#wow this is long! anyways i love to talk about my fic plz send asks <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[a-deed-without-a-name]

Butterballs 6? Plz? I'll pay you in virtual hugs?

Oh, hi, Butterballs Anon. Long time, no see. I thought maybe you'd finally gotten the message the last time I and everyone else in my ask box told you to cut it out (for the fiftieth time) because you weren't doing anything but making me mad, but apparently I gave you too much credit. Again.

(If you're new here, check out the "butterballs anon" tag on my blog, and this will make a lot more sense to you.)

I doubt you'll ever see this, since I suspect you only come to my page to send obnoxious asks, but I've got a few things I want to say to you anyway.

You've been harassing me for...wow, look at that, three years. Maybe even longer.

(Jesus Christ. Three years of your actual human life spent obsessing over a goof-off smut fic. I know I'm throwing stones in my glass house here, but...yikes.)

I feel like I know you pretty well at this point.

You've been told to stop. It has been made very clear to you by myself and others that you're making me uncomfortable and upset. You've been told I have lots of other kink fics you can read. You've been told you can write your own Butterballs continuation if you want it that bad. But you haven't done any of those things.

Because you "want" it. You "need" it. You're entitled to it and baffled I don't agree.

It's not a compliment, it's not a mark of how much you enjoy my writing, it's that you're accustomed to getting your way or think that you should and you're frustrated by the fact that you're not.

Your complete lack of regard for someone else's boundaries and your gleeful ignorance of my multiple clear "no"s do not bode well for your behavior in real life.

Maybe it's going a bit far to extrapolate this much from sparse online interactions, but again: three years. After being told a dozen times to stop.

You think you're fun and cute and goofy. You're not.

And I very much doubt I am the only or even most heavily-targeted recipient of your attentions.

I don't know anything about your sexual or romantic proclivities beyond how much you love fat kink, but I shudder thinking about anyone you've experienced attraction to. The harassment they've probably suffered. The way your obsession and lack of respect - because no one's a real person to you, are they? Just a vehicle for the fulfillment of your desires - disrupted their lives. You're the story they tell first dates about the creepiest, clingiest person they ever met.

God help anyone who ever had an actual relationship with you. I pray you're single. I suspect you probably are.

If there are any people you still consider friends, you probably haven't seen them in a while. They get together without you, express relief you're not there, talk about how fun things are without you. Or they invite you because they feel they have to, a la the Geek Social fallacies, but the group keeps getting smaller as more and more people decide they don't have to put up with your bullshit, and those who remain are constantly on edge. Waiting for another outburst from you. Dreading the day they come your next object of obsession.

Your relatives talk disparagingly about your parents, because of the person they've raised.

You've probably lost at least one job for harassment. Maybe even talking about your fetishes at work.

I suspect you probably hide behind neurodivergence. "I can't help it, I have ________." Or passion. You're just so friendly and goofy, a lovable weirdo! But it's not any of those things. If it were, you would have stopped at some point in the last three years.

You believe, deep down, you're entitled to other people's time, and attention, and maybe even their bodies, regardless of what they want and feel. You think that if you just push hard enough, they'll give in and you'll win. Life is a video game for you. You're the only one with thoughts and emotions. The world exists to serve you, and it confuses and frustrates you when you encounter something that conflicts with that belief.

You are a bad person, Butterballs Anon. Full stop.

I don't want a hug from you, virtual or otherwise.

I don't imagine there's anyone left in your life who does.

[officiallanxichen]

1,4,6?!

