#maybe i should do a tag for my writing...

[dimeadozencows]

I redrew rambs sprites is there a power strip emoji

🔌 does this count

The descriptions I gave each expression are what they're called in the files :]

Like and subscribe if you'd shed a tear for a bloke who does fuck all

[themathomhouse]

I have to assume you're deliberately misunderstanding prev at this point, but on the off chance you're not I will repeat what they have explicitly said one more time, with some of my own emphasis because tbh Lucas isn't an especially bad example of what I was talking about. He's just the best known on tumblr. He is, however, awful at acknowledging the work his first wife did on Star Wars and how much that contributed to the success of the trilogy, and, exactly like prev said, has tried to take the reins himself in the subsequent years and demonstrated exactly why she was needed in the first place.

George Lucas isn't a bad film editor. He's also the person who wrote the script and directed (the first) Star Wars. I think it's fair and accurate to say that the (first three) Star Wars films are a product of his vision - and where he was inspired and helped by other directors and collaborators, he's actually great at acknowledging their contribution!

With one exception.

Marcia Lucas is an excellent film editor. She isn't the only editor who worked on Star Wars at all, but, as prev said, the team who worked on the films overall win awards for being particularly good - and Lucas himself acknowledges that he's not the best editor or director! He didn't direct episodes V or VI because he is actually capable of understanding where his strengths lie. This is why he hired other people to edit his films!

One of those people was his then-wife. They are now divorced. Likely because of this divorce, and also because the divorce was partly caused by Star Wars, he now fails to tell the story of how the Star Wars films were kind of a mess when they arrived at the editing suite. Marcia (who had also edited his previous films, because she is a professional film editor and an excellent one) understood his vision and also made several changes without which most people who worked on the film say it would not have come together. George had great ideas, the effects would have been great, but it just wouldn't have sparked a phenomenon the way it did without her work. And he himself used to acknowledge this!

Until they got divorced. Which was right as Episode VI came out. And now he doesn't acknowledge her as much as he really should - and if I remember correctly, Spielberg has called him out on this!

Like I said, I actually don't think he's a particularly egregious example. He's someone who usually is great at acknowledging his collaborators and he's often good at acknowledging where he needs someone else to do something because they are better at it. He hasn't made a film that's anywhere near as good or interesting as the original Star Wars honestly in no small part because he actually has taken a producer role or co-writes or generally just doesn't want to be the director as much since Star Wars. Where he has done, like prev said with the tinkering with the original trilogy, and like EVEN HE says about episodes I - III, the result is just not as good as it could have been.

I'm basically commenting here because your misunderstanding of prev comes off as incredibly bad-faith, especially as this post is constantly just tagged as George Lucas in a way that honestly? I don't think is fair. But prev was actually very specific as to what they were referring to with him, and they're right! Like. Famously right. But I'm hoping that I'm wrong about the bad-faith and this will help both you and others see where prev was coming from, as well as tbh maybe people could tag this as F Scott Fitzgerald because that man literally stole segments out of his wife's diaries without telling her until she read it in his published works, that's more what I was getting at.

I've also just spent all these paragraphs giving context to Lucas mostly because of other posts, when what you're saying is that not only do accolades mean nothing, but it apparently also means nothing that he is not actually a professional film editor. The editing team, of which Marcia was part, was composed of people whose entire job is to edit films. That is why he hired them instead of doing it himself.

okay but if you ever see a male creative who had a string of great work and then everything else he did was dogshit, go to the "personal life" part of his wikipedia and look at his relationships. you'll either find a major tragedy he didn't recover from (completely understandable) or, more likely, there was a woman in his life doing uncredited shit editing his stuff or contributing generally and she's not there anymore.

I told a friend about this phenomenon in literature and he called me weeks later like, I remembered what you said about women doing uncredited work when tim burton came up. he made a string of bangers then everything else just was nowhere near as good. the timeline matches perfectly to when he was with this german visual artist (lena gieseke). he's done some good work in collaboration, but if things were dug into I suspect we would find she did a lot more than people realise.

so yeah whenever you look around like wow women didn't work in history, or, women aren't auteurs, or, there just aren't as many great female writers - societal reasons for that aside, half the time they absolutely did.

[ladsrlife2]

Sugar Daddy! Sylus - Part 2

Sylus x Reader

You thought Sylus was just your mysterious, well-dressed sugar daddy. Then you landed an internship - only to discover he’s the CEO.

tags: 18+ nsfw/smut, elevator blow-job, office-sex, sugar daddy sylus, bratty mc

With the love of many on ao3 and tumblr, I decided to write part 2!! Hope you guys enjoy this as much as the first <3

Part 1 💗

────── ❀•°❀°•❀ ──────

“Not too shabby for a CEO’s office.”

You say, walking into Sylus’s office, arms crossed like you own the place.

Sylus lifts his gaze from behind his sleek desk, amused. His crimson eyes glitter like garnets under the sunlight pouring in through the wall-sized window behind him, the skyline stretching wide - cold glass and mirrored steel.

He turns slowly in his chair as you strut past the leather sofas, running a finger along their edge.

“I’m glad it wins your approval.” His voice is rich and smooth, like wine served in crystal.

You ignore the compliment, scanning the office until your eyes land on the opaque glass wall at the entrance.

“So,” you say, turning back toward him. “Why did such an important man call a lowly intern into his office?”

His gaze doesn’t falter. “Because I supposed the intern had a lot to say.”

His eyes flick down to your figure and back up again, unmistakably pleased by your new formal look. You don’t blame him. You’re wearing your carefully chosen pencil skirt, silk blouse, black tights, and favorite heels.

“Let’s hear what the CEO has to say first.”

He gestures for you to come closer with his hand. You ignore it - and instead hop up onto the edge of his desk, your legs swinging idly.

He chuckles lowly, leaning forward to place a warm hand on your thigh.

“Things are… complicated,” he says, voice dipping lower.

You arch a brow. “That’s new. You, saying things are complicated?”

“It’s a personal mess. I didn’t want you to get involved in it.”

You tilt your head. “What, are you secretly married or something?”

Sylus scoffs, offended by the absurdity. “No. Of course not.”

You look down at his hand and slowly interlace your fingers with his. A calculated move. You bring it to your lips, place a kiss on his knuckles, and look up with wide, injured eyes.

“Even if you were, you know I would’ve understood,” you whisper. “I can’t believe you doubted me.”

He looks at you the way someone might look at a monkey riding a unicycle - a sight both entertaining and ridiculous.

Yet you continue.

“I’d go through thick and thin with you,” you begin solemnly, one hand to your chest. “And I would-”

“-go through thick and thin with my money,” he interrupts dryly.

You gasp, scandalized. “That is outrageous! Even if you were poor! And married! I’d still be by your side!”

You clutch his hand to your chest dramatically. “Feel it - the heartbreak!”

You flatten his palm against your breasts.

He raises a brow. “…All I feel is a healthy heartbeat.”

He gives a light squeeze. You swat his hand away.

“See?! That’s all you think about! What happened to dignity? And honor? And chivalry?”

“Alright, alright.” He waves you down like he’s swatting away an overly dramatic stage actress. “I should’ve told you sooner.”

You lean back on your palms, lips curving into something between amusement and triumph. “You should have.”

“I’m sorry, kitten.” His tone straddles that fine line between genuine remorse and theatrical sarcasm.

You cross your arms, wordlessly demanding more.

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” he continues, slow and deliberate. “Even though you’ve been so loyal to me.”

The way he lingers on loyal - you can’t tell if he’s teasing or trying to guilt you.

“What could I possibly do to make it up to you?”

Your heart skips a beat in thrill.

“I don’t know,” you say, coy. “Nothing could mend this broken heart.”

“Right. I should’ve known kitten is not a materialistic girl. Perhaps I can make it up to you with... sincere actions.”

Nonsense.

“On second thought, I think maybe the new Ferrari collection looks rather beautiful.”

Sylus chuckles, shaking his head at your shameless audacity. “Unbelievable,” he mutters - and sighs. “Fine.”

“Really?!” you gasp, and before he can change his mind, you climb into his lap with all the grace of a triumphant winner. You wrap your arms around his neck, beaming. “Oh, Daddy. I think I’m healed already.”

He lets out a low laugh that reverberates through his chest as he pulls you in tighter.

“Maybe I should’ve picked something more expensive,” you say, trailing kisses across his cheek.

“Your greed knows no bounds,” He murmurs into your neck, and takes a second to deeply inhale your scent. “But I’m always impressed by your efficiency.”

You reply, voice quieter, like you’re whispering a naughty secret. “How about,” you say, locking eyes with him as your hand drifts lower to graze the outline of his cock, now hardening fast beneath your palm, “...I make up for my so-called greed… starting now.”

His crimson eyes flicker, darkening instantly.

You keep the gaze as you palm him harder, slow and steady. His cock stiffens beneath your fingers, straining against his pants.

Just as you start to unzip him, his hand closes around your wrist.

“As much as I’d like that, kitten.” His deep voice is full of restraint. “Unfortunately I’ve decided to keep my office sex-free. As CEO. Dignity, or whatever you were saying earlier.” .

You look at him, mouth open. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m not.” Sylus says, mouth upturned into a smirk.

“You’re doing this just to get back at me, aren’t you?”

He raises a brow, voice calm. “Hardly. I made that rule when I founded the company. Years ago.”

“…and I respect that.”

Sylus laughs, amused by your forced diplomacy, and plants a kiss on your lips. “Why, thank you.”

Just then, the phone on his desk rings. You rise from his lap, smoothing your skirt, giving him space. As he reaches for the phone, his fingers brush your back in a quiet, lingering touch.

“I need to get back to work,” he murmurs. “Thomas will escort you back down.”

You pause at the door, glancing back. He’s already answering the call, voice level, posture straight, every trace of indulgence vanished. The tension in the room dissipates like smoke - replaced with cold, crisp professionalism.

It scratches something in you.

That he can switch off so easily, that you're left hot and bothered while he returns to work like nothing happened.

That kind of control is... infuriating. And sexy.

You follow the assistant down the hall, and step into the elevator and press the button.

As you watch the numbers decrease steadily, you begin to wonder:

What ever you should do to make sure Sylus breaks his precious little ‘rule’ that is oh, so unlike his character?

────── ❀•°❀°•❀ ──────

The opportunity presents itself.

It just so happens that Sylus doesn’t always use his exclusive elevator.

On your fourth day of work, you’re wrapping up a minor errand at a nearby bank around noon. You enter one of the three main elevators in the hall - only to find Sylus already inside, alone, head bowed over his business phone, texting.

Too immersed, he doesn’t notice you entering. You eye the buttons and see that only the top most floor - 53 - is lit. You don’t press 8, your floor.

Instead, you slowly walk towards him, slightly undoing the top most buttons of your silk blouse, heels clicking quietly on the floor. It’s only when you’re right in front of him, barely a hand’s width apart, when he looks up from his phone with a full look of caution.

His crimson eyes relax instantly when he realizes who you are.

“Oh, it’s you, kitten-”

His words taper off as his eyes fall to your cleavage, lush and spilling over your bra beneath the undone blouse.

His lips curl into a smirk.

“Hey, boss-man,” you say, voice low and slow. You raise a hand to his stomach and stroke down gently. “Busy day at work?”

“…Surely you didn’t walk into work like that.”

“And what if I did?”

He sighs, eyes briefly shutting as he rubs his temple, like he already knows you're about to test every limit he thought he had.

“Just button it up, before anyone walks in, please.”

The mirror behind him reflects floor 14.

“How about-” your hand trails lower to the waistband of his slacks.

With the way he jolts, you know he knows what you’re about to do. Before he can stop you, however, you slip past his hands and cup his balls, giving them a deliberate squeeze.

“-No.”

You know he loves it when you do that.

A sharp breath escapes his lips.

He catches your wrist, intent on stopping you - but as your fingers begin massaging his heavy sac, his grip slackens.

“Kitten.”

His voice is strained.

But despite his threatening words, his grip loosens like his body has lost all will to resist.

