#cannot WAIT to start yapping about her

[mellibuns]

Once again I come to this website with YET another mw oc,,,

[5sospenguinqueen]

Growing Pains Pt 2 | Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: Oscar thought leaving was the best thing for you, but quickly realised he cannot function without you.

Warnings: Swearing. Fluff. Suggestive content.

2024 season. Childhood sweethearts. No facelaim, just rando Pinterest pics

This acc just ended up being Landoscar fluff because I consumed too much of them after Silverstone lol

F1 Masterlist

prev.

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mclaren just posted

liked by aussiegrit, ln4 and others

mclaren oscar’s post race interviews #bahraingp 

2,559 comments

mclaren please enjoy some clips of our aussie talking about the one aspect of his life NOT involved with his job

→ user1 did mclaren just hard launch a relationship?

→ user2 no because why did they post clips that specifically don’t mention a name

→ user3 yes but the familiarity of the way he’s talking about this girl must mean it’s one he’s known since he was 14???

danielricciardo caught simping in 4k

thisisnotyn oscar sweaty got me feeling some kind of way 

charles_leclerc oh god, that goofy smile is back. i know what that means

→ maxverstappen1 he’s going to start yapping more than i do

→ user4 what do you know?!

alex_albon mate, i’m not going to lie, i don’t think we can defend you from this anymore

→ oscarpiastri you sent me memes of my face. you have never defended me

→ georgerussell63 join the club. wait until he sends you reaction gifs 

→ landonorris i love getting those 

YourUserName pookie 

→ user5 um, is she calling oscar pookie?

→ user6 well, it’s not going to be lando. he was only in one of the clips 

→ user7 idk, we don’t know what happened between them. it could’ve been a bad breakup and she might be trying to piss them off

→ landonorris ew, no. it’s not me. they made up weeks ago btw. no way osco would’ve lasted this long without his yn

→ YourUserName what do you mean ew! you’d be lucky to have me

→ danielricciardo no he wouldn’t

oscarpiastri i also talked a lot about my performance in the race

→ landonorris and where is that footage, huh??? funny how it doesn’t exist 

→ oscapiastri yn says you’re not allowed to tag along to date night anymore because you insulted both of us 

→ landonorris :(

→ user8 what do you mean he tagged along on date night?

→ user9 why are we skipping past the fact that lando confirmed that they’re back together

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YourUserName just posted

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and others 

YourUserName ladies, get a boyfriend who looks at you the way Oscar looks at Lando (actually, can you get me one first because mine seems to be broken) 

1,142 comments

oscarpiastri whoa, you told me i was a handsome boy. that photo doesn’t look like a handsome boy 

→ YourUserName some people are into the serial killer eyes. not me though, that’s why i’m asking the fans to find me a new bf

→ logansargeant i’ll help

→ user10 we know which side logan is choosing in the divorce 

landonorris how does it feel to know that your boyfriend likes me more 

→ YourUserName i know how to cut brake lines

→ landonorris 😰😰

→ mclaren yn, please don’t threaten our drivers

→ YourUserName hey, i’ll take them both out if they don’t end their affair 

→ oscarpiastri and here i was thinking you would cut his brake lines so i could get on the podium instead 

→ YourUserName sure, we can go with that

user11 can we take a moment to enjoy the fact that they’ve been back together for 4 months and he’s still letting her bully him

→ YourUserName i’m riding the guilt trip until the very end 

→ oscarpiastri i love you

→ YourUserName i know

→ landonorris but not as much as he loves me! 

→ YourUserName i know where you sleep

→ landonorris yeah, with your boyfriend!

→ oscarpiastri don’t tell the internet that! 

danielricciardo lando used to look at me that way

→ YourUserName i think we should start a spurned wags group

→ danielricciardo i’ll bring the wine

→ YourUserName i’ll bring the lightning mcqueen crocs

→ liamlawson30 can i join?

oscarpiastri sweetheart, you know you’re the light of my life

→ YourUserName didn’t feel that way when you guided lando away from a puddle and let me put my foot right in it

→ oscarpiastri i gave you my socks! 

→ YourUserName they were sweaty

→ oscarpiastri it’s all i had… 

→ mclaren yn, please stop bullying him. we can hear him crying from his driver’s room

→ user12 no because the fact that the majority of mclaren admin’s online interactions are just begging yn to behave 

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oscarpiastri just posted

liked by logansargeant, YourUserName and others

oscarpiastri when you say date night and she says I’m not putting pants on 

2,329 comments

YourUserName thank you for sharing your pizza with me after i burnt mine <3

→ oscarpiastri i can’t wait to share more with you

landonorris did she hide in your neck at the scary parts 

→ oscarpiastri no she fucking laughed at the way he was running

→ landonorris you cuddled into her neck at the scary parts, didn’t you 

→ oscarpiastri i plead the fifth

→ YourUserName it’s okay, princess, you know i’ll always protect you 

logansargeant no because they had their ‘date night’ 3 days ago and the paintings they did of each other are hanging in their bathroom, and when i tell you they were a shock to the system

→ user13 logan, show them to us, please

YourUserName it’s not my fault that it’s hard to keep pants on when you’re around 

liked by oscarpiastri

→ mclaren we talked about this 

→ landonorris my eyes! 

→ user14 @ aussiegrit come get your kids

→ YourUserName don’t tag him in it. mark still thinks i’m nice

→ oscarpiastri no, he knows you’re a gremlin

arthur_leclerc not you trying to pretend that you are romantic when you asked me for all of those ideas

→ YourUserName oh really?

→ oscarpiastri i had a whole night planned and you decided you didn’t want to go out!

→ alex_albon no because you really had him stressing

→ georgerussell63 he was even messaging the grid group chat 

→ danielricciardo he had a whole group of guys debating the best alternative to rose petals

→ YourUserName because i don’t like roses 🥹 oh, osc. it was perfect

→ oscarpiastri 🤍🤍

→ user15 anyone else finding this suspicious

charles_leclerc a date night to remember, i’m sure. and not for the lack of pants 

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user1 rough night in the piastri house, he’s upset mom and wifey 

arthur_leclerc welcome to the family, oscar. please don’t bring yn with you

→ YourUserName you’re just jealous that i didn’t want dinner with you 

→ maxverstappen1 wait, i thought i was your favourite. why don’t you want dinner with me?

→ charles_leclerc you are welcome for dinner anytime, yn

→ oscarpiastri see, what you’ve done. now lestappen are fighting. you promised to keep your crushes to yourself

user2 i love how now that oscar is past his rookie year, his true personality of being a gremlin has come out 

→ user3 now that shy oscar has gone we’re seeing just how well he pairs with yn

→ arthur_leclerc and i can guarantee the grid are missing shy oscar. i have had to put up with this since 2021

→ georgerussell63 i can confirm we do

→ logansargeant now you understand why i prefer to be quiet. if you don’t talk, they can’t bully you 

→ georgerussell63 my name on yn’s phone is amelia georgehart 

→ oscarpiastri we’ve been together for years and mine is peestri pants, count yourself lucky

→ YourUserName lando’s is just fucker. 

→ landonorris the full stop included? 

nicolepiastri i have some questions 

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YourUserName just posted

liked by lilymhe, alexandrasaintmleux and others

YourUserName weekends away with you  

1,012 comments

YourUserName thank you for a lovely weekend away from the madness. i could spend forever with you in our little bubble 

→ danielricciardo oh wow so you’re both simps?

→ YourUserName look away! i have a reputation to maintain

→ oscarpiastri no you don’t. you luuuuurve me

landonorris i can’t believe you left me behind 

charles_leclerc remove your head from that poor girl’s shirt. i raised you better than that

pierregasly someone convince kiks to do this with me. she refuses to go camping

→ francisca.cgomes because neither of us would survive sleeping on the ground

→ oscarpiastri neither would yn if not for the fact that we camped in the back garden

→ YourUserName why would i want to go somewhere without a functioning toilet! 

logansargeant where is your shirt. nobody wants to see that 

→ YourUserName i think you’ll find that i did 

→ oscarpiastri she’s a big fan

mclaren please come back, we miss you 

→ oscarpiastri yn says she still has another weekend before she has to return me

→ mclaren we were talking to yn

→ YourUserName miss you too, boo 🧡

→ landonorris why don’t you speak to me like that 

→ YourUserName ‘cause you stole my osc

→ oscarpiastri no one could take me from you 

user4 no because that last pic screams engagement photo and i don't know why

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charles_leclerc just posted

liked by arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55 and others

charles_leclerc i am an incredibly proud father right now  

10,226 comments

oscarpiastri in other words, i convinced the prettiest girl in the world to marry me 

→ YourUserName and now i have the prettiest husband in the world 

user5 how is lando taking oscar looking at someone else that way?

→ landonorris not well

→ danielricciardo he cried the whole day

→ YourUserName that’s why i gave him my flowers

→ landonorris no i earnt those!

→ lilymhe yeah, i still have the bruises! 

user6 miss rabbit has fainted 

YourUserName i enjoyed our father-daughter dance

→ fernandoalo_official @ aussiegrit the monegasque is trying to steal our children

→ oscarpiastri now i’m in trouble with mark

→ YourUserName i’ll make it up to you on our honeymoon

→ oscarpiastri 😳☺️

user6 fuck you to all the bitches who said they wouldn’t last because they’ve never dated anyone else

mclaren what a beautiful couple. i think we need to put those up around MTC

→ YourUserName i think zak would really appreciate them in his office

→ oscarpiastri what makes you think i haven’t already put them up around MTC. gotta keep my wife with me wherever i go

→ YourUserName stop making me giggle 

user7 definition of soulmates 

arthur_leclerc welcome to the family, yn. even though i asked oscar to leave you behind when he was adopted 

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YourUserName just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and others

YourUserName i made something 

10,229 comments

nicolepiastri and an amazing job you did, sweetheart

→ YourUserName i love you 💗

→ user8 nicer to mama piastri than she is to her own husband 

oscarpiastri i helped

→ YourUserName you contributed for like 2 seconds

→ oscarpiastri stop being mean to me or i may fall in love with you 

→ landonorris 2 second wonder

→ YourUserName you would know

charles_leclerc i’m too handsome to be a grandpapa 

→ YourUserName certified gilf 

→ oscarpiastri i cannot believe you made me read that. i thought you were better than this

→ YourUserName whoa, i have never been better than this and you know that but i can blame it on baby hormones this time

→ charles_leclerc and oscar will let you get away with it

→ oscarpiastri damn right. she just had my baby

landonorris does this mean i get the chance to win godfather of the year

→ danielricciardo don’t tell me they actually named you godfather. you can barely keep yourself alive

→ logansargeant yn got to pick me so oscar was given the choice to pick the other

→ oscarpiastri we made the decision together as loving parental unit 

→ YourUserName the decision was made whilst i was high on gas and motherly love 

→ oscarpiastri stop making it sound like i coerced you

→ YourUserName you had your top off! of course i was coerced. piastitties

→ mclaren yn, no

oscarpiastri sweetheart, i have loved you every day since we were 14 and being by your side these past 9 months, watching you go through such a monumental change, only proved that it was possible for me to love you even more. i can’t wait to see our family grow 💕

→ YourUserName i love you so much, oscie. from growing with you to growing our own mini us, i’d go through all the pain again for forever with you

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Hi, guys. If you have requested previously, I promise they're coming. I've just got them added to my list

Baby Fever Angst Series

Tag list

@barcelonaloverf1life @rlalliehayes @dullypully @softtina @callsignwidow @luvrrish @fall-bambi @evans-dejong @sadsierra2 @justdreamersdream @spookystitchery @dark-night-sky-99 @majusialikesfastcars @luckyladycreator2 @bborra @mrosales16 @reguluscrystals @tvdtw4ever @alwaysclassyeagle @gigicisneros @spanishcorndogs @thecubanator2 @goldenharrysworld @awritingtree @sbrn0905 @hc-dutch @mxdi0 @buckybarnessweetheart @ironmaiden1313 @dreamercrowd @yourbane @glow-ish @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @leclercsluvs @weekendlusting @urdad-hot @lemon-lav @rosecentury @peachiicherries

[mirathescientist]

pairings: Onyankopon x black reader

warnings: Jean slander, smut 18+

Need you

“And then the bitch scoffed and rolled her eyes like I didn't just apologize. I need to find a new place asap cause I swear next time she try me Imma fuck her up- “

“What I tell you bout cussing?” Ony’s deep voice filled the room, dark eyes piercing into yours as a warning.

