#you're not going to believe it but i spend 10 minutes writing this post. because i kept getting distracted by the piece of chainmail

[schadenfreudich]

Can't forget the piece of chaimmail when I leave in like 20 minutes Because I need to show it to my therapist.

[zreamy]

i'll love you forever

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

summary: you were sunghoon's first everything; first friend, first love, and first heartbreak. after years of quietly crushing on you, he was finally ready to confess. so ready to confess, that he told his parents the two of you were already dating! it was an easy enough lie to keep up and he kept it up for months, what could possibly go wrong? he thought. little did he know, you would have a falling out and stop talking for months.. and then, you'd both get invited to spend a week at home with his parents, who still believe you're his girlfriend.

genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, childhood best friends to lovers, fake dating

warnings: minors dni, fake dating is pretty mild (sorry), she kinda doesn’t rate him at the start, these two kind of exist in a vacuum a little bit idk i had a self-enforced word count to stick to and broke it.. (im within the 10% allowance !), sunghoon in a vest, sunghoon arms, sunghoon

word count: 21,858

playlist: click here.. (for my non-spotify babes, the main song is light by wave to earth (which for some reason i put last.. whatever))

author's note: for silly @asahicore. happy birthday pooks i hope it's amazing and that u enjoy reading this when u have the time !!! LOL (lots of love) also im never writing without telling you things again this was so absurd.

to everyone else.. ok happy reading also emma did not beta read this so im sure it's missing its charm .. anyway it's for emma not you 😭 anyway i hope u enjoy regardless and lmk ur thoughts! omg this is the first fic im nervous about posting.......... please enjoy or else.

In the three years since Park Sunghoon moved away for university, he’d been doing a pretty good job of going home to see his parents. They’d welcome their baby back to the nest with open arms and wide grins. With a rehearsed level of indifference, his younger sister, Yeji, would say, “Oh, I didn’t know you were coming home this weekend.” when she saw him at the dinner table. Sunghoon pretended to only be marginally hurt by this. 

In the last three months, he hasn’t so much as sent a text to his parents. 

Or to you. 

Ignoring texts from his mother is devastating. Between classes, he watches as, “Hi, sweetie, I love you 😍,” turns into, “Missing you, honey, know you must be busy but spare some time for your old mummy, no?” which turns into, “Getting really worried now, are you doing okay? Has something happened with YN? Talk to me, I love you, my baby boy!” 

Ignoring texts from you is easy because texts from you never come. 

Sitting at the end of his bed, Sunghoon rereads a text his mother sent a few minutes ago: Please talk to me, son. Really worried and YN isn’t answering calls either. What’s going on with you two?

When he leaves his room, he finds Jake lying on the couch, and with his keys in hand, Sunghoon says, “I’m going home.” 

And the drive is great! At least, he tells his mum it is. In truth, the drive home without you was nearly impossible. Your ever-expanding home time playlist buzzed through the speakers in his car, but without you there to screech along to the songs, it wasn’t the same. He felt your absence the most when he stopped to get petrol and you weren’t there behind him struggling to carry enough snacks to feed a small family without offering to pay. 

The look of worry on his mum’s face stirs a pit in his stomach. “Why are you so quiet these days? God, you look so tired,” she says, frowning. “Is it school? Or something with YN? It’s not like her not to text back.” Her brows crease as she whispers the word unless. She pulls him into a hug, her chin resting perfectly on his shoulder, and her comforting hand strokes the hair on the back of his head. “Breakups are never easy, honey. I’m so sorry, I know how much you love her.” 

Breakups are never easy. The sentence hangs heavy over his head. 

Whether she knows it or not, she’s handed him a get-out-of-jail-free card, the opportunity to set things straight, to end this mess once and for all. No further questions, and most importantly, no more lies. 

For the first time since he left your flat three months ago, Sunghoon lets himself cry. He’d imagined this moment countless times, his first cry since you ended things. In his mind, it was always intense. Today, as it happens, only a few salty tears leak from his eyes, spilling onto the cuff of his sleeve, darkening the blue cotton in tiny indigo splotches. 

“We didn’t break up,” he says in a small voice—for some reason. “I’m just having a hard time.” Neither statement is technically untrue, but the words taste rotten in his mouth.

The tightening grip of his mum’s arms around his body is what brings on the harsh, shoulder-racking sobs he’d been anticipating. For a while, they stand like this, Sunghoon weeping into his mum’s cardigan until she sends him upstairs to lie down, promising a cup of tea that never comes. 

His childhood bedroom is chilly, so he changes into clothes he left behind and climbs into bed, pulling his duvet up to his chin. He turns his head to look at the walls and the room around him, everything is exactly where he left it in the summer. It should be comforting, but it’s weird to be home without you. 

There are photos of you and him everywhere, growing up and around each other through different stages of life. The two of you together during the summer your family moved in next door, you wore glasses back then and were the first friend he’d made in his life. Sunbathing and sharing earphones at the beach, listening to music together on your iPod classic. Sunghoon in thick glasses with a stiff smile and your arm around him on the first day of high school. Wide grins at the start of this summer, the last time things were okay between you. 

Overwhelmed, he stares up at the ceiling, only realising he’s crying when a hot tear slips from his eyes to tickle his ear. Because Sunghoon likes to upset himself, he screws his eyes shut and thinks about the night before you stopped talking. 

Though he didn’t know it at the time, you’d left Yeonjun’s place to sit with him in a tiny restaurant on campus, the one you’d only visit to toast to each other’s heartbreaks. It had become a ritual — ever since your first year boyfriend dumped you after two weeks — to cry as much as you wanted and drink as much soju as your bodies could handle before stumbling back to your apartments. 

Having spent years suffering from an unrequited crush on his best friend, Sunghoon was always the one to comfort you. But that night was different; you were there to comfort him. It was easy enough to play the part of ‘boy whose crush likes someone else’ because he spent your entire friendship in that role. He’d had no problem accepting his fate, but his composure started to slip when you met Yeonjun. It was the first time you’d dated someone who Sunghoon had reason to be jealous of. In every way, Yeonjun was better than him—taller, funnier, hotter. Sunghoon knew he didn’t stand a chance. He took it personally, you liking Yeonjun instead of him, and let his jealousy consume him from the inside out. 

This jealousy led him to start telling you about Minjeong—lying to you about Minjeong, and his feelings for her. She was a girl from a college out of town that he saw on his Instagram Explore page. He followed her by accident, and by some stroke of luck, she followed back. Sunghoon didn’t really have feelings for her — he didn’t even know her — but she was a girl that you didn’t know, so you wouldn’t be able to meddle. 

It only took a few weeks for Sunghoon to become so upset about your relationship that he couldn’t hide his emotions anymore. So, in a fit of tears, he told you over the phone that things ended badly with Minjeong, and he was in urgent need of a soju ceremony. 

But the night was missing its usual comforts.

It was strange to be the one crying, to see you looking put together and ordering the food. To see you pouring the drinks and raising your glass to propose a toast to ‘Hoonie’s first heartbreak’. You were driving that night, so you only had a tiny sip of soju and let him drink as much as he needed, the way he always did for you, at the same table, in the same restaurant for years. 

Hours later, in your car, you entertained his drunken rambles, though he remembers how your lips were set into a frown that he wanted to kiss away while you gripped the steering wheel like you thought it would run from you. Sunghoon was more drunk than he’d been in a while, drunk enough to let you sling his arm over your shoulders and keep him upright until you reached his flat. 

The voices coming from Yeji’s room disrupt the memory. He’s thankful.

“Your brother’s going through something, so be nice to him this weekend.” His mother’s voice is her version of hushed—a loud whisper. 

Yeji’s response is harder to make out, but he doesn’t miss the way their mum says, “I mean it, missy.” 

A dramatic sigh rumbles through Yeji as she barges into his room without knocking. Sunghoon sits up, feeling an ache in his back and crossing his legs. 

“Mum told me to lay off you today, which is fine, but before I do, I need to tell you something.” 

Yeji pushes the door shut behind her, and the open window makes it slam, both of them flinching from the sudden noise. She pulls her hair out of a silk scrunchie and throws herself on the floor. A pang of irritation forms in his chest, knowing that he could immediately find the empty hanger in his wardrobe where the shirt she’s wearing used to live. 

“I hate you and your perfect golden boy image, Hoon. Would it kill you to fail a class for once? I don’t know how I’m supposed to carry on your legacy.” She’s looking up at him, her chin in her hands and irritation written in the crease between her thick brows. 

It’s impossible to know if it’s because of Yeji’s complete lack of boundaries or the fact that her ‘perfect, golden boy’ big brother is on track to fail three out of three classes and get cut from the hockey team, but Sunghoon immediately bursts into tears. 

“Oh, uh.. I’m sorry?” Yeji offers. “I was kidding if that helps.” 

“I’m alright, it’s okay.” The tears don’t stop stinging his eyes. “Why do you want me to change everything about myself?” 

With a frown, Yeji pours out her frustration and mild resentment. She doesn’t understand how Sunghoon effortlessly conquers every aspect of life while she struggles. Neither do their parents, who had been baffled by her plummeting grades since she moved to boarding school, especially when Sunghoon’s academic performance has only soared since he left for university. The weight of this perceived injustice pulls Sunghoon’s shoulders down with guilt as she talks about the expectations he has inadvertently set for her. 

“But other than that, I’m good.” She shrugs, sitting with her legs out, and leaning back on her palms. “How’s YN?” she asks. It’s clear from the brightness in her voice that she thinks she’s helping. 

Sunghoon cries again. 

Back on campus, he’s trying to scrape together what’s left of his academic career with the help of two of the smartest guys he knows, and their friend Jay. Though the word ‘friend’ feels a little strong at the moment given the way Jay’s goading him. 

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, sitting back in his seat. “There’s nothing you can do that I can’t,” he says, meaning every word. 

Jay scoffs, shrugging and raising his brow in a way that, over the years, Sunghoon knows to interpret as his ‘about to say something ridiculous’ look. “Pretty sure I could call YN right now, and she’d answer.” 

There’s a pit in Sunghoon’s stomach as Heeseung turns his head in the other direction like he’s been slapped, trembling with stifled laughter. At least Jake doesn’t hide his amusement, throwing his head back in a fit of giggles that draw nasty looks from the other students in the library. Sunghoon doesn’t waste his energy trying to argue because Jay’s right.

Now composed, Heeseung turns back to the table, flipping through some of Sunghoon’s course materials to find whatever his class was doing in class that week. The English Literature class he’s taking — The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway — is the same class he had to send a million emails over the summer to get enrolled in, but it’s the same one Heeseung aced two years ago. Lucky for him none of the boys seem to be in the mood to make fun of him for trying so hard to have a class in common with you, and then practically failing out of it before the term had started properly.

“This class is, like, beyond easy, dude.” Heeseung pauses to sniffle and twist the stud in his ear. “Everyone in my class aced it. How are you doing so badly already?” 

“I only took it because YN thought it’d be fun if we had a class together, but.. I kind of haven’t been going since we stopped talking.” Sunghoon shrugs, pretending to be unaffected. 

As if the mere mention of your name has some sort of summoning power, like saying Biggie Smalls in the mirror three times, you appear in his eye line, rounding the corner with a furious stride. Your demeanour crumbles when Jay waves at you, and you grin, waving back, but as soon as you look Sunghoon in the eye again, the rage comes back, and you smack a hand on the table when you reach it, leaning over to him. 

“Sunghoon, a word?” you ask.

He thinks you’re asking, but it’s hard to tell with the way you set your jaw afterwards, and the way the warmth of your signature vanilla scent hits him hard. Dazed, Sunghoon lifts a hand, pointing at himself. “Me?” 

“Does anyone else at the table answer to Sunghoon?” 

“Okay,” he says, somewhat pathetically, nudging Jay for laughing at him. 

As slowly as possible, Sunghoon pushes his chair from the table and stands up, following you to the corner of the references section where only anthropology students in scratchy thrift store knits, and Jay, come to check out encyclopaedias by volume. You look good, save for the rage written all over your face—which, honestly, Sunghoon thinks he likes.

Sunghoon isn’t sure what to expect, so he says, “Hey.” He’s being cautious, waiting a moment to gauge your reaction. “What’s gooooood?” His cheeks burn as soon as he closes his mouth around the vowel, but you laugh. You laugh, and it’s beautiful and happy, and you’re laughing because of him—or at him, but he’s glad either way. 

Annoyance quickly clears all traces of amusement on your face. “Were you ever going to tell me we’re spending next week at Mum and Dad’s?” you ask. 

Sunghoon gasps dramatically, clicking his fingers. “I knew there was something I’ve been meaning to do.” 

His attempt at lightening the mood falls flat, and you only nudge his shoulder gently, sighing. “Can you be serious? For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me?” You’re frowning, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at your feet. “It’s not fair, Sunghoon. For you to keep saying things—making plans involving me and then acting like I’m the bad guy when I turn you down.” 

“I don’t think you’re the bad guy at all,” Sunghoon admits. “If anyone is in the wrong, it’s me, I guess.”

You scoff, looking at him like you hate him. “You guess? Are you serious?” You look furious, but you sound hurt and Sunghoon hates it. Hates himself. “I can’t have this conversation with you right now. Tell mum I’m sick, and it’s contagious.” You roll your eyes and walk away, leaving Sunghoon alone with his thoughts and judgemental stares from students in crochet scarves so long they graze the floor. 

He sighs, slumping against the wall. How does he keep getting it wrong with you? 

Back at the table, Sunghoon manages to act like he’s not falling apart and makes some serious headway on his missing assignments with Heeseung’s help before they call it a day as the sun starts to set. 

When he gets home, he lies down on his bedroom floor, spending hours poring over the conversation you had. Over the minute changes in your facial expression, the tone of your voice, and the endless list of things he should have done, rather than watch you walk away. 

The moment feels familiar, both identical to and worlds apart from what happened after you left three months ago. When he managed to scrape the last shreds of his dignity from the kitchen table, he dragged his feet to his room and lay down like he is now, face to the rug. That day, he left his door open and lay so still that Jake thought he was dead. Sunghoon remembers wishing he had been. 

For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me? The words run on a loop in his mind, over and over, until he can’t remember the order of the sentence or where you put emphasis. They’re cutting all the same. 

Sunghoon sighs into the itchy fibres of his black rug before rolling onto his back. In the diminishing purple light of the setting sun. he looks at the walls of his room. At the Fleetwood Mac poster, he stole from Jay when they moved out of their first year dorm, that curls away from the wall towards the ceiling—a diagonal strip of shiny tape being the only indication of the otherwise invisible tear through the face of Stevie Nicks. 

He’s glad when his phone rings, cutting through the quiet, though the sight of your name and the anatomical heart emoji next to it only dampens his spirit. Reluctantly, Sunghoon answers the phone, holding it to his ear. 

“I just got off the phone with Dad..” You trail off. Tangible silence follows, so thick it weighs on his chest. “I’ll go home with you.” 

“You will?” 

“Yes. Goodbye.” 

Sunghoon reaches your flat at five in the evening. You don’t smile when you open the door for him, nor do you invite him in. Instead, you dump your bag at your feet and he cringes, looking from the floor to you. You’re aggressively beautiful and cosy-looking as you pull a jacket over the sweater you wore that night. Sunghoon’s heart aches in his chest and he wonders if you even realise. Suddenly, the memory of the last thing you said the morning after hits him like a truck: Then let’s not be friends at all. 

A familiar weight lands on his shoulder—your hand. Concern lines your eyes as you ask if he’s okay. 

With a lump in his throat, Sunghoon nods. 

In the discomfort of his car, the two of you sit in silence while he starts the drive home. 

“How’s Yeonjun,” he asks, eyes flicking towards you but regretting it immediately when he sees how you clench your jaw. 

“No,” you say simply, shaking your head. “You don’t get to ask me about him.” 

These are the only words you exchange until Sunghoon stops for petrol. He has enough fuel for the rest of the journey, but he feels like dying and thinks the fresh air might quell his thoughts of running his car off the road. Like always, the two of you get out and head into the kiosk, where he follows you wordlessly through the aisles, watching you debate on snack choices before settling on the same things you always get. Sunghoon pays for your snacks and you roll your eyes but don’t protest, mumbling thanks as you take them into your arms, leading the way back outside.

He knows he needs to tell you before you reach the house, but he’s not entirely sure how to say it—so he just does. “My, uh.. my parents think we’re dating.”

You stop so suddenly in front of him that he almost bumps into you. Stepping around you, Sunghoon keeps walking. 

Over the top of his car, he watches your face cycle through all five stages of grief until anger comes back around in the loop as you scoff. “Why do they think that?” Your face is devoid of expression now, the blankness over your features dragging a sharp chill over his spine. 

He stares blankly at you, processing. “Because I told them we’re dating,” he mumbles. 

“Why did you.. do that?” You tilt your head, eyes pressing shut in a long blink. “What are you even talking about? Why did you.. What?” 

A thin layer of sweat coats his palms despite the cold. Why did he do that? “We can stage a breakup during the trip or say we broke up right now,” Sunghoon offers. “Just one night, YN, please.” 

The wind whistles by, ruffling your hair and jacket that you hug tightly to your chest. Behind you, Sunghoon takes note of the group of girls standing by the pumps, all five of them jerking their heads abruptly when they notice him watching, suddenly finding interest in the scattered litter and flickering halogen bulbs in the steel canopy over their heads. 

You’re staring when he looks back at you, nostrils twitching with a sniffle before you sigh. “Or we could say that you’re a liar and end things there,” you say. “Or better yet, you go down there on your own and tell them the truth.”

Sunghoon’s gaze drops, his thoughts racing in his mind. He knows you’re right. At some point, his parents will have to find out, and it’d be better for them to find out now. Sunghoon sighs, nodding. “Alright,” he concedes. “I’ll take you back.”

An angry laugh comes out of you as you shake your head. “No need, I’ll walk.” 

The station you’re at is neatly nestled in the middle of nowhere, on a road so narrow he’s not even sure it has a pavement. You’re halfway through the three-hour drive, so there’s no telling how long the walk would be, never mind the fact that the sun is already setting and it’s deep enough into October for the wind to sting. 

“From here?” he asks, incredulous. 

“Yes, open the boot so I can get my bag.” 

Sunghoon can only bring himself to say your name, a desperate whisper. 

“Open the boot.”

He repeats your name as if it’ll make a difference, he’s pleading with you, begging—though he doesn’t know for what. 

You go to the back of his car where Sunghoon joins you, a pit in his stomach when you step away. With misty eyes, you look up at him and his heart breaks. “Please.”

Sunghoon knows you well enough to know that you’re not actually going to attempt the walk home but also knows that you won’t back down if he keeps challenging you. He nods, opening the boot for you and getting into the driver’s seat—your move. 

You stand there, unmoving, and long enough passes that he thinks you’ll actually leave. The boot closes softly and you join him in the passenger seat. You sigh, buckling your seatbelt. “Let’s just get this over with.” 

For the rest of the journey, you sit in silence as Sunghoon briefs you on the relationship, fighting a smile as he thinks about being your boyfriend—even if only for a night. You scoff when he ‘reminds’ you that you’ve been together for four months now and the only reason you haven’t been able to come home recently is that your schedules don’t match up very well anymore—which couldn’t be further from the truth as, before term started, you went out to celebrate the fact that your class schedules couldn’t be more suited for seeing each other. 

Finally, at Sunghoon’s childhood home, the two of you smile and laugh for his parents before going to bed. Your relationship has only made his mother more averse to the idea of you sharing a room under her roof than she had been when you were younger. He’s relieved about this, and in the solitude of his bedroom, he lies on the duvet of his twin bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about the last few hours. 

With his parents, you’d sat up in the living room watching TV. They sat on the couch together, his mum nestled in his dad’s side, while you two sat on the couch opposite, mirroring their position. If your complete stiffness was anything to go by, you were less than comfortable with his arm around you and Sunghoon felt terrible for begging you to go along with this. It was after midnight when you all went upstairs and you let him kiss your forehead before all but slamming the door to the guest room in his face. His heart twirled and his mum beamed at him before saying goodnight again. 

Now, at 3 a.m. he can’t sleep. Flinching at the knock on his door, he furrows his brows and goes to open it. It’s you. Standing there with your hair scraped away from your face in one of his t-shirts. Your eyes are red, brimmed with tears as you step into his room and sit on his bed. 

He closes the door softly, heart aching at the sight of you so upset, and when he sits next to you, his heart tears apart because you move over, putting a distance between you. It falls out of his chest onto the floor when he realises you’re not wearing your necklace. 

Sunghoon suspected you might have stopped wearing it, it only made sense that if you didn’t want him, you wouldn’t want the necklace he bought for you either, but at least earlier, your sweatshirt sat so high he couldn’t see if you had it on or not. 

It was a gift for your sixteenth birthday, after your first heartbreak. He was so upset and angry that you let some loser hurt you that way, upset and angry that someone could be loved by you and fuck it up. Sunghoon was inspired by Jay, who’d gotten a pretty necklace for his girlfriend, and talked about her cute reaction for weeks, how happy she was to have a piece of him with her all the time. It was a locket, with a picture of Jay in one side and a picture of her in the other so the pictures would kiss when she wore it. 

While at the jewellers with Jake, Sunghoon thought something like that might be a bit much for the two of you and eventually picked out an equally pretty piece with his first initial on it. He wrote a corny note to put in the box, something about how ‘boys come and go but Sunghoon is forever’ and gave it to you with trembling hands a few nights later—it was the first time he ever made you cry. Immediately, he thought he’d done something wrong and was ready to snatch the box and run back to the jewellers (even though he trashed the receipt). You hugged him and told him you loved him. Sunghoon’s been riding that high ever since. 

Until tonight at least. 

“Are you okay?” he whispers. 

“I’ll do it, Hoon.” Your eyes lift from the floor to meet his gaze. “For as long as you need me to, I’ll pretend.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Sunghoon feels lighter, an unbearable weight slipping from his shoulders. You haven’t called him ‘Hoon’ in ages, and he can’t tell if you’ve said it out of vulnerability, or even noticed that you’ve said it at all, but it warms his heart nonetheless. However, he’s not fully at ease, still curious about your sudden change of heart and why you’re crying. 

“What happened?”

You pull him into a hug, and his eyes bulge out of his head. “It doesn’t matter,” you say, the words muffled by the skin at the base of his neck. 