1 (Tell us about your current project(s)  – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?):

I'm a one-project kind of man, so I only have one fic going right now. It's a LOTR urban fantasy au, in which I just gave everyone cars and cell phones and modern clothes but changed basically nothing about the setting (so, the hobbits are still pretty isolated and don't use a ton of technology, the Rohirrim still ride horses and have a singular highway in their entire country, Gondor is pretty much completely industrialized but still keeps up most of their traditions, etc). The actual plot is a canon divergence! Everything is exactly the same except I changed the perspective to focus more on Aragorn and Boromir up until what would be the end of the first book, where the power of modern technology means that Boromir doesn't actually die, which fundamentally changes several things >:) I'm focusing on themes of coming into your inheritance and breaking generational cycles and complicated parent-child relationships and also the incredible power of queer love :) I'm not that far into it (I only have like 25 pages and they're just getting to the Council of Elrond) but I'm most excited about All of it but especially getting to explore the Boromir-Faramir relationship!!!

4 (Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like):

I have a lot of writing that I'm super proud of so this one is hard! I just finished a third draft of my 227-page LOTR passion project, and one of my favorite new lines of dialogue that I added is one that takes place during the battle in front of Minas Tirith. One of my main characters, Gilraen (younger cousin of Aragorn, possibly one of my favorite characters I've ever invented), is in charge of leading the wall guard, and when the battle seems like it's getting really dark and horrible I gave her a speech a la the one that Aragorn gives at the Black Gate in the movies, but like, in character for her. It's one of my favorite bits of dialogue I've ever written!!! Here it is:

“All right, men!” Gilraen yelled at the archers on the wall. “The odds are stacked against us, but we will carry on! You hear me? We are not going to give up even if we’re outnumbered! When Elendil and Gil-Galad faced Sauron in all his power, did they turn and run? No, they fucking didn’t! They stood in front of the Black Gate and they kept fighting, and look how that turned out. Are we the children of Elendil? Do we not carry his legacy? Yes we fucking do! We are going to keep fighting this goddamn war! Now, you’re all going to stop running, and you’re going to string your bows, and we are going to keep fighting! What are we waiting for? The king to come back?” A lump welled up in her throat, and she swallowed it down. “We have today to make our mark on history! Not all of us will die, and they will carry on our legacy. What would you have them say? That the people of Gondor turned and ran when the battle turned against them?” A few soldiers gave tentative cries of, “no!” “That’s fucking right! Now, put those arrows to the string! We’re fighting this bitch to the end!”

I mostly like it because it takes the formal speech that usually happens in LOTR and turns it into something more vernacular. Also, I just love putting curse words in the mouths of high fantasy characters.

Bonus: Clog would be mad at me if I didn't include THE most iconic line from the same fic, so here it is :)

The horse that Gilraen had been given was a handsome horse, and he knew it. He was a challenge to control unless you were very firm with him. Gilraen usually felt bad when she accidentally hurt animals, but she found some pleasure in kicking him to make him listen to her. He was an arrogant bastard.

6 (What character do you have the most fun writing?):

Okay I know I've been making this entire ask about my LOTR fic but it's genuinely Gilraen, the character from above. I invented her in high school and she's grown and developed over the years into more of a real character. At first she was kind of one of those "haha i'm not like other girls! i'm badass!! yo!" which was fine and all but like, she ought to be a fully realized creation! Now that I'm an adult who understands how to write better, she's turned into a deeply complex person who I have so many FEELINGS about. Also, she's the OG of my army of powerful lesbians. For characters that I didn't invent, I think Zhao Yunlan has been the most fun to write just because we're so similar and yet so different. I love a good chaotic ADHD bisexual :))) And Mollymauk from Critical Role!!

Meta asks for writers :)

[amelialincoln]

Really been loving your fics, we needed more Amelink writers! Thought I'd ask for one if that's alright? So I'd love to see Link proposing to Amelia in a really rushed and imperfect way after he spent the week talking to people like Meredith, Jo, Owen, Webber, etc about hiw they got engaged. He tries to plan something perfect but messes it up somehow and Amelia obviously just laughs and says yes, idk I just wanna see stressed Link, hope this is enough to go off :)

We Find Love

“How did Derek propose?” Link found himself blurting out. Meredith peered over at him. He could see the confusion in her face, despite the surgical mask covering most of it.

“Are you thinking of proposing?” She asked turning back to her sutures.

