#this was fun but also I cringe so much reading my own writing

[fromdove]

heh.... heard u js finished the naturals series bb 😋😋 so......... thoughts ....

little yap sesh <3

okay okay. so i would’ve finished the series ages ago but i fell into a teensy slump during the first book because... listen. the Naturals had me in a chokehold and i got so jealous for no reason?? like michael i want you biblically. carnally. spiritually. emotionally. why are you flirting with her and not me!!!

anyway after i stopped being dramatic and stopped pacing around the house muttering “he’s mine actually,” i came back and devoured the rest of the series and it was... beautiful. just. i fell so in love with all the characters and the world and the mess. the writing was so good it made me feel deranged, and yes, the plot points confused me sometimes but i just smiled and nodded like "yes queen, i understand perfectly" (i did not).

also now i can finallyyy write fanfics about the series!! do ppl even read Naturals fic on on tumblr dot com???? is it just me & u out here in the fandom dust, whispering into the void?? who knows.

Number One: My Baby Momma, Lia.

first of all: i would let her ruin me and then write a poem about it. like YES queen manipulate me!! gaslight me with affection!! steal my wallet while we cuddle!!! i love her so much it actually makes me malfunction. HOWEVER… sometimes she does things and i’m like girl why are you being like That. but also… be like that to me specifically... and also also i remember she’s just emotionally constipated and mysterious and has cheekbones that could slice my soul in half and i forgive her. i wanna make her soup and brush her hair and be the person she finally lets her guard down for. she deserves love. she deserves me baking her little cupcakes and leaving her notes in her jacket pockets. ill clean for her. read to her until she falls asleep. i’ll kiss her forehead and lips and never ask too much questions. i will love her with devotion only found in tragic poetry.

Sloane my beloved: my sweet analytics angel. my crunchy numbers cupcake. she owns my heart. she is the only exception to my “no one is allowed to be smarter than me” rule. MY BABY. my babiest baby. she can do no wrong. i want to listen to her ramble about the statistics of shark attacks while we fall asleep in a blanket fort. i want to build her a cozy reading nook and label it with a pie chart of our love. i want to build her ikea furniture and listen to her calculate probability while i hand her screws.

but ok. when she says “according to my calculations” i do flinch a little. it’s giving “quirky disney side character” sometimes. but that’s not her fault!! i blame the mouse. i blame sitcoms. i love her deeply, math cringe and all. also her dad sucks and aaron deserved better. my poor girl.

Michael Townsend, my actual husband: he’s insufferable. he's flirtatious. he's confusing. he’s mine. i want to be the one he calls when the world gets loud. i want to drag him out of his self-loathing and into my arms. i want to kiss his stupid sarcastic mouth and then make fun of him for the way he eats pasta. i will scream at him and then kiss him immediately after. he’s ridiculous. he’s perfect. i love him so much. i want to take him on quiet lil dates and hold his hand and tell him dumb jokes. also he’s hilarious. agent starmans deserves a medal just for dealing with his antics. the mooning dare?? i blacked out. i had to close my laptop for a second. also. thatcher townsend? prison. he can choke. actually.

Cassie (miss main character): can i be honest? i was so jealous of her in the beginning. like i wanna be in ur place aaah. but then i kept reading and fell in love with her. she became my girl. like actually my girl. my soldier. my heartbreak. the things she’s been through? the layers?? THE TRAUMA???? my heart is a little bandaged-up plushie when it comes to her. if she and her mum had just waited five more seconds i might have known peace. she’s been through so much. she’s strong and soft and sad and brave and i just want to wrap her in a weighted blanket and tell her everything’s gonna be okay. her baby sister? pain. her mom? i cried. i think her mother had D.I.D.? maybe. either way, ouch. i have such a huge soft spot for her. let me make you some cupcakes. cookies. brownies. let me fucking cuddle the shit outta u baby come hereee

Dean: ugh. my soft boy. dean is so tired and so lovely. so emotionally mature in a way. his blond hair and his big brown eyes? i know they’re warm. don’t tell me he has his father’s eyes because his are way gentler. canon. i wanna be there when he’s hurting. i wanna clean up his knuckles and kiss him on the forehead and tell him he’s safe now. i will give him 400 children. he deserves everything gentle. everything warm. i would knit this man a sweater. i would bake him cinnamon rolls. i would write his name in the fogged-up bathroom mirror just because i miss him while i’m showering. like. i’m not normal about him. sometimes he says something all low and gravelly and i’m like. okay. ruin me then??? he’s quiet (love a man who shuts the fuck up sometimes lmao) but when he does speak it matters. i bet he still gets all shy when you kiss his cheek eheheheheh help me wtf

also, daniel redding? rot. in that fucking cell you piece of actual shit.

Celine Delacroix (celine dion): so at first i was like “ma’am why did you fake your disappearance???” but then she started showing up all sparkly and i was like yk what?? diva behavior. slay. theatrical. ART. iconic. show stopping. peak. god forbid women have hobbies like?? i support women’s wrongs. i’ve decided to respect it. also if she makes sloane happy, she’s perfect in my book. i love her so much like get me pregnant pls.

Agent Briggs: why do i have a crush on him. he’s meant to be a dad figure and yet my brain said “daddy??” i am deeply mentally ill. and deeply in love. why do i have a crush on him. he’s a father figure. and yet. the daddy issues jumped OUT. i don’t wanna talk about it.

Agent Sterling: same situation. she’s meant to be mom-coded. nurturing. guiding. and yet. i find myself staring. and spiraling. and then immediately feeling guilty. i love her. but also… mommi? she’s supposed to be maternal. and yet. and yet. something in me short circuits. like why do i want her to scold me softly and then give me tea. i need help. i feel disgusting

Judd: sir. asking if cassie’s grandma is single at her mom’s funeral is wild behavior. it had me sobbing and laughing. like bro. read the room. but also... i adore him. he’s so ride-or-die and protective and warm. very grandpa-coded. i wanna knit him a hat. and a scarf. and an ugly christmas sweater. he's grumpy and loyal and would 100% kill for the kids. 12/10 would trust him to fight a man for me at a grocery store.

what i'm reading rn: not that anybody gaf • the brothers hawthorne • caraval series (then ouabh. reading the stephanie gerber universe) • the raven boys (book 1 rn) • boys of tommen (book 1 rn but almost finished) • shatter me (giving it another chance. was cornball the first time but i have hope) • hollow boys • rereading the cruel prince universe bc jude and cardan and my babies i would fucking die for them. • shadow and bone (gonna dive into the whole grishaverse)

anyway. sorry for the long yap. i just love my little murder mystery babies so much.

pls talk to me about them. always. forever.

[mylovesstuffs]

The Admirer Was Right in Front of You — Kim Mingyu

Mingyu’s been in love with you forever but you’ve never seen him that way, or so he thinks. So he writes you anonymous letters, sends gifts, leaves clues—seven days of hope that you’ll catch on without him spelling it out for you. But every time you get close, you guess everyone but him. 

Genre: Non-idol au, college au, romance (?), comedy, modern au (no specific setting, but contemporary vibe), slice of life and light-hearted mystery 

Pairing: Mingyu × fem!reader

Content: Secret admirer, friends-to-lovers, slow burn (?), miscommunication, amnesia (in terms of realization—reader doesn’t realize Mingyu’s feelings), investigative humor, gift-giving (anonymous), letters (anonymous), silly investigation, mingyu’s subtle hints, light drama (misunderstandings and comedy), emotionally constipated Mingyu, orange juice, lavender, hidden camera, fake love ringtone trauma, laughter and fun with friends (Jeonghan, Soonyoung, Woozi, Seungkwan, Vernon and Dino), dramatic!seungkwan, over-invested! soonyoung, smug!jeonghan, unspoken yearning, heart-thumping hugs,  romantic confession.

Warnings: None for explicit content, just mild comedic frustration and tension related to the investigation. potential light anxiety (reader overanalyzes and stresses about figuring out the admirer), occasional bout of existential romantic confusion.

Word count: 20,620 words

A/N: HIT TEXT BLOCK LIMIT SO EXCUSE ME. this was my rushed valentine’s day fic; written in a fog of sleep deprivation and caffeine, desperately trying to meet the deadline [14th Feb] before tumblr decided to glitch its entire draft-saving system into oblivion. to this day, it still won’t let me fix it [dear tumblr devs: once i get my degree, i’m coming for your job. and then i’m resigning on the spot after fixing my own problem ☺️] if wanted to post this,, life, exhaustion, and tumblr’s war crimes said no because to post it, i would've had to sit down and format it from scratch for HOURS because drafts wouldn't worl. it took me until few weeks into the issue [Feb] to realize i could cheat the system with scheduled posts [which is still a cursed gamble when you're handling 3k+ words]. i reread this recently and cringed so hard i nearly vaporized. this is so metallic and roboticthis… it truly contains all the side effects of first-draft. but at the time, i gave this thing my everything. sleep was sacrificed. blood, sweat, and tears [real] were involved. i was running on loneliness too. this may be posting now, but like I said earlier, it was written a long time ago. the fics that will come after this are recent. so, they���re better and you’ll see the difference. i’m not the same writer anymore, and that’s something i’m low-key proud of bc i see improvements lolllll. massive, massive thanks to K @cheers-to-you-th Calli @hhaechansmoless and Tiya @gyubakeries for resurrecting this from the grave; you three deserve hazard pay for beta-reading this without losing braincells. also to Kae @studioeisa, who was quite literally the only person i spoke to while writing this. thank you for letting me talk  about this fic’s summary

inspired by the golden age of secret admirer tropes and that one friend who’s always been right in front of you, but you were too blind to believe it could be him. much love to GoSe for fueling Seungkwan and Soonyoung’s idiocy. also, Jeonghan’s smirk deserves a credits roll

to the readers: you deserve better than this first draft. but thank you for reading it anyway ఇ ◝‿◜ ఇ

You’re not expecting a package when you step outside your apartment door.

You're not expecting an online order—maybe the overpriced serum you panic-bought at 2 a.m. last week because TikTok convinced you your skincare routine was trash, but instead, there’s a neatly wrapped gift box on your doormat, and right on top of it, an envelope with your name on it.

Your first mistake is thinking this is a normal day. Your second mistake is opening the letter in front of your friends.

-

It was a normal afternoon at the café in your usual spot, where the group had gathered to do absolutely nothing productive as per tradition. You had just settled into your seat, wedging yourself between Mingyu and Soonyoung, when Seungkwan gasped.

"Oh my God, is that a love letter?"

Seungkwan’s voice was loud enough to startle the students at the next table. The café, previously humming with the background noise of clinking cups and conversations, now suddenly goes dead silent, at least, in your world, because now everyone is looking at you.

"It could be anything," you say, though the neatly written name on the envelope suggests otherwise.

"No, no, no," Soonyoung cuts in, already reaching for the letter. "We have to open this together. For the sake of the investigation."

"What investigation?"

"The one where we figure out who is in love with you, obviously."

Before you can argue, Jeonghan, sitting across from you, gestures toward the envelope. "Just open it. If you drop dead from embarrassment, at least we’ll have entertainment."

That’s all the permission Seungkwan needs before he grabs it, clearing his throat before reading aloud. "Dear Y/N," he read aloud in an exaggerated, sappy voice. " It feels a little cliché to start with Dear, but here we are. I don’t know if this is the best way to do this, but I guess I’m doing it anyway. The first time I met you, I thought the world had shifted just a little. You probably don’t remember, but I do. And I think… I always will. I see you. I see the way you get that little crease between your brows when you’re focused. The way you fight back a smile when you think something’s funny but pretend it isn’t. The way you give your things to people without thinking twice – your food, your jacket, your time. I see you, and I hope just this once you see me too.

P.S. You’re really bad at locking your phone screen. I already know your new favorite flower.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

"WHAT?!"

"NO WAY."

"Wait, wait, WAIT—who sent this?!"

Mingyu chokes on his drink. "Huh?"

You yanked the letter back, heart hammering. 

Jeonghan, lounging across from you, smirked. "Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer."

Seungkwan is already on his feet, "You have a secret admirer?! I—this is—what—WHO?!" And adds, "How come I don’t get secret admirers?!"

"Maybe because you announce every five minutes that you’re single and desperate." Jihoon deadpans.

"That is NOT—okay, but that’s beside the point!" Seungkwan huffed before rounding on you. "Who do you think it is?"

That was the question, wasn’t it? Your fingers traced the ink absently, brow furrowing. You wonder: Who, among them, is listening just a little too carefully? You steal a glance at your friends, Jeonghan is still smirking. Vernon and Chan are whispering to each other. Jihoon looks entirely uninterested, already focusing on his phone. Mingyu stays relaxed with that big smile in place. Soonyoung, who already struggles to sit still on a normal day, is practically vibrating in his seat.

"It has to be someone we know," you mutter, narrowing your eyes. "Someone who knows me really well."

Soonyoung gasped. "Wait. What if it’s Jihoon?"

Jihoon doesn’t even look up. "Do I look like the type to write love letters?"

Fair point.

Seungkwan ignores him. "No, no, no, think about it. The handwriting, it’s too neat, too precise. And look at this phrasing—'I see you'? That’s some poetic, brooding nonsense right there."

"That’s definitely not Jihoon," Vernon mutters, taking a spoonful of rice into his mouth.

"Okay, but who else could it be?" Chan muses.

"It has to be someone we know," you murmur, rereading the letter. The words are too personal. This isn’t some random admirer. This is someone who knows your habits, your quirks and stays with you a lot of the time.

"Maybe… Jeonghan?" Chan suggests.

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. "Me? That’s cute, but if I were her admirer, she'd know. I’m not subtle."

Okay. Not him either. Your mind whirls, piecing together possibilities. "So then who?" you ask, exasperated.

Soonyoung slams a fist on the table. "We investigate."

Seungkwan nods, solemn. "Operation: Who’s In Love With Y/N begins now."

Mingyu exhales, but no one notices. No one sees the way his shoulders drop, the barely-there shift in his posture, releasing something he was holding onto too tightly. No one catches the way Jeonghan glances at him from the side, a smirk playing on his lips like this is the most entertainment he’s had all week, and you obviously don't notice him either. Because you—sweet, oblivious, you have already ruled him out. Because of course Mingyu couldn’t be the one. The thought is too absurd, too ridiculous. How could he ever be into you? You don't even have the confidence to suspect him aloud. Mingyu, who walks into every room like he owns it, who grins too easily and makes everyone feel like they belong. Mingyu, who could have anyone if he wanted. And you’re just… you. It makes no sense. It has to be someone else, someone who wouldn't make your heart stutter in your chest just by standing too close. But if you really looked at him, you’d see it. His ears are pink, fingers drum against his knee, the way he looks at you when you’re not looking at him; but you don’t.

You’re too busy strategizing.

One thing that’s as clear as day now is that, you're suspecting your own friend group. While he wanted to stay anonymous with the letters, he had deliberately altered his handwriting hoping to throw you off but ironically in doing so, he somehow ended up mimicking Jihoon’s handwriting accidentally. And now, Jihoon is your prime suspect.

-

You, Soonyoung, Seungkwan, Jeonghan, and Mingyu are lounging in the library, passing time when Seungkwan starts scribbling something on a piece of paper, lips pressed together in deep concentration as he taps the pen twice against the table before declaring, “Soonyoung is out.”

“Hey!”

“And Seungkwan,” you add.

“Excuse me?”

“Be honest,” you deadpan, tilting your head slightly. “You can’t keep a secret for five minutes, let alone one day.”

Seungkwan opens his mouth to argue, but then stops, visibly deflating. Soonyoung, still grumbling about the injustice of it all, leans over to peer at the list Seungkwan has been working on. After a lot of back-and-forth (and Seungkwan rejecting some of Soonyoung’s wilder theories, like what if it’s a ghost?), the three of you narrow down the list of suspects. Jihoon, Vernon, and Chan remain, with Jihoon being the prime suspect because, as Seungkwan pointed out, his handwriting is suspiciously similar to the letter.

Across the table, Jeonghan and Mingyu stay silent throughout the discussion. Jeonghan watches, bemused, while Mingyu leans back in his chair, arms crossed loosely over his chest. Neither of them bother to chime in, letting the three of you spin as you, Soonyoung and Seungkwan plot to set a trap when the time is right. 

Now, Chan and Vernon, for some reason, being one of the suspects… Mingyu absolutely cannot wrap his head around it. Why those two? What about anything in that letter screamed them? Why is it so easy for you to entertain the idea that either of them could be your secret admirer, but not him when he’s right here breathing the same air as you? When the admirer is right in front of you? He can literally just straight up confess, but no, he has to wait. He has to hold himself back. After all, it hasn't even been a day since you received his first letter. He can be patient. He’s more calculated than people give him credit for. Sure, he might not seem like the type to plan things out, but when it comes to you, he’s meticulous. His friends know it, even you know it, but you’re too caught up in the role of being his friend to acknowledge that he’s more than just a guy who trips over thin air, that his intelligence is just as attractive as everything else about him.

Mingyu’s original plan was simple—he wanted you to figure it out. He thought that by leaving letters and gifts, you’d naturally start paying closer attention to the people around you. He assumed it would be obvious, that you’d pick up on the little details: how he knows things about you that only someone truly paying attention would, how each gift is something he’s seen you admire before. He expected you to connect the dots, to turn around, to look at him, and to realize. But instead, you’re sitting there, hunched over a notebook with Seungkwan and Soonyoung, listing off suspects like this is some kind of whodunnit mystery game.

Two

February 8th.

Walking up to your locker with Vernon, you sip the orange juice that Mingyu handed you just a few minutes ago. As you reach your locker, you pass the juice to Vernon and dig into your jacket pocket, searching for your keys. Your fingers brush against something unexpected, a small, rectangular object. You pull it out and take a closer look. It’s a bookmark, delicately pressed with a lavender flower—your favorite. Attached to it is a tiny note:

“It reminded me of you.”

Your eyebrows lift in surprise. Turning to Vernon, you hold up the bookmark, but before you can say anything, you catch him sipping from your juice.

“Yah! That’s mine!” you exclaim, narrowing your eyes.

Vernon simply shrugs. “Right…” he says, unfazed, taking another sip.

Rolling your eyes, you shove the bookmark in his direction. “Are you sure you didn’t slip this into my pocket when I wasn’t looking?”

Vernon scoffs, shaking his head. “I swear, Y/N, it's not me. I mean, I like you, but not enough to be your secret admirer.”

You huff but decide to let it go. Shaking your head, you turn back to your locker and start gathering your things, your books, a notebook, and a pen before shutting the door with a soft click.

Slipping your bag over your shoulder, you glance at Vernon, who still is sipping your juice. Letting out a sigh, you wave him off. “See you later, thief.”

“Enjoy finding your secret admirer.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn on your heel and make your way toward the park near the college library. The crisp breeze brushes against your face as you walk, the bookmark still tucked safely in your grasp. As you reach the park, you spot Seungkwan and Soonyoung sitting on the swings, chatting animatedly. A smile tugs at your lips as you pick up your pace, ready to execute your usual routine, which is pushing Seungkwan off his swing and claiming it for yourself.

Just as you lunge forward to shove him away, Seungkwan, having caught sight of you from the corner of his eye, expertly stands up and moves aside at the last second. Caught off guard, your hands swipe through thin air instead of meeting his shoulder and the momentum sends you tumbling forward. Instead of landing smoothly on the swing, your foot catches on the ground, and you face-plant onto the seat before slipping off and landing in the most ungraceful heap.

Soonyoung bursts into laughter, clutching his stomach as he doubles over, his giggles echoing through the park. The scene now resembles a group of drunk boys fumbling around with a soccer ball, except the only thing truly injured is your pride.

Groaning, you lift your head just enough to mutter, “The earth is full of selfish people.”

Seungkwan scoffs, arms crossed. “As if.”

Soonyoung is still wheezing. Like, fully doubled over, hands on his knees as Seungkwan rolls his eyes before sighing. Eventually after much suffering, he and Soonyoung each grab an arm and help you back to your feet. Dusting yourself off, you all make your way toward the bench in front of the swings, settling down.

Seungkwan disappears for a bit with a, “I’ll go get us something to drink,” and comes back with three drinks and, bless him, some ice wrapped in a napkin for your mishap from earlier. “Here,” he says, plopping down next to you, “for your bruised dignity.”

You roll your eyes but accept the ice anyway, pressing it against your arm where you had landed a little too hard. It’s a little embarrassing how much it helps. “Anyway,” you say, setting down your drink and pulling something out of your pocket. “I got another gift from the admirer today. Vernon was with me when I found it in my jacket’s pocket.” You hold up the bookmark along with the note.

Seungkwan squints at it. “You sure it’s not Vernon?”

“He denies it,” you say, taking a sip of your drink. “But he’s still sus.”

At that, the two of them launch into a theorizing session, their ideas getting more ridiculous by the second. You’re pretty sure they're just saying words now. Seungkwan adds fuel to the fire, and before you know it, they’ve spun a whole conspiracy web involving secret codes. It’s a little concerning how quickly they came up with all this. “You guys are so stupid.”

“But seriously,” Seungkwan says, “how many gifts or letters have you gotten so far?”

“Yesterday, I got a letter which you both saw, and a small plant so in total, one letter and two gifts including today's bookmark.”

Last night, when you got back to your dorm, there was a box sitting neatly in front of your door. No note on the outside, no sign of who left it. You glanced up and down the hallway but nope, no secret admirer lurked in the shadows, just the usual dorm silence. So you brought the box inside, set it on your desk, and opened it. Inside was a small, neatly potted plant with a tiny note tucked beside it. The note read:

“Take care of it well.”

That’s it. No name, no signature, just that.

Soonyoung immediately decides it’s finally the time for drastic measures. “It’s time to set a trap.”

Seungkwan, already tired, sighs. “No, it's not.”

“Yes, it is,” Soonyoung insists. “We need cameras, motion sensors, maybe even a decoy package—”

Seungkwan holds up a hand. “Okay, first of all, you’re not rich enough to have motion sensors.”

“Fine, but we can record the next delivery,” Soonyoung counters. “We set up a camera, catch them in the act.”

Seungkwan hums, considering. “Actually… that could work.”

And so the plan is set. The three of you head to Soonyoung’s place, which is always a good idea. Not just because he always somehow manages to convince his sister to lend him something after only minimal begging (or a taekwondo match), but because his mom recently visited, which means homemade food. And if there’s one universal truth, it’s that Soonyoung’s mom’s cooking has the power to make you forget all your problems. So while Soonyoung is off on his mission to beg or fight, you and Seungkwan shamelessly take advantage of the situation by helping yourselves to an absolutely unnecessary amount of food. Every bite is warm and ridiculously comforting, enough to make you forget you’re literally in the middle of an undercover investigation.

By the time Soonyoung returns, looking victorious with the tiny camera in hand, you’re full, satisfied and only mildly guilty about eating half his mom’s cooking. He doesn’t seem to notice, though, too focused on phase two of Operation: Who’s In Love With Y/N. Soon, you all make your way back to your dorm, and upon arrival, you scout for the perfect spot to set up the device, ultimately deciding on a corner of the corridor wall just out of plain sight but with a clear view of your door. Now comes the tricky part: actually installing the camera.

With no ladder, no proper tools, and absolutely no sense of self-preservation, you’re left to your own devices, meaning an unsteady, completely improvised method of reaching the higher spot. This is how you end up watching one of the most questionable stunts in history unfold.

Seungkwan, grumbling under his breath about always being dragged into Soonyoung’s ridiculous ideas, crouches on a chair to add some height. “I swear, I don’t get paid enough for this.”

“You don’t get paid at all,” you remind him helpfully.

“Exactly! That’s the problem!”

Then, after a brief, heated argument over whether this was a terrible idea (which Seungkwan insists it was), Soonyoung climbs onto Seungkwan’s back, steadying himself by pressing a hand against the wall.