For as long as he’s known you, you’ve smelled like vanilla, a sweet warmth that grounds him. Yet it’s only after these months apart that he’s able to put a name to the sensation: home. The realisation of how much he’s missed this feeling, missed you, floods him with a rush of emotion so overwhelming he can’t find the words to press the issue. A moment passes before he remembers to hug you back, his arms finally wrapping around you, pulling you close, and you sink into his hold. Months ago, he would have kissed the top of your head and mumbled reassurance into your hair, but tonight, Sunghoon settles for stroking the back of your head and hopes it’s enough. 

“You can talk to me, you know? You can always talk to me.”

A heavy silence follows, sharp as a dagger—scraping his skin, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge and lodging itself between his shoulder blades. Sunghoon’s breath hitches in his throat when you cling onto him even tighter, shifting so close you’ve had to settle in his lap. His heart races in his chest, pounding a rhythm so loud it fills the room. 

Finally, you speak, assuring him that you know and that you’re okay. At this, Sunghoon holds you as tight as he can, and neither of you speaks for the rest of the night. You fall asleep like this, in his arms, so deeply that you don’t even stir when he lies down. 

Rubbing your back, he watches the clock on his nightstand, the piercing green LED digits cycling through two whole hours right before his stinging eyes until you wake up. Sunghoon presses his eyes shut, pretending to be asleep when you kiss his cheek and leave his room. 

For the entire morning, you stay in your room, and although Sunghoon is concerned, he decides not to bother you. In the afternoon, he sits at the dining table with his mum, listening as she talks about work. When she asks him, he gets up to make a cup of tea for her. It’s at that moment when you finally come downstairs, looking so effortlessly pretty. Your hair is still damp from the shower, and you’re bundled up in one of his old sweatshirts. There’s a bright grin on your face that leaves his heart thudding. 

“Baby!” you squeal when you see him, charging towards him and wrapping your arms around him from behind. “Good morning.” Your words are muffled against the back of his t-shirt, and the four-letter word, and the sugar coating it, make his cheeks burn. 

“It’s great to see you too, YN,” his mum says with a smile. “My night was amazing; I slept very well and had no dreams.” 

You let go of Sunghoon and walk over to the table, kissing his mum on the cheek and wishing her a good morning as well. “Sorry, mum, how are you?” 

His mother doesn’t seem to have the heart to correct you either, allowing your 3 p.m. ‘good morning’ to go unnoticed. 

Sunghoon carefully fills both mugs to the brim and, with extra caution, carries them to the table. He places a steaming cup of peppermint tea in front of his mum and a milky coffee in front of you. A warm smile spreads across your face as you mouth a ‘thank you’, and his knees turn to jelly. 

The next day, after eating an early dinner with his parents at the table, the four of you go out on a walk along the bike path you used to take for school. His parents have gone ahead, not intentionally, but because Sunghoon can’t stop you from dragging your feet. 

As with most things in the town where you grew up, nothing about the trail has changed. The leaves are yellowing in standard form for the season, and crunching under his feet with each step he takes. The only foreign experience is the silence that you’re determined to uphold. Everything Sunghoon says to you is met with either a hum, a nod, or no acknowledgement at all. At this point, he feels like he could drop dead at your side and the most you’d do is step over his body like a fallen branch. 

After letting you go ahead, the weathered slats of the wooden footbridge sag in the middle under his tread. It’s been like this for as long as he can remember and he wonders how nothing has been done about it. The stream rushes under it, loud and unruly, the smell of wet grass both comforting and suffocating as you look over the railing. It’s like something from a postcard, the low-hanging branches sweeping back and forth under the breeze, the grass lush and green around the path, murky water thrashing against the mud and rocks underneath with you in the middle of the frame, peering over the edge.

You keep walking when Sunghoon approaches, leaving him alone on the creaky bridge with nothing but the ache in his chest. He looks up, staring at the grey clouds in the sky through the gaps in the leaves, and sighs. 

Eventually, he catches up with you, grabbing your hand and locking his fingers with yours when his parents slow down. You stiffen, looking up at him with cut eyes and a creased brow. “What are you doing?”

Sunghoon matches your clipped tone. “Holding my girlfriend’s hand.” 

“No one’s looking, boyfriend.”

“You think my parents aren’t going to wonder why we’re lagging behind?” 

A scoff—your fingers remain defiantly stiff. “Do you think your parents are going to care whether or not we’re holding hands?” 

“My mum might after the show you put on yesterday afternoon, baby.” Bitterness covers the word like a blanket, a stark departure from how you said it. 

A long sigh rumbles its way out of you before you fix your lips into a strained grin. “Sorry, sweetheart, this is my first time pretending to be in love.” 

As your words hang in the air, Sunghoon’s emotions brew like a storm within him. Frustration gnaws at his patience. All hopes for a smooth week are dashed, though determination simmers in his chest with a strong resolve to make this work, to fix your relationship. It doesn’t stop the sharp pang of hurt piercing his stomach—he knows you don’t feel the same way, he knows you’re faking, but the word ‘pretending’ hits him like a truck anyway. 

“We held hands all the time when we were friends,” he points out.

Your smile drops immediately, hurt flashing behind your eyes. “Yeah, and now we’re not.” 

If there was a competition for who could hurt Sunghoon’s feelings the most, you’d be a shoo-in for first place. With distinction. 

“Exactly!” he says, feeling the sting of his own words. “Because now we’re dating.”

At the sight of his mum turning around, you switch up in an instant. Lock your fingers with his, wrapping an arm around his bicep, leaning into him, giggling. It’s forced but his parents are far enough away that all that matters is the curve of your lips.

“You two okay back there?” she asks. 

“Perfect! I feel like a kid again!” you call back, beaming up at Sunghoon in a way that makes his stomach flutter even though it doesn’t meet your eyes. 

The two of you don’t talk at all when you get home, with you hugging his parents goodnight and running up the stairs. 

“She’s not feeling too well,” he explains, nodding when his dad tells him to make you some tea. 

His parents spend the whole day at work, and you spend the whole day following him around like a shadow until the evening when they return. He doesn’t pretend not to like it.

Sunghoon helps you make dinner, turning leftover rice into fried rice with the help of some eggs and vegetables. It’s nice moving around the kitchen with you, watching you scramble eggs in his t-shirt and bump his hip with a playful frown when he eats some of the peppers you’re chopping. 

His parents watch from the table, cooing over the two of you and he does his best to fight the blush forming on his cheeks and neck. Embarrassed, he hugs you from behind, hiding his face in your neck—the scent of your coconut conditioner mixing with your vanilla perfume doesn’t do anything to stop the flush. 

Over a bottle of wine, the four of you eat together at the table, swapping stories about your days. Sunghoon tries to hide his surprise as you lie about the time you spent at the play park by your primary school, competing for height on the swings and spinning on the roundabout until you couldn’t stand up. You grin at him, and it meets your eyes as you hold his hand under the table, and kiss his cheek.

After eating, his parents head upstairs, leaving to clean up together. You hum a song he’s never heard as you load the dishwasher, carefully placing the plates and cutlery in the rack, shaking your head when he hands you the glasses you’d used. 

“Leave ours,” you say. “If you want.” 

Sunghoon nods, putting them back on the table, where you sit in the seat across from the one he was sitting in. He sits too, staying quiet rather than saying the wrong thing. You don’t speak either. It’s reminiscent of the past—the hours you’d spend in the same room, only speaking to share a funny post you’d come across or to ask if you were hungry. 

His eyes track your movements—reaching for the half-empty bottle on the table to pour yourself another glass, filling it to the brim. Before putting it down, you offer him some, filling his glass too when he nods. The three glasses of wine he’s already had must be the reason he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand, run his thumb over the soft skin on the back of it. 

Sunghoon doesn’t know why you’ve been so nice to him all day or why it makes his chest hurt. 

“You know you don’t have to be nice to me when we’re alone, right?” The words come out before he can stop them.

Over the top of your glass, your brows knit together. A sound of confusion, a low hum, comes from your throat as you try to finish your sip. “What?” you ask finally. 

“I only asked you to do this because of my parents, you know? You don’t have to sit or talk with me when they’re not around.” 

Sunghoon’s known you long enough to recognise the look that flashes across your face. The way your eyes narrow and your brows tug together, the little pout that sets on your lips before you speak; you’re hurt.

“Why can’t I just be nice to you because it’s the right thing to do?” 

Because it hurts, is what he wants to say. He wants to cry, to beg you to forget everything he said that day. “Because I don’t want to make you any more uncomfortable than I already have.” Is what he settles for. 

Your face softens. “I don’t feel uncomfortable around you, Hoon. We were best friends for ages, I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable.” You pause to take a gulp of wine. “Why can’t I just want to be nice to you?” 

Sunghoon has to chew on his cheek to distract himself from how much your word choice stings. The implications of were and all of your past tense. “I’m sorry,” he says. 

“What for?” 

“Everything.” 

There’s a sadness in the way you run your fingers on the base of your glass. The way you chew on your lip, how your hair falls when you tilt your head and how it moves when you shake it. “It’s not your fault,” you say. “I don’t know anyone who would choose to have unrequited feelings for their best friend.” 

Wow, he thinks. You’re on a roll. Sunghoon wonders if you’re meticulously choosing your phrasing to upset him. Wonders why you feel the need to remind him that his feelings aren’t reciprocated as if he didn’t live through and spend hours reliving the day he confessed. 

“But I didn’t have to tell you about it. It was unfair of me to spring that on you when I knew about Yeonjun.” 

“Did you.. did you think I was going to leave him for you?” 

“Maybe?” Sunghoon chews on his lip—he has no idea what he thought would happen. “I think I thought I loved you enough for both of us, that you might play the part for fun or out of curiosity, and.. I don’t know, just learn to love me.”

“Hoon,” you whisper, frowning. “How could you even think about settling for something like that?” 

Sunghoon shrugs. “It’s not settling if it’s you.” 

Silence takes a seat at the table after he speaks, interrupted only by the ticking clock on the wall—a glittery mess of scrapbooking paper and washi tape layered over each other that Yeji had decorated at summer camp years ago. You’re picking at your fingernails, letting flecks of black polish fall to the table, stark against the varnished oak. 

“I know it’s not my place to ask,” Sunghoon starts after a while, hesitant and only continuing when you nod. “But what did Yeonjun say when you told him? About.. everything?” 

You take a long sip from your glass and sit quietly for so long that he thinks you’re not going to answer him—he doesn’t blame you. 

“I didn’t.” 

He waits for you to elaborate. You don’t. 

Sunghoon nods slowly, deciding not to ask any follow-up questions. Instead, he takes another drink, scrunching his nose at the bitter taste. “He didn’t ask why we stopped hanging out?” he blurts out.

“I told him we fell out but I didn’t say why.” You shrug, but your posture is stiff. 

“Where did you tell him you were going to be this week?” He knows it’s not his business at all, that he’s pushing your boundaries, but he can’t help his curiosity.

“Nowhere.” 

“You told him you were staying on campus?” 

“I didn’t tell him anything.” Your gaze shifts, avoiding his as you toy with the stem of your glass. You drum your nails against it, letting the dull clink ring out. 

“So you just left?” 

“Does it make a difference to you?” 

Sunghoon nods.

For a while, you tug at the drawstrings on your hoodie, pursing your lips to the side, considering this. “Yeonjun and I aren’t together anymore.” Your admission is so shocking that Sunghoon’s jaw drops. He tries to cover his surprise by coughing, his tongue sticking out like a small child. “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want you to think it was because of you.” 

Sunghoon’s thoughts move at lightspeed, too fast for him to catch onto any of them and process this information. His emotions compete with each other—disbelief, guilt, and a painful glimmer of hope he hadn’t dared to acknowledge until now all at the forefront. 

“Was it?” he asks. “Because of me?” 

You scoff—an incredulous sound that doesn’t match the sad look on your face. “I don’t know, Sunghoon. Do you think my boyfriend used me to make his ex jealous because of you?”

He’s not sure what he expected you to say, but this is.. Complete disbelief eclipses him as his heart sinks in his chest, shock, and guilt bubbling in his stomach. 

“I’m sorry,” he says after too long. “That I wasn’t there. That I haven’t been there.” 

“You didn’t know,” you say, gaze softening as you look up at him. 

“But I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about it.” 

You shake your head. “I made me feel like I couldn’t talk to you about it. All you did was change the friendship, I’m the one who ended it.”

“I still should’ve been there.” 

“You’re here now, right?” 

Sunghoon nods, earnestly. “Always.” 

Only one thing comes to mind when you repeat the word ‘always’ before taking a sip from your glass, downing its contents. Sunghoon gets up and crosses the room with wobbly steps to open the fridge, where he pulls out as many bottles of soju as he can hold in his hands and puts them down on the table. He goes back to collect some glasses from the cabinet, puts some of the leftover fried rice from dinner into the microwave, and brings it all over when it’s done, with bowls and utensils. You watch him with a fond smile as he opens a bottle and he hopes you think the flush on his cheeks is from all the drinking you’ve been doing. 

“Is it bad that I’ve missed doing this?” You’re grinning now.

Sunghoon shakes his head, raising his glass. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak.” 

You grin, clinking the rim of your glass against his. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak,” you repeat. 

Both of you down the glasses, and Sunghoon refills them, pouring the soju with an oddly steady hand. As you eat spoonfuls of rice and sip your drinks, silence settles over the room. The soft glow of the kitchen lights forms a warm ambience, a cosy familiarity that brings up simple memories—doing homework together at the table while gossiping about your classmates, the first New Year after you were both eighteen and had your first drink with his parents. 

For at least an hour, the only sounds are the occasional clinks of forks against bowls, glasses hitting the table, the faint hum of the refrigerator and the steady tick of Yeji’s clock. Sunghoon’s eyes meet yours, and he can’t help but notice the slight change in your expression when they do. 

You clear your throat, running a hand through your hair. “This is my sixteenth, actually.” 

“What?” 

You take a small sip of soju, staring down at the table. “My fifteenth heartbreak was losing you. Yeonjun is my sixteenth.”

In the two days since your soju ceremony, Sunghoon finds himself sinking into the role of your boyfriend like a hot bath. But there’s no use pretending it doesn’t hurt. Pretending it doesn’t hurt when you kiss his cheek before bed, or when you reach out to push the hair out of his face or snuggle into his side on the couch; because it does hurt—a lot. It hurts to think that in three days when you put your bags in the boot of his car, you’ll sit in silence all the way home. When he drops you off at your flat, you’ll close the door in his face and stop talking to him again. These realisations are harder to confront when he’s alone in his room, like now. 

About an hour ago, you asked if you could borrow his car, saying there was something you needed to do on your own. It seemed important, so he handed over his keys with no question. Sighing, Sunghoon gets up from his bed and heads to the shower, where he jerks off to clear his mind. On his way back to his room, he notices the light leaking from the open kitchen door that illuminates the landing. 

He hears the lock on the front door clicking, and stands at the top of the stairs, dripping water onto the carpet while listening attentively. His ears perk up when he hears a gasp—his mother. 

“What’s this for?” she asks. 

“I just..” You trail off. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted to thank you both for always looking after me.” You pause, and Sunghoon holds his breath, waiting. Your voice trembles as you continue. “It’s been hard since my parents went back home, and I guess it was still hard when they were here, but you both supported me. I don’t think I could’ve managed without you guys. I want to make you guys proud, you know? And I’m trying, really, so this is me saying thank you. I’m sorry it took me so long.” 

He grips the railing by the landing, digging his nails into the wood until they start hurting—an ache in his fingertips that makes him wince. 

An odd feeling settles in his stomach, a bittersweetness tinged in his fondness for you, and the gentle shock of realising how much his parents have done for you. Growing up, you became an honorary member of Sunghoon’s family. His parents showered you with gifts during holidays and birthdays, which you often celebrated with them rather than your own family. 

The memory of your parents’ sudden decision to move across the country still lingers, and Sunghoon vividly recalls the tearful conversation he overheard at the top of the stairs. Your parents understood the enormity of their request but had earnestly asked if Sunghoon’s parents could continue looking after you. 

His chest tightens when you start crying. 

“You don’t have to thank us for anything, sweetie. Just you being here and taking care of our boy is more than enough thanks. You never forget our birthdays, and you always come and visit when you can. You’re doing a great job, and you should give yourself some credit,” his dad says, a little choked up. “We’ve always been proud of you.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes sting with tears and his skin gets dry in the spots where the water from the shower is evaporating. He presses his fingers to his closed eyes, forcing a few tears to fall and walks the rest of the way to his room with his eyes shut. He can’t hear anything through his closed bedroom door, which he decides is a good thing as he coats himself in moisturiser and swipes deodorant under his arms with intention to spend the whole night alone. Once he’s dressed, he gets into bed and pretends not to be bothered by the way his wet hair dampens his pillow. Under the duvet, he tosses and turns before sighing and heading to Yeji’s room.

In her absence, the room’s subtle transformation is stark. The sage green-painted walls, once a backdrop to the A3 faces of Wave to Earth and Beabadoobee, now bear the faint imprints of those missing posters. Tiny, shadowy rectangles are the only remnants of the 6x4-sized pictures of her and her friends, of her and Sunghoon, that she took away with her to school.

Her hairdryer is still on her desk where she’d left it for him to use and he sits in her stiff wooden chair, plugging it in. The airflow starts immediately, hot and loud, humming throughout the space as he runs his fingers through his wet hair, feeling cosy under the heat. His shampoo is fresh and soapy scented under his nose, and his reflection watches him in Yeji’s mirror, eyes red and concerned while his hair blows around his head. Sunghoon closes his eyes and finishes his hair, sighing as he lets his worries slip under the whir of the fan. 

Finished, he shuts off the dryer and opens his eyes, flinching at your reflection in the doorway behind him with a soft smile on your face. “Mum and Dad are going to open a bottle of wine if you want to join,” you say, meeting his eyes in the mirror. 

Sunghoon can’t find it in himself to speak, only nodding in response. You smile wider but don’t move. He unplugs the hairdryer and leaves it on the desk where he found it before crossing the room. Without giving himself a chance to think about it, he pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head, smiling into your hair when you wrap your arms around his waist, holding him closer. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the bathtub, mumbling sleepily that you’re never going to drink again, and Sunghoon leans over the sink brushing his teeth, he’s glad you have the decency to cover your mouth as you speak. 

“Brush your teeth and go back to sleep then,” he mumbles around his toothbrush. 

You don’t respond. 

Sunghoon sighs through his nose, spitting foamy toothpaste into the sink, leaving bubbly, blue splatters on the porcelain. “And quit staring at me, I can feel your beady little eyes on the back of my neck and it’s freaking me out.” 

“But you’re so pretty,” you coo. 

There’s a flutter in his stomach and he rinses off the sink and his mouth, buying himself some time. With a hand on the Listerine, he lifts his gaze to meet yours in the mirror and stops short. You’re still staring at him, features soft and glowing under the afternoon light. You look like an angel; a gentle smile spreading over your lips, and a sleepy glint sparkling in your eyes, wide and gorgeous as you watch him. Sunghoon gulps, mumbling his thanks and looking back at himself. He hopes you can’t see the flush on his cheeks. 

“Go back to sleep,” he says. 

“Will you come and lie down with me if I do?” Your voice is a sleepy drawl, coming out in a slow, high-pitched slur, and your eyes are closing on themselves. 

Lying down doesn’t sound like a terrible idea, especially not if it’s with you, so he nods. “If you brush your teeth, then yeah, baby, I’ll lie down with you.” 

You chuckle softly at Sunghoon’s agreement, the sound carrying a mix of exhaustion and genuine amusement, showing no repulsion to him calling you the B-word. He didn’t mean to, it’s been a confusing few days. You nod, saluting to him and getting up to join him by the sink, using your hip to bump him out of the way, but he feels like he’s glued to the spot. 

“Move, baby,” you mumble sleepily, reaching for your toothbrush. “We can cuddle in my bed,” you suggest, to which Sunghoon only nods, taking your words as a cue to unstick his feet from the floor and go to your room, playing the word ‘baby’ on a loop in his head. 

He stands in the doorway staring at your bed, the duvet is all crumpled in the middle, and the pillows are in an L shape at the top corner. He sighs, he can’t go on like this, can’t stand around hoping even a tiny part of you called him ‘baby’ and it meant something for you as it did for him. It’s not fair for him to project his feelings on you like this, but he can’t help it. You’re already pretending for his parents, so would it be so bad to pretend for his sake as well? Even if only until the day after tomorrow when you leave? 

The sound of the bathroom door shutting behind you snaps him out of his thoughts, your bright smile making his heart race when you tug him by the sleeve to your bed where the mattress dips underneath you as you curl into his form, resting your head on his chest and falling asleep. You’ve shared the bed before, countless times, but he knows you’ve only asked him because you’re tired. Because your brain is foggy with drowsiness that clouds your judgement, not because you want him there, not because you miss him when he’s two doors down the hall, tossing and turning at night thinking about you. He wonders absently if you can feel his aching heart beating through his chest, a painful, yet all too familiar rhythm that pulls his own eyes shut, plunging him into a deep sleep too.

It’s dark in the room when he wakes up, the sun already down behind the curtains and the soft yellow of the bedside lamp casting a glow around the space. You’re staring up at him, smiling and you don’t look away when he catches you. “What is it?” he asks, voice thick with sleep. 

“Nothing,” you mumble. “I just missed you.” Sunghoon has no time to respond or even register what you said before you clear your throat, speaking again.  “Come on, dad’s cooking tonight, he’ll need help.” 

Helping Sunghoon’s dad with dinner always looks an awful lot like Sunghoon eating snacks on the kitchen counter and staring at you as you help his dad cook. Tonight is no exception, he’s sitting on the island, and his snack of choice is a family pack of Chilli Heatwave Doritos his mum bought for Yeji. He’ll have to remember to replace them before leaving seeing as he’s reaching the halfway point. 

You go back and forth with his dad about measurements, with you rummaging through the drawers for measuring cups while his dad says it’s best to trust your gut. Reluctantly, you nod, chewing the inside of your cheek as you watch him eyeball the seasoning. 

The gas stove turns the kitchen into an oven, and you complain about it while opening a window, pulling your hoodie over your head and leaving it in Sunghoon’s lap. Time stops when you grin at him, the light from the stove hood illuminating the necklace you’re wearing, his initial resting on your chest and glowing under the light. He chokes around a crisp when he sees it, catching your attention with his coughing. 

“You’ll spoil your dinner, snacking like that, baby,” you scold, using a hand to push his knee. “We’re almost done, I swear.” 

All he can do is nod, cheeks burning as he folds the crisp packet over before putting it back in the bread bin where he found it. 

“Wow,” his dad says, resting his hands on his hips and shaking his head in amusement. “Being in love looks good on him, he’d never have listened if I said that.” 

