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writingwithcolor · 11 months

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Running Commentary: What is “ok to do” in Mixed-Culture Supernatural Fiction?

Dear readers:

Today we are trying something new. To give you some insight into our process in the Japanese moderator section, we are presenting our response in the form of running commentary to show you how we dissect and answer long asks. We hope this makes clear what points are useful and not useful when sending us a query. As always, this is for learning purposes, not callouts. Be prepared: this is a long one.

To summarize: the asker is looking to create a comic drawn in Japanese manga style, and has provided a long summary of the story and worldbuilding which involves a mix of “reimagined” Japanese yokai mythos and cultural symbols from many other sources. They have questions with respect to cultural appropriation, coding etiquette, and “what is and isn’t ok.”

Opening Comments

I know a common advice when it comes to the thing I am about to ask is to talk to people involved in __, but I struggle with opening up to strangers for reasons I'm uncomfortable explaining.

Marika (M): This is already a red flag. If you want to engage with another culture without talking to people from that culture, then research is going to be very challenging. You won’t have members of that culture to guide you towards sources and perspectives they feel most accurately represents public opinion. If I were in your shoes, I might start with tackling my discomfort when engaging with other people, if only to improve my work. If you aren’t ready to engage with a culture and its people directly, then I think you should wait until you are.

I should note, reaching out to the Japanese mod team at WWC does count as engagement, but WWC should not and cannot be the only point of contact because there is no single, legitimate cultural perspective.

Rina (R): Also, you don’t need to “open up” to strangers or talk to them in person to get perspectives. Asking specific research questions anonymously to a forum or on social media requires very little vulnerability. You managed to do it here on WWC. So give it a try!

Anyway, my question basically amounts to the what is and isn't ok [sic] in terms of depicting fantasy creatures and concepts outside of their respective culture.

R: So, the reason why we turn away rubber stamp questions by that ask “is XYZ okay?” is because “okay” & “not okay” 1) is vague and 2) creates a dichotomy where there isn’t one.

When we say something is “not okay,” do we mean:

It’s offensive to the general majority of XYZ group?

It’s contentious among people who ID in the group?

It has a potential to be interpreted in a certain negative way, but may not be a red flag to everyone?

Insetad try asking:

What are the reasons this subject is offensive?

What makes cultural appropriation bad?

When might it be “okay” to intentionally discuss a difficult or controversial topic?

What is your reason for including something that may be interpreted as offensive and can it be sufficiently justified?

What stereotypes or tropes might it be consistently identified as or associated with, and why?

When might it be justified to bring up these tropes?

With That In Mind...

Let’s get into the rest of the ask below.

…a story I've been working on in recent times is largely inspired off the Japanese yokai, and the setting is basically Earth in the far future, as far as when the next supercontinent may form. These yokai, although portrayed differently here, do retain their main characteristics [...] Included in this world are two goddesses of my own creation, primarily representing the sun and the moon. [...] There will be thirteen nations, named and based after the Chinese Zodiac, and the life force found in the living things in this world, called qi, comes in two forms that are always opposing each other but can never fully overpower the other, this being based off yin and yang. They're even directly named this; yin qi and yang qi.

M: This reads more like using Japanese and Chinese culture for the “aesthetics”, not the cultures themselves, which I personally feel falls under cultural appropriation. From a world-building/ coding standpoint, the actual use of concepts is workable, and, dare I say, typical, given how Chinese cosmology influences Japanese culture. However, naming a concept “yin qi” or “yang qi” is the equivalent of naming something “- charge” or “+ charge”, respectively. That you don’t seem aware of this tells me you are pretty early in your research phase. In that vein, we’ve covered translating terms and names from foreign languages in fantasy before. See the following article linked here for our recommendation against using RL terms outright but instead encouraging people to create their own conlangs.

R: Worldbuilding-wise, I think you would have to figure out the chicken-or-egg of the zodiac nations. Did the nations come first, and the zodiac later as an origin folk story (which you would have to rewrite to serve the nation-building narrative)? Did the zodiac come first, and the nations named (most likely re-named) by a political entity? What is the justification? Otherwise, again, it’s a shoehorning of aesthetics.

There is also a third, lesser known god based off of fox spirits and trickery and I imagined he's the patron deity of a family that honors and worships him, but his influence on them has transformed them into Kitsune-tsuki, which I depict as fox-like anthros.

M: Not related to this ask directly, but I have jokingly ranted about how often non-Japanese people prefer using imagery related to kitsune-tsuki in Japanese coded world-building (link). This makes me feel the same level of petty irritation. See my troll answer below for a similar experience.

R: Same. It’s boring tbh.

M: Troll Answer: I get that kitsune-tsuki are very sexy furries, but Japanese folklore has other sexy furries too! These underrepresented demographics also deserve recognition and appreciation!!

The plot of the story is this; modernization has left the goddesses neglected of their worship and forgotten, something that is necessary in this world to stop them from fighting each other. The Moon Goddess awakens first, punishing the humans by unleashing the yokai. Then the Sun Goddess wakes up to fight in humanity's defense…

M: This could feel rather like Shinto-like coding (Ex. the myth of Amaterasu and the Cave, or Tsukuyomi slaying Ukemochi), but something about this scenario feels a bit too binary in terms of themes of good v. evil, light v. dark to be Shinto. The plot also feels more Gaelic/ Nordic in influence for me as a person raised in a Japanese Buddhist and Hindu household. I imagine this dissonance could have been fixed with better guided research.

…but their fighting has caused a perma-eclipse and this world is in danger of ending. The yokai have run rampant; some are loyal to the Moon Goddess, and some aren't, and it lies to the main characters to bring balance back to Midgard. Yeah... the name of this future Earth is Midgard. I debate changing it since it and some other things I will mention sorta feel out of place.

R: Marika, looks like you were right on the Gaelic/Nordic influence /j

Also, worldbuilding question: if the Earth is in the far geologic future, how long has it been since modernization (19th-20th century)? Centuries? Millennia? How long has this fighting gone on for? What triggered the perma-eclipse, and why now? Why is this time depth necessary?

One of the main characters in question is a humanoid woman with wolf features named Ling, and she is a descendant of the dynasty that had first ruled the one of the nations, particularly the one based off the dragon zodiac. She accidentally summons the other main character to this world as she's praying at a shrine, a humanoid with dragon features--I call them drakon--named Angelynn.

[on the names of characters] is it appropriating by not having the world entirely based on [Chinese, Japanese, and Indian] influence? it's a little weird to me how worldwide the creatures are referred to as yokai, implying a strong Japanese influence not unlike how it is today with Western culture being so dominant, yet there are still names like Keith and Kiara.

M: I will give you credit for recognizing you have unconsciously veered towards white-washing/ race-bending: either presenting European cultural influences (drakons, Angelynn, Keith, Kiara, Midgard) as default or utilizing general E. Asian cultural influences and aesthetics for a Western-style story (Ling, qi, Chinese zodiac, yokai). I agree with you that this creates a sense of cultural dissonance. At this point, I’d say you have a clear choice: write a Western-style high fantasy using a background with which you have more familiarity, or get some better guidance on research with East Asian cultures so you can code the story more effectively.

The focus of this story is centered around meeting all these yokai and showing that there's more nuance to them than Ling believes, all while saving the world. But I worry if I'm appropriating these concepts and creatures by 1, drawing from more than one culture--I initially imagined that there would be a mix of Chinese, Japanese and Indian influence because according to a website I am getting the info on yokai from, the yokai in question already draw inspiration from or have been based on something in Chinese mythology or Hinduism [...]

R: Sure, some yokai have Chinese or Hindu parallels as that tends to happen with folk tales. But not all–some are unique to Japan, and some are more modern. Sometimes it’s very political–some people consider the Ainu Korpokkur as being a “Yokai of Japan” despite it belonging to the indigenous culture. It’s up to you to research, untangle, and understand these influences.

The fact that you bring up that the Asian continent has seen a lot of cultural exchange is not a sufficient reason to randomly combine influences for the sake of visual appeal or “coolness.” That is appropriation. These influences must be understood in their historical context so that you know how/why certain things combined or morphed into another, and what makes sense to combine/morph.

M: This also indicates that the character views the yokai as evil/inherently bad, which I would argue is not a typical stance for much Japanese folklore. Again, this shows a deficit in research.

2, reimagining these yokai in a new context even though I have done the research on them, because one thing I kept seeing in regards to cultural appropriation is that it's bad to do that […]

R: Refer above to my note on “okay” and “not okay.” The thing with folklore and fairy tales is that every–and I mean every–folk tale is reinterpreted with every new iteration of it. Reimagining in a new context is what people do every time they pass on a story or tell a story with the same plot or characters. Do not think of folklore as an “original” that is altered and rebooted, but rather a living document that gets added to. Reimagining is not the inherent issue. HOW you reimagine something matters.

So I suppose my question is...if someone were to do research upon the creature they want to use, given they are allowed to use it, and gained an understanding of what the creature or concept stood for, are they allowed to pick it apart and reimagine it? Alternatively, is it ok if it's explicitly pointed out that it is derivative of the original?

It has actually become my biggest fear that I may have internalized something that could both continue to do harm long after the fact and attract the wrong people to me work. I don't wanna let people down!

M: As Rina has noted several times, I think the problem is in trying to ID a set of specific variables and circumstances that make a thing “okay” or “not okay.” I want to recommend that you read my joking response about writing in secret rooms while wearing a disguise (Linked here). Who can you hurt if no one knows what you are doing? There’s a difference between creating for oneself and creating to share.

You have internalized a message incorrectly, but not the one you cite. The goal of many recommendations against cultural appropriation is to avoid causing direct harm to people who have seen their cultures demeaned, discredited and devalued, especially in shared spaces. Assessing cultural engagement, whether we are talking about appropriation, appreciation or exchange is not a measure of personal virtue or a collection of commandment style do’s and don’t’s. Rather, I believe engaging with other cultures is the state of mind of acknowledging that when using these cultures’ in one’s own work, there is value in consulting members of that culture and giving credit where credit is due. This will be challenging if you are only comfortable engaging with all of these cultures in a distanced, minimal capacity.

FWIW, I’ve written stories that probably will offend people from other cultures and backgrounds, but I don’t show them off. I don’t think writing these makes me a bad person, but I also don’t see the need to give unnecessary offense, so those stories are just for me, to be written and read in my own secret room. However, I’m not ashamed of having written them, and I’m also comfortable to “let people down” provided that my own shared work reflects my personal principles of what I consider to be sufficient research and engagement with other cultures, As a creator, my work wouldn’t be mine if I didn’t first please myself. I think the trick to the creator role is deciding what to keep private, what to share and what constitutes sufficient engagement.

P.S.

We’ve referenced the need for research multiple times in this ask, and in some of the other asks that have gone up this week, so we thought this would be a good place to plug a beginner’s guide to academic research created by the mod team.. Look for it soon under WWC’s pinned posts!

#japanese #chinese #fantasy #cultural appropriation #coding #worldbuilding #names #mythology #folklore #fairy tales #asks #running commentary #writeblr

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hyukasmiles · 11 months

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imagine having an unforgettable one night stand with beomgyu and then months later when ure still thinking abt him u find out hes ur new roommate … 😱

—Beomgyu—

Description: this is a long one 😔 also I pulled this out of thin air so like i’m so sorry if it’s bad 😛

Fem Reader

Warnings: NSFW// unprotected sex// oral// dry humping// multiple orgasms // NOT PROOF READ

—

“No dick in the world is that good.” You groan to yourself, folding to rest your head on your steering wheel. “I need to get a life.” Your neighbor is in the car next to yours, and you briefly notice him watching you pout because you thought you saw your one nightstand from a month ago and when you called out for him it either wasn’t him or he ignored you, because he just kept walking. You shouldn’t be this upset over the fact that the man who you slept with one time might have ignored you- especially since he’s the same guy who ghosted you the day after.

“Pull yourself together.” You fling open the door of your car, ready to stomp up the stairs to your apartment and maybe take a nap. You get to do the first part but the bright red eviction notice on your door stops you from the second. “Jesus fuck!” You yell, crumpling the paper slightly.

“Hey neighbor!” Yeonjun, the neighbor from the car, must have followed you up the stairs where he stands behind you, reading the notice from over your shoulder.

“This is ridiculous.” You grumble, “he always gives us an extra week to get our checks in.” Yeonjun nods and pulls out his phone.

“You should get a roommate.” It looks like he’s searching for something, his eyebrows knit as he looks at the small screen. “My buddy needs one too, his name is Beomgyu.”

“I don’t want to live with a stranger.” You groan again, unlocking the door to your soon to be past home. “You want to come in?”

“He’ll be at my place more than he’s here…” Yeonjun steps into your house and you follow him, heading to the kitchen. “Plus… I think you guys have met, he keeps on asking me about you.”

“I don’t know a Beomgyu.” Except the guy you keep dreaming about told you he went by Gyu. “I need to move anyway, the rent is getting too expensive.” You freeze when Yeonjun shoves his phone in your face.

“You've never seen him before?” Your mouth falls open slightly, matching Beomgyu’s in the picture you’re staring at, it’s him. “We should get coffee, see if you like him… maybe sign a lease!”

“You’re being weirdly pushy about this.” You throw open the fridge door, trying to act normal. There is absolutely no way you can live with this man.

“So this will be your room… I cleaned it last night so you’re good to just move in whenever.” You mumble, opening the door to your used to be office. “Rent is due every month on the fourth.” You leave Beomgyu with a tight lipped smile, desperate to get away from him and the way he makes you feel.

“Oh! Y/n! I hope our… history won’t make this awkward.” Beomgyu laughs, moving out of the doorway to let Yeonjun carry boxes in the room.

“History?” The man asks, quirking an eyebrow and rolling up his sleeves. “So you two do know each other?”

“We met a while ago.” You try to laugh it off but you can tell it’s not working, your neighbor tapping his foot on the laminate flooring. “I didn’t even recognize him until he was in front of me.”

Yeonjun let’s out a little oh and accepts your answer, walking back out to the moving van.

“You didn’t remember me?” Beomgyu laughs.

“No.” You turn to walk into your room.

Living with Beomgyu turns out to be a lot easier than expected. He’s pretty timid but you can tell he's loud by nature, it shines through most when he’s playing video games. Usually he plays on his PC in his bedroom but sometimes he migrates to the switch he hooked up to your TV, tonight is one of those times.

“Blue shell, Kai??” He yells, shaking the controller in his hand. “I was literally in first place.” You can’t help the laugh as you pour a glass of water. “It’s not funny, Y/n! This is serious, we have money on this.”

“That’s ridiculous.” You snort and sit down on the couch next to him. Beomgyu never wants to be too close to you, always scooting over or standing up, but he’s so focused on winning that all he does is slide down to the floor- somehow bringing himself closer to you. To your surprise he just sits pressed up against your leg.

When Beomgyu loses he grabs you out of frustration, pulling you down onto the floor with him. You land with a thump and a groan but he doesn’t care to ask if you’re ok. “I was cheated.”

“Sore loser.” You can hear Kai from the headphones around your roommate's neck. Watching him act like this it’s hard to believe you ever even considered sleeping with him.

Beomgyu is definitely not your type. You’re known for going for guys like Yeonjun, not the loud nerdy gamers who only leave the house once a week like your hermit of a roommate. But the memory from months ago remains in the forefront of your mental subconscious and you get reminded of it every time Beomgyu wears sweatpants.

“You want to play?” Beomgyus' voice startles you, that and the fact he’s basically shoving the controller into your hands. “You have to beat Kai!”

You stop him before he can place the headphones on you two, trying to hand him back the controller. “I have to go get ready. I have a date tonight.”

Truth be told you don’t really have a date- unless you count flirting with random guys at a bar a date. But you like the way Beomgyu looks at you as you slip your heels on. “Is this guy picking you up?” He asks, biting his lip.

“No, we’re meeting at the bar around the corner.”

You sit as prettily as you can; legs crossed, back arched, you even make sure your hair has fallen nicely as you wait for someone- anyone to approach you. Briefly, you consider going up to someone yourself, but if there’s one thing you refuse to do it’s look desperate in front of some hot guy who’s probably banging the bartender or gay so you sit and pout.

Shoulders sagging in defeat you guess it’s time to give up for the night and to seal the deal you wave over the bartender to pay your tab. It’s been a long time since you’d had to pay for your own drinks but there’s probably a good reason for it.

“You ready to go?” The bartender is gorgeous, maybe you could leave with her.

“Sure am.” You push your boobs out a little as you lean on the counter. “What time do you leave here?”

“Around three A.M usually. Is your boyfriend paying for this?” Was she… trying to see if you’re in a relationship? You don’t usually go for women but if she can make you cum then you’ll sit at this bar until noon tomorrow to go home with her.

Stupidly enough you start with a small uh and the most awkward smile you’ve ever made. “No… No boyfriend?”

“Cmon baby, don’t just write me off.” It’s a voice you recognize but can’t place, an arm wrapping around your waist. “We get in one argument and we’re over?” The man’s opposite hand slips a card to the waiter while you furrow your eyebrows trying to think of what’s weird about the voice behind you. When his hand pats your stomach, a habit he picked up from his friend, you know who it is.

You look up at Beomgyu with your mouth slightly open, leaning into him a little. This is the guy you would’ve hooked up with months ago, not the whiny gamer you now live with. “You’re paying for me?” You whisper.

The bartender hands Beomgyu back his card, winking at you as she walks off. “Let’s go, baby.” His words are hot on your neck, the heat traveling all the way down to your now soaking cunt. Beomgyu keeps his arm wrapped around you as the other one trails down your arm and to your hand.

You’re in a daze as Beomgyu leads you out of the bar and down the street to your apartment, holding you firmly against his side. Memories of your roommate and his skills in the bedroom are clouding your brain as he basically carries you up the stairs. “You got your keys on you, pretty?” You hum out a yes and dig in your purse. “You’re just perfect.”

It’s crazy how attractive Beomgyu is to you right now, even the way he unlocks the door is somehow sexy, and when he actually picks you up and sits you down on the cold counter you wonder if you could cum just from being thrown around. “You look so pretty tonight.” The man mumbles, spreading open your thighs so he can slot his hips in between them. “This is the same dress you wore last time. I wonder if you have the same panties on.”

“I do…” You whisper, lifting your hips and pulling the skirt of your dress up until you’re almost completely exposed, saved by a flimsy pink piece of lace. “Wore em’ just for you.” You grab Beomgyu’s hand and place it just below your navel. “I think you reached here last time.” You lean in so your lips are just barely ghosting by his.

“Been waiting so long to fuck you again.” You wrap your legs around his waist at the confession, grinding your cunt against the growing bulge in his pants. You whine as Beomgyu starts humping against you, the feeling of his jeans pushing your lace underwear against your clit has you wriggling beneath him, his arms caging you in as he sloppily tries to kiss you.

“I need you, Gyu, now!” You spread your legs even wider, digging your fingers into his shoulders. Beomgyu just whines back at you, his head sinking into your neck as he continues his ministrations.

Beomgyu’s breathing is getting more and more labored as his hands move to pull your dress over your head. “Feel so good. You’re perfect.” He grumbles, rolling one of your nipples with his cold fingers.

“It’ll feel better if you’d fuck me.” You move your hands to undo the buttons of his shirt but your fingers are so shaky that you can only get one of two done before you give up.

“It’s ok baby, you can just pull it off.” Beomgyu goes as far as to lift his arms in the air, his hips refusing to stop as he does so. “Or tear it, I don’t care.”

You slip your fingers under the hem of his shirt, pulling the two sides apart, gasping when the buttons pop off with barely any pressure. “So… sorry.” You draw out, pushing the shirt off his shoulders.

“ ‘S ok.” Beomgyu whines, folding back to rest his head in your neck. He bites and sucks at the skin as his whines get shorter and shorter. Eventually he loses all rhythm in his thrusts, and then he stops all together. You look down at him in surprise, his eyes going wide as he tries to catch his breath.

“Did you just-“ Beomgyu nods, blush creeping up his cheeks. The man in front of you sinks to his knees, buries his head in your thighs, and laughs. “Eat me out while you’re down there.” You mumble, threading your fingers through his hair. You’re shocked when he nods, large hands pushing your knees apart.

Surprise fills you when Beomgyu shoves his head in between your thighs, sucking on your clit through the lace of your panties. He continues like this, lapping at your hole and biting at your clit until you’re shaking. “I need more, Gyu.” You whine, trying to lift your hips to slide your underwear off but he holds you down onto the counter. You lean back on your elbows and try to grind against his face but he doubles down.

You give up, throwing your head back and whining as your orgasm slowly creeps forward. But then Beomgyu sucks on your clit, his teeth scraping against it and your shaking, tears welling up as you cum all over his face.

Beomgyu wastes no time slipping your underwear off, choosing to rip the fabric. “Can’t wait anymore.” He groans, pushing his pants and underwear down just enough for his cock to spring out. It’s longer than you remember, a little thicker too. He slips into you like he’s done it a hundred times before, a long breathy groan leaving him as he bottoms out. “God your pussy is great.”

“You’re so big.” You whine in response, wrapping your arms around his neck, bucking up against him. “M’ so full, Beomgyu.”

Groaning, Beomgyu pulls all the way out and slips in again, a moan tearing through your throat at the feeling of a vein catching against your walls. Your cunt is squeezing around him- pulling him back in every time he pulls out. “Baby-“ He's whining again, leaning across your chest to place his head back in your neck. “I’m not gonna last, you're so tight.” His fingers move to run small circles on your puffy clit.

Your thighs start to shake and you somehow squeeze around him even tighter, barely letting him move as Beomgyu drives you full force into another orgasm. “Loosen up, pretty, I gotta fuck you still.” You try your hardest to calm down, grabbing onto his arms so tight you almost think you draw blood- but you just can’t.

It doesn’t slow Beomgyu down too much, his thrust turning short and shallow, enough to get him off apparently because he’s filling you up with a groan. “Perfect fucking pussy.” He whines, kissing you on the cheek. “I think I’m in love with you.”

—-

Inbox always open 😎

#txt #txt smut #beomgyu #kpop smut #beomgyu smut

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dropsofletters · 1 year

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how to unsubscribe to dating

SUMMARY: on april 18th, hansol likes his favorite youtuber’s instagram picture. not because of her content—though, he finds himself laughing at all of her weekly videos—but because he thinks she’s gorgeous. that is how it ends. just a like on a picture that no one will see.

three years later and after a tough break-up, the internet hates her and a misstep has hansol dragged into the drama. now, everyone thinks they are dating and what a better way to gain subscribers and have millions on views on their videos? just let them think it’s real and work on a whole season of dare videos for the world to enjoy.

only that it is not so easy, one can subscribe to a youtube channel but not really unsubscribe to falling in love.

TITLE: how to unsubscribe to dating.

PAIRING: chwe hansol x reader

GENRE: youtuber!au ; fake dating-ish!au ; youtube drama!au ; strangers to friends to lovers!au ; idiots in love!au

WORD COUNT: 14,014 words

GENRE: fluff ; humor ; drama ; angst if you squint ; suggestive

NOTE: this was a kofi request! if you want me to write anything, you can go over there and request something from me.

The secret to color theory is that there are primary colors, and the rest are just blend-able shades that would not exist without bases, foundations and ‘trials-and-errors’. In some sense, we correlate the color of our lives to that primary stance—we are red, we are yellow…the intensity that we want to be. How we want to counterpart in a main role that, inherently, sometimes won’t be settled upon us. The saddening truth of being a purple, or a lime green.

She would have never imagined herself to be anything more than a yellow. She said, when she was younger, that her voice would be so high that the annoying tone that came with her made her stand out in any crowd. Yellow. And then came heartbreak, teenage years, the blending with a pure gray or a black undertone that could never get her to darken her soul. It was more like a mustard yellow. Lulled. Not as bright. Just wishing upon standing out again, blending nicely with everyone, but always sticking out like a sore thumb. Hard to look in the eyes.

For the past two months, she felt like she was back to her bright yellow. To smiles with all teeth, shared with Jay as he wrapped his arms around her shoulder; to late-night talks with the phone screen glaring across her vision as she whispered small ‘I don’t want to go’s. Relatively, that comes to a stop. Because, in the eyes of a man that she dated with the dumbfounded hope to finally meet the love of her life, she was never yellow. God, he’d cringe at the mere sound of the Coldplay song. She was brown.

As in shitty brown.

Jay should be better than this. In actuality, after how everything fell down with a break-up text that he never really responded to, she doesn’t think he’s better, but hey, common sense is a thing still, isn’t it? As a YouTuber, quite like her, who shared the same interests and niche with a commentary channel based on pop-culture, one would think that he would not incorporate their ‘not-that-talked-about’ relationship in a Tweet. Though, maybe she had seen him as a bright blue, when he’s nothing but—at best—a plum or a dark gray.

You know, like having concrete between your teeth. Not that pleasurable, neither something she wants to try again.

@notthatjay_lee: how does that song go? a, b, c, d, e, f…thank you for wasting my motherfucking time.

She chuckles. Actually, full-on laughs when sitting on the counter at her kitchen, trying or supposedly about to edit her newest video commenting on Disney’s old shows and how she binge-watched them on a brim. Not that the viewers should know that she watched the entirety of Hannah Montana in a week because she was going through a break-up and crying for the asshole that Jay Lee is, but she needed to update after being a month away.

She continues scrolling, watching the thread that has formed in the tweet and the hundreds of comments that tag her. They weren’t precisely out as a relationship, but it was known. They went to conventions together, appeared in pictures with fans tagged together. It wasn’t hidden under the rug, but it was also not blasted out of proportion like Jay is doing right now.

He responded to a fan.

@jaysassissick: We are here for you, Jay! I can’t believe what some bitches can do for fame.

@notthatjay_lee: imagine getting cheated on by someone who can’t even reach a million subscribers. lol. can sadly relate.

“You just didn’t…” She mutters to herself, standing up and closing her laptop with a bang. More notifications pop up, from all social media that she could muster. Pictures tagged of the two of them together coming up with headlines that read commentary-channel YouTubers feuding. Cheating. Cheater, out of all things.

And that’s the thing about women. If they are not colors that blend well with the primary ones, like men expect to be, they are tarnished and burned to ashes to stay in the ground. That was her case, in which her silence was the ignition of a chain of events that now are out of her reach. None of those people that keep harassing her online can know that Jay had been distant the past month; that he’d spend more of his days running away from her than actually trying to put effort into the relationship.

That it’d be more looking through social media to see him commenting on pictures of his supposed ‘friends’ wearing bikinis and his phone hidden with his face down whenever they were together. It was not confirmed, of course, she didn’t have enough proximity with him, neither did they live together for her to confirm that her suppositions were true, but something she knows. Jay is not a saint, neither is she for the rage that builds within her like a Lego house that burns with the unsatiable need of revenge.

She almost believes that the best way to go about this is making it as public as he is. However, she knows she’s better. Yellow, bright, shining, as she has always been, just shadowed by someone who was envious of how burning her colors could be. Hence, she puts her phone down after turning it off, quite like he did whenever a fight ensued between the two and he would play the victim card with a pout to his lips. She thinks about it—the video she is supposed to edit, the pictures on her phone she has yet to delete and the revival, that word that speaks about new beginnings and definitely, a smirk that tells the past that she’s doing much better.

For now, she’s just alone in her apartment. With a bowl of noodles that has gone cold and a heart that is palpitating far too fast, for heartbreak isn’t easy, much less when it’s this open, but she can think of ways of getting back to Jay, whether the public knows it’s directly thrown his way or not.