It’s been a week since he last had you. He’s as pent up as you’d expect.

You stroke him through his pants with your free hand, watching his dark, unreadable expression.

“You never said anything about no sex in the elevator,” you murmur.

Before he can respond, you unbutton and unzip him in one smooth, practiced motion.

The mirror now reflects floor 23.

And then you drop to your knees.

Before he can even utter a protest, his briefs are down and your lips wrap around his length. You take him all at once, warm and slick and deep into your throat.

A groan tears from his chest, and his hand flies to your hair, instinctive and desperate.

“Get off-”

You suck harder in answer.

His cock slides deeper into your throat, your nose buried against his pelvis, eyes glistening with the effort as you fight the urge to gag.

He curses low under his breath. His legs tremble.

Your throat tightens and releases in rhythm, massaging him in a way he can't resist. His grip loosens, turning from restraint to encouragement.

Floor 29.

You look past your wet, fluttering eyelashes and lock onto his dark, undone eyes.

You bob your head steadily, filthily, letting slick sounds echo against the mirrored walls.

His brows draw together, lips parting as he exhales through clenched teeth. There's amusement in his eyes now, despite the tension in his jaw, the tightness in his hips.

Of course he likes this. Who's he trying to fool?

Floor 35.

“Mmh-”

A soft moan escapes your lips, muffled by his cock, as he nudges you to go faster up and down his length.

You stroke the base with your hand, jerking him as your mouth works his length. The way his deep breaths border on groans, the way his hips buckle every time you suck, the way his balls feel hard as you massage it with your hand, you know he’s close.

Floor 45.

Just as he’s about to tip over, you pull off with a wet pop.

He gasps, blinking in disbelief, flushed and furious and painfully hard.

You stand smoothly, adjusting your blouse, fingers nimbly buttoning each undone hole.

His eyes blaze. His cock is still fully erect, standing against his stomach, flushed and leaking.

But the elevator begins to slow.

Floor 48.

He looks at you, about to speak - probably to curse you out - but you step in quickly, fixing his pants, zipping him up, tucking in his shirt like nothing happened.

The doors slide open.

A small group of employees stands outside. You walk out casually, slipping past them like a shadow.

“Sylus! We were just on our way to your office for the 3pm meeting! What a coincidence.” Chirps a perky female voice.

“Charmed,” he mutters back, tone flat.

You don’t turn around. But as the doors begin to close again, you risk taking a last minute glance. You jolt to find out he’s still watching you - crimson eyes burning with restrained fury, humiliation and… hunger.

The doors shut, and he disappears behind polished steel.

Serves him right, you think.

That’s what he gets for being pretentious.

…Or so you try to tell yourself.

You swallow hard, heart still racing.

You try to ignore his last minute, furious gaze from floating back to your mind.

Surely, he’s not that mad. Right?

────── ❀•°❀°•❀ ──────

“Sylus- Daddy- please, I’m sorry! Please, just stop- ”

You find yourself pleading for forgiveness in his office a few hours later.

You’re bent over his desk, the surface rattling beneath your body as he pounds into you, deep and ruthlessly from behind.

It’s been an hour. You lost count of how many times you came. How many times he came.

Your shredded black tights cling uselessly to your thighs, soaked in slick and cum, both yours and his, dripping down all the way down to your ankles.

Perhaps you should’ve known it would end up like this from the moment he ripped your tights apart and didn’t even bother to undress you nor himself before burying himself inside. “Isn’t this what you wanted so badly, kitten?”

He growls, punctuating every word with a brutal thrust.

Your legs tremble violently beneath you, your hands scrambling for purchase against the wood as he holds your hips in place, unrelenting.

“You’re right,” he mutters, almost to himself, breath ragged. “I should’ve known better.”

Your moans melt into the sound of flesh slapping flesh, echoing off the office walls.

“No-sex rule, my ass,” he huffs with a dark chuckle, angling his hips just so - hitting your g-spot with surgical cruelty. “Right?”

You cry out, body locking up as another orgasm crashes into you. Your legs give out, but he catches you easily, keeping himself buried to the hilt as you squirt down his cock, your body trembling uncontrollably in his arms.

“A-ah—!”

Your mind barely resets as you slump back into his chest. You reach for his forearms wrapped around your waist, clutching him like he’s the only thing keeping you anchored.

Tilting your head back, you look up into his yet insatiable crimson eyes, and ignore the occasional twitching of your limbs and murmur, “Please, Sylus. I’m sorry. I won’t- I won’t do it again.”

You jolt as you feel him starting to slowly grind his hips against yours, again.

“What was that?” He teases.

“No- wait.” You plead out, urgently. “Don’t you have work to do?!”

Sylus chuckles and answers, pleasantly. “I made sure to finish everything before calling you in.” He purrs. “Told all my assistants to call it a day, even.” He grinds into you, his cock dragging torturously along your oversensitive walls. “ We’re the only ones on this floor.”

You choke out a moan in disbelief. You’re about to open your mouth to plead some more, when he brings his mouth close to your ear, his hot breath fanning over your skin.

“Which means,” He whispers, “No one’s coming to save you, kitten.”

You vow to

Never.

Ever.

Tease him again.

────── ❀•°❀°•❀ ──────

You guys. When I write smut. It just flows to me so naturally. I never considered myself to be on the perverted side. I don't know if I should be happy or sad at my new hobby. Lol.

hope you enjoyed this :D

Likes and comments are life xx <3

[sirenontheloose]

we really need part 2 to Please Don't Clip This ❤️🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Here it is! I'm lowkey scared I’ll get obsessed and keep going until they start dating or something.

Please Don't Clip This pt.2

pt.1 here

Y/N didn’t go online after that day or the next. She saw the trending tags, the edits, the slowed-down clips of her blinking at Lara’s Instagram like she was being hypnotized, but she didn’t respond. It wasn’t embarrassment, not exactly. She was just... critically offline. So offline, in fact, that she didn’t even know KATSEYE was in South Korea promoting their latest release, Gnarly, while she was busy resting, cleaning, and ignoring the fact that her livestream crush might’ve actually witnessed the full collapse.

She thought it was over and everyone had their share of fun teasing her.

Until Friday night.

Y/N had just finished dance practice. Hair damp from sweat, hoodie slung over one shoulder, she followed the rest of Aespa into a nearby Korean BBQ place. It was one of those regular idol haunts. Casual, private, safe. She didn’t even think twice about it.

Until she sat down.

And saw the face.

The one she was swooning over in front of possibly hundreds of thousands of people.

Sitting at the next table.

With KATSEYE.

There she was, Lara.

Y/N froze mid-sit, hovering awkwardly over the cushion like her knees forgot how to work. Karina noticed first. She looked up, followed Y/N’s line of sight, and let out a quiet but sharp gasp.

"Oh my God. No way. That’s her, isn’t it?"

Y/N sat down so fast she almost knocked over the water pitcher. "No it’s not. I mean, what are you talking about? It could be anyone. Shut up."

Winter leaned across the table with a smug smile. "That’s definitely her. I saw that livestream, remember? We all did. That’s your Instagram crush in 4K."

Ningning giggled. "She’s even prettier in person. Y/N, you’re so cooked."

"I’m begging you all to be normal," Y/N whispered, face heating up. She reached for a menu like it could shield her from the world.

Karina grinned. "You were giggling at her selfies for ten minutes straight. Don’t think we forgot."

Winter nodded. "Should we say hi for you? No? Maybe just a little wave? You should ask for her number," she was practically scream-whispering.

Y/N groaned. "Please stop. I'm shaking."

From the other table, a burst of laughter rang out. Y/N risked a glance.

Lara was laughing at something Dani said, head tilted back slightly, eyes crinkled. Then she turned, just a bit, and made eye contact.

Y/N blinked.

And Lara smiled.

The kind of smile that said, yes, I saw everything.

Y/N turned back around and physically pulled her hood up. "Abort mission. We need to leave."

"You haven’t even ordered," Ningning teased.

"I can survive off air and shame."

Meanwhile, at the other table, the KATSEYE girls were not being subtle.

"She’s so your type," Megan said, poking Lara’s arm.

"She was literally blushing on livestream," Manon added, grinning.

"She looked like she was about to write a love letter," Yoonchae chimed in.

Lara tried to play it cool, swirling her drink with her straw. "You’re all exaggerating."

"We are not," Dani said. "She was gone, she looked like she was planning her future with you while scrolling through your page."

Sophia leaned in. "What are you gonna do?"

Lara glanced over again. Y/N looked like she was actively trying to disappear. Her hood was up. Her chopsticks were shaking. Her friends were giggling mercilessly.

Lara smiled again. "We’ll see."

Back at Aespa’s table, Y/N let out a long, silent scream into her hands.

A few minutes passed. Then footsteps were heard.

Y/N looked up just in time to see Lara approaching, casual but confident, hands in the pockets of her jacket.

And of course, she smelled good. Looked even better. Like someone who walked straight out of a perfume ad, all glowing skin and effortless charm, while Y/N looked like she just finished dumpster diving behind a dance studio.

"Hi," Lara said, stopping by their table. Her voice was calm, a little playful. "Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to say... your livestream was really fun."

Y/N’s soul tried to escape through her hoodie.

Karina choked on her water. Ningning bit her lip to stop from laughing. Winter made the most dramatic gasp of the night.

Y/N blinked up at her, completely frozen. "Oh. Uh. Thanks. It was…yeah. Unexpected."

Lara tilted her head slightly, still smiling. "Well, it made my night. I’ll leave you to your dinner. Just thought I’d say hi."

She gave the table a polite nod, eyes flicking back to Y/N for just a second longer than necessary, and turned to walk back to her group.

Once she was gone, the silence shattered.

"OH MY GOD," Karina hissed.

"She came over and she said hi. She talked to you," Winter whispered.

"Y/N, you’re sweating," Ningning added.

"I’m aware," Y/N muttered, hiding her face in both hands.

This was worse than the livestream.

And somehow, so much better.

[wonyology]

The Years Next Door (m!reader x Babymonster's ASA) - part II

part I - part III (coming soon)

Summary: Enami Asa - one of, if not the most important person in your life - moved in next door a few years ago. You didn't know back then. It started with awkward first meeting, family dinner and dish washing duty. Looking back now, you still remember it like yesterday. When did things change between two of you? You don't know for sure - but you know that once it changed, no going back for you two.

tag(?): fluff, lots of fluff, maybe fluff only

ASA x yourself/Original Male Character

Word count: ~6.8k - uhm, you guys can read and try to figure out what happens next, have fun reading~~

Also, give your boy a follow if you like what i write

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

 That morning, you woke up feeling different. Sunlight spilled just a bit through your window curtains, giving you that feel good Disney vibe. Yesterday… yesterday was... definitely something. Your eyes hadn’t fully opened yet but they were squinting like crazy as you were reminiscing about her. She called you sunbae, she called you nice, she agreed to go around the neighborhood with you. For a teenager, life hadn’t felt this exciting in a while. 

 Getting up from bed, you walked around a bit before sitting on your study desk chair, taking in the little bit of sunlight that wasn’t covered by the curtains. Reaching out to open the curtains, the familiar view from your room welcomed you. But something changed yesterday, Asa and her family moved in. Just right across from your room, there had always been a window - could that also be her room? You glanced at the clock on your desk, 7:36AM. Should i text her right now? - you thought.

[준혁선베🥋]

hii

are u up yet?

[김아사🌸]

guess ㅋㅋ

You smiled, unconsciously. Thinking of how to reply when she texted back.

[김아사🌸]

you didn’t reply to my text last night

that’s rude, sunbae

 Ohh, right. You were in cuckooland last night because of her, didn’t even remember to reply back. Stupid. Stupid you.

[준혁선베🥋]

uhm… i’m sorry

what time are u free this morning? does 9am work?

i’ll buy u something to eat at the convenience store as an apology…

[김아사🌸]

9am sounds good 

*loopy thumbs up emoticon*

i’m just kidding tho, i’m not mad at you

 You felt relieved - like you just lost 10kg. Looking out the window, you snapped a quick photo of the one directly across from your room before sending the photo.