Soonyoung stretches up, muttering instructions that Seungkwan has absolutely zero patience for. “Hold still,” Soonyoung hisses, wobbling slightly as he raises the camera in one hand and secures it in place.

“I am holding still!” Seungkwan retorts, voice strained from supporting Soonyoung’s weight.

“Then why do I feel like I’m on a boat in the middle of a storm?”

"Maybe because you're as heavy as a sack of rice!"

You, being entirely unhelpful, are doubled over in silent laughter, barely holding back tears.

Despite the constant bickering, Soonyoung manages to attach the camera securely without knocking anything over or causing a disaster which is an impressive feat in itself, given the circumstances. Once he's satisfied with the placement, he carefully climbs down, having only one near-death slip, but he catches himself just in time.

With the camera now rolling, the three of you retreat into your dorm, hoping that today might bring another letter. You settle in, playing a few rounds of UNO to pass the time while keeping an ear out for any sounds outside. However, as the hours tick by, no new delivery arrives. Eventually, as the clock edges past 8 PM, Soonyoung and Seungkwan decide to call it a day.

“Well,” Soonyoung sighs, stretching his arms above his head, “I guess we check the footage tomorrow.”

“Or,” Seungkwan grumbles, rubbing his sore shoulders, “this was all just an excuse for Soonyoung to climb on my back.”

You laugh, walking them to the door. “Thanks for helping out, though. See you guys tomorrow.”

With a final wave, they head off leaving you alone in the dorm. But as you glance at the door one last time before heading to your bedroom, a thought scratches at the back of your mind relentlessly: What if the admirer knows they’re being watched?

You shake your head, trying to push the thought away. Now’s not the time to get paranoid. You have other things to focus on, like your studies. After spending most of your day fooling around, it’s about time you catch up. With a sigh, you open your books and begin to study. Your eyes scan the page, absorbing formulas and theorems—polynomials, integrals, trigonometric identities, limits. It’s pure maths which always seems to make sense when you’re in the right mindset. You scribble through some practice problems, your pen moving quickly across the paper as you tackle linear algebra and calculus, but your focus doesn’t last long. After an hour of studying, the temptation to check your phone becomes unbearable. Just a quick break, you think. So you open Instagram and start mindlessly scrolling through reels, watching endless edits of SEVENTEEN. As the adrenaline from watching them starts to course through your veins, you stand up, feeling a little too hot and giddy from the rush. You need to walk it off so you head to the kitchen and grab a glass of water trying to cool down and calm your racing thoughts. But as you’re pouring the water, your eyes naturally drift toward the front door. And that’s when you see it.

A letter. Slipped under the crack of the door.

Your heart skips a beat, and afraid to move. It’s from the secret admirer. The thought sends a shockwave through you. The thought that the hidden camera set up by you, Seungkwan, and Soonyoung might have actually caught the admirer in the act fills your mind, making your pulse quicken. Your hands are slightly trembling as you set the cold glass down, then without thinking twice, you rush over, bending down to pick it up. The envelope is unmarked, your fingers linger on it for a moment as a weird mix of excitement and nerves bubble in your chest. Slowly, you rip the top open and pull the letter out, unfolding it carefully.

“I saw you laughing today, and it made me stop for a second. You’ve been on my mind for a while now and if I’m being honest, I don’t think a single day passes without me thinking of you at least once. It’s strange, isn’t it? How someone can become a part of your thoughts without even trying. Anyway, I hope you liked the bookmark, thought you might like the lavender on that. It's nothing too fancy, but I hope it makes you smile. And before you ask – no, I won’t tell you who I am yet. You’ll figure it out when the time is right. Or maybe I’ll have to be the one to tell you. See you later.”

You place the letter on your desk and take a deep breath. Part of you just feels this strange comfort from the letter, but another part of you is still buzzing with excitement, wondering who the camera caught.

You decide against checking the camera right now, knowing full well that if you watch the footage without Seungkwan and Soonyoung, they’ll throw a fit and sulk for days. And dealing with their pouts and sighs isn’t worth it. They’d probably demand some sort of grand apology, maybe treating them to a big buffet or approving one of Soonyoung’s ridiculous ideas as compensation. Yeah, no thanks. With that in mind, you push aside your curiosity and decide to wait until tomorrow to watch it together.

Three

February 9th.

“Hey, have you been sleeping well? You always pretend you’re fine, but I know you haven’t been getting enough rest. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you rubbing your eyes or you zoning out when you’re supposed to be paying attention. I know you have a lot on your mind. Maybe even too much. If I could take some of that weight off your shoulders, I would. But for now, all I can do is remind you to please, take care of yourself.

Also, I know you’re probably looking everywhere for answers, but sometimes you’re too focused on finding them that you miss the simple ones. Take a breath. Relax. Not everything is a mystery – sometimes, the answer is right in front of you, waiting for you to notice.

Anyway, I saw you trip earlier. That was funny.”

-

You stand, dumbfounded, gripping both last night’s and today’s letters while Seungkwan struggles to restrain himself from launching a punch at Soonyoung. The excitement of finally discovering your secret admirer had kept you patient, waiting for the two boys so you could watch the footage together. Now, the three of you stand in a loose circle in your dorm room, Seungkwan holding the mini camera in one hand, his grip tight enough to crack plastic.

Soonyoung, your beloved and apparently utterly incompetent partner in crime, forgot to check the camera battery. Which meant that after a measly thirty minutes of recording, the camera died. Which meant it captured absolutely nothing. Which meant your admirer had narrowly avoided being caught, not because of their own cunning but because Soonyoung was an idiot.

A heavy collective sigh fills the room, a habit the three of you have apparently perfected at this point. There’s no point in dwelling on it now. Shoulders slumping in defeat, you all grab your bags and head toward the stairs, making your way to campus.

Seungkwan, however, is not letting it go. He insists that this is a catastrophe, that you’ve all officially lost your credibility as investigators, that Soonyoung should be banned from handling equipment ever again. “This is ridiculous. This is a disaster. This is an embarrassment.” He’s been nagging nonstop, words tumbling out at breakneck speed as he waves his hands. “How did we mess up something this simple? How does anyone forget to check the battery? We are so unserious—”

You groan, throwing a hand in front of his face, forcing him to stop mid-rant. “Seungkwan, shut the fuck up and watch where you’re walking before you trip over your own ego.” Although he’s not wrong, he was just as invested in this as you and Soonyoung were, so he really has no right to act this self-righteous.

He gasps, but to his credit, he actually shuts up, though you can feel the pout radiating off of him.

Soonyoung meanwhile, has already moved on. By the time you reach campus, he’s concocting another plan, mumbling under his breath about an official interrogation session. “Café,” he decides. “We’ll question the suspects in the café.”

It’s not the worst idea. After all, you, Seungkwan, and Soonyoung did come up with a list of potential admirers. And since Jihoon, Vernon, and Chan were still blissfully unaware of their suspect status on the list, it wouldn’t hurt to gather more intel.

Soonyoung claps his hands together, grinning. “Alright! We meet up at the café later with the others, and then—”

“Then we go to class before you actually flunk out of college,” you interrupt, already dragging Seungkwan toward the lecture hall.

“Pfft. Rude.” Soonyoung huffs but waves you off. “I’ll see you later!”

As you and Seungkwan slip into your usual seats, you let your eyes drift over the letters once more, fingers tracing the words. If Soonyoung hadn’t messed up, would you have already known the answer? Probably, but still…

Instead of paying attention to whatever your lecturer is droning on about—something about algorithms, efficiency, and real-world applications—you and Seungkwan huddle together whispering over your list of suspects one last time. Jihoon, Vernon, and Chan. The same three names.

“We need a proper plan,” Seungkwan mutters, tapping his pen against his notebook.

You nod in agreement. “We can’t just corner them randomly without knowing what to ask.”

So, while the rest of the class focuses on things that actually matter like, say, the lecture that’s apparently worth half of your grade, you and Seungkwan draft an interrogation script. Questions, strategies, ways to subtly (or not-so-subtly) catch the culprit slipping. Once it's done, Seungkwan sends the script to Soonyoung and without hesitation, drops a message in the group chat:

Seungkwan: Everyone. Café. After class. No exceptions.

Just as he hits send, "Seungkwan," your lecturer calls, voice heavy with disapproval.

You barely suppress a wince as Seungkwan slowly looks up, caught red-handed with his phone still in his grip. The lecturer pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, unimpressed. "Would you like to share what’s so important that you’d rather text in the middle of my very crucial, very grade-determining lecture?" (He says that every lecture. At this point, you’re convinced it’s just a scare tactic.)

Seungkwan, without missing a beat, gives the lecturer the most withering, unimpressed side-eye you’ve ever seen, one that he definitely doesn’t notice, too busy shifting his focus onto another poor student. With a sigh, Seungkwan stands up, gathers his things, and exits the room like a man facing exile.

After the lecture ends, you gather your things and step out of the hall, immediately spotting Seungkwan and Soonyoung waiting for you near the stairway landing. Seungkwan leans against the railing, arms crossed, tapping his foot impatiently and Soonyoung, on the other hand, is half-sitting on the lower step, scrolling through his phone, probably looking at some absurd meme he’s about to show you the moment you get close. The second you approach, Seungkwan spots you and gestures for your water bottle, giving you an expectant look. Without a word, you hand it over and he takes a long gulp like he’s been trekking through the desert. Meanwhile, you grab Soonyoung’s wrist to pull him up from his seat, and just like that, the three of you set off toward the café.

On the way, you pass by Chan’s lecture hall. He’s just stepping out when Soonyoung with no warning or whatsoever, hooks an arm around his neck and steers him in your direction. “Where are we going?” Dino asks, confused but not resisting.

“To the café,” Seungkwan answers. “We have an important interrogation.”

Chan raises an eyebrow. “Do I even have a choice?”

“Nope,” you and Soonyoung say at the same time.

“As expected…” Chan says sadly (fake).

When the four of you reach the café, you slide into your seat right between Seungkwan and Soonyoung, with Chan sitting beside Soonyoung. The moment you’re settled, the others start trickling in, each arriving on their own. That means they actually checked the group chat. If they hadn’t, well, you three would’ve just stormed into their respective halls and dragged them here by the ear. You weren’t about to wait around forever. Once everyone had gathered, Seungkwan takes charge.

“We’re here to interrogate Jihoon, Vernon, and Chan,” he announces, placing the list in the center of the table. “No questions about why they’re on the list. No complaints. We have our reasons.”

Mingyu watches all of this unfold, barely holding back a sigh. They’re never going to figure it out at this rate. He was never worried about Seungkwan and Soonyoung actually catching him. Those two could be geniuses in their own fields but when it came to deduction, they were absolute fools. It’s amusing how confident Seungkwan and Soonyoung are in their so-called investigation. He wants to scoff, wants to roll his eyes, but he keeps himself in check. You, on the other hand… you’re smart, but Mingyu is starting to think that your partnership with Seungkwan and Soonyoung might be lowering your IQ. Still, he lets it play out, keeping quiet as the interrogations begin.

Suspect Interrogations

✔ Jihoon goes first. He looks downright offended that his name is even on the list, crossing his arms over his chest as he scowls at you and Seungkwan. "Why would I do something so cheesy?" he demands. "I've told you already, it's not me!"

Seungkwan doesn’t miss a beat. He leans forward squinting at Jihoon, "That’s exactly what a guilty person would say!"

Jihoon visibly clenches his jaw, looking like he’s one second away from launching his drink at Seungkwan’s head. You almost want to stop him but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to see it happen.

✔ Vernon is next. He stares at you, eyes blinking slowly, looking about as confused as a man who’s been woken up mid-dream. "I don’t even write notes for myself, why would I write one for you?" he asks. "And I think I've told you many times, it's not me!"

You and Soonyoung exchange looks, still very suspicious of him for some reason.

✔ Chan goes last. He doesn’t even pretend to take this seriously, instead, he just laughs, "If I liked you, I’d just tell you," he says.

It’s a fair point. A good point. But then… he keeps talking. He starts adding unnecessary details, rambling about hypotheticals—the ‘what-ifs’ and ‘maybes’ that no innocent person would feel the need to explain. He’s digging a deeper hole with every word, and you can practically see Seungkwan’s brain short-circuiting beside you.

Then, all at once, Seungkwan slams a hand on the table and leans forward, "That sounds like something the real admirer would say to throw us off."

Chan looks so betrayed.

Jeonghan crosses his arms as he observes the mess of notes and theories sprawled out before him. "You're not going to get them to confess, you know," he says. "They want to stay anonymous. No amount of begging or interrogation is going to change that."

You narrow your eyes at him. "Then what do you suggest, Sherlock?"

Jeonghan smirks. "Simple. If you can’t catch them in the act, make them come to you."

He lays out his ideas: each one realistic, logical, and frustratingly effective. He insists that if the admirer is really in your friend group, they'll never slip up under pressure. They've already been careful and their goal isn't to get caught. It's to wait until they're ready.

But for the first time, Jeonghan is wrong.

Mingyu doesn’t want to stay anonymous because he isn’t ready. He’s been ready for as long as he can remember. He’s been in love with you since forever. The only thing stopping him from confessing outright is that he wants you to see it first. To realize, without anyone spelling it out for you that your admirer has been right in front of you this entire time. That it’s him.

Jeonghan keeps talking, giving you, Seungkwan, and Soonyoung ideas on how to lure out the admirer. You nod along, jotting down notes with Seungkwan, completely oblivious to the way Mingyu shifts in his seat, playing idly with the rings on his fingers, memorizing all of your plans. Jeonghan’s part is done, and now he just leans back, chatting lazily with Mingyu, who barely hears a word. Mingyu knows you’re not getting anywhere with this approach, not as long as you keep treating this like some detective novel. So, he decides to leave some hints of his own. Letting you catch him staring. Letting his fingers brush against yours just a second too long. 

A waiter approaches the table, setting down a glass of orange juice in front of you, along with a small hand warmer wrapped in soft fabric. A tiny note is attached, folded neatly under the band.

You blink, frowning. "I didn’t order this."

The waiter only smiles. "It was ordered anonymously. For you."

Before you can even process what that means, Seungkwan moves at the speed of 3×10⁸ m/s, snatching the orange juice off the table. "We are not letting her drink something from an unknown sender," he announces before he downs it in one go.

"You mean my secret admirer," you correct, deadpan, reaching for the note instead.

"So you say," he mutters.

Mingyu leans back in his seat, watching your reaction carefully as you unfold the tiny slip of paper. The words are simple yet enough to make your stomach flip:

“Keep your hands warm. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Seungkwan doesn’t even notice your momentary daze because he’s too busy sulking over his lack of a second drink. "That was good," he mutters, smacking his lips. "Would be nice if someone ordered one for me, though.”

Mingyu, cool, calm, and completely unbothered, raises a hand and calls the waiter over again. "Seven more orange juices, please," he says and then throws a pointed look at Seungkwan. "For everyone except him."

Seungkwan gasps. "What! Why not me?"

Mingyu smirks, propping his chin on his hand. "You already stole hers. No take-backs."

Seungkwan glares at him, indignant. “Oh, so now we’re playing favorites? Unbelievable.”

Mingyu only pokes his tongue out teasingly before leaning back in his chair, satisfied with the laughter echoing around the table. Soonyoung bursts into laughter first, quickly followed by the others. Mingyu just smiles to himself, but soon enough, you clear your throat, drawing everyone's attention. "So," you start, your voice slightly exasperated, "I was this close to catching the admirer in the act." You proceed to recount the series of events from yesterday and today, explaining how Soonyoung and Seungkwan had set up a hidden camera in your dorm’s corridor, only for the idiotic Soonyoung to forget to check the battery, causing it to die before it could record anything.

Mingyu who had been listening intently, releases a relieved breath, knowing how close he came to being discovered. The thought of you catching him in the act sends a shiver down his spine. He silently makes a mental note to be more careful with these anonymous deliveries. After all, he wants you to discover the admirer is him, but on your own time. Mingyu doesn’t want it to be forced.

Before he leaves, Mingyu stands up, making his way toward you. He gives you a hug and in that moment, it feels different unlike other times. His arms wrap around you with purpose, his chest pressing lightly against yours. The warmth of his body and the familiar scent of him, fresh and lightly musky with a hint of wood, lingers in your senses. You can feel the gentle pressure of his arms around you, and to not exaggerate, it feels like time had slowed down. Your heart stumbles over itself, a foolish, reckless thing, drunk on the way he feels against you. It’s ridiculous how a simple hug can make your head spin, how the warmth of his arms feels like something you shouldn’t crave, but do anyway. You press your lips together, willing yourself to breathe normally, to not let it show just how much this moment is unraveling you from the inside out. But it’s stupid. So, so stupid. Because this isn’t how you’re supposed to feel when your heart should be occupied with the mystery of your secret admirer—the person leaving you letters, the person who sees you in a way no one else does. You shouldn’t be aching for more, shouldn’t be selfishly lingering in Mingyu’s embrace, wishing he’d never let go. You shouldn’t want him to hold you like this again, and again, and again. But you do. And it feels wrong, because Mingyu isn’t the one writing you those letters…

He pulls back slightly, still holding you for a moment longer than usual as if trying to convey something without words. You notice how his touch lingers; the light yet deliberate way he lets you feel his presence though you don't fully catch onto his intentions. Meanwhile, Jeonghan raises an eyebrow at the hug. The others don’t really notice, as it’s not uncommon for the eight of you to hug, but something about this seems different even if they don't quite pinpoint it.

Mingyu pulls away, his smile still staying as he bids everyone goodbye, claiming he has another class in the afternoon that he can’t afford to miss.

However, as soon as he steps out of the café, he changes direction, heading not toward the classroom, but to a candle-making workshop he’d booked an appointment for a few days ago. Inside the workshop, Mingyu walks around with the instructor who guides him through the candle-making process. The space smells like warm wax and a cocktail of fragrances. The place is dancing with creativity but Mingyu already has a vision in mind.

His first idea is a rotating heart-shaped candle made of light pink wax, its design featuring ribbed layers that spiral upward giving it a unique 3D sort of effect. The second candle will be more playful, a rubik's cube made of hearts. It's a square candle and each side is covered in a grid of tiny hearts, all in varying shades of pink. The design is neat and the colors blend really well which makes the candle appear soft but striking at the same time.

Mingyu carefully selects the wax, something soft yet durable, perfect for the designs he has in mind and the colors, choosing soft shades of pink, each one different but complementing the others. He picks out the scents: a lavender with hints of vanilla. The instructor walks him through the remaining details, ensuring everything is perfect for the candles he’s about to create. Mingyu’s thoughts briefly drift back to you, wondering how you’ll react once you see the candles. But he has no time to waste anymore, so Mingyu rolls up his sleeves as the instructor prepares the workspace, laying out all the necessary materials. He’s focused, the idea of creating something special for you igniting a sense of excitement and purpose within him. The sound of the instructor’s instructions makes Mingyu feel like he’s entering a different world, one where he can focus solely on his vision.

Step 1: Preparing the Wax

The instructor starts by showing Mingyu how to melt the wax to the perfect consistency. Mingyu, fully engaged, watches carefully as the wax turns from solid to a glassy liquid. He chooses a light pink wax, the base for both candles, and pours it into a large mixing container, ready to be heated. The wax glows softly under the warm light and Mingyu smiles at how it resembles the color he envisions for the heart-shaped candle.

Step 2: Crafting the Heart Candle

Mingyu takes a special mold, shaped like a heart, and begins carefully pouring the melted wax into the mold. He does this slowly, ensuring there are no air bubbles and that the wax is evenly spread. As it fills the mold, he adds layers, letting each one cool slightly before pouring the next to create the ribbed, spiraled effect he wanted. With each layer, the heart shape begins to come to life, the design slowly becoming more intricate, giving it that soft, rotating effect he’d envisioned.

Once the mold is filled, Mingyu lets it cool. He then checks the temperature of the wax again, then chooses a faint vanilla scent to add, mixing it in thoroughly. He waits patiently, allowing the wax to solidify into the form of a delicate rotating heart.

Step 3: Crafting the Rubik's Cube Candle

Next, Mingyu turns his attention to the Rubik’s cube candle. He chooses a square mold, knowing it’ll be a bit trickier to get all the sides even but he’s determined. He melts a darker shade of pink wax, then carefully pours it into the mold, covering each side evenly. As the wax cools slightly, Mingyu presses tiny heart-shaped stamps into each side, ensuring each one is uniform but with slight variations in the shade of pink. Some hearts are light, some darker, creating a neat grid-like pattern.

Before he finishes, he adds the scent, a hint of lavender to the candle for a calming, refreshing scent that contrasts but compliments the soft vanilla in the heart-shaped candle. He doesn’t know why, but something about it feels just right.

Step 4: Setting Them to Cool

Mingyu carefully places both candles on the cooling racks, watching as they begin to set. He’s exhausted but satisfied, a small smile playing on his lips as he imagines you receiving them. He doesn’t need to say it but these candles are more than just gifts, they are symbols. Symbols of his feelings, wrapped up in a soft pink glow waiting for you to figure out that the admirer was always right in front of you.

As the wax cools and the candles solidify, Mingyu’s heart races just a little faster. He’s ready, he’s more than ready. He just needs you to realize it too.

Four

February 10th.

You carefully lift the velvet black box, a silk material cradling the delicate necklace inside. Your fingers brush against the golden chain as the lavender gemstone catches the light. The oval shape of the gemstone adds a timeless quality to it, and the way the facets reflect the light gives it an ethereal, almost magical quality. The chain is fine and delicate, emphasizing the dainty, feminine look of the necklace, which, in all its understated elegance, somehow feels like it was meant only for you. You can feel your heart race, knowing that someone took the time to pick out something that you also had your eyes on. 

Then your eyes fall on the note attached to the box, and you carefully read the words:

“I remember you mentioning this the other day. Couldn’t resist.”

Your heart skips a beat as the memory floods back. You remember the moment so clearly now. It was maybe an offhand comment but you had mentioned how much you adored that lavender gemstone necklace you saw during window-shopping. You had daydreamed about having it in your hands, imagining how beautiful it would be to wear and how it would make you feel. You'd been chatting with the others, and as you recall, the only ones who were around that day were Jeonghan, Jihoon, Mingyu, Seungkwan, and Chan. Your mind races as you quickly start to piece things together. It was one of them, wasn’t it? Vernon is out now but one of them had been paying attention and had remembered that fleeting wish. 

You set the necklace aside for a moment, turning your attention to the next gift. As you open the small package, your eyes widen in surprise. It's a keychain—a cute, round Doraemon keychain, the little blue robot cat you used to love watching as a kid. You can actually hear the theme song in your mind as you hold it in your hand.

You step into your room, carefully setting both gifts on your desk. It’s officially the fourth day since you found out about your secret admirer. Each day without fail you've received a gift along with a letter. But today, there’s been no letter yet. Which means it could arrive any moment. And that means this is your another chance. If you time things right, if you plan well enough, you might just catch them in the act. Your mind immediately goes to Seungkwan and Soonyoung. You need to meet up with them as soon as possible to strategize. Jeonghan’s advice had logic behind it, if there’s any hope of luring out the admirer, you’ll have to be smart about this.

With a deep breath, you check your phone to see the time and—Holy shit. You're late. Like, really late.

Your eyes widen as you scramble to grab your things. Soonyoung and Seungkwan are definitely going to scold you for making them wait. You don’t even have time to dwell on the gifts anymore, your priority is getting out of here now.

You rush to your closet, throwing on a gray oversized hoodie. It’s comfortable, and most importantly, easy to move in. You quickly pair it with high-waisted black wide-leg pants that you found hanging right in front of you. Slipping into your sneakers, you grab your black quilted tote bag, sliding it over your shoulder in one swift motion. Before heading out, you catch one last glimpse of yourself in the mirror, quickly applying a soft burgundy lipstick just enough to add some color to your face. Your Sony headphones settle around your neck as you practically bolt for the door. 