She owes this man nothing.

“Jeonghan, I need you recording my shit. Not looking at your phone.”

With a hand quipping closed as if asking for Hansol’s lips to remain shut, Jeonghan remains as relaxed as he had been when they started recording this weekly’s recap. Though, while Hansol had been stumbling over his lines—as per usual on a Saturday morning, that’s the only time they could meet up because Seungcheol was going on a trip this weekend for his cousin’s wedding—, Jeonghan had frankly lost his mind to whatever is showcased in his phone. So far in the text he’s reading, which Hansol is certain is not a book, that he leaned back on one of the love seats in Hansol’s office, propped his knees to his chest in fetal position and lurked through whatever caught his interest like a lion looking for his prey.

“The moment you can get a word out without stuttering is the moment we start recording.” Jeonghan runs a hand through his black hair, covering the rudeness of his words with a soft smile. Hansol knows better than to take Jeonghan’s words close to heart, but still.

“I just needed some more coffee.”

Seungcheol enters the room then, with a new Starbucks drink since Hansol decided to steal his. “You drank my macchiato.” With a slap on the back of Hansol’s head, the man takes a seat on the other empty love-seat, as if there is not a whole video to be recorded and posted on Monday. “But Hansol’s not wrong. I have to get on that plane at four and it’s nine in the morning. We can get through this video if we just start recording it.”

Jeonghan doesn’t respond and Hansol takes this time to sigh deeply and toss his head back. Things were easier when posting a YouTube video wasn’t so…meticulous. At the beginning, just over eight years ago, Hansol had posted a video on social media that had gotten quite visibly viral. He had over a million views in just fourteen hours, breaking records somehow, making it to meme accounts and Vine compilations. Stupid as it could get, it was a video of Hansol wearing a swimming hat and those aesthetic sunglasses that resembled John Lennon’s style, with Jeonghan zooming in on the frame and him saying: ‘bitch’ before the video came to an end.

It had literally no context, but he made a living out of it.

That’s how he launched his career, changed the name and created an online persona. He called himself Zach, sporting bright and quite frankly unfitting outfits and making meme weekly recaps. He spoke about what was new on the Internet, made fun of some videos, never quite made it to the commentary channel spectrum but became a voice that over ten million people had subscribed to. No one knew that his real name was Hansol, or that he wasn’t as outspoken as he was in his videos. Never an opinion that breaks or makes a room.

Jeonghan grabs the coffee mug from Seungcheol’s hold, ignoring the man’s complaints to take a sip. “I think I have a topic we need to add to this week’s review.” He finally pulls away from his original position, biting down on his lip like he does when he has an idea that he can’t keep on the depths of his chest. “Have you heard about the newest drama with Jay Lee?”

Hansol crosses his arms across his chest, sitting on the edge of the desk that holds his computer, always in front of him in his videos. “Jay…Lee? Doesn’t ring a bell for me.”

“You know, the TikTok guy who makes POV’s videos.” Jeonghan urges on, tossing a glance towards Seungcheol who finally snatches his drink before giving a curt nod.

“Even I remember who he is.”

“How many guys don’t make ridiculous videos on TikTok?” Hansol prompts, only to have Jeonghan sighing.

“He was known on YouTube for his music videos and parodies. You know how that went a little bit downhill lately, so his niche has changed. Makes videos every once in a while.” Jeonghan includes in his narrative, turning his phone around to show a picture of a man he now recognizes. Damn, even in his beginnings as a YouTuber, Jay Lee already had a bunch of people under his name. With long, tossed back black hair, tattoos that scatter across a slim, tall body and a pair of glasses that always rest on the brim of his straight nose. He was of interest for a bunch of people on the Internet, even to this day.

“What about him?” Hansol questions, only to have Jeonghan clapping his hands once.

“He’s burning the Internet with his latest allegations. He was dating a commentary channel YouTuber, though they never accepted it, but he’s making the allegations that she cheated on him and has announced that he’s releasing a diss track to explain everything.” He’ll never understand how the world revolves around drama, but Jeonghan gives more explanation by saying her name and giving him the phone once again.

The picture shows a couple together with a fan, and he recognizes her with far more ease. He remembers last summer, when he would spend most of his afternoons laughing about her videos with the graphics she made. Very rarely does her face show on her videos, but she draws a little character that speaks, through her commentary, about the topic at hand. Always a show. A video. A meme. Hell, he thinks that she once talked about him on a video years ago.

Jay is much taller than her, with his arm wrapped around her shoulder, squishing their cheeks together as they hold peace signs, her hand interlocked with the young fan’s. They didn’t look necessarily in love, but close enough to it. Like the beginning of a love that had just started to flourish.

“What has he said?” Seungcheol questions, now interested in the topic.

“What hasn’t he said? He has spent the past three days creating a YouTube war. He has even dropped her name a few times, tagging her, asking her to be upfront because she has escaped the internet. MIA and all.”

Hansol can’t imagine how tough it is to go through a break-up where the other person is trying to plot everyone against her. Sure, he’s not certain if she cheated, but he takes his own phone to look through Twitter, seeing him post pictures of the two of them together—clearly personal, never seen by anyone but them—, adding thread after thread of how in love he was with her and how badly she broke his heart. It seemed like he was bleeding through a wound that was never quite as open as he made it out to be.

“What an asshole.” He mutters, getting closer to the computer and writing something down on his script. “I think we can add it to this week’s episode. The last bit. Just for a few clicks and because…he’s really getting out of control.”

“And everyone is supporting him.” Jeonghan adds, shrugging his shoulders. “Would be nice to give an opinion that isn’t sided one way or the other.”

“…That’s putting Hansol against a man that has just about the same following as him. Including him in the war isn’t going to do the channel any good.”

Hansol looks up at that moment, raising his eyebrows and weighting the options. Seungcheol isn’t wrong, but he knows this is a topic that needs to be talked about. Break ups on the internet. Where some people post videos crying and hugging for the last time, while others take their following to side with them as if it was a parent going through divorce.

“Yes, but this whole Zach character is about that. Speaking about what I think is wrong, right or funny…and these tweets? Stupid, borderline funny, over-line worrying.”

Seungcheol takes a sip of his macchiato, bringing a shoulder up in nonchalance. “I’ll have to take care of the mess after, but if that’s what’s going to bring the views, go for it.”

Is he really doing it for views, though? Or maybe, he just thinks it’s inherently wrong to destroy someone’s career that way, until they are too afraid to go on the internet because of hate. Jay Lee will have to learn a lesson about being made fun of.

@notthatjay_lee: glad to know the mystery’s resolved. @chwethatzach you’ve cleared the rumors up. song coming in three days!

Hyeji had said it seven months ago when she started liking Jay, as she flipped on tarot decks, spread them neatly on the coffee table between them, speaking through a cloud caused by the blunt between her lips. Jay Lee’s an imbecile, he’ll break your heart. She didn’t listen, because in her mind all men go through a phase of being overly-confident and, quite frankly, assholes. She opted to believe that Jay was willing to change and talk, venturing into a friendship and then, into whatever kind of relationship they had held that now is a complete disaster.

Her best friend, Moon Hyeji, runs her fingers through her dirty hair after showing her the tweet that Jay had just posted. Tagging her after, nonetheless. Hyeji, as wild as she is, with long locks of wavy hair and a rose tattoo on the column of her neck, had called Jay just a day ago, telling him to back off before she took legal actions. Taking it from the woman who is the daughter of one of the richest men in the country, a businessman nonetheless, Jay should have taken it a little bit more seriously. Hence, he doesn’t.

“What the fuck do I even have to do with that dude?” She questions, finally standing up from her position on Hyeji’s lap. Ever since this issue went to absolute hell, with the diss track incoming and a handful of people making drama videos about the timeline of their very short-lived relationship, Hyeji had travelled all the way from London to get here and eat piles of ice cream while bad-mouthing Jay. Only that it didn’t help her the slightest.

She wants to talk, but she doesn’t know how to go on about the issue. Fueling the problem even more if just going to have his fans speaking with more fervor, and just like how he doesn’t have proof of her cheating, she also doesn’t have anything to defend herself with about not cheating.

“There’s a video, apparently…” Hyeji roams through her phone with long nails before she displays her screen on the TV in front of them. The image that loads is of the start of a video of someone she knows somewhat well, for she really likes Zach Chwe’s videos, or at least, she can catch up on them every once in a while.

Zach has always been a little different than most. He feels like a true friend that one can talk with as he launches in that green chair of his, always wearing clothes that leave everything to the imagination and would have everyone talking about him. He’s wearing a tie-dye hoodie, as per usual in some of his videos, with an apron on top of it that reads ‘the chef’s dead’ and a pair of sunglasses that rest on top of his brown hair. His soft eyebrows move with each of his words, firstly greeting his audience, then speaking about the newest memes found on the internet.

“He must have spoken about your issue with Jay.”

“How so? He never talks about drama.” She asks, getting a look from Hyeji who clears her throat soon after.

“People believe he’s the one guy Jay is saying you cheated with.” Her best friend whispers, moving through the video, getting fast glimpses of Zach laughing, tossing his head back, speaking through slim lips and using his ring-cladded hands to express his points. Only three minutes before the video ends does the image of Jay with her and a fan comes on the screen, earning Hyeji a few taps on her shoulder.

“There! There! Stop the video there!”

The darkness of her room, reeking the smell of orange chicken and diet soda, is bathed in the light of Zach Chwe as he rolls on his chair and says: “There’s a reason us men are called assholes and I think it’s because Jay Lee exists. Okay, I’m not anyone to be putting my opinion here and I usually stay away from these things, so I’m not sure if she cheated or not…but isn’t it, at least, the best thing you can do to spell correctly as you’re dissing your ex?”

Then, the screen shows screenshots of Jay’s tweets, bathed in hate, writing in the worst possible way and yet, with a few errors.

She hadn’t noticed that as she got drowned into the drama that he had created, so she smiles for what feels like the first time this week.

“You don’t even spell that well, Zach!” Someone shouts from the background, and she knows Zach Chwe normally has his friends putting in some words for spice on his videos, but she actually laughs along with him.

“More of a reason to critique, I guess.” He shrugs his shoulders. “But hey, remember those Facebook videos we talked about a few weeks ago? If you haven’t checked it out, I’ll leave the link to that video on the description, but we were making fun about those mom videos where they make their daughters fearful of sending nudes because some creep will post them on their Facebook page. I thought men like that didn’t exist, until I figured out this whole Jay Lee thing. He’s a hair away from posting a picture of her feet, I tell you so.”

The video doesn’t last much long after that, with Zach making fun of Jay’s tweets and then, the camera zooming in on his face for an outro recalling his beginnings online. However, Hyeji has fallen silent, with her knees propped under her chin, using her free hand to caress the column of her ear, as always, seeking for a way of making her feel better through touch.

“This sounds…like the internet is going insane.” Hyeji then reaches for her phone, shaking in the air. “Come on, unlock it and turn on your notifications again!”

“What? Why?” She is not sure she’s ready to lurk through social media once again, Hyeji has been doing that for her instead, like her little manager, blocking the hate that gets real and personal.

“Jay is playing it off as if Zach Chwe is the one that you’re dating, or the one you cheated on him with.”

“I didn’t cheat on him—

“I know, but he’s trying to get views and I need to know if Zach’s team contacted you, so open that phone and get a pair of balls for what we’re about to face.”

A pair of balls would be little to what she needs once she opens Twitter and Instagram.

On Instagram, she has been tagged on a bunch of pictures. Headlines that include her profile picture on YouTube and Zach Chwe’s picture. Titles that go on the rampant lie of ‘YouTube Stars Zach Chwe and OfDrawingsAndWords on a relationship!’ scattering across her vision on every platform she comes across of.

“I’m doomed. Jay keeps winning no matter what I do—”

“Because you haven’t said anything. You’re protecting him even when he’s trying to destroy you.” Hyeji advices, pushing on her Instagram notifications until she sees it, a direct message from the YouTuber who is implicated on this drama with her, nonetheless. “So, you either take the reigns right here, right now or Jay Lee is going to drown your career before it even reached the shore.”

Shaking fingertips reach for the Instagram message, closing her eyes tightly until she opens it.

“Read it.”

“Come on…” Hyeji trails, clasping the phone in her hands. “I know it’s been tough, but I don’t need you hiding away.”

“I’m scared! This guy has nothing to do with me!” She screeches, slapping her hand on her shoulder only to have Hyeji looking at her. With that softness that characterizes her under all her strength.

“Alright…” Hyeji whispers, soon after reading out loud. “Hey, it’s Zach Chwe. I’m sorry that my comments involved us in a mess bigger than what you already had going on and my team and I want to make mends on the issue I just created. Do you mind talking about it, in person or with my PR team getting in contact with you? Sorry for the inconvenience once again.”

Hyeji takes in a deep breath before tossing herself onto the half-done bed.

“We’re talking about it in person.”

“…Uh, we’re not.” She finalizes, trying to snatch her phone back but Hyeji isn’t relenting. Though, she’s not as rude as one would imagine, she still consenting by looking her way and expecting her to change her mind. “Hyeji, I don’t want to see anyone right now. Jay’s blowing everything out of proportion—”

“Reason as to why you shouldn’t hide. Zach Chwe can be a great person to have on your side right now. The internet loves him, and now they’re not as cruel. You have to see the comments, people are torn just because he is involved.”

That makes her ponder, inspecting every portion of Hyeji’s face to find some fun or joke in her features, but she’s full-on serious. Not a drop of insecurity in those quirked eyebrows. She sighs deeply, taking the phone in her hands and seeing the sign that reads ‘you follow each other’. Why is it that people naturally gravitate towards what a man can say or not, even when she has been expecting to be trusted by anyone online and no one seemed to be by her side?

No one but him and a few people. Even the friends that she had collaborated with several times had taken his side.

Hence, she starts typing, not caring about the consequences of fueling the fire a little bit more, because she’s already getting burned, but she won’t relent without a fight.

“I’m down with meeting up so we can sort out how we will go on about this. You select the place and the time. Thank you for getting in contact, by the way!”

Hyeji places a kiss on top of her head, squishing her slim cheek against her scalp.

“We will get past this, love. I swear we will.”

She doesn’t think this unreasonable love war is anywhere near over, however.

“I sure hope we will.”

Hansol thinks making ramen is an art form. He does it when he’s nervous instead of nibbling on his bottom lip or tugging his black beanie down his ears for the umpteenth time. Only he would think it was a great idea to meet with one of his favorite social media creators on a fucking convenience store, but he feels protected by the quietness and the sweet buzzing of the microwave as he wishes upon a start that the stacks of cheese that he poured on his flaming hot noodles becomes a puddle at the bottom that relishes its exquisiteness.

So, maybe, he’s a bit nervous. Reason as to why he had lost his grip a bit when pouring the cheese on the ramen basket.

It passes him how she has been able to spend weeks receiving the messages she does, but the moment he posted that video, the narrative took another turn. Hell, he even thinks he has seen some edited videos of the two of them as a supposed ‘couple’. The song has been released, heard by thousands, even more news coming up about them and he’s…surprised. About the sheltering that came from his pseudonym and how the world is torn. Now, Jay shines as a real villain and people ponder if leaving him for Hansol was the right choice.

How in the hell he got in this situation is misunderstood by him?

However, he rubs on his eye after grabbing the ramen noodles and plopping them on the nearest table, he hears the bells by the door ringing, the worker too occupied in organizing the strawberry milks to even care about her, but he does. None of her pictures online would ever compare to how she looks in real life. With a gray turtleneck for the weather, face ridden of any makeup, sweater half-tucked into her pants and yet, as her sunglasses rest on the brim of her head, she looks like a whole…dream.

She reminds him of the warmth that comes from a gust of breath on top of freezing hands when winter drops around. They are just barely reaching fall, but the weather has fallen significantly. She stands in front of him, looking away from her phone before a small smile reaches the corner of her eyes, not adding a small ‘hi’ as he does with a wave of his hand, but something to the air between them nonetheless.

“You look different when you’re not mumbling ‘bitch’ into the camera.”

Breaking the ice, warming the air, significant matters that only she can do and does in the brink of a second. Hansol plops the two bowls of ramen on the table, watching as she scrunches her nose at the cheese to stir it within the mixture, but he tries not to think too much about his decision. Maybe, she’s just not fond of cheese.

“I take that as a good thing. I don’t call anyone ‘bitch’ unless I get a really good check out of it.” Hansol jokes around, soon after widening his eyes when she quirks an eyebrow at him, the corner of her mouth barely lifting in a smirk. “Not that I’d call you anything of the like. Gosh, I’m being stupid. Uh…hi, I’m Hansol.”

“You’ve already said hi.” She prompts, picking up some of the noodles and unlike him, who has already burned the bridge of his mouth, she twirls them on the chopsticks, blows on them and munches on the cheesy treat. “But I didn’t know you were called Hansol. I would’ve sworn on my life that your real name was Zach.”

He shakes his head. “I want my real life nicely divided from who I am as a person online. Not that I am much different, but Hansol’s the name that I have on my ID and that I use for personal matters, so I don’t want to mix the two.” He shrugs his shoulders soon after, saying her name and earning a nod from her. “Okay, so, uh…to the matter at hand, right?”

“Straight to the point.” She clears her throat, giving him a smile before reaching for the diet soda Hansol had brought. “So, half the internet thinks we are dating…and that you’re that supposed side guy that I had while dating Jay.”

He shouldn’t ask. Shit, this is Jeonghan speaking in his brain, telling him to fucking ask, but he’s curious. He heard the nonsensical beat that Jay released in the form of a diss track that now has fifteen million views, so… “Did you really cheat on him or is he taking everything out of context?”

She spreads her hands across her chest, defending herself. “Here’s the thing, I am a woman. Me breaking up with a guy just because I was unhappy in a relationship directly has to mean I cheated on him. For starters, I didn’t. I liked Jay even after the break-up, obviously until the moment he decided to blow everything out of proportion.” She explains, sighing deeply after. “I didn’t, for instance. I’m sorry that you got involved.”

“No, I am the one that should be sorry.” Hansol shakes his head, rubbing his eyebrow as if something was bothering him. “It’s just—No, I’m sorry but I don’t regret it. I had to talk about it. Part of it was because obviously, it’s a trending topic, but also because…no one deserves to get the hate you’re getting right now.”

She remains silent, playing with the straw in between strawberry lips. Not an ounce of makeup and yet, the inside looks as if they were bitten to utter perfection. Hansol’s embarrassed that he has liked every picture of hers on social media ever since they started following each other.

Things that the public had sadly taken account of and had completely used against them to prove a supposed relationship.

“I don’t regret it either. That you did that, I mean.” She counterparts. “Sure, I shouldn’t be thinking about revenge, but Jay has been so distraught and the public has turned against him, while also not being on my side. They are just on your side.” With a mellowness that, somehow, he thinks should never belong to her, for the twist of her lips on a downwards motion is a terrible contrast to the smile he saw earlier. “Reason as to why my friend got in contact with one of the people from your team. I don’t have a team myself—”

“I’m surprised I even have a team, so I don’t judge you.” Hansol’s eyes twinkle, remembering the words he had shared with Seungcheol earlier. After all, he’s the manager and the one—technically, for Hansol still has his input—in charge of what is posted on his channel or not. “Seungcheol, my manager, talked to me about what your friend and mine talked about.”

Seungcheol was not that happy about the exposure that Hansol got, but after a while, Jeonghan weighted the options and became a mastermind for what the internet was aiming to see. They wanted to learn the other side of the story, just because it would be told by one of the most liked characters in YouTube as of now. Zach Chwe, venturing into the world of a person that no one would have ever thought he’d be compatible with. To break all the rumors with a show, a mini web-series for the world to gnaw at while both teams earned money.

“For the record, I know it’s a difficult thing to think about. I wasn’t in for it at first.” Hansol explains, and he’s not sure he’s ready to have a different light casted on his channel, but Jeonghan was clear to say that he wasn’t intending on a dating show or a couple’s channel. Instead, he wanted something…vague. “They just want us to work on a challenge mini-series. We’d do stuff like go to haunted houses or anything of the like. To make people wonder if we really did date or we were just in it for the show. They’d give us views, hoping to find something or any clues, and we’d leave with a good paycheck and a big question mark after what we were.”

She continues eating, pondering with fluttering eyelashes and a sigh that gets trapped on her throat. “Yeah…I’m okay with it. I don’t think it’s a bad idea.” She responds, and Hansol thinks the deal is almost over, but she continues: “You’ll have to keep in mind that while there may be a huge wave of people loving our series together, you might also get a lot of hate. Jay did a great job at—”

“I don’t care.”

“Huh?”

“You’ll come to learn I don’t care about a lot of stuff. Hate? I don’t care.” Hansol explains, giving her a soft smile. “A wanking old man can tell me I’m the worst YouTuber he has ever seen, and I won’t take it to heart. I’m not a plate to be enjoyed by all.”

“Whoa…” She whispers, plucking a lot of noodles up to show it to him. “Not only are you the antonym of a lactose intolerant person, but you’re also awfully wise.”

“You’re welcome for the visit to the bathroom later.” Hansol comments, earning well-heard laughter by her. She tosses her head back and the laugh comes out in spurts. Odd and yet, cute.

“I’ll have to get used to those comments, Z—Hansol.”

“We’ll get used to each other. We have a whole season to plan, after all.”

WE VISITED A HAUNTED HOSPITAL? | EP. 1 S1 | ZACH CHWE

She’d kill Hansol for thinking of visiting a haunted hospital as the first topic of their new show, but she’s too scared to actually want to murder him right now. What if he came back as one of those ghosts who were supposedly here? She can’t risk it.

Drops of petrichor build on forgotten walls, where once were supposedly patients that needed help but were abandoned to a beckoning fire. Hansol said on the way here that he truly doubted the events happened. If the hospital was burned down to its core, why was it still standing and why were tickets sold for people to go through it like tourists in Sydney? She doesn’t have a clue. All that she knows is that they were placed on opposite ends of the hospital, bound to meet through clues, but she hasn’t been able to move from her position under a table.

She was aware that Hansol’s team and hers, which only includes Hyejin, had insisted on having jump-scares all around. One of those jump-scares could be Jeonghan in a clown uniform, but the moment she saw it, the moment she sprinted away. Now, she has been seated there for more than thirty minutes, ignoring her next mission and the door in front of her, with a beating heart and her knees pressed to her chest.

Great, she’s about to ruin their first episode.

Beheld with destiny, she thinks she’s about to shit her pants the moment she hears that old, wooden door creak under the weight of someone entering. Caught, she’s imagined to be, unable to discern between the group of people there to add spice to the video and the actual ghosts that are supposedly in this hospital. However, the first thing she sees are a pair of converses in light green and soon after, someone is kneeling in front of her.

Hansol’s long hair is clouded by a hoodie so thick his earlobes are red, or so she thinks that’s the reason, because his hand pats on the expanded leg of her jeans. Bell jeans were in once again, and she had opted to have them on her outfit. However, Hansol’s high cheekbones lift in a smile when he counterparts:

“If you’re really trying to hide from ghosts, having half of your leg out from underneath the table is not the way to go.” Hansol spares a look at the corner of the room, perhaps pinpointing where the camera is, before she shakes her head at him. She’s still a little shaken, letting out in a trembling tone what must be the most pathetic thing he’s ever heard.

“What if this place is actually haunted?”

“I don’t know percentages, but I am sure someone has died in every possible place on earth. Here, if it’s haunted, or anywhere.” Hansol drags himself under the table, sitting down next to her and taking up the same position she has, though he presses his cheek to the upper portion of his knees. “So, as a matter of fact, every place should be haunted.”

“You’re not helping.” She adds, turning her face to look at him and my God, is Chwe Hansol actually very handsome. He’s different from Jay, with higher cheeks, rounded eyebrows, and a color that resembles honey on tea in his irises. She should look away, not feed into the idea that people have of them being together, but they were meant to act as natural as possible for this show, and looking away has never been more difficult.

“…Said my mom as I helped with the dishes, and my sister after I met her first boyfriend. Helping is not really my biggest forte, but I try.” Hansol shows a full row of teeth when he smiles, like he does it without a care in this world. He probably does. Something about Hansol tells her that he doesn’t really care what people think of him. “But I found you, so I think that’s us winning the game, isn’t it?”

“Is this a park ride for you or something? You’re all smiley and shit.” She tells him, mimicking his smile though hers is a bit more crooked, like she’s trying to push it away so it doesn’t reach him as the most dumbfounded, surprised expression.

“I like this place.”

She feigns a ringing cellphone with a purr of her lips, folding her hand to mimic a phone only to be caught in between his digits, pressed to his ear as if he’s picking it up.

“Yes, hello?” He asks, fluttering eyelashes in between sweetened laughter. One would think that someone like Chwe Hansol was a punch of pink lemonade, but knowing he’s more like a very sweetened soda is a new occurrence.

“It’s your psychologist. He’s asking for another appointment.”

Hansol chuckles at her words, putting down her hand and yet, leaving her with a tingle that awakens in the pit of her stomach and blossoms like butterfly wings across her chest, filling her in with a breath so profound that every single one of her ribs expands with glee.

“They should.” With that, he stands up,extending a slim hand that wavers its fingers for her to grab. Once she does, she’s up her feet, chest to chest with a man who looks at her with pink lips closed together, hiding the row of teeth that she had grown so fond of in just minutes, for how beautiful and calming his smile could be. “I think we should get out and get to the exit—”

What they don’t expect is for the door to bang open, irrupting on their fort and creating a tense atmosphere when they come face to face with a clown, much of the like of what It could look like. And while Hansol laughs from the moment he sees it, she doesn’t. A shout trips from the back of her throat, much like herself, as she jumps onto Hansol’s back and feels his hands contracting against her thighs, catching her just in time. Her eyes, hidden by his neck, are barely touched by the long hairs on his nape that don’t get to be trapped in his beanie, and when she mumbles for them to leave, Hansol starts sprinting like his life depends on it.

Never does he stop laughing, though, as whoever is dressed on the clown outfit follows after them. He’s secure, for some reason, even when they don’t know each other very well, something about Hansol makes her feel as though she is protected. Sheltered from a world that had always been so tough, but with him is just a tiny bit more complex. And for Hansol, that’s okay.

Something tells her that Hansol doesn’t push himself to understand the majority of things. The reason why the world goes around the sun, or why so many people choose heartbreak. He knows he’s a particle, a mere second in a clock, a reason to laugh or a momentum to flee. While she lives through memories, Hansol relishes on breaths. On moments that are here and now, enjoyable and yet, somehow dreamy in the way that they go by so fast.

She doesn’t know him much, but when they reach the exit and the sun bathes them through peaks in between gray clouds, he is still holding her. Even when Seungcheol points Hansol’s camera at them and he’s talking, he still doesn’t let go of her. She hears a faint joke, a reason to part from his neck, but lord does she wish she would not have looked away.

For his face is too close and that mole on his temple is right there, valuable enough to catch her attention.

So, she drops herself to the floor, falling on her knees and raising her hands in the air before shouting to the camera:

“Good fucking Lord, we made it!”

And Hansol laughs, like he does in these situations, but how she wishes that laugh would not feel precisely like home should feel like.

Thirteen million views and just the third episode of the series has been posted. Now, that is breaking records.

