#like…. I just need you to remember 1% is 1 in a 100. that’s the kind of prevalence where most people know somebody with that disease.

[nathaslosthershit]

𝐀 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫

Clark Kent x Single mom!reader, (Brief memory of) Clark Kent x non reader!girlfriend, (Platonic) Clark Kent x OC [Reader's Daughter] Summary: When your daughter's father is about to let her down once again, Clark is there to take his place. Read original request here!

Warnings: Deadbeat father (Reader's ex), Single Mother!Reader, Clark is too sweet! A/N: Wrote this at my desk where I have a framed photo of my dad and I at a father daughter dance! I used to love going to those <3

Clark had always wanted a family, he hadn’t ever really envisioned his life without one. He wanted to raise a child, wanted to give another kid the same love and comfort that his parents, Martha and Jonathan Kent, had given him. He wanted to love a child enough to sacrifice exactly what his Kryptonian parents had for him. 

But if you had asked Clark a few years ago if he wanted girls or boys, his answer would have been “a healthy child is all I need”.

He still shared the same sentiment. Kinda.

“What is this?” Clark asked as he picked up the picture frame. 

“Oh god, I forgot I had that one there.” His girlfriend at the time blushed, walking over to stand next to the Kryptonian. “It’s my Dad and I. We used to go to this Father Daughter Dance every year. I must have been… around seven years old then. I remember I was so pissed that I had lost both my front teeth the day before. I told my dad I wouldn’t smile for the picture.” 

Clark grinned, pointing to the huge smile the young girl was wearing in the photo. “What happened?” 

“He told me that my missing teeth made me look like I got into a fist fight and that I looked ‘badass’” She laughed. 

Clark tried to listen as she went on to talk about their dinner plans, but all he could think about was having his own little girl, getting to do those special events with her. 

Today, if you asked Clark, he would still say that a healthy child was priority #1, followed by a mumbled admission that he would really love to have at least one daughter though.

You had practically steamrolled yourself into Clark’s life. Almost out of nowhere, the pretty journalist he had run into from time to time who worked at a rival newspaper to the Daily Planet had become so much more to him. 

You’d both fallen hard and fast, but also unapologetically. 

After five years together, longer than you’d ever been with someone, you and Clark had seamlessly added each other to your lives. You both lived together, you knew he was Superman, he would often read your daughter, Clara, bedtime stories, everything between you two was perfect. 

It hadn’t been easy to allow Clark to meet your daughter. Clark trusted everyone, but you didn’t hold the same sentiment. Having been burned, especially by Clara’s bio dad, far too many times. 

Still, it wasn’t hard to see how much both you and your daughter had needed Clark. You needed a partner that didn’t balk at the idea of meeting you in the middle, a partner who you could rely on and trust 100%. Clara had needed someone in her life to show her that there are good people, to see that there was no settling for someone who refused to go above and beyond for you. 

And Clark? Clark had a partner he could spend 1,000 years with and never feel like he got enough time, someone who could handle both Clark Kent and Superman, someone he could envision both in an apartment in Metropolis and a farm in Smallville. Someone who came with a daughter whose drawings decorated Clark’s desk at work, who was always willing to rewatch a Star Wars movie with him. 

Though everything was picturesque much of the time, there was always someone to bring down the mood. 

Clara’s bio father.

“He’s not coming, Clark.” You confessed, voice breaking as if it just hit you exactly what that meant.

“What do you- No, there is no way he isn’t-”

“He’s not!” You raised your voice, immediately regretting it at the thought of Clara overhearing. 

“But, that doesn’t make sense. How could he? He promised her-” Clark started to pace, rubbing his eyes as he tried to wrap his mind around your words. 

“Because this is what he does, Clark! He promises to do better, promises to be better. It's like when he promises to come to Clara’s birthday every year and never shows up. Or like when he promised he wanted to have a child with me and was going to stick around, but left me alone while in labor, only to come back and tell me he was giving up his rights. It’s what he does.” You threw your hands up, exasperated. It was always the same exact shit with your ex. It’s why you didn’t want to tell Clara about the dance in the first place. “He didn’t even have the decency to tell me that he wasn’t coming, I had to get a text from his new girlfriend instead.”

You took a deep breath, “Now, I have to go tell Clara. God, she is going to hate me for this.” Wiping tears off your cheeks, you turned to Clark, “I suggest you get out of here, she is about to throw a tantrum like never before.”

“I’ll do it.” 

You paused for a second, registering his words, “What do you mean?” 

“I’ll tell her. Let her be angry with me, not you.”

“Clark, I can’t ask that of-”

“You aren’t asking, Honey.” He said, taking a step closer to you before wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “It isn’t fair that this falls on your plate. Maybe she will take it better after hearing it from me.” Clara had loved Clark since the moment you introduced the two of them around five years before.

“She won’t. She will probably tell you she hates you, or blames you for taking her father away.” The glazed look in your eyes told Clark this wasn’t a prediction but rather a pattern.

“Well then, let her hate me instead of her mom.” 

Clark was in the living room before you could reply.

The scene in front of him was heartbreaking. Clara sat on the couch in her puffiest and sparkliest dress anxiously watching the door before turning back to fix her dress. Clara noticed Clark walk in, immediately perking up as she saw the familiar face. “Clark! Do you like my dress?” The six year old asked as she twirled, giggling as her dress swayed with her.

Clark gulped, feeling his heart break even more as the seconds went by. “I-it’s beautiful, Clara. But can I talk to you very quickly? It’s something serious.” He asked. Clara’s body language changed instantly as she sat back down on the couch, moving over to give Clark room to sit next to her. 

As he hesitated, trying to figure out how best to break the news, Clara spoke over him, “My dad isn’t coming, is he?”

“Unfortuntelly not, munchkin.” Tears pricked the Kryponian’s eyes as he watched the little girl deflate. “I am so sorry, Clara. I can’t imagine how disappointed you feel. Your momma feels awful about it.”

Clara looked up at him, “She does?”

“Of course she does. She was so excited for you to get all dressed up and dance the night away.” Clark replied. 

Clara looked away for a moment, as if debating what to do. He could practically see the moment the idea hit her. 

“Will you go with me?” Clara asked, wringing her hands as she looked down at her lap, unable to meet his eyes. 

Clark would have been less surprised if the six year old had outright smacked him. “You-you want me to go with you?” 

Clara took a deep breath, “Well,” her tiny fingers anxiously played with the ladybug ring she wore on her pointer finger, “I just thought… maybe you could go with me because my daddy won’t. You don't have to if you…”

Clark cut her off there, stumbling over his words as he choked back tears, “Oh- of course I’d love to go with you, munchkin. Oh gosh, I wish I had more time to plan. I would have gotten flowers, and I probably should have pressed my suit. You know, my ma is always yelling at me about making sure I always have a nice suit ready in case of anything.”

“She yells at you even though you are an adult?” Clara asked, giggling at the thought. 

“Oh yes, especially now that I am an adult. Always tells me ‘Clark, you represent Smallville when you are out in the big city, you have to make a good-”

“What is going on in here?” You asked, finally coming into the room. Clark felt the familiar pang of tears when he saw how red your eyes were. 

“Clark said he’d go with me to the dance!” Clara bounced off of the couch, launching herself at you with impressive speed for a six year old in tiny wedges she called her “fancy girl shoes”.

You looked up in surprise, “You offered to go with her?”

Clark’s face blushed deep red as he rubbed his neck, “She asked me. I told her that… y’know, and she asked if I could go instead. Is-is that okay?” He realized at that moment that he probably should have asked you. Gosh, how could he be so inconsiderate to not ask your feelings on the matter. It didn’t matter that that he had been with you since Clara was not even two, of course you would be-

You noticed Clark’s spiraling and stopped him right there, “Of course that is okay. Are you kidding? I couldn’t think of a better situation. Why don’t you go and get ready, I don’t want you two to miss all the dancing.”

As Clark left the room, you crouched down to Clara’s level, fixing a few pieces of her hair. “You really wanted Clark to go with you?” You asked.

“Yeah! I don’t think he is a very good dancer, but he is funny! And I didn’t want you to be sad.” She admitted, making your heart clench. 

“Why would I have been sad, baby?”

“Clark said you were sad my daddy couldn’t go.”

Gods, this girl was really testing your ability to hold back tears. “Baby, I was sad that your daddy couldn’t go because I thought it would make you sad. I don’t want you to be sad, I always want to make you happy.”

“Going with Clark would make me happy.” Clara shyly admitted. 

“I think it would make him even happier to take you. I know you two will have the best time in the world.” You said, kissing the top of her head.

After saying goodbye to Clara, you caught Clark by the elbow while she was busy trying to fit her lip balm in her unnecessarily overfilled purse. “Not the romantic night we were planning, but I think it will still be good. Thank you for doing this for her, Clark.” You said, kissing him quickly. If you took even a second longer, you knew you’d be hearing “ewws” from Clara. 

“I know, I promise to make it up to you. But also, it's more like she is doing this for me. I am honestly really excited.” Curse this stupidly sweet Kryptonian and his charming words.

“Take lots of pictures for me, and please don’t step on her toes too much.” You said, watching as the two walked out the door, heart fuller than you thought possible.

[robrondingles]

I understand being a little irked by Aaron’s behaviour but at the end of the day I think those who are so quick to turn on him need to remember a few things:

1) When Aaron is hurting or punishing Robert, he is also hurting and punishing himself. He’s depriving himself of happiness just as much as Robert.

2) There are very real, complex, and justified reasons for Aaron’s behaviour and just because you don’t like seeing Robert hurt or messed around (neither do, I for the record) it doesn’t negate what we’ve seen play out ever since Robert left.

3) The show is making it explicitly clear that Aaron is running from Robert because he’ll never be able to escape how much he loves him or the fact that he could never love John (or anyone else) in that way. He’s staying with John because he believes he owes him after everything he’s done to “help” Aaron (a common theme in their relationship). Theirs is a relationship of debt, not of love, and the show made this distinction more blatant than ever these last couple of episodes.

4) We’re not meant to be 100% on Aaron’s side with this. We’re meant to see this as a massive mistake, one he’s making irrationally and selfishly and out of fear - and importantly, one that will backfire on him in the most explosive way possible. It’s okay that Aaron’s fucking up and it’s okay that the audience isn’t meant to root for his choices because that’s the entire point.

5) At the end of the day, this is all happening to put Aaron in the worst possible spot physically and emotionally so that he’s completely in danger and vulnerable to John’s actions at the exact moment the plot needs him to be. He’s going to be lonely, he’s going to be missing his family, heartsick over Robert, stuck and isolated with a man who is increasingly losing his mind and capable of destroying his life in every sense. He’s going to start seeing his husband for who he really is because there’s nowhere for John to hide. Every choice he makes now (going all the way back to him marrying John in the first place) is about to have severe consequences for him. Because that’s what the story has been setting up all along.

6) This is quintessential Robron. Either you get upset and kick off every time they fuck up and hurt each other, or you get on board and sit tight for the journey. This isn’t the first time this has happened and it won’t be the last.

[plaidos]

can you elaborate on how the insomniac spiderman games are ableist and conservative? I don't remember them well enough to understand off the top of my head

in short, the series has an obsession with the "disability aid that you need so bad your body becomes dependent on it and you turn evil and start mass murdering civillians" storyline, and it's also just so aggressively pro-cop and ""anti-crime"" even for a superhero story (and kind of especially for a a story set in NYC & a spider-man story at that, given that, y'know, Spider-Man is supposed to be under fire from the cops, not the secret contact of the chief of police).

in Marvel's Spider-Man 1, one of the random pop-up side quests you can get (and have to do many of to 100% the game) is to just bust a drug operation. like c'mon why the fuck does Spider-Man care if people are buying cocaine. why is he a Good Cop archetype to the degree that he literally calls himself spider-cop. etc etc

the games can also get pretty weird about Miles, imho. some of the stuff is really cool fresh takes on the character but he's also been sad about his dead cop dad to the degree that it's his main character trait for literally three games now. here's another weird thing; Miles is subject to spider-man analogue racist scrutiny in Spider-Man: Miles Morales, but y'know, only from the evil private security guys, never the real cops who are heroes who deserve to be worshipped etc etc. once you notice it you won't stop noticing it; it's got really really conservative politics with a paper thin sheen of performative progressiveness painted over. also, the racism plotline is never like... resolved or even properly addressed, it's just a "woah look we're aware that this stuff happens so we're injecting it into Miles' story to make it look more authentic" sorta thing, it feels really cheap & racist to me

[ezzriin]

hello! i am just starting out making an animatics youtube channel, and so far ive done some set to epic the musical songs/ etc. i started it expecting that i wouldn't be able to actually get any money because copyright, but lately ive seen a bunch of animatic creators seemingly imply they are making money of their work? or at least saying that a specific vid won't be making any revenue, implying the others do? how can that be? how do you use songs and not get copystruck? thank you i love your animatics!

Hello hello! I delayed answering this cause I REALLY wanted to give you a good answer cause the world of copyright and censorship is a doozy on YouTube.

EZZRIIN’S CRASH COURSE ON COPYRIGHT

Disclaimer: This is unprofessional and not fact checked - just personal experience.

1. Yes, you can earn money through YouTube. This is called revenue and can be earned through advertising (being the most popular method). You link your brand YouTube account through verification to YouTube the company, and they will monitor your videos (this can be seen through YouTube Studio) and they’ll send you money per month if you make an amount over a certain threshold. I think you have to earn over $100 per month for them to start sending you that money.

2. How do I get this money!? I hear you scream. Well, if your video is completely original, every sound, every piece of audio, visual is original, you won’t have any issues being monetised. (Monetise: To make money off of) Because if it doesn’t breach anyone else’s ownership or copyright of a piece of media, you’re good to go! The only issue you’ll have is getting views on it to THEN earn money. For me it starts mattering when I at least get 1000 views.

3. Ok so, copyright: what is it? Copyright laws differ from country to country but I can give you Australia’s copyright laws which could be similar.

“Copyright is a legal right that protects original creative works from unauthorized use, granting the creator certain exclusive rights over their work. This protection is automatic and free upon creation, meaning you don't need to register your work to be protected”

In stupid people terms: If you create something original you have exclusive rights and ownership automatically. Has to be completely original though.

4. EXAMPLES!

My Hot To Go animatic is 100% copyrighted because ain’t no way I’d be able to message Chappell Roan or whoever owns her music like “ayo, can i use this in a minecraft youtuber fan animatic?” No. Just no. So therefore, no money/revenue earned on that. I also can’t claim it as entirely my work in showreels or my own personal freelancing because it includes material (music) under someone else’s ownership.

The Target Practice animatic is an unusual case because I found it on a free music website (check out FreeMusicArchive or Uppbeat). It was labelled as royalty free - sooo I found a way to use it. It earns revenue because of this because YouTube can’t sniff out any copyrighted material.

Assume that almost every pop song is copyrighted because there are always multiple layers of ownership there.

Funnily enough, a lot of video game music can be used in videos. Uhhh, there’s reasons for that…but I can’t remember.

THE LINGO

Copyright - “the legal right that protects original creative works from unauthorized use, granting the creator certain exclusive rights over their work. This protection is automatic and free upon creation, meaning you don't need to register your work to be protected”

Copystrike - “when a copyright owner successfully reports a video for infringing their copyright”. This usually only happens if your video is getting A LOT of attention. So much so that the copyright owners like “what the fuck, stop it” and they’ll wanna get it taken down. That or you did some bad shit with their music in your video.

Revenue - money earned from a YouTube video, coming from views on a monetised video.

Monetise/Demonetise - money being earned on a piece of media or not being earned on a piece of media.

Royalty Free - you pay a one-time fee for the right to use copyrighted material (like music or images) without having to pay additional royalties or license fees for each use.

Creative Commons 0 - “a public dedication tool that allows creators to waive their copyright and related rights, placing their work into the worldwide public domain”. Basically free shit.

Hope this helped <3

Copyright is confusing 👍

[iamhereinthebg]

Hey are you planning to finish this Akane analysis you talked about?

This thing is such the running gag of this blog help me

Idk Anon sorry ://

I am in a rare tbhk mood since months but idk if I will have the energy to do it I will be honest the main reason is because of how Akane is seen by most of the fandom I honestly feel really out of touch with how he is viewed by most people which is the reason I always started and never finished x'))) ( 2/3 persons being the exceptions rip (from people who express themselves about tbhk, I know a lot of persons don't talk too))

So it's a maybe! but honestly I won't promise it ahah writing my thoughts (especially in english) , even when half of them are insane and not really linked directly to the manga, take a long time and I don't have much ^^

I still think he is a good character in the most recent chapters (which unfortunately can't be said for all characters :') He had bad appearances in chapters when he was in this kinda limbo before the clock keepers/grim reaper arc but after he just didn't, which once again clearly can't be said for everyone biggest rip(expect for chapter 109 but I just think this chapter sucks in general and even in this horror he was probably one of the best character help me)

I have big fears for him because of how inconsistent AidaIro is tbh With the need they have to make some characters the highlights and destroy the others just to make their favs look good. So I kinda expect Akane and the clock keepers mostly to be dunked on in terms of writing. (I wil always love them, like all mysteries ♥)

But I am happy to see this question, it made me laugh and I am surprised some people remember ^^

Thank you for the ask Anon! I would be sure to scream if I ever post one so you can see it ❤️

[jorvikzelda]

two very different experiences were had

[meteortrails]

my latest affectionate gripe about fanfiction/media portrayals of biology: holy GOD does the average person not really get how prevalent a complication/disease has to be to be Seriously concerning??? which is fair probability is hard but like. if a healthcare professional says there’s a 50% chance for life threatening complications and/or death, they should be extremely concerned when they say it!!!! you wanna know other things that have a ~50% mortality rate??? TETANUS. SEPTIC SHOCK. if they’re trying to calm people down after mentioning the possibility of deadly complications, they are Not going to start with ‘not more than 50 percent likely!’ GIRL THATS SO FUCKING HIGH OH MY GOD.

[a-whiff-of-a-dream]

Why are eReader so fucking expensive???

[bighitfics]

WITH OR WITHOUT YOU, pt 1 — JJK

jeon jungkook was many things to you.

your maths home tutor throughout junior highschool, who also never took a single penny from you. your school senior — the one you respected, looked up to, admired, and always rooted for like he was your own little secret hero. (he was)

your mom’s best friend’s son.

the guy who’d bring you strawberry milkshakes on those unbearable days because he knew they were the temporary cure to your sadness. he was the person who accompanied you for your wisdom tooth removal, saw you in your most embarrassing state (god, you’re not forgetting this one! like, ever), and still praised and pampered you like you’d just saved a whole country from World War.

you always found yourself in these weirdly grandiose circumstances with him, the ones you’d randomly recall even if you had dementia at an old age.

However somewhere in the midst of those moments, before your friends and family even noticed— he somehow. . . (very much on purpose) became the love of your life.

and god, you wished he hadn’t been your first heartbreak too.

GENRE : childhood acquaintances to lovers (?)

PAIRING : jungkook x female oc.

CHAPTER WARNING : a lot of flashbacks, both povs included but mostly in third person’s pov, major-humongous-angst alert! hold your tits tight besties it might hurt a little 😕 jungkook is so clueless but we can’t blame him just because he’s not head over heels in love with oc. oc being a bit delulu but I see myself in her (so ya’ll go easy on my woman) and honestly not much for the first chapter, a bit of drama maybe?

⤷ ゛ ˎˊ˗ STORY MASTERLIST .ᐟ ⋆˚࿔ ₊⊹

You didn’t remember the last time you noticed the sun blinding through the open window, the sky so clear and blue and the clouds scattered around the sky in imperfectly perfect shapes.

However today something within the air was different. You ‘noticed’ more. You woke up exactly at 6 a.m did an everything shower, the kind you only do when somethings stirring inside you.

Ever since you’ve been conscious, your body has been buzzing with an adrenaline you didn’t have in you till you got the news that…he is coming home.

Its not like you weren’t living your life before.

You wanted to spend the summer vacation at your hometown with your grandparents, because its been years since you and your cousins have spent time together, it’s hard to gather and adult jobs are so brutal you barely get time for yourselves.

its been about 8 days, and they all left except for you, your mom and your younger brother. Eventually you started to miss the feeling of being in the cocoon of your two bedroom home and the harmony of your everyday life, you loved reconnecting with cousins and it was all you needed but time’s over and you gotta return back to your life now.

