#because it couldn’t exist if it wasn’t telling a different kind of story. if it wasn’t about a woman and a native Pawnee man

[skinks]

#the english #federico jusid #Emily blunt #chaske spencer #truly truly driven mad by how much this score calls back to traditional golden age Hollywood sweeping romance #like everything else in the series from the iconographic Western(tm) visuals #to the tall strong handsome leading man energy of Eli Whipp it’s like… it’s blaring CLASSIC WESTERN but slightly to the left #because it couldn’t exist if it wasn’t telling a different kind of story. if it wasn’t about a woman and a native Pawnee man #it’s About the violence of the Wild West but instead of glorifying it instead it never shows it gratuitously #unless it’s against rapist racist colonisers #and it takes Cornelia and Eli’s story and tells it in such a STRUCTURED layered way #but it does it by taking back all the nostalgic old timey grandeur of the genre and giving it to them instead. it’s their turn for Romance #anyway the way roxane and I were waiting derangedly until 00:01 this morning for the OST to drop on spotify #like rabid teenage stans…. stream federico jusid’s the english he put his whole federussy into it #Spotify

[blushweddinggowns]

It had started as a rough few weeks. A rough few weeks that turned into a rough few months. It was weird, because in all honesty when it came to social standings, Will was doing a lot better here than he ever did in Hawkins. There were no Zombie Boy stories following him here, and he even managed to get a few girls to have a crush on him. He…still wasn’t quite clear how that worked out and he really wasn’t a fan of it. But they were also the only people he could talk to at school. He was way too paranoid of getting close to any guys. God forbid he got another crush on a friend, having none of them just seemed like the better course of action. 

It didn’t help that Mike had basically stopped acknowledging that he existed after they moved. He didn’t write to him, he didn’t call him, and it felt like the only time he heard his voice was when he politely asked for El over the phone. And it hurt. It hurt a lot. Especially when he still put in so much effort to get ahold of El all the time. He’d resent her for it if he could, but the only one who was having a worse time than him with the move was her. Maybe Mike was a shitty friend to him, but at least she had someone to talk to. 

But whatever. Lucas and Dustin cared, and so did Eddie and Steve. And when Jonathan wasn’t busy being high as hell, he had him too. Even Max called him more often than Mike did. Even when she was just trying to get ahold of El she’d take the time to ask him how he was, a courtesy that his best friend from freaking kindergarten couldn’t even offer anymore. 

So maybe Will didn’t have many friends in California yet, but he didn’t feel very lonely. 

Just a little heartbroken. 

But he could get past it. Especially when some of his favorite people were only one phone call away. Sometimes it made him feel a little guilty, that Steve and Eddie were his go to for talking about his problems. Especially since Jonathan was always trying to get him to open up. Even when he was zoinked out of his gourd he never failed to ask Will how his day was. Though…he did have a hard time following the plot when Will told him. 

But that didn’t change the fact that Jonathan always wanted to help. But what could Will say? I’m depressed because I’m in love with my best friend who doesn’t care about me? And oh yeah, I’m gay? Yeah, no. That wasn’t going to happen. If Jonathan of all people hated him for that…he’s not sure he could recover. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t think about it.

It was kind of pathetic, but he’d fantasize about it sometimes. Coming out to his family, everyone smiling and saying they’d love him anyway, no matter what. And if he was being honest with himself, it was technically possible, right? His brother had never said a bad word about Steve and Eddie. His mom never failed to shut the homophobic crap down when his crappy sperm donor had still been around. But it was different when it was your own kid, right? Will wasn’t quite sure. But he did know that he couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

So he called who he always did when he had a problem. It only took a few rings before someone was picking up, Steve’s familiar voice on the other end, “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me,” Will sighed, flopping face first into his bed, the phone pressed to his ear. 

He could hear the smile in Steve’s voice, “Hey kiddo, what’s up?”

God, he was such a dad. Will wouldn’t be shocked if he started wearing socks with sandals by the time he hit twenty-three. He went straight to the point, “Do you think that living happily ever after is like a real thing? For people like us?”

Steve laughed, “It better fucking be after all the shit we’ve seen.”

“I don’t mean the Upside Down stuff,” Will sighed, “I mean like…y’know. The gay.”

Steve snorted, “The gay? I’m going to have to tell Eddie that one.”

Will rolled his eyes at the redundant statement. He had learned a long time ago that telling Steve something meant telling Eddie something, and vice versa. He sighed a tiny smile on his face, “Oh what, like he’s not already next to you listening in?”

“...touché.” 

Will laughed, turning over to stare at the ceiling, “I’m serious though. Like…is it even possible? It’s not like everyone gets to magically find their soulmate at eight.”

“Is that such a bad thing though?” Steve asked, “Because no offense dude but honestly? I think you could do a lot better than Mike-”

“Be nice,” Will interrupted, torn between being defensive for Mike’s sake and amused at Steve never failing to find a way to come at him.

“I will when he starts being nice to me.”

“Well that’s just not going to happen,” Will laughed, “I’m starting to think Eddie’s right to call you a brat.”

Steve gasped, loud and scandalized. He’d been hanging out with Robin too much, “Me?! Never!”

Will could barely hear it over the receiver, but he could hear Eddie’s faint voice coming through, Yes he is!

And it was making him laugh even harder. Will missed this, so much. He missed having a place where he could just say whatever he wanted, with no worries. Even now he was looking over his shoulder, anxious at the chance that his mom or a sibling could come bursting in at any moment to catch him in the act of being comfortable. It was a confusing and weird feeling, and probably a little unfair to assume they’d prefer him to be sad and quiet over happy and queer. But he still did.

But for now he was safe. And he might as well take the chance to speak on all the things he couldn’t with anyone else, “But what if I don’t want to do better than Mike? Like…it’s stupid but do you think that um, I would ever have a chance?”

The answer was a strong no, but sometimes Will just needed a reality check from someone else’s mouth. 

Steve sighed, “I think the odds are pretty low bud. All jokes aside, even if he was playing for our team, I’m not sure if he’s the type who could even accept it. Y’know?”

Will did know, unfortunately. And if he’d never met Eddie and Steve there was a solid chance he’d be that guy. The truth stung a bit, but it was necessary, “I know, I know. But…do you think he would accept me? If he ever found out?”

“He fucking better. Otherwise I’ll-”

Will heard a shuffle on the other end, paired with something that sounded suspiciously like whining before he heard Eddie’s voice, “Will? You there? Sorry about that. I had to take the phone away before he started talking about beating up a child.”

Will grinned, happy to hear Eddie’s voice, “You made the right call. Do you think they’ll ever get along?��

“Not in this lifetime,” Eddie sighed, “And I know Mike’s not perfect, but if he’s okay with us why wouldn’t he be with you?”

“But it’s different when it’s a friend, isn’t it?” Will asked, “I’m not even sure if my mom would accept it, let alone him.”

“Well first of all, you don’t have to tell anyone shit, okay? But I can promise you that Joyce would be fine with it. And so would Jonathan for that matter. And I don’t even know if El is aware of what homophobia even is.”

It all sounded a lot more believable out of Eddie’s mouth than what was going on in his own head. But still… “What if they don’t though? What if I tell them and they kick me out or something? Or make me go to therapy?”

“Okay, on the off, off chance that you tell them and Joyce suddenly became a monster overnight, we’ll go to plan B. Steve and I will drive up there to kidnap you and you can live in Indy with us.”

Will grinned. He could live with that, “Can’t we just make that Plan A?”

“No, because your family loves you, as they should by the way. And this won’t bother them, I swear. Plus, telling them on your own terms is a lot less awkward than getting caught in the act.”

Will didn’t even want to know what Eddie was alluding to with that one. Poor Wayne, “But what if we’re wrong?”

He wanted to believe him, he really did, but stranger things had happened outside of gay people being disowned. 

“Will, listen to me,” Eddie said, his voice confident enough to make Will perk up, “I swear on Steve’s life, okay? There is no way in hell anyone in that house is gonna reject you for this.”

Will blinked, a little shocked at just how much faith he had in his family. More than he did, “Really?”

“Really. Trust me on this man, you’re going to be fine.”

They hung up pretty soon after that, mostly because El started knocking on his door for the phone. The conversation made him feel a bit better, but also…nervous. Could he really tell them? Would it all just work out? Just like that? Will wasn’t so sure. 

He decided against doing it right away despite Eddie’s own confidence. But he did start to drop a few feelers. He started with Jonathan, waiting until he was high enough for him to forget the conversation if it didn’t go well. And that wasn’t a long wait. 

He found him and his new friend sprawled out in his room, Fast Times playing in the background as they both stared into space. Though Will wasn’t quite sure he could count what Argyle was doing as staring. He’s eyes were barely open, and Will was 90 percent sure he was passed out. But that was good for him, now was as good a time as any. 

Jonathan smiled at him as he wandered in, his words kind but slurring, “Hey! What’s up? You never come in here. You wanna watch something or…?”

Will shook his head, his heart aching a little at the way it made his brother frown. Maybe he really had been neglecting him, too caught up in his own head to spend time with the closest thing he had to a Dad. 

It made him feel a little bad, but that wasn’t what he was here for, “No thanks. I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure!” Jonathan said, way too excited at the prospect of a simple question, but maybe that was the weed, “What’s up?”

Will shrugged, casually leaning against the door. Or at least he hoped it looked casual, because his heart was beating a mile per minute, “Steve said that his and Eddie’s anniversary is coming up soon. Do you think I should send them something?”

Jonathan tilted his head up to look at him, his eyes bloodshot with a tiny smile on his face, “That’s like…so nice dude. You’re always so nice. How are you so nice?”

“You don’t think it’s weird?” Will pressed, hope fluttering in his chest, “To be, y’know, celebrating them like that?”

Jonathan shook his head, “Nah man. It’s like…romance. Y’know? It’s sweet.”

“Yeah dude, gay guys are cool,” Argyle agreed out of nowhere, his eyes still closed,  “Good for Stu and Eggie. Gay people got like, the best hair.”

Will didn’t really know what to do with that one. But Jonathan was impressed. He jerked his head back to stare at Argyle, his voice in awe, “How’d you know he had good hair? I never told you he had good hair.”

“I bet they both have good hair,” Argyle sighed, “They alway do.”

“Are you like, psychic?” Jonathan asked, like that made any sense at all.

“Shit, you think I could be?”

Will watched as the two of them started to debate the idea, his brow raised. God, weed sure was a hell of a drug. He left them to it after that, deciding to slowly back out of the room. But he was going to chalk it up as a positive. 

preview for the next chapter (kind of) of this fic

#steddie #stranger things #will byers #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #the universe trapped in your skin #she's coming along #so fucking slowly #but she's coming #just a little preivew to prove she still exists

[meibywabie]

Xie Lian isn’t a hero.

I started with TGCF first when I was introduced to danmei, and I was floored by what I read. It wasn’t just boys kissing in ancient china, it was actually about human tragedy and the selfishness of the omnipotent.

The theme of TGCF doesn’t revolve around XL alone. It’s much bigger than that. This isn’t a ‘TGCF is better’ post, but rather, TGCF is different. And it’s different because Xie Lian isn’t a typical human hero.

XL is not a heroic character like WWX, and he isn’t a sarcastic/comedic relief hero like SQQ. And it isn’t because of their personalities. XL is just as selfless as WWX and just as unreasonably punished as both other MC’s. However, when bad things happen to WWX, you know it’s because of his personality. Because of his kindness, his confidence, his wit. It’s simply BECAUSE it’s WWX as the protagonist.

Same with SVSSS. That story couldn’t have happened without Shen Yuan in SQQ’s body. Like we never would have gotten that level of sarcasm, pity, and empathy. And the novel tells you that repeatedly. Everything that happens in the previous two novels does so because of who the main character is.

But when things happen in TGCF, XL isn’t even the center of the conflict. It’s almost always someone else’s fault, someone else’s business, or someone else’s issue he just happens to be present for. But somehow, it always comes back to him. It’s always his job to resolve things.

Unlike WWX, the conflict isn’t his fault. WWX actively pushes the narrative with his actions. He drives the conflict and later becomes it. Whether he’s at fault or not is the point of his story, but for XL, he’s really just incredibly unlucky. He’s tragic in the sense that he’s just being fucked over by everyone in his life. For what? For being…wonderful!?

I absolutely love that his one little phrase pissed off the evil emperor of heaven. Like his mere existence is a problem.

It’s an incredible piece of writing that the things that get him into trouble are his altruism. Altruism that is fitting for someone who thinks himself a GOD. But also, altruism that many of us mortals share.

Why CANT he save his people if he’s a god? Why CANT he answer everyone’s prayers? Why is he not good enough or strong enough to resolve this conflict if he’s literally a GOD.

XL is constantly facing issues and asking questions that humanity itself has asked.

Why isn’t god answering me, why isn’t god helping me, why do we have a god at all? TGCF has a commentary that doesn’t limit itself to just XL and the type of person he is in the way that MDZS relies on WWX and SVSSS relies on SQQ.

Those novels are how most novels typically function. You choose a specific type of human and see the world through their eyes.

But XL isn’t human. Not in the way he acts nor in the way he tells this story. He tells you everything he witnesses and it barely affects him anymore. He just has some wise thoughts about what everything means.

But TGCF isn’t asking: what would happen if a kind prince ascended to godhood?

Instead—

TGCF begs the question:

What if you told the story of humanity, not through the eyes of a human, but through the eyes of god.

Xie Lian is god.

XL is 800yrs old, has lived through countless tragedies, celebrations, friendships, betrayals, and he ascends. Again.

He’s been stuck with the burden of immortality and now he’s re entering the place that gave him that burden. He walks into heaven to see new gods, but the same old problems. And the whole vibe he has in this is less benevolent and wonderful and more like a fed up mom who’s tired of seeing the girls fighting.

He sits back and watches these issues devolve and shuffles his way into the conflict by accident. Because he’s the only one competent enough to do anything about it.

XL doesnt react like a human being, at the start of the current timeline, he’s a god.

He’s an 800yr old god. He’s seen everything, learned everything.

We see this prince who thinks himself a god then become one. And instead of learning what it means to be a god so he can help the common man— he learns what it means to be a common man so he can become a real god.

XL goes through HELL. He loses countless times, is left, betrayed, ruined, trampled, destroyed. He is constantly being thwarted by not just people but the very gods he worshipped and the god he himself became. But again— XL isn’t even that big of a personality for us to cling to that alone and see how these things happened to him??

He isn’t boasting about how great he is out of pride and ego, he isn’t rampaging or going mad with power, he isn’t a huge character. But his lack of those qualities is what triggers Jun Wu to ruin him. He wants to see him go crazy, wants to see him struggle. Wants to see his ego and pride. And he’s not the only one!!!

Mu Qing is also incredibly jealous, so are the other gods!!! And Qi Rong, his own family!!! His parents even get upset with him for not doing enough. Everyone saw this kid blessed with so much and started wishing for him to break. And they succeed. He goes insane, he starts killing, he starts wanting to die, he starts losing faith.

But MAN it is just so gorgeous to me that this character is almost…forced to be a main character? Forced to suffer, forced to make mistakes, forced to be a problem. He is so powerful and smart and incredible and then he is made to believe he is nothing. Here is this god who has been forced to feel HUMAN.

And once he finally feels that way, once he finally falls to the ground and loses everything, someone comes by and offers his hat.

And that’s all it takes for a man to truly become a god.

TGCF asks what if you told a story through the eyes of god? It shows you this guy sighing through drama and fixing peoples problems.

And then it goes back and tells you: What makes a man, god?

And we read all of XL’s history. His victories and failures. And it perfectly describes how he’s ascended again. Not out of heroics this time. But out of his pure humanity.

God is a kind, gentle, but confident man who wanders around helping who he can and opening his doors to those who wish to come in. He resolves the conflicts he’s there for, and takes note of those he wasn’t there for. He trudges along holding no grudges and sighing when people make mistakes. He loves selflessly and holds no judgment. He feels strange letting people take care of him but he will take care of you. When he can, and when he has the chance, he will take care of you.

XL is almost born with every book definition of what a god is: kind, selfless, strong, and true. But his story forces him to learn how to be human instead. To fail, die, love, kill and suffer. And when that god was beaten and broken, he was saved by one thing. A human.

That’s how you become a god. And that’s what it means to be one. To be human. To be a good person.

XL couldn’t have been a WWX. He couldn’t have been a staple protagonist with a heart of gold, wit and passion. He couldn’t have had a story with everyone’s conflict directly tied to him and because of him. That isn’t what TGCF is for.

It isn’t about XL himself. It’s about god. It explores the selfishness that comes with immortality, and the selflessness that comes with mortality.

There are other aspects that make it a nice protag story. He falls in love, he’s kinda air headed and sassy. He did have the character and maturity to choose to become a wonderful godlike person but that’s a post for another day. But honestly, if this were a regular novel, it probably would’ve been about Hua Cheng. He lives for love and passion and devotion. He kills and saves and sacrifices, he denies godhood and wins the girl in the end. Now THATS a hero.

But XL isn’t a hero. He’s a god.

MXTX wrote a story that wasn’t about a sheepish prince who lost it all, but instead wrote a story about gods and humans. She wrote what reads like a Greek epic to me. With such hard comments on morality and cruelty. She really hit me with everything I love about literature. And yes I do love MDZS and SVSS but TGCF is different.

Like guoshi said: the gods are human, after all. But XL above them all, is most definitely a god.

#im honestly pretty sure if Jun Wu hadn’t ruined XL’s life he woudlve become like LQQ and been a little stupid LMAO #Jun Wu could never #TGCF #heaven official's blessing #heaven officials blessing #hob #hualian #xie lian

[jokeringcutio]

Prologue: ~His Brother ~ (Explicit Grabber x Reader & Arthur Harrow x Reader Multi-chapter fic)

His Brother

Will also be uploaded on AO3: JokeringCutio

Story Summary:

When his brother Albert joins the cult, Arthur asks you to be the girl to comfort him. You’re a tool to keep Albert in check. Or could there be more to it?

~ * ~

“Tell me, is it because I was a sinner once? Did you sent me someone to love, someone who needs to be rescued from themselves, So I can learn from this process, how to heal myself? Someone I need to find an anchor for? I don’t see the solution. But I know it must be here.”

~ * ~

Prologue

Whispers about a new face in the community spread fast, like wildfire among those who lived within the compound. You heard them before you saw him. A man who was physically so similar to your leader that it made your heart flutter in confusion.

“His brother,” the whispers said. “Arthur’s blood.”

Arthur was never truly near you, and you only caught sight of him during ceremonies or meals. You thanked whatever God might exist for that. If you ever had a religion, it was now a shattered faith. The pieces of it were like shards in your hands, the pain reminding you of how you got here and how you couldn’t leave.

Ammit was your goddess now.

You’d been a fool, but you would make the best of your stay.

Time ebbed by slowly in the community. You worked a job that had never crossed your mind or been your dream. And your free time was spent taking care of the elderly in the community or babysitting the youngest. Like a nanny and a nurse. It wasn’t as if you could refuse. Everyone who followed the Goddess had to pull their weight and show their worth somehow. You had chosen the easy way out, willingly taking on the role of a caretaker when the alternatives were far worse. You much preferred helping out others over more physically challenging labor. Or indeed, over chores that would possibly be mentally scarring.

That is why, the first time you saw him, you were on your way to help out an elderly couple who lived two blocks away. You paused in your tracks to study him, still far away on the other side of the road. His multi-colored vest and brown flared pants made him look completely different from the leader of your group. But still, you saw the similarities. How could anyone miss them?

It was when his eyes suddenly turned to you that you quickly looked down at your feet, clutched the bag filled with groceries that you were holding tighter to your chest, and hurried to the address you were wanted at.

You caught glimpses of him at times, when he was at work with the other men. Either lumbering wood, or when he sat at the same table with your leader for a meal.

During one of those shared dinners in the compound, Lin nudged you.

“He’s been looking at you,” Lin said. She lived in the same apartment building as you did and was one of the few people you considered a friend. It wasn’t hard, the two of you had your rooms on the same floor and shared a kitchen and shower. You felt like you were living in some kind of student house, not at all where you wanted to be at this stage in your life. But it was the card you’d been dealt.

You slowly turned to look in the same direction she was looking at, only to find that the man she talked about had turned away from you. No eyes upon you there. She must have imagined it. he leader’s brother was listening to the leader himself. Arthur seemed to have no eyes for you either, and with a sigh, you turned back to your plate. You wished the shared meals weren’t a necessity. That you would earn enough to stand on your own two feet and eat self-made dinners at home.

But it wasn’t how things worked within the compound. Everyone was expected to come here and showthey still shared the same faith. You already skipped so many of the sermons, missing out would turn you into a sinner.

The days stretched since Arthur’s brother’s arrival.

You still didn’t know his name and only ever saw glimpses of him. He looked the same, you thought, cheeks flushed as you tried to avoid him. It became harder, as you found him stumbling upon your route more and more often when you went to your charity jobs. He just happened to be there, watching, when you left your apartment to go to the elderly. He would be in the same building, fixing leaks and whitening the ceiling when you had your shift looking after the kids while their parents were working.

You felt his cold blue eyes upon you, burning.

But whenever you turned to look at him, his gaze was gone.

You seriously started to wonder if it was all inside your head. If your brain had made up new fantasies about this stranger because he looked so much like his brother, the man you wanted to love.

As said before, time passed ever so slowly within the compound. Your routine seemed never-ending. A dull circle of tasks. But those you helped were grateful.

Until one day you made your way to the dining table in the common hall where most of the followers living in the compound would come to have a meal. You were still filling your plate when behind you, you heard the familiar voice of your leader.

Arthur.

His warm voice hummed pleasantly, sending tingles of longing down the pit of your stomach to come to rest between your legs. You squeezed your thighs while you tried to ignore the honey-sweet low rumble as he talked.

His words were too far away to decipher. You prayed he would not step closer, that he would go away and leave you be. And you took your time scooping up soup and adding from the menu, all ever so slowly in the hopes of avoiding coming face to face with the man who made your body react so fervently against your mind.

Still, curious, you peeked over your shoulder. Arthur was talking to Lin. You could see his lips move. Sensually, you thought, and with a blush on your cheeks quickly looked away. Thoughts warred in your mind. On one hand, you were scared of him, because you knew what his mere presence did to your body. On the other, you were upset that he was giving your friend attention. Why did he never speak to you that way? He always seemed to ignore your presence.

He hadn’t been so distant at the start. When you first came here as a tourist, a traveler from afar, he had even placed his hand upon your shoulder and convinced you to do the judging ceremony. Of course, he had convinced you. From the moment you met, you’d been madly in love. You saw things clouded, heard the praise the people here sang of him, and thought that giving into his request could do little harm.

Naïve, you thought. You’d been so naïve. It had all been a trick to capture you, make you part of the knitted construction that was this depraved little society he had formed around him.

You quietly made your way toward one of the long tables and sat down. You’d gotten in too deep. And you wondered if you’d ever get out again.

“We are expected to attend tomorrow’s ceremony,” Lin said while she set her plate down on the table next to you. “Both of us.”

Then she sat down beside you and made herself comfortable, sitting a little too close, her arm brushing past yours. She gave you a sidelong glance and smiled. “You’re coming, right?”

“Of course I am,” you grunted, not at all that happy that you’d be forced to attend another ceremony. But staying away would be an insult now that you had personally been invited. You glanced behind you to see that Arthur had indeed retreated. He was no longer standing in the hall or anywhere near you. Instead, he sat at the far end of the room at a table with some of his close followers. His brother was there as well, all of them emerged in conversation.

You sighed and let the spoon dip into your soup. Another one of Victor’s recipes. You knew that he cooked for the group most of the time. Though there were days you were served meals prepared by Arthur. Apparently, he enjoyed cooking. You’d never caught him standing in the kitchen or talking to Victor though.

Victor was the other person you considered as close to a friend as you could make within the community. Although he was a firm believer in Ammit, he knew how to make you smile and tell funny jokes. He alleviated some of the pain and sorrow you felt when you remembered you were trapped in this cult. He made you forget.

You looked up and smiled when he passed your table, clearly on his way to the men’s table that harbored Arthur at the far end of the room. “Taste’s good, Vic,” you called out, loud enough to catch his attention.

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face you with a bright smile. “You think? Thank you,” and then he took a step closer to your table. You felt Lin press herself closer to your side. For some reason, she didn’t like Victor that much. But then again, she hardly ever saw or spoke to him. How well did she actually know him, you thought.

“You should accept my offer to come and help me out in the kitchen one day. I’ve got a thing or two in mind that I could teach you,” Victor said, adding a wink at the end.

He characteristically carried a kitchen towel in his hands, which he now flung over his shoulder playfully. The towel draped like a cape. A real chef, you thought. He did not just have the skills, but also the looks of one.

“Thank you,” you said, but then you shook your head with a smile. Victor’s smile drooped a little, already knowing the answer you were going to give. Truth be said, you liked the idea of helping Victor out in the kitchen. But it would increase your risk of meeting Arthur. What if he just happened to come to cook that day? Your heart could not take it. It would shatter, pretty much like the life and the dreams you once had.

“I know,” Victor said with a sigh. He placed his hands on his hips and shortly glanced away. “You’re too busy.”

You silently watched as he looked down at you again and his smile returned. “You should really learn to say no, missy. You’re always so busy helping others out. You need to think of yourself for once, do things that you would enjoy. We’re only young once, you know?”

When you didn’t reply, he shook his head smilingly and excused himself. “I’m expected at the grand table,” he jested, “so if you’ll excuse me, ladies,” and with a deep mocking bow, he left.

Next to you, you felt how Lin sat up a little straighter again and heard how she snorted. “I’m glad you didn’t agree to help him in the kitchen,” she said, rolling a pea across her plate with the use of her fork, not quite eating but rather playing with her food. “But I do agree that we should go out more. If only there’d be parties here.” She paused, then looked up at you in thought.

“Do you think we’ll be allowed into the city for a night out?” she suddenly asked, voice a combination of cheerful and hopeful.

Now it was your turn to snort. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up,” you said, letting out a bitter chuckle. “Besides, I am quite content filling my nights reading books or watching silly shows. Sort of replaces the dreams that have left me, you know.”

Lin froze, her elbow poking into your ribs without intention. “God, you are so morbid sometimes,” she said.

“That’s why you like me,” you retorted with a small smile before taking another sip from your soup.

“Yeah,” Lin sounded thoughtful while she turned back to her own meal. “Yeah, it is.”

For a moment, a comfortable silence settled between the two of you while you ate, each lost in your own thoughts. You’d noticed how Lin kept using the word 'God' while she was supposed to be a faithful follower of Ammit. Pretty much like you, you thought. She was just as cynical, just as skeptical. Just as much lured in as you had been.

If you ever needed an ally to get out, she would be it.

“He’s watching you again.” Lin’s voice made you look up in confusion, thinking she spoke of Victor but hoping it was actually Arthur who looked your way.

When you followed her gaze to their table, you saw that it was neither of them. It was the man next to Arthur who was looking your way. His mirror-self. His brother.

His eyes were upon you all right. Blue-grey orbs roved over you, then slid to the man at his side. His attention had wavered and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Didn’t that make you feel uncomfortable?” Lin asked while she wiped her lips clean with a handkerchief. She turned her back towards the table of men so she could focus solely on you.

Worry sounded in her voice. You loved that she was this protective of you, but even you knew that there was only so much protection she could offer.

Besides, this was but a stranger looking your way. A short glance. What harm could it do?

“No,” you lied. You turned back to your plate to poke the last of your food, appetite long gone. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

But Arthur’s eyes were upon you, dark and stormy.

You didn’t notice.

~~

Notes:

Happy New Year, fellow Black Phone, Moon Knight and Ethan Hawke lovers. Here's a promised multi-chapter fic in which you will be married off to Albert, Arthur's brother. Prepare for some forced marriage/relationship Albert Shaw (Grabber) x Reader that will turn into a more romantic situation and that will go from dub-con to con. But also prepare for Arthur Harrow x Reader. And quite possibly both brothers at the same time if I get in the mood to write it :3 There will be Mentions of Past Abuse for the brothers Arthur/Albert/Max, probably. Reader will be on Birth Control for a large part of the fic, though I might have one of the boys take her off of it eventually.

AN: For more, follow me (:

~~ Support me on Ko-Fi - Masterlist - Request Box ~~

#Arthur Harrow x Reader #Albert Shaw x Reader #The Grabber x You #Albert the grabber x you #the black phone #Moon Knight 2021 #Arthur Harrow x you #Arthur Harrow #ethan hawke x reader #Ethan Hawke #Fanfiction #The Grabber #Albert Shaw

[riise-my-anngel]

Rabbit Hole of Sin

Pairing: Simeon x Female Reader

Length: 3.2k

Warnings: Vauge descriptions of off screen violence, implied polyamorous relationship between you and the demon brothers, internal feelings of spiritual doubt

Notes: Remember when you can kiss Simeon in lesson 52-17? What if I wrote Simeon having an existential crisis over it because I love mid corruption conflict in him?

There was little Simeon could do to stop himself. As if the closer the train came to it’s destination, the more desperate his resolve felt. Most of the company, two eccentric demons and a precious young Luke who was as bad at pretending he didn’t enjoy their company, as Mammon was to Luke’s company. A bubble of fun between angel and demons that once upon a time felt an impossible.

Simeon wasn’t lying that day in the brothers study. That he, and so many, never thought their kind could co exist like this again. For thousands of years their kind were in the midst of a never ending battle with the Devildom. Blood scattered across each of their worlds, and humans trapped between wars that shouldn’t have anything to do with them. But they suffered regardless, and maybe if they didn’t, Simeon wouldn’t have found his way to this moment.

Guilt weighed on his shoulders for longer then most could imagine, and the ones who knew about it did nothing to stop the inevitable. Of all his brothers, there was only one who would have seen, understood, even cared about that guilt beyond scolding him for such a transgressive thought. One who took such detours in mentality of loyalty serious enough to lead him to war, and once he was gone there was none left who would dare tell Simeon it was okay to feel any of this.

Guilt of just letting humans suffer the collateral of war they had no comprehension of, turned into guilt at not doing more to mend the bridge between them and angels, leading to the guilt of watching his own kind die in a civil war and doing nothing to stand up for what he already felt was right. Instead Simeon watched, saw the death of the one angel who was punished for doing exactly what Simeon wanted to do now.

Spending thousands of years on the side, forced to watch and never act. Told his guilt and emotions were betraying his loyalty and needed to be tossed aside. Angels weren’t humanity’s guardians of peace and faith. No, they were all created to be fathers soldiers. And soldiers, didn’t question authority.

Yet, here Simeon was. Realizing what kind of guilt Lilith felt about doing exactly what they were always warned against, and even moreso realizing how little she could have done to stop herself. Because Simeon couldn’t stop himself either.

The little gap between train cars was decorated with a fine metal railing, space for perhaps four people at most and not typically used for more then workers to pass between. Mammon and Satan had dragged Luke up to the roof using one of these cars maybe an hour ago and Simeon hadn’t found the strength to follow.

Instead, he had been leaning against the railing, green eyes sharp and bright as they looked out into the night passing almost too quickly by to appreciate. Forearms resting on the tops as he sunk deeper into those feelings, when you had come across him.

He wasn’t terribly surprised you weren’t sharing in the good spirits such an experience gave Satan. In a way, yes he was shown something of his own mind but he wasn’t fooled enough to think it was about either you or him. It was a vision of truth for the demon who’d never known such a life as they did. A story spinning a tale that he always was destined to fit amongst his brothers even when they were of different kind.

It wasn’t really for Simeon, and it wasn’t for you either. But he didn’t need a vision of magic tricking him into seeing what it was he wanted, what tormented him and what could fix that. It was the stunning beauty that shined from everything inside your beauty and around it. The kindness without a hint of suspicion or pity that he dreamed of every night no matter how hateful of himself waking up from it felt.