You sent a photo.

[준혁선베🥋]

is this your room window? it’s across from mine

sorry if it’s not. i’m not trying to be weird…

 Feeling both nervous and excited, you looked at the window. Someone was opening the curtains, you prayed to some supernatural force just for it to be Asa. Please be Asa, please be Asa… The curtains parted a bit, just enough for someone to peek their head out. 

 It was her. Yes!!! Her hair was slightly messy - like it was freshly combed, a few soft strands stuck on her cheeks, eyes puffy from sleep. Cute. So freaking cute. She blinked a bit before waving at you, that graceful beauty of hers made you feel like time just slowed down for the both of you. You knew better than to act like an idiot who just fell in love, not wasting any time smiling and waving back. She then pulled her head back from the window, maybe out of shyness. You stepped away from the window too, crashing right back into the chair with a thudding heartbeat. Glancing at the clock, it was 7:45AM.

[김아사🌸]

see u ㅎㅎ

can u come to my house later???

[준혁선베🥋]

ㅇㅋ (okay), see you later

 Hands running through your hair as millions of thoughts went through your mind, trying your best to keep it together. It wasn’t a date. You were just showing her around the neighborhood, as a friend - no big deal, just being nice, like she said last night. But still, you gotta get freshen up. Can’t go out showing Asa around looking like the neighborhood’s dummy. 

—

 You stand in front of the mirror, towel wrapped around your waist, hair still damp from a rushed shower. “Why do I have nothing to wear?” you muttered.  This was your first time in a while having such a dilemma choosing what to wear. Putting on a pair of clean-fit black pants, a “polite” white t-shirt and the nicest looking jacket you owned. Was it too much? Was it not enough? Was it just about? Whatever. Don’t overthink, it’ll do for now. You’ll hop on IG and look for some new clothes later if  this thing between you two ever works out.

 You then sprayed on four cautious sprays of the cologne that mom got for you on your last birthday. You didn’t know why a teenager your age needed cologne, but somehow, mom knew the best. Love you, mom. It smelled nice, just right, not too strong. Checking yourself out in the mirror once again, just to make sure you looked nice.

 Chill out, act normal. It’s not a date.

 Running downstairs, you slid your phone in your pocket before telling mom and dad you wouldn’t be having breakfast with them as you got plans, not mentioning Asa.

 “Are you meeting up with Asa?” your mom asked.

 You stopped dead in your tracks and turned around. “Uhm…”

 “The cute little girl next door. Your dad said he saw you two waving at each other this morning.” mom said while smiling lovingly.

 “Yeah, I’m just… showing her around. She’s new here”

 “Mm-hm.” Your mom nodded, eyes twinkling like she’s already imagined the entire future in her head. “Do you still have some pocket money left?” 

 You just blinked. “Yes, mom...”

 “Good” your mom walked to you, handing over a neatly folded 10,000 won bill anyway. “Buy her something nice, Joonhyuk-ah. Banana milk and some sandwiches or cream bread, she might like those. Don’t feed her those sausages in the morning, okay?”

 “Mom…”

 “I’m just saying. Your mom knows best.” her hands reached over, trying to brush your hair - which you immediately ducked. “First impressions matter a lot.” 

 You ran to the doorway, putting on your favorite pair of New Balance 550. “We’re just going around the neighborhood mom… I don’t like her or anything.”

 Your mom gasped, clutching her chest and acting hurt, way too dramatically. “You hate your mom now?! It feels like yesterday when you were so clingy to me, now that you are all grown up - you are too cool for the woman who raised you?!”

 “Mom… I’ll be back soon” you groaned. Teasing you had always been her favorite pastime.

 “Be nice to her. I will text Ms. Keiko and ask how you behaved” she called out before walking back to the kitchen.

 Behind all that teasing, you know - mom loves you. Always has, always would. Her way of showing affection was just embarrassing sometimes. Shutting the door behind, you walked slower than usual next door, trying to look cool, or normal. Glancing at your phone, it was 8:56AM. Perfect. A bit early? Maybe. But not late.

 Stopping at the front gate, you wondered. Do I ring the bell? Text? Call her out? Now what?

 Just when you were about to ring the bell, the sound of gates clicking made you freeze. It was Ms. Keiko and one of Asa’s sister, Lisa.

 “Oh, Joonhyuk-ah. Good morning” Ms. Keiko said. Lisa stood beside her, smiling politely at you.

 You straightened and bowed. “Hi, Ms. Keiko. Hi, noona.”

 “Aren’t you a bit early?” Lisa said, a hint of tease in the way she said it - just like last night.

 “Uhm, figured I shouldn’t be late.” your fingers nervously playing with the hem of your jacket.

 “Cute,” she added. “Asa should be down now. She just took too long to look pretty.”

 You nodded, trying not to let the thought of that rattle you, nodding.

 “We are just heading out for a bit.” Ms. Keiko said while opening the side gate slightly for you and stepping outside with Lisa.

 “Oh, we will make sure to come back before lunch.” you replied quickly.

 Just when they started walking down the street, Ms. Keiko smiled and gave you her blessing - half knowing, half warm. “Okay, just have fun, you two.”

 And with that, you bowed goodbye to them. Asa should be here any second now. 

 You heard footsteps. Then the creaking of the gate - there Asa was. Her eyes were smiling at you. She stepped out quietly, was she also nervous to see you too? Her hair was pinned back, left a bit loose on both sides - just enough to allow the sunlight to emphasize her features. She was wearing light makeup, nothing too fancy. A sky blue button-up, slightly cropped cardigan on top of a white tank top, paired with fitted jeans and a clean pair of Nike. Simple, casual yet… so beautiful. Your eyes met for a few seconds too long before she spoke up.

 “Hey”

 “Hi” you replied, a small pause in between - it didn’t feel awkward at all.

 “You came a bit early.” she said while glancing at her phone, not really checking the time.

 “I’m the type to be early.” 

 “So… you lead the way?”

 “Yeah, I’ll show you the local stuff. Secrets only longtime residents know. Real government-level classified stuff.” You nodded, trying to make her laugh.

 And laugh she did, quietly - the kind of laugh that can make a thousand boys fall for her. Just like that, the two of you started walking. Side by side.

 That moment, you felt like Park Kyung’s “Ordinary Love” was playing in the background, and the two of you were the main characters in a teenage romance. The weather that morning was great. Gentle morning air, perfect mix of breeze that made the world feel fresh and warmth from the sun shining at everything in the neighborhood. Just so good that you wished it would stay like this forever.

 The streets of Eungam-dong were nice, peaceful, disrupted occasionally by the sound of cars passing by or people opening their shops. You two passed through rows of nice buildings and light chatter of people starting their day. This silence - with her, felt nice. “Do you always wake up early? Like this morning.” Asa wondered, turning to look at you.

 “I don’t know. Depends on what plans I have on that day.” you shrugged.

 You pointed at the local convenience store just right around the corner. “Right there. Five stars. Nothing else in Korea can compare to this.”

 She smiled. “Wow.”

 You reached for the handle and opened the door for her. The bell chimed softly as you two entered. Inside, the store had everything teenagers like you two needed for a light breakfast. Instant noodle, snacks, cold milk... everything. You know every corner of this store, you’d been here since you were just a kid after all.

 “My treat, as promised. I have government funding.”

 “Funding…?” she replied, her head tilted, brows scrunching just a little bit - looking confused. “What does it mean?”

 Oh right, she’s Japanese - her Korean wasn't perfect back then. The way her voice sounded so sweet, soft and curious reminded you to take things slower with her. Gentler.

 “Oh, funding means… like money. Government money.” you tried to explain.

 She stared at you for a second. Then, she laughed - finally, sounded like candy to your ears. “Wow, must be nice.” The two of you walked to the drinks section. You went straight for the classic. “This one”

 You said while holding up a little bottle of milk to show her. “Everyone in Korea knows this. Legendary. I grew up drinking this… well, I still drink this but, you get the idea.”

 Asa leaned in, her eyes had a mix of curiosity and surprise. Her hand reached out to take the bottle - fingers slightly brushing against yours. Turning it around, she read the label just like your mom would. Are all women this careful? You, personally, just consume anything as long as it tastes nice. 

 “Cute packaging.” 

 “Yup, but I’m sure Japan has way fancier drinks.” 

 You then turned and scanned around. “And maybe… cream bread. Or this sandwich? I’m not sure what suits your taste but these are really nice. You won’t die from it.” you grinned while showing her one of the pastries.  Asa nodded, smiling. “I’ll try.”

 You then grabbed two triangle kimbap (one for her, just in case she was still hungry). Grabbing everything to the counter, you paid with the government funding (thanks mom) and led her back outside. There was a small bench right outside the store, just beside that familiar tree you always walked by on the way to school. You sat down first, she then followed. For a moment, the only sound there was the gentle crinkle of the plastic wrapping and the faint breeze passing by.

 “Try it.” you said.

 She took a sip of the banana milk, blinked for a second. “Mmm… It’s really nice.”

 You smiled, giving her a thumbs-up. “Told you. Only the best stuff.”

 She giggled again, feeling more comfortable this time. She mumbled thank you as you handed her her food, which you already peeled open. You two sat there, enjoying each other’s presence as time passed by - eating, sharing smiles between bites. Just two teenagers, under the morning sun.

 “So what was it like in Japan?” you asked after a short pause, still chewing a bit of kimbap still in your mouth. Damn, you really are your dad’s child.

 Asa started telling you everything - her hometown, her friends, her sisters, how she had to move here because of her dad’s job, where he now worked with your dad. She even told you how scary it was to leave everything and move to a new country, despite her dad trying his best to notify their family two years in advance. You listened. It must have been really tough on her. You couldn’t even imagine moving from Eungam-dong to Yeokchon-dong (which are right next to each other btw). 

 “That’s tough.” you said, in honest.

 “Yeah, but Korea’s nice. I guess I have a lot to do in Korea now.”

 “Uhm, do you watch… like, dramas or listen to K-pop?”

 Her eyes lit up. “Ooh, of course. My mom is a really big Block B fan, she’s the reason why I got into K-pop too. I also learnt Korean through watching dramas. What are your favorites?” Well, that made sense. No wonder why your speech is so cute.

 “Well, I don’t really watch dramas that much these days. I remember rewatching ‘Boys Over Flowers’ with my mom… Mmm, the other one, what is it? ‘Gentleman's Dignity’? Ever heard of it? The one with Jang Dong-gun in it. Really popular with middle-aged women.”

 She shook her head, laughing. “It sounds familiar.”

 “And K-pop, yeah… I listen a lot. Block B is nice, too. I like ‘Her’. My main is TWICE* and Bigbang.”

 “Ooh, I love them too. Super popular in Japan.”

*I LOVE TWICE.

 Great, you two had something in common. She even suggested - just threw it out there lightly - that you two start watching dramas together sometimes, if the chance ever came. Just say the word and I’d do anything with you. The conversation went on for a bit - teenage concerns, favorite songs, both of you two’s hobbies, the way your mood during the day was unhealthily decided by Manchester United’s result (I don’t know if we can stay up next season), how she wanted to try and start dancing… Then it slowed down, into something soft and easy. 

 “So there’s this arcade nearby.” you said, rubbing your hand on your knees. 

 “Oh, that’s nice. I haven’t really had the chance to go to one yet.” Asa tilted her head at you.

 “Wanna check it out? It’s really nice.” you asked, hoping not to sound over-excited.

 “Sure, is sunbae gonna show me all his skills,? she said, standing up slowly.

 “You’re gonna be amazed.” 

 “Or extremely disappointed.” she teased.

 “You’ll see.” The two of you - side by side, now closer to each other - with sunlight following, casting warmth along the peaceful street.

 The arcade was small, tucked in a corner near the main street, but it had everything: from claw machines, basketball game, racing simulators... you name it. LED lights along with a bit musty-but-still-clean-and-magical air of a place where kids, even adults come to make memories. You led the way, like a proud local. You showed her how to use the punch machine. With a light shoulder roll and a quick breath, you stepped up and swung. Baam.

