decided that he hated Katsuki and forgot all about literally everything to do with Izuku and Katsuki's relationship?

He said he didn't want a naruto ending,but he decided to give us one in the epilogue??? He said he wanted an ending like heroes rising,so he decided to contradict the whole damn movie for this epilogue????

Nothing makes sense about this. I have hope this isn't official,but honestly I'm starting to give up on Hori,and I don't like that. I always trusted him to write what he wanted,but what I've seen and read doesn't seem like Horikoshi's,it's not mha. It feels like a dudebro wrote this.

Like Izuku is so emotionless in this. It's empty. He's empty. And I'm supposed to believe this guy drew all of THIS and decided to go back on all of it with a few pages????

this is just SOME of the recent stuff. So why the sudden change?

I really don't think this epilogue is going to be official,I HOPE it isn't,but I haven't much of a reason to think Hori wrote/drew this horse shit. Besides leakers saying so. And I don't really trust them very much,so I don't really have any reasons to think this is cannon.

But only time will tell.