You three decided to stay another night, then leave in the morning, well…that was until your mum got the call from your mum’s best friend asking if said mister reached Ilsan.

Your heart thumped so much it was almost worrying, but you knew not to worry because thats just how your body responds to his name, like it never forgot how to ache.

It felt dumb at this big age.

You are 22 years old, for the love of god. You were 19 when you last saw him and 20 when you last talked to him.

For the last two years, he’d been out of your orbit, military service keeping him galaxies away. Sometimes you’d lay wide awake at 3am and just wish you had an anywhere door like in the doraemon cartoon, so you could go and visit him whenever you wanted, make him try the goodies you baked and just be near him, and see him overreacting enthusiastically to you, you’re sure if you made him burnt pancakes he’d still have them (lick his fingers like it was good) and give you 100$ just because you made him, you knew he would because he did that in the past too.

When it was freezing cold in the winter, you’d get sick worrying if he was okay, when it was raining too harsh, you’d only hope he was safe, when it was scorching hot you’d hope he had a good night of sleep because you were aware that he hated the summer, and he sweated so much, he had a hard time sleeping.

When there was any news of war, you’d silently cry like a hopeless damsel in distress.

But You’d smile think about him from time to time (everyday) whenever you saw those marvel figured displayed at stores, you even bought an iron man hoodie for him, and it is carefully kept in your closet.

Even though he was 8 years older than you he was just so adorable to you. So precious to you. So easy to love.

God knows the amount of times you’ve cursed the government for taking him away from your sight.

Still, in those rare moments you spoke, he sent you part of his salary. Four times. Like he was trying to hold onto something.

However you forcefully brainwashed yourself into believing it was nothing too deep to dig in and quite normal. He was just that kind to every little thing that’s biotic.

2023, 21 July.

“Hello, how’s Miss Topper?” Jungkook said playfully, though his voice carried the kind of exhaustion that sounded like he’d just run a marathon.

You closed your eyes and leaned back into the headboard, letting his smooth voice sink into you. “Wassup Soldier?” thats’s all you managed to say after you found your voice. God its been so long since you’ve talked to him, there’s so much you had to tell him, so much to ask.

“I’m alright. It’s spring, so working in this weather sucks a little less than in summer, I guess. Tell me about you,” he said quietly, his tone gentle.

Life in the South Korean military wasn’t easy, you knew that from the stories your dad and grandfather had told you about its relentless demands and the mental strain it could inflict. You could only hope situations were kinder on him, but Jungkook’s greatest strength had always been his ability to adapt to any environment. Still, strength didn’t make him immune to the harsh realities or the unfair treatment that often lurked behind military walls.

“Me? I’m fine. But you… you sound tired, Kook. Are they working you too hard?” You voiced out your worry. He said not to worry too hard, he’s and that fine.

“I heard your results came out? I told you not to worry,” he said, a quiet smile in his tone. “I knew you’d top.” He didn’t even know! Yet his blind belief in you made you feel some type of way.

Your cheeks warmed instantly. “Yeah, unexpectedly I… did pretty well,” you mumbled, trying to hide the grin tugging at your lips.

“Pretty well? ____, you topped Maths. Best results in your year. That’s insane.” He defended like your normalcy to your results was offensive. This man and his effortless way of making you feel like you sat in the pedastal.

You talked for a while, about school, your endless assignments, his training, and the little things you missed about each other, until a deep voice called his name from somewhere in the background.

“Hey ___ uh that’s my sergeant. Phone time’s up,” he sighed reluctantly.

“Oh, hah! Sure!.” You said too smoothly for someone who could never be satiated with a 20 minute phone call with Jungkook.

There was pin drop silence, none of you spoke until he eventually broke it.

“___ ?” Jungkook said.

“Yeah?” You replied eagerly and you don’t know why, but this goodbye felt a little heavier than usual even though you spoke a week before.

“Uh… just wanted to say that I’m so proud of you, and I wish you the best, I know you will keep thriving.” It was such a genuine wish, it made your chest ache in the best way. He was a charmer and you were way too deep in to go back now.

And the line went dead before you could respond. You stared at your phone for a long a bit dissatisfied because it was too damn short!

Seconds before collapsing into your pillow, muffling a squeal that bubbled out of you, kicking your feet like a lovesick idiot.

Your body was buzzing with nerves, you had heard that he was discharged last friday from your mom and hani aunty’s (jungkook’s mom) loud whatsapp video calls on monday and that he’s staying his parents’ house, because his house’s construction was still ongoing.

He had his own place now, naturally. With the kind of money he was raking in as a fitness tech entrepreneur, it was practically inevitable. Still, pride swelled in you for the man he’d become. You recalled the days when his “one day” business ideas were just late-night ramblings over convenient store snacks, and now here he was, proof that Jungkook was nothing if not ruthlessly consistent.

Once he set his sights on a goal, no force, be it circumstance, disapproval, or a herd of metaphorical elephants, could block his path. Whether it was dragging you from a 15% to an 80% in SATS mathematics or stubbornly launching a clothing line despite his family’s lack of faith and support, he had a maddening talent for turning his ambitions into reality.

He rightfully earned his position by keeping an unrelenting pace.

You haven’t talked to him since your birthday, when he briefly messaged to wish you and informed you that his phone was off limits since he was a senior sergeant now and was in charge of training new soldiers.

For some reason, you never heard from him again and neither did you try to reach out. It frustrated you more than you cared to admit, especially because that man’s social media presence was practically nonexistent. It drove you bananas not being able to keep tabs on his whereabouts.

You wanted to text him.

So bad!

God, you had sudden urges like a druggie at 2 a.m. but you were a firm believer in “if he wanted to, he would.” He had to make the first move. You knew he’d cared for you, you’d felt it, but maybe he was just busy. He’d told you he couldn’t use his phone in the military, after all.

So, you let it be… and buried yourself in your hectic college schedule, even if part of you still wondered when his name might light up your screen again.

If you didn’t know that he was coming to meet his cousin and nephew who just so happen to live across from your grandparents (greatest freaking coincidence)

Would you have taken your time in the shower like you did today?

Would you have shaved twice?

Would you have followed the full 10-step routine?

Would you have smothered your body in vanilla-scented lotion, thoroughly? Even borrowed your grandmother’s cocoa shea butter?

Would you have worn that sky-blue midi dress which you knew is his favorite color, coincidentally the prettiest one you own?

The answer was simple :

You still would’ve done all that.

But at your own home.

Not here. Not at your grandma’s house.

You took hygiene seriously on regular days too, you carried a whole bag full of your shower essentials like it was part of your identity.

But you never bothered with hair masks on vacation. You were lazy, tired and too relaxed for your own good, letting your grandparents pamper you with their endless care.

But today?

Today was different.

You wanted to feel your best.

Look your best.

But nothing could’ve prepared you for the heartbreak of seeing him again after almost two years.

It was evening, almost 7 p.m.

You were in the kitchen, making cinnamon rolls after pestering your grandmum to let you handle it all on your own.

They were your favourite but they were his favourite even more.

They’d quietly become your specialty over the years.

Now you weren’t even sure why you made them so often. Maybe because you wanted to perfect them for him. Maybe because it was the only recipe that ever felt like his.

“Hmmm, my mouth’s watering from the smell alone. What’s my little froggy making?” your grandad said playfully as he walked into the kitchen.

You laughed, whisking the whipped cream and condensed milk.

“Really, Pa? I don’t think the smell’s that strong.”

Your grandpa might be your biggest hype man, and you remember how easily you used to escape your mom’s scoldings whenever he was around, he’d never let her. You were his youngest granddaughter, his princess.

He has been spoiling you rotten ever since you were young. He still does.

“I swear I could smell it from the garage.” He declared dramatically, You shook your head, smiling, as you poured the icing over the warm cinnamon rolls, letting it melt into every swirl.

“Grandma made kimchi jjigae, you should wash up and eat, Pa.”

He nodded, still eyeing your cinnamon rolls with stars in his eyes. “Save two for me and sneak them to me when your nonna’s not looking,” he winked, heading up the stairs with a small bouquet of daisies in his hand.

Your heart warmed. He definitely bought them for your grumpy Nonna. You’d save this sweet, diabetic man more than just two, he deserved it.

You giggled, throwing your hands up in surrender. “I’m not taking the blame if your blood pressure spikes, buddy,” you called out teasingly at his retreating figure.

You place the finished tray of cinnamon rolls on the counter to cool, wrapping a plastic wrap to keep it intact, still giggling.

Then, remembering what you were really waiting for, you darted upstairs to touch up your makeup. It wasn’t much in the beginning, even though you loved a dramatic eye look, bold lips today you opted for a simpler makeup to enhance your features, a bit of gloss, a tiny flick of eyeliner, mascara, tinted blush, and a spritz of the vanilla body mist you loved.

You happened to glance out the window, and there it was.

A black car pulling up across the street, your grandparents had a two story house which might be too spacious for just two people living, the distance from his cousin Rumi’s home was so near you could see everything clearly without having to squint, the car was tinted so it was hard to see who was inside.

The door to the drivers door opened, and….there he was. Your eyes weren’t deceiving you were they? It’s really him.

A grey suit jacket clung to his broader frame, taller now, sharper somehow. His thick hair was parted just right and that damn hairstyle made your chest ache with how painfully gorgeous he’d become.

But he was moving in a haste still not fast enough for your observing eyes to see the cheeky grin plastered on his face the one you were secretly obsessed with.

You were so busy admiring him, taking him in, blushing by yourself that you didn’t even notice until he opened the passengers door of his car, but now you did.

A woman stepped out, holding his hand.

Tall, radiant, with waist length hair, wearing the exact shade of blue midi dress with a slit on the side just like you did. The only difference was that her dress had small floral details and yours was just plain.

She surely was a sight to take in with delight, the kind of beauty that walks into a room and has everyone’s attention immediately, the kind you infatuated over for no particular reason, it would be a shame not to notice her at the first glance, she looked like she was meant to stand beside someone like him.

Only a beauty like hers could compliment his handsomeness.

You blinked, heart thudding in your chest, lips slightly parted as you watched him helping her up gently, smoothly wrapping one arm around her waist, bringing her closer to him, his other hand carrying gift bags that you could care less about.

Then, he kissed her forehead, soft and lingering like it’s second nature to him.

You stumbled back.

Your breath caught, your chest tightened, and suddenly your vision blurred. No. Why did you feel like crying all of a sudden when you had been in a cherry mood all day? Why did you have to see this?

You were frozen. Still clutching the edge of the curtain like your life depends on it.

Frozen in a state of disbelief and aching realization.

The door of the car slammed shut.

That sound snapped your attention back to the present, only to rip your heart out again.

He leaned down, his hands cradling her face and he kissed her.

A soft, sweet smooch on the lips it lasted for less 10 seconds but it felt like time stopped as you watched your destruction play in slow motion, torturing you with every passing seconds.

And then he cracked a smiled.

But not just any smile it was a smile you’d rarely seen on him.

It was a lovesick smile, one that reached his eyes, softened his jaw, lit up his whole face like it was sculpted just for her.

And your heart… it stopped.

The lump in your throat grew heavier, tighter, until it felt like you couldn’t breathe.

You watched, motionless, as he held her hand in one and carried gift bags in the other.

They looked like any other couple. If it had been someone else, a stranger, you would’ve smiled and admired a sweet pair in love.

But it wasn’t any stranger.

Less than 20 feet away was Jungkook.

Your Jungkook.

The same Jungkook who once had you sitting on the palm of his hands. The same Jungkook who’d caress your hair gently every time you got a maths equation wrong and tell you “You can try again, Silly.” The same old Jungkook who didn’t go to Greece with his friends that summer because you were bedridden after an accident right before your final exams.

The one who stayed, bought you strawberries, help you out with studies after every exam and said, “I couldn’t enjoy a beach if my favourite student was sick.”

Now that same Jungkook was holding someone else’s hand. He changed. He truly did change in every way there is.

You didn’t realize your body had started moving until you were inside the room away from the window, and you just ran towards the bathroom, the door slammed shut behind you.

And then it hit you.

All of it.

Jungkook had a girlfriend.

When you’d been waiting all this time, years of quiet longing and a love you’d buried so deep it almost felt fossilized, just to finally catch up to him. To stand in front of him, rip open every inch of your chest, and pour every unset text, every swallowed word, every aching “I want to do this life with you, Jeon Jungkook. Fuck our age gap, fuck whoever tries to remind me you only see me as your sister-like friend. None of that matters, all I care about is you, and only you.” into the air between you.

You thought it would be the moment your life turned into your damn Disney animated film, the one you’d been rehearsing in your head since you were too young to even understand the concept of heartbreak.

But instead, the scene bled into something you never saw coming. The music cut out abruptly. Just like that the colors dulled.

And there you were, holding out your heart like an offering, only to realize he was already walking away.

You were so sure of your feelings, you never let yourself glimpse the cracks beneath it’s like building a glass castle, fragile and sparkling, hoping it would never fall but knowing, deep down, it might.

You gasped, hyperventilating, gripping the edge of the sink as the tears finally fell. Not the silent ones.

They were messy, ugly, betrayed sobs, the kind that twisted your stomach and made your knees feel weak.

Your body shook violently from the force of your sobs, all the warmth you had moments ago slipping away, replaced by a sharp, icy cold that crept under your skin.

You couldn’t care less if your mom, grandmother or anyone else walked in on you, you didn’t care about anything at this moment, the hurt overpowering and sabotaging every rational thought in your head.

Every fragment of his six-month silence clawed its way back, the fleeting moments you’d catch him active on KakaoTalk or WhatsApp, that single, out-of-place story of two matcha cups (he didn’t even know how instagram stories worked) at least that’s what he said 2 years ago. Or that one odd post of him at a jazz club.

Jeon Jungkook and jazz? You still remember laughing at that story convinced he was persuaded by that one jazz fanatic friend of his, the chances of him stepping into a jazz club were about as likely as dinosaurs roaming in your front yard. These two J’s belonged to entirely different worlds, like oil and water dressed in black and white.

Now you understand why he was so silent, as if deliberately retreating to keep his distance out of respect for his girlfriend. Of course, he was exactly that type of boyfriend.

The thought kept circling back, did Hani Aunty know her son was in a relationship? Because if she did, your mother would’ve mentioned it. Even once. And she hadn’t. Which made the absence feel even sharper. But it could also be because your mom has been busy with work she barely got time to chat with her best friend on a daily basis.

You didn’t know how long you stayed perched on the cold edge of the bathtub after pacing relentlessly from one place to another a failed attempt to shut your mind’s chaos, tears spilling as you replayed everything in excruciating detail, him kissing her, holding onto her waist, her arms wrapped around his neck like she had every right to.

You sat for an hour picking apart each word, each silence of his, until it felt like the Jungkook induced haze that had gripped you for years was finally starting to dissolve, leaving only the raw sting of reality.

The contrast to your mood that morning was almost laughable. You stared at yourself in the mirror, eyeliner smudged, mascara trails dried on your cheeks. You looked hideous. Just an hour ago, you’d felt so good, and yet all it took was a single moment to ruin it.

Why?

Why did this happen to you?

How could you let yourself get so tangled up in those fantasies?

You should’ve known.

Jeon Jungkook would never ever view you the way you want him to. Anyone but you.

Dragging your body toward the bed, you collapsed on your back, eyes fixed on the beige ceiling, lost in reminiscence.

Self-loathing seeped into your veins as the realisation struck you had been so painfully naive.

Another hour passed like that, the adrenaline long gone, your body heavy, your mind too worn out from crying. Your emotions were everywhere, a tangled mess you couldn’t begin to sort out.

Faint noises drifted up from downstairs, but you didn’t care enough to listen.

All you knew was that, when your mother knocked softly on your door two hours later, saying.

“____? Jungkook’s here… aren’t you gonna come downstairs?” your heart lurched violently in your chest.

No way. There was no way you were going to face him, not in the presence of his girlfriend, or whoever she was. You’d rather disappear than put yourself through that. You were too drained, too shattered to stand before him.

And deep down, you knew, you might never see him again.

You couldn’t do it.

You couldn’t face him.

Not tonight.

Not with mascara-stained cheeks and a heart split in two, so you put on your act.

“____?”

“ Are you sleeping, dear?” your mom’s warm voice called softly.

You lay curled up in bed, facing the wall, eyes swollen, pretending to be asleep. Her hand began gently rubbing your back, and you felt the light press of a kiss on your head.

“I wonder why she’s asleep so early today,” she mumbled by herself.

You stayed silent, holding your breath until the door closed with a soft click. Only then did you exhale in quiet relief because you survived, if she had even the slightest hint you were wide awake, this persuasive woman would’ve dragged you down by your hair to meet her beloved golden boy.

“The cinnamon rolls are heavenly, Minha Aunty. How do you make them this perfect? You must have magic in your hands,” I said, taking another bite. It had been years since I’d had cinnamon rolls, too busy to ever buy them myself, but these were on another level, miles, kilometres and decades better than the sad, soggy ones i’ve once grabbed from 7/11.

“No way, you think I’d have the patience for these, Kook! ____ whipped them up just this evening,” Aunty said with a warm, knowing smile. And when she smiled like that, it was like looking at you all over again. You resembled your mom so much.

Oh.

You.

That caught my attention.

“Just when I thought she couldn’t get any better at cooking.” I chuckled agreeing.

Ever since I’d known her, the diligent, soft-spoken fifteen-year-old.

I’d been fascinated by her talent for cooking, so was my mother, we sang praises about her cooking for years (we still do)

I still remember the time she cooked eight traditional Korean dishes for Chuseok at just sixteen. My mom had recently reconnected with her old high school best friend, her mom. And though I’d been sulking, reluctant to visit some friend of hers I barely knew, I was secretly glad she’d dragged me along. That day, I was utterly fascinated with ______.

At twenty-three, I could barely make ramen without messing up the seasoning, so it was no surprise that she could produce a dessert so divine it rendered every store-bought version bland and utterly forgettable.

He’d been here for thirty minutes now, Hana was too fatigued, so he didn’t even bother insisting her twice when she told him to come here alone, while she waits at his cousin’s house.

He was glad that his cousin, and little champ Namguk warmed up to Hana, and enjoyed her company, it was a delightful sight to see her instantly connecting with his closest family, and even more since Hana was a reserved person, usually not too prone to opening up to others when she first meets them.

If Jungkook thought he sucked ass at socialising, his little vixen was worse.

But that made him love her even harder.

They were so similar.

And like a fool, he thought about that one quote their common friends often used (humorously) whenever they were hanging out together

“Jungkook and Hana are those ‘one soul and two bodies’ type of couple.” It did seem foolish then but it wasn’t far from the truth, it’s quite literally the truth.

He couldn’t wait to spend the rest of the weekend with her. His house was still under construction, and with the head electrician hospitalized, work was on hold for who knew how long. He wanted nothing more than to bring Hana into the comfort of his home, to have slow and steady mornings tangled up in the sheets, cook breakfast together, wake her up with the softest lingering kisses, and never have to sneak around in fear of her roommates walking in on them eating each other’s faces, his face buried between her legs, or worse, in the middle of having sex. He feared the latter more than he feared death. The thought alone made him cringe.

God.

Untill his house was complete, they had to settle for limited sleepovers and friendly touches. Sometimes, that meant adjusting to staying over at her place even though deep down he despised her loud roommates, a little sacrifice for the sake of being with her while he was still living with his parents.

She had met his parents only once though, and he realized she wasn’t comfortable being at their house, too awkward and having to be formal with his parents at all times. So, he stepped back and decided not to push her and move at at her pace.

Jungkook met Hana a year ago, through Yunmin who was his best buddy back in the military, the guy who was his anchor, who uplifted him on days where he wanted to quit, when depression was a constant companion. She was Yunmin’s only cousin sister.

And his life hasn't been the same ever since it met those hazel eyes of hers.

Quite a drastic leap to his mind-numbing, tiresome and dull life in the last 3 years.

The only leap of his life that mattered.

He'd always been a hopeless romantic, searching for "his person" in every corner, until a dimpled smile appeared in the bbq restaurant 12 months ago, right when he'd stopped looking.

Jungkook was confident that she was it for him.

It was her and only her.

I wanted to see ____ at least once before heading back to Seoul. Hana had that salon appointment she’d been talking about for days tomorrow, and he had to clock in to work once he returned to Seoul, life would get tangled up with deadlines and schedules again.