You can already imagine Seungkwan’s sigh and Soonyoung’s exaggerated disappointment. You are so not ready for this.

You burst into the library slightly out of breath, scanning the room until your eyes land on them sitting at one of the corner tables. Soonyoung is slouched over, lazily flipping through a book while Seungkwan looks far too unimpressed, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently.

The second you reach them, Seungkwan wastes no time. "You’re so late," he huffs, grabbing your wrist before you can even attempt an apology.

“Wait, I—” you start, but it’s useless.

Before you can even process what's happening, Seungkwan bolts out of the library with you in tow, dragging you behind him. You barely manage to throw Soonyoung an apologetic look but he just waves lazily, muttering something about meeting up later.

Seungkwan doesn’t stop until you’re both speed-walking through the hallway toward your class. “You seriously need to start checking the time,” he scolds though his grip on your wrist loosens once he sees you struggling to keep up.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” you say between breaths, deciding to distract him before he starts a full-on lecture. “Anyway—oh my god, you won’t believe how noisy my neighbors have been lately.”

That catches his attention. “How noisy?”

“Loud loud,” you emphasize, lowering your voice as you both slip into the classroom and find your seats. “Like, I swear they’re either throwing a party every other night or filming some very questionable action scenes.”

Seungkwan gasps, already invested. “That’s insane. You have to spill everything later. But wait…” he pauses, turning to you, “...did you get anything from your secret admirer today?”

You nod, pulling your tote bag closer. “Yeah, actually. A keychain and a necklace.”

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Necklace? Okay, that’s new.”

“Yeah, yeah, but focus,” you whisper, nudging him as the professor enters. “We’ll talk about it later when Soonyoung’s here too.”

Seungkwan sighs but leans back in his seat, finally quieting down as class begins. You let out a relieved breath, glad you managed to avoid more nagging.

-

The plan was supposed to be foolproof. Simple, yet effective. You, Seungkwan, and Soonyoung had spent nearly an hour or two in the library piecing together the perfect strategy. Since the admirer delivered gifts and letters at completely random times, catching them in the act had been next to impossible. But then, Seungkwan had a moment of genius enlightenment or at least, that’s what he called it.

“You pretend to leave,” he had explained. “Turn off the lights, make some noise like you're walking away… but in reality, you're just hiding somewhere nearby, waiting to see who sneaks in.”

“I think it’s perfect!” Soonyoung grinned, clapping his hands together.

You weren’t as sure. On one hand, you wanted to catch him. On the other, you secretly hoped he’d be smart enough to avoid the trap. You didn’t want a dumb admirer, but you also desperately wanted to know who it was. 

And so it was set, you pretended to leave your dorm, deliberately shutting the door a little louder than necessary. The lights were turned off, and your footsteps echoed down the hallway only for you to quickly slip into a hiding spot right around the corner, out of direct sight but close enough to see anyone who entered.

Seungkwan and Soonyoung were stationed at different vantage points: Soonyoung crouched behind a vending machine down the hall, and Seungkwan, well… he was supposed to be hiding behind the stairwell.

Except he was the one who completely blew the mission.

You were barely five minutes into waiting when your phone suddenly blasted at full volume—

I'M SO SICK OF THIS FAKE LOVE~ FAKE LOVE~ FAKE LOVE~

Your heart stopped. Seungkwan was calling you.

You fumbled with your phone, fingers scrambling to hit decline as fast as humanly possible, but the damage was already done. From the dim light of the hallway, you saw a figure, tall, broad-shouldered frozen in place. There was a brief pause, and then… an unmistakable snort. Your admirer had just laughed at you.

Your mortification reached new heights as you caught a glimpse of movement just as Mingyu took a step back, blending into the shadows with alarming ease. But before he disappeared entirely, he let something slip from his fingers. A single envelope fluttered down to the floor. Then, just like that, he was gone. Mission failed.

The timing had been perfect. You had expected to wait for at least an hour, maybe two, or even five before the admirer would finally make a move. But no, he had shown up almost immediately after you hid. It should have been a victory. You had been so, so close, and yet…it still ended up failing. Your disappointment is immeasurable.

The one time you had a chance to catch him and Seungkwan of all people had to blow it. You don’t even want to look in his direction right now. Instead, you stare down at the envelope on the floor, left behind in his quick escape. You take a shaky breath before stepping forward, crouching down to pick it up. Your fingers brush against the smooth paper. It’s slightly warm, maybe from being held just moments ago. He was right in front of you and you missed him.

-

Mingyu sighs, his arm draped around your shoulders, patting you just below your shoulder blade. You lean into him, still fuming while Seungkwan sits stiffly across from you, avoiding eye contact. Soonyoung is usually the loudest one in the group but remains eerily quiet, the guilt probably eating him alive too.

You groan, burying your face against Mingyu’s chest. “I was so close! Like, insanely close. But no, of course, the universe had to humiliate me instead. The admirer didn’t just escape—he snorted at me. Snorted! He found it funny that I got caught!” You lift your head, eyes blazing with frustration. “You guys don’t understand. We had one job. One job! And we failed.”

Mingyu’s lips twitch, a mix of amusement and fondness. He’s enjoying this even as he strokes your arm absentmindedly, pretending to be the supportive friend. Jeonghan, on the other hand, actually smirks. “To be fair, I did tell you to be discreet.”

You shoot him a glare. “Don’t. Even. Start.”

Mingyu watches you closely and expectantly. Maybe you’ll finally piece it together now, maybe you’ll notice the way he’s been around you, the way the gifts are so him, the way his words always hold an extra layer of meaning. But no. Instead, you start throwing out the most ridiculous theories. “What if he’s not from our group? What if it’s some random stranger who’s been stalking me this entire time?”

Mingyu sighs deeply.

“What if it’s a professor?”

Mingyu groans.

“What if it’s—”

“Stop.”

You blink as he turns you toward him, his hands suddenly cupping your face. His palms are warm against your cheeks, thumbs brushing over your skin. Your eyes widen at the sudden closeness, at the way his gaze locks onto yours. For just a second he wonders if you’ll finally see it. If you’ll notice the way his eyes soften when he looks at you. If you’ll catch onto the warmth in his voice when he speaks. If you’ll recognize the way his hands feel so familiar, because he’s been by your side all along. But instead, you just stare at him puzzled.

Mingyu exhales sharply, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment before pulling back. “Don’t overthink it,” he says. “The admirer will still admire you even after knowing you were spying on him without his consent. He has no reason not to.”

You blink at him. “That’s… oddly reassuring?”

Jeonghan watches the entire thing unfold, his smirk deepening. Of course, he picked it up. Mingyu releases you by shaking his head. He’s this close to just spelling it out for you, but no, you have to figure it out yourself. His fingers twitch slightly as he slips two candies into the pocket of your hoodie. You’re sharp and he knows that better than anyone. Always observing, always analyzing but right now, you seem lost in thought, your brows furrowed just slightly, lips pressed together as if deep in contemplation and he wonders who are you thinking about? Who are you suspecting? Because he's right here. He's always been right here but do you see him?

He leans back slightly, now one arm slung over the back of your chair, watching the way your fingers idly trace patterns on the wooden table. He wonders if you realize how much of yourself you give away. The way your shoulders relax ever so slightly when you’re comfortable. The way your fingers tense when you’re overthinking. The way your lips part just the tiniest bit when a thought clicks into place. And right now… you’re thinking hard. 

Meanwhile, his mind flashes back to earlier.

When your ringtone screamed Fake Love, he didn't panic but his body reacted on instinct, stepping back into the shadows, keeping his composure. And honestly, he had expected you to pull a stunt like this. Ever since he heard you setting up the hidden camera last time, he knew you’d try something even bolder next. That’s why he had prepared for it, why he was ten times more careful now especially since you’d taken Jeonghan’s advice. But the real problem was that you were so cute.

The way you hunched down, scrambling to decline the call, eyes darting around like a guilty child caught sneaking snacks before dinner. From the corner of his eye, he had watched you, heart clenching in the most endearing way. He wanted to stay longer just to see you try harder, to watch the determination in your eyes. But he had slipped the letter onto the floor and disappeared before you could catch him. 

-

At night, when you can’t get the gifts out of your head, the theories keep spinning, running faster than your thoughts. You pull out your phone, without even thinking about it. You tap his contact in your phone reflexively. He is the only person you can call for this, the only one who doesn’t mind when you ramble, who lets you spill every ridiculous and half-formed thought without ever making you feel like you’re too much. He’s the only one you trust to catch your words when they come tumbling out. But does he ever do the same? Does he ever pick up his phone in the middle of the night, scroll past contacts, and land on your name? When things get too loud in his head, when he feels too much, does he think about calling you the way you think about calling him?

The sound of the dial tone fills the silence in your room, your pulse quickening as you wait for him to pick up. It rings once, twice—until finally, he answers.

"Hello?" His voice is deep and groggy like you’ve just pulled him out of deep sleep.

"Hey," you say, your words spilling out all at once. "I think it’s Jihoon. His handwriting, I swear, it's obvious. And about that keychain, it could be Chan too, maybe he remembered that necklace…."

There's a moment of silence on the other end, and you’re too wrapped up in your thoughts to hear the shift in his voice. It’s a bit of a sigh like he’s holding back something. "Hmm," Mingyu murmurs, dragging the word out. "You think it’s Jihoon or Chan? I mean, I guess it could be them." But you don’t hear the tension in his tone.

You launch into another theory, oblivious to his discomfort. "Or it could be Jeonghan? I know he's blunt all the time but I only talked about the necklace with him, Chan, you, Jihoon and Seungkwan…so it has to be one of them, right?"

He chuckles softly though the sound feels strained, and you can almost picture him running a hand through his hair. "I don’t know. Maybe you should just… let it be for a little while. Think about it in the morning, yeah?"

"I’m not letting it go, Mingyu. I need to figure this out. It’s driving me crazy!"

You hear his deep exhale on the other end. He’s not chuckling anymore. "Okay, okay," he says, voice slightly more clipped. "But get some sleep, alright?"

You roll your eyes, but you’re not listening. You’re too focused on unraveling it. "I’ll sleep when I have answers. Thanks anyway, Mingyu."

By the time you glance at the clock, it’s already 2 a.m., and you’re still awake, thinking about everything.

-

“You seemed deep in thought today. I wonder what you were thinking about. Or rather… who. You’re sharp, you know. Always paying attention, always observing. I wonder if you realize how much of yourself you give away when you’re lost in your own head. You’re looking for answers right now, aren’t you? That’s okay. Just don’t get so caught up in looking that you forget to see what’s right in front of you.

I hope you liked today’s gift. I thought it suited you.”

Five

February 11th.

Another day, another failure. You, Soonyoung, and Seungkwan are officially verified stupid.

The three of you sit slumped against the dorm room wall staring at the ceiling in sheer defeat. The plan was foolproof but you didn't account for one crucial factor. You live in a building with other students. You guys decided to install a motion alarm. Too many false alarms. A passing student, a delivery guy, a gust of wind. Each time the alarm went off, you three sprang into action only to find a confused neighbor or an empty hallway. By the third false alarm, Seungkwan was done.

"I'm quitting." He declared, standing up immediately. "I can't do this anymore. I might commit a crime."

"But you want to find out, right?" Soonyoung asked.

"I do. But not like this..." Seungkwan rubbed his temples, looking at you for support.

You didn't understand him. At all. "We were so close this time, though!" you argued, but even you were starting to doubt that.

Soonyoung groaned, flopping onto the floor. "I thought this would be the one…"

"Well, it wasn't. And I need a break before I actually start throwing hands." Seungkwan warns.

You sighed, sinking deeper into the floor. The admirer was winning. Again. And you were running out of ideas.

Somewhere out there, Mingyu was definitely laughing.

A knock echoed through the room. Your heart jumped. Reaching for the door, you find another letter. Your stomach twisted. The admirer had already delivered it. He knew, he must have waited until you were distracted, until you were busy sulking over another failed plan before sneaking in and leaving this behind. You clenched your jaw. He was taunting you.

Seungkwan sighed, flopping onto the couch. "We lost again."

But you weren’t ready to admit defeat. You slowly opened the letter, your fingers brushing over the familiar handwriting.

“It’s interesting watching you try to figure this out. I wonder if you’ll ever catch on or if I’ll have to spell it out for you one day. You looked frustrated earlier. I know you hate it when things don’t make sense, but sometimes, not knowing is part of the fun. Not everything has to be a puzzle to solve, maybe I'm right in front of you. Still, I’m curious—how’s the investigation going? I guess I already know.”

-

The note says:

"Your favourite, hope you aren't mad anymore. Oh and to remind you, don’t finish this in one go. I know how much you love it but eating it all in one day might just lead to a cold! I won't be able to bear to see you sniffle with a red nose, especially when you're already so adorable. Take care of yourself, okay? I’m sure you don’t want to be caught with a runny nose.”

There you stand holding the tub of half baked Ben & Jerry’s ice-cream. The combination of chocolate and vanilla ice cream with cookie dough and brownie chunks, your absolute favorite. You take a deep breath, a little smile tugging at your lips, but the mystery of the admirer still weighs heavy on your chest.

You stride over to the kitchen, grabbing a spoon from the drawer and making your way to the couch. You plop down, the tub in your lap and start digging in. The cold ice cream melts quickly on your tongue, soothing some of your earlier frustration. You scoop up another generous bite and let the flavors settle as you think.

Then, you grab your phone, typing away in the group chat. You snap a quick selfie, spoon still in your mouth, with the ice cream tub beside you. With a smirk, you send it out to the group chat:

Y/N: "Whoever got me this, thanks! But I'm still angry. If you don’t reveal yourself soon… you might just regret it."

Six

February 12th.

"You’ve been looking everywhere, hahah. Searching, questioning, analyzing... but sometimes, the answer is closer than you think. It’s easy to overlook the obvious when you’re searching too hard. But I don’t mind, I like watching you figure things out even if you’re terribly off track. Don’t forget to rest, okay? Also, I know you skip meals when you’re too busy, don’t do that. Take care of yourself, because someone out there cares enough to remind you every day."

-

"It's been six days!" he groans. "And still no clue who this admirer is?"

Seungkwan sighs, peering over his shoulder. "At this point, I’m starting to consider Soonyoung's idea that we’re dealing with a ghost."

Mingyu and Chan lean in, trying to catch a glimpse of the note. Mingyu’s heart beats faster not just from curiosity but from something else entirely.

Then, something clicks in your mind. Without a word, you dive into your bag shuffling through its contents in a frenzy. The others watch with curiosity as you pull out all six letters, carefully laying them side by side across the table.

Mingyu watches as your eyes scan each letter, analyzing every word, every phrase. His pulse quickens. Are you finally piecing it together? Are you about to turn to him, grab his collar and pull him in and kiss? Will you tell him you’ve known all along, that you’ve felt the same way, that he’s been in your heart just as you’ve been in his? He inches closer slowly, hoping to make it easier for you to reach for him when you want to pull him in. And then you gasp loudly.

Soonyoung jumps forward. “What? What is it?”

Your eyes widen, mouth agape in disbelief. “I—I think I know who it is.”

The room goes silent. Mingyu barely breathes.

You turn to the group, your expression resolute. “It’s Jeonghan.”

Mingyu’s heart stops. A crushing weight settles in his chest as his two-minute fantasy shatters in an instant. The imagined confession, the kiss, the overwhelming relief of finally being known is now gone.

"Jeonghan?" Seungkwan echoes, stunned.

You nod, “Think about it! The letters keep hinting that the answer is closer than I think, that I’m overlooking something obvious. And I completely dismissed Jeonghan before because I figured he’d be too lazy to go through all this effort.”

Soonyoung frowns. “That still seems like a stretch.”

“No, listen! Jeonghan was the one who told us the admirer isn’t ready to reveal himself yet, which means he knows who it is, because it's him! He was also there when I talked about the necklace. The admirer sent me one a few days later. That’s not a coincidence!” The group exchanges glances, mulling over your logic. “And,” you continue, “the letters keep saying I’m terribly off track. Who else could it be but the one person I never seriously considered?”

Mingyu stays quiet, watching as you piece together a puzzle with the wrong pieces. He clenches his jaw as you match all the clues to Jeonghan, not realizing that in your eagerness to connect the dots, you missed the most obvious thing of all. It's HIM that you never considered. Not even once.

He was the one listening when you spoke about the necklace. He was the one who spent hours writing each letter. He was the one who paid attention to every detail. He was the one who knew you so well he could predict your reactions before you even had them. He was the one who had been right in front of you all along. He was the one watching you search, waiting for the moment your eyes would finally land on him, but instead, you’ve drawn the wrong conclusion. Was he that unimportant? That invisible to you?

His heart sinks lower and lower as you present your case, completely unaware of the storm raging inside him. What will you do when you realize the truth? When you finally see what’s been in front of you this entire time? Will it be too late?

Seungkwan and Soonyoung looked at each other before nodding in agreement. “You know what? That actually makes sense,” Seungkwan says, arms crossed. “It has to be Jeonghan.”

Soonyoung says, “Honestly, the more I think about it, the more obvious it seems. He’s been here the whole time, just messing with us like always.”

Chan, who had been nervously eyeing the letters earlier, exhales in relief. “Well, at least that means it’s not me.” He mutters, sinking into his seat, visibly relaxed now that he’s off the suspect list.

Everyone’s looking at you, and in their eyes, you see the same thing. Certainty. You’ve convinced them. The mystery is nearly solved.

“You’re 100% sure?” Mingyu finally speaks, his voice light.

“No. 99. I just need to be 1% more sure.”

But for a moment you feel a strange hesitation, a small voice in the back of your mind reminding you that you haven’t even considered how you feel about Jeonghan being your admirer. You were too caught up in the thrill of the mystery, in chasing after the truth that you forgot it involved real emotions. That someone out there has been writing to you with real feelings, with intention. Do you even want to know? What if the truth doesn’t match the version of the story you’ve built in your head? What if it’s not who you expect, not who you secretly hoped for? What if it’s not Jeonghan? Or what if it is? And what does it say about you that the thought makes your stomach twist? That, deep down, some foolish part of you already knows whose name you wish to see at the end of those letters? Not Jeonghan. Not Jihoon. Not Vernon. Not Chan. Not anyone you’ve guessed so far. What if the one person you want it to be is the same person you’ve already ruled out? The one who’s always felt just a little out of reach. The one you’ve spent years convincing yourself is too much, too good, too impossible, because the thought of him being your secret admirer is too absurd. Too ridiculous. Right? But you shake the thought away and turn to Mingyu, your most trusted ally in this.

“You’re close with Jeonghan,” you say, eyes locking onto his. “Out of everyone, he’ll lower his guard around you the most. Can you help me fish him out?”

Mingyu stiffens for a fraction of a second, but no one notices. His heart sinks at how easily you place your trust in him, at how confidently you believe in something so wrong. But he doesn’t know how to say no to you. He never has. So he forces a small smile, nodding even as his chest tightens. “Yeah… sure. I’ll help.”

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to fish out of Jeonghan when the admirer you’re searching for is him.

He forces himself to keep a neutral expression as Seungkwan and Soonyoung excitedly discuss possible ways to corner Jeonghan into confessing. Chan listens with mild amusement, occasionally throwing in a comment but Mingyu barely hears any of it. His thoughts are drowning in the bitter irony of the situation.

This was supposed to be his moment. A dull ache settles in his chest, an uncomfortable tightness that won’t go away. Had he been so careful, so subtle, that you never even considered him? He swallows down the lump in his throat, gripping the edge of the table as he grounds himself. 

“Mingyu?”

He blinks, snapping out of his thoughts only to find you looking at him expectantly. “You okay?” you ask, brows slightly furrowed.

He should say something. Laugh, tease, pretend everything is fine, but all he can manage is a weak nod. “Yeah,” he lies. “Just… thinking.”

Seungkwan snorts. “Thinking too hard. Come on, we need you on this. You know Jeonghan best.”

Mingyu forces a smile. Yeah, he knows Jeonghan well but more than that, he knows you and right now, he knows that you’re chasing the wrong person. And worst of all, he has to help you do it.

-

The air carries a faint warmth of the afternoon sun, but it does nothing to ease the cold ache settling in Mingyu’s chest. He nudges Chan and looks at you, “It’s getting late. We should head home.”

You nod, stretching slightly before gathering your things. “Yeah, let’s go.”

As you, Mingyu, and Soonyoung step out onto the streets, the golden light catches in your hair, turning it into something almost ethereal. Mingyu sees it but his heart feels heavy, weighed down by the thoughts swirling in his mind. The moment you confidently said Jeonghan’s name, the moment you smiled as if you had solved the puzzle, it had been like a dull knife sinking into his chest. A slow, dragging pain that refused to go away. It hurts. Really, really hurts. But he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t let it show. Instead, he walks beside you, nodding and responding when necessary, pretending everything is fine.

By the time he drops you off at your dorm, his emotions are stretched thin, barely holding together. You wrap an arm around him, pressing yourself into his side in a casual hug. His breath hitches, but he forces himself to stay still. The warmth of your body against his should be comforting but it only reminds him of how far away you actually are.

“Don’t forget to talk to Jeonghan, okay?” you remind him, looking up at him with those bright, expectant eyes. “Let me know what he says.”

“I will.”

You disappear behind your door, and just like that, you’re gone.

Mingyu bids Soonyoung bye and stands there for a moment before turning on his heel and walking away. But he doesn’t go home.

Instead, he finds himself by the river, the city hums softly in the distance but here, it’s quieter, just the occasional ripple of water, the faint rustling of leaves. The soju bottle in his hand is already half-empty but the bitterness of it barely registers on his tongue.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to tell you when you inevitably ask about Jeonghan. He doesn’t know how to fake a conversation that never happened. He doesn’t know how to face you, knowing that you had every clue and still, still didn’t see him. He had waited; waited patiently, watched you go through your theories, your excitement, your endless blabbering about clues. He never snapped, never broke character, because he truly believed you would figure it out. That at the end of this little fun, you would finally turn to him and say his name with certainty. But you never did, and that’s what hurts the most. Not that Jeonghan, who was completely uninvolved, was about to be wrongfully accused. But that when you looked for the one who adored you, the one who knew you inside and out, the one who had spent every day thinking of ways to make you smile—you didn’t recognize him.

Still, if nothing else, at least he gave you something exciting. At least, for a few days, he gave you a mystery to solve, a thrill to chase. Even if in the end, he was the one left behind.

-

The almost-emptied bottle is plucked from Mingyu’s loose grip. He blinks, sluggish from both the alcohol and the weight pressing down on his heart and looks up to find Jeonghan standing over him. The older man wears his usual smile, one that could mean a hundred different things but his eyes tell another story, one that sees right through Mingyu’s poor attempt at pretending he’s fine.

Mingyu doesn’t say anything. He just turns his gaze back to the river, watching the water ripple under the dim glow of streetlights. Jeonghan exhales softly, before sitting down beside him. He doesn’t speak, or pry. He simply stays, settling Mingyu in a way that only a longtime friend can.

For a while, the only sound between them was the distant buzz of the city, and the lapping of the river against the banks.

Then, Mingyu finally breaks the silence. “She thinks it’s you,” his voice hoarse, the weight of the evening settling deeper into his bones. “She really, really thinks it’s you.” He lets out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. “When the answer was right in front of her the whole time.” 

Jeonghan remains quiet, just listening.

“I’m not mad,” Mingyu continues, “I shouldn’t be mad. I’m just… a little hurt.” He pauses, gripping his knees. “No, actually… I am hurt.” His throat tightens. “I don’t even know why it hurts this much, but…”

He trails off, exhaling sharply before looking down at his hands.