It’s already your last day when Sunghoon picks up Yeji from school. She grumbles for the entire half-hour drive and all the way to the front door about why the two of you couldn’t have started the trip today instead of ending it, but all of her irritation dissolves when she sees you in the hallway, leaving the front door wide open to fling her arms around you. You and Yeji exchange compliments for a while — You look so pretty. No, you look so pretty. I love your hair. I love your hair. — as Sunghoon locks the door and watches with a smile.

“God.” Yeji sighs, holding you by the waist and craning her neck up to look at you, as you push some of her hair from her face, pinning back her wispy bangs with the palm of your hand. Yeji giggles. “I’m so happy you two are together, even though I have no idea what a girl like you sees in my loser brother.” 

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, leaning back against the wall. Despite his mild irritation at Yeji’s words, he finds the sight of you with her so adorable his stomach flutters. Over the top of Yeji’s head, you look at him with a fond smile. “He’s not so bad.” 

It doesn’t sound like a compliment, but Sunghoon takes it to heart. 

Like always, Yeji manages to capture your undivided attention and the two of you giggle and whisper with each other all afternoon while Sunghoon watches, too enamoured by the sight to care about being left out. An hour or so passes like this, until his parents get home from work, excited to see Yeji after a few weeks, and you leave her side, coming to cuddle with Sunghoon instead. 

It’s nice being home with everyone, laughing and sharing a meal before his family walks the two of you to his car with at least a month’s worth of cooked food for you to share at university. Yeji makes you pinky promise that she can visit you and waves with a pout on her face until the car is out of view.

Contrary to what he’d been expecting, the drive back is nice. Your playlist is on, and you’re telling him about all the new songs you added, catching him up on things with Chaewon and Yunjin, and all the things you got up to in the time you spent apart. You tell him about a new café that opened up near your place and how you’ll have to go together when he has the time, and Sunghoon bites his tongue before telling you that he always has time for you. The first half of the trip goes on like this but you start dozing off around the halfway mark, your sentences becoming few and far between, eventually turning into half-mumbled thoughts that end prematurely. 

You’re still asleep when he reaches your flat, head propped up against the window with your soft lips parted, looking too pretty and cosy to wake up. Instead, he drives in circles around your block, deciding to wait for you to wake up on your own. It only takes a half-hour but you blink your eyes open, stretching your neck before looking around and out the car window, recognising the street. You don’t say anything, only smiling when you look at him, a small curve of your lips that makes his heart race.

He gets out of the car with you, opening the boot to get your bag before pulling you into his chest for a hug, liking the way your arms settle around his waist. “Thank you,” he mumbles into your hair. 

Sunghoon doesn’t follow you when you take your bag from him, only watching from the back of his car. You don’t notice until you reach the main door, looking over your shoulder and frowning at him. “Aren’t you going to walk me up?” 

The two of you walk in silence up four flights of stairs as the lift in your building is out of order. Your bag feels much heavier in his hand now than it did outside. At your door, he watches you dig around for your keys, sighing with relief when you find them. 

“Do you want to come in?” you ask from your open doorway.

“I—uh—I have training in the morning and I’m already pretty tired, so..” He trails off.

Unfazed, you nod. “Right, of course. I had fun this week.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

You smile at him, sweet and sincere. “Text me when you get home, yeah?” 

Sunghoon nods, saying goodbye. Out of habit, he doesn’t leave your doorstep until he hears the lock click shut, and walks back to his car with his head down. 

True to his word, he sends you a text to let you know he got back to his place safely and you read it immediately but don’t reply. It’s empty in the apartment, Jake is out with his football team and the space is larger than usual in his absence. Far too tired to even consider going out and joining him, Sunghoon goes through his night routine, putting his phone on the charger and stepping into the shower where he spends entirely too long wishing he could live in this week forever as he scrubs his body. With brushed teeth and damp hair, he goes back into his room where his phone lights up with a notification; a text, from you.

YN🫀: i’m glad you got home okay, i just got into bed :) i don’t want to make you uncomfortable or overstep or anything and you can say no (obviously).. i’ve been missing you so much and didn’t know how to reach out or if you wanted me to but i had soooo much fun this week and spending time with you again made me happy, so i’d like it if we could keep hanging out, like before yk? ik it’s a long shot ahahaha but just say you’ll think about it? 

hoonie: You’re not overstepping at all, I’ve missed you too, so bad. I had soooo much fun this week as well and I’d like it a lot if we kept hanging out, thank you for agreeing and coming along 😚 If you’re free after Lit tmrw you could come over? Or we could go out and do something, whatever you prefer

hoonie: I missed you so much.. 

hoonie: 🤍

The texts greet you as the first rays of Monday morning light filter into your room, instantly lifting your mood. Your bright smile doesn’t escape Chaewon’s notice as you find her in the kitchen, bathed in the soft light seeping through the sheer curtains. The kettle is boiling with a loud rumble that fills the whole room and leaves her yelling as she speaks to you. 

“Good trip?” she asks, coming over and hugging you. “Never leave me for that long again,” she mumbles into your shirt. 

“It was a week, Wonie,” you say, rolling your eyes even though you missed her too. 

She leans away, looking at you with knitted brows. “It was nine days.” 

“The longest of my life.” 

Chaewon pulls air through her teeth, tilting her head and releasing you. “That bad, huh?” she asks, walking back to her seat at your tiny square table and shooting you a look that tells you to join her. 

During your trip, you gave her nightly updates over text, so you know she knows how much you enjoyed yourself, but you elaborate anyway, sitting across from her. 

“No, not at all,” you say, shaking your head and trying to fight a smile. “I had fun.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you have to bite your bottom lip to stop the grin curving them; it doesn’t work. 

Chaewon raises a suggestive brow, crossing her arms over her chest. “How much fun?” 

“You’re disgusting.” 

“I didn’t even say anything!” she defends, holding her hands up. “I made an implication. It was only a matter of time, you two have that whole.. lifelong best friends to lifelong lovers thing going on, and it’s hot.” 

“Shut up.” 

“You’re telling me, you spent nine days playing lovers with Sunghoon and you still don’t want him? You’re a lost cause, people would kill for that chance,” she says, tilting her head. “I think I would kill for that chance.” 

“Don’t touch him.”

“Oh?” 

“Jesus, Chaewon, it’s not like that. Hoon’s too sensitive for your roster.” 

“I never said it was like anything, you’re the one who’s dangling me over the ledge for saying I want to fuck your hot best friend.” 

“Sunghoon isn’t hot; he’s..” You find yourself at a loss for words, unsure how to continue your lie. Of course, Sunghoon is hot, you’ve known since you were seventeen and spent the summer at your grandparents’ house, only to come back to find your previously scrawny best friend having ditched his LEGOs for dumbbells. You sigh. “Just leave him alone.”

Chaewon grins, eyes sparkling as she leaves the table. “Okay,” she says in a singsong voice, leaving you and the irritation in your stomach alone in the kitchen.

You sigh, pressing your eyes shut and trying to will away your discomfort. It’s not like Chaewon would actually try anything with Sunghoon. Right? Even if she did, it wouldn’t bother you, nor would it be any of your business. They’re grownups and reserve the right to explore their options. Still, there’s a nagging feeling you can’t shake, an uninvited guest in the back of your mind. 

When you check your phone, you realise you have half an hour before you need to head to campus, so you leave to get ready and text Sunghoon back on the way to your room.

you: sounds good, see u later 🤍

After showering, you stand in front of your wardrobe, towel hanging from your body as you pick an outfit. For some reason, you feel under pressure, picking a pair of jeans that do the most for your ass and a low-cut top that Sunghoon once — drunkenly — said he loved on you.

You have the residual sting of mouthwash on your tongue, and one foot out the door when your phone vibrates in your hand. 

hoonie: Do you want to head to class together? 

you: sure! i’m omw out, where should i get you? 

hoonie: .. I’m outside your building :D 

Breathing a laugh through your nose, you don’t fight the giddy smile on your face as you make your way downstairs to meet Sunghoon. Through the glass in the main door, he’s standing at the edge of the pavement and kicking a stone between his feet. The top of his puffer jacket covers the bottom half of his face, and the draught nips your skin when the door opens. Two girls you vaguely recognise stumble in with smudged makeup and heels in their hands, smiling at you while holding the door to let you out.

“Hey!” you call out, jogging over to him. 

Sunghoon turns around, his head poking out of his jacket to grin at you, holding a travel cup and an abundance of tinfoil in your direction. 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d have eaten anything yet, you don’t normally in the morning,” he says, a sheepish smile spreading over his lips when you take it. “Matcha. Ham and cheese toastie.” 

“Did you make these?” you ask, inspecting the familiar cup and appreciating the warmth it provides. 

He hums, nodding his head.

You ignore the heat spreading over your cheeks and thank him with a hug, grinning when he offers to hold your drink while you eat on the walk. The toastie is still hot, the cheese coming close to burning your tongue as you chew, but you appreciate it wholeheartedly, humming contently with each bite. When you’re done, you shove the foil into your pocket, taking your drink from him and smiling around the sweet taste of a matcha latte as he tells you about his schedule for the day. 

“I’m meeting with Coach after class to talk about my grades, but I’m all yours after that.” 

“Talk about your grades? What’s wrong with your grades?” 

Sunghoon groans, head falling back and highlighting the bump of his Adam’s apple. “My grades are.. I failed my coursework this month, so I have resubmissions during finals, and I think he’ll bench me if I fail again.” 

He sounds like he’s being serious, and if the look on his face is anything to go by, he is. The news creases your brows because for as long as you remember, Sunghoon’s grades were your parents’ favourite point of comparison.

“Really?” you ask. He nods. “What’s up? Is something the matter?” 

A humourless laugh slips out of him before he pulls air through his teeth. “Yeah, my best friend didn’t talk to me for three months.” 

“Oh..” Guilt stirs your stomach as you look up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not blaming you, it’s not like I was trying to talk and you ignored me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow, giving you a warm smile. “But if you feel as guilty about it as you look, you can tutor me for Lit.” 

“Deal.” 

Sunghoon grins, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and holding you close; the action itself isn’t unusual, but the increased heart rate it brings about is. “You’re too good to me,” he says, holding onto you for the rest of the walk to class.

At his request, you sit with Sunghoon in the back row, watching as the lecture hall gradually fills up in front of you. He seems well-prepared, with his laptop and a small notepad and pen neatly arranged on the desk in front of him.

Throughout the class, your eyes inadvertently track his every move. He diligently types up colour-coded notes, occasionally pausing to write things in his notepad before continuing to type or stopping entirely to listen. There’s something melodic about his actions and the way his fingers run over the keyboard. 

During a five-minute break, you glance at his screen. What you find is more than just lecture content; it’s a document adorned with Sunghoon’s own musings about Hemingway’s style and carefully analysed quotations that go beyond the class discussion.

“How are your notes so good?” 

“I picked up the book over the summer when you mentioned it,” Sunghoon replies with a shrug, a shy smile playing on his lips as he leans back in his seat. “I liked it.” 

A slow nod is your response, though your thoughts swirl like autumn leaves in a breeze. The last time Sunghoon read for leisure, you were in primary school, buddy reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid. But this—this is different. You can’t help but stare at him, awestruck as you take him in. His eyes are wide, shining amber in the sunlight as he pushes some of his hair from his face, frowning when it falls back where it was. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he mumbles. 

Sunghoon takes a new line in his document and points at the screen where you watch the cursor move through the words he’s typing: I would’ve read and annotated the Bible if you wanted me to..

There’s no time to digest what he wrote or the funny feeling in your chest as you reread it before he deletes the whole sentence, pressing his lips together and looking out the window. Speechless, you stare at his side profile, willing your heart rate to slip back to normal. Steep-sloping nose, plump lips flattened into a line, two points of the triangular mole constellation on his face. Analysis worsens your condition, breath hitching in your throat before stopping entirely. Warmth and trepidation blend within you, fuzzy enough at the edges to seem like one thing—a single force that makes your palm itch with desire, desperation, to reach out and run a finger over his features, feel the bump of the mole on his nose — the most prominent — against your skin. 

You remain this way — silent, watching — even when your lecturer resumes the lesson, and Sunghoon starts typing, writing, and listening again. Polite enough to pretend he doesn’t notice your gaze searing into his face.

After class, and his meeting with Coach, you let Sunghoon lead the conversation and the way to your flat, where you find Chaewon and Yunjin sitting on the couch, whispering to themselves while the two of you study at the coffee table. It’s uncomfortable, an awkward height, too high for the way you’re sitting but you feel calm under the supervision of Chaewon and Yunjin—you won’t do anything to merit teasing in front of them, no matter how badly you want to feel Sunghoon’s face in your hands or stroke his cheekbones with your thumbs. 

To the best of your ability, you answer the questions he has for you—he’d written a ton in his tiny notepad during class, his own concerns clear with each neatly-penned iteration of: How to see actions/dialogue for what they are and not what I want them to be? written in the margins and you try not to feel heartbroken for him.

Three hours have passed by when you walk him to the door, the two of you wrapped up in a bubble so secure you’re surprised to find Chaewon and Yunjin still sitting on the couch. They don’t say anything about Sunghoon in his absence, or the fact he’d given you his sweater when he noticed you were cold. You’re not sure why their silence disappoints you.

Instead, Yunjin asks you about trivial things like dinner while Chaewon sits in silence. 

“What flavour for ice cream?” Yunjin asks, rolling her eyes when you tug on the blanket but not complaining. “And don’t say something ridiculous like mint chocolate, YN.” 

“That happened once! And it was three years ago.. How was I supposed to know you hate fun?” 

Chaewon leans into you, letting you curl your limbs around her from behind as you rest your chin on her shoulder, liking the way her clean scent tickles your nose. 

“Mint-cho isn’t that bad,” she starts. “It’s a little jarring, sure, but it’s kind of sweet. Like watching people come to terms with their feelings for each other.” 

You nod your head, humming in understanding and furrowing your brows when Yunjin scoffs, staring straight at you. Her tone is equal parts cutting and loving, so you know she’s not trying to insult you, but don’t know what she means when she says, “It must be so nice to be as oblivious as you.” 

Yunjin never elaborates, and you never ask, actually feeling the statement’s journey in through one of your ears and out the other when dinner arrives. The three of you share pizza, ice cream, and secrets — the three pillars of 20-something-teenage-girlhood — at the kitchen table, with Chaewon sitting in your lap and picking pepperoni from your slices. 

It’s only hours after Yunijn’s gone home, that her words circle back to you, the statement and all of its weight perching on your chest with all the debilitation and persistence of a sleep paralysis demon.

“I think I’m getting sick,” you say as soon as she opens her door. “It’s been coming on for a while now, at least a week, maybe more.” 

Unimpressed and exhausted, Yunjin looks down at you through half-closed eyes. “Do you..” She pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing. “Do you have any idea what time it is right now?” 

“Yes. It’s three a.m.” 

“Exactly. See a doctor if you’re sick, I’m going back to sleep.”

“This is an emergen—” Yunjin cuts you off by pinching your lips together. “It’s three in the morning,” she reminds you. “You can’t yell like that in my hallway, come in.” 

You nod, crossing the threshold and taking off your shoes next to hers. “Sorry,” you whisper when the door is closed. 

Using her hand, Yunjin lifts your chin, squinting as her eyes adjust to the light when she flips the switch to inspect your face. “You don’t look or sound sick,” she mutters, flicking the light back off and going to her room. “What are your symptoms? And why did you come here?” 

You don’t have an answer for her last question so you ignore it, following her and tripping over a pair of her shoes in the process. “My cheeks start burning like crazy and my heart races, sometimes it gets hard to breathe.”

“You seem fine to me.” 

A shoulder-slumping sigh slips from your lips. “That’s the thing. I’ll be fine and then Sunghoon shows up with his pretty smile and perfect hair and I feel like I’ve run a marathon.” You know how it sounds, choosing your wording meticulously to let Yunjin be the one to say the words out loud instead of you—it’ll be easier to confront that way. 

From the doorway, you watch as she arches a brow, her interest piqued. “Oh?” 

“I know.” You nod, head bobbing rapidly in furious agreement. “It’s only a matter of time before I cough up a lung and die in his bedroom.”

At your words, Yunjin doesn't reply, only lifting her duvet and getting cosy underneath. You feel like you’re glued to the spot, waiting for her to say something, anything, but nothing comes. All she does is pat the empty spot in her bed. 

“What are you smirking for?” you ask, entering the room properly and closing the door. 

Her response only comes after you’ve taken your jacket and hoodie off, sitting next to her under the covers. “It’s nothing,” she says, laughing. 

“Tell me.” 

Yunjin sighs, resting a hand gently on your shoulder. You think it’s meant to be comforting but it’s the opposite. “You’ll be fine, I promise. Lovesickness isn’t deadly.” 

Feeling the weight of her reassurance, you settle down properly and sigh when your head hits the pillow. Lovesickness. Hmm. 

Closing your eyes, you try to sleep but can’t help tossing and turning as Yunjin snores behind you. You pat blindly around the end table for your phone, grabbing it and wincing at the brightness of your screen. Chewing on your lip, you open Google, looking up ‘lovesickness’ and frowning immediately at the results. Endless negativity fills the screen, terrifying words like ‘unrequited love’ forming a pit in your stomach. There’s nothing negative about what you feel for Sunghoon, nothing unrequited—you think. 

It was obvious during the trip, painfully so. In the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear when his parents weren’t there to see, or how he slipped up and called you ‘baby’ in the bathroom, blushing when you said it back. You can’t fake something like that.. Can you?

Yeonjun did.

Shaking your head, you open Instagram to distract yourself. Jake’s story comes up first; he’s at a party where Jay is losing a game of beer pong, and at the other end of the table is Sunghoon grinning with a bright red lipstick kiss on his cheek. You lock your phone, using your hands to press on your belly to stop the stirring. 

Oh, you think. Lovesickness. 

When you wake up, the first thing you do is check Jake’s story again. The video is still there and that terrible stir in your stomach churns on, burrowing deeply into a pit of canyon-like proportion—so vast there’s a safety railing lining its edges. 

You eat breakfast in silence with Yunjin, zoning out mid-chew to figure out the origin of these feelings and how to handle them. Suddenly, the moment hits you clear as day, vivid like you’re watching it on a screen—it was your third night at his parents’ house, after your walk. 

You felt bad about how you acted, and what you said, so went straight up to your room. With nothing but the bedside lamp turned on, it was dimly lit, shadows cast on the walls as you sulked, replaying everything in your head. Guilt wrapped its long arms around your body, making you feel sick as you thought about it all. About the hurt etched over his face with every word you said, and the frown that stuck around for the rest of the walk as his hand clung limply to yours. 

There was a knock at the door, so gentle you almost missed it, and Sunghoon was standing there when you pulled it open, chewing on his lip with a mug in his hand. Steam skated over the opening, a rich chocolatey smell hitting your nose but the real kicker was the mug itself. In its place on Jake and Sunghoon’s mug tree, it was unassuming, a regular white mug, but upon meeting hot water, the face of young Sunghoon appeared, grinning with his tiny glasses on. It was a gift from one of his old coaches and though he never used it, it was your absolute favourite cup in the world. 

You felt soft around the edges when you looked up at him, his eyes wide and unsure as you met his gaze—he brought that mug three hours across the country so you could use it again. The thought shifted your heart into a comfortable position, settling in your chest with overwhelming warmth and an increased rate. 

“Hi,” you said, clearing your throat. 

“Hi,” he repeated, holding the mug out for you to take. “It’s still hot so be careful.” 

Nodding, you covered your hands with your sleeves, taking the cup from him and asking if he wanted to come in. Sunghoon nodded, shutting the door behind him and standing by the bed, watching you set the hot chocolate on the bedside table as you sat down. The two of you stayed like that for a while, with him only moving when you patted the spot next to you on the duvet. Your train of thought escaped you as soon as he sat down, the warmth of his familiar fresh, citrusy scent taking over and becoming the only thing you could register. The smell of summers with him, long days at the beach and short nights spent on the couch at random parties, cuddled into his side with his arm over your shoulders. The smell you’d come to associate with comfort and home—with Sunghoon. 

“It’s not fair for me to treat you like shit just because I’m annoyed, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that earlier. I’m sorry.” 

A crease ran over Sunghoon’s thick brows as they tugged together, he shook his head. “You don’t have to apologise. I roped you into this whole thing and didn’t even try to think about how you would feel. I’m sorry.” His eyes carried a mix of regret and sincerity, mirroring the weight of his words.

“Anyway, I only came to bring you that,” he said, pointing at the cup. “And to check up on you, I’ll get out of your hair for tonight.” Sunghoon wiped his palms on his pants before standing up, reaching behind him to pick up the cloth he brought. For a moment, he stood there, staring down at it in his hand while you thought about telling him to stay, telling him that you wanted him in your hair—whatever that meant. But he spoke before you had the chance. “You left this, at mine, after.. well, you know. I’m sure you left it intentionally, I mean it was folded up perfectly on the end of my bed, so I know you did, but it didn’t feel right keeping it, you always wore it more than me.” 

Sunghoon extended his hand, holding it out to you and you knew exactly what it was as soon as the fabric touched your skin after so long. It was the shirt Jay bought him for Christmas in first year—they were roommates still trying to get a feel for each other. For a few weeks, Sunghoon had been pestering you about what he should get for Jay, saying it didn’t feel right not to get him anything, and you suggested a targeted t-shirt, one you’d been laughing at all day after seeing an ad for it on your timeline. Sunghoon was sceptical, but bought the red shirt anyway, hoping Jay would find BEING DAD IS AN HONOUR, BEING PAPA IS PRICELESS funny. He did. And Jay bought Sunghoon a targeted shirt too, your favourite. It was black and two sizes too big, with I NEVER DREAMED I’D BE A SEXY FIGURE SKATER BUT HERE I AM KILLING IT written over the chest. 

“Goodnight, YN,” Sunghoon said, crossing the room to leave but hesitating before closing the door. He poked his head through the opening and sighed. “I really am sorry.”

That night, you fell asleep in the shirt, the thinning, yet cosy, fabric wrapped around you like a hug as your heart started to beat a new rhythm, one that eerily echoed the five-foot-eleven figure skater who you let break it. 

This morning, Yunjin claps her hands in your face, seeming irritated when you look over at her. “You have class in an hour, what are you doing?” Before you have the chance to speak, realisation covers her face. “Oh, the feelings.” 

You nod solemnly, too caught up in the butterflies raiding your stomach to come up with something to say. 