“Maybe...yes. I think so,” he waved his instrument filled hands awkwardly, obviously flustered.

“Derek proposed in an elevator,” she put simply.

“Why an elevator?” Link asked.

Meredith shrugged. “It was just kind of a special place for us,” he tell she was smiling from her eyes. “It seems so silly now but honestly I was so in love with him that he could’ve done anything. It was perfect.”

“I know me and Amelia haven’t been together for that long, just with the baby on its way...not that that’s a reason. I just—”

“You don’t need to justify yourself,” Meredith interrupted. “When you know, you know.”

“Exactly,” Hayes’ chimed in. Link looked up to the peds surgeon, who he wasn’t aware was following the conversation.

Link placed his lab coat and scrubs in his locker before turning to leave the attending’s lounge.

“Hey,” Owen greeted him as he entered the room.

“Hi,” Link responded.

“You waiting for Amelia?” He asked as he went to open his own locker. Link nodded. “I just saw her get pulled into a surgery. Might be awhile.”

“Oh,” Link responded, as if on cue his phone buzzed with a message from her. “Great.”

Owen chuckled. “The life of two surgeons in a relationship.”

“Hey, how did you propose?” He asked. Owen raised his eyebrows, not expecting the question.

“Uh, which time?” He answered awkwardly. Link shrugged, hoping he hadn’t hit a sensitive spot. “Well my first proposal I just proposed to Cristina on the couch in our living room. It just seemed right and she wasn’t really into the romantic stuff,” he chuckled as if recalling an old memory. “Uh, with Amelia, well she actually proposed to me.” Link shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not aware of this story. “We’d both had past relationships and didn’t really want anything big. With Teddy, it was an on call room. I guess I’m not really the romantic type.” He shrugged. Link recalled Amelia’s story about their honeymoon troubles and believed it. “Are you thinking of proposing?”

“I guess so.” Link grinned.

“Well you’ll be the forth guy to propose to her.” Link tried to hide his surprise. “Weren’t aware of that one? She’s a handle that’s for sure and definitely a runner. That’s why she came to Seattle in the first place.” Owen clapped a hand on Link’s shoulder. “Good luck.”

“What’s up, you look stressed.” Jo slid into the cafeteria seat beside him. “What you got there?” Her eyes widened as she caught sight of it. “Atticus Lincoln, is that a ring box?”

“Jo, shut up,” he shushed her frantically.

“Wow, Shepherd did a number on you. It’s like we’re back in high school,” Jo teased, shoving a spoonful of jello into her mouth. “Yeah, I know it’s nasty. I forgot my lunch,” she explained, replying to his confused look. “So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” he answered defensively, not exactly sure why he was being defensive. “I’ve been trying to get advice.”

“Well it’s not like this is you or Amelia’s first marriage. She probably isn’t expecting anything.”

“I know,” he sighed. “What did Alex do?”

Jo grinned. “He’d set up this whole little romantic dinner and I was going to break up with him.”

“What?” Link exclaimed.

“Yeah, I was all about ultimatums back then. Me or Meredith, all that shit. Anyways, it was sweet and small and perfect.”

“So you didn’t break up with him?”

“No, I figured that once I was his wife he’d have to choose me over Meredith.” She shrugged. “Turns out I like her more than I was expecting to. If you want to talk to the big romantic people you could talk to Jackson. Maybe not the best way but he called of April’s whole wedding to confess his love to her. Arizona proposed to Callie and then they got in a car accident. Less romantic, more catastrophic.

“Who are—”

“And then Teddy proposed to her first husband because he was her patient and didn’t have good health insurance.”

“What?”

“Crazy times happened at this hospital before you came around,” Jo patted his arm. “Look, I know you want to do something nice but she’ll love anything you end up doing.” And with that she headed out of the cafeteria, jello cup in hand.