“Anywaysss” You rolled your eyes, ignoring the side eye he was giving. “You’ve been awfully quiet since I came over. What’s going on?” You put your freshly manicured feet in his face.

“Nothing you’ve just been yapping the whole time.” He smirked.

“Rude” You gasped, nudging him with your toes.

“Nah I'm just chillin’. You know I like listening to you talk.” He shrugged, placing your legs into his lap. Lighting the blunt he just rolled, a cloud of smoke surrounding him as he took a hit.

“Whatever” You smiled as he passed it to you.

You and Ony often had moments like these, a smoke sesh usually spent with you talking about your week as he massaged your feet. Your relationship with Ony was…complicated. Ever since Sasha introduced you two, y'all were inseparable, constantly getting mistaken for a couple, and who could blame them?

Most thought this because Ony always had to be touching you, whether it was holding your hand, an arm around your shoulder, or a tight grip on your waist. However, for some, it was how you two would always disappear during the function. Claiming you were only talking, but the slight sheen on Ony’s lips and your slightly ruffled clothing told otherwise.

You weren’t quite friends with benefits. At least that's what you told yourselves. The whole ordeal just kinda happened. You were stressed over your midterms and Ony of course offered to help you study. Though after hours of reading flashcards and practice tests, you were still stressed and on the verge of tears when Ony offered another way to help you. That night you ended up with your legs in the air as Ony sucked the soul out of your pussy. Ever since then any inconvenience one had, the other would do their best to help relieve the stress. Your roommate upset you? Ony fed you long deep strokes, pampering you with soft kisses while he whispered in your ear. Ony was pissed that his supplier flaked on him? Ony would have the tightest grip on your hips as he drilled into you from behind, claiming the waves of your ass hypnotized him into forgetting what he was upset about. Some days neither of you needed an excuse. Some days you just craved each other.

Despite your unique relationship, you remained friends allowing the other to do what they pleased, though neither you nor Ony slept with or saw other people. Your dynamic was good and worked for both of you. That was until you started seeing Jean.

“You n that nigga Jean still fuckin around?” He broke the silence, waiting for your answer as your eyes met his.

“Ony” You groaned, the tight grip he had on your ankles preventing you from moving.

“What? I can’t ask you questions now?” He kissed his teeth, putting out the blunt.

“No, because any time you ask about Jean we end up getting into an argument and I’m really enjoying my time with you right now. So no, you cannot ask.”

“Whatever. I’m just tryna figure out when you gon stop playing in my face nd be with me instead of his bitchass.”

“Onyankopon '' You shrieked. You never understood why Ony hated Jean till a few weeks ago when Ony drunkenly confessed his feelings. At first, you thought he was joking but the look on his face told you otherwise. For a minute, you were happy. Ony was everything you had wanted in a boyfriend and you two had practically been in a relationship just without the labels. It wasn't till Jean texted you that you got upset. Why confess his feelings when you're finally in a relationship? Deciding it'd be best to forget about it, you put Ony to bed, hoping he'd also forget about his confession. Clearly, you were wrong.

“What? I don't understand what you see in him. He's annoying as fuck, and I'm pretty sure he has 4 brain cells. Maximum.” He rolled his eyes at the thought of Jean. “Why won't you give me a chance when I'm the one for you?”

“We've talked about this Ony.” You sighed. Conversations like these were becoming frequent and they were so tiring.

“No mama you've talked nd I've listened.” You thought about it, he wasn’t exactly wrong. Silently praying this wouldn't end up in an argument you gave him a chance.

“Okay. I'm listening.” You whispered.

“C’mere,” He released your ankles.

“Ony I’m not gonna-”

“[☆]” The dominance in his tone had you clenching around nothing.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you did as he told. The moment you sat on his lap you just knew how it was going to end.

“Why you with him instead of me? And don't feed me no bullshit” His large hands were rubbing up and down your thighs getting dangerously close to your pussy that desperately ached for him.

You tried and you tried but there wasn't any good reason as to why you were Jean. Sure he was cute but he had no idea how to make you feel special and overall just couldn't please you. In multiple ways. The main reason though was that he wasn’t Ony. He just asked first.

“I don't know, Ony” You finally sighed, looking everywhere but him.

Any discipline you had when it came to Ony vanished when his hand wrapped around your throat, the slight pressure on your carotid causing your brain to go fuzzy and your panties to get damp “Look at me”

“Be real. Please” Ony released his hold on your neck to grip your thighs.

“You had the longest opportunity to ask me to be with you but you never took the chance, yet when I'm finally in a relationship you suddenly wanna give up everything and take a chance to be with me and I feel like that’s not fair to me Ony.”

He rubbed his hands down his face with a sigh. “You're right.”

"I did have that opportunity and always hesitated. I always assumed it would be just you and me, that you wouldn't pursue other relationships because of our bond. Since the day we met, I've wanted you. I know this is unfair and I'm so sorry princess, but I can't ignore my feelings any longer. Jean can't possibly be the man you want, the man you deserve. But I can. I promise to take the chance if you just give me another opportunity, and I'll do everything in my power to make you proud. You’re my best friend, my favorite person in the whole universe and I'm determined to be the person you need. I love you [☆].”

“Ony” you huffed, feeling as if all air was being vacuumed out of your lungs at his confession.

“Please. Lemme show you how much I love you.” He whispered, closing the distance that separated you. “Please” He captured your lips, his usual sweet taste with a hint of spiciness from the weed clouding your thoughts. Oh, how you missed this. Missed him. The kiss was intimate and familiar, the passion growing with each second. Ony’s hands roamed your body, gripping the soft flesh of your thighs before traveling to your ass, taking pleasure in the soft moan you let out, and using the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips. On instinct, your hips rocked down onto him.

“Fuck, baby. I missed you” He groaned, flipping you onto your back.

“Ony we can’t” You huffed, despite the wetness growing in between your thighs. God he looked so good. His muscles bulged as he took his shirt off, your eyes trailed down his torso, mouth watering at the prominent v-line peeking from his low sitting sweats.

“Do you want this? Yes, or no?” His tongue traced lazy patterns on your skin as he littered your neck with kisses.

“Ony I-”

“Yes or no [☆]?” He nipped on your earlobe, hand dipping below the waistband of your leggings.

“Fuck, Ony” his hand slipped beneath the thin fabric of your thong, fingers slipping through your folds. Gathering your arousal before circling your clit in tight circles. “Yes, please”

“Then shut up and lemme show you how much I love you” He murmured as he undressed you. Replacing his fingers with his tongue, he lapped at your folds like a starved man, his tongue repeatedly flicking your clit. “Missed you so fucking much. Don't ever give my pussy away again. You hear me?” He muttered, sliding two digits past your entrance. The action was easy with how wet you were.

“Ony” Your thighs threatened to close around his head.

“Answer me or I'm stopping” He slowed his movements, leaving you needy.

“It's yours. I'm yours pa, I promise” Your legs shook as he continued to give you slow strokes, the addition of another finger having you seeing stars. “O-Ony wait” You panted, attempting to push his head away but he refused to let up on your pussy, never wanting to stop till he and his couch were soaked in your essence as he lapped at your clit.

“Ony I’m so-fuck I'm so close” Your words encouraged him to speed up as he repeatedly hit the spongy spot of your walls. “Ony” Your walls clenched around his fingers, leaving little room for his fingers to continue as you reached your peak.

Despite your thighs tightening around his head he continued his assault on your pussy. It wasn't until he was finally satisfied with slurping up your arousal, that he pulled away pressing gentle kisses on your throbbing clit as he pulled his soaked fingers out of your walls.

“Missed you so much” He mumbled, giving you the nastiest kiss ever, your arousal all over his lower face.

“I missed you too”

“Yeah?” He grabbed your hips, positioning you on all fours.

“Ony” You whined, pout forming on your lips as you looked back. His dick standing tall now that it was no longer confined. God, please let me have feeling in my legs tomorrow.

“I know you ain't think I was done. You played in my face and let another nigga hit and think I'm not finna put you back in your place? Nah, both you and this pussy need a reminder of who you belong to” He slid his dick through your folds, your cream acting as lube.

“Matter a fact” He lined up at your entrance just as your phone started ringing ‘Jean baby’ flashing on the bright screen.

“Lemme show this nigga too.”

first time ever writing smut nd even though it was short it took me foreverrr but i think it turned out okay. also so sorry for all my Jean girlies out there lol. anyways i hope you enjoyed nd any feedback is greatly appreciated. mwah

[cultkinkcoven]

The hard truth about occultism and witchcraft is that you genuinely do have to be willing to lose your mind. That’s not me romantisizing mental struggle or psychosis.

The thing no one talks about, at least not honestly, is the threshold one passes in initiation, where the mystical, psychological, symbolic and literal merge. When I say you have to be willing to lose your mind, I mean you have to be willing to accept the possibility that you may in fact be crazy. Your worst possible fear, none of this is real and it’s all happening in your head. What will you do if you realize you’re simply crazy? The wise man will turn away, but the initiate, the alchemist, will be unphased.

All people who dabble with spirituality and occultism will eventually meet this threshold. When things actually start working, when your spells yield results, when the impossible occurs and you truly have no other explanation. When the Gods finally respond. Be willing to lose your mind, be willing to experience things you cannot explain. And be willing to talk to yourself with the honesty that you simply cannot know. That’s what makes your faith and pursuits worthy.

The most talented and most powerful witches and magis are those who do not flinch when the impossible occurs. They no longer question themselves about the absurdity, they no longer wonder if any of this is real because they know it doesn’t matter. And that’s why they’re so powerful, they have complete faith that their work is very real. And when someone challenges that, they don’t crumble, they rise. Because the challenge in that idea is worthy of pursuit itself. Maybe we are crazy, maybe this is just in our mind. The significance however, that is real and that stays, regardless.

Yap yap yap

We talk a lot in this community about the concept of “awakening” to your psychic abilities. Sensing energy, having divine intuition, telling fortunes and affecting the world through intention. But we hardly ever expose that before those gifts explode, there is always a period of what feels like insanity. The mind interrogating itself. Sensitivity to the mystical. It feels like being given access to the background code of your simulated reality, and realizing that the same code is written into your flesh, mind and soul.

Tldr. Witchcraft is very aesthetically pleasing, very pretty. We often don’t show the very ugly side of it, the white knuckles, the tears and chaos. Inviting these forces into your life is not trivial, not at all. They will force you to change and they will force you to lose your mind, even if only to teach you how to find it.

Every few months a friend of mine who is also a witch will come to me and express that she thinks she’s losing her mind again. And I smile because I know that she must be growing so much, getting so much more powerful. And a couple days ago, when I went to her and expressed that I was losing my mind again, she laughed too.

“Welcome to the next phase of your journey with Lord Lucifer!”

and her saying that immediately made everything click. I’m still being tested and cultivated. This bought of insanity is surely far from the last i will experience. Getting this far and surviving means I am not only advancing, I am continuing to grow into the role I was meant to serve for him.

Anyways, if you get to that point in your practice where you feel like you’re at your breaking point, I won’t fault you for stepping back. That’s the logical decision.

But I can also assure you, you are not alone. The mystic floats in the same waters the psychotic drowns. It may feel like you’re drowning and struggling, you may in fact just be learning how to tread water. and if you think you’re beyond this phenomenon, if this has never happened to you.

Oh, just you wait.

[shinysobi]

sleepless in busan

he's been running his whole life, and hadn't realized how tired he was.

what do you think about nostalgia?

a/n: dedicated to the wonderful people at svthub, and also to my favourite people: @gyubakeries (for tolerating all my yapping) @mylovesstuffs for beta'ing this at record speeds. also jina @facethesunflower bc shes a sweetheart and i love her genre: angst, fluff, mentions of alcohol and smoking w.c: dont even ask (12k)

hope you enjoy this, and do let me know your thoughts!

listen to the playlist

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 back to masterlist

Verse two—gukbap.

On most days, I enter the office a full hour before everyone else, a habit picked up over time as other career pursuits took up more and more of my time. Even if I can’t do overtime work, I should at least finish the work assigned to me, so that I do not make trouble for everyone else.

