#this is why i did the silly st thing
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if i can be corny for a second i wanna talk about the greatest strengths of the 2003 tmnt series and why it speaks to me (esp as a queer person)
so i might have alluded to this before, but let me say it outright: each show is definitely a product of its time, and the ideals of whatever generation its from. whether talking about the humour, the story, the dialogue etc, its always important to remember that these shows will always come off in a way due to the generation theyre from. and thats not a bad thing! it just means its important to think about them from that perspective.
2003 is a show of my generation growing up, and a thing about that era that maybe some people younger than me wont understand is there is so much more language commonly available to describe yourself now than there was then. you can take this in any context; mental health, sexuality, gender identity, or even just the ability to describe your relationships with more (idk if this will be the right word) therapist language.
in 03 we have a family unit of splinter and his sons, each with their own strengths and weaknesses. we have a splinter who hasnt opened up to his sons about the trauma hes experienced, but not in a way of shutting them out, simply because it isnt their responsibility to know as they are teenagers. he tells them of the mutagen that created them, but not of his past with his master yoshi, who he calls father when by himself, but never around his sons which is just an interesting concept to think about.
(i do not intent this next sentence as ragging on the two shows after this when i say it, simply from a character standpoint) this is the splinter who completely doesnt make his problems his sons problems, but he also is very willing to tell them the truth when he knows they're ready. this is is the most idyllic version of splitner out of all of them, even when comparing to his mirage counterpart (who hes the most based on) due to that splinter raising them to be ninja specifically to make them fight shredder. this one is just their father who loves them and wants to keep them safe the best way he can, and he was never a human in the first place to even know how to be that. so this whole family dynamic starts with him, and the way he raised his sons reflects his parenting.
so, the setting and year this show is made is 2003. something very relatable here is how there isnt a lot of language for the personality quirks of the turtles. there's so much evidence here for mikey having adhd, his brothers will say things like "why doesnt mikey have to help?" and the answer is "well, he'd be bored. and whats worse, mikey not helping or mikey being bored?" its this beautiful moment of, "hey, we know its not fair, but thats how mikey is, and its better for everyone if we just respect that thats how he is" mikey cant keep his hands off stuff, they know this they dont yell at him for behaving that way, they just stop him. this coding feels the most specific, but like i said. its 2003. we dont have the words to describe what this is yet, and if we do its not common knowledge.
another example is in the classic episode where raphael meets casey jones. raphael is sparring with mikey, and he lashes out and nearly kills mikey. everyone reacts to this by getting him to stop, and no one is more upset than raphael himself. they all tell him to go get some air, which he does. theres no moment of any of them screaming at him for losing his temper, its very clear that they all know he's going to do that himself. and he does go get some air. they all know thats what he needs. he goes and meets casey jones, another hot head, and raph has to help coach this hot head on his anger. when he comes back at the end of the episode after having let out that aggression, he apologizes and no one is upset with him. there's a very clear understanding among his family that he cannot help it, but the best thing they can do is give him his space when he needs it. watching this from a 2023 perspective (20 years later) im sure we could analyze this as a few things going on with raph, my mind comes to autism but at the end of the day it doesnt matter why he behaves like this, the point is that he does and the best thing his family does is just...help him. which they do. and they never hold it against him.
when leo is going through his ptsd arc hes at his closest to raph as a character, the show draws a lot of parallels (like having him go let out some aggression with casey) and we get to see the dynamic in reverse. in "i, monster" (the rat king episode) leo is losing it, taking on rat king alone and not wanting to let up. raphael is actively holding his brothers back when they say "we shouldnt leave him to fight alone", raphael says "if leo gets in trouble i'm the first one in there, but right now it looks like leo's got more than one monster to work out of his system" raph doesn't exactly know what leos going through, but he recognizes it. he knows he needs to fight alone, so raph lets him. its only when the building collapses and leo is no longer in a safe position that he says "leo lets go", which leo wordlessly agrees with and actually listens.
this is what i think is the best part of these guys, the unconditional understanding they have for the way they are. we still have our "raphs a big hot head" "mikeys annoying" jokes, but they feel like genuine good natured sibling ribbing because they know each other on that level.
and to go back to the fact that this show is set in 2003, there's something so specific about the way mikey constantly makes references to liking women's clothing, to being fine with feminine language, and to being open about being the pretty turtle who "has that effect on minds of men" speaks to me as a queer person. this could easily be intended as homophobic jokes and probably is, because again.... its the mid 2000s, thats very much what media was like, thats what the jokes were. especially with the girly screams mikey does being one of the first jokes of this nature.
but theres something that happens in season 4, where an alien is attacking mikey, and donnie rushes in and says "hey, thats my sibling" that sticks out. and it happens again in fast forward. when talking to the dark turtles leo says "you and your brothers" "me and my siblings"
because of the way this family unit just understands each other without ever having a conversation about things, it feels like its not a joke. theres some kind of affirmation happening here. even if it seems like i could be reading into it too much, its specific! and it keeps happening!
and by the end of the show, when mikey says he wants to be maid of honour, even if that line in the media itself was intended to be a joke, no one in their family treats it like one. of course mikey is the maid of honour, he asked to be one! the only real offence taken is when april says bride's maid, to which he is offended because hes so much more important than that!
so from a story standpoint, this show doesnt have the intricate complexities and butting heads of latter iterations, there isnt much relationship growth to be had (in fact once we get to around season 5 the flanderization of the characters kind of begins and it loses some of the more complexities) but thats because its just not the focus of the story! the story is more about what they go through together, and thats fine! thats what our shows kind of were at the time. not saying there isnt any relationship growth, but its very much not the focus because these turtles? they already understand each other in a healthy way.
so to me, these guys are kind of the most wholesome family unit
#tmnt#tmnt 03#tmnt 2k3#tmnt 2003#2003 tmnt#can you tell im in my late 20s#lmao#this is why i did the silly st thing#cuz its relatable#thoughts
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the fact that henry took the time to make individual little habitats for each spider.. he didnât just plop them in an empty jar, they all have little sticks and leaves everybody focuses on the âweird kid drawing spiders in the atticâ but i think we should also focus on âweird kid (affectionate) outside collecting little leaves and sticks for every single one of his spider jars and carefully arranging them inside the jars for each spiderâ
#stranger things#st analysis#st set design#henry creel analysis#henry creel#and you guys expect me to believe that this is the same kid who just mercilessly killed a rabbit for no reason other than 'he has no empathy#like setting aside the whole topic of demonizing people based on the extent to which they experience empathy... henry clearly has empathy#for his spiders and theres more evidence of this but their habitats are just one example#like its not perfect bc they are still trapped but thats also a representation of how HENRY feels trapped#and going back to the rabbit i just think its silly and funny that virginia and lonnie are paralelled and lonnie FORCED his son to kill a#rabbit. much 2 think about. even if it wasnt forced in a possession way its still the result of abuse.#which doesnt justify it but it needs to be kept in mind as to Why he did the things he did
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oh maya fey...
#my main source of anguish with her character mainly stems from the fact that not enough ppl hate aa3 LOL#but i mean it.. if u like maya aa3 should make you furious. hence why im so weirded out by maya likers who like aa3 cuz like#what actually is it about maya do you actually like? just that shes a silly goofy girl?#cuz she has all this trauma and hardships.. that the story glosses over. entirely even at the very end#for aa3 to end its examination of her character the same way the past 2 games did:#'yeah shits happened to her but wow its so admirable that she keeps up a strong face for you and pearl! đ'#DISGUSTINGGGGG MOTHERFUCKER I HATE IT đ¤Źđ¤Źđ¤Źđ¤Źđ¤Ź#edgeworth gets to change gets to breakdown and fake his DEATH#gumshoe of all people has a crush to deepen his motivations#franziska leaves her resentment and pride of being a von karma#phoenix gets to be distressed and we see how that challenges him#but maya? FUCK HER MAN shes still smiling smiling! no need for critical change or examination or to treat her#like a character worthy of respect! worthy of change!#she was designed to be a silly character to make investigations more fun and thats what she'll be for the entire franchise#and people will just eat it up..... BRAHHHHH she deserved so much better#hate aa3 forever. and also aa fans ur in the line of fire now too#fucking... cant believe aa3 of all things is a top title like goddamn just play gh*st trick. just fucking play gh*st trick#wowed by aa's first attempt at a long + connected narrative.. go play gh*st trick
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i'll love you forever
pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader
summary: you were sunghoon's first everything; first friend, first love, and first heartbreak. after years of quietly crushing on you, he was finally ready to confess. so ready to confess, that he told his parents the two of you were already dating! it was an easy enough lie to keep up and he kept it up for months, what could possibly go wrong? he thought. little did he know, you would have a falling out and stop talking for months.. and then, you'd both get invited to spend a week at home with his parents, who still believe you're his girlfriend.
genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, childhood best friends to lovers, fake dating
warnings: minors dni, fake dating is pretty mild (sorry), she kinda doesnât rate him at the start, these two kind of exist in a vacuum a little bit idk i had a self-enforced word count to stick to and broke it.. (im within the 10% allowance !), sunghoon in a vest, sunghoon arms, sunghoon
word count: 21,858
playlist: click here.. (for my non-spotify babes, the main song is light by wave to earth (which for some reason i put last.. whatever))
author's note: for silly @asahicore. happy birthday pooks i hope it's amazing and that u enjoy reading this when u have the time !!! LOL (lots of love) also im never writing without telling you things again this was so absurd.
to everyone else.. ok happy reading also emma did not beta read this so im sure it's missing its charm .. anyway it's for emma not you đ anyway i hope u enjoy regardless and lmk ur thoughts! omg this is the first fic im nervous about posting.......... please enjoy or else.
In the three years since Park Sunghoon moved away for university, heâd been doing a pretty good job of going home to see his parents. Theyâd welcome their baby back to the nest with open arms and wide grins. With a rehearsed level of indifference, his younger sister, Yeji, would say, âOh, I didnât know you were coming home this weekend.â when she saw him at the dinner table. Sunghoon pretended to only be marginally hurt by this.Â
In the last three months, he hasnât so much as sent a text to his parents.Â
Or to you.Â
Ignoring texts from his mother is devastating. Between classes, he watches as, âHi, sweetie, I love you đ,â turns into, âMissing you, honey, know you must be busy but spare some time for your old mummy, no?â which turns into, âGetting really worried now, are you doing okay? Has something happened with YN? Talk to me, I love you, my baby boy!âÂ
Ignoring texts from you is easy because texts from you never come.Â
Sitting at the end of his bed, Sunghoon rereads a text his mother sent a few minutes ago: Please talk to me, son. Really worried and YN isnât answering calls either. Whatâs going on with you two?
When he leaves his room, he finds Jake lying on the couch, and with his keys in hand, Sunghoon says, âIâm going home.âÂ
And the drive is great! At least, he tells his mum it is. In truth, the drive home without you was nearly impossible. Your ever-expanding home time playlist buzzed through the speakers in his car, but without you there to screech along to the songs, it wasnât the same. He felt your absence the most when he stopped to get petrol and you werenât there behind him struggling to carry enough snacks to feed a small family without offering to pay.Â
The look of worry on his mumâs face stirs a pit in his stomach. âWhy are you so quiet these days? God, you look so tired,â she says, frowning. âIs it school? Or something with YN? Itâs not like her not to text back.â Her brows crease as she whispers the word unless. She pulls him into a hug, her chin resting perfectly on his shoulder, and her comforting hand strokes the hair on the back of his head. âBreakups are never easy, honey. Iâm so sorry, I know how much you love her.âÂ
Breakups are never easy. The sentence hangs heavy over his head.Â
Whether she knows it or not, sheâs handed him a get-out-of-jail-free card, the opportunity to set things straight, to end this mess once and for all. No further questions, and most importantly, no more lies.Â
For the first time since he left your flat three months ago, Sunghoon lets himself cry. Heâd imagined this moment countless times, his first cry since you ended things. In his mind, it was always intense. Today, as it happens, only a few salty tears leak from his eyes, spilling onto the cuff of his sleeve, darkening the blue cotton in tiny indigo splotches.Â
âWe didnât break up,â he says in a small voiceâfor some reason. âIâm just having a hard time.â Neither statement is technically untrue, but the words taste rotten in his mouth.
The tightening grip of his mumâs arms around his body is what brings on the harsh, shoulder-racking sobs heâd been anticipating. For a while, they stand like this, Sunghoon weeping into his mumâs cardigan until she sends him upstairs to lie down, promising a cup of tea that never comes.Â
His childhood bedroom is chilly, so he changes into clothes he left behind and climbs into bed, pulling his duvet up to his chin. He turns his head to look at the walls and the room around him, everything is exactly where he left it in the summer. It should be comforting, but itâs weird to be home without you.Â
There are photos of you and him everywhere, growing up and around each other through different stages of life. The two of you together during the summer your family moved in next door, you wore glasses back then and were the first friend heâd made in his life. Sunbathing and sharing earphones at the beach, listening to music together on your iPod classic. Sunghoon in thick glasses with a stiff smile and your arm around him on the first day of high school. Wide grins at the start of this summer, the last time things were okay between you.Â
Overwhelmed, he stares up at the ceiling, only realising heâs crying when a hot tear slips from his eyes to tickle his ear. Because Sunghoon likes to upset himself, he screws his eyes shut and thinks about the night before you stopped talking.Â
Though he didnât know it at the time, youâd left Yeonjunâs place to sit with him in a tiny restaurant on campus, the one youâd only visit to toast to each otherâs heartbreaks. It had become a ritual â ever since your first year boyfriend dumped you after two weeks â to cry as much as you wanted and drink as much soju as your bodies could handle before stumbling back to your apartments.Â
Having spent years suffering from an unrequited crush on his best friend, Sunghoon was always the one to comfort you. But that night was different; you were there to comfort him. It was easy enough to play the part of âboy whose crush likes someone elseâ because he spent your entire friendship in that role. Heâd had no problem accepting his fate, but his composure started to slip when you met Yeonjun. It was the first time youâd dated someone who Sunghoon had reason to be jealous of. In every way, Yeonjun was better than himâtaller, funnier, hotter. Sunghoon knew he didnât stand a chance. He took it personally, you liking Yeonjun instead of him, and let his jealousy consume him from the inside out.Â
This jealousy led him to start telling you about Minjeongâlying to you about Minjeong, and his feelings for her. She was a girl from a college out of town that he saw on his Instagram Explore page. He followed her by accident, and by some stroke of luck, she followed back. Sunghoon didnât really have feelings for her â he didnât even know her â but she was a girl that you didnât know, so you wouldnât be able to meddle.Â
It only took a few weeks for Sunghoon to become so upset about your relationship that he couldnât hide his emotions anymore. So, in a fit of tears, he told you over the phone that things ended badly with Minjeong, and he was in urgent need of a soju ceremony.Â
But the night was missing its usual comforts.
It was strange to be the one crying, to see you looking put together and ordering the food. To see you pouring the drinks and raising your glass to propose a toast to âHoonieâs first heartbreakâ. You were driving that night, so you only had a tiny sip of soju and let him drink as much as he needed, the way he always did for you, at the same table, in the same restaurant for years.Â
Hours later, in your car, you entertained his drunken rambles, though he remembers how your lips were set into a frown that he wanted to kiss away while you gripped the steering wheel like you thought it would run from you. Sunghoon was more drunk than heâd been in a while, drunk enough to let you sling his arm over your shoulders and keep him upright until you reached his flat.Â
The voices coming from Yejiâs room disrupt the memory. Heâs thankful.
âYour brotherâs going through something, so be nice to him this weekend.â His motherâs voice is her version of hushedâa loud whisper.Â
Yejiâs response is harder to make out, but he doesnât miss the way their mum says, âI mean it, missy.âÂ
A dramatic sigh rumbles through Yeji as she barges into his room without knocking. Sunghoon sits up, feeling an ache in his back and crossing his legs.Â
âMum told me to lay off you today, which is fine, but before I do, I need to tell you something.âÂ
Yeji pushes the door shut behind her, and the open window makes it slam, both of them flinching from the sudden noise. She pulls her hair out of a silk scrunchie and throws herself on the floor. A pang of irritation forms in his chest, knowing that he could immediately find the empty hanger in his wardrobe where the shirt sheâs wearing used to live.Â
âI hate you and your perfect golden boy image, Hoon. Would it kill you to fail a class for once? I donât know how Iâm supposed to carry on your legacy.â Sheâs looking up at him, her chin in her hands and irritation written in the crease between her thick brows.Â
Itâs impossible to know if itâs because of Yejiâs complete lack of boundaries or the fact that her âperfect, golden boyâ big brother is on track to fail three out of three classes and get cut from the hockey team, but Sunghoon immediately bursts into tears.Â
âOh, uh.. Iâm sorry?â Yeji offers. âI was kidding if that helps.âÂ
âIâm alright, itâs okay.â The tears donât stop stinging his eyes. âWhy do you want me to change everything about myself?âÂ
With a frown, Yeji pours out her frustration and mild resentment. She doesnât understand how Sunghoon effortlessly conquers every aspect of life while she struggles. Neither do their parents, who had been baffled by her plummeting grades since she moved to boarding school, especially when Sunghoonâs academic performance has only soared since he left for university. The weight of this perceived injustice pulls Sunghoonâs shoulders down with guilt as she talks about the expectations he has inadvertently set for her.Â
âBut other than that, Iâm good.â She shrugs, sitting with her legs out, and leaning back on her palms. âHowâs YN?â she asks. Itâs clear from the brightness in her voice that she thinks sheâs helping.Â
Sunghoon cries again.Â
Back on campus, heâs trying to scrape together whatâs left of his academic career with the help of two of the smartest guys he knows, and their friend Jay. Though the word âfriendâ feels a little strong at the moment given the way Jayâs goading him.Â
Sunghoon rolls his eyes, sitting back in his seat. âThereâs nothing you can do that I canât,â he says, meaning every word.Â
Jay scoffs, shrugging and raising his brow in a way that, over the years, Sunghoon knows to interpret as his âabout to say something ridiculousâ look. âPretty sure I could call YN right now, and sheâd answer.âÂ
Thereâs a pit in Sunghoonâs stomach as Heeseung turns his head in the other direction like heâs been slapped, trembling with stifled laughter. At least Jake doesnât hide his amusement, throwing his head back in a fit of giggles that draw nasty looks from the other students in the library. Sunghoon doesnât waste his energy trying to argue because Jayâs right.
Now composed, Heeseung turns back to the table, flipping through some of Sunghoonâs course materials to find whatever his class was doing in class that week. The English Literature class heâs taking â The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway â is the same class he had to send a million emails over the summer to get enrolled in, but itâs the same one Heeseung aced two years ago. Lucky for him none of the boys seem to be in the mood to make fun of him for trying so hard to have a class in common with you, and then practically failing out of it before the term had started properly.
âThis class is, like, beyond easy, dude.â Heeseung pauses to sniffle and twist the stud in his ear. âEveryone in my class aced it. How are you doing so badly already?âÂ
âI only took it because YN thought itâd be fun if we had a class together, but.. I kind of havenât been going since we stopped talking.â Sunghoon shrugs, pretending to be unaffected.Â
As if the mere mention of your name has some sort of summoning power, like saying Biggie Smalls in the mirror three times, you appear in his eye line, rounding the corner with a furious stride. Your demeanour crumbles when Jay waves at you, and you grin, waving back, but as soon as you look Sunghoon in the eye again, the rage comes back, and you smack a hand on the table when you reach it, leaning over to him.Â
âSunghoon, a word?â you ask.
He thinks youâre asking, but itâs hard to tell with the way you set your jaw afterwards, and the way the warmth of your signature vanilla scent hits him hard. Dazed, Sunghoon lifts a hand, pointing at himself. âMe?âÂ
âDoes anyone else at the table answer to Sunghoon?âÂ
âOkay,â he says, somewhat pathetically, nudging Jay for laughing at him.Â
As slowly as possible, Sunghoon pushes his chair from the table and stands up, following you to the corner of the references section where only anthropology students in scratchy thrift store knits, and Jay, come to check out encyclopaedias by volume. You look good, save for the rage written all over your faceâwhich, honestly, Sunghoon thinks he likes.
Sunghoon isnât sure what to expect, so he says, âHey.â Heâs being cautious, waiting a moment to gauge your reaction. âWhatâs gooooood?â His cheeks burn as soon as he closes his mouth around the vowel, but you laugh. You laugh, and itâs beautiful and happy, and youâre laughing because of himâor at him, but heâs glad either way.Â
Annoyance quickly clears all traces of amusement on your face. âWere you ever going to tell me weâre spending next week at Mum and Dadâs?â you ask.Â
Sunghoon gasps dramatically, clicking his fingers. âI knew there was something Iâve been meaning to do.âÂ
His attempt at lightening the mood falls flat, and you only nudge his shoulder gently, sighing. âCan you be serious? For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me?â Youâre frowning, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at your feet. âItâs not fair, Sunghoon. For you to keep saying thingsâmaking plans involving me and then acting like Iâm the bad guy when I turn you down.âÂ
âI donât think youâre the bad guy at all,â Sunghoon admits. âIf anyone is in the wrong, itâs me, I guess.â
You scoff, looking at him like you hate him. âYou guess? Are you serious?â You look furious, but you sound hurt and Sunghoon hates it. Hates himself. âI canât have this conversation with you right now. Tell mum Iâm sick, and itâs contagious.â You roll your eyes and walk away, leaving Sunghoon alone with his thoughts and judgemental stares from students in crochet scarves so long they graze the floor.Â
He sighs, slumping against the wall. How does he keep getting it wrong with you?Â
Back at the table, Sunghoon manages to act like heâs not falling apart and makes some serious headway on his missing assignments with Heeseungâs help before they call it a day as the sun starts to set.Â
When he gets home, he lies down on his bedroom floor, spending hours poring over the conversation you had. Over the minute changes in your facial expression, the tone of your voice, and the endless list of things he should have done, rather than watch you walk away.Â
The moment feels familiar, both identical to and worlds apart from what happened after you left three months ago. When he managed to scrape the last shreds of his dignity from the kitchen table, he dragged his feet to his room and lay down like he is now, face to the rug. That day, he left his door open and lay so still that Jake thought he was dead. Sunghoon remembers wishing he had been.Â
For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me? The words run on a loop in his mind, over and over, until he canât remember the order of the sentence or where you put emphasis. Theyâre cutting all the same.Â
Sunghoon sighs into the itchy fibres of his black rug before rolling onto his back. In the diminishing purple light of the setting sun. he looks at the walls of his room. At the Fleetwood Mac poster, he stole from Jay when they moved out of their first year dorm, that curls away from the wall towards the ceilingâa diagonal strip of shiny tape being the only indication of the otherwise invisible tear through the face of Stevie Nicks.Â
Heâs glad when his phone rings, cutting through the quiet, though the sight of your name and the anatomical heart emoji next to it only dampens his spirit. Reluctantly, Sunghoon answers the phone, holding it to his ear.Â
âI just got off the phone with Dad..â You trail off. Tangible silence follows, so thick it weighs on his chest. âIâll go home with you.âÂ
âYou will?âÂ
âYes. Goodbye.âÂ
Sunghoon reaches your flat at five in the evening. You donât smile when you open the door for him, nor do you invite him in. Instead, you dump your bag at your feet and he cringes, looking from the floor to you. Youâre aggressively beautiful and cosy-looking as you pull a jacket over the sweater you wore that night. Sunghoonâs heart aches in his chest and he wonders if you even realise. Suddenly, the memory of the last thing you said the morning after hits him like a truck: Then letâs not be friends at all.Â
A familiar weight lands on his shoulderâyour hand. Concern lines your eyes as you ask if heâs okay.Â
With a lump in his throat, Sunghoon nods.Â
In the discomfort of his car, the two of you sit in silence while he starts the drive home.Â
âHowâs Yeonjun,â he asks, eyes flicking towards you but regretting it immediately when he sees how you clench your jaw.Â
âNo,â you say simply, shaking your head. âYou donât get to ask me about him.âÂ
These are the only words you exchange until Sunghoon stops for petrol. He has enough fuel for the rest of the journey, but he feels like dying and thinks the fresh air might quell his thoughts of running his car off the road. Like always, the two of you get out and head into the kiosk, where he follows you wordlessly through the aisles, watching you debate on snack choices before settling on the same things you always get. Sunghoon pays for your snacks and you roll your eyes but donât protest, mumbling thanks as you take them into your arms, leading the way back outside.
