#'loved in every universe' <- does he know?

[reignpage]

He Gave Me The (Eww)

Content: things the jjk men do that give you the ick, hard read fr, brutally honest, second hand embarrassment, don't tell me they wouldn't...you know they would...they're just men after all

Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna

Satoru

Tells jokes he thinks are hilarious and repeats them when no one laughs. Even explains them. Looks to you to laugh too with manic eyes, begging, pleading. Might even throw in a, ‘Tough crowd, amirite?’

Gets ignored in the group chat and will keep spamming until he gets the attention he wants.

Tries to get discounts at any and every store by flashing a grin and using those baby blues to charm the sales assistant. Shoots his shot with men too. It rarely works and when he gives them his black AMEX card, the sales assistants always get a look in their eyes like, ‘Seriously?’

Sings the chorus too early and plays it off by trailing and then coming in at the right part. Goes, ‘Ay…ay….ay, YEA– oh… ahahah…ay…ayy… yeahhhh…’

Suguru

Spits when he talks. He gets into these long rants about monkeys and whatever so he doesn’t even notice when the person he’s talking to discreetly wipes off the fat droplet. 

You’ve seen him going on spiels to random people, gets so into it that he also doesn’t realise they’ve walked away. Would play it off by taking his phone out and going, ‘Alright, talk to you later.’

Or, he'll say a snarky comment to someone out of nowhere and they didn't even hear him, caught by surprise, so they just awkwardly laugh and hope he doesn't follow up.

Super rude to servers at restaurants you take him to. Clicks his fingers. Confronts those moody teenagers working part time and says, ‘Why don’t you smile? You’ll look so much more friendly if you do.’

Wears open toed sandals everywhere. Dawgs out for free, toenails unclipped and ever so slightly yellow. Could probably cut a bitch.

Choso

At a group setting, a picture might be getting shown around and he isn't being shown the picture. He will say, ‘Can I see? Hey, you missed me. I wanna see. What’s so funny? Guys, come on, I didn’t see. Hey!’

When everyone else is in pairs or groups talking, he’ll go on his phone and open the Weather or Calculator app to pretend he’s doing something important. His phone is on full brightness so everyone can see he’s not actually texting anyone.

Gets left on read quite often. Will double text anyone and everyone. Triple texts even. Asks, ‘You aren’t ignoring me, are you?’ 

Invites himself to functions. If someone mentions a party or a visit to a museum, for example, with their friends, he’ll say, ‘That sounds fun. That’s at 3pm? I’m free. See you there!’

Toji

Boy oh boy where to begin…

Does the broke boyfriend hug. Swings you side to side too and gives you a kiss on the head, talking bout, ‘I’ll get the next one on payday, ma.’

Flashes his ass crack when he climbs out of the car. 

Might even have skid marks.

Asks to remove the service charge off the bill, doesn’t tip no matter how great the server is, and probably puts his own hair in the food to comp the meal. Will even flash you a wink like he’s finessed the system.

Will fart and burp in front of you unashamedly. Doesn’t care how stinky it is. Laughs when you cover your nose. Won’t lie, he probably loves pulling a Dutch Oven on you. Peak comedy for him. 

Shows up to his kid’s school events in his bum ass outfit and goes straight to the food table. It could be his university graduation and everyone’s in their pretty dresses and sharp suits, he will be in a Uniqlo heattech and grey joggers with a stain on it. 

Finds a crumb on his shirt, doesn’t know what it is or how long it’s been there. Will eat it anyway.. 

You point to a bouquet of flowers or a cake you want, excited and wanting to buy it. He'll look at the price and very loudly complain, 'That's how much? The hell? Nah, we're not getting that. If you want flowers, I can pick some up from a park for free.'

Kento

Still gets embarrassed about farting or taking a shit around you. Will make a lame excuse to exit the room like, ‘Oh, sweetheart, I think I left a light on in the next room.’ Doesn’t realise that the walls aren’t that thick and you can hear his adorable toot. If you ask him if he’s okay because he’s taking a while in the bathroom, he’ll lie and say, ‘No, dear, I’m alright. Just fixing a light bulb in here. I’ll be out in a minute.’ The type to not realise you can quite literally smell the evidence after. 

Will throw random slang and use it wrong. ‘You already ate? That’s slaying me.’ Or, ‘She cheated on her boyfriend? That’s so cunt of her. Please don’t entertain her anymore.’

Has built up a reputation to you as being all-knowing. Likes that you ask him first before Google. But when you ask him a question he doesn't know the answer to, he make some sort of distraction so he can go on his phone, find out the answer and give it to you like he knew all along.

Reads so much but often comes across words he knows the meaning of but has never heard anyone actually say. Mispronounces them. Says 'studious' as 'study-yus.' Or 'albeit' as 'al-bayt.'

Sukuna

Crashes out so often that he sometimes mistakenly gets upset for no reason. A servant will ask if you want a drink, assumes they’re talking to him and gets grumpy. ‘I already said no. Can you hear?’ When informed, he’ll tsk to cover up he’s ever so slightly embarrassed but everyone can see his ears going red. If he hears a single snicker though, he’s airing out the room.

Even when you tell him it’s okay and he doesn’t have to, he’ll join in on group dates just because he gets FOMO lowkey. Will stand there menacingly and so super out of place he actually looks like he’s stalking the group. Makes everyone feel awkward and tense. 

Children get so scared of him that he’s been escorted out of premises before. You have to join him, apologising to everyone, otherwise he’ll kill all of your friends. Like children will full on start sobbing and hyperventilating and you’re ashamed to tell your friends he’s actually not allowed within a certain radius of a school. Their mind goes to the worst places.

[sweeethearts]

needy girl

a/n: hiiiii everyone!!! this is my first dip into the pitt fandom but robby has been invading my head since the show dropped so i finally had to get on here with all you sweet people and empty my brain out!!! i stuck to my roots on this one and its purely self indulgent but i hope you all enjoy reading <333

summary: after a long, brutal shift, robby comes home to the only thing that quiets the noise: you. you’re warm, needy, and aching for him in a way thats bordering on desperate—but robby knows how to make it better.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: SMUUUT!! fem!reader, established relationship, age gap relationship (reader is in her 20s, robby is in his late 40s early 50s), neeedy reader, teasing from robby’s part, p in v, unprotected sex, robby talking you through it, lots of pet names, reader’s self sabotage gets the better of her

michael relished the feel of the breeze hitting his face as he walked out of the pittsburgh medical trauma hospital. the sound of the last birds chirping filled his ears, their last conversations moments before succumbing to the sombre of midnight. the trees moved with the wind, dropping leaves with its pressure and making them stick to the wet ground below his shoes.

it had been raining mostly all day, as you sat by the bay windows in your shared home. however, for robby, the pounding of the rain against the roof and windows were lost within the echoes of heart monitors, screaming, crying, and ambulances announcing their arrival with their piercing sirens. when another victim in need of assistance was wheeled in and your boyfriend was bedside with his immediate analysis, overlooking the condition of the individual, proposing the proper medical services and actions needed, all whilst teaching his interns and students and residents in each breath. administering chest tubes and incisions, all of it becoming second nature, a ritual, a habit, an instinct.

throw out the gloves. sanitise. repeat.

12 hours.

twelve long hours away from you.

body sore and heavy as he walks in the direction of the small house the two of you got last year. a stepping stone from his spiritless apartment, and an opportunity for your flourishing relationship. sure, maybe finishing your degree at university is a bit too young for michael to someone from the outside. but you were sick of being thrown into the wolves with every frat bro or business majors you cross paths with. sick of the incels, and double standards and fear of your safety.

robby was warm. comforting. loving. smart. real.

and you were the breath of fresh air he needed. an opportunity to quit sulking in his apartment an opportunity to–

feel something again.

he was beginning to get tired of coming home to a can of beer, maybe a few reruns on cable and that quiet that makes the trauma echo louder. you didn't carry the same kind of losses under your belt, but you carried something else: light. the kind that glowed the low lit apartment with the laughter that caught him off guard mid-sip of wine. the smile when he would hear you talk about your day. when your eyes would perk up when he told you something new. when you would ask him questions, and you gave him a feeling to not hold back. to want to start a relationship with you, to stop letting every gruesome, guilty, harrowing thought boil inside of him.

to let the light in.

and there she was. starting like it always does. pressing up against him the second he got through the door. skin so warm, and soft and so alive. his head in your hair and you smelt so sweet.

he could finally breathe. even with each step it took him to get here, only now could he finally take off that backpack and feel at ease. at home. where he belongs. where you belong with him.

he used to feel bad for wanting your skin on his. trying to take away the sound of you whining his name in his ear, breathless and repetitive like a prayer. like hunger consumed your every atom and it was so goddamn addictive.

he stopped denying himself of this privilege. of you. because the way that you looked at him, like he is something more than a worn-out man with too many ghosts, it clinged to him like the answer.

it was the moment when you whispered that you wanted it, that you wanted him, that you wanted him for as long as you two got, that he let himself go. that he took the whole night to map out your body like it was a textbook and he was back in school. like he was going to fail at life’s exam if he didn’t know what made your toes curl and your nails dig into the skin of his back. what angle brought a celestial cry deep out of your chest. what position leaves you flush and weak at the knees.

he wanted to know everything. he wanted everything.

and here you were again. under him in the comfort of your shared queen bed. lips merging with his like they were the two missing pieces of the puzzle you and him couldn’t find last week. and that’s what keeps undoing him. the shaky breath and whines that leave your pretty pink mouth. the hands that paw at his broad and formed shoulders, using every force in your body to press him down onto you. to feel his weight encompass every crease and crevice that make up your body. because it's all so much and yet all of it is not enough and you want more, you want it, you need it, god it feels like you’ll die without it.

you’re squirming under him, and it may look like you’re trying to get away, but that is not nearly the case. you just feel overwhelmed. even with the faint trail of antiseptic, robby’s earthy and woody scent suffocated your nose, his lips biting up a mark on your neck, his hands sliding up your sides, trying to soothe your body down.

michael was not shy about your needy behaviour, quickly picking up on it and making sure to act upon it. feeling the way your body relaxed under his touch, making sure to keep a sprawled palm on your thigh in the car or at the dinner table, his arm around your waist in the line for the movie theatre, or at the coffee shop down the block. noticing how your heart rate lowers in a crowd just by holding your hand. and he always sneaks a peck on your forehead whenever he can, which is always at least five times a day, but how could he resist when your cheeks would blush and your eyes would flutter in his direction with that smile of yours.

he understands his effect on you, and sometimes he uses it for his advantage—he must admit. however, this level of frustration that you’re currently battling with was a bit new to him, not that he didn't enjoy it.

you were a mess.

a grin began to perk up the corners of his lips. “you missed me?” robby asks gently into your jaw, teasing the obvious.

you nod into his shoulder, quickly and desperate. “s’much”

his arm snakes under you, wrapping around your back and letting your hips lift up and grind yourself closer to his crotch. cargo pants growing tighter by the second.

you nibble on your lip at the raw friction, the rough material sneaking through the wet and thin fabrics of your shorts and panties. your stomach beginning to crumble itself into a knot. you were so worked up. waking up too late, missing robby and his warmth in the bed just hours before he left for his shift. but he always kissed you goodbye, and that's all you could hold onto for the time remaining. yet your body was beginning to eat away at itself the 12 hours you had to go about your day without him. trying to focus on your chores, on the tasks in your planner, the assignment sitting on your laptop still untyped and still due in three days.

but you have never felt this crazy for anyone. and god you fucking love it.

you love him.

your hands shoved themselves into his zip up hoodie, swiping it off his shoulders and throwing it to the side. you then catch the hem of his black scrubs, letting your hands roll it up and tug at them, silently begging for him to take them off but you’re only met with the white undershirt he wears and you still haven’t reached the snail trail that makes you feel like a cat in heat. oh whyyyyyyyy you mumble to yourself.

“easy,” he warns, grabbing both of your hands into his own respectfully. lifting them up above your head and squeezing your fingers tightly against his. you let out an exasperated sign—no, this isn’t what you want. godddddd

“you’re always so fucking greedy for it sweetheart, hm?” you try to roll your hips again, instead coming out frictionless and covered in desire. robby presses a kiss to your temple, lets his palm spread across the small of your back and your legs fall open as much as they possibly can. its instinct now—the way your body responds to him, the way you fold so prettily when he speaks low and cruel and yet oh so soft to you.

“robbyyyyyy” you murmur, hands trying to escape their hold and get back onto him.

“what’s wrong, angel?” he asks into your cheek, kissing you softly and you close your eyes to accept his love. his grip loosening on your wrists, not wanting to be any more cruel than he's already acting.

“robby!!!!!” you complain against the warmth of his breath, squirming and wrapping your legs around his waist.

“baby, i can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you want, hmm?” you let out a frustrated groan, robby chooses to ignore it. “you need to use your words sweetheart, you’re better than that.”

“m’god please robby urts s’bad” you babble, core clenching around nothing and hands escaping his loosened grip, moving to tug at the hair on the nape of his neck. god you don’t even know what you're doing.

“please what?”

“please..." you swallow.

“need a little more, angel”

your breathing becomes more uneven, "i...i want, i want to…”

“want to what? speak to me sweetheart, can't read your mind.” robby explained calmly, despite knowing all too well what you needed. nevertheless, he was a man for consent and for words, he wants to hear it out of you, and there's no denying that he will give you exactly what you want.

you took a sharp inhale of breath, trying to find a healthy rhythm. your eyes beginning to sting, his hands roamed down, pushing the band of your bottoms just enough for his palms to sit on your hips, allowing him to squeeze supportively. you gripped his hair tighter as you begged. “wanna cum”

“yeah?” his voice held a tone of amusement, a slight raspiness behind it as he watched you squirm on the bed again. “say it again for me, darling.”

“robby” you cry.

he stays quiet, brown eyes on you, wanting you to accept the trust in his gaze.

you finally let out a choked sob, voice cracking, “please, i want to cum!”

“oh my poor sweet girl,” he says, taking one of his hands away from your hip, moving to brush a knuckle over your flushed cheek. “you can’t go more than a day without needing me stuffed inside you.”

you make a noise—half protest, half cry. chest heavy, eyes watery. he smiles lowly. knowing.

he moves away momentarily, discarding himself of his scrubs and undershirt, stepping up to take his pants off as he throws it to the bench by the foot of the bed.

your fingers vibrated, waiting needingly to feel his skin back under your nails. robby knows, moving quickly back between your open legs, slipping your sleep shirt over your head. hands swiftly taking off your shorts and panties all at once. the cold air touches your soaked core, but its quickly masked by robby's long fingers marking a stripe down your folds.

a shaky moan escapes your hoarse throat, so close already, the pressure in your lower belly increasing by merely his fingers playing with your wetness.

“shh, i know angel. you’ve waited so nicely for me.”

his praise winds around your ribs like a corset, tight and unbearable. you nod, frantic, desperate to be good, to show him how much you need it. your legs wrap around him, knees on either side of his ribs, your whole body trembling as he aligns his tip to your entrance. he’s so warm and thick, steady as he slides in.

“there you go, nice and easy, sweets. let me in” his tone so soft, your pussy taking all of him in one slow, breathless push. he doesn’t buck his hips. doesn’t move at all.

but it wrecks you.

you gasp like it’s the first time, like you’ve forgotten how big he is, how deep he goes. but you whine with such relief—finally. your hands clutch at his shoulders, your forehead pressing against his, overwhelmed and yet so fucking gratified.

robby exhales deeply through his nose. you’re clenching around him with no hesitation, walls fluttering, heat pooling low and unrelenting. he takes a few moments to compose himself, he needed this just as much as you do.

his large hand strokes down your spine. “there you go,” he whispers, low and smooth. “just like that, angel. that’s all you needed.”

you mewl at his words. it was exactly what you needed, and he made sure to take such a gruesome time to get you here.

“you don't even need me to move,” he says, giving you a soft kiss on the tear that's creeping down your cheek—salty. “you just need to feel me, right? need to be full. that's all it takes to make you come.”

you shake your head—part in shame, part in agreeance—but your hips betray you again and you grind forward, hunger so strong you can't even see, or even make sense of all of this. all you can focus on is the undeniably fulfilling feel of robby's cock stretching out your soaked walls. unsure how you can feel every veiny line running up the length but in love with every minute of it. how the pink fat tip hits that part in your cervix where your ears ring and you need a moment to thank god for bringing you a man named michael robinavitch.

your eyes are shut closed. trying to steady your breathing as your core contracts around his girth, squeezing robby as if pulling out would be your last straw because it really would be.

robby gives a quiet groan into your ear. tilting your chin with his nose so you can look at him. “feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks softly, hand caressing the side of your head. warm chocolate orbs looking down at you with as much need and adoration as your own eyes look up at him. mouth agape, face pink, lips wet.

my angel, robby tells himself.

you whimper, nodding against his chest. your thighs begin shaking from the strain of staying still, however the wave of pleasure inside you begins inching closer and closer. robby strokes the small lines that indent your skin, following the way they cascade your breasts, your hips, and the curve of your belly. he hasn’t moved his hips, not a single thrust.

“i can feel you fluttering,” he murmurs, like it's just a sweet observation. “so sensitive tonight, all wound up. you poor thing.”

“missed you. took s’long” you choke out, back arching, your lips trying their best to reach for his own. he leans down so you don't struggle, arm wrapping around your waist, kissing you, your toes curling.

“i missed you more, sweets. need my pretty girl,”

“your pretty girl?” you ask, words shaky, unable to stop yourself from squeezing around robby’s cock.

“mhm,” he nods, “my beautiful gorgeous girl. all mine, right?”

“forever” you whine into his lips, arms pinning him into you. your breasts rubbing against the hair on his chest.

robby's eyes close, chest tight, “that's my girl.”

your heart swells, his girl. his girl to love. his girl, his girl.

your eyes fluttered closed. welcoming the addictive feel of pleasure flowing through your body, relieving the storm inside your body.

“go on, sweetheart. let me feel you fall apart. show me how much you need it.”

the way he says it—affectionate, amused, indulgent—it ruins you.

you come with a cry, clinging to his shoulders like you’ll fall apart without him. it's so overwhelming—waves of heat and pressure rushing through you, pulsing around him, slick so profuse it's dripping down your inner thighs with the way you move your hips.

“there you go” he coos, inching you through it.

robby watches you unravel. adoring that look on your face, when you’re caught between the blur of pleasure and pain, your expression twisting with every wave that overcomes you. and he’s so proud of you. of giving him that raw, aching, shameless trust. the kind that has you needy, desperate, open, stripped bare. surrendering every little piece of control to him, because you know he will treat it, treat you, like something precious.

because you are.

your body pleads for you to catch your breath, legs heavy as they fall to the side and lay back on the bed. robby leaves wet kisses on your neck, nibbling softly at your pulse point, hand resting on the curve of your breast, the other soothing your thigh.

you don’t know what makes your breath hitch—whether it's the way robby throbs inside you, still so warm and thick and snug, or the way your thoughts suddenly begin to sharpen cold, feeling yourself pulled back into your body. but the more you are aware of the series of events that have led you to this moment, the more you begin to feel like maybe you were too much.

your cheeks burn, heart racing. a wave of something ugly curls inside your ribs. not because of him—never because of him—but because of you.

because you begged. you cried for him. unable to form a proper plea for it while you sat there whining and whimpering. no thrusting. no friction. just need.

pathetic.

you begin to feel yourself shrinking, a sticky wave of anxiety crawling up your throat.

embarrassed. ashamed.

“hey,” robby calls your attention. hand on your cheek to bring your spiralling eyes to him, “no. none of that.”

you shift like you want to move away but his arms don’t budge. instead they tighten, keep you still in your place. “but-”

“don’t.”

you blink. “don't what?”

“don’t do that.” his voice is a low warning. careful but direct. “don't make that face and trick yourself into thinking there’s anything wrong with needing me. there’s nothing wrong with that, kid. not ever.”

your throat forces a harsh swallow. “i-” you start, your saboteur trying to continue to form its case but it catches on something sharp.

you sniffle, hand running across your face. “i'm sorry. i just- i sounded so-”

“so what?” his big hand smooths down your spine, like he’s petting the shame out of you.

your mouth trembles. “so pathetic.”

there's a beat of silence, the sound of your heartbeat in your ears making it all feel heavy. but his lips come hush you with a kiss, forward and stern but laced with all the love he has to offer. his arm swoops you up, bringing you to sit forward. robby’s cock slipping out of your pool of warmth and slick, and you shudder at the emptiness

“you never call yourself that again.” he denotes. not angry, just certain. “you hear me?”

you nod, face soft and defenceless.

“not when you’re crying on my cock,” kissing your forehead, “not when you’re begging me to fill you. not when you come apart just from being mine. there isnt a fucking ounce of pathetic in that.”

that breaks something in your chest. the lump in your throat begins to dissolve but you tuck your face into michael’s chest, arms wrapping around his frame, holding onto him like you’ll float away.

but it still tries to fight.

“…but you didn't even cum” the words slur quickly off your tongue.

he laughs. soft, breathy, genuine.

it's your favourite sound.

“christ, your brain doesn't stop, does it?”

he’s one to know.

you nuzzle deeper into his neck, regretful of your stupid remarks. god you know better.

his hand pets your head, moving to your sides and rubbing up and down. “we’re not done,” he murmurs into your hair, voice so rich. “not unless you want us to be.”

you lift your head just enough to meet his eyes. god, those brown eyes.

and the look he gives you—heat and promise and something so tender and pure—it can’t help but make your heart stutter.

xoxo, liliana <3 | thank you so much for reading!

[puma-riki]

You're My Romeo! (Everybody Laughs When I Tell Them So)

I just changed your name, now its Romeo! ── . dork! maknae line x fem! reader

[ - skinship kissing est. relationship loser enha ] Hyung line maknae line

! tw. small mention of drugs

⟡ I need a dork boyfriend before I end it all guys I'm so fr, hyung line coming soon mwahaha

────────────────── ⟢

Sunoo

There's a lot of people Sunoo holds dear to his heart. You and his sister being two of them. He absolutely adores how the two most important girls in his life get along so well and even consider each other close friends.

But right now, the both of you together is irritating his soul.

He was absolutely thrilled for all three of you to go out for dinner tonight. It was supposed to be amazing, there'd be good food, a chance to sit down and catch up after so long, a nice ambience in the background as the night settled over the city, his sister wouldn't be stealing his girlfriend, and you wouldn't let her.

But of course, the universe is cruel.

"Ugh! [Name] you're literally so cute!" His sister's overly cheery voice from across the restaurant booth makes him roll his eyes for the nth time while he sips his drink.

He resists the urge to bang his head against the table.

And then you- his girlfriend, mind you- giggle at her dumb compliment and poke at your food all shy.

This has been happening all night. You and his sister linked arms when you met up at the train station, haven't shut up since, and are now sitting across from each other like you're on a date.

You've been laughing at each other's dumb jokes, sharing bites of your food, and at one point you tucked her hair behind her ear.

What's worse is you're flirting with each other. Shamelessly.

Which, he gets. It's just what girls do with their friends, he guesses. He knows you guys are just messing around with each other and having fun.

He knows it doesn't mean anything

Doesn't mean it doesn't piss him off though.

He can't complain too much though, because all the passes his sister is making on you are true. You are very cute. And very sweet, you have been making an effort to bring him into your jokes and conversations. You remind him every now and then that you still know he's there through giddy smiles and soft touches to his arm or thigh.

You being exceptionally sweet and cute would've made up for every ill fantasy he had of jumping across the table at his sister if it weren't for... that one particular moment of utter betrayal and heart break.

His sister goes to grab a perilla leaf, but as always, its stubborn. The edge tears slightly, folding weird, and holds on to the other leaves below it for dear life. Sunoo watches, eyes narrowing, when she lets out a frustrated "Ah..."

And then you swoop in.

Silently, you reach over with your chopsticks, perfectly poised, and separate a new leaf with practiced ease. You place it on her bowl of rice like you've done this a million times before, so smooth and gentle it might as well be a love confession.

Sunoo freezes. Mid-bite. Spoon hovering in front of his mouth.

In his mind, a record scratches, the light bulbs burst, glass shatters.

Not the perilla leaf. Literally anything but the damn perilla leaf.

He watches you, expression blank but soul spiraling. You don't notice. Instead, your preoccupied with finding the perfect piece of beef on the grill in front of you, and when you do you place it in his bowl.

They always say the one who helps you separate a perilla leaf is The One.

His sister gets the highest level of sought after romantic encounters right in front of his face with the love of his life. And what does he get?

A piece of damn beef!

This is sick. Sunoo's going to be sick.

"Sunoo close your damn mouth. Gosh, absolutely no decorum at all."