This morning, I get settled in, have a single cup of coffee, and I’m starting on the leftovers from the week before, when Kim, from the design department, walks in, evidently hoping to find someone else instead of me, “Editor, could you just look at the draft we sent in last night? There was supposed to be a correction that Kim needed to get to, but he didn’t really do it in time.”

“I’ll take a look,” I wave, and he slinks away, probably to talk more shit about the editing department. There are people coming in—the editor-in-chief, who spares no one a single glance as he makes a beeline straight for his office, the assistant editor who’s got way too much on their agenda, and the other people in the department, who don’t bother to care about me, in a way that’s actually impressive.

The day is slow, and I get through my tasks with frightening efficiency. By the time they call me in for an after-lunch meeting, I’m done. It’s easy, given that I don’t pay attention to my colleagues gossiping behind my back. Even at the meeting, I’m seated in a chair far away from the screen, hoping that no one calls on me to talk about my work.

The Chief, a man who rarely says anything apart from his own piece, walks in five minutes after the meeting is supposed to begin, smiling to himself as though he’s received some great piece of news that he cannot wait to share with the rest of us. There are others too—Haneul, Choi, everyone who’s already made up their minds about me as soon as I stepped foot into the Busan office from Seoul.

“Alright, we’re running late,” he says, clapping his hands to get our attention, “let’s start with the agenda for the week, shall we?”

The meeting is boring, and we take turns to talk about our designated work for the week, nothing more, nothing less. I manage to say about three sentences before mumbling a thanks and sinking back into my seat. Just ten more minutes, and you can go back.

Just as we’re about to get up, the chief waves a hand, saying, “this part of the meeting is to honour a very special person in our department, who’s managed to get recognised by a prestigious awards foundation.”

My stomach sinks. Please, god, no. already I can feel the stares at my back, people whispering is that why she took so many days off in those months? And talk about being selfish. She didn’t even tell us. I close my eyes. Maybe, just maybe, this is a fever dream. I’ll open my eyes, and I’ll be back home, in the flat with a view of the sea, sipping my morning coffee, listening to that voicemail from Seungkwan. A do-over, just like I’d begged for.

“Right here,” The Chief points at me, and the room bursts out into polite, disinterested clapping, “the assistant editor, who managed to get the Daesan award, despite juggling her full workload at the same time.”

I groan internally, polite smile plastered on my face. “Thank you, sir, although I would like to thank my colleagues, who did their best to manage parts of my workload when I was off sick the previous month.”

“They were glad to do so, my girl, glad to do so!” he booms, smiling beatifically, as though he didn’t shatter the only semblance of peace I had in my work life. Fuck. Now everyone thinks I was off having fun in Seoul while they were picking up after me. “If there’s a genius like you in the department, there are people who have to make do with being second best.”

Great. Now he’s officially put the nail in the coffin of my work life. I grimace in response, and he barrels on, ignoring it, “which is why, the board of directors has taken the initiative to start our own imprint, one that will deal with fiction exclusively.”

More polite applause at this announcement, although no one really seems happy at the prospect of being saddled with more work, and the Chief amends his statement, “Of course, the work will not exactly begin until next year, giving us all ample time to prepare ourselves for a new challenge! How about it, guys?”

This time, the applause is far more enthusiastic. People shuffle out of the office as fast as they can, eager to get back to their routine work. I get up from my seat to follow suit, but the Chief stops, calling out, “Assistant Editor.”

I pause, turning back to him, “Yes, sir?”

He doesn’t waste any time getting to the point, “The board would like to use your work as the first title to be released from the new imprint.”

I squint my eyes, “Sir, we publish manuals for human resources.”

He waves a hand, dismissing all my valid concerns, “never mind about that. Just—make sure you send in a manuscript as the first title going to print.”

I repeat myself, slower this time, “Sir, we print human resource manuals. These people have no idea how to edit fiction.”

“That’s immaterial,” he waves, “why didn’t you publish with us in the first go?”

“I sent it in, actually. Through the in-house programme. Someone rejected it because it was fiction.”

He sighs, which usually means someone is getting fired, “Never mind that. How long is your contract with your publisher?”

“Five years, sir. Per usual.”

“And will you be amenable to changing companies once the five years are up?”

I stare at him, “Sir, I don’t think I can tell you that right now, given that I’ll have to talk to the company currently in charge of my publication to make a decision like this.”

The chief spends about six seconds in thought, and claps his hands, laughing, “Of course, of course—no reason why you should not prioritise one over the other.”

“After it lapses, shift your titles to the new imprint. We’re counting on you, yeah?” He’s gone, without even giving me the opportunity to say unless you pay me more than them, no. I walk out of the meeting room and back to my own station, pulling up a  manual to start working on in order to kill time before I can take my leave. There’s no question of me moving my manuscripts from Seungkwan’s company to mine, unless Seungkwan is included in that package; if he moves companies, I would say yes in a heartbeat. Seungkwan is more than my editor—he knows exactly how to change my rambling sentences into coherent phrases that cut deep, and he bats for me when no one else does, has been doing so since the release of the first title. To change companies and contracts without considering him would be disloyal on my part.

There are people talking beside me. I sigh loudly, and they immediately shut up, in an impressive display of herd behaviour. Gossiping about me again, I suppose.

Are you going to say nothing, a voice tells me, someone that sounds suspiciously like my sister, needling, insistent, they’re going to badmouth you and you’re going to say nothing? Just sit there and take it like an idiot?

They’re not worth it, I reason, if they were, I would have made it known I didn’t like it. It's not important. If they get happiness from talking shit about me, they’re welcome to. No one is going to tell them anything.

You’re just going to let them walk all over you, just like that?

I shake my head, trying to distract myself. What can we have for dinner tonight? Or do you want the same meal—instant rice and a stew put together in five minutes?

Or, we could go to the diner from yesterday.

I sigh loudly, enough for the gossiping in the next cubicle to stop, running my hands over my face. Running away from the diner last night was a poor choice on my part, but when exactly have I made good choices? Worst thing about the whole fiasco was that I still owed him the money for the meal. God. Would it be okay to just drop off the money in an envelope, stashing it in front of the door? He probably has security cameras all over the front stoop. Either way, I still wanted to go back there, just for the good food; the best I had had since moving to Busan. With those skills, it was strange why no one had said anything about it in the office, especially when they all exchanged restaurant locations every week on cue.

The clock strikes five, and the Chief, ever so punctual, stands up, making his way out of the office. One by one, the people in the office also make their way out, smiling and laughing amongst themselves. Planning dinners, or something like that. I’m seated at my desk, watching people pass me by, going their own way. I still have my leftover work to get to.

The edits on human resources training manuals take a lot more time than people might think. I spend about three hours, sifting through egregious spelling mistakes that would have us recalling three hundred copies of a very expensive manual once it was sent to a company. Despite the small workforce, there were a lot of important orders coming through here, and as the Assistant Editor, it falls on me to make sure that the others are doing a good enough job. What happens after that, should be none of my business.

“Who the hell writes these manuals?” I mutter, correcting the thirteenth typo. “Don’t write words that sound similar to curses if you don’t know the proper spelling.”

The clock chimes nine, and just like that, I’ve spent about three hours working on minute edits that make no sense for any experienced editor to leave, unless of course, they’re doing it on purpose. There are two other assistant editors in the office, both of whom get to leave on time, while I am stuck here with work that should have been done by editors before me.

No. Don’t shove your responsibility onto other people. You were the one with the extended leave a few weeks ago.

I sigh, going back to my work. Perhaps it’s going to be a long night. The work is more important than you are, right now. If you do this well, your Chief might let up on getting you into the new imprint.

It’s late, when the work gets over. After the entire office has cleared out, I leave, taking my usual way across the beach. It’s already late enough for my stomach to protest, and I take the long way, walking as slowly as I can. This is the only time I have for myself, to unwind after the long day I’ve had.

Make sure to transfer the contract from your current publishing house to ours. That was a threat. A direct threat, and if I had anywhere else to go, I would have submitted my resignation. But I don’t, and so I must deal with everything—the Chief’s veiled threats, my coworkers’ disdain, the long hours that leave me with nothing but tiredness—all because I left the house, and therefore, I must survive.

My phone rings loudly, and I pick it up without even checking the caller ID. Only one person calls me right before midnight, “Yes, Mom?”

“Were you in the office?” my mother asks, “I called you before, and you didn’t pick up, so I figured you were still busy with work.”

“Yes, recruitment season is coming up, so we’re busy with writing new manuals for incoming hires,” I sigh, “never mind, I don’t want to talk about my job right now. What’s up?”

“Just wanted to see how you were doing,” my mother replies, “looks to me you’re doing fine.”

“Yes, yes, I’m so busy I can barely think of anything else,” I laugh—genuine enough that she doesn’t get the message, “why else would I be back so late?”

“At least you’re being safe, right?” she asks, worried, “you live so far away, I can’t even send you side dishes to eat.”

“Hah,” I exhale, looking at the waves crashing on the shore, “you know, Mom, you can hear the waves from here.”

“The waves?” She sounds worried. “Are you alright? You know, I’ve read what happens to the lighthouse keepers.”

“Oh my god, Mom. I’m not going to go insane like a lighthouse keeper,” I laugh, “I’ll not be going insane just because lighthouse keepers did. I live in the second largest city, not an abandoned island.”

“It sounds like an abandoned island to me,” she grumbles, “your dad worries himself every day about how you are doing.”

“Mom,” I smile, “I’ll be back home for New Years’ Eve. Could you save the interrogation until then?”

“Really?” her voice is so happy, it makes me feel slightly awkward, “I’m glad to hear that. Your sister is coming home too, with her children. Although it isn’t that much news, since they live about ten minutes away from us.”

“Still, it’s good to have one of your children be near you, right?” I laugh, and she laughs too. For a single moment, I can pretend that everything is all right in the world, that the stress of the day does not exist. “Give the phone to Dad. I haven’t heard him in a long time.”

A small shuffling noise, and my father is on the other side, gruff and stoic, “are you eating well?”

“Just had the best seafood stew at a diner yesterday,” I grin, “thinking of going back there tomorrow.”

“Seafood stew?” my father muses for a minute, “I hope they used mussels. Mussels in seafood stew is always my favourite. People don’t use mussels anymore, since they’re a bit of work.”

“They used mussels, actually,” I say, and he laughs, “it was a good place to eat, dad. Next time you come here, I’ll take you out to eat dinner.”

“Make sure they have good gukbap,” he says, serious all of a sudden, “a restaurant is never good if their gukbap is not.”

“I’ll remember that, Dad,” I laugh, before cutting the call. If their gukbap is bad, the restaurant is useless. Gukbap was easy—rice soup, made in a thousand different ways, all different, all unique to the restaurant that makes them. Easy to fuck up, if you didn’t know the exact measurements of what went into making a good soup. Clean, nothing overpowering. I remember my mother making it for me on rainy days, trying to soothe a child who would fall sick so easily it was a task to make her hold on to life.

My mother once told me I used to get so sick, so often, they thought I wouldn’t make it past my first year. Perhaps that was why they always took care of me, even in my teenage years, when all I wanted was freedom.

—

The diner is empty again tonight, devoid of customers. The owner sits at a table, writing down something in his notebook. He stands up when I walk in, all smiles, “did you forget the way here?” he asks, “it’s been almost a week since you came back.”

“Yeah, realised I was craving something,” I grin. “Do you serve gukbap here?”

“We do,” he nods, “is that all you need? I’ll be closing soon, so tell me what you want before I clean the kitchen.”

“Just that,” I take a seat at the bar—the same place where I sat the first time. “Is it always this empty, or did I just come too late?”

“The day has been a bit slow,” he explains, going back into the kitchen, “gukbap, right? It’ll be done in a minute. I don’t have pork, so you’ll have to make do, though.”

He disappears from sight, and I busy myself with my phone, looking through my notifications. It’s not as if there are a lot, but I keep seeing things pop up on my social media feed, things that I should have cut out of my life entirely. It’s not always that my failure to do anything gets me; I’ve been this way since I was a child, apparently.

You used to bottle it all up inside of you, and tell us nothing.

Perhaps that was why I ran away to Busan—a city populated enough for me to hide, and yet calm enough for me to float along it, adrift at sea, nothing more to think about, than a constant reminder of why I failed, how I failed. Is this how most people live?