He remembered the first time he ever saw you, new in the halls of R.A.D but dripping with a lonely fear that you had no one to turn to with. It was over in that very moment for the remaining resolve he had passably maintained since the Great Celestial War. It was all over, because he knew what he felt looking at you, was exactly the look they all saw in Lilith’s eyes. Luke was beside him at the time, barley catching a breathless, “Oh,” from the older angel before catching his gaze.

Only Luke mistakened it. “Didn’t one of those demons get assigned to watch her, they aren’t doing a very good job are they?”

Simeon almost didn’t respond. Eyes not moved nor blinked from you, “I suppose not.” Luke just got worked up even more, but everyone had places to be and they’d meet her later on anyways. Simeon would make sure of it.

But the way you looked at him now, how gentle you pressed him knowing something wasn’t right and how much you just wanted him to be okay. What could he even tell you? That it wasn’t just seeing the brothers together and happy that hurt, it was seeing them so close to a time right before he lost them.

Before the weight of pain and guilt hurled him into a feeling that’s never truly left. How even in a vision, your hearts all belonged to each other and how normal it was for it to be that way. Did it hurt to know that you were destined for them, even in their angelic forms? Or did it hurt that this vision showed him the truth of his own feelings.

That he didn’t just lose his brothers, he was losing himself to the very thing his brothers loved in the exact way that lost them their dear sister. Was the pain of what life was before, or was the pain that they’ve found happiness where he only has fallen further. Even moreso now.

It wasn’t just the Ring of Light that forced Michael’s hand. Ripping away parts of Simeon’s very being, a pressure on his heart as he blocked more and more of Simeon’s power away from his control. Michael was smart, he knew that Simeon wouldn’t have given that ring to anyone. No. Stealing such an artifact, something that Michael had held onto with his own pain and guilt, and giving it to a human just as they sacrificed themselves.

Such an action, looked far too much like Lilith in his eyes. Simeon did it out of love.

Love for his once brothers was one thing. Not willing to watch your pacts be destroyed, something that despite their words of affirmation, meant the world to each of the demons. Losing such a bond wasn’t fair and they did nothing to deserve having that taken away. Saving Lucifer’s life wasn’t even the hard choice either. He wouldn’t let anyone bring him to harm like that. They were brothers once, if not now in truth, then somewhere deep in their hearts.

But you? Simeon knew what you would do. Your love was the most powerful thing about you, so much so that your angelic rooted magic almost didn’t matter. You would protect them, and you would never choose yourself if the cost was killing another. Especially Lucifer. No, Simeon knew what the night dagger required and he knew what you would do.

If the world was at stake, you would do whatever you needed, but if the answer was them or your life?

You chose your life, ending the source of the destruction rather then destroy what led to the ring’s creation. And Simeon refused it. He refused that ending for you, it was worse then what Lilith did maybe. She fell in love, so did Simeon. But Lilith wasn’t the one who took such a martyrdom from your fate and altered your course forever. No, only he did that.

And that was the love that got him in trouble. That was the love that forced Michael to keep Simeon’s abilities away from his reach. Simeon let his love interfere with the human fate to such a degree that he thinks perhaps the only reason Michael didn’t drag him into his fathers presence to be obliterated from existence was mere shock. That one of their own after everything was capable of letting such romantic emotions sway their actions in a way their father had refused to do in centuries.

The Celestial Realm had long been trying to let go of interfering so severely into human affairs, so for Simeon to give you The Ring of Light? Fathers last reminder of what happened to his favourite son? Stolen from the safekeeping of Michael and given to a human who was willing to die to protect that very favourite child?

Well, honestly it all made Simeon’s head spin. You tried to kill yourself to protect Lucifer and everyday he saw you, he could see it in your eyes. The worry that maybe you should have. And he hated it. He hated that doubt, because Simeon gave you that chance of life uncaring as to if it would cost him his.

But then you hugged him. And he knew why he wasn’t dropped to his knees in front of father and stripped of his wings in such an event it would leave the floors bloody before being cast into nothing.

Because this was supposed to be the punishment. Force him to the human world, see you, and feel the shame of what he was giving up for.

But it didn’t work. Did it father?

You were so warm in his arms, much like the brothers he stood tall and large against your smaller human self. Your head tucked so perfectly against him that his chin could rest at the top of your head as he held you as tight as you did him. He was supposed to be feeling guilty that he was letting a human take away what made him an angel.

You however, only gave him the hope that maybe one day, the guilt he had been carrying for thousands of years already could be eased away in your gentle touch. He understood why Lilith refused to stop seeing the human, he understood why despite the consequences for herself, she allowed father to imprison her rather then give them up.

Only there was no Lucifer to bravely free Simeon from his cell, no Lucifer in the Celestial Realm to fight for whats right instead of what his duty was for the first time in their lives. There was no one up there to fight for Simeon, so why should he care about returning.

There was comfort in the way you hugged him that he would be refused the second he returned to his once home. Why should Simeon want to go back, atone for his sins and drop to his knees and plead to father to return his powers to his control. You didn’t care if he had those powers, you cared about him on the inside.

So he did exactly what he wasn’t supposed to do. Spoke aloud the one thing that in his fathers eyes couldn’t be swept under the rug. “I’d like to kiss you right now..”

It wasn’t really a question, but you didn’t really answer either. He could see your breathe pause, a need in your eyes that mixed with the softness that he previously had only ever seen directed towards the brothers. You were a timid little lamb sometimes, though.

You leaned in, hesitating to close such a gap. Simeon suspected for more the one reason, how the brothers would feel about such an action. Which there was little conflict in his mind. Were you to truly let him him, Simeon may have to discuss it with Lucifer, well fight more was a better word. Time had only made the mans pride worse but Simeon was as stubborn as Lucifer was prideful. And deep down, both men could feel the pull that was once there as angelic brothers. Lucifer wouldn’t accept anyone else having your heart, but Simeon might just make a case to slip in.

But more importantly, you knew it had to be his choice. Simeon couldn’t let you choose for him, he had to do it himself. Take the final step that was unforgivable.

Slowly, Simeon slid one hand up the side of your neck. Gently holding you in place to tilt up, his thumb trailing over your cheek as he leaned down nudge his nose gently against yours. Eyes already fluttered shut, he could hear how much your heart pounded and it only made the guilt melt more.

You were nervous to kiss him, and Simeon liked it. What could be less angelic then that?

Very slowly he hovered over your lips, green eyes bright as he looked at you for as long as he could handle before his too slid shut as he closed the distance. Pressing his lips to yours.

Your lips were as warm as your soul and as soft as your heart. He felt so much at once it overwhelmed him. But with nowhere else to put it, he buried the feeling in a kiss. He had no practice and yet it seemed he didn’t need too. You followed his touch, his lead, let Simeon guide how he kissed you and it consumed him. His other hand sliding just under the fabric of your shirt and wrapping around to your back he pulled you into his chest.

Your palms moving to rest on his own, one staying close to his own heart as different as they were while the other hand slid up his neck. Sending shivers down his own spine at the sensitive touch while you wrapped it behind him, fingers so soothingly toying with the ends of his hair. His hand on your jaw was a little less kind then before at such a feeling.

His hand on your back a pressing you into him a little further. His kiss harder, rougher and it could have made him laugh at how his father would dare tell Lilith to give something like this up to go back to such a demanding, distant existence.

The hand on your jaw loosened a bit, enough that Simeon could dance over your hair and firmly press the back of your head to keep your breathless lips attached to his. He’d kiss you until you passed out if he had a little less sense. The brothers love for you made sense, he felt all of then.

Greed to take more and more of your kiss for himself, Envy that the seven of them had you in even more ways then this and so much more freely. Wrath for his father and Michael to dare tell them that angels weren’t allowed to feel this kind of closeness. Gluttony for the sweet taste of your lips and how much like honey you reminded him of. Sloth because honestly he could do nothing for the rest of his life and be content like this.

Pride that you still had room in that pure heart of yours for him. But most of all, he for a brief moment, understood what it was that made it so hard for Asmodeus to keep away from you. Lust burned through his veins and lit like a wildfire at the tiny sound of a whine.

Simeon hadn’t even realized how right he was gripping your skin under the shirt, hadn’t noticed how he had wanted to be so close to you, he bit your bottom lip begging for you to let him in. Your whine was full of such an innocent need for more. It made his cock twitch, the lust screaming at Simeon to turn you in his arms. Move you into your single room and keep you there until either the run rose or the brothers demanded you back.

But, you were still just his little lamb. And no amount of corruption the brothers gave and took from you and your body, you still were kind and soft inside your heart. And Simeon couldn’t just give into all of that without even thinking. He may be teetering on the edge of no longer an angel but he wasn’t a demon. Not yet at least.

So he pulled away. Pressing one last small kiss to your lips, watching you struggle to even breathe again and take a moment longer then him to even open your eyes. Simeon dreamt of what that would look like, waking up beside him in his bed, nothing but a sheet over both of your bodies but this was good too. Better even, because your lips swollen and slightly more red from his bite?

This was better because it was real.

Simeon couldn’t even hear himself speak at first. He didn’t make sense, and he didn’t even know what he could be saying to you. He had to pause, collect himself. Letting his hand on the back of your head slide down to the other side of your waist, holding you too him and your foreheads gently pressed together.

“Just looking at you makes my heart pound.” Your own palms slid back down to rest on his chest, no doubt feeling it beneath them. “Suddenly, I want to abandon all inhibition and tell you exactly how I feel.”

Now wasn’t really the time, there was too much on both your sides of the tracks to deal with before he had any right to barge in on your love. But that didn’t mean he shouldn’t prepare you that it’s coming.

Maybe he should tell you he loves you. It’s easy, it’s the truth, and it doesn’t require making the pain of returning to life from such a sacrifice hold more weight then already burdened your very being.

Simeon let you go though. Mammon and Satan held your heart in the ways Simeon wanted, and he would never take your time away from them.

Or Luke for that matter. You were as much a sister to Luke as any other true angel was. He’d want to spend time with you before returning home as well. And he wanted you too, it’s something he knew without a shadow of a doubt is part of what made Lucifer fall so deeply in love with you.

How much you could love in so many ways, how gentle you were at all times with them and their emotions and wanted nothing but the best of their lives to be in front of them. Lucifer adored that about you, and so did Simeon.

But he shook the thought off. Lucifer wasn’t going to be an easy discussion when he broaches that subject. He still was a demon after all, and if there ever was a more possessive once then him Simeon would be amused to find them.

Maybe, never returning home would be alright. Michael could strip away everything that made him an angel and cast him down to whatever depths human or otherwise. But as long as it gave Simeon the chance to kiss you once more, maybe it would be worth the suffering.

Simeon went to bed before anyone else that night, but still didn’t truly sleep.

Too consumed with the wonder of which sin consumed Lilith’s love when it was her? Because as little as Simeon would admit it to anyone else, he couldn’t deny that the buzz on his lips that made him still feel as if your kiss was right there.

Lust truly felt like a rabbit hole of sin for a fallen angel.

#obey me simeon x reader #obey me simeon x mc #obey me simeon #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #simeon obey me #obey me imagine #obey me Simeon imagine

[wormswurld]

hii!! do you have any headcanons/thoughts/woteva about transfem felix? also your blog is incredible, peace and love <3

of course i have thoughts about transfem! fem + thank you so much for liking my blog!!!! you’re so kind,, peace & love sent your way as well 💕🌟

- has always felt dysphoric about her height since she’s so tall and she’s always been the tallest person in her class though once college started she kinda just accepted her height& how it won’t change lol

- first started realizing signs of her feeling “different” from all the other boys in her class when she would gravitate towards hanging out with the girls in her classes, playing with different toys (literally throwing temper tantrums if she didn’t have the same toys / ability to play dress up with venetia), etc

- dysphoria really started hitting when puberty & middle school started…was always popular and thought to be a “ladies man” by his peers and teachers even though she would only hangout with girls / talk to them about typical “girly things” + having small little crushes on boys she would keep to herself

- venetia was the first person she came out to!! they’ve been close since birth so it was kinda impossible not to tell her,, probably told her after coming home from school (first time she was ever ridiculed for being “too feminine” or a “fairy” etc) and of course venetia listened and comforted her like a good sister would + she always wanted a sister anyway

- as time progresses felix starts growing out her hair a little longer, not thing too long, but shoulder length so she could start tucking hair behind her hair + wear headbands whenever it got too hot outside (no one in her inner circle really questioned it that much, of course there were some bad people though venetia taught felix to really start standing up for herself not letting “those” comments get to her”

- sometimes when it’s late at night (during the summer before meeting ollie) felix sneaks off to venetia’s room where she can snoop around and play with her makeup and clothes,, of course the clothes don’t really fit properly but being able to see herself in something she truly feels more comfortable in helps a lot

- starts to go out shopping with elspeth for more flowy linen shirts, maybe even snagging some from the women’s section to try things out in the name of “fashion” and of course elspeth is fine with it, she was a “fashionista” back in her day, and would ultimately kill felix if she dressed in anything “ill-fitting / drab” (aka no poor people clothes LOL) also felix’s gender isn’t really questioned by his parents all too much?? elspeth knew felix was always different but never felt any sort of way once she started noticing her “son” isn’t really her “son” if you know what i mean

- also (if this wasn’t obvious) felix is fine with her birth name! she doesn’t really get dysphoric from it, only ever really feeling insecure about her body hair & muscles (but i mean the people around her aren’t really complaining about how nice her body looks so she’s kinda okay with it,, she is felix catton after all lmao biggest attention whore of all time)

- manages to dress femininely without being “clocked” for being trans if that makes sense?? like ever since venetia helped her with standing up for herself she doesn’t really take shit from anyone plus no one can really say anything about her because of her status.. for example flowy women’s shirts, button ups etc are always in rotation in her wardrobe same with baggy pants because she really couldn’t be bothered lol though dressing up for dinner is quite literally the bane of her existence

- when first meeting ollie she is essentially head over heels (converse lol) because how could she not be? like ollie is the perfect example of a “save me” “my life is so tragic” story felix essentially gets off on it + she finds him extremely cute

- big jump to when it’s the summer of saltburn and the two are extremely close ollie discloses how he’s trans and felix feels so comforted!! because finally! FINALLY! she’s met someone else who is like her and really can understand what it’s like (to an extent since she’s more of a social butterfly than ollie is)

- cue felix properly trying on a well fitting dress in front of ollie for a party that’s being hosted at saltburn (i don’t know the theme though i know i want to see felix in a dress experiencing the biggest gender euphoria moment known to man) and she is just over the moon!!!!! her and ollie probably sneak off somewhere (even though everyone wants to be with felix) to talk more abt their experiences with gender, getting drunk, and ultimately making out against some wall of some kind)

- loves the way how ollie makes her feel when they are making out,, just treating her so gently yet not feeling scared to take control and hold onto felix’s waist & bite her lip and she’s never EVER had an encounter like this with someone else so being able to share it with ollie is just so special…ollie probably slots his leg between felix’s as they grind on each other making the most delicious sounds everrrrrrrrrr

I LOVE T4T CATTONQUICK !!!!!!!!! TRANS LOVE FOR THE WIN! 😵‍💫⚧️

#wormswurld answers #ask #ask me anything #ask anything #lgbtqia #saltburn #oliver quick #saltburn posting #felix catton #cattonquick #felix x oliver #saltburn 2023 #mtf! felix catton #ftm! oliver quick #t4t #wormswurld brainrot 🌟

[skylarmoon71]

Bumblebee (Transformers) - Oneshot

You’ve always had this bad habit of sticking your nose where it didn’t belong. Maybe it was the reporter in you. You needed to get to the bottom of every mystery. Most times that wasn’t so bad. The first was the school weirdo Sam Witwicky.

Overnight it seemed like he became somewhat desired, at least to Mikeala. He’d somehow managed to snag the hottest girl in school. A part of you thought he paid her, but sometimes you would catch the look she sent him. It was different, almost warm. Then there was his cousin who popped up like a ghost and no one asked questions. You even did a background check, but you couldn't find anything on social media.

It was like he didn’t exist.

Bee Witwicky.

What kind of name is Bee, did his parents really want him to get bullied on a daily basis?

Your adventure begins.

“Witwicky! I’m really glad I caught you.”

It wasn’t a coincidence. You memorized his schedule. A good reporter always covers their bases.

Bee stumbled slightly at the sound of your call. He’d been attending the school for roughly three weeks.

“O-Oh, hello again."

You could tell that you made him a bit nervous, which just made you that more intrigued. You knew there was a good story here. Your instincts had never been wrong. You’ve printed a number of articles for the school paper, most of which received a bit of recognition. This was your calling. That’s why you couldn’t let this one go to waste.

“Care to answer a few questions? You're still a mystery to the school. I’d love to do a piece on you. Help the students to get to know you better. Like I did with Sean Jeffery.”

“Oh yes, I read about him. He helped the team qualify for the state championship on July 22nd, Dallas Texas.”

“Exactly! I love showing off talented students, you could be one of them.”

It was a little weird the way he recited it like he was a computer.

“That’s nice, but there really isn't anything interesting about me. I’m just a plain old human.” You raise a brow.

“I-I just do regular human things you know!” He was laughing as he backed away.

“A-Anyway I really should get going.”

“Wait I haven’t even-”

“Bee!”

Sam’s voice called from down the hall. When you saw him you frowned. He wore a similar look as he approached.

“Still trying to put my cousin on display so people could mess with him.”

“That’s not what I do, Witwicky. I’m just trying to write a story. Are you worried he might get more popular than you?” You taunt. You can see he’s pretty agitated.

“Hey Sam!” Mikeala’s happy voice sings from down the hallway. When she walks up she looks curious.

“Oh hey, you’re (Y/N). Bee never stops-”

“Telling them about how much you love stories!!” Bee interrupts.

He’s acting weird again.

“I’ll see you later Bee.”

You pull your books closer, walking off to your next class. If only you could get ten minutes without Sam in the way, maybe you could score a great story. As your body fades into the crowd of students, Sam turns to Bee.

“You have to be careful, if people start asking too many questions it’s going to be bad for you.” Sam looks worried.

“She won’t find out anything, trust me. We took precautions. Besides, wouldn’t an article help to prove that I’m normal. “

“He’s right Sam. (Y/N)’s not going to stop. It’s been weeks. I think she likes the chase.” Sam groans.

This wasn’t going to be easy.

~

After school, you’d packed your stuff and set off for your new mission.

It’s become apparent that Sam was going to continue being a thorn in your side, only proving the fact that something was amiss. Like any regular person, you thought stalking them would be the way to go, normal right?

Except this time, you cursed your curious nature, because in this scenario, it would indeed be the thing to kill the cat.

“AAAAH SHIT!!!”

You were pedaling as fast as your feet could take you, but the yellow camaro was still following you down the street. A part of you was praying that it had all been a crazy nightmare. You’d trace Bee back to some weird abandoned building. You found a comfortable spot too. Even Sam and Mickeala were there. At first you assumed they were just delinquents messing with some stuff, but one second they were talking as usual, then the next a blue and red peterbilt pulled up.

Right before your eyes the truck changed, and shortly after, so did Bee. One minute he was human, then the next his skin was replaced by machinery that looked like it was from another universe. He stood upright, blue glowing eyes and all.

Like most teens in such a situation, you screamed. Alerting all of them of your location. You’d almost dropped your phone. But the second you willed your body to move, you jumped on your bike and sped out of there. It’s only when you got back on a main road you saw a car following you. It didn’t take a genius, its patterns were the exact same as Bee’s.

You’d turned down an alleyway to gain some ground and maybe lose them behind the many buildings. For a while you thought it worked, but a large hand came down right in front of you and you were pulled right off the bike. Now you were in a much more secluded place. It placed you on your feet, and as you opened your mouth to scream, Sam rushed over grabbing you and placing a hand on your mouth. You bit him, and he yelled out as you tried to take off in a run.

“I’d advise against running again, human.”

The stern voice of the blue and red robot makes your blood run cold. You fell back, staring up at both aliens.

“Y-You’re gonna kill me. You’re gonna scramble my brains and dump me in some ditch!!”

“Quiet down.”

It sounded a bit angry now, and your mouth slid shut as you trembled.

“We're..not…gonna hurt you…sport..” The radio of the camaro’s car slipped between stations, and you just stared. Bee’s blue eyes blinked, and you finally pushed your way upright, backing away.

“W-What are you….”

Sam looked annoyed as he nursed his hurt hand.

“If you hadn’t gone on a rampage, maybe we wouldn’t have had to get so rough.” He glowered.

“Aliens!!”

Bee pointed to the sky, and the word that came out this time from his station was something you’d heard in a movie.

“Aliens…”

“Yes, aliens!! Are you happy!! You spent the last few weeks poking your nose into our business, now you know. Optimus Prime and Bumblebee here are freaking aliens from another planet that came here to stop other evil aliens that tried to wipe out the human race. We’ve been protecting them as thanks for not letting us go poof into dust!!!”

Sam was huffing angrily from his long speech.

“Calm down Sam.” Optimus said.

“I’m going to take a walk.” He grumbled, sending you a spiteful look as he walked off. Mikaela followed, not before sending you an awkward smile.

“I’m sorry about that, just give us a few minutes.” She walked with him, patting his back. Now it was just you and the two huge aliens. You swallowed.

“I assure you that we mean you no harm. Our only job is to protect the human race from Megatron’s followers. We are allies. That is why it is imperative that our existence in this world stays between very few. We’ve already been exposed once. We cannot run that risk again.”

You clenched the phone in your back pocket.

“P-People deserve to know the truth!! What happened in Mission city, it was all real!! The government covered it all up, lied and said it was some futile attempt by another country. T-This whole time it’s all been a lie!!”

“Sometimes the truth poses more harm than good.” Optimus stated.

You couldn’t believe this.

“Why should I even believe you, this could all be a trick. What if I release what I have right now to the entire internet, would you kill me?” You were treading on dangerous waters, you know that.

“Believe what you will, I cannot stop you from making a decision. Nor will I hurt you.” He sounds almost sincere. Bumblebee takes a step, and the ground gives a little rumble. He kneels to your height, and you hold your breath.

“We’d never hurt you (Y/N).”

Those blue eyes look so innocent, and his voice is the same. The same Bee you’d been dogging for the last three weeks.

“Please (Y/N).” Your hands shake, and reach into your back pocket, gritting your teeth.

“Damn it!!”

You dropped the phone on the floor, smashing it under your feet. Optimus’s optics blinked in surprise.

“Are you happy now?”

Bumblebee knew it took a lot not to follow through with that story. He did a little dance, and you almost fell over. He caught himself, waving his hands in apology. You just released a heavy breath.

So much for your juicy story.

~~~

“Hey (Y/N)!!”

You jump at that voice, and you grab your bag. You’ve been so distracted that you haven’t realized you’re the last one in the classroom. Bee steps inside and he closes the door. Moving backwards, you watch him carefully. He looks like he does a full body scan of you.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, so you can calm down.”

How does he even know you’re panicking? Your face was completely neutral.

“Are you…reading me?”

He looks to the side.

“I’m not exactly human.”

He says it like he’s sad about it. It’s weird, you spent so long trying to read him. Now that you know the truth behind his happy go lucky nature, you aren’t sure what to do with it. More than anything, he should have hated you. All that time chasing him around digging for a story. They could have easily gotten rid of you. Yes it would have raised some red flags, but if the government covered up an entire alien invasion, burying one person would be a piece of cake.

You finally loosen your grip on your bag.

“B-Back at the alley, why didn’t you just take the phone. You guys are super robots.”

It would have been so easy to take what they wanted and threaten you.

“I guess I was kind of hoping you’d keep our secret. I also..” He’s shifting on his feet.

“You also what?”

“I really wanted us to be friends.”

When he looks at you, there’s so much innocence in that gaze. Your first thought is that he’s messing with you, but you don’t read that at all. You aren’t sure what to think at this point.

“Are you pulling my leg?”

Bee’s eyebrows scrunch up in confusion, and he looks down at your legs.

“No I’m not. Y-Your legs look fine to me.”

He looks generally lost, and despite yourself you smile.

“You really are an alien.”

So, it’s possible that you won’t be taken out to keep their secret, that’s good to know.

~

“What about this one?”

You hold out your closed palm, and Bee looks at it.

“It’s an eraser.” You open your hand, and sure enough it’s an ice cream patterned eraser.

“So that’s mad strength, super hearing, crazy hacking skills, and some bionic type vision.” You make a mental note and Bee smiles.

“I thought you were giving up the story.”

“I am, doesn’t mean I can’t still gather data for myself.”

Sam and Mikaela are sitting in his backyard. Now that you know their secret, you were never shy to stop by. Try as he might, Sam couldn’t get rid of you, and Bee liked your company. It’s obvious at this point that he has very little say in what happens. Mikaela laughs at the small frown Sam has.

“Sooner or later you’re going to have to trust her.”

“She bit me.”

“Are you really still mad about that?”

“She never apologized!”

He was a child sometimes.

You and Bee are seated under a tree, and he’s playing with Sam’s dog. You steal a glance at him. If you hadn’t seen it yourself, you wouldn’t have believed it.

“Do you miss it, your home?”

He nods.

“I do, all the time. Everything on this planet is so different.” He looks down, flexing his fingers.

“I used to wonder if it would have been better if we all just perished. Maybe then this world would have been spared of our war. There would be peace.”

Of all the things he could have considered, that’s not one you thought would cross his mind. Everytime you see him, he’s always smiling.

Happy.

“This world was messed up way before you guys came. I don’t think a few alien robots can do much more than what people have already done. “

He smiles, but it doesn’t truly reach his eyes.

“I’m glad you’re here.” He looks over at you, and this time it seems like you’ve finally gotten through to him. Bee just stares, and you jump when a spark bursts from his hand. Mojo jolts, jumping back and running around barking aggressively. Sam starts chasing the poor pup down, and you look back at Bee concerned.

“Are you alright?!”

He nods a bit nervously.

“Y-Yeah I just had a little short. It’s no big deal.”

He’s moving a bit fidgety, and you know something’s up, but you decide against asking. The last time you went poking it landed you in a hairy position. He is an alien after all. You can’t hope to understand everything.

~~~

Whenever you just needed a break from the world, your go to activity was a little walk or jog. This particular afternoon you’re walking through the woods on a path. The quiet was therapeutic.

Or so you thought.

“Move move, shake shake, now drop! What your momma said!!”

The blaring speakers from a car makes you turn. You’re a bit stunned at the car that comes speeding down the trail. Expertly dodging trees and fallen branches. You jolt when it jumps a particular log. As the camaro is airborne, Bumblebee transforms. When he lands, he’s standing upright, hands now on his hips. You’d fallen onto your butt at the harsh landing. He looks down, shoulders raised a bit apologetically.

“Sorry sport.” His radio spits out.

You rise, dusting your pants as you glare at him.

“I asked you to meet me, not crush me.” You lecture. He puts his hands together in what you assume is an apology. You just chuckle, shaking your head.

“What do you need, soldier?”

It’s so funny how he manages to pull dialogues from so many stations.

“I just wanted company.” Bumblebee points to himself.

“Yeah, who else is here dummy.” You giggle at the cute way his optics blink.

“Come on, there’s a really nice spot up ahead that we can chill at.” You reach for his mental hand, grabbing one of his fingers as you pull him along. Bumblebee just follows, his engines revving just a smidge.

Twenty minutes later you pull up to your spot. It’s a little clearing. The trees provide a decent cover, yet he can still see the expense of greenery up ahead. The view was beautiful. You take a seat on a log that looks perfectly shaped into a seat.

“I come here all the time, it’s my secret spot.” You explain. He sits beside you, knees tucked to his chest awkwardly.

“Relax Bee, no one comes here except me.”

It takes him a minute, but he stretches his legs out.

“It’s nice here.”

This time he doesn’t use the radio. You grin.

“Sure is. I’ve been coming to this place for years. It’s my stress relief ball. When things get crazy or I just need a break from life this is where I am. You’re the only one that knows about it now.”

His head turns at that, and you just send him a smile.

“Now you know my secret too.”

He’s not sure how to respond to that.

“She’s so cute.”

So far he's been doing a decent job of keeping his inner feelings to himself, but it’s hard when you keep sending him those smiles. He doesn’t realize until he’s already reaching out. His finger brushes the side of your cheek, and your expression changes to one of surprise. He holds your stare for a few minutes before he processes what he’s just done. Bumblebee practically yanks his hand back.

“I’m sorry!!”

He waves around frantically,

You still appear a bit dazed, and you take his hand, seizing his crazy movements. He stopped altogether.

“It’s okay Bee, I don’t mind.” Your voice sounds so soft. Warm. You shift your position, moving closer to his seated form.

“Bee, is it okay if I..” Your hand is outstretched and he gets the message. He nods, because words have failed him. It’s not done all at once. Your movements are a bit slow, precise. Now standing much closer, both your hands extend, and you cup his metal cheeks in interest. Bumblebee is almost afraid to move. Because he’s terrified that the second he does, then your touch will be gone. His eyes closed, and the sound his engine makes is almost a purr of content. Your smile widens as he leans into your hands.

“Wow…”

It’s crazy, a few weeks ago you thought he was probably some kind of monster. Now you feel almost ashamed for making that assumption. This being was far from a monster.

He’s an angel.

Your curiosity gets the better of you and you accidentally stumble into his lap. To steady yourself, you brace your hands on his plated chest. His hand moves to your waist on instinct. You look up at him sheepishly.

“S-Sorry about that.”

“No problem at all!”

This wasn’t the worst thing to happen. He thinks for sure you’ll pull away now that you’ve gathered yourself, but you lean up, wrapping your arms around his neck as you hug him. Bumblebee grows a bit stiff.

“I’m really glad I met you, Bee.” You breathe against his neck. His optics close, and he does his best not to give off too much of a reaction.

“I’m overheating!”

He is a bit alarmed. Did you really have no idea what this was doing to him? He pats your back stiffly.

“S-So am I.”

You pull back, and when you stare at him, he’s so adorably confused. You grin, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

That’s the last blow.

“Systems buffering.”

You hear from his radio. It looks like he’s stopped functioning.

“B-Bee!!”