He knows he needs to tell you before you reach the house, but heâs not entirely sure how to say itâso he just does. âMy, uh.. my parents think weâre dating.â
You stop so suddenly in front of him that he almost bumps into you. Stepping around you, Sunghoon keeps walking.Â
Over the top of his car, he watches your face cycle through all five stages of grief until anger comes back around in the loop as you scoff. âWhy do they think that?â Your face is devoid of expression now, the blankness over your features dragging a sharp chill over his spine.Â
He stares blankly at you, processing. âBecause I told them weâre dating,â he mumbles.Â
âWhy did you.. do that?â You tilt your head, eyes pressing shut in a long blink. âWhat are you even talking about? Why did you.. What?âÂ
A thin layer of sweat coats his palms despite the cold. Why did he do that? âWe can stage a breakup during the trip or say we broke up right now,â Sunghoon offers. âJust one night, YN, please.âÂ
The wind whistles by, ruffling your hair and jacket that you hug tightly to your chest. Behind you, Sunghoon takes note of the group of girls standing by the pumps, all five of them jerking their heads abruptly when they notice him watching, suddenly finding interest in the scattered litter and flickering halogen bulbs in the steel canopy over their heads.Â
Youâre staring when he looks back at you, nostrils twitching with a sniffle before you sigh. âOr we could say that youâre a liar and end things there,â you say. âOr better yet, you go down there on your own and tell them the truth.â
Sunghoonâs gaze drops, his thoughts racing in his mind. He knows youâre right. At some point, his parents will have to find out, and itâd be better for them to find out now. Sunghoon sighs, nodding. âAlright,â he concedes. âIâll take you back.â
An angry laugh comes out of you as you shake your head. âNo need, Iâll walk.âÂ
The station youâre at is neatly nestled in the middle of nowhere, on a road so narrow heâs not even sure it has a pavement. Youâre halfway through the three-hour drive, so thereâs no telling how long the walk would be, never mind the fact that the sun is already setting and itâs deep enough into October for the wind to sting.Â
âFrom here?â he asks, incredulous.Â
âYes, open the boot so I can get my bag.âÂ
Sunghoon can only bring himself to say your name, a desperate whisper.Â
âOpen the boot.â
He repeats your name as if itâll make a difference, heâs pleading with you, beggingâthough he doesnât know for what.Â
You go to the back of his car where Sunghoon joins you, a pit in his stomach when you step away. With misty eyes, you look up at him and his heart breaks. âPlease.â
Sunghoon knows you well enough to know that youâre not actually going to attempt the walk home but also knows that you wonât back down if he keeps challenging you. He nods, opening the boot for you and getting into the driverâs seatâyour move.Â
You stand there, unmoving, and long enough passes that he thinks youâll actually leave. The boot closes softly and you join him in the passenger seat. You sigh, buckling your seatbelt. âLetâs just get this over with.âÂ
For the rest of the journey, you sit in silence as Sunghoon briefs you on the relationship, fighting a smile as he thinks about being your boyfriendâeven if only for a night. You scoff when he âremindsâ you that youâve been together for four months now and the only reason you havenât been able to come home recently is that your schedules donât match up very well anymoreâwhich couldnât be further from the truth as, before term started, you went out to celebrate the fact that your class schedules couldnât be more suited for seeing each other.Â
Finally, at Sunghoonâs childhood home, the two of you smile and laugh for his parents before going to bed. Your relationship has only made his mother more averse to the idea of you sharing a room under her roof than she had been when you were younger. Heâs relieved about this, and in the solitude of his bedroom, he lies on the duvet of his twin bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about the last few hours.Â
With his parents, youâd sat up in the living room watching TV. They sat on the couch together, his mum nestled in his dadâs side, while you two sat on the couch opposite, mirroring their position. If your complete stiffness was anything to go by, you were less than comfortable with his arm around you and Sunghoon felt terrible for begging you to go along with this. It was after midnight when you all went upstairs and you let him kiss your forehead before all but slamming the door to the guest room in his face. His heart twirled and his mum beamed at him before saying goodnight again.Â
Now, at 3 a.m. he canât sleep. Flinching at the knock on his door, he furrows his brows and goes to open it. Itâs you. Standing there with your hair scraped away from your face in one of his t-shirts. Your eyes are red, brimmed with tears as you step into his room and sit on his bed.Â
He closes the door softly, heart aching at the sight of you so upset, and when he sits next to you, his heart tears apart because you move over, putting a distance between you. It falls out of his chest onto the floor when he realises youâre not wearing your necklace.Â
Sunghoon suspected you might have stopped wearing it, it only made sense that if you didnât want him, you wouldnât want the necklace he bought for you either, but at least earlier, your sweatshirt sat so high he couldnât see if you had it on or not.Â
It was a gift for your sixteenth birthday, after your first heartbreak. He was so upset and angry that you let some loser hurt you that way, upset and angry that someone could be loved by you and fuck it up. Sunghoon was inspired by Jay, whoâd gotten a pretty necklace for his girlfriend, and talked about her cute reaction for weeks, how happy she was to have a piece of him with her all the time. It was a locket, with a picture of Jay in one side and a picture of her in the other so the pictures would kiss when she wore it.Â
While at the jewellers with Jake, Sunghoon thought something like that might be a bit much for the two of you and eventually picked out an equally pretty piece with his first initial on it. He wrote a corny note to put in the box, something about how âboys come and go but Sunghoon is foreverâ and gave it to you with trembling hands a few nights laterâit was the first time he ever made you cry. Immediately, he thought heâd done something wrong and was ready to snatch the box and run back to the jewellers (even though he trashed the receipt). You hugged him and told him you loved him. Sunghoonâs been riding that high ever since.Â
Until tonight at least.Â
âAre you okay?â he whispers.Â
âIâll do it, Hoon.â Your eyes lift from the floor to meet his gaze. âFor as long as you need me to, Iâll pretend.â
As soon as the words leave your mouth, Sunghoon feels lighter, an unbearable weight slipping from his shoulders. You havenât called him âHoonâ in ages, and he canât tell if youâve said it out of vulnerability, or even noticed that youâve said it at all, but it warms his heart nonetheless. However, heâs not fully at ease, still curious about your sudden change of heart and why youâre crying.Â
âWhat happened?â
You pull him into a hug, and his eyes bulge out of his head. âIt doesnât matter,â you say, the words muffled by the skin at the base of his neck.Â
For as long as heâs known you, youâve smelled like vanilla, a sweet warmth that grounds him. Yet itâs only after these months apart that heâs able to put a name to the sensation: home. The realisation of how much heâs missed this feeling, missed you, floods him with a rush of emotion so overwhelming he canât find the words to press the issue. A moment passes before he remembers to hug you back, his arms finally wrapping around you, pulling you close, and you sink into his hold. Months ago, he would have kissed the top of your head and mumbled reassurance into your hair, but tonight, Sunghoon settles for stroking the back of your head and hopes itâs enough.Â
âYou can talk to me, you know? You can always talk to me.â
A heavy silence follows, sharp as a daggerâscraping his skin, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge and lodging itself between his shoulder blades. Sunghoonâs breath hitches in his throat when you cling onto him even tighter, shifting so close youâve had to settle in his lap. His heart races in his chest, pounding a rhythm so loud it fills the room.Â
Finally, you speak, assuring him that you know and that youâre okay. At this, Sunghoon holds you as tight as he can, and neither of you speaks for the rest of the night. You fall asleep like this, in his arms, so deeply that you donât even stir when he lies down.Â
Rubbing your back, he watches the clock on his nightstand, the piercing green LED digits cycling through two whole hours right before his stinging eyes until you wake up. Sunghoon presses his eyes shut, pretending to be asleep when you kiss his cheek and leave his room.Â
For the entire morning, you stay in your room, and although Sunghoon is concerned, he decides not to bother you. In the afternoon, he sits at the dining table with his mum, listening as she talks about work. When she asks him, he gets up to make a cup of tea for her. Itâs at that moment when you finally come downstairs, looking so effortlessly pretty. Your hair is still damp from the shower, and youâre bundled up in one of his old sweatshirts. Thereâs a bright grin on your face that leaves his heart thudding.Â
âBaby!â you squeal when you see him, charging towards him and wrapping your arms around him from behind. âGood morning.â Your words are muffled against the back of his t-shirt, and the four-letter word, and the sugar coating it, make his cheeks burn.Â
âItâs great to see you too, YN,â his mum says with a smile. âMy night was amazing; I slept very well and had no dreams.âÂ
You let go of Sunghoon and walk over to the table, kissing his mum on the cheek and wishing her a good morning as well. âSorry, mum, how are you?âÂ
His mother doesnât seem to have the heart to correct you either, allowing your 3 p.m. âgood morningâ to go unnoticed.Â
Sunghoon carefully fills both mugs to the brim and, with extra caution, carries them to the table. He places a steaming cup of peppermint tea in front of his mum and a milky coffee in front of you. A warm smile spreads across your face as you mouth a âthank youâ, and his knees turn to jelly.Â
The next day, after eating an early dinner with his parents at the table, the four of you go out on a walk along the bike path you used to take for school. His parents have gone ahead, not intentionally, but because Sunghoon canât stop you from dragging your feet.Â
As with most things in the town where you grew up, nothing about the trail has changed. The leaves are yellowing in standard form for the season, and crunching under his feet with each step he takes. The only foreign experience is the silence that youâre determined to uphold. Everything Sunghoon says to you is met with either a hum, a nod, or no acknowledgement at all. At this point, he feels like he could drop dead at your side and the most youâd do is step over his body like a fallen branch.Â
After letting you go ahead, the weathered slats of the wooden footbridge sag in the middle under his tread. Itâs been like this for as long as he can remember and he wonders how nothing has been done about it. The stream rushes under it, loud and unruly, the smell of wet grass both comforting and suffocating as you look over the railing. Itâs like something from a postcard, the low-hanging branches sweeping back and forth under the breeze, the grass lush and green around the path, murky water thrashing against the mud and rocks underneath with you in the middle of the frame, peering over the edge.
You keep walking when Sunghoon approaches, leaving him alone on the creaky bridge with nothing but the ache in his chest. He looks up, staring at the grey clouds in the sky through the gaps in the leaves, and sighs.Â
Eventually, he catches up with you, grabbing your hand and locking his fingers with yours when his parents slow down. You stiffen, looking up at him with cut eyes and a creased brow. âWhat are you doing?â
Sunghoon matches your clipped tone. âHolding my girlfriendâs hand.âÂ
âNo oneâs looking, boyfriend.â
âYou think my parents arenât going to wonder why weâre lagging behind?âÂ
A scoffâyour fingers remain defiantly stiff. âDo you think your parents are going to care whether or not weâre holding hands?âÂ
âMy mum might after the show you put on yesterday afternoon, baby.â Bitterness covers the word like a blanket, a stark departure from how you said it.Â
A long sigh rumbles its way out of you before you fix your lips into a strained grin. âSorry, sweetheart, this is my first time pretending to be in love.âÂ
As your words hang in the air, Sunghoonâs emotions brew like a storm within him. Frustration gnaws at his patience. All hopes for a smooth week are dashed, though determination simmers in his chest with a strong resolve to make this work, to fix your relationship. It doesnât stop the sharp pang of hurt piercing his stomachâhe knows you donât feel the same way, he knows youâre faking, but the word âpretendingâ hits him like a truck anyway.Â
âWe held hands all the time when we were friends,â he points out.
Your smile drops immediately, hurt flashing behind your eyes. âYeah, and now weâre not.âÂ
If there was a competition for who could hurt Sunghoonâs feelings the most, youâd be a shoo-in for first place. With distinction.Â
âExactly!â he says, feeling the sting of his own words. âBecause now weâre dating.â
At the sight of his mum turning around, you switch up in an instant. Lock your fingers with his, wrapping an arm around his bicep, leaning into him, giggling. Itâs forced but his parents are far enough away that all that matters is the curve of your lips.
âYou two okay back there?â she asks.Â
âPerfect! I feel like a kid again!â you call back, beaming up at Sunghoon in a way that makes his stomach flutter even though it doesnât meet your eyes.Â
The two of you donât talk at all when you get home, with you hugging his parents goodnight and running up the stairs.Â
âSheâs not feeling too well,â he explains, nodding when his dad tells him to make you some tea.Â
His parents spend the whole day at work, and you spend the whole day following him around like a shadow until the evening when they return. He doesnât pretend not to like it.
Sunghoon helps you make dinner, turning leftover rice into fried rice with the help of some eggs and vegetables. Itâs nice moving around the kitchen with you, watching you scramble eggs in his t-shirt and bump his hip with a playful frown when he eats some of the peppers youâre chopping.Â
His parents watch from the table, cooing over the two of you and he does his best to fight the blush forming on his cheeks and neck. Embarrassed, he hugs you from behind, hiding his face in your neckâthe scent of your coconut conditioner mixing with your vanilla perfume doesnât do anything to stop the flush.Â
Over a bottle of wine, the four of you eat together at the table, swapping stories about your days. Sunghoon tries to hide his surprise as you lie about the time you spent at the play park by your primary school, competing for height on the swings and spinning on the roundabout until you couldnât stand up. You grin at him, and it meets your eyes as you hold his hand under the table, and kiss his cheek.
After eating, his parents head upstairs, leaving to clean up together. You hum a song heâs never heard as you load the dishwasher, carefully placing the plates and cutlery in the rack, shaking your head when he hands you the glasses youâd used.Â
âLeave ours,â you say. âIf you want.âÂ
Sunghoon nods, putting them back on the table, where you sit in the seat across from the one he was sitting in. He sits too, staying quiet rather than saying the wrong thing. You donât speak either. Itâs reminiscent of the pastâthe hours youâd spend in the same room, only speaking to share a funny post youâd come across or to ask if you were hungry.Â
His eyes track your movementsâreaching for the half-empty bottle on the table to pour yourself another glass, filling it to the brim. Before putting it down, you offer him some, filling his glass too when he nods. The three glasses of wine heâs already had must be the reason he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand, run his thumb over the soft skin on the back of it.Â
Sunghoon doesnât know why youâve been so nice to him all day or why it makes his chest hurt.Â
âYou know you donât have to be nice to me when weâre alone, right?â The words come out before he can stop them.
Over the top of your glass, your brows knit together. A sound of confusion, a low hum, comes from your throat as you try to finish your sip. âWhat?â you ask finally.Â
âI only asked you to do this because of my parents, you know? You donât have to sit or talk with me when theyâre not around.âÂ
Sunghoonâs known you long enough to recognise the look that flashes across your face. The way your eyes narrow and your brows tug together, the little pout that sets on your lips before you speak; youâre hurt.
âWhy canât I just be nice to you because itâs the right thing to do?âÂ
Because it hurts, is what he wants to say. He wants to cry, to beg you to forget everything he said that day. âBecause I donât want to make you any more uncomfortable than I already have.â Is what he settles for.Â
Your face softens. âI donât feel uncomfortable around you, Hoon. We were best friends for ages, I donât think you could ever make me uncomfortable.â You pause to take a gulp of wine. âWhy canât I just want to be nice to you?âÂ
Sunghoon has to chew on his cheek to distract himself from how much your word choice stings. The implications of were and all of your past tense. âIâm sorry,â he says.Â
âWhat for?âÂ
âEverything.âÂ
Thereâs a sadness in the way you run your fingers on the base of your glass. The way you chew on your lip, how your hair falls when you tilt your head and how it moves when you shake it. âItâs not your fault,â you say. âI donât know anyone who would choose to have unrequited feelings for their best friend.âÂ
Wow, he thinks. Youâre on a roll. Sunghoon wonders if youâre meticulously choosing your phrasing to upset him. Wonders why you feel the need to remind him that his feelings arenât reciprocated as if he didnât live through and spend hours reliving the day he confessed.Â
âBut I didnât have to tell you about it. It was unfair of me to spring that on you when I knew about Yeonjun.âÂ
âDid you.. did you think I was going to leave him for you?âÂ
âMaybe?â Sunghoon chews on his lipâhe has no idea what he thought would happen. âI think I thought I loved you enough for both of us, that you might play the part for fun or out of curiosity, and.. I donât know, just learn to love me.â
âHoon,â you whisper, frowning. âHow could you even think about settling for something like that?âÂ
Sunghoon shrugs. âItâs not settling if itâs you.âÂ
Silence takes a seat at the table after he speaks, interrupted only by the ticking clock on the wallâa glittery mess of scrapbooking paper and washi tape layered over each other that Yeji had decorated at summer camp years ago. Youâre picking at your fingernails, letting flecks of black polish fall to the table, stark against the varnished oak.Â
âI know itâs not my place to ask,â Sunghoon starts after a while, hesitant and only continuing when you nod. âBut what did Yeonjun say when you told him? About.. everything?âÂ
You take a long sip from your glass and sit quietly for so long that he thinks youâre not going to answer himâhe doesnât blame you.Â
âI didnât.âÂ
He waits for you to elaborate. You donât.Â
Sunghoon nods slowly, deciding not to ask any follow-up questions. Instead, he takes another drink, scrunching his nose at the bitter taste. âHe didnât ask why we stopped hanging out?â he blurts out.
âI told him we fell out but I didnât say why.â You shrug, but your posture is stiff.Â
âWhere did you tell him you were going to be this week?â He knows itâs not his business at all, that heâs pushing your boundaries, but he canât help his curiosity.
âNowhere.âÂ
âYou told him you were staying on campus?âÂ
âI didnât tell him anything.â Your gaze shifts, avoiding his as you toy with the stem of your glass. You drum your nails against it, letting the dull clink ring out.Â
âSo you just left?âÂ
âDoes it make a difference to you?âÂ
Sunghoon nods.
For a while, you tug at the drawstrings on your hoodie, pursing your lips to the side, considering this. âYeonjun and I arenât together anymore.â Your admission is so shocking that Sunghoonâs jaw drops. He tries to cover his surprise by coughing, his tongue sticking out like a small child. âI didnât want to say anything because I didnât want you to think it was because of you.âÂ
Sunghoonâs thoughts move at lightspeed, too fast for him to catch onto any of them and process this information. His emotions compete with each otherâdisbelief, guilt, and a painful glimmer of hope he hadnât dared to acknowledge until now all at the forefront.Â
âWas it?â he asks. âBecause of me?âÂ
You scoffâan incredulous sound that doesnât match the sad look on your face. âI donât know, Sunghoon. Do you think my boyfriend used me to make his ex jealous because of you?â
Heâs not sure what he expected you to say, but this is.. Complete disbelief eclipses him as his heart sinks in his chest, shock, and guilt bubbling in his stomach.Â
âIâm sorry,â he says after too long. âThat I wasnât there. That I havenât been there.âÂ
âYou didnât know,â you say, gaze softening as you look up at him.Â
âBut I made you feel like you couldnât talk to me about it.âÂ
You shake your head. âI made me feel like I couldnât talk to you about it. All you did was change the friendship, Iâm the one who ended it.â
âI still shouldâve been there.âÂ
âYouâre here now, right?âÂ
Sunghoon nods, earnestly. âAlways.âÂ
Only one thing comes to mind when you repeat the word âalwaysâ before taking a sip from your glass, downing its contents. Sunghoon gets up and crosses the room with wobbly steps to open the fridge, where he pulls out as many bottles of soju as he can hold in his hands and puts them down on the table. He goes back to collect some glasses from the cabinet, puts some of the leftover fried rice from dinner into the microwave, and brings it all over when itâs done, with bowls and utensils. You watch him with a fond smile as he opens a bottle and he hopes you think the flush on his cheeks is from all the drinking youâve been doing.Â
âIs it bad that Iâve missed doing this?â Youâre grinning now.
Sunghoon shakes his head, raising his glass. âTo YNâs fifteenth heartbreak.âÂ
You grin, clinking the rim of your glass against his. âTo YNâs fifteenth heartbreak,â you repeat.Â
Both of you down the glasses, and Sunghoon refills them, pouring the soju with an oddly steady hand. As you eat spoonfuls of rice and sip your drinks, silence settles over the room. The soft glow of the kitchen lights forms a warm ambience, a cosy familiarity that brings up simple memoriesâdoing homework together at the table while gossiping about your classmates, the first New Year after you were both eighteen and had your first drink with his parents.Â
For at least an hour, the only sounds are the occasional clinks of forks against bowls, glasses hitting the table, the faint hum of the refrigerator and the steady tick of Yejiâs clock. Sunghoonâs eyes meet yours, and he canât help but notice the slight change in your expression when they do.Â
You clear your throat, running a hand through your hair. âThis is my sixteenth, actually.âÂ
âWhat?âÂ
You take a small sip of soju, staring down at the table. âMy fifteenth heartbreak was losing you. Yeonjun is my sixteenth.â
In the two days since your soju ceremony, Sunghoon finds himself sinking into the role of your boyfriend like a hot bath. But thereâs no use pretending it doesnât hurt. Pretending it doesnât hurt when you kiss his cheek before bed, or when you reach out to push the hair out of his face or snuggle into his side on the couch; because it does hurtâa lot. It hurts to think that in three days when you put your bags in the boot of his car, youâll sit in silence all the way home. When he drops you off at your flat, youâll close the door in his face and stop talking to him again. These realisations are harder to confront when heâs alone in his room, like now.Â
About an hour ago, you asked if you could borrow his car, saying there was something you needed to do on your own. It seemed important, so he handed over his keys with no question. Sighing, Sunghoon gets up from his bed and heads to the shower, where he jerks off to clear his mind. On his way back to his room, he notices the light leaking from the open kitchen door that illuminates the landing.Â
He hears the lock on the front door clicking, and stands at the top of the stairs, dripping water onto the carpet while listening attentively. His ears perk up when he hears a gaspâhis mother.Â
âWhatâs this for?â she asks.Â
âI just..â You trail off. âI know itâs not much, but I wanted to thank you both for always looking after me.â You pause, and Sunghoon holds his breath, waiting. Your voice trembles as you continue. âItâs been hard since my parents went back home, and I guess it was still hard when they were here, but you both supported me. I donât think I couldâve managed without you guys. I want to make you guys proud, you know? And Iâm trying, really, so this is me saying thank you. Iâm sorry it took me so long.âÂ
He grips the railing by the landing, digging his nails into the wood until they start hurtingâan ache in his fingertips that makes him wince.Â
An odd feeling settles in his stomach, a bittersweetness tinged in his fondness for you, and the gentle shock of realising how much his parents have done for you. Growing up, you became an honorary member of Sunghoonâs family. His parents showered you with gifts during holidays and birthdays, which you often celebrated with them rather than your own family.Â
The memory of your parentsâ sudden decision to move across the country still lingers, and Sunghoon vividly recalls the tearful conversation he overheard at the top of the stairs. Your parents understood the enormity of their request but had earnestly asked if Sunghoonâs parents could continue looking after you.Â
His chest tightens when you start crying.Â
âYou donât have to thank us for anything, sweetie. Just you being here and taking care of our boy is more than enough thanks. You never forget our birthdays, and you always come and visit when you can. Youâre doing a great job, and you should give yourself some credit,â his dad says, a little choked up. âWeâve always been proud of you.âÂ
Sunghoonâs eyes sting with tears and his skin gets dry in the spots where the water from the shower is evaporating. He presses his fingers to his closed eyes, forcing a few tears to fall and walks the rest of the way to his room with his eyes shut. He canât hear anything through his closed bedroom door, which he decides is a good thing as he coats himself in moisturiser and swipes deodorant under his arms with intention to spend the whole night alone. Once heâs dressed, he gets into bed and pretends not to be bothered by the way his wet hair dampens his pillow. Under the duvet, he tosses and turns before sighing and heading to Yejiâs room.
In her absence, the roomâs subtle transformation is stark. The sage green-painted walls, once a backdrop to the A3 faces of Wave to Earth and Beabadoobee, now bear the faint imprints of those missing posters. Tiny, shadowy rectangles are the only remnants of the 6x4-sized pictures of her and her friends, of her and Sunghoon, that she took away with her to school.