The next night Link raced to Meredith’s, knowing that Amelia’s shift ended only an hour after his. Maggie had told him to set up at Meredith’s and that he could tell Amelia that they were having a girls night to throw her off. Link was pretty sure Amelia didn’t need ‘throwing off’ but he agreed knowing that Maggie most likely wanted to see Amelia’s reaction.

“What do you mean you aren’t already married, aren’t you having a baby?” Zola asked as Link was frantically setting the table for two. “Mom says that you get married first and then the baby comes after.”

“Well in most cases.” Link answered, glancing over at her. “Hey, Zola stop picking at those flowers.” Referring to the bouquet he’d bought on their way home.

“Sorry,” Zola shrugged. “You’re just making her dinner? What else?”

“I don’t know,” Link mumbled guiltily. “What do you think I should do?”

“I dunno,” Zola answered. “That’s your job.”

“Right,” Link sighed as he tossed the salad and placed the bowl on the table. Suddenly, he heard the front door open. “Do I kneel now?” He asked Zola.

“How am I supposed to know, do I look married to you?” Zola replied. Link decided to kneel, his heart thumping in his chest. His shaky hands reached into his pocket.

“False alarm,” Zola giggled as Meredith entered the room.

“Oh wow,” Meredith laughed. “I’m so flattered.” She mocked fanning her face.

“Shut up,” Link grumbled. “I’ve been trying to get this right all week and I can’t figure out anything to do justice to how much she means to me. I wanted to plan out this big romantic gesture but that just seems dumb and I don’t want to wait any longer. I would marry her right now if I could. I’ve been carrying around this stupid ring all week trying to find a time to give it to her that seemed right but I’m so worried that I’ll screw it up that I back out every time. Like how do I ask her to marry me and sum up all the million things I love about her into such a short amount of time?” He ran a pathetically shaky hand through his hair.

“That’ll do,” Amelia’s soft voice enters the room, her hands circling the swollen bump that recently formed on her abdomen.

“I was about to tell you,” Meredith grinned.

“Are you kidding me?” Link balled his hands in frustration. Meredith grabbed Zola by the hand, the little girl’s eyes wide as if she were watching a special on tv, and dragged her out of the room to give the couple some space. “Amelia, I wanted—”

“Link, this is perfect.” Her eyes scanned the room, softy lit by a couple of candles on the table. A bottle of sparkling water was sitting in a small bath of ice and she smiled as she saw that he’d made all her favourite pregnancy cravings. A sharp aroma drifted through the room and Link seemed to noticed it too.

“I burnt the chicken,” he nodded in disappointment, not even bothering to run to the kitchen in an attempt to salvage it. “This is a nightmare.”

“This is not a nightmare.” Amelia shook her head, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “You are absolutely perfect in every way, Atticus Lincoln.” He tried to conceal the blush that was overwhelming his cheeks, feeling like an idiot. “Now do you have a question to ask me or...” she bit her lip with a smile.

“Oh. Yeah!” He knelt down on one knee and glanced up into her deep blue eyes before removing the lid to the little velvet box in her hand. “Amelia Shepherd, from the moment I met you I haven’t spent a day without the thought of you entering my mind. You amaze and inspire me to be a better person and a better surgeon.” He paused as he saw tears begin to build at the edges of her eyes. “You make me so excited to be a father. I mean very scared...but also very excited and I would love to spend the rest of my life raising this child, and maybe other children,” he tried to hide his excitement, “with you. I wan’t to wake up beside you every morning and fall sleep with you in my arms every night. Amelia, will you marry me?”

“Of course,” she answered without hesitation. “And I would reply with the same answer if you’d asked me on our car ride to work or in the middle of surgery.”

“Would that have been better?”

“No, you loser,” she rolled her eyes as he slipped the ring on her finger. “Now come here and give your fiancée some kisses.”

“Do you say that to all of us?” He teased as he fulfilled her request.

sorry this is super shitty but I feel the need to write any prompt im given haha (that makes it sound like i dont like writing prompts but i do!!!) plz keep sending them bc they keep me motivated<3 and thx sm for all the support on my recent fics.

