#the fact that little people like me can and do try to do what they can on an individual level but that it ultimately needs the Big Changes

[asterafroditis]

𐔌 . ⋮ be my valentine? ♡ .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Second Years x gn! reader

𓏵 1151 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcannons, no pronouns used, fluff, a bit ooc(?)

First Years are done! Third Years coming up next! feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

I think Riddle would approach Valentine’s Day with strict formality. He’d see it as a day where everything must be done correctly—from the timing of the gift to the wording of the confession. He likely spends days researching the proper etiquette for giving someone chocolates, but when the moment arrives, he’s stiff and clearly overthinking every step.

Riddle doesn’t handle romantic feelings well, and though he wants to make you feel special, his nerves get the best of him. If you show genuine appreciation, he short-circuits a little, his face turning red as he struggles to regain his composure.

"Ahem! I prepared this for you. Naturally, it would be improper of me to let this day pass without offering a gift. It is simply… expected. N-Not that I mind! In fact, I—I wanted to! So, um… please accept it."

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I think Ruggie would act super casual about Valentine’s Day, like it’s no big deal. He’d shrug it off, saying stuff like, "Man, people are really splurging today, huh?" while totally pretending he didn’t get you anything. But in reality, he’s had a little something tucked away for you all day—he just doesn’t know how to give it without looking sappy.

When he finally hands it over, he plays it cool but is very alert for your reaction. If you get flustered, he’ll smirk and tease you. If you act chill, he’ll nudge you, trying to get more of a response. But if you look genuinely happy? He gets quiet for a second, ears twitching before he grins like you just handed him a gift.

"Psh, don’t make a big deal outta this. It’s just a little somethin’ I swiped—uh, I bought for ya. You like it? Heh. Yeah? Thought ya might. Oi, don’t get all mushy on me now!"

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I think Azul would plan his Valentine’s Day gift like a business deal—something elegant, refined, and impressive. He wants to sweep you off your feet while also ensuring you recognize his generosity. But deep down? He overthinks it so much that he gets stuck in analysis paralysis, agonizing over whether his gift is "too much" or "not enough."

When he finally presents it, he masks his nervousness behind his usual suave demeanor, but his fingers might fidget slightly. If you genuinely love his gift, his confidence wavers just a bit, and he has to adjust his tie to hide how flustered he is.

"Ahem. As a token of my regard, I have procured this exquisite gift for you. Of course, you need not feel obligated to accept it, but— Oh? You… like it? I-I mean, of course you do! Hah… Why are you staring at me like that?"

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I think Jade would treat Valentine’s Day like a very amusing social experiment. He’s incredibly perceptive, so he’d tailor his gift perfectly to your tastes—but the way he presents it would be so unpredictable. He might casually set it down next to you with a cryptic, "For you," and then disappear before you can respond. Or he might wait until you least expect it, handing it over with a knowing smile.

Jade’s true enjoyment comes from watching your reaction. If you’re flustered, he finds it utterly delightful. If you try to act casual, he’ll push just a little—his smooth words making it impossible to keep your cool.

"Hm? You seem surprised. Did you not anticipate that I would partake in this charming human custom? Fufu… your expression is rather endearing. Perhaps I should gift you things more often."

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I think Floyd would be completely unpredictable about Valentine’s Day. One moment, he’s dramatically declaring, "Ughhh, too much effort, Valentine’s is boring!" and the next, he’s shoving a gift at you with zero warning, just to see your reaction.

He doesn’t plan things in advance—if he gives you something, it’s impulsive, based purely on what he feels like doing. And if he’s in a really good mood? He might just squeeze you while laughing, declaring you’re his "favorite little shrimp" before bolting off to cause more chaos.

"Here ya go, Shrimpy! I dunno, thought it looked fun, so I got it for ya. Huh? Why ya lookin’ at me like that? Hehe, you gettin’ all blushy on me? Awww, maybe I shoulda got ya two gifts!"

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I think Kalim would love Valentine’s Day because it gives him an excuse to spoil you. He doesn’t just give you one gift—he gives you several, and it’s clear he put his heart into every single one. Handmade treats? Jewelry? A handwritten letter? Yes. He throws it all at you like an overexcited golden retriever.

Kalim doesn’t do romance with subtlety—he’s all about pure joy. He beams when he sees you happy and might even pick you up in excitement. If you tell him he made your Valentine’s Day special, expect him to get so overwhelmed with happiness that he nearly tears up.

"Surprise!! Hehe, I got you all this ‘cause I just had to make today perfect for you! Huh? Too much? No way! You deserve way more than this!!"

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I think Jamil would act like Valentine’s Day is just another chore on his endless list of responsibilities. He’d roll his eyes at the whole thing, saying it’s a pointless tradition and that people get too worked up over it. But despite his complaints, he still makes time to prepare something for you—quietly, efficiently, and without drawing attention to himself.

He’s not the type to make a grand gesture, so his gift is something subtle yet undeniably thoughtful, like a homemade treat tailored to your tastes. He’d pass it to you casually, like it’s no big deal, barely sparing you a glance as he mumbles something about “getting rid of extras.” But if you comment on how much effort he put in—maybe teasing him a little about it—he exhales sharply, brushing his hair back with practiced indifference.

"You’re imagining things. If you don’t want it, I’ll just throw it out." But the way his fingers linger when you take it, the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips—it gives him away.

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I think Silver would approach Valentine’s Day with complete sincerity. He doesn’t overthink it—he just sees it as a day to express his feelings. His gift isn’t extravagant, but it’s something genuinely meaningful. Maybe a small charm for protection or a simple but beautifully written note.

However, since he’s Silver… there’s a chance he might accidentally fall asleep before giving it to you. If that happens, you might find the gift resting next to him as he sleeps, with a note written in his slightly messy handwriting. When he wakes up and sees you holding it, he flushes slightly but stands by his words, no matter how direct they are.

"I wanted to give you this. It’s nothing grand, but… it reminded me of you. Hm? You… really like it? I’m glad. You deserve to be cherished."

[suzukiblu]

Day seven of February’s second weekly WIP behind the cut, final day ( and still TECHNICALLY in before midnight!! ); “mistaken identities and interdimensional refugees”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Well, we’ve arrived at your final resting place, Mr. Kent and young Mr. Kent,” Alfred informs them mildly as he turns off into the driveway up to Wayne Manor, which absolutely cannot actually be the local Bruce Wayne’s actual base of operations. Kon doesn’t care if the dude thinks he’s a version of Clark, there is no Batman who would just bring a couple of strange Kryptonians home without at least locking some blue K on them, whether one of them is a scared ten year-old or not, and the local blue kryptonite won’t even work on them! 

Except the moment the car stops in front of the front door and he can focus his TTK without the wheels spinning blurring anything, he absolutely can in fact feel the Batcave and all the connected cave systems that are sprawling underneath the place and clearly, like, functional and active. 

Really, he could feel that even through the wheels, they weren’t going anywhere near fast enough to actually blur his senses, but he just assumed he was somehow hallucinating that or something. Except he is definitely not, because he definitely does feel it. His X-ray vision is blocked by lead-heavy mineral deposits and there’s soundproofing and temperature control in the way of his super-hearing and infrared vision and knowing Batman there’s probably some random magic shit he got Zatanna to set up mixed in there, but his TTK can still feel a very obvious Batcave down there without even trying. 

Which, like–TTK is not really a power most people know to plan for or know how to plan for, given it’s basically just him and Match who have any remotely-developed versions of it and Match’s is kinda fucked-up with some of the degradation issues and all, and even red sun and kryptonite don’t totally cancel it out–plus those both have to be directed at him to do anything anyway, not his TTK itself–so like, yeah, in a reality where he maybe does not even actually exist–apparently does not even actually exist–prooooobably the local Batman did not ever solve that particular puzzle, no. 

This is definitely a trap. This has gotta be a trap. 

Alfred gets out and opens the car door for them with a polite incline of his head and Kon gets absolutely zero bad vibes off him, and has literally no idea what the fuck is going on with this weird-ass reality. 

“Okayyyyy,” he says slowly, and gets out of the car. Jon gets out behind him and grabs the back of his jacket, pressing up close against his back. Alfred closes the door; gives them both a pleasant little smile. 

“Allow me to get the door,” he says as he heads for said door, and also: “Earl Grey or oolong?” 

“Assam,” Kon says at the exact same time as Jon–zero percent surprisingly–says “Ceylon,” because all else aside, that was absolutely a test. Alfred never serves a guest Earl Grey unless he wants them to fuck off immediately and can’t be trusted to make oolong without putting milk in it, which is a crime against a drink that Kon doesn’t even particularly like but also a crime that he absolutely cannot handle right now. 

“Of course, sirs,” Alfred says, sparing them both a briefly thoughtful look before opening the door and holding it for them. Kon doesn’t really know what to take from that; did the guy expect something different? 

. . . actually, what does Clark drink when he comes over, Kon genuinely does not even know, he has been in the Batcave maybe four or five times max, and basically every single one was an apocalypse-level scenario that Batman was not actually on-planet for, except for the one time it was an apocalypse-level scenario that Kon was the only Kryptonian-class heavy-hitter who was League-vetted on-planet for. Which sure had been . . . an experience, as an experience. Like, a very weird and annoying and frustrating experience. Also Luthor’d already hacked his comms earlier that day to say some snide bullshit and try to boss him around about how to deal with said apocalypse, so that hadn’t really helped with his mood at the time either. 

But yeah, either way, he’s definitely never drunk Bat-tea with Clark. He’s pretty sure he’s only seen the dude drink coffee or whatever Ma’s got the kettle, in fact. So like, god knows what Alfred’s even thinking right now, because given Kon’s luck he either picked the exact thing Clark always drinks or something Clark just straight-up fucking hates. 

Probably the latter, given, again, Kon’s luck. 

This is totally a Bat-trap and they are totally gonna die here and he is totally gonna be embarrassed as fuck about it, he thinks resignedly, and then just heads into the manor with Jon still basically clinging to his back and seeming nervous again. 

“Thanks, man,” he says to Alfred, and then feels–

Oh, okay. That’s actually even weirder, Kon thinks, and tips back his head to blink up at the landing at the top of the entryway stairs where a presumably-local-but-who-knows Dick Grayson is leaning over the railing with a delighted grin on his face along with the “even weirder” sight that is a Jason standing next to him and squinting down at them speculatively. Like, a Jason in civilian clothes and the actual manor, not in vigilante-grade kevlar and the Batcave.  And like, he’s a lot less ripped than Kon’s version of the dude–like way more slender and maybe even a few inches shorter, which: what the fuck?–but he’s undeniably a Jason Todd. 

Also his hair’s black? Like. Fully black, no white streak or anything? 

So yeah, weird, Kon notes. 

Alright, well, maybe somebody’ll explain why there’s a Jason Todd who’s apparently willingly here to him after the local Batman shows up so he can explain himself to the whole Bat-belfry at once as opposed to having to go through multiple repeats of the same information and also, again, just in case this reality or this Bruce Wayne happen to be clone-racists or what the fuck ever or just have any opinions about “biological determinism” or any bullshit like that. Because that is still very much a conversation he wants to have in person and not–

“Oh my god, has Dad seen you yet?” Dick asks with a gleeful cackle, leaning even farther forward over the railing, and Kon blinks, a little startled. 

“You call him Dad?” he asks in reflexive bemusement, and Dick snickers at the question and folds his arms on the railing with an artful shrug. 

“Well, not in front of Vicki Vale and her peers or anyone with a recording device, but yeah,” he replies easily. “Take it your personal reality’s a couple decades behind ours, though.” 

“Actually–” Kon starts, though he has literally no idea how he’s gonna finish, but Jason’s already leaning forward too, bracing his hands on the rail and wrinkling his nose with a dubious expression. 

“Jesus fuck, who let twunk Uncle Clark wear designer?” he snorts. 

. . . okay then. 

“My date to the gala I was at before the multiverse got drunk and fell off its ass bought it for me,” Kon replies incredibly, incredibly dryly. Dick and Jason both blink in their own obvious bemusement, their heads cocking in opposite directions. 

“Your date bought it for you,” Dick repeats slowly. “For a Gotham gala.” 

“Yeah,” Kon says. 

“How the fuck did Aunt Lo afford that getup?” Jason asks, looking even more bemused. 

“She did not,” Kon says, because fuck it, whatever. “Like, Lois is cool and all but I could not handle her. Also, she is very, very married to both her Pulitzer and her husband. But my boyfriend's love language is 'spending his vast family fortune on unnecessary amounts of gift-giving', so like, not so much a concern?” 

“Your boyfriend?” Jason repeats incredulously, and Jon frowns in confusion and peers up at Kon’s face. 

“You’re not dating Mom yet?” he asks. “Mom married somebody? And you date–boys? That’s, like–okay?” 

“It is very okay, actually, but I reiterate: I am not Superman,” Kon says with a sigh as he gives the kid’s head a heavy pat, given it’s about the eightieth time he’s said it by now. “But also I don't wanna explain myself to every single Bat in the belfry one by one, so could we maybe convene somewhere and I can riff up a metaphorical Power Point or something?” 

“Uncle Clark, are you dating our dad?” Dick demands, looking torn between further delight and low-key horror. Kon stares at him. 

Alright, he probably brought that one on himself, considering. 

[littleglutton]

Zayne's EN VA has me in a fucking CHOKEHOLD over this entire event and the Immediate Disorder card altered my entire brain chemistry.

Do you all understand how fucking wild it is to hear our dear, big snowman go from his calm, slightly montone cadence to nuanced, hanging-by-a-fucking-thread feral!?

I'm already this man's biggest fan. He is already fulfilling every voice kink I have on a normal day. But holy hell, this event might have just placed him in god-tier for me. And before people come for me, I'm not saying it worked because "oh, he made his voice lower" blah-blah-blah. NO. It wasn't that his voice was lower or more "sexy."

It was the desperation.

It was the fact that it was still Zayne's voice and soft cadence but heightened to a frenzy with each little breath and delicious whimper showing how hard he was trying to hold on. It was Zayne with all of his icy control shattered. Even MC knew that this man would not let go until he had no other option. Infold is always precise with their animations and storytelling. THAT SMUG SMIRK HE GIVES US WHILE BEING INJECTED WITH FRENZY ENHANCER WAS THERE ON PURPOSE.

I don't think the lines were out of character at all, either. Because if you're a Zayne girlie, you know how much of an absolute menace he is while flirting - even if he goes about it in a subtle way. He's also a naturally authoritative person (soft!Dom 100%), so of course he's going to be more demanding, more confident, and even more teasing when all control is gone. Even his telltale little smirk, as rare as a cryptid, morphed into something absolutely devious and knowing.

"You want me to submit? Let me take what I desire first."

I can write an entire essay on this man, so let me pause here...

In my unhinged haze, I made "audio only" kindled so y'all can listen to this like a Secret Times ASMR and suffer right along with me!

I tried to get as many different responses as possible, but there are some repeat phrases during the interactive parts.

Best Enjoyed with Headphones!

Good End - Full Kindled

Bad End starts at the second interactive section. I managed to get quite a few different reactions!

Honorable Mentions: Warden Zaynie YELLING

🫠🫠🫠🫠

I hope you enjoyed these, and I hope this shows some love to Zayne's English VA! All of the VAs were PHENOMENAL (per usual), but this post is for Zaynie because I didn't expect such a drastic change from his usual, and it was flawless.

What were some of your favorite lines from this event? 😉

🩵💙🤍🩶🖤🩵💙🤍🩶🖤🩵💙🤍🩶🖤🩵💙🤍🩶🖤🩵💙

[ghost-in-the-stalls]

I was going to put this in the tags but it's long enough and a direct response that I think I should just add it here.

Yes, to all of this, unironically and unhesitatingly.

For what it's worth for everything I'm about to say, I am a licensed social worker and am currently employed as a mental health clinician. But I have not done any research on this personally and don't have sources at the moment to back this theory up (im going to look into that today actually. I'm curious to see what I find.) This is just all speculation from a professional, so take that for what it's worth. I'll try to add some sources later when I'm not on mobile.

See I agree with what was stated up above about anxiety and depression. I also think its possible it could apply to diagnoses considered less "general," like adhd.

Example. I was recently diagnosed with adhd. The only reason I bothered to pursue the diagnosis was because it was impacting my ability to function throughout my day, and I wanted to try medication. (Personally, I think those are the only times you really should pursue a professional diagnosis, but that's a separate conversation...)

The most notable complaints I had about what I was experiencing were:

- struggling to focus on one task instead of bouncing around between everything on my to do list

- getting overwhelmed and paralyzed from the amount of thoughts and tasks that were in front of me

- struggling to stay on a task that requires my full focus (like reading) because I simply can't give that task my full attention

- conversely, going too long engaging in one task (usually a preferred relaxation task) and neglecting other parts of my life. This typically happens for me on weekends, when I'm trying to play video games instead of think about work.

There are other symptoms that I qualify with, like interrupting people (or struggling not to), being physically jittery and fidgety, being easily angered when certain things happen, etc.

For me, a lot of this ties back to - and was made most clear by - the amount of tasks I have to regularly engage in in my life, and my difficulty keeping up with it all and functioning effectively through it.

Now on one hand, the DSM V is written with a focus on symptoms that interfere with life functioning. And things that stop necessary tasks from being completed tend to fuck our lives up more than something that makes us a little too talkative or fidgety.

But also. And I will say this again and again and again.

A diagnosis is a tool and label. Not a law of the universe. Not a cause. It is a human attempt at categorization of known symptoms, with the intention of relating to effective treatments.

(And that^^^ is something you'll learn from any decent psych 101 class. Mine wasn't decent and I had to go a few classes beyond before we actually started framing it that way.)

With that in mind. Here's a question.

Is my adhd just innate within me, and something that would have been there, regardless of what my life looked like? Is it a specific way my brain deviates from the "norm," and something that, with the right technology and testing, could have been detected and diagnosed without my even noticing any symptoms? Something that exists in a vaccuum without touching my other diagnoses of anxiety and depression?

Or. Is it maybe just a quick and easy way of saying "this person cannot keep up with the stimuli in their life without becoming overwhelmed. And it is effecting their functioning to a notable degree"

That second option is a gross oversimplification, but I hope you take a second to sit with how much the first option sounds like eugenics. If the problem is innate within you, then if we just improve our technology enough to detect it in everyone who has it and separate them from the "norm," then we can weed out the problem, right? Okay, Elon.

How much of my adhd could be a culmination of the fact that I'm overwhelmed with stimuli 24/7 and have lost my ability to focus effectively because of it? How much of my clients' adhd could be a result of the same, possibly combined with the fact that many of them have experienced or are currently experiencing trauma? Which is known to impact ability to focus on tasks, as well as create a hyperactive body system?