Her hairdryer is still on her desk where sheâd left it for him to use and he sits in her stiff wooden chair, plugging it in. The airflow starts immediately, hot and loud, humming throughout the space as he runs his fingers through his wet hair, feeling cosy under the heat. His shampoo is fresh and soapy scented under his nose, and his reflection watches him in Yejiâs mirror, eyes red and concerned while his hair blows around his head. Sunghoon closes his eyes and finishes his hair, sighing as he lets his worries slip under the whir of the fan.Â
Finished, he shuts off the dryer and opens his eyes, flinching at your reflection in the doorway behind him with a soft smile on your face. âMum and Dad are going to open a bottle of wine if you want to join,â you say, meeting his eyes in the mirror.Â
Sunghoon canât find it in himself to speak, only nodding in response. You smile wider but donât move. He unplugs the hairdryer and leaves it on the desk where he found it before crossing the room. Without giving himself a chance to think about it, he pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head, smiling into your hair when you wrap your arms around his waist, holding him closer.Â
Youâre sitting on the edge of the bathtub, mumbling sleepily that youâre never going to drink again, and Sunghoon leans over the sink brushing his teeth, heâs glad you have the decency to cover your mouth as you speak.Â
âBrush your teeth and go back to sleep then,â he mumbles around his toothbrush.Â
You donât respond.Â
Sunghoon sighs through his nose, spitting foamy toothpaste into the sink, leaving bubbly, blue splatters on the porcelain. âAnd quit staring at me, I can feel your beady little eyes on the back of my neck and itâs freaking me out.âÂ
âBut youâre so pretty,â you coo.Â
Thereâs a flutter in his stomach and he rinses off the sink and his mouth, buying himself some time. With a hand on the Listerine, he lifts his gaze to meet yours in the mirror and stops short. Youâre still staring at him, features soft and glowing under the afternoon light. You look like an angel; a gentle smile spreading over your lips, and a sleepy glint sparkling in your eyes, wide and gorgeous as you watch him. Sunghoon gulps, mumbling his thanks and looking back at himself. He hopes you canât see the flush on his cheeks.Â
âGo back to sleep,â he says.Â
âWill you come and lie down with me if I do?â Your voice is a sleepy drawl, coming out in a slow, high-pitched slur, and your eyes are closing on themselves.Â
Lying down doesnât sound like a terrible idea, especially not if itâs with you, so he nods. âIf you brush your teeth, then yeah, baby, Iâll lie down with you.âÂ
You chuckle softly at Sunghoonâs agreement, the sound carrying a mix of exhaustion and genuine amusement, showing no repulsion to him calling you the B-word. He didnât mean to, itâs been a confusing few days. You nod, saluting to him and getting up to join him by the sink, using your hip to bump him out of the way, but he feels like heâs glued to the spot.Â
âMove, baby,â you mumble sleepily, reaching for your toothbrush. âWe can cuddle in my bed,â you suggest, to which Sunghoon only nods, taking your words as a cue to unstick his feet from the floor and go to your room, playing the word âbabyâ on a loop in his head.Â
He stands in the doorway staring at your bed, the duvet is all crumpled in the middle, and the pillows are in an L shape at the top corner. He sighs, he canât go on like this, canât stand around hoping even a tiny part of you called him âbabyâ and it meant something for you as it did for him. Itâs not fair for him to project his feelings on you like this, but he canât help it. Youâre already pretending for his parents, so would it be so bad to pretend for his sake as well? Even if only until the day after tomorrow when you leave?Â
The sound of the bathroom door shutting behind you snaps him out of his thoughts, your bright smile making his heart race when you tug him by the sleeve to your bed where the mattress dips underneath you as you curl into his form, resting your head on his chest and falling asleep. Youâve shared the bed before, countless times, but he knows youâve only asked him because youâre tired. Because your brain is foggy with drowsiness that clouds your judgement, not because you want him there, not because you miss him when heâs two doors down the hall, tossing and turning at night thinking about you. He wonders absently if you can feel his aching heart beating through his chest, a painful, yet all too familiar rhythm that pulls his own eyes shut, plunging him into a deep sleep too.
Itâs dark in the room when he wakes up, the sun already down behind the curtains and the soft yellow of the bedside lamp casting a glow around the space. Youâre staring up at him, smiling and you donât look away when he catches you. âWhat is it?â he asks, voice thick with sleep.Â
âNothing,â you mumble. âI just missed you.â Sunghoon has no time to respond or even register what you said before you clear your throat, speaking again. âCome on, dadâs cooking tonight, heâll need help.âÂ
Helping Sunghoonâs dad with dinner always looks an awful lot like Sunghoon eating snacks on the kitchen counter and staring at you as you help his dad cook. Tonight is no exception, heâs sitting on the island, and his snack of choice is a family pack of Chilli Heatwave Doritos his mum bought for Yeji. Heâll have to remember to replace them before leaving seeing as heâs reaching the halfway point.Â
You go back and forth with his dad about measurements, with you rummaging through the drawers for measuring cups while his dad says itâs best to trust your gut. Reluctantly, you nod, chewing the inside of your cheek as you watch him eyeball the seasoning.Â
The gas stove turns the kitchen into an oven, and you complain about it while opening a window, pulling your hoodie over your head and leaving it in Sunghoonâs lap. Time stops when you grin at him, the light from the stove hood illuminating the necklace youâre wearing, his initial resting on your chest and glowing under the light. He chokes around a crisp when he sees it, catching your attention with his coughing.Â
âYouâll spoil your dinner, snacking like that, baby,â you scold, using a hand to push his knee. âWeâre almost done, I swear.âÂ
All he can do is nod, cheeks burning as he folds the crisp packet over before putting it back in the bread bin where he found it.Â
âWow,â his dad says, resting his hands on his hips and shaking his head in amusement. âBeing in love looks good on him, heâd never have listened if I said that.âÂ
Itâs already your last day when Sunghoon picks up Yeji from school. She grumbles for the entire half-hour drive and all the way to the front door about why the two of you couldnât have started the trip today instead of ending it, but all of her irritation dissolves when she sees you in the hallway, leaving the front door wide open to fling her arms around you. You and Yeji exchange compliments for a while â You look so pretty. No, you look so pretty. I love your hair. I love your hair. â as Sunghoon locks the door and watches with a smile.
âGod.â Yeji sighs, holding you by the waist and craning her neck up to look at you, as you push some of her hair from her face, pinning back her wispy bangs with the palm of your hand. Yeji giggles. âIâm so happy you two are together, even though I have no idea what a girl like you sees in my loser brother.âÂ
Sunghoon rolls his eyes, leaning back against the wall. Despite his mild irritation at Yejiâs words, he finds the sight of you with her so adorable his stomach flutters. Over the top of Yejiâs head, you look at him with a fond smile. âHeâs not so bad.âÂ
It doesnât sound like a compliment, but Sunghoon takes it to heart.Â
Like always, Yeji manages to capture your undivided attention and the two of you giggle and whisper with each other all afternoon while Sunghoon watches, too enamoured by the sight to care about being left out. An hour or so passes like this, until his parents get home from work, excited to see Yeji after a few weeks, and you leave her side, coming to cuddle with Sunghoon instead.Â
Itâs nice being home with everyone, laughing and sharing a meal before his family walks the two of you to his car with at least a monthâs worth of cooked food for you to share at university. Yeji makes you pinky promise that she can visit you and waves with a pout on her face until the car is out of view.
Contrary to what heâd been expecting, the drive back is nice. Your playlist is on, and youâre telling him about all the new songs you added, catching him up on things with Chaewon and Yunjin, and all the things you got up to in the time you spent apart. You tell him about a new cafĂŠ that opened up near your place and how youâll have to go together when he has the time, and Sunghoon bites his tongue before telling you that he always has time for you. The first half of the trip goes on like this but you start dozing off around the halfway mark, your sentences becoming few and far between, eventually turning into half-mumbled thoughts that end prematurely.Â
Youâre still asleep when he reaches your flat, head propped up against the window with your soft lips parted, looking too pretty and cosy to wake up. Instead, he drives in circles around your block, deciding to wait for you to wake up on your own. It only takes a half-hour but you blink your eyes open, stretching your neck before looking around and out the car window, recognising the street. You donât say anything, only smiling when you look at him, a small curve of your lips that makes his heart race.
He gets out of the car with you, opening the boot to get your bag before pulling you into his chest for a hug, liking the way your arms settle around his waist. âThank you,â he mumbles into your hair.Â
Sunghoon doesnât follow you when you take your bag from him, only watching from the back of his car. You donât notice until you reach the main door, looking over your shoulder and frowning at him. âArenât you going to walk me up?âÂ
The two of you walk in silence up four flights of stairs as the lift in your building is out of order. Your bag feels much heavier in his hand now than it did outside. At your door, he watches you dig around for your keys, sighing with relief when you find them.Â
âDo you want to come in?â you ask from your open doorway.
âIâuhâI have training in the morning and Iâm already pretty tired, so..â He trails off.
Unfazed, you nod. âRight, of course. I had fun this week.âÂ
âYeah, me too.âÂ
You smile at him, sweet and sincere. âText me when you get home, yeah?âÂ
Sunghoon nods, saying goodbye. Out of habit, he doesnât leave your doorstep until he hears the lock click shut, and walks back to his car with his head down.Â
True to his word, he sends you a text to let you know he got back to his place safely and you read it immediately but donât reply. Itâs empty in the apartment, Jake is out with his football team and the space is larger than usual in his absence. Far too tired to even consider going out and joining him, Sunghoon goes through his night routine, putting his phone on the charger and stepping into the shower where he spends entirely too long wishing he could live in this week forever as he scrubs his body. With brushed teeth and damp hair, he goes back into his room where his phone lights up with a notification; a text, from you.
YNđŤ: iâm glad you got home okay, i just got into bed :) i donât want to make you uncomfortable or overstep or anything and you can say no (obviously).. iâve been missing you so much and didnât know how to reach out or if you wanted me to but i had soooo much fun this week and spending time with you again made me happy, so iâd like it if we could keep hanging out, like before yk? ik itâs a long shot ahahaha but just say youâll think about it?Â
hoonie: Youâre not overstepping at all, Iâve missed you too, so bad. I had soooo much fun this week as well and Iâd like it a lot if we kept hanging out, thank you for agreeing and coming along đ If youâre free after Lit tmrw you could come over? Or we could go out and do something, whatever you prefer
hoonie: I missed you so much..Â
hoonie: đ¤
The texts greet you as the first rays of Monday morning light filter into your room, instantly lifting your mood. Your bright smile doesnât escape Chaewonâs notice as you find her in the kitchen, bathed in the soft light seeping through the sheer curtains. The kettle is boiling with a loud rumble that fills the whole room and leaves her yelling as she speaks to you.Â
âGood trip?â she asks, coming over and hugging you. âNever leave me for that long again,â she mumbles into your shirt.Â
âIt was a week, Wonie,â you say, rolling your eyes even though you missed her too.Â
She leans away, looking at you with knitted brows. âIt was nine days.âÂ
âThe longest of my life.âÂ
Chaewon pulls air through her teeth, tilting her head and releasing you. âThat bad, huh?â she asks, walking back to her seat at your tiny square table and shooting you a look that tells you to join her.Â
During your trip, you gave her nightly updates over text, so you know she knows how much you enjoyed yourself, but you elaborate anyway, sitting across from her.Â
âNo, not at all,â you say, shaking your head and trying to fight a smile. âI had fun.â As soon as the words leave your mouth, you have to bite your bottom lip to stop the grin curving them; it doesnât work.Â
Chaewon raises a suggestive brow, crossing her arms over her chest. âHow much fun?âÂ
âYouâre disgusting.âÂ
âI didnât even say anything!â she defends, holding her hands up. âI made an implication. It was only a matter of time, you two have that whole.. lifelong best friends to lifelong lovers thing going on, and itâs hot.âÂ
âShut up.âÂ
âYouâre telling me, you spent nine days playing lovers with Sunghoon and you still donât want him? Youâre a lost cause, people would kill for that chance,â she says, tilting her head. âI think I would kill for that chance.âÂ
âDonât touch him.â
âOh?âÂ
âJesus, Chaewon, itâs not like that. Hoonâs too sensitive for your roster.âÂ
âI never said it was like anything, youâre the one whoâs dangling me over the ledge for saying I want to fuck your hot best friend.âÂ
âSunghoon isnât hot; heâs..â You find yourself at a loss for words, unsure how to continue your lie. Of course, Sunghoon is hot, youâve known since you were seventeen and spent the summer at your grandparentsâ house, only to come back to find your previously scrawny best friend having ditched his LEGOs for dumbbells. You sigh. âJust leave him alone.â
Chaewon grins, eyes sparkling as she leaves the table. âOkay,â she says in a singsong voice, leaving you and the irritation in your stomach alone in the kitchen.
You sigh, pressing your eyes shut and trying to will away your discomfort. Itâs not like Chaewon would actually try anything with Sunghoon. Right? Even if she did, it wouldnât bother you, nor would it be any of your business. Theyâre grownups and reserve the right to explore their options. Still, thereâs a nagging feeling you canât shake, an uninvited guest in the back of your mind.Â
When you check your phone, you realise you have half an hour before you need to head to campus, so you leave to get ready and text Sunghoon back on the way to your room.
you: sounds good, see u later đ¤
After showering, you stand in front of your wardrobe, towel hanging from your body as you pick an outfit. For some reason, you feel under pressure, picking a pair of jeans that do the most for your ass and a low-cut top that Sunghoon once â drunkenly â said he loved on you.
You have the residual sting of mouthwash on your tongue, and one foot out the door when your phone vibrates in your hand.Â
hoonie: Do you want to head to class together?Â
you: sure! iâm omw out, where should i get you?Â
hoonie: .. Iâm outside your building :DÂ
Breathing a laugh through your nose, you donât fight the giddy smile on your face as you make your way downstairs to meet Sunghoon. Through the glass in the main door, heâs standing at the edge of the pavement and kicking a stone between his feet. The top of his puffer jacket covers the bottom half of his face, and the draught nips your skin when the door opens. Two girls you vaguely recognise stumble in with smudged makeup and heels in their hands, smiling at you while holding the door to let you out.
âHey!â you call out, jogging over to him.Â
Sunghoon turns around, his head poking out of his jacket to grin at you, holding a travel cup and an abundance of tinfoil in your direction.Â
âI wasnât sure if youâd have eaten anything yet, you donât normally in the morning,â he says, a sheepish smile spreading over his lips when you take it. âMatcha. Ham and cheese toastie.âÂ
âDid you make these?â you ask, inspecting the familiar cup and appreciating the warmth it provides.Â
He hums, nodding his head.
You ignore the heat spreading over your cheeks and thank him with a hug, grinning when he offers to hold your drink while you eat on the walk. The toastie is still hot, the cheese coming close to burning your tongue as you chew, but you appreciate it wholeheartedly, humming contently with each bite. When youâre done, you shove the foil into your pocket, taking your drink from him and smiling around the sweet taste of a matcha latte as he tells you about his schedule for the day.Â
âIâm meeting with Coach after class to talk about my grades, but Iâm all yours after that.âÂ
âTalk about your grades? Whatâs wrong with your grades?âÂ
Sunghoon groans, head falling back and highlighting the bump of his Adamâs apple. âMy grades are.. I failed my coursework this month, so I have resubmissions during finals, and I think heâll bench me if I fail again.âÂ
He sounds like heâs being serious, and if the look on his face is anything to go by, he is. The news creases your brows because for as long as you remember, Sunghoonâs grades were your parentsâ favourite point of comparison.
âReally?â you ask. He nods. âWhatâs up? Is something the matter?âÂ
A humourless laugh slips out of him before he pulls air through his teeth. âYeah, my best friend didnât talk to me for three months.âÂ
âOh..â Guilt stirs your stomach as you look up at him. âIâm sorry.â
âIâm not blaming you, itâs not like I was trying to talk and you ignored me.â He nudges your arm with his elbow, giving you a warm smile. âBut if you feel as guilty about it as you look, you can tutor me for Lit.âÂ
âDeal.âÂ
Sunghoon grins, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and holding you close; the action itself isnât unusual, but the increased heart rate it brings about is. âYouâre too good to me,â he says, holding onto you for the rest of the walk to class.
At his request, you sit with Sunghoon in the back row, watching as the lecture hall gradually fills up in front of you. He seems well-prepared, with his laptop and a small notepad and pen neatly arranged on the desk in front of him.
Throughout the class, your eyes inadvertently track his every move. He diligently types up colour-coded notes, occasionally pausing to write things in his notepad before continuing to type or stopping entirely to listen. Thereâs something melodic about his actions and the way his fingers run over the keyboard.Â
During a five-minute break, you glance at his screen. What you find is more than just lecture content; itâs a document adorned with Sunghoonâs own musings about Hemingwayâs style and carefully analysed quotations that go beyond the class discussion.
âHow are your notes so good?âÂ
âI picked up the book over the summer when you mentioned it,â Sunghoon replies with a shrug, a shy smile playing on his lips as he leans back in his seat. âI liked it.âÂ
A slow nod is your response, though your thoughts swirl like autumn leaves in a breeze. The last time Sunghoon read for leisure, you were in primary school, buddy reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid. But thisâthis is different. You canât help but stare at him, awestruck as you take him in. His eyes are wide, shining amber in the sunlight as he pushes some of his hair from his face, frowning when it falls back where it was.Â
âDonât look at me like that,â he mumbles.Â
Sunghoon takes a new line in his document and points at the screen where you watch the cursor move through the words heâs typing: I wouldâve read and annotated the Bible if you wanted me to..
Thereâs no time to digest what he wrote or the funny feeling in your chest as you reread it before he deletes the whole sentence, pressing his lips together and looking out the window. Speechless, you stare at his side profile, willing your heart rate to slip back to normal. Steep-sloping nose, plump lips flattened into a line, two points of the triangular mole constellation on his face. Analysis worsens your condition, breath hitching in your throat before stopping entirely. Warmth and trepidation blend within you, fuzzy enough at the edges to seem like one thingâa single force that makes your palm itch with desire, desperation, to reach out and run a finger over his features, feel the bump of the mole on his nose â the most prominent â against your skin.Â
You remain this way â silent, watching â even when your lecturer resumes the lesson, and Sunghoon starts typing, writing, and listening again. Polite enough to pretend he doesnât notice your gaze searing into his face.
After class, and his meeting with Coach, you let Sunghoon lead the conversation and the way to your flat, where you find Chaewon and Yunjin sitting on the couch, whispering to themselves while the two of you study at the coffee table. Itâs uncomfortable, an awkward height, too high for the way youâre sitting but you feel calm under the supervision of Chaewon and Yunjinâyou wonât do anything to merit teasing in front of them, no matter how badly you want to feel Sunghoonâs face in your hands or stroke his cheekbones with your thumbs.Â
To the best of your ability, you answer the questions he has for youâheâd written a ton in his tiny notepad during class, his own concerns clear with each neatly-penned iteration of: How to see actions/dialogue for what they are and not what I want them to be? written in the margins and you try not to feel heartbroken for him.
Three hours have passed by when you walk him to the door, the two of you wrapped up in a bubble so secure youâre surprised to find Chaewon and Yunjin still sitting on the couch. They donât say anything about Sunghoon in his absence, or the fact heâd given you his sweater when he noticed you were cold. Youâre not sure why their silence disappoints you.
Instead, Yunjin asks you about trivial things like dinner while Chaewon sits in silence.Â
âWhat flavour for ice cream?â Yunjin asks, rolling her eyes when you tug on the blanket but not complaining. âAnd donât say something ridiculous like mint chocolate, YN.âÂ
âThat happened once! And it was three years ago.. How was I supposed to know you hate fun?âÂ
Chaewon leans into you, letting you curl your limbs around her from behind as you rest your chin on her shoulder, liking the way her clean scent tickles your nose.Â
âMint-cho isnât that bad,â she starts. âItâs a little jarring, sure, but itâs kind of sweet. Like watching people come to terms with their feelings for each other.âÂ
You nod your head, humming in understanding and furrowing your brows when Yunjin scoffs, staring straight at you. Her tone is equal parts cutting and loving, so you know sheâs not trying to insult you, but donât know what she means when she says, âIt must be so nice to be as oblivious as you.âÂ
Yunjin never elaborates, and you never ask, actually feeling the statementâs journey in through one of your ears and out the other when dinner arrives. The three of you share pizza, ice cream, and secrets â the three pillars of 20-something-teenage-girlhood â at the kitchen table, with Chaewon sitting in your lap and picking pepperoni from your slices.Â
Itâs only hours after Yunijnâs gone home, that her words circle back to you, the statement and all of its weight perching on your chest with all the debilitation and persistence of a sleep paralysis demon.
âI think Iâm getting sick,â you say as soon as she opens her door. âItâs been coming on for a while now, at least a week, maybe more.âÂ
Unimpressed and exhausted, Yunjin looks down at you through half-closed eyes. âDo you..â She pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing. âDo you have any idea what time it is right now?âÂ
âYes. Itâs three a.m.âÂ
âExactly. See a doctor if youâre sick, Iâm going back to sleep.â
âThis is an emergenââ Yunjin cuts you off by pinching your lips together. âItâs three in the morning,â she reminds you. âYou canât yell like that in my hallway, come in.âÂ
You nod, crossing the threshold and taking off your shoes next to hers. âSorry,â you whisper when the door is closed.Â
Using her hand, Yunjin lifts your chin, squinting as her eyes adjust to the light when she flips the switch to inspect your face. âYou donât look or sound sick,â she mutters, flicking the light back off and going to her room. âWhat are your symptoms? And why did you come here?âÂ
You donât have an answer for her last question so you ignore it, following her and tripping over a pair of her shoes in the process. âMy cheeks start burning like crazy and my heart races, sometimes it gets hard to breathe.â
âYou seem fine to me.âÂ
A shoulder-slumping sigh slips from your lips. âThatâs the thing. Iâll be fine and then Sunghoon shows up with his pretty smile and perfect hair and I feel like Iâve run a marathon.â You know how it sounds, choosing your wording meticulously to let Yunjin be the one to say the words out loud instead of youâitâll be easier to confront that way.Â
From the doorway, you watch as she arches a brow, her interest piqued. âOh?âÂ
âI know.â You nod, head bobbing rapidly in furious agreement. âItâs only a matter of time before I cough up a lung and die in his bedroom.â
At your words, Yunjin doesn't reply, only lifting her duvet and getting cosy underneath. You feel like youâre glued to the spot, waiting for her to say something, anything, but nothing comes. All she does is pat the empty spot in her bed.Â
âWhat are you smirking for?â you ask, entering the room properly and closing the door.Â
Her response only comes after youâve taken your jacket and hoodie off, sitting next to her under the covers. âItâs nothing,â she says, laughing.Â
âTell me.âÂ
Yunjin sighs, resting a hand gently on your shoulder. You think itâs meant to be comforting but itâs the opposite. âYouâll be fine, I promise. Lovesickness isnât deadly.âÂ
Feeling the weight of her reassurance, you settle down properly and sigh when your head hits the pillow. Lovesickness. Hmm.Â
Closing your eyes, you try to sleep but canât help tossing and turning as Yunjin snores behind you. You pat blindly around the end table for your phone, grabbing it and wincing at the brightness of your screen. Chewing on your lip, you open Google, looking up âlovesicknessâ and frowning immediately at the results. Endless negativity fills the screen, terrifying words like âunrequited loveâ forming a pit in your stomach. Thereâs nothing negative about what you feel for Sunghoon, nothing unrequitedâyou think.Â
It was obvious during the trip, painfully so. In the way heâd tuck your hair behind your ear when his parents werenât there to see, or how he slipped up and called you âbabyâ in the bathroom, blushing when you said it back. You canât fake something like that.. Can you?
Yeonjun did.