She would have never believed the world would become a big number for her. Flop or not valued by the amount of people seeing you; regardless of interest or not. She seeks for that validation—much more after the break-up—. From people who don’t really know her, but love to give conspiracies about how Hansol and she met. They say they are together, and they don’t really deny it. The closer they get through episodes, the more people seem interested in it, and while she’s in the thrive for more—fame, success, whatever the fuck it is that is sedating her, Hansol stays…the same.

He invited her over to his place. So unorganized, just like his thoughts. He leaves his coats hanging on his poor couch, picking them up per demand, with splashes of coffee on the coffee table from early this morning still forgotten. Tonight, on this Saturday night, Hansol has brought soju with himself, licking off the remaining bits of his black bean noodles from his chopsticks. She still has a bit left on her place, but she has opted to sit with her head hanging from the sofa, looking at him from upside down, maybe a bit boozed because of the alcohol he had prepositioned for ‘idea organization’.

“What if we ate noodles on a rollercoaster?” They have planned up to episode ten. The end of the season, after all. But people have been asking for another season, and while it’s not confirmed, a company had ventured into the hardships of wanting to promote them for a second season and that meant giving them ideas on a silver platter in hopes of them liking it enough to support it monetarily.

“You want a POV of us vomiting on a camera. Got it.” She drags, inspecting the way his cheeks turn maroon and how he puts his bottle of soju down, giving her a smile that, if she had to describe, would call it extremely dumb.

“When you put it that way, sounds incredibly hot.”

“Ew, Hansol.” She has gotten used to calling him that name now, a month into their venture and almost four episodes in. Her head starts thumping and with four bottles of soju, she can’t stop thinking. Hansol has almost been like a bubble; he lets her see on the outside and still, protects her in some way. She knows that the death threads are still there, as well as the ongoing rumors with Jay that include her in a love triangle, but with him, recording and a new group of people around them, she has managed to lose herself a bit more. “I can’t think straight at this moment.”

“Probably because you’re losing blood flow.” Hansol drags himself closer to her, never lifting his butt of the ground, twisting her hair in a bun that falls the moment she sits up straight. Not because he told her so, or because she was afraid of losing oxygen in her brain, but rather the reason behind it was that Hansol was a little too close to her. Enough for her to see those beautiful speckles in her eyes.

Yes, so that’s the thing…Hansol is extremely pretty.

Awfully so.

In a drunken state, that’s multiplied by a hundred.

“What if we made a ‘Show Me The Money’ parody?”

Hansol shrugs. “I’d eat you up.”

“You think so?” She slurs, pressing her cheek to the edge of the couch and almost twitching when Hansol reaches for the corner of her joggers, pulling them down where they had bunched at her ankles. That’s when his skin comes in contact with hers, wrapping entirely around that portion of her leg and letting his thumb caress the joint behind it. “Mm, don’t do that.”

“S—Sorry.” And Hansol pulls away at that moment, cheeks even more flushed with the alcohol, eyes widened. “I—I didn’t…”

“It just feels nice.” She tells him in a whisper, dozing off and letting her eyes close as the only thing she can hear in the background is the faint sound of Drake’s latest record and, of course, his calm breathing. “…And I don’t like getting used to it. You don’t know how many times I’ve gotten used to things only for them to hurt me…after…”

It’s the alcohol talking and the sleepiness losing her, because she doesn’t remember what else she had said or why she falls asleep so fast. What she does remember is what she dreams. She sees Jay in dreams, remembering the way his palm fit so snugly around her knee, and how he’d trace the underside of it with how big his hand was. Now, she sees it in third person, in some cramped-up party of the like of those he went to, with his lips spread around another woman’s, doing the same thing he did to her, and somehow breaking apart the little threads left in her heart. Because that’s what men have always done to her—hurt her until she couldn’t recognize herself.

She awakens with sweat pooling at her neckline and breaths unarranged in a manner that has her clasping the first thing she feels. Hansol has turned down the lights, his back pressed to the edge of the couch, head lulled back in a way that will probably have him aching in the morning. His brown hair spreads on top of his forehead like vices, eyelashes straight and long, jaw squared yet somehow relaxed as his lips part. He’s snoring softly, barely audibly, laying there like he wouldn’t move even if the world ended.

So, she drags her hand across his forearm, feeling every bump and mountain of slim muscle until she reaches his knuckles and touches them, shaking his hand in hopes of getting him to open his eyes.

He doesn’t, but he does hum at the mention of his name.

“Hansol…I had a nightmare.” She has them often. Each time, she looks into the shadows of the night hoping for the real monsters to appear. Not the ones that make their guest appearance in horror movies, but the ones that actually hurt her. People that tarnished her heart in ways that now has it stopping from time to time. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, but could…could you please hold me? When I’m held, I can fall back asleep.”

“Yeah, sure.” He rasps out, dragging himself towards the couch as she makes him some space. He doesn’t talk about his room or taking up the bed, because he’s probably too sleepy to even care, when he places an arm under her head and lets him square a leg in between his just to make room for the two.

“I’m sorry for getting so close.”

He drags her until her face rests on his collarbone, humming what she can imagine is a ‘no’. “You’re not doing it for anything bad. It’s okay.” He whispers. “Is this tight enough?”

She looks up at him, eyes still closed. So naturally peaceful and yet, somehow blaring war noises inside her head. Ready to flee away just in case her stomach drops to the ground at the mere sight of him. “It’s perfect.”

Hansol shouldn’t feel perfect. Not if season two is ever going to happen.

Usually, the one with the cruel ideas is Jeonghan. Hyejin has finally met up to that standard. Her friend, not his, and that’s surprising. Hansol has to give her some props for the idea of the ninth episode.

‘Never Have I Ever’. He doesn’t think he has played the game since that one moment he joined college. Only recently did he get his degree, and the engineering degree normally doesn’t get invited to the kind of parties that have drinking games, but Hansol was friends with a bunch of people who would take any kind of game as a reason to drink. This one doesn’t include drinking, but it’s either eating something really nasty, laid in front of them on a picnic cloth—there are testicles in there, as far as he knows—or answering.

Hansol should be concentrated on making her eat the five meals that are meant to be eaten by her, but he is tranced by her. Has been since two weeks ago, when he decided that sharing a couch with her was a good idea. Not only did he have to walk away before she noticed that he had accidentally wrapped a hand around her waist while asleep, but he also had to fight off the thoughts that ventured into his head. He didn’t want to be the rebound, but that’s precisely what he would be if he tried to get with her. If he played the cards he does sometimes, when life is a little simpler, of rubbing the back of his neck and buying someone’s favorite Pokémon cards.

It doesn’t help that she has decided to look absolutely gorgeous while they sat on a bench, in a secluded park that Seungcheol had found fitting for filming. Roses scatter around them in the same color of red that splashes on her dress. A loving heart neckline that has him looking down and—fuck, Hansol, don’t be stupid. She’s way out of your league—

“Never have I ever…” She drags her voice while reaching into the hat that was placed nearby for them. He looks at the shape of her mouth, the length of her eyeliner and he wants to punch himself for a second. For staring with that intent, even with cameras around them. For feeling a bit protected in front of them just because everyone thinks they are dating. Or so. “Eaten or tasted earwax.”

“Do I have the face of a man that has tasted earwax?”

“Yes.” She responds, chuckling at him only to have him scrunching up his nose. He looks down at the plate that is served in front of him, this round’s beverage for anyone to enjoy. “Hansol, don’t tell me you have.”

“I’m not sure, but I was a weird kid! May have!” He tells her, picking up his chopsticks and biting into the testicles that he had repulsed from the moment the game started. She throws her head back, laughing like the child in her had awakened at his response, before she’s shaking her head and tossing the card to the side.

“You’re so nasty.”

“Tell me you haven’t done it.”

“Just because I am sure I did it as a kid as well, I’ll help you out with those testicles.” She picks up the chopsticks from his hands, giving it the slightest of bites before sticking out her tongue and dropping it to the ground. “Gross! Jeonghan, where the fuck did you find this stuff?”

“It was Cheol!”

The game continues, with the two of them a point away from either losing or winning. She has her legs spread in front of her, crossed by the ankles, waiting for him to read the card that he’s just opening when his eyes widen for a fraction of a second. Oh, this wasn’t Seungcheol. This has Hyejin’s name written all over it. He knows it because she has been wriggling her eyebrows whenever he makes his way past her, opting to tease him about the ‘obvious crush’ he has on her best friend.

“Never have I ever liked the person across from me.”

Hansol doesn’t move, and he should be drinking the broccoli lemonade that the team prepared, but she moves with a little more precision, as if her anatomy was made to act in cue. His heart stops when she grabs the glass and brings it up to those lips that had been burgundy red at the start of the recording to drink. She closes her eyes, tosses her head back, and gags at the taste, but Hansol is far too lost.

…She had liked him? Then? Now? When?

“Confessions, confessions. Always coming up from these videos.” She is more of a natural in front of the camera, taking his hand and bringing it up in the air as per a champion from a boxing fight. She has won him over, if only if she knew. “We’ve got ourselves a winner. Give a round of applause for Zach Chwe, everyone!”

Hansol can’t even smile. He’s dumbfounded, staring at her profile and seeing her grin in such an easy going way. Though, the moment they say their goodbyes from the video, she pulls away from him, clearing her throat and looking at him as if she expects an answer. One that never comes and leaves him just to stand up, excuse himself out of the park and lock himself in the nearest bathroom.

Being the rebound is not what he wants, but God, would he be lying to himself if he didn’t accept he has liked her for longer than he’d want to admit.

Two months pass by. The first season becomes a success and still, not a word has been uttered about that episode. The subscribers’ favorite episode, but the forgotten episode for those who were involved.

No one asks questions when they come together for VidCon. It feels natural, actually. She doesn’t think she would have been able to just go on her own anymore. As some kind of way the world had planned it, Hansol feels like her counterpart in whatever this is right now. Friendship, work, whatever they have garnered together that people seem to love enough to have a panel for them, where they speak to fans and take pictures together. She notices then that she’s not the only person awestruck by Hansol’s beauty, even when that’s obvious at this point. He looks like a daydream in his black t-shirt, rounded glasses and skinny jeans, smiling in pictures and even joking around with fans.

Sometimes, she just looks at him from the side and blames him for it. For letting things slide so smoothly in between the two after that forbidden episode. He never said a word, neither did he try to clear her head with a kiss to her lips or even a strict ‘no’ that would have her moving on. It’s his fault for being likeable; for giving her a necklace with her initial as a celebration when their first season became a success. For him to receive her with a bowl of noodles for every recording they had each week. For him to tag her on stupid memes on Twitter, not giving a care what anyone could say.

The venue is packed and Hansol gets a little too lost on conversations with a fan that is talking about his beginnings as a gamer—that wasn’t really good to start with—when she feels someone tapping her on the shoulder. Her hips move from the edge of their table, where an enormous poster of the publicity image for the first season of their show spreads in the background, to turn around and respond to the subscriber that was trying to get her attention. Nonetheless, like a clashing thunder in a summer day, Jay stands there looking like the oddest thing she has seen in the past three months.

Because she’s not used to him anymore. Neither has she felt like she was truly comfortable with the idea of him. He’s a few heads taller than her, with his black hair pushed back and the sleeves of his shirt dragged up to showcase his tattoos. He’s smiling when he greets her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and hugging her briefly before he pulls away. They are lucky that is not peak hour and most people have scattered to look at the music presentation that was taking place.

“Jay?” She questions, only to have him smiling proudly, like he would do whenever he got recognized in public.

“The one and only. I had to pass by when I heard you were making it to this year’s convention.” His dark brown eyes splay across the poster behind them, trailing after every detail of the image of Hansol wrapping an arm around her shoulder, both smiling at the camera as they spread their hands in peace signs, smiling gleefully. “Haven’t watched a season of the show, but I might start. It’s fucking everywhere.”

She should not talk to him, but she scoffs at his words, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms across her chest to portray just how closed she is to him, but she doesn’t miss her sarcastic smile. Not an ounce of hate is within her chest anymore, but she recalls the wounds he opened just to make bigger ones. “…Mhm, it’s not the type of show you’d watch. Too much of a big brainer.”

“Oh, come on, you know I’m smarter than I look.”

For the way he plotted the entire internet against her, she knows for a fact Jay could very much be a lawyer or an astronaut if he wanted to. Misspells or not. “I’m certain. I’ve never doubted you’re a cunning, smart little shit.”

“I like that. Might make it my new motto.” Before Jay could venture into more of a conversation, her waist is grounded by a pair of thin arms wrapping around them. Soft skin connecting with her through the fabric of her pink hoodie has her looking back to see that Hansol is hugging her from behind, hiding his hands on the pockets of her hoodie and pressing his chin to her shoulder before whispering into her ear.

“We’ve got stuff to do, remember? Like organizing our things at the hotel and sign some posters for tomorrow…” He never rushes with those things, but at the presence of Jay, Hansol’s a bit more masculine and selfish with time. When she tries to answer him, far too lost in the beauty of him now that he has pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, pulling the strands of his hair back, his golden eyes have settled on Jay, not even sparing him a grin out of courtesy. “I’ll have to snatch her away from you.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” Jay adds, aiming to hurt and taint, but Hansol doesn’t let him. Instead, he pulls her by the strings of her hoodie, interlocking their hands together before speaking closely to her face.

“So, are we going?”

It’s not a doubt that she says ‘yes’. After all, if her heart had grown a bond for Hansol without him touching her that way, having a glimpse of what it could be like to be with him has her brain going feverish.

Hansol is certain about many things. That he likes the color green. He loves tie dye hoodies. That he would die in a beanie if he could. He enjoys weird scary shows, and he would marathon the entirety of Scream in a minute. He is also certain that he doesn’t want to talk to her, as they sit across from each other in his hotel room. Not just because, but for the matter that she was talking to the ex that had done anything in his willpower to push her to be absolutely nothing.

He sits on a brown leather couch, working diligently on signing posters while she has opted not to do so. For the past ten minutes, she has ventured into all the possible conversation topics in order to get him to look up, even smile, but while Hansol likes living his life in tranquility, he also has his angered moments. His blood felt like it had rushed to his knuckles from how tight he was holding them closed when he saw Jay. He couldn’t bear but admit to himself that, while he had opted not to think about her in that light, the idea of her going back to Jay and not with him infuriated him. Sure, she wasn’t his—neither was she anybody’s, for that matter—but if someone had to have her as the person by their side, it had to be him. Right?

Anyone but fucking Jay Lee.

But preferably him.

Yet, she knows how to get the world to look at her with eyes that had been rose-colored by her voice and eyes alone. After ten minutes, she knows that he won’t talk to her and when the beads of silence surround the cream-colored room, he almost imagines that she has left. Only that he gets to see her jean-cladded thighs standing in front of his knees, his eyes darting to her face for a fraction of a second until he sees her. The closeness, the little smile that splays in the corner of her mouth, and that wave to her eyebrows that tells him that she’s a bit confused, amused, but also a tad annoyed.

“Why are you angry at me? I haven’t done anything to get the silent treatment.” God, she’s one of the smartest women he has met. With the way she can think of matters in the spot and make a drawing on the screen the most interesting thing in the world. He knows her commentaries on movies are the most precise, intelligent words that could be said, and yet, he wishes she could wake up and realize that he has been here, all along, for three months and even a bit more, liking her like a complete fool. “Hansol, you either talk to me or you talk to me. I’m not giving you another option.”

“That man was…okay, I’ll talk to you.” Hansol stops himself when he hears just how mortified he sounds when he starts talking, putting the poster he was signing to the side, laying on the table next to him with the other pile of posters. Soon after, he’s spreading his hands on the armrest, leaning back on the couch. “Jay has done nothing but make your life an absolute hell and there you go, just being nice to him, letting him hug you and talk to you—”

“Hold up,” She interrupts him, spreading a hand on her waist. “If I just ignore him or treat him like shit, I’m giving him even more of a reason to talk. I’ll be the first to admit to say that the stuff Jay put me through wounded me in ways that will take more than a few months to work through, but I also don’t want to give him the benefit of being aware of how much he hurt me.”

Hansol can understand that, but he also knows what men like Jay think. He runs his fingers through his hair, groaning through half-parted lips. “He probably thinks he still has you on the palm of his hand.”

“He doesn’t.” She shrugs. “So, what’s the problem?”

“I don’t want to see you with him. That is the problem.” Hansol says, standing up and staring at her, face-to-face. “I know you won’t go back to him but it makes me angry to think you ever thought of being with him. Not only doesn’t he match up with you on looks, but he never deserved you. You could put him on a pan and drop an entire bag of salt on him and Jay Lee would still be flavorless. The biggest mistake you could ever make, and the thought alone of him wanting to be with you—”

“I don’t want to be with him.”

“Yes, but…” You also don’t want to be with me, he completes for himself. Sure, she had once said she liked him, but what reassures him that it wasn’t just for the camera?

“You’re making a big deal out of it!”

“I fucking know!” He exclaims, widening his eyes.

“Then?”

“I will make everything that happens to you a big deal because I care for you. I’ve liked you for God-knows how long. Sorry for getting jealous, but I don’t regret it one—”

She interrupts him before he could say anything else, with her lips spreading across his, savoring the tremor of his mouth before he opens it to the granting touch of her tongue. His bottom lip fits between hers as if they were made for her, her hands gravitating to his waist and pulling him closer, though the fact that she was the one to make the first move did not stop Hansol from adding his own motions. His hands spread on the back of her neck, thumbs coming in contact on the column of her throat and dragging a sweet stripe down, rising goosebumps all over her skin. Hansol tilts his head to the side, a cloud of humidity building from the breath he lets out before kissing her lazily, albeit strongly, like he knows he doesn’t have to do much to do it right.

She would like to punch him, ask him why he never did anything when she confessed to liking him in that video, but Hansol has seated back on the chair, hands landing on her hips as he continues to kiss her, and her thighs part to settle comfortably on his lap. When she pulls away from him, lips tainted in that romantic shade of pink that he leaves everywhere he goes, she traces the outline of his mouth with a peck before she goes down to his neck, hiding in there for a second.

“You had me guessing for so long, Hansol. That’s what assholes do.”

Hansol’s hands rub at her hips, one of the portions she’s more insecure about, but with him it just feels right. “I don’t want to be your rebound.” He tells her, grabbing her by her chin before pushing their lips together once again. He keeps his eyes closed when he speaks against her mouth, just minutes after biting on her bottom lip. “Please, don’t let me be a rebound. If I am, stop me now.”

She’d be crazy to stop him. Not when his mouth looks like a rose petal and her heart feels the more at ease she has felt in a while. Sure, this is always the start of every romance. She knows that men feel comfortable before they destroy her heart even worse than the last time, but something tells her that this is not the case with Hansol. She closes her eyes, venturing into the shape of his mouth to trace it like the map she should have followed a long time ago.

For now, she’ll get lost in him, in the way he makes her feel like she’s the newest star in the sky and he’s drawing it himself. Calling her something that goes unnamed for now.

The word ‘for now’ is so funny. It prolongs in time, so much that three months turn into six, and then, an entire year.

She had said that Hansol’s idea was a ‘for now’. That him, as a person, was temporary as it gets, but the clock was making fun of her as she rushes to his car, holding onto the coldest coffee she could get at this hour of the morning. Some people feel comfortable, not because they are colored certain way or how they make you feel, but what you two make together. Blue and green are colors on their own, but together they make something different. The creation of new matters is what makes the world a little bit more interesting.

Hansol doesn’t enjoy mornings, not after a short night of sleep, and that may be her fault, but with the way he smiles at her when she opens the car’s door, she’s sure he has forgiven her. For how great they felt last night, she’s sure that there were no grudges held. A camera is pointed her way, though she knows that the second season of their show is still being published on her channel and, no way in hell, he would ever post the videos he takes of her. Little vlogs to remember what it was like here, now, forever. God, forever sounds amazing with Hansol.

“Here we have a whole coffee addict, making her way to my sick Porsche.”

“It’s a Toyota, Hansol. Sit the fuck down.” She completes, entering the car and pushing her hair over her shoulder, leaning over the seat to let him taste the coffee. That makes the camera a little too close to her face, laughing and pushing it to the side the slightest. “I’m sure I don’t look that good in that angle.”

“You don’t, but real love will make me say you do.” He completes, sipping a few more times into her coffee before giving it back to her. He has the hood of his shirt all the way over his dark hair, turning off the camera and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before he starts the car.

Talking about their relationship in public was forbidden, for she doesn’t want to blur the line in between the faux relationship and what became real. In fact, it happened with its bumps along the road. She can’t say that everything has been easy, that sometimes her nightmares don’t wake her up with the idea of Hansol leaving one day, or not precisely leaving her, but stomping on her heart before he flees away, but that idea alone is pushed away with a served kiss and a few words that save her from doubting. Hansol is not much of a talker and yet, when he opens those lips of his, he always seems to say the right thing.

So, while the subscribers have never gotten a real video of them admitting to their relationship, it’s almost public notice. She sips on her drink, looking at his profile and the tranquility of him before asking.

“So, I saw a Tweet not too long ago. As I was waiting for coffee, actually.”

“From who?” His voice grows serious, expecting to hear anything from Jay or anyone else on the internet, but she calms him down by interlocking their fingers together, tracing the small promise ring on his finger with her thumb.

“From a subscriber that wanted to point out our supposed beginnings.” She likes looking at those conspiracies from time to time. They are so ridiculous that she can’t help but be amused by how close and obsessed people can get from someone they saw on the internet. Well, as long as it’s kept like a good momentum on someone’s life, and they know not to blur the line, she’s sure it’s okay. “The first picture you liked of me was on April 18th, three years ago. It was a picture of me on my desk, looking down at my I-Pad as I drew, working on my next video.”

Hansol twists his head to the side, laughing to himself a bit before nodding. “I remember that picture.”

“You do?”

“I do.” He looks at her for a fraction of a second before bringing their interlocked hands up, giving it a soft kiss. “Your hair was shorter then. Way shorter. I thought you were pretty.”

“Sometimes, I wish I had met you earlier.”

“Huh, earlier wasn’t our time, I guess.” Hansol responds, letting go of her hand to grab her coffee.

Holding her breath, she looks at his sleepy profile. At him as a person. It has been so long and yet, the words don’t weight on her mouth when she opts to mumble it for the first time:

“I love you, Hansol.”

His eyes twinkle when she says those words, spreading a smile into his face that show all his teeth before he gnaws at his bottom lip.

“I love you, too.”

#vernon scenarios #vernon x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #kpop scenarios #seventeen #vernon #writing #vernon au #vernon fluff #vernon angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen au

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hererafjastori · 6 months

Text

The movie Barbie in Princess and the Pauper is deeply misunderstood. In this essay I will…

No but like, seriously. I have come across too many people making fun of “I’m just like you” and fundamentally misunderstanding both the meaning of the song, and Annalise as a character, by acting like Annalise is a rich brat who doesn’t know to be grateful for what she has. So we are going to take an in-depth look at the song, Annalise, Erika, their situations and their character, and make a few things clear.

Let’s start with the above mentioned song, and the widespread opinion, that the girls and the movie act like there is no difference between Annelise living in constant luxury, and Erika suffering the life of an indentured servant. But what is happening has a lot more nuance.

First of: Annelise is not the instigator for this compare and contrast. Note how it’s Erika who starts comparing their lives, not Annelise, who reacts very perplexed. Annelise would have been fine with Erika never figuring out she was a princess, and only starts talking about the luxuries that being a princess grants her, after Erika prompts her. This is not Annalise bragging about her life, downplaying the privilege she enjoys or whining about how hard her situation is. This is her replying to Erikas enquire by both, acknowledging the vast difference there is between their lives, but also by underlining the ridiculousness that is such luxury. We can see later, in the movie, when Erika gets her breakfast, that there are no fucking minstrels. And Erika is totally on board with that, she even plays around with her, look at the way she interacts with the ‘omelet’ Analise presents her with. And later in the song, Erika acknowledges that the ‘married to a total stranger’ situation sucks.

But let’s take a look at the ways they recognize that they are the same. What are their similarities?

“I’m just like you, you’re just like me, there’s somewhere else we’d rather be. Somewhere that’s ours, somewhere that dreams come true, yes I am a girl like you. You’d never think, that it was so, but now I’ve met you and I know. […] ”

“I would never tell my mother. I wouldn’t wanna disappoint her.” “I completely understand.”

“[…]We take responsibility. We carry through, do what we need to do, yes I am a girl like you […] It’s something anyone can see. A heart that beats, a voice that speaks the truth”

So, what are their stated similarities:

They are in a situation they desperately want to escape. They see no option of realizing their dreams and fulfilling their desires or even have a perspective of leading a happy life.

Others lean, depend on and draw from their strength, so they have little to no opportunity of sharing that burden

They recognize that there is a reason they have these duties, and their conscience won’t allow them to even try and shirk said duties. They take up this responsibility that they never wanted, fully aware of the sacrifices that they will have to make.

Throughout it all, they make the active choice not to complain, to stay optimistic, to not loose hope and to carry their burden with dignity and integrity

Nobody disputes that they life very different lives. The first minute of their interaction makes that abundantly clear. Erika even sings “You’d never think that it was so”. Them coming from very different places was never up for debate. What they are comparing is the way they deal with it.

This willingness to endure under the pressure and expectations placed upon them without allowing to loose themselves, is the very core of both of these characters!

And we can see all of this throughout the movie, especially in ‘Free’.

[1] I don’t think I have to explain Erika. We see the direness of her situation in the way Mdm. Karp treats her the times she finds her singing, her threatening to use the excuse of interest to keep her prisoner for basically the rest of her life, the way she treats Annelise, thinking she is talking to Erika after she fled, the fact that she locks her seamstresses in often enough, that there is a routine in place to allow at least Wolfie an escape.

But Annalise is just as worked to the bone as Erika, if in a different way. Her day is planned through, down to the literal minute. Just listen to the start of Free. Her greatest wish is to have one day without work, because she hasn’t had that in living memory. And yes, most of it is studies and keeping up appearances, but in “to be a princess” we get an impression of how much thought and energy that takes. (“be charming, but detached and yet amused […] Never be confused”, “Never fall, don’t ever stray from protocol. All through the day, there’s just one way you must behave” “Never crack” “Never show a thing you feel inside. Glide.” “to be a princess is to never get to rest” “Never squirm […] Speak and be clever, never at a loss for words” “Never show dismay and be there when people call, be prepared whatever royal life may bring” “Never ever turn your back. There’s a time and place and way for everything”)

She has to be flawless, confident, and composed throughout the day without the slightest hint of being imperfect. She has little to no privacy, she is constantly observed, perceived, judged by far more metrics than pretty much anyone else, and is she falls short of them and say, worsens relationships with another kingdom, makes a bad decision in ruling the kingdom, makes the kingdom appear weak in any way, her people will be the ones to pay the prize. And all that is without taking the marriage into consideration. She doesn’t know who Dominic is! We know that he is a great guy, but for all Annelise knows, he could be the kind of person Preminger reveals himself to be. Even if he is a decent guy, it would likely be a loveless marriage. That is a sacrifice (as we can see when her mother is forces into the very same position), especially if it means sacrificing her relationship with Julian, her childhood friend, who shares her interests, helps her through all that nonsense, and understands her better than anyone. On screen, he is the only person she truly opens up with, other than Serafina (who is a cat), and Erika (who she only met that day, and has little emotional investment in the whole thing). Erika and Dominic sing a whole duet about the importance of knowing each other in order to have a functioning relationship, and she has had that with Julian for years. They both (Julian is clearly just as devoted and self-sacrificing as she is) accept to let this unspoken thing between them slip through their fingers, with no hope of ever finding something comparable, and the prospect of drifting apart with time, all for the sake of the kingdom.