~

Later, when the three of you step out of the restaurant into the warm buzz of the night, Sunoo gives his sister a half-hearted hug and a fake smile, still stewing.

You hug her tighter than you hugged him, by the way.

And then she waves, disappears down the block, and the second she's out of sight- you're back.

You loop your arms around Sunoo's, lean your head on his shoulder, and snuggle into his side like nothing ever happened.

He doesn't say anything for a beat.

Then "Oh, nowww you wanna be all cute with me."

You glance up at him. "What?"

"Nothing." He shrugs and keeps walking. "Just thought I was the side piece. Didn't realize I'd be sharing my girlfriend tonight."

You bite back a laugh. "You're so dramatic."

"You helped her with the perilla leaf. And you put it in her bowl." He scoffs, "I mean you might as well have signed the marriage papers with her right in front of me."

You lean closer and rest your head against his shoulder again. "Hey, I fed you too. And I help you with your food all the time."

"Yeah, because I'm your boyfriend. Or was, apparently."

You stop walking, grab his wrist, and tug him gently to face you. With a fond look, you cradle his cheeks in your hands, thumbs brushing the pink tint rising under his skin.

"You are my boyfriend," you say sweetly, pecking his lips once. "And you're my favorite. Always."

He tries to stay mad. He really does. But his cheeks are burning, and your hands are so warm and soft, and when you kiss him again- this time on the tip of his nose- he's a puddle.

"Hmph." He loops his arms around your waist and buries his face in your shoulder. Your body shakes slightly with laughter as your arms move to wrap around his neck. "Still should've been across from you. I would've flirted better."

You giggle, hugging him tighter. "You were sitting right next to me, you dork."

He mumbles against your shoulder, "Didn't feel like it."

Jungwon

Jungwon is acting weird.

I mean- he's always weird, but he's being weird.

You had invited him over after a very long week filled with crammed schedules and work. You're both lounging on your bed watching TV. The room is a bit chilly due to the AC running and the only light in the room is from your bedside lamp and the TV. Theres a comfortable silence laid across the both of you as you lay next to him, knees tucked in and just barely brushing his thigh as he sits up against the headboard of the bed.

It's supposed to be a chill night in after not seeing each other all week.

And it would be if Jungwon wasn't so damn restless.

He's been trying to watch the movie, he really has. But all he can think about is how you've barely touched him since he got here. Sure, you gave him a hug and kissed him when he first arrived.

But that was it and it wasn't enough.

After countless photo shoots, interviews, promotional activities, and many many hours without you by his side, He can't think of anything else but being wrapped up in your embrace. For you to run your fingers through his hair and kiss his cheeks. He's practically vibrating with need next to you and you don't even notice.

You're curled up next to him, all cute and sleepy, and completely content with letting your boyfriend wither away next to you.

You hear him sigh next to you and shift to sit up. You glance over to see him fluffing the pillow he's been laying against.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Just trying to get comfortable, you know." He tries to sound casual as he moves his pillow closer to yours and turns back around. Moving closer to you now that his pillow is moved.

You hum in response, turning back to the TV. Your knees are now laid on his thigh. But it still isn't enough. At this point, He doesn't even think crawling under your skin would be close enough.

You're so close yet so far.

He could just... ask you to move closer to him and coddle him like he desperately wants you to. He is your boyfriend after all, it's not like you haven't been affectionate like that before.

Jungwon is just incredibly bad at showing and receiving affection, even if he is fiending for it. Like he is now. He always tries to pass off affection as a casual thing, like something he's doing only because it's convenient.

Except it's not. And he knows that and hopes you don't pick up on it. But sucks for him, because you do. Every time. Even now.

You clocked his attempt at nonchalance the minute he walked in the door. When you kissed his cheek upon greeting and he followed your lips on instinct when you pulled away. You can practically feel the tension radiating off him as he sits next to you on the bed now. You definitely can feel him glancing at you from the corner of your eye every 5 seconds and see his hands twitching and how he awkwardly fidgets with them like he doesn't know what to do with them.

You could say something, or just initiate cuddling with him and save him from his painfully awkward and you deprived state.

But where's the fun in that.

"It's really cold in here..." Jungwon suddenly announces, lifting the blanket you have draped over your lap and moving under it; even closer to you and closing any gap that there was between you.

"Really? I'll turn off the AC then." You move to get up and Jungwon nearly launches himself off the bed with how fast he sits up.

"No!" You turn to look at his wide eyes. Jungwon, upon seeing your furrowed brows at his sudden outburst, clears his throat. He rubs the back of his neck as he sinks slightly into the pillows.

"I mean- it's not that cold. Just... cozy. Right now. With the blanket. So, like. Don't move."

You blink at him.

He refuses to meet your eyes.

"Right," You say, lips twitching. You shift the blanket off your legs and sit up again. "It's okay. I'll just turn off the AC real quick-"

"No!" Jungwon shoots up again, so quickly you almost thought he would shoot through the ceiling. His hands fly to your wrist as if stopping you physically is somehow more subtle that just admitting he wants to stay tangled up in warmth- and you.

You break out into a smile. "You literally just said you were cold."

"I changed my mind," he says way too quickly. Then he clears his throat and adds with a shrug, "Like I said, it's not that cold. Kinda refreshing actually."

You give him a look.

He avoids your gaze.

With a grin tugging at your lips, you start to get up again anyway, just to mess with him. "Mmm, no. Now that you mention it, it is cold in here. So, I'll be right ba-"

You don't get to finish that sentence because before your feet can even touch the floor, you're yanked backwards onto the bed.

"Hey!" you squeal as your back hits the mattress and Jungwon puts his entire body over yours. He makes quick work of turning his head away into your chest to hide the pink blooming on his cheeks.

"You can't leave!" he says, but it comes out muffled because his cheek is mushed against your chest. His arms tighten around you like a vice and his body weight draped over yours anchors you to the bed. "Please, I missed you all week so just stay here and let me melt into your skin." He says it so fast and quietly you have to take a second to process what he just said.

You smile, affection blooming in your chest. "Why didn't you just say so, silly"

"I don't know... I'm bad with words... and actions." He mumbles.

You snort, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair, and he melts instantly. Pressing closer, tucking his face in like he's burrowing for warmth. "You're such a baby."

To be honest, now that Jungwon is finally and completely wrapped up in you, he has no idea what you just said. He can smell your perfume and laundry detergent radiating off you and your nails lightly scratch his scalp. He is gone.

He sighs and closes his eyes. "Sure."

Ni-ki

Ni-ki likes to think he's cool. Calm, collected, unbothered, an untouchable aura with just enough energy to make people double-take. And honestly? He most definitely is. He's tall, walks like he's got theme music playing behind him, and somehow always ends up in the most expensive yet effortlessly "I didn't try that hard" outfits.

He knows his angles, never fumbles his words on camera, and gives off that effortlessly aloof energy like he doesn't even need to try.

But all of that?

Yeah, it goes straight out the window the second he's with you.

Because around you, Ni-ki becomes... himself. Less "cool guy on stage," more "dorky, lowkey clingy boyfriend who trips over his own feet trying to impress you"

And if you so much as laugh at one of his jokes or randomly compliment him? He malfunctions.

You walk down the street, hand in hand with your supposedly aloof boyfriend. You don't say anything as you notice, yet another pair of girls nudge each other and glance his way. You could tell them that Ni-ki, for all his sleek appearances, has been squeezing your hand three times every block just because "it's our secret signal" Or that he keeps brushing his pinky against yours when you're not holding hands, pretending it's an accident.

Or that earlier, when you stopped to look at some jewelry in a window display, he absentmindedly leaned his entire body weight on you like a sleepy dog.

But hey let them, and him, think he's cool.

As your walking a sudden chill breeze blows through and makes you scrunch your nose and shiver slightly. "You cold?" he asks, voice low in your ear. But before you can answer, he's already tugging you into his side, unzipping his jacket so you can fit under his arm. You huff a laugh into his shoulder.

"Was that for warmth or because you missed me?"

He gives you a nonchalant shrug that's completely ruined by the way his hand over your shoulder reaches down for yours and intertwines your fingers. "...Both."

The two of you pass a bakery. Then a claw machine arcade. Then a bookstore. He doesn't say much- letting you do most of the talking (aka letting you yap your life away to him) but every time you stop to look at something, he watches you, not the display. Like he's trying to memorize the way your face lights up when something excites you.

"You wanna go in?" you ask when you catch him eyeing a shop window.

"No," he says quickly. Then,"...Unless you do. Then yes."

You tilt your head. "You're not very decisive, huh."

"I'm very decisive." He deadpans. "I've decisively decided to do whatever you want."

You laugh. Ni-ki beams.

"Whatever I want?" You ask, looking up at him with stars in your eyes. The way you look at him makes his brain melt in real time and all he can reply is with an affirmative hum.

"Ah, you really have no backbone. I could humiliate you and you would just stand there and take it." You let out a faux sigh and shake your head. Turning to face the street ahead and resuming your walk with Ni-ki right beside you.

"Yeah." He agrees, making you side eye him with a raised brow. He laughs and takes hold of your hand again. "You can do whatever you want to me. You're pretty."

Oh.

Now you look uncool, muttering a 'whatever' as you turn your head, pretending to look at a store across the street to hide your flustered expression. Ni-ki smiles but doesn't say anything. He starts playing with your hands as you walk, this time comparing them to his.

"Why are your hands so small?" he mumbles, mostly to himself. "Mine could eat yours."

He presses your palm to his, and then- because apparently because this is his thing now- starts swaying your joined hands back and forth as you walk, like two kids on a playground. It might be the least cool thing he's done all day.

Key word might.

Ni-ki doesn't know what it is about you that makes him act like an absolute idiot with no senses at all. It's crazy, really, like who needs drugs when you can just have an insanely gorgeous girlfriend who looks like she descended down on earth with wings and a halo.

Still, he tries to play it off like he's smooth, walking down the street like a cover model with his girlfriend beside him. It would be convincing too- if he weren't so busy watching you instead of the sidewalk.

"Ni-ki-"

Clunk.

He walks straight into a pole. A metal one. Full-on, loud, direct hit to the forehead.

You gasp. "Oh my god!"

He winces, holding his head. "I didn't see that."

Well no duh.

"Are you okay??" You quickly step in front of him as he steps back from the pole, reaching up to brush his bangs out of the way and check the damage.

"Yeah," he mutters, completely mortified, eyes darting left and right as if witnesses are the worst possible outcome. "Yes. Totally. I just- was checking the, uh, skyline."

"Uh huh." You gently take his face in your hands, turning it from side to side to inspect him like a mom inspecting a scraped-up kid. "That skyline must've looked so good right in front of your face."

He groans. "You're actually so mean."

"You're the one in love with me."

"...Unfortunate."

Still, he doesn't pull away. He stands there obediently while you kiss his lips once, then rub the reddening spot on his forehead with your thumb.

"You're lucky it didn't leave a bump," you say, trying not to smile, concealing it with a pout.

He closes his eyes. "Please stop fussing. You're making it worse."

You cup his cheeks and continue pouting. "What if I kissed it better?"

He almost melts. "You'd do that in public?"

"You already embarrassed yourself in public. I'm just finishing the scene."

You kiss his forehead- gently, so gently- and he just stares at you like you're the most unfair person alive.

"...I'm gonna walk into more poles if you keep looking at me like that."

"Try not to." You loop your arm around his waist, guiding him away from the pole and continuing your stroll. "I like your face. Would be a shame if it got ruined."

Ni-ki rolls his eyes, but his cheeks are pink, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder, tucking you in close beside him. "So, you should watch where you're going, you dork."

So yeah, he looks cool to everyone else. But only you get this side of him: clumsy, smitten, and so totally gone for you it hurts. literally.

⭑𓂃

Taglist | @jiiyen @yangjungwonnie @amoressb @chrrific @stvrriki @hyukabean ...loading

Send an ask or comment to be added to my permanent taglist!

[astonmartinii]

Sex and the City, chapter one: monte carlo meet-whoops | formula one social media au

pairing: 2025 f1 grid x fem columnist reader

never mix worth with pleasure… or maybe do, but expect it to trip you up at the worst moments

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

note: drivers are not in a relationship unless explicitly stated in this universe

SEX AND THE CITY: WE’RE GOING TO MONTE CARLO…

by y/n y/ln

Despite moving to Monte Carlo a number of years ago, I have never ventured to the Monaco Grand Prix. Perhaps it’s been short-sighted as a sex columnist to forgo the event on the European social calendar where everyone who is anyone is there -

But fear not, I intend to rectify these mistakes!

The past couple of years I have found myself on the other side of the pond at this crucial stretch of the year and have missed out on high society and the opportunity to explore them, I mean it…

The world of Formula One is fast and doesn’t often wait for those standing around. But I want to know, do they fall in love as fast as they drive?

I had a dalliance with a Formula One driver when I first moved to the Principality. Honey Badger had a big smile and a big personality and that’s not where the big theme finished. Maybe his life on track taught him to make the most of opportunities, or maybe handling something as sensitive as a Formula One car gave him an eye for technique…

In Formula One, most if not all drivers will tell you that finishing first is the only way to finish the weekend. But outside of the car, Honey Badger wholly rebuked this notion. Where he would gladly sacrifice a teammate or screw over a friend on track, off track he was the most generous partner I have ever had.

But I couldn’t help but think… are all drivers this generous? Or does a life jet-setting across the continents leave you with a hefty salary and even bigger commitment issues?

I never wanted anything serious with Honey Badger, but I don’t think it would’ve been an option if even I wanted to. Formula One drivers, in my experience, are attached to their careers while they still have them and don’t have time for things as trivial as long-term relationships - especially if you’re not willing to live life in the paddock with them.

So ladies, this weekend in the jewel of Southern France, don’t get your heart broken looking for the one on track, but let them show you what it’s like to live life in the fast lane.

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 304,871 others

yourusername: guess who is finally at home for the monaco grand prix? this little lady right here! you can read my column on the place to be this weekend on my website and in The Times (in whatever country you’re in) xxx

view all comments

user1: yes! i’ve been waiting for this one

user2: oh if only i could afford to go to monaco

user3: how i feel after reading any of y/n’s columns

user4: that should be me by justin on repeat

user5: i always wonder how she affords all of this

user6: maybe she’s yachting? she’s at all the events where it happens

yourusername: i have never yachted and i don’t intend to, sorry to burst your bubble!

user7: okay queen but the math ain’t mathing

yourusername: my money is between me and my accountant not random people on instagram

yukitsunoda0511: oh so when you said you had a fling with a daniel i might know you meant my LITERAL TEAMMATE DANIEL RICCIARDO?

yourusername: you know i’ve never been good with last names?

yukitsunoda0511: ‘hey a daniel you might know is featuring in my next column, just so you’re ready’ is not clear enough

yourusername: you should know me by now little sous chef

yukitsunoda0511: i should but you continue to shock me every time

yourusername: i’m taking that as a compliment

user8: i’m sorry she slept with DANIEL RICCIARDO ???

user9: and confirmed he is PACKING

user10: the way she says she doesn’t know anything about f1 but has slept with one of the most iconic drivers

user11: and lowkey shaded him? ‘attached to their careers while they have them’?

user12: she lowkey didn’t lie

danielricciardo: a cameo in sex and the city… you flatter me

yourusername: oh please, honey badger. you always knew your feature was coming at some point

danielricciardo: enjoy the race, i promise it’s usually more exciting

danielricciardo: and if you’re open to recently retired drivers let me know

user13: HOW DOES SHE HAVE THIS MUCH GAME WITHOUT TRYING?

user14: read the column girl and you’ll know

The thing is, they really weren’t lying when they said that Monaco is the jewel of the F1 season… everyone is dressed to the nines in brands as difficult to say as they are to purchase and you can’t go two ft without being offered yet another flute of champagne.

I am aware this is nothing to complain about, but by midday on Friday, it was hampering my ability to act like a normal person and my vision, which was 20/20 last time I checked. I know it’s bad because there’s no way the man I had affectionately dubbed Glastonbury was walking towards me in a quite garish orange race suit.

In a cute and aloof way, Glastonbury does just as vicious a double take as I and trips over his feet. He looks up at me. At first I think he’s happy to see me, but then something else flickers across his face. Maybe he was snapping himself back into action, maybe I had seen a flash of jealousy or maybe the champagne was doing more damage than expected…

I was wholly unaware Glastonbury was a Formula One driver… his physique had always been impressive but based on how many times I had been ushered out of his apartment for a padel session ‘with the boys’, what else was I supposed to expect?

I thought back to my column before the weekend, could he seriously be jealous over my involvement with Honey Badger? That had been dead in the water for a long time, but maybe the flirting in Instagram comments had been a bit much - but, hey! When you have as good a time as I have with Honey Badger, you don’t quite block yourself from a return there…

estebanocon

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 295,603 others

tagged: yourusername & flavybarla

estebanocon: bring your weird friend to work day today in monaco

view all comments

user16: just how many of these bitches does she know?

user17: LMAO the way it’s all coming out this weekend

user18: she’s honestly living her best life and i love that for her

yourusername: weird??? i think you mean unsettling but a hell of a fun time

estebanocon: that’s one way to put it

flavybarla: he loves you really, he’s just still shocked about who honey badger is…

estebanocon: you slept with my teammate and didn’t tell me!!!

yourusername: i don’t think he was your teammate at the time?

estebanocon: wait when did it happen

yourusername: all i know it was summertime in 2021, he had won a race and begged to do a shoey out of my red bottoms (and then a lot else)

flavybarla: slay?

estebanocon: well that was really my fault for asking

user19: new fantasy unlocked?

user20: now i know where all the good dick is going…

user21: for real she should share more

kimiantonelli: @yourusername is esteban the ‘great friend of mine, eiffel, who lives in switzerland and has a girlfriend too beautiful for words’?

yourusername: you got me!

user22: you’re telling me she’s friends with all these guys and didn’t know they were all f1 drivers?

yourusername: of course i knew kimi and esteban were f1 drivers… the rest not so much

kimiantonelli: she’s not even lying lol

yourusername: i’m never in monaco for the race and i’m not really a sports girl, unless you count the met gala!

user23: based on my expert deduction skills… if esteban is eiffel… is mick ‘baby blonde’ who showed her how to make a trip to the swiss countryside exciting?

yourusername: i should’ve never come to this damn race, there’s going to be no mystery left at this point

user24: SHE’S ALSO GOTTEN WITH MICK SCHUMACHER

user25: i’m about to go to prison for life on jealousy charges

user26: are the drivers not offended by her writing about their sex lives in her column, seems a bit trashy, no?

mickschumacher: not if you get a good review ;)

user27: OMFG

user28: i need a full system reboot

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 412,954 others

tagged: lando, estebanocon, mickschumacher & maxverstappen1

yourusername: putting the sass in sass cafe xx

view all comments

user29: if she gets with lando, it might be the end of me

user30: after daniel and mick, surely not

user31: i think they’re all grown adults who can do whatever they want

user32: acting all high and mighty as if we wouldn’t want to do the exact same

maxverstappen1: you promised that photo wouldn’t see the light of day

yourusername: i’m so sorry to say that, i don’t care

yourusername: you look cunty !

maxverstappen1: i look evil

yourusername: same thing

maxverstappen1: as long as it doesn’t end up in sex and the city

yourusername: you wouldn’t even know, pretty boy

user33: world’s first ever natural born flirt

user34: i feel like she has an innate need to flirt

yourusername: you wouldn’t be wrong

user35: we love a self aware queen

lando: i do not remember this being taken

yourusername: i don’t think you remember most of last night

lando: that’s omnious

yourusername: that’s a big word

lando: i googled it just for you

yourusername: oh how can I ever repay you?

user36: is it illegal for her not to have chemistry with someone

user37: it’s not chemistry, it’s desperation

user38: found the delusional lando fan

user39: deadass why would he go there knowing she’s already been passed around the grid

user40: two retired/out of the sport drivers over like five years is not mental

user41: also it’s y/n y/ln, she’s smart, a great writer, beautiful and annoyingly funny ???

olliebearman: sex and the city feature when?

yourusername: when you do something other than throw up on my designer shoes… the week’s edition is much cuter

olliebearman: i’m sorry?

Sunday night of the Monaco Grand Prix is talk of legend. The masses of rich busy bodies, socialites and influencers are packed like sardines in Sass or Jimmyz, each looking to get lucky with someone equally as influential as them.

The night was somewhat strange, I didn’t know if it was the text exchange with Glastonbury that had put me off kilter or the daytime champagne that had transitioned to evening cosmopolitans.

Had I assumed he would be like all of the other Formula One drivers? Not all athletes are the same, I thought I of all people would understand that by now… Glastonbury seems to have a sensitive side - I thought it had been part of the aftercare act, but now I’m not so sure.

He seemed so shocked to learn he’s not the only one, but I had seen his text logs, the thong left in the washing basket and the women’s skincare in the bathroom. Maybe they’re not fast to fall in love but fast to jump to conclusions, fast to stake some sort of superficial claim…

Does Glastonbury harbour actual feelings for me? Or has the revelation that he was not the first or only Formula One driver to grace my bed ignited a competition he believes are feelings?

SEX AND THE CITY: THE BEAUTY OF A MEET-WHOOPS

by y/n y/ln

When you live in a big city you can forget how small the world truly is. The busiest weekend of the year in the Principality, and here I am running into flings… in the pit lane of all places.

I thought that with Glastonbury, a lovely boy my age and from the somewhat pretentious village, our relationship was rudimentary and purely physical - but there, in the pit lane, there were flickers of butterflies in my stomach.

Was this an unsafe release or was I ready to confront a man who looks like he wants to sign me to a multi-year contract? Formula One puns aside, had a meet-whoops kicked our relationship into second gear?

What is a meet-whoops, you ask? You might better know their cousin, the meet-cute. This is where two people meet in particularly cute or romantic circumstances, see: your dogs are playing together at the park and the leashes get tangled ending in canine-enforced proximity, etc.

A meet-whoops? Well, it’s meeting a romantic interest accidentally. Meredith Gray meeting McDreamy at work after sleeping with him, unaware of who he was, springs to mind. The meeting being accidental almost makes it better, the feelings are raw and unexpected.

But I couldn’t help but think, are these feelings for Glastonbury genuine or just virtue of the meet-whoops? How would I feel about Glastonbury the next time I see him? The next time I can’t help but snoop through his cupboards and am confronted by life and girls before meeting me?

Meet-whoops are beautiful things, but am I ready to settle down? Can I see myself racing in one colour for the foreseeable future, or are there circuits I still want to race before I retire?

So, I guess what I’m trying to say is, ladies and gentlemen, don’t be fooled by the novelty of the meet-whoops, dig deeper and confront whether you’re on the right strategy: are you looking to do the overtake now because it’s there or will you play the long game, nurture your tyres and cross the line first later on?

fin.

note: can you tell i'm rewatching sex and the city??? i hope you enjoyed... it can go a lot of places so let me know who you might want to see... also i hope you like the nicknames some of the drivers have been given - trust i have the whole list !

[fizzyy-pop]

i often think about what it would be like if you were friends with cybertronians and they didn't know about humans and their weird gut-instinct thing. because they don't really have that!! we gained that through evolution due to being a predator-prey species for so long, they didn't.

thoughts under cut due to length!!

imagine living with them/hanging out with them in their ship or base, and suddenly you get this deep, sinking feeling in your stomach, your heart starts racing and your senses are on high alert. you feel like something bad is about to happen, so you make the bots around you aware. they don't believe you at first, because you're all just hanging out! nothing is happening at all, there hasn't been any enemy activity in a while either. 'maybe you've been hanging out with red alert too much lately,' one of them muses, shrugging off your concerns.

a short time passes and the feeling has only gotten worse. you're gripping onto the fabric of your pants and have your head on a swivel. the bots around you keep glancing at you in concern, worried that their sweet little human friend might be sick. one of them leans over to you, about to ask if you need to go see ratchet when suddenly–

there's a cacophony of shrill sounds, alarms and yelling, maybe even the sound of metal tearing somewhere? you can't tell, you're too busy being whisked away by someone; big, strong metal hands cradling you close to a chassis as they frantically try to get you somewhere safer.

after the whole fiasco involving enemy infiltration had been dealt with, a couple of bots who remembered your statement that something bad was going to happen tried asking you how you knew. you tilted your head in confusion, saying that it had just been your gut instinct. after a short explanation on how it works in humans, many just laughed it off saying that it was ridiculous to believe that primal instinct of all things could warn you of danger that hasn't even happened yet. 'that's like saying your subconscious mind can see into the future, it's impossible.' one of them says.

however, it soon happens again with a sparkeater attack. and again with another enemy ambush. and again, and again, and again. you just keep saying you feel like something horrible is about to happen and it does. you're right every time and no one knows how you keep doing it!

it happens so often that now whenever you make it known that you feel wary of a situation, everyone's plating immediately squeezes tight to their frames, and they're constantly on the lookout for danger. if you say you don't trust somebody, everyone is automatically keeping a sharp optic on them, not letting a single odd activity from them slide.

if you're on the lost light, i just know brainstorm would call you his early early early warning system. he would also try to run experiments to see just how far your instinct can go, and then would proceed to get in trouble with ultra magnus for putting you in dangerous situations. and red alert would like you in every universe, you're like his security buddy! he would seriously appreciate having someone who can let him know in advance that something is about to go down so he has ample time to prepare.

in other words, some of the bots are pretty freaked out by our weird instincts and abilities. however, they can see how it's beneficial! they all love to have you around, strange future-danger-sense or not. :)

[promise-of-soup]

₊˚ପ⊹Prologue!'*•.¸♡ I Choose~! ¸.•*'

SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRE PLOT OF EPISODE 17!! (For all parts)

♡Synopsis: Sent to "Waves of Love" alongside six of your Ghoul friends, you were pleased to discover that your crush was one of the cast members. The universe has gifted you with a chance to confess in a controlled setting where you could always scoff it up to acting or a script! The cameras are rolling, his name is on the tip of your tounge, but alas...