At lightspeed, you scarf down the rest of your food, apologising for showing up so late as you head out the door. When you get home, you take the fastest shower of your life and feel grateful Chaewon isn’t around to tease you about the smile you can’t wipe from your face thinking about Sunghoon—you’ll text her later.

You run to campus, feeling the brisk autumn wind beating against your face while the rest of your body overheats under your jacket, hoodie and long sleeve. Despite the discomfort and ache in your lungs, you don’t stop until you reach the door of your lecture hall, huffing and puffing into the faces of classmates who don’t take any notice. Of course, in a stroke of pure luck, your lecturer is late, and you realise bitterly, that all of your huffing and puffing was in vain—you would have gotten to class with time to spare even if you walked.

It’s not a total waste though; you use the time to update Chaewon. 

you: i have news wonie..  i like sunghoon

wonie: …………….. fork in the kitchen yn what’s the news? 

wonie: OHHHH news to YOU.. can i call? 

She calls you immediately. You answer without thinking because your lecturer still hasn’t arrived, and there’s no one sitting close enough to hear or notice you taking a call. 

“Are you going to tell him?!” Chaewon’s voice is so loud you wince, pulling the phone away from your ear. 

“I don’t know.” You shrug even though she can’t see you, still holding the device at a distance just in case. “I don’t have any confirmation that he still.. likes me. It’s been a while, and I was pretty mean that day. 

Chaewon groans and you can picture her throwing herself onto her bed, exasperated. The rustling that comes through the receiver only frames the image, hanging it up. “Did you have to tell him to get a grip?” 

“You know..” You trail off, chewing on your bottom lip. “In hindsight, probably not.” 

A beat passes, she’s thinking. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll help you.” 

“I.. have never been so worried in my life.” You sigh, picking at your freshly painted nails. “But I know you’ll do something no matter what I say, so do what you want, Wonie, but please be subtle about it.” 

Chaewon squeals down the phone. “I love youuuuu!” And it’s the last thing she says before kissing the mic a few times and hanging up. 

Slumping in your seat, you don’t have any time to stress about Chaewon’s plans because your lecturer walks in, with a travel cup in her hand and a paperback tucked under her arm. 

She apologises for being late, running a hand through her hair as she announces that you’ll be watching a film, an adaptation of a book you read at the start of term—Ian McEwan’s Atonement. You spend the first hour of the movie falling in and out of sleep until a text comes through from Sunghoon, and sheer excitement keeps you up.

hoonie: Wanna study together after class? 

you: of course!!!!!! 

hoonie: 🤍

The rest of the movie goes by in a drag, and you come away from it with a mild irritation towards Saoirse Ronan.

you: class just finished, heading to lib rn 

hoonie: Shit, still in the locker room, sorry !!! Omw, can you get a table? 

you: i’ll try..

It takes a while but you find an empty booth on the second floor, and set your bag on the plush green seat to take pictures of your surroundings to send to Sunghoon. You sit on the side facing the stairs so he can see you when he arrives. The thought of seeing him makes your heart race and you try out a few natural-seeming poses for when he’s here, cycling between resting your palm under your chin and sitting with your arms crossed a few times until the top of his head comes into view. 

Seeing him knocks the wind out of you as he approaches the staircase, taking them two at a time with his damp hair clinging to his forehead and neck. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing a tight black vest, and his sweats are hanging low on his hips. A breath you didn’t realise you were holding slips out when he lifts his head, spotting you immediately as a grin spreads over his lips and he raises his arm to wave, the veins in his forearm peeking out to say hi too. You can’t tell if it’s his lack of winter wardrobe or your newfound appreciation for him that’s making his biceps look so huge but it’s hard to look away, even when he reaches the table. 

“Are you hot?” you blurt out. 

Sunghoon laughs, raising a brow and something about the way he’s looking down at you makes your cheeks burn. “Depends who’s asking.” He takes his backpack off, leaving it on the table as he sits down, dumping his jacket and hoodie in a pile beside him.

“I’m asking,” you mumble. 

“Then, yeah, I’d hope so.” 

Is he flirting? It sounds like he’s flirting. Flirt back! “Nice arms.” 

He looks down at his biceps for a beat before looking at you warily. “Are you flirting with me?” He can’t fight the smile twitching at the corners of his lips but he tries his best, pressing them into a straight line.

“A little. They are nice though,” you admit.

Sunghoon grins. “Thanks, I’ve had them for a while now.”

You can’t come up with anything to say, too distracted by the way his smile reaches his eyes, lighting up his whole face and forcing a flustered heat to spread over your cheeks and neck. It’s only when you look away from him that you remember what you’re here for. It’s a study date, not a study date—there’s a difference. 

You hand Sunghoon the material you’d printed for him over the weekend, excerpts from texts you’d studied in class, so he can practise close reading and proper citation. As he makes his way through them, you can’t help stealing glances, smiling at the way his tongue sticks out a little while he focuses, or how he twirls his pen in his fingers while he’s thinking. You aren’t making the best use of your time together, copying out the slides from class yesterday, but you can’t help noticing the way he watches you when he thinks you can’t see. The small smile on his face while he does so only flusters you, an odd weakness settling in your knees as your cheeks heat up. 

After a while, Sunghoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Could you stop watching me?”

“If you noticed me watching, that means you’re watching me.” 

He shrugs, chewing on his lip. “Well, yeah. I’m always watching you,” he says like it’s a given. “But you don’t normally watch back, it’s distracting.” 

“You’re distracting.”

A playful smile curves his lips as he arches a brow, smugness painting his face. “Am I?” 

Too scared to verbalise your response, you nod slowly, hoping you don’t look as wound up as you feel. 

Sunghoon’s eyes flick over your face, flashing with something you don’t recognise. At least not from him. He sits back in his seat, assessing you and eventually shaking his head. 

“You know,” he says, eyes glowing with something you do recognise: cockiness. “If my sexy arms are getting to you that much, I can always put my hoodie back on. Wouldn’t want my little tutor getting distracted, would I?” 

Oh. 

Your stomach turns with want, mind reeling from his tone and the way his gaze lands on your lips. Sighing, you roll your eyes and try to seem unaffected. “Sunghoon, I never said your arms were sexy.” 

His phone starts to go off, buzzing against the table and he turns it over immediately, screen down on the surface as he shifts his focus back to his work. He chews on his lip while he does, eyes flicking back and forth between his phone and the words on the page. Curious, you lean over the table, elbows propped up as you rest your chin in your hands. He doesn’t spare you or his phone, which vibrates another four times, a glance.

“Are you going to get that?” 

Sunghoon shakes his head. “It’s nothing.” 

You hum, letting just enough curiosity seep into the sound that he’ll elaborate without being asked to. It doesn’t take long for him to deliver.

“It’s just Chaewon,” he says, running his hand through his hair and lifting his head. Sunghoon smiles. “We’ve been texting a lot these days.” 

“Cool.” You nod a few times, aiming for nonchalance but hitting bobblehead as you wait for him to continue. He doesn’t, only humming in response, nodding too. 

After a beat, he picks up his phone, angling it just high enough that you can’t see the screen. He reads the messages, an exhaled laugh coming from his nose as the tips of his ears redden—Fuck. This is worse than you thought. 

Chaewon’s commitment to girl code runs deep—she’s been rebuffing Jake since first year when she overheard a girl she’d never seen before telling her friends she thought he was cute. So you know without having to read the texts that nothing she’s saying is even remotely flirty, you can smell the auto-caps and use of the word ‘buddy’ from across the table. 

What you hadn’t counted on, however, was the potential for Sunghoon’s feelings to shift. If they really have been texting more, can you rule out the possibility that he might like.. her? Chaewon is a catch, beyond a catch, and you’d already turned Sunghoon down. Brutally. Of course, he’d move on, he has moved on. 

The rest of the study session is spent manifesting, writing Park Sunghoon over and over in the back of your notebook. You fill three pages while brainstorming ways to snatch a lock of his hair until he suggests that the two of you call it a day. He walks you home, telling you about how Jake’s been bribing him with food to get a ride to the LEGO store across town for the new Marvel set. 

“With or without the meals, I would’ve taken him, but his ramen is my favourite, so..” Sunghoon says, climbing the last step of your building and holding the door open for you. “He even brought a slice of tiramisu to the rink for me after practice.” 

“You’re terrible,” you say, frowning up at him as you search for your keys. “Do you want to come in?” 

Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head. “I have a meeting with one of my lecturers soon, I’d have to leave in—” He pauses, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket to check the time. “—eight minutes.” 

“I’m cool with that if you are,” you mumble, suddenly shy. 

A bright smile spreads over his lips and he nods, following you in. 

Chilled by the harsh wind, the only thing on your mind is a hot drink as you lead Sunghoon to the kitchen. He shakes his head when you offer him one, sitting on the countertop and exhaling into his palms before rubbing them together. You can’t help but frown at the sight, feeling guilty that you can’t change the weather to suit him. At your thought process, your brows raise. Wow, you think. Is this who you are? 

You busy yourself with the selection of hot drinks you and Chaewon have accumulated, eyeing each container from top to bottom. A purple tub of Cadbury’s hot chocolate that you’re sure is on the brink of expiration, coffee—sachets of the instant stuff you’ve grown to like since leaving home, Earl grey from one of many brands, or the fancy silk tea bags Chaewon’s mum brought home from a trip—rooibos or plum-apple-cinnamon. 

Craving something sweet, you settle for hot chocolate, pulling the heavy container from the cupboard next to Sunghoon’s head and setting it beside your cup. He’s on his phone, scrolling too fast to take in anything he’s seeing and he shakes his head when you ask if he wants something to drink. 

On the dish rack, Chaewon’s mug catches your eye, so you pick it up to dry it off and put it down next to yours. “I’m going to check if Wonie wants any,” you say, wiping imaginary crumbs from the counter onto the floor. 

Sunghoon only clears his throat, shaking his head. “She’s not home, one of her acrylics popped off so she’s at the shop waiting for a cancellation.” 

The information itself isn’t jarring but hearing it from Sunghoon is. You put on what you hope is a neutral smile and nod, taking milk from the fridge and assembling your drink on autopilot while thinking of ways to redirect the conversation. 

“If you knew you’d have to go back to campus so soon, why’d you walk me home?” you ask, watching your cup spin in the microwave. “I could’ve walked on my own.” 

Sunghoon is already looking at you when you turn your head, his cheeks puffed out with air as he blinks slowly. Because I love you, is what you hope he’ll say. You think you need him to say it. 

“Because you don’t have to do anything on your own when you have me,” he says instead, and it’s infinitely better. 

The words seep through your every fibre, his intonation and lucid affection making a home for themselves in your heart, spreading warmth from head to toe. Your smile becomes a radiant grin, only brightening when he shakes his head, smiling down at his feet. 

Sunghoon hugs you in the kitchen when it’s time for him to leave, his arms holding you tight to his chest as he rocks you back and forth. You inhale his scent, all warm citrus under freshly washed cotton and something exclusive to him.

Wiping the smile from your face feels impossible. You don’t let go when he does, and a sweet laugh — a giggle, you think — tumbles out of him as he mumbles that he really has to go. Still, you cling onto him, taking clumsy steps backwards, with your arms locked around his waist, to your front door, smiling as you watch him put his shoes on. 

“You don’t have to walk me downstairs, honestly,” he says, looking down at you in the doorway.

“I want to.” 

His lips quirk up at the corners, a full smile breaking through and causing your stomach to flutter with so much force you’re sure it’s visible through your shirt. His eyes fall to your lips, lingering, before he clears his throat, looking away. 

“I’ll text you when I get to the door, promise.” 

You lock your pinky with his. “Send a selfie, just so I know it’s you and not someone else using your phone.” 

Sunghoon’s head falls back in a laugh. “Should I just call you? That way you can make sure I get back to uni in one piece.” 

You nod.

“That wasn’t anything with Chaewon earlier, I just needed advice on some girl stuff..” He trails off, searching your eyes. It’s obvious that he’s telling the truth, that he wants you to believe him. You do. “I wasn’t sure if that was something I could talk about with you.” 

Girl stuff. Hmm. You try not to read too much into it and look at the bigger picture instead—your best friend is going through something and doesn’t feel like he can come to you about it.. You squeeze his pinky reassuringly, a flutter in your stomach when he smiles. 

“You can talk to me about anything,” you say, meaning it. 

Sunghoon presses his lips together, humming and unlinking your fingers. “Next time,” he says after a beat, waving at you. 

You shut the door, locking it while watching through the peephole, he leaves as soon as the lock clicks shut. In the kitchen, your hot chocolate is cooling down, and your phone rings in your back pocket. Sunghoon’s calling. 

Hanging out with Sunghoon. Making sure he sticks to the time-blocked schedule you made for him. Quizzing him on biology terms until he gets restless. If the last two weeks were an episode of Family Feud, those would be the top three answers to the question: Name something YN is doing right now.

Thankfully tonight, it’s the first one. 

You’ve been sitting on the couch for so long, Jake has both left for football practice and arrived from football practice. Conversation ebbs and flows—an hour or so of nonstop talking, followed by another hour or so of comfortable near silence. 

It’s during a quiet hour that Sunghoon sits up straight, clearing his throat before saying, “Let me ask you something. He retreats to the other side of the couch, turning to face you with his whole body. “I don’t want things to be weird after I ask, so no matter what your answer is, I won’t bring it up or ask again.”

Arching a curious brow, you nod. “You can ask me anything,” you say, meaning it.

Sunghoon’s face is impressively blank—minus the motion of sharp teeth worrying plush lip, there’s absolutely nothing behind his eyes that seem to stare right through you. 

Eventually, he asks, “Can I kiss you?” He says more. Big, scary words like for closure and moving on, but they don’t register. They don’t matter. 

Your heart pounds at the base of your throat as you find interest in your hands that sit in your lap. Even without looking at him, you can’t get over the slight crease he had in his brow and the slight tremor in his hands. 

“For closure,” you repeat, though your voice doesn’t sound like it’s coming from you, muffled under the thump of your heart. 

Sunghoon nods. “For closure.” 

A humourless laugh sneaks past your throat as you look at him. You shouldn’t have. In the lamplight, Sunghoon is golden and glorious. Warm light casts one side of his face, diffusing gently over the steep slope of his nose, highlighting his moles and the look in his eyes, gentle and curious all at once. Unwillingly, your gaze falls to his lips, parted, tempting. 

One firm nod of your head brings Sunghoon’s hand to your face, his palm cupping your cheek with soft skin as his thumb traces your cheekbone. You grow anxious under his stare, under the drag of his eyes over your features, taking them one at a time like he’s committing them to memory.

Leaning in, your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet his and he freezes, mouth completely still on yours. Delicately, your tongue traces the seam of his lips, soft and plump, until they part for you, moving with yours. Sunghoon’s kiss is unpolished when it reaches you. It’s hesitant but tender, clumsy but sweet, he’s trying and he’s perfect; your favourite. 

The kiss is.. it’s everything. It’s the racing of your heart, the thudding, the vibrant buzz you can hear, feel humming against your ears. It’s a rush of blood to the head, a lightness all over that pulls you out of your body. It’s Sunghoon’s soft lips curving into a smile against yours, his gentle hold on your face never letting up as he holds you as close as he can manage, and it’s every bit as lovely as the rest of him.

Palpable is the heartbeat of your friendship, beating to a lull under the surface of the kiss, fizzling out into nothing, a steady silence, flatlining to give way to something more, something bigger. 

Every brush of your lips against his is a revelation, a confession. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, you tell him with your kiss. You’re everything I need. His free hand finds yours, locking your fingers and squeezing, the action timed well enough to make you think he hears you, to make you think he’s saying, we’ll be okay, I still love you. 

With that, he pulls away, a delicate tension piercing the air. Blown eyes and laboured breathing—he’s beautiful, fuzzy around the edges with warm orange and all of the love in your heart. Breathless, you chew on your lip, cognisant of Sunghoon’s hand in yours and the sparkle in his eyes as he looks at you. 

Belatedly, you squeeze his hand back, smiling. “Was it everything you ever dreamed of?” you whisper, part teasing, all curious.

Abruptly, Sunghoon stands up, letting go of you in the process. “I have to go.” 

You want to stop him, you think you’re supposed to. To grab him by the arm and kiss him again, to yell in his face that you love him until he understands. But you don’t. Instead, you stay seated, staring at Sunghoon’s back and following him with your eyes out of the room and down the hall until he’s out of sight. 

It’s your first time being so upset after a kiss, and you can’t tell if it’s his leaving or the mention of him moving on that’s tripping you up so much. That’s causing melancholy to crawl from the shadows, sinking its jagged nails into your skin to pull you under. 

You love him. He’s gone. 

Eyes stuck on the doorway, time stretches over the room around you, thick and malleable, wet and cloying—clay stuck under your nails for days as the fire in the kiln rages on. 

Sighing, you get up and wait at his door. You ball your hand into a limp fist, knocking weakly. Sunghoon doesn’t reply. You try again, harder. Still nothing. 

Barging into the room, you find him sitting on the end of his bed with his face in his hands. 

“Don’t move on.” The words come out before you realise and Sunghoon lifts his head, squinting at you. 

“Huh?” He tilts his head, watching closely as you approach him, tipping it back enough to meet your eyes when you stand over him. 

You take a breath, holding it until your head starts to spin. “I don’t want you to love someone else, Sunghoon. Please don’t move on.” 

The stillness that follows is disconcerting, a long quiet you can feel on your skin, amplifying the blank stare on his face as he looks up at you. His eyes flash, a spark of hope behind them so bright it stings to look at.

“Do you..” He trails off, his lips moving to form the next word though stopping short.

“I do,” you whisper, nodding. “I’m sorry for taking so long.”

An exhaled laugh comes from his nose as he grins, shaking his head. “You like me?” he asks, excitement and disbelief fighting for authority over his voice, his hands holding your waist and pulling you down into his lap.

“I love you,” you admit, settling on his thighs. 

“You do?” His eyes are wide and gleaming, searching every feature on your face before settling on your own.

You nod. “So much.” 

Sunghoon’s chin tips up, his lips pressing against yours, excited pecks that can’t turn into much more for the smiles on your faces. You rest your arms on his shoulders, hands clasping behind his head, nervous fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“So.. will you be my boyfriend? For real?” 

Tilting his head, he tries and fails to fight a smile. “I will. I’m a little bummed though.” 

“Why?” You raise a brow, and the word tips up at the end with it. 

“I wanted to be the one to ask you.” Sunghoon’s honesty warms the room, endearing you completely. 

You grin, loving the heat spreading over your cheeks. “Ask me anyway.” 

“Please can I be your boyfriend?” 

In the weeks that followed, it became immediately clear that boyfriend Sunghoon operated on a pendulum swinging between sexual ferality and terror. He’d get distracted during study sessions at home, finding more interest in biting at your neck than stream-of-consciousness prose, but closed his eyes if a sex scene came on TV. He’d buck his hips against yours while making out but flinch at the sight of condoms in the store.

He wasn’t ready to have sex and didn’t know how to tell you, so you took matters into your own hands, asking if you could wait until after his results for resubmission came in, saying you didn’t want the distraction for either of you. Sunghoon agreed, pecking your cheek and holding you tight to his chest. 

The only thing was that your lecturer hadn’t given him an exact date, so every morning, you held your phone in a vice grip waiting for Sunghoon to update you, and every morning, you got the same text: Nothing today, baby ☹️ 

This morning, you’re brushing your teeth when he texts you, in all caps: NO FUCKING WAY I GOT A 98 !!! LOOK !!!

When the picture comes through, it’s of him in the mirror and you choke on mouthwash at the sight. He’s smiling, bright and beautiful, in a black vest that he’s holding up a little to show his stomach, though his palm is in the way of his toned abs, and it cuts off right at the top of his grey sweatpants. 

Your mouth goes dry as you click on it, fixating on every little detail you can find: the thickness of his fingers against his phone, the dip in his collarbones, the breadth of his shoulders and the cinch of his waist. In a fit of desperation, you try swiping at the bottom of your screen, willing the picture to magically extend. It doesn’t. 

hoonie: Finger slipped.. You like?

you: mm.. 

you: 98??? HOLY SHIT, LOOK AT YOU!!!

hoonie: All you.. do you like the picture?

you: i love it………….

hoonie: My girl 🤍

Another picture comes in, and sure enough, through the glare of his laptop screen, you see: Course name: The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway. Marks Awarded: 98.0.

you: well done baby !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hoonie: Thx 😁

hoonie: Can I have my prize now ha ha .. haha 😈

you: just for that emoji, no you absolutely cannot.

Your resolve isn’t strong enough when it comes to Sunghoon, because purple devil emoji and all, you show up at his door with condoms in your bag and a bouquet of lilies behind your back. 

The door creaks open and Sunghoon greets you with a grin. “Hey, gorgeous. You proud of me?” 

You beam at him, holding out the flowers. “I’m very proud, Hoon, well done.” 

“I don’t want to ruin the moment,” he starts, taking the bouquet from your hands and sniffing the flowers with an approving smile. “But hearing you say you’re proud of me is awakening something I didn’t know existed.”

“A good something?” 

“Mm,” he hums, arms finding your waist before he pecks your lips. “A very good something.” 

Sunghoon’s words hit your lips and your core, a desperate heat flooding your stomach as he kisses you deeply, his body pressed tightly against yours while he pulls you into his apartment. He kicks the door shut with his foot, slipping his hand under your jacket to settle in your back pocket, not quite squeezing but holding your ass as gently as he can manage. 

He breaks away from you, love in his eyes as he stares down into yours, catching his breath. “I don’t think we own a vase.” 

In his kitchen, you rifle through cupboards to find something to hold the flowers, eventually finding a whiskey decanter in the cupboard under the sink, and holding it up for Sunghoon to see.

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “It’s Jay’s. It’ll work right?” 

You nod, taking it to the sink to rinse it. Sunghoon wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder watching you fill the decanter with water and flower food before grabbing the bouquet. He presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck and you struggle to stay focused as you cut down the stems on the flowers, arranging them neatly. 

“Can I take a photo?” he asks when you’re done. 

He’s smiling when you turn around to look at him, a soft curve of his lips that makes your heart race, a deep tenderness in his eyes when you meet them. You smile too. 

“They’re yours, baby, do whatever you want.” 

“A photo of you with the flowers,” he clarifies. 

Warmth settles in your chest, a grin spreading over your lips from ear to ear. You nod, taking the decanter in your hands when he lets go of you, holding the flowers up beside your face and smiling for his camera. As his phone shutter clicks away, you steal glances at his face behind it. He’s watching the screen with a smile, telling you how beautiful you are.