Shaking your head, you open Instagram to distract yourself. Jakeâs story comes up first; heâs at a party where Jay is losing a game of beer pong, and at the other end of the table is Sunghoon grinning with a bright red lipstick kiss on his cheek. You lock your phone, using your hands to press on your belly to stop the stirring.Â
Oh, you think. Lovesickness.Â
When you wake up, the first thing you do is check Jakeâs story again. The video is still there and that terrible stir in your stomach churns on, burrowing deeply into a pit of canyon-like proportionâso vast thereâs a safety railing lining its edges.Â
You eat breakfast in silence with Yunjin, zoning out mid-chew to figure out the origin of these feelings and how to handle them. Suddenly, the moment hits you clear as day, vivid like youâre watching it on a screenâit was your third night at his parentsâ house, after your walk.Â
You felt bad about how you acted, and what you said, so went straight up to your room. With nothing but the bedside lamp turned on, it was dimly lit, shadows cast on the walls as you sulked, replaying everything in your head. Guilt wrapped its long arms around your body, making you feel sick as you thought about it all. About the hurt etched over his face with every word you said, and the frown that stuck around for the rest of the walk as his hand clung limply to yours.Â
There was a knock at the door, so gentle you almost missed it, and Sunghoon was standing there when you pulled it open, chewing on his lip with a mug in his hand. Steam skated over the opening, a rich chocolatey smell hitting your nose but the real kicker was the mug itself. In its place on Jake and Sunghoonâs mug tree, it was unassuming, a regular white mug, but upon meeting hot water, the face of young Sunghoon appeared, grinning with his tiny glasses on. It was a gift from one of his old coaches and though he never used it, it was your absolute favourite cup in the world.Â
You felt soft around the edges when you looked up at him, his eyes wide and unsure as you met his gazeâhe brought that mug three hours across the country so you could use it again. The thought shifted your heart into a comfortable position, settling in your chest with overwhelming warmth and an increased rate.Â
âHi,â you said, clearing your throat.Â
âHi,â he repeated, holding the mug out for you to take. âItâs still hot so be careful.âÂ
Nodding, you covered your hands with your sleeves, taking the cup from him and asking if he wanted to come in. Sunghoon nodded, shutting the door behind him and standing by the bed, watching you set the hot chocolate on the bedside table as you sat down. The two of you stayed like that for a while, with him only moving when you patted the spot next to you on the duvet. Your train of thought escaped you as soon as he sat down, the warmth of his familiar fresh, citrusy scent taking over and becoming the only thing you could register. The smell of summers with him, long days at the beach and short nights spent on the couch at random parties, cuddled into his side with his arm over your shoulders. The smell youâd come to associate with comfort and homeâwith Sunghoon.Â
âItâs not fair for me to treat you like shit just because Iâm annoyed, I shouldnât have spoken to you like that earlier. Iâm sorry.âÂ
A crease ran over Sunghoonâs thick brows as they tugged together, he shook his head. âYou donât have to apologise. I roped you into this whole thing and didnât even try to think about how you would feel. Iâm sorry.â His eyes carried a mix of regret and sincerity, mirroring the weight of his words.
âAnyway, I only came to bring you that,â he said, pointing at the cup. âAnd to check up on you, Iâll get out of your hair for tonight.â Sunghoon wiped his palms on his pants before standing up, reaching behind him to pick up the cloth he brought. For a moment, he stood there, staring down at it in his hand while you thought about telling him to stay, telling him that you wanted him in your hairâwhatever that meant. But he spoke before you had the chance. âYou left this, at mine, after.. well, you know. Iâm sure you left it intentionally, I mean it was folded up perfectly on the end of my bed, so I know you did, but it didnât feel right keeping it, you always wore it more than me.âÂ
Sunghoon extended his hand, holding it out to you and you knew exactly what it was as soon as the fabric touched your skin after so long. It was the shirt Jay bought him for Christmas in first yearâthey were roommates still trying to get a feel for each other. For a few weeks, Sunghoon had been pestering you about what he should get for Jay, saying it didnât feel right not to get him anything, and you suggested a targeted t-shirt, one youâd been laughing at all day after seeing an ad for it on your timeline. Sunghoon was sceptical, but bought the red shirt anyway, hoping Jay would find BEING DAD IS AN HONOUR, BEING PAPA IS PRICELESS funny. He did. And Jay bought Sunghoon a targeted shirt too, your favourite. It was black and two sizes too big, with I NEVER DREAMED IâD BE A SEXY FIGURE SKATER BUT HERE I AM KILLING IT written over the chest.Â
âGoodnight, YN,â Sunghoon said, crossing the room to leave but hesitating before closing the door. He poked his head through the opening and sighed. âI really am sorry.â
That night, you fell asleep in the shirt, the thinning, yet cosy, fabric wrapped around you like a hug as your heart started to beat a new rhythm, one that eerily echoed the five-foot-eleven figure skater who you let break it.Â
This morning, Yunjin claps her hands in your face, seeming irritated when you look over at her. âYou have class in an hour, what are you doing?â Before you have the chance to speak, realisation covers her face. âOh, the feelings.âÂ
You nod solemnly, too caught up in the butterflies raiding your stomach to come up with something to say.Â
At lightspeed, you scarf down the rest of your food, apologising for showing up so late as you head out the door. When you get home, you take the fastest shower of your life and feel grateful Chaewon isnât around to tease you about the smile you canât wipe from your face thinking about Sunghoonâyouâll text her later.
You run to campus, feeling the brisk autumn wind beating against your face while the rest of your body overheats under your jacket, hoodie and long sleeve. Despite the discomfort and ache in your lungs, you donât stop until you reach the door of your lecture hall, huffing and puffing into the faces of classmates who donât take any notice. Of course, in a stroke of pure luck, your lecturer is late, and you realise bitterly, that all of your huffing and puffing was in vainâyou would have gotten to class with time to spare even if you walked.
Itâs not a total waste though; you use the time to update Chaewon.Â
you: i have news wonie.. i like sunghoon
wonie: âŚâŚâŚâŚâŚ.. fork in the kitchen yn whatâs the news?Â
wonie: OHHHH news to YOU.. can i call?Â
She calls you immediately. You answer without thinking because your lecturer still hasnât arrived, and thereâs no one sitting close enough to hear or notice you taking a call.Â
âAre you going to tell him?!â Chaewonâs voice is so loud you wince, pulling the phone away from your ear.Â
âI donât know.â You shrug even though she canât see you, still holding the device at a distance just in case. âI donât have any confirmation that he still.. likes me. Itâs been a while, and I was pretty mean that day.Â
Chaewon groans and you can picture her throwing herself onto her bed, exasperated. The rustling that comes through the receiver only frames the image, hanging it up. âDid you have to tell him to get a grip?âÂ
âYou know..â You trail off, chewing on your bottom lip. âIn hindsight, probably not.âÂ
A beat passes, sheâs thinking. âDonât worry,â she says. âIâll help you.âÂ
âI.. have never been so worried in my life.â You sigh, picking at your freshly painted nails. âBut I know youâll do something no matter what I say, so do what you want, Wonie, but please be subtle about it.âÂ
Chaewon squeals down the phone. âI love youuuuu!â And itâs the last thing she says before kissing the mic a few times and hanging up.Â
Slumping in your seat, you donât have any time to stress about Chaewonâs plans because your lecturer walks in, with a travel cup in her hand and a paperback tucked under her arm.Â
She apologises for being late, running a hand through her hair as she announces that youâll be watching a film, an adaptation of a book you read at the start of termâIan McEwanâs Atonement. You spend the first hour of the movie falling in and out of sleep until a text comes through from Sunghoon, and sheer excitement keeps you up.
hoonie: Wanna study together after class?Â
you: of course!!!!!!Â
hoonie: đ¤
The rest of the movie goes by in a drag, and you come away from it with a mild irritation towards Saoirse Ronan.
you: class just finished, heading to lib rnÂ
hoonie: Shit, still in the locker room, sorry !!! Omw, can you get a table?Â
you: iâll try..
It takes a while but you find an empty booth on the second floor, and set your bag on the plush green seat to take pictures of your surroundings to send to Sunghoon. You sit on the side facing the stairs so he can see you when he arrives. The thought of seeing him makes your heart race and you try out a few natural-seeming poses for when heâs here, cycling between resting your palm under your chin and sitting with your arms crossed a few times until the top of his head comes into view.Â
Seeing him knocks the wind out of you as he approaches the staircase, taking them two at a time with his damp hair clinging to his forehead and neck. It doesnât help that heâs wearing a tight black vest, and his sweats are hanging low on his hips. A breath you didnât realise you were holding slips out when he lifts his head, spotting you immediately as a grin spreads over his lips and he raises his arm to wave, the veins in his forearm peeking out to say hi too. You canât tell if itâs his lack of winter wardrobe or your newfound appreciation for him thatâs making his biceps look so huge but itâs hard to look away, even when he reaches the table.Â
âAre you hot?â you blurt out.Â
Sunghoon laughs, raising a brow and something about the way heâs looking down at you makes your cheeks burn. âDepends whoâs asking.â He takes his backpack off, leaving it on the table as he sits down, dumping his jacket and hoodie in a pile beside him.
âIâm asking,â you mumble.Â
âThen, yeah, Iâd hope so.âÂ
Is he flirting? It sounds like heâs flirting. Flirt back! âNice arms.âÂ
He looks down at his biceps for a beat before looking at you warily. âAre you flirting with me?â He canât fight the smile twitching at the corners of his lips but he tries his best, pressing them into a straight line.
âA little. They are nice though,â you admit.
Sunghoon grins. âThanks, Iâve had them for a while now.â
You canât come up with anything to say, too distracted by the way his smile reaches his eyes, lighting up his whole face and forcing a flustered heat to spread over your cheeks and neck. Itâs only when you look away from him that you remember what youâre here for. Itâs a study date, not a study dateâthereâs a difference.Â
You hand Sunghoon the material youâd printed for him over the weekend, excerpts from texts youâd studied in class, so he can practise close reading and proper citation. As he makes his way through them, you canât help stealing glances, smiling at the way his tongue sticks out a little while he focuses, or how he twirls his pen in his fingers while heâs thinking. You arenât making the best use of your time together, copying out the slides from class yesterday, but you canât help noticing the way he watches you when he thinks you canât see. The small smile on his face while he does so only flusters you, an odd weakness settling in your knees as your cheeks heat up.Â
After a while, Sunghoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. âCould you stop watching me?â
âIf you noticed me watching, that means youâre watching me.âÂ
He shrugs, chewing on his lip. âWell, yeah. Iâm always watching you,â he says like itâs a given. âBut you donât normally watch back, itâs distracting.âÂ
âYouâre distracting.â
A playful smile curves his lips as he arches a brow, smugness painting his face. âAm I?âÂ
Too scared to verbalise your response, you nod slowly, hoping you donât look as wound up as you feel.Â
Sunghoonâs eyes flick over your face, flashing with something you donât recognise. At least not from him. He sits back in his seat, assessing you and eventually shaking his head.Â
âYou know,â he says, eyes glowing with something you do recognise: cockiness. âIf my sexy arms are getting to you that much, I can always put my hoodie back on. Wouldnât want my little tutor getting distracted, would I?âÂ
Oh.Â
Your stomach turns with want, mind reeling from his tone and the way his gaze lands on your lips. Sighing, you roll your eyes and try to seem unaffected. âSunghoon, I never said your arms were sexy.âÂ
His phone starts to go off, buzzing against the table and he turns it over immediately, screen down on the surface as he shifts his focus back to his work. He chews on his lip while he does, eyes flicking back and forth between his phone and the words on the page. Curious, you lean over the table, elbows propped up as you rest your chin in your hands. He doesnât spare you or his phone, which vibrates another four times, a glance.
âAre you going to get that?âÂ
Sunghoon shakes his head. âItâs nothing.âÂ
You hum, letting just enough curiosity seep into the sound that heâll elaborate without being asked to. It doesnât take long for him to deliver.
âItâs just Chaewon,â he says, running his hand through his hair and lifting his head. Sunghoon smiles. âWeâve been texting a lot these days.âÂ
âCool.â You nod a few times, aiming for nonchalance but hitting bobblehead as you wait for him to continue. He doesnât, only humming in response, nodding too.Â
After a beat, he picks up his phone, angling it just high enough that you canât see the screen. He reads the messages, an exhaled laugh coming from his nose as the tips of his ears reddenâFuck. This is worse than you thought.Â
Chaewonâs commitment to girl code runs deepâsheâs been rebuffing Jake since first year when she overheard a girl sheâd never seen before telling her friends she thought he was cute. So you know without having to read the texts that nothing sheâs saying is even remotely flirty, you can smell the auto-caps and use of the word âbuddyâ from across the table.Â
What you hadnât counted on, however, was the potential for Sunghoonâs feelings to shift. If they really have been texting more, can you rule out the possibility that he might like.. her? Chaewon is a catch, beyond a catch, and youâd already turned Sunghoon down. Brutally. Of course, heâd move on, he has moved on.Â
The rest of the study session is spent manifesting, writing Park Sunghoon over and over in the back of your notebook. You fill three pages while brainstorming ways to snatch a lock of his hair until he suggests that the two of you call it a day. He walks you home, telling you about how Jakeâs been bribing him with food to get a ride to the LEGO store across town for the new Marvel set.Â
âWith or without the meals, I wouldâve taken him, but his ramen is my favourite, so..â Sunghoon says, climbing the last step of your building and holding the door open for you. âHe even brought a slice of tiramisu to the rink for me after practice.âÂ
âYouâre terrible,â you say, frowning up at him as you search for your keys. âDo you want to come in?âÂ
Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head. âI have a meeting with one of my lecturers soon, Iâd have to leave inââ He pauses, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket to check the time. ââeight minutes.âÂ
âIâm cool with that if you are,â you mumble, suddenly shy.Â
A bright smile spreads over his lips and he nods, following you in.Â
Chilled by the harsh wind, the only thing on your mind is a hot drink as you lead Sunghoon to the kitchen. He shakes his head when you offer him one, sitting on the countertop and exhaling into his palms before rubbing them together. You canât help but frown at the sight, feeling guilty that you canât change the weather to suit him. At your thought process, your brows raise. Wow, you think. Is this who you are?Â
You busy yourself with the selection of hot drinks you and Chaewon have accumulated, eyeing each container from top to bottom. A purple tub of Cadburyâs hot chocolate that youâre sure is on the brink of expiration, coffeeâsachets of the instant stuff youâve grown to like since leaving home, Earl grey from one of many brands, or the fancy silk tea bags Chaewonâs mum brought home from a tripârooibos or plum-apple-cinnamon.Â
Craving something sweet, you settle for hot chocolate, pulling the heavy container from the cupboard next to Sunghoonâs head and setting it beside your cup. Heâs on his phone, scrolling too fast to take in anything heâs seeing and he shakes his head when you ask if he wants something to drink.Â
On the dish rack, Chaewonâs mug catches your eye, so you pick it up to dry it off and put it down next to yours. âIâm going to check if Wonie wants any,â you say, wiping imaginary crumbs from the counter onto the floor.Â
Sunghoon only clears his throat, shaking his head. âSheâs not home, one of her acrylics popped off so sheâs at the shop waiting for a cancellation.âÂ
The information itself isnât jarring but hearing it from Sunghoon is. You put on what you hope is a neutral smile and nod, taking milk from the fridge and assembling your drink on autopilot while thinking of ways to redirect the conversation.Â
âIf you knew youâd have to go back to campus so soon, whyâd you walk me home?â you ask, watching your cup spin in the microwave. âI couldâve walked on my own.âÂ
Sunghoon is already looking at you when you turn your head, his cheeks puffed out with air as he blinks slowly. Because I love you, is what you hope heâll say. You think you need him to say it.Â
âBecause you donât have to do anything on your own when you have me,â he says instead, and itâs infinitely better.Â
The words seep through your every fibre, his intonation and lucid affection making a home for themselves in your heart, spreading warmth from head to toe. Your smile becomes a radiant grin, only brightening when he shakes his head, smiling down at his feet.Â
Sunghoon hugs you in the kitchen when itâs time for him to leave, his arms holding you tight to his chest as he rocks you back and forth. You inhale his scent, all warm citrus under freshly washed cotton and something exclusive to him.
Wiping the smile from your face feels impossible. You donât let go when he does, and a sweet laugh â a giggle, you think â tumbles out of him as he mumbles that he really has to go. Still, you cling onto him, taking clumsy steps backwards, with your arms locked around his waist, to your front door, smiling as you watch him put his shoes on.Â
âYou donât have to walk me downstairs, honestly,â he says, looking down at you in the doorway.
âI want to.âÂ
His lips quirk up at the corners, a full smile breaking through and causing your stomach to flutter with so much force youâre sure itâs visible through your shirt. His eyes fall to your lips, lingering, before he clears his throat, looking away.Â
âIâll text you when I get to the door, promise.âÂ
You lock your pinky with his. âSend a selfie, just so I know itâs you and not someone else using your phone.âÂ
Sunghoonâs head falls back in a laugh. âShould I just call you? That way you can make sure I get back to uni in one piece.âÂ
You nod.
âThat wasnât anything with Chaewon earlier, I just needed advice on some girl stuff..â He trails off, searching your eyes. Itâs obvious that heâs telling the truth, that he wants you to believe him. You do. âI wasnât sure if that was something I could talk about with you.âÂ
Girl stuff. Hmm. You try not to read too much into it and look at the bigger picture insteadâyour best friend is going through something and doesnât feel like he can come to you about it.. You squeeze his pinky reassuringly, a flutter in your stomach when he smiles.Â
âYou can talk to me about anything,â you say, meaning it.Â
Sunghoon presses his lips together, humming and unlinking your fingers. âNext time,â he says after a beat, waving at you.Â
You shut the door, locking it while watching through the peephole, he leaves as soon as the lock clicks shut. In the kitchen, your hot chocolate is cooling down, and your phone rings in your back pocket. Sunghoonâs calling.Â
Hanging out with Sunghoon. Making sure he sticks to the time-blocked schedule you made for him. Quizzing him on biology terms until he gets restless. If the last two weeks were an episode of Family Feud, those would be the top three answers to the question: Name something YN is doing right now.
Thankfully tonight, itâs the first one.Â
Youâve been sitting on the couch for so long, Jake has both left for football practice and arrived from football practice. Conversation ebbs and flowsâan hour or so of nonstop talking, followed by another hour or so of comfortable near silence.Â
Itâs during a quiet hour that Sunghoon sits up straight, clearing his throat before saying, âLet me ask you something. He retreats to the other side of the couch, turning to face you with his whole body. âI donât want things to be weird after I ask, so no matter what your answer is, I wonât bring it up or ask again.â
Arching a curious brow, you nod. âYou can ask me anything,â you say, meaning it.
Sunghoonâs face is impressively blankâminus the motion of sharp teeth worrying plush lip, thereâs absolutely nothing behind his eyes that seem to stare right through you.Â
Eventually, he asks, âCan I kiss you?â He says more. Big, scary words like for closure and moving on, but they donât register. They donât matter.Â
Your heart pounds at the base of your throat as you find interest in your hands that sit in your lap. Even without looking at him, you canât get over the slight crease he had in his brow and the slight tremor in his hands.Â
âFor closure,â you repeat, though your voice doesnât sound like itâs coming from you, muffled under the thump of your heart.Â
Sunghoon nods. âFor closure.âÂ
A humourless laugh sneaks past your throat as you look at him. You shouldnât have. In the lamplight, Sunghoon is golden and glorious. Warm light casts one side of his face, diffusing gently over the steep slope of his nose, highlighting his moles and the look in his eyes, gentle and curious all at once. Unwillingly, your gaze falls to his lips, parted, tempting.Â
One firm nod of your head brings Sunghoonâs hand to your face, his palm cupping your cheek with soft skin as his thumb traces your cheekbone. You grow anxious under his stare, under the drag of his eyes over your features, taking them one at a time like heâs committing them to memory.
Leaning in, your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet his and he freezes, mouth completely still on yours. Delicately, your tongue traces the seam of his lips, soft and plump, until they part for you, moving with yours. Sunghoonâs kiss is unpolished when it reaches you. Itâs hesitant but tender, clumsy but sweet, heâs trying and heâs perfect; your favourite.Â
The kiss is.. itâs everything. Itâs the racing of your heart, the thudding, the vibrant buzz you can hear, feel humming against your ears. Itâs a rush of blood to the head, a lightness all over that pulls you out of your body. Itâs Sunghoonâs soft lips curving into a smile against yours, his gentle hold on your face never letting up as he holds you as close as he can manage, and itâs every bit as lovely as the rest of him.
Palpable is the heartbeat of your friendship, beating to a lull under the surface of the kiss, fizzling out into nothing, a steady silence, flatlining to give way to something more, something bigger.Â
Every brush of your lips against his is a revelation, a confession. Youâre all Iâve ever wanted, you tell him with your kiss. Youâre everything I need. His free hand finds yours, locking your fingers and squeezing, the action timed well enough to make you think he hears you, to make you think heâs saying, weâll be okay, I still love you.Â
With that, he pulls away, a delicate tension piercing the air. Blown eyes and laboured breathingâheâs beautiful, fuzzy around the edges with warm orange and all of the love in your heart. Breathless, you chew on your lip, cognisant of Sunghoonâs hand in yours and the sparkle in his eyes as he looks at you.Â
Belatedly, you squeeze his hand back, smiling. âWas it everything you ever dreamed of?â you whisper, part teasing, all curious.
Abruptly, Sunghoon stands up, letting go of you in the process. âI have to go.âÂ
You want to stop him, you think youâre supposed to. To grab him by the arm and kiss him again, to yell in his face that you love him until he understands. But you donât. Instead, you stay seated, staring at Sunghoonâs back and following him with your eyes out of the room and down the hall until heâs out of sight.Â
Itâs your first time being so upset after a kiss, and you canât tell if itâs his leaving or the mention of him moving on thatâs tripping you up so much. Thatâs causing melancholy to crawl from the shadows, sinking its jagged nails into your skin to pull you under.Â
You love him. Heâs gone.Â
Eyes stuck on the doorway, time stretches over the room around you, thick and malleable, wet and cloyingâclay stuck under your nails for days as the fire in the kiln rages on.Â
Sighing, you get up and wait at his door. You ball your hand into a limp fist, knocking weakly. Sunghoon doesnât reply. You try again, harder. Still nothing.Â
Barging into the room, you find him sitting on the end of his bed with his face in his hands.Â
âDonât move on.â The words come out before you realise and Sunghoon lifts his head, squinting at you.Â
âHuh?â He tilts his head, watching closely as you approach him, tipping it back enough to meet your eyes when you stand over him.Â
You take a breath, holding it until your head starts to spin. âI donât want you to love someone else, Sunghoon. Please donât move on.âÂ
The stillness that follows is disconcerting, a long quiet you can feel on your skin, amplifying the blank stare on his face as he looks up at you. His eyes flash, a spark of hope behind them so bright it stings to look at.
âDo you..â He trails off, his lips moving to form the next word though stopping short.
âI do,â you whisper, nodding. âIâm sorry for taking so long.â
An exhaled laugh comes from his nose as he grins, shaking his head. âYou like me?â he asks, excitement and disbelief fighting for authority over his voice, his hands holding your waist and pulling you down into his lap.
âI love you,â you admit, settling on his thighs.Â
âYou do?â His eyes are wide and gleaming, searching every feature on your face before settling on your own.
You nod. âSo much.âÂ
Sunghoonâs chin tips up, his lips pressing against yours, excited pecks that canât turn into much more for the smiles on your faces. You rest your arms on his shoulders, hands clasping behind his head, nervous fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.Â
âSo.. will you be my boyfriend? For real?âÂ
Tilting his head, he tries and fails to fight a smile. âI will. Iâm a little bummed though.âÂ
âWhy?â You raise a brow, and the word tips up at the end with it.Â
âI wanted to be the one to ask you.â Sunghoonâs honesty warms the room, endearing you completely.Â
You grin, loving the heat spreading over your cheeks. âAsk me anyway.âÂ
âPlease can I be your boyfriend?âÂ
In the weeks that followed, it became immediately clear that boyfriend Sunghoon operated on a pendulum swinging between sexual ferality and terror. Heâd get distracted during study sessions at home, finding more interest in biting at your neck than stream-of-consciousness prose, but closed his eyes if a sex scene came on TV. Heâd buck his hips against yours while making out but flinch at the sight of condoms in the store.