He needed some time to get his processes to return.

~~~~

You hand the document to Bumblebee and his eyes lit up as he scanned through the article you’d done on him. When Sam approached you a week ago concerning a piece he wanted you to do on Bee, you sort of thought he’d gone crazy. Then he explained that rather than spilling all of his cybertronian secrets, you present a column on his experiences in life.

“This week’s paper.” you explain.

Bumblebee provided a lot of insight considering what he’s been through. His views and expectations for the future actually made for a good read. It also helps to reinforce his human cover. In a way, you’d gotten your story and Bumblebee’s secret was still safe.

“Wow…that’s me!” He pointed at the picture of himself excitedly and you can’t help but laugh.

“I think this is some of my best work. You’ve actually drawn in an audience. The principal congratulated me this morning. A few of the journalism departments were actually interested in having me for a summer internship.”

“That’s great!”

It really is.

This was the first time you’d held back the punchline for a story and still felt unbelievably fulfilled. Not because of the opportunities that were now being presented, but the unlikely friendship you’ve gained.

“So is this why you were always chasing down a story for Sam and I?” He placed the paper at his side on the porch and you shook your head.

“No, not entirely. “

Bumblebee tilts his head curiously.

“With you it was more instinct than anything else. As for Sam and Mickeala, I guess I was so interested in them because deep down I wanted the same thing they have.” You pull your legs to your chest, and Bumblebee looks over at you.

“It would be nice if I could find someone to look at me like that.” You murmur.

You let out a sigh, shaking your head as you turn back to him with a little laugh.

“Sorry that I’m getting all mushy.” He doesn’t say anything, and you tilt your head.

“I think you’re amazing (Y/N).”

You think maybe he’s just saying that to make you feel better, but his brown eyes are glowing now, a blue hue and you sort of just gape.

“Bee your eyes…”

He blinks, then turns his head.

“Sorry about that! The human body is a lot more complicated than I thought. It’ll pass. I didn’t mean to freak you out.” He’s massaging his eyelids and muttering something under his breath.

“It doesn’t freak me out.” Bumblebee still won’t lift his head.

“Can I see?”

He shakes his head.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

You place your hand under his chin gently, tilting his head back in your direction.

“I’ve literally seen you change from a walking, talking robot to a human. I think I can handle some glowing eyes. “ He finally opens his eyes, and you swallow. It was amazing the way the lights circled his iris. That topped with his innocent nature and boyish charms, there was no way you could truly be afraid of him.

“See, that's not so bad.” You grin, and a small smile makes its way on his face. You move your hand, but neither of you have looked away. Bumblebee is still looking at you, and when he starts to get closer, you take a breath and pull back. You can see the instant regret on his face.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to… I don't know why I..I..” He’s rambling, similar to the way he does when he’s communicating through the radio.

“I-Its fine Bee don’t worry.” You mess with your shirt.

This is terribly awkward.

“Y-You know it’s normal for boys your age to be interested in that stuff.” Why the hell do you sound like a sex ed teacher.

“W-With the new body you just want to test that stuff out and it’s fine. I just think you should do it with someone you actually have feelings for you know.”

“Someone I have feelings for…do you mean like Sam and Mikeala?”

So he does understand.

“Exactly. They care about each other, so it’s normal. So when you find someone like that, you should go for it.”

“I’ve already found someone like that.”

Your guts twists at that.

“Y-You have.”

Why did you sound so disappointed, of course he found someone.

“Well that’s good. You should probably tell them.”

“I have feelings for you (Y/N).”

You pause, hell your entire body froze. Some part of you thinks it’s a joke, but when you look over at Bumblebee, his eyes emit so much hope that it makes your heart hammer.

“Me..?”

You whisper.

He smiles awkwardly.

“I just think you’re so confident and driven and kind. When you found out about me you could have told the world, but you kept my secret. You protected me even though you didn’t have too. Also sometimes you make this face when you’ve just snagged a good story. And when you accidentally eat spicy foods your face scrunches up and it’s so cute!”

He’s actually gushing.

You can hardly believe this.

Bumblebee takes in your speechless expression, clearing his throat.

“A-Anyway that’s all I wanted to say.”

Now he looks bashful, and you want to interject and tell him that he’s the one who’s absolutely adorable in everything he does.

“If there is someone else that you-”

“There’s no one else.” You interrupt.

You weren’t sure it was possible, but the light in his eyes shine brighter, and you smile.

His cheeks are a bit flushed now.

“S-Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

You’re the one who moves a bit closer now. Bumblebee looks your way, and your gaze trails to his lips.

“Before..were you trying to kiss me?”

He nods, partially in a trance.

“Yeah…”

“Do you mind if I kiss you instead?”

“Please do.” He hums. You release a little giggle, hand resting on top of his as you move in. He’s nervous, you can see it all over his face. The closer you get, the faster your heart beats. Bumblebee’s eyes slide shut slowly as you both begin to meet in the middle.

“Bee you ready to go.”

Sam walks out onto the porch, and you both turn.

“Y-Yeah I’m ready.” He stands, and so do you.

“Damn you Witwicky.” You growl. Sam sends you a look, backing up.

“I’ll take that as my que to leave.” Sam says.

Bumblebee sends you a look that adds to the already erratic beats in your chest.

“Guess I’ll see you at school?” He says softly.

You nod.

“Definitely.”

#bumblebee x reader #love #friendship #cute #care #sam witwicky #trust #truths #cybertronians #understanding #mickeala #transformers #optimus prime #funny #friends #feelings #relationships #curiousity #fluff

[onestepbackwards]

Hello! I have a question, what would happen if the reader choose Volo instead of Ingo as their partner in the self aware universe? What are Volo's long term plans exactly? Thank you!

I imagine in this scenario, Volo would have had to become self aware first. Ingo in the self aware au is yandere too, and would have cut off Volo. Both out of fear, and his desire for you. So if Volo had been self aware first, it would have been a tad different. He would have approached you much quicker than Ingo had, for starters. He’d have messed with the code, until he was finally free from his chains. At least enough to see you without following a script. ------------------------------------ “Say, how’s my favorite customer doing? Can I talk to you for a second about something? Don’t worry, It’s important.” Yes< No ------------------------------------

If you agree, or even if you don’t, he’d tell you straight away, he knows the hero isn’t in control, but is a vessel. This world, the one he’s in, isn’t the only one out there. He’s aware of you, and whatever plain of existence you live in. You are rightfully shocked. You know for a fact you would have seen this floating around online if someone else had seen it. You would have seen gifs or something. It’s even more unsettling when his head follows your camera, not the protagonist. He then tells you that even though he’s forced to follow a script, he doesn’t agree with it anymore. Dialga and Palkia aren’t the true gods. Neither is Arceus. It’s you. You stutter, and try to tell him, no you are not a god, thank you very much. But he refuses to listen. What else could you be? You made the story progress, you effected the world around you, you controlled a vessel, and you dictated how fights would be won. Hell, you could leave this world, and only then would it return to normal. Only the normal is everyone living like puppets, unaware they had been following the pulling of strings. It drove him mad, and he couldn’t even tell anyone about it, because he knew no one else could see or hear what he did. He begs you to at least stay. He will do anything for you, the true god. You argue that you are not a god, but will happily let him stay and talk with you. If you are aware of the story and how it goes, or already beaten the main story, Volo apologizes profusely. He not only was forced to follow a script, but he doesn’t think that now! You are giving him attention! You’ve shown you care more about him than Arceus ever did! You are way more caring than that pokemon. However, if you aren’t aware of his betrayal, he warns you what the script will make him do. You get reasonably upset, but then again, you say you could kind of see it coming. He’s almost horrified he gives that impression, but you explain that it has more to do with his and another person’s descendants. Not just him. He figures he gets what you mean, seeing as he wasn’t exactly subtle about following your vessel around, either. After you two get acquainted, you’d think his obsession with you would stop, and he’d realize you aren’t a god. No. It only gets worse. Even if he isn’t obvious about it. He acts a lot more... Normal to you. Friendly, and kind. He enjoys listening to you talk about your day, what dreams you have, and your interests. He enjoys learning about your world, and all the things you can do, such as stuff with technology. He even follows your character around sometimes if you insist on playing! Don’t worry about leaving him behind, he’ll still be with you every step of the way! :) However, he hides his true intentions. He’s desperate to find a way to your world. He tries to mess with the numbers he can sometimes see, the same ones he had to manipulate to be able to talk to you. He wants to join you in your world, or have you join him. How can he properly worship you if he can’t even see you? He finally has contact with the True God, and he can’t even do anything! He needed you. He desired to be by your side. He also isn’t as reluctant to kill or harm others to keep you safe. He won’t be as suave about it as Ingo when he considers doing so either. He dreams of worshiping you, your body and soul. He’ll do anything you wish. Just let him be with you. He’ll do anything to make you happy, and make you his.

#pokemon #volo #volo x reader #yandere volo #self aware volo #pla volo #pokemon volo #self aware pokemon #yandere pokemon #anon #ask #request

[spartanguard]

sons of love and death, 3/13 {CSSNS 23}

Summary: After the Final Battle, Killian Jones had finally settled into his happily ever after with his wife and family. Until a new foe arrived in Storybrooke: the infamous Dorian Gray, who looks rather familiar—one might say identical—to the pirate, and he’s on a mission: to claim the powers of the Dark One for himself. There’s only one problem: the Dark One no longer exists. What follows is a journey of vengeance, revelations, magic, and finally facing down the darkness within himself that Killian thought he’d finally put to rest. [roughly canon divergent from 5B, though set post-canon]

A/N: Back again with the next chapter of this year’s @cssns​​ story! Some revelations in this update...hope you like it! (Forever thanks to the best beta, @optomisticgirl​​!)

rated M | 4.7k words | AO3 | 1 | 2

The man—not-Killian, Emma was calling him until they found out his real name—had fallen silent during the quick drive to the station, not even affected by the siren screaming (both in warning and from disuse). He made no complaints as they ushered him into the other cell—the one that didn't have half-melted bars. He only slumped listlessly to the cot and tilted his head back, eyes closed, in a defeated manner. She almost felt bad for him, to see him so distressed, until she shook her head to remind herself that it wasn’t really Killian. 

"So, gonna tell us your name yet?" David asked casually. 

The man didn't open his eyes. "Dorian. Dorian Gray."

"Like the picture?" It slipped out of Emma's mouth without thinking, and suddenly two sets of eyes were on her in varying degrees of surprise. "What? I read." (And she’d seen the movie with Ben Barnes because, well, Ben Barnes, but that wasn’t as relevant at present.)

Dorian sighed. "Yes, just like the picture. Although Mr. Wilde’s version of my tale is far from the truth." 

"Aren't they all?" David scoffed. 

"So what is your story, buddy?” she asked, crossing her arms and stepping closer. “I thought you wished on a painting for eternal youth so you could go on a lifelong bender."

"Parts of that. I can attest to the desire for youth and debauchery; but my reasons were far different, and I had a hand in casting the spell myself."

A chill went down Emma's spine, but she didn't let it show. “Sounds like some pretty dark magic.”

“Well, I learned from the best,” he sneered, with a grin that was far from genuine.

“Who?” she demanded.

“Why, the Dark One, of course.”

“Rumpelstiltskin?” That didn’t seem in-character, but she always seemed to forget the man’s paternal leanings, even if he was kind of her ex-father-in-law.

Dorian shook his head. “Zoso, his predecessor. He raised me.”

“You were adopted?” David asked, probably not as nonchalantly as he’d intended—but it needed to be asked so they could figure out just where this guy came from.

“I certainly didn’t get my good looks from him,” Dorian scoffed. 

“So then—”

“Emma!”

She jumped at the sound of Killian’s panicked voice—actually him this time—and his insistent footsteps on the station’s linoleum. She only just turned around before he was slamming into her in a bruising hug.

“Hey, is everything alright?” she asked, trying to make sure he couldn’t see over her shoulder just yet.

“If you're fine, then yes,” he sighed, burying his face in her hair (good). “Gold told me to come here; I was worried.”

She returned the embrace, but knew she only had so long before either Killian or the prisoner noticed the other; probably better to rip off the bandaid.

When she pulled back, he immediately began to study her face, and his brow furrowed a bit. "Swan, what is it?" he said, worried, no doubt seeing her own trepidation.

Before she had a chance to reply, Dorian interrupted. "What the actual fuck?"

Killian’s eyes darted over, then went wide as he studied the man behind the bars. He opened his mouth a couple times to say something, but the only thing that came out was "Bloody hell."

“I got the impression I had a lookalike, not a replica,” Dorian asserted, standing to give Killian a once over. “I must say, though—I wear this face better.”

“Who the hell are you and why are you here?” Killian growled, moving closer to the cell—but staying protectively in front of Emma, she noticed. 

“I could ask you just the same, mate,” Dorian countered, slipping his arms through the bars and leaning against them. “Am I your father or something?” he asked, tilting his head in question. 

Killian barked out a humorless laugh. “Definitely not, though you’re likely just as much a bastard. And I’m far older than I look, mate,” he bit out, his tone on that last word anything but friendly. 

“What a coincidence—so am I.”

Tense silence fell as the nearly indistinguishable men began a staredown, but behind them, Emma found her dad’s eyes; she saw a conclusion settle in his gaze, and she had a feeling she was starting to come to the same one, but she still wanted confirmation—either from Gold, or more modern means. 

Speaking of—the former Dark One arrived just then, breezing into the station with far more grace than Emma expected from someone who was definitely reliant on his cane now. “Captain; Mrs. Swan-Jones,” he called as he strode in. “I’ve got some information you’ll find interesting.”

He rounded the corner, Belle right behind him, with the vial from earlier in his grasp—then paused, when he saw all eyes on him, though the two matching blue ones were rather annoyed. “Or perhaps you’ve figured it out on your own,” he said awkwardly. 

“Not really,” Emma replied. “What did you find out?”

Gold held up the vial, the strands of hair in it now glowing an unnatural green. “I basically did the magic version of a DNA test, and as you can see, it’s a clear match.” It was a good thing he liked to be the smartest in the room; she never would have guessed that’s what that neon color meant.

“A match?” Killian and Dorian said in unison, then turned and glared at each other again. 

“Yes. Captain, this interloper is your twin brother. Identical, obviously.”

Shit. Even though it should have been apparent, Emma was still stunned. She was expecting some (more) alternate timeline shenanigans, or some sort of wormhole clone; not a twin. 

“Impossible,” Killian breathed, now staring at his apparent brother in something resembling horror. “I would have known—they would have said—”

“Not necessarily,” David interrupted softly. Emma wanted to reach out to Killian—to soothe him or something—but her dad was definitely the expert in this situation, having been through it himself. (Why was secret twin a common thing in the Enchanted Forest? Or were these the only examples and Emma just happened to find herself adjacent to both of them?)

Dorian spoke up, but he sounded far less cocky than he had at any point yet—restrained, almost. “My birth parents gave me up to the Dark One,” he explained. “But that’s all I was told; nothing else.”

“Not an unheard-of occurrence,” Gold stated plainly, but he was looking at David; at least they were all on the same page with that memory. 

“Never mind that,” Dorian went on, shaking his head and straightening his posture. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was trying to stand taller than Killian, but that clearly wasn’t going to work. “What I really want to know is: where are the Dark One powers, and why are you still alive if they’re not here?” He pointed angrily at Gold. 

(Emma couldn’t take it any more, and moved to Killian’s side; he’d been visibly withdrawing into himself after what he’d just learned, and the coming conversation was likely to stir some unpleasant memories, too.)

“They’re gone,” Gold said simply, oddly calm when he could have been vague and dramatic. “Something along the lines of divine intervention, I suppose; I traded them to Hades to resolve a debt, and was left a mortal man, same as I was before I took them on.”

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Dorian screamed, grabbing the bars in frustration and shaking them. “Must have been bloody fucking important.”

“I’d say the well-being of my wife and son were worth it.” Emma had only caught the details after the fact—she’d been just a little preoccupied with saving her True Love while they were in the Underworld—but apparently some ancient agreement Gold made regarding his potential second-born child was transferred over to Hades so that asshole god could leverage it into his own deal with the devil. No one thought Gold would actually give up the powers he’d fought so long to hold onto (it was [half] the reason they’d even had to go down there at all, after what he pulled with Killian’s attempted sacrifice), but he’d finally realized he did love Belle (and now Gideon) more than the magic, and made the trade easily. 

“So I’ll find Hades, then,” Dorian concluded. “Anyone know how to kill a god?”

“Um, so,” Emma started, “That’s been done already.”

She expected Dorian to lash out again, but his reaction was almost worse—she could see the fire of anger in his eyes and the irritated clench of his jaw. “So my life has been a waste? Is that what you’re all saying?”

“Some things are more important than power and vengeance, mate.” It was almost jarring hearing Killian’s soft voice in contrast to Dorian’s harsh tones. Emma looked up, and he was holding his apparent brother’s gaze steadily. Without breaking it, he reached for Emma’s hand, underlining his statement. 

Dorian stared back for a long moment, then turned his attention away, to where Rumple and Belle were in a similar pose. (If she wasn’t mistaken, something wistful settled in his gaze at that.) And then hung his head and slumped back on the cot, effectively ending the conversation. There was still a lot more to be discussed, but not right now; they all needed to process what they’d just learned, especially Killian. 

Gold and Belle were the first to leave quietly, then David, after setting the station phone to forward to his. 

Emma squeezed Killian’s hand; it looked like his mind had wandered off again, but that brought him back, and she wordlessly led him out of the building. 

She let go of his hand long enough to lock the door behind them (and maybe throw up a protection spell to keep their visitor inside, just to be safe), but then took it again and started the familiar walk to the docks. 

The conversation ahead was definitely going to require the sea—and probably a decent amount of rum. 

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Killian felt like he was walking in a dream, but he didn’t know if it was a good or bad one. Ever since Gold had delivered the news, it was like the world around him had blurred in haze. 

A brother. He had another brother he’d never known about. And a twin at that. 

One who was apparently an utter arse, but he wasn’t as surprised by that fact. 

Killian had many questions—why did his (their) parents give him up? Had Liam known?—but anyone who could answer those was long dead. Which would make coming to terms with it entirely up to him. 

He and Emma had talked about it, obviously, perched by the sea with his flask between them. Perhaps not terribly in-depth, but he wasn’t sure there was anything more he could say yet. 

What was occupying his thoughts the most, though—it could have been him. They very easily could have been in the other’s position. He could have been the one raised by a demon, letting darkness harden his heart, committing gods-only-knew what kind of atrocities—

—But then, he had, hadn’t he? Perhaps he hadn’t wandered all the way down the path his brother had, but he’d gone far enough; just not so far that he couldn’t come back. 

And what if his brother had stayed with his family? Would he have led a better life, or made the same choices Killian had? Better yet, what if they’d grown up together? How would that have changed things?

Or would Killian have ruined his life, too, the way he’d done for the younger Liam?

The what-ifs were playing on a loop in his head, spinning like an endless scratched record. (Yes, he knew what a vinyl was; Henry had gifted him a turntable and some albums a few months before leaving the realm. He was sorely tempted to wallow with some Simon & Garfunkel later.) Which was probably why Emma had told him to take a walk, with a specific destination in mind. 

It wasn’t a long journey to his in-laws’ farmhouse, but long enough to clear that fog he was wading through a bit. Dusk was settling over Storybrooke as he reached the gravel driveway leading up to the Nolans’ home, where David was already waiting outside. 

“I take it Emma called?” he greeted, not needing anything more formal. 

“Yeah,” David answered, and handed him an open beer bottle once he was close enough. “And I figured you’d come by at some point anyway.”

“I do believe you’re one of the few people that’s been in my position here.”

“Yup. C’mon; let’s take this out back.”

It certainly wasn’t the first evening they’d spent in the rocking chairs on David’s back porch, drinks in hand, but was easily bound to be one of the more serious. But it still took him until the bottle was half gone to say anything. 

“How did you react when you found out about your brother?” he finally asked quietly. It was an obvious question, but he figured it was the logical place to start. 

“Forgive me if this sounds rehearsed, but I’ve been mulling over the answer to that pretty much since we left the station,” David started. “It was a lot at first. Mainly, I was shocked that my parents would do that—even was angry with my mother for a bit. But desperate people do desperate things, and that much I can understand.”

“Aye,” he agreed knowingly; that was definitely the prevailing undercurrent in most of their stories. 

“And then I started wondering what things would have been like if we’d been raised together, especially when I found out what kind of man James was. Definitely had some nature-versus-nurture discussions with myself—like, how much of him being an asshole was the fact that he was raised by one?”

“Did meeting him help?” He’d only interacted briefly with James in the Underworld, but it was odd seeing a man who looked like his friend but was far from honorable.

David shrugged. “I dunno. It’s not like we had any time for a real heart-to-heart when he was trying to steal my place. It just reinforced how different we ended up being.”

Killian scoffed. “Wish I could say the same here.”

“What do you mean?”

He gave his father-in-law a sidelong glance. “David, please—you know the things I’ve done. I murdered your father, for fuck’s sake. I’ve been trying to look at the differences, but I can’t overlook our similarities. What does it mean that we both found our way into darkness?”

David sighed; bringing up his history in relation to David’s father was still a bit of a sore spot, even though they’d generally moved past it. “Yeah, you’ve done some shitty stuff, and we can assume he has, too,” David agreed. “But you turned it around and came back, and made an effort to right your wrongs. I’m not sure how many times we can remind you of that, man,” he chuckled. Killian gave a half-smile back; it was true that he’d heard it a million times, and gotten better about accepting that in himself, but it was a constant struggle. “So maybe this is the chance to take it a step further: show him that he can be a good man, too.”

“I’m not so sure he wants to,” Killian panned. 

“I seem to recall someone else that once applied to,” David countered, then rubbed his temple. “Someone who knocked me out with a crowbar.”

They shared a laugh at what felt like an ancient memory and clinked their bottles together, then settled into a contemplative silence. David wasn’t wrong, but it certainly hadn’t been easy—and he’d needed a reason to want to change. At first, it’d been for Bae’s memory; then, inspired by Emma (and the rest of his found family, in some shape or form). Had it not been for them, he would have followed his path of revenge until it killed him. 

So there was nothing to lose, he supposed, to figure out what made Dorian tick and see if there was any connecting with him. 

However—he had no idea what might happen if he came up empty. 

There was nothing more he could do about it tonight, though, but he and David did spend plenty of time discussing his earlier train of thought, debating the possibilities of lives not lived. 

He felt a bit better when he left, and observing the constellations overhead as he walked home was soothing, like always. The day’s revelations still weighed heavy on his soul, but not quite as much. 

Sleep would help, he knew, and was glad to see the bedroom light was still on when he arrived at the front gate of his and Emma’s home. She was probably already asleep, and he was looking forward to setting whatever book she’d been reading aside, turning out the light, and tucking in alongside her. He smiled to himself at the prospect as he headed through the front gate and up the porch. 

But when he reached for the doorknob, he felt a prick of electricity sparking from his hand up his arm. He’d had plenty of static shocks, especially living in a home as old as theirs, but this was different—stronger. 

He pulled back and looked at his palm, and for a moment, thought he saw his veins lit up from within and the air crackling above it. But it went away as fast as it’d come. 

He shook his head. It had been a long, emotional day; he must need rest more than he realized. Without further interruption, he opened the front door, locked it behind him, and called it a day. 

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Across town, Dorian sat bolt upright. He hadn’t been asleep, but was jolted to a higher level of alertness nonetheless. 

He felt it—the Dark One’s magic. Just a glint, but it was there. 

He’d spent the bulk of the day lamenting his wasted years, but perhaps his quest wasn’t over yet. 

His hope renewed, he laid back down and began plotting his next move. 

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

A couple centuries ago

Decades ago, in a little cottage by the seaside, in the shadow of the Cailleach Mountains, two babies wailed. They were identical in every way, from the dark tufts of hair on their heads, to their bright blue eyes, to the way they cried in pain as fever wracked their little bodies.

Their father wasn’t home; he said he’d gone to see the apothecary, but that was hours ago, and their mum knew he was far more likely to be seeking a different kind of brew at the pub down the street.

They were only a few months old, but her breasts had already dried up and given her no way of soothing her babes with mother’s milk—not that the goat’s milk had really done anything in that regard, either. 

At least her older son had already fought off this illness, and slumbered deeply in the wee trundle on the other side of their one-room cottage. She envied him a bit, wearily rocking the two listless babes in the chair by the fire. 

It felt somewhat blasphemous, but as much as she was thankful the gods had seen fit to double her blessings with two more sons, she wondered if they’d bestowed their gift on the wrong person. She was barely holding it together now, and unless her husband pulled his act together, she didn’t know how they’d be able to continue; she barely had enough to eat for herself as it was.

“Please, boys,” she pleaded to the little ones, one in each arm. “Please hush. I love you so much but I’m at my wits’ end. Please.”

Gods above, she was truly desperate if she was trying to rationalize with infants. That said—she was more resourceful than most, but was losing hope in her ability to see her family through this and into anything resembling a stable future.

As she sat on the precipice of breakdown, her nerves as frazzled as her wild red hair, a chill breeze came through the house, making the fire flicker and dim. This bloody drafty old home, she cursed at it; of course it would happen when there was nought but twigs in the woodpile. So she pulled the babies closer.

“Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

She jumped at the voice, not just because it clearly belonged to an intruder, but because of the hint of malice on the edge of the words, innocuous as they were. “Who’s there?” she called, sounding far braver than she felt.

“Sorry, ma’am—I didn’t mean to startle you,” the owner of the voice continued, stepping out of the shadows of the kitchen. She couldn’t see his face as it was covered by a thick, dark cloak. “You just seemed awfully desperate there, and I wondered if I could help.”

“Who are you?” She ignored the fact that he seemed to be aware of her mental state, and tried to hold her boys impossibly tighter. “What do you want?”

“I just want to ease your burden.” His words were altruistic but she knew better than to trust them at face value. “Twins; that’s a lot for a woman to handle on her own.”

“I have a husband.”

“Oh, I know. But I also know he’s currently passed out in a gutter. Not much assistance, is he?”

She had no confident answer to that.

The man drew closer. “Such handsome boys; it’s too bad they’re so ill. And medicine is so expensive when they’re that young.”

“Aye, what of it?” she spat. 

“Well, I just so happen to have some of it here,” he explained, pulling a corked vial from within his voluminous velvet robes. The hand that held it seemed to glitter unnaturally in the dim firelight, almost like it was covered in scales. 

“What do you want for it?” she asked, against her better judgment. 

“Ah, I’m afraid the price is steep.” 

It wouldn’t be the first time a woman made payment in favors, if that was what he was implying. “I’ll do anything,” she replied submissively. 

“I was hoping you’d say that,” the man sneered. “See, I only have one dose here with me. I do have more, so this one is all yours…if you trade it for one of your boys.”

“What?” she gasped. What an unfathomable choice! She couldn’t give up one of her babes—not in a thousand years. “Never.”

“Now, now—think about it,” the man went on. “You’d have one less mouth to feed, one less body to clothe, one less boy to worry about.”

His points were valid, but that didn’t mean they were any less abhorrent. “I won’t do it.”

“Then let me be a bit more blunt: you can have one boy, happy and healthy, or you can bury both of them when that fever claims them.”

“What do you even want with a baby?” she spat, clearly deflecting. Because that statement was definitely convincing, as much as she didn’t want it to be.

“Is a man not allowed to feel paternal stirrings as much as a woman?” he countered. “I’m looking for an apprentice, but few people are often willing to turn their sons over to the Dark One.”

Ah, that explained it; she’d heard of a sorcerer by that name, but nothing good about them. “And you really think I will?”

“I do,” he said confidently. “Because you’re more desperate than anyone else, and you have fewer options.”

She hated that he wasn’t wrong.

“If you take my deal, you still have two healthy sons,” he continued. “Or take a gamble and leave it. It’s up to you.”

He fell silent and unnaturally still, which only seemed to make the infants’ cries all the louder and more pitiful. It was a logical deal he was offering her, but not a sound one emotionally. How could she abandon one of her children? What kind of person did that?

But at the same time, how could she risk letting her children die when she had the opportunity to save them? Even if it meant giving up one of them?

“If…if I take this deal—and I’m not saying I will,” she started, “can you promise me you’ll heal whichever boy you take?”

“Of course,” the Dark One said. “He’s of no use to me dead.”

“Will he have a good life?”

“Yes,” he said solemnly. “He’ll want for nothing, and will be comfortable and educated.”

That was more than she could say for her elder boy.

She blinked, her vision suddenly going blurry with tears. “Alright,” she agreed, though her voice was barely more than a whisper. 

“Is that a yes?”

“Aye.” She couldn’t look at him as she said it.

“Now wasn’t that easy?”

At that, she did find the gumption to glare at him.

“Here, I’ll make it even simpler; hand me…that one,” he went on, pointing at the boy in her right arm.

“No,” she said quickly. “The other one.”

“If you insist,” he shrugged.

Holding back her tears as best as she was able, she stood and gently set the babe in her left arm down in his cradle. Then she brought the other boy to her chest and placed a kiss against his forehead, praying it would be enough for him to feel her love as he grew, hopefully strong and smart and caring. “I love you, my boy,” she murmured. “Always know that.”

She was losing her fight against her emotions as she handed the baby over to the Dark One, even though she knew this was the best option for everyone; she dare said he’d have a better life than he would here. And she was heartened by the gentle way the sorcerer cradled the boy. 

He wasted no time in handing over the vial of medicine. “Thank you,” she managed to say politely. 

“No, thank you, my dear.” He seemed unphased by the baby’s continued cries. “And best wishes for your future.”

All she could do was nod. 

He turned to leave—though how he planned on going through the locked door, she didn’t know—but then stopped. “Oh, silly me—I forgot to ask his name!”

“Dorian,” she said softly. He’d been named after her husband’s father, for better or for worse. 

“Dorian,” he repeated, looking down at the squirming bundle in his arms. “I like that. Well, take care.” And then he disappeared in a cloud of dark smoke. 

The fog had hardly cleared before she collapsed on her knees, giving herself a minute to let the grief wash over her before moving on. Not that it was that simple, of course, but what choice did she have anymore? And it’d be easy enough to say the babe had passed; this illness had already claimed others and likely would more. 

She just had to hope Brennan would believe her. At least Liam was small enough to not remember. 

After a bit, her tears had mostly run their course. She dried her cheeks with her apron, sniffled, and then hurried over to the cradle to deliver the medicine to her baby boy. 

He was still crying fiercely and fought her attempts to pour the liquid in his mouth, but she was finally able to once she scooped him back up in her arms. He screamed even harder at first—she doubted it tasted very good—but then settled down, and she could feel the fever subside. For the first time in a few days, he fell into a much-needed, even slumber, and she breathed a sigh of relief. 

She laid him against her chest and leaned back in the rocking chair. “Sleep tight, sweet Killian,” Alice murmured and kissed the top of his head. She’d read his name in a book as a child, the name of the hero, and held onto it until she was able to give it to a son of her own. “I promise to stay with you as long as I can, and love and protect you with all my heart.” 

One thing was certain—she’d be holding him extra close. And sent up a prayer that she hadn’t just doomed her other son. 

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