And in terms of hope for the future, Annelise is just as bad of, if not worse than Erika. Erika has been working continuously to escape her situation, and never given up hope (“My determination’s strong. People will gather around the world to hear my song! Soon I will forever be free). And in the meantime, she has found small ways to fight back against Mdm. Karp (She can never stop my schemes). How realistic it is to ever pay off Mdm. Karp is a different matter, but she still has a fighting spirit. Annelise meets Erika, while in the process of making peace with the fact, that this was it for her, and there will be no coming back from this (“Now I fear I’ll never be Free” “I’m savoring a first and last taste of freedom”).

[2] In terms of hope and determination, Erika is doing the emotional heavy lifting for both herself, and the other seamstress. And Annelise is putting up a strong façade for even her mother, because in the face of the lack of options, she doesn’t want to burden her mother with the knowledge that she is damning her daughter to an unhappy life.

[3] I already explained Annelise’s situation in detail. Because she was born in royalty, she is tasked with a lot of responsibility, and even though she had no choice in the matter, she still accepts her cross to bear, and does so silently knowing the great personal cost she’ll have to pay. For Erika, they kind of fumbled the ball with the duties she chooses to accept, seeing as pretty much the sole person to suffer from her just, running away and ignorin her 'duties' would be her active abuser. Even if she has yet to pay back all the money her parents borrowed from Mdm. Karp (something she had no say or choice in), she has more than done her time in emotional suffering, and saying that staying in this toxic environment is her duty is not a message I agree with. But in-universe she explicitly states such convictions, so any and all points on the matter of her dutiful behavior still stand. One might be able to twist her duty to be to not leave the other seamstress to suffer alone, but that has no textual evidence. But we see this willingness to sacrifice for the sake of duty and responsibility most strongly, when she agrees to help Julian out and take Annelise’s place. There are two ways this could play out: she get’s away with it, or she doesn’t. We see both, her options are being thrown into the royal dungeon for treason, or being locked away by Mdm. Karp for running away, and knowing those where her prospects, she still chose to do this for the sake of both Annelise and the kingdom.

[4] Just, listen to free, watch the movie. These two girls prove their inner strength and endurance time and time again. They always keep going, searching for solution after solution, no matter what obstacles lie in their way (Being sent away at the palace gates, escaping Mdm. Karp, escaping the mines, escaping the dungeon, etc.). Their drive, determination, endurance and unbendable spirit are admirable.

“I close my eyes, and feel myself fly a thousand miles away. I could take flight, but would it be right, my conscience tells me stay. I’ll remain forever royal. I’ll repay my parents debt. Duty means doing the things your heart may well regret. But I’ll never stop believing/ she can never stop my schemes. There’s more to living than gloves and gowns and thread and seams, in my dreams, I’ll be free”

This is the end of free, the core of them, and the thing they recognize in each other, and I will no longer allow any slander against either them!

#barbie #barbie princess and the pauper #princess and the pauper #barbie movies #character analysis #erika and annelise #annelise and erika #Annelise #Erika

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eijirousbestie · 1 year

Note

YOUR ART MAJOR STORY WAS FIRE!! IM AN ART MAJOR AND WE HAD TO DO DETAILED PORTRAITS THIS MORNING AS AN ACTIVITY OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS AND ALL I COULD THINK ABOUT WAS YOUR STORY 😭😭😭😭 anyway i had the vision of Y/N doing a portrait of bakugou for her class ❤️❤️❤️❤️

AHH THANK YOU SM hearing someone thought abt my story in their day to day life is actually insane so thank you for reading!! Love to see a fellow art major around here🤝🏽I hope this story is to your liking i tried my best😭<33

“Can I draw you?”

this is kinda long (I got too into it lol)

pulling at the heartstrings a bit here

he’s a willing participant???

unorganized dishes

golden hour

* * *

Being an art student had its perks. For one thing you didn’t have “real” homework like other classes and you could spend majority of your time creating something new. In other cases, being an art student was dreadful, and today proved that to be true.

Walking into class and setting your bag down, you sit at your easel and scroll on your phone as your professor waits for other students to trickle in before he takes attendance. The sound of a chair scooting can be heard as your professor makes his presence known and calls role. He finishes and places his clipboard down, clapping his hands together with enthusiasm.

“Good morning guys! First things first, I just wanted to say you all did a great job at critique this past Tuesday. I was very impressed with the outcome of all your pieces. Now for those of you who have checked the class schedule, you’ll know we have our Portrait 1 assignment due at the end of next week. I’ll give further instructions and we’ll go ahead and get started on those today.” He grabs a stack of papers, assuming to be said detailed instructions for your next assignment. As soon as he hands you a copy, you skim through the premise of what you’re going to be doing.

Portrait 1 Assignment

1. Pick a subject you will be referencing to for your portrait. (No you cannot use a reference online. It has to be someone you can poke).

2. Arrange a time outside of class to meet with your subject to begin your sketch.

3. Pick a feature of your subject to enhance in your final drawing. You can add color, darken line weight or distort the feature you chose, but the rest of the portrait should be in the style of a sketch.

This drawing should be done on an 18x24 sheet of paper from your sketchbook and no smaller.

You internally cringe at the thought of having to snatch someone from campus to sit with you for hours just so you can draw them. You instantly begin to think of people you know who you can draw. You take your phone out and begin typing up a message to a friend of yours, asking when they’re free. Much to your dismay, they inform you that they have work directly after class all this week and won’t be able to help. You understand, but now you’ve got yourself stuck and you absolutely refuse to ask a stranger. For the remainder of the period, all you can do is mindlessly write a list of names and the pros and cons of their potential availability.

* * *

Sitting in the living room after getting back to the dorms, you rest after having no success trying to recruit anyone to be your reference. The dorms are practically empty as everyone is out doing something. Working, training, shopping. Everything you don’t do. Essentially losing hope for the day, you resort to lounging on the couch. Cozy pajamas nearly lulling you to sleep. However before you can slip into the best nap of your life, clanging from the kitchen startles you awake. Whispered curses soon follow, ultimately giving away who caused the noise. Getting up from your oh so comfy spot, you make your way to the kitchen to investigate. Peeking a head in the doorway, you see a rather frazzled Bakugou picking up pots and pans that had fallen to the floor.

Looking at his bent form, you speak up. “You aight?” He picks up the last pot and places it on the counter before responding, fully facing you.

“I’m good. My bad if I woke you.” You give a shrug and lean your hip on the doorframe, arms crossed over your chest.

“Nah you’re fine. Wasn’t fully knocked out anyway. What were you doing in here?”

“Reorganizing. For whatever reason, idiots around here can’t understand that stacking dishes causes shit to fall. Just proved my point too.” His eyes fall on the various pans on the counter he was in the process of arranging. You give a chuckle and move to help put them away.

“Say it louder for the people in the back.”

“Yeah well apparently they ‘don’t respond well to yelling.’ Whatever the fuck that means.” He nags as you both place each dish in their respective places.

“Gotta give em a glare or side eye to get the message across,” you joke.

“Shit only goes so far. But if looks could kill everybody here would be on their deathbed.”

“Jesus man, gruesome much?” You let out a heartier chuckle, actually entertained by his empty threats.

“S’called being self-aware.” He leans against the now empty counter and folds his arms across his chest. A silly thought crosses your mind. A glimpse of hope even. You decide to pursue it.

“Speaking of looks,” you start off tentatively, “I could really use yours if you’ll let me.”

He gives you a half-curious look, left eyebrow slightly raised as he side eyes you. “The hell’s that mean?”

You’re not sure whether it’s the desperation talking or the fact that you’re half asleep, but you immediately hit him with your dilemma.

“Well… can I draw you?” It seems like minutes that go by before he responds with a sharp click of his tongue.

“Lay off the drugs huh? Shit’s got you talkin outta your ass.”

“Bakugou please! I need a reference for an assignment and I’d really appreciate if you’d let me draw you. It won’t take long I swear I’m fast!” Your hands are clasped together as you ask for his cooperation.

“The hell’d you wanna draw me for? Plenty other people you could ask.”

You don’t have it in your heart to mention nobody else was available to help you. It’d be like blatantly telling him he was the last option and you don’t want to potentially upset him by saying that. It’s not necessarily true either, you just didn’t think he would be up for it in the first place so you didn’t want to bother him. He was your saving grace really, never the last option.

“Well you’ve got great eyes. And perfect eyebrows too. So it’s kinda hard not to want to draw you. But seriously, if you’ll let me, I’ll do my very best to capture the best parts of you. Please?” If you hadn’t known any better, you could’ve sworn you saw his hands clutch the counter in a death grip. He’s quiet for a moment. Two moments. Then he shakes his head in disbelief and his eyes sweep to look at anything else but you.

“Fine. Just don’t make me look like shit got me?” A light look of embarrassment covers his face. It’s endearing.

“I promise.” You smile a wide grin, relief relaxing your shoulders. “You mind if we get started tonight? I’m kinda behind as it is.”

He gives a nod and a hum in response. You tell him to stay put as you grab your sketchbook. He takes a seat on the couch and watches the slow sunset. It’s golden hour and the living room is filled with warm oranges and yellows as the sun is close to calling it a day. You come back, supplies in hand and before you can put your things down, you catch Bakugou as he gazes out of the window, the setting sun casting onto his face. With his hand propped under his chin, he looks ethereal. His red eyes now a vermilion as the rays reflect on them. It highlights his jawline, casting shadows that make the edges prominent. His hair aglow in the light, tufts of blonde now appearing marigold. You don’t realize how silly you must look staring at him until his eyes flicker to your frozen form. His gravelly voice pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Got your stuff?” He doesn’t move from his spot as he asks. You gather your bearings and nod.

“Yeah uh I got everything I need. We can start now if you’re ready?” You walk over to the couch where he sits, setting up your easel right in front of him.

“Mmh go ahead. Is there a certain way you wanna do this or?”

“No no what you’re doing now is fine. It’s actually better if you’re comfortable. We might be here a while, but let me know when you need a break.” He gives a nod of approval and you’re off, hands sketching and eyes darting back and forth between easel and subject. Soft scratching noises from graphite on paper filled the silence. By this point you were detailing the features of his hand holding up his face. Neat nail beds and cleanly trimmed. Bruised and scarred knuckles from countless hours of training. A strong neck that connected to an even stronger jaw, probably chiseled by the gods themselves.

You’d be lying to yourself if you thought drawing him would be a chore. It was actually enjoyable. There was no need for trivial conversation. Just you sitting there, drawing him as he let you. Him trusting you to capture his very being with only a pencil. It was a beautiful experience and you couldn’t be more grateful that you both were a part of it.

#bakugou headcanons #bakugou katsuki #mha headcanons #mha x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #mha drabbles #katsuki bakugo imagine

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vodika-vibes · 8 months

Text

The ARC and the Monster

Summary: Three months after the events that left him with prosthetic legs and a prosthetic arm, ARC Knight Echo is on a journey to relearn himself. And while on this journey, he discovers a village that doesn't exist.

Pairing: ARC Knight Echo x Reader

Word Count: 5810

Warnings: Mentions of death

Mando'a Used: sen'ika - little bird (according to the website I saw, lol)

A/N: I am very bad at writing fight scenes, I should work on that, lol. This is a twist on Beauty and the Beast, and I'm actually happy with it, which is surprising.

Divider by saradika

“Morning again, darlin’,” You smile tiredly at the merchant, “Bacon and a fresh loaf of bread?”

“I don’t suppose you have anything new?” You ask as you lean against the counter.

The Merchant laughed, “You know I don’t, darlin’. One loaf of bread, and one rack of bacon. As normal.”

You sigh and rest your head on your palm, “I am so tired of bacon.” You say with a sigh.

“Ah, I know darlin’.” He reaches out and lightly pats your hand, “How are things at the palace?”

“Same as ever. As per normal.” You smile at him as you take the bag of food, “How’s the wife?”

“Exhausted. We both are. We never expected our son to be an infant for almost 30 years.” He sighs, he accepts the credits and you wave as you head towards the door.

“Maybe someday the curse will be broken,” You call from the door.

“You won’t find many people who still have hope, darlin’. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You wave and step out of the shop, allowing the door to swing shut behind you. You neatly side-step several other people, and start walking the meandering path headed back towards the manor.

At this point, you can walk the path while wearing a blind-fold, you’re so familiar with the path between the village and the old mansion you call home.

You are, or were, the head chef for the Duke of these lands. In charge of all of the cooking and all of the food shopping. At the time it was a good job, high paying with incredible job security, and a chance to move up in the world.

Of course…that’s not what actually happened.

Thirty years ago a stranger appeared at the palace doors on the night of the young Baron’s 15th birthday. The Baron himself answered the door, though it wasn’t his duty, and he sent the guest away with a harsh word and a violent hand.

The Stranger was a Sorceress, and she was so put out by the Baron’s actions that she cursed the entire land. The Duke and Duchess vanished, trapped in a painting to your best guess, the young Baron twisted and changed, until his looks matched his personality…and everyone unfortunate enough to live in this Duchy ended up trapped in a time loop.

This day, the day of the Baron’s 15th birthday, repeats over and over and over again. And the only way for the Curse to break is if the Baron show’s any true remorse.

But…

Well…

He doesn’t.

You stop in front of the manor, and then turn to walk around the building to enter through the rear. No need to draw attention to yourself, if at all possible.

There are some good sides to being trapped in a time loop, you suppose as you push the door open. For example, anything that happens today will be reset when the clock strikes midnight. Any dishes that get broken will be repaired, any injuries will be healed, and any money spent will end up right back in your account.

Also, no one can die.

But no one can be born either.

You kind of feel bad for one of the Housekeepers, she was 7 months pregnant when this whole fiasco began, and now, thirty years later, she’s still 7 months pregnant.

But that not dying has been a boon. Especially those first few years when the Baron was so angry at everything that he lashed out at everyone.

It was incredibly…strange. Getting ripped to shreds and then waking up in bed the next morning like nothing happened.

Luckily, the Baron has since learned that his temper tantrums have no lasting effect, and has since locked himself away. You don’t know what he eats…and to be honest, you don’t care. You have more important things to do than deal with a self important brat.

You step around one of the butlers, who is dutifully dusting a vase, “Good morning, Chaz,” You greet.

“Good morning, Miss.” He replies, “Did you have a nice walk?”

Your smile is wry, “Well, it’s warm and sunny, right now, and not a cloud in the sky. So, I was miserable.”

He chuckles, “I sent the young ones to the kitchen for a baking lesson, they seemed thrilled.”

“Well, if I had the choice between cookies and math, I would choose cookies too, Chaz.” You joke as you lightly pat him on the shoulder, and then step around him.

“Quite right, Miss.” He says with a laugh, “Also, the Young Master is in a foul mood today, I would avoid the southern gardens.”

“When isn’t the Young Master in a foul mood.” You reply, “But I’ll tell people to stay clear.” You toss him one last smile, and walk the short distance from the side entrance to the kitchen, and you set your bag on the counter, “I have bread…and bacon.” you call out to your staff.

The room erupts into groans of dismay. “If I have to have bacon one more time,” One of the maids says dramatically as she drapes herself across the prep table, “I’m going to throw myself off a bridge.”

“That would be impressive since there are no bridges in the Loop.” You counter dryly, “Also. I’m making soup with bacon and chicken.” The moaning slows to a stop, “Great. Also, Chaz says stay out of the Southern Garden. Also, who’s doing baking lessons?”

“Granny’s got the kids,” One of the other maids calls from near the window, “And I saw the young Baron head into the Garden, he looked mad enough to spit fire.”

“Alright everyone, let’s get to work. We have a manor to feed.” You call, and the room devolves into organized chaos, and you smile. Running a kitchen is a dance, and it’s a dance you’ve performed over ten thousand times. Everyone is in their positions, and though the room looks chaotic…well, they’re performing a masterpiece.

You smile and slide yourself into your position, and begin your part of the dance.

***************

It has been three months since the events that saw ARC Knight Echo losing his arm, and both of his legs in a magical explosion. And while he has prosthetics, and they work well, and he’s comfortable with them, he’s still not comfortable with his new body.

It’s why he went to Rex and asked for time. Time to heal on his own, without people hovering around him. Time to get used to the prosthetics and the way that his body moves now.

And after two weeks of camping, he’s starting to feel more like himself. Still, he’s not quite ready to return home just yet. For all that he claims that he hates camping…he’s actually enjoying himself. Enjoying the hunting and the fishing, and navigating the land with nothing more than a map and a compass.

Still, Echo is beginning to think it’s time to return home. There’s only so much time he can spend on his own before he starts missing his brothers, and starts talking to the trees around him.

He glances at his map, and then at the bridge several feet away, “Well…I’ll get to the top of the hill, and then I’ll turn around and head home.” He says to himself. He looks over the map one more time, and then folds it and slides it into his jacket pocket. He then hefts his bag over his shoulder, and he crosses the bridge.

He walks up the shallow hill, crests the top, and then he stops. Slowly, without moving his eyes, he pulls the map out of his jacket and he looks down at it, and then back in front of him.

There is not supposed to be a village here. And yet there is.

A well settled village, at that. The houses look old, like they’ve been there for a while, and the road is cobbled, rather than dirt. Echo pockets his map, and carefully adjusts his jacket so he’s able to rest his hand on the pommel of his blade.

And then he starts walking down the cobbled road.

This is strange, and he loves solving strange.

******************

Once more, you walk the distance between the manor and the village. You go to the grocers, you buy bacon and bread while making jokes about having literally anything else, and you leave the shop.

Normally you don’t pay any attention to your surroundings, you’ve done this thousands of times now, but for some reason, today you do. Maybe you’re just feeling wistful, remembering the days when you could crest the hill and cross the bridge and head into the forest.

You flicker your gaze towards the village exit, and your breath catches in your throat.

There, standing next to the welcome sign, is a man. A strange man.

And, after thirty years, there are no strange men in this village.

You turn and walk towards him. He’s tall, though not the tallest man you’ve met, with dark skin and dark hair. As you get closer, you notice that his hair is curly, and that he’s got a prosthetic arm.

By the time you’re close enough to talk to him, you’re sure. “You’re from outside,” You breathe out.

He pins you in place with a curious stare, “If you mean that I’m not from this village, then yes, you’re right.” He looks away from you, his dark eyes scanning the village properly, “This village isn’t on any map.”

A pained look crosses your face, “We used to be,” You say quietly, “But…not anymore, I suppose.”

He glances at you, and then at some of the other people in the village, some have stopped what they’re doing to stare at him, while others blatantly ignore him, “Why are they looking at me like that?”

“People don’t come here,” You explain, “I…I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“I’m Echo. Echo Fett. I’m an ARC Knight of Mandalore.”

You introduce yourself with a smile, “I work at the manor, as the head chef.” You explain as you motion, vaguely, to the manor, “Um, so you asked what people are looking at you-”

“Yeah. They’re staring at me. I know prosthetics aren’t normal-”

“What? No! That doesn’t have anything to do with it.” You hasten to say, as you reach out and touch his arm lightly, “Just…please, will you listen to our story?”

He turns his attention back on you, “Yeah, alright.”

You tug him off the main road, and to a small park. Families used to picnic there, but not anymore.

You sit on one of the benches, and wait until he’s sitting next to you. “So…what’s the story with this place?” Echo asks.

“Um…okay. So this story begins thirty years ago, on the night of the Baron’s 15th birthday.” You explain, your voice quiet, “You have to understand, the Baron was never a good child. He was always harsh, always cold, always mean…no one ever had anything good to say about him. I can’t even describe just how awful of a boy the Baron is.”

“Okay. So he’s a brat, the son of a Duke?”

“That’s right,” You nod, “Well, there was a surprise visitor. And for some reason the Baron answered the door himself. He turned the stranger away with violence…and it turned out that the stranger was actually a sorceress.”

“Oh no.”

“The entire Duchy was cursed as well.” You say quietly, “The Duke and Duchess were trapped in paintings. The Baron has become a monster. And the rest of us…well, we’re trapped.”

“In what way?” Echo asks.

“We have to live the same day, over and over and over again. We can do different things, within reason, but time never moves on for us.” Your voice is soft, “You’re the first new person we’ve met in years.”

He leans back against the bench, and he doesn’t say anything for a really long time, “So…what happens when time resets with me still here?”

You bite your lower lip, “I don’t know.” You hesitate, “I would suggest staying away from the manor, though. Until we know if the loop affects you…you need to stay away from the baron.”

“Why?” Echo asks.

“Because he’ll kill you.”

Echo stills, and something flinty enters his eyes, “Does he kill people often?”

“Oh, he hasn’t killed any of his employees in five years now.” You try to soothe, “And, well, it resets at midnight anyway, so…”

“Does that make it better?” Echo asks, his voice very gentle.

Your hands shake slightly as you remember razor sharp claws and teeth dripping with saliva, “...no.” You admit. You clench your hands tightly in your lap, to try and stop the trembling.

Echo glances at your hands, and reaches to place one of his hands over yours, “It’s okay. You’re safe here.”

“For now.” You answer softly, your hands moving slightly to lightly grip his hand, the metal is cool under your hands, but is also soothing somehow, “It’s why you need to leave.” You say as you look from his hand to his face, “If you stay here-”

“No.” He interrupts, he smiles at you to soften the harshness of his word, “Look, you said that the curse is based around the Baron, right?”

“Yeah. He changed, and then his parents were trapped in the painting, and then the duchy was trapped in the loop. In that order.” You reply.

“Okay, so with the curse centered on the Baron, then to kill the curse we need to kill the Baron,”

You’re already shaking your head, “He’s too violent. If we get too close to him he’ll kill us.”

Echo frowns thoughtfully, “Then I’ll do it.”

You start and stare at him with wide eyes.

“I’m an ARC Knight, this is what we do.” Echo explains, his voice very kind.

“Free people from decade long curses?” You ask doubtfully.

He laughs softly, “Fight things that other people can’t.” He squeezes your hand, very gently, “Trust me.”

You hesitate for a long moment, and then you slowly nod. “Okay Echo.”

He smiles at you and gently releases your hands, “I’m going to need your help. Can you get me into the manor?”

Your gaze lingers on his clothing for a moment, and anxiety twists your stomach, “What if he claws you?” You ask, “His claws are…they ripped through me in one…”

Echo reaches into his backpack and pulls out a small metal orb, it’s glowing faintly, “This is an armor sphere. This is where I store my ARC armor when I’m not actively using it. Don’t worry, sen’ika, I’ll be wearing armor when I fight the Baron.”

“...okay.” You stand and gather your shopping bag in your arms, “Then you should probably follow me.”

“Yes ma’am,”

Echo follows you through the streets, and down the path that leads to the manor, and he follows you around the building to the side entrance. You hold the door to the manor open for him, and he steps into the worn down hallway that leads to the servants quarters.

Chaz is waiting for you. His severe gaze looks from Echo, to you, and then back to Echo. “The Young Master is in the library,” He says in a clipped tone, “I have instructed everyone to remain in their rooms for the time being.” He exhales slowly, and then lightly touches Echo on the shoulder, “Good luck, young man.”

“Thank you,” Echo replies, growing slightly startled when Chaz bows deeply, and then turns and vanishes into a side room. “Sen’ika, I need someplace to put my armor on.” He says to you.

“We can use the kitchen, it’s the one place in the manor the Baron never comes to.” You say, “Plus it’ll be empty right now.”

“Great, lead the way.” He follows you down a side hallway and into the kitchen, where you help him clear one of the prep tables, and he activates the little sphere, and lays all of his armor out on the table, and he quickly starts strapping the pieces to his body, “Where’s the library?” He asks.

“It’s part of the main building, on the third floor.” You explain, “You’ll never find it unless I show you…it’s not like there are any maps of the manor.”

He cuts his gaze towards you, “I don’t want you anywhere near the fighting.”

“I’ll be careful,” You reply, “But you’ll never find it without me.”

He sighs quietly, “Fine, but you will listen when I tell you to do something.”

“Yes sir,”

He finishes pulling his armor on, and he hooks his blade to his hip and then grabs his helmet, “Alright. How big is the library?”

“Massive. The Duchess was all for education.” You answer as you head out of the kitchen and into the hall, “She purchased several copies of every book ever printed and all of them are kept in the library.”

“So it’s cramped?”

“Less so than you might assume…it’s just very big.” You guide him through the twisting halls, until you reach the main living quarters. Unlike the servants quarters, which are clean and well maintained, the main house is dimly lit.

The wallpaper is ripped and torn, and there are some places where the wooden floorboards have been ripped up and flung into the wall. Pictures have been torn to shreds, and none of the furniture is usable. “The Baron did all of this?”

You nod, “He destroys the house every morning…at this point it doesn’t even take him an hour to destroy the house.” You carefully step around one of the floorboards, “Follow me, we need to go upstairs.”

You move silently through the house, and Echo is just as quiet, in spite of the armor he’s wearing. Finally you stop in front of an ornate door, “Is this the library?” Echo asks, his voice hushed.

“It is,” You hesitate, “You can still leave, Echo.”

“I’m not doing that.” Echo replies.

You sigh softly, and then you push the door open just enough that the pair of you can enter. Just like every other room in the main house, the library is destroyed, but you lightly touch Echo’s arm and you point at the ceiling, “There.”

Echo’s gaze follows your finger and he inhales sharply, “That used to be a man?” He asks.

The creature is shrouded in shadow, with claws long enough to rip a man to shreds without trying, and teeth that barely remain in his jaw. He clings to the ceiling, as though gravity has no effect on him.

“Yes,” You whisper, “That used to be the Baron.”

Echo motions for you to get back, and draws his blade, “How do I get him down?” He hisses.

You glance at him nervously, and then you lift your fingers to your mouth, and you release a loud whistle that echoes through the chamber. And then you immediately duck under a fallen bookcase.

The Baron’s eyes snap open, revealing blood red eyes, and he releases a noise that sounds like a million angry snakes hissing at the same time. And you watch as the Baron moves, lunging at Echo with his terrifying speed.

But Echo is just as fast, and his blade is just as sharp as the Baron’s claws.

You watch, terrified, as Echo proves just how good the average ARC Knight is, and you gasp when, in a smooth motion, Echo severs the Baron’s head from his body.

You slide out from your hiding space, and take several steps towards Echo, when the pressure in the room changes suddenly. You clamp your hands over your ears as the pressure increases and becomes painful.

You feel Echo’s hand lightly against your shoulder, and just barely hear him calling your name. And then there’s the sensation of a baseball bat slamming against your chest and the world goes dark.

**********

You wake with a painful groan. Your entire body hurts, and your head is throbbing. You let out a noise of discontent as your bedroom door bursts open and Chaz hurries in, “Good you’re awake. Get up, get dressed.”

You groan and roll out of bed, landing on the floor with a painful thump, “Why does everything hurt?” You rasp out.

“You were standing right there when the curse reset,” Chaz replies as he pulls you to your feet, “You took the brunt of the reset.” He explains.

“Oh…it sucks.”

“It does.” He agrees as he shoves an outfit into your hands, “Get dressed, you need to get out of the manor.”

You clumsily take the clothes and start peeling off your sleepwear, replacing them with the loose tunic Chaz gave you, “Why?”