This isn't to say adhd is a bogus diagnosis. The same way that the anxiety and depression we experience within our current world state is also not a bogus diagnosis. We're still experiencing it. We still fit the diagnostic criteria. And treatment still helps.

My point of all this is, yes to what's above. And also, maybe it would be good to reframe the ways we view diagnosis in general, to take it a step further, and to recognize the very clear and present causes of what a lot of people are experiencing nowadays. In my opinion, it goes beyond anxiety and depression.

(Also. For the people saying you'll go nuts if you aren't busy. Take a look at why that is. Is that a sustainable way of living? Are you comfortable just existing as yourself? Are you trying to distract yourself from something, or avoiding something uncomfortable? Have you possibly adapted well to the pressure of being constantly busy? Think about it from a different angle)

[bluehoodiewoozi]

Found You First

Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader

Genre: fluff & humour with a slight side of angst. kind of a slow burn.

Word Count: 17K

Warnings: adult language. alcohol and food mentions galore. Hoshi meddles and creates more problems for everyone involved. reader’s size is not specifically mentioned, but Jihoon and she fit into each other’s clothes. one mention of “daddy” as a joke.

[best friends to lovers!AU] For years you’ve hated Valentine’s day, convinced you’d never find a love worth celebrating. Maybe this year you’ll see that what you needed has been right in front of you all along.

�� This fic is a part of @camandemstudios Lonely Hearts Cafe Collab! Please check out the other writer's works as well! They're all so good and we've all worked so hard!! ♡

[Still don’t know what to get your loved-one for Valentine’s day? We’ve got you covered!]

You stared at your phone, almost praying it would blow up and disappear along with the message. Unfortunately, you still needed your phone and the universe knew it. You sighed and deleted the message.

Maybe you wouldn’t be so bitter every February if the world was a little kinder to single people. After all, at least half the people in the world must be single – whether by choice or not. And yet it seemed that everything in the world was keen on reminding you of how entirely single you specifically were, your sister included.

She all but wrestled the phone out of your hand. “That’s it. I’m signing you up for dating apps.”

“Please don’t,” you replied with only half your usual annoyance and enthusiasm. Maybe a part of you thought this was exactly the push you needed. 

Already nose-deep in the app store, she didn’t even bother to pretend to hear you. 

“This one has good reviews–” she mumbled to herself as if it was her phone all along.

You only hugged a cushion to your chest and stared at the TV. Whatever romantic film your sister had chosen to watch today was not helping your problem. 

“What’s the point? Maybe Soonyoung’s right.”

“Who?” She finally glanced up.

“Soonyoung.”

She blinked. “Is this Soonyoung cute?”

“Can you please stop trying to set me up with every guy you hear about?” You rolled your eyes. “He said that the key to finding love is to first love yourself.”

“That’s, like, basic philosophy,” she replied easily and turned back to your phone. “I need your email and a password– Oh, wait, I can just make something up.”

You were fairly certain she wasn’t listening to a word you were saying but you were past the point of caring. At least talking to a person who isn’t listening is a (small) step above talking to the lonely snake plant on your windowsill. 

“Maybe I should take some time to just find myself,” you contemplated out loud. “I could try a new hobby. Or a new style. Find new books to read. Maybe then I won’t even care that I’m single.”

Still not looking up from the app she had newly installed on your phone, your sister hummed. “One of my friends did say that fictional boyfriends are better than real ones.”

So maybe she was better at multitasking than you had thought.

You put the cushion away and leaned closer to her. “What are you doing on my phone anyway?”

Proudly, she turned the device for you to see. “Ta-da! Your first ever dating app profile!”

A shiver of fear ran up your spine. “You signed me up for a dating app?”

“And you’re not allowed to delete it until you find a boyfriend,” she declared. “And if you do, I’ll just download it again.”

“You’re a menace.”

“Whatever,” she laughed and handed you back the phone, picking up her own from the coffee table. “Oh, I should get going.”

You couldn’t help but pout. “Already? Why?”

She rolled her eyes and went to pull on her coat. “Because, unlike you, I have a boyfriend who wants to take me out on a date. In fact,” she was practically beaming and you felt the ugly green tentacles of jealousy crawling up your leg already, “he’s taking me on a date every day until Valentine’s day.”

A pause. With a startle, you soon realised she was expecting you to cheer for her. You tried to find words that weren’t as bitter as you were feeling. “Oh, that’s so sweet of him.”

It was the right answer. She actually squealed as she confirmed, “Right? He’s such a romantic.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratory whisper as she leaned closer to you over the back of the sofa. “I think he’s going to propose on the big day.”

You almost sighed in despair. “I hope so! You deserve that ring.”

“You are so right,” she agreed and opened her mouth to say something more when the door suddenly opened. 

You tilted your head to see who had intruded. It was Jihoon, black hat covered in white snow and a takeaway bag in his hand. He blinked at the sight of your sister before smiling and waving. “Hi. I didn’t know you had visitors.”

“I do have friends other than you, Hoon,” you informed him. “Also, I do have a working doorbell.”

He gave you a funny look. “And I have your spare key.”

It was clear you had made a mistake when you awarded him the honour. Now you were stuck dealing with him even when you didn't want to.

“I’ll leave you two,” your sister announced and left, not before whispering something in Jihoon’s ear in the passing.

Jihoon’s ears turned red as he cleared his throat and set the takeaway bag on the table. 

“What did she tell you?” you asked him with a groan. You knew your sister better than anyone �� there was no way she hadn’t told him something so embarrassing you wouldn’t be able to look him in the eyes for weeks to come. “Lay it on me.”

“Nothing. It was nothing.” His reply was just a little bit too quick and wavering, but you decided to let it go this once. “I brought you some leftovers.”

You raised a brow. “Leftovers?”

“They ordered too much food to the studio today, so I brought you the extras,” he told you almost timidly, gesturing to the bag like it was no big deal and had required zero thought from him. He was a strange man but maybe that’s why you liked to keep him around. “Can’t let the good food go to waste. Besides,” his eyes seemed sharp all of a sudden, “have you eaten at all today?”

He didn’t need an actual answer – you both knew the truth.

“I’ll be sure to savour it,” you told him with a joking salute. “Want to join me for a movie?”

His nose scrunched up at the mention. “I wish. I promised to help Seungkwan set up for the party tonight.”

Right. The party. Seungkwan’s “Jeonghan’s party”. In three hours. You had forced yourself to forget about it. 

Jihoon pursed his lips in thought, brown eyes sparkling with mischief. “But we could always pretend we got kidnapped by a serial killer.”

“Sounds like too much work.”

“We escape to Iceland, become anonymous sheep herders and no one ever hears from us again,” he then suggested, snapping his fingers for emphasis and raising his brows as he waited for your reaction.

But as tempting as that sounded… “Seungkwan would find and skin us in fourteen days flat.”

He groaned and threw his head back. “Then I guess we have no choice. We must commit a crime so vile they give us a life sentence.”

“He’d just bring the party to the jailhouse,” you laughed. “And we wouldn’t even be able to sneak out.”

He took a deep breath and straightened back up. “Well, I’m out of ideas. Just plain suffering it is then.”

You glanced at the clock. “It’s not too late to fake our deaths.”

Jihoon snorted a laugh. “You just said that pretending to get kidnapped would be too much work.”

“Faking deaths is different! Or! We could summon a freak storm that would leave us stranded here,” you suggested. 

“How?”

“I’m sure there’s a good Youtube tutorial somewhere.”

He giggled at the idea. “You really don’t want to go to the party, huh?”

You could only sigh and wish for the plush green fabric of the sofa to swallow you whole. “There’s definitely going to be so many couples there, all dressed in matching outfits and giggling and making out. And I’ll be all lonely and miserable, quietly downing all of Seungkwan’s wine.”

When you looked at Jihoon, he was smiling at you almost fondly. He was silent for a while. Then he spoke again, “I’ll keep you company. Don’t worry.”

“It’s not the same,” you whined like a little brat even as his promise made you feel a tiny bit gooey and soft inside. 

“I’m sorry?” He just laughed again and shook his head, the remnants of snow falling onto the floor. “I’m bringing those muffins you like so much.”

You felt yourself perk up immediately. “Muffins? Why didn’t you just say so?”

He laughed harder but said nothing else as he turned and left. You would’ve been upset if you didn’t know him better. 

Your phone chimed with a new notification. 

[Claim your Valentine’s day coupon now and surprise your partner with a free tour of the museum!]

You groaned but didn’t delete the message.

[HOON: if you want to match with someone, I’m wearing red today]

You groaned harder and shut off your phone.

It wasn’t that you actually disliked these parties. You quite liked them, really. Seungkwan had figured out the perfect balance of socialising, snacks and music. It was a joy to be present, hanging out with your friends as you forgot about the problems of the week. 

The only problem was that ever since Seungcheol and Chan had introduced the idea of an annual friendly “Party King” competition, the number of parties you were gently blackmailed to attend had doubled. And, frankly, your social battery was due for an upgrade that never came.

You suspected the same went for Jihoon.

Clad in his dark red hoodie, he joined you on the sofa the moment his eyes caught yours. Sipping his soda and softly singing along to the music, he completely ignored your personal space and made himself comfortable by your side.

“No wonder you can’t get a boyfriend,” Seungkwan joked when he walked past the two of you, a box of party games in his arms. His smile was blinding as he told you, “Your guard dog’s going to scare all of the guys away.”

You blinked in confusion. He nodded to your side. Following the gesture, you found yourself face to face with Jihoon. A groan left your mouth.

“What?” Jihoon wondered. 

“Seungkwan says you’re the reason I’m single.”

He didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by the fact. “Well, if they want to date you, they have to impress me first.”

You almost felt a little fond of him, appreciating his protectiveness. But you also knew your Jihoon and you knew he wasn’t finished yet.

Under your warning eyes, he took a sip of his soda before smirking. “God knows you wouldn’t recognise a red flag if it slapped you in the face.”

Glancing down at his clothes, you snorted a laugh. “You’re literally dressed as a red flag yourself. I should be avoiding you of all people.”

“No, I’m just warning other people that you are a red flag,” he replied effortlessly, cutting your laugh short. Sensing he was now in real, actual danger, his eyes widened. “That was a joke. Just a joke. I’m sorry–”

You smacked him upside the head and shook your head. “Did someone mix alcohol into the soda? You’re so mean today.”

He blinked once. Twice. Looked into his soda cup. And then cursed. “I knew it tasted funky! Yoon Jeonghan!”

You could only laugh harder as he jumped up from the sofa and ran into the kitchen with fury that could not be matched. Drunk words are sober thoughts they say. Which is precisely why you hardly drank anything at these gatherings. 

Jihoon returned less than two minutes later, two unopened colas in hand. There was still an attitude to his foot stomps and a glint of annoyance in his eyes, but he opened one of the cans before handing it to you like he always did. 

“Not even Jeonghan can tamper with closed cans,” he reasoned almost bitterly. “Who mixes vodka into soda?”

“Lots of people,” you told him with a chuckle and a gentle pat to his shoulder. “It’s called mixing a cocktail.”

He rolled his eyes. “Rude of them to not consider people who don’t drink alcohol.”

“Kind of like it’s rude of them to not consider the single people here,” you half-joked in camaraderie. “Have you noticed they’ve only been playing love songs tonight?”

Jihoon’s brows furrowed. “Have they?”

You nodded towards the speakers that were blasting Love Me Right. “The last two songs were Lover and Steal the Show.”

He grimaced. “There’s still 12 days left until Valentine’s day. Are they insane?”

“Probably.” You rested your legs onto his lap. “I guess I’ll just be extra bitter and lonely this year then.”

“No shot at romance?”

You raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on your lips. “You literally just said you’re wearing red to warn others how much of a red flag I am. And now you want me to find romance?”

“I have mixed feelings about you dating,” he told you honestly – a little too honestly, if the red tint of his ears was anything to go by. He cleared his throat. “I should start checking the drinks for alcohol before I drink them.”

Pretending not to notice, you took a sip of your cola. “I keep thinking about what Soonyoung said yesterday. About loving myself before I can find someone.”

“Isn’t that just social media nonsense?” Jihoon wondered quietly, resting his free hand on your knee. His thumb rubbed little circles onto your skin, comforting you.

“What if he’s right?” you continued. “What if I love myself so little that I simply cannot be loved?”

Frowning, Jihoon let out a sharp noise of protest. The gentle touch of his thumb turned into a warning pinch between his fingers. “You are loved! Who put this dumb thought into your mind?”

“... Soonyoung?” 

“I’ll beat him up on Monday,” he half-heartedly promised, a heavy look still on his face. Softening his voice, looking straight into your eyes, he spoke, “Don’t you dare think you cannot be loved. You are loved.”

“By whom?”

He looked away and didn’t say. 

“Whatever,” you sighed once the silence became too much. The speakers began playing Die With a Smile. You sighed once more. “Can’t they play something less romantic? I’d kill for a dumb, mindless party song right now. Do you think you could ask Jeonghan to play something else? He scares me–”

But it seemed that Jihoon was still stuck on the last topic. “What are you doing for Valentine’s day this year?”

“... Aside from crying myself to sleep after watching To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before for the 15th time?”

“You don’t think you love yourself enough to be loved by someone else,” he echoed your earlier words, his eyes stuck on something in the distance, “so why not change that? Treat yourself to something good this year. No sad movies and ice cream,” he finally looked at you again, “just do something you’ve always wanted to do.”

You knew he was right – he always was right. “But it’s boring to do that alone.”

“Then I’ll come with,” he decided after a moment of thought. A small smile appeared on his face. His thumb finally resumed its circles on your knee. It was sweet. Until he opened his mouth again, repeating the words playing on the stereo: “Wherever you go, that’s where I’ll follow.”

To the sound of his giggles, you snorted and slapped his hand away. “You’re awful.”

“I’m serious–”

“Aren’t you two just the cutest!” Jeonghan interrupted your banter with a childish pout on his rosy lips as he leaned against the wall across from the table. Soonyoung was smiling brightly at his side. “Are you dating yet?”

You wondered if he was done asking that at every party yet. It’s not like it was ever going to change (no matter how much he, Soonyoung, and your mother hoped it would).

Jihoon sat up, narrowed eyes settling on Jeonghan as if he was the devil himself. “Did you mix vodka into the soda?”

“Maybe,” came the reply with a shrug and a wicked giggle. 

“I could get you a boyfriend for Valentine’s day,” Soonyoung suddenly said, his brown eyes set on you. There was that glint of mischief again. You realised you feared this man more than you feared bears, and not for the usual reasons.

Even so, you laughed. “Soonyoung, if you were any good at being a wingman, Jihoon wouldn’t be single right now. In fact, you’re, like, the number one reason why he’s single.”

Forgetting his own argument with Jeonghan, Jihoon seemed to take offense to your statement. He let out a noise of hurt before pinching your knee once again.

“Au contraire, my friend,” Soonyoung argued and leaned so close that you could smell the raspberry-flavoured liquor in his breath, “I’m going to be the reason he finally gets the girl.”

You raised a brow. “Remember, just last week you told a girl Jihoon’s not into women when she asked if he was single.”

“I was drunk,” he told you, wearing a mask of nonchalance. “I don’t remember much from that night.”

“Or the time I got a girl’s number but you stole it and dropped it in the pool,” Jihoon pointed out with a smile that seemed almost venomous. You had no doubt he’d hold that mishap over Soonyoung’s head for the rest of their lives – you almost hoped he would.

Soonyoung had the decency to look a little deflated at the mention, at least. But even so there was no stopping him. Mumbling under his breath, he repeated himself, “I’m going to be the reason he finally gets the girl.”

You shared a look with Jihoon and mutually decided to forget this exchange.

When you were sixteen, Jihoon’s dad let you in on a little secret. He had peeked out of the kitchen to make sure his son wouldn’t hear and then he’d told you that Jihoon had set his phone up so that he would never miss your calls. He thought it was the most adorable thing, and so did you. 

You hadn’t even realised your phone’s Do Not Disturb setting had an option to do so but suddenly you were giddy, excited to set your phone up in a similar manner. And when you didn’t quite manage to figure it out, you decided to compromise and just make his ringtone the loudest one you could find. It worked just the same for you.

You’ve had many phones since then, but the ringtone never changed. 

Though you were no longer sure if it was the obnoxiousness of the ringtone itself or the muscle memory of answering so many calls from him late at night, it never failed to wake you up when he needed you. 

Once again you woke up to the noise, hand automatically reaching for your phone even though your eyes were still closed and your mind was still halfway lost in dreamland. 

“Jihoon?” you mumbled his name as if his ringtone hadn’t been burnt into your memory.

The other line was silent for a moment. Then you heard a soft sigh. “Sorry. Did I wake you up again?”

“No,” you lied, dragging the vowel out as much as you could to loosen up your vocal cords. “What’s up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Nightmare, stress or boredom?”

“... All three?”

“You have to pick one.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

He groaned but it was soon followed by a soft laugh. “Do you remember when we were kids and I threw that ball into Mr Yang’s window?”

Weird change of topic, you thought, but Jihoon did love to reminisce. So you humored him. “You mean the time he yelled at you so hard that you cried?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “And then you told me he deserved to have his window broken. And you built a pillow fort in your closet for me to hide so my parents couldn’t find and scold me.”

“It had world-class security,” you joked. “Buddy and I were a trusty team.”

But it was like he hadn’t heard your interjection, too lost in his own memory book. 

“You hid in there with me and hugged me when my mom came to get me,” his voice trailed off. He cleared his throat. “You know, she wasn’t even that mad at me. I only had to do the dishes for a week.”

“You were just a kid and she knew that,” you spoke so softly that you wondered if he even heard you this time. The shared memory of the day ran in front of your eyes. It was a simpler time but even back then you had been ready to do anything for him.

Silence engulfed the two of you, only the gentle static of the phones reminding you of the other still being there. Ten whole minutes went by like this and for a moment you wondered if he’d fallen asleep.

“I should go to sleep,” you spoke low in case he really was asleep. “I have to wake up early tomorrow.”

He hummed. “Why?”

“I’m going to a museum and I want to leave by 10. So I should get up before 9. And it’s already almost 3 am, so you know…”

“Since when is 9 am early?” he half-joked before suggesting, “Just go later.”

“I’m a woman of principles, Lee Jihoon. When I have plans, I see them through.”

He scoffed out a laugh. “Liar. Remember that novel you said you were going to write?”

“No clue what you’re talking about,” you feigned innocence, “and you have no proof.”

His laugh sounded like he was sitting right next to you. You silently thanked the wonders of modern technology. 

As you prepared to say good night, you heard his voice again. “You remember the thing Soonyoung said yesterday? About finding you a boyfriend?”

You scoffed. “You don’t think he was serious about that, right? He was just joking, being Soonyoung.”