The last time I spoke to ____, she told me she was living in Ansan, running a small boutique house business she’d invested in with her friend. I was in Seoul then, and her place was about an hour’s drive away. Still, I felt that pull, the urge to call her, to check on her knowing well that I’d soon be swallowed by work.

I was in the middle of launching two new gyms, one in the high-rise tower downtown, the other in a newly built commercial complex, both equipped with the latest smart fitness tech I’d been developing for months. Between investor meetings, staff training, and system testing, I knew I wouldn’t have the space to just drop everything and make that drive to see her.

Otherwise I would have.

I thought about texting ____ but then my overthinking mind said what if she thought it was weird as we haven’t been in touch for a year.

Still, I kept tabs on her through her Instagram stories and posts, trying to keep track of where she was.

Somewhere along the way, we had grown apart. I blamed the military, the limited phone calls, the long silences.

And I was so preoccupied planning this trip with Hana, I hadn’t given it much thought.

I was full of nostalgia the moment I stepped into Ilsan, memories of beaches and sand, volleyball fields and late night snack hunting with his cousins. Life was lighter, less burden, no high blood sugar, no pre diabetes jumpscare and no fear of the unknown future.

I was happy I could show Hana around my hometown since she’d been asking me to do so.

When his mother told him that You and Minha aunty were staying in Ilsan at your grandparents house he was elated.

He could finally meet you and give you updates about his life, hear about yours but where in earth were you? The urge to text you intensified.

Deep down, he had the gist of you being upset with him, and he wanted to make it up to you.

There were moments when he wanted to reach out to you, times when life felt heavy, and he needed someone to lean on but he decided against it, seeing that you were enjoying yourself at a beach in seychelles with your friend group. He retreated because he didn’t want you to share his burden.

He made the wiser decision to see a therapist monthly which was one of the sole reasons why he was able to deal with critical issues with such ease now.

However even though you were so much younger, talking to you never felt difficult. You were wise beyond your years, thoughtful, eloquent, and open to seeing the world from different angles, even if you didn’t always agree. Your advice had pulled him through some of his darkest days, and you were barely eighteen back then.

He wanted to see how his little friend had grown into the woman he always knew she could be. Deep down, he was certain you had become something truly remarkable, you always were.

He glanced around and asked your mom, “Where’s _____? I thought she was here with you.” She walked into the warm living room pushing a small wooden trolley stacked with what felt like every fruit under the sun. Your mom as always welcoming him with way more than necessary.

“___’s sleeping, sweetie. We’re actually leaving tomorrow morning, so I just let her sleep in. Otherwise, I would’ve woken her up to meet her favorite senior. And if you’re wondering why the house is so eerily silent it’s because Hajun’s out with my parents, visiting my uncle.”

“I see… it’s okay, aunty. Good thing you didn’t wake her.” It was all I could manage as she sat down across from me.

Asleep? So early?

That explains why the house was so eerily quiet when he came inside. Your mom being the only person to welcome him.

He smiled gently and said, “Aunty Minha, you really didn’t have to cut all these fruits at 9 pm.”

She just laughed, waving her hands off at his comment. “I know how much you like fruits, you’re gonna eat all of them.”

I chuckled, “Well, you know me too well. I’m not complaining.”

She grinned. “Next time, I’ll have to prepare a fruit salad just for you.” She was a sweetheart, it’s been 5 years since I last saw her.

“That sounds perfect,” I said, leaning back comfortably. “Your hospitality never fails, Aunty Minha.” Time passed gently as I lost myself in conversation with Aunty Minha, her laughter, and the cozy comfort of her presence. Stories about you and remembering the old days when gatherings were more frequent and he used to come tutor you.

But eventually, the evening wound down, and it was time to say our goodbyes.

“Namguk is just the most adorable baby ever. He looks so much like you, it’s crazy,” Hana said excitedly as we walked toward the car. I laughed, glancing down at her, our hands intertwined as we moved together. “Me and Rumi look very similar.” I reasoned, bringing her hand to my lips to plant a kiss.

“I’ll be honest. For a second, I almost thought she was you in a long wig, babe” she said, giggling like the 29 year old schoolgirl she clearly still was.

I chuckled softly, squeezing her hand. “Yeah, I guess the family genes are strong. Maybe Namguk’s going to be just as stubborn as me too.”

She laughed, resting her head on my shoulder as we reached the car. “Well, that just makes him even more adorable, just like you.” Pinching my cheeks, like I wasn’t 29 but 10. This woman and her obsession with babying me.

I could only scoff playfully, feeling the warmth of the moment settle between us.

Even though it was late and we were tired beyond, and probably gonna regret not going home sooner when we have to wake up for work at dawn, nights like this made every detour and delay worth it.

It was 1:20 AM currently. We were leaving much later than planned, but it was worth it. We weren’t coming to Ilsan every day.

────୨ৎ──────── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧

And as he tucked Hana into the passenger seat, brushing a stray strand of luscious hair from her face, he closed the door gently and turned toward the driver’s side. His gaze drifted upward towards the open varanda of your grandfather’s house just for a second and then his eyes froze at the sight infront of him.

There you were.

You adorned in a light blue dress, your long hair framing your entire frame, almost engulfing you, leaning against the windowsill, bathed in the dim amber light from inside the bedroom, your soft brown eyes already set on him, those eyes he’d known for years, so big, familiar, expressive and yet tonight they were unreadable.

For the briefest heartbeat, the noise of the street, the rythmic hum of the car, even Hana’s voice that he could faintly hear recording a voice massage to her friends, everything fell away.

And then you looked at him, really looked at him with such a look in your eyes that he couldn’t quite name and next he saw your eyes widening like you finally processed that he saw you, and before he could wave or even call out your name, you jerked back, whirling around so quick as if it burned to even look at him, running into the bedroom.

No wave. No smile.

Dismissing his existence.

As if he wasn’t standing right infront of that varanda.

That was so unlikely you.

Just the quiet sound of the curtain sliding into place while he could only stare.

He stood there for a solid minute and snapped back once Hana honked the car from the passengers seat whinning, rushing into the car.

The air in his chest felt heavier as he finally looked away, fingers curling tight around the car door handle.

You definitely weren’t asleep, he heard your voice the moment he stepped foot out of your grandparents house threshold.

Your mom said you were asleep just when he came, and something about that didn’t sit right with him. Honestly if he wanted to, he could’ve walked right back in but he had enough brain to acknowledge the fact that you didn’t want to meet him.

But why? He had no clue.

He drove all the way from Seoul to Ilsan, hoping to see just two people, his nephew, and you.

Not seeing you, not even for a minute, left a sting of disappointment in his chest.

Still… he hoped you were doing okay. He really did, because you looked quite dull just now. Devastated would be the better choice of word and for some reason it stuck with him.

As the city lights blurred past his window, he wrestled with a hollowness that he forcefully lodged in his marrow, an amalgamation of restlessness and worry that clung to him in the stillness of the night.

No matter how long he drove, dropping Hana off at her home, or how late it got till he reached his parents house, a part of his mind stayed rooted there, 15 miles away in Ilsan. A blue dress precisely.

He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so uneasy.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that things weren’t quite right.

2016, November 7 ( 9 years ago)

“Mom! You always do this!! insult me in front of your friends! Why did you have to say, in front of everyone, that I got 7 out of 50 in maths?!” you snapped, your face burning red and hot crocodile tears falling down your cheeks.

“There’s no reason to be embarrassed. Jungkook will tutor you,” she said calmly, as if that solved everything.

Jungkook was the topper, the school’s titled gem of a student (because who in their right mind even scored full marks in almost every exam they gave? he was so odd!) and now your sweetheart of a mom had disclosed to him that you failed your final year because of poor grades in maths. Just one freaking subject, while you scored above 87% in every other one.

You were fairly average in school, but bloody maths? You didn’t even want to try! All that geometry, kinematic equations… yucky. The thought of having to sit alone with your mom’s bestie’s nerdy, golden-boy son terrified you beyond comprehension. He’d surely gossip about your inability to do maths to his friends. Or worse make fun of you behind your back to his mom after every tutoring lesson. Hani Aunty might be an unproblematic and pleasant lady who never indulges in gossip, the chances of her judging you wasn’t unimaginable.

You could already see yourself becoming the joke at their dinner table.

You would not let this Jungkook tutor you.

“What?! Mom! No!” you shot back, almost choking on the words.

“I don’t want to hear anything else,” she cut you off, finality in her tone.

But that was until you met him.

You fell victim to the propaganda machine of the never-ending abyss that is the Jeon Jungkook Addict Club.

And he successfully weaved his way into your mind by altering every little misconception you had of him.

Oh, how you longed for him, so much that every time you closed your eyes to make a wish, whether over flickering candles or during Chuseok prayers, Your Christmas wish, once filled with gifts, favorite makeup kits, and dresses and bags had been replaced by a single thing. A word. Just one. Eight syllables that you never dared to say out loud.

NOTE : alexa play the drums they’re here! finally💃🏻

first and foremost, my biggest apology for posting way later than promised, and secondly thanks to you all for your endless support for this story ever since I published the teaser. (honestly that was the fuel that pushed me to write faster cause I wasn’t expecting such a great response when I posted it)

I’m sobbing! I’m gonna be needing your prayers and your thoughts in the notes 😭 because if this broke your heart? girl….I’m scared that the next one’s gonna shatter your heart into teeny shards.

also its unedited so sorry for any grammatical mistakes!

taglist 🏷️

@namggukie @kpopsmutty69 @notsevenwithyou @joonseuph0ria @petersasteria @httpjeonlicious @vintagemoonsstuff @yungies @seokjinthescientist @mysteriousstress65 @minyoongi7016 @khadeeeeej @cherricherryy @tatyhend @issy31 @kelsyx33 @tatamicc @aestheticalime

(couldn’t tag the rest tho, you might have to turn on your tag option)

[sy1vs-3]

Ahhh, thank you so much for supporting me—I seriously didn’t expect so much attention on something I wrote for the first time in four years.

˚ This little piece with Dragon Sylus is especially dedicated to: @chocochip-gaia, @snowflake-seal and to everyone who supported me through reblogs and wrote those sweet comments — thank you for the encouragement!! 😭🙏🏻

please enjoy... ♡

part 1 🌸

I’m almost certain Sylus would think it’s silly that he feels the need for you to be in the nest—and that the nest should smell like both of you. He doesn’t even know how he came to that conclusion, but somehow, your clothes weren’t enough anymore. So, he added a few of his own things too.

And yes—he’ll 100% grumble if anyone moves or removes anything. He remembers EVERY single item he put in the nest.

If you ever said that something about it bothered you, he’d definitely feel upset, even if he didn’t show it. He did all of this for you. What do you mean it's uncomfortable to sit next to a pile of pearls in the chair corner?? Those are the rarest pearls in the world!!

Once you leave, he’ll grumble to himself for a bit… and then quietly move them somewhere else. He wants you to be comfortable. Even if in your eyes, he’s the one acting weird.

And oh—he would absolutely want to show you all his vinyl records. His entire weapon collection. His gemstones. All of it. It’s instinct. He doesn’t care if it’s not your thing. He wants to share his world with you. To let you in where no one else is allowed. You're the only one who gets to touch his treasures. He wants you to be proud of how much he has.

I also think… when you’re not around, he still curls up in the nest. Just because he loves the way you smell. It calms him down. Grounds him. And no one—I repeat—no one is allowed to wake him up. Dragons don’t need much sleep, but if it means he gets to be wrapped up in your scent just a little longer? He’ll stay asleep for as long as it takes.

part 3 🌸

I really haven’t written anything in a long time because I was afraid I wouldn’t capture the character properly, but for some reason, with Sylus, it just comes so naturally... I love him too much 🙂‍↕️🩷

[100vern]

ex-conomics | csc

you supported seungcheol through years of being an aspiring athlete, and all you got to show for it was your undergraduate degree and an awkward, stuttered apology when he dumped you to go semi-pro. now he’s back after an injury derailed his career, and there’s only one problem: you’re the only one available to tutor him. you - 0; the universe - 1. talk about no return on investment.

⚽ pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader ⚽ genre: exes to (lite) enemies to lovers; university au; angst, fluff ⚽ rating: while there is nothing explicit in this fic, there are two brief references to smut. while i can't stop anyone from reading this, i would prefer minors do not interact with this or any of my work. ⚽ warnings: cheol is some degree of famous, reader is a grad student/TA, mentions of an injury and coping with the aftermath of it, lots of economics talk that even i do not understand, swearing, one mention of alcohol, some misplaced jealousy, rom-com tropes, dino is kind of a loser but we love him anyway. probably a lot of other things i missed, but this is actually pretty tame for a fic of this length. ⚽ word count: 13.4k ⚽ thank you: a lot of people looked this over for me in the process and i'm sure i will forget some of them so if i do i'm sorry: @the-boy-meets-evil, @hot-soop, @highvern, and @haologram, who also gave me some wonderful ideas for the vlogs. thank you to MIT for opencourseware existing. i took microeconomics and dropped it, so i couldn't have done this without you. everyone in the discord server for helping me along the way and keeping me motivated. ⚽ author's note: i haven't posted a fic in nearly seven months, so i think it goes without saying that there are parts of this i like and a lot more i'm not 100% happy with. i'd love if this was more fleshed out and 10k longer, but i was able to write anything at all so it's good enough. this was written for the back to school with seventeen collab, hosted by @camandemstudios. thank you both for letting me participate! please make sure to check out the rest of the stories! everyone worked so hard and this collab was a ton of fun to participate in. <3

You look down at the paper. Back up at who handed it to you. Down at the paper again.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

The poor freshman kid laughs, all nerves, and even though the sound is grating, you remember what it’s like to be forced into work study. How far away graduate school seemed; how large your professors loomed over you with all their power and knowledge and credentials; how you constantly felt like the dumbest person in nearly every room you walked into for four straight years.

“Um—”

You sigh, just barely resisting the urge to slam your head onto your desk. “I—it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” Your words do little to ease Freshman’s nerves. He’s still hunched over in the doorway of your office, wringing his hands as he shifts his weight back and forth, in for a lifetime of body pain with the way he’s squaring his shoulders. “You’re sure about this, though? Like, I’m really not being set up?”

“I don’t think so?” he offers, slowly starting to turn green right before your eyes. “Dr. Lee ga-gave me the paperwork himself, I don’t think he would’ve messed it up? Oh no, did I mess it up? Should I go back to Student Services and conf—”

Good god, this kid’s anxiety is gonna stink up your office for weeks. “No need!” you interject. “I’ll just…” Sign it, you want to say, but the longer you stare at the sheet of paper the quicker you’re losing your resolve.

TUTORING REQUEST FORM Student Name: Choi Seungcheol Degree: Undergraduate Major: Business Course: ECON04101 Introduction to Microeconomics Instructor: Lee Yeonseok, PhD. Recommended Tutoring: High (3-4 hours per week)

You curse under your breath. Of the two names on the paper, Dr. Lee’s does not come as a surprise. He’s a notorious hard-ass with an infamous attrition rate—most students don’t last more than a week in any of his classes—but he’s also the sole reason you were able to pay for someof your grad school tuition out of pocket with all the tutoring money you made.

That, however, was two years ago.

“Does he know I don’t tutor anymore?” Stupid question. The kid stares blankly back at you, as if to say I don’t know any more than the people in Student Services, let alone Dr. Lee. It is literally my first year here. “I’m Dr. Ahn’s TA this year. I’ve got my hands full with her bullsh… stuff—”

Immediately, you know you’ve said something wrong, because the kid’s eyes light up, all that previous anxiety disappearing like smoke. “Wait, the same Dr. Ahn that teaches the crypto course?”

“No, that one died,” you say quickly. Kid deflates. “Anyway, I don’t really tutor anymore, especially for econ. As you can see”—you gesture vaguely around the cramped four walls of your office—“they’ve upgraded me. They even put my name on a little placard by the door! Go look! They spelled it wrong! If that doesn’t sum up this university I don’t know what does.”

You heave another sigh. Try to school your face and tone into something that exudes professionalism and finality. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t help you. I tutored Dr. Lee’s students for, like, three years in undergrad so I’m sure they just… forgot that wasn’t my actual job here. Who’s in charge of tutoring these days? I’ll shoot them an email and explain all this.”

Freshman gives you a name, and it takes less than a second to find them in the employee directory. You expect that to be the end of it, but he’s still taking up space in your doorway. You quirk an eyebrow. “Yes?”

The hand-wringing returns, along with an embarrassed flush that disappears beneath the neckline of his school-branded sweatshirt. “I just—um. Maybe you could, uh. Send that now? Before I get back there?”

You blink. “Don’t you have to go all the way back across campus? How slow do you think I type?” He shrugs, and you give up on the idea of getting rid of him. “Fine. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Lee Chan. I’m a sophomore. Do you know that guy?”

“Oh. I thought for sure you were a freshman, but you’re gonna need to be more specific, Lee Chan, Sophomore.”

“The guy they want you to tutor.” You freeze. The guy they want you to tutor is—“Choi Seungcheol,” Chan tacks on, and, yeah, you know—knew, you correct yourself—someone with that name, once upon a time.

But there are a lot of Chois and a lot of Seungcheols. It’s been years since you’ve spoken to the Seungcheol you knew, and that was when he’d broken up with you to—“I heard he’s a football player? Well, used to be, I guess. The girls in the office were freaking out so I guess he’s pretty famous, but I don’t know anything about sports, do you? They said they have photocards of him. I thought they only did that for idols.”

You think about being kids together in Daegu. Think about the exasperated looks you’d share when your parents would drag the two of you to festivals: Palgongsan in the autumn, Biseulsan in the spring; transformation and rebirth. Think about being eight years old and watching your father cram into the small space of the Chois’ living room, standing around the TV with Seungcheol’s dad, shouting at Park Jonghwan. Daegu FC made the FA Cup quarterfinals that year, and you think, of everything, that’s what you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

You think about falling in love slowly. Sixteen and clueless, the pair of you were. Didn’t really know any different, just that you’d look at him and feel butterflies. That you’d hold hands in secret. Text beneath the dinner table. That you’d watch him on the football pitch and be consumed by pride. That the future felt impossibly far away, that life would never catch up to the two of you.

You think about all the football jargon you didn’t understand—the academies, the teams, the implications. You think about, I’m thinking about trying out for the FC Seoul U-18, I just don’t think there’s much more I can do here in Daegu. You think about replying, Oh, I applied to university there.

You remember thinking it must’ve been fate, how easy that had worked out. How easy that first hurdle had been overcome.

You think about how fast everything happened. The try-out, the acceptance, the explosion. Remember being unable to go anywhere those first few months without seeing Seungcheol’s face, touted as the next big thing. Think about applying for scholarships when he was applying for international visas. Think about studying for midterms when Seungcheol was studying English for interviews.

You think about the last few weeks of your relationship, when it felt like you were desperately trying to cling to ghosts. Think about how Seoul had once felt endlessly big, both in opportunity and size, and how it now felt suffocating. You think about, So you’re just giving up? Is that what you’re saying? Think about, I don’t know what else to do. It doesn’t feel fair to you.

You think about all the places you’ve watched him. On countless football pitches; shy glances in school hallways; in the passenger seat, wracked with nerves on the drive to Seoul; poised above you in bed, hairline dotted with sweat as he rolled his hips, telling you how much he loved you.

You think about watching him walk out the door, and how you never watched him again.

So you fire off your email, concise and to the point about why you can’t tutor Choi Seungcheol in Introduction to Microeconomics, and turn to Lee Chan, Sophomore.

“No,” you finally answer. “Never heard of him.”

For all intents and purposes, your rejection should’ve been the end of it.

A few days go by. You hold office hours, attend lectures, work on your thesis when you have both the time and the energy. Try to ignore the feeling of bees beneath your skin, anxiety needling each time you check your email. You were well within your right to decline the tutoring request, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong. That someone somehow knows who Seungcheol was to you and will pull you up on it. That those girls who’d gushed about him to Chan are somewhere laughing at your expense.

But you don’t hear anything at all about it… until you do.

Sunday evening. You haven’t moved from your couch in hours, some variety show playing in the background, barely audible over your keyboard clacking. Much to your detriment, you don’t write many papers these days, so you’re out of practice. Feels like you haven’t done anything besides formulas in years, all of your academic knowledge reduced to fucking math, so you’re about ready to toss your laptop out the window long before the email even comes through.

You see, From: Lee Yeonseok. You see, Subject: Choi Seungcheol - Tutoring.