♡AKA: You didn't get your shot, but he can't move on without knowing if you chose him or not.

♡Tags: Prologue, setting up the scene I guess? retelling parts of the last chapter for episode 17 but with some added stuff lol.

♡Notes: basically, one part per each of the six characters which will include build up on how you got a crush on him, what happened during the show, and then you confessing when it's all over and you're back to Darkwick (the parts will be released in the order I put them in the list). I was fucking angry at the confession scene, hence this!

✧˚ · .make your choice at the end (links to the individual parts at the end)

Finally.

You get to do this, for real.

Your heart races in your chest, beating so hard you can feel it about to burst, as cliche as that is. The butterflies in your stomach fly so fast they almost cause an internal tornado.

Chill and fresh air overtakes your lungs with a deep breath as the silence of the world overtakes your ears. Only the waves of the ocean, and love, haha, are heard. You look around the romantic pool scene, and while all of your friends look handsome and well put together tonight, your eyes widen when you reach him.

With his hair swept to the side and his tailored suit clinging to his skin, he looks ideal, romantic, like you're the only two people there and nothing matters, like you can have him all to yourself in a few moments and go to a fancy porch. You've spent the past three days waiting for the producers to allow you more moments with him, for the cameras to stop so that you could relax your shoulders and take comfort in his presence like you always do, and you spent months awaiting his company between missions, hoping his name is spoken every time you get a new case to work on, just to spend more time with him by your side. The anomaly does not matter, the danger of the situation does not matter, this stupid show doesn't even matter; you just want him to know.

Of course, letting him know your feelings in this setting is also ideal, because if he cringes at you and backs away once the cameras turn off, you could always tell him that you were playing it up for the camera, you were only doing it for narrative purposes and that you just see him as a friend. But earlier when he promised you to be with you if you pick him, however scripted some parts of it had to have been, made your heart thump and your face grow warm with a hope that his behaviour these last three days is real, that he also feels the same as you do.

You take a deep breath... the crew drop their heads again.

Oh.

The anomaly appears once more, putting everyone on edge, you might be making this up, but you can swear he looks at you with a protective glare.

"choose." the ghastly woman tells you as she looms above your head, "choose!"

And so you do.

Your eyes shut for courage, your fists clench as well, and you say, loud and clear as per the script and as per your heart:

"My soulmate is..."

A screech echoes through the air - the anomaly.

And as the chaos begins and the mission is forced to a close, you have failed for good... Or have you?

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳You chose:

Jiro | Ren | Haru | Jin | Rui | Edward

[vargrblood]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝒃𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 ───── 연시은

IN WHICH falling in love with Yeon Sieun was imminent for you. Imminent in the same way as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west.

3.4k+ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𔘓 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎gn! reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𔘓 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎event 𝑚-𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

based on req ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𔘓 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎scroll till the end for notes

I. Peach eyes and blue skies

Love is imminent.

Love is just imminent, you're bound to fall in love with someone sooner or later. Doesn't matter if it's today, tomorrow or the next day or the next next day— you're bound to fall in love with someone.

It is imminent in the same way as natural phenomena, just like how the winter is followed by spring, how the moon influences the tides and how every bud is meant to blossom into a beautiful flower.

It can happen in many ways. It might just be someone you've known for a long time and in a moment everything just shifts, you see them in a different light, in a way so different that it makes your heart pound so hard that it feels as if it is going to burst out of your ribcage and jump into their hands.

It can happen in a way that when you first lay your eyes on them you just know; that this is going to the person my world will revolve around, that this is going to be the person my heart beats for, that this is going to be the person that will plague my every waking thought & appear in my dreams, that this is going to be the person i love for the rest of my life.

It really does happen like that sometimes, that you know the person you just laid your eyes on will be the object of your affection for the foreseeable and unforeseeable future.

When you first laid your eyes on Yeon Sieun, you just knew.

It is a truth, like the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, that earth is the third planet from the sun and that universe is forever expanding till it ends.

It is the truth.

You are in love.

Your heart will chase him like the sun chases the moon or the moon chases the sun across the canvas of the beautiful sky over us all.

Your heart will chase him and beat for him.

Your heart will beat in such rhythms that will be impossible for you to ignore the loud vibrations that will soon drip into your compositions and creations.

The truth is; you are in love with the peach eyed boy.

II.

I'll be with you on your ride

The first time you meet Yeon Sieun, it is at the cultural centre Juntae and his friends are volunteering. You—Juntae’s sibling— were tasked by your mom to keep an eye on Juntae and see if his friends were any trouble.

The school had called after all, saying how Juntae had gotten into a fight near the school and the guys he had fought had not shown up at the school the next day. Which was funny because Juntae never fights.

Regardless.

The day you met him, you still remember so clearly because how could you forget?

The wind was a little chilly, the kind of chilly you enjoy when you are enveloped by the warmth of your favourite sweater. The kind of chilly, when the wind blows onto your face you feel like a weak leaf falling off the tree and dancing in the wind to the tune of nature.

The sky was blue, no clouds, just a calming presence on top of your heads as you went about your day. But, now that you look back, you think it was the same shade of blue that your wallpaper was in your childhood bedroom.

When you first walked into the room where Juntae and Sieun were, you were un-suspecting. You had walked towards Juntae, not minding his friend, after all you had no actual business with him. But when you had called out for your brother, he had turned too, and when you met his eyes the time had slowed down, sluggish in its movements around you and Sieun, time had slowed down. It was like being suspended in honey, sweet and sticky, slowly dripping down.

Sieun had looked like he had picked the most beautiful constellations in the entirety of the night sky, collected them by hand and put them in a bucket and later poured down the contents of the bucket in the pools of his eyes. The creases of his eyelids were beautiful too, though they were a little assymetrical.

For a second, you wonder if the boy in front of you feels the same thing you are feeling, did time stop for him too?

But does it matter if he feels the same?

You feel it. It is real for you. It is as real as the warmth of the sun you crave when the weather’s too cool, and it is as real as the tender flesh of the tangerines your mom peeled for you the day before.

It is real and it is love.

Love at first sight.

III.

It's on the moonlight

Artists are, well, strange creatures with the ability to make you feel things you've never experienced before, or have experienced before but are too scared to relive those moments or experiences you will never experience. But the bottom line is, artists are strange creatures of experience.

Experience is like drops of lemon juice on savoury food, something that's not a necessary ingredient to cook the food but something that enhances the experience of enjoying it.

That is what your teacher says. She says that you can always write and compose about things you might have not gone through, they might be beautiful, but the true glimmer always shines when you create a piece about something you've experienced deeply.

And now that you're finally in love, no matter what you play, there are hints of yearning.

When you play the violin, love loosens out and flows like drops of sap on a tree, it sticks onto the haunting and eerie crescendo and then with painfully slow movement, it's present in the drop that comes with the aching decrescendo.

When you play the piano, love blooms like the brightest flower that always catches your attention when you walk by its bush, it attaches itself onto the notes and glides through the air.

When you play the guitar, love coos like a cuckoo bird, the sound that you always hear when you need to, the sound that always catches your attention no matter what you're doing.

Your teacher catches onto it, she tells you to hold onto it, drown in the feeling so it sinks into your very being, so that it can be embossed into your creations.

To you, the love you've just started to feel is like a gentle caress of a mother on the face of her child after the child has fallen asleep.

It is the same faint touch of your birth mother you remember, the gentle yet warm parting hug.

It is also similar to the the firm touch of your father, not to hard, not to soft that one can mistake for a ghostly whisper.

It is also like the kiss your Mom—Ms. Seo— presses on to the top of your head, something that is meant to be felt, something that is proclaimed.

(There is a distinction between Mother and Mom.

Mother is the one who gave birth to you. Mother is the one who was with you for the first three years of your life.

Mom is Ms. Seo, the one who gave birth to Juntae. Mom is the one who was with you after the the first three years of your life.)

You somehow became a friend of Juntae’s friends, you don't go to the same school but they always invite you to hangout. That is how you ended up here; sitting in the basketball court, chatting with the guys about everything and nothing.

The amber lights shine down harshly on all of you, a colour that can be only found in Vivaldian music and for a moment you are taken aback when Sieun cracks a small smile at the antics of Juntae’s—now your—friends.

And it's the moment you saw him for the first time again, the time stopped like you were just mere beetles trapped in amber forever, you wish you were insects in amber and the time stopped on this moment forever.

That night you thought of his smile, beautiful smile, and thought:

Love is like the gentle moonlight.

IV.

How many songs I write

Your birth mother was a pianist, a talented one at that. People did know of her. One of your earliest memories is of her playing a melody on the keys of the piano, the same tune that she always sang for you to put you to sleep. A tender composition she created just for you, however, no matter how much you try to recreate it with your own hands, you simply cannot. She did not leave behind the manuscript for that specific song.

Mother had a knack for all things musical. The melody she had created just for you was very raw, it's still clear in your memory, raw like the tender flesh of a bruised heart. And the melody was light and gentle, like the sunlight that seeps into your skin during winter, light and warm enough to comfort you when the snow melts slowly. And you still remember the sickly sweetness of the melody, quite like a jar of freshly harvested honey, yellowish colour with tinges of orange like the setting sun.

Despite remembering it oh so clearly, you could never recreate it. It is there but also not.

But such is the pain of a musician, no matter how hard you try, you never capture the true essence of the actual piece in front of you, the river of time flows and smudges the colours of the intricate painting leaving you with only a faint membrane of what used to be.

Maybe that's why you chose to drown yourself in the same liquor as your Mother; music.

Maybe it was in your warm blood, the urge to just create something, to create art. Art is eternal, a river that passes yet remains, unlike your Mother. Art could never die and leave you.

Maybe it was to connect to your Mother. The child's instinct is always to look for the mother, after all. Maybe that's why you try to drown yourself in this cool river, maybe a ghost will pull you down to the depths of your mind and maybe then you will be able to finally recreate the lullaby your Mother sang you to sleep and played for you on the piano.

Deep within your mind, you are still looking for your Mother.

Looking back, you remember only three memories of your Mother.

First, where she tucks you to bed and kisses your nose and continues to hum the same lullaby. She never wrote it down on any sheets because she thought she would always be there to sing it for you.

Second, where she feeds you peaches with the softest of flesh, you can still taste them in your mouth and the way they melted and the way they had hints of sourness.

Third, where she hugs you for the last time. Her hair tickles your face as she pulls you in, she pats your back and you see her smile. And it is warm. Like the melody she always played for you.

You sigh as you fill in the notehead in front of you, scratching your pen until it's completely filled the same way your heart is filled yearning for the peach-eyed boy.

“You okay? You've been sighing a lot.” Your seat partner asks you.

“Mhm. Just thinking about him.” You answer slowly, your words roll out in a dreamy drawl, like your attention is elsewhere in the prettiest gardens of paradise.

“Him who?”

“My muse.” You say, with your eyes still focused on the sheet on your desk. The eyebrows of your partner quirk up, this is some new gossip topic. “His name has three syllables. You know what else has three syllables? ‘I love you.’”

Your seat partner looks at you strangely.

You seem to have forgotten that most Korean names are composed of three syllables. But it's still the most poetic thing to you.

You pay your seatmate no mind as you continue to fill in the staves with the dripping emotions that have latched onto your mind. Your hand reaches up to touch your sternum through your uniform to feel the quickening rhythm of your tender heart.

V.

You'll be my sunlight

“So, are you going to tell him?” Juntae says with a soft voice, like he's treading into a territory he's not meant to, he slowly crunches leaves that have fallen down.

The weather has gone chillier, in a way that makes wisps of fog appear when you speak.

“Tell who what?” You say dumbly. You do have inkling of what your dear brother means but you're not ready to accept that he took notice of what he might say next.

“Sieun. About your feelings.” Of course he knows. This sneaky bastard. When you turn to face him finally, there's a slight smirk on his face. Was your crush so obvious?

“I don't know, man.” You sigh. You've never imagined taking your crush to that level and confessing, you cannot imagine Sieun being your boyfriend, he's better off as a muse. You kick a pebble away.

He's a sweet boy though, Yeon Sieun, he always listens to you ramble when others lose focus because of their lack of musical knowledge.

He also listens to the songs you recommend, he likes them sometimes, sometimes they're not his taste. But at least he's honest enough to accept when he likes something and when he doesn't.

He doesn't talk much, but when he speaks, he says what he means and what he wants to. This is something you admire about him.

“Mhm.” Juntae hums as he sees you get lost in your thoughts again, the smirk doesn't leave his feature though. If you can't tell Sieun about your feelings, he sure can.

𓂃

In the sky, pinks meet the orange, a soft colour is conceived, a colour that looks like peach soda. You're sitting next to Sieun. Juntae, Baku and Gotak are still playing basketball, they seem to have better stamina than Sieun.

You lose your focus, the world blurs a little, you're too deep in your thoughts, riveting in the notes ringing in your head. You've been practicing a lot, recently. Perfecting the composition you came up with, your fingers and shoulder have gone tired with the countless hours you've been pouring into your craft.

There is a certain joy that comes with perfection. When you can move people with the music that you create, you reach a state of euphoria and the hard work you put on yourself finally feels worth it.

As the music in your head slowly dissipates as it comes towards the end, you turn to look at Sieun, who is drinking water. The way his Adam's apple bobs with every gulp has you entranced, but you soon realise that you might be looking like a weirdo so you turn away.

Sieun puts the water bottle away.

Well, it's now or never, right?

With your heart beating like a wild beast that was chained inside a cage of bones, you finally gather courage.

“Sieun-ah.” You start. A crow caws in the distance and the sneakers against the ground screech.

When he turns to look at you, you're taken back to the moment where the yellowish lights of the outside court had you feeling like insects swimming in pools of honey, the moment where you wished time stopped forever because of the twinkle of Sieun’s eyes.

“Has anyone told you before that you have pretty eyes?”

You don't know if it's the sky that is casting down pinkish hues on Sieun or if he's actually blushing.

𓂃

You let out a soft sigh as you sit on the sofa, tired from a long day of practicing violin. You even have dreams of playing the specific composition, the one you've titled ‘Peach eyes’.

Your Mom pulls you close to her into a side hug. She pats you slowly, her touch is gentle and soothing.

“Don’t stress yourself too much. I know you'll do great, my child.” She speaks brightly, her words filled with nothing but love.

“Thank you. I love you.” And with that you sink yourself deeper into her embrace.

VI.

How could I not rely

On you, peach eyes?

The silence is broken by the sound of bow meeting the strings, the first touch is always gentle like a lover's kiss, it always starts slowly and builds momentum. The notes flow endlessly and beautifully into the air, with a certain warmth that comes with love.

At first, it is like rich cashmere being undone, thread by thread, slowly and painfully unravelled, something akin to accepting that you are in love and the fear that comes with it. When you accept you are in love, you're baring your soul. The sound that comes with each friction of bow and violin slowly dissolves the tension built up in the pit of your stomach. The sound is now like a knife cutting through flesh, thorough and sharp and easy. There is a sting in it, the kind felt by snow when the sun shines its rays on it harshly to melt it away, with that the fear in your mind melts away slowly too.

The unraveling is firm yet gentle, the touch is soft like water that envelopes your feet at the beach but it's firm, like the hardened bark of a tree. It feels like a lover undoing your being, slowly exposing your secrets to themselves and loving you despite.

The song builds up, it's now haunting like whispers of the past, something you can see on the back of your eyelids when you close them but something that fades away when you try to reach out for it.

The audience is completely trapped into the hypnotising performance you're putting, they're stuck in a trance like bugs caught up in sticky-trap.

There is pain in longing and you captured it perfectly in your music sheets and you've now turned it into music, the music that reverberates through your upper body, the music you made is being fed on by your heart.

The song is now turning like a tide, at first it was like expensive cloth being unstitched but now, it feels as though the seams are being sewn together again, this time better than they were before. Each note is like a torrent of brushstrokes on a canvas, each stroke building up to a precise picture.

You're pouring out every single emotion you've felt for the peach-eyed boy into this performance. Each note you play feels like a breath that brings you back to life. It now feels like a faint touch of moonlight on skin.

When you finish the melodies still linger in the air, like the whistling wind on a stormy day. The audience is quiet for a short moment, taking in the opus they just experienced but they soon break into applause.

Afterwards, you meet up with your friends after your violin solo ends. Juntae had invited his friends too, and they're all drowning you in praises. You try not to pay attention to the person that your solo was dedicated to, instead you chat with your friends as you lead them back to the hall for the next performance.

You're left alone outside the theatre hall, and you breathe out a sigh of satisfaction. You decide to go back to the artist’s lounge to pack up your things and just as you turn, Sieun appears, holding a bouquet of roses.

“You seem to be avoiding me.” He speaks with a matter-of-fact tone.

You look around and then point at yourself.

“Me? Haha, never.”

Sieun doesn't say anything else, and for a second, silence settles over both of you. You finally look into the eyes you were avoiding the entire evening, and now, you are in a trance. Like a snake being charmed by a snake charmer, you are charmed by the boy in front of you. You look into his eyes and they look soft and filled with stars like always.

Sieun hands you the bouquet, and his fingers brush against yours, you take in the rich peach and white coloured flowers to your view to ignore the loud beating of your heart and the blood rushing to your cheeks.

“The performance was beautiful.” He states.

But you are more beautiful; you want to say.

And a whisper of a smile appears on Sieun’s face.

Maybe, falling in love with you was imminent for Yeon Sieun too.

𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎( ‎whc masterlist )

woohoo! 3.4k words, that was a long ride, i hope you enjoyed! likes, reblogs & comments are appreciated.

if it wasn't clear; y/n is a music student who is juntae's step-sibling. y/n's father remarried juntae's mom! y/n's birth mother was a pianist who passed away. y/n can play three instruments—piano, violin & acoustic guitar. the final scene was them performing a violin solo they composed.

taglist. ( join it here )

@mariii-0001 @gacktsa @haitani-22 @pavitrata @yujiswave @svtf1lms @sadesutopia

୨୧ asks are open, feel free to hop in to request something (not for this event) or just talk! read more about requests here !

[jynxedshapeshifter]

so apollo's dynamic with klavier is interesting

Hello and welcome to the Klapollo essay I said I was going to write. I mostly decided to write this because I think it's interesting that Apollo goes from "I have to pull that darkness out of him!" in Turnabout Succession to "oh god not him again" in Turnabout Academy, and I wanted to make a post analyzing why (but also I find it weird every time I see someone say Apollo hates Klavier, which doesn't happen often to be fair but is still a bit weird to me because Apollo canonically doesn't hate Klavier. Neither does Ema for that matter, at least in my opinion, but that's a post for a different time).

Part 1: Apollo Has Never Hated Klavier

First things first, Apollo has never canonically hated Klavier. At worst he finds him annoying. The first interaction they have after Klavier has the officer in front of People Park let Apollo and Trucy investigate is during the first day of Wocky's trial, where a lot of Apollo's interactions with Klavier are either annoyed, confused, or both. It's also made clear during the first day of Wocky's trial that Apollo finds Klavier attractive to some degree, as this is where we get the "I'll wipe that smirk off your pretty face, Gavin!" line. Notably, he never really genuinely shows disdain towards him, just annoyance. Like that's literally the worst we see his opinion of Klavier get. Apollo is vocal when he doesn't like something, we would know if he actually didn't like Klavier. From the start most of his comments on Klavier amount to "what the fuck is his deal" or subtle implications that he doesn't realize he's attracted to Klavier in some way which. Relatable.

Anyway, with that out of the way, I would like to talk about every interaction they've had whether it's canon or not.

Part 2: I don't know what to call this section

When I say I want to talk about every interaction Apollo and Klavier have ever had, I very much mean every interaction (although not necessarily in-depth). Whether that be how they interact during Wocky's trial or how they interact during the Gavinners Reunion tour CD drama, I will be analyzing all of it because this is my blog and I do what I want.

Part 2.1: Turnabout Corner

First things first, Klavier's first interaction with Apollo and Trucy. Klavier teases Apollo for staring, Apollo is still a bit confused because Klavier looks like Kristoph, and then Klavier very specifically turns his attention to Trucy, and this is what finally knocks Apollo out of his confused daze (which is really funny. Apollo basically got annoyed by Klavier ignoring him).

Important thing to note here: in at least the first part of Turnabout Corner's trial, Guilty Love is diegetic, which basically means it doesn't just exist as background music for us, the players, but it also exists in universe as Klavier's accompaniment when he's in court.

During the first part of Wocky's trial, which is when Apollo is first able to actually get a proper impression of how Klavier is, this exchange happens:

Klavier: Achtung, baby! Today we play it my way! Apollo: (What's that… noise?) Klavier: Sometimes you have to get on up in order to get down... to prosecuting! Apollo: (This is crazy…)

At this point in the game, Apollo just seems a bit exasperated by Klavier's antics. Like his reaction is basically "I'm the only normal person in this courtroom." A few lines after this, Apollo (internally) asks Klavier if he can speak without the accompaniment. Apollo's exasperation towards Klavier continues throughout the trial. He gets annoyed, he gets irritated, but he never actually gets angry with Klavier. You could argue he gets angry with Klavier when Klavier says "At least one person on the defense team seems to be thinking" but you could just as easily argue he's being defensive. Something also worth noting here is that that line of Klavier's is what triggers him to think "Grr... I'll wipe that smile off your pretty face, Gavin!" which also, notably, is the first indication we get that Apollo finds Klavier attractive.

Apollo continues to, throughout the game, make comments implying he finds Klavier annoying because of how he presents himself (in Turnabout Corner, for example, he says he wishes Klavier would stop being so cool, which seems to be similar to Ema's general attitude toward Klavier but that's for another post). Some more things of note in Turnabout Corner:

Klavier continues to tease Apollo throughout the trial, which mainly flusters Apollo instead of making him actually upset or anything.

When Klavier meets Apollo and Trucy outside People Park the second time, the first thing he does is have Apollo wave at his fans, once again flustering him (but notably not making him annoyed or anything, just confused and flustered). After this, he slips some pretty important information regarding the case to Apollo and Trucy.

Klavier helps Trucy and Apollo throughout the trial as much as he can. A lot of it comes off as him being a dick but he is genuinely helping Trucy and Apollo.

So to summarize: Apollo's attraction to Klavier is implied as early as the first trial day for Wocky's trial, and Apollo is, at worst, irritated by Klavier's antics.

Part 2.2: Turnabout Serenade

Apollo tending to be more annoyed than anything else with Klavier's antics continues in Turnabout Serenade. Apollo reacts worst to Klavier, in his eyes, not taking LeTouse's murder seriously. When Klavier asks him what crime he's referring to (the multiple thefts Klavier's a victim of or the murder) Apollo goes "The murder, what else?!" which is the most annoyed he gets with Klavier specifically in Turnabout Serenade. Apollo actually spends decent chunk of Turnabout Serenade sassing the hell out of Klavier.

Apollo also mentions that Klavier is "cool" in Turnabout Serenade which is something he's jealous about, and immediately tells himself he'll never admit it to Trucy. Here's the specific bit of dialogue:

(To be honest… …he was kind of cool. And I'm kind of envious. Not that I'd ever admit that to Trucy.)

Apollo continues to be jealous of Klavier multiple times after this in optional dialogue by the way.

When you present Apollo's badge to Klavier after The Guitar's Serenade portion of the concert:

Klavier: ...... Herr Forehead. Apollo: Y-Yeah? Klavier: Understand that I am not Prosecutor Gavin now. I am lead vocal of the Gavinners. That badge sings a different song… on a different stage. Apollo: Right… (I wish I had an alter-ego to hide behind sometimes.)