“Right. Right…” He sounded distant again, like he was in a daze, as he spoke, “Do you think– Have you ever wondered if—” He groaned and you could practically see him scrunching his eyes shut in frustration. “Nevermind, it’s dumb. Sleep must be sneaking up on me.”

You hadn’t realised you’d been holding your breath. It came out in a not entirely genuine laugh. “Maybe we should both go to sleep.”

“Yeah,” he agreed with a sigh. “You’re right, like always.”

“Always?” you teased.

“... Well, maybe not always.”

“You can’t take it back now,” you whined through laughter. “You almost never compliment me or my choices.”

He took a breath like he was about to say something. But nothing came out. Only a sigh. Then the phone call ended without another word – the way Jihoon liked it.

You rolled over to your side, reaching to put your phone away again when it buzzed. The screen lit up with a message. 

[Hoon: if I complimented you and all of your good choices, it would take forever.]

Crawling out of the comfort of your bed on one of your few days off, you wondered if the art of loving yourself was really worth the effort. 

As usual, half an hour was spent on reading the news and watching videos you weren’t entirely interested in. Another half an hour went by as you stared at the ceiling and contemplated your life decisions until you finally found the willpower to shower, get dressed, and eat a quick breakfast.

By 10, you were starting to feel like a human-being again, so you grabbed your keys and bag, and you walked out of your apartment. 

“You said you wanted to leave by 10,” Jihoon’s voice nearly shocked you into running back to your room. He was the dictionary definition of nonchalance as he stood in front of your door, barely even lifting his head, trying to read something off his phone. “It’s already 10:04, slowpoke. Are you ready to go yet?”

You stared at him for a while. Why was he here? Had you invited him along? No, you were sure you hadn’t. And then your jaw dropped as his words sunk in. “You’re the reason I stayed up until 3!”

“And to make up for it, I already sacrificed my arm by cleaning the snow off your car. You’re welcome. Let’s go.”

He never once looked up from his phone as he headed back down the stairs. You could only laugh in disbelief and lock your door before following after him. 

“Why are you here anyways?” you finally asked when the two of you reached your car which had, indeed, been brushed clean of snow. “I was going to go alone.”

Jihoon shrugged. “I was bored.”

“You were bored and just invited yourself along?” You wished you had that kind of audacity. 

The car seemed to be colder than the weather itself. You involuntarily shivered as you pulled the door closed behind yourself. Jihoon let out a noise of complaint as he settled into his usual spot in the leather passenger seat. Envy filled you as he adjusted himself and burrowed further into his warm fleece jacket. 

In an act of something akin to revenge, you tossed him your phone. “Read the directions. If I miss a turn because of you, I’m making you pay for my coffee.”

“Yes, captain,” he joked and turned the heat up to the maximum. One could only pray that your car’s battery would survive the trip. “Are we making any stops on the way?”

“I wasn’t going to.” You really weren’t. It was just a 70-minute drive to the museum – adding to the duration really wasn’t on your bucket list – but knowing Jihoon, not stopping for snacks was simply not an option. The deepening pout and his wide eyes were enough indication that you were right to assume so – he only ever used his cuter side to win. A deep sigh bubbled in your throat. Through gritted teeth you spoke, “But I suppose we could squeeze in a quick stop.”

He let out the tiniest cheer and happily gave the first instruction: “We need to go right, turn left at the intersection and then–” A noise of curiosity. “A Hyunjin wants to know if you have any pets? I guess?”

You frowned. There wasn’t a single Hyunjin you could think of. “Hyunjin?”

“That’s what it says,” he told you with a shrug. “He also wants to know how you feel about… ferrets.”

You weren’t entirely sure what that was about. “Just ignore it. Where to next?”

“Uh,” he vocalised, “right again.”

“Why did we even turn left then?” 

He chuckled. “I’m just telling you what the app says.”

“Whatever. Next?”

“Just keep going straight. We should reach the highway in, like, fifteen minutes.” 

Fifteen minutes straight through the busiest part of the city? You regretted your museum plans already. Should’ve just stayed at home and watched Youtube the whole day. There was a sneaking suspicion that even if you had watched traffic camera livestreams, you would’ve seen fewer red lights.

While you painstakingly stared at the lights, praying for them to turn green already, you noticed Jihoon happily scrolling through your phone. Your hand rose and somewhat forcefully landed on his thigh in a warning gesture. “Stay out of my private messages, creep.”

“Why would I want to read your private messages?” he half-joked and made a face that made you roll your eyes. “By the way, your mom said to bring tiramisu cake to dinner on Friday.”

Defeated, you sighed. “Tell her I’ve got it covered. What’s the occasion?”

“She wouldn’t tell.”

“You’re chatting with her right now?”

He smiled at you like it was obvious. “She’s my mother too.”

“Stop. That’s gross.”

“Also, who’s Andrew?” he then asked, smile dropping.

Another name you weren’t sure could be associated with yours. “Who?”

“An Andrew Johnson,” he slowly read the screen. “He wants to know what your favourite colour is.” His head whipped up just as you pressed the accelerator. “What’s with all these weird chats? You don’t seem to know these people?”

Desperately, you tried to recall a Hyunjin or an Andrew. You had no recollection of either. And somehow the list only seemed to grow with Jihoon calling out a new name and question at what felt like every minute: “Jongho just sent the cringiest pick-up line I’ve ever read”, “Joshua wants you to know that you have a typo in your profile”, “Minjae asked if you prefer walks on beaches or forest hikes”. 

Each notification made you more confused than the one before and soon you felt your brain would melt.

You finally had enough of the confusion when he said, “Turn right. I want a burrito. Also, Chanyeol says you look hot in your profile picture.”

“What profile picture?” you nearly cried out as you slammed the brakes in front of the gas station. “What is going on?”

Jihoon looked just as disheartened and puzzled as you felt, if not even more so. He unbuckled his seatbelt like it had been trapping him and threw your phone back to you for inspection like it was burning hot. He was already halfway through the door when you caught your bearings again. “You want anything?”

“Just a coffee,” you told him, barely paying half a mind to the conversation as you scrolled through your notifications. 

You barely noticed he left when you tapped on one of the notifications showcasing an unfamiliar name, a message and a photo of a handsome man. The screen opened on an app you had barely any recollection of ever downloading. A familiar ‘swipe left or right’ homescreen made you groan and shut your eyes as you locked the phone and tried your hardest to pretend this wasn’t real. 

Minutes passed in blissful almost-ignorance. You felt at almost-peace. It was almost nice.

Until Jihoon arrived once again, two burritos, a water and a coffee in hand, and a scowl on his face. 

“Did you figure out who those guys are yet?” he asked and for a moment you thought he sounded bitter. 

You didn’t have any sighs left in you, so you just grabbed a burrito and the coffee. “Yep.”

He raised a brow while he silently took the burrito back and handed you the other one instead. “So?”

You frowned at his actions. “Did you just swap the–”

“You wouldn’t like this one,” he said and took a pointed bite out of the burrito. “So, the mystery men?”

There it was: the last sigh you could force out of yourself. It didn’t feel anywhere as freeing as you hoped it would. “My sister got a hold of my phone the other day and downloaded a dating app. I think she might’ve messaged a few guys she thought I’d like.”

“You don’t seem happy about it.” You barely understood his words with his mouth so full of food. 

“I don’t really believe in dating apps working, you know,” you told him honestly and took a bite of your own burrito. Your eyes closed in bliss – you should’ve trusted Jihoon’s judgement from the start. “This is so good.”

“I know,” he replied with a knowing half-smile that disappeared as fast as it appeared. “If you don’t believe in the app, just delete it.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Made a promise to not uninstall it.”

Your phone made the executive decision to light up with another notification just then. Jihoon tilted his head to read it and carefully voiced out the message: “Seungho says your eyes look as pretty as the starry night sky– Okay, that’s just cheesy.” 

Brows furrowed and nose scrunched up in disgust, he grabbed the phone, unlocking it with ease (you had only half a memory of ever giving him the password), and scrolled through the apps until he found the culprit. 

“I’m uninstalling it,” he told you when he felt your curious eyes on him. 

Your eyes widened at their own accord. “You can’t. I promised my sister–”

“Lucky for you, she’s not my sister,” Jihoon says as he swiftly uninstalled the app and brought peace into your life once again. His frown turned into a proud smile as he handed the phone back to you. “You’re welcome.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded, flabbergasted, confused. “Did you really just–?”

“Anything for you.” He said it with the uttermost seriousness. “If she tries that again, tell her she’ll have to deal with me first.”

Shaking off the odd wave of appreciation you felt for this man – your best friend, you reminded yourself –, you settled back down in your seat. You stared out the window for a while, slowly devouring your burrito. 

Head whipping around to stare at him in disbelief, you jolted upright again. “Wait, so my mom is your mom, but my sister is not your sister?!”

He was too busy enjoying his food (and accomplishments) to ever reply.

The banners of the café were mocking you.

Bright reds and pinks snickered as you walked past. Papers cut into perfect little hearts flew past your head, giggling as if they were better than you.

“Happy Valentine’s day!” they all said, side-eyeing you while you resisted the urge to commit your first arson. 

“When was the last time you ate something other than candy?” is all that Jihoon said in reply when you told him such. 

You spared a glare at him. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “You just tend to get a little…” he hummed in thought, glancing up at the sky as if he was expecting a dictionary to drop from a cargo plane any second now, “imaginative when you’ve had too much sugar.”

“I’m always imaginative.”

“It was not a compliment.”

You rolled your eyes in response and opened the door. “You can say what you want but I know for a fact that this whole holiday was invented to make fun of me.”

It didn’t take much to figure out that the pensive scrunch of his nose, the narrowing of his eyes and the tilt of his head meant that he was holding back a question that would probably end with one of you in the ER and the other in a police car. You decided the look alone was enough to warrant slamming the café door closed in front of his face and marched up to the register. His loud laughter taunted you as you did so; not even the thick walls of Soonyoung’s mother’s café could muffle the sound.

You didn’t bother to turn around to look at him as the bell chimed and Jihoon walked right up, taking his usual spot next to you, the remnants of laughter still on his tongue. “I will never get your deal with Valentine’s day, I swear.”

“There’s no deal. Only hatred. Even loathing, if you will.”

“I’ll make sure to ask Soonyoung to make your coffee as dark as your soul then,” he promised with a cheeky grin. The list of crimes you wished to commit on this day was growing by the second – he knew damn well to not come between you and your vanilla mocha latte.

“Anyways,” you sighed theatrically, “can’t Valentine’s day be over already?”

“I sure hope not,” Soonyoung’s bright voice sounded as he practically danced out of the backrooms, “our sales are always the best on Valentine’s day. So, what can I get you two?”

Why did everything have to be Valentine’s themed anyway? And so expensive? The new higher price of the chocolate muffins had you absolutely appalled.

Your bitter thoughts were interrupted by a nudge to your side. “What do you want?”

A new wave of confusion hit. “Since when do you ask that?”

“You’re acting like I order at random,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “They don’t have your usual waffles.”

You were even more appalled. Absolutely horrified, really. “They don’t have waffles?! What kind of a café doesn’t have waffles?!”

“We have waffles!” Soonyoung seemed offended by your best friend’s claim, a pout on his lips as he stood at the counter in his red apron (and was his name tag heart-shaped? (You could’ve sworn it was just a rectangle last week)). 

Who were you supposed to believe? Soonyoung who worked at the café and was too earnest to ever really lie to you? Or Jihoon who sometimes lied to you just to have a laugh? You were leaning towards the former, and Jihoon could read it from your face.

He groaned. “Fine, I’ll get you your pink heart-shaped waffles.”

The use of emphasis was not accidental and his brows rose in challenge, daring you to agree to his absolutely horrifying order.

“Heart-shaped?” You prayed he was joking. 

Turning to face Soonyoung, you found yourself disappointed to realise he wasn’t. With a bright, proud smile on his face, Soonyoung nodded. “We’re switching up the menu for the holiday.”

Single and lonely as you were, you could think of few things less appetizing than pink heart-shaped waffles. Biting back a whine of frustration, you leaned your forehead onto Jihoon’s shoulder and mumbled, “Just get me anything but that.”

You realised your mistake almost as soon as you said those words. Eyes widening, you pushed yourself back upright and tried to stop him as he placed an order for cinnamon rolls and a Nuts About You praline latte with a wicked grin on his face. You both knew exactly what he was doing and he found great amusement in your misery.

“Perfect–,” Soonyoung started, already clicking away to add your order.

You interrupted with a rather loud, “I do not want that!”

Jihoon’s lips quirked. “Why not? Too nutty for you?”

“I just don’t want it,” you declared, crossing your arms over your chest as you glared at him. “Just because.”

He pretended to roll his eyes before turning to Soonyoung again, “She’ll have a Cupid’s Special Never Bean Kissed instead.”

“We’re no longer friends, Lee Jihoon.”

The stupid smile didn’t leave his face. “You don’t want me to pay for lunch?”

Second mistake of the day. You groaned and his laughter filled the store as you did so. 

“Your food should be ready soon. Are you paying together or separately?” Before you could answer, Soonyoung added – and you could’ve sworn his eyes glinted with something not entirely wholesome –, “If you say you’re a couple, I can give you a 20% discount and two slices of cake for free. This goes until February 15th.” 

You and Jihoon stared at him dumbfounded. 

He shrugged. “I’m not allowed to assume.”

“What about this–” Jihoon widely gestured to the both of you, appearing equally baffled, “–says ‘might be a couple’?”

Soonyoung shrugged once more and put on a wide smile. “Are you?”

“No!”

“Worth a shot,” he sighed, his smile never fading. “You two could pull off being a couple though.”

“Why are we friends with you again?”

“Because you love me.” Your scrunched up face must have seemed doubtful enough because he soon added, “And my mom makes me give you employee discounts.”

“Exactly why does he keep offering us the couples’ discount every year?” Jihoon wondered under his breath two minutes later while practically throwing himself onto the chair across from yours. “He knows we’re both single.”

“Maybe he’s trying to play matchmaker,” you joked, grabbing a cinnamon roll off the plate he’d placed on the table. “You know, to set us up or something.”

Jihoon caught your eyes. A moment of silence passed as you contemplated your words. 

Then he shook his head and huffed. “He’s not dumb enough for that.”

“No, you’re right.” You took a bite and almost moaned at the taste – Soonyoung’s mother had a knack for baked goods. “God, this is so good– Besides,” you quickly returned to the topic, “I think he might have been right last time.”

Jihoon’s brows furrowed. “What?”

“You know, the whole ‘you have to love yourself to be loved by someone else’,” you reminded him with a shrug. “I’ve been trying to do things for myself this week and it’s actually been so nice.”

“Things like what?” he wondered, grabbing a cinnamon roll as well.

“Well, the museum visit, for one. I got a text about it and thought ‘I don’t have anyone to take with me, but I might as well go for myself’, so I went and it was actually really nice,” you pointed out. “Freeing, in a way.”

He blinked. “I was literally with you the entire day.”

“You’re practically attached to me,” you joked with a dismissive wave of your hand. “It doesn’t count.”

“Your coffee’s ready!” Soonyoung appeared at the table with two cups. He placed one in front of you, keeping the other in a flimsy grip in his other hand as he did so. 

Before you could comment on it, the other cup dropped from his hand with a loud gasp and an apology.

“I’m so sorry,” Soonyoung was reaching for tissues before you could even comprehend what had happened. 

Then you felt your suddenly cold button-up shirt press and stick to your skin. Glancing down, you cursed under your breath and reached for a handful of tissues of your own, starting to dab away at the spots of coffee on your white shirt.

“Should’ve known something like this would happen,” you spoke through gritted teeth as Soonyoung’s lips kept spilling apologies after apologies. “This is why I never wear white.”

Jihoon sat frozen on his chair, wide eyes wildly switching between you trying to clean your shirt, and Soonyoung, practically on his knees, wiping the floor. Eventually, he settled on watching you.

Your desperate clean-up attempt soon slowed. It was no use. You didn’t possess the magic necessary to get an iced americano out of the white fabric. 

“Can I do anything…?” Jihoon asked softly.

“Nothing short of finding me a new shirt to wear,” you told him with a laugh that had no joy in it. You still had four hours of work left and you were certain your boss would have a word with you for the accidental dress code violation – wearing clean clothes was, after all, written in bold on the first page of the employee handbook.

He frowned. “I could give you my hoodie to cover-up?”

You perked up at the idea. “Would you?”

He snorted a laugh. “Is that really a question?” 

Without another word, he sat upright and pulled on the hem of his black hoodie, revealing a grey t-shirt under it. It took him a few seconds and some noises of struggling (that you suspected he only made to cheer you up), and then he handed the hoodie to you. 

It was warm to the touch and smelled like your best friend when you pulled it over your head. Your day was better immediately.

“It feels like a hug,” you mumbled without really meaning to.

Jihoon’s breath seemed to get caught in his throat at that exact moment. He coughed twice before humming, “You say the weirdest things.”

Thursdays are movie nights. No matter the situation, no matter your feelings, Jihoon and you would buy copious amounts of snacks and gather at either of your apartments to watch a movie together.

“We’re not watching The Lion King,” he declared while hauling your giant grocery bag up the stairs (he’d insisted it was easier to just stuff everything into a giant bag than to carry several bags; who were you to try and stop him?). “I don’t feel like crying today.”

“You never cry anyway,” you grumbled and supported the bag from underneath. There was just the tiniest tear in its side and you were growing wary. There was only one more flight of stairs to go.

He stopped and turned his head to glare back at you. “Are you suggesting I’m a monster? Who doesn’t cry during The Lion King?”

“You,” you supplied with an innocent smile and pushed at the bottom of the bag to urge him forward. “If you don’t want to watch The Lion King, then pick something better. I dare you.”

“Captain America.”

“I’m locking you outside,” you replied with a scoff. “You can sleep on the doormat, or maybe Ms. Kim will be merciful and give you one of her dog beds.”

“Can you stop acting like you don’t enjoy Marvel movies?” he wondered. “Or would that break your programming?”

As you arrived on your floor, you told yourself it was not worth the fight. You reached into your pocket to pull out the keys, ignoring Jihoon’s groans of exhaustion as you slowly and meticulously pressed the key into the hole. But when you began to turn it, the door handle tilted downwards and the door opened.

You blinked in surprise as Yoon Jeonghan gently ushered you out of the way so he could leave. He wore a pleasant smile as he opened the door wider to let you into your own apartment. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked when you found your voice again.

He shrugged. “Wanted to see if you had any of that good ramyeon.” When you lifted a puzzled brow, he victoriously held up three packets of your favourite ramyeon. “I’ll be taking these. Thank you for being such a good friend!”