“I want pictures of you too,” you say, handing the flowers over. 

“I’m yours, baby, do whatever you want.” 

Sunghoon poses for your photos, smiling sweetly in some and sniffing the bouquet appreciatively with closed eyes for others. He’s glowing and he’s beautiful and your heart triples in size while taking picture after picture until your phone tells you it has ten percent. 

“Thank you, YN,” he says. “I’ve never gotten flowers before, I love them.” His arms settle around your waist, lips pressing against yours before you have the chance to respond. 

You try anyway, mumbling against his lips that you love him. In response, Sunghoon grins, but the feeling of his cock growing hard against you is distracting, a lust-coated thorn in the side of the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. With locked lips and uncertain steps, the two of you bump into corners and trip over your own feet, stumbling to his room and parting only to tear his hoodie over his head.

Breathless, you pull away, eyes trailing over him and picking up on everything, from the tremble in his hands to the lust-addled worry in his eyes. He’s nervous, you think—though it escapes you, the last word coming out like a question.

Sunghoon scoffs, his hands resting on your waist under your shirt, skin clammy against yours. “Of course, I’m nervous.” 

“You don’t have to be.”

“I just want to be good for you.” 

“Don’t worry about that, let me take care of you, Hoon.” Your palms drag up his torso — firm abs through soft cotton, defined chest over racing heart — to rest on his shoulders. “Sit,” you say when he nods. 

He gulps, taking a seat on the end of his bed under your gentle push, eyes widening when you sink to your knees between his legs and reach for his drawstring, pulling the ends to untie the knot. 

“Wait,” Sunghoon says, breathless, scrunching up his face and dropping his head. “Let me calm down, baby. At this rate, I’ll come just seeing your hand on it.” 

You giggle, resting your head on his thigh and wrapping the drawstring around your finger.

“I’m serious, YN,” he mumbles, laughing as he takes his vest off. “I need a minute.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes are pressed shut as he tries to collect himself, lips pouty and kiss-bitten, slightly parted with ragged breaths slipping out. You wait patiently for him. He’s so pretty like this, with the crease in his brow and the pretty pink flush dusting his cheeks as his chest rises and falls. You can’t help but smile, leaning into his touch when his hand rests on top of your head, his blunt nails grazing your scalp. After a while, he seems more at ease, his eyes finding yours and he smiles shyly, telling you he’s ready now and lifting his hips from the bed to let you pull his sweats and underwear down. 

Free from the constraints of fabric, his cock slaps his stomach with a wet sound as the tip meets his skin, leaving a pearlescent streak over his abs. The sight makes your mouth water and you can’t look away. “Pretty,” you whisper.

Wrapping a hand under his tip, you swipe it with your thumb, taking time to memorise the flutter of his eyelids, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, and the soft sigh he lets out. You stroke him slowly, liking the way his breath picks up as his brows knit together before you take him in your mouth. It’s a tight fit but you do your best, spurred on by the way he tugs at your hair and stutters through a holy fuck as you take as much of him as you can. 

Sunghoon goes silent, only squirming when you use your hand to stroke him near his base. Self-conscious about his lack of vocal affirmation, you look up at him through your lashes, and the pure bliss on his face is unbearably attractive. His eyes are rolled back under furrowed brows, his mouth hanging open as he throws his head back.

“Am I doing okay?” you ask, using the moment to catch your breath.

He nods, inhaling shakily and screwing his eyes shut while his hips buck up into your fist. “I’m.. You’re doing such a good job, baby, so good.”

Satisfaction courses through you from the praise, a high that dulls the ache in your jaw. Still watching him, you massage his balls in your palm, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his tip when he whines. You tongue at his slit until he thrusts back into your mouth, tip hitting your throat, and he gasps when you gag, his arm coming up to cover his eyes. A belated apology slips from his lips, mumbled as he strokes your hair with a shaking hand and goes quiet again. When you speed up, his breath stutters, the muscles in his thighs contracting around your head as you suck and lick and drool on his cock. 

A moan of your name, and his hand holding your hand down, are the only warnings you get before Sunghoon comes, spilling his load right down your throat. Whining, his hips buck up against your face, pushing further and further until he falls back onto the mattress.

Your throat is hoarse and aches while you use the back of your hand to wipe at your lips, enjoying what’s left of his taste on your tongue. Deep red tints his neck and chest, a pretty flush gleaming under the sheen of sweat on his skin. He’s mesmerising, as he tries for air through swollen lips and looks up at you through squinted eyes. He reaches for you, cute grabby hands tugging your shirt and pulling you down so you’re lying next to him with your head on his chest. 

“You’re amazing, baby, so good for me,” Sunghoon whispers, eyes fluttering shut as you drag your nails over his torso, feeling the subtle heave of the slick, sculpted muscle over his stomach and chest. 

Pride heats your chest, satisfaction rolling over you like a wave. “Really?”

He hums in affirmation, nodding his head. 

“You were so quiet, I couldn’t really tell,” you add, hungry for more praise. 

“The walls are so thin in here, I just got used to being quiet,” Sunghoon says, frowning. Hand meeting your chin, he tips your head up towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips and mumbling, “I’m sorry. You were perfect, I swear.” 

It’s a sweet kiss. Until lips move harder and hands get lower, desperate as he thumbs the top of your leggings, palm unmoving but a dangerous heat blooms in your stomach anyway.

“Can I..” Sunghoon pinches you softly through the material, unsure eyes boring deep into yours. 

You nod. “You can.” 

Slipping under your waistband, his fingers skate across your skin dipping between your thighs. He grazes your slit, satisfaction clear in the groan he lets out as he feels the wetness there, pulling it over the length of your slit to cover your clit. Your breath hitches, a strangled gasp, pleasure and surprise meeting in your throat under the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the gentle sting of his finger pushing into you. 

What Sunghoon lacks in experience, he makes up for with the sheer length and thickness of his fingers. It’s almost jarring, it’s enough to force your eyes closed and bring a sigh rumbling out of you, ache and relief settling between your legs, where he curls a finger against your walls and drags slow circles over your clit. 

“Can you take these off, baby?” he asks, hand away to touch your leggings. 

You don’t waste a second, sitting up to pull them off, throwing them and your underwear across the room. Sunghoon licks his lips, tugging at the hem of your shirt. 

“And this? If you want..” 

You nod, pulling it off immediately to let it join the rest of your clothes in a heap on the floor. The way he gulps is a confidence boost, his dilated pupils taking in every inch of your body, though his gaze always pulls back to your bra—white and lacy, thin enough for your nipples to push through the fabric and Sunghoon can’t seem to get enough, though he waits until you’re lying down again to touch you. 

Sunghoon props himself up on his elbow, leaning over you. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, dragging a finger over the lace at the top of your bra, toying with the material and the little bow sitting between your breasts. His eyes flick up to meet yours. “So beautiful,” he repeats. 

Hiding your face in his chest, you mumble, “Thank you,” into his skin while trying to ignore the heat spreading over your body wherever he touches you. His hand trails from your arm to your waist, resting on your hips to slip over your ass for a beat, where he grabs and squeezes the flesh there before coming back around to slot between your legs—you lift one of them, resting it over his body, and he’s smiling sweetly when you look up at him.

Sunghoon’s movements are unchanging, though the sensation is heightened by the unbridled desire in his lidded eyes that urges white heat to lick over every inch of your skin—this time he pushes two fingers into you.

It doesn’t get better than this, you think. But it does, quickly. 

Leaning over you, his eyes flick across your face, one feature at a time as he chews on his lip. Reaching up, you push some of his hair from his face, holding it back and saying, “Relax, baby.” 

“Don’t want to hurt you.”

Moving your hand, you blink when his hair flops back over his forehead, tickling your eyelashes. His eyes are focused now, staring straight down into yours, want and worry flashing behind them. 

“You won’t, I promise,” you say, locking your pinky with his, feeling relieved when he smiles.

Sunghoon pushes in slowly, his name slipping from your lips when he exhales shakily, head falling forward. The sting, the pleasure, make it hard to breathe, molten desire taking hold of your lungs as he carves out a place for himself as far as you’ll take him, all the way to the hilt as slow as he can manage. 

A moan tears out of him, lewd and whiny as his hair tickles your collarbone, head falling into the crook of your neck. His skin is hot and damp against yours, his breath burning your shoulder as he tries to calm down. It’s difficult to register much else, tethered only by the sound of his voice when he asks, “Am I hurting you?” 

“Hoon,” you whisper. 

“Can you look at me, baby?” He lifts his head, resting a hand on your cheek. You blink your eyes open, gaze locking with his, where concern pushes through his desire. “Am I hurting you?” he asks again. “Are you okay?” 

You nod. “I’m okay, just..” You sigh. “Full. Need a minute.” 

Sunghoon kisses you, lips moving gently with yours, passing breathy whines between your mouths until you feel yourself relaxing. Pulling his plush bottom lip between yours, you suck on it, nodding. “Want you to move, baby,” you mumble. 

He scans your face, eyes meeting yours as he pulls his hips back. He’s slow, so slow with his thrusts that your belly turns with want, your fingernails sink into the taut skin of his back, and jagged sobs fall out of you with each drag of his cock along your walls. 

Everywhere his skin touches yours is set ablaze with scorching heat, goosebumps pushing past the surface as his breath fans your neck and his sharp teeth graze your skin. He bites hard enough to sting, and you wince as his tongue flicks over your bitten flesh to soothe you.

You were so worked up earlier, writhing against the sheets and coming undone in his palm, so bliss quickly pushes through the ache between your legs. “Good, Hoon, feels so good,” you manage, struggling to convey how perfect it is.

“Just want to make you feel good.” His words melt into each other, vowels soft and elongated as they curl around each other. He’s working up a steady rhythm, his tip consistently nudging you where you need it—the spot that makes the room blur around you. “That’s all I want.” 

Before long, the knot in your stomach pulls you up from the mattress, arching your back towards the ceiling. Mouth to mouth, chest to chest—it’s the closest you’ve ever felt to someone else, the closest you’ve ever been. The thought alone knocks the wind out of you, and his persistent whining does nothing to help.

Your want and adoration for Sunghoon run bone-deep, inching up your spine and creeping over your shoulders, intertwined with an all-consuming pleasure that turns the heat in your stomach molten as a shudder zips through you. Even though you can’t find the words to let him know, he lifts your hips from the bed to fuck you deeper, harder, into the mattress until shaky orgasms pull both of you under. 

You let him fall into you, fingers curling around his hair, whispering I love you into the skin of his neck as he comes, most of his weight on top of you while you catch your breath, relishing in the fullness you feel as the last waves of your high pull back. You stay like this for as long as he needs, his head coming up from the crook of your neck to smile at you before pressing his lips to yours. A sleepy haze fills the room around you, tongue swiping tongue as you giggle happily into his mouth. 

After a while, he gets up, tying the condom to throw it away and comes back with his shirt. He uses it to clean up—gentle between your legs, pressing kisses to your calves while he does. Sunghoon’s tenderness wraps around your heart, and love clouds your vision, forming a blurry trail that follows all of his movements, glowing like something from a dream, ethereal, an apparition. 

The bed dips beside you, his arms around you, pulling you in so his chin rests on your head. You push your cheek into his chest, hoping the two of you will meld into one—the thought makes you warm all over, a fuzziness that reaches every part of your body while he presses kisses into your hair, rubbing your back. 

“I love you,” he says, voice as soft as the rest of him. “I’m glad I exist.”

mama park: Hi lovely 😍 missing you lots, wondering when you’ll be home for Xmas………..love ma

Sunghoon stirs, nose scrunching as he snores softly into the quiet of a winter morning. His chest rises and falls steadily under your head and he doesn’t move when you sit up. The lamp on his desk is still on — neither of you could be bothered getting up to turn it off last night — and under its dim glow, you admire him. Perfect lips gently curved—long lashes kissing the skin under his eyes. 

Love hits you from all angles, warmth all over from head to toe despite the chill in Sunghoon’s room. You can’t help but grin, leaning up to nose along the underside of his chin, his natural scent so soft yet dizzying as you nuzzle into him. He stirs again, turning his head this way and that before resting, you feel a bit bad, deciding to leave him be and text his mum back. 

you: hi mum !!! missing you sooooooo much :((( will be home asap

mama park: BTW Sunghoon told me everything. I raised such good actors LOL make sure he looks after you and keeps you happy!

you: i’m so sorry we lied to you..

you: but i’m really happy with him and he loves me a lot

you: i love him so much .. never been so sure of anyone in my life

© zreamy (2023), all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or plagiarise my work. do let my know your thoughts !

permanent taglist: @asahicore

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Endless love

Pairing -> Husband!Robert Downey Jr. x Wife!Fem!Reader

Word count -> 1.4K

Summary -> Your husband, Robert, has taken you on a surprise trip to Italy after seeing how stressed you've been lately. The two of you take it easy for a day as you stroll around the city during the afternoon before dinner in an authentic Italian restaurant and finish the night off in each other's arms.

Rating -> Explicit (E)

Warnings -> RPF, established relationship (Husband/Wife), use of pet name (Gorgeous), large age gap (~ 10-15 years), there is some Italian spoken in this fic, and the translations will be at the bottom of the story

Smut -> Dirty talk, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, cockwarming

Request -> Anon Can I request for you a one-shot with robert downey jr and female reader on a romantic trip to Italy, they spend the day visiting some nice places, at night they go out to dinner in a very romantic restaurant and finish the night making sweet vanilla love ❤️

A/n -> Thank you so much for this sweet request, Nonnie! It's such a sweet idea, and I know he would make it the most special trip of our lives! At the same time, I also want to apologize for how long this has been sitting in my drafts, but I still hope you will love it, and thank you for your patience! A special thank you to @ccbsrmsf1 for proofreading and drooling, I hope you all enjoy what I did with this one 🩵

A/n 2.0 -> My requests are open again! Please consider that I only have 24 hours in my day, so it might take a while to get the new requests posted, but I expect to post them around February/March. I'll be looking forward to what you will all come up with, and I can't wait to start writing requests again 🩵

Banners: @vase-of-lilies | Divider: @firefly-graphics | GIF-credit: @ccbsrmsf1

Main Masterlist | Robert Downey Jr. Masterlist | Read on AO3

It has been almost a week since your husband, Robert, flew both of you to Italy as a treat to get out of the stress you've been wrapped up in for almost three months now. He could tell you were nearing your breaking point, and to avoid that, he arranged for you to have two weeks off work so you could enjoy being with him and see some beautiful parts of the country.

Italy has extraordinary memories for you both since it's where you got married a little over ten years ago. Because of that, Robert wanted to bring you back to where your love for each other reached another high, and you couldn't be more thankful for it. For him.

You're currently staying in Venice for a few days, and tomorrow will be your last day here before moving to Florence, where you'll stay for the rest of your trip. Now, you've been strolling through Venice almost the entire afternoon, and Robert has just arranged to take you on a boat ride through the Venician canals in a gondola.

''It'll be perfect, Gorgeous; I can't imagine doing this with anyone other than my beautiful wife,'' he tells you as he carefully helps you into the gondola, ensuring your dress won't get caught in anything, or you won't trip and fall.

''Thank you, Robert, for everything. I can't believe you did all this for me, but I'm so grateful, and I love you,'' you tell him before leaning in for a soft kiss on his lips, and that's when the gondola ride begins. The two of you can't get enough of every sight you see, drinking it all in eagerly while taking photos with your camera, making sure no memory will be forgotten.

The man operating your boat is singing beautiful songs in Italian, and for the entire duration, it feels like you're transported back to your wedding day. Surrounded by the people you love most, and together with the man you've vowed to treasure forever. Your heart is swelling from all the love, and you never want this beautiful moment to end.

When the boat suddenly comes to a stop, you look a little confused at Robert, but he gestures for you to follow him, which you do without a second thought. After a 10-minute walk, you arrive at a small, romantic-looking Italian restaurant. Soft music spilled out of the building and onto the terrace, a welcoming warmth encasing you as you grabbed your husband's hand before walking into the restaurant.

''Abbiamo una prenotazione per due,'' Robert says without hesitation, taking you by surprise. The hostess guides you to a beautiful table with a view over the water, and you can see the sun setting as well, adding to the romantic atmosphere of the evening.

''Robert, I didn't know you spoke Italian,'' you say with a slight giggle because the thought of him speaking a foreign language like this makes you feel warm and tingly inside, as well as in your panties.

''I've been learning it as a surprise, but I have some phrases that'll be much more fitting for later in the evening,'' he tells you with a wink, and suddenly you can't wait to be back in the hotel, seeing what else he has to say to you.

You decide to go for a beautiful-looking lasagna, and Robert gets a delicious-looking seafood pasta that has you salivating when they put it in front of him. He can see your eyes growing wide at the sight of his food, and that's precisely why he lets you have the first bite, just like he does each time you're looking at his food like you want to make love to it.

''Hmm...'' you moan softly as you let the noodles find their way into your mouth, the taste invading your senses as it coats your taste buds. Robert can feel himself twitch in his pants as the sound reaches his ears, and he can't wait to have you back in the hotel room, stripped entirely bare, before he makes love to you.

The pasta is gone quickly, and the dessert - a tiramisu made by the restaurant owner's mother - follows soon after. After all the food, all Robert wants to do now is have you fall apart in as many ways as possible, and he's almost getting impatient on his way back to the hotel.

''Sei bellissima stasera, amore mio,'' Robert whispers in your ear as the dress slips off your shoulders, revealing the white lingerie you've put on, reminding him of your wedding night all those years ago. His long, gentle fingers undo every last hook of your corset before bending down to let the silky lace of your panties glide over your legs.

Soft kisses are littered over your thighs as he's on his way up, his hands gliding over the backs as they leave a trail of goosebumps. A gasp leaves your lips as he reaches your dripping pussy, placing a soft kiss on your mound before fully getting up and letting you take your place on the bed.

Your nipples pebble from his undivided attention, and a shy smile creeps onto your lips as he takes in your bare form on the bed, your hair splayed out around your head like a halo. Your hands grip the sheets in anticipation as you watch Robert taking off his clothing, salivating at the sight as his cock springs free.

Robert can't keep his excitement hidden as he climbs over you, and tiny beads of precum gather at his tip before he leans over you and takes one of your nipples into his mouth. He nibbles on it gently before laving over it with his tongue to soothe the sting and repeating it on the other nipple as well.

''Ti amo, bellezza, e non vedo l'ora di fare l'amore con te. Sei bellissima quando sei completamente nuda per me,'' Robert tells you in a low voice, and even though you don't understand what he says, it still arouses you to no end.

''Let me see how wet you are for me, Gorgeous. Spread these luscious thighs for me,'' he orders gently, and you do, letting them fall to the sides so he can slot perfectly between them as he admires your dripping pussy. With a low groan, he adjusts how he's situated, soon lining up with your entrance before slowly pushing in. He plans to take his time with you, wanting to extend your pleasure for as long as possible.

Your warmth has him quickly throwing that idea out of the window; he wants to be buried inside you as soon as possible. Soft moans tumble from your lips as you can feel him sliding in, every vein on his cock only seeming to build your pleasure higher. Once he is entirely in, you can feel his tip hitting your cervix, earning him a loud moan in response.

''Good girl,'' he growls before setting a torturously slow pace as he leans on his elbows, tipping his head down to capture your lips in a soft kiss, your hands gliding into his hair. Your body rocks with every thrust he gives you, and as he pulls away, he can't help but look at the way your breasts sway up and down with every movement.

''La mia ragazza perfetta, I'm gonna cum for you, Gorgeous,'' he says before leaning on one elbow and moving his hand to where you're connected, looking for your clit to ensure you'll both fall over the edge at the same time. He picks up the pace slightly, and before you know it, you're gripping him like a vice as the orgasm washes over you, Robert letting his seed spill inside you as he nuzzles into your neck with his nose.

''Ti amo, Bellissima,'' Robert whispers in your ear before he turns over, letting you lay on top of him as he's still buried inside you. This is the perfect ending to a fantastic day, and you can't wait to spend the rest of your life with him by your side, knowing many more perfect days like these will follow.

''Ti amo, Robert,'' you whisper before letting sleep take over, and you feel him wrap his arms around you to protect you. And with one more soft kiss on your scalp, Robert falls asleep with you, his beautiful wife, buried under the comforter and into his arms.

Abbiamo una prenotazione per due -> We have a reservation for two

Sei bellissima stasera, amore mio -> You look beautiful tonight, my love

Ti amo, bellezza, e non vedo l'ora di fare l'amore con te. Sei bellissima quando sei completamente nuda per me -> I love you, Gorgeous, and I can't wait to make sweet love to you. You're looking beautiful when you're completely bare for me

La mia ragazza perfetta -> My perfect girl

Ti amo, bellissima -> I love you, Gorgeous

[krikeymate]

Hey, I just want to tell you that you're an incredibly talented author, and all of your posts make me happy and excited.

I also have a request (I love angst, sry not sry) and the Carpenter sisters are kind of my new obsession rn (thanks to you lol)

Could you please write a scenario in which Sam comes back from school (she doesn't know about Billy yet) and witnesses Christina's violent outburst towards Tara?

She can't believe it at first because her mother always treated Sam like a princess (we all know why), and Tara is known to be a "clumsy" kid. So, basically, her little sister lied to her about where the bruises come from, but WHY?! I can't answer my own question, and it's frustrating.

I imagine a larger age gap between the two sisters. Sam knows that her mother doesn't love Tara as much as she adores Sam, but the physical abuse always happens when she isn't around.

Thank you so much for your time and effort!

(I'm sorry if I made a mistake, English isn't my first language)

Thank you so much!! I'm glad to hear you like my stuff :) and your English is great!

This will fit pretty well in my five years late AU! The age gap is 10 years, Christina loves Sam and treats her well (although Sam began pulling away once she discovered her father isn't her father - although she never learnt who was). Christina becomes pretty absent when Sam is 15 and their father leaves, but she's never been violent (to Sam's knowledge), or particularly mean to Tara... she just... doesn't care about her so much. She does the bare minimum, and Sam picks up the slack.

It's October, Sam's 18 and in her senior year, and usually she would be at basketball practice right now, except coach started throwing up 10 minutes into practice and sent everyone home. Sam's pretty irritated, all things considered. They didn't need coach there to train, and boy did they need to train. It seems like nobody practised over the summer, and Sam doesn't want to end her final year with as many losses as last year.