When you present the lyrics sheet for The Guitar's Serenade to Klavier:

Klavier: I wrote those lyrics, you know. Though it was Lamiroir who gave them life. Trucy: Wow… That's beautiful! Apollo: (Grr. Maybe I should try to write some lyrics someday.)

When Klavier gives Trucy and Apollo the aforementioned lyrics sheet:

Apollo: What's this…? Klavier: A lyrics sheet. It's yours. Signed by myself and Lamiroir. Trucy: Yippee! Thanks so much! Apollo: (All I ever get to sign are client defense agreements.)

Onto the trial itself, Apollo sasses Klavier a lot. Not even teases him, he just straight up bullies him. The instance of this that immediately comes to mind is when Klavier's talking about Daryan and Apollo says "That's nice, but it has nothing to do with the matter at hand." but he has a few other instances of just being a bit mean toward Klavier too (keep in mind that this very much feels closer to Apollo giving Klavier a taste of his own medicine than any actual malice or anything). Notably Klavier's still a bit of a bitch about how Apollo makes his case in Turnabout Serenade, but he's still willing to help him get to the truth of a situation if needed (as seen when you talk to him in his office).

Part 2.3: Turnabout Succession

Unlike in Turnabout Corner and Turnabout Serenade, Klavier isn't seen in Turnabout Succession until Vera's trial starts. The trial goes perfectly fine until the Gramarye commemorative stamp comes up as evidence, at which point not only is Klavier on the verge of snapping, but Apollo is concerned about him, and this concern stays into the next trial day, where Klavier's fawning aggressively in response to Kristoph. Trucy and Apollo both get really concerned about Klavier at this point. Let's also not forget that Apollo mentions that Klavier looks like he's in physical pain and immediately follows it up with "That darkness… …I have to pull that darkness out of him…" and by that point his goal isn't just securing a not guilty verdict for Vera, but also in some way helping Klavier break free from Kristoph's control.

This isn't subtext or an assumption on my end, Apollo is literally why Klavier broke free from Kristoph's control. Had Apollo not been the defense attorney on Vera's case, I don't think Klavier would've ever broken out of Kristoph's control honestly. Klavier's "Let's clean out the family closet, eh, Kristoph?" comes after Apollo's comment on pulling the darkness out of Klavier. It's Apollo proving Drew's link to Kristoph that breaks Klavier free of Kristoph's control (as Klavier very specifically says "Just… prove it! Clear up these doubts now, or I swear, I'm off this case!" There's something poetic about two of the victims of Kristoph's emotional manipulation coming together to make sure he's found out for murder and attempted murder.

Anyway, Apollo shows so much concern for Klavier in Turnabout Succession and I don't think he would if he didn't care a lot about him, and we know Apollo has a tendency to care about people even if he just met them or doesn't know them all that well based on his interactions with Vera, Trucy, Wocky, Machi, Juniper, and Rayfa (and probably others that I can't think of off the top of my head). Like Apollo cares so much about other people and I feel like it isn't really acknowledged a lot.

Part 2.4: Turnabout Academy/The Magical Turnabout

Turnabout Academy is the reason I wanted to analyze Apollo and Klavier's dynamic in the first place honestly. The reason is because Apollo's behavior around him going from quite concerned to annoyed between Turnabout Succession and Turnabout Serenade.

Apollo and Klavier's dynamic in Turnabout Academy is incredibly similar to their dynamic in Turnabout Serenade. The primary differences are that Klavier's a bit more mean and we're not seeing Apollo's attitude toward Klavier from his perspective. We're instead seeing it from Athena's perspective. We can also assume that Turnabout Academy is where Athena first noticed that Apollo gets prickly any time the topic of Klavier is brought up, because Turnabout Academy takes place around 6 months before The Magical Turnabout and The Magical Turnabout is where Athena mentions Apollo getting prickly any time the topic of Klavier comes up (and she specifically notes that she's noticed that "for a while").

Klavier's really funny in Turnabout Academy though because he focuses so much of his attention on Apollo specifically which means Athena's third-wheeling Klapollo for a fair amount of the investigation. I also acknowledge that I might be the only one who got that vibe from Turnabout Academy but for me that vibe absolutely exists.

Additionally, let's go over the exchange about the roses Klavier sent Trucy again.

Athena: Oh, these are from Prosecuter Gavin. Apollo: Roses, huh? How like him: pretentious. Athena: They might be pretentious, but you know what? He makes it work! Apollo: Hmph. Athena: Apollo, I've noticed this for a while, but… …you get awfully prickly when it comes to Prosecutor Gavin. Apollo: Y-You think so? Athena: I mean, don't hate him just because he's beautiful. Apollo: Th-That's not it at all!

I'm not just mentioning this because it's funny. Even assuming Athena did catch on to how annoyed Apollo gets about Klavier existing immediately in Turnabout Academy (which is likely considering her whole gimmick), this implies the topic of Klavier is regularly brought up around the Wright Anything Agency. Unless Apollo and Klavier regularly faced off in court between Turnabout Academy and The Magical Turnabout, there is no reason for this implication to exist. It makes me wonder who's bringing up Klavier and why. Does Klavier just show up at the WAA on a regular basis to fuck with Apollo? Do Phoenix, Trucy, and Athena regularly invite him over because Apollo's reactions are funny? Why has the topic of Klavier come up when Athena's around enough for Athena to notice that Apollo gets prickly when it comes to Klavier, let alone enough for her to assume the reason for it is because Klavier's attractive? What goes on at the Wright Anything Agency off-screen lol

Part 2.5: The Gavinners Reunion Tour CD Drama

(This isn't important and I'm not arguing its canonicity, I just think it's cute and want to talk about it. You can find the audio with English subtitles here)

The Gavinners Reunion Tour CD drama is genuinely one of my favorite non-game pieces of Ace Attorney media. I'm so emotionally attached to it. Before I go into the Klavier and Apollo parts of it, I need to mention that Phoenix invited Ema and Apollo to Klavier's revival concert thinking they'd be excited for it. Idk, it's really funny to me. Also, Klavier gave Apollo and Trucy a bigger discount on tickets than he gave Phoenix. I think Klavier has favorites lol

I also need to point out that Klavier completely ignores Ema and Phoenix when he mentions how good the concert's gonna be. He specifically mentions Apollo when he mentions how good the concert's gonna be. Apollo is also the one to suggest that he, Phoenix, and Ema go with Klavier's manager to get his drugs candy before he goes on stage. Now, to be fair, that could absolutely be more over concern for Klavier's manager than Klavier but Apollo was still the one to suggest it. Apollo is also the one who encourages Klavier's manager to keep looking for the aforementioned candy.

Anyway near the end Klavier invites Apollo to sing an acoustic duet of Guilty Love. It's adorable and I love it. Right before that Apollo mentions actually enjoying the concert (Apollo tells Ema this is specifically because he's faced off against Klavier so many times in court that his music feels similar to facing him in court which implies he'll only ever enjoy rock music if it's Klavier's. gay) and Klavier says "Even I never managed to imagine I'd be able to win your heart!"

Anyway go listen to the Gavinners Reunion Tour CD drama, it's absolutely wonderful.

Part 3: Conclusions or Something

I don't know what I'm concluding here. The last half of this was written over a month after the first half so I don't even really remember where I was going with this but basically, Apollo doesn't hate Klavier. He doesn't even see Klavier as a rival:

Athena: Look! There's your rival over there, Apollo! Apollo: Who, Prosecutor Gavin? We've battled it out a few times before, but I wouldn't call him-- Athena: No, not him. I meant that speaker over there! It can output massive blasts of sound that rival your Chords of Steel! Apollo: I have better things to do than compete with a speaker, so just forget it. - Dual Destinies, Turnabout Academy

Apollo even extends the "I can, will, and do worry about anyone and everyone I come across whether I know them well or not, with the exception of if they're a horrible person" attitude he has toward Klavier. He cares a lot about Klavier. That's canon. He cares about Klavier to the same (or at least a similar) degree that he cares about Trucy, Vera, Juniper, and even Wocky and Machi. He doesn't extend that to people he doesn't like. He finds Wocky annoying, but he doesn't seem to really dislike him. He gets frustrated with Machi, but he doesn't dislike him. Apollo cares so much about everyone who crosses his path who is worth his time and Klavier isn't an exception to this. The only time it's obvious is in Turnabout Succession, but that's because that's where Klavier is at his most vulnerable and we're playing as Apollo.

Additionally, we know based on AA4 that Apollo prefers to keep his feelings about Klavier as a whole to himself, and masks them by acting standoffish, which is why he comes off as prickly to other people. This is why Turnabout Academy is so interesting to me in terms of how Klavier and Apollo's dynamic is written. It's the first time we're viewing their dynamic as an outsider and not as Apollo. I'm quite sure that Apollo was worried about Klavier. Klavier's mentor had just been murdered, after all. Apollo was concerned when Klavier was in the same courtroom as Kristoph, it'd frankly be out of character for Apollo not to worry about Klavier in Turnabout Academy. Apollo just has a tendency to mask his feelings regarding Klavier, so it's not obvious to an outsider that he's worried (and I'm quite sure this was the case for Trucy in Turnabout Succession too. I don't think she realized just how worried about Klavier Apollo was for a bit because so much of Apollo's concern is made obvious to the player through his thoughts).

Anyway, TL;DR: Apollo cares so much about everyone he surrounds himself with (including his clients) and Klavier's not an exception to that. Apollo doesn't hate Klavier, he doesn't even see Klavier as a rival. At worst, Apollo finds Klavier a bit annoying at times. Saying Apollo is bitter or disdainful toward Klavier is an objectively wrong reading of their dynamic. Whether you ship them or not, Apollo does care a lot about Klavier. It's an incredibly important part of Turnabout Succession and saying or acting like Apollo doesn't care about Klavier to the same degree he cares about Trucy or Vera or Lamiroir or Juniper is just ignoring canon. Apollo has so much love and care in his heart and whether romantically or platonically he extends that love and care to Klavier too.

[stillwatervoid]

i want to write my first fic for invincible but there’s noooo braincells happening up here, so i just wanted to ask, any random headcanons u have abt the invincible universe? maybe it’ll jumpstart smth in my empty noggin </3

Hey love, I don’t really have headcanons for the entire Invincible universe, but I do have a few about Viltrumites, which involve Mark too—though fair warning, none of them are exactly SFW, so I don’t know if you wanna dive into those 🤧

For example, Viltrumites… okay, this one’s kinda embarrassing to admit, but I (and some of you too) headcanon that Viltrumites have huge dicks. Like, really massive. And of course, that includes Mark Grayson having a big cock that the reader loves to ride 😌🫵🏻

Also, I have this reeeeeally random but persistent headcanon that Viltrumites have second genders—kind of like an A/B/O dynamic? In my mind, when Mark gets his powers, it’s not long before his second gender shows up, and I know he’d be an Alpha. But then he starts struggling with all these new senses and instincts he doesn’t know how to handle, while all the humans around him are chill because, well, they don’t go through that.

And then Mark starts picking up this specific scent around reader that drives him up the wall, but he can’t mention it bc you don't even notice. Then his first rut hits. And oh boy. All he can do is lay there, burning up, imagining what he’d do to reader if he could. It gets him through it, but it also wrecks him. He doesn’t want to ruin anything between you, and the way his Alpha instincts take over honestly scares and embarrasses him. So Mark just suffers in silence, lowkey feral, obsessing over reader in the most desperate way 😭

Another personal headcanon I have is that male reader is Mark Grayson’s first-ever gay panic. Like, his whole life he’s genuinely believed he’s only into girls—he’s never even questioned it—until he meets reader. And then suddenly he’s noticing things about reader he wouldn’t notice in other guys. Like… why does he think you’re kind of hot? Or cute? Or weirdly charming?

At first, he brushes it off—like, sure, he can admit when another dude is good-looking, that’s normal, right? But it’s different with you. It’s not just noticing—it’s staring. It’s being entranced. It’s lingering, way too long, on how your smile makes his stomach twist. It’s getting flustered when you stand too close or say something even remotely affectionate. He’s left blinking like an idiot, and he hates it.

In my canon, Mark goes into major denial. Full crisis mode. He just can’t admit it to himself—because he thinks he’s so straight. Like, the word “bisexual” doesn’t even exist to him. So he starts thinking something’s wrong with him, like deeply wrong, and it spirals into this whole inner mess of confusion and repression.

Which, of course, only leads to more longing. More tension. More repressed feelings and intense stares and angsty late-night thoughts he can’t push away. He yearns. He yearns hard. And I eat that up every time.

...Anyway, I really believe something’s gonna spark in your head soon. Personally, I daydream and fantasize a lot, and honestly, the sky’s the limit. There’s no right or wrong way to do it—just write what you like, however you like it. Someone out there will definitely love it just as much as you do 🩵

[xylatox]

the rhythm of our hearts || kys

YALL😭Ive been so excited for Yeosang’s story to be realized after we got a small snippet of them in Yunho’s own and ugh, i am sosososo excited. Cami I love the love’s an uncharted part universe so bad. Unto sharing my thoughts now hehe~

You don’t actually know his name. You know your friend Yeonjun almost beats him up, you know he’s been filming something (you) around the club for what seems months now. This person has never actually spoken to you before, hence the almost getting beat up by your most protective friend. 

I love Yeonjun being a protective friend its so cute how he would literally fight Yeosang for her. Their friendship is actually so sweet and mc’s background warms my heart, i love her

He’s far away, but you can see him clearly. He’s the only one on the floor standing still, camcorder in hand and you notice that he’s filming someone else, not you, but he’s staring in your direction either way and it makes you smile a little. 

Oh this is so cute

You have been wondering for a few weeks now why he never approaches you. He seems contempt just to film you from afar, but tonight is different. He’s not filming you. 

There’s a tint of jealousy in your chest at the sight, a small crease in your forehead when you approach him. 

HELLO??? I LOVE THIS?? Like idk the jealousy is cute ugh, and the tension is so present

And then you smile widely, feline-like, like a big predator who’s playing with its prey just for the fun of it and he seems to get what you’re trying to do. For some reason, he feels like he reads your mind when you look down at the camcorder and then at him again. 

I am loving this so much

As he passes people by, they all try to dance with him as well. He shakes his head a little when the same guy grabs his waist and Yeosang blushes when he looks back up and you’re laughing at him.

I giggled a little too much at this

The tension between them is so unbelievable I love it

“Why? You don’t know me.” 

“My camera does,” he shrugs, looking down at it and then back up at you again. “I feel like I get to know you a little every time I edit a clip of yours, too.” 

Oh this was a cute response. I also love how shy and nervous Yeosang is oh my god hes such a cutie

Also poor Yeosang getting caught by the bouncer😭

“I want to see you in daylight,” you start and before he has the chance to agree, you keep going. “I mean, I already did, at your school. But that was for like… thirty seconds. And I wasn’t really paying that much attention to you. But now I am and I want to see you under the sun.” 

Fuck this is so cute what

Also got super scared when the mc didnt get in but her opportunity oh my god im so excited (and also sad because Yeosand :( )

When Yeosang tells you that he likes you, it comes with the soft spring breeze grazing your face and a halo of light behind him. It comes with the sun coming down, with the tiredness that comes with spending the entire day laughing and talking and walking around with someone you care about, with the faint smell of coffee and the cold of your cup freezing the palm of your free hand even though you feel warmth spread inside of you. 

Im going to sob

“Of course I know what that is! Y/N!” He wiggles his arms and you get on your knees as well, rounding his neck with yours, hugging him close to you. He hugs you back and it’s tight, it’s warm, it’s friendly and at the same time it feels weighted with his romantic feelings towards you. You enjoy it, you enjoy it even more when he sways you side to side, like something within him knows he has to comfort you. “Congratulations!” 

Hes so sweet :((( And the way hes so fine and supportive and understands what it means and is just fine with them being friends god ill sob

“I had a date with you!” Looking at him, you don’t miss the way he blushes and you feel yourself heat up a little too at your choice of words. “Only Zuha knows… She was with me when we got the envelopes.” 

SHE CALLED IT A DATE NOW😭💗

“My roommate is never here anymore. His girlfriend got a new apartment and so he basically lives with her.” 

Giggles, i love Yunho and how downbad he is for her

Squeaking and then letting out a laugh, you realize too late that Yeosang has pulled you into his lap, his palms secured on your hips, his breath on your neck. As you turn your head to look at him, smiling slowly fading from your lips and his, you also notice that this was not what he intended to do in the first place. 

I AM SCREAMING

NOOOO NOT THE KISS BEING INTERRUPTED CAMI I WILL PASS OUT

This entire scene is so ateez coded Yunho and Wooyoung my loves ugh

Do you want him to be yours?

Oh my god what an end to part one. I always love read this series, it makes me soso happy. Im so excited for part 2!

the rhythm of our hearts (KYS x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

Yeosang, with his camcorder and his looks from afar, ignites your curiosity in a way that makes you act a little dumb and against your friend’s judgments. When you finally get tired of him not approaching you, you decide that the night is young and life’s too short to not find an answer to your questions. On a dirty rooftop, your newfound friendship with him might just be the most surprising outcome of the whole ordeal. Is it enough to make you stay, though?

PAIRING: law student!yeosang x dancer!afab reader.

GENRE: strangers to friends to lovers (slow burn).

WORD COUNT: 17.5k (jesus christ)

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) (in the next part), attempt !!! at comedy, dual pov, reader uses female pronouns, drinking, a tease of violent behavior, choi yeonjun shows up in this story again AND almost beats yeosang up, step up 3d inspired scene as you can see from the banner of the story lol, yeosang gets accused of being a stalker but there's no intentional stalky behavior i promise!!, yeosang is shy, many implied conversations (lol sorry, just know that they talked and talked on that rooftop okay?), unbearble chemistry (sigh), so much unnecesary yearning, the inevitable passage of time, the slowest of burns guys i'm so sorry i promise next part will be juicy i just needed to stablish them, lap sitting, almost kisses the same way gabriela and troy from hsm2 were almost kissing, wooyoung being a menace (you know the deal).

NOTES: this fic is part of a pocket universe you can find in my navi link or in the link at the top of this post. there's a lot of things here that only make sense if you read the other stories first but if you ignore them (since they're not at the core of the story) it can be read as a separate thing lol. this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: 05/27/2025

permanent taglist: @kyunlov @monsta-x-jagi @tinyelfperson @0115degrees @strawberrymars98 @faerouzia @honeybeehorizon @daniela-f-uwu @ultrapinkvoidbouquet @kyeomooniee @getouttamygrillxoxx @fairylover68 @sushiinmidnight @hwalighters @qveenbunni @calmoistorm @yoonglesbae @potatomountain @beckxisxinxlovexwithxjin @svintsandghosts @lemonkait00 @blue5ummer @fancypeacepersona @hyukssunflower @i-love-ateez @miracle-sol @alsomimi @xielian-i-guess @e3ellie @mady-66 @hwallazia @st3ft0n3s @ginevrsstuff @hotteokkay @xylatox

masterlist.

The neon lights reflect on your skin as you move through the crowd, foreign sweat mixing with yours in the process. 

It’s packed tonight, hardly any free space for you and your friends to claim as yours but you manage. There’s a free table that you all but run up to and when you and your friends crash into it, you all laugh before fixing it in its place. 

Routine takes over and the same person suggests going to get you all your usual drinks, which you say yes to. You don’t want to get distracted and you need to scan the premises to figure out if the person you’re looking for is here tonight. 

You don’t actually know his name. You know your friend Yeonjun almost beats him up, you know he’s been filming something (you) around the club for what seems months now. This person has never actually spoken to you before, hence the almost getting beat up by your most protective friend. 

Taking into account all the red flags, it’s a little crazy that you still feel the need to look for him in between the dancing bodies and the people making out in the dark corners of this club. Your club. Where the bouncers know you and the bartenders discount your drinks because you and your friend group are one of the regulars here. 

It took you a while to gain this status, one you’re very proud of. It’s a reminder of what you’re sacrificing everytime you decide to show up, what you’re risking. And even though it’s been a while and you’re an adult who can make their own decisions, the same adrenaline rushes through your veins everytime. As Yeonjun returns with your drinks and hands you yours with a flirty smile, the same feeling takes over your body, never really growing old. 

The first time you came here, you were a freshman. You came of your own volition, knowing no one at the time. You see, as a ballet dancer there’s a lot of restrictions, a regime you must follow to fit in with your classmates that you, up to the middle of your first semester, followed at face value. You didn’t have any reason not to, after all this was what you’ve worked so hard for, for years and years. 

Years of special diets and hours of training and practice to get where you were, full scholarship in what was supposed to be the first steps of your ballet career. So you followed these restrictions not because you were supposed to, or because your family forced you to pirouette a certain way in the path of perfection, but because you wanted to. 

As a child, you sat down and watched every single dance movie available on your local cable. You watched the nutcracker and then you watched the barbie version of the same tale over and over again until you knew the steps by heart, even if you didn’t know the name of them or how to execute them properly. 

You loved the way they all looked while dancing, the delicate atmosphere in such complicated moves and the ability they had to hook the audience in without saying a word, all they could convey even through a screen. So, in a way, it became your dream to be immortalized the same way. 

But in having that dream, you created this aura of expectation around you that you fell prisoner of the second you understood what it meant. The second you begged your mother to sign you up to classes and then you begged your father to take you seriously when you said that ballet was what you were going to do for eternity, you got trapped into it. Your father swore at the time it was just a phase and you, stubborn as the man in front of you, needed to prove him wrong. 

And you did prove him wrong. You grew in the industry, you started to get eyed by recruiters early on and you gained scholarship after scholarship, made valuable contacts and stayed friends with people who are able to move you forward in case you fall behind on something. You were smart about it, you are smart about it, but yet again the pulsing of your heartbeat syncs with the beat of whatever noisy song is blasting in the club’s speakers and you forget the strict regime and the diets and the sacrifices made to get where you are. 

It’s the same type of rush you felt when you were told someone was following you, filming you. The usual panic one can feel at the thought of being stalked dissipated the second you realized he didn’t have any cruel intentions towards you or the rest of your friend group. You did, kind of, save him from getting beat up by Yeonjun.

You had to rush towards a campus that’s not yours and make your way through the crowd of nosy people to get to them, but as soon as Yeonjun saw you he stepped away from the guy and followed you and your friend Kazuha out of there. You did spare the guy a glance and recognized him from the club, gave him a tiny smile and made sure he was up on his feet before fully centering your attention on your friend.

And pushing him in the chest as hard as you could. 

Kazuha sighed, pushing his chest as well “What’s wrong with you, Yeonjun?” 

“He’s been filming us— Filming you!” He pointed in your direction and you shook your head.

“I thought we established he’s not dangerous! And even if he was, Yeonjun, you could get in serious trouble for just— Behaving like a criminal!” 

“Like a criminal?!” 

“Like a punk with not one care in the world!” You answered, nodding and reinforcing the jab at your friend, who looked like a child being scolded for something they didn’t do. The thing is, if you didn’t get there on time, he probably would’ve. 

Yeonjun is a great, loyal friend. Always has been. And so you obviously forgave him and now, as he takes your finished drink from your hand and settles the cup down into the table just to drag you to the dancefloor, you think you read his intentions clearly, his looks and smiles lately and the way the carefully grabs your waist to move to the rhythm of the r&b track playing.

Understanding has been taking over you these past few days. 

But it doesn’t really matter when he has a rooster of people waiting for his texts and calls, patiently staying in place until he gives them the time of day and you know that’s the treatment he would give you too if you give him a chance. 

So you ignore the spark on his eyes as you sway your hips and turn around, your back against his chest and your butt against his crotch as he follows the rhythm you’re marking. Always taking the lead, always guiding everyone else’s steps makes it easy to ignore everything around you, when you close your eyes and let the atmosphere take you completely too. 

It’s like everything else disappears. The expectations and the fact that you have to wake up early the next to massacre your feet in order to continue your career, your graduation approaching fast, the last showcase and the weeks that follow it, in which you'll have to wait for an offer, for an opportunity. 

It’s just you and the music and Yeonjun hands spinning you around and around again. It’s just you and the ache on your feet and your heavy breathing being muffled by the sound around you, drowned by the rest of the heavy breathes everyone else is letting out. It feels so familiar and yet so exciting, like you’ve never experienced it before. 

Euphoria moves around you in what it feels like a neon glow, it makes everything feel slowed down and too fast and, most importantly, it makes your heart beat in a way no other thing or being makes it beat. 

Except maybe when you open your eyes and catch the stranger who’s always filming staring right at you. 

He’s far away, but you can see him clearly. He’s the only one on the floor standing still, camcorder in hand and you notice that he’s filming someone else, not you, but he’s staring in your direction either way and it makes you smile a little. 