 The machine blared: 674.

 “Woah.” Asa blinked. “That’s pretty good.”

 Did i look cool? You thought. “I mean, could’ve been better.”

 “Should I be scared of you, taekwondo master?” she asked, face holding a grin.

 You tilted your head slightly at her. “Only if you annoy me.”

 She laughed, holding her hands to cover her smile. Something about that way she does that still makes your heart beat crazy - till this day. “Try it, let’s see how you do.”

 Her punch was more like a gentle tap, scoring only somewhere around the 180-200s. She turned her head around looking at you, pouting - clearly playing it for the effect.

 “Not bad. You got potential.” You placed both your hands gently on her shoulders, pretending to console her but actually just taking any chance to be closer with her. You sly devil. And she didn’t pull your hands away, yes!

 After that punch machine victory, you two wandered around - laughing at each other’s poor attempt at racing, throwing bricks like Draymond Green at the 3-point line at the basketball machine and eventually ending up at the claw machine.

 Asa put both her hands on the glass, eyes wide. She pointed at the Crayon Shin-chan plush keychain - with him showing his butt, looking mischievous. Adorable.

 You tried. Then again. It took 4 tries. But you finally got it. The claw dropped it just enough to fall into the prize slot.

 “Victory, hehe.” you said, crouching to grab it, handing Asa the keychain while also hoping you really impressed her. Her eyes were sparkling. She mumbled thank you as she took it with both hands. So beautiful.

 Then, you tried once again to get the same one for yourself. You two walked out of the arcade with matching keychains - hers swinging from her cropped cardigan, yours clipped onto the neck of your jacket. 

 There was still a lot of time before lunch. No need to rush. You showed her the hidden alleyway shortcut behind the bakery - the one no one used except the kids who lived nearby. You passed the local park along Bulgwangcheon stream, stopping by the swings and sat there for a while. Taking in the scenery - the sunlight, the breeze, her beauty. Quiet, peaceful, nice. You showed her auntie Bomi’s snack stall near home, your favorite, where she got brave and tried something spicy - fanning her mouth after the first bite. Auntie Bomi didn’t even let you pay for it, saying it was a welcome gift for “this cute new girl”, she even gave Asa a free egg roll.

 On the way home, she asked if you ever get bored here. “Sometimes” you said. “But now it feels nice having you next door. Hanging out with you is… uhm, fun.” You two didn’t talk about feelings. Not yet. But she got closer to you, exchanging glances every now and then. Oh, before you even knew it, you guys already got home. Just in time for lunch.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

 From that day on, something quietly began to grow between you and Asa. Late night texts, occasional video calls where you two spoke really quietly - not wanting to be caught… It felt so comfortable. You didn’t label it, didn’t feel the need to - maybe she didn’t either. 

 Your families noticed too, of course. They weren’t dumb, not at all. On the first day of school, your families forced you two to take a picture together, saying it would be “nice” to look back on in the future. Well… maybe they’re right. Your mom started asking if Asa had eaten yet so casually, as if she was already a part of your family. Ms. Keiko started calling you over to have meals with their family, like it was second nature. You guys walked to school - Youngrak middle school, together. Just a 15 minute walk from home. You guys ended up in the same class - sitting next to each other, right beside the window at the back of the class. That made everything easier - being next to her almost everyday. The first month at school was a bit tough on her. New culture, new language, new everything. But you were there, volunteering to help her whenever she needed - translation, math homework... Teachers noticed you guys too, being such nice, diligent and studious kids. One of your names can’t be mentioned without the other. Asa adapted really quickly, faster than you thought. The girls at school loved her, of course they did. Look at Asa. Guys at school didn’t really approach Asa, since you were with her almost 24/7.

 Friends also tease you guys, in that harmless silly middle school fashion. Whispering jokes in class, calling her “Joonhyuk’s girl”,... you guys laughed it off. Asa usually rolled her eyes, but not with her signature half smile-half sigh. Neither of you really said anything. Teenagers… 

 Back home, Asa’s sisters’ teasing her even more. They once saw you guys walking home on a rainy day after 학원*. You were holding an umbrella, tilting mostly on her side to shield her from the rain. She blushed like crazy, but you just smiled and waved at them, playing along. Everything about her became part of your life, naturally.

*학원/hakwon: like study/educaiton center for after school study (typically after school, at night), really common in Korea, my country or just Asia in general. 

 As the time went by, you two also grew - not much, but small changes counted. Asa decided to join the dancing club, finally. Part of you felt proud of her, Asa was such a talented girl, drawing, dancing, writing - she did it all, shining in everything she did. The way she danced with those soft, precise grace made everyone feel like they were really fortunate to be in her presence, be near her. The other part of you, was it… jealousy?

 The more she participated in the dance club, the more attention she got, especially from the guys, or those sunbae. Fuck that. Those guys didn't know how special she was, they didn’t treasure her like you did. You hated that, but you still reminded yourself: you two were NOT a thing. Just friends, close friends - next door neighbors.  But then again, they had her front and center for pretty much every school performance. Damn it…

 Meanwhile, you started taking taekwondo more seriously. Going to practice after school as a routine slowly became a rhythm you couldn’t skip. Twice a week slowly increased into three, four times. They had you coming in for the weekend too, but your parents had your back, making excuses for you to enjoy your teenage years whenever it felt like too much. Something about this, growing up, the pressure to do well, to win - was a bit overwhelming, but you still liked it... right? You won a few medals at the city level, yeah… but as a kid. Then you won even a few more as you grew up, to your surprise (not your coach’s tho). Word got around, your names started circulating around the taekwondo circle. “There is this kid, from Eungam-dong, really good - too good for his age.”  You thought it was just gibberish when your friends told you about it. Then came the messages, representatives showing up at your house - talking about “your son’s potential, international level”, then the offer. You got scouted for a sports-specialised highschool, all the way in Suwon. 

 Suwon… away from Seoul, away mom and dad, away from Asa… A school for kids who are extremely good at their sports, for kids who had the potential to represent Korea on the world stage. The best of the best. Flattering, sure… But it was also scary and confusing at the same time. Well, this all happened during later middle school - early high school, let’s roll back the time - to when things were a lot more simple.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

 2019

 It was April, Asa’ birthday. You had been planning for a few weeks. With the help of Lisa and Chisa, you bought her a nice necklace from a really niche online jewelry shop on IG, with your saved up money that you were planning to spend on Juventus summer tour tickets in Korea that summer, planning to see Ronaldo (my GOAT) in real life. But for Asa, everything was worth it. The necklace was really nice, nothing over the top with some cute little charms. That night, you told her present was caught up in some delivery problems. She was a bit sad, which broke your heart but after your families were done celebrating her birthday at her house, you texted her.

10:24PM

[준혁선베🥋]

yah, kim asa, come out for a bit

ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

my mom said she forgot to give you some money for your birthday

[김아사🌸]

what? it’s okay

that’s nice but she doesn’t have too

[준혁선베🥋]

just come out

5 minutes

[김아사🌸]

your mom is too nice

give me one second

 After a few minutes, she was outside, wearing that oversized yellow pajama of hers, Donald ducks printed all over them. Hair a bit messy but still looking like she came out of your dream. Why do you have to look so cute even this late at night? The two of you standing under the lamppost between your houses, eyes gazing at each other. The soft glow from the lamppost definitely didn’t help you either, making her look even prettier.

 “Close your eyes. Give me your hands.” you said, a bit shy.

 “Huh… what are you doing?” Asa said, mouth grinning like she already knew what you were plotting.

 “Just do it or I’m walking back in.”

 “Okay, dummy.” She teased, closing her eyes. She held her hands out. Palms up, Trusting you.

 Right then, a wild thought ran through your mind: you really wished you had given her a light kiss on the lips. Your first kiss, hers too… maybe? No, it’s creepy. Instead, You pulled out a small box from your shorts pocket carefully, like it was highly classified, 24K carat, only-one-in-the-world type of jewelry, placing it into her hands.

 Her eyes opened, lips curling into a cheeky smile. “You really surprised me tonight, Seo Joonhyuk. I was actually mad at you a bit earlier ”. she said, clearly touched

 “Your sisters helped me pick it out. I felt like it really suits you. Just… don’t open it yet. Go inside and then open it. It’s really cold now.” you lied while rubbing the back of your neck. It wasn’t that cold. You were just really shy, so shy that you could die standing right there.

 “Okay, thank you for the gift, Joonhyuk-ah.” Asa waved at you one last time before smiling, going back inside.

 You waved back then walked back inside, pacing around the living room for a bit to calm the storm in your heart before sprinting to your room like a maniac. Thank god your parents were in their room, but little did you know, Asa’s mom was right upstairs in their house, witnessing the whole encounter with a loving smile on her face. 

 Your phone suddenly buzzed.

[김아사🌸] sent a photo.

 It was a selfie of Asa, lips puckered like Donald duck on her pajamas, hands up in a v sign - she was committed to the bit. Your eyes wandered around. On her neck was… there it was, your birthday gift. It was resting just above her collarbone, catching the soft light of her bedside lamp. 

 You stared at it for a while, smiling like you were a fool, president of cuckooland, just when a notification brought back to reality.

[김아사🌸] 

it’s really nice ㅈㅎ ah (your initials)

thank you so much ㅎㅎ

[준혁선베🥋]

see, i know the best

with a bit of help from your sisters, of course…

but still, mainly me.

[김아사🌸] 

you really know my taste huh

thanks again ㅎㅎ

[준혁선베🥋]

happy birthday, kim asa

 She then sent an emoticon of a cute bear, running around panicking with blushes on its face. Heh, i made her day. Well, she made yours too. From then on, you saw her wearing that necklace proudly on every special occasion. Seems like she really treasured your gift, nice.

 Late May came, 채육대 (Sports festival/day) at school

 Your school was buzzing with noise. Colorful t-shirts, cheesy banners. You weren’t really one to be excited for these kinds of events. But this year was different, Asa was here. The weather was a bit hot, but not so much, it was enough to make everyone feel energized.

 Asa, of course, was part of the cheering performance. She had her hair in pigtails, decorated with pink ribbons. She was almost front and center the entire performance, white shirt and black shorts - so simple yet so ethereal, looking like everyone’s first love in a drama. You didn’t want to stare that much, but you couldn’t help it. Her movements were sharp and graceful, always in sync with the rhythm, leading the other girls.

 You yourself were signed up for football, since you were, say, “a bit athletic”. People also knew you were a die hard United fan. When you told her you would be playing that day on the way home, she told you she would be cheering for you. No backing out now, buddy.

 When the match started, you glanced towards the audience and there Asa was, with her friend groups, jumping up and down while chanting something, felt like she was mouthing your name. Your chest felt like it burst open, time to turn into prime Ronaldo and impressed her. It wasn’t serious league football - just 7v7 - but to you, it was serious. Games gone by, you contributed by making passes and escaping presses in midfield to make play for your friends up front. When your team got to the final, you really hoped that Asa saw it all since your head was really into the game and didn’t want her to see you running around like a headless chicken. 

 Your class was screaming like crazy when there was 10 minutes left in the final. Asa was still there, sitting under an umbrella with her close friends. The score was 2-2. Then came a chance, a free kick with 2 minutes left. You stepped up.

 Your friend, Jooheon, jogged over and whispered in your ear “Whip it out right for me, I’ll try and score a header.” You smiled.

 Like mann, shut up. Watch me turn into 2008 Ronaldo and whip this ho in from 20 meters myself.

 You took your chance, kicking it with precision and just enough power. Please don’t embarrass me, ball. 

 As it flew through the other team defence, Joonheon stared “The fuck?”

 Time stopped, well… you felt so. Boom. It’s in. Top bins, baby.

 “Oh shit!”

 “Is it in?”

 The whole pitch erupted. 3-2. You turned to Asa, she was jumping with her hands up, mouth wide open - clapping while beaming at you like you just won the Champions League. You did it, just when you were deciding on what celebration to do, your friends tackled you onto the grass. 