“Echo killed the Baron yesterday, didn’t he?” Chaz asks in return.

“Yeah. He did. But if the world reset-”

“I broke a plate yesterday, it’s still broken.”

Your fingers pause on the ties of your shirt, “That’s impossible.”

“It’s improbable, but killing the Baron caused a change. You need to go back to the village and see if you can find Echo. He’s not in the manor.” Chaz pauses and leans in, “I think he was flung outside of the loop, since he’s not a part of it.” He motions to the blue and black backpack sitting in the corner of your room.

You pull your trousers on, and then pull on your boots, “That makes sense,” you say quietly, “What if he doesn’t come back?”

“He’ll come back. I have a good feeling.” Chaz replies, and then he grips your shoulders tightly, “Listen. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I think if we kill the Baron once for every year that we’ve been cursed, the curse will break.”

“30 deaths? There’s no way. We already know that the Baron remembers things that happen in previous resets.” You remind him, “There’s only so many times that Echo will be able to kill him with a sword.”

“Agreed. Don’t worry, we’ll handle it.” Chaz pushes you out the door, “Now go!”

“I’m going, I’m going.” You allow him to propel you out of your room, and down the hall, and then out the side door, and he slams the door behind you.

You huff out a heavy breath, and groan as pain shoots through you. You slowly walk the familiar path to the village, where you’re greeted by enthusiastic shouts. The grocer is missing a loaf of bread he sold the day before. The baker’s flour level is down just a little bit.

There’s change for the first time in years.

You walk to the Village sign, and lean heavily against it, your arm folded protectively against your ribs. You had forgotten how pain lingered. You don’t like it.

Your head snaps up when you see movement from in front of you, and a relieved smile crosses your face when Echo, still clad in armor, walks over to you. “Are you okay?” You ask.

He pulls his helmet off, “Are you? I found myself on the other side of the bridge when I woke up. Why are you holding your ribs?”

“They’re bruised, I think.” You reply, “I woke up in bed because of the reset.”

“So it didn’t work.” Echo says with a frown.

“Well, it is. But the curse is just…cracked. At least, that’s what we think.” You step closer to him, “Chaz broke a plate yesterday, and it’s still broken.”

Echo frowns, “You have a theory?”

“We think that if the Baron dies once for every year that we’ve been trapped here, the curse will break.”

“Thirty deaths?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Echo exhales sharply, “How many more times can I use my sword before he learns how to avoid it?”

“Better to not risk trying it again,” You reply as you reach out and take Echo’s hand, “But, we have lots of weapons…assuming you know how to use them.”

“I haven’t encountered a weapon I can’t use,” Echo replies dryly, “Come on, back to the manor.”

“Yeah.” This time Echo guides you to the manor, and through the side door.

Chaz is sitting in the kitchen with one of every weapon from the armory, “He’s in the west garden today,” He says as soon as he sees Echo, “Which one of these do you want?”

Echo presses his blade into your hands, “Keep this safe for me,” He says, and you nod, curling your arms around it, while he picks through the weapons, eventually grabbing a pair of axes which he spins expertly, “How do I get to the west garden?”

“I’ll show you,” You say.

“You’re already hurt,” Chaz says, “I’ll show you,” He says to Echo.

“But-”

Echo smiles at you as he pulls his helmet on, “Don’t worry, sen’ika. I’ll be fine.”

You watch him walk out the room, led by Chaz, and you tighten your grip around Echo’s blade.

***********

You wake up in your bed, dressed in the tunic and pants from the day before, with your arms wrapped securely around Echo’s blade.

You lay in bed for ten minutes. Whatever Echo did to the Baron clearly worked, since the day reset less than three hours after it began.

You roll out of your bed, and hurry out of the manor. And by the time you reach the village sign, Echo is waiting for you, his arms folded. “You’re okay?” You ask as soon as you’re close enough.

“A few bruises,” Echo replies as he takes his blade back, “I don’t want to get close to him again, I don’t think.”

“We’ll figure something out.” You say as you hug him quickly.

“I’m sure we will.”

The third death involves a massive amount of crossbows, which pin the Baron to the wall of the ballroom.

The eighth death involves a truly terrifying amount of fire.

The fifteenth death involves an explosive made from flour and gunpowder.

“Halfway there,” Echo says as he leans back on the bench in the garden, “Only fifteen more deaths.”

“Are you okay?” You ask as you reach out and touch a bruise on his cheek.

“Just exhausted, sen’ika.” He smiles at you, “The people sure seem happy with all of the changes,” He notes.

“Change is good, Echo. Being trapped is…it’s a kind of hell. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.” You say quietly.

“Well, with any luck, you’ll soon be free from this curse.” Echo says with a grin, “What’ll you do first?”

“Leave. I’m going to go literally anywhere else, and I’m never going to eat bacon again.”

Echo laughs, “Maybe I’ll take you back to Mandalore with me,” he says lightly, “It’s very different from this little village.”

“Oh, I’d like that-” You start to say, only to pause when something hits your face. The bustle of the village, just one street over, descends into silence, as the sky opens and rain starts falling.

You scramble to your feet, holding your hands out as the cool water splashes against your hands. And then you laugh, “Rain,” You whisper, “It’s raining!” You laugh again and spin in the rain, turning to grin at Echo, “Echo! You brought the rain back!”

From the next street over you can hear triumphant shouting, cheers of delight, and laughter.

You spin away from Echo, giggles of sheer delight falling from your lips as you stand in the pouring rain.

And Echo…well, he leans his elbows on his knees and he watches you with a fond smile on his lips. And when loud music starts playing the next street over, he gets to his feet, and he lightly takes your hand in his, an impish look crossing his face, “May I have this dance?”

You grin at him, and spin into his arms, “You may,” You agree as you look up into his eyes.

The seventeenth death involves an intricate trap with ropes, pulleys, and the heaviest bookshelf in the manor.

The twenty-first death involves a pit filled with lances.

The twenty-ninth death is much more straightforward, with Echo using a truly amazing number of potions to kill the Baron.

“This is the last one,” You whisper as you apply a healing ointment to Echo’s arm, and then reach up to patch up the bruise on his cheek.

“I think you’re more worried about this than I am.” Echo teases as he gently grabs your wrist, and lowers them away from his face, “Everything is going to be fine, I promise.”

“This is the closest we’ve been to freedom in years, Echo. I’m just…I’m nervous, that’s all.”

He smiles at you, warm and soft, and he leans in and lightly presses his forehead against yours, “There’s no need to be nervous.” He murmurs, “I’m going to take care of you.”

You release a shaky breath, “Okay. Are you sure you want to use your sword?” You ask one more time, just to make sure.

He laughs softly, “Yes. I’m sure. He won’t be expecting it.”

“But-”

Echo presses a light kiss to the inside of your wrist, “Trust me, cyar’ika. This is for the best.”

“I do trust you, but I’m still nervous.” You murmur, even as heat floods your face at his gentle kiss.

He smiles reassuringly at you, and gently releases you, “Go and take your position.”

You nod once, and take half a step back. Then you hesitate, and step back towards him and stand on your toes to press a kiss against his cheek, “Good luck, Echo.” And then you turn and hurry away.

Echo lets out a quiet chuckle, and then he pulls his helmet on. He walks the familiar path to the main room of the house, and he glances up at the second floor, where all of the employees of the Manor are standing, watching.

There’s the sound of angry hissing, and then the Baron is there. Twenty-nine deaths have left the creature angry and paranoid. Angry enough that his gaze was locked on Echo, and not any of the innocent people in the room.

Echo spins his blade with the ease of someone who knows what he’s doing and he takes a step towards the creature, “It’s time for this to end.” Echo says flatly.

The creature snarls and throws himself at Echo.

But Echo has already killed this creature twenty-nine times. He knows how he moves, how he acts in a given situation, and he’s clever enough to be able to make educated guesses on how he’ll react in unknown situations.

The whole encounter has already played out, hundreds of different times, in Echo’s mind. He already knows how it’s going to end. And so do the people watching the last fight.

Echo moves, just enough out of the way to not get hurt. He activates the runes on the blade, and he strikes. The Baron releases an inhuman scream, and spins to try and flee, but Echo strikes two more times.

And the creature falls still.

Nothing happens for a long moment. And then the shadows that cover the creature disperse in every direction, washing over all of the people, then across everything in the Duchy, and then the shadows vanish as if they never existed to begin with.

You look at the massive clock on the wall and you watch as the calendar and time speed up to match the current day and year, and then you hurry down the stairs, “Echo!”

He pulls his helmet off and grunts as you crash into his side, “I’m okay, he didn’t even touch me.” His arm slides around your shoulder as you hug him tightly.

“No!” You both turn at the wail coming from the young man kneeling on the ground, “No! How could you? I was strong! I had power!” The Baron, a teenager again, gets to his feet, his teeth bared. “I’ll kill you!”

Echo lightly pushes you behind him as the teenager lunges at him. He draws his fist back, and then slams his fist into the boys face, sending him reeling back to the ground, “On the authority given to me by the Royal Family of Mandalore, you’re under arrest.”

“I was cursed!” The boy spat, “You can’t arrest me for being cursed!”

“No, but I can arrest you for the repeated murders of your employees. Just because it didn’t stick doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.” Echo says flatly, and then he presses the tip of his blade against the teenager’s throat, “Unless you think that none of them will testify against you.”

The boy hesitates and then looks away.

“That’s what I thought.” Echo effortlessly cuffs him, and then tosses him against a wall.

“So…what happens next?” Chaz asks.

“I have to make a phone call to Mandalore, we’ll get people out here to help you all get resettled. Thirty years is a long time, my friend.” Echo says as he clasps Chaz’s shoulder, “Although, unless anyone wants to stay here, we’ll probably reach out to different nations to help you get settled somewhere else.” He smiles at the group of people, “A new start…for all of you.”

He steps away from Chaz as the older man begins giving orders for information to get passed onto the village proper, and he leaves the manor. You chase after him, “So, what happens with me, then?”

“A new start,” Echo says, stopping as you hurry to his side, “Doing whatever you want, wherever you want.”

“What if I want to stay near you?” You ask.

He pauses and looks at you, “Well, I might be able to help with that.” Echo says with a slow smile. “If that’s what you really want.”

You hum thoughtfully, “You brought the rain back, Echo. And you fought for our freedom. There’s nothing I want more than to stay with you.”

He laughs softly, “Come here, sen’ika.”

You step closer to him and he lightly hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you even closer, and then he lightly bumps his forehead against yours.

“I have an idea,” Echo says lazily, “How about, once I make this call, we go down to the village and buy sandwiches from the cafe, and we have a picnic while we wait for help to arrive?”

You rest your hands on his chest plate, “Like a date?” You ask softly.

“Exactly like a date,” He confirms.

You smile at him brightly, and you raise up on your toes to brush your lips against his, “I like that idea.”

He smiles against your lips, “Glad to hear it, cyar’ika. Now, I really do need to make this call, but you don’t have to move if you don’t want to. Actually, they’re probably going to have some questions for you, so it’s best that you don’t move-”

You grin and lay your cheek against his shoulder, it’s not a happily ever after, not yet at least, but it’s a start and that’s all you can ask for.

#star wars #tcw #Star Wars AU #Knights and Magic AU #ARC Trooper Echo x Reader #TBB Echo x Reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction

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alexanderlightweight · 1 year

Note

Okay I loved the time travel ones you’ve done, but how about one where both Malec time travel?

here we go! i hope you enjoy!

lumine

Magnus stares at his counterpart, who has directed them to call him Bane, with a seemingly sincere smirk that for all its similarities to what Magnus’ sees in the mirror, feels cold and almost malicious.

“So what tawdry affairs are about in your world during this time?” Bane asks, sitting back and ignoring the cart of drinks to summon a glass directly to his hand. “How are the accords?”

“The accords?” Valois scoffs and Magnus sends him a weary glance, “do those dreadful things exist in every world? No, we have a new contract between us. The nephilim stay to themselves unless summoned by the downworld council. The clave rules only nephilim, as it’s always meant to be.”

“Oh perfect, I’d have hated to make waves, but I hate hiding away my boy more, so the tide would have had to change.”

As poetic as it sounds, there’s a threat in Bane’s flowery words and the possessive gleam in his gaze. It reminds Magnus’ startlingly of their shared father and it terrifies him to see it on their shared face.

“Who?” Valois asks, confusion and wariness in his voice and he eyes Magnus, as if Magnus has any insight into this stranger who is himself across the world.

“My Alexander,” Bane practically croons and the wards shudder against Magnus, warning him of angel blood at the same time a runed body starts to walk across Pandemonium’s floor.

“There you are,” Bane says in response to the figure and there is something dark and dangerous in his voice and Magnus shudders at the sudden greed in Bane’s eyes. “Darling, won’t you come here?”

The nephilim slips under the magic of another warlock, ducks under a vampire and then just deposits himself into Bane’s lap. He looks quite at home, his hand plucking Bane’s drink out of his hand and the nephilim takes a sip, before he grimaces, nose crinkling before he hands it back.

“Lovely, you know you hate my drinks.” Bane mock chides, because he’s chuckling as he says it and he’s already summoned another glass with something brighter, tarter looking. “Try this.” Bane’s apparently pet shadowhunter does so immediately, with a satisfied little smirk before he kisses Bane’s mouth.

“I was thirsty.” The shadowhunter says, voice deep and hoarse. “It dropped me deep in Alicante, it took a bit to make it to you.” The shadowhunter then presses what must be apology kisses to Bane’s jaw.

“Too long, but this won’t last much longer and then, we will change our petty little world to fit our whims.” Bane sounds completely serious and so nonchalant, as if it’s normal to plan to subjugate the will of the world on any scale.

“Or we can go to Edom, your father is hardly a threat now. No one could bother us there. I rather fancy a vacation away from Idris politics for once after the year we’ve had.”

A part of Magnus wonders how any version of himself managed to deal with his father and what kind of a world the two of them live in that makes it so different. The rest of him is terrified to find out the answer, especially when a part of him can’t deny he aches to have the same kind of casual intimacy and be showered with the ardor his other self is.

That Bane’s Alexander is gorgeous, is really just a bonus.

#lumine writes #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #malec #shadowhunters au #my fics #my fanfics #my ficlets

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walli3darl1ng · 6 months

Note

Hello there darling

Can I request for a welcome home ppl react to a 9 tales kitsune reader

Like she/he has lived in the woods for a long time and was curious what the neighborhood was like and the people that were in it

And the fact that there tales were soft and he/she was beautiful and helped wally finally get a good rest sleep with his/her tales

if u don't mind

(I dont mind at all, Darling! I apologize for getting to this late TT but I really love this! Hope I live up to your expectations! Before we continue…as much as I personally dislike this I really want to post something for you guys ;))

The Kitsune Fox; a fox spirit that can turn into a human to trick and fool those who are easily fooled. Although even the most cautious can’t resist the temptation the spirits posses. In some folklore these spirits are wise and humble spirits that help the living, others say they are evil and only wish to hurt those that are weak.

They are rumored to see and hear all that goes on in the world and if deemed worthy—they can interact and help.

“Sally, I know you like this kind of thing but is it really necessary to say all the scary and nasty stuff on our sleepovers?” A slightly shaken and worried Julie interrupts Sally’s dramatic explanation of the fantasy tale making the star puppet stop and turn to her.

“Oh, sorry! I just really love those stories,” she gives a brief pause and glances around at the rest that were asleep. The only ones still awake was her Julie and Wally. “Besides everyone else is asleep.” She whispers back.

“Yeah, but now Julie won’t be able to sleep, you know how she gets.” Wally tiredly replies, patting Juliet’s shoulder softly. The scared blonde hugging her stuffed doll close to her chest.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Julie.” Sally frowns then opens her sleeping bag to her friend. “We can cuddle until you fall asleep, how’s that sound?”

“Okay!” Julie nods and smiles as she crawls over and hugs her best friend. “We can go see the small shrine tomorrow? The one you were talking about earlier.”

Sally hums and nods, already half asleep due to the warms Julie was providing. She was telling them that she found a small shrine not that far and wanted them to go with her to check it out.

Speaking of which here you are, draped over the roof of the shrine, your fox ears tall and alert and tails swinging about as she let out a boring sigh. “How boring…I guess a couple 100 years will do that, huh?” This is a common thing for you. Talking to yourself I mean. You have been alone for over a few centuries.

Your ears flicker when you hear slow and relax heartbeats, the neighborhood must be asleep now. You’ve noticed the neighborhood not that long ago but was always a bit hesitant to go down there and say hi. What if they think you’re evil and cast you away?!

Anyways, you’ve been keeping an eye on them for the time being. Just watching over them.

“What..?” You sit up when you pick up on a faster heartbeat, was someone having a nightmare?

“I need to investigate..what if someone’s in danger?” With a new found determination you gracefully float down and toward the neighborhood.

As colorful and unique the neighborhood is you can explore just yet. Your ears snap to the sound of the beat of the racing heart to a house. You peek inside a window to see a blue haired puppet rubbing his eyes as he takes a few deep breaths.

You tilt you head as you can still hear his heartbeat beating a bit too fast so you swiftly float in through the cracked open window which gets his attention.

“Who’s there?”

“I’m sorry…you had a nightmare?” Way to start a conversation, I suppose. Then again it’s been so long since you had a conversation with someone else and have gotten a response.

Wally however wasn’t worried at the fact that you, a complete stranger has entered Julie’s home but the fact that you were the exact tale sally was gushing out early that night. You are so beautiful, majestic and grateful even in your tone. Your ears are tall and huge, your tails! Gosh they look soft and the fact you got nine of them! Blow his mind, alright.

“Um…hello?” You asked, waving your hand in front of him making his jump a bit.

“Oh! Sorry, you’re just…you’re so pretty that’s all.” Wally shrugs it off and smiles.

You blink at this, he think you’re pretty? Seriously? What does that mean exactly? “..thank you?”

“..so you’re here because you thought I had a nightmare?”

“Your heartbeat was fast, that’s not normal.” You said as you pointed to his chest. “Then again, it’s been a few days now that I hear that from you, you’re the one that live in the red house, right? The one that’s alive.”

“Home you mean? Yea that’s me, Wally.” He smiles, his heart beat is calming down. That’s good.

“Wally…I’m (Y/n), I live on the shrine that’s up the hill.”

“Sally was telling us about it earlier! That’s where you live, that’s fantastic, you can meet the others.” Wally was now so excited to share his new found friend with the rest.

You tilt you head and hums seeing that Wally was still tired, he’s fighting his sleep but still talking to you. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“Sleeping? No, no I can’t sleep now.” Was it the nightmare? You mind is racing with solutions but to no avail. Oh wait!

You perk up at your idea and float towards him, shifting a bit bigger as you circle your body around him and using one of your tails to gently push hums against you and wrap the remaining tails on him like a blanket.

“What are you doing, friend?”

“Helping you sleep.” Was all you mumble before gently humming a soft lullaby you wound for centuries and slowly but surely the blue haired puppet closes his eyes and lets calming sleep take over him, the most calming sleep he’s has these past few days.

The morning sun comes up and shines onto the neighborhood, everything was peaceful and—