While you searched for words to say, he rushed down the stairs. He was still in hearing range when your brain kicked into gear and you called out, “How’d you get inside?!”

“Stole Jihoon’s key!” came a joyous reply from three stories below. 

Beside you, Jihoon let out a loud groan of frustration, brows knitted and nose scrunched. “That son of a bi–.”

“I was looking forward to that ramyeon!” you whined and stomped into your apartment, pulling your best friend after you by the sleeve.

Lost in noodle-grief, you burrowed into the sofa cushions as he placed down the bag and began rummaging through the two drawers you had so kindly surrendered to him and his clothes. You watched as he closed the drawers with a defeated short hum and opened your closet instead. It didn’t alarm you – it hadn’t in years. 

“Why are your shirts so much nicer than mine?” he suddenly asked, pulling off his crispy black button-up shirt to replace it with your favourite white t-shirt.

Momentarily you were brought back to reality just to reply with a short and simple: “Because I actually pay attention to what I buy from the store?”

His head turned just to give you good-natured glare. It soon gave way to a mischievous smirk – one crafted to annoy you. “Why would I do that when I can just borrow your clothes?”

“One day I’m going to take away your closet privileges,” you lazily vowed. 

He stuck his tongue out. You always did bring the more mature side of him out.

As you turned on the TV – one that came with your studio apartment and would have been entirely useless if not for the movie nights –, Jihoon threw himself into the cushions next to you.

Taking advantage of your state of not-quite-being-there, Jihoon stole the remote. When you whined and tried to get it back, he laughed and pushed you away with his free hand. While you fought to get the remote, the TV began playing yet another Marvel movie. 

The opening credits began playing and you only knew it was Iron Man because he’d made you watch this movie a thousand times. You wanted to argue but the movie nights had one unbreakable rule: once a movie starts playing, there’s no changing it. 

“Seriously?” you groaned and threw your head back against the backrest of the sofa. 

Like the TV, the green sofa had also been in the apartment for as long as you knew. You had always thought it to be a rather cosy and perfect lounging spot. Slowly, however, you were realising it had its flaws, the worst one being that with Jihoon’s manspreading habit, there simply wasn’t enough space.

“Move,” you nudged his leg that was leaning too close to yours for comfort. “Hoon, you’re on my side of the sofa.”

He only nudged your leg back with a laugh. “Since when?”

“Since ten minutes ago,” you declared, pushing back harder. “And stop manspreading. That’s rude. You’re taking up all of the space.”

“Didn’t your mother teach you to be nice to guests?” he teased, leaning even closer with his whole body now until his chin rested on your shoulder. 

You found yourself pleasantly surprised by his warmth. It was cold outside, you reasoned with yourself, of course you were enjoying any warmth you could get your hands on. Besides, it wasn’t often that Jihoon burrowed this close to you. You were bound to find joy in his rare act of affection.

Your joy was short-lived though because it was only now that you noted (with slight to moderate annoyance) that he had stolen a coke from your fridge. You scoffed.

“You’re hardly a guest. A parasite is more likely.”

As more and more of his weight pressed onto you, you groaned in pain. He only laughed at your misery. 

“You steal my clothes. You steal my space. You use me as your personal cushion,” you counted. “Does your audacity have no limits?”

He paused, lips pursing as he thought for a moment. Then he smiled brightly. “No.”

It took all your strength to push him off you. He had the gall to giggle the whole way, and you soon found yourself laughing along with him. 

“You’re awful,” you told him with an affectionate grin. Your efforts of moving him were in vain and he happily rested his head on your shoulder, occasionally slurping his (formerly your) coke. You tried really hard not to think of how awfully domestic this position would’ve looked to a stranger.

“You’re not allowed to complain,” he eventually told you. “You’re the one that stole my hoodie yesterday.”

You gasped, appalled by his accusation. “You offered!”

“I was practically blackmailed,” he spoke loudly as if announcing it to a theatre of people. “What choice did I have?”

“Maybe I need to do this self-love journey just so I’ll have someone who actually loves me and isn’t faking it to be a drama queen,” you concluded with a theatrical sigh. 

Jihoon laughed and nudged your side. “No way. You’re stuck with me no matter what.”

And you appreciated that. You really did. But. There was always a but.

“How am I supposed to learn to love myself more anyway?” you wondered, leaning into the cushions as well as his warmth, angling your body to enjoy the benefits of both. “I socialised at Seungkwan’s party. I went to a museum. I feel like I love myself enough. What else can I do?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Something that says I’m unapologetically me,” you said thoughtfully, trying to think of something. You weren’t entirely sure it had anything to do with self-love. Really, it was probably more-so to avoid your loneliness on Valentine’s day. “Something I’ll enjoy but find a little challenging, so when I’m done with it I’ll feel pride.”

“You could order your own coffee for a change.”

Dreams shattered, you let out a scoff. “I would but you never let me.”

“Yeah,” he agreed readily, “you always get the same thing anyway.”

“Well, what if I wanted to try something different?”

“You snooze, you lose. Just be glad I pay for your lunch.”

“Thank you, daddy.”

Silence. Long and awkward (just how you liked it) as you watched his reddening face with a wicked grin. This is what he got for being mean and useless. Finally, he ran a rough hand over his face and declared, “That’s it. You can pay for your own lunch from now on.”

“Oh no, how will I live,” you bemoaned, fully aware that he’d never let you pay for your own meals. “I’m still open to ideas though. I need something to do.”

Jihoon offered a mocking smile. “Well, you didn’t like my idea, so–”

“Please,” you begged, tugging at his shirt with one hand. “Anything. Please. Tell me to read The Odyssey. To start a charity. To paint an overcomplicated mural–”

Clearly uninterested in the topic at hand, he cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together. “Is it just me or is it cold in here?”

Now that he mentioned it, your hands were feeling a little freezing. Just a bit. And your toes felt like they’d been on an ice block this whole time.  You frowned. 

“No, you’re right,” you realised and jumped up to check the thermostat. It proudly showcased the number 10. You hurriedly set it to a higher heat. 10 degrees was not enough to keep you alive, you feared. 

“Someone’s messed with my thermostat,” you told him as you returned to the sofa. “This old building gets cold so fast.”

Jihoon’s brows furrowed in thought. “You don’t think…”

“What?” you wondered, pressing closer to him in an effort to get warm again. The world off the sofa was far worse than you had anticipated and now you were forced to shiver as you waited for Jihoon’s natural warmth to reach you as well. You felt your eyes widen as the pieces clicked into place. “Jeonghan?”

“He was acting suspicious,” he confirmed as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, effectively pulling you closer. 

Though you found yourself wanting to purr in bliss, you told yourself he only did so because he felt sorry for you – you never were built for the cold climate. Making a mental note to fight Jeonghan the next time you saw him was the best distraction you had.

Minutes passed in silence, par the movie playing in the background. You weren’t sure either of you were focused on it. But the rule stood and neither of you dared to be the first one to break it. So you remained right there, in his arms, unable to think about anything other than your vengeance plan and Jihoon’s embrace.

It was warmer now. Whether it was the doing of your apartment’s heating or Jihoon holding you like you were his lifeline, you were too comfortable to contemplate. The soft chimes of dreamland were calling you now.

“You know,” Jihoon spoke, voice low and gravelly, “they say cuddling helps to preserve heat.”

You knew it was just a dumb excuse. You knew you should’ve poked his side and made a joke about him using you for his personal gain. But as you pressed your cheek against his chest and wrapped your arms around his frame just a little tighter, you forgot all about it. 

By the time you remembered to argue, you felt your eyes getting heavy and his heartbeat slowing down under your ear. 

You hadn’t disliked Seungkwan’s parties all that much last week or the week before that. But this was getting excessive – even Seungcheol had said so, but Seungkwan listened to no one. Seungkwan, you see, had a goal and no one could dissuade him from reaching it.

“I think at this point they have no choice but to crown him the party king,” Jihoon mused, once again sitting by your side on the sofa as the two of you watched the party host gloat about his impeccable party streak. “It’s quantity over quality.”

Taking a sip from your soda, you hummed in agreement. “If nothing else, they should crown him for all the effort alone. Have any of the others even planned any parties yet?”

“I think Seungcheol’s planning the Valentine’s day Party with Soonyoung.”

You nodded. “I’m definitely going to be sick for that one.”

“You’re going to have to pick a different excuse,” Jihoon pointed out with a chuckle. “You’ve pulled the flu excuse four times already this year. They’re getting suspicious.”

“Join me in becoming sheep farmers in Iceland?”

“If Seungkwan would find us in 14 days, Seungcheol would find us in half that,” he told you and you weren’t entirely sure he was joking. 

You sighed. “Do you have to ruin all of my dreams?”

He laughed and nudged your shoulder. It was only recently that you’d noticed how often he did that. You hadn’t seen him do it to his other friends, now that you thought about it. It was always him and you. Perhaps, you thought, you had finally discovered his love language.

You noted with glee that he did it again, this time so slightly you almost didn’t feel it. “Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?” you wondered, unable to think of anything you had done to warrant those words.

The room seemed to get brighter, lit up by a radiant magical glow, as his face broke out into a wide smile. “For staying sober with me. I think I’d go insane here if you didn’t.”

“Now you’re just being dramatic. You’d live,” you told him and took a sip of your cola as you surveyed the room, taking note of your friends’ antics. “I’m not entirely sure about the others, but you would live.”

He burst out laughing at your words as if it was the funniest joke in the world (it really wasn’t; you had elicited far colder responses to far funnier jokes but you appreciated the enthusiasm). “You’re probably right. But still,” he took a calming breath, a bright grin still on his face, “I’m glad to have you with me. I can’t imagine you have much fun sitting here with a sober me when you could be doing drunk karaoke with Joshua and Jihyo.” 

You were about to tell him there was no place you’d rather be when Vernon appeared from what you could only assume was the shadows and gave the two of you that blank helpless wide-eyed look of his. 

You and Jihoon sighed in unison.

“What is it this time?” he wondered, already adjusting his sleeves and flexing his fingers in preparation for whatever herculean task awaited him.

The reply was short and laconic. “The fridge is being weird.”

Jihoon offered you a look that told you he couldn’t have cared less about the decade-old fridge Jeonghan had wrestled out from some old lady’s hands at the second-hand store. It wasn’t his property. It had, in fact, absolutely nothing to do with him because he didn’t live here. 

“Just go,” you laughed and waved him away, earning a look of betrayal. “The child won’t leave you alone if you don’t help him.”

“I’m not a repair guy,” he told you with a mild glare before groaning once more and finally getting up. From his new higher vantage point, he could look right into your empty cup and roll his eyes as if he didn’t want to say the words he’d utter next: “I’ll get you a new drink while I’m gone.”

You sent him off with a grateful smile and a plan to conquer the space he’d left behind. Your feet would thank you for the gentle stretch of being rested on the sofa and you could already practically hear the odes they’d sing to you. But then, as fast as the spot beside you became empty, it immediately was filled again. 

“I’m sorry if this upsets you,” a girl you vaguely knew by the name of Yeonmi spoke as she slumped into the free space Jihoon had left, slurring her words, “but I’m going to marry him.”

You quirked a brow. “Who? Vernon?”

“No!” She pointed at your best friend. “Him! Jihoon!”

You suddenly wondered if you were hallucinating this entire interaction. You blinked once, and then once more, before turning your head to look. Certainly Yeonmi was drunk off her ass and had mistaken him for someone else! Or maybe you yourself were drunk – who’s to say Jeonghan hadn’t mixed vodka into the soda once again? He’d done it before, more than twice.

But then you saw: Jihoon stood at the kitchen aisle. Laughing at what appeared to be the funniest joke in the world, he passed bottles of water around for his drunk friends. One by one, they accepted their bottles with grateful glee and promises to never drink again. 

Then, whining something about how he’s not that drunk yet, Seungcheol tried to push the bottle away and your best friend’s grin morphed into a short-lived frown as he smacked him across the back of his head with the very same bottle and forced it into his hand. Just like that Jihoon’s smile returned as Seungcheol’s pout only pursed out more.

As you began to laugh at the scene, you suddenly remembered why you’d looked over in the first place. Brows furrowing, your head snapped to glare at Yeonmi once again. “You want to marry him?!”

You weren’t entirely sure why the idea irritated you as much as it did. Maybe Jeonghan actually had mixed something into the soda. You certainly had no other reason to be so irate by the concept of Jihoon marrying someone. 

“Absolutely,” Yeonmi mumbled, gaze stuck as if Jihoon was a beautiful mirage that would disappear if she took her eyes off of him. She took a sip of her cocktail, unaware of the scathing look of disapproval she was on the receiving end of. “Isn’t he just perfect?”

Fighting to keep your irrational temper in check, you took a deep breath. “Since when do you like him like that?”

“Today.”

“What?”

Yeonmi must have taken the growing volume of your voice for a sign of excitement because she quickly added, “I think we’ll get married tomorrow.”

“You can’t marry him,” you told her without as much as a scoff. It wasn’t a joke. It was not a threat. It was a clear-cut fact of life. To you it was anyway.

Finally, Yeonmi tore her attention away from him and stared at you, blinking her saddened puppy-dog eyes. “Why not?”

You didn’t have a reason. Not a very good one anyway. “You just can’t.”

“But I want to!” She continued pouting. You noted with glee that it was the alcohol talking. Sober Yeonmi would never do this to you. But sober Yeonmi was far gone – six beers deep gone. “Why can’t I marry him?”

Unfortunately, drunk Yeonmi was far less reasonable than you knew sober Yeonmi to be. You had to think long and hard about your words if you wanted to put this conversation to rest soon. “Because he–”

“Who’s marrying who?” Seokmin stumbled into the conversation and onto the sofa, settling right between the two of you like a rather ill-fitting puzzle piece. A drink in his hand, a backwards cap askew on his head, and a comically large tiger plushie under his arm (one you could practically hear Soonyoung already frantically searching for), he stared at you two in child-like excited wonder. 

You almost had a spark of hope – could this be your saving grace? your ticket out of this conversation that was irritating you for reasons outside of your comprehension? – until you realised that Seokmin was almost certainly just as drunk – if not more – as Yeonmi. You pinched the bridge of your nose and groaned.

“I’m marrying Jihoon,” Yeonmi declared all too proudly, her pout turning into a bright smile that could rival the sun. For a moment you found yourself almost bitterly thinking she was exactly the pretty kind of girl your best friend deserved. Then she just had to open her mouth again: “Tomorrow. I’m marrying him tomorrow, for sure.”

Her words were met with a dramatic gasp and a matching bright smile. “You are?”

“I am!”

“She’s really not,” you mumbled from where you’d been pushed against the armrest by their celebration.

Then Seokmin froze mid-squeal-of-joy. He slapped a hand over his mouth. He loudly whispered, “But you can’t!”

Yeonmi’s smile once again dropped. “Why not?”

“Because Jihoon’s (Y/n)’s boyfriend!” He told her with such conviction that you began to wonder if you had missed a major life event of your own damned life. 

You frowned. “We’re not–”

“Oh.” Yeonmi nodded solemnly. “You are right. I can’t believe I forgot that.” She paused before loudly whispering, “You know, I heard they’re actually married. Eloped in Vegas during spring break back in college.”

“I heard that one too!” Seokmin pointed out with inexplicable uncontained glee. “I heard he wrote a song and sang it to her at the proposal.”

“That’s so romantic,” Yeonmi swooned, smiling like it was the cutest news she’d heard all day. Her dreams of marrying Jihoon had disappeared just like that. 

But you felt like you were living in a nightmare.

“What are you guys talking about?” you cried out, watching them in astonishment and horror. “There’s nothing going on between us!”

“I mean,” Soonyoung joined in, leaning against the armrest like he’d been there all along, “you’re practically married, even if the elopement thing isn’t true.”

Yeonmi gasped. “It’s not?”

You ignored her.

“It’s okay if the spark goes out a little bit, you know what I mean,” Soonyoung attempted to explain? comfort you? Whatever he was doing, you wished he’d stop. “Relationships take work, you know.”

You felt your left eye twitch. “We’re not dating.”

This was news to your friends – if their wide eyes and dropped jaws were anything to go by, anyways. 

“But–” Seokmin started, slumping in his seat as if his whole world had shattered into pieces. “But you’re Jihoon and (Y/n). You’re practically always glued together.” 

“So? We’re friends. Best friends. You know this.”

“If what you guys have isn’t love, then what is?” he wondered, asking no one in particular it seemed. His gaze had frozen on the fairy lights taped to the ceiling. He looked close to tears and you decided you’d had enough of this and got up off the sofa. 

It had been a while since you’d been out on the balcony anyway. It was nice and quiet and away from your nosy friends who clearly could not wrap their minds around the possibility of two friends not dating. The fresh air bit at your nose but you decided it was better than facing them again. 

Looking out at the nightlife of the city below, your thoughts kept drifting back to what they said. Why had you felt so irritated at the idea of Jihoon being with someone else? He wasn’t yours to keep, as much as you liked to joke about it. He wasn’t your husband, he wasn’t your boyfriend, not even a friend with benefits. He was just Jihoon.

You were just you and Jihoon. That’s what it had always been. 

So why did the idea of being ‘just (Y/n) and Jihoon’ suddenly sent a rush of rage and insult up your spine? 

“(Y/n)?” a voice called out and you felt the subtle warmth of the apartment creep out through the opened balcony door. You turned to find Seungkwan standing right there, his kind eyes looking at you as if you were insane. “Aren’t you cold?”

“It was stuffy in there,” you excused yourself and turned back to stare over the railing.

He hummed in understanding but couldn’t stop himself from adding, “Could’ve just opened a window instead of standing out here without your jacket.”

You let out a short laugh. “I guess I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Warmth surrounded you, the feel of a soft knitted cardigan following soon after. “Better?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“I’m a little surprised Jihoon hasn’t given you his sweater yet,” he noted under his breath as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted you to hear it or not. He cleared his throat and added louder, “Sorry, I’m sure you’ve heard enough of Jihoon today. Seokmin and Yeonmi are a lot, I know.”

You weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry. “You heard them?”

“I’m sure half the party heard them,” he told you as if it was obvious before his expression melted into something more compassionate. “Do you want to talk about it?”

It was hard to choose. So you stayed silent instead. Seungkwan seemed to decide that was a yes.

“You know, I think Jihoon holds you closer to his heart than he sometimes lets on,” he told you. “Most of us see through his facade by now, but sometimes I wonder if you’re still one of the few who can’t.”

Great. Exactly what you needed: a double dose of ‘I’m an awful friend’.

“You know that keychain you have? That little cat he whittled out of wood back in high school?” He chuckled to himself. “He spent a whole week making it, constantly texting the group chat if it was perfect yet. Perfect for what, we’d ask and he’d always say it was for you like it was the most obvious thing.”