Your stomach plummets to the floor.

You scan the body quickly. You see the words personal favor… friend of his father… urgent matter… and your hands start shaking. Whether it’s from the sheer audacity of this man or anxiety, you aren’t sure, but it’s not like it matters. There aren’t a whole lot of people on campus brave or dumb enough to go up against him twice.

“Motherfucker,” you spit, bitter the only taste in your mouth.

Where did you go wrong to wind up here? You’d followed the script: got the grades, passed the exams, received half of the required education for the Respectable Career, helped a few others along the way chase dreams that may or may not have been their own. You’d fallen in love. Only had a broken heart to show for it, but that’d been in the script, too: The First Love, followed by The First Heartbreak.

The split from Seungcheol was supposed to have been the end of that chapter. You’d planned on never seeing him again, and you never would have, had it been up to you. Apparently the universe has other plans, participation required.

“Did you spill onion dip on the rug again?” You startle, sending your laptop flying. Kaori, your roommate, is perched halfway in between the living room and the kitchen like a cryptid, clearly not expecting your reaction. “Oh. Were you watching porn?”

Face burning, you fetch your laptop from the floor. “In a common area? Kaori, please, I have far more decorum than that.”

She snorts, resuming her trek to the fridge. “See, that’s what I thought, but then I walked out here and you threw your laptop so fast it was like watching my ex get caught watching furry porn all over again.” She pries the lid off a large container of yogurt. “You think this is still good?”

“Dunno. What’s it smell like?”

She sniffs it and pulls it back to check the label. “Vanilla, I think, which is concerning because it’s supposed to be strawberry.”

You shrug. “What’s the worst that can happen, you get extra”—you pause, trying to remember the correct order of things, before giving up entirely—“...biotics?”

“Mm, so close. Care if I just eat this with a spoon?”

Nose scrunched, you wave her off. “Couldn’t pay me to eat yogurt on a good day, let alone if it’s expired. All yours, babe.”

Spoon in hand and a pleased smile on her face, Kaori collapses onto the couch beside you. You try to return your attention to your paper, try to find your momentum again, and it works for all of ten minutes before you’re groaning and slamming the top closed.

You don’t even need to look over to know Kaori’s staring. “What’s up with you?” she asks. Before she can answer: “Wait, is this serious? Because I can’t have a serious conversation in this t-shirt.” You steal a glance sideways. Ask Me About My Hemorrhoid! it says, and you exhale loudly. “Don’t breathe at me, I lost a bet.”

“And continued wearing it?”

She jokingly rolls her eyes. “God forbid a girl has hobbies.” Nudges you with her foot. “C’mon, spill.”

Kaori doesn’t know about you and Seungcheol. Most people don’t, aside from a few old classmates from Daegu who found you on social media and tried befriending you once he started making a name for himself in Seoul. After that, it was just easier to keep things private while you were together. New friends knew you were seeing someone but not their name or how long you’d been together. Any curiosity surrounding why the Choi Seungcheol was following you on Insta had been waved away easily. Our parents are friends, we grew up together. Then you broke up, and there wasn’t any evidence to delete, and he wasn’t following you on Instagram anymore, and it was easier that way.

So, yeah—even though you hadn’t met her until years later, Kaori knows you have an ex. She knows you’ve had a few flings and situationships in the time since, too, and it’s why she’s none the wiser when you ask, “It’s nothing, really. Just—do you follow football at all?”

“Nah, not really. The new guy’s pretty into it and keeps trying to get me to watch the games with him, but it’s so fucking boring? I dunno, I can’t get into it. Not in real life, anyway—I binged all of Captain Tsubasa in an embarrassingly short amount of time, though. Why?”

“Student Services asked me to tutor someone the other day and I had to turn it down. I just don’t have the time, you know? This semester’s already killer, and Dr. Ahn’s been riding my ass nonstop about grades. Turns out it’s some football player, so Dr. Lee emailed me asking me to do it as a personal favor, which means, on top of all the other shit I have to do, I’m now tutoring some football player four hours a week in Microeconomics.”

Her face distorts. “God, that guy’s such a prick. Like wow, you’re good at the economy! Good for you! Who cares! Why don’t you go balance the national debt or something instead of torturing university freshmen!”

You also wrongly assume that’s the last you’ll hear of it from Kaori.

Two days later, after Student Services replies to your email with the days and times you’ll be tutoring Seungcheol, she materializes in the living room to harass you.

“You didn’t tell me your football player was Choi Seungcheol.”

The panic is instant. You know how she means it, but it’s not how your body interprets it. All of a sudden it feels like an interrogation, an accusation, and a whopping serving of guilt takes up residence in the middle of your chest for not being entirely honest.

“Explains this weird text Ken sent me.”

She slides her phone over to you, open to her text thread with her current flavor of the week. Beneath an article about Seungcheol enrolling in classes at your school:

doesn’t ur roomie TA there Why are you calling her “ur roomie” like you don’t know her name?? Rude. Also yes. ask her to get me an autograph No babe pls he was my fav player before he got injured No 🙄 fine. can i come over later? Starting to think you’re using me for my roommate. Get your own job 🙄

You hand her phone back. “I didn’t think you’d know who Choi Seungcheol even is.” It’s the best you can do, even though it just digs you a deeper grave. “You said you’re not into football.”

“I’m not, but unfortunately I am into that stupid man.” She sighs, wistful and longing. “Babe, you have to understand. His dick is so big.”

You hadn’t wanted to stay in Seoul for your graduate degree, let alone the same university you’d gone to for undergrad.

You’d applied to schools all over—Japan, Europe, even a few in the States. Romanticized the hell out of NYU, went window shopping for an overpriced apartment, picked a favorite pizzeria based on nothing but vibes and online reviews. In those few months after graduation, there wasn’t a whole lot tying you to Seoul. Your and Seungcheol’s relationship had been old history by then, your parents split. Your dad stayed in your childhood home and your mother moved a few hours closer to her sister. They’d waited until your brother was old enough to be out of the house.

And it’d just been… a lot. Overwhelming. Some days you could barely shower or feed yourself, let alone move halfway across the world, so you’d stayed in the familiar and tried not to let it feel like failure.

But the good thing about familiarity is you learn its tricks, figure out the hiding spots. Early on, your first or second week of grad school, you laid claim to a study room on a floor of the library everyone else ignored. You write notes on the whiteboard with faded blue markers that are still there days later. The chair on the opposite side of the table is always exactly where you left it, the space between it and the table enough to only accommodate you. Sometimes you leave books—old paperbacks littered with notes in your writing—or papers, just to see if they move.

They never do.

And all of this is why it feels like a punch to the gut when that sanctity is tainted. When you’re halfway through a stack of Dr. Ahn’s exams and the doorknob rattles behind you. When you don’t even need to turn around to know who it is, because he still sounds the same, still has that overwhelming presence. You’ve always sensed him before you felt him.

“There you are,” Dr. Lee says, ambling into the room before you can protest. He, too, is overwhelming, just in different ways. Immaculate posture that anchors his slight frame that’s always dressed impeccably and expensively. Wears a watch that’s triple your tuition. Shoes polished so bright they’re nearly blinding. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

This time it is an accusation.

Well, you found me, you want to say, but just knowing Seungcheol is behind him, lingering in that half-study room, half-hallway space, is enough to keep you quiet. Like if you speak you’ll summon him closer and you’ll no longer be able to pretend this is nothing more than a nightmare.

You plaster on a polite smile. Say, “Ah, here I am, kyosu-nim,” and put all your energy into trying to glue Seungcheol to the floor with your mind.

Which is fruitless, because Dr. Lee moves further into the room. Gestures for Seungcheol to follow him with an impatient huff, and the study room is small, sure, and with three people it feels cramped, but that’s not the reason it feels like all the air’s been sucked out of the room.

Seungcheol looks… different. He looks as anxious as you feel, and he sticks close to the wall like he’s trying to disappear. Dr. Lee introduces him with grave importance, unaware of your history, and the forced smile he offers you almost looks embarrassed.

You know Dr. Lee is still hammering away, probably giving you a stern talking-to for rejecting his request the first time, but you can’t tear your eyes away from Seungcheol. Feels like the world around you has reduced to a pinhead, all hyperfocus; feels like your lungs are sucking in stale air one at a time.

“...his father is a very good friend of mine, so I expect…”

You expected to feel nothing. Seungcheol had left to chase his dream—one you’d always been so supportive of that it sometimes felt like your dream, too—and, perhaps naively, you thought the distance and the years would’ve been enough. You expected your heart to have hardened. You expected all those nights you spent crying to hit you at full force. You expected anger, hurt—indifference, at the very least.

“...as many hours per week as you both can manage…”

But you should’ve known better. Should’ve expected the butterflies, the way your palms grow clammy, the way your heart rate spikes. Should’ve expected everything to feel upside-down. You should’ve expected to look at Seungcheol and feel sixteen and in love all over again.

“...you are responsible for his academic progress…”

And that simply will not do. You’ve spent the last few years pulling yourself out of that hole, clawing your way back to something resembling normal. You’ve purged the thought of him from your mind—let his scent fade from your sheets, an old sweatshirt he’d left behind; forgot the way his lips felt against every inch of your skin; forgot the way his entire being lit up when he laughed; forgot the safety he encompassed, the way he whispered all those sweet nothings.

You cannot go there again.

So you roll your shoulders back, smile politely. Say, “Ah, kyosu-nim, Choi Seungcheol-ssi seems very intelligent, I’m sure he is capable of being responsible for his own academic standing, don’t you think?”

Dr. Lee cannot disagree without all but calling Seungcheol an idiot, so he hovers before you in shocked silence. Makes a show of huffing and checking his watch, like he’s all of a sudden remembered he’s late for something and being inconvenienced by this conversation he started, and then he’s halfway out of the library with a terse, “Discuss and figure this out amongst yourselves,” thrown over his shoulder.

You have an entire dramatic exit planned in your head. Gather your things, fake a phone call that makes you sound authoritative and important, and brush past Seungcheol wearing your nicest perfume as if all of this is so far beneath you you can’t even bring yourself to care about it.

Of course, you actually have to brush by him for any of that to happen, and since you’ve already decided you will not go there again, you quickly scribble your email address onto a piece of paper and slide it across the table at Seungcheol, who has steadfastly remained planted just outside the door. “Here’s my email. I don’t have time to discuss this right now.” Seungcheol cocks an eyebrow. You start throwing things into your bag haphazardly. You know you look frantic and affected, but there’s not much you can do about that. “What? Send me a copy of your syllabus and what you want to prioritize. It’ll be easier to get through this if we have a plan instead of winging it.”

He seems to catch on to your distaste because he mirrors it. Scoffs as he rolls his eyes and says, “Yeah, no use spending more time together than we have to,” and if you hadn’t gone years without speaking, you would’ve seen right through it.

But you did, so it stings all the same.

As it typically does, the planet keeps spinning after your run-in with Seungcheol.

You grade Dr. Ahn’s coursework. Try running off your anxiety at the gym, even though it’s pretty good at keeping pace with you these days. You meet Kaori’s maybe-boyfriend sneaking out of your apartment early in the morning and he has the good sense not to mention your ex, but you chalk that up to the mess of hickeys covering his neck and not any sense of social decorum.

Other people’s embarrassment saves you a ton of your own, you’ve come to learn.

Throughout all of this, Seungcheol only emails you once to send you his course syllabus. Doesn’t mention tutoring or provide you with his schedule or ask for yours, so when you’re sitting in a bar with your friends, three or four drinks deep and feeling a little petty, you forward him the original tutoring request and make sure to bold, underline, and highlight the “Recommended Tutoring: High” part for good measure.

He doesn’t take your bait—electronically, at least—but he does show up to your office hours the following Tuesday.

Bag tossed onto the floor, he flops unceremoniously into the chair across from you and says, in lieu of a greeting, “They spelled your name wrong. On the door thing.”

“I know,” you reply, your smile polite and terse. Incredible how he has the ability to raise your blood pressure in milliseconds. “What can I help you with?”

“Depends. How long do you have?”

“Well, considering you’ve shown up to my office hours on time, I’m assuming you already know I’m here every Tuesday and Thursday from four to six. So”—you glance at the clock above the door—“assuming no one comes by who needs my help more than you do, you have approximately one hour and fifty-eight minutes.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment as he takes you in. His stare is weighted; it makes you feel a little green around the edges. Clinical and sharp, so far removed from the way he used to look at you. You clear your throat. “I looked over your syllabus. The good news is there’s only a midterm and a final and the rest is problem sets. The bad news is there’s only a midterm and a final so they’re weighted quite heavily. You really need to know this stuff inside-out to have any hope of passing.”

“That’s why you’re here, right? Dr. Lee specifically requested you.”

You huff a breath through your nose. “I’m here as supplemental help. I can’t take your exams or do your readings for you. What else are you taking this semester?”

He sighs, sinking further into the chair, very much playing the part of the heir who has no interest in any of this. Which… is unlike him, you think, if you’re even allowed to. The Seungcheol you knew years ago took everything so seriously. Never clipped corners or took shortcuts. Anyone else would think him a spoiled, petulant child. “Business Accounting and International Trade.”

“Could be worse,” you note. “At least those three courses are tangentially related.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t taken a fucking math class in years.”

You return it. “You remember how to add and subtract, don’t you?”

“I ruptured my ACL, not my…” He trails off, looking a little embarrassed that he can’t name a part of the—“Brain.”

Whatever you were going to quip back with dies on your tongue. It's the first time Seungcheol has broached the topic of his injury—the first you’re hearing of it at all, actually—and he says it like it’s a joke, like it’s not a thing at all, but the pain is all over his face. The bitterness of the situation he’s found himself in. The unfairness of it all.

And there are so many questions you want to ask that aren’t your place: if it’s fixable, if he’ll ever play again, how he’s coping. But you don’t really need to—you can’t imagine how you’d feel if someone suddenly pulled the rug out from under you. If everything contained within the four walls of your office suddenly disappeared.

Not that the man sitting across from you hadn’t already done that, but.

“Right,” you continue, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You know Seungcheol—know he wouldn’t want you prodding, sticking your fingers in that particular wound. “I want you to take a look at this,” you say, handing over a printout you have saved from your undergrad tutoring days. “Tell me what looks familiar, what doesn’t; what does and doesn’t make sense.”

He looks down at the paper. Back up at you. Down at the paper again. “What the fuck is this?”

“I—what? Cheol, it’s my old notes on recitation. Surely you’ve already covered this—the syllabus says this is week one stuff.” He looks down at the paper again, and it’s so familiar, watching the life drain entirely from someone’s eyes.

You barely resist the urge to slam your face onto your desk a second time.

You meet Seungcheol at the sports center for your next tutoring session.

He likes the humidity and the smell of the chlorine by the pool. He also likes that it’s not the football pitch, so the two of you sit in the bleachers there and go over his lecture notes. Much to your surprise, Seungcheol talks a mile a minute. Has stars in his eyes when he says he finally understands elastic demand curves, supply shock; tells you he spent a whole hour making flashcards.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him so excited since your tutoring began—the first glimmer of hope you’ve felt since Dr. Lee cornered you in your library hideaway. None of this surprises you. Seungcheol has always been smart, even when football was his primary (and sometimes only) focus. He has more determination and grit than anyone you’ve ever met, so you’re not surprised he’s doing well, excelling, but you are surprised—

“Can I ask you something?” Seungcheol shrugs, shoves half a protein bar in his mouth and swallows without chewing. “Why are you… uh. Here?”

“At this university?”

“Not exactly. I mean, I am wondering about that, but I guess… why business?”

Seungcheol hums. Tucks his good knee to his chest and stares down at the pool. No one’s using it, and truthfully the two of you probably aren’t even allowed to be here, but you understand why he likes it. It’s nowhere near as secluded as the library and definitely not as air conditioned, but it is peaceful. Calm. The water laps against the coping in quiet, small waves.

“Ah, I don’t know. You know how it goes.”

You quirk an eyebrow. Never, in all the years you’ve known him, has Seungcheol done anything he didn’t want to do. All that grit and determination. “What about your father, then? Dr. Lee mentioned this was a favor to him. He’s a pretty important person to have in your Rolodex of favors.”

Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see what this is: Seungcheol’s father has new money; worked from the bottom up, made some smart investment decisions that finally panned out after Seungcheol left for Seoul. Started doing his own thing, made a name for himself. Last you’d heard from your mother, Seungcheol’s brother was second-in-command. Hell, even your own brother did an internship there.

So you know what this is: a father helping his son after his dream was shattered, life turned upside-down. You can’t blame him, even if you’ve heard the whispers from all the way across campus. That Seungcheol is washed up now, trying to nepo his way into his father’s company because of it; that all he knows is sports and he should’ve stuck to that, what does he know about business, why is he the one Dr. Lee went out of his way to help.

Doesn’t stop any of them from smiling at him, though; doesn’t stop them from asking for autographs or selfies.

But you also know this isn’t something Seungcheol seems willing to discuss, so you crack a joke—“I mean, business. God, who’d wanna go into that?”—and go back to what he was willing to talk about.

You’ve never hated elastic demand curves so much in your life.

Deep in the throes of tutoring—when you can’t tell if it’s week two or week twelve—you make it back to your apartment just before ten, head pounding.

The door flies open just as you’re about to punch in the code, and there stands Ken, looking far more put-off than you’ve ever seen him. Looks defeated, if you’re being honest, like someone mopped up all his emotions and wrung them out like dirty dishwater.

“Oh, hi,” you say hesitantly. The man in front of you seems too much like a caged animal to let your guard down. “Everything okay?”

He aborts a nod halfway. Mutters an apology as he brushes by you and stalks down the hall, disappearing around the corner to the elevators. Usually he’s a talker—you haven’t been able to avoid a Seungcheol-related conversation in weeks—so you’re a little stunned. Stand there stupidly for a while, and that’s where Kaori finds you a moment later.

“You gonna stand out here all night, or…?”

“Oh—yeah, right.”

You follow her inside. Toe off your shoes and put them in the rack. Focus on the sound of the kettle whistling instead of the overbearing tension in the room. Drop your bag off in your room, throw on a sweatshirt three sizes too big and a comfy pair of socks. Rummage through the fridge for leftovers, contemplate what mindless show you’ll watch as you eat, and you do not, under any circumstances, ask Kaori what happened.

You don’t have to. You knew what this was going to be the first time Ken spent the night—the way he looked mortified to be meeting you in the shared kitchen at seven a.m., wearing a look that begged you not to tell your roommate he was sneaking out.

I, uh, have an early class, he’d said. You know how it is.

Maybe you should’ve called him on it then. Issued a warning-but-not-really. She’ll get attached if you don’t tell her. She should know it’s different for you, if it is.

But you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t your place. Kaori wouldn’t want you in her business like that, so you stayed quiet, just nodded before watching him slip his shoes on and close the door behind him so quietly you wouldn’t have known he left at all if you hadn’t been looking. Gone, just like a ghost.

So, yeah, you know exactly why your roommate looks haunted.

“I’m a few episodes behind on this if you want to watch with me,” you offer, pointing at the television with the remote. It’s a lie—you’ve never watched this show a day in your life, which Kaori seems to know—but she contemplates it nonetheless. “Also, my mom mailed us some cookies. I think they’re in the fridge.”

“Why are there cookies in the fridge?”

You huff a laugh. “They were outside the door this morning before I left for campus. I don’t know—just saw who the package was from and was like, oh, this must go in the fridge.”

She nods. Grabs the container and joins you on the couch. Sticks her feet beneath your butt and doesn’t mention a thing.

The closest she comes is a few days later. Catches you right before you head out to campus and asks how tutoring is going.

“Not bad, actually.”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes when she says, “That’s good. I’m glad things are going well for you two.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore makes his unexpected return at your office hours on an unsuspecting Tuesday.

“Can I help you?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just helps himself to the seat across from you. “Maybe,” comes his cryptic retort. “I was thinking about signing up for that crypto course next semester.”

You narrow your eyes. “No, you weren’t.”

He sighs. Looks a little panicked, like he can’t believe that didn’t work. “You’re right, you’re right. I, um—I wanted to come say thank you.” He pauses. “You know, for that… email you sent.”

You blink. “No, you didn’t.”

Lee Chan, Sophomore cracks immediately. Thunks his head on your desk and lets loose a pained sound. It nearly sounds like he’s wailing when he says, “I’m sorry! They put me up to it!”