He wasnât ready to have sex and didnât know how to tell you, so you took matters into your own hands, asking if you could wait until after his results for resubmission came in, saying you didnât want the distraction for either of you. Sunghoon agreed, pecking your cheek and holding you tight to his chest.Â
The only thing was that your lecturer hadnât given him an exact date, so every morning, you held your phone in a vice grip waiting for Sunghoon to update you, and every morning, you got the same text: Nothing today, baby âšď¸Â
This morning, youâre brushing your teeth when he texts you, in all caps: NO FUCKING WAY I GOT A 98 !!! LOOK !!!
When the picture comes through, itâs of him in the mirror and you choke on mouthwash at the sight. Heâs smiling, bright and beautiful, in a black vest that heâs holding up a little to show his stomach, though his palm is in the way of his toned abs, and it cuts off right at the top of his grey sweatpants.Â
Your mouth goes dry as you click on it, fixating on every little detail you can find: the thickness of his fingers against his phone, the dip in his collarbones, the breadth of his shoulders and the cinch of his waist. In a fit of desperation, you try swiping at the bottom of your screen, willing the picture to magically extend. It doesnât.Â
hoonie: Finger slipped.. You like?
you: mm..Â
you: 98??? HOLY SHIT, LOOK AT YOU!!!
hoonie: All you.. do you like the picture?
you: i love itâŚâŚâŚâŚ.
hoonie: My girl đ¤
Another picture comes in, and sure enough, through the glare of his laptop screen, you see: Course name: The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway. Marks Awarded: 98.0.
you: well done baby !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
hoonie: Thx đ
hoonie: Can I have my prize now ha ha .. haha đ
you: just for that emoji, no you absolutely cannot.
Your resolve isnât strong enough when it comes to Sunghoon, because purple devil emoji and all, you show up at his door with condoms in your bag and a bouquet of lilies behind your back.Â
The door creaks open and Sunghoon greets you with a grin. âHey, gorgeous. You proud of me?âÂ
You beam at him, holding out the flowers. âIâm very proud, Hoon, well done.âÂ
âI donât want to ruin the moment,â he starts, taking the bouquet from your hands and sniffing the flowers with an approving smile. âBut hearing you say youâre proud of me is awakening something I didnât know existed.â
âA good something?âÂ
âMm,â he hums, arms finding your waist before he pecks your lips. âA very good something.âÂ
Sunghoonâs words hit your lips and your core, a desperate heat flooding your stomach as he kisses you deeply, his body pressed tightly against yours while he pulls you into his apartment. He kicks the door shut with his foot, slipping his hand under your jacket to settle in your back pocket, not quite squeezing but holding your ass as gently as he can manage.Â
He breaks away from you, love in his eyes as he stares down into yours, catching his breath. âI donât think we own a vase.âÂ
In his kitchen, you rifle through cupboards to find something to hold the flowers, eventually finding a whiskey decanter in the cupboard under the sink, and holding it up for Sunghoon to see.
âOh, yeah,â he says. âItâs Jayâs. Itâll work right?âÂ
You nod, taking it to the sink to rinse it. Sunghoon wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder watching you fill the decanter with water and flower food before grabbing the bouquet. He presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck and you struggle to stay focused as you cut down the stems on the flowers, arranging them neatly.Â
âCan I take a photo?â he asks when youâre done.Â
Heâs smiling when you turn around to look at him, a soft curve of his lips that makes your heart race, a deep tenderness in his eyes when you meet them. You smile too.Â
âTheyâre yours, baby, do whatever you want.âÂ
âA photo of you with the flowers,â he clarifies.Â
Warmth settles in your chest, a grin spreading over your lips from ear to ear. You nod, taking the decanter in your hands when he lets go of you, holding the flowers up beside your face and smiling for his camera. As his phone shutter clicks away, you steal glances at his face behind it. Heâs watching the screen with a smile, telling you how beautiful you are.
âI want pictures of you too,â you say, handing the flowers over.Â
âIâm yours, baby, do whatever you want.âÂ
Sunghoon poses for your photos, smiling sweetly in some and sniffing the bouquet appreciatively with closed eyes for others. Heâs glowing and heâs beautiful and your heart triples in size while taking picture after picture until your phone tells you it has ten percent.Â
âThank you, YN,â he says. âIâve never gotten flowers before, I love them.â His arms settle around your waist, lips pressing against yours before you have the chance to respond.Â
You try anyway, mumbling against his lips that you love him. In response, Sunghoon grins, but the feeling of his cock growing hard against you is distracting, a lust-coated thorn in the side of the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. With locked lips and uncertain steps, the two of you bump into corners and trip over your own feet, stumbling to his room and parting only to tear his hoodie over his head.
Breathless, you pull away, eyes trailing over him and picking up on everything, from the tremble in his hands to the lust-addled worry in his eyes. Heâs nervous, you thinkâthough it escapes you, the last word coming out like a question.
Sunghoon scoffs, his hands resting on your waist under your shirt, skin clammy against yours. âOf course, Iâm nervous.âÂ
âYou donât have to be.â
âI just want to be good for you.âÂ
âDonât worry about that, let me take care of you, Hoon.â Your palms drag up his torso â firm abs through soft cotton, defined chest over racing heart â to rest on his shoulders. âSit,â you say when he nods.Â
He gulps, taking a seat on the end of his bed under your gentle push, eyes widening when you sink to your knees between his legs and reach for his drawstring, pulling the ends to untie the knot.Â
âWait,â Sunghoon says, breathless, scrunching up his face and dropping his head. âLet me calm down, baby. At this rate, Iâll come just seeing your hand on it.âÂ
You giggle, resting your head on his thigh and wrapping the drawstring around your finger.
âIâm serious, YN,â he mumbles, laughing as he takes his vest off. âI need a minute.âÂ
Sunghoonâs eyes are pressed shut as he tries to collect himself, lips pouty and kiss-bitten, slightly parted with ragged breaths slipping out. You wait patiently for him. Heâs so pretty like this, with the crease in his brow and the pretty pink flush dusting his cheeks as his chest rises and falls. You canât help but smile, leaning into his touch when his hand rests on top of your head, his blunt nails grazing your scalp. After a while, he seems more at ease, his eyes finding yours and he smiles shyly, telling you heâs ready now and lifting his hips from the bed to let you pull his sweats and underwear down.Â
Free from the constraints of fabric, his cock slaps his stomach with a wet sound as the tip meets his skin, leaving a pearlescent streak over his abs. The sight makes your mouth water and you canât look away. âPretty,â you whisper.
Wrapping a hand under his tip, you swipe it with your thumb, taking time to memorise the flutter of his eyelids, the bobbing of his Adamâs apple, and the soft sigh he lets out. You stroke him slowly, liking the way his breath picks up as his brows knit together before you take him in your mouth. Itâs a tight fit but you do your best, spurred on by the way he tugs at your hair and stutters through a holy fuck as you take as much of him as you can.Â
Sunghoon goes silent, only squirming when you use your hand to stroke him near his base. Self-conscious about his lack of vocal affirmation, you look up at him through your lashes, and the pure bliss on his face is unbearably attractive. His eyes are rolled back under furrowed brows, his mouth hanging open as he throws his head back.
âAm I doing okay?â you ask, using the moment to catch your breath.
He nods, inhaling shakily and screwing his eyes shut while his hips buck up into your fist. âIâm.. Youâre doing such a good job, baby, so good.â
Satisfaction courses through you from the praise, a high that dulls the ache in your jaw. Still watching him, you massage his balls in your palm, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his tip when he whines. You tongue at his slit until he thrusts back into your mouth, tip hitting your throat, and he gasps when you gag, his arm coming up to cover his eyes. A belated apology slips from his lips, mumbled as he strokes your hair with a shaking hand and goes quiet again. When you speed up, his breath stutters, the muscles in his thighs contracting around your head as you suck and lick and drool on his cock.Â
A moan of your name, and his hand holding your hand down, are the only warnings you get before Sunghoon comes, spilling his load right down your throat. Whining, his hips buck up against your face, pushing further and further until he falls back onto the mattress.
Your throat is hoarse and aches while you use the back of your hand to wipe at your lips, enjoying whatâs left of his taste on your tongue. Deep red tints his neck and chest, a pretty flush gleaming under the sheen of sweat on his skin. Heâs mesmerising, as he tries for air through swollen lips and looks up at you through squinted eyes. He reaches for you, cute grabby hands tugging your shirt and pulling you down so youâre lying next to him with your head on his chest.Â
âYouâre amazing, baby, so good for me,â Sunghoon whispers, eyes fluttering shut as you drag your nails over his torso, feeling the subtle heave of the slick, sculpted muscle over his stomach and chest.Â
Pride heats your chest, satisfaction rolling over you like a wave. âReally?â
He hums in affirmation, nodding his head.Â
âYou were so quiet, I couldnât really tell,â you add, hungry for more praise.Â
âThe walls are so thin in here, I just got used to being quiet,â Sunghoon says, frowning. Hand meeting your chin, he tips your head up towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips and mumbling, âIâm sorry. You were perfect, I swear.âÂ
Itâs a sweet kiss. Until lips move harder and hands get lower, desperate as he thumbs the top of your leggings, palm unmoving but a dangerous heat blooms in your stomach anyway.
âCan I..â Sunghoon pinches you softly through the material, unsure eyes boring deep into yours.Â
You nod. âYou can.âÂ
Slipping under your waistband, his fingers skate across your skin dipping between your thighs. He grazes your slit, satisfaction clear in the groan he lets out as he feels the wetness there, pulling it over the length of your slit to cover your clit. Your breath hitches, a strangled gasp, pleasure and surprise meeting in your throat under the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the gentle sting of his finger pushing into you.Â
What Sunghoon lacks in experience, he makes up for with the sheer length and thickness of his fingers. Itâs almost jarring, itâs enough to force your eyes closed and bring a sigh rumbling out of you, ache and relief settling between your legs, where he curls a finger against your walls and drags slow circles over your clit.Â
âCan you take these off, baby?â he asks, hand away to touch your leggings.Â
You donât waste a second, sitting up to pull them off, throwing them and your underwear across the room. Sunghoon licks his lips, tugging at the hem of your shirt.Â
âAnd this? If you want..âÂ
You nod, pulling it off immediately to let it join the rest of your clothes in a heap on the floor. The way he gulps is a confidence boost, his dilated pupils taking in every inch of your body, though his gaze always pulls back to your braâwhite and lacy, thin enough for your nipples to push through the fabric and Sunghoon canât seem to get enough, though he waits until youâre lying down again to touch you.Â
Sunghoon props himself up on his elbow, leaning over you. âYouâre beautiful,â he whispers, dragging a finger over the lace at the top of your bra, toying with the material and the little bow sitting between your breasts. His eyes flick up to meet yours. âSo beautiful,â he repeats.Â
Hiding your face in his chest, you mumble, âThank you,â into his skin while trying to ignore the heat spreading over your body wherever he touches you. His hand trails from your arm to your waist, resting on your hips to slip over your ass for a beat, where he grabs and squeezes the flesh there before coming back around to slot between your legsâyou lift one of them, resting it over his body, and heâs smiling sweetly when you look up at him.
Sunghoonâs movements are unchanging, though the sensation is heightened by the unbridled desire in his lidded eyes that urges white heat to lick over every inch of your skinâthis time he pushes two fingers into you.
It doesnât get better than this, you think. But it does, quickly.Â
Leaning over you, his eyes flick across your face, one feature at a time as he chews on his lip. Reaching up, you push some of his hair from his face, holding it back and saying, âRelax, baby.âÂ
âDonât want to hurt you.â
Moving your hand, you blink when his hair flops back over his forehead, tickling your eyelashes. His eyes are focused now, staring straight down into yours, want and worry flashing behind them.Â
âYou wonât, I promise,â you say, locking your pinky with his, feeling relieved when he smiles.
Sunghoon pushes in slowly, his name slipping from your lips when he exhales shakily, head falling forward. The sting, the pleasure, make it hard to breathe, molten desire taking hold of your lungs as he carves out a place for himself as far as youâll take him, all the way to the hilt as slow as he can manage.Â
A moan tears out of him, lewd and whiny as his hair tickles your collarbone, head falling into the crook of your neck. His skin is hot and damp against yours, his breath burning your shoulder as he tries to calm down. Itâs difficult to register much else, tethered only by the sound of his voice when he asks, âAm I hurting you?âÂ
âHoon,â you whisper.Â
âCan you look at me, baby?â He lifts his head, resting a hand on your cheek. You blink your eyes open, gaze locking with his, where concern pushes through his desire. âAm I hurting you?â he asks again. âAre you okay?âÂ
You nod. âIâm okay, just..â You sigh. âFull. Need a minute.âÂ
Sunghoon kisses you, lips moving gently with yours, passing breathy whines between your mouths until you feel yourself relaxing. Pulling his plush bottom lip between yours, you suck on it, nodding. âWant you to move, baby,â you mumble.Â
He scans your face, eyes meeting yours as he pulls his hips back. Heâs slow, so slow with his thrusts that your belly turns with want, your fingernails sink into the taut skin of his back, and jagged sobs fall out of you with each drag of his cock along your walls.Â
Everywhere his skin touches yours is set ablaze with scorching heat, goosebumps pushing past the surface as his breath fans your neck and his sharp teeth graze your skin. He bites hard enough to sting, and you wince as his tongue flicks over your bitten flesh to soothe you.
You were so worked up earlier, writhing against the sheets and coming undone in his palm, so bliss quickly pushes through the ache between your legs. âGood, Hoon, feels so good,â you manage, struggling to convey how perfect it is.
âJust want to make you feel good.â His words melt into each other, vowels soft and elongated as they curl around each other. Heâs working up a steady rhythm, his tip consistently nudging you where you need itâthe spot that makes the room blur around you. âThatâs all I want.âÂ
Before long, the knot in your stomach pulls you up from the mattress, arching your back towards the ceiling. Mouth to mouth, chest to chestâitâs the closest youâve ever felt to someone else, the closest youâve ever been. The thought alone knocks the wind out of you, and his persistent whining does nothing to help.
Your want and adoration for Sunghoon run bone-deep, inching up your spine and creeping over your shoulders, intertwined with an all-consuming pleasure that turns the heat in your stomach molten as a shudder zips through you. Even though you canât find the words to let him know, he lifts your hips from the bed to fuck you deeper, harder, into the mattress until shaky orgasms pull both of you under.Â
You let him fall into you, fingers curling around his hair, whispering I love you into the skin of his neck as he comes, most of his weight on top of you while you catch your breath, relishing in the fullness you feel as the last waves of your high pull back. You stay like this for as long as he needs, his head coming up from the crook of your neck to smile at you before pressing his lips to yours. A sleepy haze fills the room around you, tongue swiping tongue as you giggle happily into his mouth.Â
After a while, he gets up, tying the condom to throw it away and comes back with his shirt. He uses it to clean upâgentle between your legs, pressing kisses to your calves while he does. Sunghoonâs tenderness wraps around your heart, and love clouds your vision, forming a blurry trail that follows all of his movements, glowing like something from a dream, ethereal, an apparition.Â
The bed dips beside you, his arms around you, pulling you in so his chin rests on your head. You push your cheek into his chest, hoping the two of you will meld into oneâthe thought makes you warm all over, a fuzziness that reaches every part of your body while he presses kisses into your hair, rubbing your back.Â
âI love you,â he says, voice as soft as the rest of him. âIâm glad I exist.â
mama park: Hi lovely đ missing you lots, wondering when youâll be home for XmasâŚâŚâŚ..love ma
Sunghoon stirs, nose scrunching as he snores softly into the quiet of a winter morning. His chest rises and falls steadily under your head and he doesnât move when you sit up. The lamp on his desk is still on â neither of you could be bothered getting up to turn it off last night â and under its dim glow, you admire him. Perfect lips gently curvedâlong lashes kissing the skin under his eyes.Â
Love hits you from all angles, warmth all over from head to toe despite the chill in Sunghoonâs room. You canât help but grin, leaning up to nose along the underside of his chin, his natural scent so soft yet dizzying as you nuzzle into him. He stirs again, turning his head this way and that before resting, you feel a bit bad, deciding to leave him be and text his mum back.Â
you: hi mum !!! missing you sooooooo much :((( will be home asap
mama park: BTW Sunghoon told me everything. I raised such good actors LOL make sure he looks after you and keeps you happy!
you: iâm so sorry we lied to you..
you: but iâm really happy with him and he loves me a lot
you: i love him so much .. never been so sure of anyone in my life
Š zreamy (2023), all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or plagiarise my work. do let my know your thoughts !
permanent taglist: @asahicore
#sunghoon smut#enhypen smut#enha smut#enhypen scenarios#sunghoon scenarios#sunghoon x reader#park sunghoon smut#park sunghoon x reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen oneshots#sunghoon oneshots#sunghoon imagines#enhypen hard hours#fic.sunghoon
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omg im lovingggg ur deadpool & wolverine worksđ It's a little goofy, but I'd like to request maybe a reader with jason and dick watching the new deadpool movie and then getting jealous when reader goes absolutely bonkers st the scene when wolverine's shirt gets ripped apart! Thank you!
I probably did more then was asked of me, also Jason has autopsy scars in this because I said so.
Dick would get all pouty at the fact that you were on the cusp of ripping apart a the popcorn bucket with your bare hands, that or try and run into the movie screen, the very second Hugh Jackmanâs wolverineâs shirt gets torn to reveal a toned torso and pecks that had dark hair beautifully emphasising the well earned muscles.
He looked like an absolute Greek god in the scene and you were ogling his muscles, pectorals and biceps shamelessly as if you didnât have a man with the body and ass of a Greek god sat right next to you!
Heâs got abs! Heâs got them for days! Youâve seen them more times than he could count on his hand and yet you didnât go absolutely ballistic at any of those times? Was it the body hair that did it for you? Or was it the fact that it was Hugh Fucking Jackman? Dick wasnât sure but he couldnât help but deepen his pout and cross his arms over his chest when the shirtless gimmick continued on for the next couple of minutes.
He kept looking down his own shirt and at his abs and smooth porcelain skin and pout. Did he seriously need to grow body hair to impress you? Youâve felt up his abs plenty of times before, heâs even guided your hands while doing so once! So why was it that High Jackmanâs abs had gotten you so hot and bothered under the collar? He wanted answers!
You donât notice his jealously until way later when you kept hearing him huff and puff, a clear sign that he was perturbed about something but donât say so unless you ask him.
âWhatâs wrong Dick.â You asked.
âDo I have to grow body hair for you to ogle at my abs and pecks now?â Dick replies, looking at you with his big gorgeous eyes of his.
You almost wanted to burst out laughing then and there until you saw how serious Dick was and chose to smile instead as you held his face. âNo, you donât I love your body the way it is silly.â You told him softly as your thumbs stroked his cheeks.
âBut you were ogling Hugh Jackman and his abs and his happy trail in the cinema a few minutes ago.â Dick countered, deepening his pout and this time you couldnât help but laugh, much to his dismay. ��You act as though I donât ogle over your abs and pecs Dick.â You tell him and Dick huffs.
âWell you donât.â
âYes I do.â You countered. âI ogle you in discreet ways that you are not privy to mr Grayson.â You added with a smirk as Dick blinked once, twice, three times.
âYouâŚso I donât have to grow body hair or..â he trails off and you couldnât help but kiss his lips multiple times before resting your head against his own. âNo, you donât have to grow body hair like Hugh Jackman and besides youâve got one thing to hang over him.â
âAnd whatâs that?â Dick asks.
You leaned into his ear and whispered. âYour flexibility, sweetheart. itâs hot and I mean that in more ways than one.â
All of a sudden Dick had completely forgotten what he has been upset about in the first place as he was quick to ravage you in passionate kisses and much more that night. Pressed into positions that tested your flexibility.
;)
Jason
Would respect the dedication that Hugh had as Wolverine but what he couldnât get over was the tinge of jealousy he got when you were practically hanging off of the edge of your seat, looking about ready to lick the movie screen the moment Hughâs abs were on full display on the big screen.
âSeriously?â He questions you but it was obvious you werenât listening, all of your attention was solely on the glistening washboard abs and happy trail that was being presented to you that anything that wasnât Hugh Jackmanâs abs or happy trail wasnât going to be acknowledged in the slightest.
Jason wasnât ashamed of his body in the slightest, if anything he was proud of it and knew you liked his physique as well but it wasnât your main attraction to him, or so youâve lead him to believe with how throughly you were inspecting each individual ab as though it were your job. Jason was very aware of how attractive Hugh Jackman is and wasnât phased that you liked him but the more he thought about it, the more insecure he grew of the scars that littered his torso from everything heâs ever been through.
Youâve seen them up close and personal and have done nothing but look at them with love and kindness as you kissed each one of them while whispering words of reassurance against his skin at the dead of night. However Jason canât help but get into his one head sometimes about how you could do better or be with someone whose skin isnât as marred with scars as his was.
After all scars were imperfections to some people but youâve never made him feel anything but perfect and beautiful.
So for the rest of the movie Jason munched on his popcorn until there was nothing but kernels left over at the bottom, only to eat them too out of spite as you pouted when Wade handed Logan something to cover up his glorious display of pecs, abs, happy trail and body hair. Jason couldnât help but feel accomplished by that, but kept silent as the remaining moments of the movie played out before him happily before it ended and you both went home.
âSad that you didnât get to ogle at Hugh Jackmanâs abs more baby bird?â He asks.
âA little but- wait,â you looked at Jason and smiled before pointing at him with a look of realisation in your eyes, âyou were jealous werenât you?â
Jasonâs eyes widened. âNo! I wasnât-â
âYes you were because why would you mention that I was ogling Hugh Jackmanâs abs if you werenât jealous?â You retorted as Jason felt himself being back up into a corner here, you had caught onto him slot quicker then he had assumed. So he sighed. âYeah I mightâve been a little jealous when you were ogling his abs and pecs and shit.â Jason admitted as he scratched the back of his head.
âWhy would you be?â You asked softly this time as you moved to hold his hands, squeezing them.
âI thought that you might prefer someone withâŚnot as many scars as meâŚâ Jason trailed off quietly as you felt your heart break at the insinuation and quickly grasped at his face so he would be forced to look at you. âI would never! I love you and your scars with all my heart! I find them beautiful and would call them your constellations with the unique shapes and patterns they make on your skin!â You tell him as you began planting kisses across his face in hopes of getting Jason to believe you.
âI love your body the way it is because itâs so fucking beautiful,â you planted a kiss on his lips, âjust like you. I donât need no Hugh Jackman when I got a jacked man right in front of me.â
Jason couldnât help but laugh and pull you in close to his chest upon hearing your pun and scattered kisses across your face. âYou did not just say sweetheart.â He chuckled against your lips, his happiness restored within an instant.
âYes I did and I meant every bit of it.â You replied cheekily and cheerily as you nuzzled yourself against Jason, running your hands up his shirt and tracing the familiar scars you knew where littered across his torso as though it were second nature, allowing your fingertips to kiss each bit of his skin with your own in appreciation of his body and soul.
âYouâre so cheesy you know that.â Jason said softly against your head, closing his eyes as he felt your hands explore his torso in the most intimate way possible that wasnât inherently sexual. He loved your hands on his skin, loved it so much that Jason would much rather spend hours in bed with you tracing and caressing his skin as though it were priceless.
âI do but you love it too much.â You replied as Jason held you closer to him.
âYeah. I love you and so much more.â He says barely above a whisper, kissing your lips as your hands traced the autopsy scars on his chest with love, warmth and affection.
#dc imagine#dc x reader#dc x you#dc fanfic#dc fic#dc comics x reader#dc x y/n#dc fanfiction#jason todd imagine#jason todd fluff#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagines#jason todd x you#jason todd x y/n#dick grayson x y/n#dick grayson x you#dick grayson imagine#dick grayson imagines#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson fluff#red hood x you#red hood imagine#red hood x reader#red hood imagines#nightwing x you#nightwing fluff#nightwing imagines#nightwing imagine#nightwing x reader#nightwing x y/n
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Fourth Wall (JJBA Yandere Scenario)
Scenario: Recently, youâve moved on from JoJoâs Bizarre Adventure to a different anime series and fandom. You realize that this was a terrible mistake.