The owner sets a plate in front of me, steaming rice soup with an abalone garnishing, expensive enough for me to raise my eyebrows at it, and he simply smiles in response, “Imagine waiting for someone to come by, and they ask you to make rice soup for them. It’s a request you can’t ignore, right?”

“You said you were all out of pork,” I shake my head, “and you’re serving me abalone.”

“I was out of pork, not abalone,” he smiles, taking a seat next to me. “Why did it take you so long to come back?”

“You sound like you were waiting for me.”

“I was, actually.”

I stare at him, still smiling, and for a moment, I wonder if there are hidden cameras around the diner, with people waiting for me to make a slip, popping out of their hidden corners, “Are you kidding?”

“Not at all,” He pours himself a glass of alcohol, “you remind me of myself.”

“Ah, like an old man,” I joke, looking back at the soup. “How old are you?”

“Not as old as you think.”

I shake my head, still laughing, before taking a sip of the soup, fragrant and flavourful, with the abalone providing a slight difference from the usual pork I’m used to, unlike any other place I’ve tried this at. My father was right when he said a restaurant is never good if their gukbap is not.

“They use this as comfort food here,” he explains, watching me eat, “I remember sneaking out to eat this every week when I was a trainee.”

“You were a trainee?” I look him over, and sure enough, he does look like he could be a celebrity—his features are perfect, sloping nose unusual enough for me to have taken notice the first time I walked in here, skin pale enough not to tan even under the heat of the direct rays, “you should have been a celebrity, then. Why are you working at a diner in the middle of the beach?”

“I was a celebrity, actually,” he admits. “Now I run a diner.”

“Celebrity to diner owner.” I smile, “that’s a strange path to take.”

“A good one, too,” he mutters, “it’s a pretty good job, this one.”

“A celebrity, a diner owner, and a phenomenal cook,” I count them off, “what else are you hiding?”

“What are you thinking?” he replies instead. “Since you asked me what I’m hiding, I think I should ask you what you think of it.”

“The trainee?” I chuckle, “what were you a trainee for?”

“A boy group,” He laughs, “fell through at the last minute, though.”

“Ah, is that why I never saw you online? I used to be a big K-pop fan, you know. Followed all the groups when they released new music.”

“You must know Hoshi, then?”

“Hoshi?” I pause, “He used to release really good music, but I didn’t really listen that closely. My friends do like his music a lot, though.”

He nods, and I resist the urge to run away, my friends like his music. It’s not a lie—they do like his music, have liked him since he came out with his debut single—it’s me who has been dropped from the list. If he asks about my friends, I’m not sure I could even say a single word.

“Soonyoung—I mean, Hoshi, he’s from my label,” the man explains, looking sheepish, “I mean, I used to be a trainee there.”

“Ah.” I finish the rest of my meal in silence.

“No payment, not for you.” He smiles, “I still didn’t get your name, though.”

“Do I really have to?”

He says nothing, merely grins, and waves me goodbye. On my way back from the diner, I light a cigarette as usual.

He’d looked less tired than before, less lonely, too. Did he finally have someone to talk to? He’d looked happier—serving me rice soup while I waited.

I pick up my phone to call Seungkwan, who picks up within two rings.

“Ah, noona—” he begins, and I cut him off, “Seungkwan, can I send you my pitch right now?”

“Right now?” There’s a scramble on the line. Then he’s back, “yes, tell me.”

I take a deep breath, “I go to a diner every day.”

“Huh?” Seungkwan is sceptical, as always, “what do you mean you go to a diner every day?”

“I want to write about the diner, Seungkwan,” I explain. “I don’t know—it’s just that even though I haven’t been that many times, every time I go, I come back thinking about my life differently.”

“Noona, you always think about your life. That’s why you’re the one writing, not me.”

“No—just trust me on this one, okay?” I’m begging at this point, but Seungkwan needs to be convinced, “it’s a good start, right?”

“Send me a chapter, and I’ll think about it,” he mutters.

“So, you’ll do it?”

“Just send me a page! God, you’re so annoying,” he huffs. “Okay, fine! I’ll do it! Just send the damn chapter before next week ends or you’ll be dealing with someone else.”

“I love you, Seungkwan.”

“Love you too.”

“Ah,” I mutter as I reach the apartment entrance. “He’s always like that, right?”

Seungkwan has always been like that, unwillingly affectionate, yet he manages to be my only cheerleader, at times. From the first day he picked up my manuscript and called me out of the blue, to our first meeting, where he said bluntly to my face, “you look sad”, and even now. He says he won’t do it, but he will. Seungkwan will move mountains for the people he loves. That’s just how he is.

My phone buzzes as I walk into my flat, with a singular message, I’m counting on you for this one, noona. Don’t fuck this up for us, please.

I smile. As if.

—

Jihoon is not particularly given to nostalgia. He hates it, has hated the feeling since he stepped out of the plane at Charles de Gaulle and felt an intense longing for the semi-basement with melon-green walls that had defined his trainee life, the boardrooms where he negotiated for his artistic freedom to an inch of his life, and even the dorms, where he lived alongside a bunch of other teenage boys, all just as clueless as him.

Until that point, nostalgia was a common feeling, the longing of a time that seemed better in retrospect, but Jihoon hated how he felt about his trainee years, and later on, his producing career. He’d thought his life had ended when the HR development team had called their group of ten boys into the melon room and announced that they were no longer moving forward with the boy group. Wonwoo had cried, as Jihoon remembers. Wonwoo had cried, Seungcheol looked furious, Minghao and Jeonghan had tried to bargain. And Jihoon—Jihoon remembers sitting down on the floor, staring blankly into the distance. He had to get up off the floor; he had to do something.

He didn’t; all he did was sit on the floor, thinking, what do I do next?

The dorm was cleared out the next week.

To this day, he hates the word, nostalgia. They’re emotions he’d rather have left behind, in the melon-coloured room which took away so much of his youth. He doesn’t hate that part of himself, just wishes he could have done it a little bit differently. He’s been running his whole life, and has never realised how tired he was. And now—all that remains of that time, are memories that he’d once thought of as commonplace.

They’d called him back from Busan three months after he’d gone back home, and Jihoon still cannot forget the hope in his heart that maybe they’d rethought the decision, that maybe he still had a shot at becoming a singer. He’d dedicated his teenage years to that dream, going to practise in Seoul when all his peers were chasing a different dream, a more attainable one, perhaps. And there was Soonyoung too, who’d joined only a month before, who didn’t really realise why they were all moving out. None of them deserved that. They’d all given up their youths, negotiated over and over with people who didn’t care about their well-being.

No one would fault you for giving it another shot, his father had told him when he was stepping out of his home, if you want to give up on this dream, that is okay, too. Remember you can always come back here.

The company had said nothing about bringing back the debut team. Instead, they’d sat him down in a room entirely different from the practice rooms and told him that they were willing to bring him on as a composer to help with Soonyoung’s debut. You’ve got to bring in a lawyer and a parent to negotiate the terms, they had said, you’re still a minor, even if you turn eighteen in a month. We can’t make a contract with a minor without a legal guardian present. Jihoon really hadn’t heard any of the words they had said, instead focusing on a single word. Soonyoung. The boy who had come in a month before the company had sent them all packing, was who they had brought back in as a soloist, apparently. For them, he was good enough, not Jihoon or the group of boys who had spent years on their craft. He’d wanted to ask them, why didn’t you bring back the debut team? We said we’d do all the producing, we said we’d help with logistics. We said we’d do all of it, so why aren’t you calling us back? Why just him?

In the end, he had accepted the terms laid out in front of him, had his father make the trip from Busan to Seoul with a lawyer to look over the contract before he signed it. Once they made sure his work was going to be owned by the company and no one else, Jihoon moved back to Busan, working on Soonyoung’s debut song in the middle of catching up with his high school assignments.

They all said he was a genius, and he was, because who else would get into a Seoul university a year after he stopped being a full-time trainee? Soonyoung debuted, and Jihoon’s name was first on the list of production credits: Woozi. He’d chosen the name before they had approached him the second time, making shit up with Seungcheol and Jeonghan on a random weeknight. They’d picked out names for each other, too—Seungcheol wanted to be called S. Coups, whatever that meant, and Jeonghan, looking at their atrocious choices, stuck with his own. “I refuse to be part of this madness,” he had said, but Jihoon wanted to keep the name Woozi. Our Jihoon, the producers and the HR development team used to call him. He wanted the name to be a tribute to the people who worked hard to make their debut possible.

Woozi debuted alongside Hoshi, and they never looked back. Jeonghan and Seungcheol both went into business administration, circling back to the same company that cut them off. Wonwoo moved courses, went into game development, and refused to look at the industry ever again. And Minghao—

Minghao had left for China the week after they sent them off, and they had all come to see him off at the airport. His eyes were dry, and Jihoon saw no sign of distress in his eyes. Minghao had moved on already.

“Don’t blame yourself too much, Minghao,” he had said, in an attempt to soothe the hurt he was going through, but Jihoon doubted they even heard any of it.

Minghao swore he’d never return to Korea. Two years later, he arrived for an exchange semester, and never seemed to leave. Xu Minghao, fashion designer. They’d all moved on in their own ways, chose to soothe themselves by doing things they never wanted to do. Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and he were basically torturing themselves, working in the same company that turned them out onto the streets. Wonwoo left the industry, running as fast as he could, in the opposite direction. Minghao, who was always a man of few words, made his own path, doing something that they never really thought he would do, but he’s come back to the country he hates.

Wonwoo had once, on one of their dinners, pointed an accusatory finger at the three of them, “Why the fuck did you go back to that company? If it was anywhere else, I would have understood. Hell, I would have supported you three! But back to the same place that threw us out onto the streets?”

“Wonwoo, you’re drunk,” Seungcheol had said, mildly. “Let’s have this conversation another time.”

“No, we need to have it right now,” Wonwoo was headstrong on the best of his days, but drunk, he was stubborn to a fault, and Jihoon just stared at the man in front of him, still burdened by the experiences of his adolescence, “why the hell did you go back to the company we left?”

“They had their reasons, Wonwoo,” Minghao replies, nursing his drink, “I’m sure the decision wasn’t easy.”

“Then they shouldn’t have taken that decision,” Wonwoo mutters, slumping down against Seungcheol, “remember when they didn’t even tell us why they were disbanding the debut group?”

“They debuted Hoshi a year later,” Minghao replies, tone a shade darker, “how the hell did you manage that, hyung?”

“Huh?” Jihoon realises a bit later that the words are directed towards him, and he sits straight up, “what do you mean about that?”

“How the hell did you manage to write songs that he performed?”

“What?” Seungcheol sits up straight, looking at Minghao, “what do you mean by that?”

“I’m asking how you managed to write those songs for Hoshi, knowing the company debuted him instead of you. Instead of us.”

“Oh.” Jihoon knows he should say something, that the wounds in them run deep, even after years have passed and they have all moved on, but he really cannot. What is there to say that he hasn’t talked about? Should he tell them how he never wanted to sit in any of those meetings, where they would discuss Soonyoung’s debut single, because a little voice in his head would not shut up about the unfairness of the whole system? They were supposed to debut as a team. But they didn’t, and the company turned to Soonyoung instead, placing their dreams on the shoulders of a person who didn’t even understand the meaning of it all. Anything he said, would not hold water, not in front of the people who were hurt, whose eyes carried so much sadness. Wonwoo refused to watch anything Hoshi released, even if Jihoon was the one behind the songs. Minghao—Minghao was looking at him with such profuse betrayal in his eyes, that he knows, none of his empty words would comfort them. None at all.

Looking back at the time passed, Jihoon knew Soonyoung was suffering too, even if it never seemed like that to them. They only saw the carefully curated music stages and high-quality music videos, because it’s easier for an outsider to look in; he’d come across Soonyoung on days where the other would be holed up in the studio, not talking to anyone, focused on making everything perfect—even right up to the day before the song's release. They were jealous, they were hurting, but the experience that Hoshi was going through, that was something they could not understand.

He's still sitting in front of his work computer, when the call from Jeonghan comes through, “Did you just send in a track for a R&B song?”