But hey, at least she'll get to spend an extra couple of hours with Tara today! Her sister's been upset lately about all the extra time Sam spends at practice now. It was the same last year, she seems to recall. But she got used to it before, and Sam knows she'll get used to it again.

Mom even bought Tara a soccer ball to kick around the garden, she said that her sister was probably just jealous that Sam's good at a sport. Sam can't say she's ever seen her sister touch it once, but mom says she uses it all the time when Sam's at practice, pointing to Tara's bruised legs and scuffed hands and knees. Then she complains that Tara's been kicking the ball against the kitchen wall, and tells Sam to remind her sister to behave herself.

So, Sam's not expected when she arrives home at 3.45 instead of 6pm. She sneaks around the back, hoping to catch her sister practising soccer - an activity Tara refuses to discuss with her but her mother assures her is happening - but finds only an empty backyard... and it sounds like her mother is yelling in the kitchen. It's pretty alarming to hear, mom rarely raises her voice, and it has Sam scrambling over the fence to pull open the backdoor.

It takes a moment for her to realise what she's seeing.

Tara's on the floor, crying, and crawling backwards, away from their mother. Her cheek is bright red, the indentation of fingers spread across it, complete with several scratches. And her mother is screaming at her. She's in the middle of "I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR PATHETIC C-" when Sam runs forward and involves herself in the scene.

"What are you doing?!" she cries, standing between Tara and their mother, hands held out as if to push her mother away.

The way her face goes from angry to calm in an instant unsettles Sam. It feels a lot like watching the theatre kids practise at lunch, the way they could go from happy to sad to angry at a click of the finger.

"Honey," she coos, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder. "You're home early?"

"Practise was cancelled," Sam answers warily. Her mother's avoiding the question. "What are you doing?" she repeats, looking over her shoulder to her sister. Tara's rubbing at her face now, breathing heavily through her hiccups to try and control her breathing. Sam frowns, she's going to need her inhaler.

"She was kicking the ball against the wall again," her mother lets out through gritted teeth. Sam can see fragments of frustration leaking through her mask. She knows there was no answer her mother could give that would make this ok, but she had still hoped for better than this. Something reasonable. Something that makes sense.

"So you hit her? Are you kidding me, what the fuck mom," she growls, shaking off her hand and turning to her sister. Sam picks Tara up off the floor, holding her to her chest, and stares down her mother as Tara burrows her face into Sam's hoodie.

"You have no idea what it's like, Samantha," her mother finally responds. "Trying to raise that girl. She's not like you, she's trouble."

Her mother's words floor her. Sam can't believe what she's hearing. She can't believe this is her mother saying these things, doing these things. Sam exits the room backwards, her head shaking the entire time.

Even once they're sequestered away in Sam's room, Tara won't talk to her, won't tell her what happened. She just stays curled into Sam's side, sniffling. Sam has the nagging feeling that her mother wasn't telling the truth. The football's always in the same place every time she sees it, today was no exception. And if that was a lie, then... where did the bruises come from?

Sam has to choke back the nausea. Her sister needs her right now.

She quits basketball the next day.

[deadpool1763492]

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: The Last Ronin: The Lost Years #1 spoilers below the cut. Read at your own risk.

Edit: Just bought my physical copy yay me

Okay, I may or may not have ended up reading that issue in 10 minutes because I was so goddamn excited, so here are some of my initial notes from it following my first read through. I will be keeping images out of this post just because the issue was released less than half an hour after I'm writing this. Buy yourself a copy because this story is amazing!

1. "Get up, foolish child!"

So, this line came up a few times in this issue, namely from Splinter, who is saying it to Michelangelo in the midst of battle. It's interesting to see that he's calling Mikey foolish for not wanting to fight anymore.

I can't tell what I think about Master Splinter in this series. Yes, he reminds Mikey that he's not alone in this war and that he will always have his family by his side, but he also says things like, "This is what I have trained you for all your life" and "I will not leave you here to meet a coward's death". It's bittersweet, in a way. Mikey just wants to stop fighting; it was a theme throughout the initial Last Ronin storyline, as well. There's a reason why it ends with "know peace".

And then we cut to Casey, April and Casey's daughter, training the four new turtles we were teased at the end of Last Ronin #5, also yelling "get up" at them during training. I guess this line is going to be a sort of motif throughout the series, this idea of getting up no matter how many times you're knocked down. It's a good lesson, of course, but, as shown through Splinter and the entirety of the first series, it's clear that it has its consequences.

2. The New Turtles

It seems that this series is taking a page from Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in having these four new characters be different species of turtles, which is really interesting. Like I said before, I'll be keeping images out of this post for now just for the sake of having other people read the story themselves (and copyright, of course), but I'll list the names of these turtles and what I can gather of their personalities just from the few panels we have of them.

Odyn — He's the biggest of the four at the moment, and all we really know about him is that he's apparently always hungry and he's not a big fan of tai chi because it's "too hard". So, not a big fan of training in general and possibly even fighting altogether, which could prove interesting in the future.

Uno — He's the showoff out of the four of them. He seems physically gifted and enjoys training, whether that be with the others or on his own. He also seems to believe he's better than the others from what I can gather, and doesn't seem to get along well with Moja, who I will get to next.

Moja — She's looks like the short-tempered defender of the group, seeming really similar to Raphael in some ways. She is quick to defend Odyn when Uno makes fun of him, and picks a fight with Uno when he doesn't seize the teasing. Unlike Uno, however, she seems to show a lot of respect towards April and owns up to her mistakes quickly.

Yi — From what I can go off of (which isn't exactly much, considering how little we got of these four), she's the Donatello of the group. She seems pretty calm and collected for the most part, and apparently loves spending time with April in the garage "fixing" things. I just hope she isn't some carbon copy of Donnie and has her own personality, albeit similar to his.

Speaking of similarities, that brings me to my third and final thought when reading this issue.

3. Change is Constant

Did I steal that from the first IDW arc? Who's to say.

So, this theme has been in the franchise for as long as it has existed. I mean, the first episode of 2003 is literally titled "Things Change". It's the idea that life always comes with its twists and turns and that there's no predicting exactly what will happen next. We can't control the universe, we simply exist within it. Empires rise and they fall. That's just life. You can't hold on to something forever because that's how you let that thing consume you. "Know peace," as Michelangelo stated.

Then we get to these four new turtles. Casey never really knew the original four outside of stories told by her mother, which caused these ideas of heroic martyrs to be put into the kid's head all her life. Because of this, her goal with these new turtles is to probably forge them into their predecessors' images. The problem with that is, of course, that's not really how life works.

These kids have big shoes to fill. That much is obvious. I mean, look at the original turtles. They trained their entire life to fight in a war against the Foot Clan. As teenagers, they went to space, they traveled to different universes, they fought other mutants and the US government and so much more. I can bet you that this legacy will come into play in this story, and not exactly in a good way.

Odyn, Uno, Moja, and Yi are not Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, and Michelangelo. They know this. Casey and April know this. We as an audience know this. What that means, however, is that we should not be putting them into boxes to fit the former turtles. Casey is trying to mold them into her heroes, and April no doubt is probably unconsciously doing the same just because she misses them just as much, but that could be pretty awful for these new guys. Think of it as growing up with an amazing older sibling or family member in general. All your life, you end up just trying to be like that one person, so much so you end up neglecting who you might be. I'm guessing individuality is going to be a big focus of this story, as well.

Well, that's my initial thoughts on this issue. I've been waiting a while for this, and, as a long-time fan of this franchise, I'm so excited to see what comes next in the story. I love how we're finally branching off to new characters and possibly new storylines altogether, all inspired by the original story. Now to wait a month for the next issue. I'll see you all then!

[stanwixbuster]

Things That (Should) be Happening in 2023

You can also read and boost this on itch.

I've gone back and forth over making a post (or chain thereof) like this for some time, but always flaked out on some lazy excuse of "I like dropping things with no warning for the surprise factor," and "Being scared of accountability."

And, yeah, project jumpscare is fun for a while but I'm starting to feel left out of the cycle of teasing little bits of what you're working on for people to comment on. Before that felt pointless because I had no comments point blank, but now I've got a few eyes on my stuff it feels like a decent time as any to start. One game even got fanart. Wild.

I'm currently on the forth of this cycle, so I'm riding it and making a full deal of it. If it ends up I hate doing this I'll just stop and never acknowledge it again. 

Here's things that (should) be happening this year.

I'm Exhibiting at WASD Curios

Yeah I still don't believe this either, and ENGLAND ON FIRE got accepted into the WASD Live "weird" indie selection.

I'm going to be at WASD in person at the Curios booth from March 31st to April 1st. If you're going, feel free to drop by and say hi. I'll be handing out some pins if you do.

The PC Problem

As some of you may or may not be aware, I'm currently without my main PC. Most of my stuff was left with my parents when I moved down on a short let, and I am living in what feels like a closet right now and only have access to a chromebook that stutters trying to open discord. Lack of Windows aside, next to no computing power puts intensive game dev out of the question. It can barely survive bitsy once projects start getting chunky.

Fortunately, I'm completely unimpeded doing pure writing, which does work out nicely for me. The games I make spend well over 90% of their time in google docs, and only leave it to get shoved into an engine at the last minute. And for the last 10%, I'm lucky enough to work a job where I can fuck about for an hour on a stupidly powerful PC. 

The good: for the games you guys are used to seeing from me, I can make these mostly unimpeded, if not a little slower than usual. Once I get used to the new workflow, it should be business as usual. The bad: this locks me out of doing any complex projects, of which I had several I wanted to take a crack at. This is annoying, for now, but I have enough in mind to keep me occupied—

Until the PC Comes Back

I've got a series of Quinn & Flynn sequels in the works, and this will fill the gap until I get my PC back. Currently, it's looking like a series of 5 games including the first (and even as I'm writing this now, I'm looking at my notes and a tentative 6th). I'm also not making any guarantees that all of them will be released by the time my PC is back, but I will make a guarantee that the run will be finished, at some point, and probably later compiled in omnibus form.

The series is also headed into adult-only territory. There's going to be on-screen sex and no real way to dodge it that doesn't impact the narrative. My apologies if you were under 18 and wanted more Quinn content but also congratulations to the sickos who want more stories with cum.

The 2nd game is going to follow Elias' POV. What happens, you'll have to wait until it comes out.

Pun not intended. I just noticed this while proofreading.

The PC Returns

So, the PC is back, and now I can work on those bigger projects I keep mentioning. Right now, I've got two I've been rotating in my mind and getting increasingly mad I can't pull together.

The first, in full spirit of what inspired it, would be a not-quite remake, and a not-quite sequel, of one of the most popular games I've made so far. I had a whole stack of cut content I wanted to put in that I couldn't because of the jam time limit, and now I want to redo it from the ground up in a bitsy-like engine that's far more flexible. We might even see the old Spdrcstl Special and have multiple engines glued together. You'll have to wait and see what that inspires.

The second is going to be a Proper Game. As in, something with a play time well over a couple hours. It's a Narrat game and leaning hugely into the disco-like mechanics. I'm planning to have enough content to sell it for about 10 quid or so, with the obvious caveat that I don't give a shit if you steal it if you can't afford it.

You'll be a paranormal investigator, tasked to a rural town in Cheshire where, to no rational explanation, buildings have been disappearing. The big twist, however, hinges on how you approach the case. A sceptic in this town may get a completely different story to the superstitious. It's on you to see where belief takes you.

This is going to be extremely heavy, British, and Northern. CWs abound for this one.

Since we're on a wider timescale and I'm still unsure when my beloved returns to me, I have no guarantees I can make here. At the very least, I'd like the first game to be fully released, and the second to have a demo that runs to the end of day one. Keep your eyes peeled.

Other Bits

This bit's a dumping ground. These are projects that have been floating around my head or I have some notes for down already. I decided to throw these here in case one or two make you go "Hey, that sounds cool, line it up next."

These, in no particular order, are:

A wiki-style game a-la Excalibur. I'm planning one in the same universe and as compliment to No Saints Go to Heaven. The main problem is I've gone Motherfucker Unlimited on the worldbuilding of this setting, and beyond that being a task in itself is filtering it all through an in-universe lens. Happening, but a while out. And speaking of—

No Saints Go to Heaven, in a full demo form. I still want to tack bullet hell quasi-rhythm game battles onto it and see if people like it. The problem being this requires a musician and probably a dedicated programmer who knows what they're doing, so this one may be out of the question for a while, as dearly as I love it.

Something with the 12 Cannettes engine. It captivated me the instant I played it and I've been desperate to make a game. I've got something in mind already, but might wait for a jam to fully flesh it out.

Something with Decker. Need to play with this to see where the limits are but I promised myself I would try it after having to pass on Decker Jam. Pending experimentation.

A web engine. It will let you make point and click adventures in the same style as the Club Penguin PSA missions. I am deadly serious about this. Pending more web dev knowledge.

A Len'en fan game. This is literally just that sentence in turns of planning, but I'll make one as soon as an idea comes around. I am very normal about Len'en.

Something using King Gizzard's Polygondwanaland. It's CC0. Album of all time. Have to. Pending what I'm actually going to do with it.

Other Other Bits

Also known as "Stan has a back-and-forth debate over starting a kofi and/or patreon or not."

On one hand, it feels a bit iffy when I have a fulltime job. That money could be going to devs who fully need it rather than me, you know? On the other hand, people are free to spend their money how they want, and extra pizza money sounds decent.

If I do the patreon route I haven't got any ideas for it beyond it being a glorified tip jar that auto-renews. Maybe down the line when I'm working on a Proper Game that has enough meat for update posts it could be a bonus dev log. But if I were to start it up, like, tomorrow, it would be a glorified tip jar.

aight

I think that's about it, for now. I need to put a disclaimer that any and everything mentioned in this post is subject to jam inspiration, scoping, Shiny New Tool syndrome, random hyperfixations, explosions (figurative), explosions (literal), "I didn't feel like it"-itus, and other bullshit under the helpful label of Life.

With that said, Elias & Flynn is definitely happening.

Have a good one.

[mara777]

2023 New Year's Resolutions

-note: I know I'm really late with this post but I'm so happy that I can share this with you. May this inspire you (:

Drink more water

Meditate ( 5-10 minutes)

Journal everyday

Excercise more often

Cut out eating junk

Eat more green foods

Read more ( self help books, books that can expand you're knowledge)

Write down goals you can write long term goals & short term ones

Keeping a room clean

Spending less time on phone

Spending more time with loved ones

Studying more ( if you are in high school or university) - make sure to enjoy that time aswell because it will never come back

Cutting off toxic friends

Having more patience with yourself

Have a more positive mindset ( everything will work out just how you want it to )

- I hope and believe that 2023 will be the best year for you to start new ( changing is not really about going to a new place to live but it's about changing your mindset that will be the new you people will view you different because you will see everything else different and more positive once you change )

Happy New Year ✨️🤎

[bread-and-roses-too]

The "disabled and not taking free handouts club" you're talking about is actually called "mildly disabled people". The only reason some people can afford to not accept "handouts" is because they're not being prevented from working by their body or mind. Appreciate the privilege of not needing to devote almost all of your day to managing a moderate-severe disability. Believe it or not, doing makeup for an hour and writing a 10 minute post take a different amount of energy than working 8 hours a day 5-7 days a week and no amount of planning is going to change that.

Also, since I just realize this is what you're trying to argue, you're barking up the wrong tree trying to convince me of all people that SSI and SSDI are unnecessary and that all disabled people should work. There are people with the same condition as me who spend 24 hours a day, 7 days a week in a dark room with noise cancelling headphones because any movement or sensory input is torturous. The documentary "Unrest" talks about a case like this in detail.

the look all the blue haired communist give you when they try their “i’m a non-abled intersex trans woman suffering from a plethora of diseases” excuse to get out of labour :

Why are these people, those who do no or refuse hard or meaningful labour, the face of these economic revolutionary parties?

[miraculous-trinity-leo]

Whacky Gotham, Goofy New York, and Chaotic Paris.

(part 1) (part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7)

Chapter 1: Genius Little Ladybug

★—–—–†–—–—★

It all started when Sabine Cheng and her parents moved from China to America, where she met a rich boy named Tony, they weren't the best of friends at first, but they would always get into crazy shenanigans because of Tony. Sabine always finding a way to get them out of it. After a while they were practically inseparable, they had each others backs, both in the good times, and the bad.

So when Tony lost both his mother and father in a tragic car accident, and had to take over his parents company, she was there to try and ease the pain. It helped a little, but the boy changed and blocked out many people, only keeping a select few close to him. His personality changed, and he started to act differently, it saddened Sabine, but she knew it was his way of coping with his lose.

She would oftentimes find him crying silently in his office. When Tony opened a branch in Paris France, he was paranoid something would go wrong when he wasn't there, so he had Sabine become a sort of co-CEO for the Paris branch. Over the many years of her being a sibling-in-everything-but-blood to Tony, her intelligence was much higher than everyone in the company, other than said boy.

She moved to Paris not long after, always keeping an eye on both the Paris branch and Tony ( because god knows what would happen if she didn't do so). She even met a baker named Tom Dupain. Eventually dating, and marrying him. Tony wasn't the most eager when he heard of Tom, but he accepted him as family (not because if he didn't Sabine would knock some sense into him). He practically exploded with excitement when he heard we would be an uncle a few years after Sabine's wedding.

Tony was there in the waiting room with Tom, when Sabine was having the child ( Tony denies not having a mini heart attack when the nurse came in). Both men looked at the beautiful child through the glass. Tony was put to tears when he read her name "Maria Dupain-Cheng" and was comforted by a teary Tom.

When Maria was 9 months old, her Uncle Tony came to spend time with her, and talk business with Sabine. None of them expected Maria to crawl her way into their conversation and say "Uncle Tony" in the sweetest most adorable laugh both adults had ever heard. Tony had a massive grin on his face, and gave Maria a big hug and lots of kisses saying " I knew i was your favorite hahaha, and you're only 9 months old. Sabine I think we got a little genius on our hands." Sabine was just as happy and told Tom to hurry and grab the camera.

"Come on say it one more time my dear Maria, show your papa who your favorite adult is" Tony said with a very wide grin.

Maria giggled at her uncle's happiness, clapping her hands. "Uncle Tony, Uncle Tony" Tom just smiled giving his baby girl a kiss and handing Tony 10 Euros.

Tony continued to visit his little genius niece over the years. Maria ended up getting the best education a kid could get, becuase his logic was " If she is a genius (which she is) then she is going to have the best education money can buy, for nothing is to much for my Little Genius Maria!" and with that she could officially be called the smartest kid in all of Paris... heck probably in all of Europe even! So when she gained a passion for fashion at 4, Tony didn't hesitate to get her, her very first (kid friendly) sewing set. By the time Maria was 5 she already knew how to speak and write in French, English, Spanish, Russian, and is learning Mandarin.

Maria had met Chloé when they were both 6, although they weren't really friends, they were polite to each other, which surprised a lot of the other kids their age. She had met Alix a few months later. She spent a lot of the time she wasn't studying with her friends, Alix would get in trouble with another kid on the playground, Chloé would criticise the other kid, and Maria would talk to Alix and then apologize to the other kid. Overall, they had a good dynamic going on, and they (as 7 year olds) promised to always have each others backs to the very end.

When Maria was 3½ months away from her 9th birthday, Tony was kidnapped. Maria just broke down, she wanted to help her Uncle, but she didn't know where he was or how she could help if she did. For three months Maria would only speak to Chloé and Alix (they were kinda shocked to find out she was related to THE Tony Stark). A few days before her birthday, Tony came to their home, with rolls of fabric, flowers, and 'I'm sorry cards'. Maria jumped into his arms crying asking what happened, and "If you're the smartest man on the Earth, why the Heck did it take you so long? How did you get out? Are any of your vital organs hurts? Do you need to go to the Hospital? An-"

"Hey slow down My Little Genius Maria, I'm ok. 1, They didn't really give me much to work with at first, and there is only so much a genius like myself can do with so little resources, and time before your Birthday. 2, I made an anime mecha suit and flew out guns a blazing. 3, Nothing I can't live without. and 4, No because I'm spending the week with you lot before a conference I have in about 10 days." He said while holding his small little genius  in his arms.

Wiping away the tears she looked her Uncle in the eyes "Wait, you 'made an anime mecha suit and flew out guns a blazing?' How does it work? what's its power source? And why do you have a weird glowing device in your chest?!" He had a lot of explaining to do.

That week, in her words was 'The best week of her life.' She was really happy for the first time since the Tony-napping happened, although she was sad he had to go, she knew  he was safe, and that she didn't have to worry (as much) now.

When Maria was 13, both Tony and Sabine decided to have her go to public school with her friends. After hearing this Maria called for a meeting, her two commanders (Alix and Chloé) came for the meeting, and had a talk on how she should go about her first day of public school, asking questions like 'How do non-homeschooled kids act? What are their personalities like? What interests do they have? Are some barbaric like Alix is sometimes? Will they like me? Am I allowed to talk to Chloé in or only out of class? What are the seating arrangements? Who do I sit next to?' the list goes on. They were all excited to finally all be in the same study environment, now all they had to do was wait for their first day.

•~—~—~—~—~—~—~•

The night before her first day Maria may or may not have slept well due to her excitement, she woke up a little later than she ever would have preferred, getting breakfast, her clothes, the 'greeting sweets' (as Alix called them) and heading out in a slight panic.

On her way out she noticed an elderly man with a cain crossing the street, and a car coming a little faster than what was allowed, she pulled the man out of the cars way without losing any of the sweets, after making sure the man was ok, she gave him a sweet before saying good day and heading over to school. She never noticed the man walking away without the use of his cain.

She still got to class on time, when her teacher walked in she greeted everyone in the class "Bonjour, je m'appelle Maria Dupain-Cheng, c'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer! (Hello, my name in Maria Dupain-Cheng, it is a pleasure to meet you!)" after the introductions she sat down in the empty seat next to Alix, both giving a fist bump, and a smile to Chloé, who looked away as if she didn't care (the girl had an image to keep after all). When class was over she handed out the sweets and went with her friends to lunch. During lunch, one of the other students from a different class was mocking one of their classmates that Maria remembered as Ivan, for having a crush on Mylène and not saying how he really feels to her. Ivan ran off into one of the locker rooms, and Maria decided to go and comfort him, she explained that she overheard what happened and that he should try and tell Mylène about his feelings, listing many different things he could do or say, and that he should stay positive.

Ivan thanked Maria afterwards and went off to write a song for Mylène. Ivan later showed Mylène the song he wrote for her, but was teased by other students near them, Ivan ran away not wanting to be embarrassed more.