There should be a limit at how much a person is allowed to stare at another before it makes it creepy. Again, there’s a thousand red flags you should be considering but the only thing it brings to you is unsated curiosity. 

And so you don’t think twice before detaching yourself from Yeonjun and moving in the stranger’s direction. Neither of them expect it, because the guy opens his eyes a little wider and you hear your friend’s voice over the music. 

“Y/N, are you serious?! We’ve been here less than forty minutes!” 

What he means is that you’re about to disappear for the rest of the night, like you usually do. It’s not that you always leave your friends behind, especially not when you come here with them to share the night with the group, but you do tend to disappear for like an hour or two. 

And the term disappear is something they use only to bother you because, in reality, your location is shared with all of them and the way you get lost is usually in between the dancing bodies. If they look hard enough, they’ll be able to easily find you. 

Unless you found someone to kiss for the night. They don’t bother looking for you then. 

However, it is a little early to disappear on them. It must be around eleven thirty or twelve, twelve thirty at the very least. You tend to do your rounds at two, two thirty, normally. Maybe that’s why the stranger makes that face. Maybe he has you studied, your behavior noted down in that head of his you want to decipher so badly. 

You have been wondering for a few weeks now why he never approaches you. He seems contempt just to film you from afar, but tonight is different. He’s not filming you. 

There’s a tint of jealousy in your chest at the sight, a small crease in your forehead when you approach him. 

He takes a step back.

You want to laugh a little, but you take the hint, if he’s sending any in your direction. Getting into his space fully is not in your plan anyway. 

Yeosang shouldn’t be here. He should be studying or having dinner with his friends or something. 

He really shouldn’t be here. 

But he can’t help himself. Earlier, in his and Yunho’s dorm and while editing the footage he’s gotten in the last week or so, he decided that he needed clearer shots of the Hongdae club he’s been frequenting. 

It’s only a happy coincidence that that’s the club you usually go to, the one where he can find you most of the nights. Very convenient, really. 

Ugh, who is he kidding? 

There’s this magnetic pull that he hasn’t been able to shake off ever since he saw you for the first time. At the very same club, a year before he started to go there with the purpose of seeing you. 

You were alone, not with the people he usually recognizes. You were dancing around a table, making some of the people sitting down at it laugh before becoming entranced with the way you moved. You tend to have that effect on people, he noticed earlier on, because when you move it looks simple yet extremely interesting, it looks natural, it looks almost magical and Yeosang convinced himself that the reason he kept coming back to that club specifically was because he needed to figure out how your movements were so sharp and yet so smooth at the same time. 

It’s his fault, really, because he’s shy and he should’ve just talked to you right there and then but he convinced himself he wasn’t going to see you ever again after the last time he went and you weren’t there. 

And then he joined a film class. An elective, one that he had in his curriculum for the last year and half of his career. He chose it because everything else seemed boring or too in touch with his law degree, which he was growing a little exhausted from. 

The only respite he had from studying endless pages about special criminal evidence rule was his cheering practices, and he had been benched for awhile for missing some of the important routines in order for him to get all his concepts right before his exams. And now he has to get ready for the internship he’s planning to apply to with a firm he’s been dreaming about since he was in highschool.

So joining that film class was a little stupid on his part, but he enjoyed it for the most part, before the final project was announced and the thing that came to mind was you and your dance moves. 

He had somewhere to start: a little documentary about dance and nightlife in Seoul. It’s a theme simple enough for him to do a little research, a few interviews that reflect the cultural significance of it all in modern society and he had Yunho and his dance team to avoid the need to go out of his way to look for more interviews or content outside of them. 

The thing is, his artistic vein itches every time he thinks about not including you in the film. He has zero justification for the way his chest hurts when the thought of putting his curiosity and tiny crush to rest crosses his mind. 

So he’s been filming from a distance and he’s been careful not to make you or your friends uncomfy ever since he decided to focus more on the nightlife aspect of the documentary instead of the dance part of it. That one time your friend found him, confronted him and pushed him to the ground for filming you all without clear consent doesn’t really count. 

That day, you smiled at him sweetly as you pulled your friend away from him. That had to mean you were okay with it, right? He should just ask you to clear the air up… But he had permission from the club manager to film anyway! 

He has a script, he has an outline of how he wants the film to turn out and he has almost everything to sit down and finish editing it before actually starting making an effort with that law firm and the internship… 

But he’s unable to shake the need to have you in the documentary. Anything will do, really: an interview, a clear shot of you dancing for the camera, anything to have you and his little obsession with the way you move immortalized on tape forever. The way you dance deserves it, the way you seem to control the ambiance around you, the people, the music, the club… He has never seen anything like it before. 

He swears he has been gathering up the courage to actually speak to you instead of lingering around like a creep. 

And tonight is the night.

He has to play it cool. He got there a little later than usual, he’s actually talking to the people he’s filming this time, he asks them for permission and then proceeds to talk with them as well as he can over the music. 

He pretends he doesn't see you and your friend group, including the guy that almost fixes his face, in the corner to the left of the dancefloor. He’s gathering the courage to walk over there and apologize for the misunderstanding, explain the nature of his documentary, ask you all formally to use the footage he has and ask you for a short interview with the questions he already has written down in the notes app on his phone. 

The person he’s filming has gone silent suddenly, just dancing to the r&b song playing and Yeosang does nothing but film them. He’s about to resume conversation when his eyes involuntarily look for you again. 

And he catches you on the dancefloor, the friend who almost punched him twirling you around to the beat of the song and grabbing your waist afterwards. 

There’s that magnetic pull again, that inability to look away from you even though he’s filming someone else. Your body glows in the red neon light and he’s mesmerized by the way you seem to be in your own world, encapsulated in your own bubble with your eyes closed and your body moving to the rhythm. 

He’s unable to look away even when your eyes open and the first thing you do is look at him. His breath catches, his eyes widen and he feels a little sweaty suddenly but he still holds your gaze, his eyes still follow you as you step away from your friend and move through the ocean of dancing bodies. 

Towards him. 

You are walking in his direction. 

Oh, God. Are you going to speak to him? Is this real life? He feels unsafe, unprepared all of the sudden. He takes a step back as you almost reach him. 

And then you smile widely, feline-like, like a big predator who’s playing with its prey just for the fun of it and he seems to get what you’re trying to do. For some reason, he feels like he reads your mind when you look down at the camcorder and then at him again. 

He bows at the person he was filming before, the ghost of the interview he was doing vanishing, before he could get any information that actually helps him or his script, and then his eyes follow you. You’re already walking away when he points the lens in your direction. 

Swallowing hard, he moves in between the dancing bodies to follow yours. He adjusts the lighting in his camera as he moves, he catches the neon before lowering it and finally catching you in the hallway of people that his friends like to call the makeout hall (because it’s kind of dark, the only lights that get to it are the neon ones nearby and the occasional moving leds that move around the club every few seconds so it’s intimate enough to kiss the one you like for the night). 

But no one is making out with anyone. There’s some people chilling against the wall and a few others dancing and they all smile as you move through them to the rhythm of the song playing. Some guy grabs your waist and dips you low and Yeosang smiles as he catches the moment clearly, the lead beams lighting up the space at the correct time to catch you coming back up. 

As he passes people by, they all try to dance with him as well. He shakes his head a little when the same guy grabs his waist and Yeosang blushes when he looks back up and you’re laughing at him. He shakes his head again but you keep moving, so he moves as well and he loses you when you turn the corner. 

Quickening his step, he follows as smoothly as he can but when he reaches the same corner you’re gone. 

Swallowing thick nerves down, he tries to ignore the exaggerated beat of his heart at the thought of that being the only interaction with you that night. He looks around and frowns when he can’t find you at all. Just when he thinks he can see you with your arms up, a guy that’s clearly too intoxicated to be in an environment like this gets in front of him and dances for the camera. He puts his hand on his shoulder and moves him to the side and the dude goes away easily but when he looks up that mirage he had of you in front of him is gone. You’re gone. 

Looking at the screen of his camcorder, he tries to zoom in and hopefully distinguish you between the dancing bodies and moving lights but he can’t see you, he can’t— 

He feels a presence over his shoulder, a little behind him. Entranced and a little terrified, he turns his head slowly. 

He’s almost nose to nose with you when he does. 

His breath catches. You’re close to him, your face almost resting against his shoulder as you pretend to look at the screen a few seconds longer than him. When you look up, there’s a tiny smile curving your lips upwards and Yeosang can’t help but to give you one back. 

“What are we looking for?” 

Oh. 

He realizes he’s never heard your voice before. He certainly imagined it but whatever it was he knows it doesn’t make it any justice.

Even with the loud music, you’re so close and you speak loud enough for the sweet velvet of your timbre to make him inhale a sharp breath. There’s this slight edge to your stare, a flirtatious energy in the way you laugh at him when he opens his mouth and then closes it again, not really sure of what to answer.

“Cat got your tongue?” 

“Y-you,” he manages to stammer out and then he swallows hard again. “I w-was… I mean, you disappeared for a second.” 

“I just went back around,” you point with your thumb over your shoulder to the entrance of the makeout hall and he nods, understanding, spacing out and hyperfocusing on the situation at the same time. “I thought you were able to keep up,” you pause, eyes tracing his face for a quick moment. You lean in, lips dangerously close to his ear and then you say clear as day the words that might be the reason he loses his sanity: “Can you keep up?” 

Yeosang is a mildly competitive person. He is competitive for the love of it, not because he feels like he has to win. He likes to win, however, it’s not going to be the end of the world if he doesn’t. That’s something he tells himself often, with the career path he’d chosen there’s going to be a lot of highs and a lot of lows, same with cheering, same with anything he ever does in life, really. 

So why is his heart beating so fast at the thought of you daring him to keep up? It’s not the end of the world if he can’t keep up, really. 

But he feels the need to prove you wrong somehow. He senses that you see him like a coward, and in a way he is one, but tonight is the night he finally gets to meet you, to tell you his name, to know yours. 

So he nods once, gaze still holding yours and breath still caught in his throat “Try me.” 

That seems to be the answer you were looking for. You smile fully and Yeosang commits it to his memory, takes a mental picture of it before you’re stepping away and into the crowd of sweaty bodies again. 

And this time, Yeosang is able to keep up. 

He follows you swiftly through the crowd, he doesn’t get caught between the bodies, his eyes don't’ let go of your silhouette at all as you guide him up the stairs, looking over your shoulder only once when you bump into a couple making out against the wall and laughing at them when they shoo you away with their hands. 

His heart is beating so loud he feels it in his ears, the throb of it on his throat and he swallows down the feeling in an attempt to stay calm as it gets louder and louder. You turn a corner he’s never even seen before, into a dark hallway where he has to squint his eyes to not trip over anything. No one else is there and his nerves spike, only to come crashing down when he slams into something, into you. 

Your back against his chest and you don’t really say anything as you try to get a door in front of you two open, he hears the clink-clanking of the lock and he hears you softly curse when you fail at getting it right the first time. It makes his lips curve slightly upwards, it makes this whole thing a little less surreal and a little more human. 

He’s not sure why his body is registering it as a dreamlike experience in the first place. 

The music has faded away slightly. He can tell there’s speakers nearby but none in this space, so that might explain why no one is here. Couples making out and people grinding against each other have a behavior pattern he easily recognizes even if he doesn’t participate in either normally: They like being seen. 

Yeosang could never understand that. 

Even as you get the door open and guide him to what looks to be (judging by some cables on the floor, the pvc pipes and the back of the neon sign that always greets him at the entrance) the rooftop of the club, you hurry him inside and close the door behind you. Resting against it, Yeosang watches as you take in a breath and let it out slowly. 

“Sorry, I’m one of the only few allowed here and we don’t want anyone else finding out they can access this space.” 

“Oh,” he nods, focusing on the camcorder screen again and filming the roof with all his might. He wants to turn to you, keep looking at you in the lights the streetlights cast against the roof and both your faces. “And you got this special treatment because…?” 

“I will answer your questions…” he hears you say and that’s when he takes the chance to look at you, curiosity glinting in your eyes in a way he’s sure it’s reflecting his. “But first you have to answer mine.” 

Yeosang is not sure why he’s trying to play everything off in a cool manner when he’s sure you can see right through the way he puffs out his chest and secures his stance before saying a simple: “Fair enough.” 

And you do, you laugh and peel your back from the door only to walk a few steps, nearing the edge of the roof. You sit down there and his heart quickens before dropping for a completely different reason than before. 

You must see it in his face because you laugh again and shake your head “There’s a tiny balcony, owner’s office. You can come and see if you want.” He doesn’t, instead he nods “I believe you,” he clears his throat and closes the screen of his camcorder, recognizing that maybe this is not the moment to have it ready to record, although he wants to keep fresh and in video everything that’s happening right now. 

That’s the only way he would believe it did happen tomorrow, when he wakes up confused and wondering if he dreamt the whole thing. 

Your smile looks pretty real, though. And also it looks pretty, period. 

“Are you afraid of heights?” 

“Is that your first question?” He can tell he’s stalling, prolonging the moment unconsciously and he swallows his monologuing back down and shakes his head. “No, I’m not, I just trust you.” 

“Why? You don’t know me.” 

“My camera does,” he shrugs, looking down at it and then back up at you again. “I feel like I get to know you a little every time I edit a clip of yours, too.” 

“That camera almost got you an ass whip. You’re welcome, by the way.” 

It’s his time to huff out a laugh “Well, you didn’t exactly give me any time to say anything to you that day.” 

“Well,” you tilt your head, your eyes focusing on the ground for a few seconds, “my friend didn’t exactly give me a choice either.” 

“Thank you.” He finally says, after a bit of silence where the memories of that day came back: The confusion, the realization, the push to the ground and the look you gave him as you pulled your friend away. He’s actually very thankful, taking into account that he wouldn’t know how to throw a punch and not feel bad about it five seconds later. 

“It was really dumb on his part, but I mean… You understand, right?” 

That your friend wanted to beat his ass instead of talking it out like normal human beings? No, he doesn’t understand but he nods anyway. 

“You’ve been filming us for a while now. He thought you might’ve been…” You trail off, not really wanting to say it so he says it for you.

“Stalking you.”

“Yeah,” there’s a soft smile on your lips that leads him to believe you didn’t think that yourself. Is either that or you feel a little bad for him, which is way worse, so he decides to trust his first thought. “What’s all the filming for?” 

“A documentary.” 

That seems to surprise you, your eyebrows raising and falling and your eyes widening a little bit. 

“On clubs?” 

“Dance,” he corrects with a tiny smile of his own, “and the nightlife in Seoul. It’s for my class.” 

“Oh, right, you’re going to school,” you nod as you remember probably the only piece of certain information you have on him, or so he thinks. “So you’re studying to become a filmmaker?”

“A lawyer, actually.”

“Wow,” huffing out a laugh, you shake your head in a little disbelief, “didn’t expect that at all.” 

Yeosang laughs too, a nervous sound more than anything. 

“I don’t look the part?” 

Pausing, you take him in: from his outfit (he is sporting all-black attire today, black shirt, black short sleeve button shirt on top of it and baggy black pants) to the way he stands a safe distance and your eyes even go from his face to his hair. He feels like staying still while you gather whatever information you need to answer, but then he also has the need to fix his fringe and tug his button shirt down a little even if it does nothing. 

“You look like a very artistic guy.” 

“And lawyers are not artistic,” he nods and then squints his eyes at you a little, joking at the best of his abilities right now. “Is that what you’re trying to say?” 

“I just never met one who was,” you say in return, squinting your eyes back at him. “Guess now I have.” 

He can literally feel himself blushing. 

This is bad. This is very bad. 

Lucky for him, you don’t notice or, if you do, you don’t make any comments about it. 

There’s another beat of silence that stretches and Yeosang decides to walk around the roof. He’s careful to not step on anything he’s not supposed to as he walks towards the back of the club’s sign. 

He turns to you after looking at the metal foundation of it for a solid minute, blinking rapidly when he finds you got up and walked closer, standing where he was before “Do you have more questions?” 

“Why me?” 

Yeosang swallows hard for the umpteenth time tonight. He has a hundred million ways to answer that question and he’s trying to pick the one answer that doesn’t give any more of this weird crush he has on you fully away. 

However, he can’t help to go the truthful route about it. 

“I like the way you dance. I… I saw you a long time ago, before picking up the film class, and I was just completely, um…” He pauses, tongue wetting his lips in a nervous tick and he swears he sees you follow his unconscious movement with your eyes, but it hardly matters when he's at a loss for words. “I was really entranced by your dancing, I guess you could say. And so when I started the documentary and saw you again I just… There’s no way I couldn’t have you in it, even from afar.” 

“And why didn’t you explain this to me before?” 

“I don’t know.” 

He answers that too quickly, without any hesitation and it makes him blink a few times before laughing it off. 

“I mean, I wanted to, I just n-never found the right time, I g-guess.” 

Slowly and after a few seconds, you give him a nod. 

When you open your mouth to answer, Yeosang feels like everything's in slow motion: Here it comes, the moment you call him a coward, the moment you mock him for taking so long in approaching you. Even tonight, he wasn’t the one who initiated this, you were. 

“You’re shy.” 

Instead, he’s relieved by the knowledge that you’re more understanding than what he initially thought. Yes, he is shy. He’s shyer than usual when it comes to pretty people, even more when they poke at his curiosity and fascination. 

“I should’ve guessed that you were, hm,” you nod again, laughing a little aftwards. “I don’t know why I thought there would be this whole mystery behind you not coming over and talking to us.” 

“Have you thought about it before?”

Yeosang swears he said it in his head. To his account, he asked the question in his mind while he nodded and came up with a response that takes him out of the hole he dug himself in. But you look up at him with raised eyebrows and a curl to your lips that he’s growing used to.

“I have,” you answer without an ounce of shame pouring out of you. You seem proud of it, even, and Yeosang wonders if you're as outspoken in every other aspect of your life as you are with him. “When someone films you from a distance and doesn't even tell you their name it makes you wonder just a tiny bit.” The last part seems to be a joke and Yeosang's lips curl upwards in return. 

“I'm Yeosang,” he doesn't extend a hand for you to take, he stays put in his place as his own name sounds foreign coming out of his mouth. “I… I'm s-sorry I didn't introduce myself before. I'm—”

“Shy.” You answer for him and he shrugs a second later. 

“That's not really the reason, I… Oh, this is going to sound so weird,” he mumbles under his breath but you manage to hear him and laugh a little, shaking your hand to signal that it doesn't matter. “I thought it would, I don't know, break the magic a little?” 

Your expression turns from slightly amused to slightly disappointed again in a second and he regrets following your lead and being honest with you as well. 

“The magic?” 

He needs to find better words to explain himself, but nonsense comes out of him without a second thought and he can physically feel himself cringing at the words. 

“Yeah, like it would actually force me to get this over with,” he shakes his camcorder and then closes his eyes, eyebrows scrunched as he, once again, attempts to climb up the hole he dug himself in. “—I mean, talking to you would mean asking for the interview that I want to ask for and, once I get that footage, I feel like I'm never going to see you again.”

Getting in out in one breath, Yeosang opens his eyes to find you staring at him with something he can't figure out. 

It goes away after you scan his face with your eyes and find something he doesn't know what it is. 

“That's a little dramatic, don't you think?” 

Now, when you put it like that…

He huffs out a laugh and then takes in a little bit of air that he desperately needs “I guess.” 

Laughing at him for what it feels like a thousand times tonight, you look at him up and down and seem to consider something. After a few seconds pass, your smile turns soft and it’s your turn to take in a breath. 

“Y/N.” 

“Hm?” 

“My name,” you say, almost cutting him off. “You didn’t ask.” 

Yeosang wants to smash his head against the neon sign. 

“O-oh of course, sorry. Y/N,” he repeats with a nod. “Pretty. Your name!” He corrects himself immediately. “I-I meant your name is pretty, not you— I mean, you are! You are really pretty a-and…” 

Yeosang watches helplessly as you seem to revel in the state you put him in with the simple whisper of your name and the accusatory joke. 

But you don’t mention it, only turn around and let your knees touch the floor, near the edge of the rooftop again. This time, you rest your chin in your hand and your elbow against the edge and you signal at him to sit down next to you. 

He does. 

“You wanted to interview me?” 

Now he can answer that without messing things up “Yes.” 

“Hm,” your eyes turn from him to the part of the street visible from the angle you’re both sitting at and then your brows almost touch each other as you think. And think. And Yeosang can do anything but stare at your profile and swallow hard at the realization that the neon lights and the darkness of a club would never do your beauty justice. 

Now, he had seen you in broad daylight before. But it was quick and he was mildly distracted by the almost getting beat up emotions so he didn’t appreciate it fully. Now, even though it is nighttime and the neon sign casts a shadow over you, he realizes it’s the first time he gets to see you upclose. 

Up close and in silence, not like the few minutes before where he managed to embarrass himself like no one has probably ever embarrassed themselves in front of their crush. 

“I think,” you say, after a while of just staring at the street where he was quietly watching you instead, “that you really overestimated me and how interesting I can be.” 

“What makes you say that?” He asks in a whisper and you smile, turning to him.

“My story is no different than the story of my friend Kazuha downstairs. Or my classmates. Or any other ballet student in this city.” 

“You do ballet?” 

There’s this trace of surprise on your face that must mimic his, but he thinks it’s because you thought he knew that already. 

“Yes, I’m… I go to K-Arts, Yeosang.” 

“I didn’t know that.” 

“You didn’t?” 

He laughs a little again and shakes his head “Not a stalker, remember?” He attempts to joke and it works because you’re scrunching your nose and nodding the second after. 

“Right, we already established that.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Well, I go to K-Arts. I’m a senior, I’m supposed to focus if I want to get into the university’s dance company fully and all.” 

That catches his attention “Fully?” 

“Yeah, I don’t mean to brag or anything,” you start and your tone gives away that you are, in fact, bragging. Yeosang doesn’t mind it a bit. “But I’m good at ballet, too, not just at… Shaking my ass to a Kendrick song.” 

He giggles and you roll your eyes with a smile on your lips still. 

“So I have joined them for a few performances based on my grades and skills and all of that.” 

Humming, Yeosang looks down at his camcorder and then at you again “And all of your classmates get to do the same?” 

“No,” you answer in a murmur, frowning. “Why?” 

“Then that makes you different from, at least, some of them.” 

He can’t tell if you look annoyed or impressed at the fact that he managed to turn your words against you, but you blink rapidly a few times and Yeosang speaks up before you can tell him anything in return. 

“Let me interview you. This film probably won’t leave my classroom and then it will gather dust in my hard drive for eternity after I pass the class, but it would feel very incomplete without you.” 

You say nothing and he clears his throat, feeling a little dumb for even trying but before he can backpedal on the offer, you’re speaking. 

“Right now?” 

The question doesn’t have any shyness laced to it, but it’s soft. It’s like you can’t believe fully that he wants to interview you and he wants to ask if that’s the case, but he also doesn’t want to accuse you of anything or, worse, assume your feelings. 

He’s big on assuming, he’s trying to be better. 

“Oh,” he shakes his head quickly. “Not if you don’t want to! I… D-don’t feel pressured to say yes, I was… Was that too pushy? I’m sorry.” 

“Yeosang—” 

“I mean it! I have pleeenty of footage. My friend Yunho actually it’s on the documentary too! He’s such a talker, he loves to talk, so I have like a thousand hours worth of interviews and—” 

His rambling comes to an end when you hand closes over his on the rough material of the edge of the roof. He looks at it and then at you and he notices he’s breathing a little hard and that his heart is racing so fast he can barely hear the already faint sound of electronic music and the voices that served as your background music since you two got up there. 

“I want to do it,” you assure him and he swallows hard when your thumb traces three small circles on his skin. One, two, three and then your touch is gone and he can finally breathe. “Just not tonight. I look like a mess.” 

“You truly don’t,” he mumbles without really thinking about it and you smile. 

“Do you have something to do tomorrow night or can you come over here for the interview?” 

“Here?” 

“Mmmhm,” you look around the roof and then at the back of the neon sign, and then you turn a little and point to where the light the neon sign casts is clear and cover a spot on the roof large enough for both of you to sit. You get up and he doesn’t. “That must look cool on video, don’t you think? I got a lot of pictures there already.” 

When you turn around, that’s the first time Yeosang catches a trace of shyness on your face. 

“If you want.”

He smiles fully, widely and the corners of his mouth hurt a little because of it. 

You walk backwards, towards the door and Yeosang knows you’re making your big escape so he doesn’t follow you at all. “See you tomorrow, then?” You yell when you almost reach the exit and he nods.