“I thought she’d get there eventually. I really thought she would.” His voice drops to hissed tone “I waited. I watched her figure out her little theories, set up her stupid traps, get all excited over the mystery… and I was patient. I thought, ‘Any day now, she’ll turn around, she’ll realize, she’ll see me.’” Mingyu swallows, “But she never did.”

He doesn’t know why it’s so easy to say these things to Jeonghan, maybe because Jeonghan is good at keeping secrets, at holding things close without judgment. Maybe because Jeonghan doesn’t rush to give meaningless comfort but just stays.

Mingyu drags a hand down his face, exhaling bitterly. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do tomorrow. She wants me to ask you about the admirer—to ‘fish’ something out of you.” He lets out a dry laugh. “What the hell am I supposed to fish out of you, Jeonghan?”

Jeonghan finally speaks, his voice calm but softer, something that understands. “Well, I could always confess to being her secret admirer. She's not bad.”

Despite himself, Mingyu snorts, shaking his head. “Not funny.”

Jeonghan leans back on his palms, looking up at the night sky. “You’re hurting because you care. Because you love her and you wanted her to see you without you having to say it outright.” He tilts his head toward Mingyu. “But love doesn’t always work like that, you know?” Mingyu doesn’t answer. Jeonghan sighs. "If it's hurting this much, then maybe you should ask yourself why you're still holding on."

Mingyu stays silent for a long moment before finally admitting, “I wanted to make it exciting. I wanted it to be something she’d remember.” He clenches his fists. “But it all just went wrong.”

“She’ll figure it out eventually,” Jeonghan says a little too knowingly.

Mingyu huffs, unconvinced. “What if she doesn’t?”

Jeonghan shrugs. “Then maybe it’s time you stop waiting for her to find you and let her see you instead.”

Mingyu doesn’t respond. He just looks out at the river again, letting Jeonghan’s words sink in. 

He simply lets the silence stretch out and finally after what feels like hours, Jeonghan stands up, brushing off his pants, “If you need to talk, you know where to find me.” His voice is soft, the teasing edge absent for the moment.

Mingyu nods, not trusting himself to speak. He watches Jeonghan walk away, the older man’s figure swallowed by the night, before his gaze drifts back to the river. He takes a deep breath trying to clear his mind but nothing seems to work. His heart still aches for you, for the way you’ll probably look at him tomorrow, expecting him to just play along, asking questions he has no answers to.

Seven

February 13th

“I wonder if you’ll figure it out or if I’ll have to spell it out for you. You looked happy yesterday. I hope it stays that way. I hope whoever I am to you, whoever I will be, gets to see that happiness every day. Maybe this whole thing was ridiculous. Maybe I should’ve just told you from the start. But I guess I wanted to see. To know if you’d ever look my way without me having to say it first.

See you soon.”

-

The elevator doors slide open and you step in, jabbing the button for the sixth floor with more force than necessary. The doors close, but your mind is still racing, still stuck on the morning’s events.

Jeonghan had shown up at your dorm today, standing at your door with his usual lazy smile, but soft eyes. “I heard you think it’s me,” he had said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

You had opened your mouth to defend yourself, to explain the logic, to lay out all the pieces that led you to him, the way all the clues lined up in your head but before you could get a word out, he had sighed, shaking his head saying it's not him and just like that, everything crumbled. Because he wasn’t lying. You could hear it in his voice, see it in the way he looked at you, not with amusement, not with mischief, but with something almost like pity.

“You’re hurting him, you know,” he had added, too softly, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

You had stiffened at that. “What?”

Jeonghan had just sighed again, then pulled you into a quick hug, arms warm around you, like he knew you needed the comfort. Then he had sat you down, looked you in the eye and said, “You’re misdirected, miserably so.”

You had thought you were getting closer, thought you were connecting the dots but you were connecting the wrong ones. Seven days. Seven days of chasing a ghost and you were nowhere.

It felt like you had been running in circles, grasping at shadows, only to be led astray at every turn. It wasn’t that you were upset Jeonghan wasn’t the secret admirer. No, that wasn’t what frustrated you. It was the fact that despite everything, you still couldn’t figure it out. You had failed. And then failed again.

After hearing Jeonghan out, you should have let it go, let your mind rest but something wouldn’t let you. Mingyu. You needed to hear what he had to say too. Jeonghan had been honest with you, and you believed him, but you still wanted to hear it from Mingyu’s mouth. What had he talked about with Jeonghan yesterday? Did he come to the same conclusion? Did he know Jeonghan wasn’t the admirer?

You weren’t sure why it mattered. Maybe it was because you trusted them both, maybe it was because you were still desperately searching for a lead, even if it meant going over the same conversation twice.

So now, here you are, frustrated and restless, storming into Mingyu’s apartment without so much as a knock, letting the door swing shut behind you. Mingyu, who had been standing by the kitchen counter, blinks in surprise as you march past him and collapse onto his couch.

“I can’t figure it out,” you groan, covering your face with your hands. “Seven days, and I’ve gotten nothing.”

Mingyu doesn’t say anything at first, just watches you as he grabs a glass, pouring you some orange juice before walking over and setting it in front of you. You peek at him through your fingers. He's too quiet. Still, you sit up, grabbing the glass but barely paying attention to it. “Jeonghan came over this morning,” you start, swirling the juice in your hands. “He told me it’s not him.”

Mingyu hums, lowering himself onto the couch beside you but not too close like before; after what happened yesterday.

You exhale sharply, shaking your head. “I mean, it makes sense now. My whole theory was just coincidence. But if it’s not him, then who?” You run a hand through your hair. “It’s like I’m playing Mafia game but worse—no real clues, no real strategy, just me failing over and over again.”

Mingyu swallows, looking away. Failing? No. Just blind. You don’t notice the way his fingers tighten around his knees, his shoulders curling in just slightly. You don’t notice him. “You trust Jeonghan, right?” he asks finally, his voice careful, controlled.

You nod. “Yeah, of course.”

“Then why are you here?” His voice is steady but there’s something just barely restrained underneath. “What do you need from me?”

You hesitate, tilting your head. “I just… I wanted to hear what you talked about with Jeonghan yesterday.” You let out a breath. “I trust you both, but I wanted to see if you came to the same conclusion.”

Mingyu’s heart sinks after knowing you’re here for that. He nods slowly, fingers curling into fists against his legs. “Right.”

You don’t notice his jaw tightening, his expression flickering for half a second before smoothing over. You don’t see how the very person you’ve been searching for is sitting right beside you, falling apart. And Mingyu just listens because what else can he do?

The deeper hurt comes from the fact that he still loves you, and he's been waiting for you to realize it, but instead, you’ve been focused on other possibilities. He’s trying his best to stay supportive and patient, but it’s hard for him to keep his distance while you’re upset and trying to figure things out. There's a sense of loneliness in how he’s been handling everything on his own, even though he’s surrounded by people who care about him. He feels like he's been the quiet one in the background hoping you’d see him, but you haven’t. Now, hearing you rant about your failed attempts and frustrations, he feels both comforted and hurt—comforted that you trust him enough to vent to him, but hurt that, despite his feelings, you’re still unsure of him as the person who’s been giving you all those gifts and letters. He’s torn between wanting to confess his feelings, but knowing how much it would hurt to be rejected or overlooked again. He wants to be the one you turn to, the one you lean on when things get hard so in this moment, he's just there for you, listening, because that's what friends do, even when their heart is breaking.

-

Your voice is sharp with frustration as you pace around Mingyu’s apartment, fists clenched at your sides.“I just don’t get it,” you say, shaking your head. “Who would go through all this effort?”

Mingyu, watching you from where he sits on the couch, his heart aching, simply mutters, “I would.”

But it slips past you. You’re too caught up in your thoughts, too wrapped up in your own confusion to hear the weight behind his words. He watches as you continue to storm around, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from saying anything more.

Then something shifts. Maybe it’s the way he remains so still while you’re falling apart or maybe it’s the way his presence has always felt steady. But whatever it is, it pushes something inside you to snap.

"Why aren’t you saying anything?" You turn on him suddenly, as you throw another jab that Mingyu doesn’t deserve. He sits there, the heart inside him breaking. "You always have something to say, Mingyu. Always. But now, when I actually need someone to help me figure this out, you’re just sitting there looking at me like I’m missing something obvious!"

Mingyu exhales sharply, his jaw tightening. He’s been patient. So patient. But this is agony, watching you fight for an answer when he’s been in front of you the whole time. Watching you tear yourself apart over this, over something that was meant to be a confession of love. "Maybe because you are missing something obvious," he finally says, voice measured, but there’s an edge to it now.

Your brows furrow as you take a step toward him, your heart pounding for a reason you don’t understand. "Then tell me, Mingyu! What am I missing?"

His gaze hardens, but beneath the frustration, it's more vulnerable than ever. "You really want me to spell it out for you?"

"Yes!"

And suddenly, it hits you like a freight train crashing into your chest. Mingyu.

It’s always been him. You love him. Not in the way you love your friends. Not in the way you once thought love was supposed to feel. But in the way that makes your chest ache, in the way that makes your heart race even when you’re angry. You don’t care who the secret admirer is. You don’t need to figure it out anymore. Because it doesn’t matter. It never did. Because you love Mingyu. And you always have. It’s not that you never considered him, it’s that you forced yourself not to. Mingyu was too kind, too good, too perfect. He was the type of person every girl wanted, and you were just lucky enough to call him one of your closest friends. It was easier to pretend, easier to ignore your feelings than to face the possibility of rejection. Because the truth was, if you had acknowledged your feelings, it would have hurt too much to know he didn’t feel the same way. But now, as you really look at him, you realize just how foolish you’ve been. You love him.

Even now, as you lash out at him unfairly, he stays patient. Even though your words are cutting, he doesn’t push you away. He listens, endures, and understands, and that’s what hurts the most. "Wait…" Your voice comes out quieter now, your anger dissipating into something raw. "Do you… do you know something?"

Mingyu stares at you, disbelieving. His patience, his restraint, it all crumbles in an instant. "…Seriously?"

He grabs a piece of paper from the table, scrawls something quickly, and thrusts it into your hands. You look down.

“It’s me, dummy.”

The world stills.

Your breath catches as you read the words over and over again, the realization crashes into you like a wave, sweeping away every doubt, every misdirection, every foolish assumption you’ve made in the past week. It was always Mingyu. Your fingers tighten around the paper as your heart pounds against your ribs. You lift your gaze, meeting his, and suddenly everything makes sense; the lingering stares, the way he was always there, how he looked at you like you hung the stars in his sky. The sadness in his eyes earlier wasn’t just frustration; it was heartbreak. And you had been the one breaking him all along.

Mingyu watches you, his eyes holding everything. The years of waiting, the longing, the pain of standing so close yet feeling miles away. His confession wasn’t grand, wasn’t how he planned. It was raw, impulsive, torn from him in a moment of breaking. And now, he waits. For you to understand, for you to say something, for anything.

Your lips part but no words come because how do you speak when your heart is in your throat, when the very foundation of what you thought you knew has shifted beneath your feet? It was always Mingyu. The notes. The gifts. The presence. And you had spent all this time searching for someone who had never been lost.

“Mingyu…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but he hears it. He always hears you.

His hands clench at his sides, bracing himself for whatever comes next. You can see it in the tension coiling just below his cheekbone, his breathing is just a little unsteady. He’s terrified, because now that you know, you could break him all over again.

But you don't want to break him this time. You've already broken him enough.

You simply step closer, so close he can feel the warmth radiating from you. His body stiffens when you reach for a piece of paper behind him, taking it from the table. Without a word, you flip it over, your fingers moving as you scribble something down. The tension of the past week melting into something softer, and new.

Then, before he can process it, you step in even closer reaching toward him, slipping the folded paper into the pocket of his hoodie. Your fingers brush against the fabric, barely grazing him but it’s enough to send a shiver down his spine. Mingyu blinks, startled, his hand instinctively reaching into his pocket as you take a step back. His fingers find the note, unfolding it with a mix of hesitation and urgency. His eyes scan the words, and his breath hitches.

"Tomorrow, dinner at 7? My treat, Secret Admirer."

For the first time in what feels like forever, a slow stunned smile tugs at the corners of his lips. He looks up at you, hope flickering in his eyes, searching for confirmation. And when you finally meet his gaze, your own lips curling into the softest, most knowing smile Mingyu knows.

A disbelieving laugh escapes him as he runs a hand through his hair, his shoulders sagging with relief. The tension that had been weighing on him for weeks, even years, unravels all at once, “you’re serious?” 

You tilt your head, your smile growing just a little. “Would I offer to pay if I wasn’t?”

Mingyu lets out a full, genuine laugh this time, shaking his head as he folds the note carefully, tucking it back into his pocket. “Tomorrow at seven,” he repeats, savoring the words.

But as soon as the weight of everything settles in, what just happened and what it means, you suddenly feel the overwhelming urge to run. Your heart is racing, your palms are clammy, and you don’t trust yourself to speak without making a fool of yourself. So, without thinking, you turn on your heel, ready to flee. But you don’t get far.

Mingyu’s hand wraps around your wrist in an instant, stopping you mid-step and before you can process it, you’re spun around, your momentum pulling you straight into him. You gasp as your body collides with his chest, the warmth of him, the solidness of him, momentarily knocking the breath out of you. His other hand finds its way to your waist instinctively, and your brain short-circuits.

His fingers glide up, brushing against your cheek, his touch so gentle it sends a shiver down your spine. You force yourself to look up at him, only to be met with the most breathtaking sight; Mingyu gazing down at you with that smile. Not just any smile, a smile that steals your breath, that makes the whole world blur at the edges. His slightly tousled hair falls over his forehead, the soft strands brushing against his brows making him look effortlessly perfect in a way that shouldn’t be fair. Your heart slams against your ribs.

Mingyu tilts his head slightly as he murmurs, “Now you can run away.” His lips curl into that signature mixture of a smile and smirk, teasing yet affectionate, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. “Oh, and don’t forget—you have a class to attend.” 

Your eyes widen slightly as the reminder crashes into you but Mingyu simply chuckles, finally letting go of your waist but not before leaning in just slightly, just enough to fluster you even more. The absence of his touch is almost immediate, leaving behind a warmth that lingers.

Mingyu now steps back, grinning as he watches your flustered expression unfold and as you stumble over your words, scrambling for any semblance of composure, he just stands there looking entirely too pleased with himself. He's already looking forward to tomorrow.

-

The sight in front of you is nothing short of chaos.

Seungkwan's grip on his iced Americano slips as he processes the revelation, and without thinking, you reach out, catching the cup just before it crashes to the floor. A few drops spill onto your hand, the cold seeping into your skin, but you're too preoccupied to see it.

Seungkwan looks utterly defeated. Soonyoung, however, isn't faring any better. His mouth hangs open, his entire body frozen and his brain is still buffering.

"You mean to tell me—" Seungkwan starts, his voice high-pitched, "Mingyu?! Clumsy-ass, can’t-lie-to-save-his-life, trips-over-air Mingyu?!"

You nod.

They had too dismissed the possibility at first, thinking there was no way he could pull off something so sly. Not when his entire history was filled with clumsy mistakes and awkward cover-ups. The Mingyu they knew was many things, but a master of deception? Not a chance. And yet, here you three were, blindsided.

They had spent the entire morning preparing themselves to comfort you, fully expecting you to be in shambles after your 99% certainty that Jeonghan was your secret admirer turned out to be 100% wrong. When Jeonghan had told you in the morning that he wasn't the one, they thought you'd either be breaking down in devastation or burning something down in frustration (which, technically, you were). But they definitely hadn’t expected you to walk in with the revelation of your secret admirer.

Eight

February 14th

The moment you step out of your apartment, Mingyu’s breath catches in his throat.

He was supposed to have dinner with you at night for your first Valentine’s Day date, but he insisted on spending the day together before dinner. And now, here you are, standing in front of him with your hair down, looking confident and stylish in your new boots and skirt.

The delicate lavender gemstone around your neck catches the morning sunlight, its golden chain resting just above your collarbone on top of your sweater. You’re wearing the necklace—the one he gave you. And now, seeing it on you, knowing you chose to wear it today of all days, something warm and undeniable unfurls in his chest.

He clears his throat, trying to focus as he hands you a bouquet of lavender flowers nestled between soft pink roses. “For you,” he murmurs, watching closely for your reaction.

Your lips part as your fingers gently trace the petals. “Lavender…” you whisper, your gaze lifting to meet his.

Mingyu grins, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. And roses, because…well, it’s Valentine’s Day.”

Something tugs at your heart but before you can dwell on it, he’s taking your hand, leading you toward the day he’s planned just for you.  Mingyu decides to take you everywhere.

-

The smell of warm pastries fills the air as you both settle into a booth. Mingyu insists you try his favorite pancakes. They’re stacked high, topped with whipped cream, and drizzled with syrup. You raise an eyebrow, skeptically eyeing the enormous portion.

“Okay, you have to try these,” he insists, pushing a plate of pancakes toward you. 

“Are you sure these are as good as you say?”

“Trust me, they’re life-changing,” Mingyu says practically bouncing in his seat, eager for you to try them.

You take a bite, and the fluffiness, the sweetness, the perfect amount of syrup, all of it hits your taste buds in a rush. You pause, eyes wide in surprise. “Okay, okay, I admit it. They’re that good.”

“See? I told you!” Mingyu grins. “Now, pass me the last bite.” You hold your fork up, about to take the last piece of pancake for yourself, when Mingyu leans across the table, “I’m not letting you have it that easily.”

“Oh, it’s on,” you smirk, holding the bite just out of reach. You raise an eyebrow, giving him a challenging look. “You want this last bite? You’re gonna have to work for it.”

He laughs, his voice full of amusement. “You’re really gonna make me fight for it?”

“Absolutely,” you say, digging in your heels and preparing for the battle.

And so begins the great pancake fight. You both fall into an exaggerated tug-of-war with the last piece of pancake. Mingyu’s laughter rings out, the sound infectious. Finally, you make a show of pretending to ‘fight’ for the last bite, your fork and his clashing in the air, until you grab it and pop it in your mouth. He glares at you mockingly, then laughs again, shrugging good-naturedly.

“I’ll get you next time,” he promises, and you roll your eyes.

After wiping syrup off your chin with a napkin, Mingyu stands up with a contented sigh, stretching his arms above his head. He looks down at you with a grin. "Alright, time to burn off all that sugar," he says, picking up the check and tossing a few bills onto the table. "Next stop—arcade!"

"An arcade? Really?"

"Oh, you have no idea what you’re in for."

You grab your bag, following him out of the café and into the crisp air. As you both walk down the street, Mingyu leads the way basically bouncing as you head toward the neon-lit arcade a few blocks away. The sound of clinking coins and cheerful music grows louder the closer you get, and you can feel the excitement building.

When you reach the entrance, Mingyu holds the door open for you with a flourish. "After you," he says with a grin.

You step inside, greeted by the flashing lights and the vibrant sounds of the arcade. It’s a bit overwhelming at first but then you hear Mingyu’s voice over the noise, full of enthusiasm.

“Let’s see if you can keep up!” Mingyu’s eyes light up the moment he sees a game he’s good at. You follow him, amused, and find yourself standing in front of a claw machine. The giant stuffed animals inside stare down at you, their big eyes unblinking. “I’m warning you now,” Mingyu says, his tone smug. “I’ve got a 100% success rate with these things.”

You roll your eyes. "Is that so? Well, I’m about to prove you wrong."

He grins and hands you some coins. “Sure, but don’t get too upset when I win.”

You laugh, stepping up to the claw machine and starting your attempt. The claw moves clumsily, completely missing the prize.

“See? Told you,” Mingyu teases, already stepping up to take his turn. His fingers hover over the controls, his focus making his brow furrow in concentration. "Watch and learn," he says, as he carefully maneuvers the claw. You can see the way he’s calculating every move, adjusting his grip with precision. With one smooth motion, the claw sinks perfectly into the plush bear's fur, and with a satisfying click, it hoists the stuffed animal up.

You’re left speechless for a moment as Mingyu snatches it from the prize chute, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. He holds it out to you, the oversized bear almost comically larger than his own chest.

“Here,” he says, clearly too pleased with himself. “Told you I’d win.”

You take the bear, grinning in defeat. “Fine, you win this round. But I’m getting you back.”

“I’m not worried. Let’s see how you do in the next game.”

The competition continues, the two of you moving from machine to machine. Every game brings another round of teasing, laughter, and playful banter. Mingyu gets so competitive that his voice rises in exaggerated frustration when he loses and you can't help but giggle at how seriously he takes everything. At one point you're both doubled over in laughter, unable to breathe as Mingyu pretends to ‘fall’ into a virtual race car, his arms flailing as he crashes into the walls of the game.

By the end of it, you’re both out of breath and giggling uncontrollably, each sporting a ridiculous grin. You look at the stuffed animal still tucked under your arm and then back at Mingyu. “Guess it’s mine after all,” you say with a sigh, not bothering to hide the smile on your face.

Mingyu just laughs, his arm slipping around your shoulders. “Of course it is. You should know better by now.”

The sun is now setting as you both arrive at the park, the golden hour light casting everything in a warm, soft glow. Mingyu's carrying  a wicker basket in one hand, the other brushing through his hair as he looks for the perfect spot and you just follow, taking in the peaceful scenery.

He drops the basket beside a large, checkered blanket he’s already laid out, smoothing it down with care. There’s something so domestic about the whole setup, so surprisingly perfect. He places a few cushions on the blanket, pulling everything into place as if he’s done this a thousand times before.

As you sit down beside him, he smiles, a little shy. “Okay, here’s the moment of truth.” He opens the basket, revealing containers filled with food like homemade sandwiches, fresh fruit, a small salad, and a few pastries wrapped up neatly. It all looks perfectly arranged, the kind of meal you’d expect from someone who knows what they’re doing.

"You made all this?"

Mingyu nods proudly though there's a trace of nervousness in his expression. “Yep. Every single thing. I might not be a professional, but I can follow a recipe.”

You chuckle, “Well, we’ll see if it’s as good as they look.”

Without hesitation, you grab one of the sandwiches taking a big bite. The flavors hit you immediately—fresh, savory, and not so surprisingly, delicious. Your eyes widen as you chew, momentarily lost in the taste.

Mingyu watches you with a grin, anticipating your reaction. He bites his lip nervously, fingers drumming against the basket as he waits for your verdict.

The bread is perfectly toasted, the filling is perfectly seasoned, and it’s just... good. No surprise there. You’ve had his cooking many, many times by now and every time he manages to make even the simplest things taste like a five-star meal.

You glance up at him as you chew. “Not bad,” you say with a teasing smile though it’s a compliment disguised as a joke. “I’m actually kind of impressed. This is, what, your fiftieth time making me lunch?”

He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, I’ve got to keep you on your toes, right?” He looks at you with a mix of pride and that shy smile that’s too endearing. “I mean, it’s not that surprising, is it? I’ve been cooking for years.”

A small smile tugging at your lips. "True. You've always been the one to get way too competitive in the kitchen. But really, it's good. It's… annoyingly good, as usual."

He beams pleased by your reaction, “I’m glad you think so,” he says, his voice low and warm. He watches you take another bite before reaching for a small container of fruit. You can see the glint in his eyes like he’s genuinely happy to share something he’s put effort into with you.

Time melts away, the day slipping through your fingers like golden sunlight filtering through the trees. And then, as the sky deepens into hues of pink and orange, Mingyu, reaches into his bag, pulling out a box. He hands it to you, eyes soft but filled. “One more gift,” he says, his voice lower now, savoring this moment just as much as you are.

You carefully lift the lid of the box, your curiosity piqued. Inside are two candles, one shaped like a rotating heart, the other a Rubik’s cube, but with tiny hearts as the pieces. You look at them then up at him, your heart suddenly skipping a beat. 