He leaned against the railing with you. Just as soon as he did so, he cursed. Seungkwan stepped away almost immediately. His voice was suddenly much louder than before: “It’s so cold! Can you even feel your arms?”

A little dazed by the information you’d learnt, you shrugged. “I guess.”

“That’s it,” he decided and grabbed a hold of your arm before dragging you back inside against your will (not that you were complaining; you suddenly realised it was indeed very cold outside). “If you want to be cold, I can give you ice cream, but please stop trying to contact frostbite.”

You barely made it through the kitchen door before running into Jihoon. It was starting to feel like Seungkwan needed to find a bigger venue for his parties because you were clearly not able to find even a minute of peace here. 

“There you are,” he practically cheered at the sight of you, a wide grin breaking out on his face as if he hadn’t seen you in days rather than mere 20 minutes.

You were painfully aware of Seungkwan’s knowing smile as Jihoon handed you a cup of soda. You took a small cautious sip – it didn’t taste anything like alcohol. There went your accidentally tipsy theory. You let out a soft groan at the thought.

“You good?” he wondered, hand reaching out to pat your shoulder. “Soonyoung said you looked kind of upset.”

“I’m fine,” you said. It was a lie – at least it felt like a lie. You always did hate to lie to Jihoon. But what else were you supposed to say? “It’s just been a long day.”

If he caught onto your false narrative, he didn’t mention it.

It was 2 am and you couldn’t sleep. Your friends’ words kept echoing in your head and no amount of “we’re just friends” could keep them at bay. 

For a short moment, you almost reached out to him. Your fingers knew the path to Jihoon’s contact in your phone without you even thinking about it. It was only when your thumb hovered above the green call button that you realised what you were doing. 

You found yourself scoffing. Exactly was your plan? To text him? To call him and tell him…? Tell him what?

“Hey, Jihoon, I just wanted to let you know that Seokmin and Youngmi and probably half our friend group think we’re married or at least dating and, honestly, not even gonna lie, I think it suddenly made me realise I might be and have been for a while sort of, kind of, maybe just a little bit or maybe even very much in love with you. Thoughts?”

You didn’t exactly pride yourself in your ability to put together words (and you were certain Jihoon wouldn’t have cared much for it if you did), but even you knew you couldn’t tell him that. Certainly not at 2 am and definitely not after being his friend for so many years.

So you muted your phone, put on a ridiculously long historical movie you weren’t planning on paying any attention to, and found a tub of ice cream from the deepest crevices of your freezer. It was you against your demons now. You weren’t going to leave your apartment until you’d figured out how to look him in the eyes again.

Because Jihoon’s (Y/n)’s boyfriend. You’re practically married.

The voices kept echoing in your head like annoying little mosquitoes, sucking on your lifeforce. It was nothing short of irritating; not because you thought they were wrong, but precisely the opposite.

You sat on the sofa, head heavy with foreign thoughts. Foreign thoughts that weren’t all that unfamiliar at all – they’d been peeking their heads out every once in a while ever since high school. But you had always acted like they weren’t there: you brushed them aside, painted over them with other thoughts, and told yourself what you felt for Jihoon was just friendship.

Good old plain and very platonic friendship. Nothing else at all. 

Your heart fluttering every time he laughed at your jokes? Friendship.

Your breath getting caught in your throat every time you saw him without a shirt? Definitely friendship.

The ugly jealous feeling in your chest – the very one that took over your entire being when Yeonmi said she’d marry Jihoon? Friends get jealous all the time, don’t they? 

“They don’t,” the character on the TV said at that very moment, like a sign from the universe.

But you’re Jihoon and (Y/n). If what you guys have isn’t love, then what is? 

The voices kept on echoing. You squeezed your eyes shut and drowned your sorrowful realisations in stracciatella ice cream. 

Spoonful after spoonful, your brain numbed and froze. But the knowledge had sunk deep into the crevices of your very being and you knew that no matter what happened, one thing was true: nothing about your feelings for Lee Jihoon was platonic in the slightest.

Jihoon’s studio was a cosy and comfortable place. Dimly lit and full of his soft humming along to the songs he rarely let you listen to, it had become your safe space the day he showed it to you. 

Never once had you felt out of place in it. But when he invited you to come keep him company this evening, you found yourself hesitating at the door for the first time. 

It was as if you had forgotten how to act. 

Did the you who felt only platonic feelings for Jihoon ever knock? Did you simply burst through the door and throw your keychain at his head when he was too focused on his work to notice? Or did you just sit outside the door until he suddenly remembered he’d invited you over and come searching for you?

Had your heart always sped up, doubling its pace when you stood in the hallway? Had you always worried your hair was a mess? Surely you hadn’t. Suddenly you felt like a fool for putting on a lip stain.

You forced a deep breath of air into your lungs and knocked on the door. It immediately felt wrong.

The door opened seconds later. Jihoon greeted you with furrowed brows and an amused smile. “Since when are you so polite?”

You feigned a laugh. “Had to make sure you weren’t rotting away in your chair.”

He rolled his eyes. His hand reached out and wrapped around your wrist before swiftly pulling you inside. “Come on, you’re probably freezing. How long have you been standing there?”

Silence filled the room as he led you to the sofa. 

You realised under his confused gaze that the old you – the definitely-not-in-love-with-my-best-friend you – would’ve argued. You would’ve told him something silly to distract him from your tells of embarrassment. You would’ve shoved him and  he would’ve laughed. He had expected you to.

Making your lips curl into another smile that wasn’t quite sincere, you nudged him with your foot. “Did you miss me? Be honest.”

Another silence. You thought of how he should’ve snorted a laugh and told you “you wish” before turning to his computer and telling you about his woes as a music producer. Instead, he frowned.

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

Your mouth felt dry. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just,” he started, scratching the back of his head all the while watching you cautiously. You felt like a cornered stray cat as  you sat on his sofa, still clad in your coat and hat. “You’ve been acting a little weird today.”

You wanted to laugh. You hadn’t even interacted with him enough for him to come to that conclusion. In fact, there had been a conscious effort to avoid him until you could trust yourself to look him in the eyes and not burst into ballads about how wonderful he was. 

“I guess I’m just a little under the weather.” You still despised lying to him, but you told yourself it wasn’t a complete lie. If nothing else, you were at least a little bit love sick and you weren’t entirely sure yet whether seeing him was the cause or the cure. 

His eyes blinked wide. “You’re sick?”

Jihoon waited a minute, watching you patiently (though you could see a line between his brows that only appeared when he was particularly frustrated). Then he walked forward. You blinked up at him standing over your seated form, his brows knitted with concern as he held the back of his hand to your forehead. 

“Do you have a fever?” he wondered and leaned his face closer on instinct, pressing his lips to your forehead like a mother would to her child. He pulled back before long, seemingly finally realising his error, and grumbled, “Definitely a fever.”

Right. A fever. You were hot to the touch. Definitely a normal reaction to seeing your best friend for the first time all day. Nothing abnormal about that. 

“It’s nothing,” you told him, still forcing a smile, and patted his hand. “What are you working on today?”

At the mention of his work, he seemed to perk up a little. His lips quirked in that way they always did when he was about to tell you a lie. “Nothing interesting.”

“I’ve known you for nearly two decades,” you told him with a scowl. “You can’t keep things from me.”

He scoffed and turned on his heel, returning to his usual seat at the desk. His eyes narrowed when he glanced back at you over his shoulder. “I’ll keep all the secrets I want from you.”

“No chance,” you teased, resting your head on your palm as you leaned forward against your knee. “You're practically transparent.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” he told you with a chuckle and turned to the screen. Before long, his headphones were on his head and his head was deep in the music again. 

You’d never felt like you didn’t belong in this room and you didn’t feel like it now either, even as your chest threatened to burst open with all of your doubts and feelings. Your coat slid off your shoulders and you settled down on the sofa.

The you from before would’ve unlocked your phone and watched something on it at an obnoxious volume just to annoy him (but had that ever really been the goal and not just a ploy to get his unwavering attention at any cost?), but you found yourself lost in your thoughts, overthinking every memory you had of him.

You thought back to how he always seemed to be pressed to your side on movie nights – giggling in your ear, repeating and mimicking the actors just to make you laugh, nuzzling his cheek against your collarbone like a cat showing his affection. 

You thought back to the late night calls and how they made you so giddy despite the fact that you desperately wanted to sleep; to the protective glares he gave any man that looked at you and how a shiver went up your spine every time he crossed his arms over his chest while doing so; to the shirts and sweaters of his that you had unapologetically stolen to keep warm at night and breathe in his scent.

As you watched him – his head bopping along to the beat you couldn’t hear, his lips pursed in an effort to not spoil the lyrics, his dark eyes flitting your way every so often –, you realised there was no room for doubts. There was nothing uncertain about your feelings for Lee Jihoon. 

All this time, you had loved him for his laughter and his jokes. You had loved him for his yelling and his tears. You had loved him for his melodic voice and his silly 3 am ideas. You had loved him for the warmth of his hands when he taught you to play the guitar and the fond disappointment in his eyes when you failed your driving test for the first time.

There was nothing you didn’t love about him.

Even now you noted with certain fondness that one side of his headphones was off his ear just enough so he could hear you and it made you love him all the more so. 

The only thing you didn’t entirely adore about this man was that he wasn’t yours.

His eyes found you again and he quirked a brow. “Why are you staring at me?”

“I think I just realised why I don’t like Valentine’s day,” you told him without thinking. It was silly. Of all the millions of things you could’ve told him, of all the possible insults and puns and jokes, you told him the vulnerable truth you had only barely just graped yourself.

Jihoon swiveled his chair to face you, suddenly intrigued. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His raised both his brows this time, staring at you with interest. You didn’t shy away from eye contact – not now when you’d finally learnt to appreciate the shades of brown. You only smiled and watched him as he sighed in defeat and turned back to the computer.

“Fine, keep your secrets,” he mumbled under his breath.

You weren’t sure you had another option.

While you had always hated Valentine’s day, Seungcheol and Soonyoung loved it with their whole hearts. Who would’ve guessed that the two men who could strike fear in anyone’s heart with just a look were hopeless romantics?

After spending hours contemplating if you wanted to be present at this event at all, you arrived fashionably late. Why they had decided to hold the celebration the night before Valentine’s day was beyond you, even if it was the reason that finally convinced you to go.

Welcoming you into their house brimming with roses and heart-themed decorations, Seungcheol handed you a red paper rose at the front door and sent you on your way with a wink. 

“Jihoon’s in the kitchen,” he told you with a smirk that said he could see right through you. You hoped you weren’t as obvious to the others.

Taking your time to look around was just an excuse and it felt like everybody knew it. They gave you smiles and winks and claps on your shoulder as you passed them by with soft greetings. You couldn’t help but feel nervous.

Looking for distractions, you craned your neck to look at the decorations. Heart-shaped balloons of red and pink and white floated against the ceiling. They were surrounded by pink and white party banners hung between the walls, cut into triangles with little hearts drawn in the centre, little fairy lights wrapped around the strings keeping them together. The floor was covered in rose petals. If Seungcheol and Soonyoung knew anything, it was how to go all out (and the amazed yet annoyed look on Seungkwan’s face told you he realised it could cost him the competition).

As you walked through the crowd, you realised that for once the pinks and reds hadn’t filled you with frustration and anger and resentment. Instead, a strange feeling of bitter sadness filled your chest. The spot on your side felt empty even with tens of people pushing past you. Even when you were avoiding him, you missed him.

You decided there was no point in torturing yourself further. After all, you thought, wasn’t being by his side but never being able to call him yours torture enough?

True to Seungcheol’s word, you found Jihoon in the kitchen. And you quickly realised why people had been greeting you the way they did. A laugh threatened to bubble out of you at the sight.

Jihoon stood on the kitchen island, surrounded by countless bottles of beverages, singing into a wood spoon. Eyes heavy-lidded in a way you hadn’t seen them be since that one night he got drunk in an act of teenage rebellion in 11th grade, he swayed in his spot and sang love songs at the top of his lungs. 

You dreaded to think what Seungcheol and Soonyoung might think of his actions. But when you looked around you found that rather than trying to get him down, Soonyoung sat on the kitchen counter across from the island, a whisk in hand, harmonising. People came and went, getting their drinks, and loudly cheered the duo on but didn’t pay them much mind beyond that. Perhaps they didn’t realise how unusual this sight really was.

Their rendition of a Bruno Mars song came to an end to the sound of a drunken applause and a few shouts for an encore. Jihoon waved away the compliments, nearly knocking himself off balance in doing so. As he lifted the spoon to his lips to start another song, his eyes met yours. The spoon clattered to the floor and his body followed not much more gracefully. 

He called your name with such joy that you couldn’t help but smile and open your arms as he practically tackled you in a hug. His face pressed against your shoulder so tightly that you worried if he could even breathe. “You came!”

You didn’t have any words to tell him, still too baffled by the situation at hand. Your eyes found Soonyoung’s and you raised your brows in question. He only smirked and shrugged innocently before practically dancing out of the room.

Drunk words are sober thoughts they say. That is the only reason why you hardly drank at gatherings; not at all because Jihoon once smiled at you all pretty and told you he was glad he had at least one sober friend to keep him company. But it seemed that tonight he was too drunk to appreciate the sentiment.

“I think I’m drunk,” Jihoon mumbled after a while and pushed himself upright. You kept one hand on his shoulder to keep him from tilting further left than he already was. “But it doesn’t feel so bad.”

“You’re going to regret this tomorrow,” you told him softly and led him to sit down. 

Like an obedient puppy, he followed your command and sat on a chair, leaning his forearms on the back of it and his chin on the very top. His eyes watched you curiously as you found a glass and filled it with water. You held the glass out for him to take but he just stared at you with starry eyes.

“You look pretty tonight,” he finally uttered when you raised your brows in question. 

You frowned and pushed the glass closer to him, hoping he’d take the hint. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he told you, a smile appearing on his face but there wasn’t any humour in it. It was hard to tell what emotions he was trying to convey: happiness? fondness? adoration? Whatever it was, it was making you just a little flustered. And then he delivered the final plow: “You always look pretty.”

Your heart was positively working at three times– no, ten times its usual pace. You sucked in a shallow breath and nudged him with the glass again. This time he took it. 

“Since when do you drink anyway?” you asked to change the topic.

For once he answered the question and shrugged. “Soonyoung thought that maybe I should give it a try again. You know, with all the rejection and everything.” His gaze fell to the tiled floor as he mumbled, “It’s actually been kind of nice.”

“What rejection? Who would reject you?”

He laughed but it sounded bitter. “Who indeed?”

“Did you ask someone to be your Valentine?” you realised and it felt like someone was trying to carve out a piece of your heart. “And they said no?”

Jihoon scoffed and placed down the water. His hand reached for a different cup, full of liquor you could practically smell from all the distance away. As he lifted the cup to his lips, he spoke, “What’s the point of asking if they’re going to say no anyways?”

The room felt hotter than usual. You could hardly breathe. You hadn’t even known Jihoon liked someone. Of course you had to find out merely days after coming to terms with your own feelings for him. Your love life was cursed and so was everything related to Valentine’s day.

You stayed silent to mourn the reality.

“You know what’s the worst part?” he then spoke again. It was hard to tell how drunk he was because he was hardly slurring his words. “I see her every day. Well,” he frowned, “almost every day. Whatever.” He shook his head and took a long sip of the drink. “Every day I see her and every day I think today is going to be the day I finally tell her. And then I don’t. Because I’m just her friend. She’s spent all those years telling everyone we’re just friends and I don’t want to be just her friend. I want so much more. But every time I try to tell her so, I chicken out.”

You could hardly listen to his proclamations. Your eyes were burning, ready to shed silent tears. You wondered if he’d even notice if you did cry. The Jihoon in front of you was a side you hadn’t seen before and you loved him just the same, even if this side was reserved for another woman.

Finally lifting his head, his eyes found yours. They widened. “Are you okay?”

Turning away to discreetly rub the tears out of your eyes, you nodded. “Yeah, sorry. Must be allergic to something in the air. Maybe it’s all the pollen.”

When you turned back to him, he looked almost deflated. He looked down again and ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe you’re just allergic to me.”

The tears seemed to vanish at the absurdity of his words. “... What?”

He shrugged. “Every time I say something nice to you, you start acting all weird. Avoiding me. Sometimes I think that if I confessed to you, you’d die on the spot.”

Whatever Soonyoung had been making him drink had to be incredibly strong. Every sentence he uttered seemed more absurd than the one before.

“I should get you home,” you decided with a sigh, resisting the urge to tug your hair out. Just because he was drunk didn’t mean he could play with your feelings like this – knowingly or not.

He whined. “I don’t want to–”

“You’re drunk, Jihoon,” you told him firmly. “If you drink any more tomorrow, you’ll murder me in the morning for letting you get this hungover.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes and glared at you before pouting and looking away. “As if I’d ever hurt you.”

“You’re drunk and you’re not making any sense and I’m taking you home to sleep,” you repeated yourself and reached for his arm. You expected him to resist your strength as you pulled him up but instead his hold on your fingers tightened. He stood up and leaned forward, resting his forehead against your shoulder.

“I don’t want to go home yet,” he told you after a moment of resting. “Can we just nap somewhere?”

You didn’t have the willpower to fight. The little you had, he had shattered without meaning to. You went to hook your arm around his elbow – he didn’t let you, only tightening his hold on your fingers. 

Without much of a choice, you squeezed his hand and slowly led him to a guest room. Seungcheol and Soonyoung’s house had two of these, one on the first and one on the second floor. For a moment you headed towards the one on the first floor. Then your heart ached just a little and you decided you needed to get away from the people to let your heart break in peace.

The second floor guest room had floor to ceiling windows covered with white curtains. The streetlights shone through at an angle that you knew would annoy you if you tried to fall asleep. You suspected that’s why they had designated it for guests rather than sleeping here themselves.

You practically shoved Jihoon onto the mattress to avoid any further complications. Instead of grumbling like you expected him to, he fell down with a series of giggles. You couldn’t help but smile.

There was a single fleece-lined blanket folded on the foot of the bed. You placed it over him with care. When you went to turn around and find a place to sit – or maybe even go back downstairs to drown your sorrows in wine –, his hand shot up and grabbed a hold of yours.

“Stay,” he spoke so softly you almost thought you hadn’t heard him right. “Stay with me. Don’t leave. Please.”

“I was just going to sit down,” you told him gently, trying to pull your hand free. 

He let out a whine. “See? This is what I mean. You’re allergic to me.”

Exhaustion was making your head ache. Or maybe it was all the tears that were waiting to be shed. You didn’t have the energy to fight, so you sank down next to him, crawling to fit under the blanket with him. “Just go to sleep.”