“See you tomorrow!” He yells back and, when the roof is devoid of that life you seem to bring into everything or so he thinks, he turns to the street and catches the bouncer looking up at him.

He looks angry.

He’s also a very big dude.

“Shit.” 

Yeosang believes that it was a blessing to romanticize the idea of who you were before actually meeting you. Because, as much as he thinks you’re the prettiest person he’s ever seen, his crush tells him that he wouldn’t mind becoming your friend instead. 

He came back the next night and the night after that and the night after that… No, wait, that night he stayed in and studied for a quiz he had the next day and then the next day he went back to see you at the club. 

It was obvious by the third night that the both of you were using the interview and documentary as an excuse. Yes, Yeosang did film a few bits and precise questions here and there, but the rest of the time you two spent together was just an endless conversation that he could stay in for the rest of his days. 

Not one dull moment, Yeosang had never met anyone who makes him talk so much. He usually just listens to his friends and adds to the chat if needed but you don’t even need to ask him a question to get him going.

It makes his heart soar, it feels fulfilled of a need he never even knew he had: Being heard. 

Being heard and understood. 

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to do anything at all.” You tell him one night, on week two of this extended interview. 

He doesn’t even have your number yet. 

But he’s unable to think about the rationals and specifics of whatever the hell is going on when he’s staring at the stars, his back on the cold and dusty roof, his head next to one of those pipes and his arm brushing against yours. 

“Nothing at all?” 

“No,” you breathe out, your other arm resting above you, your fingers reaching and ghosting the hairs that stick out of the hat he’s wearing. “I want to dance and then I want to eat something yummy and then I want to sleep. I don’t want to…” you trail off.

And he understands.

“You don’t want to worry.” 

“Exactly,” you return right away, in a whisper and then after two seconds you turn to him. 

He’s already staring at you. 

“I don’t want to worry.” 

“I don’t want to worry either.” 

Yeosang is not sure where this vulnerability is coming from. 

Maybe his mind tricked him into thinking he was better off not sharing certain things with the people who love him the most. 

He’s glad you’re allowing him to explore that talkative part of himself without any real judgment. You give him faces and once over when he says something silly, something not usual, something out of his comfort zone in terms of sharing… And then you go back to being understanding, to furthering the conversation and actually ask him about it instead of talking over it like he notices he’s been allowing others to do all these years. 

Not that they realized they were doing it either. His friends have never been malicious in their actions or intentions, but they are much more outgoing than he is. 

And so are you. 

But you seem to have a special interest in what he has to say. 

And so it becomes really difficult not to share and grow closer every night. It comes to a point where he can start to read your eyes and expressions, where he starts telling what you’re feeling without actually asking about it. 

One night, as you both sit under that part of the roof that catches the neon light of the club’s sign, he catches you staring at his camcorder with something somber crossing your features. 

“We can stop doing this anytime you want, you know?” 

His murmur takes you out of whatever is actually going through your head and that little crease in between your eyebrows goes away, softness coating your eyes a second later and, when they look up at him, he all but feels his heart stop. Which is incredibly dangerous. 

“Did you get all the videos you need already?” 

“Maybe,” he shrugs, “but that’s not why I keep coming back here. I feel like you know that already.” 

Lips curling upwards in a soft smile, you nod “I want you to tell me anyway.” 

Yeosang hesitates for a second, trying to find the way to put into words what he actually meant by that, but he fears he doesn’t really know either. 

He decides to go with what his heart is telling him “I like spending time with you beyond the interview.” 

Your smile grows wider. 

“Me too,” you whisper back, like it’s a secret. “You’re also not a good interviewer, Yeosang.” 

It’s silent for a second and then you both laugh. 

“Ouch,” he pretends to be hurt in between laughs and you push his arm a little. “Noted.” 

Laughter dies and you seem to be thinking something over. You open your mouth and then close it and Yeosang imagines you’re weighing the possible outcomes of what you’re about to tell him. Although, when you do, he doesn’t think it’s anything crazy. 

“I want to see you in daylight,” you start and before he has the chance to agree, you keep going. “I mean, I already did, at your school. But that was for like… thirty seconds. And I wasn’t really paying that much attention to you. But now I am and I want to see you under the sun.” 

Yeosang fucking blushes.

Again. 

His reply comes as soft as if he’s not having heart palpitations and shortness of breath at the moment.

“I’m sure we can arrange that.” 

You nod and then blink a few times, thinking it over it seems. 

“It’s spring,” you start and Yeosang nods, “and I like flowers…” 

He takes a mental note of that.

“And there’s a pretty glass dome at the botanic greenhouse…” 

Setting his lips on a straight line so he doesn’t laugh at how cute you look trying to invite him to it without actually doing it, Yeosang contains himself and then nods one last time “Tomorrow?” 

He enjoys making you smile so wide. 

“At ten.” 

When gets to his dorm, Yeosang tries everything in his power to not label it as a date. 

You’re friends.

He’s happy being your friend. 

If he could tell his heart to keep it down, he would. 

Kazuha frowns at you, arms crossed as she leans into the doorframe of your room. 

You both live in one of the bigger dorms, Zuha’s family has money and she brought you along after insisting she didn't want to be alone in this two bedroom apartment with a shared bathroom. 

Because that's what actually is, a freaking apartment. 

It's truly more than what you deserve, truly, but she's not one to back down when she truly wants something. 

Like right now. 

“So you're going on a date with this guy.” 

“Yeosang,” you correct her, “and it's not a date.” 

She sighs, a little exasperated, and shakes her head at a flower-pattern dress you hold up for her approval. “Too on the nose. What do you call it then?” 

“Hanging out with a friend.” There's really no doubt in your voice even if you're scavenging your closet for something that makes you look extra nice. “So, not a date.” 

“You haven't stopped talking about him so I guess you can see why I assumed it was a date.” 

You look up at her, a smile pulling at the corners of your lips “Then you know his name is Yeosang. Caught ya.” 

Zuha rolls her eyes and you decide to go with one of your regular feel good outfits, one that you know makes you look good without trying much. 

“I don't care what his name is! That's not my point!” 

“Then what's your point?” 

“He's a… dude.” 

“That I've formally known for almost a month.” 

Throwing herself in your bed, your lips curl upwards again when you catch her dramatic expression and hear the over exaggerated huff she lets out. 

“Could you maybe communicate what you're actually thinking instead of doing… whatever this is?” 

She braces herself in her forearms and looks at you with a frown “You said it was cute the last time!” 

Last time you went out with someone, she means. It was nothing serious, merely a movie and a dinner and a kiss at your doorstep before deciding dating took a lot of effort and a lot of time you didn't have. 

So that's why this thing with Yeosang is not a date. 

Expectations can't go up if it's not a date. 

But last time your friend was also just being dramatic to commit to the overprotective bit, saying Yeonjun rubbed on her and what not. 

This time, you can tell she means it. 

So you give her a look and her indignant expression dissipates until she's pouting and letting herself fall on the bed again. 

“I mean, why can't you hang out with him in the club? Where are we all three minutes away?” 

She's so cute. 

“Because I told him that I wanted to see him during the day and the club is closed.” 

“You invited him?” 

You stare at her disbelief with a raised eyebrow and her expression goes away when she realizes the dramatics are truly not working on you. 

“Okay, I’ll shut up.” 

Smile widening, you shake your head at her “There’s truly nothing to worry about, Zuha.” 

“You’re my best friend,” she argues, with a pout, “of course I worry.” 

Kazuha lets out a tiny screech when you pout back at her because she knows that, in the next few seconds, you’re going to tackle her with a bear hug.

And that’s exactly what you, before she even gets the chance to stand up from your bed. She pushes you to the side and you both stare at the ceiling for a second, giggling and breathless. 

“You must really like him if you asked him out. You don’t ask people out.” 

Suddenly, you feel like your breath is fully taken away. You think about it for a second but there’s no use in denying the obvious. You were never someone who fought to suppress their emotions, someone who shy away from what they truly want, but when it comes to things like this (love or attraction, you suppose) it’s a little complicated. 

Because you have no issue going home with someone you met at the club, making out with them in a dark corner outside of it or in the middle of the dancefloor if the time calls for it, but you don’t ever talk to them. 

Not like you’ve been talking to Yeosang, anyway. 

“I really do.” 

When you hear her sigh, you both giggle again.

And then she helps you get ready with soft city pop coming out of your laptop’s speaker and hooks one of her necklaces around your neck. It has your birth flower as a pendant and, when you ask how she has this, she simply answers: “Boys will give you anything as a gift as long as it looks feminine enough. He didn’t know my birthday.” 

It’s no mystery why she’s exclusively dating women now. 

Fifteen more minutes pass and, just as you’re heading out the door, a paper slides underneath it. You hear the heavy steps of the building’s manager (who is insistent in delivering mail the old way, just to get a chance to snoop in your personal lifes) as they pass your door and the next one and only when the sound completely disappears, you pick the mail up. 

One envelope is for you, one is for Kazuha. 

And it suddenly hits you both. 

The company results. The ones that tell you if you got in or not. 

Gulping, you notice the difference between your envelope and Zuha’s. Hers has the K-Arts logo and yours is blank. 

Your gut tells you what the results are before even opening it, but you follow your best friend to the couch and sit down in front of her before rushing her to open the envelope. There’s barely an ounce of patience in your system as she reads the words and you follow the movement of her pupils. 

“O-oh my god, Y/N, I got in!” 

“Into the company?” 

“Yes!”

You’re sure your neighbors are tired of hearing your screams. Of joy, of anger, of whatever. They must be tired.

But right now that’s the only possible reaction and your heart is heavy with both happiness and pride. You’re so proud of her, you tell her as much and hug her and then get up and jump up and down a little with her still in your arms before the moment passes.

And now it’s your turn. 

If she notices the difference in appearance of the envelopes, or the way your face falls with worry and your fake smile doesn’t even hold, she doesn’t mention it. 

It doesn’t take even half a paragraph to read your rejection from the company you’ve dreamed of joining. 

“Wha… Why?” your friends ask and you shrug. 

“It doesn’t say— Wait,” you notice that the letter is folded at the bottom so it could fit properly inside the envelope. When you unfold it and read the text, you let out a scream of surprise. 

Zuha pushes your shoulder and then leans in, trying to read as well “Read it the entire thing to me!” 

“They rejected me here but it says: However, we took the liberty of sending your profile to the internationally renowned classical ballet company, The Royal Ballet, and they have decided to offer you a spot in their school to further your education and train with their techniques for no longer than a year.” You stare up at Kazuha and her mouth is hanging open, her eyes are wide as well and you feel the familiar prick of tears in your eyes, but you blink them away. “If your performance is up to their standards, they have decided to offer you a spot as a member of their corps de ballet, with a full salary after six months of your second year with them.” 

Lowering the letter, you stare up at your friend again. There’s silence for a few seconds where you two try to make your brains compute the information and what it all means, what it all implies, what would happen if you say yes to this opportunity.

When you say yes to this opportunity. 

And then you’re both screaming again, her arms around you as she pushes you up to your feet to jump in a circle, excitement pouring out the both of you. You realize you’re crying when a sob escapes you and she stops jumping to hug you even tighter. 

“You deserve this, Y/N. Of course they wouldn’t let you stay in this small company, of course they wouldn’t— Oh, your makeup!” She reprimands when she pulls away to catch your eye, but her thumbs are swiping away the tears either way. You pout. “A full salary after a year and half, too!” She pauses and her mouth mirrors yours, her eyes filled with tears as well. “I’m so proud of you.” 

“Zuha…” 

“— So, so proud.” 

It isn't until she pinches your cheeks that you remember you have somewhere to be. 

“Oh fuck, what time is it?” 

She rolls her eyes. 

“He likes you,” she says with a tiny smile, “he’ll wait.” 

That calms your sudden panic and you nod, her fingers pinching your cheeks one more time. 

“Okay.”

“He better.” She adds in a threat and you laugh. 

“Okay.” 

Yeosang waits for you, just as your best friend said. 

He leans against the entry wall with squinted eyes because the sun is shining bright today and before you get to him you get a second to take in how he looks in the daylight.

His skin glistens slightly, like he put on moisturizer and sunscreen before he got here (all green flags in your opinion) and he’s dressed in all black again, casually. You realized that when he goes to the club he’s a little dressed up, as you are every night as well. Or, at least, the way he stylizes his clothes makes him look different. 

It’s okay, you think, I’m also someone else entirely during the day time. 

You ignore the weight in your heart at the thought that you’re possibly leaving him and this newfound friendship behind in a few months. 

Why is it that the good things, the ones that excite your spirit, always last so little? 

“I realized,” he starts as soon as he sees you, a smile brightens up his face immediately, “that I don’t have your number.” 

That didn’t even cross your mind. It should’ve, but it didn’t. You see, you can’t even start imagining a text thread with Yeosang. With him, everything feels like it should be this way. 

With him, in front of you. In person. 

Your heart aches a little again but you push it away. You won’t let very obviously good and rewarding news get in the way of this not-date. 

Even if you’re dying to tell him. 

Instead, you shrug and offer him your sunglasses “You never asked.” 

He looks at what you're offering and frowns and then you point up at the sun. 

“It’s bright inside as well?” 

You nod. 

“You’ve never been?” 

He smiles like he’s been caught and your mouth drops open, a little scandalized by this new information. 

“Yeosang!”

“You never asked.” 

Rolling your eyes, you head to the booth that sells the tickets to go inside but he hurries to get in front of you… Two tickets in hand. 

Coming to a full stop, you tell your heart to behave. It shouldn’t react this way over something so simple. 

And yet, it does. 

“I forgive you for twisting my own words against me.” 

“I forgive you for being late,” you’re about to tell him he’s doing it, again, but then he drops his head to the side and looks at you with a little worry in his eyes. “Is everything okay?” 

More than okay, actually. Everything is spectacular and I haven’t even told my parents about the offer. I haven’t told you and I might be getting your hopes up even though I’m leaving. Oh, I also didn’t get in the company I told you about. And I’m terrified of leaving the country and possibly spending the rest of my days somewhere I can’t even call home.

“Yeah,” you nod and, to possibly distract him from the way the pitch of your voice went up a little, you take his arm in yours and start walking towards the door, “everything good. Got a little too carried away with the whole get ready part of the day.” 

If he notices the way you’re not even glancing in his direction, he doesn’t mention it at all. 

“Well, you look beautiful.” 

Now, that makes you look at him. 

He coughs a little and looks away. 

“You always do.” He adds and you all but laugh at the way he’s so bold and then so shy. 

“You look really good too, Yeosang. Always,” you add as well, bumping your hip into his softly. “Now that I’ve seen you in broad daylight, I can confirm.” 

Now it’s his turn to laugh a little and he turns to you as you walk down the initial part of the building. There’s a few rooms to walk through but you both seem to disregard that, walking straight to the conversatory automatic doors. Your breath gets a little caught up in your throat. 

He truly is a beautiful man. 

“Not an ounce of disappointment?” 

Faking an offended gasp, you shake your head. “Not at all!” 

Yeosang nods, taking a look around the room. 

“Good,” his voice comes out in a murmur, but you are close enough to hear him. “I’m glad.” 

Finally, you only smile and look around the room as well. 

It’s been awhile and there’s some things that have changed, but the place gives you the same feel it did when you first came. Like a year after it opened, because it was packed every single day before that. Now, not so much. You see a woman with two kids and a stroller, an older man with his hands behind his back walking around without staring at the plants much and a tourist-looking couple taking a picture in front of a massive potted plant. 

It was hot then and it seems even hotter down, the humidity clinging to you almost immediately. They are trying to replicate a tropical forest in this area, so the plants that thrive in the conservatory climate all require this level of humidity anyway. You should’ve mentioned that, or remembered it before even stepping in. 

You came with your family, you took pictures in front of some plants you’ve never seen before, you bragged about it to the kids in your ballet class and then never returned. But it is really—

“This place looks so not like I expected it to look.” 

Not only does Yeosang manage to make it seem like you both are thinking about the same thing all the time, he also sparks your curiosity like no other person ever has. 

“How come you’ve never been here?” You ask as he lets go of your arm, taking out a small (but semi-professional) digital camera. He doesn’t turn it on, just secures the cord around his wrist and turns to you at the questions. 

“I don’t really enjoy crows. I guess I said that I would come when the buzz of the opening died down and then never remembered to check it out after that.” 

His answer makes you tilt your head as you think. 

“You don’t like crowds?” 

He shakes his head at you. 

“But you went to the club almost every single night?” 

Again, he looks like he’s been caught doing something ridiculous. There’s shyness oozing off of him, but also a hint of shame that you don’t like at all. 

“Is it the right time to admit that I went to that club to see you?”

You squint your eyes “And to film your documentary.” 

“Yes,” he nods, “but there’s only enough footage one can get before it becomes a little obvious that I was there only for you. Not only the last few weeks, I mean…” 

You’re guessing he’s expecting you to be a little freak out by that, but you’ve both discussed this before, that first night when you two finally got away from the crowd to talk. So you’re not freaked out but you are a little nervous because you know what it means.

You’ve always known what it means. 

It’s just a little bit heavy on your heart today because you know you can’t fully carry this out without hurting him or yourself in the process, not when you’re leaving anyways. 

Again, you almost let that feeling ruin the moment, this moment, these days that’s exclusively for the two of you to enjoy. Those feelings don’t belong in this, in the soft embrace of Yeosang’s company and understanding. He also deserves to enjoy the little tour you’re about to give him, to enjoy the ambiance the fake waterfalls and rocks provide. 

“Okay,” you say with a smile that seems to get rid of the shame in his expression, “I’m flattered— and glad, to be honest. I enjoy your company.” 

“I enjoy yours.” He says back and offers you his arm again. You take it without thinking twice. 

“Let’s see how much you enjoy it after I talk your ear off with my guided tour.” 

He laughs “I get one of those?” 

“For free,” you add with a nod, turning to him, “or, well, the small price of your sanity.” 

He pretends to think about it for a second but after you squint your eyes at him in suspicion and fake offense at all the thinking, he concedes. “Sounds good, reasonable even.” 

“Mhm.” 

Feeling giddy, you go on and on about the place. About what you remember from the actual guided tour you paid for back in the day. About the plants and the importance of the place during the cold winter months and Yeosang listens to you even though what you’re explaining is obvious. 

You drag him to the second floor and then to the seed room (a room where they explain the different types of seeds) and then to the library and then to the cafe to take a tiny break from the heat that follows the conservatory and the rooms around it. 

Yeosang takes photos the entire time. He records, he takes your picture in front of an emulated dessert and a few cacti with tiny and beautiful flowers blooming from them. He lets you take his arm and, by the time you’re both out of the dome and into the path that leads to the park attached to this botanical garden, you’re both walking shoulder to shoulder. 

And your pinkies are brushing. 

“You shouldn’t have,” you say to break the comfy silence you’re both in as you enter the bridge connecting one side of the park with the other. “Next time they’re on me.” 

Shaking your coffee cup, he huffs something close to a laugh but when you look at him from the corner of your eye, his face is flushed. 

“Love when you say that.” 

Behave, beating heart. 

“What?” You ask in a whisper. 

“When you say there’s going to be a next time.” 

Oh, the universe is funny. Silly. A goof, a meanie even, for playing with your emotions this way. 

“Yeosang…” 

You can tell the moment he makes the decision. One that takes a lot of bravery, one that steals the breath from your lungs and makes a shiver run down your spine. He intertwines your finger with his, slowly, with a caress when you reach the end of the bridge and move to the side to let other people, who are not even paying attention to you, pass by. 

A few seconds later your hand is fully intertwined with his and you try no to cry because he’s looking at you with a speck of hope in his eyes. Hope for a future you can’t offer.

Because you’re leaving. 

“You told me that you like when I tell you things,” he starts and you lick your lips, nodding as a reply because you can’t find your voice even though you should. You should stop him. You should stop this. “And I feel like there’s no point in not saying out loud what you already know. Because you know, don’t you?” 

Even now, when there’s a joke at the tip of your tongue, the only thing you can do is soften your kind of worried expression and nod again. 

“I like you,” he breathes out and he doesn’t say it in a whisper, like you expect it. 

He doesn’t say it in between kisses and loud music, with the purpose of getting you into a dark secluded corner and having his way with you, or with the intention of getting you home and ghost you the next day like you’re used to. 

When Yeosang tells you that he likes you, it comes with the soft spring breeze grazing your face and a halo of light behind him. It comes with the sun coming down, with the tiredness that comes with spending the entire day laughing and talking and walking around with someone you care about, with the faint smell of coffee and the cold of your cup freezing the palm of your free hand even though you feel warmth spread inside of you. 

“I don’t expect you to say it back because we just met a few weeks ago. And I also don’t want you to think that my tiny crush is what motivated me to include you in my documentary. Or film you. Or be a borderline creep around you or your group of friends in the club, I just— I’m okay being your friend,” he clarifies and you want to huff out a tiny laugh because he looks so nervous and yet his voice doesn’t waver once, not like when you first met. He’s sure of what he’s saying and you believe him immediately, too. He let’s go of your hand to gesture with his, “I’m okay with you not liking me back. I’m sure I’ll grow out of it or tell you if I can’t move on, but—” 

“Breathe.” 

“—But I want you to stay in my life. I like spending time with you and I—” 

“Yeosang.” 

He blinks, realizing that he’s word vomiting for literally nothing. 

Because, at his confession, you can’t help but smile widely. And then that smile shrinks a little at the sudden realization that you need to tell him. 

Now. 

But you want to give him the grace of not outright rejecting him at the edge of the bridge.

“Come here.” 

Taking his hand back in yours, you ignore his confused stare and drag him towards where you initially wanted to enjoy your coffee: There’s a small pond where you can sit at a reasonable distance, to not interfere with the birds drinking from it and the fishes swimming in it. 

From your bag, you take out the tablecloth you stole from your living room table (with Zuha’s permission, of course) and lay it down on the grass before practically throwing yourself in it. 

As you sit, Yeosang does as well and you let out a sigh, thinking about the pond. 

Admiring it from a distance, like Yeosang admired you for months. 

Possibly the same way you’ll have to admire him now that you’re leaving. 

“I didn’t get in.” 

He turns his head to you, a frown creasing his eyebrows “What?” 

“They rejected me today, that’s why I was a little late,” you curve your lips into a tense smile and at the realization that you might be feeling a little guilty for lying to him (you are), he shakes his head. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize for something so silly, I don’t mind waiting for you,” he says and you can’t help but take the meaning of his words and extend it to the situation he knows nothing about yet. “What do you mean they rejected you?” You shrug as an answer and he lets out a breathy, indignant laugh “Why would they do that?” 

The fact that he’s getting offended on your behalf assures your entire being that he cares. He cares, he cares, he cares and you’re about to leave someone who cares about you behind. 

You’re about to leave so many people behind. 

“They rejected me because another company wants me to join their team and they probably wanted to narrow my options,” you shrug again and you watch as his face turns from offended to confused to surprised to happy for you in just a few seconds and he changes his weight to his knees, his arms opened and you answer the question before he even gets to ask. “The royal ballet.” 

“The royal ballet?” 

You roll your eyes, wacking the arm closest to you with minimal force “Do you even know what that is?” 

“Of course I know what that is! Y/N!” He wiggles his arms and you get on your knees as well, rounding his neck with yours, hugging him close to you. He hugs you back and it’s tight, it’s warm, it’s friendly and at the same time it feels weighted with his romantic feelings towards you. You enjoy it, you enjoy it even more when he sways you side to side, like something within him knows he has to comfort you. “Congratulations!” 

“Thank you,” you return softly and start following his movements, swaying you both as well until it gains enough impulse to make you fall against the soft material of the tablecloth and grass almosts gets in your eye but you pay it no mind because Yeosang’s arm is under your head and he’s so close to you that you feel like screaming (in the best way possible). “If you know what the royal ballet is, do you know where the main school is located, right?” 

He nods.

“You understand they want me to go there, right?” 

He nods again and you take in some air. 

“Yeosangie…” 

He smiles at the nickname. 

“I like you,” you start, soft again as if saying it louder would make the words that follow it hurt any less. They hurt you, they are going to hurt him as well. “But I think we should be friends, I think— No, I’m sure I’m taking their offer.” 

Yeosang stays quiet for a few seconds. You cuddle into his touch further, without really wanting it to and he raises his hand, his knuckle caressing your cheek softly. 

It’s not a platonic touch, it’s not a platonic scenario either despite what you just told him and you’re sure he’s not doing it on purpose. You’re not doing it on purpose. 

It just feels natural to move closer to him. To revel in the feel of his fingertips against your skin. 

“You do know I didn’t show up at the club night after night just to be romantically involved with you, right?” 

Nodding, his hand on your face slips down a little and he cups your chin with your fingers. 

“I’m happy with us being friends, I’m happy with you staying in my life.” 