[ted-hyung]

untitled; jookyun; ongoing

alternate universe / college!AU / future pr0n / jooheon is fascinated by left-handed changkyun who only comes to korea for his gap year. fully written fic will be posted on le AO3. soon. plz anticipate.

(the new part-timer is a lefty.

jooheon can’t quite recall having a classmate who’s a fully functioning lefty; there were friends who did everything else but writing with their left hand, and so changkyun is new because he does. writing with his left hand, that is. it’s fascinating, especially at the end of the day when changkyun takes a little bit longer than thirty seconds to wash his hands. the germs are all dead but not the smudged black or blue ink that needs extra scrubbing to disappear. changkyun uses milk scented hand cream, and he smells—looks—extra soft after that.

“heonie-sshi, you’re staring again.”

jooheon snaps out of his reverie to narrow his eyes at minhyuk, the most popular part-timer at monbebe cafe, who’s got the patented shit-eating grin on his annoyingly handsome face whenever he catches jooheon being obvious.

on multiple occasions.

“what?” jooheon retorts, folding the rag he’s using to wipe the register’s counter top.

minhyuk tuts from where he’s cleaning the espresso machine.

“we’re going out for a drink tonight,” he sing-songs.

“yeah? we do that on the night we get our paycheck.”

“well, it’ll be changkyun’s first time going out with us.”

“okay, and…?”

“i’m just saying~”

jooheon shakes his head. minhyuk thinks he knows everything about everyone but he doesn’t, really.)

“newbie, you’re coming with us!” minhyuk yells, startling changkyun who’s in the middle of closing his locker.

“oh?” changkyun’s smile still has an edge of timidness in it. he’s only been here a month. when jooheon got invited the first time, he was already added to the part-timer’s group chat and got exposed to each and everyone’s embarrassing dark past by minhyuk. changkyun is not even in their group chat yet. “where to, minhyuk-hyung?”

“because it’s payday, i’ll treat you one bottle of soju and one serving of pig’s feet!” minhyuk’s voice is enough to wake the dead even though there are only five of them in the staff room. he’s truly a loud hyung who deceives all the poor young girls and older women to think that he’s the perfect manhwa character.

since they just got out of a long friday shift, they opt to go to the street food vendor instead of a club tonight. they all agreed to relax with the best of korean comfort food, getting lucky be damned.

changkyun scrunches his nose at the mention of minhyuk’s preferred menu. 

“can i have sprite and sausage instead?” he asks, tilting his head, looking cute. (jooheon is not staring.)

“anything you want!” minhyuk whoops, and they all proceed to continue changing.

summer is scorching hot in seoul. out in the open without air conditioning, the breeze is not helping with how humid the weather is. the short walk is filled with chattering from minhyuk and jackson, a hong kong exchange student who studied in the same university as jooheon. youngjae is busy with his phone, most likely texting the girl who gave him her number a couple of weeks ago—and jooheon and changkyun are walking side by side at the end of their merry line.

changkyun is wearing an oversized long sleeve, the tips of his fingers hidden by the pipes. even though the black cotton shorts seem fitting for the weather, jooheon can still see sweats dripping from changkyun’s sideburns down and down to his jaw and neck. it must be uncomfortable.

jooheon blurts out, “do you want tissue?” and that makes changkyun blinks. cutely.

“what, hyung?” changkyun asks, sounding unsure.

jooheon is not sure himself. “do you want tissue? like, you’re sweating.”

changkyun tilts his head again; probably a habit of his. it’s cute. why did jooheon just notice it now?

“sure, if you have some.”

“actually, i don’t. sorry.”

changkyun snorts a laugh and he covers his mouth with his sleeve paw, the left one. ah. the reason why jooheon is so fascinated in the first place is making another appearance. if it were any other person jooheon wouldn’t be as aware towards their dominant hand, whichever it is. but it’s changkyun. and he’s cute.

anyway.