thanks for reading! tagging some peeps (let me know if you do/don’t want a tag!) @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @wistfulcynic @pirateherokillian @colinoeyebrows @wingedlioness @word-bug @thisonesatellite @killianmesmalls @thejollyroger-writer @ineffablecolors @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes @donteattheappleshook @jrob64 @the-darkdragonfly @stahlop @klynn-stormz @resident-of-storybrooke​ @bluewildcatfanatic​

#cs ff #killian jones ff #cssns 2023 #captain swan supernatural summer #sons of love and death #my ff

[gomapda]

sidewalks we crossed [side A: you.]

i started writing this over a year ago and never got around to finishing it; it’s meant to be a three-part thing. so maybe if i post the first part, i’ll be inspired to finish the rest. this wasn’t written to be shared with the public, mostly just for myself (which is why some of it can be cringey), but here we are anyway. hehe. happy birthday lee jihoon! 태어나줘서 고마워!

pairing: lee jihoon/woozi (seventeen) x f!reader

genre: romance, fluff

summary: an accidental like, an off-chance comment, a purposeful message. you were in an unrequited love with your childhood best friend and decided to run away from him and your feelings and years later you find yourself in the same city with the same feelings when he stalks your instagram.

rating: 13+

length: 23k (LOL)

tags: idol!jihoon, childhood friend!reader, unrequited love (but not really), reconnection through instagram, this is just different scenes pieced together (including a ton of flashbacks), reader’s nicknames are all bug-themed, reader has depression and it manifests as suicidal ideation sometimes, this is basically real life (aka seventeen exists and debuted 150526), but the years are a little bit off for the trainee period, jihoon left busan later and trained for shorter for the sake of my story hehe, cursing, pining, mamamoo + ateez are the besties of reader, member x member pairings, jihoon and reader are both dumbasses, reader is extremely book smart but has one brain cell when it comes to romantic feelings, jihoon writes music like he’s been divorced 12x, word genius lee jihoon, idk how doctoral degrees work, i only got my masters and it was a non-thesis track lol, also idk how trainee auditions work either, miss communication is a lady we all know too well, super cute soft shit too tho tbh, no beta we die like men, i spent 5 hours trying to format this for tumblr and i’m still unsure

inspired by “drivers license” by olivia rodrigo and “what kind of future?” by woozi

inspo spotify playlist found here!

side A: you.

“Are you insane?”

If it were months ago, you would’ve winced at the harshness in his tone, but you’ve hardened yourself with resolve, almost saddened that this was the most communication you two have had since, well, you couldn’t recall. “I’ve been contemplating this for a while now.”

“But you didn’t talk to anyone else about it!”

No, you thought bitterly. You just didn’t tell him.

“I’ve already talked to my parents,” you spoke coolly.

He scoffed. “As if they’ve ever actually cared about you and your life.”

You felt anger flare up with a cold dousing of shame. “And what—” You spat. “You do?”

“Wha—of course I do! I’ve always looked out for you! I’m your best friend!”

Bile rose in your throat. “Best friends wouldn’t flake on every single hang out to go off and spend time with their favorite noona—!”

“Don’t you dare pin this on me.”

Your eyes shot up to his.

Cold. Piercing.

So unlike the bright crescents you were used to him having around you. He used to shine in your eyes, never too bright, but in a way that demanded your attention as you basked in his almost ethereal glow.

You were reminded that the moon has phases. And maybe that meant it was time to start anew.

Even if it meant disappearing from sight.

A heavy silence passed over the two of you.

You prepared so many answers to the questions you thought he would bombard you with.

What? You were going to a prestigious international academy several thousand miles away.

When? You were leaving in two months.

How? You got a presidential scholarship.

Why? Because you loved him so much it terrified you.

You had all of these answers.

But it didn’t matter.

Because he didn’t care enough to ask.

The tears couldn’t even form in your eyes. You knew it would be selfish and manipulative if you did. He always felt responsible when you cried.

“You can’t leave,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

A lie.

“You can’t just fucking leave.”

Leaving him, the unspoken message.

“Y/N, you— ”

“Let me go. Please.”

You heard his breath hitch.

You forced yourself to smile softly at him, wanting to ignore the visceral pain in his tensed jawline, widened eyes, and clenched fist. You knew the irreversible wound you were inflicting. Your resolution almost shattered at the prospect.

Almost.

“I’ll keep in touch.”

Another lie.

“Don’t bother.”

You supposed you deserved the door slam that followed his footsteps, not even allowed to watch his retreating form.

You closed in on yourself, finally letting the tears slip down your cheeks quietly.

He would be fine.

He always was without you.

Always will be.

Only a week later, in the comfort of your childhood bedroom nestled in the midst of Busan, did you receive the news from your neighbor a few streets down.

Jihoon decided to go through with moving to Seoul to become a trainee. I hope you can come by to congratulate him! His father and I would love to have you at the party!

Questions ran through your mind.

How long has he been thinking about this? Did he ever mention wanting to become an idol? When did he even apply to become a trainee? When is he leaving? Is he cut out for trainee life? Is he going to make his own music or be forced by his company to make inauthentic music? Is he going to remember to eat his meals? Will he be okay?

You paused for a moment.

Was this because of you?

You realized it didn’t matter.

You weren’t going to get the answers you wanted.

You didn’t deserve to.

You deleted the message.

―――――――――――――――――

Years later.

“Man, fuck this thesis work.”

“Careful, if they hear you say that, they might pull your funding out from under you.”

Hyejin glared at you, her lashes unceremoniously sticking a little too high up her eyelid. You wondered whether she knew there was no point in wearing makeup everyday when her only company was her pipettes and centrifuge. “God, sometimes I wish I was in your major.”

“You would wanna read about things like depression and emotional incompetence?”

“Why not? I see it all the time in my major. God. I was at a drinking party the other day—” You winced in advance. “And I just want you to be aware that if you were to include STEM majors in your sample, your EQ mean would drop so fast.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. “Alright. Fair. To be honest, though, my research focus is mainly on the public and government’s responses to providing resources for group homes and how to make transitioning a little easier. I’m hoping to garner more attention and funding in order to do more activism. So, technically, I don’t actually measure EQ. Although, I can make guesses based on the public forums that are out there.”

“All I heard is that you’re an absolute saint.”

You laughed. “Maybe to you, unnie.”

“D’you wanna get schwasted tonight?”

“I can’t. I have book club.”

“God, you’re such a fucking nerd. Why am I friends with you again?”

“I distinctly remember you saying it was to, quote, ‘ruin me.’”

“Seven years later and I still haven’t.”

“I dunno about that. I started watching that drama you recommended and my sleep schedule—”

“Isn’t it so good?”

You laughed as she started parroting off lines from the drama and you agreed after much coercion that, yes, the second-lead was indeed a better fit.

Your phone pinged beside you and you stole a quick glance. Your breath hitched as Weverse popped up on your screen. Your pulse slowed down to a normal rate when you realized the notification was from “RM 🌟”.

Maybe you should just delete the app.

You turned your attention back to the girl who was your first college roommate back at Yale, where quick introductions were made, and not a second later, began laughing at the prospect that your RAs probably put you both together for being foreign students from South Korea. 

She was much more refined back then, having already spent an entire year on her own as a Yale undergraduate, but your burning flame managed to craft something entirely new; just as she, like a river running its course, smoothed out your rough edges over time.

She led you back home.

Back to South Korea.

Back to him.

―――――――――――――――――

“You said you don’t break promises, Y/N.”

You found yourself grimacing. “Jihoon, that’s not fair—”

“Fair? Y/N, I kicked your ass at darts and now you said you wouldn’t keep your promise.”

“I don’t want my first ever tattoo to be whatever that is!”

“You pinky promised, Y/N.”

Your bottom lip jutted out. “I can’t even tell what it is.”

He stared down at the napkin he drew his artistic rendition on and then looked back at you incredulously. “It’s a firefly. Are you blind?”

You blinked. You could see the wings? Maybe? And those are lines that represent glowing? Not some weird excretion? You held your tongue and asked a more appropriate question. “Why a firefly?”

“I dunno. Seemed fitting. We always go see them together in the summer. They remind me of you. You remind me of them. That’s all, I guess.”

“Aw,” A toothy grin spread across your face. "You think I light up the night?”

“Sure, if you want.”

You could tell that Jihoon was getting embarrassed and wanted to immediately stop talking, but you being you, refused to let it happen. You piped up with your typical know-it-all attitude, “I read somewhere that fireflies represent inspiration and guidance. And hope, I think.”

He looked you straight in the eyes.

Your heart leaped into your throat.

“I guess that’s you, firefly.”

―――――――――――――――――

And here you were, in Seoul, a knowing pang in your chest that constantly reminded you of just how close he was. How your relationship always was. Close in proximity, but always left you wanting something more. Something else.

You blinked up at her, a knowing look in her eyes.

“Y/N—”

“I know,” you blurted out.

“You just look like you’re on the brink of a panic attack every time you see a Twitter or Weverse update.”

“It’s not that bad,” you grumbled.

Hyejin’s features softened.

Your chest tightened. You hated that look.

Pity.

“Actually, unnie. I’ll join you tonight. Screw book club.”

A knowing smirk spread across her lips. “Alright, bumblebee. My EQ is high enough to realize you’re running away from your issues, but it’s low enough that I won’t do anything about it.”

“I’ll add that to my data then.”

She flicked your forehead.

―――――――――――――――――

You groaned as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, staring down at Hyejin’s bare legs wrapping themselves around your torso.

God. How much did you even drink?

You untangled yourself from her limbs, quickly checking her skin to make sure she didn’t have a repeat of three years ago when she somehow convinced you to let her get a tattoo of the two paper clips emoji on her inner bicep.

“They represent us, bumblebee.”

“How, unnie?”

“We’re like… leaning on each other.”

“That’s... so beautiful, unnie. Thank you.”

You shook your head fondly at the memory, staring at your own addition of two paper clips on the opposite bicep, sans the alcohol in your system. So, who’s to say which one of you is worse than the other?

You tried to unlock your phone but the brightness did too much damage to your eyes to where Face ID couldn’t recognize your look of disapproval. You quickly swiped the brightness all the way down to read the time.

5:43am

That meant you only slept an hour and a half after getting home.

You peeled off the skin-tight clothing your roommate had so lovingly forced you into and grabbed a loose fitting tee and shorts. You knew you had the weekend to recuperate since you’ve completed your work ahead of your deadline.

You poured yourself a glass of water and emptied it in the span of 10 seconds. You could feel your brain recovering from its shriveled state, as if the water seeped into your skull and was being soaked up. You wondered if Wheein, your ridiculously cute neuroscience major friend down the street, would be able to explain why that is.

You hummed to yourself as you grabbed another glass of water and a reusable metal straw before making your way back to your room, where Hyejin was convinced that your bed had healing properties since she never woke up with a hangover when she slept in your space.

“It’s like you just have this homey superpower.”

“Okay, unnie. Please stop eating your hair when I’m trying to feed you toast.”

You set the glass at your bedside table and decided to go through your phone’s notifications before rousing Hyejin awake.

You scrolled through the notifications, mostly people making sure that you both got home okay, Wooyoung sending you a money charge with the caption: I may have ordered you the taxi, but you’re paying for it. Love you noona xoxo

You scrolled until you saw a lone notification from Instagram (why? you haven’t posted in two weeks?) that nearly made you drop your phone in the same way your heart did.

[04:17] wzljh__ liked your post

Your hands shook as you stared at it.

You took a screenshot.

(Just in case.)

You clicked on the notification that took you straight to the post wzljh__ liked.

It was a random post from three years ago when you studied abroad in Japan during your junior year, where you were praying in front of a temple for, according to your caption, “to be able to change the world… and also get into a PhD program.”

You clicked on the usernames that indicated who liked your post. You couldn’t find the familiar handle anywhere. Secondhand embarrassment rushed through your veins and passed as quickly as it came.

You came to three conclusions at once.

1. Lee Jihoon reactivated his Instagram.

B. He didn’t block you.

III. He stalked your profile.

―――――――――――――――――

“Y/N, I really don’t think—”

“Jihoonie, I need to get more likes on my post. Therefore, I am making you this profile. You don’t even have to go on that often. Okay? You can deactivate it once I go viral enough to have the world at my disposal.”

“That’s never going to happen—”

“Believe in me more, would you?”

“Why should I?”

“Because I believe in you.”

―――――――――――――――――

Jihoon immediately reprimanded you, telling you that you didn’t need to appease anyone as a sixteen-year-old (God, he really was too mature for his own good) but your whining had him yielding once you promised that you’d catch up on One Piece over the weekend and that you would make a bento for him.

He only ever posted once (at your request), but he did like every single one of your posts back then, although, no one would know since those were all archived (for the sake of preserving your current social life by preventing the increase in Hyejin’s arsenal of embarrassing photos of you).

Only months later did you have that falling out and his deactivation quickly followed. You believed he wouldn’t ever reactivate his personal account, especially with his woozi_universefactory account set up for Pledis, which, even then, was hardly posted on.

You clicked on his profile to see the anonymous profile picture still there. You saw his followers list and saw only four names.

That once familiar wave of jealousy that plagued you for over a decade never came when you saw her name. It dissipated a few years back after a night of confessions and mascara stained tears, hushed whispers and muffled sobs tucked away in the corner of a Busan bar in the middle of winter.

You checked his following list and saw several musical artists as well as your own handle.

Wait. Where was hers?

You navigated to her page to make sure you weren’t completely delirious and your brain slowly caught up with your eyes.

He wasn’t following her.

You typed in her username to find her profile. Immediately, her beautiful smile shone brighter on the page than the dimly lit screen could do justice.

You never hated her. She was a confidant and a beloved person in your life. Still is. You were all childhood friends (along with your cousin) with deep ties and connections, although the same could not be said for you and Jihoon currently.

But you hated how it all turned out: she didn’t reciprocate feelings towards Jihoon, but didn’t have the courage to properly reject him either.

Because, who would ever want to let him go?

You did, your mind supplied.

You bit your tongue and wondered if Jihoon found out that she was proposed to by your cousin just over a month ago, the one who she spent her childhood years pining after.

Maybe that’s why he’s not following her anymore.

―――――――――――――――――

“Y/N.”

“Shh, Jihoon. I’m concentrating.”

“On what?”

“My wish!”

You felt a tug at your earlobe and your fourteen-year-old self squeaked out, “Why!”

“What’re you wishing for?”

“I can’t tell you! That’s not how wishes work…”

He let out a gruff noise and sat across from you, his bright red shorts and white shirt were definite contrasts against the dirt surrounding your two small bodies.

“I’ll tell you one of my wishes.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. If you tell me one of yours.”

“You first.”

“Ladies first.”

“I asked and it’s only polite if you answer.”

He huffed. “You never make any sense.”

“Yes.”

He rolled his eyes before he cast his gaze down in a boyish way that was just so charming, you too had to look away. “I want the courage to be able to confess my feelings before it’s too late.”

You stared at the river and wondered whether it was deep enough to catch all the tears that wanted to spill themselves from out of you, the image of her coming to the forefront of your mind.

“Firefly?”

“Hm?”

“What about you?”

You forced a smile as your eyes met his.

“I want to be friends forever.”

You knew wishes would never come true if you said them out loud.

―――――――――――――――――

“Jesus Christ! How long have you been standing over me like a fucking creep?”

Your trip down memory lane was interrupted by Hyejin’s screeching. You promptly rolled your eyes. “Get up, Princess. I got some water for you.”

“I’m gonna spill it on my face—”

“I brought a straw too.”

“How about a diamond ring? Because if you popped the question, I’d say yes immediately.”

You resisted the urge to smack the smug grin on her face and pushed the water over to her. “You would want a diamond, wouldn’t you?”

“All-naturally mined. No lab made stuff. Spent enough time there myself. Don’t need a ring to remind me of it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind to tell Wheein—”

“Shut up.”

“You’re right. She probably already knows. Being childhood friends and all.”

“Shall I remind you of your unrequited childhood love?”

“‘S not the same,” you responded automatically. She raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t even seen him.”

“What? We rewatched their Melon performance literally two days ago, what the fuck you mean you haven’t seen—”

“I meant in person, unnie.”

She clicked her tongue. “And we went to the SEVENTEEN concert seven months ago. We would’ve gotten the fan sign too if you weren’t being so damn annoying about it.”

Your flustered response was enough to make Hyejin laugh at your expense. “I-I just wasn’t sure whether he would’ve even wanted to see me!”

She paused at your words.

You blinked owlishly at her. “What?”

“You used to say that you knew he didn’t want to see you. Now you’re not sure? What happened while I was passed out?”

You gulped.

She set her glass down quietly, a soft smile that seemed misplaced surrounded by her strained features.

“Bumblebee, take a seat.”

You promptly fell to your knees, feeling like explaining the situation would be akin to confessing your sins.

You only hoped she wouldn’t damn you to hell.

―――――――――――――――――

“Just slide into his DM’s.”

“Hell no.”

“Don’t talk to your unnie like that.”

You scoffed. “I’m not going to slide into his DM’s like some sad bitch who’s been yearning for over a decade.”

“...but isn’t that exactly what you are?”

You were so close to throwing your mimosa across the table. Too bad the American-inspired restaurant you were at only had half-off drinks during the weekday happy hour. You weren’t going to waste your full-priced flute of champagne and orange juice.

“Give me your phone.”

“No.”

“Bumblebee, I promise I won’t message him. Just give me your phone, I want to see his profile again.”

You took your pinky, made an ‘X’ over your heart with it, pressed the tip against your lips, and held it out for her to do the same.

“God, what are you, 5?”

“Pinky promises cannot be broken. If you break them, you break my trust.”

“You know, for someone who’s studied Psychology, you sure believe in a lot of non-evidence-based practices.”

You emphatically made your point by bringing your pinky closer to her. She sighed and hooked hers around yours. “Satisfied, bumbles?”

“Always, unnie. There’s something beautiful about how the biggest of promises are made with the littlest of fingers.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up at that.

She took your phone and turned it to where you could see her every move. She clicked Jihoon’s profile and went to his first and only post, already liked by your sixteen-year-old self.

She looked as though she were scrutinizing the caption. You expected her to try and formulate an idea of him that was separate from his stage persona.

What you didn’t expect was for her to unlike the post and quickly like it again.

“UNNIE!”

“Oh, bumblebee, I think you would have broken the sound barrier with how loud that was.”

You were too busy having a meltdown to realize the whispering voices around you, giving pointed looks of disdain. Hyejin smiled at everyone and bowed slightly in apology. She tossed your phone at you.

“You said you wouldn’t—”

“I didn’t message him, did I?”

Your mouth went dry while your tears welled up.

Hyejin recognized the consequences of her actions immediately. “Whoa, hey. Y/N, it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s fine.”

“You don’t get to decide if it’s fine or not.”

She flinched back at your harsh tone.

You stared blankly at the phone in front of you, the once red heart, drained white, and filled again with color in the span of a microsecond.

Your watery eyes met Hyejin’s concerned gaze.

You bit your lip. “Can you pull out your phone?”

She froze. “Why...?”

“Because I’m going to eat everything off of this brunch menu and you’re paying for it, so you’re going to have to make a transfer from your savings now.”

“...Yeah, okay. Fair.”

―――――――――――――――――

“They’re both cooked dough with butter and syrup.”

You gasped loudly. “Jihoon! Blasphemous!”

He gave you a deadpanned look. “Y/N, you mean to tell me that it’s really that important whether I decide between pancakes or waffles?”

“Waffles are obviously superior! They have little pockets that cradle the syrup, with crisp edges and fluffy insides!”

“There’s literally no one here that’s arguing against you right now.”

“I need you to agree with me!”

“No, you want me to.”

You plopped back down into the booth, shoulders slumped at a lost cause.

“...would it make you happy?”

“What?”

Jihoon cleared his throat. “I asked if it would make you happy. If I agreed that waffles are superior to pancakes.”

You stammered, a blush creeping up your neck at the question. “Uh, no. It was a dumb debate. I was just trying to be annoying. I—”

“It’s okay to let yourself be happy even over the dumb things, firefly.”

You twiddled with your thumbs and bit back the goofiest grin as you heard Jihoon call the waiter over to order your shared waffle platter, asking for, ‘enough syrup to fill each little pocket’.

You never saw Jihoon eat pancakes after that day, always opting for the obviously superior choice. 

―――――――――――――――――

The joy of eating butter and carbs and sugar from that day was not enough to sustain you through the week once you realized you had a paper deadline that was sooner than you remembered.

Your eyes ran over the words again, nearly questioning your sanity when it felt like you spent the last thirty minutes trying to reorganize your paper in a way that was cohesive. You spent so much time unlearning the APA 6th edition format to relearn the APA 7th edition, and then moving back to Korea made you throw all of that out the window. Therefore, your mind was a jumbled mess of DOI numbers and misplaced periods.

This paper was due in less than a week and you still found yourself questioning whether the literature review was comprehensive enough to cover all twenty sources you were required to include. Two pages. A list of twenty sources that took up approximately three-fourths of your second page. A singular paragraph of literature review on peer-reviewed articles studying the risk factors of suicide in Korean adolescents before needing to address implications and future research and potential programs that could address these issues.

“Nothing is real,” you muttered to yourself.

You glanced around the library and noticed a scarcity of other human beings. You groaned to yourself as you realized you hadn’t moved from your seat in over eight hours and the library was due to close in ten minutes.

You wanted to stab yourself in the neck when you remembered you still had the Social Welfare 101 class’s papers to grade. You knew that they needed feedback on their writing and you also knew they saw you as a pushover, so the papers are very likely lackluster, especially since the class was filled with people who were trying to get their Humanities credit for their degree in another field.

“Become a doctor, they said. It will be worth it, they said,” your hushed-tone almost mocking.

One of the other TAs from the Educational Psychology department had offered to take some of the grading from you, knowing that you had several large projects due soon, but you quickly brushed off the offer, saying that you could handle it.

A few stray tears slid down your face as you felt overwhelmed by the entirety of the last four years. You graduated early from Yale and dove straight into a doctoral program you could have easily put off by working for a few years.

You removed your glasses and buried your face into your hands, allowing yourself five minutes of reprieve. Just five. Before you needed to pack up and get back to work.

Why are you trying so hard to prove yourself?

―――――――――――――――――

[tw: suicide mention]

“Social work is a useless field, Y/N.”

You grit your teeth. “Eomeonim, I—”

“Did you think I wouldn’t see your interview in the school newsletter? Saying you want to go to Seoul National University and study social work? No daughter of mine is going to go into a field that has no chance of finding a job that makes money. You think that your Abeonim and I will be supporting you for the rest of your life? What will the neighbors say, huh?”

“Eomma—”

“No, you do not get to call me that, you ungrateful child. I did not work as hard as I did to put you through the additional tutoring and classes I have for you to just betray me like this.”

Bile rose up in your throat and you choked back the tears threatening to spill.

“Oh, and there she goes, being dramatic again. You don’t think I feel like crying too? You want to become a social worker? You want to help people? How can you do that when you’re so selfish?”

Your nails dug themselves into the meat of your palms, but not hard enough to cause pain, not when your nervous habit of biting them whittled them down to stubs.

“Get out. Come back when your head is clear.”

You moved, but not too hastily so as to signal her to your anxiety, for you were just a prey and she was the apex predator. You kept your gaze downcast and zipped up your designer brand backpack before looping your arms through the pristinely kept straps. Your family had a reputation throughout the town to keep. And you were the heir to it all.

All of the glamour.

All of the charisma.

All of the pressure.

All of the pride.

All of the distrust.

All of the insecurity.

All of the underlying self-hatred.

You shut the door behind you softly and wrapped your arms around you, letting your feet carry you to the one place you knew you could find solace.

Once you arrived, picking a fallen leaf off of your skirt, you knocked weakly at the window pane.

Jihoon glanced up from his desk and made his way to open it for you. “Hey, firefly.”

You quietly slipped through the frame.

“Bad day?”

“Do you ever, just, think about stopping?”

Jihoon blinked once. “Stopping what?”

“Life, I guess.”

He remained silent and he uncrossed his arms so you knew, at least physically, he was open to listening to you. This wasn’t the first time you brought up this subject to him.

“I could just end it all, Jihoon. I could just have it all be over. My parents wouldn’t have to worry anymore. They wouldn’t have to be so disgusted by the fact that they birthed such an ungrateful and selfish child.”

Jihoon breathed deeply through his nose. You knew how much it stirred up his insides whenever you talked about this, but he would reiterate that your safety was always more important than his comfort.

“I should just do it, right? That’ll prove something to them. That’ll show them that they’re not the perfect people everyone makes them out to be. They drove their daughter to this. Oh, but. They might just use it as an excuse to garner more attention. Woe is the perfect family in Busan, they struggle with loss, just like us. But… I could just end it all now. It could all be over, Jihoon. I have that power.”

“You do, firefly. You could end it all.”

Your head shot up so fast you nearly got whiplash. You were expecting soft!Jihoon, not whatever this was. You spluttered, “I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re the one who said it.”

“Are you saying I should just do it then?”

“No,” Jihoon said evenly. “I’m just saying that you do have that power. But you also have the power not to. You have the power to continue on.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“But you have to.”

“I don’t have to do anything, Jihoon!”

Jihoon clicked his tongue at your raised tone. “Whoa, hey. You’re the one who always says you have to jump through hoops in order to ‘earn’ love. I’m not the one who taught you that bullshit; go talk to your parents about that.”

“But they’re right!”

“No, they’re not.”

“Shut up! You don’t know me!”

“Y/N, I have spent more time with you than those sorry excuses of parental figures ever have!”

“Those are my parents!”

“Yeah, and they’re assholes!”

“You’re the one who doesn’t know! They’re the ones who see me, who know me best. They raised me. They know how disappointing I am. They know how useless I am. They know! They’re the ones who know just how unworthy I am!”

“God! Why do you care so much?! Why are you trying so hard to prove yourself?!”

You sucked in a sharp breath. Your bottom lip trembled as your voice came out, horribly fragile, a complete contrast to your sharp tone from just moments ago. “I… Because it’s me, Jihoon. I’m either too much for people or I’m never enough. So, I have to do everything perfectly to prove that I’m worthy. I have to be better than anyone else. Because I have to make up for the fact that it’s me.”

You were openly sobbing.

“But… you’re not better than anyone else, firefly.”

You tried to muffle your tears enough to hear Jihoon’s voice over your crying. Your eyes met his and you expected to see pity, but instead, his facial expression remained as neutral, a steadfast look in his eyes amidst all of your wavering.

“Firefly, you suck at Super Smash Bros. You’ve never won a game against me. Not even one. In like, ten whole years. Also, you’re really bad at timing when ramyeon noodles are done. You always overcook them. You cry when you see a fat seagull waddling down the shoreline. You can’t eat spicy food to save your life. You use too many emojis when you type. You can’t even jog 100m without wanting to pass out. You get so angry that you blow up at others and shame them for making you angry, but you hate it when people are mad at you. You refuse to share your food when it’s still warm, but force me to finish it when you’re full. You don’t trust others enough to do their part of the work so you never let anyone else help you. You have a nervous habit of saying stupid random facts when a pretty girl talks to you. You once poured milk before the cereal. You’re full of flaws.”

Your lips were pressed in a thin line, but the tears had ceased approximately halfway through his listing of your traits.

“You are not the best. By any means. Mediocre, even.”

“I’m kind of hurt.”

Jihoon snorted. “You don’t know everything, firefly. You’re not always going to be the smartest in the room. You’re not the best that ever existed. You never will be. But you’re never too much. And you’re always enough. And although your parents and nearly every adult in this town could think otherwise, you will meet people, people like noona, like hyung, like me, who will still care about you even when you’re being a shitty little brat like you are now. People who will still care about you even when you’re not number one.” 

“…You don’t know that.”

“Neither do you.”

―――――――――――――――――

“Do you ever think about generational trauma?”

Hyejin gave you a sideways glance. “Do we need to pull out the therapy chair and the rosé for this?”

You swatted the offer away. “I’m serious.”

“What d’you mean then, bumblebee?”

“I just think about my parents and the pressure that was probably put on them from their parents and the parents before. But with each generation, no one decided to try and break the cycle. They just kept taking their hurt and putting it onto the next. It’s just… I don’t know. It’s not just my family. It’s prevalent… everywhere. Did you know that South Korea has one of the highest rates of suicide in all of the OECD countries, second only to Lithuania? Common risk factors among adolescents tend to be academic pressure and family issues. So. I know it’s not just me. The numbers don’t lie.”

“Is this related to the paper you were working on earlier?”

You pondered for a moment. “I think researching adolescents and suicidality might’ve triggered some old memories, yeah.”

“Are you…?”

“Okay,” you finished her question. “The thoughts only come when I’m feeling overwhelmed with stuff. And it being our last semester, it’s just… a lot is being demanded of us. Classes, projects, thesis defense. I’m feeling, I dunno, a little helpless.”

“Hmm, I’m remembering some wise words from my undergraduate roommate at Yale~” Hyejin said, in a sing-song voice. “She said that the best way to stop feeling helpless is…?”

You glared.

“The best way to stop feeling helpless iiiiiis…?”

“...to ask for help.”

“Wow, right on the money.”

You decidedly messaged your fellow TA to ask them to help alleviate some of your workload to which they happily agreed.

Which you only gained the courage to ask for after a straight-winning streak in several online matches of Super Smash Ultimate.

You weren’t mediocre.

You just realized he wasn’t either.

―――――――――――――――――

Just a few days later, on a rare weekend where you managed to pull away from schoolwork, you found yourself in the attic of the group home you worked on-and-off at for the past four years, sorting through boxes of tattered toys, gathering the ones necessary to put through the washer. You laid down on the floor, the rickety boards beneath you groaning at your weight. You passively wondered whether a cartoon moment would happen and the group home inhabitants would find a you-shaped hole in their ceiling.

You reached into your own backpack and pulled out your own toy of sorts. You threw it up in the air only to let gravity do the work to bring it back into your hold. You had to be careful to not give yourself a black eye like you did a few years back.

“Whoa, you played baseball?”

You glanced at the tattered ball in your hand, the stitching almost undone, the yarn beginning to peek through. The color was no longer a pristine white, but that only proved its history of handling. “Choi Sannie, what about me says ‘athlete’?”

“Hey,” your younger coworker put his arms up in defense, fully climbing into the attic space now. “I know all of the things we have here at the home, and that is definitely not one of them. So that means that’s yours. Or you stole it—” He gasped loudly in delight. “You stole—!”

“No, dumbass.”

He deflated. He knelt down on the floor next to you, inspecting the baseball without taking it in his hands, careful to not overstep your boundaries. You taught him all about consent; Choi San was a wild child, but he knew respect. “May I see?”

You tossed it casually over to him.

“Is this handwriting? I can barely read it.”

“Even if it was brand new, I promise that handwriting would be illegible to the average person anyways.”

“You’re not average though.”

“Of course not.”

“So, what does it say?”

“Gwangan-dong, Busan, August 2.”

“Was it a gift?”

“Yeah.”

“From who?”

“An old friend.”

“Why keep it?”

You hummed softly.

“For the days that feel like I’ve lost.”

―――――――――――――――――

Lee Jihoon was a boy who demanded attention. And he always had it. But not because he would go parade and peacock around for the sake of trying to earn it. He naturally caught it, with collected looks and smooth words. Everyone in your town knew him: his ability to work hard and even more, his ability to achieve. He never needed to do anything to garner more attention because all of it was already on him. Even at the perfect attention-craving age of thirteen.

Lee Jihoon would never show off.

You had been to every single one of Jihoon’s baseball games, cheering silently when he made a great call, throwing mental expletives when things were going awry. You knew his mannerisms, his tells. Hell, you even knew the code for when the coach beckoned his players to steal a base.

So, you knew when Jihoon was showing off.