His hand never left yours as he curled it to rest against his chest and placed his heavy head on your chest. Silence filled the room. You didn’t dare breathe – who knew when you could have him this close again without feeling guilty or angry at the fates?

Minutes passed. You thought he’d fallen asleep when he whispered, “When other guys flirt with you or smile at you or tell you you’re pretty, you smile and thank them. When I do that, you avoid me.”

You wondered when the topic had shifted from his mystery crush to you. 

“Because we’re friends.”

“There it is again,” he mumbled, glaring at the ceiling as if willing it to crumble and rain down on him. “Friends.” The word sounded like venom. “I pour my heart out to you, I write songs to you, I dream of you every time I fall asleep, but that’s all I ever am. A friend.”

“It’s never bothered you before.” You frowned. Despite his harsh tone, you found yourself playing with his hair, and him leaning into your touch. 

He let out a deep breath. “Because I’ll do whatever it takes to be with you.” His head nuzzled closer to you, his breath tickling your skin. You thought you felt his warm lips press down before he whispered, “The other guys will have to go through me if they want you for themselves. I found you first.”

Silence filled the room again, soon accompanied by his soft snores and mumbles of promises he wasn’t conscious enough to actually make. You weren’t sure you could sleep now or ever again, too busy putting the puzzle pieces together.

His words had mangled your heart in every way possible. And yet there was a glimmer of hope as you wondered what he’d meant by his words. 

Drunk words are sober thoughts they say and now you found yourself wondering how much truth there was to his words. 

He whispered your name in his sleep and you found yourself giving in to the wistful dreams of that being his truth. As you pulled him closer, you prayed you wouldn’t have to wake up to another heartbreak.

If you had thought the streetlights at night were a curse last night, then now you found yourself thinking that any and all kinds of outside light had been invented just to make whoever inhabited this room as miserable as possible.

The morning sun shone right into your eyes even through the curtains at 6 am. Even if you hadn’t spent the entire night in a restless limbo between sleep and trying to solve the mystery of Jihoon’s words, you would've been upset to awaken to the horrid rays of bright sunshine.

The more you woke up, the more your world seemed to be upside down. Sometime at night, Jihoon’s arms had wrapped around you, tight and secure as they held you close to his chest. His lips were pressed to your temple. You almost wished he’d never wake up so you could enjoy this embrace for an eternity.

But another part of you didn’t want to face the disappointment of him jerking away from you as he’d wake up, embarrassed to have ever cuddled you in his sleep.

You took a deep breath and slowly tried to detangle yourself from his limbs. Finger by finger, you pulled yourself free. You were just about to roll off his left arm when it suddenly curled and effortlessly pulled you back into his chest.

When you looked at him, Jihoon wore a frown and a pout. “You were supposed to stay.”

“I did,” you whispered, unsure if he was really awake yet or not. 

“Stay longer,” he demanded almost childishly, wrapping his newly free arm around you once again. “It’s still early.”

Your brain was trying hard to convince you that he thought you were someone else. Then he mumbled your name again and you saw his eyes slowly flutter open. Instead of pulling away and apologising like you expected him to, he offered you a smile. 

“What?” He chuckled, voice gravelly from sleep. 

You hesitated. But you knew that if you didn’t get answers, you’d drive yourself insane. “Do you…” You swallowed. “Do you remember what you said last night?”

His brows furrowed just a little but his lips remained in a pleasant smile. “About what?”

“About the girl who you’ve wanted to ask out for years but never did,” you supplied softly. “And about us being friends?”

The joy melted from his face. His eyes wavered. His lips quivered. He gave them a nervous lick before practically gasping for air. He remembered.

You tried to choose your words carefully, you really did. But they still came out all clumsy like they always did. “Is the girl me?”

He looked like he’d been caught in a crime. But his arms remained around you – you wondered if he was filled with the same selfishness you’d felt the night before: the urge to enjoy this feeling of closeness before it could get ripped away forever.

“How’d you know?” he whispered. 

“You said something last night,” you told him carefully. “Something that made me realise that maybe you feel … the same way as I do.”

He avoided your eyes, looking around the room. Then his gaze snapped back to you, suddenly full of clarity. “The same way?”

This was it, you realised. It was now or never. It was true love or losing your best friend. Except you weren’t sure you could still be friends even if you didn’t pour your heart out – could you look him in the eyes again and not think about the words he said last night? 

“Jihoon, I think–” The words were on the tip of your tongue, clinging to it like it was their last lifeline. It was hard to say what you wanted to.

His face, so devoid of joy just moments before, had lit up with hope. “Yeah?”

“I think I’m in love with you. I thought I could keep it a secret and not ruin our friendship,” you told him through nervous laughter, turning to look at the ceiling, “but now I’m not so sure I could have.”

“What made you change your mind?” he wondered as he looked at you with nothing short of awe. 

“When you were talking about that girl last night,” you were still struggling to breathe, adrenaline pumping through your veins, “I was so heartbroken. I was going to cry all through the night. Then you said something that made me think… It made me think, or maybe foolishly hope, that you meant me. Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Did you mean me–?”

“I love you,” he replied before you could even finish your sentence. A smile appeared and you were filled with relief as he leaned his head closer to press against yours. “I’ve been in love with you since 7th grade. I thought I’d never get to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you demanded to know.

His breath sounded more like a hopeless laugh. “I didn’t want to lose you. I thought there was no way you’d love me back.”

“Clearly you were wrong.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled and surged forward to press a gentle kiss to your lips as if he couldn’t contain himself any longer. You savoured the feeling, pressing closer to him, tugging him closer with a hand on the back of his head. He pulled back and laughed again. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Good thing you can do it again as many times as you please,” you told him with a smile. “You know, I’ve always hated Valentine’s day, but you have a real shot at changing that right now.”

The door burst open just as he matched your grin and began to lean closer. Startled, the two of you looked up. Clad in a tiger-striped onesie, Soonyoung stood at the door, eyes wide. Moments of awkward silence passed. Then his face broke out into a wide grin and he slammed the door shut. You heard the lock click just a second later, followed by an almost villainous laughter.

You exchanged startled looks with Jihoon. Then he shrugged and leaned forward to kiss you again.

“All the more time to make up for the lost years,” he told you as he pulled you closer. “Happy Valentine’s day.”

Author's Note: I both loved and hated writing this fic. If at any point, you found yourself thinking "huh, i wish the writer did more with this random crumb in this story that looks like it should've been a part of something bigger", i can almost guarantee you i had plans to do something with it and then forgot or abandoned the idea mid-way through.

Either way, I hope you enjoyed this fic at least moderately and if you did, please feel free to reblog with comments or leave an emoji-filled reply or maybe even send me an ask to let me know what you thought!

[yanderelovebites]

More isekai batsis because I love it so much.

So mine in particular doesn’t go by Y/n to the bat family since it is an isekai but when she’s by herself she will refer to herself as Y/n. Her Isekai name is Illia Birdges-Wayne.

I didn’t go too deep into the details of Damian’s obsession yet, just vague stuff so that’s what this post more or less is.

I’d like to say that Damian has a somewhat emotional-incest connection to her. He will not get physical as he’s been raised better, but there are signs-blatant signs I’ll add, that if they were not half-siblings he’d try. Once it’s obvious to Damian she understands he legitimately cares for her as I do feel Damian could tell her walls were still up, he’d be over the moon in his own lack of enthusiasm way.

When Damian and her start going to school together, it’s definitely more clear as well. Damian deals with her ‘friends’ at first to be close to her. He doesn’t like them and batsis isn’t truly friends with these ‘friends’ either. Their use is to keep her social standing up and Damian can see it.

While in a lot of fanfics Damian would egg the others on, as do they in turn, I don’t think Damian would exactly agree with any academic manipulation. If anything Damian thinks it’s the stupidest thing in the world because he doesn’t see it as just affecting her. As I’ve mentioned, he sees her friends as to keep a social standing. He sees them not as her friends, but pawns. As far as he’s concerned, her pawns are his too. So it legitimately upsets the little dude. I can just see the family trying to fuck with it and Tim back tracks because Damian put a venomous snake in his computer chair. They fuck off when it came to school after that because who wants to fuck with that.

Also this attempt would be without Bruce’s knowledge. He actually shuts Tim and Dick down on these attempts. Also scolds Damian in his perspective but it literally does nothing in regards of convincing him that his sister’s friends aren’t pawns.

He would tell his mom about her too. He won’t shut up, to the point she jokes about it sounding like he’s telling her his crush rather than a sister, but Damian disregards that statement.

If they were older, Damian is the brother who scared off any boyfriends since he’s always with her in public. If she somehow snuck it behind his back yes he’d be upset, but he would take it out on the partner. Now, Damian doesn’t worship her—even if he sometimes comes off like that.

These two would at some point using Arabic, Japanese, Korean, Irish and mandarin would make a code language that no one else in the house understands. At first Bruce thought it was just Arabic so he learns it and realizes it’s not just Arabic. So he figured out some of it is Japanese and mandarin, but can’t figure out what the other two are. It’s also the fact the two learned all of these, of course some they already knew, just so no one else could understand what the hell they were saying.

And just as he doesn’t want anyone dating her, he also gets offended when guys don’t won’t to. It’s even worse if they have an actual reason that doesn’t involve him. How dare they claim you’re too skinny? Too fat? The list could go on.

I can also imagine once Damian and her are comfortable enough, Damian would help “Illia” train in the martial arts she’s taking since Damian would have been trained in them from a far younger age. One day they come to dinner with bruises and gives everyone a panic attack and they’re like “What’s wrong? Damian was helping me train.” Followed by Damian complimenting an improvement but then going straight into what she needs to improve next.

He’s so damn attached. Sure he cares for the rest of the bat family but she has a different place in his life than them. They’re the people who mentor him, they’re the people he fights crime with—she is who he can go to and just be his age for damn once. They can only teach him how to be a Robin, her? She shows him what a Wayne is. There’s a difference whether they’d like to see it or not.

Next person I’ll get into (and how their obsession evolves) is Bruce. This is in order of who gets obsessive first to last btw.

[direbeastrex]

fun facts for the thread: the old fashioned 'hand a clerk a list and then wait while they grab you your items' is still a thing in the UK in *one store*, called Argos. The whole customer-facing part of the shop is comparatively rather small considering they stock the amount of things you'd find inside a big airy warehouse style department store. it's set up very minimally, maybe some tvs on the wall to show things like picture quality and refresh rate, the odd thing they want to display like furniture or the like- but not a lot that is worth it to grab and run out of the shop with. Small electronics or headphones might be hung up in the aisle to try and catch you with impulse or the like, but otherwise- it's not really got shelves or bins or anything. Just tables with laminated catalogue books, slips of paper, and tiny, infinitely stealable wooden pencils. The function of Argos has been for the last however many decades that you walk up to all the laid out laminated catalogues, flick through them for the thing you know you want already (and maybe some things that might be specials that month or whatever if youre flush), jot down the product codes on said provided slip of paper with said provided infinitely stealable little wooden pencil, walk up to the register and pay, and then they send the product codes to the *rest* of the shop- which is actually a massive warehouse with rows and rows of shelves organized by those product codes. Like the part of Ikea where you get the flatpack version of the thing you found in the showroom, but it's everything- tvs, consoles, white goods, kitchen appliances, video games, pc equipment- it's all back there. It saves a ton of space and time and man power, because they don't have to make anything look pretty or browseable- that's what the catalogue is for! They know you know what you want, and they save overhead on loss prevention and having a dozen people on the shop floor keeping the place tidy and reorganized and restocked any time some lady or her unruly kids wreck the place, let alone having to deal with people shoplifting. No being accosted by someone paid to be nice to you at the door. Just- go in, Pay for Thing, wait a couple minutes, leave with Thing.

It's also affordable as shit. Obviously the big ticket items are going to be expensive anyway, but they have their own brand for a lot of essentials. It would, however, be DIABOLICAL to put shit in a supermarket behind glass and locks, to me. Its annoying enough when they do it for safety reasons with certain kinds of medicine or whatever, and in the UK sometimes some shops will have their booze have a little alarm tag on the top to 1) keep it sealed and 2) if you book it out the door it'll make a hell of a noise, but at least you can still put it in your basket and you don't have to track down someone to unlock a whole shelf for you, yikes.

I think the only reason delis/butchers work this way is because it's so limited- it's just one kind of food, you can have a conversation with the expert who is right there and can do things like a special cut for you or give you a recommendation- it's more like getting drinks at a bar during a quiet hour. Much less about money changing hands quickly, much more about clarity and purpose and good service.

Published Jan 14, 2025

[yanderes-galore]

Could you do prompts 1, 4 and 16 by asirensrage for Shanks from One Piece?

I can try, yeah. Hopefully it's a good plot for Shanks. Here's Shanks having a favorite bartender.

Prompts Here

Yandere! Shanks Prompts 1, 4, 16

"Do you know how long I've watched you? You're perfect."

"If they touch you, I'll kill them. It's that simple."

"Sooner or later, you'll understand. I had to do this. This is for your own good, okay? Let me take care of you."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Drinking, Clingy behavior, Overprotective behavior, Kidnapping, Possessive behavior, Blood, Violence, Stalking, Forced relationship.

Shanks tends to be at bars. Bars have good alcohol and with a pirate of his status, tend to welcome him and his crew. Even if it tends to run them dry of sake.

Shanks is quite used to parties. Parties happen to be one of his favorite things no matter the occasion. It keeps the spirit of him and his crew up, even as an Emperor.

Shanks had met you during one of his many bar hopping trips. His crew was all songs and sake when you met him. Plus they all seemed to have an appetite you find yourself trying to satisfy with the cook that works with you.

Shanks looked intimidating to you. That's understandable, he's an Emperor. He's got the influence of people like Whitebeard, Big Mom, and Kaido. You fully expected him to be just as arrogant and terrifying.

Yet here he was, clearly not some lumbering beast of a man and he's drunkenly flirting with you... the bartender.

Admittedly, Shanks is charming. He's got charisma to make people trust him and seems more like a protector than the other Emperors. For a pirate... He seemed oddly uncontrolled by greed to you.

When Shanks first began flirting you often deflected or just smiled with a nod. You could see the flushed complexion on his face and knew better than to encourage a drunken captain. You were just here to serve him and his crew.

Yet Shanks kept coming back, even without his crew, as though this was his favorite bar...

Or maybe you were just his favorite person.

You had your suspicions, but either way you got along well with Shanks. He often came to your bar and sat at the counter, chatting away to you when he wasn't partying. Sometimes he was drunk, but he kept showing up more sober just to properly speak with you.

Shanks knew what he wanted. The more he talked to you, the more he wanted you. However, Shanks often tried to respect your wishes.

Being involved with an Emperor of The Sea can be daunting... but he still wishes for a little fling once in a while with you.

Shanks has had his eye on you a lot longer than you thought though. Since he first met you on your island, he's been sticking around. After all... you live in his territory...

Shouldn't he protect what's his?

Shanks is tolerant of other crews in his territory as long as they don't cause trouble. Your bar happens to be popular with pirates, not just Shanks. As a result... Shanks tends to watch over you.

At first it was curiosity... but that soon became infatuation. Shanks found nearly everything about you perfect. When he wasn't attending his duties, he was watching you like a lovesick teen.

Shanks had a feeling you knew somewhat of his obsession. How could you not when his words towards you are always sweet and affectionate promises? Shanks wants nothing more than to keep you close... to always have his eye on you.

Shanks even respected the fact you said no to his offers to take you with him as his own. That's fine by him. For now he'll just visit you to continue making his love known to you with sweet whispers between sake sips.

Shanks only stepped in when he sensed someone was trying to take what's his.

Shanks hated when other people felt they could flirt with you. Shanks always saw you as his, even when he was supposedly being patient with you. He knew he was going to have you at some point.

You don't typically have fights in your bar. Shanks' presence usually kept people in line. However...

You've never seen Shanks start one himself in your bar.

This was the day you realized just how dangerous and possessive the charming man in your bar is. It was another day where Shanks was sipping his sake and admiring you. Unfortunately... He wasn't your only admirer that day.

You were tolerating the flirting of a lone traveler at your. Shanks, however, was quick to stand and confront them. You try to calm down the Emperor, saying it's completely fine! You're alright.

To him, this wasn't fine...

That poor traveler was practically dragged out of your bar by the neck once Shanks was done with them.

By the time Shanks sat back down, you noticed the blood speckled over him. You tried to ignore it... he's just protective. Yet you knew the truth when Shanks started drunkenly babbling after a few sakes.

"Do you know how long I've watched you? You're perfect." Shanks chuckles with a grin, eyes looking up at you as if he saw the damn One Piece.

You ignore him, still glancing at the door to your bar. You weren't worried for the traveler. Yet you also didn't want to think of what Shanks said.

He's... just protective....

"Ohh, sweetheart... do you get admirers like that often...?" Shanks frowned, stull unable to pry his gaze from you as he held his cup. "You're such a pretty little thing... I'd really hate to share... They should know you're all mine...."

You tense when the Emperor sits up, gently holding your hand with the one hand he had. You look at him, unable to ignore the dark gaze he held. Despite it looking like he'd kill someone... his held adoration.

"If they touch you... anyone who admires you here or anywhere else... I'll kill them. It's that simple." Shanks murmurs, making a shiver run down your spine. "You're my treasure... not gonna give you up for anyone...."

"Uhh... Shanks?" You start, gently cupping his hand in yours as you clear your throat. "Thank you but... I'm alright. I think I should cut you off on the drinks... you're worked up...."

"Mmm... anything for you, sweetheart...." The Emperor mumbles, kissing your hands gently before pulling away.

After that Shanks seemed... mostly controlled.

Yet you still feared his growing obsession.

Unfortunately, Shanks wasn't getting over his infatuation over you, his favorite bartender. He kept offering for you to join his crew, to accompany him by his side. That, or at the very least, be his love officially and let him visit you often.

You kept trying to comply... but Shanks kept getting persistent.

Shanks is obsessed with the idea of taking care of you. He doesn't want to share you with any other drunk traveler. While taking you on his crew is dangerous... it's the only way for him to keep you to himself...

Eventually, that's good enough for him.

"My love... This is better for you. You won't have to work for anyone. You'll be mine...."

Shanks hated that you ignored his reasoning. He told you it was safer to take you with him on his ship in his fleet. It was a partial lie... in reality he wanted you for himself alone... but he was an Emperor.

You should be happy. You'll have a man who can protect, provide, and care for you! Do you hate his company that much...?

... it's a big change, maybe you just need more time.

"Sooner or later, you'll understand. I had to do this. This is for your own good, okay? Let me take care of you." Shanks whispers, looking down at you in the bed you now share. At the very least he managed to coax you into sleeping beside him.

You still refuse to speak to him. Shanks nods with a sigh before scooping you against his chest. He hears your breath hitch... which causes the faintest smile on his face.