What you’re able to piece together is this: Lee Chan, Sophomore has become a bit of a celebrity in the Student Services department ever since he met you, Choi Seungcheol’s tutor. And, like any smart, previously unpopular university student would do, he took advantage of it. Might’ve stretched the truth a little to make it sound like he knew more than he did, so now here he is, angling for information the girls with the photocards may or may not have paid him to get.

“They want to know about his girlfriend.”

“His what?”

What you’re able to piece together is also this: the Photocard Girls are certain Seungcheol is dating someone, based on little more than vibes. You suspect these vibes are their three degrees of separation, considering there was an abnormal amount of Change of Major files formed after his enrollment, but you tell Lee Chan that you don’t know anything and, even if you did, you wouldn’t put his business out there like that.

But some part of you still has this inexplicable urge to protect Seungcheol, so you match their offer with interest and tell him to say there’s nothing to report—not that you didn’t know, not that he couldn’t get anything out of you. Seungcheol isn’t dating anyone.

You don’t know if it’s true, but you figure that if it isn’t, he still deserves privacy.

Which is a notion you have trouble explaining a few hours later, when Seungcheol strolls into your office with a grease-stained paper bag full of cheese coin bread, offering one to you with a proud smile that drops slowly when you just stare in return.

“What’s wrong?”

Your mouth opens, closes, opens again. Nothing comes out, even though it should be simple. Some sophomore kid was just in here angling for information or the Student Services department is taking bets on whether or not you have a girlfriend would both suffice, but you cannot bring yourself to say the words.

What you settle on is, “Sorry, I just… had an interesting meeting before you got here.”

“Oh. Are you okay?”

You sigh. Tilt your head back to stare up at the ceiling. “It was about you, actually.”

Seungcheol chokes, starts stuttering over words you can’t make sense of. Says, “Me? Why? I passed my last exam—I mean, barely, but I still passed. And that wasn’t your fault! I didn’t study enough! I’ve been losing my mind over my International Trade class, that shit sucks—”

“It wasn’t about your grades, Cheol.”

“Oh.” Then, slowly, a lopsided, pleased smile overtakes his face. “Haven’t heard you call me Cheol in a while.”

“Seungcheol,” you correct.

He seems to forget all about the meeting. Tries again to offer you a coin bread before he threatens to eat them all himself, so you acquiesce mostly to shut him up, say you’ll bring the extras to Kaori. For some reason, you tell him about how much she’d loved the cookies your mom sent, and the nostalgia sets him off, gets him talking again, asking if they were the yakgwa she used to make when you two were kids.

They were, but you can’t seem to tell him that, either.

Seungcheol: sorry it’s last minute - running late. can you meet me at my place instead?

Seungcheol shared a location with you

You’re halfway to replying—I don’t think that’s appropriate—before you sigh and delete it. Midterms are only a few days away and you don’t have time to argue over where your tutoring sessions will be, so if Seungcheol wants to meet at his apartment that’s where you’ll meet him.

You read over the midterm notes on the train. Once, twice, and then a hundred more times until they’re nearly memorized, all so you can ignore the voice in the back of your head saying what a bad idea this is. That you have no business being on your way to your ex’s swanky part of town or integrating yourself into his life beyond tutoring at all. You shouldn’t know where he lives. Maybe you shouldn’t even have his phone number or answer his texts.

Not that there’s much you can do about it now, two stops away.

Seungcheol greets you warmly, if not a little rushed. Apologizes for the mess once you step inside, although it’s less “mess” and more “haven’t finished unpacking,” but there’s enough clear space to study at the dining table, so that’s where you set up, determined to keep things professional.

“Sorry again about this,” Seungcheol says, placing a can of cola in front of you as he takes the seat across. “I had to meet with my father and lost track of time, I guess.”

“Oh. How’s he doing?”

Seungcheol sighs, leans further back in the chair as runs a hand through his hair. A light brown, now. “Same as he always was, I guess. Talked about the business, about my brother. Can’t get him to shut up about that stuff most of the time.”

“The business is doing good, though.” You cough, clear your throat. “My, uh. My brother interned there during undergrad. I don’t know if your father told you that.”

You don’t know why you say it, because it’s clear from the brief flicker of pain on Seungcheol’s face that he hadn’t known, that no one had told him. And it hurts you too that they felt the need to keep it a secret, to protect Seungcheol from you even in tangential ways.

“He didn’t,” he admits, “but I’m sure he was happy to see him. He was, uh—he was glad to hear you’re my tutor. Said you were always smarter than all of us boys combined.”

You laugh. Hope it sounds casual instead of strained. “Well, no need to prove him right. Come on,” you say, tossing a study guide in his direction, “let’s get to work.”

Everything is alright for a while—nearly an hour at least. He has the formulas memorized and attributed to the correct equations. He can explain supply and demand, preference and utility, but things start to fall apart around budget constraints and constrained choice.

The formulas get mixed up. He grows frustrated when he doesn’t know the answers to your questions right away. Rolls his eyes and gets a little snappy when you correct him, try to explain things differently in a way he understands. At first he’s able to temper it, collect himself before things truly start spiraling out of control, but the longer the two of you sit there the more it all unravels.

He snaps, you snap back, and you can’t figure out why. You’ve survived this long in Seungcheol’s orbit even though you never thought you’d be around him again, and perhaps it was bound to explode eventually, but…

It’s the familiarity, you realize.

You and Seungcheol aren’t friends, though you’ve been playing at it for weeks now: meeting outside of the library or your office, the personal conversations bordering on reminiscing, being in his personal space. You don’t belong here. You don’t want to be his friend—you can’t be, not for real or pretend.

“That’s not what I’m say—”

“Then explain it better,” Seungcheol fires at you, eyebrows creasing. “You’re the tutor here.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m trying, okay? All I meant was—your answer isn’t wrong, but I know Dr. Lee and he’s going to want more than that in a response.”

“Right—not good enough, like I said.”

“I’m just asking you to expand on your answer—”

“And I’m telling you that’s all I’ve got. I’m not like you, all right? I don’t have all this shit just floating around in my head all the time. I’m not smart, I barely have any idea what’s going on half the time, and you sitting here being condescending about it is doing fuck-all to help.”

You inhale sharply, taken aback at the hostility in his voice. Suggest calling it for the night, say neither of you will be productive if you keep going like this, and neither of you bother to apologize.

So much of your relationship with Seungcheol was marred by clichés.

The two of you passing notes back and forth during class. You in the bleachers of all his games, screaming along to the team chants, waving a sign around with his name on it. Not realizing you had a crush on him at all until he liked someone else and it made your stomach hurt. Childhood friends turned lovers.

Another cliché: that it’s starting to feel like that all over again.

Seungcheol sits across from you in the library, econ textbook cracked in half in front of him as he pays no attention. Keeps grabbing his phone each time it vibrates across the table. Can’t fight the smile that forces its way onto his face when he reads whatever’s there.

Stupid, you think—both to do this and to think it’d play out any other way. Seungcheol left years ago. Probably lived ten lifetimes while he was away while you were here in this exact spot doing this exact thing. Barely lived half a life, just stuck your nose in textbooks and forced your way through.

“Cheol,” you say, trying to drag his attention back to the study guide. No use. He’s typing away, presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek as he responds. “Seungcheol,” you try again.

Also fruitless.

You have no claim here, you remind yourself—not to his time, not to him. He’s only here because someone else mandated it. You’re only here because someone else mandated it, but it stings all the same. Another reminder of what used to be, of what ended regardless of what you wanted. Another reminder that the role you used to play in his life is not the role you play now. That the space you used to take up created a vacancy, and eventually it was going to be filled.

And if this was anyone other than Seungcheol, if you were more emotionally evolved when it came to him, it wouldn’t gnaw at you as much. All of this would roll off your shoulders.

But it isn’t, and you’re not.

“If you’re not going to listen, then—”

“I am listening,” he interjects, but he’s not looking at you. Not looking at his textbook or his study guide. Keeps laughing and smiling at his phone, and it’s sick how bothered you are by it. That it feels like your stomach’s been turned inside-out with jealousy; with annoyance, because you don’t want to be here anyway, don’t want to do this anymore, and you’re wasting your time on someone who doesn’t appreciate it.

Perhaps he never did.

“What are we discussing, then?”

Still not looking up: “Consumer theory.”

You laugh—more a huff of air than anything, grin sardonically out of one corner of your mouth. Seungcheol sees none of it. “Wrong,” you answer, already expecting the way he shrugs it off. “I’m gonna skip ahead a few chapters, though. Consider it a freebie for your business class.”

It must be your tone that finally grabs his attention. Cutting, precise, purposeful. Seungcheol lowers his phone, quirks an eyebrow, wonders where this is going to go. It’s clear he’s pissed you off, that you’re itching for a fight. It’s clear the years of silence are finally coming to a head.

“Let’s talk about ROI. You know what that is?” You barely give him a second. “Return on investment. A performance measure used to evaluate the efficiency of an investment or compare the efficiency of several investments. So, let’s say I make one-hundred-thousand won on a ten-thousand won investment: my ROI is 90%. Are you following?”

He nods.

“Great, now let’s try something a bit more hypothetical.” You suck in a breath. “Let’s say I invest years of my adolescence into someone. A friend at first and then something more. Let’s say I played cheerleader, supported every hope and dream he had—went to every game, cheered him on, helped him practice his English. Held his hand and talked him down when the pressure felt overwhelming, when the only thing that felt inevitable was failure. Now, let’s say all I got in return was a stuttered, awkward apology as he dumped me and walked out the door. Let’s say that guy showed up again after years of silence just to once again waste my fucking time.”

The thing about pain is it’s not linear. What hurt five, ten years ago might not hurt today, but it might tomorrow; what hurt yesterday may never hurt again. The thing about pain is it lets you stick your head in the sand until it can’t anymore, and that’s where you are now: that window of time between Seungcheol walking out the door on the assumption you’d never see him again before he bulldozed his way back into your life has been slammed closed, locked up tight.

So you don’t even notice you’re crying until the room goes deathly silent and you can hear the drip drip drip of tears on paper. Until you watch Seungcheol’s hands flex and unflex in mid-air, stuck in that liminal space, wanting to reach out but knowing he has no right to. Until your chest aches so bad you’re sure you’re either about to break into stardust or cease to exist.

Until you say, “What, Choi Seungcheol, would you say my fucking return on investment was?” and he has nothing to say at all.

Kaori invites you to a party.

Just something small to celebrate the end of midterms and a classmate’s birthday. Nothing out of control or raucous, not even the kind of thing that’d earn a second glance from campus security. I won’t even make fun of you if you leave before eleven, is how she sold it to you, in addition to a small amount of begging and bargaining and a powerful set of puppy-dog eyes.

After everything the two of you have been through, you find it hard to say no.

So here you are, nearly eleven o’clock on a Friday, a cup of cheap beer in hand. A friend of a friend of a friend is wailing into a karaoke machine and although your ears are bleeding, it does feel nice for that to be your greatest worry. You aren’t thinking about your classes or how you’ve been prioritizing everyone else’s academic success. You aren’t thinking about whatever’s going on between Kaori and Ken. You aren’t thinking about Seungcheol.

At least you aren’t, until he walks through the door.

You’re going to continue not thinking about him at all—not about the fact he’s alone or how good he looks in a simple black T-shirt that’s a little taut in the shoulders. You’re not going to think about the way the air shifts, like the universe knows he’s important and is willing to accommodate. You’re not going to think about how Kaori catches your eye across the room, recognizes him from all her internet searches, and the way she mouths oh my god he’s so beefy at you.

You’re not going to think about how guilty you feel that she doesn’t know, because if you do you’re certain it’ll take over.

You watch Seungcheol work the room; watch as he floats between conversations, as strangers fall over themselves at the sight of him. How eager everyone is to give him something and how reluctant he is to take them. You watch as he winds up in the same circle as Kaori and how she must mention you, oh, your tutor is my roommate, because there’s a question in return before he turns and meets your gaze.

You wonder why the distance between you feels more insurmountable now than ever before.

Seungcheol finds you in your office.

It’s not a Tuesday or a Thursday, far later than four to six in the evening, but he doesn’t even bother knocking before he’s barreling in, stifling your space with his bad energy.

You haven’t seen him in nearly two weeks. Not since the party, if that even counts. Hasn’t bothered to reply to any of your texts or emails, and that was just fine by you, if that’s how he wanted to act, but it isn’t until he’s brooding on the other side of your desk that you realize you’re still aggrieved, too. Feels a little too familiar, him leaving you behind and in the dark.

So you don’t mean to—typically have much more professionalism than this—but when he tosses a stapled stack of papers with a barely-passing grade on your desk and says, “This is your fault,” the words come automatically and without forethought.

“Fuck off, Seungcheol.” It’s not your words that take him by surprise; more so the roll of your eyes, the accompanying huff. The impression that all of this is beneath you and nothing more than a mere annoyance. That however affected you were two weeks ago is not how affected you are anymore. “That’s what happens when you blow off your tutoring for two weeks because you’re a coward.”

He laughs, incredulous; unable to help the sound the tumbles out of his mouth. “I’m a—I’m a coward?”

“Yes,” you reply, tone giving away nothing. All he sees is feigned nonchalance despite the hurricane you feel brewing beneath the surface. “This,” you continue, pinching the corner of the paper between your fingertips and disposing of it in the trashcan beneath your desk, “is all on you, but do please let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to blame me for. I’m all ears.”

You don’t miss it: the way Seungcheol’s eyes grow wide at your ‘I’m all.’ The way he thinks you’re going to punctuate that sentence with yours, and it nearly has bile rising in your throat. Makes you want to scream, rip at your hair. If the last few months have taught you anything, it’s that you are still hopelessly in love with the man across from you—the man that continues to leave before he’s left, always at your expense.

So, yeah—Seungcheol is a coward, but only when it comes to you.

But he doesn’t look much like one now, gripping so hard at the edge of your desk that his knuckles have gone white, baseball cap pulled down low enough his eyes are barely visible. He’s always been overwhelming, always carried himself with an exaggerated arrogance even when it wasn’t warranted, always took everything so seriously, and maybe that’s why you’d thought he’d treat you the same way. Take you seriously. Wouldn’t just throw it all away on a maybe thing, and that’s why it's been years and you still aren’t over it.

Maybe Seungcheol is a coward, and maybe so are you.

Because not once since he’s been back have you been able to say what you mean. Can’t seem to tell him about the anger, the hurt, the heartbreak. Played it all off as petty nonchalance because you foolishly thought that would hurt him, that you’ve been reduced to simmering ash, no hope left for a fire.

“I could never blame you for a goddamn thing,” he says, voice so deep you could drown in it.

You so desperately want to know. You don’t want to know anything at all. You want Seungcheol to explain everything to you in detail and spoil the ending, but only if it’s guaranteed to be happy. Enduring another loss like the first time—you’re not sure you can take it. Not after you two have crossed paths like this, because you’ve never quite believed in fate but you think that has to mean something. That so much time and life had transpired and you two came back together.

Today, though, it doesn’t look like you’re going to get any answers.

Seungcheol straightens, looms at full height. Digs into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulls out a thumb drive. Wordlessly, he hands it over, and then he’s gone just as abruptly as he’d arrived.

Again.

Kaori wants to spend the weekend moping, and you can’t come up with a good reason not to join her.

She doesn’t mention Ken once. Not when she’s sobbing over A Silent Voice and Toradora! after that. Not when she keeps glancing at her phone every couple minutes to see if she has any texts. Not when you—only halfway paying attention between grading and your own assignments—suggest ordering something for delivery, maybe that new burger place down the street you heard was good, and Kaori shuts it down so vehemently you can only assume it was Ken’s favorite place.

Kaori just cries over the man with the big dick she never expected to take so seriously, and not even your stonewalling makes her feel ashamed of it.

And there’s respectability in that kind of openness and vulnerability. At least whatever she’s feeling is honest; at least she can admit she’s sad. You think watching Kaori process her breakup might help you process yours too, years too late, so you suck in a breath and ask, “Can I tell you something or is now not a good time?”

Kaori looks over at you. Dabs a soggy tissue at her eyes. “Well, I guess it depends,” is her answer, and she doesn’t shy away from how waterlogged her voice sounds. “If you’re going to tell me you’re a Takasu and Kawashima shipper, maybe, but if it’s anything worse I’m not sure I could take it.”

“I—what? Who even are they?” She gives you a half-hearted thumbs up. You sigh in response, sink further into the couch. “It’s, uh.” Clear your throat. “Do you remember when we met sophomore year? At that party? And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything and you said, and I quote, why not, I have a sixth sense for this kind of thing and I know that guy will have a huge—”

She hides her face behind her hands. “Ew, god, yes I remember that. My dick whisperer era. How embarrassing.”

“Right. And I told you I wasn’t looking for anything because I’d just gotten out of something.”

“Not really by choice, if I remember correctly. I told you if it was quiet it should’ve been loud, and then you never talked about it again.”

You nod. “I—yeah, that sounds like something I would’ve said.” You suck in a deep breath. “Listen, this is probably gonna sound bad considering I did never talk about it again, but—”

“Hey,” Kaori says, nudging you with her foot. Meant to be comforting, somehow. “It’s okay. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, too… most of which I’m not sure you should, actually.”

A laugh forces its way out, gives you a nice reprieve from the anxiety of the conversation you’re about to have. The need to explain it all, the need for advice. Maybe it’s not her—or anyone else’s—business, but you think you’ve kept this to yourself long enough. You and Seungcheol loved each other, once, and it seems foolish that no one knows.

Maybe Kaori had been right. Maybe love should be shouted from the rooftops; exist out in the open. Maybe something hidden in the shadows can never thrive in the light, and you knew it back then, deep down, but now it seems so obvious.

You think back to a few days before the library. Think about how things didn’t feel good but they felt okay. Think about the frustrated crease between Seungcheol’s eyebrows as he stared down at his textbook and how all you’d wanted to do was smooth it. Think about how you’d rolled your lips and tried not to laugh; how you thought it’d take a miracle to help Seungcheol pass this class.

Think about: What is the difference between the short-run and the long-run from the perspective of production theory?

Think about the short-run of your and Seungcheol’s relationship—that you’d burned bright and fast, even though it’d felt like a million years. Hadn’t dared to consider the long-run because anything beyond that bubble felt impossible.

Think about: Which of the following is not a property of isoquants?

Think about the way Seungcheol’s eyes lit up when he knew the answer. That they’re always linear, he said, and you smiled at his enthusiasm, raised your hand to high-five him and dropped it when he hadn’t noticed.

You think about the explanation—isoquants can be linear when inputs are perfectly substitutable—and what those graphs look like. Downward sloping, left to right. Think about how the graphs change when the isoquants are perfect complements.

L-shaped. Less straight as the inputs become poorer substitutes.

You know what your and Seungcheol’s graph would’ve looked like back then.

So it’s easy, almost, to tell Kaori everything. You tell her about growing up in Daegu, about the smell of the azaleas at Biseulsan in the spring. You tell her about how your parents had befriended the neighbors, how they had a kid your age, that that kid was Seungcheol—yes, that Seungcheol.

She’s able to anticipate the rest from there, but you fill in the blanks of what she can’t: being sixteen and falling in love, holding hands, the clandestine notes. All those football matches and how your throat would be hoarse from cheering. How nauseous you’d felt applying to university in Seoul, how excited you were when Seungcheol said he was coming with you. That, after you arrived, it felt like you were living in fast-forward. Barely any time to breathe or adjust; no time to just be you and Seungcheol. You had to be a student, someone responsible; Seungcheol had to be a phenom.

“Could you feel it was going to happen?” Kaori asks, now sat ramrod straight, all her attention on you. “Like, did you know?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Maybe I did? It’s hard to say now, all this time later. I know things definitely felt different, like life was pulling us in opposite directions.” You laugh, bitterness coloring the edges. “You couldn’t go two blocks without seeing him on some billboard, and I was just… normal, you know? I wasn’t some rising star athlete like he was, I just went to my classes. How was I supposed to compete with something like that?”

Your roommate hums, leans back into the pillows as she stares up at the ceiling. “I don’t think you were. Maybe that’s why Seungcheol was worried—maybe he felt like you were losing your own identity feeling like you had to keep up.”