“I made these,” his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the box. “The heart one… it reminded me of you. And the cube, well…” He lets out a soft chuckle, rubbing his thumb nervously over the box’s edge. “It felt like something I could make, something fun.”

You’re silent for a moment, taking in everything. There’s something about the care he’s put into every detail, the choices he made, the way he looked at you all day, it all makes your heart ache in the best way possible. “You made these?” you ask, your fingers brushing over the smooth surface of the candles, studying the intricate designs. There’s so much attention to detail, so much of him in every inch of them.

Mingyu nods, the corners of his lips curling upward as he watches your reaction. “Yeah. Picked the scents, the colors… everything.” You notice how his fingers twitch at his side, a nervous habit he doesn’t even realize he’s doing. “Do you like them?”

You don’t answer with words instead, you step closer, the soft rustling of the grass beneath barely registering as you close the distance between the two of you. Without a second thought, you wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek softly against his chest.

There’s a brief stillness. You feel his breath catch, his heartbeat thumping in the space between you. His arms hesitate for a fraction of a second but, he pulls you closer. His hands find your back, his embrace steady, warm, like it was meant for this moment. He exhales slowly, the tension that had built throughout the day is finally melting away. “Thank you,” you say.

“You’re welcome,” he whispers into your hair, his voice barely a murmur, but full of all the unsaid things between you. His arms tighten around you, and you let yourself sink deeper into his embrace, savoring the quiet, the stillness, and the feeling of being exactly where you’re meant to be.

As the evening unfolds, the last stop of your day is quickly approaching: dinner. But before you can indulge in a fancy meal, Mingyu takes a slight detour.

He glances at you as you both drive toward your dorm. "Let’s stop by your place first. You need to drop off those stuffed animals," he says with a grin, glancing over at the pile of plush toys filling the backseat.

You chuckle, nodding. "Good idea. I’m not sure how much more my arms can handle."

When you arrive, you grab the stuffed animals one by one, making your way into the dorm. Mingyu follows, standing by the door as you carefully place each one in its spot. There’s a chuckle in the air as you look at the growing collection. "You know," you say with a smile, "I’m going to need a bigger bed at this point."

"I'll help you make room," Mingyu says easily, his voice light as he stands in the doorway, watching you. 

Once the stuffed animals are safely tucked away, you both head back to the car, driving to the destination. Arriving at the restaurant, Mingyu opens the door for you, his presence is as attentive as ever. The place is just as elegant as you remembered when you booked it, soft candlelight, a cozy ambiance, and the murmur of other patrons creating the perfect atmosphere for an unforgettable night.

Dinner is everything you could’ve hoped for. The food is exquisite, the conversation flowing naturally between the two of you as if this was just another evening together. There’s no need for pretension, no need to try too hard. Everything feels easy, comfortable, and perfect.

When the check arrives, you reach for your wallet instinctively but Mingyu is already one step ahead. "Nope," he says firmly, his smile still warm and gentle as he pushes your hand away. "I insist. I’m treating you tonight."

You give him a mock pout, raising an eyebrow. "But I was supposed to pay! Remember our deal?"

"I know," he says, his voice a little playful, a little serious. "But you’ve already made this day so special. Let me do this, okay?" His smile grows as he sees the look in your eyes that says, You’re not getting out of this one.

Sighing dramatically but with a fond smile, you relent. "Fine. But next time, it’s on me."

He nods, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips as he settles the bill. As the two of you leave the restaurant, the night feels like it’s already wrapped in a perfect little bow.

By the time you arrive to his place, it feels as if the day has come full circle, every moment leading to this one, this next step, whatever it may be.

Mingyu pulls into the parking spot and without a word, he opens the door for you, his hand brushing yours as you both step out. There’s something about the way he’s looking at you that makes your heart flutter.

As the door closes behind you both, Mingyu sets his suit jacket down, now left only in his black button-down shirt. You, on the other hand, sink into the couch, not sure what to do or say next. It’s 9 p.m., and you’ve got an hour left before you have to return to your dorm. The day has been filled with so much laughter and moments that have made your heart race and now here you are, in his cozy apartment, not quite ready for it to end.

As you sit there lost in your thoughts, you don’t expect what happens next. Mingyu extends his hand toward you, his fingers beckoning in the soft glow of the room inviting you into his space, into his arms. You don’t hesitate for a second, your hand finding his without a second thought, letting him pull you up to your feet. And then he naturally begins to guide you into a slow dance. The music in the background is soft, almost a whisper, but it doesn’t matter as it’s the rhythm of your hearts that sets the pace now.

You take a step forward, your chest brushing gently against his. Mingyu stays perfectly still, like he’s holding his breath, as if afraid to break the spell. There’s a delicate tension between you, a space between your lips that’s filled only with the moment.

Your fingers glide along the collar of his shirt, drawn to him by some unseen force and you lean in just slightly, “You never really told me why you chose lavender.”

Mingyu’s eyes flicker to yours, his gaze soft, intense and filled with a sincerity that makes your heart race a little faster. His hands find their place on your waist but he hesitates for a fraction of a second before pulling you even closer, the heat from his palms burning through the fabric of your sweater, leaving a trace of his warmth on your skin.

His breath is warm against your ear as he speaks, his voice low, almost a whisper. “Because,” he says, his lips grazing your ear, “it reminds me of you… and it's your favourite”

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart stuttering in your chest. You didn’t expect him to say something like this, leaving you speechless for a moment. You can feel the room closing in around you, the mood lights casting soft shadows that only make the space between you two feel even more intimate. The world outside feels distant now, irrelevant. All that matters is the way Mingyu holds you, the way he makes everything feel right.

Then in a surprising and tender move, Mingyu slowly sinks to one knee, his gaze never leaving yours. His hands still linger on your waist, steadying himself as he looks up at you with a soft, genuine smile. “I’ve had the best day with you, and I can’t imagine my days without you anymore,” he says, his voice filled, his heart in his eyes. “So... I need to ask you, officially… will you be my girlfriend?”

The room feels even smaller now, the moment so heavy with emotion that it’s almost suffocating in the best way possible. Your breath catches in your throat, your pulse quickening as his words settle in your mind. Your heart swells with joy as you look down at him, knowing that you’ve both come this far, knowing that this is more than just a question. 

“Yes.” The word escapes your lips and as soon as it’s out, Mingyu’s smile stretches wide, that same smile that makes everything around you fade into the background. His eyes sparkle with joy, and you swear it’s like he’s glowing. You can feel a warmth fill your chest, overwhelming.

He stands up, his grin still never faltering and leans in, resting his forehead against yours. There’s no need for words now; the silence between you is thick with meaning, with a thousand unspoken things that only the two of you understand. 

But as the joy of the moment settles in, a sudden realization makes your heart tighten and it feels heavy in your chest. A thought flashes through your mind that makes your throat close up and your chest ache.

You think about how you never really noticed Mingyu. How you were blind to him, how you failed to see him for what he was to you. How, all along, he was there, patient and constant, while you kept pushing him away, thinking he was just a friend. He was the secret admirer you never even considered and he had carried all that weight on his own. He never lashed out. He never got angry. Instead, he waited. He never gave up on you, never turned away, even when you hurt him again and again with your obliviousness. A rush of guilt floods through you. The thought of how much you put him through, how you always doubted yourself thinking he was too good for you, never giving him the chance to show you how much he cared, it makes your heart ache in a way you can’t explain.

“Mingyu,” you murmur, pulling back just slightly so you can look into his eyes, searching for the words to say, what’s been buried inside you for so long. “I need to tell you something.”

He tilts his head, his smile softening as he waits, already knowing something heavy is coming.

“I always liked you,” you admit, the words trembling on your lips, finally finding their way into the open air. “But I never came to terms with it, because I was scared. I was scared that if I let myself believe it, it would only end in disappointment. You’re… you’re so out of my league, Mingyu. You’re the kind of person every woman dreams of. And me? I’m just lucky to be one of your closest friends. I didn’t want to push my luck, to ask for more.” You take a breath, “I never thought you’d choose me. I never thought I could be more than just your friend. But then you were always so kind, so patient with me even when I didn’t see it. You carried all of that on your own and I’m sorry for that. I should’ve seen it. I should’ve known what was right in front of me. And if you never confessed, I might’ve never been able to say this to you… but I like you, Mingyu. I like you more than I’ve ever liked anyone.”

The moment you finish, everything feels still. His eyes widen, his lips part slightly but he doesn’t speak and neither do you. It’s like time has frozen and all you can do is stand there, your heart racing, waiting for him to process what you’ve said. The silence is deafening and yet it’s comforting, because it feels like this is the most real thing you’ve ever said.

Mingyu stands still for a moment, his hand still resting lightly on your waist and then slowly, his expression changes. “I don’t want you to ever doubt yourself,” he finally says. “You’re everything I could ever want, and more. I didn’t care about being the man of every woman’s dreams, because all I ever wanted was you.” He lifts his hand to cup your face, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek. “I waited because I knew it would be worth it,” he adds, his eyes never leaving yours. “And now, I’m just… so glad I did.”

Tears prick at your eyes as the full weight of his words hits you, and before you can stop them, a tear slips down your cheek. Mingyu wipes it away kindly, his smile full of so much love that it nearly breaks you.

“You never hurt me, you know,” he says lovingly, “because I knew we’d get here eventually. And now, all I want is for you to know that I’m here. Always here for you no matter what happens.”

Mingyu doesn't like you, but loves you, more than you ever thought possible. He'd never needed anyone else because all along, you were enough. No one else could compare to you in his eyes. The thought of being with anyone else never crossed his mind, because it was always you.

You tiptoe and press a soft kiss on his lips, an apology for the past misunderstandings, a rush of emotions fills your chest. You pull away but before you can even fully pull back, his hands are already on your waist, drawing you back to him. His lips find yours again, this time with a hunger that makes your stomach flip, a desperation that feels almost uncontainable. His kiss is deep, slow, and deliberate and the weight of it is enough to knock the breath out of you. "Mingyu..." you murmur against his lips, your body melting into his warmth. His grip tightens ever so slightly, his body stiffening in worry. He pulls away, chest heaving with shallow breaths. His voice is laced with uncertainty though it trembles with desire.

"Tell me to stop," he says, low and unsteady, "And I will."

For a moment you just look at him, searching his eyes for any sign of doubt. But there's nothing. His love for you is written in every inch of him, in the way his fingers gently graze your cheek, in the way his breath catches when you shift closer.

You lean in again, closing the space between you. The moment your lips meet, he kisses you slow, deep and it makes your heart race. His hand moves from your cheek to your back, pulling you flush against him and you can feel every beat of his heart against yours. There's nothing hurried about it, just slow, careful movements that send sparks flying in your veins making you feel like you're floating. Everything is perfectly, wonderfully right.

He knows that this time, you see him. This time you see the admirer is right in front of you.

-

“To the one who has always been right in front of me,

I used to write these letters with the hope that one day, you’d realize it was me. That somehow, my words would reach you before I had to say them out loud. But today, I don’t need to hide behind words anymore.

You know me now—not just as the admirer, but as Mingyu. And I know you, not as someone I can only love from afar, but as someone who chose me back. Still, I wanted to write this—one last letter, not as a confession, but as a promise. A promise that I’ll keep looking at you the way I always have. That I’ll love you not just in grand gestures, but in the small moments too, the ones where love isn’t loud, but it’s there, steady and certain.

So here. This time, I’m not slipping it into a locker or leaving it on a table. I’m giving it to you with my own hands, looking right at you, so you know—this has always been real.

Yours, always.

— Mingyu”

Lee Y/N @y/nisnot_sleeping · 1h  

Been mine for a while now…

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Boo @americano_.boo · 57m

Replying to @y/nisnot_sleeping  

Did you just ditch us for THIS ?¡?%&!? 

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yoon ★ @yjh1004 · 49m  

Replying to @y/nisnot_sleeping  

Finally!!!!

♡ 3        🔁 -      🗨️ -

Chan @dinonaras.ltd · 45m  

Replying to @y/nisnot_sleeping  

🫢🫢🫢

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Chan @dinonaras.ltd · 44m  

Replying to @americano_.boo  

where is @horang_m_a_n ?? crying in the corner because the investigation flopped?

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⌦ 💌 © mylovesstuffs | est. 2025. thank you for reading—your reblog means everything. until we meet again, stay cozy and keep dreaming! ◜ᴗ◝

[alienoresimagines]

Just some words I've been needing to hear for a few weeks now and once I finally wrote them down, I thought maybe there were other people who might need to hear them too ❤️

You don't need to be anyone's favorite writer for your writing to be good.

The worth of your writing is not measured by whether or not you're included in fic recs or the amount of comments/asks you get.

Your works don't need to be recognized as some of The fics of the fandom to be good or worth reading.

'Popular' writers in your fandom are also just writers (and humans!!) : you don't need to impress or be noticed by them to have a place in your fandom. Fandom should be fun so don't let your brain ruin it with a misplaced sense of competition <3

You don't need to post a fic every week to be considered a writer. You don't need to write every week to be a writer. There is no limited places in fandom: come and go as you want and as life allows you to. Post when you feel like it, there is no trend to surf on to stay 'relevant' as a fic writer or a content creator. Fandom will always wait for you.

Your writing is good, and the more you write, the more you find your style, the better it gets.

Your writing made someone's day. Your writing is helping the fandom stay alive. Your writing should make you happy, and that happiness should not be proportional to how recognized you are in your fandom.

I know it can be discouraging to see tons of fic recs in your fandom and none of them including your fics. But yesterday, when I was feeling down, I re-read my own published works because they were the stories I wanted to read. And I enjoyed reading them, so much. And that is enough to keep me writing, because it showed me there is no better person to write the stories I have in my head than myself (a huge progress considering months ago, I couldn't reread something I'd written because I was cringeing too hard to get through two sentences).

Find your people that will always hype you and your fics up: you and your writing don't have to appeal to every single person in your fandom. Write niche fics! Rarepairs seemingly no one brought up before! Include headcanons and takes and interpretations you've never seen written before!

Write the stories you are dying to read, and I promise you, you'll find other people who were hoping to find that story somewhere, too.

Your writing is unique because it can only ever be yours and same goes for your stories; your writing is worth reading and your stories are worth being written <3

[yandere-sins]

A Camgirl's Happiness

a/n: To be fair, I know very little about actually streaming or cammodeling, and it's not as easy to read up on, so take my descriptions with a grain of salt. Also, I know that most people doing that job are really into it and I'm very happy for them, but I needed the drama for the story, hope you can understand! I hope you guys enjoy it regardless, it was fun to write!

Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Reader is a camgirl, mentioning of stripping, fulfilling sexual favors for viewers), Fem!Reader, Life struggles (Debts, Mental health problems), Mention of stalking, Obsessive Behavior

You knew exactly what you were doing, pulling your legs up on your chair, squeezing your breasts just a bit more prominently towards the camera.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

"Hi SweetsMaster! Longtime no read! We're just talking today, but I'm so glad you made it to the stream!"

Ding! Ding!

Smiling, you watched the crushing waves of messages, your fanbase as active as ever as they flooded you with their adoration. Even when you had an image to uphold, you couldn't help but be pampered by their compliments, giggling and telling them to stop calling you adorable and their "dream girl".

Still, you played along to their fantasies, hid your face behind your palm coyly, and kept them believing that you were this cute internet star they loved so much. Life was hard, but getting an end to your means barely needed more than an hour or two talking about all the cute things you'd do if you had one of these lonely, unhappy people behind the screen as your partner. You didn't complain that they invested their savings into spending time with you instead of therapy.

Not like you ever considered going to therapy yourself, too ashamed of the truths you'd have to share.

You sighed inwardly, forcing yourself to smile a bit more convincingly at the camera as you took a sip of water, letting some drops fall into your cleavage. "Oopsie!" you giggled, forced to appear bashful, hoping no one clipped that. But what were you thinking? Of course, they did.

"Stop that, guys! How embarrassing! People will think I can't even drink!"

Sometimes you didn't recognize your own voice as you put on a show. The pitch was too high, your words made you cringe. As if you were in a sketch, rather than a life performance. You quickly wiped away the droplets sitting on top of your skin, threatening to run down the curve of your breasts as many of your viewers hoped before continuing to chat with the rapidly growing crowd. Being a camgirl had been fun once—unforced.

When you started doing it, you enjoyed the time with every new follower you got. Some were creeps, but some were genuinely nice people who paid you to do things you enjoyed. You didn't feel strange being yourself back then; people supported you just as you were. Taking off your clothes and doing favors was a fun little side hustle to get you through college. You didn't plan on doing this forever.

But even with your degree, your real job, and all the possibilities you had now, you couldn't stop streaming. You tried countless of times! But every time you said goodbye for good, your life was thrown into chaos, your bills left unpaid. You lost your job, lost your home, lost all the friends that couldn't watch your life being ruined.

And now, you were tired. So, so tired.

You got back on your feet, thanks to streaming. You found a new job, a new home. More and more people joined your shows; they bought you gifts and sent you money. Even if there was no one to share your earnings with, at least you didn't have to worry about your debts anymore. You'd stream after work, on the weekends, vacations. You organized photoshoots and sold your pictures and merch on the side, even though no one ever wanted to get hired by you to help with all the packaging and work it took.

> you're nothing like you were when you first started

Someone typed in chat, and your fake voice began to crack as you read it out loud. Quickly, you composed yourself, but it stung.

"Yeah, well, aren't we all someone different than, let's say, three years ago? I've grown a lot as a person since I first started! And thanks to you guys, I was able to afford better equipment, too!"

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

You laughed at the incoming donations, forming a heart with your hands as you thanked your patrons. "That's going to be a new mic soon!"

> that's not what i meant

The same person from before wrote into the chat, their name—DarlingLover—highlighted in baby pink, revealing they were a superfan. You couldn't ignore them, even though you wished nothing more than for this conversation to end.

> you looked much happier back then

"That's not true!" you chimed up, using all your strength to press down the tears you felt shooting into your eyes. It was bittersweet to be seen in this industry. To not be objectified and idolized, but to have someone truly notice the person behind the on-camera persona.

"I love hanging out with you guys! I made so many new friends, and I'm grateful for all the support and love you guys have shown me! I would never have had the chance otherwise!"

Blowing some kisses towards the camera, your donations went wild, reassuring you that your cover hadn't been blown. You had to keep yourself together, you couldn't risk one perceptive fan to showcase how miserable you were. But perhaps you had to take it as a sign. A sign that it was enough for today. You needed to eat something, and the clock on your monitor—10:47 pm—reminded you that you skipped dinner long enough. And once you had some substance, you'd need the five hours of sleep before you'd have to drag yourself out of bed and to your real work.

"Okay, guys, that's it for tonight! Thank you all for joining our talking stream! I hope you had as much fun as I did!"

Slipping your hand beneath the spaghetti strap of your tank, you pushed it off your shoulder teasingly. "And just as a little reminder," you mumbled seductively, winking at your audience. "Join us tomorrow for a very fun night!"

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

You grinned cheekily, waving at the people and blowing them a few more kisses while the donations kept pinging in. Just two more clicks and you had closed the stream, watching it on your second monitor to see if your 'stream ended' notice got displayed properly. The animation had been damn expensive, and you wanted to use it to its fullest until it would be too outdated that you needed a new one.

Watching it for a while, you noticed that amongst the countless messages notifying you that someone left the stream, a few people still had a very eager conversation even after it ended. Immediately, the baby pink name of the superfan who had chatted with you before stood out, the user vehemently defending their standpoint against some newer fans. You clicked their names and checked them out, seeing the varying times from a few months to a few days of subscription to you, as well as the very sparse donation they made.

> i've been here longer, i'd know if she was truly happy

DarlingLover wrote, and you gulped, feeling the anxiety brewing inside your stomach. You couldn't believe they'd go out of their way to try and pull others on their side. Were they trying to ruin your career on purpose?

>> what an idiot lol >> srsly she wouldn't do it if she didn't want to >> yeah what the hell lol

A sigh of relief escaped you, seeing how the others didn't believe DarlingLover. Once again, your reputation was upheld even if it might cost you this superfan. It was expected in this industry to lose and gain followers. Some could withstand changes with their devotion, and others couldn't. You watched as the number of current visitors to your stream continued to drop relentlessly, the sight calming your mind.

You should have gotten up and made dinner, hit the hay before you could pity yourself any more than you had all evening. Your mood was already down the drain, but you were too exhausted to get up, thinking of just dropping into bed and sleeping until morning instead of doing anything else. You couldn't afford to not care for yourself, but it all felt so meaningless.

> Darling, you there?

A stray message popping up in chat caught your attention. You had three more visitors. Two must have just left it open on the side, but the third one was still chatting. With who? you wondered, waiting for someone to respond. But no one answered, DarlingLover, and a whole minute passed by.

> if you read this, can you message me privately? i want to book a private session

You inhaled deeply.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck," you groaned, letting your head fall back against the gaming chair you had bought for your desktop setup. Pink and cute and so expensive. Private Sessions were the only reason you could afford a 500$ chair in the first place. But you really, really didn't want to. Really didn't want to entertain someone who had ruined your evening enough.

Click.

< Hi! :) You wanted a private session? Thank you so much, I look forward to it! Do you have a date in mind? I'll check with my bookings, but I'm sure we can find some time this week!

Yes, you hated yourself. But this user was a superfan, and you never let anyone down before. For the right price, you could do anything—or so you told yourself repeatedly. Trying to make yourself believe you could do it, burned out and exhausted as you were. It was just one more private session; you'd get through it, just like you always had.

> i've noticed how unhappy you are lately. you don't smile like you used to, don't tell us about what is happening in your life. you're like a pretty doll that sits and entertains us out of habit. i hate it. i want the real you back

That again. You scowled at the screen, your stomach grumbling in agreement (and hunger). "What do you even say to that?" you mumbled into the silence surrounding you. It was pitiful that you still lived in the same two-room flat since college, all your money going into debt and equipment rather than buying nice things for yourself. It made the dark, quiet loneliness so much more derisive. It was your life, but even so you could do nothing but entertain others to live in a way you didn't want to. You were so lost, your whole life purpose seemingly meaningless as the streams and viewers demanded more and more from you.

< I'm sorry you feel that way! :( I'm always trying my best to be myself and kind. I hope it didn't seem like I'm just faking it for the others! Please give me a chance to prove that I'm still me, and I'll do my best to meet your expectations!

Tears stung in your eyes as you typed out the words. You didn't want to grovel or apologize for how the world had ruined you. You couldn't push the blame on everyone else forever, but you truly felt wronged by your own life. Apologizing for being forced into a role you didn't want to have was way worse than when you made an actual mistake, but if you wanted to keep up the image, it was what you had to do.

> it's okay. i know you work so hard, i'm so proud of you for that

Your supporter's sudden shift in attitude made you lean back in your chair, your breath escaping you as you felt the tension being lifted. Perhaps he wasn't as weird as you assumed by his insistence on ruining the little composure you had in your stream. Maybe he was truly just concerned for you.

> that's why i'm going to help you!

Raising an eyebrow, you couldn't help but cringe. Nothing good ever came from someone saying they would "help" you. They were merely justifying themselves for wanting something unhinged from you, mostly something you weren't comfortable with. You relented to them in the past, but did you really have to put up with it still?

< Thank you so much for giving me a chance! ♥ Have you decided on a day then for our session?

> tomorrow night, 8pm, hotel loveline. i'll book the room, just mention my name to the receptionist, and they'll give you a key

You felt all goodwill shatter into a million pieces as you read the line. Bringing your hands to your face, you rubbed over the wrinkles and tension you held in the grimace of an expression you were making, wishing you could just drop the conversation and go to bed. It wasn't the first time someone asked to meet up personally. You had never done it before and wouldn't break your boundary for that guy now.

< I'm so sorry, but I don't do personal meet-ups! If you want a private cam session, please let me know, and I will arrange it! :)

"Please, god, let him get the hint," you prayed under your breath, but you should have known better. He was a persistent one.