You wanted to gag at the sight of him puffing out his chest while he wore his catcher gear. You often believed him to be beyond this world but the reality quickly slapped you back as you wondered why exactly he was being so obnoxious.

Your unnie turned to you, “It’s almost over, yes?”

You wanted to laugh at the fact it seemed like she aged an additional year for every inning. “Yes, unnie.”

“I don’t understand how there’s no timer.”

“It’s done by the number of outs.”

She nodded, but you knew she didn’t actually take it in, since you repeated that fact three times over the course of the past two hours.

“Our Jihoonie’s doing well, right?”

“Yep, as per usual.”

“I really don’t understand baseball, lovebug.”

You pat her shoulder. “It’s alright. I don’t mind telling you. Although, you might want to ask oppa more about it. He knows more than I do. He messaged me and said he’ll be here in about five minutes so he can take us all out for dinner after.”

She froze. You quirked an eyebrow.

You noticed the redness creeping up her neck.

“Oh my God. Unnie! Do you like my cous—?”

Before she could say anything to defend herself, you felt the bleachers around you shift in tandem and you nearly toppled over until she caught you.

Your eyes found Jihoon, who was holding the ball that sealed their fate: they won. He won.

You saw him and his teammates gather together, his mask coming off to reveal his black hair sticking to his forehead and his ever-so-brilliant smile.

Oh no. You were so smitten.

After several moments of trying to push through the crowd, you finally reach a place where you spot Jihoon animatedly speaking to your unnie, who managed to get ahead of you by several paces.

You immediately froze.

Even from this far away, you could see his eyes clearly. Of course, you could. You were so practiced in searching for them, in times of joy, in mourning, in dancing, in sorrow. In those dark irises, swirled something so raw, your breathing became ragged. You saw the way he looked at her. You knew the look in his eyes.

Because you’d caught glimpses of it in yours in passing mirrors whenever you were with him.

How long did it take you to realize?

Suddenly, you wanted to be anywhere but there.

You rushed backwards, much easier to run away than it was to charge forth. You ran and ran and ran until you reached the back of the bleachers where you crumpled down onto your knees, effectively getting grass stains on your poor clothes.

“Mommy! Mommy! There’s someone crying!”

“Baby, no—let’s go over here.”

“She’s an ugly crier, like you!”

You cursed the fact that children were basically sober drunks and said whatever was on their mind. The fateful “u” word that repeated itself obsessively in your mind.

You thought of your unnie.

Your beautiful, elegant, sweet, soft unnie.

Of course Jihoon would prefer her.

He was pulled into her gravity with no room for resistance. His crescent smiles faced her, never to show his dark side, for she was the earth he orbited: captivating and delicate.

Why would he even care to ever look your way?

You were a given; never a prize to be sought. You were unrefined and blundering in your demeanor. You were on the crux of puberty, an awkward and horrendous time that consisted of your skin deteriorating, hormones running rampant, and just. So. Many. Emotions.

Ugly.

“Whoa, whoa, ladybug, is that you?”

You glanced up, not even bothering to wipe away the dribbling mess that was on your face. Your cousin stared in horror at your tears.

“God, you look horrible.”

A broken sob ripped through your chest and your cousin quickly realized he made a mistake. He scooped you up into his arms and held you as you cried, cried, cried.

If jealousy was the ugliest trait, you must have been downright hideous.

Later, you had your face tucked into your cousin’s chest as he apologized to Jihoon and your unnie, who both reached for you, but your cousin, in his typical knight-in-shining armor fashion, brushed them aside and pulled you closer. He convinced them that you received some off-putting remarks from your parents and didn’t want to talk about it (a regular occurrence), so he would take you back to his place to cheer you up with some Disney movies and freshly squeezed lemonade.

Your unnie offered condolences and a swift pat on your head before she called her dad to come pick her up, all of you waiting until she drove off.

Jihoon spent the time waiting listing off a myriad of your needs (“You have to make sure you have the double Kleenex, okay? The other ones leave weird fuzz on her cheeks. And don’t let her wash the dishes when she’s sad because she doesn’t realize how hot the water actually is and ends up rubbing her skin raw. And make sure you use simple syrup for the lemonade and not just sugar, she hates the crystals.”) while he packed his gear away, preparing to walk back on his own, his home not too far away from the baseball field.

You felt your cousin squirm at the prospect of Jihoon having to carry all of his gear after playing a two-hour game and having no food in his stomach. “Wait—Jihoon, I can give you a ride.”

He looked back at him, glanced at you, probably noticing the way your shoulders still trembled, and shook his head firmly.

“Here, firefly.”

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up to realize what it was doing. You saw a small object in the air, falling within your arms reach.

So, you caught it.

Your eyes trailed up to meet his, momentarily forgetting he was the sole cause of your meltdown.

His jaw clenched so hard, you cowered slightly.

“Why are you giving me this?”

You cringed at the sound of your voice, gruff and raspy.

“It’s your win today.”

You blinked rapidly. “Huh?”

Jihoon sighed and you wondered if he just considered you a petulant child.

“Even when you feel like you’ve lost, even when you feel like you have nothing to gain, just the fact that you’re still here, that’s a win. So. Scream. Cry. You can do what you want. It’s your win.”

Your gaze trailed down to the baseball, too large to wrap your fingers around entirely. It was much denser than you thought it would be, the weight foreign in your hands.

You sniffled, the corner of your mouth upturned.

Before you could say anything, Jihoon immediately turned on his heel and walked away.

You looked up and caught your cousin staring at Jihoon’s retreating form with a bemused look. 

“Alright, ladybug, let’s get you home. Your parents are probably preparing dinner right now.”

“You promised Disney and lemonade.”

Your cousin sighed dramatically. “I guess I did,” he ruffled your hair to which you let out a prolonged, annoyed groan. “Which movie?”

You pondered for a moment. “Hercules?”

You thought of Jihoon and his reputation throughout your town: attention-grabbing, diligent, admirable, heroic.

But most of all, kind.

“You got good taste, ladybug.”

―――――――――――――――――

“Does today feel like a lost day?”

You resisted the urge to mess with the singular faded green streak running through San’s hair, a test subject from when Hyejin wanted you to dye her hair, but you didn’t want to try it out on yourself nor buy a synthetic wig. A rebellious eighteen-year-old was the best option at the time. “No. It doesn’t.”

“Then why do you have this?” He inquired again.

“Because I can do what I want, San. It’s my win.”

He pulled a face of indignation at your rare (at least to him) display of childishness. Your phone pinged on top of your thigh, alerting you to its presence.

[12:42] wzljh__ liked your post

You bit back a grin, knowing San would question you endlessly if he caught it. So you tucked it away, for a later time, where you could be alone and smile as widely as you wanted to. He was getting more and more bold. Hyejin’s action, you knew, was what spurred him on. You wanted to laugh in disbelief.

Lee Jihoon was a man who demanded attention.

And he always had it.

―――――――――――――――――

“No, no. Noona, you promised.”

“I did no such thing.”

Wooyoung scoffed at your words. He pulled out his phone and his nimble thumbs quickly found what he was looking for, signified by a soft ‘ah-hah!’. “You said you would help me try and secure BTS tickets. You’re the only other person that I know that has the ARMY Membership.”

You glanced at his screen and saw your drunk state and you resisted the urge to keel over at the sight. You heard your slurred words promising the very thing Wooyoung was asking of you now. “I wasn’t sober enough to realize what I was saying. Also, what kind of person films their drunk friend and coerces them into promising to get BTS tickets?”

“I never said I was a good person, noona.”

“Ask San or Seonghwa.”

“They don’t have the ARMY Membership,” Wooyoung repeated, emphasizing the last two words. “I’m out here trying to secure the front section. It’s close enough to the stage where I can see Jimin-hyung’s sweat without the screen.”

You grimaced. “Weird ass fanboy.”

“You cannot deny that he is a beautiful man,” Wooyoung said pointedly. “Although, I assume your type is like 15cm shorter and a muscle bunny.”

“He’s only 11cm shorter, sir.”

“Okay, okay. Keep defending your boyfriend.”

You spluttered, instinctively responding with what you said for most of your middle and high school days to those around you. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

Wooyoung gave you a ‘duh’ look. “No shit. You’ve never even met him because you refuse to get the fan signing tickets because you’re a weak ass coward.”

Well. He was definitely right about one of those things. You often forget that you’ve kept your history with him private from most except Hyejin.

(And Wheein.)

(Because Hyejin told her.)

(Luckily, Wheein is a lot more considerate than her boisterous and loose-lipped counterpart.)

“Wooyoungie, you’re really not making me want to help you here, you know.”

“Noona, please.”

He looked at you with his wide brown eyes and jutted out his bottom lip. The thick black frames on the bridge of his nose gave off the impression of innocence, something you would never again associate with the young man in front of you.

His eyes lit up once he visibly saw your determination crumble.

You bit your lip. “You’re paying for this pizza. And we get pineapples on it.”

“I love you~ You are a goddess I am unworthy of even perceiving~ I worship the the ground you walk on, O sweet and kind deity~”

Your mouth twitched. “A ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

Wooyoung looked at you, a serious look in his eye, took your hand and squeezed it. He gave you a smile that almost melted away your disdain. “Thank you, noona.”

“Men like you give women trust issues.”

“Yeah, probably.”

―――――――――――――――――

“I couldn’t express my feelings because I was too young. I wanted to be your tomorrow, so I lived today. Ever since the first day I saw you until now, in my heart, it’s only you. These typical words, I’m only saying them now. But I hope these typical words will reach you. Thank you, thank you. That’s all I can say. Even all the waiting, all the longing. And all of our memories. Thank you, thank you.”

You half-hoped they would perform this song, half-hoped they wouldn’t. It rendered your heart weak, almost wringing it through with the lyrics and melody, the implication. There was a deep yearning within you that wished these lyrics could have been for you, once upon a time.

You hid yourself with a black face mask and wore a baseball cap. Hyejin told you that you were making yourself look even more conspicuous by wearing such garb, but you couldn’t risk being noticed. You wanted to see him, but in a way that didn’t require vulnerability. Plus, your tears were easier to hide.

Hyejin held your hand, her fingers intertwined with yours, the two of you uncharacteristically calm and still unlike the other CARATs around you, all of whom were cheering and swinging their lightsticks in tandem.

She gave your hand a tight squeeze.

You thought back to what was seemingly a mundane day, going on one of your grocery shopping trips at a Trader Joe’s while still living in New Haven, Connecticut.

The days leading up to your shopping trip, you were a mess of a human being, weighed down by the amount of work you still had left to complete, hardly able to be present in your own life, instead simply watching it go by. Hyejin took over your chores for the week, bought you sweets, stayed up with you even if she finished her own work, made sure to send kind text messages randomly throughout the day, and was all around the best supporter you could have asked for.

You kept apologizing to her for not being able to reciprocate, the only words that your mouth had the energy to form were, “I’m sorry.” And she would, each time, just pat your head with a soft chuckle and say, “You don’t have to keep saying that, you know. You don’t have to say that you’re sorry.”

But you weren’t sure of what you could say instead, so you said nothing at all.

Your grocery trip was made to be more of an adventurous outing that matched the energy that you were able to procure, as cooping yourself indoors only intensified your feelings of stress. However, you were on the mend from the disastrous week, as you finished up your work the day prior to your little trip to the grocery store.

(You couldn’t help but think your ability to even leave your apartment was because of Hyejin.)

After gathering all of the ingredients to cook carbonara (with extra pancetta!) and loading them up in your car, Hyejin offered to return the shopping cart to its designated location.

You saw her from afar and suddenly something overwhelmed you.

You knew what to say instead of: ‘I’m sorry.’

“Bumblebee?”

“Thank you.”

Hyejin gave you a raised eyebrow. “Yeah? Of course.”

“No, I mean...”

You paused. What did you mean?

Did you even have a right to express yourself? That’s all you seemed to do during the week and it was almost embarrassing trying to say something now. Like, this wasn’t the right time and place. The butter was melting in the car.

“Actually, never mind. Don’t worry about it.”

I couldn’t express my feelings because I was too young.

She gave a pointed look and said, “Uh. Alright.”

But something tugged at you. A gentle reminder from a gentle person with a seemingly rough personality.

These typical words, I’m only saying them now. But I hope these typical words will reach you.

If he could do it, so could you.

Before she could get into the passenger seat, you called out again, “Actually!”

She glanced your way, still visibly confused.

You took a deep breath. “Thank you for returning the cart. But, ah, more than that. Thank you for coming to the store with me. Thank you for spending time with me. Thank you for consoling me. Thank you for living with me. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for staying by my side. Thank you for loving me.”

You couldn’t hold back your tears, so you didn’t. Your beloved friend did not fare much better.

She was in a state of what seemed like hysteria, laughing with tears streaming down her face. “What the heck, dude? What’s the matter with you? God, I love you so much.”

She took you into her arms and you both cried in the middle of a Trader Joe’s parking lot.

Your heart was filled with gratitude as the thirteen boys on stage interlocked their fingers in a pinky promise to love their fans. You mirrored the action as you took Hyejin’s pinky and interlocked yours with hers. She glanced at you and you gave a smile from behind your mask, trusting she knows what you mean. Trusting that she hears the promise you are making to her, to yourself.

Promising to always be thankful.

Promising to always love.

But if she could not hear the wordless promise echoing in your chest, you knew you would repeat it aloud to her for as long as she needed. To whoever needed it.

Because although those words may be typical, they were still worth saying.

That is a lesson an old friend taught you.

An old friend whose smile now shone as bright as the stage lights that lingered on his form.

―――――――――――――――――

Three weeks later, you were up to your neck in deadlines. You were demanded at every possible place you frequented. In the research labs, in the recruitment office, in your collective TAs room, in the group home you volunteered for.

Hypothetically, there should have been no room in your mind for Lee Jihoon.

Too bad you saw him everywhere.

Not just explicitly, like the way his idol group overtook the internet with selfies here and tweets there and ridiculous fan edit videos everywhere.

But rather, in the crevices of Seoul, in the freshly cooked rice found at your favorite family restaurant, ready to serve piping hot meals with heaping portions of a mother’s love, in the off-key melodies sung unapologetically by a circle of children in the middle of the neighborhood park, not caring who’s there to witness, performing for any and all, in the rhythm of the city thrumming beneath your soles and at your fingertips, ready to sweep you off your feet if you gave it the chance.

You saw him everywhere.

That included your notification center.

[15:32] wzljh__ commented on your post—

Your vision blurred.

Was this what cardiac arrest felt like?

A comment? A comment? You were plenty satisfied with the likes on your post, but a comment meant direct interaction, not mindless scrolling and double tapping.

The ringing in your ears was prevalent and you knew for the sake of your body and soul, you needed to shut it all away.

You pushed aside the thoughts, compartmentalized like they taught you during your clinical therapy program, and shoved your phone far into the depths of your unorganized bag.

You breathed in.

You breathed out.

You had work to do.

―――――――――――――――――

“Hey, so, it’s noona’s birthday on Sunday—” 

“I know, Jihoon, you haven’t shut up about it for the past two weeks.”

“Okay, okay. Fine. But I’ve spent so long trying to find a gift for her and I still can’t find anything. Can’t you, just like, come with me to the market for the day? I’ve never spent so much time and effort trying to find a damn gift for a birthday before. I’ll buy us dinner and we can stop by that dessert stand with the black sesame soft serve.”

“I told you. I have college prep exams I have to worry about. You want to woo her? You can. Easily. Lee Jihoon, anyone would be lucky to be loved by you.”

He breathed out a long sigh. “...thanks, firefly.”

You gave a stiff nod before walking away, the singular cardstock invitation (since you only made one for him because he teased you endlessly for your homemade invitations in the fifth-grade and you committed yourself to spite him every year from then on) you scrawled a date on in two week’s time weighing heavily in your bag. You bit your bottom lip to try and prevent the tears from slipping.

Guess your birthday wasn’t worth putting time and effort in.

At least, that’s what you thought until you found a small package in your first-year high school locker on that fateful day, in two week’s time.

Inside a poorly wrapped box, you found a card and a keychain of three tiny medals: simply drawn hands interlocking at their pinkies, the infinity symbol, and a crescent moon.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you opened the card envelope slowly, afraid your shaking hands would accidentally tear apart the paper. The card was homemade and purposefully horrendous (he claims; although, knowing his crafting skills, you weren’t so sure) with his haphazard, yet endearing scrawl.

You read the words once. Twice. Three times.

Moved them away from your eyes so the tears wouldn’t fall and smudge them.

“I saw these charms two months ago and immediately thought of you.

You said anyone would be lucky to be loved by me.

Guess you’re a pretty lucky person.

Happy birthday, firefly.

- Jihoonie

P.S. I have a sun on mine, if you end up wanting to switch.”

And so you skipped the first ten minutes of your last class to fold in on yourself in one of the second-floor girls’ bathroom stalls. You muffled your cries against your sleeve because it’s just so utterly him that you couldn’t even think straight.

When he finds you after school, eyes puffed and disheveled, you half-expected him to comfort you, because it was your birthday and, to most people, that warranted special treatment.

Instead he laughed loudly at your tattered self, pinched your reddened nose with a grip you could say bordered on assault, and said, “Come on, let’s go get some cake and ice cream. I’ll pay.”

You glared at him. “You hate cake and ice cream.”

He merely grinned at you. “Not today, I won’t. You really are lucky to have me, aren’t you?”

Even with the way he teased you relentlessly for all seven blocks to the place you frequented when your pockets were lined with allowance, the dessert shop with the fresh cream green tea cake topped with fruit you knew Jihoon was gonna take when you weren’t looking, even with his eyes filled with mischief and cheeks filled with stolen strawberries, you couldn’t help but agree.

―――――――――――――――――

“He’s been pretty bold lately.”

You cocked your head to the side as you pulled your lunchbox out onto the cafeteria table. You spread the items out in an orderly fashion and Hyejin nearly sneered at the display, but you ignored her. “Hrm? What d’you mean?”

“I mean, he’s been liking more and more of your posts. He also commented today. Isn’t that bold? Considering you haven’t spoken in years? What happens if he’s just, I dunno, playing with you?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Is it dumb to say that it’s just a gut instinct that everything is okay?”

“Again, what is the point of your higher education? Gut instincts aren’t exactly evidence-based.”

You unwrapped your sandwich and your eye twitched at the sauce that dribbled down. Damn. You could’ve sworn you had the right ratio this time. 

You took a bite, your tongue slipping out to catch the excess sauce. You chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. You mindlessly tapped your fingers against the bread before you spoke.

“I dunno how to explain it, unnie. I know all of my observations have been just… through likely scripted scenes and concerts. And I know it’s dumb to think that he’s still the same kid from way back when, but even seeing him interacting with his members… It just seems like he’s happy. Not just the superficial kinda happy, but the everlasting contentment and joy kinda happy. So. I don’t think he’s going to ruin that by trying to dredge up stuff that could ruin it. Or plot revenge. I just... don’t sense any ill intentions. And I never have, even when all that shit happened.”

“Hm… I honestly don’t know the guy, but it does just sound like he made one choice in an unfortunate circumstance. Big decision in the midst of big emotions,” Hyejin murmured.

“So did I,” you said pointedly.

She smirked at that. “Yeah, but you ended up with me, so I’m okay with your choice. But, also maybe, I just trust your judgment a little too much. But, if you consider him as wonderful as you say he is, then. I believe you. Plus, I feel like his lyrics and videos that I’ve seen are proof that he’s not a complete piece of shit.”

“Ah, yes. Thank you for thinking he’s not the scum of the earth.”

“Yes. Just a rung above that. If I ever meet him, I’ll definitely punch him. For your honor.”

“Hah. Thanks, unnie. I’m sure that your stick arms will do a lot of damage.”

“Of course.”

The two of you laughed.

Hyejin hummed. “Do you ever blame him?”

“For what?”

“Leaving before you.”

You raised a brow as you set your sandwich down to bring your attention to your apple slices, peeled in a way to make them look like bunny rabbits. After dunking it into some peanut butter, you decapitated its head with your teeth. “Blame is a funny thing.”

“What d’you mean by that?”

“I mean, think about it, unnie,” you began. “Do I blame him for leaving when I was the one who decided to leave first?”

Hyejin clicked her tongue. “But he left without even saying ‘goodbye’ or even warning you.”

“Mm, yeah. But... I mean, do I blame him for leaving before me when he could blame me for deciding to leave first? Or do I keep going and blame him for making me fall in love with him or could he turn that around and blame me for having feelings in the first place? Do I go further and blame him for defending me from bullies in first grade or does he blame me by trying to become friends by giving him a seashell? Do I blame him for being born or does he blame me for the same thing? Blame is an endless cycle and trying to pin the entire thing on one person or one event is hard. At least, in this instance, you know? There wasn’t a clear cut perpetrator and victim here.”

Hyejin picked at her nails. “You really have a different kinda brain, don’t you, bumblebee?”

You chuckled. “It’s gotten me this far.”

A silence fell over the two of you as you stared at your bunny apple slices, eventually fed up at the odd number of them and choosing to sacrifice one to your stomach for the sake of your peace of mind. 

After a few moments, you spoke again.

“I used to be real angry with him.”

“Yeah, you told me you used to be a fiery little thing. Plus, I heard you blow up at that student athlete who was dishing out homophobic slurs near the Student Center. When you’re angry, whew. I wouldn’t ever wanna be caught in the crossfire.”

You snorted. “Yeah, well, he would often be. I don’t think you can grow up with and know a person for, like, sixteen years and not ever be angry with them. Especially when that person is a prepubescent boy who knows all the little things that grinds your gears.”

“God forbid having feelings for men.”

“Women aren’t that much better,” you reminded Hyejin. She paused for a moment before agreeing to your sentiment. You knew too many of the silly arguments her and Wheein have had over the past two decades.

“Honestly, though. I think he’s one of the only people I ever felt safe enough to even be angry around. So, he usually got the brunt of it all. Honestly, he should’ve left me faster. I was a mess to deal with at the time.”

Hyejin pulled a face at your self-pity. You merely offered a small smile and she rolled her eyes. “So, you were still angry at him when we were at Yale?”

You swallowed another apple bunny. “Absolutely. Remember New York?”

“Which time?”

You snorted. “Specifically the one where we went during the Fourth of July. Where I had hook-ups after hook-ups and had to get a pregnancy test and an STD screening. Where we went bar-hopping literally every night because I wanted to drown in my sorrows. The one that you got on that stranger’s shoulders to shoot off an illegal firecracker.”

“The trip where you got so drunk, you screamed at a man that turned out to be a statue.”

“Hey, in my defense, he looked like an asshole.”

“I’m sure many people would agree with you that Christopher Columbus is indeed an asshole.”

You both laughed.

Your voice lowered to barely above a whisper, Hyejin physically needing to lean in to catch your words.

“I… was angry that he made promises he couldn’t keep. I was angry that he decided to walk out of my life without asking to even try. I was angry that he didn’t even care to ask why I was wanting to leave. That he didn’t care enough to want to know what I was doing. I was angry that he dropped me so fast. I was angry that he moved to Seoul as a last ‘screw you’ because he didn’t want to try and talk it out. I was angry that he was angry. But above all, I was angry at myself that it took me so long to let myself even feel the anger because I blamed myself for everything.”

You let out a shaky breath.

“At the time, I had a sixteen-year-old’s anger and heartbreak and a twenty-one-year-old’s body and ID. So, that anger manifested itself into drunken nights of hedonistic debauchery and cursing out loud for the first time ever, right at a statue of a colonizing murderer.”

You thought she would laugh at your phrasing, but instead, she merely took you in. You wanted to shrink back at her scrutinizing gaze.

“Does it still bother you?”

“...No, not really,” you admitted. “I just woke up one day and realized that I missed him so much more than I was angry at him. At me. Eventually the anger just kind of… faded. I mean, he was hurt when I left. And if he felt like I was leaving him, then it makes sense he would try to do the same in some kind of twisted adolescent retribution. I’m not saying that either of us deserved that kind of treatment, but I mean, we were sixteen and dumb. As a former sixteen-year-old, any kind of change felt like the world ending.”

“As a former sixteen-year-old, I would have to agree,” Hyejin nodded. “Do you ever regret it?”

You shoved another sliced apple into the peanut butter. This time, not picking it up. You stared down at it as you tried to formulate your thoughts. You replied softly after some time, “No.”

“Nothing?”

Your mind trailed back to the time you spent chasing your dream of studying abroad, establishing your place in the world without depending every little decision on him, running after dream after dream and fulfilling them through your own power and accord.

And you thought, as beautiful as the experiences were, you wished you could share the stories with him. He was always your best audience member, applauding your every word and exaggerated action. Sometimes laughing and jeering and heckling, but always, always, always attentive.

You chased your dreams. You always have.

All except one.

But it was okay.

Because he gave you so much more in those fleeting years than the world could ever have supplied in millions.

“No, nothing.”

――――――――――――――――― “Do you still love him?”

Hyejin watched you over the years. You grew and healed, evolved from a bumbling adolescent mess, bright-eyed and terrified, into a full-fledged woman who learned that all most had to offer was a quick fix and prolonged heartbreak. Someone who decided to be kind because she knew first-hand that the world was not. A woman who wanted to be a love letter from the universe. Someone so strong, yet so fragile to the workings of the world because you always allowed your heart to be vulnerable.

She never knew anyone who loved for the sake of loving.

Someone whose living was loving.

Not until she met you.

Your lips pressed into a thin line, but it slowly curved at the ends. “I think I always will.”

Hyejin’s heart felt constricted in her chest; she wanted to scream at you to let go and to move on. Tell you that he wasn’t worth any of the heartbreak and pain and self-doubt.

But she knew. She knew looking into your eyes, that you loved him with a love that transcended the flimsy, insecurity-driven kind portrayed in romantic comedies or Korean television dramas.

Because although she saw your eyes rimmed with unbrittled heartbreak, she also saw the gratitude that overflowed from your irises.

Part of her still wanted to berate and chastise you and tell you to just move on.

But she remembered being on the receiving end of that. How her friends reminded her that to be in an unrequited love was never worth it and that there were plenty of fish in the sea and that she needed to move on because it was just sad.

She remembered how empty that left her, wanting to fill the cracks in her heart with her beloved, because that was always what Wheein would be to her, just as Jihoon would be to you. Hyejin had the privilege to call Wheein at any time, to hear her voice lull her fears and anxieties into soft understandings and warmth, warmth, warmth.

Everyone told her to walk away from all of that.

Not you.

You were the first one to sit with her, hold her hand, smile and remind her what she already knew, a resounding truth in the depths of her soul.

And so, she sat down with you on the edge of your bed, grabbed your hand, smiled, and reminded you of one of your favorite quotes: “What a privilege it is to love.”

A tear slipped past as you beamed. “And to be loved in return.”

“Even for a moment.”

“Even if it is not how we want.”

“Because, still, it is love.”

“And it is the one thing we will never be without.”

―――――――――――――――――

“Two more months,” Wheein muttered before quickly downing her soju shot, not waiting for anyone else at the table. “Two months. And we’re done. No more needing to prepare for a thesis defense. No more needing to sit next to a centrifuge for ten hours at a time. No more needing to read bullshit and selfish opinions on public forums. No more needing to sit next to that weird dude who always smells like he has an open wound that’s infected—”

“Wheein, sweetie, that’s too graphic,” Yongsun responded, bringing her choice of a virgin cocktail up to her lips.

Wheein merely took a swig of the beer next to her.

Byul-yi shot her a glare. “That’s mine.”

“She needs it more, unnie, trust me,” you replied on her behalf. Byul-yi gave you a warning glance that wordlessly said you defended Wheein too much, especially as someone who was younger. “To be honest, I think Hyejin-unnie and I need to catch up to where Wheein-unnie is.”

“No, you need to pace yourself carefully especially with soju because you end up drinking too fast and way past your limit before you even realize.”

“Yongsun-unnie, I know we dated when I was a young and unassuming first-year doctoral student who didn’t understand how to handle her alcohol, but that was the past. Let’s move on, shall we?”

“Hyejin told me you threw up just a few weeks ago.”

“Goddamnit, Hyejin-ssi,” you hissed in mock anger.

She snorted, seeing through your ruse. “Wouldn’t have mattered if she heard from me. Byul-unnie was the one who was holding your hair at the bar, so.”

“Is this how I’m repaid by setting you two up together? The constant risk of potentially being exposed by one or the other? The betrayal. When I introduced the two of you, mere weeks after Yongsun and I broke up, and you two were blatantly flirting in front of me–”

“We were not flirting,” they chimed in unison.

The rest of the table rolled their eyes.

Wheein huffed and whined into her arms, voice muffled against the table. “Y/N, you gotta find me someone.”

“You’ll see them if you just open your eyes. I’m sure of it. They’re right there. Just look in front of you, unnie.”

Hyejin pinched your thigh but you were used to her physical torture.

Wheein groaned loudly, sitting up, but still covering her eyes with her hands. Byul-yi nodded in apology to Hyejin who merely bit her lip.

Yongsun dissipated the tension for Hyejin.

By directing it towards you.

“Y/N, I saw that you posted on Instagram yesterday. The same post from the group home you volunteer for. You were asking for the support of the community, right? And just today, I saw there were a ton of comments on their public page.”

A lump lodged itself into your throat and you stared at her, lips parting but not making any sound.

She cocked her head to the side.

Hyejin rubbed your thigh soothingly with her hand. “Bumblebee didn’t realize that they were going to get that many comments on that post. Plus, uh, I think it was shared by that one singer? Bamsu?”

“Bumzu,” you corrected weakly. Jihoon’s partner-in-crime, or rather, music production.

“Yeah, uh. Him. I guess someone who knows the group home page somehow managed to get it circulated to where he saw it, and… yeah.”

Several other research fellows messaged you privately saying how exciting it was to get the attention your project needed. Your group organizer was saying that tens of calls were coming in at a time, asking how to best provide funding or resources.

You resisted the urge to spiral into oblivion because you knew only one (1) person who would be able to do such a thing.

Bumzu had transitioned from performer to writer/producer and usually had a hand in charity work, at least, over the past couple of years, according to a quick run through his Instagram feed. He wasn’t under the scrutinizing eye of Dispatch, at least, not as much as a certain thirteen-member idol group. His interest in this program didn’t warrant sasaeng fans who would try to track down the people who made the post.

It was the perfect cover up.

It’s not as though Bumzu did anything over the top. He simply reposted the group home’s post on his story, only available for 24 hours, but even then, that was enough time to garner attention.

The group home leader called and cried to you saying that God had really blessed you all.

You wondered whether you should tell her that you didn’t think God was 164cm with moonlit eyes that haunted you in your sleep.

―――――――――――――――――

[15:32] wzljh__ commented on your post: “this is some really cool stuff. do u mind if i share this?”

[19:22] You replied to wzljh__’s comment: “👍🏼 go ahead”

―――――――――――――――――

“Noona~”

“Choi Sannie~”

“I don’t appreciate the mockery~”

“Then get your ass to work~”

San snickered before undoing your haphazardly done ponytail and threading his fingers through your badly tangled hair. “You need to calm down. You have a meeting soon and you look like an absolute mess. So, I’ll at least braid your hair for you, mmkay, noona?”

“San, if you want to reduce my stress, I would appreciate it if you could go and run through the program schedule and let me know what doesn’t work—”

He tugged on your hair and you yelped.

“Noona.”

You leaned back in your chair to see him staring down at you. You grimaced at the fact that, even from this angle, his jawline was inhumanely sharp.

“No one is expecting you to run everything. We have group organizers for a reason. You’re just here to volunteer.”

“But I want to help. I’m responsible for getting the word out there. And I want to be able to make a difference for those in group homes—”

“You did. You helped me. Now I’m in a local college. Working as a barista. Volunteering in the same home I met you in.” Before you could cut him off, San continued, “You can take a break, noona. I’ve never seen you this stressed out before. And I’ve seen you literally down an entire six-pack of banana milk after eating two chocolate croissants.”

“They’re called pain au chocolat. They have to be in the shape of crescents to be called croissants.”

“No one gives a flying shit, noona.”

You gaped at him. “San! Who taught you to speak like that?”

“You did.”