 “You did it, you dumbass!”

 “Gang up on him, guys!!!” You couldn’t stop smiling, even under the dogpile of smelly, sweaty friends. That day was incredible, not because of the win. It was because she was there, you were there. You guys were there for each other, supporting each other even if it was just a sports festival day at school. That feeling when you made her feel happy - that rush - gave you something extra to hold onto when the real competition came. 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

 A few weeks later, there was a taekwondo competition, national level. It was nothing like you’d ever seen before, not in a local center, not a school level competition. There were cameras to broadcast everything for TV.  It was held at Jamsil Student Gymnasium. It was huge, high ceilings, LED lights everywhere, rows of chairs stretching out endlessly, banners from every corner of Korea to cheer for their representatives. You still remember that day, it smelled like floor wax, sweat and raw nerves. 

 Looking around, you spotted mom and dad in the crowd, waving their hands like they were at a concert. You smiled, they would never miss this. Asa was sitting between your family and hers, giving you two thumbs up when your eyes met. As you squint your eyes to try and confirm, she was in fact wearing the necklace you gave her on her birthday - just like she would on every special occasion. You waved back at them, half smiling since the nerves were also getting to you. You hadn’t competed in anything this serious yet up until that point. This was "the one" for you to prove it, on the national stage.

 “Representing Eungam-dong, Seoul. SEO JOON HYUK”

 Everything passed by so fast, you had gotten to the final before you even knew it. It was not too easy, but not too hard. Still, those hits and kicks you took hurt like crazy, nothing like you felt before. Like damn, chill on me bruh… 

 As you were resting on the bench, waiting for the final, nothing was in your head except for  the rhythm of Twice’s ‘Cheer Up’. Weird, huh? You didn’t even notice that coach was encouraging you and giving tips on how to exhaust your opponent before going for it. Well, easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one with a sore rib and throbbing legs.

 But then, something made you turn around. A voice cutting through the noise of the arena. It was Asa’s.

 “Fighting, Seo Joon-hyuk. You got this.” she shouted with both her hands around her mouth, mimicking a megaphone. The families were cheering on you too, but for some reason, hers felt like the only one you needed. Time for the final.

 You stepped onto the mat, steady breath, mind relaxed. Fuck… why did your opponent look so big even though you two were in the same weight class. First round… Second round, then came third round. You two were aggressive. Every move hurt even more than the last. Everyone in the gymnasium was holding their breath. Your mom was holding back her tears, seeing her son all bruised up like this. Your dad’s hand was over her shoulder, still worried but knowing you can win this. 

 Fuck. Your neck felt so stiff.  Right leg so sore too.

 Final round, the moment came. You blocked, ducked and then decided to land a sharp body shot. Your opponent came down. It connected. The crowd roared. 

 The buzzer finally rang. You didn’t know how to react, crouching down to your opponent, asking if he was okay. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

 He nodded, while still lying down in pain. “Yeah… okay. Just need a moment to… you know…”

 You stood up while tapping on the side of his arms to signal that everything was fine between the two of you. You stood there, hands on your knees, heart beating like crazy, the adrenaline was through the roof - everything around you seemed so blurry, but you won.

 The ref raised your hand. There it was. The crowd cheered for you. You walked to your opponent and gave him a friendly hug, no hate, he gave you a fair beating. Proper guy. Your teammates, coaches crowded you. Hey, you won something grand, on behalf of your Eungam-dong and your school - which was not really known for athletic talents. But everything faded as you walked over to your family, signaling at the security guard, asking him to let them down.

 Mom reached out first, hugging you, despite the fact that you were drenched in sweat and probably death. “Oh my baby, I’m so proud of you.” She just kept kissing your head, it also smelt like crazy by the way. Your dad was proud on the side, busy taking pictures with his over 10 years old camera, yeah this one is going into our family history book, buddy.

 Her family came to congratulate you too, one by one, not forgetting to ask if you were okay.

 “It’s fine, Ms. I’m just a bit sore here and there.” you lied. It hurt so bad.

 “Come to our house tonight, Joonhyuk-ah. We will make you that magical Japanese potion. Fix you up real good.” Asa’s dad said. Everyone laughed. They are such nice neighbors.

 Just then, a thought crossed your mind - Oh, where was Asa? - your around. Shit, forgot my neck still hurt. There she was, behind her sisters, who were smiling like crazy. Your eyes met, this time, Asa wasn’t screaming or jumping anymore. Her usual self was back. You could tell she was proud, her face said it all. 

 As you took a step toward her, she took one too. In her hands was a towel and a water bottle, seemed like she was gripping it tightly ever since the start of the final - cold, condensation running down the sides. She looked… shy? 

 “Hey…” she said softly while handing you the towel “Congratulations. You did well today.” 

 You grinned, like an idiot, wiping your face and hair. “Really? Did I look cool?”

 She didn’t say anything, that signature half sigh-half smile is back on her face again.

 “I’ll take that as a yes. Thank you very much.”

 That was it, everything felt so peaceful. Then, you were called up to receive the medal, right after the cheering performance ended.

 Right, you almost forgot about that part. As you were walking to the podium, you felt like every pair of eyes in South Korea were on your back. Never the one for this much attention. The ceremony finally began. You bowed, shook hands with the vice president of Korea Taekwondo Association as he placed the medal on your neck. 

 “You really are one of a kind, kid. When it’s time, we will call you up to train for the national team.” 

 You smiled, out of politeness. National team, are you joking???

 Everything was a blur. Pictures being taken, TV interviews, you were now a local legend-celeb. But behind all that noise,  Asa was still in the crowds, tiptoeing behind her sisters to get a better view of you. Media duties done, you walked right back to her and your families. Without even knowing it, you took the gold medal off your neck and put it on hers. She was shocked - not in a bad way, just surprised at how naturally you did this.

 “Hehe, how does it feel?” you asked, still shy but it didn’t matter, Asa was in front of you. Well done, that was smooth.

 “Uhm… nice, I guess…” she said, looking down at the medal, touching to see how it feel. Her lips were also smiling. Cute.

 “I guess your mom is a nobody now. I’ll just live like this with your dad until old age then.” your mom, now done crying, happily teased as she saw the scene in front of her played out.

 “C’mon, mom.” you tried hard not to sound too flustered, while Asa was blushing like crazy, head down as she didn’t know what to do. 

 “Get in, you two. Let’s take a picture.” your dad said.

 Then, you two got closer together. Asa hooked one arm around yours, the other hand holding up the medal like a proud girlfriend. But, remember this, you two were still not a thing yet. However, it didn’t matter. You were just drowning deep in the moment. Meanwhile, Asa leaned in, putting her head on your shoulders and joked:

 “Pose, you smelly dummy.” Right, right. I’m sorry I didn’t take a 30 minute break during the middle of a taekwondo competition to shower before standing next to you.

 Click. A memory was sealed. Later that night, both your families had dinner together - a warm, chaotic celebration in the neighborhood. Everyone couldn’t stop smiling and laughing. Your dad was calling every relative you had to tell them about your big win, even the ones in Busan. Wait, you have relatives in Busan? Mom was so proud, she couldn’t stop talking about how her son won it on national TV.

 Peaceful, warm… The rest of 2019 went by just like that. Both of your and Asa’s families grew tighter - casual dinners, shared nights, moms started going out together and catching up on the neighborhood dramas… What about you and Asa? You guys walked to school together, waited until each other's practices ended. Casually hanging out in the neighborhood, video calls became more frequent, you guys even started dozing off without ending the calls, which felt normal. Even though you two got busier, there was still time for each other. You two kinda became that couple at school that everyone knew about - teachers, classmates, your coach… you name it, but neither of you dared say anything about it. 

 No one said anything. As you guys grew older together, at some point,  whatever this is between the two of you started to feel a bit unusual. A bit too complicated.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Yayy, part II is out now. Sorry for any mistakes, will be going through it again later. Like always, much love to you guys, feel free to leave comments/review/suggestions. ❤️❤️❤️

[whumpetywhumpwhump]

Maisie's guide to disguised AI

If you've been anywhere near AO3 recently, you've probably encountered AI writing at some point. As somebody who writes for, primarily, the ER fandom (and occasionally the Pitt, too), I've noticed a concerning trend over the last few days: AI-generated fanfiction clogging the tags.

Firstly, I'd like to say that if you ARE posting fics on AO3 that were AI-generated, and you're passing them off as your own, please stop. I know this is not likely to actually resonate with you if this IS you, but on the off-chance that you do see this- please use tags as intended and make it clear that you're using AI.

Secondly, before I go into some AI tells in detail, I want to preface this with a warning- just because you see one or two of these in a fic, there's no guarantee that it was AI-generated. Please approach the matter of flagging fics with care, because the last thing I want is to incite a witch hunt against innocent people just engaging in fandom.

However, when seen in tandem, these signs should act as a warning to think a little more deeply about what you're reading, and ask the question- was this human written?

1. Em-dashes

I'm getting this one out of the way quickly because it's something easily identifiable, but it should by no means discredit a fic on its own. Real people can use em-dashes, but ChatGPT uses them a LOT. Like, a distracting amount. And they're often used in conjunction with...

2. 'Not' qualifiers

ChatGPT doesn't do 'yes, and'. It seems to work off 'no, but' instead (sorry @pagingdoctorcarter , like an AI, I am stealing your phrase here. But I do have the decency to credit, I suppose!).

Take this sentence I've come up with right now:

Carter was so exhausted he was struggling to stand, legs trembling with the strain of keeping him upright.

AI might write something like this (using my own creative license here because I don't want to feed the beast):

Carter was exhausted— not the regular exhaustion that came with twelve hours on his feet. Something deeper. Heavier.

3. Repetitive phrases.

AI is not original, so it can't come up with anything original, of course. This means that it relies on basic phrases it uses over and over and over again e.g 'the kind of (blank) that (blank)'

4. The classic 'concrete noun' + 'abstract noun' combo

For reasons that I can't quite understand, AI adores this. Some humans include this combo in their work, too, but AI does it even more frequently. Some real phrases I've encountered so far include:

"a story about meatballs and betrayal"

"champagne and anxiety soaked into the upholstery"

5. Anachronisms and inaccuracies

This is especially present in a fandom like ER, where most of the time we're writing about the 90s, and this CAN be attributed to genuine human error... but if Carter is repeatedly 'swiping' on his phone screen to open a call, and everyone's always texting... could be AI.

In a similar vein, if someone is shouting 'code blue!' for things that AREN'T cardiac arrest, or mixing up names and even hallucinating random characters- think 'maybe AI'.

6. Short sentences, short paragraphs, short chapters.

AI doesn't have the ability to understand how paragraphs are structured for ease of reading and flow. So it likes short sentences. Snappy sentences.

And not just when the situation suits it. But always.

If there's a hell of a lot of paragraphs, it could be AI. AI doesn't like including many clauses. At all.

7. Generic similes and phrases that don't mean anything at all

This relates to the 'concrete noun + abstract noun combo' but, more generally, AI produces writing that veers away from specifics. It won't often describe places in too much detail, and when it comes to similes, it uses simple, overused ones OR spouts a series of words that are meaningless. If you see an abstract simile in a fic, take a second. Is it abstract because it's complex and has several layers, or is it utterly meaningless?

8. A crazy update schedule

This one is less reliable because it IS possible to bank chapters and then post a lot in one go, but if an author is posting many thousands of words in the span of a few days, consider this a small red flag- especially in conjunction with the other things mentioned. It could mean they're just pumping out AI-generated writing, and this allows them to move far quicker than any human.

9. Overly mushy dialogue

AI is a thief, but it's a happy-go-lucky thief. Characters speak like they stepped straight off Sesame Street at times, lacking any kind of emotional complexity.

10. Awful, awful jokes

AI cannot write jokes. It simply cannot. If you read a joke in a fic that feels Disney-Channel esque but also doesn't make sense at all? It very well could be AI.

For instance:

Nobody talks like this.