“I did,” Jihoon has the sense to sound a little ashamed, “it was a bout of inspiration. I’ll change it if it’s not what you guys want.”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s the most original piece of work I’ve seen you put out in a couple years,” Jeonghan’s tone is flippant, but he still sounds stressed, “I already spoke to the PDs, the concept hasn’t been decided yet. Hoshi might be releasing an indie album, or a R&B album.”

“The concept hasn’t been decided yet? Why the hell were you telling me to submit a track?”

“I need proof of life to convince them to put you on the team, Jihoon,” Jeonghan’s voice is strained, “how long do you think the people will wait around for you to show up with something other than what has been in your drafts since before you ran off?”

“That’s a bit disappointing, you know. I’m hurt.”

“You literally ran off to Paris when I was in the middle of renegotiating your contract. You can afford to take a little bit of heat.”

“That’s harsher, but it’s the truth.”

“I’m wondering,” Jeonghan says, after a beat, “what the hell gave you this much inspiration, sitting in fucking Busan, of all places. Did you have a vision or something?”

Jihoon laughs and laughs, because Jeonghan, even in his sarcasm, has hit the nail on the head; he had seen a vision. A vision of a woman in plain clothes, who carried herself as though she had a lot of weight on her shoulders. “Something like that,” he replies, “maybe I got inspiration from the waves.”

“That’s why your restaurant is smack in front of the beach,” Jeonghan laughs, “I’ll be in touch with you, and for god’s sake, call Minghao. He’s going crazy.”

“What happened to Minghao?” Jihoon’s seen Minghao crazy exactly once—when he was so angry he cursed at the staff in Chinese, throwing out all the angst of his teenage self, “what happened to him?”

“Hoshi wants to dress in his clothes for the comeback. Minghao is against it to the extent that he actually turned down every request from us to feature his clothing, and threatened me with a cease-and-desist.”

“Can you do that?” Jihoon isn’t really surprised, per se, they were all people who held grudges, deep in their hearts, and at some point, it would have had to boil over. It’s only fair it’s happening now, and not thirty years down the line.

“He says he will. A legal notice to stop us from displaying any of his work in a music video or on any of his appearances. Just talk to him once. Holding onto a grudge for eleven years seems a little bit overkill, I’m going to be honest.”

“Fine, I’ll talk to him once.” Jihoon has no intention of talking to Minghao, because no matter what he says, Minghao will not change his mind once he has made it up, and he’s always been firm on this one account, “no promises.”

He sighs, and leans back into his chair. Nostalgia. Ah. It’s a word he really fucking hates.

But there was her, and she was in his mind, again, a reminder of who he was, the kind of person he had been, for the longest time. She wasn’t just someone who reminded him of the time that had passed him by, Jihoon knew her. They were the same, in fact, he still thinks they are.

His phone rings again, but this time, it’s his mother, instead of Minghao, or Jeonghan. “Hello?”

“Weren’t you supposed to come for dinner tonight?”

“Ah,” he’s looking straight at the clock on the wall, “I’m still stuck at the diner.”

“Liar.” His mom isn’t really one to mince her words, “you’re probably stressing out over your drafts right now, aren’t you?”

“How the hell did you know that?”

“I know a lot of things,” his mother sounds like she’s having fun with all of it, instead of yelling at him like she usually does, “imagine being your mom and not knowing that you smoke cigarettes, even when you’ve told everyone that you quit.”

“Mom!” he does not know how the hell she got that piece of information, but she has it, and now, he’s the one who’s in trouble, “what do you mean?”

“It’s not as if your father quit smoking either,” she says casually, “I know when someone is hiding things from me.”

Jihoon sighs, “Have you ever given police work a serious thought? You’d have become the Commissioner of Police at this rate.”

“It’s probably because I had to raise you as a child.” She replies, “come to dinner in an hour, okay? Your father has been looking forward to this for an entire week.”

Jihoon sighs, but gets up from his chair nevertheless, and slips on a jacket instead of his hoodie. His mother, who knows everything about him, was apparently too forgetful to remind her own son about the weather.

The chill settles into the air as he steps out of the car and walks into the apartment complex where his parents live, because of course they moved out of the house where they had lived all their lives, because Jihoon wanted to move to Seoul and they had no money. It’s almost uncomfortable, looking at his parents, and being reminded of why the hell they had to spend all that money, an investment that resulted in nothing but a shameful return to Busan. And they had not allowed him to give the money back.

“I’m home,” he calls out, stepping over the threshold, “why the hell did I have to come back here when I just saw you guys two days ago? Traffic was insane.”

“Your dad is sulking,” his mother greets him with a kiss on the cheek, “he lost at chess this afternoon.”

“Oh, shit,” he mutters, walking to the balcony, where his father is sitting, polishing scholar stones, “fancy a game of chess?”

“I’ve quit the game,” his father moans, and if Jihoon tilts his head far enough, he thinks he can see tears in the corner of his eyes, “don’t even mention chess in front of me anymore. I hate the game.”

“I—you used to play it for hours, dad, what happened?”

His father, full-on sniffling now, sits straight up, “that man there! Bloody Mr Kim, does he think he’s slick? I saw him cheating, I know he moved his bishop right after I turned around to wave to your mother. Why else would I lose to him when I haven’t lost a single match this past two weeks?”

Jihoon looks to his mother, who shrugs, handle this on your own. “Are you sure he swapped out the bishop’s position?”

“Yes, and I’m never going back there again,” his father announces, “he can keep his chess skills to himself.”

“Really? You mean that?” Jihoon laughs, “you said that two weeks ago too.”

“I did?” he looks up, “that doesn’t sound real to me.”

“It is, unfortunately.” Jihoon sighs, “you keep saying that you’ll quit chess, but you’re gonna go back to the park a few days later.”

“I won’t, not this time,” he grouses, “just you wait, and if I go back to the park, make sure to call me an idiot.”

Jihoon says nothing, just shakes his head, because his father will go back to the park as soon as the craving hits, because he’s never once spent more than a day not playing chess. Not to mention he’s actually great friends with Mr Kim, even if all he says is how much he hates him.

Dinner is lots of rice, and a random stew his mother put together in less than an hour, and the three of them huddle around a cooker, because his mother does not believe in the importance of letting stews cool down before making him and his father consume it. At least his father had the proper sense to put aside Jihoon’s part of the soup to let it cool down before he drank it.

After dinner the three of them clear out the table, crowding around the television, where there is a rerun of a random drama going on, and Jihoon casually pecks on a bunch of almonds. His father swipes a few of them.

“Is this Hoshi’s appearance on that variety show?” His father is pointing to the channel, where he’s changed it to Yoo Jae-Seok and Jo Se-Ho laughing on either side of Hoshi, “when did he make that appearance?”

“He shot for it a few weeks ago,” Jihoon offers an explanation, “he’s not really into giving a lot of interviews, but he really wanted to do this one in particular. He did have a lot of fun on this shoot.”

“Soonyoung seems interesting,” his mother pipes up, “why doesn’t he come by more often?”

“Because he’s too busy with a hundred different schedules, mom,” Jihoon mutters, “he has other things to do instead of coming to my house to just hang out with my parents.”

“Your other friends do.” His mother grumbles, “don’t see how he can’t, just because he’s an idol doesn’t mean he gets to ignore his friend’s parents.”

Jihoon says nothing. The last time Seungcheol came down to Busan, he’d had an argument with Jihoon, screaming and shouting at each other on the beach, fighting like they were teenagers again, this time in a parking lot instead of a basement. Seungcheol had been pissed off with Jihoon for leaving, and Jihoon had been angry with him for not understanding. They’d yelled in the beginning, and suddenly Jihoon found himself throwing punches. The fight had lasted for several minutes, and the end found them both crying their eyes out.

“How could you do this to us?” Seungcheol had said, grasping onto Jihoon’s shirt, “did you know how worried we all were? Dropping off the face of the earth with no explanation?”

“And why the hell do you care so much, Seungcheol?” Jihoon had been angry at that moment, “is it because I refused to renew the contract? Is that why?”

Seungcheol swung before Jihoon could move out of the way, screaming, “is that what you think of me? That little?”

His mother snorts, “Is Seungcheol going to get married or what? He told me was seeing someone.”

“He was seeing a therapist, last I checked,” Jihoon murmurs, “I doubt he’s got any interest in marrying right now.”

And he was right. Seungcheol had always been a little bit hot-headed, a little bit of a loudmouth. He was the one who fought with the HR team when they were disbanded, throwing one of the most impressive tantrums Jihoon had ever seen for a seventeen-year-old. To be on the receiving end of that anger was certainly an experience. He’d been seeing a therapist for it, although he still insisted that it really wasn’t such a big deal, that he was doing fine without it. Jihoon knew a bit better. Seungcheol, beneath all that bravado and bluster, was scared; just as scared as he was at that moment in time, maybe he never managed to get out of it. God knows they were all serving sentences in time, frozen in the memories of that one moment. Seungcheol and Jihoon never really managed to get out of that mindset. Seungcheol still got angry, Jihoon still deflected.

“At least he’s seeing someone,” his mother snipes, “who are you seeing, apart from your customers?”

Jihoon stills. His hesitation is plain, and his mother pounces on it like shark tasting blood, “you’ve met someone. Who was it?”

“None of your concern,” he mutters, busying himself with chewing, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“He’s met someone nice, then,” his father laughs, “Jihoon has always been one of those people who don’t like to talk a lot about their love lives.”

“I don’t have one.”

“But you met someone,” his mother leans in, eyes glinting, “go on, who was it? Did you get her name, at least?”

“No, I did not. And she’s just a customer, it’s that she feels a lot like me.”

“Oh, it’s bad,” his father tuts, and Jihoon makes a face. I should have never even tried to lift his spirits, “he likes her a lot.”

“I don’t!”

And he does not. He’s not even interested in her romantically; he just wants to know her a little bit better. He wants her to feel a bit more comfortable, at least be a bit more comfortable with him. He wants to be the one she opens up to, because—ah fuck, he’s interested, isn���t he?

After dinner, he goes out for a smoke with his father, who refuses to smoke, but still does, taking a cigarette from the box from Jihoon, “your mother hates this, you know.”

“She still tolerates it, because you don’t have a drinking habit.” Jihoon laughs, “she hates drinking.”

“Your mother is an angel, you know that, right?” His father smiles, puffing out rings of smoke, “she’s always been empathetic, even when she didn’t really have to be.”

“She’s the one who kept at it, telling me to go to Paris when I told her I was not feeling great.”

“Both of us wanted to tell you that, you know.” His father sighs, “you used to come back home after months at a time, dark circles underneath your eyes, and we lay awake thinking what the hell was Seoul putting you through. Even during your trainee days, you never came home stressed out and tired.”

“I was going through a lot, it seems,” Jihoon murmurs, “at least I got to get out of it. I don’t think it's been that easy for anyone else.”

“I know.”

His father continues, “I know the others—Seungcheol, Jeonghan, Wonwoo, Minghao—they’re all suffering. Minghao still refuses to acknowledge the company, and Wonwoo doesn’t even put on music when he watches television. You’ve all been stuck in your personal brand of hell, ever since that day. It’s difficult, trying to move on from an experience that shaped your whole life. Hell, even your careers were impacted by this.”

Jihoon says nothing. He really thought he was hiding it well, but apparently in front of his parents, he has been able to have exactly zero secrets.

“You think I didn’t know why you three went to work in the same company? Jeonghan and Seungcheol didn’t even have to do all that, they had other places they could go to. But they went there, and chose to work with some of the very people who disbanded the project.”

“The Seventeen Project.” Jihoon interrupts, “It was The Seventeen Project.”

“And they treated ten of you boys like it was nothing. That will leave an impact, even if you’ve all moved on with your lives.”

Jihoon nods. His father is right about all that. They’re still stuck in that room, that fucking melon-green walls closing in on all of them, even in adulthood. They grew, moved out of their homes and into university, they moved on but really, had they?

“Don’t think too much about it,” his father says, when Jihoon opens the door to his car, hands full of leftovers, “just remember that it’ll be worth it in the end.”

It’ll be worth it in the end. Hah. Jihoon wants to laugh, but instead, he just nods, seatbelt clicking into place as he makes his way down the narrow street. It’s a five-minute walk from his restaurant, but his parents’ house is in the middle of a neighbourhood full of residential buildings, which means the street leading up to the house is triple-parked. Extricating any kind of vehicle is a task, and he’s trying his best to get his car out of the mess, when he sees her. This is the third time he’s seeing her, and it’s the same feeling as the first time—the same heady rush of excitement, the same feeling of déjà vu. For a moment, he’s transposed to the Jihoon of three years before, running frantically behind deadlines, without a moment to think for himself.