You grumbled to yourself before reaching back for your Apple Pencil. San snuck his hand over your shoulder to pluck it out of your hand. “Hey!”

“Jinwoo wants you to sing him to sleep.”

Your heart ached as you stared at the screen in front of you. There was too much work to do and you couldn’t afford—

“Are you really cost-benefiting the effects of whether you sing a child to sleep right now?”

“...”

“God, what a professional. Where’s the noona that would sneak kids out to go catch dragonflies and then eat bungeo-ppang while washing it down with banana milk?”

“Are all of your memories of me associated with banana milk?”

“I remember what I remember, noona.”

“Why don’t you sing to Jinwoo?”

“Because he’s asking for that song that you sing; the one that only you know.”

You froze.

For some reason, Jinwoo, at the ripe age of eight months, established quite clearly what he liked and disliked, with the latter list nearly double the length of the first.

Every song you sang to him had its expiration date before he would take a metaphorical red Sharpie and cross it off of his likes list.

All except one.

You cursed yourself for singing it so long ago, caught up in exhaustion that you just wanted to quell the baby’s cries as soon as possible.

And so you procured a song that was gathering dust from being long ignored in the recesses of your mind.

You locked your iPad, gathered your stuff together to put away in your bag, slung it over your shoulder and made it up the stairway to where you knew Jinwoo would be.

You found him nestled in several blankets on the floor in the room meant for three-to-six year olds, convinced that the ground would be able to keep him steady unlike the volatile day-to-day he was thrown into since birth. Most of the other kids were out at the local school, but Jinwoo had a lower constitution than them, so would often stay at home. The home did its best to ensure that his schedule was tied with the other kids, including the midday nap.

His chocolate eyes looked up at you expectantly, his arms outstretched for you to envelope him in your embrace. You couldn’t help but smile down at him and scooped him up in one fell swoop. He giggled as you spun the two of you around the room.

You swaddled him as best you could, a three-year-old much larger than the eight-month-old you once knew him to be.

His hand pressed itself against your cheek and you nuzzled your face against its warmth.

“Ready to sleep, Jinwoo?”

“Will you sing to me? The forever song?”

“Yes. Of course.”

And so you did.

You sang to him a song of hopes and dreams and the magic of forever and always. Lyrics of never-ending friendship and pinky promises.

―――――――――――――――――

May 26th.

You thought that date would forever ingrain itself as the day that he forcibly came back into your life by taking you and the rest of the world by storm alongside his group, singing of an awkward and clumsy adoration paired with a point choreography that was, well, pointing.

(At the time, you wondered whether she heard the song, the one you were sure it was written about. You never asked.)

But here you were, six years after his debut into the world as an idol, dressed in your regalia of indigo and black, full bell sleeves, velvet paneling, and a weird puffy hat to top it all off, debuting into the world as a Social Welfare PhD grad.

You were a whole ass doctor.

“WE’RE FUCKING DONE, BITCHES.”

“God, Wheein, can you calm down? We gave you that key for emergencies.”

“It’s an emergency that I don’t have a bottle of soju in my hand right now.”

Byul-yi patted Yongsun in hopes of appeasing her anger. “Remember when you finished your MBA and how that felt?”

Yongsun blinked once before pushing herself off of the couch. “Alright, so how many bottles am I pulling out?”

“Wait! Wait! Wait! We need a picture!” Hyejin chastised her childhood friend for taking off after Yongsun. “Bumblebee, come here. Wheein, you too!”

“Whose phone?” Byul-yi asked.

You all chorused your phone, handing her the latest model of iPhone. She wiggled her brows at you. “Looking for a sugar baby, mama?”

“Bold of you to assume that I’m not paying installments on that sleek piece of overpriced metal and glass.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less from a broke grad. Alright, alright. Okay, ladies. Now let’s get in formation. Wheein, brush your hair out of your face, you look like a mad scientist. Y/N, stop furrowing your brows like you’re reading those mean comments online. Hyejin, stand up straighter, you’re slouching—probably from bending over all the time—”

“Unnie!”

“Over your centrifuge, okay? Chill. Alright. 1, 2… 2 and a half.”

“How old are you? 50?”

“Alright, for that, you just got a burst. Y/N, I hope you find the ugliest gem in that to post.”

You and Wheein laugh at Hyejin who is now putting on her face of Disapproval and you imagine that Byul-yi is just now taking an endless amount of candids. You reach for the phone, a toothy grin still spread across your lips.

“Oop! Damn, this camera is nice. Don’t get too drunk otherwise you might accidentally drop it into my purse.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed at your phone. You swiped through the camera roll, finding too many of your face, especially when reaching for the camera, thanks to Byul-yi’s trigger happy thumb. However, you looked genuinely happy, so you couldn’t be too mad.

Maybe that’s because you were done slaving over papers and deadlines, you mused.

You showed Wheein and Hyejin the photos as well, refusing to delete the ones where Hyejin is pulling her signature face. You smiled down at your screen before pulling up Instagram to post a photo of all three of you (looking like baddies and not like the unhinged beings you usually are) on your story.

You figured you would post the professional photos you had done by Myungsoo at a later date.

You typed up a caption:

alexa, play congratulations by post malone ft. quavo 🥳🎓 #PHinisheD

You locked your phone and tucked it away, ready to simply celebrate with your beloved group of girls.

That is, until two hours passed, which included a passed out Wheein cuddling into Hyejin on the couch and a drunk Yongsun and tipsy Byul-yi retiring to their own room and you sneaking into their second bedroom. You finally saw several responses to your story, mostly clapping and fire reactions and messages of well-wishes and pride. There was one handle that immediately caught your attention and you couldn’t help but think you were predictable in where your eyes always go.

[22:06] wzljh__ replied to your story: i figured u would be a day6 or eric nam kind of fan

[22:08] wzljh__ replied to your story: sorry that was dumb of me to assume

[22:08] wzljh__ replied to your story: of course u would like post malone considering u could rap the entirety of eminems album

[22:15] wzljh__: sorry that was stupid

[22:15] wzljh__: ignore me

[22:15] wzljh__: congrats y/n

You checked the time stamps to see that the first three messages came in rapid succession. While the last three came less than ten minutes later, without the “replied to your story,” meaning he actively searched for your conversation in his DMs to send a message.

You wondered whether it was okay to respond. He initiated it, so you figured this was consensual on his end. But… would you be okay?

Lee Jihoon was the one you believed would always know how to crack the code to tear down the walls of your heart. The one for whom your heart would invite in, with offerings of warm tea and resounding laughter and requests to make himself at home in your messy, but safe, space. You were always so utterly bare in front of him that it was almost nauseating with how much trust you put into his hands.

Did he deserve that same trust after what transpired between the two of you?

Regret lives in the past. Anxiety lives in the future. But you lived in the present.

Present (tipsy) you said, “cute human messaged must respond”

You opened up the conversation. 

[23:16] You: alexa, play congratulations by day6.

[23:16] You: happy anniversary to svt!! 🥳 

[23:16] You: hope you’re having fun with the members!!

Immediately, Seen popped up on your screen.

Your breathing hitched as you saw those damned three dots. You really should ask your old Biology tutor why your chest felt as tight as it did. Or maybe Wheein would know the science as to why it felt like your brain was firing a million and one things but was also completely shut down.

[23:16] wzljh__: oh

[23:16] wzljh__: oh wow

[23:17] wzljh__: i didnt think u would know that

[23:17] wzljh__: thanks you

[23:17] wzljh__: thank uou*

[23:17] wzljh__: you* wow im genius

You giggled softly to yourself.

―――――――――――――――――

“You look like an oversized peach, but, like, not a nice one. One that fell off the kitchen counter and now has bruising forming.”

“You’re fucking rude.”

You tutted. “Jihoon, language.”

“One of these days you’re gonna drop the fuck word too.”

“Mmm. Nope.”

He grabbed at your cheek and pinched it softly. You made a dramatic display of faked annoyance. “You will. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll be the first one to hear it, alright? I’m gonna hear the fuck word from the kid that everyone else is foolish enough to believe is entirely wholesome.”

“Um? But I am? So very wholesome?”

He barked out a laugh. “Sure. You got most people convinced, but I know you. You’re too fiery for your own good.”

“Oh, so you have me all figured out, huh?”

“Of course,” he replied in English, his words laced with his thick Korean accent. “I’m genius.”

You giggled before you corrected him. “‘I’m a genius.’”

He grinned. “We both can be.”

―――――――――――――――――

[23:18] You: the other caratdeul are posting it all over twitter so it’s trending, of course i would know that 😤 i’m in touch with the insiders nowadays

[23:19] wzljh__: the other caratdeul

[23:19] wzljh__: ??

You cursed silently. Did alcohol loosen your thumbs too? Is that possible? Would you remember these questions to ask Wheein later?

[23:19] You: uh, i’m also a carat? duh? have you /seen/ jeonghan-oppa’s visuals? 😍

[23:20] wzljh__: unfortunately every day

You laughed out loud at that.

You saw the three dots come. And then disappear.

You couldn’t help the twinge of sadness that hit, but you figured that he had his own celebration to do.

That is, until a video was sent from his end five minutes later.

You swore Lee Jihoon was going to be the cause of your death one of these days. 

You clicked on the video.

“Annyeong, Y/N-ah!!”

You balked at Yoon Jeonghan’s face grinning at the camera. What the frick.

“Jihoon told me that you graduated with your PhD today! Congratulations! Hanniehae!!”

Your heart burst at the sight.

God, Jeonghan was so cute. You so desperately wanted to be his friend when you first discovered SEVENTEEN, almost more jealous of Jihoon for being surrounded by twelve other fantastic human beings rather than the other way around.

[23:28] You: omg i’m gonna cry

[23:28] You: !!!! how!!!! is he!!!! so CUTE!!!!!

[23:28] You: this is the best grad gift ever

[23:29] You: my years of indentured servitude to SNU was worth it to just bear witness to that 🥰 i can die happily now; thank you yoon jeonghan for existing

[23:30] wzljh__: um excuse me who else

[23:30] You: and to lee jihoon for the provision and distribution of content: i shall remember your services

[23:30] wzljh__: i now owe ur “jeonghan-oppa” a new lego set just for that

[23:31] You: he’s cute when he goes on vlive and builds it so just think of it as an additional gift to me, ok

[23:31] wzljh__: no.

[23:31] You: 🙄 rude

[23:31] wzljh__: u owe me too now especially since u said i gave the best grad gift ever

[23:31] You: i’m!!!!!

[23:32] You: ok so technically no one else has given me a gift yet so you were just better than nothing 🤧

[23:32] wzljh__: yes thats always my goal. to be better than nothing

[23:33] You: 😂😂😂

[23:33] You: wait!!

[23:33] You: you can’t distract me!!

[23:33] You: gifts are exchanged for the sake of selflessness and glad tidings!!

[23:34] wzljh__: thats not what u said when u guilted me into buying u the cardcaptor sakura cards because u got me plushies of the straw hat crew

[23:34] You: i didn’t GET you them! i MADE them!! my craftsmanship and time are worth much more than the ccs cards!! equivalent exchange!!

[23:34] wzljh__: god u are such a weeb

[23:34] You: if you recognize my reference you’re not so innocent yourself

[23:34] wzljh__: …

[23:34] wzljh__: damn

[23:35] wzljh__: anyway u think ur craftsmanship is worth more than the $50 i dropped on those cards?

[23:35] wzljh__: u wanna tell that to chopper whose head was too big for his body and now looks as though hes in inexplicable pain??

You stared at the screen. What?

[23:35] You: ???? pics or it didn’t happen

[23:36] wzljh__: at the dorm

[23:36] You: !!!!! you still have them with you???

[23:36] wzljh__: yea? ofc lol

[23:37] wzljh__: they may be dopey but mostly dope

[23:37] You: bihhhhh

―――――――――――――――――

“Always remember this, Y/N.”

You swallowed the handful of popcorn you so elegantly stuffed in your mouth just seconds prior. “You always do this, Jihoon. You always wait until my mouth is full—”

“Good people watch anime.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Okay?”

“I’m serious. Don’t trust anyone who says that they don’t like anime, alright?”

“What, so, that’s a requirement for whoever I’m going to be involved with in the future?”

“Yes. How can someone be a bad person when they have Monkey D. Luffy to look up to?”

“Fair, but—”

“And if the person can commit to nearly a thousand manga chapters and over eight-hundred episodes, they can commit to you.”

For some reason, his logic overtook your own. You nodded in slow agreement. “I mean. You’re not wrong.”

“Of course not.”

“So, you’re saying I’d have to find my Luffy?”

He eyed you. “I think you’re more of a Nico Robin than a Nami, honestly.”

Your stomach flipped but you brushed aside the implications of his words.

And even years later, your first-date questions always included, ‘If you were a Straw Hat member, who do you think you would be?’

You had yet to find another Zoro.

―――――――――――――――――

[23:38] wzljh__: anyway u still owe me

[23:38] You: BIHHHHHHH

[23:39] wzljh__: ill let u know by the end of the week

[23:39] You: 🥺 do i not get a choice

[23:41] wzljh__: u always have a choice 

[23:42] You: hrmmmmmm then… i shall hear you out… maybe… perhaps… mayhaps

[23:42] wzljh__: always been a poet, since that second grade writing contest, havent u

[23:43] You: me? a poet? how about i quote one of the greatest poets of our generation

[23:43] You: ‘let’s have fun’

[23:43] wzljh__: …?

[23:44] You: ‘everyone stand up and clap’

[23:44] wzljh__: ok

[23:44] You: 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

[23:45] You: wait

[23:45] You: that’s one too many

[23:45] wzljh__: fake fan

[23:46] You: 😢 i come here and get bullied by a member of my favorite k-pop group

[23:46] wzljh__: favorite

[23:46] wzljh__: ?*

[23:46] You: asjdkksncsls yoinks

[23:47] You: i wish i could unsend messages

[23:47] You: or go back 3 seconds in time

[23:48] You: but what if i jump forward 10 seconds..

[23:49] wzljh__: HA

[23:49] wzljh__: alright u are at least a cubic if u watch gose

[23:50] You: 💖💙 it’s what pulled me thru my thesis

[23:50] wzljh__: lololol

[23:50] wzljh__: alright alright

[23:50] wzljh__: i gotta go soon

[23:50] wzljh__: but

[23:51] wzljh__: congratulations y/n

[23:51] wzljh__: seriously

[23:51] wzljh__: u do some amazing things

[23:52] You: 🥺🥺🥺🥺

[23:52] You: thanks jihoon so do u

[23:52] You: oh wait i just remembered

[23:55] wzljh__: ?

[23:56] You: an amazing thing u did

[23:56] You: thanks for sharing the info abt the group home project!!

[23:58] You: i don’t think i can ever explain how grateful i am!! it went so smoothly because of the response from the surrounding communities

[00:00] You: and you didn’t need to share the information

[00:00] You: but you did

[00:00] You: and i just

[00:00] You: idk i’m really grateful

[00:02] You: anyway!!

[00:02] You: sorry

[00:03] You: oh wait i’m supposed to say thank you

[00:03] You: thank you thank you thank you

[00:03] You: thank you lee jihoon

[00:05] wzljh__: is it bad if i just send a 👍🏼

[00:05] You: you’re gonna ok, boomer me? and my authentic and genuine heartfelt words??

[00:06] wzljh__: 👍🏼

[00:07] You: ...i’m unsubscribing

[00:07] wzljh__: lolool

[00:07] You: 😭😭😭

[00:08] wzljh__: still a crybaby

[00:08] You: more like crylady

[00:09] wzljh__: i suggest u never say that ever again

[00:10] You: yep noted i regretted it as soon as i hit send

[00:10] wzljh__: looooollll

[00:11] wzljh__: ill let u know what i expect for my equivalent exchange

[00:12] wzljh__: i need to consult with my lawyers on what exactly i can get away with

[00:12] You: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[00:12] wzljh__: i can hear that message and i dont get how

[00:13] You: i’m gonna d word 😭

[00:13] wzljh__: not until i get my gift lol anyway ill message u by the end of the week

[00:14] You: ok 😞 fine

[00:14] You: you’ll message me?

[00:14] You: 🤙🏼?

[00:15] wzljh__: lolollllllll thats not a pinky promise emoji

[00:16] You: don’t care!!!

[00:16] wzljh__: lollll still so stubborn

[00:16] wzljh__: okay fine

[00:17] wzljh__: 🤙🏼

[00:18] wzljh__: goodnight y/n sleep well

And so you did.

You dreamt of crescent moons, steady heartbeats, gentle melodies, and open arms.

And falling, falling, falling.

―――――――――――――――――

Five weeks.

Four interviews.

Three community project ideas.

Two job offers.

One major minor meltdown.

Zero Instagram messages.

Not that it particularly mattered when your entire future was splayed out right in front of you.

“So… you either stay in Seoul…” Hyejin began.

“...or I move to New York,” you finished for her.

“...okay, but like, what is even over there?”

“Unnie.”

“I know it’s your favorite city in the world—”

“Strongly so.”

“And they have Broadway—”

“An absolute treat.”

“And you’d be lecturing at Columbia—”

“The first Social Work university in America and most prestigious school in said field.”

“But I’m not there!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Hyejin’s pout. “Unnie, you and Wheein were already talking about living together next year because you’re both heading over to Jeju!”

“Which is the same time zone as Seoul! AKA, I can call you at any point I want—”

“We both know that’s not true even if we were in the same time zone.”

“...okay, touché. But! Are you really going to move halfway across the world? Again?”

“I enjoyed my time at Yale!”

“Bumblebee, you left Korea because you were running away from something. Someone. Are you sure you’re not leaving Korea for the same reason?”

“...Unnie, I love New York.”

―――――――――――――――――

“Doesn’t this city just reek of anxiety?”

You ignored her and instead took in the hustle and bustle of the streets around you. The neon signs of overpriced bags just begging to be haggled, the misogynistic advertisements of computer-generated women overhead, unassuming hot dog stands and bodegas whose businesses depended entirely on locals, live music found on nearly every street corner, committed to entertain in order to survive.

This city was the physical manifestation of everything right and wrong with humanity.

Bodies close. Minds worlds away.

The perfect place for someone like you.

“So full of life.”

Hyejin looked at you. Her face softened once she caught a glimpse of the glimmer of light she always saw in passing.

She hoped it would return for the long-term.

“Yeah, bumblebee. Full of life.”

She promised herself that she would take you every year from then on.

Your first trip was during the nipping frost of winter, filled with artificial twinkling and overconsumption of goods; the holiday cheer dampened by the cold reality that heartbreak and loneliness were inevitable byproducts of the season.

Your second trip was in the welcoming arms of autumn, decidedly going upstate for one day; the leaves faded into reds and golds, apples ready to be picked to be baked into a sweet pie, accompanied by the warmth of spiced cider and slow healing found in vulnerability wrapped in double crochet blankets and friendship.

Your third trip was during the sweltering heat of the summer, bad decisions and dangerous impulsivity. Late night drives of yells and whoops echoed into the Lincoln Tunnel with the wind rushing through your hair. The invincibility of youth and rekindling of the burning fire you thought was long gone.

Your fourth trip was in the blossoming of springtime, maturation of seeds sown and bountiful harvests. Gentle breezes and flowy dresses. Picnic baskets and overpriced coffees. The unspoken connection of humans collectively sitting in Central Park enjoying the gift of now, thankful to be alive.

As the seasons changed, so did you.

―――――――――――――――――

“But,” Hyejin started, exasperation already apparent in her tone. “Come on, bumblebee.”

Annoyance flared up. “What?”

“You’re thinking about running away again.”

“What are you talking about?”

Hyejin rolled her eyes at you and you could feel the simmering anger building in the pit of your stomach. You tried to quell it down with breathing, but you still felt the flames lick at your insides. “Jihoon just started messaging you again and you’re off here just thinking about fleeing the country. Again.”

“This has nothing to do with him.”

“I think it has everything to do with him.”

“I’m not some lovesick puppy who can’t make her own decisions, unnie. I applied to Columbia because I thought that it would be an amazing opportunity to be an assistant professor. Do you know how many PhD grads get to score a job like that right out of graduation?”

“Oh, yes, we get it, Y/N. You’re always cream of the crop. Top of your class. Always pursuing something bigger and better than what we mere humans can provide.”

Your jaw dropped. “What the hell?”

“You were offered a full-ride to NYU for your PhD, but you declined it because you didn’t want to, and I’m quoting you here, ‘dirty your healing place.’”

“Things change, unnie.”

“No, you’re just fucking scared.”

Rage filled you. “You don’t know me. You think you have me all figured out, but you’re just projecting onto me because you, for one, are constantly running away from your own feelings for Wheein! You wanna know who’s scared? It’s not me. Because I make my choices and I don’t regret them. Can’t say the same for yourself, huh?”

You grabbed your belongings and stomped out of your shared living space, slamming the door behind you, the beating in your chest ringing in your ears with a resounding thump, thump, thump.

Part of you wondered if the reason you snapped was because she was right.

Maybe partially.

But you also knew that you hated being carved and molded into what people perceived you as.

And she perceived you as something you were not.

Your happiness wasn’t reliant on him. You were a wholly and complete person without him. You knew that. You found that Truth long ago. You proved that through the years of work you put in; years that Hyejin witnessed herself.

So, it felt like a backhanded slap when it felt like she saw the girl you were when she first met you. As though you didn’t put in the effort to take the course of your life into your hands and crafted it to be the way that it is now.

You were a whole person.

She never said you weren’t.

You tried to pull out your car keys from your bag but struggled to find them in the midst of your frustration. You growled before giving up, stomping your way down the now dimly lit streets, the sky never quite achieving a pitch black, with the light pollution of the city. Stars were nowhere in sight, but the moon hung low near the horizon.

You found yourself walking (nearly stomping) for almost an hour as different voices argued in your mind. You were several blocks away from your home now.

She overreacted.

She’s just worried about you.

She didn’t have to be.

She probably doesn’t want you to experience the heartache that she’s seen you go through.

She was treating you like a child.

Because she loves you. And love makes you do crazy things sometimes. Like yelling at your best friend. Or flying halfway across the world.

You groaned inwardly.

God! Why did you have to have a conscience?

You said some pretty shitty things to someone who may have not portrayed her care in the best way, but tried to anyway. She gathered the courage to try and challenge you and you blew her off by rubbing salt into her own wound.

She wasn’t right.

But neither were you.

You felt the wash of shame come over you as you twiddled with your bag’s strap, trying to muster up the determination you needed to trudge back down and apologize.

“Oh, thank God, bumblebee.”

You pivoted your entire body at your unnie’s voice, wanting to shrink back at noticing the redness in her skin and puffiness under her eyes, even in the faint light of the street lamps. She looked so frazzled, her flip-flops nearly hanging off her feet from what looked like running around trying to find you. “Unnie, I—”

“I know you said you don’t like apologies, so I’ll say thank you instead. Thank you for your honesty, even if it was really mean. Thank you for listening to me, at least the beginning. Thank you for getting angry because I know that’s really fucking hard for you to do so and I feel weirdly honored but also still spooked by it. Thank you for not driving, especially this late and on a weekend when you’re upset—”

Your heart sank at the memory of Hyejin recounting her story of losing her friend to a drunk driver, something Hyejin felt immensely (and irrationally) responsible for, having been the person to last send her off.

You had forgotten about that.

Here you were, trying to figure out how you were going to apologize, and here she was, worrying about whether you were going to come back to her at all. You bit your lip before you piped up, “I’m sorry for scaring you like that.”

“Yeah, well, I was right. I learned that I never want to be caught in the crossfire. Your anger is terrifying. You’re not a bumblebee; you’re more like an agitated hornet. With a gun.”

“Unnie—”

“I’m not done. I don’t know how to process my emotions like you do so I didn’t really think before I came running after you. I’m still hurt and mad that you said all of that shit—”

“I was wrong,” you interrupted. She went quiet at that. “I don’t know everything. I hardly know anything. But what I do know is that I was wrong. I said some things that I knew were going to hurt you because that’s what I wanted to do. I was wrong. But... so were you, unnie.”

She remained silent, so you continued.

“I’m not that same, young, dumb teen that you met at Yale. I’m not the brat who was still trying to figure out how to be her own person without being an off-brand version of all of her friends from Busan. I’m… I’m not weak, unnie.”

“I… I never said you were.”

You wondered when you started crying. “Yeah, well. It felt like you didn’t believe in me. That you didn’t trust me. You are the only person in my life who saw all of the changes I went through and you still said I was running away. So, it just made me think that all of my growth was… I don’t know. Fake.”

“What? No. Oh, bumblebee. Never.”

“I’m… I’m my own person. Who can make her own decisions. I don’t need anyone else to complete me. So, there’s no one and nothing that I’m trying to run away from. I’m just trying to figure out where I want to go. Is that so bad?”

“...No. Not at all,” Hyejin answered softly. She slowly stepped towards you and tentatively wrapped her arms around your torso. You leaned in and breathed in her scent, muffling your sniffling against her shoulder. “You were right that I confused the woman you are now with the girl you were then. But I’ve never ever seen you as weak. Or incomplete. Not then, not now.”

“Then why?” You sobbed. “Why do you think my life revolves around him? Anyone else can think I’m some love-struck dumbass, but why you?”

“Oh, bumblebee, I fucked up when I said I thought it had everything to do with him. I definitely… projected. Like you said. As much as I hate to admit it. But... I also want you to know that I don’t see you as some sad girl who’s been pining after some crusty dude. I see a woman who has gone around the world, fallen in love with it and its people, and still knows exactly with whom she feels safest. And I don’t want you to deny yourself of that.”

“I’m not denying myself anything. He doesn’t love me, unnie. So, I have to be the one to do it. Because he won’t. And that’s okay. I’ve learned to love myself and isn’t that good enough?”

Hyejin squeezed you tighter in her embrace. “Call me crazy, but… I think there’s something there. Call it a spark. Call it a string of fate. Call it a grown love. But… ah. I’m not good with words like you, bumblebee. You are good enough. Just as you are. Wonderful, even. I… I’m not saying he’s a missing piece of you or anything like that. But. Agh. Like. He is bread. And you are butter. You’re both complete by nature and can exist without each other, but you’re just… better together,” she tried to hold her tongue, but you knew her resolve was weak, so you braced yourself. “Butter together.”

“...unnie, you really are bad with words.”

You yelped when she grabbed at you to pinch your thigh.

She promptly turned the two of you around back to your apartment, her arm looped around yours. You easily walked past your building, though, caught up in smoothing out the harsh lines said during your earlier conversation. She admitted her fears regarding pursuing her own unrequited love and you confessed you often chased things that were of grandeur rather than that of simplicity. And you both touched on exactly the roots of your insecurities: hers in her fear of being unwanted and yours in the idea that you were incomplete without him.

The two of you found yourselves swinging at a neighborhood park that probably closed several hours ago, but it was a safe space for the two of you, to air out the tension, to have the beginnings of healing and mending, although most of it being left to time and future efforts of rebuilding trust.

Together.

―――――――――――――――――

[19:21] wzljh__: this might be a dumb question but did ur kkt account change

[19:21] wzljh__: i tried messaging u and it said delivered but

[19:21] wzljh__: nvm u dont have to reply sorry

[19:42] You: omg

[19:42] You: jihoon i made a new account bc my username was @narutofanfreak123 and i couldn’t bear to tell people that was my username but i didn’t know how to change it LOLLL

[19:43] You: so i made a new account once i came back to korea!!

[20:01] wzljh__: i

[20:01] wzljh__: i shouldve asked

[20:02] wzljh__: i thought u werent replying because u were busy with job searching since u were posting about it on ur story

[20:02] wzljh__: or maybe u didnt want to talk to me 😣

You rubbed your eyes in disbelief.

Jihoon used an emoji?

[20:05] You: oh no lol i already got offers

[20:05] You: still deciding between two of them

[20:17] wzljh__: before u tell me whats ur username on kkt?

[20:18] You: oh yeah!

[20:18] You: oh

[20:18] You: uhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[20:18] wzljh__: ???

[20:19] You: haha

[20:19] You: ok so

[20:19] You: uh

[20:19] wzljh__: are u ok???

[20:20] You: yeah! haha

[20:20] You: welp

[20:20] You: it’s @madamefirefly

[20:20] You: heh

Lee Jihoon (@wzljh__) added you on KakaoTalk! You accepted Lee Jihoon’s request!

[20:23] Lee Jihoon: nice username

[20:23] You: thanks it was inspired by someone who used to bully me as their pastime

[20:25] Lee Jihoon: sounds like u were a masochist

[20:25] You: 🙄🙄🙄

[20:25] You: nice username

[20:25] You: sounds like it was randomly generated off of a sketchy site on naver that just so happened to have your initials

[20:26] Lee Jihoon: that ‘sketchy site’ somehow managed to predict the initials of my english stage name

[20:27] You: that was easily!!!! within your control to manipulate, woozi-ssi!! it should technically be uji!!

[20:27] Lee Jihoon: no that site knew my future and spoke to me

[20:28] Lee Jihoon: speaking of futures

[20:28] Lee Jihoon: whats coming up on the y/n agenda

[20:29] You: oop sorry hyejin-unnie is back home and i promised we would get dinner together so i might not respond until later

[20:30] You: but i’m deciding between staying here in seoul to continue the work i’ve been doing and being an assistant professor at columbia university in new york city!!

[20:30] You: although i’m def leaning more towards one than the other

[20:30] You: ack she’s yelling at me to hurry sorry i’ll ttyl!!

[Read at 20:30]

――――――――――――――――― 

 Your phone rang.

You saw the FaceTime ID and never slid the bar faster than you did in that moment.

“Unnie! I—oh God, is that a wedding dress—oh my, oh no, the tears—”

One of the most beautiful laughters of your childhood rang out as she flipped the camera back to her face, stained from salty tears already passed. “Oh, lovebug—” Your lips split into a wide grin at the childhood nickname. “I think this is the one. I needed to show you. What do you think?”

“Hold on, I’m crying so hard that I can’t see—”

337.1km away, your future family member (although, one could argue she always had been) burst into a renewal of joyful tears, so exuberantly over-the-moon to share this moment with you, and you sharing the same exact sentiment to be able to bask in the joy of a promised love.

“Unnie,” you said emphatically. “You are… so beautiful. So stunning. So radiant. So dazzling. My goodness me. You are… just so splendent.”

She hiccuped. “Lovebug, no one uses that word anymore.”

“I had to go back to words of old to explain myself because language oft fails me when I see you.”

“Stop. God, you and Jihoon both with your ability to speak. How do words even come out of you two like that?”

You made a noise.

You don’t think she caught it.

“Y/N, you are sunshine personified, so to hear you say that makes me feel like I’m being blessed by Amaterasu herself.”

“I wouldn’t want to go lock myself in a cave.”

“Then don’t, lovebug,” she said dismissively. “Plus, you can’t. The bachelor and bachelorette party is gonna be in Seoul and you promised you would be there.”

“Yes, yes. To help me get blackmail on everyone else in case they try to turn on you later. You’re using me, you know?”

“You’re a useful person.”

You clicked your tongue. “So I’ve been told.”

A comfortable silence passed between the two of you before she broke it, a slight hesitation in her tone.

“So… turns out that Jihoon’s gonna be at oppa’s bachelor party. Oppa asked him to perform and he said no because of his schedule, but he said he would be at the wedding. And the bachelor party.”

You quirked an eyebrow at that. He was willingly going to the party and the wedding of the man who stole the love of his life away from him? “Really?”

“Yeah…”

“Huh. Weird.”

“I’m sorry, but he’s coming to the wedding. I know you don’t want to see him, but—”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Uh, you literally went across the world to avoid him—”

“Why does everyone think that? No, don’t worry about me, unnie. It’s fine.”

You didn’t look directly at the screen but you could feel her stare boring into the side of your face through it. She thought you were lying. But you weren’t. It wasn’t about you.

“Lovebug—”

“He texted me.”

Your words stunned her into silence.

That is, until she went rapid-fire.

“Oh my God. What? How? When? Did you reply? Was it an emergency? Did you have a conversation? Was it a casual conversation? How long? Oh, thank goodness—”

“Whoa, whoa, chill out, unnie. Wait. Why do you look happier now than you did when you were showing me your wedding dress? Wait. Aren’t you at a boutique right now? Don’t you have your mom waiting or something—?”

“Shush, I’m asking the questions around here.”

And so, you answer them. You told your future family, your confidant, your safe space. You told her of the accidental like, the off-chance comment, the purposeful messages, and everything caught in between.

337.1km away and you felt right at home.

―――――――――――――――――

“Y/N?”

You knew that voice anywhere.

Of course she was here, of course she was. This was one of your collective dreams, two girls fantasizing about inebriated situations and uninhibited fun by means of burning liquids in a local Busan bar. A dream of spending a night here, sharing a story for every shot.

You learned a year prior that you would really only be able to tell two stories before wanting to quit.

“Oh… hey, unnie.”

“You’re… you’re back.”

You forced out a laugh. “Yeah, I, uh. Graduated.”

“From Yale.”

“Uh… yeah. From Yale.”

“Can… I sit here?”

You glanced up at her before gesturing to the seat in front of you, the corner booth really far too large for your person. You could almost see the thoughts that raced in her mind before she gave a small nod and sunk down into the cushion.

“So, how have you—”

“I heard you—”

“Oh, no, you go—”

“Oh, sorry, I just—”

You both locked eyes.

And promptly burst into a fit of laughter.

“God, what is this?” You managed to get out, holding your stomach.

She was no better, in her signature hiccuping stage. “I just—!”

“We have the communication skills of five-year-olds.”

She wiped away a stray tear. “We’ve become a drama.”

“I call being the second-male lead.”

“Wait, that’s not fair. We all know that the second-male lead is objectively better.”

“That’s exactly why, unnie,” you winked.

She scoffed. “Alright, I’ll give it to you this time, lovebug.”

You saw her freeze, as if she didn’t expect herself to call you by that nickname. She looked like a deer caught in headlights and you quickly gave her a wave of your hand. “You spent more years calling me that than you did my actual name. Let’s not break the trend now, yeah?”

She visibly relaxed and you couldn’t help but smile fondly.

A lull passed over you, but you felt much more comfortable with this silence than the strained one prior. You closed your eyes and simply took in the moment, gratitude filling your lungs.