Note: This is based on a prompt I saw on Tumblr ages ago. I just expanded on it a bit.Â
Warnings: Typical Yandere behavior, threats, abusive behavior, possible harm towards reader, mental distress, anti-comfort. Remember that you alone are responsible for what you read.Â
-----------
Changing fandoms wasnât that unusual for you. You would find a new anime, fall in love with it, then it became your new hyperfixation. After a while, the process would repeat. This is what happened with you and JoJoâs Bizarre Adventure. It wasnât that you didnât like the series anymore, you just moved on to a new anime/manga. StillâŚit felt different this time. You werenât sure why, but ever since you moved on to your new favorite series, you had this unexplainable feeling of guilt wash over you every time you watched an episode of your new favorite anime or read the latest chapter of the manga. Stranger still, there was an underlying feeling of dread as well.Â
As many times as youâd changed fandoms, youâd never experienced such feelings before. It was uncomfortable and you wished that you could move on to your new obsession without any strings attached. It was ridiculous, really. Why should you feel guilty about a change of taste? You werenât hurting anything. No one would be affected by it. And yet, you still felt unnecessary shame over changing fandoms. You guessed it had something to do with the lingering attachment you had for certain characters from various parts throughout the series. It almost felt like you were leaving them behind somehow. Another silly notion. They were fictional characters and did not exist outside of the world within JoJo. They had no knowledge of you, much less having knowledge of your âbetrayalâ. You decided that it was stupid to dwell on it and dived headfirst into your new favorite series. That guilty feeling would surely fade after a while.Â
You got the perfect opportunity to binge your new favorite anime one day. It was one of those days when you were fortunate enough to have nothing to do. All of your responsibilities had been dealt with and you had no plans other than to sit on your ass and watch your new favorite show until bedtime. Sure, you could go out with friends, but you really just wanted to chill by yourself for the day. So anime binge party it was. You made a comfy nest of blankets and pillows on the couch and set up your laptop on the coffee table. You got some snacks and a drink, made yourself comfortable on the couch, and pressed play on the screen. You relaxed into the softness of your pillows and blankets and immersed yourself in another world for a few hours.Â
About ten episodes in, you had to go to the bathroom very badly. All of that soda youâd drunk was taking its toll on your bladder. You paused the video, untangled yourself from your blankets, and stiffly power-walked to the bathroom. Once you relieved yourself, you washed your hands and went back into the living room. You snuggled back into your blanket burrito and reached over to start the video, but something wasnât right. On the screen wasnât the anime youâd been watching. It was the first episode of Phantom Blood.Â
What�??
Did you accidently click the wrong thing in your haste to pause the video and rush to the bathroom?Â
That had to be it.Â
It was the only thing that made sense.Â
You clicked off of the JoJo episode and went back to the previous page which took you back to the episode of the new anime youâd been watching. You found the place in the episode that you left off on and pressed play. You settled back in your comfy nest and watched the rest of the episode. You watched for another hour or so. During the opening of one of the episodes, you suddenly found yourself watching the opening for an episode of Battle Tendency. You sat up straight and stared at the screen in shock and confusion.Â
âWhat the fuck?â you muttered under your breath.Â
You refreshed the page and the episode started properly. Thatâs the second time your video was suddenly changed to an episode of JoJo. The first time you assumed that it was because of an accidental click but now you werenât so sure. You hadnât been touching anything when it happened the second time. All you were doing was staring at the screen when the switch happened. Why did it keep happening? Some kind of glitch with the streaming service? You didnât know, but it was a bit annoying. You hoped that wouldnât be a constant thing while you were trying to watch your show.Â
The rest of the day went by without further incident. Eventually, you noticed that it had grown dark and you decided that your day of doing absolutely nothing needed to come to a close. You closed your laptop and reluctantly pried yourself off of the couch. As much as you wanted to just lay there in your blanket nest, you knew that youâd get a much better sleep in your bed. So you hobbled off to your room; your mind on nothing but getting a decent nightâs sleep.Â
You woke up a few hours later with a dried out mouth and an aching throat. You swallowed a few times, wincing at the sandpapery feeling of your tongue against the inside of your mouth. Well thatâs what you get for sleeping with your mouth wide open. You flung the covers off of you grumpily and climbed out of bed. You stumbled into the kitchen, not daring to turn the light on and submit your sleep sensitive eyes to an onslaught of painful luminosity. You made your way over to the counter, grabbed a glass, and staggered over to the sink. As you were filling the glass you suddenly had the feeling that something wasnât quite right. You assumed that it was your sleep fogged brain at work. After all, part of the reason you woke up was because you were having a disturbing dream. You tried to remember what the dream was about, but you couldnât piece the memories together to get a full picture. You just remembered being in a place that made you uncomfortable and meeting someone that was familiar to you, but their presence frightened you. You just couldnât remember the details. It kinda made you want to stay awake for the rest of the night but you decided against that. You knew youâd feel like shit the next day if you didnât get back to sleep. There was nothing worse than waking up with a splitting headache due to lack of proper rest. You downed the glass of water and put the empty glass in the sink.Â
You suddenly became aware of a strange odor in the air. What was that smell? Smoke? God, was something burning?! You took another sniff of the air and recognized the smell as specifically cigarette smoke. Okay, so that meant that your house wasnât burning down. That was good news, but why would you be smelling cigarette smoke? The only way you would be smelling cigarette smoke is if it were coming from in the same room as youâŚ
You heard the sound of rustling fabric from somewhere behind you. You spun around and immediately spotted the outline of someone sitting at your kitchen table. You could also make out the small glow of a lit cigarette sticking out of their mouth. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you could make out some details of the figure. They were large, broad shouldered, and wore a long white coat, and on their head rested an oddly shaped hat. In the miniscule amount of light in the room you could make out the glint of gold accessories on both their hat and coat.Â
âNo wayâŚâ you gasped in a quiet voice. âNo way in hellâŚâÂ
The figure lit a lighter and held it to the wick of the candle that was located in the middle of the table. Once the candle was lit fully, you could see the figure better. It was as you expected, Jotaro as he appeared in part four was sitting at your kitchen table, glaring at you as if you were less than dogshit.Â
âYou recognize me?â he scoffed and took another drag from his cigarette. âIâm surprised. I thought you forgot all about me⌠about usâŚ.âÂ
You backed up against the counter, unable to believe what you were seeing and hearing.Â
Jotaro glanced down at the cigarette in his hand. He held it up in front of him.Â
âThis is your fault, you know.â he sneered. âI quit smoking, but after you abandoned us, I started the habit again. Iâve been tolerant so far because I was stupid enough to think that youâd come back eventually. Maybe you were just taking a break and youâd come back when you were bored⌠that was my stupidity. Iâll own up to that. But when I realized that youâd thrown us aside like trash, well, I got pissed. I guess I took up smoking again just to stay saneâŚâÂ
You were so appalled at the fictional character seated at your table that you hadnât been paying much attention to what he was saying. Slowly the words began to filter into your mind and of everything he said, one thing stood out the mostâŚ
He said âusâ. He said that you had abandoned âusâ...
Thatâs when you became aware of the other figures lined up behind Jotaro.Â
You could make out their shapes and features in the candlelight. Jonathan stood there looking as utterly brokenhearted as a man could be. Joseph had a smug grin on his face as if heâd just caught you committing a crime. Josukeâs face was contorted in a vicious snarl while his fists were clenched by his sides. Ever so often his left eye would twitch indicating that he may be on the verge of a psychotic break. Giorno offered you a placid smile that was off putting when set against the coldness of his eyes.Â
Your eyes darted nervously from one face to another before finally settling back on Jotaroâs. It was too much. You pushed away from the counter and ran out of the kitchen. A voice that probably belonged to Jonathan called out for you to stop but you paid it no attention. Luckily the kitchen was right next to the front door. Once you were outside, you could run to the neighborâs house and get them to call the police. You wouldnât dare tell them the truth. What would you even say? You couldnât tell them that five fictional characters from an anime had invaded your house. Theyâd think you were on something. You would just tell them that someone had broken into your house. Thatâs all. Honestly, you didnât know what the hell the police could do against them, but you didnât know what else to do. You reached the front door but your hand froze just as you were about to unlock the door and yank it open.Â
Two people were staring down at you from the window in the front door, two people you recognized. Kars looked down his nose at you with a haughty expression. He looked ever so much like a strict parent that had just caught his kid trying to sneak out of the house. DIO on the other hand had the most sadistic smile on his face. He made a âcome-hitherâ gesture with his clawed hand as if he fully expected you to just open the door and throw yourself at him. Their eyes glowed with a hellish light and you couldnât take the sight of them. You screamed and backed away from the door. As you stepped back, you saw two other familiar faces staring at you from the windows on either side of the door. Doppio had one hand pressed against the glass while the other hand held a rock from the garden to his ear as if it were a cell phone. One of his eyes had changed to a jade green color and glared at you with intense rage. His other, normal eye had a pitiful, disappointed look in it. From the other window Kira stared at you with an utterly emotionless expression. You didnât dare speculate on what kind of thoughts could be going through his head at that moment. You screamed again and started to turn and run towards the back doorâŚ
âStar Platinum!âÂ
Suddenly you were held tight in an iron like hold. An invisible hand covered your mouth preventing you from screaming anymore. It didnât take a genius to figure out that you were being held in place by Jotaroâs Stand. Struggling in Star Platinumâs grip was useless so you just hung there in midair as Jotaro approached you.Â
âWe werenât done talking.â he snapped.Â
He leaned in slightly and you got a whiff of cigarette smoke mixed with cologne.Â
âNow you listen and you listen good,â he started to say. He held up a single finger.
âOne. Just one more chance. Thatâs all you get. Come back to us and there wonât be a problem. Leave us again and it will get ugly.â he said, glancing up at the villains peering through the windows. His upper lip curled in disgust when he locked eyes with DIO and Kira, but only for a moment before his eyes were back on you.Â
âIs that understood?â he asked.Â
You nodded your head, whimpering behind Star Platinumâs invisible palm.Â
âGood.âÂ
You donât know what happened after that. You just woke up in your bed with a pounding headache.Â
âFuckâŚâ you groaned, pressing your hands to your temples.Â
You felt awful. You could only guess that you just simply didnât sleep very well. Damn nightmares. What was with that dream? Was it all because you felt guilty about leaving the JoJo fandom? You grumbled and rolled out of bed. You were going to need to take something for that headache. First you needed to get a glass of water. You stumbled off to the kitchen getting an uncomfortable feeling of deja vu. The moment you entered the kitchen, your eyes glanced to the kitchen table and you nearly fainted.Â
The candle was out, but it was smoking as if it had only been put out mere moments ago. The cigarette butt that rested on the saucer that had been used as a makeshift ashtray was also still smoking.Â
That night you made it a point to sit down and watch a few episodes of JoJoâs Bizarre Adventure starting with Phantom Blood. You planned to rewatch the entire series from the very beginning all the way to Stone Ocean. With each episode you watched, you noticed that ever so often a characterâs eyes would slide over towards you as if making sure you were still there, watching them. Sometimes it would be one of the main characters. Sometimes it would be one of the villains. Sometimes it would be a side character. Regardless, they all kept checking to see if you were watching. Every day, you would make it a point to watch at least one episode of JoJo, no matter what. You didnât dare skip out on your daily dose of JoJo. You also never went back to the other anime youâd been watching after you left the JoJo fandom. No, you learned your lesson. You were familiar enough with Jotaroâs character to know that he only gave people one chance and no more. Just like with Rubber Soul and Steely Dan. He gave them both a chance to leave mostly unscathed but they both decided to turn on him at the last minute. They both were punished severely. You werenât going to make that same mistake.Â
So you sat there on the couch, stiff and terrified as you watched your âfavoriteâ animeâŚÂ
⌠like a good little fan shouldâŚ
#jjba#jojo's bizarre adventure#jojo no kimyou na bouken#reader insert#yandere jojo#jojos bizarre adventure#yandere jojo's bizarre adventure#yandere jjba#jojo x reader#yandere jjba x reader#yandere jotaro kujo#yandere jonathan joestar#yandere joseph joestar#yandere josuke higashitaka#yandere giorno giovanna#yandere dio brando#yandere kars#yandere yoshikage kira#yandere vinegar doppio#jjba yandere diavolo
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There are many things that frustrate me with the writing of Annabeth in the PJO TV Show, but I think one thing that I havenât seen people talk much about is the mini-arc of Percy needing to help Annabeth with her sense of fun/humanity.
Just so weâre clear, I absolutely hate this arc.
Prior to the showâs premiere, I believe there was a quote from Rick discussing new-ish things that weâd see in the show, and one of those things was Percy helping Annabeth âtap into her humanityâ. I canât find the exact quote, but it should be on the series update Twitter account if you search it.
When I first read this quote, I wasnât exactly sure what it meant, but I thought maybe weâd get an expansion of the theme of forgiveness that we got in the original books, or maybe weâd get an arc about Annabethâs pride and how that gets in the way of her relationships with others. Or maybe theyâd try and break down the ways in which Annabeth helps to uphold the godsâ ways of doing things, and align her more with the mortal point of view (which they essentially did, but not the overall point).
What I certainly wasnât expecting was for them to strip Annabeth of most, if not, all of her smaller/softer traits, and give her this unusually stoic and stiff personality, where she suddenly has no familiarity with casual aspects of the mortal world (movies, Disney world, common idioms), and needs Percy to introduce these concepts to her in an effort to âunlockâ her humanity.
What.
The.
Fuck.
Words cannot emphasize enough how much I despise this arc. Not only is it entirely nonsensical for Annabeth not to be familiar with these things (she was with her dad at least until the age of 7 and she goes to a camp full of other children who are regularly in contact with the mortal world; do you seriously expect me to believe that at no point in her 12 years of life, she never saw a single film, heard of Disneyworld, or heard common idioms and slang terms from her camp-mates? Seriously???)
But ALSO!
Book!Annabeth had PLENTY of humanity to go around! Even with her pride and initial coldness towards Percy, she plays hackeysack with him and Grover on the first day of their quest! She has a cute silly crush/admiration/infatuation on Luke. She nerds out big time over the St. Louis Arch! Sheâs the first to steal clothing from Waterland! She screams and cries when she encounters the mechanical spiders! She has an expression of sadness when she shares her backstory about Thalia and Luke! She gets lost in her little construction game at the Lotus, so much so that Percy has to use her phobia to pull her out of the trance! She grabs Percyâs hand when they first enter the Underworld because sheâs scared! She tears up when itâs time to leave Cerberus!
And you stripped her of all these things, because youâre so desperate to overemphasize the Percabeth romance, and you felt that it was absolutely necessary to have Percy educate Annabeth on âunlocking humanityâ??? Why!!!!
Not only did Book!Percy help Annabeth discuss things about bad parents and approaching forgiveness, but Book!Percy already had something important to offer Annabeth: loyalty, trustworthiness, and reliability. You didnât need to take away her already-present traits and wits to convince us that Percy was the type of person she needed in her life, because we can already see what he offers her in the books. So why oh why did you feel the need to give us the silly âtap into your humanityâ arc? Why did you turn her personality into something that it wasnât? Why did you take away her depth just so her character could better serve Percabeth?
I donât even necessarily agree with the criticism that this version of Annabeth feels like it prioritizes Percabeth more, but I can see why people made that complaint. Yâall took away so much of what made this character endearing, because you felt like it was a much bigger priority to have Percy help her unlock humanity than to let her be human prior to meeting him and outside of him. Not only does her personality get shafted, but her relationships with other people get shafted too! Her interactions with Luke are affection-less, she sent Grover off on his own in the Lotus so she could go off with Percy, and I donât even think that she and Chiron interacted once this season; I donât even think she mentioned the part about her calling him to come pick her up after she attempted living at home again!
But donât worry; weâll get plenty of scenes doubling down and tripling down on how Percy is the center of her world now! Yay!
#rick riordan#annabeth chase#percy jackson#pjo#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo hoo toa#pjo series#pjo tv show#percabeth#pjo tv crit#anti pjo#anti percabeth
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Heart II
Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader
Summary: You try to recover
You stay in the hospital for nearly two weeks as your new heart gets used to its new home in your body.
Ingrid and Mapi are with you the entire time.
Sometimes, one of them even skips training to come and see you. You're in a special hospital room and they have to wear silly facemasks when they come to visit that makes them look all weird.
They bring you lots of things to play with while you're stuck in bed and all of their friends send you flowers and food to keep you happy. Your caseworker comes in sometimes and she gets Mapi and Ingrid to sign lots of documents and helps them to sign you out of the hospital to take you home.
"Okay," Ingrid says as you all come up in the elevator together," You ready?"
You're wearing a special party hat because Mapi said that you were going to have a little party to celebrate your new heart. You don't really know why getting your new heart means a party but you also know that a party means lots of food and fun so you're happy to go back inside.
A few of Ingrid and Mapi's friends are already in there but you head straight for Patri and Pina because they're holding Bagheera, who's wearing a party hat too.
"Whoa, there," Ingrid says softly, still holding your hand tight like she's scared you're going to wink out of existence," Let's take it slow, alright?"
You frown and shrug. "Okay."
She keeps hold of your hand as you move to greet Bagheera. She mews at you softly, bumping her head against your chest.
"I know," You say," I've got my Santa heart." You look up at Pina and Patri. "Santa got me a new heart for Christmas. It goes boom-boom properly."
"Really?" Patri asks," That's cool. Do you feel better now?"
"Little tired sometimes," You reply, rocking back and forth on your feet," But still good!"
"She's been healing up very well." Ingrid's fingers run through your hair like yours run through Bagheera's. "The doctors are going to do another check next week and then we get to take her out again."
Even though you're out of the hospital now, you're not allowed out of the house for another week just so you can adjust to everything back home again.
"It'll be good to see you at training again," Pina says," We've been missing our little cheerleader."
"And you can join in now!" Patri exclaims and you whip your head over to Ingrid.
"Can I?"
She thinks for a moment. "We'll see," She says," Let's get through next week and then we'll see if you're strong enough to run around."
"Okay." You go back to stroking over Bagheera's fur and adjusting her party hat when she gets annoyed with it. You like Bagheera. You'd never seen a cat in real life before you came to live with Ingrid and Mapi so it's nice to have Bagheera with you now.
You yawn when you're about halfway through the movie Paredes put on and you climb up into Mapi's lap to lay on her. Her big hands rest on your back, gently stroking up and down until you're head feels too heavy for your body and it flops against her.
"She looks much better," Alexia says as she notices that you're out like a light.
"Yeah," Mapi says as she reaches for a blanket to drape around your body," They had her on a ventilator those first few hours after surgery and she looked so bad when they took her in. But...But she's better now, just a little sleepier."
"She just had major surgery," Alexia says," I think she's allowed to be a bit tired. I'm surprised she lasted as long as she did."
Mapi laughs, gently rocking you. "I should put her to bed. I can't imagine those hospital ones were comfy."
Your weeks dissolve into a steady routine after you get your Santa heart. You still have to go to the doctor every week and they do tests on your new heart and they take out the little staples they put in your chest.
Ingrid still sticks to your side and she's always giving you cuddles and kisses. She lets you run around more now that the doctor says it's okay but she still wraps you up nice and warm because you still sometimes have issues with being cold.
A few months after you're declared fully fit, your caseworker comes to visit.
Ingrid lets her in while you've opened your mouth so Mapi can give you your medication. The doctor says that even though your Santa heart is working very well, you'll have to take medicine every day to make sure that your body wants to keep it.
Well, he said lots of big words and complicated stuff but Mapi explained it to you like that when you went to get ice cream after your appointment.
You case worker says hello to you before briefly looking around the house ago and then making you sit down in front of the tv with her. That makes you a bit nervous and you hang on Mapi's hand.
"With Mapi and Ingrid?"
"In a minute," Your caseworker says," I just want to have a little talk with you without them."
Your brow wrinkles. "And Bagheera has to go too?"
"Bagheera can stay," Ingrid promises you, kissing the top of your head and steering Mapi into their bedroom.
You stroke Bagheera's fur rhythmically as you sit in front of your caseworker.
"How are you feeling now?" She asks," With your new heart?"
"Santa got me a good one," You reply," But I've still got to take special medicine."
She writes something down. "And you always take your medicine?"
"Ingrid reminds me," You answer, getting a bit distracted by the way a single ray of sunlight is peaking through the blinds," And Mapi hides it in icing sometimes for when I don't want to take it."
She writes down something more. "That's good. And you like it here, with Ingrid and Mapi?"
The topic of your favourite girls makes you perk up. "They're my most favourite! Mapi is so cool! She's got lots of tattoos. She says that one day, she'll let me draw her one to put on her body."
Your caseworker nods along, her pen moving along the paper. "And what about Ingrid?"
"Ingrid gives me cuddles all the time," You say," And she lets me help make dinner and cookies and she takes me to the park and we go down the slide together."
Your caseworker stops writing and flips her notepad shut. "Do you remember what it means to have a caseworker like me?"
You nod.
"What does it mean?"
"It means that you find adults to look after me because I don't have parents."
Your caseworker nods. "Adults like Ingrid and Mapi," She says," They're fostering you."
You give her a little look. "I know." You don't know why she's talking about that. It makes you feel all weird inside and briefly, you wonder if your Santa heart is going boom-boom wrong like your old one.
"Sometimes," She says," Fostering is more temporary."
You don't like her words. It makes you feel all icky and bad inside. You shake your head. "No," You say," No! Stay here!"
Your caseworker hands you a picture. It's got a little family on it, a mummy and a daddy and two boys who have the same hair colour as you.
"This family doesn't want to foster you," Your caseworker says when you throw the picture on the floor and hold Bagheera close. "They want to adopt you. They think you'd fit in well with them. Like a forever home instead of a foster home."
You shake your head, your bottom lip wobbling. "No...No! Forever home with Ingrid and Mapi!"
Your caseworker sighs deeply, shuffling the picture of the little family back into her folder. "You want to stay here?" She checks," With Ingrid and Mapi?"
"And Bagheera," You say stubbornly," Because this is forever home. Mapi and Ingrid are forever with me and my Santa heart."
"And you don't want to live with this family?" She reaches for the picture again and you turn away.
"Ingrid and Mapi," You say firmly.
"Okay. Let's get Ingrid and Mapi in here."
You're near to tears when they finally come back in and Ingrid pulls you into her arms immediately. You wipe your cheeks dry on her shirt and blindly reach for Mapi.
"Stay," You beg," Stay here. With you."
Mapi whips her head to your caseworker. "We've already begun to file the paperwork!" She hisses," Why would you bring them up to her?"
"I'm just doing my job. I couldn't let her stay here if she didn't want to!"
"Want to stay!" You say, hiding yourself away in Ingrid's neck," Want to stay!"
"You're stressing her out," Ingrid cuts in plainly when it looks like Mapi and your caseworker are going to start yelling," I understand you're doing your checks and you have to get her opinion but she's barely been out of the hospital for a few months and the doctors said that undue stress isn't good for her Santa heart." She strokes a hand over the back of your head. "We've filed the paperwork. She wants to live with us over the other family that expressed interest. We want her here with us."
Your caseworker sighs. She does that a lot. "I can't promise this will stay private. You're public figures. Your papers will be rushed through as soon as possible."
When she leaves, you finally peak out from your hiding place. With big, wet eyes, you look between Ingrid and Mapi. "Stay here?"
"Yes," Mapi says with an air of finality," You're staying here."
#woso x reader#mapi leon x reader#mapi leon#ingrid engen x reader#ingrid engen#woso community#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso
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When the reader is mad at gavi and he just keeps apologizing and it's soo cute?
I told him ten times NOT to leave his shoes everywhere! On top having a horrible day at uni, submitting my project late and fighting with my best friend now I have to deal with this! Just great!
"Pablo! What do we do with training shoes!?" I said but he didn't reply obviously oblivious with his gaming head set on laughing with Pedri about something.
Usually I wouldn't care so much but today was such a bad day and I wasn't having it standing right in front of his screen making him notice me finally.