“AHHH! there’s a fox in the living room!!”

~~~

The end :) I wrote all this in a Ross parking lot 🧍🏻now I know I’ve abandoned you guys—IM SORRY! But it’s been a hard couple of months and I’m trying to get into my happy hobby again which is writing and talking to you guys 💜

#welcome home #welcome home wally #welcome home x reader #welcome home x you #wally darling

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jwonsociety · 2 years

Text

lovestruck // chapter 5

pairing ➼ brother's best friend!niki x fem!reader

genre ➼ strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, kind of crack because y/n's internal narration is very silly, sunoo is y/n's older brother

word count ➼ 2.8k

warnings ➼ profanity, lethal amounts of yearning

synopsis ➼ As the younger sister of the smart and popular Kim Sunoo, you’ve gotten used to living life as a background character. You mostly keep to yourself, you don't go to parties, and you most certainly do not have a boyfriend. One day, Sunoo brings home one of his friends and encourages you two to get to know each other… the fact that said friend is extremely cute definitely won’t be an issue, right?

taglist!! ➼ @kaal-ee @naexity @sd211 @yenqa @justbored48 @nomurahayami @seeuuns @666eren @mklhyvn @annoyingbitch83 @f0rlov3rs

a/n ➼ IM ALIVE!!!! im SO SO sorry for how long it took me to finish this chapter 😭 school has been keeping me super busy but this week i had finally had some free time to get this done!! i hope you all enjoy this update 💘💘 next chapter will wrap up the series!

˚₊· ➳❥

“You and Niki have gotten pretty close lately.”

Your head snapped up from your phone. From where you were curled up on the living room couch you could see Sunoo standing in the doorway, resting his weight against the wall.

“What?”

“I’ve seen you guys hang out at school a lot,” he elaborated, “and whenever he comes over you guys always joke around.”

You searched your brother’s face for any kind of emotion. For the most part, his expression maintained flawless neutrality. He smiled his “perfect older brother” smile, which was equal parts comforting as it was terrifying. If there was one thing Sunoo was good at, it was being unreadable.

You hoped your panic wasn’t visible. “Your point is…?”

“I’m just proud of you, y/nnie!” he chirped, clapping his hands together. “I know you struggle to make friends, but look at you -- I know you sat with new people at lunch the other day! You’re a social butterfly.”

Immediately, a wave of relief washed over you. He was just being his merry self, *not* accusing you of having a massive crush on one of his closest friends. Not that he could prove that or anything.

“It’s really not that big of a deal, but thank you,” you chuckled. “Wait -- how’d you know I sat with his friends at lunch last week? You weren’t there.”

Sunoo smiled mischievously. “We talk about you.” Before you could interrogate him further about that, he continued. “By the way, Niki’s coming over later around six-ish. Just so you’re not surprised when he suddenly appears in our home.”

You nodded distractedly, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that Niki is in fact aware of your existence when you’re not standing right in front of him. Sometimes you forget that you’re a real perceivable person and not a figment of everyone else’s imagination.

You glanced at the time on your phone: 12:04pm. You had a few hours to spare before Niki showed up and something embarrassing inevitably happened. It was Saturday morning -- technically early afternoon, but seeing as you had woken up at eleven, it was morning to you. After you had risen from bed and stared at your wall in an exhausted daze for about twenty minutes, you resigned yourself to the living room couch and went on your phone. That’s what you had been doing until Sunoo appeared, made some weird ominous comments, and then drifted away like the ghost of a Victorian child. You sighed.

Niki coming over later made you nervous even though it really shouldn’t. Actually, you weren’t sure if “nervous” was the appropriate word; it was more like “eager anticipation”. Which definitely wasn’t better.

In the past week and a half, you and Niki had spent some wholesome quality time together. You had talked at school and gotten to know each a bit better -- and, unfortunately, the more you got to know him the more you liked him. You almost wish that there was some glaring red flag about him so that you could finally rid yourself of these feelings, but genuinely (and annoyingly) there just weren’t any. Everything about him was just so fucking endearing.

He had a cute little dog named Bisco who he had insisted on showing you photos of and he liked to play soccer when he wasn’t dancing. He loved spring and horror movies and he hits a punching bag when he wins in Fifa which really *should* give you lethal amounts of the ick but it *didn’t*, and you were horrified by yourself.

Of course, he had come over to hang out with Sunoo quite a few more times. Sometimes he would tell Sunoo that he had to use the bathroom just so he could stand in the doorway of your room and talk to you. He had made fun of how messy you were, which you hadn’t appreciated; nevertheless, a smile would be plastered on your face long after he left.

Considering all that, you could confidently say that you and Niki were good friends. That was the extent of it. That *had* to be the extent of it. You knew that. If you and Niki ever started dating -- not that you considered that a real possibility -- Sunoo would murder you. You had never dared to start sniffing around your brother’s friends (no matter how cute they were) and you weren’t about to start now. You didn’t want to put your relationship with Sunoo or Niki in jeopardy. With time and patience, this tiny minuscule insignificant little crush would fade away. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

With a hefty sigh, you flopped face-first onto the couch and buried your head into a pillow. It was going to be a long day.

➽──────────────❥

The knock came while you were in the kitchen.

“I’ll get it!” you heard Sunoo holler from atop the stairs. The sound of his feet descending the steps echoed through the halls and in a brief moment, he appeared before you.

“Is it Niki?” you asked, hoping your brother wouldn’t notice the excitement twinging your voice.

“No, it’s Beyonce.” Sunoo rolled his eyes, a mannerism that seemed reserved only for you. “Of course it’s Niki.”

He left to answer the door before he could see the scathing middle finger you were giving him. Sunoo was a great sibling, but that certainly didn’t exempt you from the quintessential familial bickering.

You scoffed and took out another pretzel from the large bag you had been snacking on. Sure enough, Niki walked into the kitchen a few moments later, a babbling Sunoo attached to his hip.

“I swear, if he disrespects me in front of the team *one* more time I am going to throttle that son of a--”

“Dude, he’s like seven feet tall. I really doubt that you could… ‘throttle’ him, whatever the fuck that means,” Niki snorted. He looked over at you, just as he had done so many times before, but it still made your stupid heart skip a beat. “Hey, y/n.”

“Hey,” you replied. “Are you guys talking about that one annoying guy on the dance team again?”

“Oh my God, *yes*,” Sunoo groaned as if he were teetering on the precipice of a murder charge -- which, in all honesty, he probably was. “You wouldn’t believe what he did today, y/n. He messed up a move during practice so I *politely* corrected him, and he told me to mind my own business!”

“Despicable,” you gasped sarcastically, grabbing another pretzel. Niki snickered.

Sunoo wagged his finger disapprovingly. “You weren’t there. You didn’t hear the sass in his voice.”

“What’s wrong with being a little sassy?” Niki wondered aloud, walking over to you and reaching into the pretzel bag to get one for himself. You scolded yourself for the way your cheeks flushed at his presence.

“I’m not really following this conversation,” you interjected. You reached into the pretzel bag unconsciously, only to be met with the feeling of something else. Looking down, you realized that Niki had reached for one at the same time, your hand gently brushing his. You hastily pulled your hand out.

“Oh, sorry!” you blurted, looking at him up him. He smiled and laughed.

“It’s fine, y/n,” he assured. He reached into the bag and grabbed one, extending it to you. “Here.”

You blinked at the pretzel for an embarrassing amount of seconds before accepting. You bit into it, trying to ignore the way Niki’s gaze remained on you, chewing his lip. It was a habit of his you had noticed. Jeez, why had you noticed that?

“Me and Niki are going to head upstairs to my room,” Sunoo informed. You jumped in your seat, startled by his voice. Niki had the strange ability to make you feel like no one else was around when he spoke.

“Will you guys be loud? I was going to study in my room.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be quiet,” Niki said, smirking. “Wouldn’t want to interrupt your studying, now would we?”

You stuck your tongue out at him. “If I fail my calculus quiz next week I’m telling Mrs. Hwang it was your fault.”

“That woman can come at me!”

You chuckled, throwing a pretzel at him, which Niki swiftly dodged.

“Hey, clean that up before Mom comes home!” Sunoo chided, tugging Niki along by the hem of his sleeve. “We’ll be quiet, y/nnie!”

With a fond wave, your brother bid you goodbye and ascended the stairs. Niki followed closely behind him, but not without casting you one last glance before he was out of view.

Niki was a puzzle. Not a regular puzzle -- he was one of those 1000-piece jigsaw puzzles. Just when you thought you had it all figured out, you went to put in the last piece and it somehow didn’t fit. Niki was fun and you liked being around him (maybe a bit too much), but something about him always kept you on your toes.

There was no denying the fact that every time you and the boy had a conversation, something unspoken lingered in the air. It was tense and complicated, and both of you were aware of it but intentionally chose to ignore it. You wondered how much longer you could pretend.

Popping one last pretzel in your mouth, you hopped off your seat at the kitchen counter and opened one of the cabinets. On your tiptoes, you returned the snack to its original home, and headed to your room.

➽──────────────❥

The derivative of cosine was negative, the derivative of sine was positive… or, wait, was it the other way around?

You physically resisted the urge to slam your face into your textbook. How did your teacher sincerely expect you to remember this all? Writing all of the sprawling formulas and equations felt like notarizing your last will and testament. You tried to imagine what had been written on the board in class like Cady does at the end of *Mean Girls* but to no avail. Apparently, spur-of-the-moment photographic memory only happened in movies.

You rolled over onto your back and stared at the nothingness of your ceiling. Closing your eyes, you listened to the noises of the world around you in an attempt to gather yourself. Cars rumbled as they passed by on the street outside. Crickets chirped their usual rhythm, accompanied by the sounds of owls and other nocturnal creatures venturing out of their homes for the night. You could almost hear the sound of your brain thinking.

This isn’t exactly how you had imagined your weekend going. No offense to the STEM scholars of the world, but math was not your definition of fun. Then again, you weren’t exactly known for attending ragers, so you weren’t sure what else you would be doing. You just wanted anything but the monotonous lull of linear approximations.

“Are you meditating or something?”

You flinched so hard you nearly pulled a muscle. Sitting up frantically, you looked to see your visitor.

Niki. Who else?

“I couldn’t help but notice you lying face-up on your bed like you were dead and I just wanted to make sure you weren’t in need of medical attention,” the boy snickered. He stood in your doorway, arms crossed and an amused smirk donning his face, no doubt finding entertainment in your disheveled state. “Your door was open, so…”

You had forgotten about that. You felt a painful twinge of embarrassment hit your stomach when you imagined the sight of you lying immobile as you worked through a calculus-induced existential crisis.

“Aren’t you supposed to be hanging out with my brother?” you asked, combing your hand through your hair. You hope you didn’t look a mess. Wait, why did you care? It was just Niki.

He turned towards your desk and examined your belongings. “Honestly, this seems much more interesting.”

You sprang up from your bed. “Don’t touch my stuff!”

“Sorry, what was that?” the boy teased, cocking his head in faux confusion as he picked up a picture enclosed in a baby pink frame. Upon looking at it, he gasped. “Oh my God.”

“*Niki!*” you squeaked. You knew exactly what photo he was looking at -- Halloween, years ago. Your parents had dressed Sunoo up as the tooth fairy (his request), glittering wings and all. He sat on the front porch steps of your house and directly to his left sat your toddler self, donning a ridiculous tooth costume.

“That is my personal property!” You lunged for the picture, but Niki extended his arms so that it was out of your reach. Curse him and his stupid height.

He laughed, loud and unabashed. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I think I might take this home with me.”

“I will kill you.”

“Aw, come on, I’m not making fun,” he said, tone turning soft. He brought the frame down again and looked at the photo with an expression you couldn’t quite place. “It’s very wholesome.”

“...Right,” you mumbled, grabbing the photo from his grasp and finally placing it back on your desk. “You know, that costume was against my will. I had no say in the matter.”

He snorted. “Don’t worry, I’ve had my fair share of embarrassing costumes. When I was little my sisters and I went as Scooby, Velma, and Daphne. My mom forces me to look at the photos of it every Halloween.”

“And you were Scooby, I’m assuming?”

Niki paused for a moment, eyes avoiding yours. “...I was Daphne.”

Your eyes went wide before bursting out in laughter, hunching over and gasping for breath. “*Oh my God.* That is the funniest mental image I’ve ever had.”

“I thought she was cool, okay?” he insisted, a sheepish smile on his face. “Don’t judge me because I looked up to an independent mystery-solving woman.”

You stood upright once more, wiping your watering eyes. “Okay, okay, we’re even.”

Niki smiled. “You were a very cute baby.”

“Thank you,” you giggled.

“You haven’t changed at all.”

“You mean, I still look like a baby?”

“No. I mean you’re still very cute.”

You blinked. “I…” you began, but you were unsure what to say.

He stepped closer so that you two were merely inches apart. His gaze was delicate as he looked down at you, but the signature intensity remained -- as if he was peering right into your soul. The mood of the conversation had suddenly shifted, and it was making you nervous. Niki drew in a deep breath.

“Y/n, how much longer are we going to keep doing this?”

At that moment, you swore you felt your heart come to a complete stop. Your eyes, which had been nervously cast to the ground, suddenly darted back up to meet his.

“What are you talking about?” You knew exactly what he was talking about.

He was looking at you with such focus that you felt like you might collapse. “Y/n, isn’t obvious that I like you? Haven’t I been making it obvious this whole time?”

You felt your heart pounding in your throat. Niki was *so* close. You searched for a response, attempting to formulate the right words, but came up empty-handed. “Niki…”

“I can’t keep ignoring what’s obvious between us,” Niki whispered. “I can’t. I know you like me too, y/n.”

All at once, the giant wall you had so carefully built in order to keep your feelings at bay came crumbling down. “Of course I do, Niki,” you breathed, voice so small it was almost inaudible. “But we can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You know why, Niki,” you muttered, eyes pleading with his. “Sunoo would kill me.”

Seeing Niki like this felt so wrong. He looked fragile. Breakable. This whole time, he had seemed like an enigma to you. The image of him you had created in your mind was indestructible and unobtainable. But now, it felt like you were seeing him for the first time. Really seeing.

“Y/n, you know that’s not fair,” he insisted. His gaze burned into you, communicating so much more than his words. “Sunoo doesn’t control you. We can make our own choices.”

You sighed and looked away, unable to maintain eye contact any longer. “Niki, of course I want to be with you. I’ve liked you since the moment we met.”

Niki paused for a few moments. The silence felt torturous. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to run for your life or be pulled into his arms.

“Really? Is that true y/n?”

You remained silent.

“Y/n, look at me, please.”

You felt a gentle hand on your chin, delicately guiding your head to turn you back towards him. The sight that met you was breathtaking; Niki, his eyes filled with a warmth that made you feel impossibly safe.

“I’ve liked you since the day we met too.”

His lips parted slightly and you felt the rotation of the Earth suddenly come grinding to a halt. He was so beautiful. So infuriatingly beautiful. His eyes were wary, intensely searching you for a sign that he shouldn’t do this. You didn’t give him one.

Leaning forward, you met him in the middle.

#nishimura niki #enhypen #niki x reader #niki x y/n #enhypen x reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen fic #nishimura riki #niki #brother's best friend #fluff #crack

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blouisparadise · 2 years

Photo

Today we have a second part to our royalty rec list for you! If you’d like to check out the first part, you can find it here. We hope you enjoy these amazing fics! If you do, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Addressed To The Fire | Explicit | 9085 words

“Would you have come,” Harry says after a few seconds, voice levelled. A part of Louis wants him to snap — wants him to be the first one to raise his voice, because if there’s one thing he will never, ever do, is give anyone the satisfaction of saying he’s the one that starts the fights, “if I had invited you?”

No, Louis’ mind replies immediately, I wouldn’t have.

2) Falling Down For You | Explicit | 14750 words

If there was an alpha that Louis wanted to call his, it would be Harry. But what happens when an arranged marriage, a hungry press, and doubts get in the way?

3) Lean On My Shoulder (I See Myself With You) | Explicit | 19540 words

Speaking of the views, there was someone on his balcony. The sun was still setting, making this person look even more ethereal. They seemed to be at content at being alone. Harry watched as they watered the plants, they certainly didn't look like they were amongst the help.

Curiosity got the best of him and he decided to invade this stranger's quiet time; the Prince could be selfish sometimes.

4) Promise Me You Won't Run Away | Explicit | 23128 words

“Does kissing me stop you from having bad thoughts?” Harry asked, voice muffled into the collar of Louis’ dress shirt. Louis chuckled at this. He trailed a hand down Harry’s back, feeling the muscles tensing along with his touch.

“I guess you can say that. You’re a good distraction.”

“Then I will be the best distraction.” Harry answered, pulling back and watched Louis’ lips unashamedly.

“Come distract me, then.”

5) (Summer Is Over) And I Wanna Leave You Satisfied | Explicit | 25031 words

On the very last night of his summer break in London, Louis Tomlinson hooks up with a hot guy. When he gets back home, his roommates tell him that they're going to be getting a new roommate. Said roommate? The same hot guy he hooked up with back in London: Harry Styles, who's looking for a quiet place to go to school and just wants to keep his head down. Funny how he keeps getting noticed, though....

6) What Our Souls Were Meant To Do | Mature | 34106 words

All Harry’s father wants is for his son to marry as soon as possible and give their family another heir. All Harry wants to do is fall in love.

7) Now I Think That I Could Love You Back | Explicit | 42255 words

“I do not care if she banishes me to my chambers for a month or the rest of the year, you two must see reason,” Louis protests, feeling a minor fit coming on. “He is nothing but an insufferable, cocky, cloddish, pitiful excuse for an Alpha, and he deserves to live the rest of his days in solitary, not me.”

“My, my, what an array of abuse. I surely would loath to be this inadequate excuse of an Alpha you speak of, but alas I cannot relate to possessing such deficiency,” a honey-glazed voice drips out from behind Louis, and the omega can feel the steam pouring over, ready to burst out of his already flushed ears.

8) Don’t Want No Other Shade Of Blue | Explicit | 43230 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

“I know you’re putting on an act,” says Harry after a moment, and Louis scowls when he realises the prince is actually amused.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Louis.

“All I’ve heard over the past couple of years are rumours of Prince Louis’ kindness, and generosity, and oh, he’s so handsome I can barely pour his tea without shaking!” says Harry, putting on a silly, high-pitched voice for the last bit. Louis’ scowl deepens. “I would already know if you were just another selfish, bratty omega prince. You can’t fool me, darling, but I admire your efforts.”

“As you said,” Louis grits out, “those are only rumours. I assure you, I’m a terrible person.”

9) The Fairy Ring | Explicit | 46170 words

A medieval fantasy AU in which Harry is a prince in disguise and Louis is the king of the faeries.

10) Tastes Like Summer, Smiles Like May | Explicit | 47519 words

A cold prince, an alpha with nothing left to lose and a kingdom with a secret.

11) Untamed Hearts Align | Explicit | 55795 words

For as long as Louis has known her, Lady Margaret Tomlinson has had two aspirations for the remaining years of her life. The first was to out-dress the Duchess of Kent at every soirée and gathering. The second was to marry off her omega nephew to the most honorable – and highly ranked – alpha suitor she could find.

He does not expect for her to arrange a marriage between him and the crown prince, and he certainly does not expect to fall for him.

Everything changes when Harry disappears.

12) Let Your Damage, Damage Me | Explicit | 57077 words

A low and dangerous growl was ripped from the future King’s chest.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” the alpha snarled, eyes dark and nostrils flared.

Even as anger rushed through him at the alpha’s brutish display, Louis felt breathless at the intense gaze of the man that was going to be his future mate.

‘Tomorrow I’m going to be under all that. He will be inside me, all muscles and rage.’ Louis felt his cheeks heat again, but refused to be cowed. So he put his best smirk on display, the one alphas despised to see, the one that assured them all he had the upper hand.

“Thought you were expecting me, dear husband. I’m your future mate.”

13) I’ve Got You | Explicit | 62988 words

As a reward for saving the king’s life, Harry is offered omega Prince Louis’ hand in marriage. Neither of them has any interest in the union going forward, and so they concoct a plan to prove to the king that they are far from a perfect match.

14) These Still Waters Run Deep | Explicit | 64602 words

Having accepted his engagement to Viscount Andrew, Louis is aware that it isn’t a love match and has no wish to be swept off his feet… until he meets the viscount’s brother, Harry, who makes him second-guess everything.

15) Where They Glow | Explicit | 70519 words

A Tangled AU where Louis dreams, Harry runs, and the sun prince has been missing for almost nineteen years.

16) Violent Delights | Not Rated | 76174 words

Prince Harry is arranged to mate Princess Charlotte, but first he must spend a month completing courting traditions which ends in a mating ceremony. When he arrives to the Tomlinson castle, he finds the forbidden North wing holds that which the family has worked hard to keep secret. Mainly: the sickly sweet Prince Louis, who’s rare gender has forced his family to keep him locked away for his own protection.

17) Bless the Day Our Heartbeats Aligned | Explicit | 97454 words

The one where after years of being gone, Knight Harry returns to his best friend only to find out that Louis is betrothed to another.

18) Like Water Over Fire (Like Water On Fire) | Mature | 119264 words

Prince Harry has 46 men and 13 weeks to find the husband of his dreams, Louis has a limited amount to time to live out a royal fantasy. They might just be exactly what the other needs.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#fic recs #larry #blp fic recs #blp #bottom louis #top harry #royalty

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peonierose · 1 year

Note

Hi Sweet P! Dropping in for a little Valentine's Day fun...

Bryce gives Luna a card for Valentine's Day. Does he pick out a mushy or funny one? Is there anything special he writes inside?

I’m a Sucker for You!

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Bryce Lahela (M!MC) x Luna Auclair (F!OC)

Words: 1,400+

Rating: Fluff

Summary: Bryce and Luna spend some time on Valentine‘s Day (even though they’re not the biggest Valentine’s Day fans). With one or two presents in between.

A/N: Thanks so much @cariantha for this sweet ask love 💗 I came up with this little story, hope you’ll like it 💗

I also linked Lunas & Bryce’s engagement story called ”How were we ever strangers“ (if you’re curious 🥰)

Side note: I’m participating in the @choicesficwriterscreations for the Valentine‘s Day celebration.

The doorbell chimed. And I looked up from the papers I was grading to get up from the couch to get the door.

”Just a sec. Pregnant woman waddling to the door.“ I can hear shuffling outside the door.

I breathe out as I slowly walk towards the front door. No one said carrying twins was easy. With my hands on my 8 months pregnant belly, I huff out small breaths as I walk slowly. Waddling like a penguin is more like it.

I’m close to my due date. Only one month away from welcoming our two little angels into the world.

I open the door and only see a big bouquet of peonies in front of me.

Yellow checkered vans sneak out below and I grin. I know exactly who’s holding a bouquet of my favorite flowers.

The flowers get lowered to reveal a smiling Bryce.

I grin at Bryce and take the flowers from him before giving him a kiss that lasts longer and is sweeter than anything in this world. When we pull apart we grin at each other.

”They’re so pretty B thank you. You really know how to make a girl happy.“ I nestle my nose inside the flowers and my nose touches the soft, velvet petals and I inhale the scent of the floral bouquet of peonies. Sweet and intoxicating.

”You’re my only and favorite girl. Well, a woman really. Since you’re one hell of a sexy soon-to-be mama.“

Tears well up in my eyes.

He grins, kisses me on my forehead and walks inside our house. His soft lips linger for a second longer and I close my eyes relishing the feeling of Bryce being close.

The scent of his cologne and clean fabric softener wafted toward me. Settling something deep inside my soul.

I look up at him with a smile.

”I thought you were just getting breakfast. This is a lot bigger than breakfast.“

Bryce grins wickedly. Holding a bag from our favorite diner and puts it on the kitchen counter. I grin at him.

”I’m glad you like my surprise. I know Valentine’s Day is not exactly our favorite day. But I still wanted to give you some flowers. I thought adding chocolate was a bit much.“

He grins.

”Yeah. I have you as a dessert B.“

Be winks at me. His eyes glint like molten chocolate in the sunshine.

He walks into the living room as I put the flowers into a vase and put them on the kitchen counter.

Bryce looks at the papers on the couch and puts his hands on his hips. Glaring at me disapprovingly with arched eyebrows.

”Lunes! We talked about this. No more working. Meilani said to rest. That also means no grading papers.“

”Actually if I remember our convo correctly you talked. I just listened and nodded to the words that came out of your mouth.“

He sighs and shakes his head grinning, not sure what to say since he knows he can’t win this argument.

I grin at him and settle down into the couch cushions and put my feet up. Trying to find a position that won’t put the twins directly on my bladder.

Bryce sits down next to me and puts my legs over his. I sigh in contentment.

”That feels so good.“ I lie on the couch, eyes closed. Then I hear Bryce chuckle.

”By the way did you find the card tucked inside the flower bouquet?“

Making me re-open my eyes and stare at him drowsily and almost half into dreamland. Damn, I was dreaming of unicorns. Maybe I can draw one and be a bit more creative later.

”What card? I didn’t see a card.“

”Hold on I’ll get it.“

Bryce puts my legs gently on the couch and gets up.

He comes back with a lavender envelope and hands it to me. I sit up a bit and open the card tucked inside.

I read over the words.

”Today is Valentine’s day and I know it’s not your favorite holiday. Would you still be mine? Because to be honest Lunes I’m a sucker for you. Now and always.“

-Bryce

I look up and grin at him before I beckon him with a finger to lean in closer to me.

When he does I pull him towards me by his shirt and give him my thanks in a kiss. A mix of slow and sweet, but passionate at the same time.

He grins against my lips. And when he pulls back a glaze has filled his eyes. He’s still high from my kiss. I wiggle my eyebrows at him. Which makes him dive in for another kiss cupping my face into his hands.

He slowly pulls away and looks at me. Before he gets something out of his back pocket. And when he opens his hand around the object he reveals a lavender velvet box.

I look up at him with wide eyes.

”B?“ I say a question in my eyes.

He turns red and clears his throat. Clearly he’s nervous.

”I know we’ve been engaged for some time now and I always felt bad because I didn’t give you a ring to wear.“

Before I could object that a ring doesn’t symbolize the love I have for him, he held up his hands and I closed my mouth shut.

”I know what you’re going to say so hear me out. When you asked me to marry you all those months ago I was so happy. I was going to ask you to marry me on the same day, but you moved first and asked me before I could ask you. Making that day the happiest day of my life. But when I prepared to ask you, I didn’t have a ring back then. I’ve been looking to give you a ring ever since. Something that says this is you. But I wasn’t lucky with finding one, and it’s been weighing on me. Because we’ve told everyone we’re engaged. We’ve booked your cousins wedding planning business to help organize our wedding. But I don’t know I felt bad that you didn’t have a ring to show for it. So that’s when I got the idea to pay your friend Jordan Miles a visit, you know the one who makes custom jewelry pieces. And I asked him to make you this.“

He opens the box and I gasp when I see the ring inside. Completely at a loss for words.

Its oval, white gold shape spoke immediately to me. A green gem nestled in the middle. Surrounded by a ring of white gold and pastel pink stones.

Bryce takes it out of the box and slips it onto my finger.

”Oh my god B. Why? When I asked you to marry me it wasn’t because I expected a ring and show it around. Not that I’m not going to showcase this baby.“

I wiggle my eyebrows and he laughs and kisses my hand with the ring displayed on it.

When he looks up I cup his face into my hands, I brush a strand of his longer getting hair out of his face. Gazing up at him, not having expected an engagement ring. It’s like I said I didn’t need a ring to show my love for Bryce. Love isn’t equal to materialistic things. It’s in the everyday of our lives. Sharing breakfast together, laughing about silly jokes. Falling asleep next to each other. That's love for me.

”What did I do to deserve you?“ I stare into his deep caramel brown eyes. Feeling so many emotions tugging at my heart. Focusing on the soft and mellow ones.

”You loved and accepted me for who I am. You make me a better person Lunes. I want to live out the rest of my life with you by my side and our beautiful twins,“ he puts his hands on my stomach and I cover them with mine.

”I love you B. More than anyone else. Because you take me with my flaws and all. I’ve never expected to feel this strongly about anyone. Yet here you are loving me every day, surprising me with flowers and gifts, not just on Valentine‘s day but every single day. I couldn’t be more happy to have you by my side.“

I trace my fingers over his soft lips as we smile at each other. Reveling in the feeling that this beautiful, successful, super hot man is mine. And that I’m his.

We’re completely encased in our own little bubble. Made of love, trust, and joy.

It’s moments like these that make me feel most alive.

When we’re together. Alone. With no interruptions. Just surrounded by the love that keeps pouring out of us and fills our souls with so much light.

Bonus:

#I‘m a Sucker for You!#Bryce Lahela #Luna Auclair #Open Heart #cfwc valentine 2023

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catherineav · 5 months

Note

it looks like the hopper byers may be using the radio tower as their house so writing prompt: the first time they arrive there, kids having little fights to choose rooms, joyce and hop trying to make it cozy and homely for them, etc

OOPS because I'm me, this turned out slightly angsty, but no fear, it has a light ending. :) i hope this is somewhat what you had in mind!

They don’t have much.

They took only the necessities back with them from California—the car, their clothes, a few family photo albums. It all amounts to a couple of duffle bags for each of them, which they immediately drop on the floor upon stepping into the abandoned radio station.

Hopper has even less. His old clothes don’t fit for the most part, so his belongings consist mostly of some hoodies and t-shirts, plus the tokens from the cardboard boxes—Dad, Vietnam, Sara—he’d methodically repacked into his bags.

Without a word of approval or complaint, Jonathan heads straight for the back of the old building. The room must once have been the producer’s office, judging by the framed records visible through the half-open doorway.

El glances back at her parents, unsure, so Joyce offers her a nod and a tight smile. It’s not much, but it must be enough, because El steps forward to explore, dragging Will along behind her.

“She’s never gotten to choose a room before,” Joyce realizes softly. Jim doesn’t answer, just shuts and bolts the entrance behind them before guiding her forward with a hand at the small of her back. She feels compelled to explain. “Owens already had the house staged when we got to California. Her room was so girly.”

That draws a smile from Jim, at least.