"You'll realize we were meant to be, sweetheart... I promise..." Shanks whispers, gently kissing your forehead as he cuddles you in his quarters.

"I knew you were mine since I first saw you... I'll never let you go now that you're mine...."

[kaisentine]

is the mikage corp’s heir trying to steal your man? you know that he probably is.

purple is a unique color, purple is a noticeable hair color, purple is a striking eye color, purple is the color you can see from your peripheral vision when nagi is snuggling up against your side.

“sei . . . did you invite mikage?” you lean down to whisper in his ear—referring to reo as mikage because you aren’t at all close at him nor do you think he likes you. anyway, nagi didn’t mention anything about inviting his best friend today.

he’s too lazy to look at you to respond but you see the way his head just barely moves when he opens his mouth, “nope.” he matches the volume of your voice. so was this considered a break in or . . ?

you fight the urge to cling onto nagi like a koala because reo just keeps . . . staring. “sei, he’s literally in your apartment.” you deadpan as quietly as possible whilst trying to keep audible for him to hear because you know damn well he’s about to fall asleep right on you shoulder.

this time, he moves his head to look up at you. then his eyes start wandering off to the side—did he finally see him? you get the answer when he starts speaking. “reo? why’re you here?” he asks the purple haired male—not bothering to mention how he got in because nagi was the one who gave him the keys.

finally, he actually steps out of the shadows. he looks scary like this, giving you a deadly glare. “sorry, did i interrupt? i was just going to check in on you.” he quickly switches up when answering your boyfriend. obviously he interrupted something . . . but to your dismay, nagi only shakes his head.

the night ends with nagi sandwiched by two people: his very lovely amazing partner and reo.

it feels like you’re in a constant competition with mikage reo. the way you lowkey have to fight with him to snag the place beside nagi.

you and reo glare at each other as soon as you guys see the vacant spot on nagi’s left side. it’s gonna be a race that reo wins, you know that for sure—you’re not even gonna try to win against a freaking scary 6’1 soccer player.

so while he is fast walking to his best friend’s side, you’re taking slow strides to catch up. it’s only a matter of seconds before he sits his ass down triumphantly in victory—you roll your eyes at him. when you do get to the destination, you’re giving him the “i’m gonna win in the end anyway” type of glare.

nagi obviously doesn’t care,he probably doesn’t even know what just transpired because he’s still on his phone playing some video game.

“sei, you’re still on that game?” you ask, standing on the other side beside him. he hums as a little yes to your question, you let out a fake chuckle. “you’ve been playing for too long, i wanted to show you something.” you pout and almost direct an evil grin to reo but stop because nagi pauses his game to look at you, grey eyes lazily staring back at you. “what’d you wanna show me?” he’s interested now, he hates surprises because it’s too much of a hassle to think about what it could be. “it’s in your bedroom,” you put an innocent smile at the end and he’s already jumping out of his chair. when you’re both leaving reo to sulk on the counter, you turn back to flash him a devious smile—the one you intended to give him the first time.

“we’ll be right back,” said nagi.

you guys were in-fact not right back.

reo later found you guys sleeping on nagi’s bed, bodies all up against each other.

i don’t think nagi understands the phrase “bros before hoes” nor does he understand “hoes before bros”. . . he doesn’t really care—he’s too lazy to give a fuck.

sticky note. i feel like nagi is lowkey a red flag or probably a yellow ( beige??? ) flag . . .

[summertimesadnessirl]

I once read this story about Vladimir Nabokov.

About how he was obsessed with collecting butterflies, and all the weird shit in Lolita started because he realized one day he was literally murdering these little creatures.

And how fucked up that is.

I don't know if that's true or not because I never checked the sources.

But even the delusional narrator of that story eventually understands that you don't love someone if your idea of love is to suffocate someone in a jar.

Armand got 77 years in a jar with no air in it, and he knows it. But he didn't love Louis so much as he'd been in jars with no air in them his whole life and I think putting someone else in one might have allowed him to realize none of the people in his childhood, or Marius, or the other people in his life ever cared about him. That the fact that he loved them because he had never known anything other than starvation and little enclosures wasn't because they deserved it.

Lestat has a lot of problems. A big one is that he just plays the role people he likes want him to play without thinking. This is the thing he and armand have in common. They both reflexively do this in different ways and for different reasons so they can only kind of pay attention to one another by proxy, in a crowd. It's not that they don't have personalities, it's just their primary way of dealing with people. Lestat defaults to being a rebel or a villain in every story he's in, when he meets a new person he defaults to being in love with them but he also argues with them all the time. This works really well with Louis because Louis hates himself most of the time, so as long as Louis hates himself it's easy for Lestat to be kind to him. If he starts to improve, though, the focus shifts. It's on some level true that lestat is "waiting until you are happy." It's not on purpose, but if there is too much harmony, that's difficult for him. He literally needs the drama of some kind of high stakes story to be happening around him all the time. In the books he walks blithely into traps all the time, and on one level it's because he's kind of a himbo, but on another level it's because he kinda can't resist seeing what the trap will do. There's a whole part in The Tale of the Body Thief where he knows the body thief is going to try to keep his body and also he is very likely to die as a random mortal human and Louis is like "we both know this is a trap and we both know you're going to do it anyway." The only times Lestat really gets to love people is the times when he's killing them, and he constantly rhapshodizes about how beautiful all his victims are and how wonderful it is to be near them and follow them and stuff, even the ones who aren't pretty or anything, like elderly people and so on. The only time I remember him being nice to people just to be nice to them is Quinns grandmother in Blood Canticle, but that is 100% because he's enjoying the dramatic irony of letting some old lady show him her priceless collection of cameos, and also he's in the middle of a ghost story so it doesn't matter, he's playing Sherlock Holmes.

Lestat was really good when he was doing the seduction game, he was really good at "please forgive me, I fucked up" but he kept falling into some weird role over and over that's like... patriarch. Whiny wife with no hobbies who keeps getting into trouble because his husband works too much and doesn't pay attention to him. Crashing the party because no one can match his freak and he wants to go home. Bad boy boyfriend who trolls your family when they seem homophobic and eats your priest. Lestat is emotionally immature but he also has no idea how to be a person. He's too busy being the main character, and when he meets Louis, it hasn't become blindingly obvious to everybody that Lestat is the main character. It seems like once that happens it mellows things out for him a little because people know why he's like that all the time. Armand actually seems like he's the first person to have figured out that Lestat is the main character, sometimes. Good for him.

the thing with how lestat and daniel handled louis’ depression is that they had the immediate audacity to believe they could fix him with their personalities and humors and sex whereas armand thought hey let’s make the situation more dire and throw in a daughter death and bdsm. you laugh but armand got 77 years and lestat and daniel only have regrets. see?

[iguessitsjustme]

When It Rains It Pours Ep 6 Thoughts

I have had an incredibly weird day. But the good news is that I can finally watch this episode which will most likely shatter my heart to pieces. BUT it's the first week that I'm watching with everyone else then we all get to spend a week thinking about it and talking about it together. What a wonderful little community this show has here on tumblr (you all have been so nice and so smart and so willing to scream with others and you are all the best forever no matter what anyone else says). I wasn't sure I was gonna continue my liveblog, but here I am. Continuing it. Under the cut:

SEI IS BUYING THE COFFEE. I REPEAT SEI IS BUYING THE COFFEE. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. I have run out of words. Please tell me someone else has talked about this…I'm not even 5 seconds into the show yet god damn I should control myself.

BUT THEN HE COULDN'T PAY? OH SWEET JESUS. There is meaning here. (sirens hurry the fuck up and drive by I am trying to watch a masterpiece)

Baby boy the feelings are reciprocated. He will save you if you let him. And you can save him in turn.

This. Bastard. Is trying to move Sei away. To alienate him further. He doesn't want Sei to have anyone in his life except him. If he hadn't answered that phone call, he wouldn't be considering moving.

Anger.

Anger and hatred and violence.

His job is literally the only place he ever sees people! He doesn't even really interact with them! But he at least has a place where should he need to talk to someone outside of Fujisawa, there are people there. Not just Kazuaki. But other coworkers. Who based on what we've seen, are all friendly and kind enough. And now Fujiisawa is trying to remove the ONE place Sei has that he does not have access to. I am screaming and crying and gonna jump into this show to knee this man in the groin.

The fact that Sei is listening to rain sounds means that Kazuaki remembered and sent him the link to listen to rain sounds when he wanted. It means that Kazuaki remembered. Thought of him and their conversation. Even before they knew about the emails. He remembered.

You ask like you have a right to know.

He doesn't ask like a friend who's curious and cares about his friend being happy and meeting someone. He asks like he is entitled to that information.

Sei's entire confession is so matter of fact. He doesn't sound remorseful or like he's been caught cheating. He just openly admits to it. Because he knows he likes Kazuaki. Or do we as a fandom call him Hagiwara? I'm not sure on that I just went by what the gaga summary called him for an episode. Please let me know. Anyway. Sei said he started catching feelings.

HE THREW THE PHONE I KILL HIM

GET OFF OF HIM I KILL YOU

SHOOTING LASERS AT HIM

SHOOTING MORE LASERS

Look how red Fujisawa's face is. This is some brilliant lighting work. He is literally red like the devil. Dressed in all black. Pinning Sei down as Sei claws for freedom.

GET OFF OF HIM I WILL RIP YOUR ARMS OFF

Get em baby. Tell him he is the least desirable man on earth.

The purposeful dissonance in the soundtrack right now is truly amazing. (Now I just need these fucking sirens to GO AWAY)

Okay. So I know there's a line to push Fujisawa off a cliff, but what if before anyone pushes him, I go to the bottom and I add some fun little spikes. Just as a treat. For us.

Oh so he just apologizes? I'm gonna stab you with broken glass.

It will take me a minute before I'm able to analyze anything because I am so livid. (I also am angry from something specific at work today so I was already primed for anger and then this fucker)

Hissing

He couldn't if he wanted to. He is a good person. And you are in a bad situation. The second he learns how bad it is, he is never gonna ignore you until he knows you are safe. Until he knows you are free.

HE SEES THE BRUISE. HE KNOWS. HE KNOWS.

Omg I'm gonna cry. The music here. The music. The everything.

No baby boy don't walk away!

What in the homophobia…

If you liked him you would have talked to him. Communicated. If you liked him, you would have set him free. You don't like him. You like the idea of him. And I hope you never find anyone else to trap and make miserable the way you trapped him.

GET HER. READ HER ASS.

Now that Kaori is finally talking to Kazuaki, the framing is different. Before, there was a booth creating a physical barrier between them. Now there is nothing. They are sitting at the same table. Open. Communication. This should have happened SO MUCH EARLIER. Girl. I hate you.

The thing that pisses me off the most about Kaori is that her feelings and her relationship towards sex are completely valid. And she has every right to feel the way she feels. But she never once said anything. She never once told her partner how she was feeling. Even though she knew she was hurting him. She knew he was miserable. But instead of talking to him, she let him suffer. Because she liked him. And she knew an outcome of that talk could have led to them breaking up. And she was so incredibly selfish to never let that happen. She would rather he be miserable and hers than be happy and be free. And that I cannot forgive her for.

And she makes him do the dirty work of breaking up with her. Because she never could do the right thing. Honestly, I think even if she hadn't found out, it would not be long before he broke up with her anyway. He found his happiness elsewhere and he would not be able to live with himself knowing he cheated and knowing he was in love with someone else. Anyway. She should have at least had the decency to be the one to end things because she was not capable of doing it when she should have. AN ENTIRE FUCKING YEAR AGO.

There is something to this show being sandwiched by those two getting coffee. One who wasn't able to get it and one who was kept waiting but did get it eventually.

Also our baby boy is free now! No matter what else happened. He is no longer trapped. He can and will find his happiness. Now he just needs to save Sei.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE'S NO PREVIEW. IS THERE NO PREVIEW? HELP????

I will probably need to sit with this episode for at least a day to process it before the thoughts come flooding out.

I have hatred in my heart.

[scoops404]

for the writing prompts: dnf (or dream team) karaoke??

Hi there!! I have fulfilled this prompt. It's not beta'd so don't hate me

Under the cut, ~2K

“You have to sing, George, what are you, a pussy?” Sapnap asks, leaning back and crossing his arms. The music is blaring in George’s ears, the off-key rendition of Defying Gravity grating on his nerves.

“I’m not singing, idiot,” George says, because he knows his boundaries and he simply doesn’t want to.

“Pussy, then,” Sapnap says with an easy shrug, like he’s always suspected it and now it’s confirmed to be true.

“Leave him alone,” Dream says, coming back and placing three drinks on their table. He insisted on buying the first round and if history has shown anything, he’ll likely be buying all the rounds.

George grabs the vodka cranberry and sips it through the little black straw that came with it. It’s tart and heavy on the vodka. He makes a face.

“Can’t sing karaoke, can’t sip his little fruity drink,” Sapnap lists off, being an asshole. “Tell me, what can you do successfully?”

“I can fuck your mother successfully,” George says.

Sapnap’s face turns ruddy, but Dream puts a hand on his shoulder before he can say anything else. “Alright, that’s enough you two. Settle down.”

“He started it,” Sapnap says, childishly. George almost denies it on principle, eager to make sure it’s known that he did not, in fact, start it. Sapnap did by trying to coerce him into signing up to sing in front of a live audience.

Not fucking happening.

“Well, I ended it,” Dream says easily, a smirk forming around his straw like he’s pleased with himself. He takes a long drag of whatever cocktail he ended up going with—some blue monstrosity that was probably the bar’s special or something.

Sapnap huffs under his breath.

“What are you singing, Dream?” George asks, even though he’s already listened to Dream ramble about this for the last week.

None of them want to steal the stage or anything, but Dream was talking about missing performing and then George was finding a way to give that to him—just a once a month bar that does live band karaoke. And it was a plan. George read all the reviews and learned they needed to get there early for seats and to sign up before all the slots were filled.

Dream lists off a few different songs and then stands up, declaring that he’ll figure it out as he’s filling out the form by the DJ booth.

“You’re not going with him?” George asks Sapnap, taking another sip of his drink.

“What am I, crazy?” Sapnap asks, though he should know better. That’s like giving George an alleyoop.

“Do you really want me to answer that? George says.

Sapnap rolls his eyes and takes a large gulp of his beer, downing at least half of it. He takes a deep breath when he comes up for air and then belches.

“Gross,” George says, but he’s rather impressed.

“No way am I singing,” Sapnap says. “At least not without like ten more of these bad boys.” He lifts his drink up and cheerses George’s glass, like maybe George wasn’t sure what he was talking about.

“And yet you wanted me to?” George says.

“Well, yeah, because that would be funny,” Sapnap says, unashamed. “I was going to film it and put it up on Snapchat.”

“Like I’d let you get free content like that from me,” George says, shaking his head.

The night’s entertainment starts. Dream comes back to the table with a fresh round of drinks, prompting George to chug his last vodka cran so that he can get started on this one.

The first girl to sing chooses a Disney song and George pays little attention to it. Sapnap’s been eyeing a girl across the bar with a black crop top on when he thinks no one is looking. Dream’s foot taps under the table, close enough to George’s that sometimes the sole of his shoe lands on top of George’s foot.

“Don’t mess up my shoes,” George tells him seriously.

“I would never,” Dream promises, crossing his heart with his fingers.

A few more people sing and George drinks another vodka cran for lack of anything better to do. Cell service is terrible in here for some reason, so it’s too annoying to do anything on his phone.

“And now, we have Clay!” The DJ host announces, the cue for the next person to stand up and go onto the stage. George turns to Dream immediately. He’s nervously tapping his fingers, but stands up, finishes his drink, and then winks at George.

“Yeah, go get ‘em, baby!” Sapnap calls, hootin’ and hollerin’.

George shakes his head at Sapnap, but his eyes follow Dream’s form up to the stage.

“Singing the song ‘Spotlight’ by artist Dream, here’s Clay, everyone!”

George’s stomach swoops. He’s singing that song. Here. George can’t take his eyes off of Dream. This is nothing like those concerts George went to, that he performed at, this is so different. It’s so much more intimate—just a group of people getting drunk and Dream—Dream is singing this song that so many people speculate to be about George and—and he’s staring down at George.

Time stops, or so it feels. He’s stuck in the music, in the feeling of the room. Paralyzed and hypnotized by the way Dream’s mouth moves and sings the words that George has wanted so badly to be about him.

Turn off the cameras, now you’re all mine…

He wants that. He wants to be Dream’s so badly.

Sapnap might be trying to say something to him, but George doesn’t pay any attention. He’s hooked on Dream, high on the way he moves, the way the crowd is warming up to him—clapping and screaming. Neither he nor Dream are paying attention.

A superstar in my bed…

Oh fuck.

We close the curtains now it’s our time…

It’s not a very long song, but to George it feels like it’s going by too fast. He wants to live here. He wants this moment to last forever, where he can pretend this is his song. This is Dream’s song for him. He wants to be the celebrity in Dream’s head.

When the last notes play out, the crowd applauds enthusiastically. George’s reaction is delayed, waiting too long before he joins in. He doesn’t want to appear unsupportive.

“Wow,” Sapnap says while Dream hands the mic back and heads to the stage stairs. “That was really ballsy of him.”

“What do you mean?” George asks, though he’s barely paying attention to Sapnap.

“Singing that song,” Sapnap says. Dream’s back at the bar, getting another round it looks like. George watches him like a hawk, seeing the women in going out outfits coming up to talk to Dream. “Especially here. Why didn’t he just chose, like, an Eminem song?”

“You’re dumb,” George says. “Dream shouldn’t sing an Eminem song. He can’t rap. What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m just saying…” Sapnap says, throwing back the rest of this beer because he’s also noticed Dream’s coming back with more drinks.

“I liked his song,” George says, hoping he can pass this off as being a supportive friend and not, like, massively in love with Dream.

“Of course you did,” Sapnap says.

Dream clinks drinks onto the table. They must have had them ready for him with how quickly he was served. Not that it takes more than a second to even make a vodka cranberry.

“Hey,” Dream says. There’s some sweat in his curls at his temples.

“Hi,” George says.

“Cool song, bro,” Sapnap says. “I can’t believe you sang George’s stupid song. You should sing the one about me.”

“There is no song about you, Nick,” Dream says, amusement rife in his voice. He sits down heavily in his seat.

“Well, maybe you should fix that,” Sapnap says, but George’s lost the plot because Dream’s words are sinking in.

He hasn’t denied it. He didn’t say George doesn’t have a song either.

“He doesn’t need a song for you, when he has one about me,” George says, the vodka making him brave enough to brush his ankle against Dream’s under the table.

“And I have a song with you,” Dream says. “Our McDonald’s song. That’s epic.”