Back in the classroom Alix and Maria are sitting and talking when everyone hears crashing and screams outside, the class looked out to see a giant rock thing destroying everything  on its way to the school. The teachers sent the kids home in an attempt to keep them safe.

When Maria got home she noticed a small box with writing she didn't recognize, she carefully opened it, instantly releasing a glow of bright red-ish pink light.

"Greetings Maria Dupain-Cheng, I am Tikki, the Ladybug Kwami of creation and good Luck, it is a pleasure to meet you." Maria couldn't believe her eyes "Mon dieu..." was all she could say, before going full interrogation mode "You're a Kwami? What is that? How are you floating like that? How am I able to understand you? Do you have some sort of ability to communicate in any language?How did you fit in this box? w-"

"There is no time, Paris needs you! I can only explain the powers I grant and how to use them, so please listen carefully."

•~—~—~—~—~—~—~•

Soon Maria was running in a red suit with black spots and amor. She ended up facing the 'akuma' as Tikki called it in a stadium, meeting her partner (a blonde furry she decided) for the first time.

"Bonjour m'lady, so what's the plan to take this thing down?"

Without hesitation she explained her plan " The plan is for you to have your Cataclysm ready, I'll give you a signal when it's your-"

"Cataclysm!"  The boy proceeded to use his ONE attack on a GOAL POST!

"I said to wait for a SIGNAL! Now you only have five minutes before you power-off."

"Oops" The blonde was really wasting her more useful braincells. After the boy was thrown out of the stadium, Maria was left to fend for herself, and she did really well, considering this was her first non(but sort of) official villain fight, up until she lost her footing and was knocked into the side of the stadium. The akuma was gone before she could get back, more and more people were turned to stone, but it showed just where Stoneheart was heading.

She arrived at the Eiffel Tower, where blonde was fighting stone people, he just managed to get away and actually listened to the plan this time.

They defeated Stoneheart, Maria gave her speech to the villain, and did a fist bump (though at this point Maria just wanted to get some sleep), when a reporter came to interview them.

"What are your names, and where did you come from?"

"My name's Chat Noir an-"

"Ladybug, and we're hear to protect Paris from Moth-Man, as much as we would love to give you a bit more details, we don't have much time at the moment" right on que their Miraculous' beeped signalling they had 2 minutes left " Stay safe, and positive, Bug-Out. "

•~—~—~—~—~—~—~•

"Well done Maria!"

"Thanks Tikki." and with that Maria went downstairs to get something to eat, when she saw her parents watching the news.

"Earlier today Paris gained a villain and two heroes: Ladybug, and Chat Noir. Many of our viewers submitted pictures and videos, but only one of Ladybug came out clear."

"Thank you Ladybug and Chat Noir for protecting us, bonne journée à Paris."

.................

"Maria you're taking self-defense classes starting tomorrow" Sabine spoke, though Maria didn't have any complaints, plus it'll help when fighting akumas so it's a win win.

"Yes maman."

•~~~~~later in Maria's room~~~~~•

"Ok, so you're basically goddess of creation personified into a cute little Ladybug creature?"

"Kwami, but yes."

"And you've existed since basically the Big Bang?"

"Correct."

"... how are you able to float like that? How are we able to talk without any ancient god language in the way? And what other kinds of um kwamis are there?"

"I float with magic. Yes their is a language only for the Kwami, but we've learned every other language in existence, so there would never be an issue with communication. And to your last question, there are many different kinds of Miraculi all over the world, some even across the universe, so I am unable to list every single one in existence, but there are just as many Miraculi out there as there are starts in the sky."

"Impressive... does that mean I could learn magic?"

"As a human you are limited to what you can do with magic, but you have a strong creation soul. So yes it is possible for you to learn basic magic, I can teach you some life magic to help you heal quicker if you get hurt outside the suit. You can also learn other types of basic magic based on what Miraculous you are most aligned to. Surprisingly you have a close affinity to most of my brothers and sisters that are here in Paris."

"Are they in the hands of other Miraculous users?"

"... aside from Chat Noir, only two: one belongs to the Guardian, and the other to Hawkmoth."

"What are their names?"

"...Wayzz is Kwami of Protection, and is the partner of the Guardian. The other is Nooroo Kwami of Transmission, Hawkmoths Kwami.

"Ok, so then I assume the 'Guardian' is who you were with until now, right?"

"That is correct."

"And how was I chosen exactly?"

"The Guardian chose you because he saw your kindness in action, and sensed your strong Creation Soul, he has only ever been wrong once, but I can tell you will be a great Ladybug, maybe even one of the few who achieved a higher sence of life."

"... I feel like you kind of described a Sage, also how would he have seen an act of kindness, I mean, I got my things, went out helped an older man with a cain, wait."Maria squinted her eyes at Tikki as if looking for something.

"The elderly man's the Guardian isn't he?"

"..."

"I get it, you don't have to tell me, it's all apart of the 'plot' like some show, I get it. Welp, good night Tikki, have to get up early tomorrow."

"Good night Maria." Tikki never messed up so badly before, then again she never had a user with such a strong Creation Soul before either... Maria is something special.

•~—~—~—~—~—~—~•

And Tikki was right, she excelled at Life Magic, learning a fair bit of healing, luck and slight plant manipulation and communication magic. Tikki wasn't sure if she should be proud of her Bug, or scared at her fast learning skills.

A few weeks passed and Maria was thankful for the self-defense classes, she even started doing her own training routine with Tikki guiding her. She didn't like that her partner was a flirt, it got distracting and almost got Chat killed a few times. She often wondered 'what the hell did I do in my past life to get a partner like this?'

•~—~—~—~—~—~—~•

Tony Stark was called by Sabine to meet her earlier than they had planned, she informed him that Paris now has a villain and two heroes.

"Ok, so what's the problem? We agreed to put Maria in self-defense classes so she would be safe... is it a boy?! Don't tell me it's a boy, she's to young to be dating!"

"It's not about a boy."

"Then what is this about?"

"She's Ladybug, *sigh* I swear she gets it from you Tony. She learned it from your dumb@ss, and it didn't help the need to protect people she loves when you got kidnapped. I need you to teach her how to be a good hero, good combat strategist, and to give her your support. She already has a tactical mind, I'm proud in a way that she shares your bravery."

"Ffffffffudge... ok, where is she?"

"Upstairs."

•~—~—~—~—~—~—~•

After a slightly awkward conversation Maria started to get even more training, and became a pretty much badass on the field, she incorporated the known fighting styles of: Black Widow (her favorite hero), Captain America, Deadpool (favorite hero to some degree), Daredevil, Wolverine, and some moves from famous villains like, Kraven The Hunter, Red Skull, Doctor Doom, Scorpion, Shocker, and Taskmaster ( her favorite villain). And she used ALL of those skills in battle, it was damn impressive to watch, and then Sabine had a talk with Tony.

〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜Bonus〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜

"Ok Tony wtf? I asked you to teach her how to fight for protection when she's out there, But you turned her into a complete badass, I mean none of the akumas have lasted more than 10 minutes with her! I want to hug you and kick your @ss at the same time."

" Sorry not sorry Sabine, but she is our Genius Little Ladybug after all."

•—–—–†–—–—•

First fic, wahoo (mario stile), hope you're all having an Absolutely wonderful day, stay safe, and stay positive, BUG-OUT!🐞💮🐞

〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜 Tag List 〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜

1st place★: @animegirlweeb ☕

2nd place★: @jumpingjoy82

3rd place★: @zalladane

4th place★: @jayjayspixiepop

5th place★: @arty-shadow-morningstar

6th place★: @smol-book-nerd

7th place★: @irontimetravelflower

8th place★: @fandom-trapped-03

9th place★: @meme991001

10th place★: @buginetye

11th place★: @blackroserelina

12th place★: @jessigurl-design

13th place★: @adrestar

14th place★: @moon5608

15th place★: @little-bluestar

16th place★: @batgirljr72

17th place★: @myazael

18th place★: @our-preciousss

19th place★: @wolf2118

20th place★: @nyx-in-line

21st place★: @kking13

22nd place★: @lunerlover2024

23rd place★: @moonlightstar64

24th place★: @corporeal-terrestrial

25th place★: @kashlyn

26th place★: @tbehartoo

27th place★: @heart-charming

28th place★: @solangelo252

29th place★: @t1dwarrior-of-earth

30th Place★: @lady-phoenix-of-tardis

@lupagrimm

[outrunningthedark]

Collider decided to write an opinion piece on why Lucy should be a series regular on the show and it boiled down to her being a breathe of fresh air. They praised how the writers effectively killed any romantic vibes between BL and he said that was the best decision the show could do. He also praised that they distanced her away from being the "female buck" into her own character. How they got that with 10 minutes of screentime IDK, also they ship Buddie and said she is not a threat to Buddie.

Two things that stuck out to me: - It's funny that the writer is applauding the decision to keep BL platonic post-kiss, but also sneaking in "seemingly" and "so far". This dude doesn't actually believe BL won't go there, but he sure is hoping to be proven wrong! - What fucking show is Mr. Snow watching? "The fifth season has cut back on the time at the call center since Maddie quit her job, but even what time we did spend at the call center had a lot of Josh and, as of late, Eddie." So Linda didn't have screen time? Or May? Weren't their scenes WITH Eddie at times, so he should have noticed them? And Claudette made the most of her brief appearances (because Vanessa is a legit actress).

Sounds to me like this guy doesn't care about the women at dispatch who aren't Maddie, tbh. Yes, Jennifer is one of the "big names", but to act like the dispatch center was an afterthought without her is a fucking insult to those actors and actresses. We literally just had an entire episode devoted to the workers and she wasn't needed for even one scene. [I won't even get into how it looks when he's ignoring the black women at dispatch. I know you're thinking it, too.]

[yenkat101]

Bsd Calls/Texts Headcannon pt. 1

25 post event. 10/25. -pt. 2 (Dazai and Chuuya)

Characters: (Atsushi x you) (Akutagawa x you)

General: headcannons

Text type: Pine point

Warning: None

Master list

Atsushi Nakajima

-how many text and calls can they respond to in general? Almost all of them.. like he's not a busy guy but at the same time he is.. like there's time that the agency don't need him at all and then there's times where they need all hands on deck.. so yeah.. Atsushi's availability is quite misplaced but he does respond to most of your calls/text

Texts

-how many texts during a week? At least 3 three times a week.. why? The answer to why he texts you in general will be answered in the next question but why only 3 per a week? That's simply because he doesn't need to have a question once everyday.. there's some days that he doesn't need to go out and get something

-What are most conversations about? Most of the conversations on text are basic planning.. most of times he goes there just to ask "do you need anything? I just finished work"... Yeah most conversations are about stuff like that.. or he goes there just to tell you he'll be late because of work

-how many texts do they give you? Probably 3 throughout the week, with the same reason

-how many texts do they respond to from you? I would say there's like a 87% chance they'll answer any texts you give them.. if he did not answer them then he's probably on a job quote and quotes (report)

-what would make them text you more? The only thing I can think of at the moment is if you're a slow writer.. like you need time to think before writing.. why? I honestly think that Atsushi is the type that want to know what to get before leaving.. like if you take a bit to respond he might just send you a text a couple minutes before he's allowed to go home.. like maybe an hour or 30 minutes before work is done he'll ask you if there's anything that you need in the house.. only for you to respond two minutes before work is done for him.. he's not judging but he's the type that wants to somewhat know what is needed before entering a store because he doesn't want to look like a lunatic looking for something he had no idea where to find

-an SOS and their meaning, if you say SOS in a text. It would mean we ran out of something and we need to buy more immediately.. yes the SOS on text is reserved to determine if the both of you are out of stock on a certain product that is necessary afford both of yours lifestyle

-my advice, should you text them regularly? Yes you should text him regularly because you never know when he's on a mission and most of the time he responds quickly.. so yes it's recommended, he doesn't mind texts because it's like a permanent message he can reread all the time and a call on the other hand he needs to replay dozens of time to get to a certain part he missed

Calls

-how many phone calls during a week? Probably 0 to 1 call per week.. why? There isn't much of a reason why he needs to call you

-What are most conversations about? Most conversations are probably to catch up.. like if he's on a long far away mission, then he probably won't see you in a few days. So he'll probably call just to make sure you're all right and mostly because he missed you voice because he sometimes has a tad bit of separation anxiety

-how many phone calls do they give you? As I said 1 phone call..

-how many phone calls do they respond to from you? If you were to call him, he'll try his best to respond immediately.. similar to this scene "here" with a 78% (at least until he gets used to the phone)

-what would make them call you more? Probably if the both of you spend so much time apart.. like I don't know maybe you have a business trip.. so that means you won't see you as much.. then he'll get a bit anxious and call you just to check in.. yes I believe he's the type to.. feel a bit anxious when he hasn't seen you for a while.. so he tries to call at a reasonable time to see if he could talk to you for a bit.. always mentions how much he misses you.. always..

-an SOS and their meaning, if you call in an SOS. It will mean that you're in danger or something very bad happen.. so it's like the last resort.. example if you're being attacked. You call Atsushi and say SOS as you are running in the current location you are at.. mind you you have your location on so he could easily track you.. then he'll show up at the last moment and take care of them.. obviously he handed them in to the cops..

-my advice, should you call them regularly? I would advise texting unless he's not in work hours.. because you never know when he's working and his phone will just go out while he's working.. so texting to bed option because it only makes one sound, that's it, one sound.. but a phone heard hand makes repetitive sounds for like a minute until it turns off on his own and mind you is very loud

General

-do they prefer phone calls or text (my opinion) as I mentioned probably Texts are better.. because of the reasons that he might be working and his phone ringtone is quite loud.. imagine if that goes off during a meeting.. A text on the other hand just makes one little notification every text.. so it isn't a problem because you'll probably only send one or two texts at once and then wait until Atsushi response.. he doesn't mind phone calls but please do it after work hours

Ryunosuke Akutagawa

-how many text and calls can they respond to in general? Honestly he doesn't respond to a lot of them.. like he's quite busy and he doesn't exactly stop to answer his phone unless it's work.. he does answer once in awhile but he just hopes that you refrain from calling or texting while he's working, fine maybe texts are allowed, but calling.. please do it when he's not working

Texts

-how many texts during a week? Probably 1 or 2 texts a week

-What are most conversations about? Most of the conversations are probably about something important.. like example if the both of you are in need of groceries and you politely asked him if he could get what's on the list then he might do it.. because 1. you asked nicely and there isn't much of a reason for him to say no 2. You need it, like it's something you need to survive 3. And the most important reason for him, he feels safe knowing that you're not wandering around in a grocery store (yes he feels anxious when you're outside without him)

-how many texts do they give you? Probably 0 Texts a week

-how many texts do they respond to from you? there's like a 07.8% that he'll ever respond to a text.. why? He feels like it's just a waste of time just to tap on the screen to respond somehow.. yes he prefers phone calls

-what would make them text you more? I can seriously imagine that perhaps you give him texts and when he doesn't respond it makes you upset.. like you're always wondering if you had seen the message or not.. so after he starts talking to Gin.. he's so found out that if you type just the letter k, it can mean okay but an abbreviation. So whenever he receives a message he writes the letter k and send as a sign of acknowledgment that he has received your text.. (he means "this" when he says k not "this")

-an SOS and their meaning, if you just type SOS with your location on then it means you're in danger. If you type SOS and then explain it means you're in mild danger but you're currently okay. If you write SOS at the end of your sentence it means he should remember this.. pretty simple right. :)

-my advice, should you text them regularly? I don't really advise it.. because for him is somewhat mumbling.. it's like you're just writing something and sending it to him and don't even bother to wait for his response.. but on a phone call you get to hear him voice out his thoughts in front of you with your full attention.. I don't advise texts unless you're sending a list of things you need

Calls

-how many phone calls during a week? 2 to 3 phone calls a week. Why, Akutagawa is one for phone calls. Like he prefers phone calls over texts because he gets to deal with whatever's going on right now instead of thinking of a phrase he must write out in order for you to understand what are he's saying.. because if he were to write the wrong thing.. then you might completely misunderstand him and that's very annoying, a big inconvenience and a nuisance

-What are most conversations about? The conversation are either check-ins or the phone call to ask if you need anything while he's walking back to the apartment

-how many phone calls do they give you? As I mentioned before it probably be 3 to 4 coming from him alone.why, he's one for phone calls.. it's his way of communicating with others

-how many phone calls do they respond to from you? There's a 89% chance he might respond to you.. even while he's currently working.. the only reason he might not respond is if he's not in the mood right now or if you don't have another phone call with someone from work (sorry but work is more important)

-what would make them call you more? I think you would call in more if you're very hazardous.. like you get hurt all the time, you get sick often, you feel unwell... You tend to like wandering often God who knows where.. he just calls to make sure that you're not being an idiot... Like you get him worried sick when you're wondering off at like 2:00 in the morning.. like one time he finds you out at a variety store for some reason at 2 in the morning he's like what are you doing I could get you something.. only for you to look around and realize that you're not at home and ask where were you.. it worries him because you didn't even know where you were.. that's probably a main reason why he would call often (if you're not like that, you do not need to worry)

-an SOS and their meaning, you don't even need to say SOS.. if you call him and immediately turn on your location and you are breathing heavily he knows something's wrong.. probably an SOS always means you're in danger. that's how it rolls

-my advice, should you call them regularly? Yes but refrain from calling him when he's at work..

General

-do they prefer phone calls or text (my opinion) I believe he's personally into phone calls because they're not much he needs to do, all he needs to do is just click the button to respond and speak off his mind like he's having a conversation to someone in person.. but a text on the other hand he needs to write out everything he's thinking which can become very annoying and a very long process.. so we prefer the phone call because phone calls go pretty quickly if everyone stays on topic.. he gets to walk and do whatever the heck he wants while he's speaking it's not like he's texting and he can't multitask unlike when he's on the phone

25 post event with (Atsushi x reader) and (Akutagawa x reader) 10/25.

[sw1mmingfoolz]

✨ drabble prompt list ✨

rules:

🌹here you can request drabbles using prompts! there are multiple lists; fluff speech, angst speech, one word and AU. 🌹

🌹PLEASE LIMIT REQUESTS TO:🌹

- one member! the groups i write for are svt, nct (all units) and skz. I only do singular member x reader scenarios :) poly relationships are cool and all but i am not poly and definitely couldn't write a good, convincing poly relationship!

- five prompts; max 3 from the speech and one word lists and max 2 from the AU list (making a total max of 5 per request!). one speech, one word and one AU is probably a good balance, but hey it's up to you to mix and match as you'd like haha

🌹please also don't send a bunch of messages asking if i got your request; requests can take some time as i do have a life outside of tumblr! asking once is okay :)🌹

🌹if you want to take this list or anything from it go ahead; it's a mix of many different lists i saw around and some of my own prompts mixed in there.🌹

🌹please also read my regular requesting rules in the pinned post as they still apply!🌹

🌹the prompts:🌹

FLUFF SPEECH:

1. "how have you survived this long on your own?"

2. "your smile really lights up the room."

3. "i've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice"

4. "do you have a crush on me or something?"

5. "it's 5am, why are you awake on the couch watching an 8 hour video essay on victorious?"

6. "i didn't think it was possible to love someone this much."

7. "do you know how beautiful you are? it's truly distracting."

8. "are you wearing my sweater?"

9. "you're so special, in the best way."

10. "your blush is the cutest thing ever."

11. "i didn't know you could cook!"

12. "your body is perfect just the way it is!"

13. "you better stop insulting the love of my life."

14. "there isn't a thing i'd ever change about you."

15. "you're such a good parent."

16. "sorry i fell asleep on you, you're just a really good pillow. did you know that?"

17. "are you okay? do you wanna cuddle?"

18. "i leave you alone for five minutes and this is what happens?"

19. "we might have been a little too loud last night, huh"

20. "wanna see what kinda trouble we can get up to?"

21. "you've been working so hard, let's just spend a chill night together."

22. "i don't expect you to be perfect, that isn't even possible. i love you exactly as you are; imperfections and all."

23. "you might be an idiot but you're my idiot."

24. "you're safe with me, i'm here to protect you."

25. "we don't have to go out; i have sheet masks and cheap wine."

ANGST SPEECH

26. "i have to look out for myself because there isn't a single other person who will. so i'll look out for me and you look out for you, okay?"

27. "they've locked themselves in their room and refuse to come out."

28. "please don't cry. please."

29. "you can yell at me, scream at me, curse me out - just say something. anything."

30. "stop pretending you're okay, 'cause i can see that you're not."

31. "i know you couldn't ever like me the way i am. i'll never be enough for you."

32. "i don't want to hear your excuses anymore."

33. "you don't get to decide what's best for me."

34. "don't ever do that again, you coulda really hurt yourself!"

35. "i just wanna go anywhere else right now."

36. "i don't wanna say goodbye."

37. "you KNOW it's not like that!"

38. "please, just leave."

39. "did you ever actually love me?"

40. "you shouldn't have come here."

41. "this is real life, not a rom com. i would be fine without you."

42. "you've never been properly loved, have you?"

43. "who told you i need fixing and what made you believe them?"

44. "you so obviously still love me."

45. "nothing can justify this."

46. "hate me all you want, we both know i'm right."

47. "please don't look at me with so much hatred."

48. "let's just pretend you didn't break my heart and be civil for a few minutes."

49. "this isn't a quick fix!"

50. "how could you possibly think this wouldn't hurt me?"

ONE WORD

51. hug

52. cuddle

53. scent

54. cold

55. dance

56. stargazing

57. picnic

58. beach

59. hurt

60. sick

61. crying

62. laughing

63. angry

64. playful

65. date

66. drunk

67. kisses

68. singing

69. suggestive

70. domestic

71. pets

72. cooking

73. wedding

74. joking (/crack)

75. morning

LIST OF AUs

76. friends to lovers

77. enemies to lovers

78. exes to lovers

79. established relationship

80. established marriage

81. parent!AU

82. single parent!AU

83. roommate!AU

84. college!AU

85. coworkers!AU (non idol)

86. coffee shop!AU

87. pirates!AU

88. royalty!AU

89. soulmate!AU

90. supernatural being!AU (specify which being(s)! can be from any folklore really i'm a folklore nerd)

91. angels/demons!AU

92. time travel!AU

93. mafia/crime!AU

94. historical!AU (specify the period)

95. magical!AU (witch/wizard)

96. hidden relationship!AU

97. both idols!AU

98. mental bond/telepath!AU

99. random AU (my choice)

100. random AU (your choice! please be descriptive or give a specific prompt!)