But despite the soft murmurs from her two youngest—sharp and quick, are they really bickering over who gets which bedroom?—the whole place is too large and spacious and quiet for Joyce. So she keeps talking.

“He kept announcing what he would do for us, the house, the school, the documents, as if any of it could make up for what—what we lost. I thought he’d never shut up. ‘I’m impressed with myself, it wasn’t easy to get Jane in school, you know.’ The number of times I heard that line…The only reason I didn’t destroy our phone was because I needed it for the encyclopedias.” She shakes her head, pausing with her fingers on the tabletop of what was once a reception desk. It will make a decent kitchen table, if they can dig up a couple more chairs of the correct height. “And then to come through with the bare minimum to get us back from Alaska, it took days—”

“Joyce, I was there. Don’t exactly need ya to recount that one.”

She spins around, mortified, but he’s smiling.

She releases the extra breath she’s been storing to fuel her rambling, instead slumping forward with her forearms on the table. “Sorry. I talk too much when I’m stressed.”

“Why are you stressed?” He mirrors her stance, facing her across the table.

She laughs, she can’t help it. What a ridiculous question. But then…

She looks around, really looks around, for the first time.

Bob would have loved this place. The sad thought comes to her unbidden, but it's bittersweet. Her stomach doesn't roll with nausea like it might once have.

The station is gray and cold. Corporate, almost. But there are signs of life, too. An empty coffee mug, a calendar still turned to the previous month. Strangers lived and breathed here, but this family never has.

Her eyes meet Jim’s. “I’m homesick,” she whispers.

“Hmm.” He considers this, his gaze tracing a similar path. He smiles again. “We can make this home, I think.”

She stands straighter, a smile tugging at her own lips. “Yeah?”

He shrugs. “Sure. We’re all here, you and me and El and the boys, together, for starters. And it won’t be two days before we’re outnumbered by the rest of those teenagers four to one. We won’t be able to hear ourselves think until we bust out the pizza and eat it on the rug in front of the record player.”

It’s a pretty picture, if an outrageous one. “Okay,” she whispers. She believes him.

With a kiss to her cheek, he steps past her, rummaging under the counter. He emerges with his arms full of dark fabric and dumps some into her arms. “And we’ll start with the blackout curtains.”

She holds back a groan, only because he calls in the kids to help and she’s pretty sure she can get away with minimal effort dumped into this project, if only because she’s short. But of course it isn't until the two of them are well into working on the first window together, the kids stomping in from the hallway, that Jim asks, “Why was it so difficult to enroll El in school? She should have had my money, the birth certificate…”

She can tell by his pinched frown that this has been bothering him. But she can also see that even as El and Will unroll one of the curtains in the corner, El is tuned in and listening.

Joyce had only agreed to Owens's suggestion so El could enroll in a school with her brothers, attend parent-teacher conferences with her mother. Even still, she could never stand here and say the words Owens had to marry us with a straight face.

So she clears her throat and pushes herself onto her toes to secure the curtain. “It’s a long story. For another time.”

One day, she knows—perhaps gathered together eating pizza out of the box in front of the record player—she’ll tell it and smile.

#stranger things #fanfiction #jopper #eleven stranger things #joyce byers #jim hopper #will byers #willel #hopper byers family #el hopper

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mozart-the-meerkitten · 11 months

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So I’m sitting downstairs minding my own business. I hear unholy screams that might be one of our cats fighting with another cat so I frantically shoo the inside cats upstairs so they don’t run outside and scramble out the door armed with my phone flashlight and my walking stick. (remember that flashlight)

I walk out and start calling for Sid who, once and a blue moon, gets into fights with other cats. Nothing. Not a sign of him. Knowing I won’t be able to rest until I look around, I start walking down the driveway.

Now, I live in the country. My house is hemmed in by fields, bushes and trees on all sides. We also have a bunch of outbuildings from when it was a proper farm. So I walk around one of these buildings, calling for Sid, and hear something scrabbling in the bushes. I stand still and listen as things settle, then call a couple more times.

SUDDENLY in the light of my phone flashlight I see GLOWING EYES staring out at me from the bushes. I am startled. The logical part of my brain knows this is probably a raccoon. The illogical part of my brain is certain this is a Beast or possibly a Fae and it is going to eat or abduct me.

I tentatively call for Sid again, hoping that perhaps that’s him in the bushes, confused as to why I’m out here at night (the poor boy has terrible eyesight so he frequently mistakes my family for Strangers from a certain distance).

The eyes continue to stare at me, unblinking and unnervingly bright. I slowly start to back away, stick firmly in hand. I walk back to my porch, my other cat Tansy following quickly beside me, looking over my shoulder all the way lest those eyes jump out and follow me.

I regain the porch and call for Sid a few more times. Tansy seems relieved I am in this safe, well lit place again. I hear a small noise and Sid runs out of the darkness, looking nervous. He is unharmed and I tell him he is a good boy and pet both cats thoroughly. Sid keeps starting anxiously in the direction I saw the Eyes. I do not like it.

With my cats’ safety assured I come back inside, not entirely sure what fate I just escaped, but unnerved nonetheless.

#cats #animals #creatures #stories #the fae #eyes in the night #I have been encountering nighttime creatures since I was tiny but this is the first time I had glowing eyes STARE into my soul #unmoving and unafraid #why were the eyes so bright is the real question #was it my phone? were they truly some Creature or Fae or an alien?#who knows but I'm not going back out there to find out

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bandaigaeru · 2 years

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when your brother plays cupid - hwang hyunjin

→genre: friends to strangers to almost lovers to one-sided enemies to lovers →synopsis: Hwang Hyunjin comes home from America and thinks a reality TV camera follows him (aka: he brings all the drama back). →pairing: hwang hyunjin x gn reader →word count: 11.3k →warnings: death of a parent (mentioned but not detailed), bad pacing

Home is where the heart is, says the arcane quote from a life well lived. And yet, the sentiment transcends generations. Why do we live repetitious lives over and over? What can be learned if the exact knowledge is recycled among lifetimes?

Romantics would defend that love is the reason we are bound to this planet. Destined to experience love and care for eternity.

Religious people may declare we are here to repay for our sins. Punished for eternity until the proper amends have been established.

You’re not sure what you want to believe. Perhaps you’d like to blame your presence on a brazen higher being. Or maybe you want to believe in the lies of love for the sake of feeling better. But life isn’t the black and white people may lead you to believe; it is an ugly, muddied gray.

What is certain, though, is that life could not be any worse. Some people have to return to their parent’s homes after college because life fails to pan out as originally planned. You, however, did not have that luxury. Since becoming empty nesters, they decided to skip countries for the perfect retirement spot. Instead, a room was offered by your brother in his tiny apartment. And by a room, he really meant a couch in his living room. He claims: “I never said you would have a private room. Living room has ‘room’ in it!”

You live out of a suitcase, for no closet is available to you, and because it allows you to sink into a false life that convinces you this is temporary. So temporary that it may just stop too soon.

Afternoons are spent with your brother hogging your temporary bed—his butt too close to the pillow you rest your head on. He puts on some investigative-comedy show, glancing at you after every joke to ensure your undivided attention is given. Reruns echo until his eyes sting with sleep.

In the morning, pale, wispy curtains are hung improperly and filter next to nothing. As soon as the sun peeks over the horizon, it burns into your eyelids until sleep is stolen from you.

When will life return to peace? And where will home be? You hope it won’t be long to find out.

♡♡♡

“Are you familiar with a boy by the name of Hwang Hyunjin?”

The name makes your ears perk up. Your chin tips downward in a half nod.

“Yes. I am,” you hesitate, attempting to locate the correct term, “familiar.”

The coffee shop is void of visitors. Leaning against the counter with your arms defensively crossed against your chest, it’s just you and your nosy coworker who stands across from you. Perhaps he saw your Facebook? Old, tagged pictures that serve no purpose and probably should have been deleted? A happy face that doesn’t match the current? If that were the case, maybe the upcoming question would be justified.

You imagine the likely question: “What happened to you two?”

Truly, you don’t know. He was tangible, and then he suddenly wasn’t—a ghost of your memory. Blurry, forgotten laughs captured under a saddened moonlight. Hell, it’s been so long you’re not sure you remember his voice.

But, instead, he asks, “Did you know he moved back to Seoul?”

Someone has taken a stake and has mistaken you for a vampire. Your heart is torn into two fleshy pieces, beating by a miraculous gristly connection.

“I did not know that.”

Hwang Hyunjin told you he would never return to Seoul. America was too glamorous for him to ever wish to return. This is betrayal, you think; but, he owes you nothing. This is a conflicted betrayal. Surely you shouldn’t care, but you do. A lot.

“I can tell,” he laughs, languidly pointing at your face. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not.”

He challenges you with a simple quirk of the eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Mind your own business,” you advise, glaring out the shop windows in an incongruous attempt to lure someone in.

“I can’t ask innocent questions now?”

You nibble on the inside of your lip until blood is drawn. Finally, you snap, “You and I both know they aren’t simple, innocent questions asked from pure curiosity. You’re digging for drama and, frankly, it’s annoying. Get a hobby?”

Your coworker falls silent and remains so until the next customer strides in. He takes their order, glances swiftly in your direction to make sure you heard it right, and busies himself with wiping down the bar again. Quiet is so peaceful: harmful only to those whose thoughts scream so loud.

Hyunjin’s back?

♡♡♡

A month passes before your luck runs dry. From the day your coworker mentioned him, your eyes skittered across the streets searching for him. Though, the larger half of you wished he would never turn up. The rumor seemed too good to be true.

He stands in front of the counter, staring up at the menu with childlike eyes of curiosity. He’s bleached his hair. The long strands frame his soft cheeks enough to bring attention to his lips: pursed with concentration.

Slight panic itches the nape of your neck, but you have to do your job. You’re the only one scheduled for the closing shift.

You step out from the back, hands going behind your back to tighten your apron—and to make yourself appear calm, cool, and collected. This act of routine convinces yourself he’s not who you remember. For the time that has passed, he is nothing more than a stranger.

“Sorry for the wait, what can I get started for you today?”

“Yeah, can I-” he stops when he recognizes your voice, eyes dropping to study your face. “Wait, Y/N?”

You point to your nametag casually. “That’s the one.”

An awkward laugh passes between you two. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you majored in marketing.”

Pain rips your chest apart, but you maintain neutrality in your face. “I did. Job market’s not the best right now. Employers are too desperate for workers to do all the right work for the wrong pay.”

He nods, but it’s clear he doesn’t understand. You can tell by the way his mouth is slightly hanging open and his eyes squinting righteously. Hyunjin would never have that experience.

You rip the tense silence. “Anyway, what can I get you?”

“Um, a medium passionfruit smoothie, please. Do you have any pastries left?”

You glance at the display case that is clearly right in front of him. “We have a few chocolate chip muffins.”

“I’ll take one.”

“Sweet. That’ll be $9.55.”

He hands you a $10, and you hand him back his change. He promptly dumps it in the tip jar. That’s forty-five scents you didn’t have a minute ago.

You serve him his muffin with a wad of napkins and he gently smiles. Fully expecting him not to continue the conversation, you turn to prepare his drink.

He waits for the loud ice scoops and blending to stop before he starts, “Hey, Y/N.”

You glance back at him, pouring the freshly blended fruity concoction into a medium cup.

As you click the lid on, he asks, “Are you free tomorrow?”

A classy move, but alas. You offer a pitying smile as you set his drink on the counter. “I work tomorrow. Noon to close.”

He groans. “That’s a shame. I’d love to catch up. When’s your next day off?”

You think hard. “I work just about every day. Money’s tight.”

“Where can I find you then?” His persistence is admirable, perhaps it even makes your heart skip a beat.

You grit your teeth. Of all the embarrassing questions you could answer, this one spawns a rumbling sensation in your stomach. “My brother’s apartment. I’m staying there until I can score a place of my own.”

Hyunjin’s face lights up. “You’re staying with Jisung?”

“Unfortunately.”

“That’s perfect! I’ll delegate two hangouts into one. You still have my number?”

Duh. Why would you ever get rid of it? “I believe so.”

He plunges a straw into the lid and grabs his drink. Backing out towards the door, he exclaims, “Perfect. I’ll text you. Tell Jisung I say hi!”

You sigh a breath of relief. A dual hangout with your brother saves awkward conversations. And you have your day off tomorrow to look forward to.

♡♡♡

“You lied to him?” Jisung exclaims, looking dumbfounded from across the couch.

“I had to! You know what happened between us,” you trail, glancing down at your work-ridden fingernails. A trip to the nail salon wouldn’t hurt you.

He huffs, resigning himself to his brotherly duties of reporting the truth. “You never told him you liked him. For all he knows, he went to chase his dreams and lost his best friend in the process via some long distance bullshit.”

“He knew,” you assert.

“No, Y/N, he didn’t. Just because you knew doesn’t mean he did. For the record, you withheld the information rather well. I only found out because Felix told me.”

Heartbroken, you weakly repeat, “Felix?”

Eyes wide with insistence and lips pressed into a distinct, matter of fact manner, he nods.

Brothers never offer lies to comfort their siblings (most might even intentionally hurt their feelings), but you wish he would sugarcoat things a little bit. Things with Hyunjin were so complicated for you. Nights spent addressing the turmoil feel so small now that you know no one would have guessed. The circumstantial insomnia makes you feel even more silly.

Heat sinks into your skin, seering every inch. “If Felix told you, then maybe he told Hyunjin too. You don’t know the way he shifted behavior like I do.”

“I highly doubt Felix told Hyunjin.”

“Then why did he tell you?” you exclaim.

He rolls his eyes, “I am your brother. I ask the right questions. I didn’t even know until two weeks ago anyway. Felix protects your secrets in a triple-guarded vault. I promise.”

“Maybe.”

“Look. Tell Hyunjin the truth. We’ll have him over tomorrow and everything will be just

fine. Normal. Like before life pulled us in every opposite direction.”

If only life had let you and Jisung be pulled apart instead of this nauseating proximity. You find comfort in the ceiling as you take a few deep breaths. Gathering your feelings in a pile, you want to stomp on them until nothing remains. However, you sift through them as an adult would.

“Okay. I’ll tell him a truth with lying properties because it’ll be embarrassing to tell him the truth.”

Jisung reaches across the couch, patting your shoulders. “If that’s how you want to navigate it. Just answer me this: do you still like him?”

Warmth flushes your face. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Tell me when you find out. I want to be a matchmaker!”

You push him away from you. “After that confession, absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on!”

Jisung tries his best, but you motion a zipper dragging across your lips before it’s thrown out. Lost in the fuzzy rug beneath your feet.

♡♡♡

“He’s on his way up,” your brother announces from the kitchen.

Rushing into the bathroom, you take note of your appearance. A few flyaways make your hair look a bit disheveled, but they refuse to be tamed. You fix your shirt, untwisting the fabric across your chest. Finally, you get a glance at your face from every angle.

There’s a loud sequence of knocks at the door. Before you can get to the door, Jisung cuts you off.

“Remember, it can’t get worse than living on your brother’s couch!”

You roll your eyes, but you must admit he has a point. It cannot get worse than that.

So long as he doesn’t bring up you ghosting him.

Hyunjin is greeted by his best friends from high school. Jisung standing up front, and you peering at him from over his shoulder. Both garner a big smile.

“Hey!” the boys say in unison, each reaching for a quick hug, clapping each other’s backs cacophonously.

Hyunjin moves to you, pulling you in for a much longer hug. “It’s good to see you,” he whispers in your ear as he pulls away.

Jisung begins asking about his life, how it’s been in America, but the words are muffled to your ears. Hyunjin’s eyes linger on you as he tends to the endless questions. All the while maintaining a heartbreaking smile that you can’t peel your eyes from.

The conversation moves with you as you advance towards the kitchen, where Jisung has prepared a gigantic Chicago pizza. For authenticity, he claims. Though, Hyunjin stayed in New York.

As the boys claim their seats, you set three plates in the center of the table, picking the top one and offering it to Hyunjin. He winks at you as he continues his spiel, a silent thank you that ignites fire in your chest.

“Yeah, so I picked up photography while I was over there.”

“Is that your job?” Jisung asks, stealing your plate from your hands absentmindedly. The brotherly instincts are deeply engraved in his mind.

Hyunjin struggles to break the slices apart. Straining, he says, “Yep. Wedding photos, mainly. They pay more than landscape, which is what I really like capturing.”

You wave his hands away and help him. Making it look way easier, he pouts as you slide a healthy slice on his plate. You offer, “It must be nice capturing love like that, though, right?”

He nods. “Definitely. Makes me feel a bit lonely, but that’s okay.”

Jisung kicks your leg under the table. When you glance at him, he lifts his eyebrows up. You quickly shake your head, turning back to Hyunjin.

“So, what brings you home?” you ask. Home is a strong word to characterize someone’s hometown when they were so eager to get out of it.

“My mom passed away about a month back. This was the earliest I could get back. I’m not staying long. Just enough to make sure my dad’s okay. He adopted a dog, y’know?”

Jisung’s face softens. His eyes well with tears—he’s a sympathetic crier, though no one else’s eyes are damp. “I’m sorry for your loss. What kind of dog?”

Hyunjin covers his mouth as he chews, waving away the tension of sadness with a flourish. “He’s some kind of chihuahua. Funny looking dog.”

The conversation devolves into Jisung’s boring work life. Then, by the time the pizza has been devoured, it switches to old high-school drama.

“Seungmin became a prosecutor,” Jisung announces.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Hyunjin presses his back into the chair. “He’s always been the type.”

“That seems insulting,” Jisung chimes in, even though he agress.

You add, “I work with Changbin at the coffee place. He has, like, three jobs for some reason.”

“I know,” Hyunjin says. “He’s the one who told me where to find you.”

You ignore another kick to your shin. “What? You looked so surprised when you saw me!”

Hyunjin chuckles. Presumably at how flustered you look. “I was. You look a lot different, grew into your features a bit more-” Another suggestive kick. You’ll have extensive bruises if this keeps up. “Plus, Changbin didn’t tell me when to find you. Just where.”

“To be fair, Y/N,” Jisung intervenes so you will finally look at him, “you stopped posting pictures of yourself when Hyunjin left.”

You acknowledge this with a long, thoughtful nod. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Did you recognize me when you saw me?” Hyunjin asks, tipping his head in a deranged flirtatious way.

“Immediately. The bleached hair took me off guard, but really I was like ‘Why is Hyunjin wearing a wig?’”

He picks at his hair, pouting. Glancing at Jisung, he asks, “Does it really look like a wig?”

Jisung defensively puts his hands up. “Don’t look at me.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” you rush, “I like it. A lot. It suits you.”

Hyunjin grins. “Good. I thought you’d like it.”

What’s that supposed to mean? You want to ask, but your shin is aching from a supreme series of harsh kicks.

Another conversation gets picked up, and you remain in the backseat for this one. It sounds deeply rooted in a secret language. Even if you wanted to participate, you’d have to learn how to communicate.

After promptly fifteen minutes of gibberish, Hyunjin glances at his watch and groans. “Sorry, guys. My dad needs me home. Thank you for lunch. It was so nice seeing you guys.”

He and Jisung perform another awkward, quick hug. Over Hyunjin’s shoulder, Jisung mouths, “Walk him out.”

The hug splits, but Hyunjin allows his hand to linger on Jisung’s shoulder. Admiring his best friend up close, you suppose. Nonetheless, sibling envy soaks your being in dread. That stare lasts forever. At some point, you’re convinced silent words are being shared in that unidentifiable language.

Finally, Hyunjin’s arm falls back to his side and he glances at you. Your withdrawn facade immediately shatters. “I’ll walk you out.”

And you swear his face lights up.

Hyunjin begins retracing his steps to the door, and you follow. You quickly glance back at Jisung, who winks and mouths words of encouragement.

Out of earshot of Jisung, he drags, “So.”

“So,” you repeat.

“I don’t know if this sounds too forward, but I’d love to take some pictures of you before I have to leave. There’s this sunflower field-”

The eagerness requires no further words, and you interrupt, “I’d love to.”

He stares at you, mouth agape. Maybe you jumped the gun a little bit.

But then his face blisters into a smile. “Perfect. Keep in touch?”

“Of course,” you smile up at him.

And you just have to stare at him. Because he’s staring at you. And you’re staring back. And maybe this is a dream because you’re nearly certain you want to kiss him right now.

He opens his arms out, and you meet him halfway. His hugs have been heavily missed, and he still smells like lemons and fresh laundry.

He sighs into your hair. “I missed you. A lot.”

“I missed you too.”

His wrist vibrates against your back, prompting an exasperated groan. Reluctantly, he pulls himself away from you. “I gotta go. Thanks for having me over. I’ll text you.”

“Of course. Get home safe.”

When the door clicks and five seconds have passed, Jisung leans into the foyer and says, “He’s so into you.”

You pick up a shoe and throw it at him, shouting, “Shut up!”

He retracts back into safety before peeking out again. “You like him too!”

Throwing its pair, you huff. You mutter, “So what if I do?”

♡♡♡

Hwang Hyunjin texts you every minute of the day he can. He enjoys playing catch-up, asking what your new favorite colors, styles, and media are. Sometimes, his questions get too specific, but that’s just his flare.

When you’re at work, he leaves you a long string of messages to read. Changbin hovers over your shoulder with a knowing grin, which you ensure is promptly whisked away.

“He’s into you,” he announces when the cafe is empty.

He stretches his arms high above his head. You reach across and tap his armpit, making him squeal.

Protecting his weak spots like a naked man, he hesitantly asks, “Are you into him?”

“Why would I tell you that?” you glare.

“So it’s a yes?” he taunts, smiling in an annoying, know-it-all manner.

“Don’t speak to me.”

He knowingly smirks. “Yeah, right.”

Hyunjin even stops by during every shift. If it’s busy, he always moves to the end of the line so he can talk to you extra long, which doesn’t quell Changbin’s bothering.

It’s as if nothing changed.

Eventually, he possesses all of your days off. Whether via texting or impromptu hangouts that Changbin and Jisung respectfully call dates.

“No man goes to a bookstore and buys you hardcovers if it’s not a date,” Jisung reasons.

It’s entirely different when the book being bought is a classic from your high school days. Hyunjin loves it too, claiming it in his top 5. Only one book, and it’s part of a friendship bond, which is totally normal! But, Jisung refuses to understand this.

No questions regarding your status are ever shared, which to you is obvious. If there’s no romance like kissing, then there’s no reason to question and ruin what you have.

Regardless of your perspective, Jisung is relentless in making sure you’re aware of his matchmaking abilities. “If you want an official date, I’ll score you one,” he offers every time Hyunjin takes you on a ‘whimsical adventure’ to McDonald’s at 2 A.M. Jisung’s description, of course.

Perhaps this is because you caved and allowed him to know that the feelings for Hyunjin never ceased. Maybe the heart does grow fonder in absence, but it doesn’t fare well with persistent presence either.

“You should just tell him,” Jisung advises one peaceful Wednesday night. Rain patters against the windows, drowning out the city’s signature honking and sirens.

“And if he rejects me?”

Jisung nods, carefully dictating his words, “That’s the worst possibility. Or, the better ones occur. You’d never know until it happens.”

“Either way, he has to go home eventually,” you sigh. The realization shatters your heart into ten million pieces, each broken so specifically that the puzzle would never line up again.

“You could always be his reason to stay. Home doesn’t always have to be a place.”

You shake your head. “No. He already made that decision.”

“Prior to the knowledge of you liking him,” Jisung swiftly points out.

“I suppose that is true,” you admit, but you cannot shake the impending sense of doom. Even if it’s love, it could be inane. Or rather, one destined to be temporary. At the end of that tunnel is a deeply rooted heartbreak that doesn’t seem worth the trouble.

As if sensing the negativity oozing out of you, Jisung aids, “Just give it a shot. Maybe the warmth will outweigh the darkness. And if he breaks your heart, that just gives me an excuse to beat him up.”

You chuckle. Jisung has always wanted to fistfight Hyunjin for whatever reason. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Standing up, Jisung concludes, “I’m going to bed. Give it some thought, but don’t destine yourself for the ravine of loneliness because that’s easier.”

“I will. Goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too. Idiot.”

“Heard that.”

You turn to your phone, lit up with countless texts from a single man. Isn’t that weird? How can someone have so much reign over your life by simply being present?

He asks about your plans for the upcoming weekend. Can you get someone to cover for you. Why? The weather will be nice, we can go to the sunflower field and finally get some pics.

Then it hits you. What better time to tell a boy you like him than in a sunflower field where you are the focus? Albeit anxiety inducing to consider, you can’t picture yourself doing it any other place. Plus, with such short notice, you won’t have time to stress it.

You tell Jisung of your plan in the morning, and his face lights up with glee.

“I didn’t think you’d settle on something so quick,” he admits, smiling over a fresh cup of coffee.

“I’m being spontaneous. Boys like that, right?”

“Definitely. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Hyunjin is so into you it’s honestly kind of annoying.”

“How?”

“I should’ve been the sibling to fall in love with,” he pouts. “I’m way funnier, hotter, and all-around amazing.”

You scoff. “In your dreams. I always had the valentines in high school. What did you get? Acorns stuffed in your locker?”

“I will never forgive Seungmin for that prank. I am not a squirrel. Simply a man desperate for love,” he dramatizes by pressing the back of his hand against his forehead.

You grab your keys. “On that note, I am going to work.”

“Kiss Hyunjin when he visits,” Jisung giggles.

“I hope you fall into a large vessel on your way to work.”

“Mutual.”

♡♡♡

The remaining days leading up to the confession are long and dreadful. Changbin won’t mind his business after you asked him to cover your shift. Jisung bothers you on your breaks about whether the ‘lover boy’ has visited yet and if so, what was he wearing? He swears Hyunjin is dressing up to impress you.

His texts grow spare, but no less eager to talk to you. You attribute it to being busy with other friends. Or maybe his dad is struggling more with each day. Who knows?

When the day of the date arrives, you ask him what he’d want you to wear to best fulfill his vision. An hour, and then two, and then an apologetic text promptly followed by a screenshot from Pinterest. He assures that you don’t have to appeal closely to the idea, but if you’re on board with him that definitely works.

He advises that it might be easier if you meet him there.

A pit opens in your stomach, hollowing your body with pure anxiety. Something feels wrong, but it’s too late to back out.

You consult your closet with wary eyes. Picking out multiple pieces, you set them on your bed and take a step back. Mix and match until the right one is as clear as glass. A burnt orange shirt with a small logo on the shoulder and roughed shorts. You’ll pair it with a brown belt and an old, beaten pair of sneakers to match Hyunjin’s vision as best as your closet allows.

You mumble affirmations to yourself as you dress. They’re meant to ease your nerves, but they make you feel exceedingly more aware of the situation.

Taking a glance at the clock, you puff your cheeks and dismiss hesitant air.

You pass Jisung in the kitchen, declaring you’re on your way.

“He’s not picking you up?” he asks.

“No, I guess something came up. We’re meeting there.”

He offers a comforting smile in lieu of his normal banter. “Good luck. It’ll be fine.”

Wildly enough, that doesn’t ease anything in your gut. In fact, you fear it makes you more nauseous.

♡♡♡

The sunflower field is connected to a plot of land owned by a well-traveled tourist farm. They sell all sorts of foods like jam, fruits, and vegetables. Pumpkins to pumpkin jam to pumpkin apples. You’ve heard their apple cider is to die for. Jisung comes and buys a huge gallon every Halloween season, but he’d threaten you every time you got near it.

Upon arrival, you find a bench under a tree dedicated to the farm’s previous owner. When ten minutes go by, you temporarily abandon your spot to indulge in some warm apple cider.

You nervously refresh your messages every few seconds as if your phone plan has ever cheated you out of your texts before. In the meantime, you text Jisung.

It’s not like Hyunjin to be late without warning. He’s always complained about those types of people, deeming them inconsiderate and selfish. Maybe that’s something Americans view normal. Adjusted his brain chemistry or something.

You try calling, but it goes straight to voicemail. You sigh as the machine gives you the inane instructions. At the beep, you say, “Hey, it’s me. Call me when you can. Or text. Just let me know what’s going on.”

Suddenly you feel incredibly stupid for thinking any man could be interested in you enough to a) suggest taking pictures of you, b) arrive on time, and after all that c) like you back.

Naivete.

An older couple sits beside you on the bench for a while, discussing their grandchildren.

“I bet Channie would like this place,” the man says, releasing a contented sigh as a smile takes over his face.

“He truly would. When will he visit again?”

The man sets a gentle hand on his wife’s knee. “I’m not sure, dear. You know he takes his work so seriously.”

Leaning your elbows on your knees, you tuck your chin into your palm. It hides your face from the elderly couple. They can’t see the tears glossing over your eyes or how they eventually spill, puddling into your cupped hand.

The sun slithers in and out of clouds until suddenly, the sun is nearly gone. The couple is long gone by now, but you wish they had stayed longer. At least their presence was there.

When it hits 5 P.M., you stand up, brushing imaginary dust from your knees. You open Jisung’s text log, telling him you’re on your way home.

He tries to call, but you let each one ring out.

♡♡♡

Of all the times to not have a room, now is the worst. Jisung fails to comprehend that trying to explain only makes the sobs rush out faster, but he’s only trying to console you. Trying to get the message across, you turn your back to him and push your face into the couch cushion.

He paces in front of the couch. Back and forth, the neighbors beneath you must hate him.

“We have options,” Jisung declares after a peaceful moment of silence. “I can sneak into his home when he’s sleeping and place a pillow over his face and ever so gently push down.”

Your pillows shake with a lost effort to laugh.

“Will pizza make you feel better?” he asks, voice gone quiet with the gentleness only an older brother can possess.

You roll over to look up at him. The sudden light stings your eyes in pair with the never-ending flow of the river that is your tears. Hiccuping, you manage, “T-Tacos.”

He leans down and rests a hand on your shoulder, smiling as he gives a squeeze. “Sure. I’m sorry I encouraged you to go out with him.”

You dismissively shake your head. He couldn’t have known you would get stood up on a date idea that wasn’t even yours.

He starts for the foyer, tossing over his shoulder, “If I return bloody, I’m cashing out my sibling favor for your silence.”