“But I’m leaving…” 

“London it’s not that far… It’s like—” 

He looks like he wants to say something but instead he frowns and looks to the sky, a slight pout on his lips you feel the need to kiss. 

“Yeosang?” You ask after what feels like a minute.

“Eight hours?” 

“Huh?” 

He laughs a little “I think it’s an eight hour difference. I can stay up late, you can wake up early, we can find a way to keep in touch.” 

Turning back to you, his hand cups your cheek instead and his thumb slides against the skin. When he turned back to you, he moved a little bit closer. You’re sure it wasn’t intentional but then the words he said just a few minutes ago make your heart race.

I’m happy with us being friends.

Why? You don’t want him to be happy with you two just being friends. You want him to kiss you. You want him to not understand you and to disregard your wishes and tell you he wants you forever. 

You know that you couldn’t extend the same sentiment to him. But he’s patient and kind and so, so polite and you’re not sure how anyone here or all the way in London could compare to him. 

Again, your heart is mourning the loss of something you never truly had. 

But you try to learn from his patience and let out a tiny sigh before resigning your result to insist on whatever you two have going on. 

“Okay.”

It’s your turn to look at the sky above you, the orange gradually fading into the perfect canvas for stars to paint allows you to finally, finally let the entirety of the news sink in. 

“Oh, my god.” 

“Hm?”

You sit up straight, mouth open and a crease in between your brows.

“Oh my fucking god. I’m going to London and my parents don’t even know about it yet.” 

“They don’t know?”

“I had a date with you!” Looking at him, you don’t miss the way he blushes and you feel yourself heat up a little too at your choice of words. “Only Zuha knows… She was with me when we got the envelopes.” 

“Well… Do you feel like you want to tell them in a special way? Because you can just call them, if you want.”

Gulping, you shake your head slightly “M-my mom hates calls.” 

He pauses for a bit, you see him blink twice and then stare at the corner of his lips as they lift up a little.

“Are you nervous about telling them?” 

You realize you are. You’ve never been nervous about telling them anything at all. They celebrate your successes and help you through your hard times even if you hold your chin up and insist you’re okay. You’re sure they’re going to be over the moon about the news. 

Why are you hesitating to tell them, then?

“Do you… Do you think they’ll let me go?” 

He smiles fully now, sitting up as well. “I think they’re proud of you and they’ll be proud of you whether you’re here or in London,” he shrugs and then he adds, “I’m proud of you.” 

It makes you smile. 

“And I just met you. I can’t imagine how they must feel,” your eyes roll instantly at the attempted joke but you huff out a laugh anyway, “and they’ve known since forever, I mean—” 

You extend your arm to push him a little and he falls back down into the tablecloth with a fake cry. “Shut up.” 

“Did I lie?” 

“Kang Yeosang, shut up.” 

The next few months feel like a montage you can see in one of those coming of age movies. Not a romantic comedy, but a coming of age. 

You tell your parents about London and they go through all the stages of grief before congratulating you and telling you they’re proud, they’re happy for you. You tell your friends and it’s a similar experience, except that, instead of celebrating with hugs and a dinner at a fancy restaurant, they drag you to the dinner at a fast food joint at the side of the street and then to the club. 

They celebrate Kazuha’s acceptance into the university’s company as well, of course, and the next morning you both nurse a hangover that repercutes on you days after that as well. It’s all worth it, it is every time but Zuha and you make sure to complain every day until it fully goes away. 

You still hang out with Yeosang. Every single time there’s an ache in your heart that dreads the moment you part (for the day but also… forever, maybe?) and you conceal it with smiles and teasing jokes that don’t cross the line. You hang out with him at his dorm, which you were hesitant to do at first but he explained: 

“My roommate is never here anymore. His girlfriend got a new apartment and so he basically lives with her.” 

You turn to the side of the room, where there are pictures of said roommate with Yeosang and a few people you think you recognize from the club, but you also can’t be sure. You take the guy in every single picture is Yunho, his roomie, and the girl he’s kissing on the cheek is his girlfriend. She looks your age, so you turn to Yeosang with a raised eyebrow and he laughs a little.

“They’re rich.” 

“Him included?”

“Mhm,” he sighs, clicking away on his computer to chop some footage and add some in its place, “he likes to cosplay being poor.” 

“That’s insane.” 

He gives you another affirmative sound and you move around the tiny space two times before calming your nerves of being alone in a room with him and sitting down in his bed, facing his left side since he’s sitting at his desk. 

“More room for you, I guess.”

You notice his smile fading bit by bit, lips forming a tense line a second after. “It’s a little lonely,” he admits. “All of my friends are really busy lately. Which, you know, it’s fine. It’s life. We’re all growing up and I feel like I can’t quite catch up to them.” 

“You did just get into the firm you wanted to, though. You feel like you can’t catch up to the direction they're going?” 

He smiles “Well, first of all, I got an internship—” 

“And they’re giving you the job after the internship ends, we all know this, Yeosang!” you interrupt him and he gives you a look that makes you smile for a second before pretending he’s annoying you. “Whatever.” 

“Like I was saying— I got an internship in the firm, not into the firm,” he finally gets to say and you look back at him, the somber look returning to his face after the second of respite your interruption provided. “But, I mean, we’re starting to see each other less and less— Should I keep this in?” He points at the screen and you frown at the sudden change of topic but then, when you see a frame of you making a weird face for the camera as he sets it up, you get why. 

“Don’t you dare,” you extend your leg and push your feet into his side, he recoils like you stabbed him with something but then recovers quickly. There’s a second where you both smile, your leg coming back to the bed, and then you push a little for the feelings he was explaining before. “You’re seeing each other less and less?” 

“Yeah. I get it, obviously, Hongjoong has this mini tour he needs to plan— That’s my friend who’s in a band,” he explains, “so he’s barely in our hang outs anymore. Yuhno just found love for the first time ever so he’s in the honeymoon phase and the rest of them are just trying to survive their last year of college or jobs.”

“Like us,” you nod.

“Like us,” he whispers in agreement, “and yet we still have time to see each other. I’m guessing some of them see each other often, too, I just… Never really had that with any of them. They’re good friends, the best of them really—” 

“And that would be my group of friends, but okay.”

He laughs and then continues. “But I never really… Connected like that, one on one, with anyone. Jongho, maybe, but he’s going insane trying to keep his grades up to stay in the team and maybe go pro for a few years afterwards and—” 

Sliding to the edge of the bed, you get up from your position to bring your arms around your friend. You can tell it’s really getting to him. You have your own shit going on, the whole I’m leaving my whole life behind and starting over, kind of, in a new city thing but you haven’t put yourself in the shoes of those you’re leaving behind, their own worries about their futures plaguing their thoughts as well. 

“It’s all too much… And I haven’t even finished editing the documentary.” 

“You’re almost done.” 

“It’s due in five days.” 

“You’re almost done,” you repeat, pulling away a little while looking down at him. He looks up, almost pouting. “You got this, Yeo.” 

And then the inevitable tension that comes into the room the second you two touch for longer than five seconds enters and you both let go at the same time. You swallow hard, he coughs and then the topic of conversation switches until you both forget the fact that electricity runs through both your spines whenever you hold each other. 

So Yeosang never touches you. He holds your hand, hugs you goodbye but he never insists. By your final performance, two days later, where he is in attendance and sits next to a very (but not as much as before) skeptical Yeonjun, you wonder if the small bouquet you see on his lap all the way from the stage is a purely platonic gesture. 

Because when you do your final bow as a student, eyes filled with tears, and get down to the backstage, the first person you see it's not your dad, your mom or Yeonjun. It's him. 

But the bouquet he extends to you it's as beautiful as it is not unique. When he sees Kazuha, he offers a similar one to her and she accepts, breathless, emotional and a little bit confused. 

So you start to wonder if he stopped liking you as the days went by, you start to wonder if you're the only one who fell deeper even though you're the one who decided for the both of your to not pursue the constant tension between you both, to put aside your confessions in honor for your friendship to flourish and outlast the incoming physical distance your future is going to put between you two. 

That's why you don't entertain the thought much, just lean in to give him a hug that screams I'm in love with my friend to all of your classmates, Yeonjun and your parents (who you see from the corner of your eye entering the room before you close them), which doesn't really help your case at all. 

“Thank you, Yeosang,” you whisper into the skin of his neck, for only him to hear, “for coming, for being there for me, for the flowers and for everything.” 

“You sound like you're saying goodbye to me,” he whispers back, pulling away just a bit so he can see you. “You're not leaving yet. Let's not do that until then, please?” 

And because you've been learning a lot of things from him, patience being one of them, you smile a little and nod in agreement. 

But you don't miss the way his eyes take in your features and stop to look at your lips for a few seconds too long. You can't help when you do the same, either. 

Your heart sings a hopeful song. A dumb, dumb melody filled with wishes of the things you can't indulge in, not right now, not ever. 

Because that song has a beat you think you’ll be able to dance to, choreograph it in a way only you and him understand and you’re so sure it will give you the same euphoric feeling being the middle of the dancefloor at a packed club or performing variations of your favorite classic characters on stage give you. 

And that is enough to make you want to stay. 

But you can’t. 

Your acceptance to the royal ballet proposal, once it came into you and Zuha’s shared apartment, has been already emailed and signed, sealed, delivered through physical mail.

It’s confirmed that you’re leaving later this month, at the start of the new semester for them. 

For you as well, you guess. 

And since you learned that, time seems to turn into thin dust in your hands, slipping from your fingers and blowing away in the wind. 

So you really should put a stop to your feelings for Yeosang, but they only grow stronger. 

You move back home to try and spend a little more time with your family and that makes his dorm farther away than before but you still show up to see him edit anyway. 

And when he finishes the documentary, he refuses to show you it because he claims he needs time and a bigger screen. 

But you're not sure you two have that much time at all. 

And involuntarily do that thing where your face drops even though you're still smiling and his lightbulb lights up. 

“A farewell screening party!” 

“A… A what?” 

“You know,” he clears his throat a little and you see him blush, “a party for you and for me at the same time. It can be your farewell party and the screening of my documentary because God knows Yunho will force me to show it to all of our friends either way.” 

You purse your lips, clearly trying not to laugh and he levels you with a look. 

“What?” 

“Nothing, that’s…” you cough your giggles away, “adorable.” 

“Right.” 

You take a sneaky step forward and he barely notices but his eyebrow raises. He seems to know what you're trying to do but you're a little bit distracted by the edge on his expression so your lack of immediate action makes him lower his guard. 

And you lunch for the computer without thinking twice. 

“No!” 

“You're not even going to let me see a snippet of it, Yeosang?!” 

You laugh but avoid him and you’re literally opening the video library of his computer when you feel two hands grab your middle and pull you back. He falls into Yunho’s mattress and you fall with him. 

Squeaking and then letting out a laugh, you realize too late that Yeosang has pulled you into his lap, his palms secured on your hips, his breath on your neck. As you turn your head to look at him, smiling slowly fading from your lips and his, you also notice that this was not what he intended to do in the first place. 

But you’re both frozen in place. 

Eyes not looking up at his face, you open and close the palms of your hands over the part of his chest and arm you’re just realizing now you’re holding. You blink a few times and from the corner of your eye you see his adam’s apple bob, you hear the sound of him swallowing tightly and feel against your shoulder the rumble of his chest when he speaks, low and soft, unsure like he doesn’t really know what’s the correct volume to use right now. 

“It’s a surprise.” 

“A surprise,” you repeat in the same tone, dumbly, a little bit distracted by his scent, “of course,” and then you frown, curious as always. “Why is it a surprise again?” 

He huffs out a short laugh. “If I tell you, it’ll ruin the surprise.” 

“Of course.” 

You should move. He should let go. Someone should do something because this is blurring the lines of your friendship entirely. 

But his lap is comfy and you can feel his heart beating against your skin and, instead of being in high alert and in a reactionary mood, your body just relaxes against him. 

He feels it and the touch against you relaxes as well but stays in its place. Yeosang’s head moves a little bit forward, his chin resting against your shoulder like the action alone is not enough to make the butterflies in your stomach go insane. 

“I just hope you like it.” 

The tremor on his voice gives away that he’s genuinely nervous about it, so you tilt your head and let your temple touch his. 

“I probably will, Yeo.” 

Lifting his head a little, your nose bumps slightly with his nose and your eyes widen at the feeling. 

It truly shouldn’t be this difficult. You should lean in and kiss him or he should lean in and kiss you but the boundaries you drew stand tall in between you. 

You wonder if the need that burns in his eyes when you look at him also burns in yours. You wonder if he sees it. You wonder if it’s enough to make the spoken rules of your relationship crumble. 

Breath shaking a little, you push a bit forward, lips parted and waiting for him to take the last step, to confirm that the rules and boundaries and the conversation you two had about the nature of your dynamic goes to hell and you get to finally have him like you want to have him. 

Yeosang looks like he’s thinking the same thing as you and, just when you’re about to close your eyes again and let this whole thing be…

The door swings open. 

And you practically fly off his lap, trip with a pair of shoes that are not yours and shouldn’t be there in the first place and almost fall to the floor. A hand you are not familiar with catches you and you look up to find Yunho of all people preventing your face from banging against the floor.

“Are you okay?” He asks and you turn to Yeosang instead of replying, for some reason. 

Yeosang is very still, paralyzed in fear even for a few seconds before his brain seems to catch up to the situation because he stands, grabs your shoulders and stabilizes you fully on the ground. 

You clear your throat and then turn to Yunho: “I’m fine,” you say, voice very small and the answer is a little dumb because everyone can see you’re clearly not fine. “Thanks.”

“Of course…” He turns to look behind him and that’s when you realize. 

Oh, this is mortifying. 

There’s three other people behind him: Wooyoung, who you recognize because one time he facetimed Yeosang while you two were together and you catched a glimpse at the screen, and two other guys you assume Yeosang has probably mentioned before, but you can’t recall their names right now.

Your head is not functioning properly right now. 

“This is—” Yeosang starts.

“Y/N!” You say for him with a nod and a big smile. 

“She’s my friend that I met at the club and—” 

“Your co-star,” you point to Yunho, “supporting actress of the documentary, really, I’ve seen him edit it and you are the main star.” 

“— her name is Y/N.” Yeosang finishes.

You clasp your hands together in front of you and it makes a loud noise, bow a little too. “That’s me.”

From the corner of your eye you see how Wooyoung turns around, trying not to laugh, and then one of the guys punches him in the arm. 

“We can, uhm…” Yunho is trying really hard not to laugh as well and you fail to see what about this embarrassing situation they found funny. “We can come back later if you guys want.” 

It’s even more embarrassing when both you and Yeosang basically scream a: “No!” at the same time. 

Which only makes Wooyoung break into a giggle that’s soon muffled by the hand of the second guy you don’t recognize at all. 

So you turn to Yeosang fully, leaning down to pick up your bag from where you dropped it on the floor. 

“I have to go and help Zuha with the—” 

“Oh, that’s right! Of course.” 

You don’t need to help Kazuha with absolutely anything. 

“And I guess you need to tell them about the party—” 

“Yup, I’ll tell them, um…” 

There’s an awkward silence for what feels like forever (two seconds, max) and then you both give each other a quick hug before you’re practically running for the door. 

“It was very nice to meet you all.” You say and it sounds weird because your throat is dry and you stumble it out. 

You don’t wait to hear their responses as you grab your shoes from the floor and then open and close the door behind you fast. 

Yeosang can deal with whatever they’re going to do, the ways they’re probably going to tease him. They’re his friends after all. 

And even though you feel the heat of the embarrassment on your cheeks and your heart racing, you smile at the laughter you hear through the wood of the door. It follows you as you walk through the hallway and there’s only one thing going through your head as you get secure your bag around your shoulder and start to head home: 

There’s the possibility Yeosang would’ve kissed you if they never walked in. 

There’s the possibility he still wants you the same way you want him. 

Yeosang has never been more flushed in his entire life. 

He watches you back until the door closes and then a second of silence passes by before everyone starts to laugh.

Everyone but him, because it’s not funny at all. 

Lips still aching at the thought of kissing you, he barely gets time to roll his eyes at his friends before they’re all but throwing him on the bed and tickling his sides. 

He doesn’t really want to laugh but his body’s reaction leaves him no choice. 

“You should’ve texted me that you had a girl over or something, dude!” Yunho starts and Yeosang huffs in response. 

“I thought you said the two of you were just friends, though?” San asks and he all but rolls his eyes. 

“What did you just see, Choi San? I swear to god you and Yunho are—” 

The mentioned one gasps dramatically and cuts Wooyoung mid sentence “What did I do now?” 

“Clueless!” Wooyoung says and he laughs a little at that. 

They stopped tickling him but they’re all still on top of him on the bed and the mattress makes a weird noise at that. It’s a dormitory mattress, after all and it can barely handle two people. 

Or you in his lap, he guesses. 

Dear God. 

Seonghwa sighs like a mother tired of her children’s shenanigans and even though it’s hard to see with three bodies on top of him, Yeosang sees him with his arms closed at the edge of the bed “Guys, could you all just… Get off Yeosang for a second?”

“Yeah, he needs to explain himself!” Wooyoung is the first one off of him and he feels like can breathe better. 

“There’s no explaining to do, you sound like Gyuri.” 

“I beg,” Wooyoung pauses dramatically, for effect and everyone in the room groans, “you pardon?” 

“No, sit the fuck down.” 

“Okay,” Yeosang says now that he’s free and he stares at his friends, at San first. “We are just friends and it’s not what it looks like.” 

“So you weren’t about to kiss her?” 

He short circuits at that “Well—” 

“You were?” 

“Guys,” Seonghwa interrupts once more, “let him talk.”

He feels like it’s the first time in forever since he’s been able to speak about anything with his friends. His heart feels at home and yet his nerves spike, his head hurts a little too and it might be the endless hours of editing catching up to him or the thought of you leaving that makes it hurt. Either way, he needs to tell them.

“I was about to kiss her and it wouldn’t have been a mistake because we didn’t want to, because we both like each other,” he explains, “so we do want to but it would've been a mistake because she’s leaving.” 

“What?” 

“You didn’t tell me that,” Yunho lets out softly and Yeosang shrugs. He’s the one that knows the most about you since he’s the one Yeosang has been able to speak with the most these past few months. 

“That party she was talking about,” he doesn’t really answer Yunho but addresses everyone in the room, “I need help organizing it. It should be a viewing party and a farewell party as well. She got accepted into the Royal Ballet.” 

“Huh?!” 

Now everyone turns to Yunho at the sound he lets out and he’s covering his mouth and then shrugs as well, a little ashamed of himself. 

“I’m not a ballet guy but I know what that is. They were on tour here last year… And I went.” 

“Are they good?” San asks and Yunho nods frantically as an answer. “So that means she’s good as well.” 

“She is,” Yeosang feels himself deflating, falling into the mattress with a longing sigh. “She lied to you, she’s actually in most of my documentary.” 

“I think you forget I’ve seen you editing it before, Yeo.” Yunho laughs.

“Mhm.”

He looks at his friends and both Seonghwa and San look like they want to press him to speak about his feelings but they’re biting their tongue, Yunho’s leg goes up and down and he looks like he's about to apologize for something dumb but no one talks. Yeosang doesn’t want to talk about it, either. 

So Wooyoung comes to the rescue. 

“A farewell party, now that’s something I can help with!” 

San laughs “And a viewing party, don’t forget about the viewing part.” 

“The documentary first and then everyone is getting drunk and silly, okay?” He points at Yeo Sang and he nods, reluctantly because he knows what that means. 

“I think I actually have a place for it,” Yunho swallows tightly and Yeosang scrunches his eyebrows in worry. “I mean, I was going to tell you all when we were together but, uhm, I think I’m starting my own dance studio. I received a… fat check this month.” 

“Are you sure that’s not the money your father is giving you to try and get you in his company long term?”

“Whatever!” Yeosang laughs and San gets up and puts a mouth over Wooyoung’s mouth for the second time in the last thirty minutes. Seonghwa rolls his eyes. “I got a place and it has a second floor I’m planning to make into a setup for video games and whatnot. I already ordered the projector, it’s what I’m trying to say,” he shrugs and looks at You Sang again. “We can have it there, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he agrees softly. 

And as San lets go of Wooyoung and Seonghwa sits next to him to give him a hug (because he knows that’s better than any words right now), Yeosang can’t help but wonder if now that the party is happening and him and your friends are saying goodbye to you for good, it’s finally time to let go of his feelings for you.

But then, as he watches Yunho sit down in his bed, in the same space where he had you on his lap and with his lips close to yours, the voice in his head that’s been nagging him about the whole thing all these months returns. 

And it laughs at him.

It laughs at his wishful thinking and then it reminds him that there’s no letting go of his feelings for you. Those are there to stay, for a good while, as long as you stay the same person and as long as your smile brings him peace. As long as your happiness brings him his, as long as the rhythm of your feet mark the rhythm of his heartbeats, he’s yours. 

He 's yours. 

Do you want him to be yours?

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. part 2 will be out..... someday in the next few weeks (I promise I'm working on it!)

© jensthwa, 2025.

[uneducated-author]

I have a little conspiracy theory. I think Belinda was never supposed to exist.

Lemme explain.

So, I believe that Ruby was supposed to be a companion for two seasons. I think they had fair notice, probably before they started filming the first, but I think the general storylines were already put in place, and major episodes, specifically 'Robot Revolution', 'The Well' & 'Interstellar Song Contest' were already largely drafted.

I didn't dislike Ruby as a companion, but I really did quite love Belinda. But I feel like this ending feels matched with Ruby's themes, as well as the FINAL episode basically fridge Belinda, literally trapping her in Stepford before having her literally locked in a box.

Final episodes, especially Companion final episodes always involve the active companion. Especially in an RTD season. Rose becomes the Bad Wolf/gets locked in an alternate dimension. Martha walks the entirety of the earth to unionise the human race. Donna unlocks the metacrisis. Even in Steven Moffat, Amy brings back the Doctor, Clara jumps into his timestream, Clara basically drives both the season 8 and 9 finale two parters.

Belinda does... Very little, comparatively. Even her moments with the Doctor feel strange, there's no fallout of her calling the Rani's forces on him, not even any fallout to them being married. She gets a scene where she runs off into the woods to scream, but she doesn't even get an explanation as to who Poppy is from Space Babies, and how the Doctor knows her.

Comparatively, Ruby not only has the emotional weight of stopping Conrad, she also convinces the Doctor of Poppy's existence. Hell, Belinda isn't even THERE when they give the God of Dreams and Wishes to Ruby's family for them to raise.

Theory. Alan Budd was Conrad. Ruby was Belinda. Season 2 starts with a flashback of her kissing Alan, noticeably sexist and disrespectful, names a star after her, and we cut to seventeen years later. The MissBelindaChandra Bots, now known as the 'MissRubySunday Bots' grab her and take her away. The Doctor, of course, comes chasing after her, and the two reunite. This also answers the question as to how Mrs Flood is both Ruby's and Belinda's neighbour. They're the same character. It should be the same house.

The season, largely, continues as normal. Ruby and the Doctor have very much the same dynamic as Belinda and the Doctor. They probably rewrote a lot of the dialogue for a more combative dynamic to distinguish the two. But generally, the two are pretty close, best friends, dressing up and goofing off, and on a rewatch, even when Belinda's words are her own, her actions never feel far from Ruby's.

(I'll admit that's a stretch as 'companion' characters tend to have the same actions, but I hope you understand what I mean.)

Season 2, the vindicator isn't a thing. Ruby admits to enjoying life with the Doctor, and they commit to a couple of funky trips. Replace the 'something is connecting us' speech with Belinda with something like 'the whole universe, and I found you twice/Doctor, I thought I might have to live my life without you, without the universe, let's go everywhere'. This even helps the moment where the Doctor promises Rose that she Will see him again seem to make a lot more sense. Bear in mind, Joy To The World still takes place, so he still has his 'missing Ruby, making two coffees' arc.

(This opening would probably be a parallel to Partners In Crime in some senses? The Doctor and Ruby in the start of Robot Revolution being like the Doctor and Donna constantly missing each other.)

Here, the vindicator never existed. Anyways, it's never mentioned more than a couple of mentions per episode, and even as the deus ex machine weapon against Omega, you could remove every mention of it from the season and it would be fine. The Doctor and Ruby don't have any pressure on getting back on time, they're vibing. It is very much like the last season, only replace the Susan Twist cameos with Mrs Flood cameos.

In 'The Well' we get an indicator that the human race is not in fact gucci. And in 'Interstellar Song Contest' Graham Norton pops up and tells them that the Earth was destroyed on the 24th of May. And this is like Journey's End, when the Doctor and Donna return to Earth, and then the planet vanishes.