“you’re weird, jooheon-hyung.” changkyun quips, quietly, but with a little bit more confidence because at least that’s the truth.

jooheon grins. “says who smartly wears long sleeve in summer!”

changkyun rolls his eyes, cutely, there’s no other word to explain his demeanor, and jooheon has to hold back or else he’s thisclose to ruffle changkyun’s black hair just because.

they arrive at their trustworthy street food vendor’s tent. the middle aged couple who run the business are practically in love with minhyuk, sometimes letting minhyuk have two (!) free bottles of whatever drink minhyuk feels like having.

“i’ll order for you guys, what do you want?” minhyuk addresses jooheon, who takes a seat on the blue chair with changkyun on his right and jackson on his left.

“spicy rice cake with extra hard boiled eggs, and one bottle of soju. thanks hyung, you’re paying, right?” jooheon answers, clasping his hands and putting them underneath his chin.

“ha, very funny,” minhyuk flicks jooheon’s forehead and smiles sweetly to changkyun. “sprite and sausage for you, newbie?”

changkyun confirms with a cute nod and minhyuk replies with his own satisfied nod. he asks jackson,

“jackson-ah, do you want to share the pig’s feet with me or should i order another serving?”

jackson makes a comical in disbelief face and he shrieks, “dude, come on! pig’s feet are life. make mine two. you want some, right, youngjae-yah?”

youngjae looks up from his phone, beaming. it’s no secret that jackson favors youngjae the most, and the younger guy sure knows about it. “wow, yeah! i’ll eat some. minhyuk-hyung, i would like vegetable pancakes and sausage.”

minhyuk is not hailed as the best waiter at monbebe cafe if it’s not for his excellent memory. “and for the drinks?”

“makgeolli.” youngjae mumbles, already glued back to his phone.

“corona for me,” jackson pipes in, “you know what i’ll go with you, hyung.”

“i-i’ll go,” changkyun offers, but minhyuk absentmindedly tells him to sit on jooheon’s lap instead. “what did he say?” changkyun asks, turning to jooheon with widened eyes, and jooheon fakes a helpless laugh.

“minhyuk-hyung thinks you two are awkward and wants you to sit on heonie-hyung’s lap.” youngjae does the explanation like it’s not the first time he’s heard minhyuk speaking nonsense about jooheon and changkyun in particular. he glances up to meet jooheon’s narrowed eyes. “why are you looking at me like that? it’s true.”

jooheon splutters, “are you not awkward with changkyun, then?”

“no? we’re the same age.”

“i’ll sit on your lap, jooheon-hyung.”

jooheon squeals, and changkyun closes his eyes as if he’s offended. but in a cute way, still.

“we don’t have to fulfil that sick hyung’s fetish!” jooheon argues, throwing his hands and nearly smacks changkyun in the face. “sorry.”

“it’s okay.” changkyun smiles, looking like he’s going to coo at jooheon any second now. “let’s just humor minhyuk-hyung a little? i’ll sit on your lap until it’s too much. come on. let’s prove him wrong.”

jooheon's been a part of monbebe cafe for six months, thinking that he would need the experience in between going to his classes as english literature major and/or performing his self-written rap at hongdae with his crew. he found great friends outside of his campus circle or his rap crew, and working where the predominantly customers are young girls and women helps him with his confidence. they find him adorable, with his dimples being the main attraction. the black polo shirt uniform ompliments well with his skin and newly dyed honey-blonde hair.

his campus friends asked where does he work because he smells so so good all the time, and jooheon told them to come over, meaning his friends coming increasing the sales. that month, jooheon managed to beat minhyuk as the employee who brought the biggest profit, and it felt good to contribute something for his job.

to be honest, jooheon only drinks tooth-rotting frappe and the place blends the best oreo cheesecake frappe. the mouthwatering selection of pretty cakes is also a bonus, because jooheon once wrote a rap based on monbebe’s most divine dark chocolate pie.

in short, jooheon is totally into sweet treats.

changkyun might slowly be slotting himself next to one of those sweet treats, becoming jooheon’s favorite.