Also, note the 'concrete noun + abstract noun' combo again here! (This actually was an AI fic as confirmed by author before deletion, not naming them here): 'gauze and intuition'.

Conclusion

Be vigilant. Don't fall for AI crap and, if you disagree with the concept of AI work clogging AO3 tags, definitely don't leave kudos.

And if you're posting this stuff, yet again I ask you politely, please STOP.

Thank you.

[dailypj]

(Assuming that you’ve already put some thought into characterizing PJ, tho feel free to ignore this if not! I’m just trying to scope out how to potentially write PaperJam’s character into a fic, since him being sort of a skeptic could mean that he wins the idgaf war too well and has no impact on the central plot yknow)

Do you have ideas for any fun internal conflicts or character arcs for PJ? If there’s a multiverse-threatening conflict unfolding, what would PJ be doing about it, if anything? What mcguffins or circumstances could be triggered that would quickly pique PJ’s interest enough to get involved?

As always my first piece of advice for writing anything pj is to go through the resources provided by his creator, @7goodangel (@-ing in case you wanna put in ur 2 cents, he is ur guy)

Here are the links for:

Pj’s bio

Pj info tag

Pj faq page (bit of a shortcut for the info tag since it holds answers to a lot of previously asked questions, tho not all of them)

now for an actual answer, there's a long ramble under the cut, enjoy

first thing that ik for sure is canon, pj would step in if it's necessary to protect his family (I believe it was a comment somewhere by 7 that stated that pj would go as far as suffocating someone for threatening his kid's life)

if the multiverse being in danger has the capacity to hurt his loved ones I'm sure he'd do something about it, but I think the lengths he's willing to go will vary depending on what/who is causing it and which other characters are joining the fight

Ink for example is definitely an interesting ally considering their past. a conflict between them is pretty much inevitable, especially if you take from canon and had them separated years prior

Now if pj’s loved ones aren't present here, that’s where my guesses on how she’d act get fuzzy. In the past, pj took it upon herself to judge whether certain aus should stay alive or be erased. She believed that what error did was wrong not because it was a massacre of innocents, but because he did it too indiscriminately

(I’d say it was pretty easy to gain a dehumanizing view of others when the 2 biggest influences she had referred to the masses as just fictional characters or anomalies…)

Now, she does indeed spare aus she deems acceptable, but I’m not sure how much she’s willing to risk for them. Cuz like, part of her self-given job is motivated by the want to prove she isn’t a mistake to the man who wants every universe to die

Basically she’s got some pretty dark grey morals and it’s fun to deconstruct them (or make them worse if you wanna go the antagonist pj route, equally fun imo)

now a more headcanon-y idea (aka the trait I tend to exaggerate in nearly every pj varient I've made thus far for angst purposes) is leaning into the whole "I have to be useful to be worthy of anyone's care" thing, and just strongly wanting to disprove bad assumptions/expectations about herself (especially the mistake thing) which couldd lead to her going down a phase of believing she should follow in ink's protector footsteps to try and become more of a priority in his eyes (with the added bonus of keeping fears other characters may have about her "becoming like error" at bay)

does it work? idk but maybe if she just obsesses over it even more the identity crisis will be worth it Slash J

so ya that's my 2 cents on a potential conflict based on canon stuff, absolutely feel free to go ham on whatever direction you feel like taking pj I'm just a big advocate for "learn the rules before you break them" 👍✨

[wingedhallows]

pls pls write something about police officer ellie 🙏

𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄, 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐑

━━ ᝰ.ᐟ

♒︎ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 officer!ellie x reader / 0.4k words ♒︎ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 fluff, est.relationship ♒︎ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 this was so cute to write! i hope you like it!

♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎

The road’s mostly empty—just a few lone cars trailing in the distance, the hum of your tires blending with the low, mellow music spilling from the speakers.

A soft breeze slips in through the crack in your window, brushing your cheek like a promise of an easy day. It’s your day off, and for once, the world seems to be playing nice. First stop: Target. Then maybe Bath & Body Works. If you’re still feeling it after that, Barnes & Noble’s calling your name.

But then—red and blue flash behind you in the rearview mirror.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, eyes narrowing. You weren’t speeding. You know you weren’t.

Ellie had checked your car last weekend from top to bottom—tires, signals, tags—all golden. Still, you sigh and ease onto the shoulder, already reaching for your license and registration as you roll the window down.

You glance up as the patrol car door opens behind you, bracing yourself for an awkward exchange with one of Ellie’s coworkers—except it’s not one of Ellie’s coworkers.

It’s Ellie herself.

She steps out like she’s has all the time in the world, sunglasses perched perfectly on her nose, one hand resting casually on her belt. You don’t even try to hide your groan. Of course she pulled you over. Not for speeding. Not for a taillight. Just… because.

She strolls up to your window, all slow confidence and that smug little smirk that should be illegal. She leans her elbow against the car door and peers inside.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter, already exasperated.

“You have to stop pulling me over like this, babe.”

You toss your license back into your bag with a sigh, trying hard to look annoyed and not completely endeared.

Ellie chuckles, low and satisfied, pushing her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose just enough to let you see that glint in her eyes.

“What can I say, baby? Gotta make sure my girl’s starting her day off safe.”

You roll your eyes, but the small smile tugging at your lips betrays you. You do love this idiot.

She leans in through the open window, her tone shifting just enough to melt you a little.

“Be safe out there, yeah?”

You hum, eyes softening as she brushes a kiss against your lips—sweet and easy.

“Of course, officer.”

[strawbairicake]

hallo Lia, before i say anything else i think i should apologize for taking so long to submit a request for your event—i kept either forgetting or endlessly second-guessing any draft of an ask i came up with because i didn’t want to end up annoying you, i hope you can forgive me :((

since it’s so late i completely understand if you don’t want to write this (especially if you aren’t interested in the idea), but would it be ok for me to request aventurine and a merman/merfolk au? i think it would be interesting to see him attempt (keyword: attempt) to court a human reader, but feel free to change the concept however you like ! thank you in advance, have a great day ♡

part of your world -aventurine x reader (mermaid/merfolk au!)

synopsis: the cute guy that mysteriously came ashore the beach is really intriguing, isn’t he?

warnings: none, it’s pure fluff! might be ooc though, apologies for that!

word count: 498

author’s note: yes the title was from the song from the little mermaid. no, i don’t have any regrets or better title names. anyway, thank you for requesting, Ruu! please don’t hesitate to come say hello or drop a request in my inbox! no beta, we die like my hopes n’ dreams /lh! would love to hear more from you! hopefully this idea fits (and maybe exceeds) your expectations; hope you enjoy! <3

book n’ dash event

tagging: @cmiru

acquiring human legs after having a mermaid tail all your life is quite the flex. that’s what Aventurine thought anyway. he had just washed up to shore when you came running over to him, in quite the panic.

“oh my gosh, are you okay? where did you come from?” you asked as you approached him. and Aventurine felt like he had come down with an ailment: he couldn’t speak, think, move (not that he tried any of these things). he was just frozen. god you were so pretty, did you know that?

“washed… up,” Aventurine replies, somewhat stunned at his lack of being able to form words. you nod, seemingly understanding what he said (you didn’t understand) and trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. you don’t want to overwhelm him, either.

“where are you from?” you asked after a few minutes of silence.

“the ocean. why?”

“okay… how did you get here, friend?” you asked.

friend… such a safe and comforting word. he knows you didn’t slip the word out intentionally. it was a speaking before thinking moment but you didn’t seem to regret or take back the word. 

“i… don’t know. i’m just… here.” he replies. you nod again. 

“i’m (name), nice to meet you. come with me, I’ll help you get on your feet. two more questions, can you understand what i’m saying? and what's your name?” 

“I’m Aventurine, and i can understand you well.”

satisfied with his answer, you help him off the sandy beach, giving him a towel you were carrying earlier. you help him wrap it around his waist and start walking to your apartment, not far from the beach luckily. you both make the short trek back to your home and you let him settle in before overwhelming him with more questions and activities for you to do.

“once you’re comfortable and dressed, we’re going to go to the mall and get you some clothes, okay?” 

“sure, thank you.” 

And so you were off. you headed to the mall, and got to the clothing store for your new friend. you let him pick out whatever he wanted. but before you both left the store, a small pearl bracelet caught his eye. 

“(Name), look,” Aventurine points to the bracelet.

“what’s wrong?” you ask as you see where his finger’s pointing, “oh, the bracelet? we can get it!” and as the nice clerk gets it out of the display and grabs it for you. you check out and head back to your apartment.

“what’s with the interest in the bracelet?” you asked him after he sat down on your couch.

“it’s a sign of loyalty and love in the mermaid language. you’ve also been kind to me.”

your breath hitched, and you gulp a bit nervously, “and?” 

“and even though we’ve just met, i want you to have it.” he says as he pushes the box to you. you think this cute mermaid-turned human is sticking around for a while longer.

©2025 strawbairicake. do not repost, copy, translate, modify, or use for AI.

[spikedfearn]

You're so immature, I'm not the person who reblogged but they just reblogged with two tags, like chill. Why did you take that so seriously? Go to therapy or something like that. You were so rude to them, and for what? What are you trying to prove? I love characters who are all kinds of messed up but I'm not crashing out on Tumblr over someone's reblog of my content. For your own well being you should take this advice, I assume no one wants to be around someone so unstable, also have you heard that saying: "If you meet someone and you smell shit it's probably them, but if you meet 100 people and they all smell like shit you've got to look at your shoes"?. Maybe your ex roommate was right about you, especially with what you did, 10 years from now you will realize being angry all the time isn't the way and by then it might be too late.

Also, I'm sending this on anon because I do like your fics, and I do follow you so I don't want you to block me. That person deserves a proper apology. Stop taking things so seriously, stop feeling so attacked, stop feeling like the world is against you. All of your posts that aren't fics are about you being bothered or angry, be proud of what you write, and stop being so pressed about everything. Hope this helps you walk towards being a better person. 😘

Aw, thanks for this incredibly long and condescending essay no one asked for, sweetie. Let’s unpack it, shall we?

First of all, if you’re too much of a pussy to come off anon and attach a name to this word salad, maybe don’t try to psychoanalyze me like you’re charging $200 a session. “Go to therapy”? Thanks, doc—I’ve been in therapy for years. Might be worth looking into for yourself.

Secondly, I’ve been dealing with hate for the last two months, quietly. I’ve kept my mouth shut until someone thought it was cute to try and publicly drag me with “two tags” that weren’t harmless. So don’t gaslight me about “just two tags” when you weren’t the one being talked down to or made an example of. You weren’t in the room. You weren’t in the mentions. You weren’t getting the messages. You don’t get to tell me how I should respond.

And as for this roommate thing? “Especially for what you did” —are you fucking serious? What I did was tie the shoelaces of all her and her boyfriend's shoes together I didn't kill their dog goofy ass 😭 Grow the fuck up. The fact that you’re trying to make this some kind of character judgment about me is laughable.

The “you smell like shit” line? Try harder. Sometimes when you walk into a room and smell shit, it’s because one person has been tracking it in, not because you’ve stepped in it. Might be worth checking your own shoes while you’re at it.

And finally, if you’re so offended by me standing up for myself after weeks of shutting up and swallowing other people’s crap, here’s some good news for you: the unfollow button is right there. Use it. Block me. Do whatever you want—just don’t let the door hit you on the way out, because I sure as fuck don’t want someone following me who feels this way about me.

I don’t owe you an apology. I don’t owe some rando tagger an apology. And I certainly don’t owe you a “kinder” version of myself because you don’t like seeing a woman draw boundaries and clap back when she’s pushed too far.

My page, my rules, my voice. If that’s too much for you, then be gone ho, you won't be missed!! 😘

[adhdtsukasa]

posting my fics here makes me anxious but!! since polysho week has an account on tumblr now too, i decided to give it a try here as well!! if you'd like to support me or just are interested in seeing what else i can write besides incomprehensible autistic analyses, i'd love it if you gave my writing a chance and read my entry for day 5/sleepover 🫶 thank you so much!