You want to push back, argue that you weren’t, that you didn’t, but the truth is that it’s possible. That the shadows created by Seungcheol’s dreams were so massive you wouldn’t be surprised if they unintentionally swallowed you up. “It still wasn’t his choice to make,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

And Kaori already knows all about your hurt, listened as you explained it all and laid everything bare. So when she says, “Sometimes that’s just how it goes, though, babe,” it doesn’t feel condescending. “We do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time. You can say now it wasn’t Seungcheol’s choice to make, because it’s been almost five years and you’ve made a life for yourself separate from him. But the—god, this is gonna sound so patronizing, I am so sorry—but you guys were so young. No one has it all figured out at that age.”

She snorts, runs a hand through her messy hair. “Shit, I’m nearly halfway to thirty and I still don’t know anything.” Adopts a frown. “What do you want now? Do you want closure? Want to try to fix things and become friends?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, biting at a hangnail. “He actually, um. The other day when he stopped by my office, he left me a USB drive? And before you ask, no I did not already look at it.”

“A USB drive? Who does this guy think he is, James Bond?” A pause. “Are you gonna look at it, though?”

You do.

Not until the silver, midnight light creeps in through your bedroom curtains and you’ve stared at the ceiling long enough; waited long enough for texts that never came, for divine intervention to, well, intervene. It never did—fair enough—so you decide to take fate by the reins. Grab your laptop, instant headache from the screen, stick the drive into the port.

It takes a second for it to load, but when it does: dozens of videos, organized by date. Vlogs, by the look of them—some from before your breakup but the majority of them from after.

You’re not sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this.

You click on the first one: a month and a half before both of you moved to Seoul. A fresh-faced Seungcheol appears on your screen, cheeks still round with adolescence. He’s in his room back in Daegu, can’t get the camera angle right. Nostalgia hits you like a ton of bricks as it pans to the side, to the wall behind his bed, and you see all his old posters. Mostly football players you couldn’t name, some girl group he used to love, a few movies. Just below them are some of the notes you’d written him in school, and they’re all you can focus on as he talks about how excited he is for the move.

The next: a few weeks after you’d started classes. By then, Seungcheol was well into the swing of things with Seoul FC. Already a big fish in a small pond, tryout offers from European teams starting to roll in. You can hear yourself in the background stressing over your first exam, wishing a generational curse upon your calculus professor. In the video, Seungcheol laughs, whispers like he’s telling the camera a secret as he talks about how nervous he is for his future. I don’t know why, he says, but it just feels like everything is about to change.

There’s a long pause between that one and the next. You understand why when you look at the date: three months after your breakup. Your hands hover uselessly above your keyboard. Whatever answers you’ve been looking for the last few years are probably in this video, but you can’t bring yourself to open it. Not right away, at least.

You click on a different one at random. Seungcheol’s somewhere in Europe, judging from the language on the signs behind him. Snow falls quietly—whenever he filmed this, it must’ve been early. No one else is around, and he cracks a joke that it’s a good thing, people would probably think he was crazy if they saw him. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going but he narrates the entire walk: points out a cafe he’s grown to love. The way to get to his practice stadium from where he’s standing. Pauses near a restaurant and laughs ruefully, shakes his head, says, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but one of my teammates set me up on a blind date here and I got stood up. You’d probably think that was funny.

(You do. It also makes your chest ache.)

One from two years ago: Seungcheol in a hotel room, clearly nervous. He raises his hand to wave at the camera and you can see the corners of his nails bitten raw. Dark circles beneath his eyes; cheekbones more pronounced than you’ve ever seen them. On the screen, Seungcheol sighs, rakes a hand through freshly-bleached hair. Sucks in a deep breath as he says, I’m so nervous. I’m so—so fucking nervous and I don’t. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. I want to call you because you always knew what to say but that’s so fucking selfish. God, we haven’t spoken in years, and it’s my—that’s my fault, I know, so I brought this all on myself. I just want to hear your voice.

Another from a week after that: the color’s returned to his face, and he’s recording from what looks like a penthouse apartment. Sleek, modern; a small white dog napping on the bed beside him. He smiles, looks like he got his teeth fixed, looks like he’s no longer carrying around the weight of the world. Talks endlessly and excitedly about some tournament. Talks so fast you can barely keep up. Talks around words tinged with languages you don’t understand.

Seungcheol wins a championship. Records a drunk vlog from the same night, hair soaked through with god-knows-what—water, champagne, you don’t know. But he looks radiant. Looks like the culmination of two decades of dreaming. He looks happy, free, at peace. He looks like the reason he let you go, why he had to go away.

You scroll to the bottom of the files. Pause at the last video, dated seven months before the term started.

“Hi,” he says, and you can immediately tell everything is all wrong. Seungcheol’s in the dark, face only visible enough to see the tears tracking on his cheeks. “This is going to be the last one of these I make. I don’t know if you, uh—I’m sure you aren’t paying attention to me—my career—anymore, but. I, um. I got hurt. Ruptured my ACL. They’re not sure I’ll…” A sob escapes him. Has you wanting to climb through the screen to hold him, thumb away his tears, tell him everything is going to be okay. “They don’t know if I’ll ever play again.”

Seungcheol no longer looks happy, free, at peace. “Maybe you’ll be happy to hear that,” he continues. “Maybe it’ll help you to know I threw away our relationship for nothing.”

Cut to black.

The sudden silence is deafening. Has you desperately clicking back to the video you’d skipped, the one from just after your breakup. Seungcheol looks the same in that one, too, like the life has been drained out of him.

I don’t know why I’m doing this. It’s not like I’ll ever show these to you now, since I…

I’m sure I owe you an explanation. To be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing, I just—things have been so hard, and I’m still trying to make sense of it all. I feel like my life went from zero to a hundred before I could even blink and now I’m scrambling. I didn’t think it was fair to—to drag you through that. Me being away, moving to an entirely different continent. I have faith we could do it, I just. I don’t know, baby, I don’t…

You deserve to have your own life. Be your own person. I’m so scared that the world will never see you for who you are—so beautiful and intelligent and kind. You don’t deserve to be reduced to my partner. And if you ever see this, I know you’re gonna roll your eyes. Probably call me a mean name because I took the choice away from you, because you think I’m trying to be selfless and heroic, and you’d be right. It’s not fair, and I wish I could tell you I’m sorry.

I wish I could just… pluck out my brain and give it to you, because even if it killed me to do it, at least it makes sense to me. And I don’t—I don’t want you to think I’m not hurting. I’ve been sick to my stomach since I left. I know I’m making a mistake, I know I am, I just—how do I do what I think is right in the long-run when it’s not what I want right now, or ever?

I don’t want to get over you. I don’t want you to get over me, and that’s how you know I’m not acting selflessly, because you should. I want you to always be happy, I just… wish it was with me.

So, I’m going to keep making these. I’m going to take you along for the ride, wherever it takes us, because you should be here but I can only hope you can one day understand why you’re not. I’m so—I’m so sorry, I don’t…

I’m sorry.

I love you.

You fall asleep and dream that you were the one meant to meet him at that restaurant.

The first thing you do is make a call to your mother.

“Could you send another container of yakgwa?”

On the other end of the line, your mother tuts, motherly intuition audibly kicking into overdrive. Is probably wearing that all-knowing, sly grin she always does when you try to be coy and evasive. “What happened to the last container I sent?”

“Ah, you know Kaori loves those. They barely lasted an hour after I told her what was in there.”

She hums an acknowledgement. Sounds like she takes a sip of tea. “I remember someone else being quite fond of those cookies, too.”

“Well, they are the most popular cookies in the country, so.”

After haranguing you into admitting they’re for Seungcheol and not your roommate, your mother promises to send them quickly. A few days at most, which buys you enough time to figure out how you’re going to approach the man in question.

The vlogs have turned your entire world upside-down. Answered questions you hadn’t even known you had. Took all that anger and resentment you’d been holding onto and set it free, and now you’re just left with… a void. Want to mend things, and it makes you wonder if such a thing is even possible, if it’s too late, but you don’t let those thoughts get very far.

Instead, you let them spur you into action. Have you sitting in front of your laptop at your desk, office hours long since over, silence creeping in the more the department empties. The thrum of the airconditioning and the tick-tick-tick of the clock are all the only company you have.

You worry if it’ll show on camera, how out of sorts you feel: sweating from the nerves, dabbing at your hairline; cheeks warm to the touch. But you suck in a breath anyway, steel yourself. Look at your webcam and the daunting red circle…

And start recording.

He hadn’t gotten it at first. Not really.

There’d been a container of yakgwa outside his door with his USB drive taped to the top of it. No note—not that he needed one to know who it was from, but he wasn’t sure what it was. A goodbye? A please fuck off forever and never contact me again?

He’d just taken them inside. Ate too many of the cookies while feeling sorry for himself. Maybe had a glass or two of wine to compound the issue, and never, ever considered contacting you. Didn’t think he could bear it if you never wanted to see him again, but he just…

Well, he was drunk and alone and he missed you, and he’d rewatched all those videos he recorded a million times before when he was like this, so what was a million and one?

It’d been the same as every time before: he smiled at the happy parts, cried at all his old wounds. Wanted to reach through the screen and strangle his past self for including that part about the blind date, because he never wanted to date anyone who wasn’t you, why would he say that, felt mortified at the thought of you watching that—

And then there it was.

All the way at the bottom. A new video. One that hadn’t been recorded by him—

Hi, Cheol, you say, and that’s all it takes to reduce him to a sobbing, yearning mess. I’m not sure what to say here. I don’t really record much—sometimes for lectures when the professors are too busy, but never anything personal like this, but I watched every single one you made for me and I thought I should return the favor.

I wanted to tell you everything I’ve been up to since you left, but it hasn’t been much. I got my degree. Tutored a lot in undergrad—the same thing I’m tutoring you in now, actually. I was good at it and it felt good to have something that was mine, you know? I almost moved for grad school. Thought for a while I was going to wind up in New York, but then my parents divorced and it felt like too much, too scary, so I stayed. Kaori also stayed, so we got an apartment together. It’s not much, definitely not as nice as your place, but it’s good enough.

I don’t think I ever told you, but she was seeing a guy for a bit and he was… obsessed with you, to say the least. Thought you were the coolest person in the world. They aren’t seeing each other anymore. Ended pretty badly, but—speaking of which, maybe steer clear of Student Services for a while, too.

Sometimes it felt like failure that I wound up staying here. That I had scholarships from all these far-away, prestigious places and didn’t take advantage of them. That I gave into my fear. And now… I don’t know. Maybe there’s a reason I stayed behind. Maybe there’s a reason you ended up back here, too.

Whatever happens—I don’t want you to think I still blame you. Kaori says we do the best we can with what we’ve got at the time, and I understand now that’s what you did. Even though it hurt me, you were trying to protect me. I get it now. And I’m sorry you had to go through all of that alone. I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been to go to all these places you didn’t know. To have to deal with your injury, the loss of a dream.

You said in one of your videos that you just want me to be happy, and that’s all I want for you, too, whatever that looks like.

Here’s my address if you ever want to come by to talk.

I love you, too.

—and then he’d been up and out the door, feeling stone cold sober, running to the front of his building to wait for his ride.

Felt like the drive took hours. Must’ve hit every red light between his apartment and yours. Took the steps two at a time just to get to your door faster.

There’s a man already standing outside your door when he gets there. One that looks shocked to see him, stars in his eyes, and when Seungcheol says, “Oh, you must be Kaori’s ex,” he looks more like he wants the earth to swallow him whole. Embarrassed in front of his idol.

He knocks on your door and gets no response. Knocks again, harder this time, and he has to try really hard to stifle his laughter when your voice yells from the inside, “Fuck off, Kenji, I already told you she’s not here!”

“It’s me,” Seungcheol yells back.

There’s quiet again. Just enough time for it to feel like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest and follow Kaori’s ex down the hall.

Then you’re yanking the door open—slowly, so slowly, like you’re scared it’s not actually him. Your eyes are brimming with tears when they meet his own, and he doesn’t let himself think, just goes on instinct, when he grabs for you, hands on your cheeks, and presses his lips to yours.

Somehow you taste the same.

Somehow you taste like redemption.

You taste like home.

Seungcheol kisses you until the tears slow. Kisses you until the universe realigns, until he could map your mouth in the dark. Kisses you until all you’re all he knows again.

When he pulls away, you’re gripping at his sweatshirt, don’t want to let him go. He presses his forehead to yours, offers up a million more apologies, starts talking nonsense. Says he’s going to drop microeconomics, what the hell does he know, he barely has a passing grade anyway, what does it matter, he’s such an idiot—

And then you say, “You came back,” and nothing else matters.

“I always will.”

(Later on, as you’re trying to steady your breathing, slick with sweat, your thigh thrown over Seungcheol’s hip as he stares down at you, dopey smile on his face, you say, “Choi Seungcheol, don’t you dare drop that class. I have worked my ass off to get you to barely-passing.”)

if you’ve made it this far thank you so much for reading! i am still very new at writing for seventeen, so i hope this was acceptable. i'm now going to throw myself into the warped tour vernon fic and will hopefully not go another 7+ months without posting anything. 😭

i would love to hear your thoughts! <3

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt.2

[Pt.1] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.9] [Pt.10]

Danny dragged up another plastic wrapped body from the bay.

“It’s you. What are you doing?”

“Oh, holy smokes!” Danny screeched. “What-! Oh, it’s you! The litterer!”

Batman stood in front of Danny, cape draped around his shoulders and a far better sight to see than the last time Danny had seen the guy.

“… I’m Batman.” He introduced himself to Danny awkwardly.

“Uh huh. You missed a couple of things cleaning up the beach last time.” Danny dropped the body on the pebbled shore of the bay and crossed his arms. He sent Batman an unimpressed look. “You’re just like your city. There’s trash all over the water!”

Batman glanced down.

“That is a body.”

Danny scowled.

“No, that’s plastic. Plastic does not belong in the ocean.”

Batman sighed. For some reason, Danny thought he seemed less… antagonistic. Wait, did he think Danny killed the guy?!

“That is a body wrapped in plastic.”

Fuck it.

“If it was a body, then bury it. Or decompose it before you people decide to dump it into the water. Even the sharks have the decency to decompose when they’re dead. Do you know how long plastic takes to deteriorate??”

Batman glanced to the side, where the line of plastic wrapped masses had caught his eye to begin with.

“I do. Did all of these come from the bay?”

“Quite obviously, yes. I don’t have enough time to clean the waters! Ancients, it’s like they’re multiplying!” Danny knew why they were multiplying. It’s because Gothamites were getting murdered and dumped weekly. The problem is that Danny has classes and assignments to complete and he couldn’t be out here every week.

“I’ll handle it.”

“Oh, will you? And how do you plan on doing that when you couldn’t even properly clean the beach of your plane? I even stacked it up nicely for you to pick up!”

Alright, so maybe Danny had a couple of grudges. Like… a solid one that’s based on the hours of sleep he missed cleaning up after Batman and the wreck.

“We didn’t get everything?”

“No.” Danny huffed. “Whatever. Just figure out what to do with these bodies. I was not looking forward to digging graves for all of them.”

“You were going to dig graves for them?” Batman sounded off.

Danny scowled again. “I’m dead, genius.” And now Batman looked like someone ran over his dog. “Respecting the dead is important and graves are important for the dead. How else would we know we’re remembered?”

Danny threw up his hands. “Humans,” he muttered, like he wasn’t half human himself.

“Anyways, I’m leaving. Handle this properly or else I’m haunting you.”

“Wait-!” Batman said, but Danny had already disappeared.

So, while Batman had an angst crises at two thirty in the morning and thirty new unidentified corpses to contend with, Danny Fenton flew back to his apartment and passed out on his shitty couch.

——

“You need to stop.”

“Pay me to stop, then. What are your villains going to do? Kill me? I’d like to see them try.”

Danny looked Batman right in his lenses and plopped another body down at the man’s feet.

“I can tell you who they are for a fee.” Danny offered the vigilante. “Some of these still have shades of their souls attached still.”

“What.”

Danny tilted his head, moon once more lighting a halo of flickering white flames around his head. “$100 per identity.”

Batman stared.

[cosmosluckycharms]

Bug Like Angel

He gets me so high

ty to that one anon who gave me the idea for this

tecnically this takes place between parts 4 and 5

so i guess this would be part 4.5?

anon ily for givijg me this idea

kind of a short chapter lol

You got into an argument earlier.

It wasn't over anything serious, you don't even remember what it was about.

All you remember is Damian telling you you weren't worthy of being part of his father's bloodline.

That stung a little.

You tried defending yourself and telling the others in hopes of others taking your side.

Only for everyone to take his.

"He's had a hard life," Dick said to you, still looking at Damian.

"So have I!" went unsaid, as you put your head down and looked at the floor.

It isn't fair!

It isn't fair how he walked away Scott free smirking as if he won!

It isn't fair how you were the only one scolded by Alfred and Bruce for arguing!

It isn't fair how you ran to your room to cry!

It isn't fair how you had no one on your side!

You needed someone on your side.

After a while of sobbing on your pillow (which was now wet), you felt your phone buzz and your ringtone go off. You were getting a call from Hobie.

It wasn't rare for him to call you, all of the spider-kids call each other at random times of the day to just talk about whatever.

One time you called them all at 3 am because you thought of a dumb invention that 'could change lives', only for Gwen to tell you it already existed, and didn't change lives.

One time, Miles called you to tell you he got 100 on his physics test.

One time, Hobie called you because he didn't know how long he should cook something in the microwave.

One time, Peni called you to tell you how she accidentally bought 3 copies of the same book. Again.

One time, Gwen called you at 1 am to ask if you could dye her hair again since her hair dye was fading again.

One time, Pavitr called you to ask which Valentine's gift he should give Gayatri since he was stuck between two options. He ended up choosing both gifts for her.

It was normal for everyone to call anyone for any reason.

You tried to wipe your tears and clear your voice so you could pretend you were fine, and you picked up the phone to talk to him.

As soon as you picked up, he started rambling about how his day went.

You didn't mind calling him, it took your mind off things.

Hobie felt something was off. Sure, you were listening to him intently, but you usually had your camera on and played with stupid filters while he talked. You didn't have your camera on like usual.

He decided to not bring it up and just let you tell him when you were ready.

"Anywho, I bought around 54 boxes of Girl Scout cookies-" Hobie said, while holding up a box of Thin Mints to the camera

"why did you buy 54??" you said in disbelief, your voice slightly cracking, which you cringed at.

"Don't worry about it." you laughed a little at that.

"Keep your window open, I'm on my way." you saw him start walking on camera

"Why?" you asked

"Get ready, we're going out," he said while grabbing 5 boxes of the Girl Scout cookies.

He hung up before explaining anything.

You got up from your bed and decided to fix yourself up a bit before he came over.

You redid your makeup because it smeared while you were crying.

After 5 minutes, you heard a knock on your window.

You went to see what it was, and Hobie was knocking at your window looking a little stupid.

You unlocked it and opened the window.

"I thought you were gonna unlock it?" Hobie said already looking around your room and making himself at home.

He and the others have come over a lot, it's somewhat surprising that none of your family noticed.

"I forgot!" you said while shrugging your shoulders. It wasn't a lie, you did forget.

"You're always forgetting, never remembering," Hobie said, lying on your comfy bed.

"Okay so I forget a couple of times and suddenly I'm always forgetful, I dye Gwen's hair and cut my own, does that make me a barber?" you said, dramatically before flopping onto your bed next to Hobie.

"So, what's got you all miffed?" he asked while playing around with a plushie that was on your bed.

"What do you mean?" you sat up to look at him in confusion.

"Miffed: somewhat annoyed; peeved," Hobie explained.

"No, not about what miffed means, I know what that means, but what do you mean?" you asked, tilting your head slightly.

"I mean, you look pissed, what happened?" he asked, while playing around with a volleyball he got from who knows where.

You started fidgeting with your hands. "Well, me and Damian got into an argument earlier. I don't even remember what it was about. He said I wasn't worthy of Bruce's blood. Which honestly did hurt a little. What really pissed me off was how no one took my side. How no one defended me. How no one checked up on me after I ran to my room and cried." A tear ran down your cheek. You couldn't tell if it was from anger or sadness.

Hobie sat up and cleared the tear away from your cheek. "C'mon Tinkerbell, let's get outta here," He said, while getting up and stretching.

"And go where?" you got up as well.

"Anywhere. It's clear everyone here is bonkers." He started walking towards your window.

"Okay, just gimmie a sec!" You ran to grab your wallet and phone and followed him out the window.

You were now atop the bat signal, next to Hobie.