> i'll make sure you gain thrice the followers than you do in one month just from our collaboration. surely people will send lots of donations, too. the only thing i want is you, natural, real. mine for the night

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Mister," you grumbled, slowly getting angry at this guy. Why did he lie through his teeth? How in the world would someone get you thrice the subscribers from a private session? Why make big promises that were impossible to keep? And he was paying for it, so there would be no donations for you. But even so, with your teeth grinding in frustration, you typed out the nicest rejection you possibly could.

< Sorry, but I'm really not comfortable with personal meet-ups! And charging you for a whole night also makes me feel bad; my rates aren't cheap, after all. It wouldn't be fair to you. Let me know if you are still interested in a cam session, I'll give you a discount since you've been a fan for so long! :) ♥

There was an eery silence in the chatroom, and you glimpsed towards the bathroom, wondering if you had time to get ready for bed until he replied. Ultimately, you decided to wait it out, just to be polite, while you scolded yourself for offering a discount. This interaction alone should have warranted an extra charge on top of your regular rates.

> you like your current day job, don't you?

This statement caught you off-guard. You hadn't spoken much about your new employment on stream, not wanting to bore your viewers with such trivial things when they were there to be entertained.

> wouldn't you be sad if you were fired again?

"What do you mean?" you typed back, the confusion growing.

> i take good care of my darling, and you'll enjoy what i have prepared for you. if you can no longer pretend to be happy, i will help you find that happiness again, help you choose the right path

< you scare me

You typed the words before thinking them through. This was the real you, not the persona he knew and wanted to see, and she just messed up big time.

< I'm sorry, I meant to say your comments can be interpreted weirdly, and it's a little scary to read them right now. I'd still be up for the cam session if you're interested, though?

Anything, you thought, anything to stop him from saying more weird shit.

Does he... does he know you? You pondered the thought for a while. Trying to find a weird interaction you might have had before in your real life. One where someone spoke to you like he did. But you couldn't recall it. How did you know about your job though? Was he perhaps a colleague? But even they knew very little of you, and definitely not about your other job.

"Do I know you?" you asked when he didn't reply anytime quick.

Immediately, you regretted showing vulnerability in front of this stranger. From the moment he joined your stream, DarlingLover had seen through your charades, the online persona you had kept up so carefully. They were laying you bare in an uncomfortable, personal way. You've always been so careful with information about your personal life, keeping all your stories vague and unidentifiable, never naming brands of the stores you visited, or talking about the companies you were part of. How did he know where you lived and about your work?

You wished he'd just stop and disappear to where he came from.

> not yet :)   > but you will get to know me—all of me—when we see each other tomorrow. i'll make you smile again, i'll make you happy. you'll be my darling star again, just like before! my reason to live, my beloved. i can't wait for tomorrow, see you soon!

DarlingLover left the chat.

You stared at the message for a while, perplexed and dumbfounded as you tried to make sense of it. You replayed the interaction over and over but could find no logic or reason behind it. You didn't know this guy, he didn't know you. At least, not personally. But he did know more about you than any of your subscribers should.

Part of you hated him, but the rest of you was scared. Scared of what would happen if you scorned him, the havoc he'd unleash on your life. You were scared of the embarrassment he could cause you if he revealed your secret sidehustle to your work, feared how the opinion of you would change now that you finally found work that you liked and coworkers that you could have fun with. You were finally one leg into having a normal life, only for some stranger on the internet to come and ruin it again. It made you mad and drove you downright crazy.

Clicking his username over and over, it stated he was offline. You couldn't open a new chat again, couldn't scream at him how you weren't going to do that! How you wouldn't meet him for real because he could very well be a psycho or murderer! Surely, he'd not give you back the time you lost streaming, the friends you pushed away to earn money, or your happiness in exchange for success!

"What do I do?" you sighed, rubbing your face once more. You were so tired, you had to go to bed. Soon, you'd have to get up, get to work, and decide whether you wanted to attend the meet-up.

Wait.

Why was that even a decision?

Of course, you wouldn't go! He couldn't force you! He couldn't—

Did you really have a choice?

Flopping into your bed, you groaned. In a fit of anger, you punched your fists into the mattress a few times before the strength left you. Of course, it was your choice. You had started over before. If the worst came to fruition, you'd just do it again. Nothing was lost. You could do it! You could refuse the offer and live a happy life away from streaming and the judgment of other people! It would be hard. So very hard. But you could do it!

Sleep overtook you before you could prepare yourself for bed. You didn't hear the ping of a chat message. All your body had left in it was to sleep away the exhaustion, even if it meant knocking you out for good and without having an alarm set for the next morning. Big decisions would have to be made the next day, but you were asleep, unaware of the weight resting on your shoulders.

And you didn't notice the red light on your webcam, saying it was still on even though your screen had long closed down.

< sleep well, darling :) ♥

His lips curled into a wicked, lovestruck grin as he moved the window with the video live feed of your bedroom to the second monitor. Finally. Finally, he'd get to meet you. His idol, his darling, his beloved streamer. He adored and worshipped you since the day you started. Watched every one of your streams since the day you joined his life.

Without you, his channel wouldn't exist. People wouldn't adore him, wouldn't watch him. The masses of fans enjoying his lengthy cock-stroking sessions, buying his ASMR audios to masturbate to—they all wouldn't exist without you. Even when he was down when he just started, seeing you smile and do your best for the few followers you had was what made him continue working hard for you.

And now that he had long surpassed you, it was time he gave back the gratitude he felt towards you.

The thought alone of meeting you was getting his cock rock hard, ready to burst. He wasn't even sure if he could look into your eyes without cumming instantly like a pathetic loser. But he wouldn't mind being a loser again if it meant he got to meet you.

"I love her streams," he hummed blissfully, closing the connection to your stream as he palmed himself over his sweatpants. Thanks to your lovely end of stream announcement, showing all your best moments, no one even noticed he'd be off chatting with you. "She's my favorite streamer ever."

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

Donations went off as he pulled down the waistband, revealing the girthy mass that his followers loved so much. He'd been so ashamed as a teenager for having this monster of a cock, but on the internet, he found solace. People loved imagining riding him, giving him BJs, the whole nine yards, but he saved himself. For you. You'd be the first, and if he did his job well, you'd be his last.

"Before we get to the main part of tonight," he teased, gripping his length in his hand, squeezing and caressing it for the whole community to see. Head rolling back, he imagined your warmth spread around him, his cock pulsing eagerly as he wished to know what it would feel like to pop the tip into your tight pussy.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

He grinned. They loved him so much. Everyone loved the former loser now turned into a hot, sexy internet sensation. And you would, too. Very soon.

"I want to announce that we're going to have the collaboration of the year right here, on this channel, tomorrow. Starting at 8:30pm! Make sure you're here to witness it, Darling."

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

[chdarling]

As we’re getting closer to a truly awful day for America, I just wanted to check in on you. Things are bleak and about to get so so much worse, I want you to know I’m here and many others are here too when you’re ready

This is very kind of you, thank you. Honestly, I have not been doing great. Watching my neighbors elect a racist, fascist, Nazi-loving rapist triggered a pretty bad depressive episode on top of what was already the worst period of professional and creative burnout of my life, so….I’m struggling. Still trying to claw my way out of the dark. I’m deeply appreciative of the kindness of this community and am sorry that I haven’t (and probably won’t for a little longer) been able to engage the way I once did. I will again one day, and I am so thankful to know all you wonderful people online. <3

On a note that is completely unrelated to this gentle ask, I’ve been getting a ton of messages lately asking for a date when TLE3 is coming out and I don’t feel up to answering them (sorry) so I’m just going to tack this on here since I buried my last post on the subject under a mountain of despair reblogs: TLE3 is going to take a while.

I’m still planning to continue with my writing projects (be they TLE or other things), but right now I’m focusing on securing my own oxygen mask, etc. When I finished posting TLE2, I said that I would be taking a break and also that I would not be posting TLE3 until I had written all of it (like I had for TLE1). Even if I had been writing diligently every single day since I posted the last chapter, I still wouldn’t be done, so please understand that it’s going to take a while. It certainly will not be coming in the next 6 months, very possibly not in 2025. I know some people won’t be happy to hear that, but just a fun statistic: OOTP has 257,045 words and took three years to write/publish after GOF. TLE2 has (and this makes me cringe a little) 407,079 words and took roughly 3 years to write as an unpaid side hobby on top of full time work, education, etc. I don’t say this to toot my own horn (frankly, it just makes me desperately want to retroactively edit the crap out of TLE2 lol), but rather to reiterate that writing a book-length work takes a lot of time, energy, and love. I don’t want it to take 3 years (and I don’t think it will, TLE3 will be a more reasonable length), but it’s certainly not going to be finished in a few months. That would be insanity and I am not that talented lmao.

I do know that the requests for updates come from a place of love and enthusiasm and excitement and I really, truly appreciate that. I also appreciate all of the kind words of the asks I haven’t been answering. Please know that I’ve read them, I love you, and I will be back eventually. I just have to focus on my health right now, and unfortunately these days being online is pretty bad for that, so I'm going to try to be logged off for a while.

And finally, on another completely unrelated but perhaps mildly tangential note: if anyone has any books recommendations or resources on processing climate grief, I, uh, could use them. 🫠

[sh4nksslvt]

Hello, good morning, I hope I'm not bothering you. But I can make a request for Whitebeard and Fem Reader, which is a story of forbidden love where he is a pirate we know and she is an admiral. Respected that they nicknamed her mother to those who go with them, they had a secret relationship a few years ago before Roger's death that he also knew but unfortunately A reader like her had a devil fruit that was mysterious and valuable that deals with control From the dreams, some powers similar to those of MLP's Moon or Maleficent. But she had to sacrifice herself to save her men whom she considers sons. Against a pirate who was a Yonko who was protected by the navy And that devastated Whitebeard and those who knew her, but after a few years Whitebeard met a boy who was his son and reader Only he was raised with Garp who is practically the adopted brother of Ace Luffy and Sabo

Oh, I dreamed it and I swear I woke up crying. But I said it would be interesting to read. Take your time thank you ❤️

sounds cool anw tried my best>< tis not much but, hope u like it!

When the Sea Dreams of You

A powerful admiral, once known as "Mother" to her men, sacrifices herself to save them—leaving behind a secret love and child with Whitebeard. Years later, fate delivers the boy back into his father's world.

whitebeard x fem! reader | ONE SHOT

tags: slight angst, sfw, ooc, major character death, grief, oc

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe and akward

word count: 1.1k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The sea remembered her name even if the world had tried to forget it.

She had once stood atop warships with the wind billowing her cape, marines at her side, and fear in the hearts of pirates. An admiral—respected, strategic, and maternal in a way that felt divine—earning her the nickname “Mother” from those who served under her.

But Edward Newgate had once called her something else. Something softer. Something forbidden.

“Y/N.”

Their love had bloomed like moonlight on water—beautiful, distant, unreachable to anyone else. Back when the world was simpler. Before Roger died. Before Yonko politics became tangled with Navy ambition. Before dreams became dangerous things.

She had eaten a devil fruit so rare that even the elders of Mariejois feared it: the Yume Yume no Mi, Dream Dream Fruit. It granted her the power to shape dreams, trap enemies in illusions, or soothe nightmares into serenity. Some whispered she could walk between minds in their sleep, learn secrets, or even leave part of herself behind in another’s subconscious.

The World Government had seen her as both an asset and a threat. So they used her… and then allowed her to die.

At least, that’s what the world believed.

.

.

It began in silence—after battles, beneath stars, stolen moments between two great forces who knew what their love would cost.

"You know," she whispered against his chest, fingers tangled in his wild blond hair, "this can never be more than a dream."

Whitebeard chuckled, arms like mountains holding her close. "Then let’s never wake up."

They had found each other between skirmishes, on islands not marked on maps, during ceasefires no one else knew about. She would arrive wearing her navy coat, only to drop it at his feet like a surrender flag. He’d tease her, call her dangerous in more ways than one, and then hold her like the war would never reach them.

Only a few knew—Roger had been one of them. He had laughed when he found out, slapping Whitebeard on the back.

"You're crazier than I thought, Newgate! Falling for the Navy's ‘Mother’? You really wanna die, huh?"

But Roger understood. In his own way. And then he died.

And everything changed.

.

.

The pirate was brutal. A Yonko, protected by politics, feared by soldiers. He had come for her fleet—not her—and underestimated what a mother does for her children.

Her men had screamed for retreat. She stayed.

The battlefield twisted around her as she activated the forbidden side of her fruit. A nightmare realm bloomed into existence—a dreamscape that would swallow both her and the Yonko into an endless illusion, locking them in a dimension between sleep and wakefulness.

It was her final act. Her fleet escaped. Her body was never recovered. The navy quietly declared her dead, sealing all files. Honoring her in silence.

But Whitebeard knew the truth. He felt it—like a tear in his soul.

And he never forgave them.

Years Later

He appeared on Sphinx Island on a slow afternoon, knocking over crates trying to carry supplies. Hair as wild as the sea, grin just familiar enough to sting.

Marco had noticed first. “Oyaji, you might wanna come see this-yoi…”

The boy stood with a seagull feather in his messy hair and a Marine jacket tied around his waist like a belt. His laugh—loud and reckless—could’ve belonged to Ace. But there was something calmer beneath it. More… deliberate.

“What’s your name, brat?” Whitebeard asked, looming above him like a mountain.

The boy looked up. His eyes were her eyes.

“Hoshi.”

Silence fell.

“My full name’s Hoshi. Don’t really use my last name. Garp-jiji says it stirs trouble.”

Marco blinked. “Garp? As in—Vice Admiral Garp?”

“Yeah. He's kinda like my grandpa. I grew up with his other grandkids. We were like brothers.” He scratched his head. “But I don’t look like them much. People always said I looked more like… her.”

Whitebeard’s breath caught.

The boy looked up. “My mom was an admiral. ‘Mother,’ they called her. I know she’s gone. But Garp-jiji said she loved me. Said I was a dream she left behind.”

Whitebeard’s knees nearly buckled.

He whispered, “And your father?”

“Dunno. Garp-jiji wouldn’t say. But sometimes… I dream of a voice. Loud, laughing. Warm. It’s dumb.”

Whitebeard was trembling now. Marco placed a hand on his shoulder, steadying him.

“It ain’t dumb, brat,” the old pirate said hoarsely. “You ever hear the name Whitebeard?”

Hoshi tilted his head. “Course I have. Big ol’ sea legend.”

Whitebeard knelt down so their eyes met.

“I’m Edward Newgate. Your father.”

The revelation shook the crew to its core. Most knew of her in whispers and unspoken glances. Thatch remembered her as the admiral who once spared his life. Vista swore he saw Whitebeard smile softer the weeks after her visits.

Hoshi adjusted fast. He sparred with Marco, pestered Jozu for strength training, and charmed even Izo with his mischief. But some nights, he asked Whitebeard to tell him stories about her.

And Whitebeard did.

“Your mother used to make even the sea stand still,” he’d murmur, staring out at the tide. “She held nations in her hand, but always chose to cradle her boys instead.”

“Did you love her?”

“With every bone in this old body.”

.

.

One night, Hoshi woke screaming. The crew rushed in—swords drawn, ready to fight.

“She was there!” he shouted. “I saw her! She said my name. She held me!”

Marco looked pale. “A dream?”

Whitebeard stepped in. “No… more than that.”

The Dream Dream Fruit never truly dies. Some powers linger. Some souls too stubborn to fade.

That night, as Whitebeard slept, he dreamed of a silver shore, and there she stood—older, transparent, wrapped in moonlight.

“Edward,” she said, and his heart cracked open.

“I never stopped,” he choked. “You should have told me about the boy.”

“I was protecting him. The world wasn’t ready. You weren’t safe. I thought… if he had even a chance at peace, he deserved it.”

Whitebeard reached for her. His hand passed through light.

“Is this real?”

She smiled. “As real as dreams can be.”

“Can I bring you back?”

“No. My body is gone. My soul… remains here. The price of my power.” She cupped his cheek with fingers made of stars. “But I’ll watch over him. And you.”

He wanted to scream, but all he could do was weep.

“Tell him,” she whispered, fading, “that I loved him more than life itself.”

.

.

Hoshi grew into his power, showing hints of the Dream Dream Fruit awakening within him. He spoke of visions, soft voices in sleep, sometimes warnings.

He stayed with Whitebeard’s crew, not as a soldier, but as a bridge—between past and future.

And sometimes, when the moon was high and dreams felt close enough to touch, he would feel her again.

A lullaby in the tide.

A hand on his shoulder.

The sea remembering her name.

[oh-no-its-bird]

One year ago on this day, after digesting way too much naruto fanfiction and getting like no sleep at all, I wrote my first ever naruto fic-- also my first fanfiction in actual years --about a silly girl named Hatake Ichigo inspired off of another writer's Hatake Ichigo (shoutout as always to @titaniafaeriequeen whos own writing is incredible and u should read it)

Naruto proceeded to consume literally my entire life, and I ended posting WAY more fanfiction than I thought I ever could-- as well as a staggering amount of cringe tumblr aus and fanart.

This year has been both so fast and so slow, and I've had the honor of meeting so many incredible people along the way. I just wanna say thank you to everyone who's ever followed, read, left comments, kudos, given asks, reblogged with or without comments, or even just liked a post I've made. This has been a really fun year, and it wouldn't have been the same without all of yall

Happy birthday Ichigo and thank you for ruining my life

[erinwantstowrite]

do you have any advice how to get over the fear of posting fanfiction?

idk if you would relate to that but for some reason I just can't publish anything online that isn't my original work, idk if I'm scared that fandoms are going to bully me or that nobody will read it or something else

I know these fears are irrational, but I would love to hear if you had any advice for me

you gotta jump headfirst into it. like this:

when i was 13 years old i wrote a mary sue oc for a marauders fanfiction, named Lana Portland, who could see the future and fell in love with Sirius Black. her one goal was stopping the prophecy and saving everyone, but she died, came back to life at her own funeral, and then disappeared off the face of the earth because she lost her mind. what happened to her? she could only have a sane mind while she was an owl, her animagus form, but no one knew she was an animagus. you'll never believe what owl she was: Hedwig.

if the Erin writing to you right now was the Erin from about six years ago, they would NEVER have admitted that. however, the Erin I am now can. why? because the embarrassment i felt when i turned 15 and hated looking at it has worn off.

Now Erin has finally come to terms with the fact that being "cringe" is a hell of our making. 15 year old Erin was absolutely sure they'd get bullied to hell and back if anyone knew what they had written at 13. they were much more mature than 13 year old Erin, because they wrote Voltron fanfic, not Harry Potter

being scared of what people thought of my writing was a huge obstacle to overcome, and that's because writing is intensely personal

at first, i wrote my Voltron fics with the fandom in mind. i really wanted some validation, but i was miserable and hated writing. eventually, i went back to my roots of just... writing with only myself in mind. and i was happy again, posting with barely any thought to if someone would like the fic. so sure, reading any of my old works would make me want to throw myself into a pit of fire, but there's something freeing about knowing i had posted them. i am where i am now because i hadn't worried about what people thought of it when i was writing it.

over the years, i've found that fics i wrote that were intended to make absolutely everyone happy with me were my worst fics. i didn't enjoy making them, and people still found a way to be dissatisfied with something i've done. the fics where i do absolutely anything i want, even if it ends up making no sense, were the fics i had the most fun writing. and i didn't regret making them

all this to say: treat your fanfic like it's your own original work, have your fun! don't worry about if people tell you "Character would never do that, you are awful." because 1) who cares, and 2) you can block them, and they can block you

now let's say you're no longer scared of getting dunked on for your writing, so you posted it. good job! now you're wanting people to read your work, but you're scared they won't.

this part is complicated because you could do all the "right" things and still get nothing. that can be making sure you're tagging your fic correctly, or making a bunch of posts about your fic and asking people to read, etc. so, before you focus on getting more people to read, you should remind yourself that even if absolutely no one reads your fic, that doesn't mean you should be ashamed of your work. this also ties back into being content with your writing and doing it for yourself first and foremost.

my favorite fic i've written is "Coffee Jelly Disaster." it's only 900 words, it's not nearly my best writing technically, and barely anyone has read it. that last part ate at me when i first posted it because i thought more people would read it. but i still love it! it's so simple and i had fun

when i started writing LoF it was just for me and my friend, and then it got popular because i made a couple of silly tiktoks, which were also for me and my friend. i hadn't expected so many people to tune in when i started, because i had a couple of well read fics before, but nothing like this.

you don't have control over that kind of stuff because there's a lot of different favtors. and it really depends on what fandom you're writing for, too. Saiki K is not nearly as big as Spider-Man and Batman.

so the way i see it, if you post and get two hits and one like, that's still somebody out there who saw your work and wanted you to see they liked it. if you never post it at all, no one will. you gotta take the first step forward to get somewhere, and eventually you'll be running. we end up regretting our inactions the most

[genericpuff]

i find it funny that one of rachel’s drawings of herself in the afterword that just went up is just fully persephone. is that something she does a lot?

Alright so I've been making it a general rule for myself to like, not harp on Rachel in any way outside of LO as much because frankly the horse is dead now and there's not much left to say outside of what can be analyzed in hindsight. I think despite everything I have to say about her and her work, she still deserves to get away from this nonsense and I don't wanna spend eternity hovering over her shoulder.

But the afterword was posted within the LO series and is clearly meant for readers of LO in the functioning of being an afterword so let's just call it fair game LOL

I will say, on the whole, it does feel very honest and sentimental and I can respect Rachel for taking the time to write out and illustrate her afterword in a way that was personal to both her and her fans. I can understand why she went at it from the angle that she did and I'm not gonna fault her for that.

But there's also something that feels deeply... disingenuous about her approach right from the starting gun. I will say, before I continue, that I'm well aware I am biased towards Rachel as a creator, and I fully acknowledge that I could very well be reading too much into things. This is just my opinion, take it with mountains of salt.

I can get looking back on your own childhood, your past self, whatever, and going "see! it all got better!" because sure! For a lot of creators like Rachel, it must be wild to look back on where they came from and there's a lot of sentimentality on expressing that through an afterword like this where she reflects on where she came from. Though she STILL didn't acknowledge her other comics outside of LO, I can understand if she wants to leave those skeletons in the closet.

But I feel like her drawing herself as a child who's being given an Eisner by her adult self and all that just feels like some gross attempt to disarm any criticism of her because "don't make fun of me, I'm just a sad lonely baby girl!"

She's not a child. Child Rachel didn't grossly misappropriate Greek myth into their own self-indulged vanity project. Child Rachel didn't claim herself a folklorist of a culture's works only to bastardize them completely. Child Rachel didn't create a hostile environment within her fanbase by bullying anyone who she perceived as a threat, sneaking into critical spaces to try and cause trouble, and writing her own clapbacks into her comic. Child Rachel didn't claim to be challenging misogyny and purity culture only to reinforce misogyny and purity culture through her own self-insert baby-virgin-gets-rescued-by-rich-tycoon power fantasy that regularly glorified abuse towards women and the lower class.

30-almost-40-year-old Rachel did though.

At best it comes across as really cringe sentimentality from a Greek-weeb (heh, greeboo) and goes to show how much Rachel inserted herself into Greek myth without ever absorbing its messages or cultural contexts, it was all about her and her feelings as a sad New Zealand girl with dyslexia who thought Persephone's story was about another sad girl being rescued from her "horrible childhood".