Without thinking too much about it, he opens the door, jumping down, “Hello.”

She merely raises an eyebrow. “Are you in the habit of making home deliveries too?”

“Home deliveries?” Jihoon stares at her, only realising that he’s still holding onto the leftovers from dinner, “ah, I was having dinner with my parents.”

She gives him a sad smile, “ah, dinner with the parents. That sounds great, actually. I’m going to have my own dinner right now, if you’ll excuse me.”

She makes a move to pass him, and he steps in front, “Ah, hold on, hold on, do you want to have dinner with me?”

She doesn’t say anything, just stares at him, and he can feel the weight of her gaze, “Didn’t you say you had dinner with your parents?”

“I did?” He’s racking his brains, “ah, yes, yes I did.”

“You did,” she raises an eyebrow, “now, if you’ll excuse me.”

She moves past him now, and Jihoon sees her walk past him, towards her house, wherever it is. He’s not interested, not at all, it’s just that she reminds him of himself. Yes, that’s what it is. She just reminds him of himself. Not interested. Her shoulders are drooping, barely holding on against the weight of the world, and he just thinks to himself, she looks so lonely.

Was that how he’d looked to the others? That lonely? Was this how the great Lee Jihoon was to others, this sad, lonely shell of a human being, whose loneliness was measurable by how their shoulders dropped when their backs were turned. He’s seized with a sudden bout of self-loathing, of course his parents worried when he looked like this.

“You never really gave me your name, you know!” He yells, fully aware of how desperate he looks, but he’s damned if he lets another person become Lee Jihoon again, “I gave you my name, right?”

She turns. And with that enigmatic smile still fixed into place, “No, you didn’t. I don’t know your name, either.”

“Ah.” Now he’s getting embarrassed. He’s supposed to be slicker than this, damn it. “Do you want to know my name?”

She laughs and laughs and laughs. It’s a different sound than what he’s used to, a mix of sad and happy, almost as if she’s fighting against her instinct. She sounds more carefree than he’s ever imagined her to be, not that he’s imagined her in any sense of that word. “You really want to tell me your name?”

“It’s Jihoon,” he stumbles over his words in his hurry. “Lee Jihoon. That’s my name. You don’t even have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

A beat. Then, “you’re right,” she says, with no sense of anger in her tone, “it’s getting late, Lee Jihoon. Go back home.”

And with that, she’s gone. Jihoon wants to hit himself on the head, but he’s sane, a sane adult who would never do anything like that, and so, instead of running away from her, he walks back to his car, and calls up Jeonghan, who answers in a single ring, “what?”

“Should I come back to Seoul?” Jihoon bursts out, “not that I want to go back, I hate the city, but I don’t think I should be living in Busan anymore. I need to move somewhere else. Jeju? England?”

“Hold on, you’re not making any sense.” There’s a lot of background noise, and Jeonghan shuffles a bit before saying, “did she reject you?”

“Who—no! No one rejected me!” Jihoon yells into the phone, putting his car into reverse gear, “I just think I should have a change of pace. England seems perfect for this. Should I go?”

“Who’s the girl, Lee Jihoon?” Jeonghan teases, “you’re never really this insistent on anything if it's not for a girl.”

“I do not do that.”

“Agree to disagree.” Jeonghan laughs, “did she reject you?”

Jihoon sighs. There’s no escaping Jeonghan, is there? “She just said she doesn’t want to tell me her name.”

“Oh. That’s got to hurt, hasn’t it?”

“Incredibly.” Jihoon is groaning into the phone, “I’ve never really met anyone like her.”

“This down bad, already? You haven’t even met her more than twice.” Jeonghan laughs, and then his tone shifts, “it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you this agitated over a girl. Not until middle school, I think.”

“Ugh. Don’t even remind me of that.” Jihoon wants to die every time people remind him of that time; he should have never told anyone about the crush he’d had in middle school. Jeonghan had never let go of it, it seems, “anyway, let me know what I can do about this mess.”

“She’s a regular at the diner, you say?”

“Well, she’s only been there a couple times, so I can’t really call her a regular. But she might be one.”

“Well, Jihoon, I don’t know how to say this to you, but you’ve fucked up.” Jeonghan laughs, “at least give the girl some space before you start with your nonsense about knowing their names and telling them how much you love and adore them.”

“I have never once done that.”

“You just told me you did,” Jeonghan sighs. “Just—give them as much space as they want. You get over excited when it comes to them, just back off a bit until they approach you in the first place. No need to start going all out when you don’t even know if it’s going to last.”

“Solid advice.” Jihoon’s pulling into his own driveway, equally populated by cars and congested, “how much do you want to bet I won't be adhering to that?”

“I don’t take shit bets, Jihoon.”

—

It’s a seaside diner. One that stands alone in the middle of the wharf, serving customers from evening till they close. It’s a small diner, nothing special. They have seafood on the menu: haemul-tang, gukbap. Everything you need to make the end of an otherwise normal day, unusual.

The person behind the counter is a man, who looks at me like he knows who I am. As if my existence here is a bout of déjà vu for him, a trick of the mind. I am nothing but a long-lost memory to him, a reminder of the person that he once was, or he still might be.

If this was a romance novel, I would say something obvious, comment on how good he looks, standing behind the counter, standing as though he had been waiting for me all his life. I do nothing like that, instead walking over to a side, ordering the first dish that comes to my mind.

When he prepares the food, I look at him. His shoulders droop, his eyes close from time to time. It reminds me of a psychology lecture: when you want to know more about someone, make sure you see them once, from behind. People have barriers, walls they construct around themselves to act as shields from the world. Take a look at people when they have their backs turned to you. You might see a lot more of them than they let on.

This man is lonely. I can see that, from the way he wipes his hands on the edge of the towel, from the way he smiles at me before setting down my order in front of me, every action of his, accentuated by his long, slim fingers that seem almost ethereal. Everything tells me about his loneliness.

And to be honest, am I not lonely either? I’m having dinner by myself at a diner while the rest of my office gets off work to go back to their families. I am here, spending my time with an unfamiliar man, on a night when I probably should be with company.

Loneliness grows comforting when there is nothing else to compare it to.

I hit ‘send’ on the email, and predictably, Seungkwan calls me half an hour later. “Yes?” I pick up, “did you like it?”

“It’s great. Nothing out of the ordinary for you, but I just want to know one thing,” he pauses for dramatic effect, “are you in love with that man?”

“What?” I sputter. “Who the hell are you talking about?”

“The owner!” he screeches, “you write about him in a way that makes me wonder if you’re in love with him.”

“I’m not,” I say, “aren’t you watching too many dramas nowadays? Is this what they teach you guys?”

“They don’t teach us how to write dramas. That’s on you,” Seungkwan laughs, “this paragraph right here, when you describe how lonely he looks to you, is that not a confession?”

“It’s not a fucking confession!” I’m yelling now, pacing rapidly around the apartment, “it’s nothing! I’m not even interested in him that way!”

“Really? Who is he, by the way? Just some random restaurant owner? Because I’ve never seen you write about anyone other than the people who’ve been in your life for more than half a decade, hell, you didn’t even write about Kim Mingyu, and we all know how you feel about him—’

“I’ve known him for only a fortnight, Boo Seungkwan,” I interrupt, and on the other side, Seungkwan cackles, as though he’s stumbled on the juiciest piece of gossip in a short while, “don’t even dare to take this out of context. I’m not someone who does things on a whim. And for god’s sake, stop bringing up Mingyu every time you lose an argument.”

“I don’t do that, and you know it.”

“Really?”

“Never mind,” Seungkwan laughs, “at least tell me if he’s cute.”

“He isn’t.”

“Liar.” He laughs again, and I keep wondering what exactly it is about my life that makes Seungkwan think that all of this is a big fucking joke, “I’ll give you the edits by tomorrow, but this two-page script is enough for the issue, I think.”

He cuts the call, and I throw the phone away to sit back down on the sofa. What the hell was Seungkwan thinking? Just because I wrote about that man, doesn’t mean I am interested. Hell, I don’t even know his name yet. Nothing about the two interactions I have had with him points to any degree of attraction.

But that’s not true, is it, a voice tells me, you know his name, you just don’t want to acknowledge it.

Lee Jihoon, he had shouted at me, as though we were standing on the opposite sides of a gorge instead of three metres away on an empty street. Lee Jihoon. A beautiful name, that. He looked distraught, as though he had been agonising over the decision to call my name out on that empty road.

A step forward would have been too much for him, perhaps, but I was the one who pushed him away in the first place.

It’s a funny thing, to be on the precipice of a decision. I could have told him my name, could have told him who I was, or I could have just let him know that I wasn't averse to spending time with him.

Except when I went to say my name, the same voice inside my head, which has been a part of me for so long, insisted: why are you doing this? When you know he will leave you. Everyone who knows you will leave you, so better for you to do it first. If you hurt yourself before they do it to you, then you’re not going to be affected at all. It’s better this way, so just leave it at that.

But this can’t be an excuse, can it? I can’t keep telling myself that all the time. All my life, I’ve never allowed myself to want. Truly want something. There’s so much I could have had in life, if I allowed myself to reach out and grab it, instead of stepping back, thinking what if. Fear of failure suppressed the desire to win, and the person who has suffered the most, is me.

I pick up my phone, dialling the first contact that pops up, and my mother’s voice floats through, “this late at night? Is everything okay?”

Funny, how she always asks that. Even during university, when I was going through perhaps the worst phase of my life, I never had anyone ask me, ‘are you doing okay?’ But now I am here, and my mother is asking this.

“I’m fine,” I mutter, “did you have dinner?”

“It’s almost midnight, child,” she replies, “of course we had dinner. Your father keeps asking about you, though. He’s thinking of coming down to Busan to see you next week.”

“Next week?” I make a mental list of everything I need to finish by next week if my father came to visit: I need to finish cleaning my house, something I have been putting off for weeks, put away all my clothes to make sure it’s not in piles of laundry on my chair, and finally, get rid of all the cigarette packs, because my father is not aware of my smoking habit. No one is, actually, save the people in my workplace, who all look at me like I’m some kind of alien when I join the men on the terrace to take a smoke break, Seungkwan, who’s told me to stop it so many times he’s one step away from nagging me with cancer PSAs, and of course, Lee Jihoon, who looked at me like it was a habit he knew all too well. I also need to restock my groceries, because my father likes cooking elaborate meals at home — a passion he’s turned into a hobby after his retirement.

“Next week,” my mother replies, “he’s booked the tickets already. He wants to see first-hand how you’re doing.”

“Dad never does that, though.”

“He does,” she repeats, “he’s always been a sucker for the two of you. He’s going to come by, so make sure you take him to that diner you found the other week. He’s been going around telling me he wants to have the gukbap there.”

“Diner?” I’m stunned for a moment, to hear my father act this way, my stoic father, who never really had a bout of excitement over anything save our grades, “he really wants to have rice soup at a seaside diner in Busan? Is that why he’s coming?”

“That’s not why, of course,” my mother’s tone grows pensive, “you’ve always been more closed-off than your sister. He worries, that’s all.”

“And you don’t?”

“Don’t take my words out of context,” I laugh at that, because of course I am closed-off, of course I am someone who hates talking about their feelings, of course I am all that. It's who I am, it’s a part of my soul. I cannot change it now, even if I want to, “he’s coming to see you, you know. He worries a lot. We worry a lot.”

“I’m doing fine, mom,” I sigh, “there’s really no need for anyone to come down to Busan, of all places. If you want, I can go to Seoul next week.”

Yes, this is right. This way, I can go to Seoul, and my father won’t have to be seen with the image of his youngest daughter living half a life in another city. Of all the things I know about my father, this is one I am sure about; knowing how I live will break his heart. He won’t be able to take it.

There’s a reason why I hid everything from them as a child, after all.

“No, he’s pretty adamant on going down,” my mother reasons, “at least this way he’ll get to go out of the house.”

I laugh, “When’s the last time he did that?”