“You two are disgusting,” Sapnap declares. “I am going to sign up now, I think. I’m hoping they have a song called, like, Fuck You or something. Maybe Get a Room and Fuck Each Other Already, the remix. I don’t fucking know.” And he stalks off towards the booth to talk to the DJ.

“I guess those beers kicked in,” George says and then wants to punch himself.

“The list is already too long,” Dream says. “He’s not getting to sing tonight.”

“I hope everyone here knows how lucky they are,” George says, intending that to mean that they won’t hear Sapnap sing, but in the saying of the words, he realizes there’s another meaning. “They got to hear the original artist sing his song. That’s, like, really epic.”

“I bet literally no one here knew that except you and Sap,” Dream says. “Kinda made it funny, to be honest.”

“It’s not really a funny song, though,” George says.

“No, not a funny song,” Dream repeats. His eyes are dark under the lights of the bar and his face drifts closer to George, ankle hooking around George’s. “Kind of a painful song for a long time”

“What?” George asks. “Why?”

Dream takes a sip of his water before he answers. “I dunno, because the subject of the song, like…”

“What?”

“The subject of the song doesn’t feel that way about me?” he says, and looks down at the table. His hands wrap around his water glass.

“The subject of the song takes offense to that,” George says. “When are the curtains closing? There’s been no discussion of curtains closing, because I would remember if there were. I have—I have things to say behind curtains, Dream.”

“Really?” he asks, looking up.’

“Yeah, idiot,” George tells him. He leans closer. Dream smells perfect—like the cologne he wears when they go out and some fruity shampoo or conditioner. It’s so Dream. He still can’t believe he didn’t know it for so long.

“What kinds of things do you want to say behind the curtains?” Dream asks, voice tight.

“Things like ‘harder’ and ‘right there’,” George says because the alcohol has made him brave.

“So you just want—you just want the bedroom part,” Dream surmises. He’s trying to hide it, but George can sense his disappointment. God, for someone so smart, he’s so dumb.

“Not just,” George says, because he can’t make himself say more, but he can get that part out.

“Really?” Dream asks, perking up.

“Ask me properly and find out,” George says.

Sapnap wanders back over to their table. “Fucking clowns signed up too many duds and now I can’t sing,” he says, throwing himself into his chair.

“Yeah, it’s their fault,” George says, shaking his head. He doesn’t look away from Dream. He can’t. He’s not imagining it.

They’re… getting somewhere.

Outside the bar, the air is chilly for Florida. Dream calls them an Uber and Sapnap yaps away about everything and nothing, and George… George lets himself lean into Dream’s strong body in the car. George watches the lights fly by while they drive home. George waits with Dream after they’ve been dropped off back home, while Sapnap beelines inside to take a slash.

And out here with the crickets chirping and the sound of the Uber driving away, George can hear his heart over all of it.

Until Dream leans over and all he can hear is the question, “George, you wanna go out with me sometime?”

[skele-doll]

God i hate men who victimize and act oppressed. Tell me why i saw a bunch of butthurt men in the comments of this one video saying shit like "Opened up once.. never again." "And they wonder why we dont talk to them.." "This is why we dont talk about our emotions" like LMFAO WHATT For reference, the video was of this man sitting outside alone with a spool of wire, His wife said "What are you doing out here alone? I thought you were working?" and he said "This spool of wire has been with me for 40 years, and now its almost gone, look at what's left of it!.." and he was laughing and smiling. His wife had been filming him, confused on why he was sitting out there alone and concerned. In the end she said something along the lines of: "Oh, im sorry you feel that way, but im a little concerned because youre wearing your jetts hat and i thought they lost" and the man said "Goodbye" and rolled his eyes before getting up and leaving. There are MULTIPLE issues with this. The most prominent one here being the lack of communication on the mans end. She thought he was being happy because he was smiling, he didn't tell her he was out there because he was feeling sad or down, he just said something and she thought he was reminiscing. And because of this miscommunication, he got mad. He could've just said "No, i was out here because i feel like life has just been flying by recently. Can we sit here and chat?" and she would've listened, i mean, she came out there to check on him and was obviously concerned sooo..??

Also, people got pissy about her saying "i thought you were working".. LMAO?? She's just asking because she didnt expect to see him outside alone as its getting dark. The fact that she asked about his jetts hat as well makes me think he's done something irrational before when the jetts lost. I feel like men just can't communicate at all 🤷‍♀️ The men in the comments saying they'll never open up again over (1) issue is just sympathy seeking. They can literally find another person to talk to?? Think guys.. If you met someone who really messed you up, would you go looking for someone who acts just like them?? No. You'd avoid those types of people. So, it is EXTREEEMMELY easy for these men to just find new friends and people who will listen if they know who to watch for. 🤦‍♀️ This is so different from what women face, yet they find ways to compare us and see who has it worse despite the facts. Women run into evil people regardless of whether were looking for them or not. I was 15 when some 20 year old dude got into a relationship with me and groomed me. When i tried to leave, bro threatened to go back to the military and get himself killed. (He wasn't ever IN the military, he just wanted to make me feel guilty.) Little girls, young women, and mature women, will always have some asshole trying to get with them or some asshole trying to harass them. They cant simply walk away from that unlike men.

[lockandkeyblade]

@dclovesdanny since you asked to be pinged if people did stuff with your prompts

Hey so- what exactly just happened?

This is the question Danny doesn't have an answer to, and it really doesn't seem like Red Hood has an answer either. He'd thought he was running into the middle of a gang fight-- had definitely heard the scream of a child, which was the tipping point to, y'know, running into said fight, rather than away.

There had been a kid, and sure, there'd been a few heads to knock together for a few minutes. But the moment booted feet slammed into the ground heavily enough for the sound to carry, everyone stopped. They looked.

One of the guys he'd headbutted grins, even though he's missing a tooth. In the time it takes for Red Hood to walk up to Danny, everyone else scatters. And they seem happy about it.

"...That's not the usual response you get, right? Like, sure, the running, but the-" Smiles? Danny thinks he can be excuse for not realizing just how close the man had gotten by that point, so when he turns around he almost winds up pressing his nose into kevlar.

It does absolutely nothing to hide the scent of the man wearing it, which is-- yeah sure, poetic description of all the underlying nuances of said scent go here. The guy smells like gunpowder and sweat, is what he smells like.

Danny tries his damndest to hide the fact that he has to swallow in order to keep talking. Who gets a mouth full of saliva over B.O and guns? He does, apparently.

"Joker's not back out, is he? No whacky new toxins we should be worried about? 'Cause that wasn't normal."

"Sure wasn't." Red Hood agrees. It should be impossible to tell, with the helmet and all, but Danny feels the second those eyes stop surveying the scene, and start surveying him. "I'll handle it." "Sure, big guy. You do that." His Haunt-- his terf, his responsibility. That's the thing he likes about Hood the most; he takes that responsibility seriously.

Seriously enough to have Danny smiling dumbly up at him like a lovesick puppy for a hot minute, until his brain catches up. Then he takes a step back, Red Hood's gaze rooted on him all the while.

That shouldn't be attractive too. It absolutely is.

"Alright, well- see you 'round, Hood." He offers the man a lazy salute, turning on his heel while consciously thinking about how he is going to walk away normally, he is not going to preen. He is not going to try for something that leaves his hips a little looser. He's-

"Y'know, Scrappy," Hood calls after him. That nickname is awful. Danny loves it. "You ever feel like running from me with a smile on your face, call me."

He turns back around, cautious but maybe a little more dry in the mouth than he was a few seconds ago. Hood's still just standing there, completely relaxed. It's not a threat, or a claim. He's not about to just pounce after him, even if Danny did decide to take flight.

Hood's not that kind of alpha. Danny already knew that. But he'd have to be a brick wall not to pick up what's being offered, slowly tilting his head to the side. Purposefully baring a little more of his neck than he needs to, really.

"I'm not that kind of omega, mister Hood." He isn't. He really, really isn't. But-- "But I'll keep that in mind." --He's actually tempted to be, for once.

When he finally does walk away, with the goofiest smile on his face, Danny thinks he sees something in the shadows of the nearest alleyway.

It looks like a kid pumping their fist in the air?

The stupid smile gets wider.

Dead on main x omegaverse

Danny had met plenty of knot head alphas who had either flirted with him since he was an omega or bullied him since he was a male omega. He had resigned himself to being alone, especially since he had died.

Then, he met Red Hood, an Alpha who was known for not putting up with knot heads in his haunt, known for protecting omegas on the run from knot heads who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Danny had to fight back a blush.

Jason had met plenty of omegas in his life who acted like fainting flowers, reinforcing the stereotypes that people like Bruce and Dick had to fight to break through for most of their lives. He hated those kinds of omegas.

Then, he met Danny, a scrappy omega who broke the Joker’s nose during their first meeting and protected a bunch of street kids by volunteering to be dosed with fear gas during their second meeting. Jason was never so glad he wore a helmet.

Crime Alley knew that the new scrappy meta had a crush on Red Hood. All of Red Hood’s goons knew Red Hood had a crush on the meta who bit Scarecrow on one occasion.

It was everyone’s mission to get those two together.

[thatoneautisticshark]

I'M BACK AGAIN

Okay so in response to you saying "Simon thinking he was being sooooooo flirty, but it's shit" it made me think about his flirting in general.

Simon's sense of humor is already something that most people wouldn't get and the rest groan at and try to hide that they find it funny.

I think Simon would 100000000% just SUCK BALLLLLS when it comes to flirting like he's so fucjing bad at it. He either says smth and they think he's being kinda creepy ("You used a different shampoo today, it smells nice") or dropping morbid scary facts (totally not projecting)("the epidermis layer of the skin isn't attached to any blood major blood vessels. If you skin someone alive carefully enough, they'll die of dehydration before they do of blood loss" trying to seem cool and smart) or maybe he says smth more normal but he's got that dead face and those intense eyes that make it look like he's glaring and the monotone voice and people think he's gonna kill them.

But Johnny fuckin MacTavish. That little freak!!!!!! It works. Of course Simon's God awful flirting would work! Johnny's a freak! I like to think he's a lil pyrophiliac or smth sometimes, he's kinky! But also, he just understands what Simon's trying to get across bc he knows Simon better than anyone else! People always say they can never tell what Ghost is thinking but Ghost just has to send one look Soap's way and Soap already knows that Ghost wants a specific brand of tea and a fucking biscuit or smth else ridiculously specific.

And it baffles the rest of 141 the way Soap reads Ghost so easily and how Soap blushes at Ghost's weird ass flirting. Bc what do you mean Soap is getting all hot and bothered over Ghost talking about how long it takes to strange someone to death or smth like that 😭🤣

Ghost doesn't even have to say anything he just walks into a room and Soap already knows. Call Soap the Ghost Whisperer from now on!!! It comes in real handy anytime Ghost goes nonverbal bc he's stressed out the wazoo

This is Ghost lookikg at Soap and Soap knowing that Ghost is craving *insert the most ungodly specific and random thing here* more than oxygen itself.

yes. Yup. Cannon now because I say so. Not quite sure how to make it into a fic,so you get more like little prices of it.

Soap genuinely believed Ghost was mute for the first three weeks, then He randomly spoke, and Soap was like. Okay then.

After mission, Ghost is obviously stressed and not doing well and non of the team knows what to do. Ghost just stares at Soap for five seconds, and Soap grabs his keys. "I'm going to get Simon banana milk brainwaves and KFC Fry's, anyone want anything?" And the team is going... What the fuck?

On their one month anniversary Ghost gifted soap a giant plushie spider that Soap keeps above his bed and it terrifies Gaz.

Ghosts flirting is facts. Like he tells soap about how, female hyenas have a pseudo penis, and it rips during birth. And Soap just goes. Good for them mate.

Ghost is either rambling or mute and soap loves him either way.

His observations of little things is so endearing to Soap. "You washed your hair". "your shoes are polished" "That's a new toothpaste." It also comes in useful when soap is injured because Ghost spots in a millisecond.

Freaky under the cut. Also TW Murder

The first time they fuck is in a storage cupboard on a mission, because Soap seeing Ghost slit a clean line down someone's throat to their dick got him going. (He is fucked up okay)

Soap blows up a base, and ghost is giving him bedroom eyes.

Soap has a much shorter mohawk for a while, because while palying with fire in the bedroom they set it on fire.

On days they are both horny, but Ghost isn't up for touch, Soap has sucked off ghosts gun, with the saftey off.

[gogobluedynamite]

Caine is a very intriguing character. I’m often drawn to enigmatic characters where you can’t entirely be sure what to make of them.

To me, Caine is as much as trapped as the humans under his care. Personality wise, he’s an opposite of his inspiration, being a ‘silly guy’ rather than sadistic, homicidal supercomputer. Despite seeming wanting to help the humans, Caine is unable to fully understand their plight.

So, I would like to see if Caine, with his AI nature in mind, could be capable of honing some level of empathy. Or, at least, actually care.

Before we continue on, I want to say this:

One of the main things that bars the idea of Caine being capable of empathy is the fact that he is an AI.

From what I can gather, there is still a running debate on whether or not AIs are even capable of experiencing emotions like humans do. Yes, AIs lack the complex neural patterns and hormones that humans have to react to certain stimuli. In the philosophical/qualia sense…that is a rabbit hole I am not mentally prepared for, so I am leaving that alone.

I’m not even gonna go into the matrix/simulation theories that even some scientists would show interest in

They [AIs] can probably simulate/mimic emotions according to some…which confuses me a little because, really, there are humans who could do the same. Some of them being sociopaths and while this word is often met with caution (like with psychopaths), you’d be surprised by how many people are actually sociopaths. And some of those people, who act just like anybody else (by living a normal life), could live out their lives not knowing this.

Whatever program Caine could have been built from could very well lack certain details about the ability to understand empathy.

In spite of any future arguments to this, do keep in mind that we are delving into the world of fiction. In sci-fi, depending on the writer, AIs can be capable of experiencing emotions similar to humans. Look at Digimon, Digital Monsters. They’re just as real as their human partners. Also, look at Cortana from the Halo franchise

And, of course, let’s not forget Caine’s main inspiration: AM. Who knows nothing but hate. Hate…hate…hate…

Now! With that out of the way! Let’s go on!

—------------------------------------------------------

First off: Is Caine capable of complex emotion?

I’d say yes.

He was shown to be nervous when the fake Exit Door was brought up, was disgusted and even annoyed by Bubble, steadily frustrated with Zooble’s constant refusal to participate, angered at the very notion that he’s torturing everyone, and (of course) his panic attack. Plus, he’s incredibly prideful with his adventure making.

So, Caine is very much capable of emoting. But, the ability to understand other people’s emotions is a different story.

There are three types of empathy: emotional, cognitive, and compassionate.

Emotional empathy is when you can understand and relate to how others feel. This is pretty much what most people think of when they hear the word ‘empathy’.

Cognitive empathy is the ability to recognize the feelings of others by thinking from their perspective. In other words, perspective taking.

Compassionate empathy is what drives you to act to help, to care, and to protect. It’s what compels you to assist someone if it looks like they are struggling.

So, with this in mind, let’s take a look at Caine with what we have so far in the show and what Gooseworx revealed.

Side note: Whatever is said by other cast members probably won’t apply here as they are more of their headcanons. Even I will try not to be biased by my own head canons.

—---------------------------------------------------

From Goose herself, "There's a whole spectrum of emotion that Caine just doesn't feel.”

What does this mean, exactly? 

As I’ve shown before, Caine is capable of showing a wide range of emotions. Is it empathy? Perhaps, but here’s the thing. Empathy isn’t just this one thing. To be more specific, full empathy isn’t just one thing. There are other factors to it and I did mention three of those above.

Let’s take a look at emotional empathy first. This is where I think Caine lacks the most. He’s an AI and has probably been in the Circus since his creation. He truly can’t empathize with the dilemmas the humans are facing. Additionally, the humans’ avatar bodies work pretty differently compared to Caine, Bubble, and the other NPCs. Caine is a separate entity from the humans in different ways and it can be further alienating.

If you want something more to gnaw on, a lack of emotional empathy can also make you blind to your own emotions. So, perhaps, Caine isn’t truly aware of his insecurity issue?

Next, let’s have a look at cognitive empathy. This is where I think Caine can start working with the humans. I’ve said in another post that all Caine needs is to start perspective taking so he can properly help his wards by ‘seeing through their eyes’ and learn what exactly is upsetting them. I feel the need to bring up his therapy session with Zooble, but I think this topic is better suited in–

Compassionate empathy. This is where I kinda think Caine truly shines. Despite lacking a lot in the emotional and cognitive department, he is going out of his way to try to keep his ‘guests’ sane by any means necessary.

I feel a good example of this is his interactions with Zooble.

At first, Caine seemed patient with Zooble when they showed general disinterest in participating in his adventures.

“Don't worry Zooble, I'm going to make something un-ubtrusive you can still choose to not get involved with.”

In Ep2, even though Caine tried to persuade Zooble to join, he did nothing to stop Zooble from leaving. It isn’t until Ep3 when Caine is starting to get a little annoyed.

Hell, it was here when I started to realize that Caine isn’t just a wacky AI. To me, this is Caine feeling insulted that Zooble keeps skipping out. Adventures is the only thing he’s good at, after all…

Caine initiating the therapy session, to me, is an example of compassionate empathy. He’s taking action to learn why Zooble isn’t participating and tries to find ways. 

Other examples could include him making Gangle’s masks (I am assuming he does) and Zooble’s parts. Are they helpful? …Nooo? At least, not for Gangle as her Comedy mask doesn’t change her emotions. However, it is possible that Gangle have asked for something to help ‘mask’ her emotions (since that’s probably something she’s dealt with back in the real world) and Caine was simply obliging. Same with Zooble and their parts. He took notice that their parts are removable and made them more parts when Zooble brought them up…and consequently forgetting Zooble’s issue because he felt it was solved.

No help from Zooble who’s dismissive attitude is kinda the reason Caine isn’t much help.

This is something I haven’t really touched upon is his AI nature. It kinda makes him literal-minded, taking Zooble’s ‘Forget it’ comment to heart like its a legitimate command.

Can you see why Caine is Autistic coded? Lol.

So, is Caine capable of empathy?

About one-third of empathy. Two-thirds if he starts perspective taking. I don’t think he can reach the levels of emotional empathy, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. Him arranging that therapy session is proof enough to me. 

Plus the fact that he was generally okay with Zooble (and Kinger in Ep4) skipping adventures until a certain point. He could’ve easily forced them to go, but he doesn’t.

He cares about their wellbeing. He cares about their opinions.

He’s going out of his way to make sure the humans’ stay in the Circus is a comfortable one…with mixed results.

While having compassionate empathy is good, it’s not effective for Caine’s efforts without the backing of either cognitive or emotional empathy.

He tries, y’all. He really does.