(and there is still one more to post on day 7!!)

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

COME REST YOUR BONES NEXT TO ME ; SATORU GOJO, SUGURU GETO

synopsis; satoru shares the first snowfall of the year with the two people he loves most. 

word count; 4.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader/suguru geto (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, you're all whipped, reader referred to as spouse, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly domestic, just comfy vibes all around, mostly from satoru’s pov, suguru has a favorite (its you) (but also not really he just likes bullying toru <3), satoru gojo may or may not have unresolved mommy issues

a/n; happy satosugu holidays to those who celebrate <33 geto died today isnt that crazy. dont u think its fucked up how love figuratively and literally killed him. anyway! help urself to two very whipped husbands <33

”holy shit!”

the raspy tilt of satoru’s voice echoes throughout the bedroom, stirring you from your comfortable slumber. a soft groan spills from suguru’s lips, deep and husky, as he pulls you closer into his embrace — smoothing a warm palm down the back of your head. trying to soothe you back to sleep, muttering under his breath.

”satoru, it’s too early for this...”

”it’s snowing!” said man continues, unperturbed. unmistakably giddy. he’s standing by the window, hands pressed flush against the cold glass; entirely entranced by the sight in front of his cerulean eyes. 

your eyelids begin to flutter. a tiny tug of your subconscious, a pang of something excited flowing through your veins, an alert to your sleepy brain.

(snowing.)

with groggy movements, you wriggle out of suguru’s grasp — a displeased grumble leaves his throat, almost a whine — allowing you to scramble out of bed. ”really?” you chirp, rubbing the sleep from beneath your eyes. a raspy, meek little voice spilling into the air.

satoru grins, watching you move closer, watching as a tiny gasp pushes past your lips. watching as your droopy eyes widen — brightening, glittering, starlight and snowflakes painted on the interior of your iris. a breathtaking sight, he thinks. 

maybe even more breathtaking than the winter wonderland reflected in it; beyond the pure opaque frosting of the window’s glass, out into your backyard, buried beneath a thick layer of snow. soft and fluffy, covering the city, suguru’s long-frozen tulip garden, the bare branches of your apricot tree. every roof in sight. all of it dyed a pure white, glittering in the light of a morning sun yet to fully rise, tiny snowflakes descending down to earth. 

it’s beautiful. 

satoru loves winter. he always has, he thinks. it comes to him as a memory — blurred at the edges, gleaming even still, the first time he saw those snowflakes up close. someone held him in their arms, he recalls. a warmth long faded. 

all he can properly remember is that sight. one that knocked the breath from out his tiny lungs, all glitter and something almost other-worldly, something frightening in its majesty. like it broke through a rift in the stratosphere. 

the first snow of the year.

and he’s loved it ever since; the soft crunch of snow beneath his feet, an air heavy with the scent of cinnamon and candied apples, bouts of laughter to be heard from faraway apartments. red and green glimmers of artificial light, sweet frosting on the christmas cake he would always gobble up alone in his room. the cold wind, nipping at his bare fingers — a reminder of his capacity for ache.

there are lots of things to love. lots of memories to cherish. and every single year, he gets the chance to make more.

like this; the light in your eyes, the smile on your face, the excitement in how hurriedly you turn to meet his giddy gaze. a nostalgic kind of joy simmering in the space between you.

and before either of you know it, satoru’s pulling you towards the hallway, intent on dragging you outside to see it all up close. almost tripping over his agumon plush, lying unassumingly on the floor, kicked off the bed once again. 

(probably by satoru himself, though he’ll always insist it was suguru’s doing. overcome by his jealousy, surely, unable to stand the sight of his cute husband cuddling up to a plushie instead of him. satoru understands, he does — he feels the same when he sees you hug that 3’0 cat plushie of yours.

and, sure, maybe once or twice he’s been lucid enough to register the subconscious kick of his leg and agumon’s subsequent fall to the floor — but he’ll still blame suguru in the morning. if only to see the way said man rolls his eyes, clicks his tongue, maybe flicks his forehead if he’s really lucky.)

high on the spirit of christmas, spurred on by childlike elation and sleep-deprivation, you stumble towards the door. satoru pulls one of his jackets over your shoulders, delighting in the way your hands don’t fully reach through the sleeves. wrapping you up in a cozy scarf when suguru shouts at you both to dress warmly, barely awake and already tired of your antics.

and the moment you step through the door, satoru is engulfed by it. that mystical, mystical feeling. 

a little lonely, a little too satisfying to pass up. a cold breeze that nips at his fingertips, snowflakes that brush against his cheeks and stick to his white lashes. a warm hand in his, as you cling to his side, shuddering — but smiling, as you look up at the sky, putting a hand out just to feel the snowflakes melt against the skin of your palm.

he feels you let go of him, but doesn’t mention it. a little too mesmerized to tug you back. dipping his toes into the bittersweet nostalgia of it all, staring at the flurry of white all around you, the skeletal branches of your apricot tree. suguru’s poor tulips. humming a jolly tune, subconsciously. a little delighted.

— until something cold and wet hits the exposed skin of his neck.

satoru twitches, a chilling shudder trickling down his spine. the snowball just thrown at him begins to melt, droplets sticking to his nape, and he turns to you with a raise of his brow. a devilish grin on his lips, when he hears your muffled laughter, sees the crinkle of your eyes.

(you’re cute, he thinks. but you need to be humbled.)

”oh, so that’s how you wanna play?” he drawls, eyes gleaming with amusement. taking a step forward, reaching down to gather some snow in his palm. a wide grin on his glossy lips. ”fine by me.” 

he's fast, but you act quickly, running towards the apricot tree with laughter in your throat. feeling the pitter patter of your heartbeat resound in your ears, as the snowball misses its mark by just a hair — and you waste no time in making your own.

it’s a hard-fought duel. snowfall blocking your vision, nerves beginning to numb, red cheeks and runny noses as you chase each other with giddy breaths. unfortunately for you, satoru’s arms are unfairly long, fingers unfairly nimble, and his stamina never even seems to falter.

so before long, your energy begins to dwindle. chest heaving, hands too cold to form a proper snowball, while your husband seems like he hasn’t even broken a sweat. they just keep on coming, snowball after snowball colliding with the fabric of your jacket, and when one of them hits your collarbone you squeal — falling backwards, right into a fresh pile of snow.

satoru moves forward, a triumphant smirk on his handsome face. you’re out of breath, and your hands are red, and he’s fairly certain you’re gonna catch a cold. suguru’s going to scold him, but right now all he can think of is you. the frown you’re wearing, the little huff that slips from your lips.

”ready to admit defeat, sweetheart?” he practically purrs, standing above you with his hands on his hips. smug. and you grin right back.

”never.”

a hum. something glimmers in his eyes, a devious little glint, and you come to regret your decision when satoru gathers a heap of snow with his overgrown arms; only to drop it all on top of you. too tired to fight back, all you can do is shield your face, silently accepting your fate.

a shiver wracks through your body, and satoru almost feels bad. just a tiny bit. but then you finally relent, murmuring bitterly under your breath. ”fine, fine…” a soft pout forms on your lips. ”you win.”

and satoru smiles. crouching down to meet you at eye level, on his knees in front of you. there’s a teasing mirth in his eyes, when he reaches out to cup the fat of your cheek. ”that’s all i wanted to hear, sweet pea,” he drawls, trying not to giggle when you exaggeratedly roll your eyes.

his voice curls down an octave when he continues, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours. hot breath against your chilled skin. ”now, for my prize…”

his lips meet yours, sweet and chaste — a little cheeky. you scoff into the kiss, but satoru’s smile only grows. honeyed, a little bit adoring. his tongue flits out to lick at your cold bottom lip.

he lingers, for a bit. like he’s trying to savour the way you taste, faded strawberry chapstick sticking to his lips, smudged against your own. and you sigh, softly, melting a little, comforted by the fleeting warmth that blossoms on your face. 

when he's finally satisfied, having dragged his prize out to its completion, satoru helps you up. brushing snowflakes off your jacket, cradling your ice-cold hands in his. they’re not faring much better, but a worried tug of his heartstrings compels him to warm you up. bringing them to his lips, hot breath fanning over your skin, tender little kisses against the knots of your knuckles.

you can’t help but blush, and a raspy chuckle flows from out his lips. 

hazy morning sunshine licks at the branches of the apricot tree behind you, illuminating the contours of your face, the shine of his eyes. a blue smudge on a canvas painted white and gray. the air smells of pine cones and something smokey, crisp. it courses through his burning lungs when he inhales, exhales, a breath of vapour that scatters up into the sky.

satoru loves winter. always has. but now, he’s certain he loves it even more.

because now, he has two people to share it with. two people to drag out into the snow, two people whose hands he can tenderly warm up, two people who’ll laugh and sigh at his antics and still indulge him. two people to pelt with snowballs. 

what more could a man want?

”hey, idiots!” 

the voice that echoes throughout the air is exasperated, a little teasing. yet fond. suguru’s got his hair tied into a messy half done bun, black turtleneck sweater enunciating his broad chest and the curve of his waist. there’s a fatigue in his eyes, the creases of his face, but a lazy smile is playing at his lips.

”i’m making breakfast,” he shouts, voice deep and smokey and soft even still. ”come in and warm up before you catch a cold.”

”is that any way to speak to your husband and spouse?” satoru chimes back, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. something satisfied. pleased.

suguru shoots him an unimpressed look, but his eyes soften. melting a little, at the words that spill from satoru’s lips, as if they were always meant to be there. 

(husband. spouse. suguru wills himself not to smile.)

with matching grins on your faces, the two of you stumble back towards the door. snow crunching beneath your feet, a happy noise pushing past your lips when you collide with the warmth of your husband’s chest.

”look, suguru. isn’t it pretty?” you chirp, smiling brightly. an expression he mirrors — brushing some snow from the top of your head, warm palms caressing your cold skin, setting a mental reminder to scold satoru later. sparing a brief glance at the snowy veil over reality.

then he exhales. a fond hum. ”it is.”

satoru joins you both by the door, stretching out his lanky limbs. tousled hair, wet strands sticking to his skin, reddened cheeks and a signature pout. ”suguru, my hands are cold,” he whines. ”warm ’em up for me?”

a click of his tongue. ”should’ve put some gloves on, satoru.”

a hum buzzes in your throat, and you put your hands out. itchy, a little dry. a sad frown tugs at your lips when you speak. ”my hands are also cold.”

and, like clockwork, suguru’s eyes soften. a coo tiptoeing on his tongue, engulfing your hands in his larger ones. ”aw, c’mere, my love…” his breath fans over your frozen fingertips. ”let’s get you warmed up, hm?”

satoru gasps, a hand on his chest, and you stifle a giggle. he’s acting, you both know, being a little drama queen. he knows you’re just exaggerating suguru’s double standard as a bit, that your husband would probably set himself on fire to warm either of you up.

despite that, his voice comes out thoroughly offended. ”oh, i see how it is,” he huffs, walking past the both of you. pouting deeply. ”you hate me. you hate me, and you want me to die. i understand.”

”satoru,” you coo. he hmphs, but stills, waiting for you to wrap your arms around him. and you do — a little too eager to appease your giant baby of a husband.

”we’re just joking around,” you assure him, holding back a humorous chuckle. squeezing his waist with palpable fondness. ”love you sooo much. you know that.”

satoru stays silent. but he cranes his neck, to meet suguru’s gaze, standing just behind him. narrowing his cobalt eyes — a meaningful look.

suguru sighs.