“Don’t even ask me,” my mother sighs, “he keeps saying he doesn’t need the exercise, but he really does. Ask anyone, and you’ll know exactly why. He’s just being lazy.”

“He still likes playing chess, doesn’t he?”

“That’s all he does. Sometimes he’ll go out of the house to get groceries, and have the neighbour’s kid deliver it to the house while he spends hours in the park playing chess with old men. Even the neighbour’s kid is angry with us, at this point. Did you know he’s managed to establish a chess club for the retirees in the neighbourhood?”

“You always complain about him, mom, but in the end, you’re the one who keeps up with all his demands,” I sigh, “but does he really need to come by? Can’t I just come to see you both in Seoul next weekend? I can make it; it’s not a big deal.”

“Are you avoiding it?” she asks, and I want to do two things; smack my head on the nearest hard surface, or throw my phone away entirely. Of course I’m avoiding hosting my father. “No, I’m not,” I reply, “just thinking about all the things that I need to do before he lands in Busan.”

After a bit more of small talk, mom cuts the call, and I lie down on the bed, still in the clothes I was supposed to have taken off before I slept. From tomorrow, I will clean the apartment, make it fit for my father to stay over, but tonight, I want a little bit of peace.

Outside my window, it starts raining, unseasonal torrential downpours that make their peculiar noise on my window panes, and I think of that man. Lee Jihoon. The owner of the diner by the sea, with a smile that seemed to be crafted out of sadness. I wonder if he likes the rains, or if his work was affected by the downpours. Nothing would happen to the diner, I’m sure, but even the thought of it is saddening, losing one of the main reasons behind my recent small happinesses. It’s funny how this random place went unnoticed by me all these years, but now that I’ve had a meal here twice, I cannot think of my life in Busan without it.

I wish nothing happens to him, I think, before drifting off to sleep.

—

The rains are unpredictable this year, Jihoon had heard from fishermen on the coast, the rains have always been unpredictable, but this year, they seem to possess a mind of their own entirely. Jihoon isn’t too bothered by this, because as long as he’s been alive, the rains have always been unpredictable. The fishermen have always said the same things, and they have always had rains at pretty much the same time as everyone else. There really was nothing to be afraid of.

But today, as soon as he steps foot onto the stoop of his diner, the skies open, and cold drops of water drench him halfway almost immediately. He’s left standing on the stoop of his restaurant, looking angrily at the skies. Damn it, I should have heard them when they said the rains were unpredictable this year. His shirt is drenched, he’s about to catch a cold, and all he can think about is how he should have listened to the bloody fishermen. They knew better, of course they did. And he hadn’t listened, which resulted in this—him getting pelted with rain in the middle of winter.

He's drying himself off, when his phone rings, and this time it's Minghao, calling in the middle of the night. Jihoon doesn’t even remember the last time Minghao called him this late at night, after their teenage years. There hasn’t been an occasion for him to do so, after all.

He picks up the call, and before Jihoon can ask him about the reason behind this call, Minghao is losing his shit on the other end of the line, “Did you know, Jeonghan asked me if he could use my designs for Hoshi’s next comeback? He wants to have Soonyoung dress up in my designs for the showcase.”

“The showcase?” Jeonghan hadn’t told him this, of course, but Jihoon had a sneaking suspicion this was a miscommunication on both their parts, “I would have thought he wanted to put your work in the music video.”

“The context doesn’t matter, what matters is that I don’t want this to happen,” Minghao seethes, “I sent them a cease-and-desist letter, to make them stop this madness. I don’t know how to make myself clearer; I don’t want any artist from that damn company to be wearing my designs. Least of all Soonyoung.”

Jihoon sighs. He knew getting Minghao to agree would be impossible; he hadn’t realised how deep Minghao’s grudge against the company ran. “Maybe the legal notice was a bit overkill, but you’re entirely justified in not wanting Soonyoung to wear your work. Do you want me to talk to Jeonghan?”

“No, I know he asked you to talk to me,” Minghao mutters, “he knows that you’re the person with the most sense in the group.”

“Minghao,” Jihoon asks, “why don’t you let go of the grudge? It’s been eleven years already, you’re established, I’d wager. Why are you still holding on to that one moment from all those years ago?”

“Hyung,” Minghao sighs, “have you ever thought to yourself, why you wanted to run away?”

Jihoon stops in his tracks. The rain is still pelting, and his entire shirt is drenched, but somehow, at this point in time, he doesn’t seem to care at all.  All that is ringing in his ears are Minghao’s words, “what do you mean?”

“You ran away from Seoul, and we all kept looking for you,” Minghao says softly, “but I used to be envious of you, really. I wanted to run away, just like you did.”

“Minghao,” Jihoon mutters, “you know why I left. Under what circumstances I had to make that decision, you know everything, so why the hell are you—”

“But were those circumstances really necessary?” Minghao’s voice is sharp now, sharper than Jihoon has ever heard it before, “if you didn’t go back to that company, hell, if the three of you went your separate ways, was it going to be necessary for you to take that long break? You didn’t even maintain contact with any of us, and that hurt, really.”

Jihoon doesn’t say anything for a long time. How can he? He’s the one who left, he’s the one who forced the rest of them to pick up the pieces of a disaster that they did not have a hand in, “I’m sorry, Minghao,” he replies, after a beat, “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I don’t blame you man, not at all,” Minghao, on the other end, seems to be fighting tears, “I left for China as soon as they told us to go back to our homes. I didn’t look back either.”

“Yes, but we were teenagers then.”

“Sometimes I wonder if things could have been different, after a point. If there were any of us with you when you were at your lowest, if we had been there.” Minghao’s tone is pensive, “if we could have held you back, just for once, would things have been different?’

Jihoon doesn’t say anything. He’s struck dumb by this revelation, because Minghao is not wrong, at all—he was selfish, and was an awful person when it came to his decision to leave. “I felt guilty, we all did,” Minghao sighs, “I’m not blaming you, hyung, just saying.”

“Doesn’t matter now, does it?” he laughs, but it sounds hollow to his ears, and he wonders if Minghao, on the other side of the call, can hear it too, “doesn’t matter at all.”

“I wish things were different, hyung,” Minghao says, finally, “I’m not going to retract the legal notice, but I wish things were different. Maybe in another time, I would not be sending this notice to the company. But in this lifetime—we’ve got to do whatever we can, right? I know he got what he worked for, and I’m not holding a grudge for that. I just want to understand why it seems like he’s the only one of the entire group of us, who seemed to get whatever they wanted, while we’re the ones who cannot seem to move on from a moment at seventeen.”

“Right.” Jihoon shuts up until Minghao cuts the call, and all of a sudden, the expanse of the sea rushes at him, swallowing him whole. He hadn’t realised when he had stepped onto sand, entirely soaked by the freezing water. Minghao had felt guilty, everyone had. And Jihoon had—

Jihoon had left, of course. He was the one who left, leaving everything behind.

It’s easy to cry in the rain. Your tears are obscured by the failing drops, and all you need to do is hide it as best as you can. Jihoon has realised this now—that tears are cathartic, that they are somewhat of a balm to soothe the hurt caused by his own actions. 

As he crumples onto the wet sand, sobbing his heart out, he thinks back to the moments of his youth, the dorm shared with the boys, and everything they had shared, once upon a time. All those memories, now restricted to work calls and pub hangs and legal notices. Who would have thought that the five boys who never really thought beyond their dinner, would grow up to be so complicated?

He really hates nostalgia. 

[pandorascripts]

Familiar By Thy Side

author yapping: here is part one to the Salem AU! I've decided to make this multi-chaptered because I don't want to rush the bonding that needs to take place. But, for you readers, I have a question.. do I make it Agathario/Reader? It's at a point right now where it totally could be and it would develop naturally, maybe even better. It's up to y'all though! The second chapter is almost done :) Pairings: Agatha Harkness/Reader Warnings: kidnapping, violence, agatha being agatha

Disclaimer: this is the 1700s. THEY WILL SPEAK AS SUCH. no use of thy and it's other forms because I'm too lazy to learn how to use them and they're strictly used in an informal sense. Let me know thoughts, opinions, and if you'd like to be tagged from this point on for this series :) ----------------------------------------------

Agatha’s calloused hands run along Nicky’s sleeping face, her pointer finger gently gliding down his nose. Her time with him is borrowed, she knows, but even if the knowledge is supposed to find her comfort in the inevitability, she can’t deal with it. Death, her lover, will take the one thing that’s truly ever mattered to her – her baby boy. The denial is strong, Agatha needs to stop Rio from doing her job, no matter the cost. It’s why she’s forced to bring Nicky into her scams – why she’s forced to kill so many witches. Agatha needs power to defeat such a vile eldritch horror – to accomplish something no one has ever done. Even now, she’s managed to stall death when no one else could. If Agatha could trade her spot for Nicky’s, she would.

It’s another one of their scams in the morning, Agatha sweeping some dirt out of her temporary home and through the threshold. Nicky comes bolting in, Agatha’s face holding bewilderment as a witch yells out he’s stolen from her. “You dare shame your mother with theft?” she barks out, setting her broom down whilst Nicky darts out of the house and through the back. Agatha makes sure that he’s out of sight before starting to rile up the witches, a shocked gasp leaving her lips when their magick hits her earlier than she expected. Nonetheless, the power rips through her and settles in her bones, a low groan echoing out of her lips. 

When her eyes are open again, Agatha makes eye contact with a young witch, one who hadn’t blasted her with magick. Wordlessly, you stand and watch in horror and confusion at the scene before you. All you had done was try to chase the thief down with a co-worker of yours, not at all expecting this. 

“What is this?” you gasp out, stuttering a couple steps back from Agatha. 

Her hands wrap around the wooden broom once more, jaw tight and lips clenched. You're visible to Nicky in the doorway now, his eyes darting around to take a good look at you. 

Agatha swings the broom down with a yell, forcing as much impact into the swing so it knocks you out. A hard thud echoes across the house, Nicholas barreling to stop Agatha from hurting you again. 

“Mama, wait,” he says quickly, Agatha’s hands immediately dropping the broom before she herself even realizes Nicky’s in front of her. 

“What are you doing, boy?” 

Despite his mother’s hard tone, Nicky feels something – something like his growing magick. There’s a sense he gets about you – your strength, bubbling just under the surface like his is. He can feel it. You’re powerful and you can aid them to stop Death. 

“She’s – she’s powerful, Mama. You can help her like you’ve helped me – then she can help us stop mo – that lady.” 

Agatha clenches her jaw harder, but tries not to show her frustration with him. He’s a sweet boy, curious and full of a zest for life, but he’s naïve. Too naïve. “No, she cannot help. She’s but a young woman – hardly a witch, Nicky. We’d be best to cover tracks and leave this village. Go back outside now.” 

Nicky shakes his head again, holding his mother’s hand when she grabs for the broom again. “Mama, she can. Please, trust in me.” 

Agatha stares down her boy, lips pursed into a thin line, her hand slack on the broom. It falls to the floor as she turns her head, huffing out. “You’ll be fetching that food for her then, and not complaining when she’s given your sleeping arrangements.” 

Agatha couldn’t say why she agreed to this. You’ll harbor a resentment for her, a hatred, and Agatha’s sure that you’ll need to be killed within your first night so there’s no betrayal. When Nicholas smiles that toothy grin of his, face buried in her stomach a moment later, she knows then why she agreed. Of course, Agatha won’t be giving you his sleeping arrangements or forcing him to fetch you food – you’ll do all of those on your own and Agatha will refuse to look out for you. If you die, you die. If you try to leave, she’ll kill you. If you try to hurt her or Nicky, you’ll be killed as well. 

Your first couple nights with the odd duo finds you quietly nursing a migraine, too timid to speak to either one of them – despite Nicky’s attempts to get you to converse with his never-ending chatter. That innocent boy keeps asking to know from where you come from, why you were alone in that village, what type of witch you are, how strong you are – everything is on the table. His mother – the ever-growing infamous witch-killer – is the exact opposite. The glances she gives you tells you she’s watching you, but she’s comfortable enough in either her own skill or in your lack of, that you're not needed to be constantly watched. She’s yet to introduce herself, as you are to them both too, but Nicholas wasn’t shy about it. He seemingly can’t understand how dangerous of a position you’re in – to be this close to a witch-killer, a traitor, a murder, because he can only see his ever-doting mother, Agatha. 