"Perdon chicos but I have a hot distraction here..dame un besito mi amor!" Pablo smirked reaching for me but then I tossed the shoes right in front of him and walked away making him confused.
"Looks like mi chica had a bad day, gotta go!" he said logging out and following after me into the bedroom seeing me at my makeup vanity taking off my makeup in silence.
"Amor, que pasa? Why are you enojada?" he asked but I was done talking for the night last thing I wanted was to fight with him too.
"Silent treatment don't work with me principesa, I'll make you talk.." Pablo smirked trying to kiss my neck but I pulled away not really in the mood for his little ministrations.
"Princesa porfi habla conmigo.." he said but I really couldn't do that right now so I just walked past him to the bathroom and he followed me like a lost puppy. Poor Pablito...
"Aii at least dame un besito and I'll leave you alone, I promise!" he said pouting and I couldn't resist just pecking his lips and pulling away but before I could his arms snaked around my waist roughly kissing me with passion and I sighed walking away.
He really did leave me shower and change which I appreciated since I needed my space right now. When i came to bed tho I started to miss him..I'm not used to not talk to him about my day, to have him hold me and tell me it's okay and to kiss me goodnight.
"Umm P..Pablito?.." I said not too loud so if he doesn't come, I can just pretend that's because he couldn't hear me.
"Couldn't wait for you to call mi amor! Mi princesa! Mi vida!" he was quickly on the bed pulling me in and I giggled but still decided to act "angry" with him. WHo can be angry with this boy!?
"Aiii no porfi enough with the silence..I wanna hear my girl's pretty voice again..how you call me Pablito..say it.." he said holding my face and I just smiled refusing to talk.
"Amor say it...porfiii" he said nuzzling his face into my neck leaving butterfly kisses and since he didn't shave this morning there was a little facial hair (nothing crazy) that was tickling me so I giggled and that gave him an idea.
"If you don't say it I'mma tickle you till you cry!" he said giving me a moment to talk but when I refused he started tickling my sides pulling me underneath him and I was laughing so hard my chest hurt.
"P..Pablo..st..op..porfavorr" I begged him really feeling tears coming to my eye but he wasn't back away moving closer to my ear to whisper his words.
"That's not my name amor..say..it..right" he said and I couldn't hold it back anymore.
"Pablito! Stop!" I said and he finally let go letting me catch my breath and laying besides me instead.
"Now tell your Pablito why are you enojada with him, Hermosa?" he said and I moved closer hiding my face into his neck and leaving a few kisses there..he smelled like him..like home and I was finally able to relax.
"Long day amor..very long day" I answer and he kissed my head nodding his head and holding me tightly just like he knew I needed.
"And your annoying boyfriend leaving shoes all over the house?" he added and I giggled knowing it was silly as I nodded my head.
"Lo siento hermosa, I put away all my shoes just like you like.."he said and I looked up smiling at his handsome face..he really cared so much about me that it was impossible not to kiss him right now.
"I love you Pablito.." I said as I moved away from the kiss and he smiled nodding his head.
"I know mi vida..and I love you so much..even when you're enojada comigo" he smiled kissing me again before we cuddled up and got some well deserved rest together.
#gavigif#gavi#fc barça#pablo gavi x you#fc barcelona#pablo gavi x y/n#pablo gavi x reader#pablo gavi#pablo gavi icons#fc barca
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Re: "You go too fast for me, Crowley", because I think I finally figured out the real meaning behind that line
Naturally, this line of all lines, the most line of them all, is constantly circling around my rotten brain like a moth around a flame.
In addition, though, there's always been another Good Omen's line/exchange that has kept bothering me again lately. And literally until just about five minutes ago, I had never thought of relating them back to each other.
Now, five minutes later, I have and I think I just ... figured it out.
In case you were wondering: The second line that wouldn't leave my head is what Aziraphale says to Crowley during their clandestine meeting at St. James' Park in 1862 when Crowley asks him for Holy Water:
A: "I'm not bringing you a suicide pill, Crowley!"
And here's what bugs me about this: Why did Aziraphale, without a breath of hesitation, immediately assume Crowley wanted the Holy Water to commit suicide if things ever went wrong?
That's ... such a dark assumption to make. Especially because that is absolutely not what Crowley wanted it for, as he literally says himself:
C: "That's not what I want it for, just insurance."
And what does Aziraphale reply?
A: "I'm not an idiot, Crowley!"
Because he firmly, firmly believes that Crowley is asking him to bring him the Holy Water as a foolproof method of taking his own life in case Heaven and Hell ever find out about them.
To this day, that conversation gives me chills whenever I think about it. We so rarely get see what genuine emotions and thoughts for and about Crowley Aziraphale keeps neatly tucked away behind that tightly buttoned waistcoat of his. This moment in 1862 is one of the very rare ones where his façade slips a little â and the peak we get isn't a fun one. It's a very dark, scared and vulnerable one.
What am I on about and how does this all relate to the infamous "You go too fast for me, Crowley"-line? Let's look at it under the cut.
(Word count: 2560 | Reading time: ~10 min. | TW: mentions of suicide)
Like I mentioned up above, it always struck me to my core that Aziraphale very clearly immediately assumes Crowley wants the Holy Water for possible suicide. Not only is that a very dark and upsetting thought, it also poses the question: Why? Why is that the first place Aziraphale's mind goes to?
Crowley says at the very beginning of their conversation:
C: "We have a lot in common, you and me."
He's definitely referring to their (very mutual) relationship Arrangement and the fact that they both find themselves kept apart and watched by their respective head offices, not allowing them to ever misstep and give themselves away.
After bickering around a little like they do, Crowley asks his favour â and he makes it very clear in a quiet and serious voice that:
C: "This is something else. [...] For if it all goes wrong."
He's not just talking about Heaven or Hell finding out about some silly frivolous miracles, no. He's talking about them finding out about their Arrangement, their relationship. The worst of all worst case scenarios.
So bad, in fact, that he doesn't even ask his favour out loud but instead decided to write it down.
Aziraphale's reaction is ... severe.
We immediately see his face drop as, he too, realizes that this is all of a sudden a very serious conversation indeed. And he immediately and vigorously denies Crowley's request because he thinks it to be one for a suicide pill.
To understand how he could arrive at that lightning-quick (and also wrong) conclusion, we have to try and understand how Aziraphale sees Crowley and the threat that the angel himself as well as their relationship poses to Crowley.
Crowley can, at times, be a very self-deprecating and cynical character. He's without a doubt carrying a lot of trauma and unspoken fears and emotions with him at all times. Aziraphale at this point in their relationship probably has a good notion of what those are â but he doesn't know the whole depth of it because they've never been able to speak freely enough and Crowley has seemingly decided to keep many-a things to himself, still. They both tread the waters of plausible deniability very well.
So, to jump to the conclusion of Crowley entertaining suicidal thoughts in the face of unavoidable danger is ... quite a violent jump. And remember: "[...] underneath it all, Crowley was an optimist. If there was one rock-hard certainty that had sustained him through the bad times then it was utter surety that the universe would look after him."
So, what is it that Aziraphale does know that would drive him to such a drastic conclusion when, in reality, secret optimist Crowley only ever wanted the Holy Water to protect himself against Hell to come out safe on the other end of things?
2500 BC, Land of Uz: A: "That [going along with Heaven/Hell as far as you can] sounds, um ..." C: "Lonely? Yeah." A: "But you said it wasnât." C: "Iâm a demon. I lied."
After Crowley helps Aziraphale out in Edinburgh in 1827, Crowley is immediately sucked back down to Hell We don't know what exactly happened after that or just how long Crowley was gone. We also don't know if Crowley ever told Aziraphale what happened, once he returned. What we and Aziraphale do know, is that Crowley ends up asking him for Holy Water, out of the blue, only a couple of decades later.
1601, The Globe: A: "But if Hell finds out [about the Arrangement], they won't just be angry. They'll destroy you." (additionally, later in time, C: "My lot does not send rude notes.")
Ergo: It's very clear that Aziraphale seems to have put two and two together with his own angel math by what he has a) witnessed himself and b) what Crowley has said himself which equals: In going against Hell, Crowley has felt incredibly lonely before he had Aziraphale by his side and if Heaven and Hell were to ever find out about them, Hell's punishment would be a whole lot worse than Heaven's.
He thinks Hell would destroy Crowley.
So when Crowley, who so rarely says how he really feels and one of the few times he did, told Aziraphale he was lonely, says he wants the Holy Water, the immediate conclusion Aziraphale comes to is: He wants it as an emergency exit. In case things go pear-shaped. He wants it to escape whatever dreadful punishment Hell would have in stock for such a lonely traitor. He wants it as a suicide pill.
For Aziraphale to not even entertain the thought or believe that Crowley does indeed only want the Holy Water as a means of self-defense is, again, absolutely heartbreaking. Because it tells us a thing or two just how scared and desperate Aziraphale thinks Crowley to be. Something along the lines of: "If I myself am already so immensely terrified of Hell's punishment for Crowley, how terrified must Crowley be."
I think a whole lot of this is also very, very strong projection and shows us how Aziraphale himself feels about all of it. How scared he is for himself and Crowley. Of what would be done to them.
A: âOut of the question! Do you know what trouble I'd be in if they knew Iâd been ... fraternizing?â
He knows they would both suffer immense consequences and that Crowleyâs still would be worse. If anything, in a dark and twisted way, it shows that Aziraphale himself has definitely entertained the idea of suicide as a concept, at least. Maybe not for himself or Crowley, yet, but remember, heâs awfully fond of Shakespeareâs Hamlet.
A: âTo be or not to be? Buck up, Hamlet!â
Yeah, buck up indeed. (By the way, there's a great meta by @greenthena on why Aziraphale likes Hamlet so much that kind of plays into my point a little. You can read it here).
And again, who knows what Aziraphale might have actually witnessed of Hell's cruel ways already in the past (Edinburgh of 1827, or at other times) that made him arrive at the conclusion that, ultimately, suicide would be the less painful choice for Crowley when faced with Hell's consequence for their relationship.
I told you this was gonna take a bit of a darker turn. So, here we are. At the turn. It doesn't get much lighter from here on out, I'm afraid.
Because all of this gives "You go too fast for me, Crowley" a whole new devastating meaning.
Personally, I always found it a teensy bit difficult to relate that line back to Aziraphale implying that Crowley was trying to push their relationship a little too fast for him.
Deducing that as the meaning of "You goo to fast for me" after we were shown in the montage of S1E3 that Aziraphale, from circa 1941 on, was undoubtedly fully aware of just how madly in love he was with Crowley, has always felt odd to me. And it continued to feel even odder after we got the whole story of 1941 in S2.
Because if that minisode showed us anything, it's that if you let Aziraphale take over the metaphorical wheel for about five minutes, "too fast" doesn't even match the astronomical speed with which he crashes head first into 15th base. Forget the hand holding and kissing, let's go straight to you shooting me on the first date I planned for us!
And they say romance is dead.
Now look, of course, Aziraphale is still keeping most of his romantic feelings and longing bottled up out of fear that Heaven and Hell could find out about them and have Crowley destroyed. We've established that this very big fear of his is the driving factor behind him never trying to overstep that invisible line.
But still, those feelings? They're there. Oh, Hell, they are t-h-e-r-e.
Our angel is a master of self-delusion but not even he is holy enough to deny the fact that, if he could, he'd want nothing more than to lock that demon down and elope together into their happily-ever-after.
So, when Aziraphale finally budges and hands over the Holy Water to Crowley in 1967, I've always had a hard time believing that that line coming from Mr. "I guess there's something to be said for shades of grey" himself actually meant: "I'm not ready yet, you want to go faster than I do."
Because really, apart from trying to convince Aziraphale of the Arrangement and rescuing him from every silly, coincidental predicament the angel has gotten himself into over the millennia, what exactly is it that Crowley did here to "go too fast"? Hell, he's been at it at the pace of a snail ever since, very well knowing that Aziraphale would take a lot of gentle nudging and lunch temptations invitations to agree with the Arrangement.
All Crowley does in that moment in the car is offer Aziraphale a lift, anywhere he wants to go. And yes, that is code their little dance, that is how he shows his love for Aziraphale. But Aziraphale has never before deemed that an issue or seen it as a too-fast progression of their relationship. He even suggests another date himself two seconds later, saying:
A: "Perhaps we could go for a picknick one day. Dine at the Ritz."
So, what, one sentence later he suddenly wants to hit the breaks again? After he literally looked like this the last time Crowley drove (literally way too fast) through burning London?
Nah, I'm not buying it.
Instead, here's what I think Aziraphale really means with this line that changed us all (and I'm sorry, but I'm about to one-up the sadness of the 1862 meeting):
I think Aziraphale is referring to what he thinks is the reason Crowley wants the Holy Water for.
Suicide.
And boy-fucking-howdy, does that change the game.
Because if we assume that Aziraphale, all throughout the one-century-long Holy Water standoff, thought Crowley wanted it as a quick, ahem, Escape From Everything, what I think Aziraphale really means with "You go too fast for me" is this:
To him, Crowley is asking the most cruel deed of him to bring him the one thing that could take Crowley away from Aziraphale for good. For ever. In case things go pear shaped. In case Hell finds out about them and comes after Crowley.
To Aziraphale, Crowley is asking him to load the bullet into his gun for the time it won't be a trick. So he can escape before Hell gets to him.
More devestatingly, I think Aziraphale even understands where that notion comes from. Aziraphale knows how dangerous their relationship is. And Hell does not send rude notes. So, I think after pondering on it for a good millennia, part of him has come to understand why Crowley would want an emergency exit.
Which is absolutely fucking heartbreaking.
Especially because that's not even what Crowley was thinking when he made his request. He truly only wanted it as a defense. But Aziraphale doesn't believe or fully realize that. Aziraphale believes the Holy Water is a suicide pill and to some extent even understands why Crowley might want that.
And yet, despite (wrongly, but well) understanding Crowley's intentions, Aziraphale is still deeply upset and terrified at the thought of Crowley taking his own life should they ever get caught. Which explains his extreme reaction all the way back at their clandestine meeting at St. James' Park.
Aziraphale assuming Crowley's way out of the most pear-shaped situation of them all would be suicide also means that Aziraphale would be the one who'd be ... well, left behind.
He recognises that choosing death over possible eternal punishment is maybe somewhat of an understandable choice. And yet, it's a choice that, to him, Crowley has made without him. Seemingly way before their first talk about it.
Aziraphale thinks Crowley seems to have made up his mind about his escape plan without him in it.
He thinks that if they were caught, Crowley would want some Holy Water around to quickly chug before he would be at Hell's mercy and that would be it.
Crowley would, for the first time ever, really leave. Not just for Alpha Centauri. But actually leave. Escape and run away to a point of no return. For good. Without Aziraphale. To a place where Aziraphale couldn't follow him, no matter how fast he tried to run himself.
It goes a little something like:
"If they found out about us, you would choose to go where I couldn't follow. And you're asking me to pave the road for you to walk there. Without me ever being able to get a say in walking alongside you. You want to go to places where I could never join you. You'd run away without me and I understand why but you didn't even give me a chance to catch up. You go too fast for me, Crowley."
F*ck, man. I think I need to lie down.
Y'know what else that gives new meaning to?
Alright, that's it, I'm out. Enough sad meta-ing for the day. See you all around once I've stopped slipping further into the void, folks. :')
#good omens#good omens meta#my own meta#good omens season 2#good omens 2#gos2#go2#good omens s2#crowley#aziraphale#ineffable husbands#you goo too fast for me crowley#aziraphale is master of projection#i made myself sad with this#The Arrangement#holy water#im gonna go read fluff now bye
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Around the World Part 7
I know I said that Nanny would be out this week, but I just finished this and am really wanting to get it out as soon as possible and that includes the epilogue.
But if I time it right, this series and Hellfire will end the same week and I'll be able to return to some kind of normal schedule instead of pumping these out on a fucking grinder.
That said, I probably won't do a Christmas story with the way things are right now. But we'll see the closer we get to the holiday.
In this we get the proper Jack the Ripper tour and the author has opinions, okay! Steve draws attention to himself at the Paris Opera house. Murray is a bit too knowing. And of course as @val-from-lawrence guessed, visited the Catacombs!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
~
They had done the Tower of London and St. Paulâs Cathedral during the day and got ready for the Bauman Experience as Murray called it. They all had a flashlight and went to go meet him where they had the night before.
They caught him dealing with some obnoxious tourists.
âOh thank god!â the Karen cried. âAn American. Could you please explain to this woman that we only have dollars to pay with. She has to take it!â
Murray blinked at her for a moment. âWell that is quite the cock up, you absolute muppet. Are you dead from the neck up? British pound sterling is the brass here, you silly cow!â
The womanâs head reared back in shock, clutching her chest. âI beg your pardon!â
âTo make it perfectly clear,â Murray said leaning forward into her space. âYou fucked up, you moron. Are you really that stupid? Dollars arenât the currency here, the British pound is. Just like you canât use the pound anywhere but here, you canât use the dollar anywhere but America so why donât you go to an ATM or bank and get it exchanged. Or and hereâs the really neat part about living in the age of technology, use or credit or debit card and your bank does the conversion for you.â
When she started sputtering angrily, Murray waved her off. âNow, shoo! Iâve got actual paying customers waiting for me.â
Murray turned to the four of them with a smiled. âWell, hello! Welcome. Now that things are dark and therefore sufficiently spooky, letâs take you on a proper tour of Jackâs slaying grounds.â
He went through the different murders until he got to the double murders of Elizabeth Stride and Catherine Eddowes.
âNow,â he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, âMiss Stride is usually considered his third victim and that he was interrupted, moving on to Miss Eddowes. But I think Stride was a copycat. The person only knew the bodies were mutilated, but not how. So for me, I donât count her in the confirmed kills.â
Robin nodded sagely. âI donât either. There was far too little evidence to prove he had been frightened off, because otherwise Eddowes would have been more brutal than it was. He would have been angry he couldnât finish with Stride. You would have expected her to look like what Mary Kellyâs body looked like, not cool and calm.â
Murray smiled up at her. He turned to Eddie. âI really like her. Sheâs clever.â
Robin blushed and ducked her head.
A short time later, just as they were wrapping up the Kelly murder, Murray stopped. He looked at a pair of older teenagers and then back at the group.
Chrissy picked up on it first. âYou thinking what, Iâm thinking, Mur?â
Murray turned to her and cocked his head to the side, considering. He nodded and Chrissy pursed her lips.
Steve caught on just as quick. âEds, baby. I think those boys may have guessed who you are, love.â
Robin and Eddie shared a concerned glance.
âFuck,â Eddie huffed. âI liked this jacket.â
Robin grabbed it from him and gave him her jacket. âMine doesnât look as fancy,â she explained pulling his jacket on. âJust like Boston, peeps!â
Murray tilted his head to the side and did a quick Google search. âOr... if youâd like, my car is literally around the corner.â
The four of them stopped swapping clothes and looked up at him.
âThatâs easier,â Steve said. âWhoâs all for easier?â
The other three raised their hands and they followed Murray to his car. Robin sat up front while Steve and Chrissy covered Eddie between them.
âDrop me off at the hotel,â Steve said, tapping on Murrayâs shoulder. âIâll check us out and then meet you at Shakespeareâs Head.â
Murray looked behind him and grinned. âSmart thinking.â
~
Eddie had changed into a trucker hat and a puffy hunting vest over sturdy blue jeans and thick work boots.
âKids and their cameras these day,â Murray huffed, sliding a pint of beer over at Steve as he sat down between Robin and Chrissy. âSo whatâs the story with loverboy here?â he asked Eddie, cocking his head to indicate Steve.
âHeâs not out,â Eddie said dryly. âHis parents are complete assholes who could and would make things very difficult for him if he was.â
âNothing says asshole parents,â Murray said with a nod, âquite like those that have the money to make you miserable.â
Steve snorted. âYouâve got that right. But Iâm more than equipped to make it work.â He half shrugged. âIâve been doing it for almost a year.â
Murrayâs went wide and he gave an opened mouthed smile. âHave you really? I would have never guessed. Good job! â
âHow did you spot the kids, by the way?â Robin asked around her fruity cocktail.
âOh,â Murray said, ducking his head a bit. âYouâre walking around a small group of people at night in a bad area of London. Whitechapel isnât as bad as it was in Jackieâs time, but itâs still not a good neighborhood. You have to keep an eye out for people, but especially older teens wishing to knock you over for a bit of loose change.â
Steve cleared his throat and ducked his head. âI am about to ask the most bougie question imaginable. And you can tell me to go to hell if Iâm out of line here.â
Murrayâs eyebrows went up and he leaned back in his chair. âWhaâcha got, kid?â
Steve licked his lower lip as he tried to word this in a way that wasnât instantly offensive. âHow entrenched are you in this job?â
âNot very,â he replied with a shrug. âIâm just moving through the world enjoying myself and taking jobs that would be fun. Iâve got more than enough money. Why?â
âWe were talking in our group chat,â Chrissy explained taking over from a very embarrassed Steve, âand we thought weâd offer you a job as main look out and part time driver for when weâre in Europe. You really saved Eddie today and we could really use someone like you with us.â
Murray glared at her. âYou sure I wouldnât cramp your little foursome youâve got going on hereâs style?â He made a little circling motion with his hand to indicate all of them.
Robin shook her head. âItâll make it harder for people to recognize a quartet if it suddenly became a quintet. Plus, weâd pay for your room and board. None of us are skint, believe you me.â
âWeâll be staying in haunted hotels, motels, and bed and breakfasts,â Eddie added. âBut we wonât force you to join us. We can put you up in a nice place nearby and we join back up whenever we go out.â
Murray eyed them suspiciously until Steve slid over an envelope. He picked it up and pulled out a check. His eyes went wide. âThatâs quite the pretty penny.â
âThatâs half,â Robin huffed, crossing her arms and throwing herself against the back of the chair. âYouâll get the other half once we leave Europe for Asia.â
âAll that for a monthâs worth of driving you four around and making sure fans and paparazzi donât find Eddie here?â Murray asked. âHave you gone crazy?â
Eddie shook his head. âWe just want a romantic tour of the spooky places of Europe. I hate the thought Steve getting caught up in something just because Iâm recognized everywhere I go and he isnât.â
Murray licked his lips slowly as his eyes narrowed. âThatâs not how thatâs usually said.â
Steve frowned and tilted his head to the side. âWhat do you mean? How is what said?â
Robin put her hand on his elbow as he bristled slightly at his tone.
âUsually people will say âfamous and theyâre notâ,â Murray said thoughtfully, âhe said ârecognizedâ. Meaning Stevie here is famous too, but not in a way people would recognize him on the street. What is a famous painter or some shit?â
She cocked her to the side and said dryly, âIf I told you that, Iâd have to kill you.â
Murray laughed. Just full on cackled. âHave I mentioned how much I like her? Because I really like her.â
Eddie leaned forward to put his elbows on the table. âSo what do you say, Murray?â he asked tilting his head to the side. âYou want to work for me again?â
Murray slipped the check into his coat pocket and stuck out his hand. âI think youâve got yourself a deal.â
~
Their first stop on the Continent was Paris and the catacombs. Eddie was still trying to figure out how Robin did that one. It had been closed to the public for years.
Robin just smirked and said, âWell we arenât the public.â
Steve was also sure they didnât open it up to anyone who opened their wallet, either, but wisely stayed silent. Plus he was having fun watching Chrissy and Robin run circles around Murray in terms of sheer knowledge.
âUm...Stevie?â Eddie murmured so the trio couldnât hear him. âCan I hold your hand? Itâs getting a little creepy in here.â
Steve held out his hand, the one that had the little guitar on the inner wrist. Eddie looked down at the offered hand with a fond smile. He took the offered hand and their tattoos matched up. Eddie felt braver with every step knowing that Steve would always be there to hold his hand through the darkness.
Chrissy looked back at them and grinned at their clasped hands. She sped up her walk just a little, forcing Murray and Robin to speed up to match her pace, leaving the two love birds the privacy they so richly deserved.
Once they were out in the sunlight and among the city once again, Eddie refused to let go of Steveâs hand.
Steve looked at their joined hands and then back at Eddie. Eddie gave him his brightest smile and Steve was smitten. Even more so than before. He just loved him so much.