(I really see a LOT of Donna's era in this season)

So, in Wish World, the Doctor and Ruby are married. Replace the scene where Ruby knocks on the door and says everything is fake with Ruby being the Doctor's wife telling him that she doesn't remember their daughter. Keep the scene of her being asked about giving birth to Poppy and screaming in the woods, keep the scene of her finding Shirley, only this time, someone else calls the police on both the Doctor AND Ruby. Which is why we get zero fallout of the Doctor feeling like he can't trust Belinda. Because here, they were BOTH reported and taken in.

So in Reality War, Ruby is the companion confronts Conrad, except it isn't Conrad in this version. It's Allan. Noticeably sexist Allan. Belinda even says 'all you ever did was correct me' and that's what he's doing. Correcting the World, in his image. His obsession with obedience.

Hell, it even makes Poppy make more sense. Poppy is born because 'Allan' would want 'Ruby' to be a mother, and in season 1, we see Ruby ask the Doctor if he has children, to which he responds that he will have. Ruby sees him with the space babies. And RUBY, who remembers Poppy, tells the Doctor NO, that she was real, that Poppy existed and he NEEDS to save her. Ruby even tells Poppy 'I wish we were (your parents)' which would make space babies make sense.

Maybe the Zero Box exists, maybe it doesn't, but midnight hits and it's the 25th. And Ruby convinces everyone as to Poppy's existence, and the Doctor leaves, pours regeneration energy into the time vortex, bringing Poppy back and entrusting her to Ruby. (Poppy returns, but is fully human.)

This works for Ruby's themes way stronger. Ruby's arc was always about finding her mother, and being a foundling. I mean, she was even wiped from existence. (They try to make Belinda relate with being trapped in a time storm which is weak).

This is RUBY'S story. Even the idea around family, we get wonderful moments with Cherry and Carla, and after a whole season of Belinda nattering about her parents, we only see her mum for three seconds. And I think they wrote Lucky Day to establish Conrad, and explain why Ruby matters to him.

I don't think this makes the season bad at all. I am a bit upset that Belinda seems like such an afterthought as a character. But here's my theory all the same.

[t3tch0]

Soulmates

Aventurine and Ratio can be considered soulmates. But not of this current timeline. They‘ve been soulmates in different timelines

They still work well on their own. Aventurine is still his charming self while Ratio is still his studious self. They don‘t need each other, but when they are together they are fully united

Like ying and yang, united and a Perfect Circle. They know each others in ways no one does

Aventurine knows Ratio‘s special interest, how happy he gets over ducks and his specialty in different topics no one asked him about

Ratio knows Aventurine under his mask. He knows Kakavasha and what makes him happy, happiness that no one else can give him

Aventurine and Ratio were always meant to be soulmates. Their loved unmatched as they know each other more than anyone else, like they‘ve met each other in every universe

[mirensiart]

heheheh @legomonkiekidfan514 you have activated my yap card 👀

ok so, i personally recommend going into all 3 xenoblade games completely blind, but if you must know there will be vague spoilers cause it's honestly IMPOSSIBLE to explain this franchise without spoiling a lil bit

the main thing you have to know is that the world/universe where xenoblade chronicles 1 happens is completely different to the world/universe where xenoblade chronicles 2 happens

which means you can play xenoblade1 or xenoblade2 in any order! (i personally started with xenoblade2)

HOWEVER

both stories happen simultaneously, and by the end something happens in both games' worlds that end up merging both into one world/universe

the merging of both the xenoblade1 & xenoblade2 worlds creates the world of xenoblade3, which is why it's not recommended to start xenoblade3 without playing the other 2

all 3 games + their dlc are available on switch btw so if you own a switch you can play the entire franchise :-)

now, explaining each game is basically impossible in only one post, but since this comment was made in a xenoblade1 comic, i can explain the first game down below if you're interested

this is with as much vague spoilers as i can lol but xenoblade 1 starts with a millenium grudge/war between two territories

the mechonis — home to the machina and the mechon, sentient creatures made completely out of metal

and the bionis — home to a plethora of biological races, such as the humans (called homs in this world)

the mechon, the robot like creatures of mechonis, have attacked the bionis various colonies, where mostly humans live, for years with the aim of wiping all life in bionis

we don't know how many colonies there were, but by the beginning of the game the only 2 colonies left are colony 6 and colony 9

now, the reason why mechon have been so successful in wiping out human colonies is because no weapon can hurt their metal bodies, they are impervious to human weapons and thus humans cannot defend themselves against mechon attacks

that is until colony 9 gets their hands on THE MONADO

now, the monado is a legendary weapon AND THE ONLY WEAPON who can kill the mechon however THE MONADO KILLS IT'S WIELDER EVERY TIME

so yeah, you can kill your enemies and save everyone, but with your life as the price

the only human to ever been able to wield the monado and NOT DIE was a warrior from colony 9 named DUNBAN, who thanks to his battle prowess, was able to stop mechon attacks for one entire year

however wielding the monado left him chronically disabled, he is unable to move or use his dominant sword hand and suffers chronic pain

the game starts with our protagonist, SHULK!

shulk has been obsessed with the monado since forever, he's a mechanic and yearns to discover how to eventually wield the sword without, well dying or being horrifically hurt

the plot begins when a new BRUTAL mechon attack befalls colony 9, shulk's home, with mechon not only killing people but EATING them as well

shulk, in a desperate move, wields the monado to save his home, knowing that the sword might kill him

the sword, however, accepts him as his new wielder and not only does it not hurt him but grants him the ability to SEE THE FUTURE!

even with the monado by their side and this new ability, shulk is unable to save the colony, losing his home and loved ones because of a mechon with a human like face, who is immune to the monado's attacks

he bows to destroy every single mechon and bring ruin to mechonis and also kill metal face (the mechon with a human face), and to also find out what IS the monado and how to unlock its full power and WHY is he able to wield it without well, dying

through his journey, shulk makes a lot of allies and finds out that things are way more nuanced than he originally believed, that there's a reason for the mechon attacks and that the monado's origins and powers are a mystery for a reason

and well, sometimes being chosen as the wielder of a legendary weapon isn't as great as stories make it seem, sometimes it's more like a curse

[evieelyzabethh]

Do you have any hcs of modern au jock Jayce x reader? I know you’ve written some smut of him in this context, but I was just wondering if I could request some dating/general hcs of this man? Please and thanks you!!

Modern AU Jock!Jayce

Jock!Jayce who on the surface is the biggest walking stereotype you have ever seen. A 6'7 behemoth who got into the university on a full ride sports scholarship. Starting quarterback on the line-up, at a new party every other night, a different girl hanging off his sentences every time you see him.

Jock!Jayce who is personable enough and gets along with his teammates just fine. He wouldn't say he enjoys the parties, but rather that they are a formality he feels obligated to attend. Usually after the first hour, he's tucked away in a room upstairs with a half-empty bottle of water questioning his poor time management and inability to say no.

Jock!Jayce who'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the girls and the stares when he walked past. It certainly was a quick change of pace from his adolescent days where he holed himself in the public library reading about outer space and the broader universe or stayed in his room for hours recategorizing his dinosaur collection.

Jock!Jayce who isn't a complete stereotype. Since student athletes do have to show up to class, most of them tend to major in something related to exercise and sports science, most going onto either continuing with the sport until some game ending injury or they end up a middle school P.E teacher reminiscing bitterly about their college glory days. Jayce had never planned to do either. He hadn't even planned to continue with football after high school, but the money was hard to ignore.

Jock!Jayce who is much smarter than most give him credit for, but it's much easier to play the role of the himbo. He's an engineering major, he's a student athlete, he has so many social commitments, clubs, and parties to attend, so forgive him if he likes to just stop thinking for a little while.

Jock!Jayce who worships the ground you walk on yet cannot take praise himself. He insists that you are pretty to carry your own things which leads to your tiny purses in his large hands and everything that won't fit in his large pockets. The second you get tired of your heels on nights out, he's on his knees to slip them on your feet and carry you back home. He watches you in awe as you get dressed in the morning or get ready at your vanity, his eyes soft and round and his heart fluttering in his chest. Yet, the second you so much as tell him he looks nice that day, he's a blushing mess.

Jock!Jayce who is always on his phone, which means you receive a good morning, angel text every morning at 4:30 on the dot and a good night, my love at 11:30. He also does not believe gn or ml, he types out the whole word because how else will you know he means it. His texts are largely formal, but he does abuse the fuck out of emoji's. He's anxious that a text will come off too serious, and emoji's are the best way he can think of to soften the delivery and keep it playful.

Jock!Jayce who is a bit of an internet celebrity because the school you go to is well known for sports and he was a highly anticipated draft pick. This being said, he does think those couple TikTok trends are really cute. Specifically, the one where you leave kiss marks all over his face and decorate his biceps with pink bows. He also enjoys resting his head on your lap. Matter of fact, a picture of him with his head between your thighs is probably his lockscreen photo.

Jock!Jayce whose favorite place to put his hands is in your back pocket. He's also the type to put his hands on your hips when he's trying to scooch right past ya'. He's also really big on eye-contact. Is anything going on behind those eyes when you're speaking? No, not often, but he gets distracted really easily. He tries, honestly, he really does, but then he's noticing that you have really pretty earrings in, and the sparkle of your eyeshadow really compliments your eyes, and your lips are so perfectly glossy and now he's subconsciously leaning in until you either lean in to kiss him or roll your eyes at his antics.

Jock!Jayce who is a really good driver. He's definitely a very cautious driver, he doesn't like going over the speed limit, he doesn't believe in speeding through yellow lights, he actually stops at every stop sign he sees. He has a very funny sort of road-rage. He certainly gets frustrated, but he never yells. It's usually some variation of a passive aggressive sigh and a 'nice blinker, asshole'. He also does the hot car reverse thing where he puts his hand behind your head rest.

Speaking of cars and car rides, he loves being a useful boyfriend. You popped a tire? He's already on his way with a spare in his trunk. You don't have a car, and you need a ride to the grocery store? Perfectly fine, he would prefer you not have a car. Too many carbon emissions and they are nothing but oversized death mobiles. You really want your nails done? Take his card and he expects pictures of the final product. Not only this, but he refuses to let you walk on the outside of the sidewalk.

Jock!Jayce who rarely lets you sit in on his training sessions because you always get distracted less than half an hour in. He doesn't notice anything at first, which is criminal because it takes the slightest movement for his chest to pop out of that sorry excuse of a t-shirt and don't even get me started on when he lifts the bottom to wipe the accumulating sweat off his brow. He thinks it's purely funny when he manhandles you as a weight but between how close you are to his glistening skin and the grunts he makes when he tosses you around, it was never bound to end wholesomely.

Jock!Jayce who on the surface is the biggest walking stereotype you have ever seen. A 6'7 behemoth who got into the university on a full ride sports scholarship. Starting quarterback on the line-up, at a new party every other night, a different girl hanging off his sentences every time you see him.

Jock!Jayce who is personable enough and gets along with his teammates just fine. He wouldn't say he enjoys the parties, but rather that they are a formality he feels obligated to attend. Usually after the first hour, he's tucked away in a room upstairs with a half-empty bottle of water questioning his poor time management and inability to say no.

Jock!Jayce who'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the girls and the stares when he walked past. It certainly was a quick change of pace from his adolescent days where he holed himself in the public library reading about outer space and the broader universe or stayed in his room for hours recategorizing his dinosaur collection.

Jock!Jayce who isn't a complete stereotype. Since student athletes do have to show up to class, most of them tend to major in something related to exercise and sports science, most going onto either continuing with the sport until some game ending injury or they end up a middle school P.E teacher reminiscing bitterly about their college glory days. Jayce had never planned to do either. He hadn't even planned to continue with football after high school, but the money was hard to ignore.

Jock!Jayce who is much smarter than most give him credit for, but it's much easier to play the role of the himbo. He's an engineering major, he's a student athlete, he has so many social commitments, clubs, and parties to attend, so forgive him if he likes to just stop thinking for a little while.

Jock!Jayce who worships the ground you walk on yet cannot take praise himself. He insists that you are pretty to carry your own things which leads to your tiny purses in his large hands and everything that won't fit in his large pockets. The second you get tired of your heels on nights out, he's on his knees to slip them on your feet and carry you back home. He watches you in awe as you get dressed in the morning or get ready at your vanity, his eyes soft and round and his heart fluttering in his chest. Yet, the second you so much as tell him he looks nice that day, he's a blushing mess.

Jock!Jayce who is always on his phone, which means you receive a good morning, angel text every morning at 4:30 on the dot and a good night, my love at 11:30. He also does not believe gn or ml, he types out the whole word because how else will you know he means it. His texts are largely formal, but he does abuse the fuck out of emoji's. He's anxious that a text will come off too serious, and emoji's are the best way he can think of to soften the delivery and keep it playful.

Jock!Jayce who is a bit of an internet celebrity because the school you go to is well known for sports and he was a highly anticipated draft pick. This being said, he does think those couple TikTok trends are really cute. Specifically, the one where you leave kiss marks all over his face and decorate his biceps with pink bows. He also enjoys resting his head on your lap. Matter of fact, a picture of him with his head between your thighs is probably his lockscreen photo.

Jock!Jayce whose favorite place to put his hands is in your back pocket. He's also the type to put his hands on your hips when he's trying to scooch right past ya'. He's also really big on eye-contact. Is anything going on behind those eyes when you're speaking? No, not often, but he gets distracted really easily. He tries, honestly, he really does, but then he's noticing that you have really pretty earrings in, and the sparkle of your eyeshadow really compliments your eyes, and your lips are so perfectly glossy and now he's subconsciously leaning in until you either lean in to kiss him or roll your eyes at his antics.

Jock!Jayce who is a really good driver. He's definitely a very cautious driver, he doesn't like going over the speed limit, he doesn't believe in speeding through yellow lights, he actually stops at every stop sign he sees. He has a very funny sort of road-rage. He certainly gets frustrated, but he never yells. It's usually some variation of a passive aggressive sigh and a 'nice blinker, asshole'. He also does the hot car reverse thing where he puts his hand behind your head rest.

Speaking of cars and car rides, he loves being a useful boyfriend. You popped a tire? He's already on his way with a spare in his trunk. You don't have a car, and you need a ride to the grocery store? Perfectly fine, he would prefer you not have a car. Too many carbon emissions and they are nothing but oversized death mobiles. You really want your nails done? Take his card and he expects pictures of the final product. Not only this, but he refuses to let you walk on the outside of the sidewalk.

Jock!Jayce who rarely lets you sit in on his training sessions because you always get distracted less than half an hour in. He doesn't notice anything at first, which is criminal because it takes the slightest movement for his chest to pop out of that sorry excuse of a t-shirt and don't even get me started on when he lifts the bottom to wipe the accumulating sweat off his brow. He thinks it's purely funny when he manhandles you as a weight but between how close you are to his glistening skin and the grunts he makes when he tosses you around, it was never bound to end wholesomely.

[sonderlune]

IT JUST MEANS MORE | A JEGULUS ROMCOM SPORTSFIC

instead of making moodboards i am just going to post photos ive taken from football games. hello. thanks to #49 for smiling straight at me, for our purposes u are james potter today!

FORMAL ANNOUNCEMENT THAT CHAPTER 18 IS OUT!

Godspeed, Lover Boy, and Other Things Sirius Black Should Have Never Said

It’s Homecoming. Georgia wins. A camera bag gets returned. Sirius connects the dots and immediately wishes he hadn’t.

this chapter treats you with

- a new pov (hi sirius!)

- more fluff (you’re welcome)

- 5k+ words of some nonsense

enjoy :)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63555796/chapters/162874240

don’t know what the HELL i’m talking about? dw. description here <3

Regulus Black does not do football. Or friendship. Or feelings.

Unfortunately, his graduation internship with the University of Georgia sports media team means he’s spending every waking moment covering the football season of a lifetime — and shadowing Heisman frontrunner James Potter, who is charming, golden, and absolutely not Regulus’s problem.

Regulus has dealt with worse.

(Like living with Barty and Evan, who are dating and frankly offensive about it. Like Sirius showing up everywhere with his emotionally competent boyfriend. Like the nauseating realization that maybe Regulus doesn’t want to be alone after all.)

This was never supposed to be about friendship. Or love. Or letting people stay.

But sometimes your life becomes a romcom you didn’t audition for — and sometimes, horrifyingly, you want it to.

One season. One team. One last shot at getting out clean.

All Regulus has to do is not fall in love.

Easier said than done.

slowburn, romcom, fucking silly ass fic - current 90k+ words. updating minimum of weekly but usually every few days bc im a college student & unemployed & its summer

[betty-fran]

#my fanfiction recommendation column

the door by pouxin

james t. kirk / s'chn t'gai spock

It ought to make us feel ashamed when we talk like we know what we're talking about when we talk about love. raymond carver, 'what we talk about when we talk about love'

I have a complicated relationship with this story because it's too intimate, too personal, too angsty, one that gets under my skin and reminds me of things I don't always want to think about.

But this is without a doubt one of the best, literary-heartbreakingly-written AOS fics. There's a lot of talking about books, thinking about love and grief, and having sex. And it's all expressed through a wonderful play on words. Strangely, I find this a very AOS thing, my personal headcanon, something from my youth that I miss in this easy way - forgotten Allen Ginsberg's Howl on the table, paperbacks in jacket pocket, the muted jazz of Morphine, the deserted streets of the heat of stifling summer nights, the feel of hot asphalt under bare feet, the shared moisture of kisses, that incomprehensible physicality of life. And it is this difference in physicality that, for me, makes AOS and TOS so unlike each other, the result of the half-century lying between them, something that makes AOS simpler, more down-to-earth, not as mythical, not as ancient in its depth, not as fateful as TOS, and that's why I love them so (equally) differently.

It's a replay of STID, but it isn't really tied as much to the external plot as it is to the internal, to the feelings and sensations, to the thoughts and memories, all those things that go on in our heads, and that scream and cry and want to be seen. And this is a fairly rare and good example of working with memories of Tarsus in the AOS universe, with an ofc that really touched me. It's not an easy read, there's a lot of talk about grief and loss and guilt and shame, but it's healing, not destructive. And it's very beautiful.

Finding quotes this time was a difficult task, given the length of this text, and my aesthetic infatuation with almost every line, but as always, a few, actually a lot (almost non-spoiler) quotes:

Mom, what's at the end of the sky? And she'd say, well, space, the universe. And I knew that, because of dad and everything. But then I'd ask: what's at the end of the universe? And she'd say, nothing, nothing; and I'd say, but what's actually there?; and she'd say OK, OK then Jimmy, a brick wall. A big brick wall. A big red brick wall. Is there a door? I'd ask. No, she'd say. No door.

It... speaks to me, you know? It's one of those texts that just, you know, grabs you by the throat and shakes you and makes you feel feelings.

There is a line from Wonderland: “You’re not the same as you were, you’ve lost your muchness. You used to be much more…. muchier". Spock has never understood that line, but now he thinks he does. There is a 'muchness' about Jim. Spock isn't one for imprecise language, but it is the closest he can come to, in words, for what he admires most in Jim. Muchness.

Spock stoops and then gently slots the photograph back where it has fallen from. He notices the last line of the book is underlined in thick, black ink: "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known."

Spock leafs through the book. At the back, on the final page Jim has written something else, messily, almost as an afterthought: 'I still wouldn't do it. And neither would you. And I am glad.'

But it was not the story itself that I truly wished for. No more than it had been the singing. It was my mother's warm hand on my brow, the occasions she believed I had already fallen asleep when she would run her fingers very lightly all around my face, down my nose and across my jaw, and then up the curve of each ear.

On occasion it comes back to me, though unbidden: I was someone's heart's own darling once. I am reminded of it at foolish times, inappropriate times.

I would kiss you. Unbidden, and unexpected, like all the best of thoughts, the worst of thoughts. Stealthy, unexpected, and yet at the moment of contact it has always been there, always there.

He is breathing hard. He half laughs. His eyes are closed. Then he says softly, "Hey." And two of his fingers find Spock's, and his fingers are slightly damp with sweat, and Spock's skin sings for the moisture. What are all these kissings worth / If thou kiss not me?

"Your mind. Igen-kur. Kahs'khior'i." "What's that?" "Shooting star."

Jim curls his hands into fists, making the scar tissue stand out, tusk pale against the ruddiness of his skin. "Because it looked like I could fight. Like I could handle myself."

You don't give much, you know? But when you do, your smiles, they're like gold to me, Spock. They're the most precious things I've ever been given.

"But you don't know what it was like for me." Spock is so very still. Only the passing shadows on his face, the darkness and sporadic ember glow of his eyes. "No. I do not." "I am not just part of one homogenous mass of human behaviour. I'm me." "Yes. You are."

Then he says, "There is something Surak says: Ri vath natya-vik k'svi khaf-spol-tu. Ein boshau k'tik sov-masu-rom. Vath ri irak-glu na'ish. In Standard you would say: There are different wells within your heart. Some fill with each good rain. Others are far too deep for that.”

A little while after that, Jim is hovering above the velvet precipice of sleep, when he thinks he hears Spock say: “I would not have you any different.” But that might just have been part of a dream.

Well, it's important, isn't it? To understand a place. It's like when I think of home, I think of how it smells. The smell of summer in Iowa. The scent when the corn's being cut. Hawaiian Tropic sun lotion, new flip flops on hot pavement, warm dog's belly, burgers on a barbecue. That's home. That's how it feels to be home, to have it in your ears, your eyes, your nose.

What were you fighting for if not to try and protect all the little things you love. All the perfect, tiny, inconsequential things that make it all worthwhile.

I reached for her and it was too late. I reached for her. There is a part of me that is still reaching.

"I wish to be inside you," Spock replies, kissing at the side of Jim's face, the hair on his temples. "You are," Jim says, resting his forehead against Spock's. "You already are."

"No," Spock says, recklessly, impetuously, thrillingly, "It is you, your nearness." Jim's smile deepens. "I make you come over all illogical." "You do." He finds Jim's mouth. Rivers. Lightening. Blood.

"Is that how you like me, Spock? In the darkness?" There is a thundering in his temples, a strange, blind sort of wanting. "No. No. I like you in the light."

Spock is silent momentarily, then he says in a new voice, a voice Jim has not heard before, gritty and stretched. "If you were to die -" He pauses as if searching for the right words, something he never usually does. "If you were to die-"

He moves his hand away in shock. I wanted you to touch me, and you did not, and now you are touching me.

Scars, that mark the pale pain of his survival. This will work, Jim thinks. It will work. He can do this. After all, Jim Kirk is damaged goods. And if life has taught him nothing else it has taught him that damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive.

Fear. Swooping and endless. This is what he has tried to avoid. That night he lay by Jim's side, wakeful in the darkness, listening to the slow, heavy slump of Jim's heart, touching the soft, vulnerable parts of his body.

"I could have found her. I could have held her hand." This is what he should have said to Jim, then, when Jim had told him about Lyla: It would have hurt her worse if you had been there. It would have killed her a thousand times to see you die too. If she loved you. If she loved you, that would be the most terrifying thing of all, to have you hold her hand. She would want you to live. Live, live.

And I knew what he wanted from me, and that it was wanted. I knew what he wanted, and I could give it. And it was such a little thing, the giving, such a little thing, even though it had illogically appeared as though it were the biggest thing of all.

The warm willingness of his blood. How breakable Jim was, how tender. He thinks on how much that used to scare him. But the fragility is part of the beauty. He sees that now. Every love story is a potential grief story. That's the whole point.

The realisation comes to him then, slowly and with a sense of dislocated surprise, that he has been wrong all along. For even now, even now with the heartbreak he finds he is gladder than he has ever been to look upon the sky. Everything, everything that happened, even if Jim is lost to him forever, is worth it, because of the colour of the sky. Now it will always mean something to him. Always. And he finds he would not have it any other way.

He finds that he misses Jim not just physically, intellectually, socially, but also morally. But loving Jim was always about seriousness and truth. How could it not have been? Spock sees that now. Loving Jim was the most logical action in the Universe, because it made him better.

There is a line from a book and it goes like this: At first he only dipped below the surface of sleep, and skimmed along like a salmon in shallow water, so close to the surface that he fancied himself in air. He thought himself awake when he was already asleep.

"Jim." Spock pushes the hair back from Jim's brow, and then he says, "Istau nash-veh tu-gluvau lu du sa'awek il svi'mu'gel'es, tauraun ha'ge-tu hasu." "Surak?" "Yes. He says: I wish I could show you when you are lonely or in the darkness, the astonishing light of your own being."

But Spock smiles back, the little half-smile-not-quite-a-smile Jim'd first fallen in love with, natural and guileless, a smile that has no intention to charm. It makes Jim's throat ache. Gold, gold, gold from straw.