🌹this list will be a permanent fixture - it will just open and close as i get requests haha :) if you have any questions go ahead and ask; otherwise, happy requesting! <3🌹

[nyx-aira]

Surprise

Summary: Your friends are up to something, a surprise for your birthday maybe?

A/N: It's my friends @ynscrazylife birthday and I decided to write her a little fic as a present.

Birthday message: Happy birthday Jess 🎉🥳🎊 I'm hoping you're having a fabulous day and wish you all the best for your special day. I'm very glad we are friends and mutuals because when you pop up on my dash it makes my day. Have fun, celebrate and have a great time ❤🧡💛💚💙💜

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

PSA c/@ynscrazylife

You just got into the kitchen when you heard hushed talking that abruptly stopped as soon as you entered. You raised a brow at Bucky and Sam who were clearly trying to hide something behind their back and turned back to make yourself some breakfast, ignoring the rustling in the background.

While you were munching on your cereal and scrolling on your phone you were acutely aware of the two Avengers and how they were looking at you. After another 10 minutes of this weird staring you finally gave in.

"Okay what is this all about?" You asked, "if you're planning some crazy party or anything just do it but stop the staring."

Sam just looked at his watch as if he was waiting on something to fall out of the sky or something. Meanwhile Bucky was suddenly very interested in finishing his mountain of pancakes.

Rolling your eyes you snatched a pancake from Bucky and checked you messages, smiling at the many birthday wishes you received. Wanda and Vision had called in from Scotland last night to wish you a happy birthday and Peter had swung by to hand you his present earlier that evening.

Nat came down sometime after you had finished breakfast and silently made herself a cup of coffee. She would have pulled off the act of not knowing what was going on if she hadn't had grabbed a pancake as well.

Nat only ate pancakes when she was stressed.

After a very akward morning Sam suggested to go to an ice-cream parlour nearby and Bucky immediately agreed, something that never happened. So now you four were sitting in a car and were very clearly driving in the wrong direction but honestly you didn't care.

The radio was blasting a song from Rogers The Musical and both Sam and Bucky were loudly singing in the backseat as Nat was pretending not to be affected by their high spirits but you could see her mouthing the words to the song.

You were driving out of the city and were seemingly going to butt-fuck nowhere. You had to make a stop as Sam wanted to take a close look at the big cow statue that was standing in a field next to the road but other than that your drive went smoothly.

After another hour you stopped at a small lake where there was a table set up with balloons, next to a giant spaceship and a smug looking Carol.

You couldn't believe it.

Getting out of the car you ran towards her and got pulled into one of her famous bone crushing hugs.

"Happy birthday from your favourite captain."

You heard an offended "hey" from Sam and saw Nat punch him in the shoulder.

"And how do you like your surprise?" The redhead asked with a smug grin.

"It's amazing", you told her.

Looking around you saw that there were party garlands hanging around the spaceship and there was a delicious looking cake on the table next to a stack of presents that were waiting for you to open them.

First was Sam's present. It was the newest Sims game and you were looking forward to spend hours on your perfect Sims with him. There was also a card that promised you his support should you ever engage in a prank war with anyone, besides Nat.

Next was Bucky who hadn't just made the cake but also gifted you a knitted sweater with your Hogwarts house colours and crest. You knew his love language was gift giving and you appreciated the gesture greatly, putting the sweater on immediately and loving how comfy it was.

Carol got you some cool space rocks that she assured, both you and Natasha, we're perfectly safe and not radioactive. The were floating around in their glass container and were glowing in all the colours you could imagine.

There was also a photo of Thor and the Guardians with a hand made sign saying "Happy lifeday".

Natashas present was last.

It was a small box wrapped in red and blue wrapping paper with a silk bow on top. Inside was a giant stack of photos that showed you, Natasha and various other Avengers.

The photo on top showed you, Sam, Bucky, Nat, Yelena and Peter grinning into the camera. Yelena was sitting on Bucky's shoulders, both of them wearing matching tiaras. Peter was clutching a giant Stitch plushie that was almost as big as himself and Sam, Nat and you were wearing funny glasses (not voluntary on Nats part though)

You smiled fondly as you remember your trip to Disneyland you took last summer. Flipping the picture around you saw there was a note on the back in Nats handwriting.

"Time may pass but memories stay forever"

"I hope you like them, I thought it was a nice idea to just print them all out. Although Yelena pestered me on making her copies of all of them. She sends her regards by the way and told me to give you this."

You took the wrapped gift from her hands and opened it up, inside was a jacket and a little notes that said "Happy birthday from your favourite Russian, have this jacket, it has lots of pockets. Yelena"

That was a typical Yelena.

"Thank you, all of you, this is absolutely amazing."

You were just happy, this was turning out to be on of the best birthdays ever.

And then Sam fell into the cake.

Silence.

You looked at Bucky who was staring at Sam, then the cake and Sam again. When you locked eyes you started laughing.

Soon everyone was joining in and a cake-covered Sam was wheezing on the ground while you and Bucky were clutching each other for support. Meanwhile Nat was taking pictures and Carol was trying to stop Goose from eating an unfortunate pigeon that got too close to the Flerken.

As you said it before, this was turning out to be one of the best birthdays ever.

-----

Taglist: @escapetodreamworld @midnight-lestrange @ynscrazylife @sokovianheadtilt @procrastinatingsapphictrash @ineffablebean @official-clint-barton @wlwlovesreading @itsyourgirlmalise @eilarch @sapphic-stress @yelenabelovasgf @lostandsearching @ilovewinter101

[nokwisi]

Oh oh oh, lemme see... #1 / #4 / #10 / #23 !

AH thank you for all the questions, you spoil me! okay, I will now proceed to ramble, haha! 😁

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

Moseying my way through a machine Viktor fic, at the moment! It's a request that I simply couldn't deny, I've been wanting to write something for the metal man for a good minute. Soft and smutty, because of course, lol. I'm really enjoying navigating a post-canon Viktor, and the creative liberty that comes with it, since that's not something tread yet in the Arcane-verse. I'm somewhat familiar with LOL Vik, but I like the prospect of creating what I guess is my own interpretation of him. We'll see how it turns out!

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

His gaze darkens, molten gold and liquid jet, thick brows pinching with focus. It’s a look you’ve seen countless times before: when he immerses himself in his work, vigilant in his pursuit.

From 'The Necessary Energy', I felt like this paragraph tied together the underlying themes I wanted to convey; in that Viktor is driven by ambition and determination, but held back by his physicality in many facets of his life, including sexual/romantic endeavors. It ties together with a few other points, something about 'mixing pleasure and work', as well as mc's recollection of Viktor, 'Fated to spend endless nights diligently drowning in his work, only to be restricted by the physical limitations of his own body.' It calls back to multiple points, actually, and alludes to Viktor's decision to pursue something more with her, rather than giving up, as he was resolved to do at the end.

I also think that Viktor concentrating on you hard enough that you're akin to an experiment on the precipice of a breakthrough is very hot. 😏

10. How would you describe your writing process?

Disjointed and scatter-brained. I write what comes to me, shoehorn epiphanies where I can, and often end up throwing my brain against the wall in frustration, lmao. I like to step back and look at what I'm doing with distance, move things around, piece it together in a way that is cohesive and legible, and I am constantly editing as I go.

23. What’s the story idea you’ve had in your head for the longest?

I've been itching to write a multichapter, machine Viktor fic, and I'm sort of using the aforementioned fic as a testing ground.

Post Arcane canon, where mc is an esteemed artificer that helped develop the Hexgates, who subsequently fell in love with our favorite slav-scientist. Timeline-jumping between present day Machine Herald, and past Viktor to explain the foundations of their relationship. Essentially, I want to write a story where MC, Jayce, everyone believes Viktor to be dead, but in reality he is alive, and seeking the power needed to continue his pursuit of a better Zaun by way of augmentation. Mashing together LOL lore and Arcane with my own little twist. Angst up the fucking wazoo, and stupidly ambitious, because I can't keep things simple. I may never write it, but I do love thinking about it, lol!

[loth-wolffe]

(not me making this awful cover but i wanted this to have one lmao. i do not own the picture i used, so credits to whomever made this lovely pic)

So first of all, I just wanted to say thank you so much for the 100 followers LIKE?????? where did thAT come from I just- you guys are sO AMAZING !!! I am beyond grateful for all of your support and your kindness and I'm so happy interact with you pretty people.

I really don't have any rules, nor characters I don't wanna write of that I can think of as in right now. (please if state if u want it to be nsfw bc my first instinct is write sfw stuff)

ANd, as a thank you, I made this super duper fantastic song lyric prompt list that you can choose from (you can absolutely send in a lyric that isn't in the list if you want) and just send me a sw character and we'll see how that goes!

SO HERE IT IS:

Song lyric prompt list

• already requested, but you can ask for them again!

1. I don't need anything fancy, I just need me and you slow dancing. - Slow dancing by Aly and AJ.

2. I've been trying hard not to talk to you/act a fool. - Sunflower vol. 6 by Harry Styles

3. Say it's been long six months, and you were too afraid to tell her what you want. - How you get the girl by Taylor Swift

4. And if you have a minute, why don't we go? Talk about it, somewhere only we know. - Somewhere only we know by Keane

5. To the strand, a picnic planned, for you and me. - From Eden by Hozier

6. Why she had to go? I don't know, she wouldn't say. - Yesterday by The Beatles

7. I think I'm falling, I'm falling for you. - Fallingforyou by the 1975

8. Take on me, take me on, I'll be gone, in a day or two. - Take on me by a-ha

9. Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do. - Like real people do by Hozier

10. You wanna say no, no, it ain't gonna work, but then you fumble your words, oh you're running out of reasons. - Running out of reasons by The Wanted

11. You love me, but you don't know it yet. - Happy accidents by Saint Motel

12. I don't really care what they would say, I'm asking you to stay. - Level of concern by twenty one pilots

13. You know I talk too much, honey come put your lips on mine and shut me up. - Talk too much by COIN.

14. I know that you're scared because hearts get broken. - Golden by Harry Styles

15. I try and try to erase you, but you won't disappear - Everywhere by Niall Horan

16. I heard you ask about me through a friend, my adrenaline kicked in, because I've been asking 'bout you too - Nervous by Shawn Mendes

17. Every time I'm leavin' you, you don't make it easy. - Sunflower by Post Malone and Swae Lee.

18. I wish that I could believe, that there's a day you'll come back to me, but still have to say, I'd do it all again. - Just want you to know by Backstreet Boys

19. Well, tell me do you hate me or do you wanna date me? - Van Horn by Saint Motel

20. Can't help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain. - Hey Stephen by Taylor Swift

21. I know I would rather be together alone, in a big top circle and a world we can call our own. - All our own by Radio Company

22. Every time I find the words to end it, something in your eyes won't let it. - Shandi by KISS

23. Just dance in my living room, love with an attitude, drunk to an 80's groove - Only human by Jonas Brothers

24. I spend all my time, waiting all night for you. - No going back by Yuno

25. I need to know, if this is mutual, before I go. - Mutual by Shawn Mendes

26. I will sing to your every day, if it will take away your pain - Miss missing you by Fall out Boy

27. If I could fly, I'd be coming right back home to you. - If I could fly by One Direction

28. When you rise in the morning sun, I feel your touch in the pouring rain, and the moment that you wander far from me, I wanna feel you in my arms again. - How deep is your love by Bee Gees

29. If I wake, I'll move closer without waking you, sleeper, sleeper, what's been tiring you. - Rise by Helena Deland

30. All we do is think about the feelings that we hide, all we do is sit in silence waiting for a sign. - Drive by Halsey

31. I never sat by the shore, under the sun with my feet in the sand, but you brought me here. - Malibu by Miley Cyrus

32. With a sunset and a moonrise not so far behind, to give us enough light, to lay down underneath the stars. - Constellations by Jack Johnson

33. Dancing through our house with the ghost of you. - Ghost of you by 5sos

34. And we all sit around the fire, we feel a little warmer now. - Woods by Hollow Coves

35. Won't you kiss me once, baby? Just a kiss goodnight, maybe. - Put your head on my shoulder by Paul Anka

36. If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me?- Free Bird by Lynyrd Skynyrd

37. Baby just came back around, said she needs time to explore, said I can’t love her no more - Baby came home by The Neighborhood

38. When I kissed you I meant it. / I wanna be more than a friend. - Do it again by Pia Mia

39. I thought that I was dreaming when you said you loved me. - Ivy by Frank Ocean

40. If you're awake then I am too. If you're lost then I'll find you. If you're hurt then I'll fix you. - It's U by Cavetown

41. They don't know about the things we do, they don't know about the I love you's. - They don't know about us by One Direction

42. Can I kiss you or not? / Are you still mad at me? I'm hoping not. - Like to be you by Shawn Mendes and Julia Michaels

43. Kiss me once, then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again, it's been a long, long time. - It's been a long, long time by Harry James

44. Kiss me hard before you go. - Summertime sadness by Lana del Rey

45. You said you'd meet me out there tomorrow, but tomorrow never came. - Tomorrow never came by Lana del Rey ft. Sean Ono Lennon

46. How can I miss you so much when you're right here? - Miss you so much by Miley Cyrus

47. The way she tells me I'm hers and she's mine. - Cherry wine by Hozier

48. No need to say goodbye, you'll come back, when it's over. - The Call by Regina Spektor.

49. Common sense tells me kiss the girl goodbye / I think I love you - Common sense by Joshua Bassett

50. If I could tell her how she's everything to me, but we are a million worlds apart and I don't know how I would even start - If I could tell her by Ben Platt ft Laura Dreyfruss

51. I'm giving you a night call to tell you how I feel - Nightcall by Kavinsky

52. We went for a drive, at 2:30 in the morning. I kissed you, it was pouring. - Remember that night? by Sara Kays

53. Don't wanna hand you all my trouble, don't wanna give you all my demons, you'll have to watch me struggle from several rooms away, but tonight I'll need you to stay - The run and go by twenty one pilots

[6knotty6thotty6]

So a couple of months ago, I saw a YouTube video that was an audio recording of season 5, episode 6 of Bojack Horseman, “Free Churro.” In the episode, the main character, Bojack Horseman, spends 20 minutes giving a eulogy at his mother’s funeral. There’s one big problem though, his mother was an abusive bitch. His eulogy is him trying to contemplate what she meant by her drying words, “I see you,” and whether or not she loved him. As someone who has a dead parent who was abusive, this is probably my favorite episode of any show ever for how much it helped me understand my feelings. The comments section is filled with people sharing their pain with their abusive families, but one comment stood out to me above all the others by how raw and relatable it was. This comment was by a YouTuber named Moonstruck. At the bottom of this post is a link to her channel. Please support her. After reading this, she deserves a million subscribers. Also please watch Bojack Horseman. (I corrected some of the grammatical errors to make it easier to read)

Disclaimer: Child abuse, bullying, trauma, and mental health:

Moonstruck: 

This is a great monologue, but one part of it, in particular, really caught my attention was the 'grand gesture' bit.

When I was a kid, I read this book called "Chicken Soup for the Soul." There's a shitload of them. I don't remember which particular one it was. I hated the whole series because it's just someone profiting off a bunch of other people's stories rather than trying to write their own, in my opinion. 

Anyway.

This one story that I remember, the ONLY one I remembered,  was sent in by a little girl. She wrote about how her father never told her that he loved her. He never once, in her whole life, said the words "I love you." I don't remember her mom being mentioned, maybe she was dead; it doesn't matter. The point is her dad was basically an emotionless asshole. Well, one day, this girl gets sick. Really sick. Possibly on her deathbed sick. She wrote that one day she woke up to find a necklace sitting on her nightstand that had a pendant that looked like her dog. She said she held it to her heart and cried because that necklace said all the things her father never had.

I thought, "What a load of bullshit."

A cheap trinket doesn't make up for years and years of emotional neglect. Anyone can buy a thing and toss it your way. Hell, he didn't even hand it to her himself, just left it there for her to find if/when she woke up, then left her alone again to possibly die.

A lot of people say that actions speak louder than words, in cases like political protests and shit. While that's true, scenarios that this that girl are different. Gifts can never replace the words, "I love you."

When I was a kid, my father never told me he loved me. My mother didn't either, but she's a whole other kettle of fish. I would say 'my biological mother or father,' but I never got adopted ones, so who gives a shit. Anyway. My father was rarely around, and when he was, he just spent the entire time fighting with my mother and leaving again. He would do and say anything that could get him to spend less time in the house with her. With us. I can't blame him. If I could've left during those times, I would have. I tried more than once. I even earned the nickname 'runaway' from a family friend because of it. 

I was told that I was worthless as early as I could understand words. I don't know what it is about me that set my mother off, but she HATED me. I was always told how expensive I was to keep alive and how I wasn't worth it. If I dared ask for anything, she would remind me how much she spent just to keep me from starving to death and that it was too much already. On the rare occasion I was given something, it was so she could use it as a threat. She was like, "Sure, you can have that toy horse since we got your sister a real one, but you better behave or we'll give it to her and let her break it." Or "Oh, fine, we can keep this dog as a FAMILY pet (NOT YOURS), but if you do something we don't like, we'll take it away and kill it." 

Oh, yeah. I have a sister. She’s cut from the same cloth as our mother. I don't consider any of them family anymore. She was two years older than me. She was the "we should have stopped while we were ahead" kid. Anything she wanted, she got. 

"Mom, can I have an award-winning horse and expensive dressage lessons?"

"Sure!"

"Mom, can I have a car?"

"No problem!"

"Mom, can you pay for my ballet lessons?"

"Absolutely!"

She was the golden child. The one that could do no wrong and wasn't a mistake. Even after she totaled her car, got arrested for an underage DUI, and got pregnant three times in high school, she was still the good one. I never even asked to go to school dances, parties, or go out with the one friend I had. My sister liked to see me in pain. She'd tell our mom that I did things just to get me in trouble. Whether it involved blaming me for things she did or fabricating stuff, she'd say whatever it took to get my mother to beat me while she watched and laughed. Oh, yeah, our mom was BIG on physical punishment. I've been whipped with everything from a riding crop, a wooden paddle, spoons, and especially belts. Anything that was close at hand when my mother got irritated, I've been hit with it. 

At one point, my sister had three tall, beautiful show-worthy horses. I was allowed to keep a sickly old pony for all of a week before she was taken away, then I'd get called ungrateful for asking why we had to get rid of HER instead of one of the horses. Even though my mother said it cost too much to keep them all. With horses being obviously too rich for my blood, I asked for something cheaper, and for once, I got it. I was given a baby goat that one of our neighbors' goats had abandoned for being too weak, and they didn't have time to raise. I loved that goat. I bottle raised him, and named him Ben. He was my best friend for a while. When he grew up, he got so big that I was able to stand on his back to grab tree branches and pull them down so he could eat the leaves. I walked him on a leash like a dog every day. I loved him so much. My mother had me enter him in a show, and we won ninth place! I was thrilled to have something to show against my sister's collection of dressage show ribbons. I finally had proof that I could do something right! Sure, the prize money was taken away from me, but I still had Ben.

But Ben didn't come home with me after the show. It turns out he was sold to a slaughterhouse because that show was for meat goats. I didn't know until he was already gone. Of course, my mother punished me for being upset and even forced me to write a thank-you card to the people who bought his meat. 

My mother was always like that. Anything I loved was used as a threat. I eventually accepted that loving anything was a waste of time. I learned to detach myself from my feelings, and I got really good at it. I can completely turn off my emotional reaction to anything. One time I had to put down one of the egg-laying hens at work that got too sick to save, and I felt nothing while bringing down the ax. When I lost out on a job that could have changed my life, I told myself how stupid it was to hope for anything good. Any positive emotion I felt got me punished, so I learned to feel nothing at all. To this day, I still have trouble feeling things, even when I want to. I'm taking pills now, and they help, sometimes. 

I've had several suicide attempts. I keep a box of razor blades in my desk just to have them close. I got a tattoo of a heart with rainbows on my wrist. Partially for LGBT solidarity, but mostly to remind myself that there is still beauty in the world. I still struggle with wonder if I actually believe it or not. 

I've tried so hard to be a good kid. I never partied, never drank, never smoked even when the chances were there, and I would have greatly loved anything to make the pain stop or even just dull it a little bit. I was in the gifted and talented program at school and was able to graduate at fifteen. For a while, I was sent to a children's home where I was passed around to many people I didn't know, including a clown who I may or may not have actually been related to, until I eventually wound up out here where I am now. It's all pretty hazy, and the details get scrambled. 

It's been 10 years since I've had contact with my mother and sister. I can't even keep in touch with the one friend I had, even after I lived with her. She's tried to reach out to me, but I just… can't. I try, but I can't. Sometimes, I can almost pretend that my past wasn't real. It's just a hazy fog that isn't really there. I want to believe that if I don't allow something, or someone, who was part of that past, someone tangible and real, into my life again, then the fog will go away. This is why I can't do it. I know I'm a terrible friend. Ariel, if you're reading this, I'm sorry. You're better off without me in your life anyway. 

I typed all of this out because sometimes, about fifty dollars or so shows up in my PayPal from my father's email address. I don't know if it's from him or from her using his email, but it doesn't matter either way. The point is I know my mother is the one sending the money.

I know my mother likes to think she's a good person. She went to church every Sunday, and probably still does. She organized a lot of church events and participated in every church function. I had to be an altar server for several years until I aged out of it and was in the choir. She kept going to that church even after the priest got drunk, called me many horrible names in front of everyone, and was revealed to be a pedophile that raped a little boy at gunpoint. She probably still goes to that same church and organizes things. She likes being in charge. She likes having people look at her and say, "That there is a good person."

But are you, though, Mom? Are you really a good person? Were you a good person when you hit me? When you lied to me? When you laughed with my sister about how much I got hurt for things I didn't do? Were you a good person every time you told me you'd kill my cat or leave my dog at the pound? Were you a good person when you sold Ben to be eaten, knowing that I loved him? Were you a good person when you made me read "A child called It" and told me that you'd start doing the things in that book to me if I didn't behave? Were you a good person every time you told my father I was a liar whenever I tried to tell him what you were doing to me? Were you a good person when you told me I wasn't worth the cost of being alive? Were you? 

Fuck you, Mom! Keep your fucking money! A necklace on the nightstand isn't enough. A trinket can't heal years and years and years of abuse and hurt. You can't hide these scars under dollar bills. I hope you die alone. I know I probably will, but I don't even care anymore. I lost the ability to care thanks to you. You can't make up for the things you did and the things you didn't say now. Too little, too late!