You smile to yourself. At least you have Jisung to help remedy the heartbreak. And tacos. But you wouldn’t get the tacos if not for your brother. Maybe what you’re trying to say is that you love him, but those words would never dare leave your mouth.

♡♡♡

“Why do tacos taste better after sobbing my brains out?”

“It’s your loss of salt catching up to you,” Jisung reasons, his cheeks stuffed with big bites.

You reluctantly nod in approval, totally believing him.

♡♡♡

The days before the detour were inevitable, but you fear you’ll never return to normal. Changbin asked his questions, and you answered. You didn’t put up a fight or threaten his life for, yet again, being in your business.

You go to work, make fancy coffees for minimum wage, go home, sleep, and repeat. You ignore texts from Hyunjin, who is now just a number. He’s no different than the Red Cross begging for your blood donation. Except, Hyunjin’s not offering money for his mistake. Just begging your answer and dramatically apologizing.

When he starts appearing at your workplace, Changbin steps in while you attend to restocking cups, napkins, and wiping off tables.

Changbin keeps him busy from the moment he enters until the moment he is shuffled out.

“How much longer do you think until he gives up?” he asks one day, pushing his hair back to reveal his stress induced receding hairline. “He’s ruining my hair growth.”

You cross your arms against your chest, gravely attempting to suppress your smile. “Hopefully he’ll take the hint soon. My brother is threatening murder.”

Changbin smiles crookedly, a signal that he’s amused by that. “He has a prosecutor friend who could get him out of it.”

“And reasonable cause. The dude is practically stalking me,” you glance back to the window to ensure he’s not peeking in like Michael Myers.

Changbin points back to his hair. “And he’s making me lose my hair. That is a horrendous offense.”

“Right,” you laugh.

“Don’t laugh! This is real!”

“Real stupid,” you retort. Glancing at your watch, you light up, “Would you look at the time? It’s my break. Have fun!”

Changbin whines as you push past him to the breakroom. He stares at the empty spot you once held, saddened by the eternal breaktime excuse that always snipes his arguments with you. He liked your presence before the Hyunjin situation brought you closer, but now you’re nicer and more willing to entertain his dumb arguments. Shifts pass quicker with this newfound submission.

It’s only fifteen minutes that go by all too fast for you, and way too slow for him.

The moment you return, he starts an argument about the ideal pizza toppings. In the middle of defending anchovies and bacon, the store bell alerts you that a customer enters. You wave Changbin off and turn to greet them.

Mouth half ready to say, “Welcome to Seoul Searching,” you stop dead in your tracks.

The blond-headed boy looks entirely miserable. He’s dressed in stained sweats and an entirely too big hoodie. Dark rings surround his eyes as though he hasn’t slept in ten years. He is a saddened raccoon who merely wants dumpster food.

Changbin steps in front of you, finishing the greeting and asking what he can get started for him. He intimidatingly flexes his muscles in the process, a warning not to even think about it.

He tries anyway.

He peers around Changbin’s shoulders. “Please, Y/N, just talk to me. I can explain things. I can fix this.”

You turn around to busy yourself with cleaning the hot bar.

“I saw you there, but I just got so nervous. I’m so sorry.”

You grip the rag beneath your palm. The anger builds up inside you like a spinning top building up momentum. You fling the rag on the ground and turn back to him. “You were just going to leave me anyway. What was the point, Hyunjin? Really? To get me to fall in love with you again just so you could pack up and leave when things got inconvenient?”

Dread sinks into his face, relieving color from his face. “A-Again?” he stutters.

Remembering Jisung’s assurance it wasn’t obvious, you press your lips into a fine line. You nod, asserting that yes, this is the second occurrence despite his ignorance. Sure, he probably was unaware the first time, but this time was so different.

Everyone assured he was into you.

You watch him experience the stages of grief through vague twitches.

Changbin grows annoyed. “Come on, dude, it was so obvious.”

You’re relieved someone agrees with you.

Hyunjin glances over to him but swiftly returns his confused look to you. “You really liked me?”

Your voice breaks pitifully as you answer, “Stupid, huh?”

Finally, you dismiss yourself into the breakroom before you cry in front of a customer. He simply could be nothing more to you. Even a friend was a stretch now.

He calls out behind you. “I know it won’t matter but I like you too. I have since the day we met.”

You stop dead in your tracks. Love is at your fingertips, but instead of turning around and graciously accepting it, you shake the thought away and push forward. Jisung always warned you about your self-worth. It is better to grow as a person than to fall at the hands of someone who hurts you for the selfish greed of love.

You hear Changbin return to his customer service voice. “So. Can I help you with anything?”

♡♡♡

When you get home, tears in your eyes, Jisung is camped in the living room with Seungmin. They gossip over reality TV commercial breaks.

Jisung glances up at you with the remnants of a smile from the conversation, which swiftly drifts away. “Holy shit, are you okay?”

Your shoulders tremble, trying to withhold the tears to not embarrass yourself before Seungmin (whom you barely know). But, you have set up a simple 4x4 to block the flood.

You recount today’s happenings, making sure to go into detail about the context leading up to Hyunjin’s appearance. Horrible customers, a loud child’s iPad, and a spilled caramel frappe all over the floor. Every time you walked over it, your shoe stuck to the floor and made a horrible squelching noise.

When you finish, Jisung opens his mouth to spew threats on Hyunjin’s name, but Seungmin sets his hand out to stop him. Seungmin takes a deep breath. “I think he is a plain and simple idiot. Even I knew you liked him the first time.”

“What?” Jisung interjects, “How did you know? I didn’t even know!”

Seungmin’s jaw falls slack in disbelief. “How could you not know? Y/N stared at him during history daily. You,” he points at you accusatorily, “almost failed our finals because you couldn’t bring yourself to pay attention.”

Jisung looks to you as if asking for confirmation. You offer a measly nod. His following outburst is ugly.

Seungmin manages to suppress his noise long enough to redirect the conversation back. “So, he said he liked you back?”

“Yeah, but I just kept walking. I mean, he stood me up. If he genuinely liked me, he wouldn’t have done that,” you reason.

“Maybe he got nervous,” Jisung offers. You glare at him. His voice was the one you heard when Hyunjin offered his confession. He shouldn’t be turning 180 on you, because now you lead yourself to believe you might have made the wrong decision.

Seungmin punches his shoulder. “He could have had the basic decency to have warranted a no-show.”

You sigh. “I just wish things made sense.”

“If you want a background check or,” Seungmin’s voice grows flat and serious. “If you need a legal hitman.”

“Jesus, Seungmin, I don’t want him dead.”

He shrugs. “It’s comforting to know it’s an option.”

♡♡♡

Unwarranted texts bombard your phone, again. The vibration of your phone sends a spike of pain through your head. Blocking him would be easy. So, so easy. And yet, you cannot convince yourself to follow through.

After a text sent at 4 A.M. that awakens you, you exasperatedly open your texts and tell him to stop bugging you.

Surprisingly, he does. He follows the simple direction from your concentrated burst of anger. Diligently, too.

Surprisingly, peace returns.

But peace never stays.

In the time before you inevitably get harassed by his presence again, you find a place for yourself. It’s not far from Jisung’s, just down the hall. He makes sure to copy a key for himself. Oftentimes, he is waiting for you to get off work. In the dark. Like a serial killer.

On the topic of jobs, one of your applications finally goes through for a huge music company on the expensive side of Seoul. They really loved you, and you were hired immediately as a social media advisor.

You visit Changbin at the coffee shop often. He and your replacement get along well, too. They bicker more than you did.

After Hyunjin’s absence allowed a period for your healing, Seungmin invited you on a date or two. It ended up just before double digits, you think. With his salary, he took you out to a lot of high-end restaurants, and always assured that he would pay for whatever you wanted. He was really good to you, but the interest fizzled out. Regardless, you remain better friends because of it.

Overall, the issue with Hyunjin felt like a minuscule pothole in an otherwise smooth road. Life has been good to you.

Rather, it was good to you until you opened Instagram this morning. At the top of your feed, Hwang Hyunjin is posed in front of your company, mouth open in superfluous excitement that cannot be contained with a smile. Your eyes, panicked, drift down to the caption.

“Nothing beats pictures of home.”

You mutter, “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

You hang low on the way to work, aside from the mandatory stop at Seoul Searching.

Changbin beams when you walk in. “My love!”

“My idiot!” you return, grinning back as you approach the counter.

“Your usual?” he asks, and you pull your wallet out to pay him the usual, exact amount.

“You won’t believe it,” you start after he takes your money. “Hyunjin got a job at my company, and I think we might work in the same department.”

Changbin snaps his head to look at you. “You’re joking.”

“I wish I was.”

His face grows red. “That dude is stalking you!” he exclaims.

“I don’t think he is anymore. It’s been, what, six months?” you sheepishly admit. “Very unfortunate, though.”

Changbin leans over the counter, resting his elbows as leverage, and whispers, “Text me if he tries anything funny. I will be there in fifteen seconds.”

You drag your lip between your teeth, fighting a smile, nodding.

He encouragingly claps your shoulder before turning around to make your drink.

♡♡♡

A voice torments the normally quiet office all morning. Everso, the voice grows closer. “This is the social media department, where you’ll be working under.”

You glance over the breadth of your desktop, but immediately regret it, snapping your head back down. Too late, they saw you.

“Y/N,” your boss calls. “Meet our new hire.”

You stand up dutifully, offering Hyunjin a polite smile and a partial bow. He offers the same respect. You are nothing more than strangers, you remind.

Your boss continues her spiel, forcing you to awkwardly stand while she says, “And your desk is right over there, beside our youngest employee, Jeongin.”

You drop back into your seat when they turn the corner.

“You know each other?” your coworker, Jeongin, inquires without ever looking up from his phone.

You spin in your chair to look at him. “Uh, yeah. We kinda have history.”

“Let me guess: you liked him, he asked you on a date, then stood you up, but promptly begged for forgiveness as though he didn’t wrong you so terribly?”

Amazed yet also terrified, you hesitantly ask, “How do you know that?”

He shrugs. “Just an educated guess.”

Your eyes inspect him for a little longer before you drag them back to your desktop.

Jeongin’s phone clanks against his desk repeatedly until you look at him. His eyes are blazed with amusement. “Can I play matchmaker?”

You shiver. “God, you sound like my brother. Absolutely not.”

“Why not? I could get you a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, but-” you try.

“You want it.”

“I do not,” you assert, attempting a harsh glare that only seems to fuel the fire.

He smiles, dimples pressing into his skin as he slowly turns back to his desk. “Sure.”

With his back fully facing you, he warns, “If you change your mind, it better be quick. I have a feeling he’ll be off the market sooner rather than later.”

♡♡♡

To your dismay, Jisung says, “Maybe he’s right.”

“Not you, too,” you whine, throwing your head back against the couch in irritation.

“I mean, I know he hurt you, but maybe he didn’t realize how things would happen. At least give him a chance to explain if he tries approaching you. I mean, it’s been six months,” he advises.

If anyone has any sense, it’s Seungmin. You’ll text him when Jisung finally tredges home.

You dwell over the minutes that feel like hours. Between Jisung’s stark conversation, you begin explaining to Seungmin over text. You read it over, and always add a new bit you previously forgot. By the time Jisung leaves, the text is freshly sent.

You don’t get a response until much later, and the anticipation disappoints in contrast to the response you receive.

Upon reading Seungmin’s text, you have concluded: men will always choose the wrong perspective. “Maybe it’ll be a learning experience. You don’t forgive often.” Nonetheless, you will take the advice, albeit begrudgingly.

♡♡♡

Jeongin gives you a mischievous smile when you walk in. “Hey, Y/N.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing. Why do you assume I did something?”

You keep your distance as you set your things down. “You’re smiling like Pennywise in the dream sequences.”

“I just have good news.”

“And?”

“Hyunjin is very single. Very lonely. He confided in me about a few things,” he smirks.

“First of all, you are a menace. Second of all, when did you find the time to weasel this information?”

“I found his Instagram. Cute pics from high school by the way. I’m surprised you didn’t date back then.”

You roll your eyes. “Respectfully, stay away from me.”

“You know you don’t want me to,” he sings, loudly spinning in his chair until you tune him out.

♡♡♡

A tranquil week of getting your work done and leaving immediately passes, but you cannot hide in your facade much longer, especially with Jeongin’s increasingly incessant demands.

He enlists the time you would spend leaving with asking questions he definitely knows the answers to, perhaps to up your game in the rush to steal Hyunjin’s eye. Nothing screams “I’m a catch” quite like answering the most basic questions daily with a dwindling patience.

One random Friday, he interrupts your daydreams of the long weekend ahead of you with his grating voice. “Hey, Y/N, if a company email is sent to all of us, how do I respond without notifying all of the company?”

You throw your head back, heaving a big, deep breath before spinning in your chair to show him. He feigns surprise when it clicks, gasping. “Thanks, Y/N! You’re the best!”

You drag your chair back to your desk, returning to your duties. Email them regarding this sponsorship, reach out to this division about their upcoming comeback, and did they want jade green or more of a scarab for their promotional pictures?

Jeongin smiles from ear to ear as he announces his departure.

“So early?” Hyunjin asks, voice still partially reluctant in your presence. You may pretend to be strangers, but the tension of past events remains between you like a dense fog.

“Yeah, I have a doctor’s appointment on the other side of town. Gotta beat Seoul traffic, amirite?”

He is a terrible liar. Aside from the awkward quirk in his voice, the knowledge that he walks to work because he doesn’t own a car is not exactly confidential. Alongside that, his doctor is sponsored by the company, nestled down the street. This much might not be as known, but he knows you know. He sends you an affirmative wink to confirm your suspicions as he jogs to the elevator.

Disgruntled and frankly agitated with his incessant likeness to your brother, you glare at your computer screen. The lines of text blur into a fuzzy conglomerate. Until finally, the moment passes and you can proceed with your day.

Hyunjin’s voice comes into tune. The vibrations of his vocal cords make noise, and your ears process the sounds as words, words as sentences.

Peace never prevails.

“So. I heard you got your own place. Is it sweet?”

Without offering as small a flicker of a glance in his direction, you simply respond, “Yes.”

“Yeah, Jisung told me it was. Just down the hall from him, right?”

Though your heart instantly plummets to a place beneath your stomach, perhaps the depths of hell, you refuse to allow it to show. Your brother has betrayed you in a light you could have never imagined. He’s probably kept normal contact this whole time, that scheming troublemaker. And then it clicks. The sudden switch. Jisung knew. Hyunjin was playing you for months in his wake, claiming your brother as a means to conduct his vile behavior against you.

What sin have you committed to be treated like this?

“It is.”

“Come on. Give me something to work with here,” he begs, and though you continue to glare at the screen, you can hear his smirk clear through his words.

You clench your jaw, teeming with firecrackers of rage. All the mean things you could say glimmers in your mind, but you resolve politely, “I owe you nothing.”

He hesitates. For a split second, you think he might snap back into reality. Hwang Hyunjin, not everyone is going to fall for every word that glides off your tongue. But then, his vain returns. “I suppose not, but I really want to defend myself.”

Impulsively, you force your nails into the flesh of your palm to prevent screaming. Reluctantly, you spin in your chair to face him. His bottom lip is lodged between his teeth, gnawing nervously, but your empathy runs low. You huff, explaining gently, “So you acknowledge that I want nothing to do with you, and for good reason, but you expect me to hear you out. Why should I?”

His mouth mocks syllables, but nothing emerges. “Uh, well…”

You turn your computer off, standing too abruptly as you snatch your coat from the back of your chair. “Exactly. Shut the lights off on your way out.”

♡♡♡

Disappointedly, Jeongin plays as a mediator once you retire his matchmaking for him. When Hyunjin directs a conversation towards you, Jeongin instigates one in the opposite direction. If Hyunjin catches on, he ignores it and remains persistent.

He’ll ask, “Hey, Y/N, do you know when the deadline for the production company’s sponsorship is?”

And Jeongin will intervene, “Next Friday. I know because I harvest dates like energy. They’re instantly engraved in the folds of my brain.”

On some days, his persistence exceeds the threshold you can bear. You cradle your head, attempting to tune out his voice, but always to no avail. More days than not, you leave early with a pounding head. Jeongin picks up after you, but you fear the boss is centimeters away from summoning you to her office with intrusive questions.

Even at home, you cannot avoid his name. Jisung admitted to maintaining contact with him, revealing his betrayal but displaying no remorse under the guise of, “He’s matured. Give him a shot.”

Hint: no man will ever fully mature in six months.

The only way to escape him would be to flee the city, denounce yourself from your family, and change your identity so he can’t find you. Perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad.

Jisung lays uncomfortably on your couch when you return from work one day. His head is craned against the armrest, contorting his neck at a harsh angle.

You drape your coat on the doorknob. “What are you doing here?” you ask as you cross into the kitchen and consult the medicine cabinet.

“I have a proposal.”

You reach up and grab the large bottle of Ibuprofen.

“I’m not talking to Hyunjin.”

You decap the receptacle, dumping two capsules into your palm. Slinging the pills into your mouth, you tip your head back and swallow harshly against the friction.

“Stop being stubborn,” he chastises, just like your mother. “What if I give you incentive?”

“Unless you have a million dollars stowed away, it’s not gonna work.”

You walk towards him as his voice builds. “Okay, I don’t, but I have an idea.”

He sits up and allows you room on the couch as you approach.

You sigh, plopping down next to him. “Does it include me compromising once again so he can feel comfortable? Because I’m not doing that, either.”

“No, well, kinda. I guess the whole thing is a compromise, but—not the point. I ask you to give him a single day at work. Just one. All you have to do is not go out of your way to be mean,” Jisung reasons.

You scoff. “First of all, I don’t go out of my way to be mean. Secondly, I’m not hearing what I get out of this.”

“I’ll buy 20 boxes of Thin Mints.”

“20?”

“20.”

“Make it 25, and you have to promise not to steal two boxes every time you come over.”

“Deal. I’ll put this in writing.”

“Now can you get out of my house so I can rest?”

Jisung pouts, “But 90 Day Fiance is about to come on.”

♡♡♡

At the end of the week, Hyunjin shoots up from his desk and announces he’d like to reward you and Jeongin with dinner. “It’ll be a fun little thing, my treat,” he defends, perhaps preceding his ego to catch up.

Jeongin quickly bows out, citing family issues. His eyes skitter towards you, but they prove his innocence when he offers, “Dad’s in town.”

You announce, “Sorry, I can’t. I have plans with an old friend.” Your deal with Jisung was civility. Nothing more. Nowhere had he requested you to be honest.

He dips his fists into his pockets. “Who? Seungmin?”

The skin on your cheeks blaze hot. For fear of him choosing to invite Seungmin along, you putter, “Uh, no. You don’t know him.”

Hyunjin shoots you a knowing look, and for a split second your heart mends and you nearly reveal the truth. You look back to your desk with shame. After all, at one point, he was all you knew. It would be pretentious to admit he hadn’t left a giant hole in your life.

At the end of the day, Jeongin bids his goodbyes. “See you all Monday. Oh, Y/N, text me the details about that idea we discussed.”

You nod, scribbling a reminder on your sticky note and sealing it to the frame of your desktop. Silence drains the office of energy in Jeongin’s absence. Despite the heavy presence Hyunjin holds, you manage to ignore him and the eyes he bores into you.

After dwelling in a comfortable silence, Hyunjin ventures to ruin it. “Would you like to go to dinner with me?”

“Does the latter half of that involve the bill coming, you excusing yourself to the restroom, and then climbing out the window?” You smile, looking over at him.

He deadpans, “Ha-ha, very funny. I won’t. I’ll even pay for the whole thing. Pick somewhere expensive, I’ll prove it.”

No one in their right mind would deny free (expensive) food. Unless, of course, you’re a medieval queen and have many people who wish to poison you. Even if you fell into this category, Hyunjin would have no obligation to. If it were the other way around, though…

You tap the cap of your pen against your lips. “Hmm. You like Italian. Giuseppe’s?”

He nods. “If that’s what you want, sure. Only issue: we’re not exactly in fancy-shmancy clothes. Is takeout okay?”

“Sure. Then I know you won’t dump the bill on me.”

He gathers his things, joking, “Don’t get too comfy on that.”

Blindly, you grab the pack of sticky notes and throw them. They hit his head with a hollow thunk. He cradles his head, rambling in pain. You have nothing to do but giggle at the sight.

“That hurt!” he exclaims.

“Don’t threaten my free food, then.”

His hand falls to his side, tipping his head back up to question your countenance. Transitionally, his glimmering smile falters until his face draws blank. You admire his features from afar, praying your face isn’t betraying the demeanor you set. That deceiving beauty. Lips part to speak, but words fail him. Then, the smile returns. “Let’s get going, shall we?”

♡♡♡

After a long debate, including you refusing to let Jisung see Hyunjin at your apartment, he relents and takes you to his. Ironically, it’s only a block over from yours. He was closer than you anticipated, and despite the warm feeling in your stomach (similar to the heat a beer will provide), you hate it.

At his front door, he struggles manning the rustling bags of food while trying to grant entrance. The stubborn man insisted on carrying everything. You brashly reach and relieve him of the heavy order of chicken parmesan and a healthy platter of alfredo. Swiftly after, the door caves under his push and he guides you inside.

“You can just kick your shoes off here,” he gestures, stealing the food back with a snarky smirk.

Longer, intentional strides beat you to the kitchen. By the time you make it, he’s already digging out cutlery and plates.

“So,” you say, pressing your elbows on the island separating you. “What happened to going back to America?”

His shoulders tense, and his gaze falls to the pale ceramic in his grip. Reluctantly, he turns around to face you. “Uh, okay, I didn’t want to just jump into this, but since you asked I expect you want a forward response.”

Your stomach anticipates his response before words can confirm them. Innate intuition ruins you every time.

He stammers over every word like he’s sinking in quicksand, and no word holds the proper weight before he’s sentenced to smothering. To make up for it, he dishes out noodles and savory chicken. “I guess it starts from the beginning. And, I guess, beginning isn’t the right word for it, because our history stretches far back.

“Sunflower. Picture day, or, I guess, supposed to be picture day. You recall?”

You sympathetically smile, but the pain of that day rings clear. “Yes, I remember.”

He heaves a big breath, but it doesn’t seem to calm his nerves. “I guess I should just jump into it. I liked you, still do,” he glances up for your reaction, but quickly regrets it and his gaze dips back, “A lot. Like more than I can comprehend.”

“Huh,” is all you can manage to muster.

“It doesn’t make sense, right? If I liked you as much as I did, then why did I abandon you there? Frankly, I don’t have a straight answer to justify that. Being scared or nervous or whatever that stupid fucking emotion was clouded my judgment.”

He hands you a plate full of delectable food, but you suddenly feel dread at the thought of putting anything in your body. The repulsion is so strong, you wonder how you’ve ever felt delight in eating.

You swallow the stone in your throat, reaching out to accept it.

He uses his fork to push the food around on his plate, but it never lifts to his mouth. “So, to answer your question, I realized going back to America would solidify my actions that day. I couldn’t handle that, especially since the love has never faltered. And, trust me, I don’t expect you to return it; but, you deserve the truth. That day at the coffee shop, it all came crashing down in some dizzying clarity, and by then, it was too late. I’m so sorry.”

You draw your lip between your teeth, avoiding his eyes. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long did you really like me? In Seoul Searching, you had said since you first met me, but I think we both know you were just trying to save yourself.”

His shoulders fall as he releases a pent up mass of stress. “I realized when I left that first time. America felt so empty without you, and then I started thinking of all the things we could do when I got back. But, I guess I’ve always liked you. Truly. No one could ever compare to you. Hell, no place could ever compare if you’re not there with me.”

Despite it all, a bittersweet smile grazes your lips. Maybe those words were all you needed to move forward. Some kind of assertion that you were never the problem and that’s finally being verbally announced. You glance up, “Jeongin tried playing Cupid, y’know?”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, I know. The boy pinned me against a wall to pry information out of me. He even asked me about your brother, I guess to get a bigger picture. He weaseled his number out of me.”

You exclaim. “Maybe that’s why Jisung offered a compromise so I’d be nice to you! Those little—” you stop yourself, falling into a fit of laughter.

Hyunjin matches you, but his smile is far away as if he still has stuff to say. When the laughter dwindles, he rushes to add, “To be clear, I don’t intend to make advances on you. If I can have you as a friend that will be enough.”

You analyze his features. Those eyes share stories in their glistening expression, that mouth shares jokes and witty remarks, and by God have you missed him. Perhaps you should go on a whim and act spontaneously. Boys like that, right? You extend your hand over the granite, “Make it a date, Hwang Hyunjin.”

He gawks. “Are you sure?”

You nod, waving your hand until he grabs it. “Why not? I already know what best friend Hyunjin is like. Show me potential suitor Hyunjin.”

“First date, part two,” he declares with a tiny shrug.

“I guess the only way to get you on a date with me is to trick you into one so you don’t get caught up in your thoughts,” you ponder, retracting your hand to attack dinner.

He fails to even scoff because the truth in your words is haunting. Instead, he returns to sentiment. “Thank you for giving me a second chance.”

“Use it wisely.”

♡♡♡

“Hypothetically, then, would I have to gain permission to enter your apartment so I don’t…interrupt something?”

You drop your fork with a loud clatter and stare at him in disgust. You glance around the crowded restaurant, leaning to whisper scoldings at him. “Oh my God, Jisung, I’m not gonna have sex with him right out of the gates. We’re not even official yet!”

He shoots his hands up in defense. “You’ll make it out of the platonic dating phase. Damn me for preparing.”

You stab around your salad. “How are you so sure?”

Jisung rolls his eyes. “A brother just knows, okay? You’d know if I randomly got romantically involved with someone I’d been best friends with for years. Your smell changes or something crazy like that.”

“I think you’re thinking of that purity culture propaganda piece,” you point out, and he shrugs.

To your surprise, the news of the first date did anything but shock Jisung. He stared at you as you delivered the gossip, but he didn’t even crack a smile. It’s like your love life is suddenly old news to him.

Cupid falls from the sky when his job is done. Boredom, you suppose. Cupid is a dramatic force.

Your phone vibrates against the table. Hyunjin’s name pops up accompanied by the silly work groupchat name, gifted by Jeongin. He asks when you intend on returning from your lunch, to which Jeongin responds with awkward emojis that silently warn him. You imagine a blanche, shocked look harboring his features when you respond cordially with an apology and an expected time.

“Lover boy?” Jisung asks, breaking the crust of his pizza into two and dipping one into an offering of ranch.

“No, it was Hyunjin,” you stubbornly respond, raising your eyebrows at his displeased face.

You dig in your canvas bag for your wallet. “I have to run. Twenty should cover it, right?” You offer him the cash.

Jisung waves your hand away, swallowing a large chunk of bread. “I’ve got it. My treat.”

To your discontented face, he quickly adds, “View it as my congratulations for new beginnings.”

Rolling your eyes, you mutter, “Fine. But I pay next time with no ifs, ands, or buts.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

When you return to the office, Jeongin is certainly scared by the abrupt shift in the atmosphere. Hyunjin asks how lunch with your brother was, to which you respond truthfully. “He wasn’t as shocked as I thought he’d be about us.”

“Us?” Jeongin interjects, eyes shooting between you and Hyunjin. They rest on Hyunjin, “You finally got the balls to ask?”

Your voice drags his attention back to you. “It was my idea.”

He jumps up and approaches you. “Okay, what? Are you feeling okay?” He presses the back of his palm to your forehead.

You reach up and push his arm away. “Yep. All good.”

Jeongin initiates another questioning bounce of looks. Thousands of thoughts travel through his mind at once, but none are vocalized. Finally, he turns back to his desk and mutters, “Weird. I owe your brother fifty bucks.”

♡♡♡

In the months to come, a relationship buds. Hyunjin atones his mistakes with daily knicknacks—snow globes in May, thrift store finds of picture frames embroidered with stranger’s names, and a hoodie he claims doesn’t fit him the same (but you saw him wearing it the week before and it was baggy and totally normal). Eventually, he upgrades to forehead kisses and good mornings by breakfast in bed.

Even though Jisung feigned disinterest, he probably gained the most from the development. He knocks before entering your apartment, but only on occasions he knows your boyfriend is there. Then, he’ll nestle between you on the couch and alternate discussions with each commercial break. The boy is in hog heaven knowing his best friends worked it out.

Awkward conversations still arise, with differing opinions on children and marriage (like those could even be viable questions right now). He asks you to move in with him on multiple occasions, but you shoot him down until you’re fully ready. When you finally approach readiness, and even then you’re not super sure in your decision, he is ecstatic. Finally, you can walk home together, eliminating his worries about you getting dragged into an alley and mugged of the three dollars in your wallet. Jisung pouts over this decision for a week, but his qualms are erased when Hyunjin offers information that a spare key is hidden in a fake potted fern outside.

When he leaves work early because of a migraine that’s stretching into his muscles and causing extreme aches, you think nothing of it. Until, that is, you open the front door and are greeted by a puppy sitting next to puppy pads and a bowl of water.

“Do you like him? His name is Kkami. Look, he even knows some tricks! Kkami, sit.”

Though not your idea of a relaxing Thursday, that’s just what you get with Hyunjin. He’s full of surprises, like when he also came home from work with a little tattoo along his wrist of a quote you once offered him in high school.

“I thought it’d be a curse to get your name, so I just got something you said that really helped me.”

Or like how he threw an outfit at you and told you to get dressed. Then, he hustled you into his car and drove without giving any answers to your undying questions of where. The sights grew familiar, and you glanced into the backseat and noticed his camera bag. The sunflower field, an outfit eerily similar to the one he sent you that day. He finally made it up to you.

His spontaneity is simply one of his best qualities. Sometimes, he’ll stand up from the couch, march into the kitchen for thirty seconds, and return with two takeout menus for you to decide at random, only for you to discover it had nothing to do with food in the first place.

Hyunjin’s words are desperately planned, though. Crossed over in his head a million times so he doesn’t accidentally misspeak. Speaking his love is the most intentional. In the morning as soon as you wake up, at work where he sits across the room from you, when at last you’re alone, and when the feeling of meaning creeps up his neck and he’s reminded that you (in all your beauty) are his home.

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