”yes, yes. we love you oh so much.” he takes a step forward, ruffling the white head of hair by the door. a lazy smile on his lips. ”now behave and go change out of your pyjamas. they’re soaked.”

his voice is teasing. exasperated, more than a little condescending. but it’s suguru, so satoru accepts it — following you both into the warmth of your home. the scent of cinnamon and vanilla hangs heavy in the air, a hint of espresso and firewood, lulling him into a sweet state of tranquility. rich with comfort, safety.

he changes out of his wet clothes, pulling a black hoodie over his head before waltzing into the kitchen. and you do the same, emerging from your bedroom in one of suguru’s cozy sweaters, knitted and smelling of bergamot. 

when suguru notices, his gaze shifts into something fond. palpable. a look satoru always finds in the scope of those warm eyes, amber and cedar bleeding into something sweet, only ever directed at the two of you. a look said man assumes goes unnoticed. he’s not as slick as he thinks.

the kitchen simmers with hazy sunlight and gentle movements, something sleepy and kind. satoru is a little bit enamored with it; from bowls of cat food by the corner, to camellias by the windowsill, cookie jars and dried lemon slices, the fading scent of baked goods and wishlists stuck to the fridge.

(yours and satoru’s are filled with scribbles, new ideas popping up daily, while suguru’s is almost entirely blank; mostly necessities, one or two things he’d like for himself.

and then, of course, the same thing he writes at the top of his wishlist every year; some peace and quiet.)

suguru shuffles around the kitchen, long strands of black hair cascading down his back, swaying with his movements. he sends you both an affectionate glance when you step in, already in the process of making satoru his cup of hot chocolate — topped with marshmallows and whipped cream, colorful sprinkles in the shape of tiny stars, a touch of cinnamon. satoru licks his lips.

when it's finished, the cup is promptly handed to him, paired with a tender kiss to his forehead. and suguru starts the meticulous brewing of your coffee, steady hands, finely chosen coffee beans, the low purring of the espresso machine. soothing.

that’s when you attach yourself to his back. wrapping your arms around his waist, a sleepy yawn muffled into the fabric of his turtleneck. he places a big palm on your hand, thumb smoothing over your knuckle, and you nuzzle into him silently. suguru smiles.

”still sleepy, baby?” he questions, a coo on the tip of his tongue. his voice is soft, palpably so, buzzing with warmth and safety and something that makes you want to stay cuddled up to him forever.

satoru senses an opportunity to insert himself into the conversation, and forces out a yawn of his own. stretching his limbs like a big cat, blinking drowsily, eyelashes fluttering. hoping it’ll come off as endearing. ”mhm.” 

but suguru shoots him an unimpressed look. ”not you,” he tuts, patting your arm, ”this baby. i wasn’t asking you.”

a pout. ”why are you so mean to me?” he whines, shooting you a doe-eyed look. bottom lip jutting out slightly, a feigned glassiness to his eyes. ”sweetie, tell your husband to stop being so mean to me.”

you smile. indulgent, as always. ”don't be so mean to him, suguru. you know he’s sensitive.”

a sigh. deep, tinged with exhaustion. satoru shares an amused look with you — stifling a shared chuckle at suguru’s exasperation.

and suddenly, he feels something warm flutter in his ribcage. a sunkissed butterfly, wings brushing against his ribs, coaxing his lips into curling up. unmistakable fondness, almost too much to bear. the need to reach out and touch you creeps up on him, a hunger he can’t deny, but he holds back; you look comfy like that, curled up against suguru’s spine. so he only inches closer, without a word. 

his husband casts him a glance, but satoru stays silent. lips pursed, waiting for something. patient.

and suguru relents. he reaches a hand out, to tuck a stray strand of white hair behind his ear — an excuse to touch him. a silent apology. 

(i'm sorry, you big baby.)

satoru grins.

you shift from foot to foot, leaning over to see what suguru is doing, pressing buttons and taking two ceramic cups out from a wall cabinet. your eyes zero in on a particular shelf, narrowing in suspicion, before flitting over to meet your husband’s gaze.

”satoru, did you use up all my peppermint sweeteners again?”

he stiffens. just a tad, before swallowing a gulp — followed by a silly chuckle, sheepish and performative, eager to wiggle his way out of your cold gaze. ”… which sweeteners do you mean, honey?”

”don’t pull the ’honey’ card.”

”and don’t play dumb, either.”

a pout crosses his lips. betrayed. ”suguru, who’s side are you even on?”

said man gives him a look. that one look, characteristically suguru, the same one he always sends satoru’s way. one so thoroughly unimpressed it makes him feel like the world’s biggest clown. 

and satoru plays along. your dutiful, beloved clown, his posture wilting like a sad flower. suguru exhales through his nose.

”don’t steal their sweeteners.” he smooths a thumb over your knuckle, absentminded, meeting the cold metal of the ring on your finger. smiling a little at the sensation. ”buy your own.”

satoru huffs, drawn out and childish. crossing his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. ”ah, i see how it is. leaving your sweet husband to buy his own sweeteners?” he clicks his tongue. ”chivalry is dead.”

you bite back a little chuckle — satoru recognizes the cute noise you make when you do — and suguru rolls his eyes. fondly, always. ”remind me next time i go to the store and i’ll consider it.”

”hmph.”

suguru is smiling. it’s small, but genuine, worth a thousand words. and you are, too, the vague crinkle of your eyes giving you away. even as you bury your face in the curve of suguru’s back.

and ah, satoru thinks. there it is again. 

that sickeningly sweet sense of deja vu; the sensation of a certain something flourishing deep inside his chest. warming him up, trickling through his frost-bitten veins. that one little itch he never manages to satisfy, that never goes away, something that took root inside his heart years ago — watered by the sweet looks on your faces.

this everyday slice of heaven, right in front of him, that he’s been greedily partaking in ever since he moved in with you. since he married you.

(married.)

sometimes he still can’t believe it. 

”it’ll be done in a minute,” suguru hums, and satoru blinks. broken out of his syrupy stupor. ”you two go wait by the kotatsu, okay? must be cold, poor babies.” 

and, as always, his voice is a little teasing. a tiny bit condescending, if you really strain your ears, in typical suguru fashion. but it’s laced with a touch of sweetness; one that would be too much for either of you to stomach, if it were to drip out of his lips with nothing to water it down. so satoru accepts it. welcomes it, even.

and you follow his suggestion. making your way towards the living room, satoru trailing behind you, continuously enamored by every little thing he sees. every little piece of the home you’ve built for yourselves.

your living room is cozy. several potted plants seated here and there, a thick quilt to cover the kotatsu, a bowl of satsumas on top of it. a sleepy cat on your couch, golden sunshine ruffling her fur. a santa hat lies beside her, and satoru snags it without much thought. pulling it over his head.

his gaze shifts to the christmas tree over in the corner, eyes filling with a childlike kind of wonder. it’s decorated to completion, weighed down by colourful ornaments and lights, a star at the very top. suguru cut it himself, bringing the biggest and prettiest one he could find back home.

(satoru had gone with him. partially to help carry it back, mostly to get a glimpse of suguru's biceps flexing with the swing of the axe. he’s a simple man.)

and beneath it, presents are already beginning to pile up. carefully wrapped, in bows and silken paper, growing more each day. shattering suguru’s hopes of maybe having a more lowkey christmas this year — but satoru couldn’t be more relieved. this is the only time of year you let him get away with pampering you both to his heart’s content.

a smile blooms on his lips. he plops down on the floor, crossing his legs, right as suguru walks in with a coffee pot in hand. their gazes overlapping.

and something mischievous begins to brew within the blue of his eyes, something that makes suguru narrow his own. satoru pats his thigh, twice, a coo on the tip of his tongue. santa hat sitting pointedly on top of his head, fluffing up his hair.

”c’mere, suguru! sit on santa’s lap.”

”— you’re disgusting.”

the words are playful, but a pout still slips into the curve of satoru’s lips, and he huffs out a displeased little breath. his husband pretends not to hear it, so satoru turns to you — sitting so prettily to his right, already anticipating his next move. puppy dog eyes on full display, he gives you a soft tilt of his head, snowy tufts of hair falling over his eyes.

and you sigh, in what he knows is resignation. his faux pout turning into a satisfied grin.

you curl up in satoru’s lap without much of a fuss, letting him circle his arms around you. an indulgent smile rests on your lips, but he knows you love this; his broad chest against your back, the heat of the kotatsu warming your feet. breathing in the fading scent of your shampoo, he leaves a peck on the sensitive spot right behind your ear, and you try not to shudder.

then satoru smiles. squeezing you, lightly, sweetly, eyes rich with honeyed affection. voice dripping with playful endearment. ”there we go,” he coos. ”what does my angel want for christmas, hm?” 

”i want you to stop stealing my peppermint sweeteners,” comes your answer. instantaneous.

silence fills the room. a moment passes. outside your frosted windows, a bird takes flight from the branches of your apricot tree. and satoru clicks his tongue.

”… santa can only do so much, baby.”

two deep scoffs fill the air, heavy and bemused. one from you, one from suguru. satoru only giggles.

”just kidding!” he chirps, planting a kiss on the top of your head. ”don’t you worry. santa’ll give you all the peppermint sweeteners you could ever want.” 

you raise a brow, exhaling amusedly. craning your head to meet his gaze. ”and he won’t end up using them all himself?”

”of course not! blasphemy.” 

a moment passes.

”… maybe one or two. as a treat.”

a string of protests slips from your lips, and satoru tries not to burst into a fit of giggles. suguru just watches, silently, smiling lightly as he pours hot coffee into two ceramic cups. steam wafting up to the ceiling, a cat jumping down from the couch to curl up in his lap. he places one in front of you, not taking a single sip of his own until he hears you hum blissfully at the taste — pink lips against white ceramic. a bitter taste on his tongue, sweetened by your approval.

then he starts peeling three satsumas, absentmindedly, and satoru swallows down the love-ridden honey choking up the back of his throat. pretending the domesticity of such a simple action doesn’t melt his heart down to the marrow. 

he turns his attention towards the window. frost sticking to the glass like spider-woven webs, soon to be melted by the glow of the mellow winter sunrays. flitting in through the curtains, cascading over the room, splattering across the floorboards. framing the hue of your hair, the smile on suguru’s lips.

and a memory comes to him. sudden, hazy, faded at the edges. ghosting his subconscious.

he remembers the frost, the biting wind, the frightening majesty of the snow that fell that day. breaking into his world through a rift in the stratosphere. he remembers the contrasting warmth of the person who held him, who cradled him close; the soft lull of a woman’s voice. 

for a moment, satoru thinks he can almost, almost see it before him. hear those gentle words, see her tired smile. why was she always so tired?

(look, satoru. isn’t it pretty?)

— he can’t recall how it sounded. if it was melodic and soft, or raspy and broken, happy or sad. but he does recall that it made him feel safe. safe enough to find comfort in a sight so other-worldly, so very foreign.

it should’ve been frightening, but it wasn’t. the first snowfall satoru ever saw knocked the breath from out his lungs, stole his heart with cold hands, left him with a suffocating nostalgia. but the memory is precious.

and now, he feels that sense of other-worldliness in this; a kotatsu for three, a warm house, peeled satsumas and promises of a christmas cake soon to be baked. one lovely spouse in his lap, the other gazing at him with that fond look he always assumes goes unnoticed. a cocoon of safety — a ghost he doesn’t need to chase anymore.

warmth. enough warmth to make up for the snow and frost outside your home, all the experiences he missed out on as a child. warmth, warmth, warmth. funny, how that happens to be satoru’s favorite thing about winter. 

he looks at the two of you, hoping you won’t pay any mind to his silence. for once, he hopes you’ll stay wrapped up in your awful, awful coffee, so bitter that just looking at it makes his throat feel dry. just so he can get away with admiring you for a little longer. from the contours of suguru’s face, to the skin of your collarbone, to the rings on your fingers. ones he put there himself. 

and ah, satoru thinks, there it is again. again and again, as always, forever. that warm, warm feeling flourishing in the depths of his chest. 

he hopes it never goes away.

[feelo-fick]

it can't be too hard right?

it's easy not to think about things, he tells me i don't think all the time! wait...

—

a scene from a fic that i have no clue if ill finish, let alone post, but look i made fanart of my own thing that doesnt even exist :D

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[magicandmundane]

Something something Clone Force 99 breaking binders in every season finale

[hyakunana]

"I will do it my own way. The power to crush Kamen Riders will be mine."