They toured the Paris Opera house and Eddie pulled out a cape and mask.
âSing for me my angel of music!â he said to Chrissy.
She burst out laughing. âMy name may be Christine, but I really donât think theyâd want me shattering the glass.â
Eddie turned to Robin who waved her arms in front of her. âNo way! I sing like a frog in heat!â
âNo.â Was all Murray said.
Steve raised an eyebrow and Eddie grinned.
âSing!â Eddie crowed.
Steve took a deep breath and belted out that high note, held it perfectly and then took a bow.
Murray blinked and slow smile spread over his features. âYouâre in one of those bands with the masks arenât you? Like Sleep Token or The Fallen, huh? Thatâs Eddie here said recognized and not famous. Good on you.â
They all shared looks of concern.
âIâm not going to tell anyone,â Murray huffed, holding up his hands in surrender. âAnd Iâm certainly not even going to try and guess which band it is.â He pulled out his phone and messed around on it for a while.
During which they all watched with ever increasing dread. The silence seemed to stretch out on and on.
Then Chrissyâs phone pinged. Everyone jumped as she scrambled for her phone. She opened it up and blinked a moment.
âYou signed a blanket statement NDA?â she asked handing her phone to Robin. âWhy?â
Murray licked his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. âDid it suck when Corroded Coffin pulled out of my management causing a shit ton of other people pulling out, too? Sure. But thatâs the nature of the business. One that I had been in for over twenty years. I took it as a sign from the universe to retire and enjoy my life. Unlike the CC boys pulling out on Nancy Wheeler because she about to do some pretty shady shit. And I say that having been part of a business that used to be built on shady ass shit.â
Chrissy coughed and looked away to hide her smile.
âIâm guessing Steveâs band is why Corroded Coffin went nuclear on her in the first place?â
Steve looked over at Eddie and then nodded. âShe was an ex-girlfriend and she tried to hold that over my head to get me to work with her.â
Murray let out a long and low whistle. âShady doesnât even begin to cover that shit. The void would be fucking closer. Shit.â
Robin handed back Chrissy her phone. âHow did you get an NDA that fast anyway?â
âOh that?â Murray asked with a huff of laughter. âI have a bunch of basic contracts and shit in my Google docs. Things can move fast in this business and itâs a good idea to keep a few on hand. Back in the old days we kept them in our briefcases that we carted around. This is sooo much easier.â
âSmart.â
Murray grinned back at her. He turned to Steve. âCome on, show us what that classical vocal training can really do.â
Steve blushed and began warming up his vocals as Robin grinned.
âYou may think youâve heard Steve sing,â she crowed, âbut youâve ainât seen nothing yet.â
Then Steve really opened up and began to sing. There was a deepness to his voice that didnât have anything to do with his range. He was clearly a tenor, but the rich quality to his voice just elevated it somehow.
âRigoletto,â Murray said nodding appreciatively. âWell done.â He clapped slowly, but it wasnât mocking. âYour parents must have been livid when you didnât go into opera.â
Steve snorted. âAbout as angry as when they found out I was bisexual. They know what I am but if I go public with it...â
âTheyâll make your life a nightmare?â he asked. Steve nodded. âI feel for you, kid.â
He looked around and grimaced. âI thick itâs time we make like Opera Ghost and scram. That performance of Steveâs here, is getting more attention than I thought it would.â
They looked around and sure enough there were people pointing at Steve.
âIâm not sure what the Venn diagram of opera and metal fans,â Chrissy said, âbut Iâm betting itâs not two separate circles.â
âYeaahhh,â Eddie said with a wince.
He grabbed Steveâs hand and they ran for the doors. Murray and the girls hot on their heels.
~
Part 8 Part 9
Tag List: CLOSED
1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog
2- @gregre369 â@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence
3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006
4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten
5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt
6- @disrespectedgoatman @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @garden-of-gay
7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars
8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec
9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology
10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina
#my writing#stranger things#steddie#ladykailtiha writes#rockstar au#rockstar steve harrington#rockstar eddie munson
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What do you think of this idea? A concept for the Sonics (classic and modern) romantically sharing a reader who's already modern Sonic's lover. It happens in Sonic Origins, it even starts like the game, with the Time Eater invading modern Sonic's birthday party and trapping everyone in the void, including the reader. The events of the game happens normally, but now the reader has two Sonics being overly protective of them.
(I like the idea of ââthe reader not existing in Classic's timeline/universe, which motivates him to stay with his older version and his new lover. As they are the same people, i don't think they would fight for the reader, right?)
I'm assuming you meant Sonic Generations? Because that's the plot of Generations, not Origins (I've never seen Origins). I'll give my thoughts on this!
I refer to the Sonics as Modern and Classic in this.
Yandere! Modern/Classic Sonic Sharing a Darling
Pairing: Romantic - Sharing
Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Manipulation, You're in an actual relationship with Modern but Classic is experiencing puppy love, Dubious relationship.
To start things off, you're already in a relationship with Modern.
It's consensual, there's no yandere behavior developing quite yet.
You join the others to celebrate Modern's birthday.
Everything goes fine at first!
You greet Modern, he greets you with a spinning hug.
Modern cares a ton for you, his more yandere behavior has been dormant for awhile.
That is until the Time Eater makes its appearance and takes you all away.
You're then left in a void... unable to move... with no sense of time.
By the time you wake up you're greeted by two Sonics and two Tails.
It's shocking for you but you trust them.
What you don't know is this isn't the only change.
Modern's behavior is notably more clingy and Classic... Classic appears to feel a similar way despite not having a version of you in his universe.
I feel you're right when you say they wouldn't really fight.
I feel even if they did they quickly get over it.
They both have the same goal of protecting you and caring for you, so why should they fight?
Plus... it's silly to fight with yourself, right?
Modern doesn't mind the crush Classic has on you.
It's a minor crush and I feel like it's more puppy love than anything in my mind.
Your relationship is still fully with Modern, but Classic does express some form of crush towards you.
I just feel this is more like the characters and is a tweak I made to the original ask.
You may not notice Classic's crush on you st first.
You just think he's naturally protective.
He may also just be clingy because his Modern self is, y'know?
You're mostly kept in the white hub area while the two Sonics try to fix time and space.
At the end of every fight they usually come back to meet you.
You're usually spending most of your time with the other saved friends.
Of course you great Modern with a hug and maybe a kiss like usual.
Although you notice Classic gets a bit upset so you end up greeting him with a hug too.
Group hugs end up happening with the two.
They both love you.
Which is what ends up making them both very protective.
Classic no doubt dreads the idea of going back to his universe.
He likes the idea of home with all his friends...
But there's no you.
There is no classic form of you!
As a result, he gets clingier.
The Sonics take turns spending time with you.
One Sonic takes time speeding through a level or boss, while the other one gets to spend time with you.
At first you think it's very cute.
Just two protective hedgehogs... you can blame them for being nervous in this situation.
They tell you to stay where you are for your safety, well... Modern does, Classic can't talk.
You think it's fine.
Things don't get bad until near the end.
Classic doesn't want to go home, Modern's suggesting he hangs out with the both of you for a little longer.
Classic has formed a relationship with you in his head, he isn't technically your boyfriend like Modern.
But Modern is no doubt enabling it to happen, making it seem like you're all together.
You start to catch on based on how Modern and Classic act.
You love Modern but really do think Classic should go home.
But Modern suggests he stays just a bit longer!
Surely you won't mind the extra protection?
Soon... you aren't sure if Classic is ever going home.
With how much the two hedgehogs cling to you, you're beginning to have doubts.
Even when you start falling out with Modern, you have a feeling you can't escape them both.
They're both obsessed...
You probably couldn't get rid of either of them if you tried... you're stuck with them... until the end of time and space.
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Let's talk costuming: Avaunt!
So I think we can all agree that Aziraphale looks his most traditionally angelic in the Job minisode, no? In fact, all of the angels' costuming increases in drama for this particular episode. This is, obviously, a very deliberate choice on the part of wardrobe, so let's discuss.
On a technical level, the biggest thing that stands out to me about this fabulous robe is the draping. Oh, the draping. It feels like a classic angel 'fit because on a very fundamental level, it is. A lot of what we think of as angelic draws on Renaissance artists' depictions, with flowing robes, fluffy wings, and glimmering halos. In art from this era, there is a strong attention to detail on the natural flow of fabrics that makes Renaissance sculpture so breathtaking, such as here: (The Ecstasy of St. Teresa, Bernini, 17th century CE)
It's this ability to make solid marble look like fine silk rippling with movement that leaves such a strong impression in my mind when I look at these kinds of works.
In painting, too, there is a similar effect. Something about the material culture of the Renaissance really lent itself to this style, perhaps fueled by the rise in new textile luxuries that occurred in vaguely the same period. This is seen especially strongly for angels, such as in the sculpture above, and in this painting: (The Annunciation to the Virgin, Botticelli, 15th century CE)
There's a stark contrast between the dress of the two figures. The virgin Mary is no less ornamentally or expensively dressed, but her style is rather minimalistic next to the angel's voluminous robing. It paints a very clear impression of angelic dress, and the designers for Good Omens would have been aware, in at least a small way, of the art history precedence for such a thing.
The poof of the sleeves, the tucks down the front, the little belt with the train tucked in, the gathers, the weight of the fabric, everything about this robe is constructed to carefully recreate the rather fantastical imagery of renaissance art. It's not necessarily an easy texture to nail down, given that the artists themselves had no concerns of gravity, comfort, or the way it would look in actual 3d motion, while our brave costumers were dealing with all three as well as a budget, time constraints, and the constant consideration that white fabric just gets dirty so easy.
Here's some of the other angels as well, so you can see how theirs reflect those same dramatic themes.
And then, of course, when costuming a show you have a second question: What does this mean for our character? Or rather, we know how, but WHY did they make him look so traditionally angelic?
Well, thematically, the Job minisode centers around Aziraphale's struggle with being a good angel and Crowley's struggle with being a good demon. Aziraphale is learning how to be an angel that follows along with heaven as far as we can, and he's so terribly torn up about it. He spends a lot of his time fretting about doing what's expected demanded of him, even if perhaps he doesn't believe it to be the right choice. Natural, then, that he should look the part of the perfect angel whilst sorting out these ethereal woes.
Crowley even draws attention to it himself, giggling a bit at the suggestion that Aziraphale, with his fluffy hair and flowing angelic garb, could possibly become a demon. And it is a rather silly mental image; the garment itself would be comically silly in really ANY other context at all. In the same manner, his performance of angelic archetype borders on excessive:
He's trying so desperately hard here to be the angel he wants to and is supposed to be. He's dressed the part, he's using his big scary angel voice, but deep down he's clinging to an identity that doesn't quite fit.
(You'll notice in this shot the distinct difference between his and Crowley's dress on the level of silhouette as well as color. We see this a lot from the two of them, but with the points I made above it felt worth pointing out in this particular scene)
Here at the end, as he's coming to terms with the cracks in his heaven-given identity, his robe is largely in shadow, blurring out its startling whiteness. We do not see him dressed this way again. (He continues to wear white, obviously, but from here on out his style of dress mimics the human trends of the time rather than that classical angelic imagery)
#good omens analysis#art history#sometimes I am an academic weapon but only when it doesn't count#aziraphale good omens#job minisode#costume design#good omens#good omens costumes#aziraphale#michael sheen#historical clothing#good omens 2#also I love the little human touch of that little bend in his fucking sleeve cuff when he says avaunt#like that's a fully real piece of clothing that he's wearing not something animated and sometimes you just have to sit and appreciate it#it just makes me laugh a little#I'm sure someone somewhere agonized over it and wishes they'd fixed it but it just feels so human to me
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So I'm a sick fuck. One of my favorite things is when an obsession is getting ravaged and they can sense that their "partner" is going to cum. She panics and desperately screams and begs them to cum outside, that she doesn't want to get pregnant, that she doesn't want a baby. Subsequently she is in a state of shock when they do as she feels just how thorough a claim that was.
Which of your ocs would find sick pleasure in doing this to their obsession and seeing her in this state of terror?
[I could probably put more here... If this was a single character scenario, I would have gone more in depth.]
TW: Noncon; Non-consensual impregnation.
Morell simply doesn't give you a choice. Sooner or later you're going to try for that kid, and you ought to get it through your skull that it is happening. He can't deny the thrill of the fear in your eyes, that doe look, just like when you first saw him, recognizing the predator he is. Morell can already feel the headache of having to undo this all, but he won't deny he wouldn't do this a hundred times. Gladly.
There's nothing Kalymir loves more than conquest. He's conquered Wrath, he's conquered you, now he's taking control of your womb. And you're trying to fight him for it, you poor little thing. It makes him so wild Kalymir nearly shatters your pelvis with his thrusts, laughing and outright moaning at your weak nails clawing down his front and face. It's almost like you want to make him cum faster, hopefully hard enough that it hits your brain.
Zizz is lazy. His pullout game is fucking weak. And, on top of that, he doesn't like to be denied creature comforts such as coming in you. It could be your mouth, your ass, who cares- He knows he's going to finish in that hole and you can't possibly do anything to dislodge him. The King tries to shush you the whole time and covers your mouth so you make less noise, shivering in delight when you freeze at the sensation of his ropes painting you.
Pinter thinks he knows better than you. They're always the same- "I'm not ready to move in with you", "This is moving too fast", "I can't have a kid yet", yes you can. And you will, stop stressing over nothing. Just enjoy yourself and don't pretend you don't like the feeling of his cum deep inside you. You're whining now but you'll get over it, you even squeezed so tight around him!
Miara thinks it's silly of you to get worked up over pregnancy. If ever there was a time for you to possibly conceive, it would be now- Protected by a goddess of fertility and conception, loved infinitely! You are scared by your mind's twisted perception of reality, by what centuries away from siadar did to your species. Although she cradles you lovingly when the shock of her seed entering you sets in, she throbs with pride that you are now destined to likely conceive a brand new generation of monsters.
Sybastian's role in the escape floor has taught him one thing. He really likes the hunt. He's always loved trickery, but that sweet span of time where he has to wrestle to get his way is phenomenal- And even if you two play at that often, you've already had to squirm and struggle to get his cock out before he could come inside more than once. One day Syb's just going to get too into it to let you stop him, and he's going to pant like a shameless mongrel while you quiver and freeze under him. He thinks he should have done this sooner, honestly.
Sever doesn't get why you'd want him to pull out, honestly. To him, that kind of reads as you rejecting him as a mate, and no yandere reacts well to that. Some other, more primal side of him affirms that it is indeed normal for you to thrash around some, so he doesn't really perceive anything to be wrong until you start giving him shit afterwards. He's very quick to secure you with several tendrils and to take his time milking his own orgasm inside you, enjoying what he assumes is your eventual submission.
*Hellion is a dick. Hellion likes to come inside you. You're physically too weak to stop him anyway. It all adds up in a horrid little concoction that is bound to go wrong for you. He does visibly thrill in your panic the more you notice he's getting closer to orgasm, sometimes playfully slipping almost all the way out only to slam even deeper on the next few pistons. That look of horror on your face is exquisite.
*Nebul decides where he comes, not you. This is something you ought to get through that thick skull already, and he'll help you understand it, by consistently coming inside your cunt for as many times as he wants. Screaming will earn you punishments, and physically attempting to fight him will have you regretting even thinking of such in the first place. Nebul takes advantage of those key moments where you're in shock to slip whatever messages of acceptance he wants in your mind, forcing you to focus on him with gentle contact.
*Vesper doesn't even give you a real chance to protest. It's so silly, the way you think. Don't lie to yourself, once you feel him come in you, you won't want anything else. It's laughable to even think you'd protest -You won't- But fret not, before it starts, Vesper promises he'll come everywhere, not just in you. You'll soon start asking him to fill you more, to the brim, and he's all too happy to oblige really.
Dishonorable mentions: Santi; Ludwig; Vinnel.
[* These characters have different methods of reproduction and/or certain traits that don't permit conception in specific settings, so their assault may not result in pregnancy.]
#Morell oc#Kalymir oc#Mother Miara#Vesper oc#Sybastian oc#Nebul oc#Hellion oc#Pinter oc#Sever oc#Zizz oc
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i just remembered that someone in a reblog of 1 of my posts was curious on my take on razor because of my safety tunnels sruvivor post. the one that is actual art of the STS. so uhhh sofry tumblr i'm not sparing the 10 paragraph post because this singular person was curious. you know who you are
apologies, dear razor fans, she is simply insufferable and i am a hater. proceed with caution there is so much text
firstly, her existence makes no sense, how in the WORLD is she a hybrid bestial if the "child logic" chart from pushpin and fossil exists. how is anyone in her pack a hybrid bestial. like are they going to explain that because if one has a child via either spawning stone OR respawn terminal they. aren't hybrids. or usually even the same animal as their parents?? how does razor's pack even exist??? explanation pls?? please don't tell me that she's a wolf-bear hybrid for plot convenience i beg.
other than that, razor also feels a little unreasonably aggressive for someone who is 23. even her packmates don't seem like the type of people to immediately threaten a random person's life because her silly little best friend is fucking dead and they also have nothing to do with it. Actual Grown Woman i tell you, even if she was raised in the forest. her packmates. are better.
speaking on aggressiveness, she is also violent. unreasonably. she hunts survivors; she is omnivorous. gum points this out. razor mutilates a citizen because they wouldn't give directions to a respawn terminal. she has killed fuzzball's classmate because they were "intimidating" her instead of like, idk, being reasonable and indirectly helping fuzzball's school situation. fuzzball didn't even want her to be killed but razor passes it off as like "oooh but it sounded like sheee wanted to kill youuuu" girl you KILLED HER and LIED to YOUR mother so YOU wouldn't get in TROUBLE AND YOU GOT ANOTHER PERSON KILLED AND EATEN IN THAT PROCESS. and fuzzball just goes "maybe you did a good thing" THEY COULDN'T EVEN GET THE HUSK BACK OH MY GYFOSFSUDGGG.
i need an entire paraggraph dedicated to razor and the safety tunnel survivors im so sory
the safety tunnel survivors' situation is dire, their literal only choice to stay completely safe is camping around in the tunnels and eating people. other food sources? probably all consumed by now and they would risk their lives dearly (they are DELICATE OBJECTS mind you, just adds on to the risk even just with the parasites) by going outside. ("it's our only food source" -lava lamp) "those people can't defend themselves" NEITHER CAN THE FUCKING DELICATE OBJECTS. THEY HAVE TO BE COWARDLY OR THEY WILL DIE. they probably know that it's unethical, but they would also have 0 clue on if this apocalyptic event will ever end so what's even the point of worrying about those people's families from their perspectives? it's hopeless for them. sure, wanda COULD go outside to get food. she is a trained assassin. BUT WANDA IS BLIND. THE RISK IS STILL FAR TOO HIGH IN THIS SITUATION. echolocation probably isn't even good enough to avoid parasites (they're so tiny dude)!!!!!! and especially the lage-stage events where the parasites are doing backflips through ways of infecting people. echolocation makes noise and attracts assimilated objects. also, RAZOR IS UNNECESSARILY POWERFUL WHEN KILLING THE SURVIVORS. razor can break A FUCKING FISHTANK, WHICH HAS REINFORCED GLASS, JUST BY ROARING AT HIM. and then she just fucking one-shots the other guys and figuratively dies. why? because they mentioned chowing down on her already-dead best friend. ooo this was TOTALLY just to show off delirium symptoms oghmyfshgjhj. girl this is what i mean by the delicate objects can't even defend themselves.
dragonscale can breathe fire because she is a demon. why can't sticker sheet paralyse and kill razor using his incredibly toxic venom, he's a blue ring octopus, right? LAVA LAMP IS ALSO A DEMON, WHY CAN'T SHE ALSO BREATHE FIRE? oh sorry forgot that the main characters aren't allowed to die sorry plot armour hahaah i hate everything
warhammer, a lawless king, is her father and it genuinely kind of makes her sound more like a mary sue oc because of that. i find it a litle funny.
most of my hate stems from the safety tunnel survivors stuff. it drove me a biiiiit insane. i hope the person who reblogged my post is happy with this.
#objectified comic#razor objectified#razor objectified negativity#fishtank objectified#lava lamp objectified#objectified comic rant#i can't tell if im just a hater or i have actual criticism#please help. chews on paper. someone decide for me#i'm writing this at 11:30pm oh god
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If you are still taking request can you write a lityerses x fem Aphroditekid!reader? Maybe where he is questioning why they are in love with him and question if itâs because sheâs the daughter of the goddess of love and thatâs the only reason she loves him (if that make sense) but she temporarily loses her powers due to a quest (they come back st the end) and it proves she really does love him! Super fluffy with angst at the beginning. Like that cute domestic stuff where they are baking and stuff since her powers are gone and she has nothing to do. Idk if Iâm doing this right because Iâve never done This before. If I did this right thank you in advanceâ¤ď¸â¤ď¸â¤ď¸â¤ď¸
Also I hope this entire thing makes sense to you<3
But You Tolerate It
I wrote half of this and it DELETED ITSELF.
so we had to start over
warnings: angst mwahaha, but they make up, insecurities, silly silly, hints of toxicity?
they donât bake but they do play with plants!!!
You stared at your hands, blankly. The buzzing of your cheap-ass fan only amplifies the heavy beating of your aching head.
The quest wasnât supposed to go wrong, just a simple task for your mother. How did you know that youâd run into your brothers Phobos and Deimos? How did you know that they wouldnât recognize you?
The burn of a new scar along your face does little to settle you, the inability to feel your newly-lose powers only makes it worse.
They stole them, your powers, and trapped them in a jar along with their other collections- collections of broken hearts and stolen dreams.
The fight with Lityerses was what really messed you up though.
âDo you even care?â He yelled, a hidden sadness behind his blazing fury. âOf course I do,â you cried back- nearly in hysterics. âReally,â he days with a scoff. Lityerses turns, not facing you as he grabs his sword off the bed. âWell it doesnât seem like it.â The door shut, even as you begged him to just come back- that you two could fix this. The mangled remains of your relationship echoed throughout the room as you sat on the bed.
Here you were, in the same position as you were an hour ago.
You hadnât told him about your powers being lost, he didnât give you the chance. Sucking in your tears, you stand and walk to the mirror, wiping off the remaining on your face.
You wipe off your makeup, wash your face, do skincare, and then re-apply makeup. You look better now- the cried mascara streaks no longer on your face, you smile half-heartedly at your reflection. Makeup always felt better when you had your powers.
Then, you go on the hunt for Lityerses. After what feels like forever, saying hi to everyone you see and asking around if anyone else has seen him, you find him in the gardens. He sits on one of the wooden benches and stares at a patch of wilting flowers. Your heart aches to reach out and sooth the worried expression from him face- to kiss it better and tell him he was yours.
But, for now, you just sat down next to him and avoided eye contact.
After a few minutes, he said your name. âY/n,â his voice was husky and it sent chills down your spine. You offer him a soft, slightly sad smile. âLit,â you say back to him.
You wanted to yell at him, to let him taste the poison that lay beneath your tongue- courtesy of your mother. But when he pulled you closer, and you set your head on his shoulder, the words died on your tongue.
It would always be like this- you would forgive as soon as he tried to get you back. You truly were the worlds most hopeless romantic, your heart not only beating for him but for the concept of love as well.
You clung onto him like he was oxygen.
And maybe he was. Maybe Lityerses was the breath in your lungs, maybe thatâs why it burned when he was gone. Why youâre always safe with him but get hurt once he leaves.
He presses a kiss against your hair, muttering something that resembled an apology. You bit your lip but looked up at him.
âI do care,â you tell him softly. âI know,â he responds.
He was your night in shining armor, your Lit.
You sighed into him, sinking deeper and deeper into his warmth. He wasâ isâ all you need.
His fingers tangled in your hair and you softly chuckled at the soft kisses he pressed to your face. You muttered his name and he only hummed in response.
âI love you,â your words are so soft the wind couldâve blown them away. Never to be heard by Lityerses. But, he heard you. He always does.
âI love you.â He repeats back after a moment, more sure than you were. More hard. He knew what he wants and who he is- and what he wants is you.
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