At worst it's an active attempt to play on people's heartstrings by drawing herself as a child who people will naturally not want to criticize. I don't want to assume she's doing it intentionally, I really don't want to leave her afterword on a bad foot, as I can definitely understand as both a creator and a person who struggled with learning disabilities in their own childhood how and why she wants to pay homage to her past and where she came from... but let's just say, as someone who's also gotten way too "lost in the sauce" concerning personal self-reflective projects, I think there's a lot to say about how this confirms that Rachel made LO entirely for herself, about herself, without any actual intention to respect the original myths, because she never truly separated them from herself when she was a child. And, in my humble opinion as someone who has Been There with the self-insert OC's and self-reflective angsty plotlines, I can fully attest to the fact that that's not fucking healthy. Even with personal projects, you NEED to learn to get your head out of the sauce, you NEED to learn to objectively separate yourself from the narrative so the story doesn't fall apart under your own hubris and ego, you NEED to learn to draw a line if you want to have any sort of identity as a human being outside of what you make for people. And that's with just normal original stories, this was a story based on Greek myth which doesn't belong to her.

And this goes for a lot of the things she's said and done in the past, so much of her own "sources" even are tethered to things that she read / watched in her childhood and only vaguely remembers, as if she never mentally left her childhood at all, which just... if the point was to highlight her past and the traumas she went through and how they contributed to her present, an Eisner isn't going to validate those experiences. And drawing attention to her past through the lens of her childhood self absolutely 100% does not absolve her of the negative effect her work has had on the modern Greek myth zeitgeist nor the things she's said and done as a 38 year old woman who should absolutely know better.

The community she entered and took from will forever remain changed by her influence and taking, in many ways not for the better. She has the privilege of walking away and never having to think about it again, with all the awards and accolades that were bought for her, the bravado that she built around being a "folklorist" with zero credentials, and the platform she was given over many other creators struggling to even be heard.

That "place" she claims to have now was built entirely on inserting herself into another culture's works and doing nothing but taking, taking, taking, while offering nothing in return but vanity and lip service. That "place" was paid for and brought to you by Webtoons.

[edgeray]

HI, first of all, i love your write so much 💕💕💕💕💕, you're so creative, please, as long as you feel good writing, write!!! You are very good at it, and you feed Arle stans so weel.

Second, did you by any chance watched bridgerton ? If not, just ignore it, it's more to give a historical context (and dresses in beautiful scenery, for sure). Bridgerton is a period show (and books) that takes place at the beginning of the 19th century (1810-1820) [Although, I think Arlecchino would fit even more within the context of the Victorian age, but I think it might be an idea saved for another request]. Given the context, I believe my request becomes clearer :

Arlecchino who pretends to be a man (dressing and acting like one) to get married to the reader.

It's not news to anyone that Arlecchino is part of a powerful nobility family and it's also not news to anyone that she hates playing the female role given to her (and I can't imagine her wearing the fluffy dress ever!!!!), so seeing her childhood best friend become the diamond of the season (basically the favorite debutant of the season for both the queen and the suitors, in a very short way) She realizes that she needs to enter the marriage market too, in this case to fight for your hand.

Please feel free to change any part of the order, I don't want this to become boring for you to write.

So thank you for share your works and read it, (can i?) 🪷anon.

Courting a Lie

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N- Of course you can be 🪷 anon! Thank you for your kind words. I aim to feed. Arle for everyone!! Sorry that this is super late… I will assume the reader is female for this because a debutant is a woman. Also didn't know how to make it GN! since there's no gender neutral aristocratic titles as far as I know. Sorry GN! readers :(  While I haven't watched Bridgerton, from your description of the era, I've read quite a few manhwas set in a European aristocratic society that sounds just like this. I get the general gist of what you're saying from those manhwas so I drew some inspiration from there.  I've never really written for a historical fiction AU so we shall see how this goes. Apologies in advance if it is cringe. I did change a few things for the plot, but not because it was boring, more because of my own plot/backstory building. I actually had a lot of fun researching random bits for this request, and this request is among my most developed and thoughtful works on Tumblr! Still don't know how to dialogue though… I really liked writing this kind of setting so I would be pretty happy if a part 2 of this was requested... how did I do in terms of writing this? hopefully not too far from bridgerton?   Content warnings / info - arlecchino is referred to as a man and uses masculine pronouns for a little bit, 2.0k words

You don't quite remember what occasion it was when you first met her. Perhaps it was a charity ball or some celebration. Either way, you were at most eight years of age when you met your first friend, a quiet, petite child hiding in the corner of the Snezhevna Estate's garden, ducked nearby a bush. You wandered away from the garden party, as you couldn't find any other children your age that weren't pestering, so you explored the edges, admiring the flowers. 

You stumbled upon a white haired child, with her white dress sullied by her kneeling on the dirt. Similarly, her pale hands were soiled, as if she had dug into the earth with her fingers alone. You nearly gasped at the sight–no lady would ruin their dress so carelessly, especially a dress seemingly adorned as hers. Nevertheless, you were in awe of the courage to do so. Was it possible she wasn't educated well? It'd be damaging to her family's reputation if anyone were to see the condition of her apparel.

You approached her carefully, your voice small in hopes that you wouldn't sound rude. 

“Hello,” you greeted first, and the child turned her head over her shoulder, gazing at you. 

Your breath hitched as you glanced at her eyes, each black pit filled with a red cross in the center that made you suppose she didn't fit into any aristocratic family. You didn't know of any noble family that had such eyes, and it's only been known from noble families to hold particular sets of eyes. Did this girl really belong to nobility? 

“I know I'm not supposed to be in the dirt. Now leave me alone,” she says before turning away, her voice sounding far too monotone and androgynous for you to consider her a young noble lady. Nonetheless, the clear difference between her and the other guests of the function intrigued you. She was educated, or at least it seemed like it, but she had a disregard for creating a good impression. You ignored her request, instead, plopping yourself down beside her to see what it was in the dirt she was so interested in. 

“What are you digging in the dirt for?” You asked. She slumped, as if irritated by your persisted presence. 

“I'm looking for bugs. So go away, unless you want a spider on you,” she warned without looking at you, with the evident expectation her threat would ward you away. 

It did not, in fact, deter you. If anything, you pressed on, your expression contorting to that of fascination. “What kind of bugs?”

That seemed to snatch the young girl's attention as she turned to you, widened eyes as she observed you, searching your face for any lies. She couldn't believe that there was someone else who could be so ‘lady-like.’ Her apathy returns shortly after, and she glances back at the mound of dirt before her. 

“Young ladies aren't supposed to be interested in pests or dirtying their hands,” the white-haired child states, but it seems more like a recital of someone else's words. 

“Maybe. But it's fun, right?” You replied, offering her a small smile.

Although she still didn't face you, you watched her eyes gleam with life. Your grin grew in accordance. 

“So… you like bugs?” She questioned as she cups a worm she managed to uproot. 

“No way. Not touching them,” you shutted her down immediately and she pouted as you shook your head vigorously. 

“But… I thought you were better company than those other kids. So… I hope you don't mind having me too much?” you sheepishly remarked, wincing a bit at your apparent nervousness. In response, the girl huffed, gracing you with a faint smile. The sight sent flutters through your stomach, filling you with a rush of giddiness you never felt before. 

“Just don't scream, okay?” Is all she answered back.

And that was how you befriended the bastard daughter of the Snezhevna family. Since then, the two of you have been exchanging letters, and met each other at every possible social gathering in secret. Although your family discouraged meeting her so often, you ignored them. However, when you had just turned twelve, her letters stopped, as if she disappeared. You asked Marchioness Crucabena about her daughter, and all you received from the matriarch was a cold cut message: Peruere was receiving ‘education’ for indefinitely. 

Your heart sunk as you crinkled the letter in your hands, tears welling in your eyes at the thought of never seeing your dear friend again. Where had Peruere gone? You hastily wrote another letter, inquiring more about the education or if Peruere could write you back, but the Marchioness would not indulge you with additional information, essentially telling you to mind your business and to stop writing to her. 

You remember weeping into your pillows for the entire night until your eyes dried up, red and puffy from rubbing them constantly. You were haunted by memories of star gazing, of laying on the garden grass, of lounging in one another's arms. Your few moments of bliss were gone forever, stripped away with her absence. 

— 

Pureure always wished she wasn't born into a noble family. Aristocratic society was tedious and pretentious. Why her father ever chose to engage with something as disgusting as the Marchioness, it most definitely wasn't out of love–a fabled concept among nobles really. Peruere knew little of what happened to the late Marquess–his death was caused by a carriage accident–but she knew her birth father was with the Marchioness after the death. 

Regardless, between her and her half-sister Clervie, the Marchioness deemed Peruere better fitted as the heir of the family. In Peruere's opinion, Clervie would have made an impressive matriarch. However, when she inquired Clervie about it, her sister vehemently rejected the notion, wanting to remain carefree as she always was. For as heedless as her older sister was, she would be the model of a noblewoman, the favorite debutante had she wanted to take on the aristocratic responsibilities. In any case, Marchioness Crucabena always had a noticeable distaste for the two of them and Peruere suspected it was because she had no sons and marrying once more would mean losing the inheritance of her late husband. 

Peruere soon learned why exactly she was chosen as the next heir. It was easier for her to pose as a male rather than Clervie in order to appease the Marchioness. Added with Peruere's bastard status, few people knew of her existence, or more so, her familial ties with the Marchioness. With the Marchioness’s ‘education’ Peruere, the bastard daughter with a commoner surname, was transformed into Arlecchino Snezhevna, a bastard son with the Snezhevna surname, and so inheritor of the Marquess title. Pereure was erased effectively in the span of six years. 

Because Arlecchino was a bastard son, that label would have made it difficult to impose herself among other noblemen, and most especially, marry another powerful family. In that sense, what she could not make up in legitimacy, she had to make up in other qualities as a noble. Her hours, from dawn to dusk, consisted of history, economy, and art lessons, etiquette and mannerisms classes, 

and learning various skills such as conversational, dancing, equestrian, fencing, and hunting. Obtaining any length of slumber came few and far, and when rest was finally permitted, her body often ached too much for her to drift.

Instead, she laid conscious at night, her head tilted towards the window, the stars winking back at her. Her thoughts returned to you, as they always have during her respites, and she would wonder again and again if you were looking at the same night sky as she was, reminiscing over memories of stargazing. She often raised her hands to her eyes, the only question lingering in her mind would be if you would recognize these hands if she met you again, the same hands that held you. Alone in her chambers, Arlecchino, no Peruere, promised that she would meet you again, and maybe, this time she would never have to leave your side again. 

She only hoped that she would be good enough for you. 

—

Your heart is thumping rapidly against your chest while your clammy and fidgety hands grasp onto the gloved hand of your dance partner, maintaining deep breaths and keeping your composure as best as possible. You match the steps of the bachelor gracefully and diligentfully, feeling many spectators’ gazes on your back. It’s both invigorating and exhausting to realize that you are the diamond of the season. Receiving this many dance requests is a good sign, yes, but it only means that you are creeping closer to having to choose a suitor.

And inevitably lose Peruere forever. 

You quickly snap out of your thoughts in order to further entertain your dance partner with small talk, and finally the dance ends. 

“Thank you, Earl Childe. It was a pleasure dancing with you. You make an excellent dancer,” you offer the young redhead a beaming expression. 

“You're quite one yourself. I quite enjoyed our time. Perhaps we could dance more privately at a later date?” The sauve bachelor replies back, matching your practiced smile with a cocky one. 

“Perhaps,” is all you say, and thankfully the bachelor walks away. 

You let out a sigh of relief, but it seems you thought too soon, as another set of footsteps approach you from behind. Turning around, you’re met with perhaps the most refined and handsome gentleman you've graced your eyes upon. Immediately, you feel your cheeks swell and you feel unnaturally timid. Sincere red-crossed eyes meet yours, and a faint, charming smile stretches on the lips of the nearing bachelor.

“May I have this dance, Lady [F/N]?” He offers his hand gracefully, and you take his. 

“I haven't introduced myself, pardon me. I am, Earl Arlecchino, Earl of Snezhevna,” he introduces himself with a knowing smile, or rather, she introduces herself as your face contort to that of shock at the mention of her family name. You halt as she initiates the dance, her grin growing as fondness spreads over her facial expression.

“Peruere?” You whisper as you reach out, placing a hesitant hand on her shoulder, your other gloved hand in hers. Her body warmth bleeds through the contact, and you sense it flow through your entire body. 

“It's Arlecchino, for appearances. I trust you won't expose me?” Peruere says, her eyes scanning over your entire form in awe. “You're… I don't quite have enough words to describe you. You're utterly beautiful.” 

You flush at the compliment before you forcefully tear yourself away from the bubbling giddiness within you, nodding at her first question. Your face attempts to appear stern and angry, but your eyes sabotage that. “I missed you… dearly. Where have you gone? Why didn't you write to me? I kept waiting for you…” 

Peruere's face softens, morphing to one of regret and sympathy. “I haven't stopped thinking of you either. My mother demanded I suddenly take lessons on how to be a nobleman, and with that, I was no longer Peruere, but Arlecchino. During that time, I had to endure everything my mother gave me, and I hardly had time to sleep. I have tried to send you some, but I suspected that the Marchioness meticulously checked what was sent and received. I've kept a pile of letters that I wrote for you, so you would be able to read everything I had to say over the years.” 

You inhale slowly before nodding, understanding her words. “You kept plaguing my dreams, Arlecchino. You don't know how long I've wanted to see you. Please… never leave me again. I don't think I can bear being without you again.” 

It's Arlecchino's turn to be surprised. “You… Are you asking me what you think you're asking me?” She breathlessly inquires, her voice on the edge of exhilaration, and you give her a hopeful smile. 

You nod. “I… I always thought you were the one since we were little. I didn't want to spend my time with anyone else. So… can you be beside me again?” 

Peruere nearly melts at your request. “As long as you'll allow me another dance.” 

[jesncin]

Chimera Constantine breakdown, refs & nods mega-post

Welcome to the master post of behind the scenes for the Chimera Constantine comics. In the style of the Sons of Mars ones I made, this post archives our research and process. So here we go! This will be a mix of showing references and personal anecdotes for how we cobbled this project together.

I'll be repeating some things I've mentioned across blog posts because I like having all this info in one place.

So! There's a lot of ways to go about re-interpretation and re-imagining a story, and one of my techniques is to not get overly attached to research. While it's good to be informed about a character, sometimes knowing every little thing about them can make one hesitant to innovate and try something different with them. So I'm purposely mindful about how much material I research.

But how does something like that work when the character in question has only 2-3 total appearances, one arc, and a quick revisit several years later? We play twin telephone.

For this project, Cin read the Hellblazer Golden Boy arc and vaguely retold it to Jes, who would then write a story based on assumptions and half-remembered memories of the story. Letting personal experience, influences and bias fill the blanks. We're inspired by how Naoki Urusawa wrote Pluto based on his mis-remembered memories of reading Astro Boy. Also when I was a kid I used to look at book covers and summaries and make up a story based on the limited information I was given. It's fun for me. Part of why I love obscure characters so much is that the lack of content about them lets the reader fill in the blanks about their lives and try telling new stories about them that aren't constrained by a saturated canon.

The original Golden Boy arc written by Jamie Delano (#39-40) is about John Constantine coming to the realization that he strangled his twin in the womb. After taking some 'shrooms, John...manifests into another reality, it's very surreal. There, John meets his twin from a universe where John had died, and his brother gets to live. The twin (taking on the name John Constantine, we'll call him Golden Mage to keep it simple) is John's opposite in every better way. They decide to merge their souls to restore...the universe. You kind of had to be there.

John's twin returns many issues later (#249) to wrap up a different arc, there he and the story are written by Andy Diggle.

The first panel of our full comic references the tarot cards John gets from his reading with Zed.

This panel is a direct reference to this scene where John sees his own shadow on a curtain after his reading with Zed. I like the imagery of this arc, even when the dialogue describing twins is really cringe. We changed it to a mirror to reinforce the mirror imagery throughout the comic. Speaking of which...!

Through Jes' reworking of the story, mirrors were streamlined to be the main way alternate universes were portrayed in the story. They'd be the main motif that paralleled the twins too. In issue #249 of Hellblazer, John uses the mirror to confront his twin who resides within himself after their soul-merge years ago.

The line "He's so beautiful, he frightens me." is spoken by a doctor witnessing the Golden Boy's birth in his universe. We repurposed it to be John's dialogue for when he's describing the man he sees in the mirror.

John's twin uses a sacrifice involving these candles to summon his sickly twin. Jes repurposed the use of candles to a magic salt circle that contains spirits like the Golden Boy (he's nicknamed "Goldie" in our take).

The Golden Boy! Even though he died in the womb, he's portrayed as a boy. Probably because a floating fetus wasn't what they were going for. We wanted to give him a distinct look that foreshadows how much he would grow his hair out. I like that his mouth isn't visible! We use the shape of his eyes and posing to get across how he's feeling. It gives him a vacant-toddler-stare I find really endearing.

We made some minor adjustments to the Golden Mage's design. Initially, we followed his canonical pulled back long hair. But since he was a challenging character to emote when we had one less arm to work with, we decided to part his hair so that it could carry how he's feeling. I like when I can get it to cover a part of his face for intense moments! If it was animated, it would 100% be expressive Ghibli hair.

Our main goal for Golden Mage's characterization is to make him feel like his own person. In the original arc, he's less of a sibling and more of an au of John Constantine himself. He doesn't get his own name. Despite gloating about having a better and more fulfilling love life than John, he also shared the exact same love interests John does. Being a twin is less about a family story and more a vehicle to talk about self hatred and potential here. Which isn't fair to the individuality of the characters!

(note, this is not how the panels look in the og comic, I've rearranged them so that they display on this post better)

So we characterized the Golden Mage to still have his canon charisma (albeit with the dialogue toned way down from his original appearance), but to have a thinly veiled temper under all that bravado to foil his con-man trickster brother. The Golden Mage was vaguely described as not being particularly attached to the love he receives. Golden Mage is also dismissive of his womb twin's death, saying it's something he shouldn't grieve since he never really knew him. We reinterpreted these lines as him being in denial over his brother's death, thinking himself as above his own feelings of grief.

Also as a tiny note, we kept the Golden Mage's name ambiguous to keep with the vibe of the original comic, but in my mind I headcanon his full name to be Marigold "Goldie" Constantine. The yellow flower is culturally associated with prosperity, but also grief and jealousy. It's perfect for him! So we made references to the flower in the cover and first panels of the comic. I also headcanon that as a kid he called John Constantine's ghost "Johnny".

My influences for how this whole beginning meeting scene is staged and played out is E.M Carroll's When I Arrived At The Castle. The "animated" panels of Golden Mage looking back at John and breaking through the mirror is a direct call back to the keyhole sequence in that comic! The premise of daydreaming about how your life could have been and not realizing that you're staring at an alternate universe is loosely inspired by Junji Ito's Hellstar Remina. I really like the concept of staring into the unknown and then something sentient staring back from that. "What if our day dreams are just other realities we're dreaming of" kind of deal. I don't see that sort of thing in the saturation of multiverse stories these days.

Next reference is the Dead Boy's Heart! While I like that this story's its own thing, I was surprised it wasn't linked to John's dead brother in any way. It felt thematically relevant, so we brought it over as a device to trap Goldie while the brothers merge souls.

Twins can be positioned in a bunch of ways in the womb. I think canonically, John and Golden Mage were positioned like they are in the cover for Hellblazer #39, ideal for strangling I guess! We changed it to echo the motion of yin and yang. I do think the inclusion of yin and yang is a little cringey in the original comic even though I get what it's going for (balance and all that, it's just kind of simplistic to the philosophy). But I do like it as a way to echo card imagery we established in this comic. We combined the imagery of the tarot cards featured in the Golden Boy arc and King/Queen/Joker playing cards. So it felt right to bring back that whole upside down twins in the womb thing. Special fact, this is how my twin and I were vibing in the womb.

The scene where the twins hit Ctrl + E to merge layers! It's a pretty iconic pose! I like how their heads peaked out of the panels so I brought it back for our comic too. In our version, the twins fail to merge their souls entirely. In the revisit to the Golden Boy character in the comics in issue #249, it's revealed that the merging "failed" in some way, trapping the Golden Mage within John's soul.

For John's ghost counterpart from Golden Mage's universe we took Dave McKean's portrayal of him very literally haha. I know he doesn't literally have one eye, but we thought it gave him a really distinct look for us to stylize. We decided to keep the ghost kids consistent with no mouth and vacant pupil-less stares. We gave ghost kid!John a sort of bedsheet ghost form to contrast against Goldie.

Speaking of one eye! That's another motif we decided to emphasize throughout the comic. It's not in the source material at all, but we liked it as a way to both hint at chimerism and visualize how the two brothers serve as incomplete halves of each other. Special fact! Heterochromia can show up in chimera twins. Of course in the case of identical twins like the Constantines, their chimerism isn't as detectable since they have identical sets of DNA. But! It's still fun to stylize in a supernatural way. For our take we show the glowing golden eye as the soul of the Golden Boy manifesting in his brother. I like to think that John takes advantage of how undetectable his chimerism is to have an upper hand in any soul-related deals he makes.

This stylized heterochromia is inspired by @ratblazer 's Constantine design! I made a subtle nod to it with young punk John's make up echoing the scar in her design too.

For John's dynamic with Goldie the Golden Boy, we built the conflict of the story around making him doubt his attachment to his dead brother. There's a line of dialogue in the revisited Golden Boy arc about John needing to "let go", so we repurposed it into the Golden Mage assuring him that his attachments make him weak.

Even though the Golden Boy doesn't show up nearly as much as I think he should in canon, John has been shown to be really sentimental about him. John wants to be the Golden Boy's friend because he's so beautiful John mistook him for Jesus as a kid. Canonically, the Golden Boy ghost rejects John's friendship, likely still not over the whole strangulation in the womb thing. It still breaks John's heart though, he's a sobbing mess about being owned by a dead kid.

We changed this whole dynamic! The twin murder in the womb felt very X-men Xavier vs Cassandra Nova, and it's hard to get behind babies having that much motivation before they're even born. In our version, Goldie is a vanishing twin absorbed by John, the sickly twin. Infants being accidentally strangled by umbilical cords does occur in reality. However, we changed their origin to being that of Vanishing Twin syndrome because it was more specific for the ideas we were going for.

I feel this crucial change is more in tune with the overall themes of Hellblazer. John always cheats death at a cost. People are constantly sacrificed for John's continued survival. But the Golden Boy's case would be special, because he sacrificed himself out of love before he even knew what it means to love. Unlike the other ghosts that haunt John Constantine, Goldie isn't resentful of John. I think it makes more sense for the Golden Boy to be attached to John because he's all the Golden Boy's ever known. As a chimera twin, John is like a horcrux holding his brother's soul in his body. This reaffirms survivor's guilt to be something John experiences since his birth.

Canonically, although the Golden Mage initially feels sorry for the ghost of John that haunts him, he rejects John as well. John's ghost in canon is like a nuisance that keeps bothering Golden Mage. There's an instance mentioned of Golden Mage trying to recreate his murder in the womb? It's cryptically written. But Golden Mage does keep using the phrase "banished" to describe his brother.

We took this and made it so that he performed an exorcism on himself to remove his supernatural chimera-bond to John's ghost. The Golden Boy arc is pretty unique when compared with how saturated multiverse stories are nowadays since it doesn't share the science fiction sensibilities. Grief comes up a lot in multiverse stuff, in these stories characters use parallel universes to save a loved one as they're bargaining with their loss. For our take, we wanted a character to use the alternate universes to hurt and lash out at the loved one they're grieving. I pulled influence from Everything Everywhere All At Once's concept of a self destructive character on a search for the one familial connection who could understand what they're feeling.

References! The first panel is a nod to issue #36 where John is sleeping with Marj. We changed her to Kit. The second panel is a direct callback to issue #67, an iconic visual for his break up angst era.