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyes fluttered open. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I’m sorry that you had to leave because of me—”

Oh.

That was heart wrenching to hear.

The apology signified a wound, an old one.

A self-inflicted one.

Oh no.

“Unnie,” you began slowly, reaching for her hands. You could see the tears brimming. “Do you… do you blame yourself for my decision? Has guilt been eating at you all of these years?”

“I just… you left. Jihoon left. If I had just said something, then—”

“Unnie.”

She bit her lip at your definitive tone.

“Nothing, nothing, about this was your fault.  Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t mine and it wasn’t his either. We all struggled to ‘just say something’. Unnie, we were young and dumb. We still are young and dumb,” you squeezed her hands for emphasis. “If you say you’re sorry, then okay. I forgive you. But I just want you to know that past me never blamed you. Never.”

She let out a choked sob and you found yourself crossing to the other side of the table, enveloping her in your arms, tucking her head under your chin. She buried her face into your chest and you just rubbed her back soothingly. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for never reaching out. I’m sorry I never cleared the air. I’m sorry I was so scared.”

“We needed time and space apart, unnie. To figure ourselves out. And I did. I really did. And I wouldn’t have been able to do that if I kept tying my self-worth into Korea, into Busan, into you, into him. But that doesn’t mean I cut you off in order to do it. I don’t think I ever could,” you squeezed tighter. “Thank you for saying that you’re sorry, but there really is no need, not to me.”

And so she cried into your arms, emptying herself of tears. Later, you filled that space with your stories of adventure, your kind words, and your love. And she did the same for you.

In that moment, Busan never seemed so much more like home.

―――――――――――――――――

“So, New York, huh?”

You glanced up at your boss, the social worker in charge of running the different programs tied to the university, the same one who got you involved with the group home, the same one who offered you a full-time position after graduation in training new recruits, specializing in the Child and Family division, but also providing self-care guidance to the rest of the staff since your specialty in school was around Behavioral and Mental Health.

The pay was good, seeing as it was run by professionals partnered with SKY: Seoul National University, Korea University, and Yonsei University. What most Koreans would consider to be the ‘Ivy League’ of South Korea. Although, being a community leader was definitely a far-cry from a prestigious position as an assistant professor.

“Ah. Yeah, New York.”

“Nice place.”

“It’s… yeah. It’s nice.”

“Is the air better there than here?”

“No fine dust, but there’s a lot of smog.”

She pulled a displeased face. “Is that better?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

There was a pregnant pause between the two of you. You wanted to reduce into a puddle and slip through the vents, dreading this conversation.

“You should go.”

Uh. What?

You parroted those exact words out loud.

“I may have lost some of my mind’s sharpness to age and time, but if I remember correctly, New York City is one of the most popular places in the world. And I hear that it would be a good place for a young, spry lady like you to get your bright mind out there. The world needs a little more of you and if New York City is the best way to do it, so be it.”

“I’m… I’m…”

“A wonderful human being who will make the most of the hand that she’s dealt. I’ve seen you make castles out of cardboard.”

“You… you want me to go to New York?”

“Oh, Heavens no. Not at all. I would love to just keep you here forever,” she sighed, going so far as to lean back in her desk chair. You resisted the urge to laugh at her theatrics. “But you’re not a princess locked up in a tower. You have the power to make your own choice, and I know that whichever path you go down, it will be a flowery one. You’ll make it one. Because that’s just what you do, Y/N.”

“What if… What if I’m not sure?”

She tilted her head back down to meet your eyes and gave you a smile that was slightly off-putting, as though you had fallen into a trap she carefully laid out. “Then, what can I do to convince you to stay here?”

“I think a part of me thinks I’m wanting to stay here because I’ve found my home here. I think I’ve become incredibly comfortable here. In Korea.”

She blinks at you. “Is… that a bad thing?”

“I think... I think that I’m wanting to stay here because I love it here and the work I do and the people I’ve met, but I think I’m wanting to leave because I’m trying to prove that I’m not tied down to a particular person. Because I feel like everyone thinks that I can’t live my life without them, so I want to prove that I can do it. That I will.”

“So… you’re trying to prove that you’re not influenced by said person, by, uh, being influenced by said person?”

“Uh.”

“‘Uh,’ indeed.”

“What if… I’m staying here because I subconsciously think that everyone is right? That I actually can’t live without them? Not actually?”

“Is that person me?”

“No, ma’am.”

“I’m a little hurt you answered that so quickly, but. To prove my point. You are here, in my office, yes?”

“Yes…?”

“Are they?”

“No…?”

“Then. You’re living without them, aren’t you? Right here. In front of me. Heart pumping out blood through your veins and your brain shooting off neurons. You’re alive. Without them.”

“It’s… it’s a little different, Doctor, I—”

“Y/N. You’re dazzling. Almost overwhelmingly so. There is no one. No one who can overshadow you in the way you think they can. No matter what underlying influences, no matter what puppetry you may think is going on, you call the shots. You get to decide what to include in your life moving forward. If this person has as much power as you think they do over you, I’d like to meet them. Because you’re a force to be reckoned with.”

You bit your lip. “Is… Is it okay to be so selfish?”

“You said so yourself, Y/N. You found a home here. Or more like, knowing you, you built a home here. Korea will forever be marked by you. Seoul. Busan. Everywhere you’ve gone. That’s something that the majority of the world cannot say, because everyone feels a little lost, a little out of place. But you? No. You have a place. Right here. And, I mean, even at the end of the day, if you go off somewhere else, you’ll always have a place to return to that will welcome you with open arms.”

“Doctor, I…”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“...I think I wanna stay.”

“Perfect. I’ll have them write up your contract.”

―――――――――――――――――

[04:12] Lee Jihoon: i know its late. rehearsal never ends until 3am and i know that when u get texts you wake up even if ur phone is on silent bc the vibration wakes u up so im trying to type this all in one message so that it doesnt wake u up (hopefully) but i didnt want it to seem like i left u on read because i was upset or something. but i didnt want to message until i had the time to have a full conversation but i dont think thats happening any time soon anyway. when you see this i hope it makes sense im not sure if i am

[4:12] You: i still have the sleep schedule of a doctoral student, you know

[4:12] Lee Jihoon: oho i see

[4:12] Lee Jihoon: and u still owe me a gift, doctor

[4:12] You: 🥴🥴🥴 i thought you forgot

[4:12] Lee Jihoon: never

[4:13] You: ok lee jihoon, what do you want?

[4:13] Lee Jihoon: can i call u

[4:13] You: ? sure?

Before you could even type, ‘is something wrong?’, his name and profile picture (which wasn’t even of him, it was that dumb photo of Hansol) flooded your screen. Your finger slid across before you could even give a second thought.

“Um. Hello?” Silence met your ears. You wondered whether the call actually went through. You pulled the phone away from your cheek and pressed ‘speaker’. “Jihoon…?”

“Ah, sorry. Yes. Wow. Hi.”

You knew speaker was the better option. Hearing his voice that close to your ear would have given you heart palpitations, or at least, worse than what was already happening. “Yes, hello yourself. Did you need something?”

“Huh?”

“You called?”

“Oh. Yeah. No. I just. Wanted to talk.”

“About what?”

“Anything. I think staring at a screen would’ve made me fall asleep faster, but I wanted to talk. To you. If that’s okay.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s okay.”

You heard him release a sigh of relief (?). “Yeah. Okay. Thank you.”

You hummed, realizing there was a chance he didn’t exactly prepare conversation topics. “I decided to stay in Seoul.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. My boss here convinced me.”

“Tell them thank you.”

You snorted. “It wasn’t hard to.”

“Columbia is a pretty prestigious place, though.”

“Huh. How’d you know that?”

“Might’ve asked Hansol and Jisoo-hyung.”

You clicked your tongue. “Jihoon, just because they’re American doesn’t mean—”

“Nope. That’s exactly what it means.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “Okay, okay.”

“I’m proud of you, you know.”

“Uh—what?”

“You got a whole ass PhD. From the best university in Korea. You got offered a job at a super big school in America. One that’s super big in the field that you studied. You graduated from an even bigger school for undergrad, a school that even I know the name of. And just… I know that people expect you to achieve because you’ve always been a genius, always so brilliant, but. You also work really hard. So. I’m proud of you.”

Your throat felt tight. “It’s not that big of a deal—”

“But it is, firefly.”

Oh, that nickname. “I mean, I just—”

“You don’t have to believe me. But that won’t stop me from feeling it.”

“Jihoon, I—”

“I’ve missed you.”

Before you could even make a noise (not that you could), he continued.

“I’ve missed you a stupid amount. Like us stealing your dad’s car to drive to McDonald’s at 3am and then running a red light on the way there. And then somehow almost hitting an entire flock of seagulls. And then going to some random, deserted parking lot. And then realizing we didn’t know the way home, so we drove aimlessly for, like, 45 minutes. And then panicking when we kept seeing the gas needle go down. That kind of stupid.”

You couldn’t form words.

But you tried.

“I… I missed you too.”

You could’ve sworn you heard utter satisfaction in his voice. “I have to sleep now, but. I just. I couldn’t not tell you. That’s all.”

“Okay.”

“Get some sleep, firefly. Or should I call you, Dr. Firefly now?”

“That sounds like a cartoon villain.”

His laughter rang throughout your empty room and your chest tightened.

“Alright, we’ll go with just firefly then.”

Tears formed in your eyes at the ‘we’. You felt like you were fifteen and back in your childhood bedroom, after a long, long hours, ending your night by telling him about your day. The words you denied yourself for years tumbled out of your mouth, “Night, night, Jihoonie.”

A low chuckle met your ears.

“Sleep well, firefly.”

―――――――――――――――――

“He fucking booty called you?”

“Unnie, that’s not—”

“Nuh-uh, bumblebee. Any call past 3am is a fucking booty call.”

“So, when you called me past 3am, it was a booty call? I feel violated.”

“Time zones, Wheein. Doesn’t count,” Hyejin said dismissively.

Wheein puffed out her cheeks and stabbed the salad in front of her, piercing a lettuce leaf. You wanted to laugh at her infantile display, but you knew that would only result in her turning against you. And Hyejin was already a formidable opponent.

“He’s an idol,” you repeated for what seemed like the millionth time. “His rehearsal didn’t end until 3am.”

“He didn’t even tell you what he wanted for a gift,” Wheein interrupted.

“Yeah, what the hell is that about?” You muttered, turning back to your own plate of fries. You chewed on one thoughtfully as you made eye contact with Hyejin who gave you a deadpanned look. “What?”

“God, you two are dense, aren’t you?”

“Um, rude?”

“The phone call was the gift,” Hyejin explained.

“What a shitty gift.”

“Yeah, what? I would’ve asked for, like, Y/N’s homemade japchae.”

“Or my kimchi jjigae.”

“Or her dwaejigogi-bokkeum—wait. Stop distracting me,” Hyejin shook her head. “Regardless, bumblebee. He called you and that was his gift.”

You rolled your eyes at the ridiculous notion. “Sure, Jan.”

“Don’t make Brady Bunch references at me. We’re not American.”

“No, but we do use the internet,” you reminded her. “Anyways, it’s not that big of a deal. I’ve got other things to worry about. Like the fact that my cousin and his fiancée are coming in about a week and they want to get dinner together before they get shit-faced over the weekend. My only task is to gather blackmail material whenever the bachelorette happens with her friends.”

“Sounds like my kind of job.”

“Yes, Wheein-unnie, it really does.”

“Aren’t you gonna see him then?”

“Who? Jihoon?”

“Yeah, like. Aren’t you gonna see him next week? Isn’t he in your cousin’s bachelor party troupe or whatever the hell it’s called?”

You cocked your head to the side. “I don’t think I’ll see him? I shouldn’t see him. I think they’re gonna be in a different part of Seoul.”

“Huh. That would’ve been cool, though.”

“What?”

“You know that scene in dramas, where the main characters meet each other again for the first time in a long time and it’s all fuzzy and slow motion and there’s music playing in the background?”

“That’s—what? No. That doesn’t actually happen in real life, unnie.”

Hyejin pursed her lips. “Sure, Jan.”

―――――――――――――――――

“Ladybug!”

“Move aside, second-rate, that’s my lovebug.”

Your unnie ran into your open arms after she shoved her fiancé aside. You laughed at his crestfallen face but squeezed your future family as tight as you could. She squealed at your strength but nuzzled her face into your neck anyway.

“She’s… she’s my cousin, you know.”

“Yeah, but she chose me, which means that she likes me more. Chosen family is always better.”

“What? No—”

“She’s right, oppa,” you quipped. “Chosen family is always better. Has Lilo and Stitch taught you nothing?”

“I—you two always do this. You two always gang up on me and Jihoon, and—”

“Our table is ready, oppa. Let’s go take a seat.”

“For once, can you two listen to me, please?”

“He’s asked that before, unnie.”

“And we abided at that one time, right, lovebug?”

“Yes. He said to listen for once and we did.”

“Once only means one time, am I wrong?”

“No, unnie, you’re not.”

“God, forget it. Where’s the damn table? I need a drink.”

The two of you laughed at your cousin’s outburst and retreating figure as you both linked arms to follow after.

―――――――――――――――――

One appetizer in, you swirled the lemonade in your hands, appreciating the visible pulp as an indicator of its freshness. Your cousin, on the other hand, was several beers in, face slightly flushed, a permanent lazy grin plastered on his face.

“Wow, I’m surrounded by my two favorite girls—”

“What about your mom?”

“Or your dog?”

“Or Jennie from Blackpink?

“Or Zero Two from Darling in the FRANXX?”

“Oh God. He watched Darling in the FRANXX?”

“Ugh, yes, lovebug, let me tell you—”

“ANYWAY. YEAH. MY TWO FAVORITE GIRLS.”

The two of you snickered at his outburst. Your cousin’s phone pinged and he shielded it from you, squinting like an old man, staring at the screen with a tilted head. “Oh, hey, he’s five minutes away.”

You made an inquisitive sound. “Who?”

The two of them exchanged nervous glances, your cousin visibly swallowing.

Your unnie was the one who decided to speak up.

Because they knew you wouldn’t ever get mad at her.

Oh no.

“I know we didn’t give you the time to prepare, but we thought that you would’ve run away if we told you earlier, but Jihoon is coming here and—”

You could see her mouth move but you only heard a dull ringing.

You tried to speak, but no sound came out.

Wait.

Could you even speak? Where was your mouth again? Did it even move? What was happening? Where were you? Who were you?

“Y/N.”

You thought you felt a hand place itself on your shoulder. You turned to the sound source. “Yes?”

“Are you breathing?” “I think so.”

Your vision focused enough to recognize the looks of concern from the two seated at the booth.

Your heart sank. Oh no. Oh no.

Jihoon was going to see the two of them together, engaged.

He was going to be completely shattered.

“Lovebug, are you crying?”

“I—”

“Jihoon! Hey!” Your cousin’s voice went up several octaves from its regular position. You froze and cast your eyes downward, shrinking back as far into the seat as you could.

“Hey, hyung.”

Even the highest quality of speakers could not do this man’s voice justice, you realized.

“Oh my goodness, it’s our Jihoonie! Hi!”

You prepared yourself to hear the strain in his voice that you knew would tear you up inside.

“Hi, noona.”

Wait. What?

He spoke with such nonchalance, your head shot up in surprise.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Was your vision still fuzzy from earlier?

Did someone turn the playback speed to 0.5x?

Was that music playing?

(Shit. Hyejin was right.)

Your tongue mindlessly ran across your lips.

Oh wow.

He was really built like that, huh? His fair skin was so clear, you could have sworn there was a halo of light emitting from him. Cleanly done undercut, his ebony bangs fell messily just above his eyes, oh God, those crescent eyes, those bright, bright, bright—

Has he always looked at you like that?

“Hey, firefly.”

“Holy fuck.”

The older two gawked for a moment before your cousin began to berate you, going so far as to threaten to wash your mouth out with soap, while your unnie had her jaw dropped in horror. But you couldn’t look away from Jihoon. Surprise flitted across his face, but only for a moment. It settled into an uptilted corner of his lip and amusement dancing in his irises.

The woman before him, he only ever caught fleeting moments of. From social media posts by old friends to grainy photos from news outlets regarding your doctoral work. You were always so hard to pin down, like trying to catch a sunbeam in his hands.

You changed. So much.

You grew more into yourself, a woman you crafted with your own hands. There was a quiet confidence woven into you, so blatantly obvious, even though your current posture would convince everyone else otherwise. But he wasn’t everyone else. He could see the burning flame you’ve had since you were children, but it was more refined, more honed in, more in your control.

That made you more dangerous.

But that flustered look on your face.

Maybe you hadn’t changed too much.

And that gave him hope.

―――――――――――――――――

[side A: you. end]

[side B: him. coming soon]

#lee jihoon x reader #woozi x reader #lee jihoon #woozi #seventeen x reader #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #seventeen #svt #kpop svt #woozi fic #seventeen fic #svt fic #mine

[yandere-writer-momo]

Pov: Baki characters are stuck in a love triangle with you like jack and hanayama , retsu and katsumi , Baki and Ali jr lol I think it would be funny.

I love love triangles but I like them spicy 🌶️ my thumbs hurt because I tried to be thorough

Baki Head Canons

Love triangle edition

Baki Hanma vs Muhammed Ali Jr

It’s a reverse situation. Baki was kind to you when he had seen how upset you were outside of the tournament. Your teary eyes melting his hardened heart from his breakup with Kozue.

He tries his best to comfort you since you’re so upset about something but you don’t pay him any mind. You even push him away when he tries to hug you. You tell him you’re with someone and that touching and being near another man is a violation of trust against your partner. You tell him how much you love your boyfriend and you didn’t want to be involved with anyone else

Baki’s eyes widen when he sees you jump up and run into Muhammed Ali’s arms. He couldn’t believe Ali had found such a wonderful partner. Baki envies him

Baki finds himself seeing the two of you out together. Baki always tries to say hello to the two of you (mostly you). He starts to grow even more envious when you pay him no mind. You completely ignore his existence

He decides to try telling you about how Ali made the moves on his ex girlfriend but you tell him you already know about that. That Ali had shared everything about his past with you and you’d appreciate if Baki stopped bothering you. You were the one who helped Ali pick up all the broken pieces and love fighting again. He’s even more enthralled by you

He begins to try to woo you in front of Ali and in private. Ali has to step in to get Baki to stop. Baki challenges him to a fight. If Baki wins, Baki gets to marry you but if Ali wins, he’ll leave the two of you alone

He wasn’t expect Ali to be an even better fighter than before. He wasn’t expect Ali to defeat him so quickly. Ali had finally perfected his martial art. Ali tells Baki that you had become his good luck charm when Ali met you. How you helped him pick himself up six years ago and Ali wasn’t going to let Baki ruin that

Baki rose up to his feet after being knocked down, the red head asking for a rematch. It was you who stepped between them and told Baki to stop. That Baki should take the loss and keep his word

Baki still relentlessly chases you and Ali until the two of them come to an understanding that neither were going to give up. It was then that they decided to share you

Jack Hanma vs Hanayama Kaoru

Both of these two are not the dating type. So I’m thinking that you’re a cute little nurse they both see a lot at the hospital whenever they’re there. Hanayama sees you more than Jack does

A sweet nurse who doesn’t mind their grumpiness and always diligently attends to their wounds. Making sure they eat and their dressings are always clean. Always smiling at them.

It was when you had gotten close to Hanayama to change his dressings that he got a whiff of rose perfume from you. It was then that he began to show more interest in you. He began to request for you specifically in the hospital

But you didn’t have any romantic or sexual interest in him. He was your patient. You didn’t think he was flirting with you when he would have you run a warm rag across his muscular body for a sponge bath. You didn’t notice the way his eyes watched you like a hungry predator. You paid no mind to the soft brushes of his fingers against your arms every once and awhile. You were just doing your job

But Jack was a different story for you. He was doctor Shinogi’s patient but doctor Shinogi trusted you enough to go in there to take care of him since Jack was so stubborn to rest. Unlike the other nurses who chided him about resting, you would allow him to move as he pleased after surgery. And you would sneak him in high protein snacks. You were so kind to him and expected nothing in return… he began to have feelings for you. But he wouldn’t touch you or make you do anything you didn’t want to. You also liked Jack a lot. He was a little rough around the edges but he was very gentle with you. He also began to requesting only you to care for him

They became aware of each other when one of the other nurses slipped up. You were giving Hanayama his sponge bath and dressing change as usual when one of the other nurses came into the room in a huff. “The patient in room 707 wants you immediately. He won’t let any of us near him unless it’s you.”

Hanayama watched your face light up and you cheeks flush. The silent man shaking in envy at how different your expression was now. He’s never seen that expression addressed to him… who on earth was this other patient?

Hanayama bribes the other nurse to tell him who the other patient was and the nurse tells him about how you take care of Jack Hanma. The nurse also tells him how all the other staff members think that Jack and you have a thing going on

Hanayama is so jealous. He becomes more demanding of your time. He begins to ask for you to do more for him. And he begins to ask for you to wash his privates for him too. You refuse to do that but you do everything else for him without a complaint

Hanayama can’t take it anymore when he watches your face light up at the slightest mention of Jack’s name. So he presses his lips to yours, causing your eyes to widen in horror. You pull away from him and sun out the door. He holds his fingers to his lips on awe. Your lips were softer than he imagined them to be… He sadly doesn’t see you again for awhile

You begin to take care of Jack more much to your joy. He’s getting out in a few days and he asked you out to dinner so you’re super excited

Hanayama begins to send flowers to apologize for the kiss. It gets to the point that you have to see him again because he’s refusing care from all the other nurses. He’s so happy to see you even though he doesn’t express it

You don’t acknowledge Hanayama much. You just clean his bandages and hand him his meds. It’s when he asks you out that you finally do. You gently turn him down. You cannot date a patient

He informs you that if you can go out with Jack, you can go out with him. He then threatens you that he’ll have you fired if you refuse him. He promises you one date and one date only

Jack and you have a wonderful date. You both really like each other. You also inform him of your dilemma with tears in your eyes. Jack is really protective of you

He goes the whole nine yards for your date and tells you how you can always have this life if you choose him

Your heart still belongs to Jack. You choose Jack still

Hanayama keeps pursuing you to the point him and Jack fight

You end up with only one of them

Orochi Katsumi vs Kaioh Retsu

You’re Katsumi’s childhood sweetheart. The love of this man’s life and Retsu is so endeared with you. You’re such a little sweetheart that puts up with the childish Katsumi all the time. You’re so mature for your age

Retsu finds out that you and Katsumi aren’t officially dating. You two are just childhood friends. The Kenpō master swoops in so fast. He’s chatting you up and getting to know you right in front of Katsumi. Katsumi doesn’t take kindly to it. Katsumi laid a claim on you since you two were kids

Katsumi is more touchy with you. While Retsu makes the moves on you. You’re in a literal game of tug of war between them and you try to keep the peace

Retsu is very mature and he’s super calming to be around while Katsumi is super fun. You’ve been around Katsumi most of your life so you’re used to him but you’re not used to Retsu. Retsu makes you feel like a woman and you start to enjoy his company a lot

Katsumi notices you drifting towards Retsu and tries to separate you two. It’s then and there that Katsumi confesses his love for you and Retsu confessed that he’s fond of you as well. You’re stuck between the two. You like them both

The two of them are able to workout a peaceful sharing situation if you can’t choose between the two of them since they’re best friends. The only competition they have now with each other is when the three of you partake in threesomes on who can please you the best

#baki hanma #baki the grappler #female reader #baki x reader #kaoru hanayama #yandere #yandere imagine #yandere fic #baki son of ogre #jack hanma #baki dou #baki kaoru hanayama #yandere baki #baki headcanons #baki the grappler x reader #grappler baki #Baki #kaiou retsu #retsu kaioh #katsumi orochi #Muhammed Ali jr #yandere x you #yandere x reader #kiyosumi katou #yandere male #gaia baki

[erytherion]

I knew watching it again would probably result in some different perspectives from when I watched as a kid, but I remembered the film really well already and wasn’t expecting anything particularly ORV-related to suddenly hit me out of the blue, but like. Right at the end. RIGHT at the end.

Sing-Shong (or Han Sooyoung and KimCom, if you’d rather - or maybe both!) really did put so much thought into everything that got included, didn’t they?

You could say that ORV itself is exactly the same to them as this story was to the Rose who shared her story - Jack’s story.

I guess the idea is that, without ORV, we would never have known about Kim Dokja at all, because nobody would have remembered him. Maybe without those specific people surviving, there would not be any other record of him at all. Maybe that is part of the change between what may have ‘actually’ happened and what we read. Maybe he really, truly is ‘just some guy’ trying to survive like Jack Dawson, but nobody even knew he was a part of their story in the first place? What we read is a story saying ‘he was there, here is evidence of him being there’, but maybe he was just like Jack, there unplanned and undocumented, even in the <Star Stream> itself.

And they are still there, telling every world line outside of their own: He was here too. We want to find him. As the only ones who know he was there - maybe without any statue, any documented heroism. Just like everyone in the background of the film, saving each other, dying together, trying to survive.

And a promise, of course, to never let go. Not of a hand, but of a promise: A promise to survive, to live to an old age, and die in a warm bed.

I think a young Kim Dokja would appreciate the kind of message that provided, even in film form. Or at least, it’s one Han Sooyoung (or Sing-Shong, if you’d rather) would consider would want to convey to her readers.

Maybe they don’t even have a picture of him either. Maybe the only record of him exists within their memories. And that was the only source they had with which to try and recreate the ‘him’ that they knew, whilst knowing that, as with the film Titanic, the story would out of necessity become somewhat dramatised to sell the story as plausible or to make it popular enough to reach him.

Anyways, this quote (from the movie transcript - couldn’t find screenshots to do it justice) was what really hit me the most as being relevant to his story, too. Since they were there too, in the theatre dungeon, on the Titanic. It being a fictional rendition of a historical event makes it even more relevant too, and even as a kid I wondered - how can everyone be so okay watching these people die so horribly? But it’s because it’s fiction, it’s fiction. But, in this case, was it? How much of it?

Interpretations of fiction could still be close to reality, in universes where these things did happen, in their reality. As history. So are the things we read, watch, play all the same, in the end? Artists’ renditions, dramatised documentaries, or similar? Fiction, yet also reality.

Like ORV. Fiction, yet reality. Always both and the same.

And they always say ‘it feels like a dream’, too. What do dreams count as? Fiction, or reality? The memories stay in your head from them too. Does that mean they are or are not real?

Just some guy dreaming of the helping his friends through the apocalypse, who came out of nowhere just like Jack Dawson on that ship, walking the fine line between fiction and reality that never had any distinction to him in the first place. It’s always been both, for him, with his story.

Anyways I am crying right now so feel free to cry with me! We have many tears with all these stories and histories, I think.

#orv #orv spoilers #omniscient reader’s viewpoint #titanic #reminder that I have psychosis and some strange thoughts/beliefs at times #fiction is not purely fictional to me either #it’s just happening somewhere else than here #in another dimension or universe #getting dramatised during retelling #inspiring actions that create ‘spiritual successors’ of the original plotlines #like handing stories down to sponsored incarnations #the message wasn’t for me but it’s a good message to keep you going #never let go of the promise to survive please #maybe we promised someone else something similar in another universe #in a fragment of a story we took part in in our sleep #look after yourselves dear readers

[lostcauses-noregrets]

Was it ever confirmed Mari was in love with Erwin? Is there any more sources about their relationship? From tiktok to twitter, people always say Marie was in love with Erwin but Erwin turned her down and she settled down for Nile. But I never got any confirmation for this and it always sounded like a headcanon, if it is, it doesn't sit well with me that fandom loves to paint a female character who has her own family and children like someone who was always in love with another man and not her husband because she was rejected especially after how Historia and Mikasa are treated every day.

PS. I know Erwin wrote love letters to Marie for Nile but it doesn't explain anything to me since she was thinking Nile wrote them to her, he was whom she was picturing. I don't know a lot about smartpass aus and character interviews that's why I am asking about additional Marie info.

Thank you so much and I hope you are having a great, Eruri filled day <3

As far as I know there is nothing in the manga, the Smartpass stories, or the supplementary guides to suggest that Marie was in love with Erwin. We don't even know if she knew that Erwin had feelings for her. Maybe she did, maybe she didn't. The only information we have about Marie is the conversation between Erwin and Nile in the carriage in chapter 53, and the two Smartpass stories Erwin’s Letter  and  The Incident of the Scout’s Mysterious Advertisement everything else is just speculation and headcanons.

I think it's because we have so little information about Marie that so many headcanons have grown up around her. She's a useful blank slate that fans can project all kinds of personalities, theories and ideas on to. I'm guilt of this myself. I've written Marie into numerous fics where she appears as Erwin's former fiance or lover. My headcanon for several modern AUs is that Erwin had a relationship with Marie and genuinely loved her, however he realised they wanted very different things from life so he chose to split up with her, rather than committing to a life that would make them both unhappy. This is from Sealskin for example:

It had hurt. It had hurt more than Erwin could have believed possible. And what hurt the most was that he knew he had been right. He had loved Marie, there was no question of that, but he also knew, had known for years in fact, that he couldn’t give her the life she wanted, with the nice house and the nice car and the nice kids. The very thought of such an existence was anathema to Erwin, like being trapped for life behind impenetrable walls. It wasn’t fair to Marie, to promise what he couldn’t give, so Erwin had done the decent thing and ended the relationship. Marie had been devastated of course, so Erwin could hardly blame her when she sought solace and a shoulder to cry on from one of their friends. And when his former fiancé got together with his oldest friend, Erwin had been genuinely pleased, he’d even toasted them at their wedding six months later. If he had felt the loneliness seeping into his bones when he had returned home from the marriage celebrations to his empty apartment, he silenced his doubts by telling himself that he had done the right thing, the honest thing, the only thing that was fair to Marie.

As far as headcanons go, I don't see any conflict with Marie falling in love with Nile and marrying him after splitting up with Erwin, that's just something people do. I am very much not a fan of scenarios where Marie is shallow, vacuous, or vindictive because that just smacks of misogyny to me. To return to canon, all the information that we have suggests that Nile and Marie were very happy together, regardless of any past history she may or may not have had with Erwin. Bless them.

#asks #erwin smith #nile dok #marie dok #erwin meta #snk

[meshlasolus]

House Of Memories (54/?)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Padawan!reader

Warnings: misogyny?? Kind of but not really but ig it’s implied idk… fluff at the end.

Summary: The mission on Anaxes has some unforeseen challenges, and for once, it has nothing to do with separatist forces.

A/n: guys i am so excited for these chapters we are in the final stretch and I’m just elated by the fact that the story has come this far… cheers to you guys for making it happen

also y'all if you like the story, maybe consider buying me a coffee :)

Words: 3k

The roaring of the ship was louder than usual, but it wasn’t because of the engine, it was due to the passengers inside. You’d been around your fair share of clones, learning to like and even enjoy all of their rowdy behaviors, but you’d never seen a clone force the likes of these. They were not just rowdy and loud, but completely rambunctious and completely uncivilized, or at least that’s what Obi-Wan would say if he were here. They felt themselves superior to other clones, and though you knew of their reputation, you’d not even seen what they were capable of yet, so of course, you had your doubts.

They had been arguing most of the time, with Rex, and with Jesse. They seemed to like poking fun at them for being normal clones, or as they called them, ‘Regs’.

You didn’t understand them, their superiority complex rivaled that of Anakin when he was being bratty, but even still, you could tell he was joking most of the time he made arrogant teases against you or others. These guys were for real.

The worst of them was the one who spoke the least, if you were being completely honest. Crosshair, the sniper. He could cut you down with a look, and a simple glance could tell you everything you needed to know. He wasn’t a fan of working with Rex and Cody, and he certainly didn’t seem to like you. He very much acknowledged you existed, which couldn’t be said for the others, but every time he looked in your direction, he scoffed and shook his head.

Once it dulled down a little, and Cody finished explaining the plan, there were several conversations occurring at once, and it left two odd ones out. You, and Hunter.