“alright.” he gives up, scooting the plastic chair to give room for changkyun. he spreads his thighs, clad in frayed blue jeans, and changkyun hops onto his lap like he doesn’t weight a lot.

jooheon grunts, just for the hell of it. changkyun has nice, perky ass, not bony at all. and he actually leans backward to rest his upper body against jooheon’s, swinging his legs and guiding jooheon’s arms to wrap around his middle.

there's a click of a shutter, followed by youngjae’s maniacal laugh.

“yah!” jooheon barks, but youngjae is just giving him a thumbs up.

“think about it, heonie-hyung, you won. minhyuk-hyung is lost,” he cheers. “i’m sending this to our group chat.”

“ugh,” jooheon pouts, “whatever.”

“i’m not heavy, right?” changkyun wriggles to look at jooheon, and his smile is so pretty thisclose.

“nah, you’re alright.” jooheon squeezes changkyun’s tummy and that’s when minhyuk decides to yell like he owns the place with his hands full with steaming hot plates.

“yaaah!!” he’s making a scene as other patrons curiously look their way. “yaah, who would have thought?!” he slams the plates on the table, an ugly smile adorning his face. “yaaaaah, lee jooheon, i’m proud of you!”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” jooheon scoffs, mostly because he’s feeling his cheeks reddening. “tone it down, hyung. like you never see youngjae sitting on jackson’s lap before.”

“i heard my name!” jackson says in his accent, just as loud, and then he laughs when he realizes what’s happening. “no wonder my kakaotalk has been singing with notifications!” he puts down everyone’s drinks and raises his own corona, intending to make a toast.

“jackson-ge, wait! i have to film this!” youngjae grabs his makgeolli and his phone is poised readily. minhyuk does the same with his own soju, and changkyun raises his sprite. with youngjae’s cue, jackson acts like he’s speaking in front of the president with how ridiculously formal and serious he is.

he says to the camera, “everyone, monbebe ladies and gentlemen, we’re here to commemorate the bravery that lee jooheonie has finally brought to light. tonight, he’s finally made his move for a beautiful friendship with the ever so enigmatic im changkyun. can i get a wooozaah?”

“wooozaah!” minhyuk and youngjae reply with so much vigor and jooheon fakes his smiling when the camera is pointed at him. changkyun is giggling.

“amen. jooheonie, any comment?” jackson asks. when jooheon gives him a mehrong, he turns to changkyun. “changkyun-sshi, how do you feel about this?”

“squishy,” changkyun says matter-of-factly, adding a touch of dark comedy to youngjae’s show. “heonie-sshi is very solid, yet squishy. so comfy.”

“exquisite!” jackson sighs as if he’s swooned by changkyun’s confession. “exquisite.”

youngjae is wheezing when he presses the stop button, and soon enough the forty seconds video is uploaded to their group chat. changkyun stands up then, apologizing for his weight, and obediently pouring everyone’s drink. they have another toast for a good whole month, and then the conversation shifts to the newest idol survival program on MNET.

“who’s your one pick?” minhyuk asks in between mouthful. he’s the one who’s keeping up with what’s happening in the celebrity realm. he’s an active instagram user, posting aesthetic pictures of himself, his outfits, his friends, and where he works. his followers reach 100,000 in number, three times of monbebe cafe’s followers count.

“i don’t really watch it but i like the song,” jackson says, putting a hand on his chest and making a fist with the other. he sings, “like, ’na ya na, na ya na’.” “somi never stops talking about it. she’s rooting for some church oppa who looks like jinyoung-hyung, and that na ya na center.” the second youngjae finishes his sentence, the whole table is going wild at the mention of the girl he’s been texting. “whaaat? don’t change the topic!”