Trivia; this page was added at the last minute! I needed something to bridge the birthday cupcake page and the final panel of Golden Mage's breakdown, so I linked them through candles! In this weird case, I reference my own work! This is a callback to Birthdays, a short comic we made for John Constantine's canonical birthday. It sets the premise for his relationship with Goldie based on the habits and experiences of survivor twins. The pages referencing this comic are meant to re-establish that John shares meals with his twin.

I wanted this page to feel like John's lighting an incense for his dead brother, and to contrast it with the snuffed out candles from Golden Mage's flashback. The candle has a yellow and blue intertwined spiral pattern that calls back to the color of John and Golden mage's dialogue boxes and speech bubbles, along with how twisted they look when they merged. Implying that in this universe, they're together in some way. I really wish I did this intentionally but it was by complete coincidence of making the cupcake pink and balancing it out with pastel primaries. But I sure can acknowledge how cool it looks symbolically okay???

The dialogue here is a nod to John's monologue in issue #19 where John is comforting Simon Hughes. It's re-contextualized a bit to be about sharing grief together in our comic.

This is a really goofy one but- since Golden Mage is supposed to be the fully realized potential of John, we thought that he would have a successful career as a musician and singer where John didn't. I don't think Golden Mage would be a punk singer though, he probably does something he'd consider more elevated.

BUT-! In the 30th Anniversary edition of Hellblazer, Sting (the guy John's appearance is based on) wrote an introduction for the edition while roleplaying as the Golden Boy. Which is nuts. The Anniversary edition basically canonized Sting as being a Constantine variant in our universe with the soul of Golden Boy. Sting, as Golden Boy, describes himself as a musician and singer too. Absolutely bonkers for Sting to throw me a bone this late in the game since no one's touched this character in ages.

Another E.M Carroll influenced panel sequence. This is from the digital comic Out of Skin.

So that brings us to the end of the comic! We've had the ideas for this comic cooking for some time, and it's people's continued interest in our takes on these characters that gave us the chance to finally bring the story together.

I'm very fascinated by the Golden Boy story, not because it's particularly strong compared to other stories in Hellblazer's run, but because its intriguing premise is bogged down by its surreal take on typical Evil Twin tropes. og Hellblazer's strength was always in its raw humanity. John Constantine's character countered the sensational spectacle of his superhero contemporaries. He may be able to outwit a vampire but he's can't fight back against being brutalized by the police. In one of his most iconic arcs, he finds out he has cancer- not because of any supernatural shenanigans, but because he literally smokes too much. In another arc, John's long time girlfriend breaks up with him, and he lashes out by saying the cruelest things to her. When he hears that his abusive dad is murdered, John still cries about it.

I think the Golden Boy arc and the retcon that followed his brief return actively undermines what makes Hellblazer special. Suddenly John's having X-Men-level evil twin escapades in the womb. Suddenly, merging with his twin will help save the universe. Suddenly, it's not smoking that caused John to have cancer! It was actually because he merged with his twin and his twin became the cancer from inside him! Suddenly it wasn't a moment of lashing out that caused John to say all those cruel things to his ex upon their break up, that was actually the Golden Boy controlling him from within, so you see it's not really his fault! Also what followed the break up was extra devastating because of the Golden Boy, somehow.

Often I hear in fandom that when you change a character too much from their canon counterpart it's basically "just an oc" at that point, but in the case of characters who get to be re-imagined and passed through many creative teams, I think that kind of mindset is deeply limiting for transformative work. The line I draw between "just an oc" and an interpretation is if the changes involved engage with their source material in any way or if they're just superficial. Big changes and 180 flips can work because they still respond to the history of said character. It's why we see that kind of thing in canon a lot. These characters are inherently built to be passed through many hands in meaningful ways to varying degrees of success. So I hope that by showing all this process that goes behind big changes to a canon character, people better understand what can go into transformative creativity.

Our thesis for this re-imagining is to take what makes Hellblazer special and re-examine the arc that we felt undermined that. Despite the grief John has for many characters in his cast, mourning isn't brought up at all in the Golden Boy arc. It's dismissed by the characters in narration, and the Golden Mage himself isn't even recognized as a sibling by the narrative, no matter how many times John calls him "bro".

Survivor twin grief over dead womb twins especially is a real thing that's often dismissed because in the words of canon Golden Mage himself "I couldn't mourn for those I'd never known". This is not true to the experience of twins. They play with and remember each other from spending 9 months growing in a tight space together. So when one of them doesn't make it out with the other, that survivor feels a grief they can't comprehend. It can manifest in unresolved trauma, commitment issues, and survivor's guilt. All things that feel so relevant to the themes of John Constantine's character. I think that by integrating the real lived experiences of survivor twins, the Golden Boy arc could've been one the most human and personal parts of the original Hellblazer run. It's could've been a story that helped a community of people so rarely validated in their grief feel seen.

[zwhoreo]

thoughts on headcanons on how luffy would be with a shy gf / trying to bring the girl he likes out of her shell / not be nervous around him???? i like to envision him being the initiator sometimes simply bc i myself am so ridiculously reserved… the idea of him and his partner balancing each other out / teaching each other to be more outgoing and free spirited vs less rambunctious and reckless…. it makes me v happy ALSO i hope its ok to send another ask so soon, i love ur work !!! @ v @ ;;; no rush or pressure to answer !! :’’>

hana!!! tysm for all the support, i rly appreciate it, I’m so glad you like my writing :’) you can send as many asks as you want!! i’m pretty busy with work/school prep rn so requests are taking me some time, but yess please never hesitate to submit one if you have an idea <333

coming out of your shell - luffy x f!reader headcanons

fluff

summary in request, how your dynamic might work with luffy if you’re a bit more reserved, how he helps you come out of your shell, and the kind of balance you two give each other in your relationship

words: ~750

________________________

You love Luffy an indescribable amount, and somehow he loves you back tenfold.

This boy loves you so much that he rarely wants to be without you, sticking to you always, pulling you along with him everywhere, talking loudly in your face because he’s excited by the closeness

you’re intimidated by that love so much, you were a bit shy and didn’t know what to say

But god, there’s something about him that just changes you, makes you feel fuzzy on the inside. He calms you. You become comfortable around him so fast, eager to be in his arms

But sometimes it’s too much, his loudness. You’re trying to relax, have a break from the outside world, but here’s Luffy wriggling on top of you, so full of an energy you can’t believe, it’s all too endless.

“Hi, Lu…” you murmur softly in his mouth as he kisses you for the hundredth time.

At first it was hard, he’s so unlike you, he’s unlike anyone, really, that you’d ever met

You hadn’t imagined yourself ending up with this kind of intense extrovert

But Luffy knows you like quiet sometimes, and when you’re feeling tired and want some time to yourself, but if he really wants to hang out, you can say, “hey Lu, wanna take a nap?”

He’ll be so excited to come cuddle on top of you while you read or look out the window, going to sleep quickly, letting you soak in the comforting warmth of his body in stillness

Luffy is attached to you. If he goes somewhere, more often than not you’re along for the ride.

He squeezes your hand, his own so sweaty with excitement, running and dragging you along with him, wanting so badly for you to be as excited as he is.

He talks to people on the street, bouncing on his feet, voice loud and overflowing. You cringe at his boldness, many times, you can’t imagine acting like that.

But he’ll motion you over, and gush about how his new friend HAS to meet his beautiful and perfect and fun girlfriend, he’ll hug you and he’ll want you to talk to his friend and when your voice is small he pats your back and pulls you a little closer, he wants you to make lots of friends, just like he does, because it makes him happy and he wants you to be happy, too

And when you start to conversate, when your smile comes, he grins so proudly and afterwards he’ll reward you with a big, sloppy kiss

Because even though the concept of shyness greatly confuses him, he knows these types of things are big for you

When he wants you to speak, he’ll look at you, turning his head over his shoulder and making a small, giddy sound.

He’ll squeeze your hand which of course he’s still holding, he wants to remind you that you’re safe

But you can balance him out, too. If he comes up to someone who you know doesn’t want to talk, if he’s bothering them and it’s clear on their face but Luffy doesn’t know, then you’ll gently pull him away into a hug and whisper, “hey, looks like they don’t want to talk right now…”

He’ll be a little disappointed but you’ve helped him understand stuff like this

Luffy LOVES adventures

He wants to take you on all of them, even when you’re scared or anxious

There’s that hand holding again, or maybe he’ll link his arm tightly with yours, knowing that the closeness of his body will make you feel safer, bolder

It does help, he’s infectious, invigorating. He’s inspiring in the way he charges ahead, and you want to feel so free like he seems to, always

So you try to be like him, going out of your comfort zone, finding joy in the things you fear

When you’re scared, he’ll hold you. He’ll lift you onto his back or press you close against his chest

And when it’s too dangerous, when your anxiety is right, you can hold his arm, tell him to please just stay with you, and he’s learned (probably the hard way) that sometimes you can be right about these things, you can see what he won’t

It’s a perfect balance, you and Luffy. An unlikely pair, two polar opposites, and yet you share so much, you fit so well. He loves you for that, and he’s going to help you, always

[sazuka57]

No actually I’m mad enough about it to speak up.

This new trend of judging ppl for making AUs upon AUs for their blorbos instead of making ocs or filing the serial numbers off is annoying af.

I wrote for ocs for 6 years (probably closer to 8, but I digress). Do you know how lonely it is writing for ocs? No one wants to read it. No one cares about it. I had exactly one person who consistently liked or even interacted with my posts and they’d do it as support, without actually reading any of my work. I wrote over a thousand pages of “original fic” and only one 90 page story got any attention and that was only because I promoted the heck out of it. The rest? Nothing. So much nothing that I just stopped posting. Kept writing, but stopped posting—because no one was reading it!

Not to mention—fanfics have a lot of sites to post on. You’ve got wattpad you’ve got ao3 you’ve got ffn you’ve got tumblr etc etc. But for original work? Uhhhh maybe tumblr. Maybe some obscure site that has probably a hundred users trying to make their story pay to read. That’s it. There’s no easily accessible platform for these things.

And also! LET PEOPLE HAVE THEIR FUN. Like this is legit the new kind of cringe culture? “Wow thinking about the blorbos in another au, so cringe. Make your own ocs loser.” Like. Stop it. Some people don’t wanna make ocs. Some people don’t wanna file off the serials. They just wanna create for the love and fun of their blorbos.

So just. Stop it. Just stop. Stop judging people about having harmless fun. If you wanna do ocs, good for you. Have fun with your ocs! Create! Spark that joy!!

And if you wanna keep using your blorbos, then good for you! Make that 36478162 AU. Let it spark joy!!! Real life works hard to suck joy out of all of us, so do what makes YOU happy.

[moonsaver]

I READ YOUR POST (and also anon!) ABOUT REBELLIOUS! VERITAS/RATIO, GOOD LORD..

Your writing is very good! And I like it! I'm having it for breakfast, lunch, dinner, everytime

BUT LIKE, LISTEN TO ME, WHAT IF S/O WAS REBELLIOUS LIKE HIM TOO. But not like actually him, just typical rebellious student back then. Like, breaking the rules, pissing off the teachers, etc

AND, HIS S/O IS LIKE NOW, NORMAL. A PROFESIONAL, and probably embarrassed of their phase back then. I do see them being Friendly and chilled with Ratio?? Or like "Oh crap, it's the old rebellious dude that tries to teach me random smart stuffs"

But in my opinion, I do see S/O just being like "Oh, what's up Ratio" and just being neutral. Greeting him whenever they passed by or see each other again, while also slightly joking about the things Ratio tried to teach them back then. As they told him that they actually listened to his teaching.. Even though it's.. Well, it's used by unsuccessful methods

BUT ALSO, YOU KNOW HOW XINYAN WOULD TELL EMBARRASSING STORIES ABOUT SHEHNE AND GANYU?

S/O WOULD DO THAT, telling Ratio old rebellious phase embarrassing stories to his students whenever they feel afraid of him. Like

"Oh, did you know that your professor (Veritas Ratio), used to talk so much about our teacher that just give the slightest wrong formula, to the point he keeps getting send to the office? Hah! I was there!"

As Ratio stood there with hidden embarrassed look, as he tries to hold the urge to not shut S/O up.

I'M SORRY IF I'M BOTHERING YOU, THE VOICES ARE COMMANDING ME... THE VOICES OF MY SIMPING FOR RATIO.

QNON ANON QNON!!!!YOU ARE FEEDING ME TOO I PROMISE YOU CAN BOTHER ME (its not even bothering me i love these asks),,, THE TENSION THAT IUST DISSIPATWS HAHAHA WAIT WAIT

Under the cut,might be long!

Soso, you're the rebellious kid who's butting heads with the other jerkwad, the only difference between you two is that he's just a nerd on top of being a rebellious kid. He's the "worst" of both worlds.

It's a very cliche enemies to strangers to acquaintances who respect each other to tension between possible lovers. Its kind of funny.

In your student days, I imagine the moment both of you see each other in the hall, you scowl at each other. Or make fun of something the other has. Maybe he's lugging a bulky art project and you make fun of him saying he looks like a turtle dragging his own shell. Maybe you left your bag's zip open and Veritas comments on how "devoid of knowledge" it is, "like your head" (you forgot all your books somewhere, your bag is completely empty). God forbid either of you tried something experimental and the other catches a glimpse of it. If they're not within talking distance, they'll shout on the top of their lungs. To both of you, the louder it is the more humiliation is involved. You'll find this method is often used by Veritas, as he openly quizzes you and chides LOUDLY that you're a BUFFOON and an IDIOT for not knowing a SIMPLE FORMULA. You decide to retaliate by stealing more than half his stationary, so now he has to scramble to gather extras and literally no one helps him cause he's a jerk lol.

Everyone on campus absolutely either hates it or loves it. Theres fanpages of you two with cringe edits,or those really well-made shitpost ones. Sometimes your classmates just bait the other to go a certain place just so you two cross paths and stir up a lot of trouble. The teachers are all done with both of you.

Cut to the future (or present?), reader's a professor too now. Let's assume either of them is unaware when they join the job (as implied by the request).

I imagine professor reader, if they manage to stay calm and just.. talk normally, it does give Dr. Ratio some whiplash. His pride demands he straightens himself out though, so it's not too soon before he himself drones on about some or the other tedious topic. You mention the past and how often you used to butt heads, and Veritas' first instinct is to immediately retaliate the way his past self would have done; but he stops himself in time, and sighs at it. You've painstakingly ingrained that response into him. But he's still slightly embarrassed nonetheless. It's not too soon before the conversation becomes more relaxed (I mean.. considering Veritas,as relaxed as he lets it be), and as a form of "nostalgia" he brings up all the questions he used to ask you back then, only to be pleasantly surprised when you give him detailed but professional answers. It's not too soon before he learns that you've become a professor aswell. Dr. Ratio congratulates you – with reservations of course, which is completely thrown out the window when you tell him you knew all of this because.. you listened to him.

Ugh. Don't make him feel so sappy. A part of him detests it; warming up and being all chummy with a hopeless classmate of all people. But a part of him is.. kind of happy about it.

Which is promptly changed the moment you also realize he's a professor now.

And that his students aren't spared from the nostalgia either.

He's bursting through the door, jaw dropped, angry and shocked face as you prattle on about how much of an asshole he was back in the day to his students. For a moment, he contemplates whether he should just throw chalk at you and make an example of you to his students, or drag you out. After a few seconds of paralyzed contemplation, he immediately grabs you by the back of your collar and drags you out before something else comes out of your mouth.

It's almost the same all over again – both of you bickering back and forth as he's all pissy about you spilling everything to his students! You've positively tarnished his reputation! Perhaps he shall tell your students how you used to walk around wearing a lanyard and a shirt with the institution name written on it in big, bold letters on the first day? Or that time you tripped and faceplanted right into the trashcan while you complained about his (axe bodyspray) deodorant?

Ugh.. he'll just deal with you later. Although he won't admit this even to himself.. it's nice seeing you again. He didn't think of that, it must be the headache you gave him that's making him think all weird.

--

[hollow-lime-green]

Wait so are you a strict gego, or a switch? No worries either way, not trying to start discourse (it’s usually not bad on tumblr thankfully). I’m just curious bc it’s a whole thing in the fandom and I really like your writing either way

oh, i'm not strict on anything in any fandom. not to impose my value system on others (my therapist is rolling in her grave little couch thing), but I do think this is objectively the right way to do fandom.

(if there was a right way to 'do fandom', which there is not because this is a hobby and it's all about your own happiness. but that nuance doesn't let me feel more big brained than others goddamni-)

everyone has some preferences on what they read , particularly on smut. but i think it's a lot more fun to continually test your preferences as a reader. not just for t/b, but for kinks, genres, etc. I want to see all of your hear me out cakes, or whatever the youths are doing these days. limiting yourself to a dynamic, or to any fixed preference (fluff genre, cis/trans hc, etc.) really robs you of seeing the creativity in fandom spaces.

i've actually written a few goge pieces, though they're not out yet (one for the satosugu seasons zine, and one for tropefest). but soon-ish, if you want, you will be able to see my take on geto getting railed in all its glory.

on FIYM -

dynamics are fixed (sort of) in FIYM because they are actually quite relevant, because that setting is deeply steeped in internalized homophobia. t/b is very much part of the whole thing (for satoru, anyway). A lot of fanfiction these days takes place in what i would call the 'woke gay utopia setting' (complimentary), where everyone is gay and kissing each other. one day we will transcend and people will not subconsciously associate bottoming with submission and topping with dominance. but we are not there yet, and we were a lot less there in the 2010s. and that is one aspect of internalized homophobia that I really like writing about.

this might be cringe and also somehow aging myself (???), but it reminds me of the fanfic of my youth, which dealt a lot more with some of these themes because of the political conditions re:lgbtq rights that most authors were living in. (this is also more of a usamerican take - obviously lgbtq rights are at different stages in different parts of the world). it's a bit cathartic for me, i suppose, and i think some of you guys/fiym readers feel that too.

[impishjesters]

Jax-in-a-box Part 2

warning(s): suggestive/implied sexual content/language, potential out-of-character Jax (look you're just so big and it's distracting okay... let him be distracted and have thoughts), bratty(?) Jax note(s): I swear this wasn't intending to go down this route of horny rabbit man, but I was feeling some dom/sub vibe and it just happened I'm so sorry, I don't know why I'm like this. A/N: I wanted Jax to feel teeny so the reader is at least 9 ft/274 cm minimum. Man, Pomni must look like a step stool next to the reader... Also, this would take place at some point in the dating stage. Also, this is the same original requester of the Jack in the box reader, thank you for requesting more this was really fun to write~ request: I’m just requesting a little story if your up to continuing that request. So what l’m thinking is just a little scenario of the reader completely coming out of their box for the first time (well the first time they were caught) Mabye the scenario has Jax coming into reader’s room unexpectedly and seeing reader chilling outside their box? Though of course you can do/write anything you’d like for this. I’d like it if you made the reader even taller, since they are actually standing this time instead of being in their box.

While being inside your box brought a level of comfort your bedroom couldn’t provide, that didn’t mean you didn’t use it. No, the privacy of your bedroom was used to stretch your legs—something the others, specifically Jax, hadn’t known about. Not that it was a secret, you just loved seeing it wrack his brain as to what lay beneath.

The box sat abandoned, lid wide open as you lay in the provided bed just a few feet too small for you. It’s not like Caine had expected someone as tall as you after all, you aren’t even sure if Caine is aware you can even exit the box, but you made do and got yourself nice and comfy to relax.

You plucked up an interesting-looking book earlier from Caine’s weird collection of provided reading material. Nothing risque sadly, but you can’t help but feel like Caine has never even read any of these and merely plucked them from whatever and just willed them into existence.

The next hour easily passed, nose buried into the book, so much so that you didn’t even hear the jingling of your locked door being forced open. Hell, you didn’t even notice until he said something.

The first thing Jax saw was your box, empty, his eyes shifting to the bed to see long legs dangling off the bed before he realized who it was. Well, of course, it was you, it was your room and it was locked.

“You have fucking legs?!”

You snorted and finally looked up from the book, Jax looked completely flabbergasted, and fuck, if only you had a camera. “Just normal legs, but they could do that too.”

Jax didn’t even have it in him to retort to that little comment, no he was far too focused on the fact you had fucking legs. He’d been entirely convinced that you didn’t have anything below the waist, it’s like that box had this weird black fog that looked like a void you were just coming out of. There are so many questions he wants to ask…

How the fuck do you fit in the box with legs that long? Do you sit with your legs crossed or on your knees? Do they just vanish into that weird black void? Have you been just weirdly seat-jumping around this whole time?

He’s so caught up in his thoughts he doesn’t even process that you moved to sit at the edge of the bed, legs crossed at the ankles. It’s not until you clear your throat that he realizes how close he’s gotten and wow, you’re just sitting and you’re able to look him straight in the eye. Is this awakening something in him? God, he hopes not.

“What can I do for you, my little cotton tail?”

You loved the dumb little pet name, he claimed to hate it and it stuck. If he was gonna call you all sorts of dumb pet names he was going to get at least one of his own.

Jax cringed at the name and rubbed his face as if that would get rid of the growing blush. “Stop it with the name would ya?”

“Then stop calling me Jack.”

He waved his hand before snorting out a “Nah”.

“Fine, at least stop calling me Boxxie.”

“Oh c’mon, it’s cute.”

It was your turn to cringe, he only called you that because he was convinced you were a box when you first showed up. A sentient box, how fun. “Was there a reason you came lock-picking into my room?”

“Tsk tsk tsk, I’m not a heathen to stoop so low as to lock pick.” he held up one of the many keys in his possession. “I used a key.”

A chuckle left you, accompanied by an eye roll. “Yeah okay, that I didn’t say you could have but it’s you so I’ll let it slip. Now spill cotton tail.”

Jax’s face scrunched up at the name again before moving closer, forcing your ankles to unlock so he could stand between your legs. “I wanted to see if you’d give me the honors of helping in a little mischief. But after seeing your legs I’m not sure if I wanna go cause mischief or stay and admire them in their spread-out glory.”

“The only legs getting spread are yours, cotton tail.” Reaching out you placed a hand on his hip, your fingers easily wrapping around him, your thumb meeting your middle finger on his other hip. “Who do you want to bully now? It better not be Pomni again, that poor girl doesn’t need another scare so soon.”

He swallowed hard, eyes glued to his waist and the way your hand just completely wrapped around him. You’ve done it before but in a setting like this, it just hit differently. “It’s not bullying, she’ll be fiiine.”

Jax cleared his throat and used the arm closest to him as his own armrest, you easily supported his weight as he crossed one foot over the other. He was trying hard to play this whole situation off, he was supposed to be in charge and you’ve gone and taken the upper hand without even trying. “So uh, h-how tall are you now? Ya know, without the box.”

That was a good question.

You gestured for Jax to step back and he did so hesitantly before you pulled yourself up, grumbling at the way your knees hurt from getting off the already low-ass bed. Truly a downside to being taller than the furniture here, something you didn’t experience until you started taking breaks outside the box.

Jax let out a string of unintelligible words as you stood to your full height. He knew you were big before but you were a lot taller than he thought you’d be, god his neck already hurt. Is this how Pomni felt standing next to him? God, you could just, break him…

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You tried not to look so smug, but god damn if it wasn’t satisfying to see such a thirsty yet bewildered expression on the usually smug rabbit’s face. Truthfully you weren’t too sure just how tiny Jax would be at your full height, he’d already seemed small before but now you could just toss him like a Javelin spear.

“I take that back, sit your ass down.”

“Make me.” You crossed your arms with a grin and simply watched him curiously.

“Don’t think I won’t climb your raggedy ass and—”

“And what cotton tail?” He flinched when you bent down to get in his face. “Can’t knock me down if you climb me, not that you could on the ground either.”

Jax chuckled nervously but didn’t back down. “Oh yeah? Wanna try?”

Looks like causing mischief would be put on hold for an hour or two.