After raiding a gas station for its snacks (which you knew Alfred would never approve of) you guys were just sitting down in silence.

It was pretty nice, you were leaning on Hobie as he lit up what you thought was a cigarette.

Turns out it wasn't. You realized as soon as the smell of weed hit you.

You watched as he passed you the blunt, "Want a hit?"

You hesitated for a moment. What would your family think about this?

Hobie saw you hesitating, and not wanting to make you uncomfortable said "Don't do it if you don't want to."

You decided to do it.

Fuck what your family thinks about this.

Fuck your family. Fuck them all. Fuck Damian, fuck Dick, fuck Jason, fuck Bruce, and fuck Alfred.

They didn't care, they didn't defend you, they don't notice you, why would they notice or care about this?

They were probably dressed in their stupid spandex costumes beating people up.

A long time ago you longed and begged to be one of them.

What is the worst that can happen anyway?

"pass me it."

Hobie then taught you how to do it. It was a bit scary for you, you haven't ever smoked or done weed or anything before.

You took a hit and immediately started coughing.

"You alright there, luv?" You gave him a thumbs up before taking a couple more hits and getting a hang of it.

You guys started devouring the snacks and telling dumb stories.

You fell off due to jumping to the light from the batsignal suddenly turning on and scaring you. You laughed when Hobie had to pick you up from the rooftop.

You could stay like this forever, just you and your big brother.

hi guys heres some fluff and angst

i feel like since writing these silly little stories my writing has gotten a tiny bit better

im not sure tho

anyways anon ty again i loved writing this

taglist(please lmk if i forgot you!):@bath1lda @mariadvorak @coralaura @tsxukikami @hjgdhghoe @coffeeaddictxd @cxcilla @kaitense1 @star-girl-interlud3 @sukaretto-n @welpthisisboring @itsberrydreemurstuff @lovebug-apple @crazycaoticsimp @bellethesleepypotato @blackhood1229 @jsprien213

[harrysfolklore]

Hi babes how are you?? can you write something with jade thirlwall as your face claim please? Thanks❤❤

the great escape - cl16

summary: the final race of the f1 calendar and yn's final show of her world tour are happening the same day. will charles make it on time?

folkie radio: I CAN'T BELIEVE THE SEASON IS OVER. WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO UNTIL MARCH??? anyway, this is 100% inspired by the final race and the final eras tour show happening during the same day and i hope you like it!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by charles_leclerc, arianagrande and 2,820,604 others

yourinstagram seattle you were UNREAL tonight! the energy was everything and more! this lifetimes world tour has been the journey of my dreams 🌟 thank you for making every single show so special!

view all comments

username1 BEST GIRL EVER

username2 THE SHOW WAS AMAZING

charles_leclerc You were incredible mon amour ❤️ The way you light up that stage... Proud doesn't even begin to cover it

↳ username1 CHARLIEEE

↳ username2 he’s such a simp

↳ username3 i need my man to hype me up like this

lewishamilton Killed it as always 🔥

username4 THE WAY CHARLES ALWAYS COMMENTS FIRST ON HER POSTS I CAN'T 😭

username5 anyone else notice he's been liking her posts exactly 1 minute after they're uploaded? 👀

username6 missing the days when they tried to hide their relationship now they're just being cute everywhere

username7 TOUR OF THE DECADE

bellahadid mother 😍😍

username8 SOMEONE TELL ME HOW TO PROCESS THE "mon amour" COMMENT

username9 charles watching from Monaco at 4am again we see

username10 I CANT BELIEVE THIS TOUR IS COMING TO AN END

liked by maxverstappen1, yourinstagram and 1,765,499 others

charles_leclerc A Sunday I’ll forever remember 🇮🇹❤️

view all comments

username1 FORZAAAA CHARLES

username2 and that's how you do it

arthur_leclerc ❤️

username3 THE KING OF MONZA FOREVER

username4 SO DESERVED

username5 uughh sucks that yn couldn't be there

landonorris Well done mate!

username6 just missing his girl i'm crying

username7 did anyone else catch him grabbing his phone as soon as he stepped off the podium? probably calling yn

username8 THE CHAMPIONSHIP IS POSSIBLE

yourinstagram YES YES YES ! so proud of you babyyyy 🥺

username9 someone reunite yn and charles asap i can't do this

username10 THAT WINNER GLOW

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by username1, username2 and 41,927 others

f1gossip CHARLES LECLERC SPOTTED IN NASHVILLE!

Man really flew straight from Austin → Mexico→ Brazil and then to Nashville all in 15 days just to see YN perform! Talk about a supportive boyfriend

view all comments

username1 I LOVE HIM SM

username2 Bro finished P3 in Mexico, P1 in Austin and instead of resting he's here... that's love

username3 ferrari's physio is having a breakdown watching this

username4 the way he's been to 13 shows this tour despite racing... abu dhabi to vegas doesn't seem impossible anymore 👀

username5 he really said "sleep is for the weak"

username6 HES SO IN LOVE

username7 using his days off to fly across the world to see her... meanwhile I can't get a text back

username8 such a fanboy

username9 they need to get married idc

username10 im going to be devastated if he doesn’t make it to the final show

liked by username1, username2 and 39,605 others

ynupdates "So, um, funny story about this next song... I wrote it after watching someone very special to me race in Monaco last year. He crashed his Ferrari, which was absolutely terrifying by the way. But afterward, he just looked at me and said 'At least I looked cool doing it, no?' And somehow that turned into 'Reckless Driving'... which, Charles, I know you're back there trying to hide under your hoodie, but you're still not forgiven for that crash." -YN in Nashville tonight

view all comments

username1 his face was SO RED

username2 ot Charles trying to sink into his seat when she mentioned Monaco 💀

username3 I LOVE ONE COUPLE

username4 the way he still gets shy every time she mentions him on stage even though they've been together for 2 years 🥺

username5 charles collecting tour moments like infinity stones... Abu Dhabi to Vegas IS happening guys

username6 "you're still not forgiven" MA'AM YOU WROTE A WHOLE SONG ABOUT IT

username7 THE WAY PIERRE WAS JUST POINTING AND LAUGHING AT HIM

username8 he's been to so many shows and still blushes every time she mentions him I can't 😭

username9 the fact that one of her biggest hits came from him crashing a Ferrari... iconic

username10 I LOVE THEM SOOO BAD

liked by yourinstagram, lewishamilton and 2,033,765 others

charles_leclerc Ready for the final push. Been an incredible season so far... but the best moments have been watching you shine @/yourinstagram❤️

view all comments

username1 CHARLIEEEE

username2 this is so cute

yourinstagram the best cheerleader in the paddock ❤️ (even when you're half asleep from jet lag)

↳ username1 AWEEEE

↳ username2 i love them so bad

carlossainz55 Focus on the championship... then we plan the great escape 🏃‍♂️

↳ username1 THE FACT THAT THEY’RE ALREADY PLANNING

username3 THE TENSION IS KILLING US WILL HE MAKE IT TO THE FINAL SHOW OR NOT

scuderiaferrari Eyes on the prize🏆

username4 anyone else tracking flights from abu dhabi to vegas just in case? no? just me?

username5 man's about to break the sound barrier trying to get to that show

landonorris Better start practicing those quick pit stop exits mate

username6 not me already emotional thinking about if he makes it 😭

username7 the way he hasn't confirmed or denied if he's going to make it... the STRESS

username8 time zones are just a social construct anyway

username9 I LOVE ONE FAIRYTALE COUPLE

username10 this duo is the best thing that happened

liked by charles_leclerc, dualipa and 2,509,578 others

yourinstagram 161 shows. 89 cities and somehow it still feels like yesterday when we opened in tokyo. to every single person who's been part of this lifetimes world journey - my heart is so full. these last few shows are going to be extra special ✨🌟

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username1 IM CRYING

username2 IF WE COULD ONLY TURN BACK TIME

charles_leclerc Still remember when you were so nervous before that first show in Tokyo... now look at you. La mia stella ⭐️

↳ yourinstagram i love you

taylorswift The most magical tour! So proud of you 🥺✨

pierregalsy @/charles_leclerc remember when you made us watch the Tokyo livestream in the simulator room? 😂

username3 NOT ME CRYING AT 3AM READING THIS

username4 LIFETIMES TOUR FOREVER 🌟

username5 still can't believe she changed her entire tour schedule to avoid clashing with race weekends... except the last show 😭

scuderiaferrari Looking forward to getting our garage singer back after tour ends

username6 the most supportive F1 boyfriend despite the insane schedules... we love to see it

username7 TOUR OF THE DECADE

sabrinacarpenter most perfect girl ever 💘

username8 that last show is going to make us all weep

username9 I CANT BELIEVE I WAS PART OF THIS

username10 if charles doesn’t make it to her last show istg

liked by username1, username2 and 43,758 others

f1gossip SPOTTED: YN in the Vegas paddock supporting Charles before tonight's race! Sources say she's been here since Thursday's practice sessions 👀

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username1 POWER COUPLE

username2 they’re so hot

username3 she's been to every practice session... meanwhile charles calculating flight times to her final show 👀

username4 ferrari PR trying to handle both of them being extra cute in the paddock 😂

username5 THE WAY SHE FIXES HIS HELMET BEFORE EVERY SESSION 🥺

username6 taking a break from tour rehearsals to support her man... we love to see it

username7 the way she knows all the Ferrari crew by name now 🥺

username8 both of their face cards create a face economy

username9 IT COUPLE FOREVER

username10 i love yn at the paddock

liked by username1, username2 and 42,038 others

charlesupdates “I mean... if I have to sprint from the car in Abu Dhabi still in my race suit, that's what I'll do. Some things are more important than post-race protocols, no? Fred might kill me but... I've watched her grow so much during this tour, and I'm not missing that final show. I'll figure it out.” -Charles about the final race taking place the same day of his girlfriend’s final show!

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username1 AHHHH

username2 this is so cute

username3 translation: I already have 3 different backup plans and a private jet on standby

username4 THE WAY HE JUST OPENLY ADMITTED HE'S PLANNING TO DITCH POST-RACE 😭

username5 "Some things are more important than post-race protocols" STOP IM CRYING

username6 Charles "I'll break every FIA rule for my girl" Leclerc

username7 man's really about to set a new record for fastest post-race exit

username8 remember when they tried to be subtle about their relationship? now he's planning a great escape on live tv😭

username9 YUP IM CRYING OVER THIS

username10 best couple ever fr

liked by charles_leclerc, arianagrande and 2,879,044 others

yourinstagram vegas race weekend dump 🏎️❤️ from trying (and failing) to understand strategy meetings to @/pierregasly teaching me proper radio etiquette... might have to come to more races if the view is this good 😌 now off to the final shows ! see you tomorrow night philly 🌟

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username1 ICONICCCC

username2 queen of the paddock actually

scuderiaferrari Our favorite honorary team member ❤️

username3 we need her at every race actually

username4 from selling out arenas to falling asleep in F1 strategy meetings... we love a versatile queen

username5 the way the whole team has adopted her though 😭

adele Gorgeous ✨✨

carlossainz55 Those strategy ideas weren't bad actually... 🤔

username6 living for boyfriend charles content

username7 pierre and yn’s friendship tho

francisca.cgomes miss youuuu🤍

username8 NOW CHARLES NEEDS TO MAKE IT TO HER FINAL SHOW

username9 i’ve died dead

charles_leclerc Love you mon amour ❤️

username10

username11 "might have to come to more races" PLEASE DO 😭

username12 that helmet pic is giving "take your girlfriend to work day" energy

username13 he fact that she changed her final show time to match the potential race end time... we see you 👀

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by charles_leclerc, yourinstagram and 1,027,847 others

pierregasly Practicing the escape route for Abu Dhabi -> Vegas next week. Current time to beat: plane to venue in 2 hours 37 minutes.

The things my boy does for love @/charles_leclerc 🏃‍♂️✈️

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username1 I CANT DO THISSSS

username2 bffs i love them

charles_leclerc You're the best getaway driver a man could ask for 🫡

yourinstagram not you two literally timing his sprints through the plane... i can't with you both 😭❤️

username3 THE WAY THEY'RE PLANNING THIS LIKE AN OCEAN'S 11 HEIST

lewishamilton Helicopter already fueled up boys

username4 pierre really said "professional racer AND escape route planner"

username5 this friendship>>>

username6 bestie behavior is planning your friend's cross-continental love sprint

landonorris you both are mental 😂😂

username7 pierre "i will get this man to his girl" gasly strikes again

scuderiaferrari Preparing the great escape as we speak

username8 friendship is when your bro times your airport sprints

username9 pierre taking "wing man" to new heights fr fr

username10 THIS IS REALLY SERIOUS

francisca.cgomes Partners in crime 😭

username11 I NEED THIS IN MY LIFE

username12 long live piarles

liked by yourinstagram, carlossainz55 and 2,038,368 others

charles_leclerc One more race. Then Vegas calling 👀✈️

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username1 IM SEATED

username2 i can’t believe this season is coming to an end

pierregasly Your bag is already in Vegas btw. Yes I packed the good cologne 😌

↳ username1 pierre is the best wingman ever

carlossainz55 My media training about to come in clutch tomorrow covering for you 🏃‍♂️

↳ username2 the way the entire paddock is just helping out

maxverstappen1 Plane's fueled up mate. Just say when

username3 OPERATION GET CHARLES TO VEGAS IS A GO!!!!11!!

username4 NOT ME TRACKING 27 DIFFERENT FLIGHTS FROM ABU DHABI TO VEGAS RN 😭😭

username5 the way this man bout to break the land speed record getting to that airport HELP

username6 HE BETTER MAKE IT OR WE RIOTING FR FR

username7 the whole paddock helping him escape is giving romance movie of the year idc idc

username8 NOT NOW GUYS IM CALCULATING TIME ZONES AND FLIGHT PATHS 📝😤

username9 the way he planned his whole race weekend around making this show... boyfriend of the year???

username10 imagine being so whipped you plan an intercontinental sprint... we love to see it 😭

yourinstagram break a leg baby ❤️ (but like... not literally bc you need to run fast tomorrow)

liked by charles_leclerc, madisonbeer and 3,674,033 others

yourinstagram 24 hours until the final lifetimes show. still can't believe we're here. to everyone who's been part of this journey - my heart is so full it might burst. vegas, let's make this one special ✨

(yes i'm wearing his jacket for good luck don't @ me)

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username1 I CANT BELIEVE ITS OVER

username2 man im going to cry

username3 NOT ME TRACKING EVERY PRIVATE JET FROM ABU DHABI RN 😭😭

charles_leclerc that jacket's never looked better mon coeur. see you soon 🏃‍♂️✈️

↳ username1 SOMEONE CHECK IF HIS RACE IS DONE YET PLS

username4 THE WAY WE'RE ALL WATCHING F1, SHOW LIVESTREAM AND REFRESHING FLIGHT RADAR AT THE SAME TIME

carlossainz55 Don't worry i'll handle the press so he can SPRINT

↳ username2 SHES SO LOVED

dualipa PROUD OF YOU ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

troyesivan tour of the century

username5 half of us watching the race, half tracking flights, half crying about the tour ending... math who???

mercedesamgf1 Our helicopter offer still stands @/charles_leclerc just saying

username6 NOT THE WHOLE F1 PADDOCK HELPING THIS MAN MAKE IT IN TIME... netflix been real quiet since this dropped fr

username7 IM SO PROUF OF HERRRR

username8 planning my own wedding but somehow more invested in this man making it to vegas help 💀

username9 NO YN DONT GOOO

username10 this show is going to be legendary

liked by username1, username2 and 59,726 others

f1updates BREAKING: OPERATION GET CHARLES TO VEGAS IS GO! 🏃‍♂️✈️

- Race finished 9:47pm Abu Dhabi time

- Fastest cooldown lap in F1 history

- Shortest post-race interview ever ("Yes car good thanks bye")

- Carlos creating chaos as distraction

- Pierre with the getaway bag

- Entire grid covering for him

- Multiple transport options ready

YN's show starts in 11 hours. IT'S HAPPENING.

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username1 everyone say thank you ferrari mechanics for that 0.5 second car shutdown

username2 never seen this man move so fast in his LIFE

username3 "how was the race carlos?" "LOOK OVER THERE A DISTRACTION"

username4 THE WAY HE YEETED HIMSELF OUT THAT CAR HELP 💀

username5 charles really said post race protocol who??? don't know her???

username6 never seen someone get out of race suit that fast tbh

username7 someone tell sky sports to stop looking for him he's GONE gone

username8 OPERATION YEET CHARLES TO VEGAS STATUS: ENGAGED

username9 charles doing his interview WHILE WALKING is sending me

username10 the whole paddock moving like secret service agents i can't 💀

username11 live footage of charles breaking land speed records to the airport

username12 netflix punching air rn that they missed filming this

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by username1, username2 and 67,864 others

f1updates🚨CHARLES LECLERC HAS ENTERED THE BUILDING 🚨

CONFIRMED DETAILS:

- Arrived during 6th song

- Still in race weekend stubble

- Pierre waiting with water bottle

- Security running interference

- Straight from plane to venue

- VIP entrance at 10:47pm

WE REPEAT: MISSION ACCOMPLISHED 🏃‍♂️✈️

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username1 IM CRYING

username2 I CANT BELIEVE HE MADE IT

username3 THE WAY THE WHOLE ARENA JUST GASPED???

username4 not me crying in section 103 watching him sprint to his seat 😭

username5 charles 🤝 cinderella = racing against midnight

username6 THE WAY YN STUMBLED OVER HER LYRICS WHEN SHE SAW HIM BYE-

username7 everyone who helped track his flight, we did it joe 😭

username8 security guard: sir you need to wal-

charles: I JUST FLEW 8000 MILES LET ME RUN

username9 yn’s smile when she saw him... brb sobbing

username10 THE WAY HE JUST COLLAPSED IN THAT SEAT LIKE HE RAN A MARATHON

username11 him mouthing "i made it" to her... i'm going to pass away

username12 section 201 reporting: his hair is still sweaty from racing and he's BEAMING at her like she hung the stars i'm literally deceased

username13 the way she kept giggling during the ballad bc he was still panting from running... HELP THIS IS SO CUTE???

username14 pierre handing him water and fixing his collar while yn's trying not to cry on stage... the CHAOS of it all

username15 THE WAY HE HASNT STOPPED SMILING AT HER SINCE HE SAT DOWN... boy ran across the world just to see her shine 🥺

username16 not the backup dancers crying bc he made it... WE'RE ALL EMOTIONAL OK

username17 THE WAY SHE KEEPS GETTING DISTRACTED BC HE'S FINALLY THERE... girl same i can't focus either

username18 everyone in the arena watching him catch his breath in that seat like we all just completed a mission together... WE DID IT YALL 😭

liked by username1, username2 and 59,068 others

yntourupdates TRANSCRIPT OF YN TALKING ABOUT CHARLES (while trying not to cry):

"So um... *laughs* someone just flew literally across the world to be here... *wipes tear* ran straight from his race... didn't even change... *crowd screams* ...and made it just in time for this next song. Which is funny because... I actually wrote this one about someone who would cross oceans just to make me smile... *voice breaks* ...and well... *looks at charles* ...guess I manifested that huh?"