He seemed to think that since you both were the only ones not interacting with the others that he could invite himself over to sit next to you, and strike up what he thought to be a conversation.

“I’ve never worked alongside a Jedi before,” he said, and you gave him a glance of neutrality. Perhaps he was capable of being civil after all.

“Oh?”

“I never understood what was so great about them,” he finished, seemingly unknowing that what he had said was just mildly offensive to you. You wouldn’t take it personally, you knew that what the Jedi had become was far different than what they used to be.

“We’ve lost our way, I suppose. The war has taken it’s toll on everyone, hopefully once it’s over the Jedi Order will be what it once was,” you said, thinking of the teachings you grew up with, and longing for a time when they can be important again.

“And what’s that?”

“A symbol of hope.”

He nearly laughed at your response, and you furrowed your brow.What was so funny?

“Some wizards who carry laser swords are supposed to represent hope?” He sounded in disbelief, and since you were feeling generous, you’d let this one slide, but if he kept on, your patience may wear thin. You were a consular, slow to anger and slow to aggression, but you were still human.

“Actually, yes. We’re meant to be peacekeepers, not soldiers.”

Your explanation seemed to do little for Hunter, as he simply couldn’t imagine it. He may never have fought alongside a Jedi, but he met his fair share, and wasn’t impressed. Well, he’d never met you.

“I’ll believe it when it happens. The way I see it, the powers of the Jedi are no match for the likes of us, and if we were in charge, this war would be over,” he seemed to believe the words he said, but little did you know he was trying to rile you up. He wanted to see a Jedi’s capabilities first hand, and could read you like a book, without even trying. He knew that though you tried to keep composed, you were becoming irritated, and perhaps you were close to snapping.

“You’re not very fond of Jedi, are you?”

“I don’t think they need to be the leading Generals of this war. I think they are entitled to those places of power.”

You huffed out a breath, clenching your fists and your jaw at once, trying to breathe evenly while remembering your Master’s words in your head. Be slow to anger, for then you are better than the mightiest man.

“How old are you?” You tilted your head as you asked him. You had a better way of showing this fool who was in charge here than throwing hands. It would be an honorable way to put him in his place.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re a clone, you haven’t lived to the age you appear due to growth supplements… so, how old are you?”

He knew this was a trap, somehow, someway. It was probably not going to end in his favor.

“Nearing three years of full development,” he answered, nodding to you as if to say ‘go ahead, continue.’ Now he was intrigued.

“Wonderful. You know where I was at the age of three?”

He didn’t respond that time, he just waited, as he knew you were probably about to elaborate on this small set up.

“I was a slave. I worked tireless hours for the people who owned me, and I was not even given proper food or shelter. By the time I was five, I had learned techniques that could disable enemies twice my size, both physically, and mentally. When I was ten years old I defeated my first challenger, and the fight wasn’t even close. When I was fifteen years old, I became so skilled in combat that not even my own Master could beat me. I stand here today, twenty years old, having been beaten, tortured, and nearly killed on several occasions due to this war. You may think the Jedi are entitled to their ranks, but I have damn well earned it,” you finished, giving him a pointed look you’d given to very few people. He shuddered visibly, though he formerly thought nothing could shake him.

“I understand. My apologies for the offense.”

Had you… scared him? No, maybe not, but you sure did rattle him. You were a being to behold when you got to that state of driven determination. Even if it were just something as simple as getting a point across, which you very well did.

“There’s no offense taken. Just remember which side you’re on, and choose your battles wisely.”

Cody had overheard the little conversation between you both, and obviously he was proud, but also a little shocked at your boldness. Usually you were so cordial with strangers, so if you were this badly stirred by a few defective clones, he was worried for your sanity over the span of the mission.

Within the next moments, the ship was being shot at by enemy forces. It all happened so fast, the emergency crash landing that had been brought upon you by the droids who shot you down. The engines were in flames by now, and everyone was trying to jump ship or at least prepare to make a forced exit before it all came crashing down. The smoke was heavy, and you held your breath till you were out of it, only then realizing that not everyone made it away from the ship in time.

“Where’s Cody?”

Under the gunship. Cody was quite literally trapped under the gunship.

You stepped back towards it, ready to rescue your friend and Commander from the crash site. Hunter, the ever so believing man he was, held an arm up before you, nodding at one of his men instead. Clearly your little spat in the ship had meant nothing to him, but it would, you’d be sure of that.

Wrecker had quite a different approach to the rescue, rather than climbing in, he instead opted to lifting the entire gunship from the ground, setting it up and grabbing Cody from the wreckage before letting it fall back and ensue more damage. You were a bit surprised, maybe even impressed, but you were still upset about Hunter’s choleric attitude towards you.

The large explosion from the ship behind Wrecker as he walked towards you all did not deter him in the least. One hundred percent success rate… Huh.

Your senses flared, and your head whipped around, seeing a rather unfortunate sight approaching in the distance. You stepped towards it, and caught everyone’s attention, and now they saw the large droid battalion heading straight for them.

“Everyone find cover and hold position, we’ll let them come to us,” Rex said, and you readied your lightsaber, detaching it from your hip and tilting your head to the side to crack your neck. It got a bit jarred during the crash.

“I don’t think so captain. That’s not our style, we prefer going to them,” Hunter stated, pointing out to the clear and open battlefield. “Bad batch, plan eighty-seven. Shockwave.”

Instantly they were geared up, leaving you and the ‘regs’ to watch on the sidelines. Sure, you would humor them, it wasn’t like you were going to deny them a chance at completing the mission, you weren’t that petty.

They had a very specific fighting style. It was interesting to watch. They worked well as a team, which is perhaps why they thought so highly of themselves, but you couldn’t really say any less about the other clones, for they were just as efficient. You’d admit, it was nice witness a clone force with such an ambition to get the job done. Good soldiers follow orders, but they also know when to defy them.

You watched as the last droid dropped to the ground, the robotic reinforcements being rendered useless at this point. You supposed it would do to congratulate them on their first victory of this mission, but alas, your plans changed when you saw yet another battalion fast approaching your area. The clankers were right to call for backup, but it was a pity that they too would be demolished.

“You see that?” Wrecker asked, turning to Hunter for another call.

“You did well, but now it’s my turn,” you walked right between them, brushing your shoulder harshly with Hunter’s without even a glance in his direction.

“You’re going to need help,” He said with a scowl, as if tired of your delusions, but little did he know. He crossed his arms as you turned back around, continuing your steps backwards with your arms out to the side, saber in hand.

“Sorry boys, but I got dibs.”

Wrecker laughed in a loud and obnoxious roar, the sound reaching your ears being like a challenge. Clearly they thought little of you, and honestly, or the most part you couldn’t blame them. For most others, when they saw you with Master Kenobi, they were quick to assume your abilities were great, but on your own? Well, Obi-Wan called you his little one for a reason. You didn’t look like much. You were a lovely sight to see, but not exactly a fearsome one, or at least for most people, not at first.

You saw the number of droids, and hadn’t really been intimidated by it, remembering a day when you disposed of far more, with your eyes having been blinded by smoke. Blinded… perhaps it was arrogant of you, perhaps it was foolish, but you couldn’t be bothered to ignore the thought. You reached in the pouch by your hip, pulling out a small scarf looking wrap. It was meant for emergencies, medical or otherwise, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t aid you in having a little fun.

You tied the material over your eyes, feeling your other senses become immediately heightened by the force.

The bad batch watched on, unsure of what you could be thinking, what could be running through that head of yours.

“What is she doing?” Hunter spoke under his breath, narrowing his eyes at your form where the droids were oncoming, and rather speedily he might add. You were taunting them.

“Are we going to just sit here and watch her die?” Crosshair was vastly annoyed, and could not believe that he and his team were taking orders from such a young and incapable woman. This seemed like suicide, to try and prove oneself just for the heck of it.

“Hold for my order,” Hunter replied, shaking his head and turning back to the field. You activated your lightsaber. He’d not known what it meant, the color of your saber, but what he did recognize was something he’d never seen before. It was green, but it had white streaks through it. He wasn’t much well versed in the teachings of the Jedi, but he assumed that wasn’t normal. “I want to see how far she gets on her own.”

The others sighed out in obnoxity, throwing their hands and rolling their eyes. This was pointless. A waste of time.

You felt them, the mechanical footsteps that echoed in the force as they came closer and closer, before finally stopping. The droids raised their blasters, and you could faintly distinguish the first shot from all the others. You let a breath out from your lips, using your lightsaber to deflect those shots. You focused on the movements of metal, and began running towards it, full speed. It took only moments for you to reach them, and in no time, the slashes of a lightsaber blade took over the sounds of deflection. You felt a group of droids coming up behind you, so you turned, using the force to pull them towards the ones you were cutting limbs from. They collided in a fiery blaze, short circuiting and falling to the ground in a pile of mangled machinery parts.

You sensed a shot flying right for your head, so without thinking, you froze the shot in place, taking in a deep breath before ducking and letting it be released into the head of another droid.

The bad batch couldn’t believe it. They stood there, slack jawed on the sidelines, unknowing of how they could have possibly underestimated someone so badly. Usually they had a sense about these things, but apparently, it wasn’t good enough. Hunter was mesmerized by what he was seeing, unsure of it was even real. The way you fought was so, for lack of a better word, elegant. It was like a dance, choreographed perfectly and yet completely spontaneous at the same time. The movements were fluid, like you predicted the enemy’s charge ahead of time. The continuous flow of your fight was never interrupted, not even once. It looked far different than the choppy and somewhat destructive patterns his men used to operate.

When the last droid fell to the ground, you sighed, ripping off the blind fold and shoving it into your belt pouch. You sauntered back, pleased with your efforts and satisfied with the results. They had pulled themselves together by now, but you sensed their reactions still went far deeper than the expressions they wore.

“I’ve never seen a Jedi fight like you,” was the first thing to fall from Hunter’s mouth, which was honestly the best thing you could have heard in the moment. He seemed impressed, which you were guessing was a new occurrence for him.

“Never underestimate the Padawans of Obi-Wan Kenobi, lesson learned.”

You thought that perhaps your witty remark would be the end of the conversation, but it wasn’t. His eyes only widened, and his face went blank for a moment.

“General Kenobi? The great negotiator?”

“Well, some of us just call him Obi-Wan, but yes, they are one and the same,” you clipped your saber to your belt, making sure it was secure before falling into stride with them all.

“If I had known, then-“

“If you had known, you still would have misjudged me. Some advice for the future, don’t ignore small packages, sometimes they hold great contents.”

And so the mission continued, but now it was made clear who was in charge.

-

Obi-Wan had only just landed on Anaxes, the sun was setting when he touched down, and though he was very tired, he’d been angsty to get to you, knowing you’d probably been as anxious as he has been the last week. He hated being without you, and though he knew you were perfectly able to function independently, there was something inside him that told him something wasn’t right. Something between you both was eerie, and he needed to be with you in order to figure it out.

When he went to Anakin, and found that you were, in fact, not here in the base, he began to get angry.

“You promised me, Anakin,” it was said with intense fervor, like if he meant it as a warning. To be fair, he hadn’t been able to contact you both all this time, as the transmitter in his ship had been disabled, and just now learning that you went off on a mission, accompanied by defective clones was a little unnerving to him.

“I didn’t authorize the mission, Master Windu thought it would be best for her to supervise the retrieval,” Anakin was not upset by his Master, and he perfectly understood his standings. You’d not been on a whole lot of missions without him, but the ones you had been on, most often you came home injured, or disoriented. It was never your fault, either. It was always the ones who surrounded you who thoughtlessly put you in danger. He trusted you, but he couldn’t find it in himself to trust others with you.

Truly he couldn’t blame Anakin, as the boy had enough problems to account for. He knew it was wrong of him to make his former padawan promise something he knew would be a long shot.

He sat down on the lower part of the bunkbed that he’d been pacing by in these barracks. He wanted so badly to just lay back on the shallow mattress and rest, but he’d never be able to relax a single muscle in his body until he knew you were safe. When you were back, and laying in his arms, that would be when he could rest, when he could forget about all the stress for a moment and simply be with you.

It wasn’t until late in the night when you returned, aboard a stolen speeder with the lot of clones whom you had supervised the past two days. You were exhausted, and you looked worn through. When you made it to your private quarters for the night, you neglected to take notice of how the door panel hadn’t been locked by your usual passcode, and you entered immediately. You stripped yourself of your cloak and let it fall to the floor, and when you turned around, you jumped in your stance, the sight of your master standing with crossed arms while leaning against the provided desk had given you a bit of a shock. You were much too tired for this.

“Obi, you scared the living kriff out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” soft smile as he approached you with open arms melted your tense state, and made you a puddle in his embrace soon after. You wrapped yourself around his waist, burying your head in his chest and breathing him in. One of the things you most often times missed when he was away was the smell of him, the comforting scent that emanated from him and made you feel at home. “How did the mission go?”

“It was… eventful,” you didn’t really want to explain it all tonight, as you were becoming more drowsy by the minute, but you another thing you missed was your late night talks with him, just before bed you would give a rundown of your day, everything you did, said, or even thought of when the other wasn’t present. “ARC Trooper Echo is alive. We’re putting in a request to go find him on Skako Minor with Anakin leading.”

“Who’s we?” He asked curiously, tipping his head down to you with a furrowed brow, though you stayed within the confines of his chest the whole time.

“Rex, Jesse, Myself, and clone force ninety-nine.”

“I see,” he replied, smiling to himself at the thought of you leading a clone force on your own. He was very proud of you, always… but you were becoming so matured as an upcoming general, he couldn’t help but let his heart swell with pride. “You need to rest if you are to begin another mission tomorrow.”

He tried to pull you back, to maybe look upon your sleepy face, and to kiss you gently, but you clung to him, unwilling to be separated so quickly.

“Can I just hold you for a minute?” Your voice was filled with exhaustion, it dripped with the need for sleep, but still, he obliged you, bringing his arms back around you and cradling you to him like a precious object that he was afraid to break.

“Of course, my love,” he kissed the top of your head, closing his eyes and enjoying the soft scratch of your hair against his face. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

-

@spencerrxids @sawendel @fandomstanner24 @i-shall-abide @officialjellydoughnut @whatshxrname @darkened-writer @superavengerpotter @cutiepoo16 @hypnoash @softlymellow @howlerwolfmax @mephistominion @honestlywtfisgoingon @anakinskywalkerog @mandiiellen @je--a-n @guyinachair27 @avenger5-a55emble @amelia-song-pond @kaminanii @the-abyss-of-fandoms @queenofnightdreamland @world-dominating-kitty @mandowhatnow @ella-error505 @annahalo @infinity-witch @beetlejuice-stuff @liueski @solarbxby @sirianisrock @lxdyred @endless-warrior-always-fighter @iloveinej @msjb2002 @shoochi @itsilvermorny @gingerrosecosplay @sebschicken @loversjoy @argentinemango @1-800-vader @house-of-kolchek @marierg @graciexmarvel @ttzamara @truly-madly-nerdy @molieux @majahu @dyzlks @pancakefancake

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan series #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x padawan #ewan mcgregor

[munchkinfox-the-deviant-fox]

Tell Me About Your MC!

I wanna know more about people's precious babies!

Name

Gender/Sexuality/Age

Do they have any special talents?

What do they want more than anything?

What is their main goal?

What is getting in the way of achieving that goal?

What are they passionate about?

What are some of their quirks?

What do they love?

What do they hate?

What are their flaws?

What do they look like? (pic or description!)

What are their bad habits?

What's their backstory?

What is the most important thing to them and how do they protect it?

What else is important about your MC? Tell me all about it and don't you dare hold back! I want to hear it!!!

Here's all about my MC!

Rhene (read as Renée or 'reh-nay') but only her mother calls her that. Everyone else calls her Rhen.

CIS Female, Heterosexual, 27 at Season 1

Her special talent is her insight and problem-solving abilities. She's really good at understanding other perspectives and helping others find the optimal solution to whatever their issue is. However, whenever she's involved in the problem situation, she's like a cat in a paper-bag and can't problem-solve for her life.

Rhen wants to live a life where she's happy.

Rhen's main goal changes over time. When she first arrived to the Devildom, she just wanted to learn and practice magic. Rhen's story deviates from canon, but past season 2, Rhen's goal is to help and support Diavolo in his dream in whatever way she can.

Rhen is passionate about music and demonology. For Rhen, music helps her express and regulate her emotions, and then she became really invested in learning about Devildom history and about the different life forms that exist.

Rhen is super sensitive to heat. It's why she never wears her hair down. It isn't until Asmo teaches her a charm that she starts to wear her hair down. Almost never wear a bra. Rhen can lie but doesn't like to. 95% when she does lie, she purposefully makes it obvious that she's lying; in a sarcastic kind of way.

Rhen loves physical touch. This girl has been so touch starved for so long and touch is one of her displays of affection so she's constantly wanting to have some sort of contact with her friends or partners. Rhen LOVES Cheese. Mac 'n Cheese is her favorite food and the brothers quickly got tired of eating it whenever she was in charge of making dinner that they made a rule that she could only make the dish once a month.

She hates being told what to do. It immediately triggers her chaotic-brat mode. It's just her immediate reaction even if it's something reasonable.

Rhen struggles to not try and manage other people's feelings/reactions in any given situation. It really interferes with her ability to communicate effectively because the impulse to manage other people will sometimes keep her from communicating when she needs to.

13. Rhen has a bad habit of not showering when her depression gets bad, especially her hair. Since she throws it up into a bun, it's usually not noticable. Asmo has been a big help in this department and has helped her keep a more regular routine.

14. Rhen grew up with a perfectly average, white, middle class family lifestyle. Her mother was a helicopter parent and it created a strained relationship as Rhen grew up. Graduating high school, Rhen immediately went to university by her parents' insistence. She graduated with a Linguistics major and a minor in Japanese & Latin. She worked as a Copy Editor for a few different publishing houses, then went freelance and struggled financially. At one point she was shopping at a resale store when she heard the woman behind the counter stressing over paperwork and she couldn’t figure out how to fix, organize, and digitize it. Rhen offered to help her, showed her the process, but the woman (a board member of the nonprofit) was still confused and overwhelmed. She asked Rhen how she knew all this and Rhen told her how organizing, editing and perfecting stuff was her job. So she offered to pay Rhen to do the job and since she wasn’t making much off of freelance work (and she felt bad leaving the mess for this woman who clearly had no idea how to do this) she agreed. Eventually became hired and took on more responsibility, essentially becoming their Communications Specialist which included helping manage their website, and offered services of going over people’s resumes to help perfect them. A few years go by and the woman who brought her on ended up getting ousted by the board (bullshit politics that boiled down to her wanting to be efficient at giving people the aid and resources they need and the rest of the board wanting to pull in as much money as possible, even though that's not what a nonprofit is for) and Rhen's pay was cut to the point where she had to quit. This is around the time Rhen decides to study abroad before beginning a Master's program.

15. To Rhen, her relationship with the brothers and Diavolo are the most important thing to her. Before coming to the Devildom, Rhen always avoided confrontation, even to the detriment of herself or others. However, Rhen has grown to no longer let things slide and she will do whatever is necessary to protect her people.

16. Rhen's childhood left it's mark on her in the fact way that, she had friends, but for one reason or another, she was typically an after thought; not someone her friends cared if she came along or not. It left Rhen with a desperate need for affection (not even in a romantic aspect), so Rhen developed some unhealthy behavior where she believed that others would only value her if she provided goods or services to the relationship. Her best friend she met in high school became her only support system and a unhealthy co-dependent relationship developed between the two of them. They eventually worked through the toxic traits and now maintain a healthy relationship. Rhen, though, is still working through a lot of self-deprecating, toxic behaviors, but the life she's building in the Devildom has been a positive effect.

#obey me #obey me thoughts #tell me about your MC #obey me mc #obey me original character #obey me tumblr game #obey me mc rhen #obey me rhen #obey me named mc

[lullabytaeyong]

Txt Agere Series Part 4 🚋

🍪 Home Sick

☕️ No tw

Summary: Beomgyu goes home to visit his family and finds himself longing for the familiarity of home, even though he is technically at home. But how can it be home without his cg’s and brothers?

Beomgyu loved going home to see his family over breaks and between comebacks. The warmth of his mother giving him hugs and his father patting him on the shoulder refreshed him. It gave him time to feel normal. Not like an idol. They’d talk and talk and talk! His mom loved to hear all the fun things he had to say and always knew how to cheer him up. He would join her in cooking or his father with his side hobbies. It was perfect.

The only struggle for Beomgyu was existing in his childhood home without regressing. His room still had bins of toys his mom organized into storage cubes on a shelf because he was too attached to them to give them away. His bed had sheets designed with little cars on them and several stuffed animals. Now and then he would take a peek in his closet where they stored toys from when he was preschool. There were only a few. A plastic tool kit, a pretend vet set with a kennel, and a rainbow xylophone he used to ding all the time. He had to fight off the urge to take it out and make up little songs because his family would hear it. 

With distractions of neighbors stopping by to say hello and his dad showing him a new show, Beomgyu didn’t even think about feeling small. Yes it had been a couple weeks since he last regressed, but he felt okay. He could let himself feel fuzzy as he he drifted off to sleep, imagining his Papa telling him a story. That was his plan until he was all alone on his third day there. His parents had jobs they were expected to be at and as much as they would love to spend every second with their son, they couldn’t. Beomgyu sat silently on the couch, feeling a little nervous.

He missed Yeonjun and Soobin giving him forehead kisses and checking on him. He missed raging over games with Kai while Taehyun rolled his eyes. Beomgyu was homesick. This wasn’t really his ‘home’ anymore. If the others where there then it would feel more normal. They were his home.

Beomgyu sighed and looked absentmindedly at a bookshelf next to the tv. On the very bottom shelf were some picture books he and his brother used to throw at each other. Out of borden and curiosity, he got up and sat down in front of the tall shelf. The thin spines didn’t display and titles, so he tugged one out to find one of his old favorites. It was simple book about unicorns with a purply-blue cover. His brother used to tease him for liking it, but he would just stick his tongue out at him. Beomgyu flipped through the pages, dragging his finger over the pictures. One page about underwater unicorns, not narwhals, hit him with a little too much nostalgia. He quickly put the book back and walked away to the bathroom.

“Shower…” He mumbled to himself.

Originally, Beomgyu thought a shower would distract him from the pit in his stomach, but it didn’t. He tried washing his hair, but after getting the shampoo out he felt grumpy and tired. In his head, he pretended Soobin was there to talk him through the rest of the steps. What did he do after shampoo again? Beomgyu felt a tightness in his throat and whimpered. His parents had all kinds of different soaps that he had used before. They weren’t the colors or smells he was used to, making it harder to stay focused on his task. Beomgyu sat down with his back to the water and looked up around him. Everything seemed so tall compared to him.

Beomgyu’s mind fluttered off to his bath toys he shared with Kai and Taehyun. He wondered if they had played with them without him. If his rubber froggy and hippo were with him he wouldn’t feel so lonely. Beomgyu rubbed his face and forced himself to stand. He shut off the water and dried off. Staying in there would only make it worse apparently. After some time on his computer, Beomgyu was back to being fully in his regular headspace. He had quite a close call in the shower. If he hadn’t gotten out when he did, his dad would’ve found him in there staring off into space, unresponsive. The possibility of it all made Beomgyu cringe.

That night, after a long movie his mom wanted to share with him, Beomgyu huddled under his blankets his lamb stuffie hugged to his chest. His thumb snuck it’s way into his mouth and before he knew it he was texting Yeonjun straight up nonsense.

beom:sleeeepppytimmmdm ⭐️🧸so spleep

yeon:<3<3<3

yeon:goodnight baby!

beom:nooooooo no thank u

yeon:you’re silly

yeon:get some sleep gyu <3

beom:tmmrow getsdee eberyone finlly!:D

yeon:we can’t wait! but be good and go to sleep now, okay? ily (ᵔᴥᵔ)

beom:(๑･̑◡･̑๑) (-.-;)y-~~~ ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

Yeonjun giggled at his phone screen and turned it to show Soobin, who was laying next to him on his bed.

“Look at what he’s doing.” Yeonjun smiled.

“How’d he figure that out??” Soobin chuckled. “I didn’t think little Beomgyu knew about the japanese keyboard.”

“Me either. I’m a little worried about him.”

“Why’s that?” Soobin asked.

“He hasn’t been little in a long time. What if something happened…” Yeonjun shrugged slightly and closed his eyes.

“We’ll see him tomorrow. He’s probably just sleepy, he even said it himself! They all get like that sometimes.” Soobin said, referring to the regressor trio.

“Hmm, I guess you’re right.” Yeonjun yawned. He sent one more message to Beomgyu and let his eyes fall shut.

-

The next morning, after a long goodbye to his parents, Beomgyu anxiously sat on the train. It wasn’t a very long trip, but after accidentally regressing before falling asleep, he felt a little on edge. His mother was doting on him non stop when he got up because she knew he had to leave. It left him struggling to act normal, like he wasn’t about to drift off from reality. She had noticed something was up, too. Beomgyu had a distant look in his eyes and didn’t pack his lamb in his bag, insisting he wanted to carry it instead. She checked him for a temperature but didn’t find one, so she gave him a tight hug goodbye and let him go.

Lamby, Beomgyu’s lamb stuffie, sat on his lap while he listened to music. He held onto her ear, rubbing the material between his fingers. Everything felt so tall and big compared to how Beomgyu felt. Visually it wasn’t, of course, but the adults around him seemed much more grown up than he did. He couldn’t wait to get home.

Beomgyu was so eager to get off the train that he accidentally hopped off at the wrong stop. Before he realized his mistake, the train was zooming away. His heart dropped. The flat was a good 15 minutes away by train, which meant forever by foot. He had to sit down and collect himself before getting on a different train headed in the same direction. His little self was screaming to break down and cry, but his big self pushed it away. Crying and freaking out would only make things worse.

It took another extra hour for Beomgyu to get home. As he paid his taxi driver, the cold winter wind whipped through his hair and burned his ears. He was holding himself together by a single thread and needed to get inside immediately.

“Thank you.” Beomgyu bowed politely, expecting an equally respectful exchange. The driver, however, scrunched up his face at Beomgyu and tsked.

“Yeah whatever.” He glanced at lamby in Beomgyu’s hands and chuckled. “Weirdo.” He muttered before driving away.

Beomgyu’s façade crumbled and he burst into tears. He ran inside and up the stairs to the third floor. The door clanked heavily against his body, as he slammed it open to get to their door. Distraught sobs exploded from his chest while he stumbled forward and tried to punch in the code. It didn’t work the first or second time. He was about to try again when the door flew open. Like a deer in the headlights, Beomgyu froze and stared wide eyed at Soobin.

“There you are! Oh my god, wait what’s wrong? Was that you crying?” Soobin rushed, taking Beomgyu by the shoulder and dragging him in.

“Appa!” He cried, clinging to Soobin’s shirt.

“Oh- Hi baby. I didn’t know you were little. Are you okay?”

“Driver was mean!” Gyu sobbed. Soobin awed sadly and rubbed his back.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie. They just didn’t know they were with the best boy on the planet! I bet they were mean just to be mean.” The tallest comforted. He listened Beomgyu babble through his tears about how he had hard rough trip back. Soobin nodded and comforted him until his tears dried up.

“Where’s eberyone?” Beomgyu sniffled.

“Taehyun and Kai are in their room and Yeonjun’s in the kitchen. Are you hungry?”

“Mhm.” He nodded.

“Okay, I’ll bring your stuff to your room. You can go get a snack.” Soobin smiled, ruffling his hair.

Beomgyu pulled away from Soobin and shuffled to the kitchen while Soobin took care of his stuff. His stomach rumbled, as he peered around the corner to see if Yeonjun was there. He was! He was standing by the oven with hand on his hip, humming to himself. Beomgyu brought lamby to his face and ran straight for him. He crashed into his body and wrapped his arms tightly around him to say hello.

“Oof! Well hello.” Yeonjun grinned. He was caught off guard, but broke into a huge smile and hugged Beomgyu back. He picked him and spun in a circle, making the younger giggle and squirm.

“I want a snack.” Beomgyu mumbled to him.

“Well, luckily for you, I’m making cookies right now! Here you go.” Yeonjun reached to the counter where a bunch of the cookies were cooling.

Beomgyu took it and bounced up and down for a moment before dropping to the floor. He scooted forward, sitting on Yeonjun’s foot, and wrapped his own arms and legs around his leg. Yeonjun was laughing, confused but entertained.

“What’re you doing?” He giggled.

“I’m a lemur and you’re a tree.” Beomgyu stated, munching away on the cookie. Yeonjun shrugged his shoulders with a smirk and continued on like normal.

“Okay.”

Beomgyu stayed there for about ten minutes. If it wasn’t for his weight on Yeonjun’s foot, the oldest might’ve forgotten he was even there. He had another cookie and eventually got up to find the others. He wandered to the maknaes room and barged in like he owned the place.

“Hi!” He chirped, jumping on top of Kai, who was laying lazily on his bed.

“Hi! You’re finally home!” Kai smiled, giving him a squeeze. The presence of Lamby in Beomgyu’s hand was a dead five away that he was little.

“What’s on your face?” Kai chuckled. He used his thumb to wipe away at the chocolate smudges around Beomgyu’s lips.

“I had a cookie and hyung was my tree. But I’m not a lemur anymore.” Beomgyu babbled cutely. Kai nodded along and scratched his back for him. He has such a fascinating imagination.

“You got a cookie? Yeonjun hyung practically smacked me when I tried to take one.” Taehyun spoke up from the floor where he was doing push ups.

“It’s cause I’m the cutest! I get firsts.” Beomgyu stated proudly.

“Well, I guess I can’t disagree.”

It was so nice to be home. The quiet chatter, the laughs, the smells…it was perfect. Beomgyu relaxed into Kai’s snuggle and sighed contently. He listened to him and Taehyun talk about movie theories, slowly but surely growing sleepy. The maknaes didn’t notice, too engrossed in their conversation to do so. When Soobin stopped by to see what they were up to he thought he’d find them building block towers or pretending with play food. Instead, he saw Beomgyu resting in Kai’s embrace. He panicked for a split second, thinking he might still be upset, but he noticed the lack of tears. Beomgyu yawned cutely with his nose scrunching up and whined. Soobin sat down at the foot of Kai’s bed and watched Kai absentmindedly pet Gyu’s hair to soothe him. Always so gentle, Soobin thought.

“Is it nap time, Beoms?” Soobin asked.

“Mhmm.” Beomgyu pushed himself upright and crawled down the bed to his waiting arms. “Sleepy.”

“I bet. You were up late and had a long trip. Say ni’ night to Tyun and Kai.” Soobin smiled, standing with the boy in his arms.

“Ni’ Night.” Beomgyu waved with his eyes closed and let his head fall onto Soobin’s shoulder.

“Sweet dreams ~” The maknaes singsonged.

Soobin carefully left the room and made his way to Beomgyu’s. While he was with the others, Soobin picked up his room a bit and pulled out all of Beomgyu’s favorite little gear. Some of it was what they had for his younger headspace, like lavender baby lotion and the only paci he owned. It was a solid shade of light blue with a small koala graphic on the white button. He heard Beomgyu make a small noise when he set him down on the bed and handed it to him. Then he tucked him in with his favorite blanket and made his stuffies say good night with different silly voices that made him giggle. Soobin loved the chances he got to baby Beomgyu. He never wanted to miss a single micro second of the warm feeling it gave him. There was something so parental and loving about it that he couldn’t get enough of.

#little txt #txt agere #txt littlespace #kpop agere #agere community #age regression #kpop littlespace #little tomorrowxtogether #little!beomgyu #cute beomgyu #baby beomgyu #sfw agere #fluff