“of course we have to change the topic!” minhyuk shoves youngjae’s shoulders, hard, until youngjae squeaks and needs changkyun’s helping hand. “tell us more about her! she was so pretty, if i remember correctly? but like, so tall. her eyes were so big!”

“that’s because he’s mixed, minhyuk-hyung,” youngjae grumbles, “her dad’s like, from netherlands. or canada. anyway, there’s this trainee who looks like jinyoung-hyung.”

“yah, save that information when you meet with jinyoung!” jackson grins. jinyoung is their mutual friend who frequents monbebe cafe to read books. “now, somi. how old is she? she doesn’t look like a noona.”

youngjae visibly reddens. he needs a moment to answer and when he does it’s mumbled so low jooheon is not sure he hears him right.

“she’s a freshman.”

“oh, nice! same age?” jackson interrupts, and youngjae gulps.

“…of high school.”

jackson is always the comical one in their group alongside with minhyuk. but right now he seems dead serious as he’s got a finger pointed at youngjae, stressing that youngjae, with absolutely no excuse, should never, never ever touch somi anywhere.

youngjae pouts, probably offended that jackson needs to warn him about the ground rules of dating. “hyung! you know me! i tripped on air when we went on a date last week!”

“you went on a date with her without a chaperone??” with how much force jackson puts in his voice the veins on his neck is popping green, jooheon is torn whether he should laugh like minhyuk does or pretends that the situation is not terrifyingly absurd as it is like changkyun tries to do by stuffing himself with sausage.

“i’m sorry! and she laughed at me, okay!? don’t make it harder for me please!” youngjae whines, lips jutting out and trembling. “minhyuk-hyung, stop jackson-hyung from his baseless accusation!”

minhyuk’s simple jackson wang, don’t stop only stirs up some more loud shenanigans and they finally stop when youngjae threatens to cry right there and then.

jooheon finds changkyun wiping tears off his eyes using the long sleeve of his shirt.

“too much?” he asks, grinning. 

“no, no. you guys are great,” changkyun answers. he licks his lips. “it’s… it’s so pure. back in boston, the teasing wasn’t like this.”

jooheon’s hand hovers on top of his spicy rice cakes. “oh. you’re not from seoul?”

“no, hyung. haven’t i told you?” changkyun frowns. he sips his sprite from a straw, and has a cute aha moment. “riiight, i only told minhyuk and jackson-hyung. i’m taking a gap year after graduating high school. my mom told me to get familiar with our homeland so here i am.”

“how long have you been in korea?” jooheon is overwhelmed by the most important fact about the one guy he’s been fascinated by ever since he saw him writing in a notepad with his left hand, exactly a month ago.

“a little bit over three months,” changkyun blinks as everyone’s eyes are suddenly on him. he continues in a louder voice, “i had to teach myself to get used to speaking korean, binge watching dramas and all. then i went on a trip around jeju, nami, and busan.”

minhyuk pipes in, smiling like a normal, handsome person for once, “then he came to monbebe.”

changkyun nods. “then i came to monbebe. i still struggle with reading and writing hangul, like, if you notice, the boss never trained me to take over the register. i’m almost always doing the cleaning or making drinks ha ha ha.”

it’s… so hard to digest. all this time, jooheon had assumed that changkyun is just another seoulite who’s in the need of the experience; just another college student needing the extra money for skincare or the newest stüssy jacket. but no. changkyun is from boston, united states of america. changkyun probably can’t help a lost tourist who needs to go to namsan tower. changkyun’s home is not in korea.

oh fuck.

“so you’re going back to boston?” jooheon doesn’t know why he asks the question, because it’s not like it means anything at all. “when?”

“dude, relax. don’t kick him out of beautiful seoul just yet?” jackson tuts, sending a wink at changkyun whose boyish smile isn’t enough to set jooheon’s thumpthumpthumping heart at ease.

“umm, later? yeah. but i want to know what christmas is like in seoul,” changkyun says, “like jackson-ge said, seoul is beautiful.”