SOMEONE HOLD ME 😭

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username1 THE WAY HE JUST BURIED HIS FACE IN HIS HANDS WHEN SHE SAID THAT-

username2 NOT THE ENTIRE ARENA TURNING TO LOOK AT HIM SOBBING IN THE FRONT ROW

username3 she really said "wrote a song about someone crossing oceans for me" and he said BET WATCH ME DO IT IRL

username4 section 304 reporting: grown men crying. me crying. everyone crying.

username5 HE LOOKS SO PROUD BUT ALSO EMOTIONAL BUT ALSO EXHAUSTED BUT ALSO SO IN LOVE HELP???

username6 NOT HER VOICE CRACKING WHEN SHE LOOKED AT HIM... netflix been real quiet since this dropped fr

username7 someone tell charles to stop looking at her like that i'm fighting for my life in row 23 😭

username8 the backup dancers wiping their eyes while doing choreo... we're all emotional messes tonight

username9 she really manifested a whole man flying across continents... her power??????

username10 yn crying, charles crying, dancers crying, crowd crying, me crying, everyone crying

username10 THE WAY HE MOUTHED "I LOVE YOU" WHEN SHE STARTED CRYING... I'm going to need medical attention

liked by carlossainz55, yourinstagram and 3,022,836 others

charles_leclerc Made it with 4 songs to spare. Thank you to:

- Every F1 driver who covered for me

- Pierre for the getaway bag

- Carlos for the media chaos

- Lewis for the helicopter

- Air traffic control

- That uber driver who broke speed limits

- Security who let me run

- Vegas traffic for finally clearing

Worth every second of that sprint 🏃‍♂️❤️ I love you more than anything @/yourinstagram

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username1 SOBBING

username2 I STILL CANT BELIEVE THIS REALLY HAPPENED

username3 doing post race interviews WHILE WALKING was iconic behavior

yourinstagram still can't believe you ran through vegas in race stubble just to see me cry on stage 🥺❤️ love you beyond words

pierregasly Anytime, brother, anytime

username4 you fixing your hair in your phone camera before sitting down... we saw that 👀

username5 ABU DHABI TO VEGAS SPEEDRUN ANY% WORLD RECORD

lorenzotl 🤍🤍

scuderiaferarri Next time we’ll have TWO helicopters ready

username6 this will go down as one of the most iconic moments in pop culture idc

username7 IT COUPLE FOREVER

username8 this entire thing is straight out of a romcom plot i can't

username9 IM CRYING AGAIN

username10 the great escape, 2024

liked by chappelroan, charles_leclerc and 3,099,578 others

yourinstagram and just like that, the lifetimes tour is over. 189 shows, countless memories, and one very special last night. to everyone who made this journey possible - my heart is yours forever.

special thank you to @/charles_leclerc who really said "watch me turn an f1 race to concert speedrun into a romantic gesture" 😭❤️ setting records on and off track baby, i love you so much

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username1 AND BACK TO CRYINGGG

username2 i can't believe this tour is over

charles_leclerc Still worth every mile mon coeur ❤️ I'm yours forever

username3 this man really turned "if he wanted to he would" into an olympic sport

pierregasly This was amazing. Let's not do it again

carlossainz55 Bext time we'll arrange TWO getaway cars

sabrinacarpenter happy for you my girl 💕

username4 from writing songs about crossing oceans to him actually doing it... manifestation is real

username5 "setting records on and off track" GIRL WE SAW HIM SPRINTING 😭

username6 the greatest love story since romeo and juliet except with private jets

username7 SOMEONE CHECK ON ME

username8 THAT LAST PHOTO BYE-

scuderiaferrari Our transport team is already planning routes for next year 😉

username9 AND I CAN'T EVEN GET A TEXT BACK

username10 this is the standard

[fromdove]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⁞ 𝓓ICK 𝓖RAYSON ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝓦HEN 𝓗E'S 𝓘N 𝓛OVE 𝓗EADCANONS !

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨୧

— dick grayson when he's in love hcs ᵎᵎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

— dick grayson x fem!reader ᵎᵎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

— count how many times I said "like"..... ⊹ ࣪ ˖

© fromdove— All rights reserved. Reposting, translation, or modification of these works is strictly prohibited, regardless of whether credit is given.

∿　 　 . `💭` ㆍ

⤷ he teases you a lot. like. annoying. if you mispronounce a word one (1) time you will never hear the end of it. he’ll bring it up three weeks later like “remember when you said ‘sherbert’ instead of ‘sherbet’ lol dumbass” and you’re like i know where you sleep

⤷ he likes watching you do mundane things. like tying your shoes. or flipping pages. or brushing your teeth. “you always do that little pause before you spit. it’s cute.” <- what are you even supposed to do with that.

⤷ will Not. let you walk on the curb side of the street. ever. like you’ll try and he’ll do that quiet sidestep-switch like no. no. i’m the buffer between you and the world. get behind me baby i’m trained in 47 types of combat

⤷ you sneeze once. ONCE. uno. one. 1 !!!! time. and suddenly he’s Googling “early signs of pneumonia” and wrapping you in three blankets like you’re in an igloo.

⤷ he’s not subtle. not even a little. he’s grinning all the time. like you’re his little secret. except you’re not. because everyone knows. because he talks about you constantly and doesn’t realise it. like someone asks “what do you think of this sandwich place?” and he’s like “oh my partner hates pickles” and you’re like. ok???? who asked???????

⤷ texts like. really badly. "on my way" / "u good?" / "?" / “home safe?” / “did you eat?” / “also here’s a stray cat i found near the precinct it made me think of you bc it was mean but cute”. no punctuation. and then sends you a 3-paragraph message about a book from the 70s that reminded him of you.

⤷ one time you got a papercut and he ACTUALLY KISSED YOUR FINGER. like what is this. a 2003 romcom. who does that. you let him anyway.

⤷ dates are like. chaotic. they range. they VARY. he’ll plan them so carefully and then forget the address. it goes from him taking you rooftop dancing at 2am (he knows the security guard don’t ask). to the fanciest more expensive restaurants. or sometimes its the most random places...like why are we eating cold dumplings on a fire escape at midnight. why am i in your lap. why is this perfect. why r u dancing on the rooftop. pls. i just wanted to eat. it could also be you two literally brushing teeth side by side in pajamas while he talks about some city ordinance that made him mad.

⤷ also he’s like. a hand holder. all the time. especially in crowds. “just so i don’t lose you” ok liar you just like touching me.

⤷ he’s sooooooooooo good with kids it’s disgusting. like you’ll be walking past a playground and suddenly he’s in a full game of tag with a bunch of eight-year-olds like??? ok??? and you’re sitting there like is this what being in love feels like???????? have my babies then??????????

⤷ he gets nervous when you meet bruce. he acts like he doesn’t care but he’s standing straighter. fixing your collar. whispering “you got this”. like. dude. broski. seems like you need that advice a little more than me..

⤷ he brings you little things all the time. dumb things. a keychain. a sticker. he's gotten u a mug that says “i like my boyfriends like i like my coffee: hot and ready to fight crime”. he's like "that describes me perfectly babe!" ok..... just say ur inlove w/urself..

⤷ he loves when you wear his shirts. he pretends to be chill but he deflates when he sees it. “is that mine?” yes dick. it says “haley’s circus” on it. and it smells like crime fighting and your conditioner now. congrats. he’s 70% more handsy. 30% more cuddly. 100% ferocious internally. his caveman brain is like “MINE.”

⤷ he has like. six nicknames for you. three of them are variations of “birdie” and one of them is “hey trouble” and he says it with that little lopsided grin and you melt and throw a pillow at him and he catches it with one hand

⤷ he’s like. stupidly in love. and he’ll kiss your hand when he’s driving. and you’re like. eyes on the road. and he’s like. “i have great reflexes” and you’re like. great. that’s not the point.

⤷ he talks in his sleep. sometimes it’s mission stuff. sometimes it’s your name. once he said “alfred please no more soup” and you almost peed yourself laughing. he was so embarrassed. you bring it up constantly.

⤷ when he’s gone for patrol or a mission longer than expected he always texts. even if it’s just “still alive. miss u. criminals suck.”

⤷ he’s not flashy. but he’s intense. he listens. remembers everything. “didn’t you say you liked this song in april?” yes he has a playlist. yes it’s called “her smile > gotham skyline”

⤷ he acts like you’re a little miracle. like he can’t believe you’re real. he’ll just stare at you sometimes and blink slow like a cat and say “i love you” like it’s a confession every time.

⤷ he’ll tease you but only about dumb things. like how you sometimes stutter when you ramble or how you always leave the cap off the toothpaste. and then he’ll fix it. quietly. every time.

⤷ when he introduces you to his friends. he’s like. so soft. “this is my person. be nice. or i’ll beat you up. lovingly.”

⤷ you catch him looking at you all dreamy sometimes and he just goes “what?” and shrugs and kisses your forehead like it’s no big deal that he’s in constant awe of you

⤷ he’s in love like it’s easy. like it’s gravity. like he’s spent his whole life falling and you’re the first place that ever felt like landing.

⤷ you ask him to hang out and he’s like yeah yeah ofc and then five minutes later you’re on his bike and he's like “is gotham cold or am i crazy” and you're just clinging to him like a lil barnacle while the skyline blurs. he's only thinking about how soft your hands are on his stomach

⤷ he sends you memes. like. actually. they’re dumb. sometimes Nightwing fan edits. he pretends he doesn’t know you know. “someone sent me this” like ok babe sure. "someone" aka your own saved folder. keep lying

⤷ in love dick is like. chaotic neutral trying to be lawful good. he’ll pick you up from school or work and you’re like “you didn’t have to” and he goes “i know” but he’s there every time

⤷ he does this thing where he’ll lean on the counter while you talk. like hand-under-chin. dumb lil smile. he’s not even listening fully sometimes. he’s just watching you like you’re a painting in a gallery he’s been to before but still finds new details in. annoying. beautiful. criminal

⤷ if you’re sleeping over he’s sleeping on the edge of the bed because he moves like a windmill and he’s afraid he’ll knock you out mid-dream. but by morning you’re tangled. always. no exceptions

⤷ ok so. gifts. random. weird. he once gave you a grappling hook keychain and was so smug about it. “just in case you need a quick escape.” sir. from where. my bedroom??

⤷ he talks about you to everyone. not in a gross bragging way. in a like. “yeah (y/n) helped me pick this” or “(y/n) said i’d like this song” or “you’d like them. they’re really funny. and smart. and good. and like. they’re just. yeah.” and then changes the subject aggressively

⤷ he will NEVER say no to you playing with his hair. he’ll act like it’s not a big deal but if you stop he’ll be like “wait. you were doing the— you were playing with my hair—”

⤷ he's the type to check the exits wherever you go but also brings you gum and hand sanitizer like the world's most traumatised dad

⤷ sometimes he zones out while you're talking and you're like hello?? and he's just like “you looked really happy. i wanted to remember it.” AND THEN HE HAS THE NERVE TO SHRUG. ok poetic boy

⤷ he gets weirdly possessive but like. silently. if someone flirts with you at a party he’ll just kind of materialise next to you like “hey babe” and put his arm around you like hello yes i am six feet of jealousy wrapped in kevlar

⤷ he will not admit he cried over you once (more than once, lets be real). even though it’s obvious. even though jason literally heard him sniffling in the batcave. it’s fine. let him pretend

⤷ when you’re upset he gets quiet. not cold. just. steady. he listens. he doesn’t try to fix it unless you ask. he sits next to you and holds your hand and says “i’m here.” and he is. fully. always.

⤷ he’s got scars on scars but he lets you trace them. tells you the stories if you want. lies about the ones he’s not ready to talk about. it’s ok. you know. you wait

⤷ love makes him dumb. he does pushups with you sitting on his back. buys your favorite snacks in bulk. lets you paint his nails and then goes on patrol with them like it’s normal (it is)

⤷ he teaches you how to do flips. or tries. and then laughs when you fall. but then also kisses your scraped elbow like “my bad babe” with zero actual remorse. “you’ll get it next time” he says while still laughing. he’s sososososo annoying. you love him.

⤷ wears your hair tie on his wrist like it’s part of his uniform. you say nothing. he says nothing. but it’s always there.

⤷ teaches you escrima if you ask. but only if you promise not to make fun of the sticks. you make fun of the sticks anyway. he fake pouts. you kiss him mid-fight. he drops one stick. it’s fine.

⤷ carries a picture of you in his wallet and pretends he doesn’t. you find it once and he tries to act like it’s no big deal. “whatever. you look cute. move on.”

⤷ he thinks he's subtle. he's not. the whole batfamily knows. jason makes fun of him. damian gags. tim just leaves the room. bruce is like “don’t get distracted” and dick is like “yes sir 🫡” while actively distracted.

⤷ picks at your food. then acts shocked when you do the same. “you said you weren’t hungry??” yeah ok YOU said you weren’t emotionally available dick now look at us. hypocrites in love.

⤷ gives you nicknames like “hotshot” or “trouble” and then blushes when you call him anything. “dork” makes him literally malfunction. he pretends to be offended but smiles when you’re not looking.

⤷ gets quiet when you’re sad. like real quiet. sits next to you and just waits. doesn’t force you to talk. but if you do talk—he listens. like really listens. remembers every word. brings it up months later. “you said this place makes you feel calm” oh so you remember that ok

⤷ he’s so annoying. in the best way. like. the type of annoying that makes you blush and kick your feet and want to punch a wall. his wall specifically.

⤷ he’s all casual flirty with everyone right?? but when he’s in love with you??? he turns tender. like terrifyingly tender. it’s like he’s trying not to break you by looking too hard. like eye contact might detonate you. but i mean. either way. he still stares at you hard. even when trying not to.

⤷ he does the “can you sit with me while i do paperwork” thing. like you’re a cat. like he just wants you in proximity while he suffers.

⤷ he picks up food for you without asking. every time. "thought you might be hungry." no baby you knew. we have a soul connection. you felt my hunger. don’t play with me

⤷ he touches your back when you cross streets. lets you walk on the inside of the sidewalk. opens the door even when you argue. says "just let me take care of you a little." & now you’re sobbing in the CVS skincare aisle. congrats.

⤷ he lets you braid his hair when it gets too long. he pretends to hate it. you both know he’s lying.

⤷ if you're tired? he's pulling you into his lap before you can blink. he’s like “you rest. i got it.” you don’t even know what “it” is. but he’s got it. apparently.

⤷ "you don't have to do everything alone anymore." <- said in a whisper. at 1:47am. when you tried to sneak out so he wouldn't see you cry. yeah. he saw. and now you're in his arms and he's not letting go until morning.

⤷ when he's in love he’s... warm. like that kind of warm that feels like sunshine on a cold day. or like a bath that runs the perfect temperature.

⤷ he remembers everything. like that one time you said you liked strawberry twizzlers?? there's a pack in your glovebox now. he swears he didn’t put it there. liar.

⤷ you call him in the middle of the night because you had a bad dream and he’s like “i’m coming over” and then he’s actually there. barefoot. in sweatpants. holding two mugs and looking worried

⤷ he loves all of you. not just the good stuff. he loves the mess. the overthinking. the crying. the way you squeak when you laugh. he calls it “his favorite sound.”

⤷ every time you fight. he comes back. every time. he won’t let you sleep mad. he’ll wait on your fire escape all night if he has to. says “i’m not leaving until we’re okay. even if you throw something at me.”

⤷ once tried to not fall in love with you. failed.

[cosmogyros]

language-learning advice from a pro

(I started writing this post just now as a message to a friend who asked for language-learning advice. But I’m a GIANT NERD when it comes to language learning, so it got wayyy too long to be a message. So I’m posting it here in the hopes that it might help others as well. I have not edited this or even read through it all yet – it just poured straight out of my fingers – so please let me know if you spot any typos!)

Okay, first of all, there are two parts to language learning: active learning and passive exposure. You can choose to do only one or the other, but you’ll have the most success if you do both.

ACTIVE LEARNING

Active learning is pretty much what it sounds like: actively focusing on the language, learning new words, sounds, phrases, idioms, etc. It’s often centered around a textbook, sometimes with accompanying audio, but you can do active learning in other ways too. For example, you can read a news article online and check a dictionary for every word you don’t know. Or do the same thing with a foreign film – when you hear a word you don’t know (or see it in the subtitles), pause the movie and look it up.

Active learning makes you progress fast, but it also tires out your brain and overwhelms it with new information, making it easier to forget things you’ve already learned. That’s why it’s best to space out your active learning sessions and fill the gaps with passive exposure.

PASSIVE EXPOSURE

The goal of passive exposure is for your brain to randomly encounter words and phrases it learned recently and go “Hey! I recognize that!” This is SO important not only for reviewing and consolidating your memory, but also keeping up your motivation! If the only place you ever encounter your TL (target language) is in your textbook, on some subconscious level your brain will think it’s not that important… because after all, you never encounter it out there in the real world, do you?

Passive exposure can include any of the following and much more: listening to music in your TL; watching a movie in your TL (either with English subs, or with no subs at all and just don’t worry if you don’t understand everything that’s going on); skim-reading a book or a short story or a news article or a blog post in your TL and looking for words you recognize, even if you can’t 100% remember what they mean; finding speakers of your TL in real life and eavesdropping on them; watching instructional YouTube videos or short documentaries in your TL (the visuals ought to help you understand some of what’s going on, even if there are no subtitles); etc.

The idea is to let your TL wash over you without straining your brain at all. Zero effort, just relaxation and fun. You will inevitably notice and understand a few words or phrases, and that percentage will increase as time goes on, but you’re not actively studying when you’re doing passive exposure. Remember the two things you’re trying to achieve with passive exposure: 1) effortless review/practice, by inevitably re-encountering some stuff you’ve already learned; 2) reminding your brain that this language is a real cool thing out there in the world, not just a boring chore located in a textbook.

But there are also two more extremely important benefits to passive exposure that are drastically neglected by most language-learners: 3) picking up the correct pronunciation and accent; 4) gaining an instinct for natural, native-sounding language.

These are two things you will not learn in a language class or from a textbook. You can’t learn them except by doing a LOT of listening and reading in your TL. But the good news is that it doesn’t need to be the “Active Learning” kind of reading and listening; it can absolutely be the “Passive Exposure” kind, and you will still pick this stuff up.

The most important thing, above all else, is to figure out a method of passive exposure that works for YOU personally. This means: do NOT force yourself to repeatedly do something that you don’t enjoy, because you won’t benefit from it. To pick the right method, think of your interests and the things you like to do in your free time: watching movies? reading books? listening to music? writing in your journal? surfing the internet? You can do any of this in your TL, too. Yes, you will encounter a lot of stuff you don’t understand at the beginning. But A) that’s good for you, it helps you learn patience, which every language-learner needs, and B) the internet has free translation tools everywhere you look.

COMBINING BOTH

Personally, I like to pick a well-respected textbook with accompanying audio (Assimil is my favorite; Teach Yourself and Colloquial can also be very good, especially the older editions; Linguaphone used to be fantastic but I’m not sure if it’s still around) and work my way through it, doing one lesson per day if possible. That takes only about 10 to 20 minutes, so that leaves a lot of time for passive exposure. My preferred method is listening to music (I learned a good 50% of my German from just obsessively listening to German pop music in high school), but here are some other things I like to do:

find an internet talk radio station in my TL and put it on in the background

same deal with a podcast

translate a few keywords related to my favorite hobbies/interests into the TL and then paste that text into YouTube and watch random videos in my TL

read a news article in English, and then find a news website in my TL and see if I can find an article about the same topic in that language

watch bad reality TV or soaps in my TL with no subtitles, just trying to guess what’s going on from context

etc.

No Duolingo. No Rosetta Stone. (I’ve written a whole post about the latter here.) You don’t need to spend any money at all, though if you e.g. use a pirated resource to learn and find that it really helps you, I strongly suggest buying it from the original producer after the fact, to say thank you.

MEMORIZATION

This is very much a “YMMV” piece of advice, but: if you’re having trouble memorizing stuff, just don’t. Don’t bother trying to remember anything. Remember that “passive exposure” bit? It does a lot of the heavy lifting in terms of memory. If you keep bumping into the same word or phrase over and over again, you will incorporate it into your body of knowledge almost effortlessly. Of course this is easier with more common words that turn up again and again – but you’d be surprised how well you can get by, especially at the lower levels, with only the more common words!

Intentionally memorizing vocabulary can of course be very beneficial, so there’s nothing wrong with it. But I notice that it’s often one of the biggest pain points for language learners, and I believe language learning should be pain-free.

FROM INPUT TO OUTPUT

Once you’ve gotten a good grasp of the basics of the language, a really effective way to consolidate the knowledge you’ve gained is to use it actively and creatively yourself, in speech or writing (or ideally both!). For speaking practice, besides simply making friends who are native speakers of the language, you can search for a physical or virtual tandem. This is when you meet up with someone who’s a native speaker of your TL and is trying to learn your own language. You can meet for, say, an hour, and chat together for half an hour in your native language, and then half an hour in their native language. So both of you benefit!

Don’t underestimate talking to yourself, too. Whether it’s narrating your actions, complaining to your pet (okay, I guess that’s not technically “talking to yourself”), or simply having an imaginary conversation with someone else, it’s actually a good way to practice.

I also really enjoy writing in my journal in my target languages. The act of hand-writing a word does a lot to help me remember it. If you like writing, of course, you could also look up penpals who speak your TL.

And that’s about it. As always, I am more than willing to answer specific questions on language learning, as this is something of a specialty of mine and I absolutely love to help other folks get started on their own language-learning journeys. Please feel free to drop me a line if you need any concrete advice or are struggling with some aspect of your current language-learning efforts!