You shift on the leaves under your dirty dress, the woods doing work on the fabrics. You’re not sure when you’ll have access to more clothes again – hell, you’re not even sure when you’ll have access to the world again. 

“Mama, what is it you’ve made for supper?” Nicky asks, drinking out from a small flask that he then hands to his mother again. 

Agatha watches him, her eyes darting over at you with a mean glare before going back to Nicky. “Bread, some turkey too. You must eat the turkey quickly, I lifted it from the last village and am not sure how much longer it may last.” 

Nicky nods his head, murmuring a “thank you” before diving in. Agatha eats her portion, not sparing you a glance. You’ve expected this – even been able to realize Agatha has no care for you being here. This wasn't her idea, but you’re unaware of the circumstances that require you to be imprisoned by her. Regardless, Nicky’s complete innocence and unawareness of this tension between you and his mother results in him splitting off his food to share with you. 

Agatha glares at you from next to Nicky, your stomach growling and begging you to grab the food offered. Simply, Agatha’s mean glare sends shivers up your spine and stops you from even considering grabbing it for another second. You shake your head at the young boy, fiddling with your hands as you stare down in your lap. The sun is starting to set by now, the light-source mainly coming from the campfire Agatha lit with her magic. Your head turns to watch the hues mix in the sky, so akin to the palettes you used to paint on just days ago. Never in your life had you ever thought you’d miss something that used to be so routinely ingrained in your day-to-day life. 

Nicky looks at his mom before back down at his food, eyebrows pressed together and lips thinned – an expression you’ve seen his mother do countless times over these past couple days. It’s been some time now and she’s yet to introduce herself, which is the least she could do considering the situation she’s forced you into. With a slow blink, fighting a yawn and tears, you stand up and walk over to a tree just a few feet out. Your small shawl is used as a pillow, legs scrunched together so your body is like a ball, and you keep your back to them. The thought that this doesn’t suit your preservation is fleeting, being replaced by a hope that maybe the witch killer will live up to her name with you. 

The night passes and you do actually wake up, waking up in fact to Nicky’s mother watching you. Your head turns to look for the boy, oddly enough, but you can’t spot him at all. Tightening your jaw for a moment, you search again within your immediate vision – nothing. The words leave your lips before you can even think about the repercussions. 

“Where’s Nicky?” 

Agatha shifts from a couple feet away, a blank look on her face. “Nicholas.” 

“What?” You give her an incredulous look, blinking a quick couple times as you watch her fix up her hair. 

“His name is Nicholas to you.” 

Silence suffocates you, just as much as confusion. Why was it such a big deal to her? It was a stupid name, in fact, if names mattered so much to her then why hadn’t she asked for yours yet. Alongside that, why hadn’t she introduced herself to you either? Shrugging mentally, which was definitely paired with an outward huff, you look at the dirt beneath your fingertips. They reach into the soil, your body tingling as you feel connection to the Earth around you. You keep them buried in the dirt, enjoying the warmth it provides before she speaks up. 

“Agatha.” 

Your head snaps. “Excuse me?” “My name. That’s what it is, since you’ve been complaining about your lack of knowing.” 

There’s a nod of your head, face red with embarrassment. Telepathic abilities, alongside siphoning? What else is she harboring? 

“Nothing you’ll find out. You’re not going to be with us for long.” 

Again, your head shoots over to look at her, a sneer on your face. “Out of my mind, witch.” 

“Using the term, but are you not also one?” “I am not a traitor, though.” 

“And what? That simply makes you better? How? You’ve no prior knowledge of what’s led me down this road – what’s led me to take action how I have. You judge without knowing, that is a crime truly more damaging than killing some odd hundreds of mediocre witches.” If her tone is anything to indicate, she’s pissed. You know this, your mind trying to fortify itself from her invasions. 

“You may relax, I don’t tend to dive into the minds of those who are inadequate. There’s nothing there they won’t speak – bigotry, fallacies, and lies.” 

Agatha, as you now know, is brutal in describing her picture of you. There’s not enough time for you to respond even if you had planned to, Nicky – Nicholas jogging into the small clearing. 

“Boy, you were gone too long.” 

“I am sorry, mama, but look at what I’ve made for you,” he says happily, completely missing how his mother is on the brink of homicide. In his hands is a delicate, messy, chunky crown crafted from daisies and other sorts of flowers. They do not go with Agatha’s outfit, her eyes, her glowing skin, or even her deep hair. Agatha looks at it as if it’s a crown fit for the queen. 

“Do you like it?” 

“Oh, Nicky, my love, it is divine. How is it you’ve managed to craft this beauty from such dainty flowers?” 

“Mama, you’re quite the jester this day,” he laughs out, sitting down to rest the back of his head in Agatha’s lap. 

You watch from a bit out, eyes flickering between the son and his mother. At one point, you and your mother had been like that – inseparable, bonded, attached. You can’t really remember the fine points of her face now. 

The conversation and laughs are muffled by your loud heartbeat, which has started to echo in your ears. It’s all-consuming, taking you hostage as you focus on it. With it come memories from before this, your life you lived happily and contently. The one that Agatha ripped away from you. Technically, yes, it was the boy’s fault, but he knew no better. There was nothing but pure child's optimism for his future, the truth about his mother’s treatment of witches slipping his mind. You hadn’t eaten in days now, your body angry and fatigued. 

“Girl, are you listening?” Agatha snaps out, your head moving to face her just as fast as lightning. 

“Apologies?” 

“Good lord.” She pauses to groan softly, Nicky scolds her as her flower crown tips off her head when it drops. “We leave at sundown and travel to the next road in the night. Day time is too popular an opportunity, so we’ll make haste for the river, hours before the next town.”

“What is the town?”

“Salem.”

Your jaw is tightly wound together, wide eyes glaring at Agatha. With a soft shake of your head, which metaphorically shakes off the memories of your brief time in Salem, you speak up. “No, I refuse to travel to that wretched town. Salem will kill us all, how do you not see?” “I’ve lived and breathed Salem many years, you’ll do fine. Long as you stick with the boy and I without speaking your insipid mind,” Agatha spits out, annoyed by you making this more complicated. “We are doing nothing but passing through for a few days. The trials have mainly migrated out of Salem and went southern.” 

“The risk is not worth wherever you long to be. I will not journey with you.” 

You’re sure you’ll be killed by Agatha, right here and right now for your clear disobedience. Alongside that sure reality, you’re positively aware that you’ll die trying to get back to your town. The way is lost on you, completely unfamiliar with the route Agatha has stuck you and Nicholas on. Your thoughts are losing volume, an awkward haze taking over you. Surrounding your vision is a small cloud of purple, one that mimics the colors in Agatha’s usually blue eyes.

[pshbites]

LOVE ON AiR: 29. YAP CENTRAL EP.137: has love lost its meaning?

WARNiNGS » profanity, ynhoon flirting, talks of love, drinking, yap central x round table realness, food, oh yeah and not proofread

wc: 3.7k

episode desc - beep beep! welcome back to another episode of yap central, today we are joined by a special guest, round table!! in todays episode we start off very light hearted and talk about the difference between a girl doing a thirst trap and a guy doing a thirst trap (there’s a lot) then we get a bit deeper and talk about love in this new generation and if it’s truly lost its meaning. to end the episode off we talk about our icks in FRIENDSHIPs. hope you enjoyed your stay with us today, till next time!

*the typical group is sat in the room, this time with four more mics and two big two seater couches. there’s clearly some empty space while they wait to invite their guests in. jungwon adjusts the sound board. everyone is dressed casually instead of a themed outfit. some of them are on their phones while riki and kat are talking about something that the mic can’t pic up.*

jungwon: hey can someone test out one of those mics, i just need to check. 

yn: i got it *you get up from your seat and walk over to one of the couches, taking a seat and speaking into the mic*

jungwon: okay great 

giselle: oh they just texted that they’re here 

yn: oh fun! *you stand up, sitting back down in your original seat.*

sunoo: oh i hear footsteps 

kat: i think [BLEEP] is stomping- oh no i said his name 

*the five of you groan, giselle shaking her head knowing she’ll have to edit it*

jungwon: you know you can come in right! *jungwon laughs at his stance as he waits at the door, peeping in then fully opening it revealing jay, jake, heeseung and sunghoon coming in one by one. they’re laughing as they sit. heeseung and sunghoon sit at the couch closest to yn and jake and jay sit at the couch closest to jungwon.* 

heeseung: cannot believe people thought the special guest was blackpink

riki: maybe that would’ve been better than you grandpa 

*heeseung gasps, causing a chain reaction of laughter to emerge from the group.*

jay: see i told you guys, he wouldn’t last a minute without making a heeseung old joke

sunoo: he barely could in the group chat. 

giselle: it’s okay you’re not insanely old. well i mean you are but 

heeseung: gee thanks..

giselle: anytime!

jake: who’s hosting today? *he looks around to the six of you*

kat: i actually am, should i sign us in? if everyone is good

jungwon: take it away

sunghoon: we’re also all good here

kat: beep beep you’ve arrived in yap central and i am your host for today kat, to my left we have..

riki: riki

yn: yn *you wave to the camera, sunghoon smiles at you softly*

sunghoon: uhh sunghoon 

heeseung: heeseung!!

jake: jake

jay: jay

jungwon: jungwon *he makes a peace sign at the camera, riki meows*

giselle: giselle

sunoo: and sunoo! 

kat: obviously if you can’t tell we are joined by round table today, our surprise guests

sunghoon: and we are not blackpink, as much as jake would like us to be

jake: i’m just saying if we did a cover of shut down it would EAT you have to see the vision

sunoo: none of you can pull off mother like jisoo can. 

jay: okay let’s be serious the real star of that group is jennie 

kat: rude, lisa is so iconic. money?? lalisa? rockstar?? NEW WOMAN?

jay: you’ve made your point *he rolls his eyes earning a smirk from kat, sitting back satisfied*

yn: i think they all shine in their own way

sunghoon: i think we can ALL sing

*everyone laughs, including you. sunghoon glances at you as if for approval and smiled, laughing along with you*

kat: okay! first question! what are some differences between a guy and a girl doing a thirst trap 

*heeseung snorts, causing sunghoon to side eye him. it was unspoken between them but he knew what he was laughing at*

jungwon: first of all when a guy does it it’s just a bit icky 

yn: okay well since there’s a majority of men here, raise your hand if you’ve thirst trapped 

*jungwon and riki raise their hands first. then followed by jake and heeseung. you look to sunghoon who simply smiles at you*

sunghoon: what?

yn: come on raise your hand hoon

sunghoon: don’t know what you’re talking about 

yn: you’re gonna do this? here? 

*kat and sunoo make eyes at each other then look to you two*

sunghoon: i don’t think ive ever thirst trapped 

*you rolled your eyes and leaned over, grabbing his hand and raising it high.*

yn: thank you, now what my point is that every man thirst traps, but it’s how you do it that’s different 

jungwon: to defend myself it was in highschool 

giselle: see anything a man does i automatically hate so you’re asking the wrong person

jake: im not gonna lie ive seen some men pull off a sexy thirst trap 

*riki furrows his brows at his sentence and the two of you make eye contact, bursting out laughing*

jake: okay im sensing im being made fun of 

jay: surprised your spidey sense are working

jake: can you not?? 

sunoo: i sort of agree with jake but not in that weird way he put it, like some guys can pull off a thirst trap

giselle: i think what icks me out is like guys intentions behind the thirst traps 

heeseung: some guys are very weird with it 

riki: girls aren’t really safe from that either 

yn: no i agree, but guys are more guilty of it 

kat: well now hold on. everyone here has thirst trapped and you’ve done it for reasons that are weird, that’s normal 

giselle: can i simply hate on a man in peace?

sunoo: girl fuck you

jungwon: i think unanimously it’s decided that some guys go about thirst traps weirdly 

kat: i agree with that actually 

riki: guys are just weird as fuck sometimes 

yn: the funniest ones are the ones on tiktok where it’s like #04 #latino #fyp 

kat: those get me everytime 

heeseung: it’s so corny because you know they watched it back and were like “this is the one”

jay: ladies gon loveeeee this

*the group laughs at heeseung and jays back to back joke, the two of them fist bumping*

giselle: i just personally think when a girl thirst traps its so much more elegant 

jake: you act like girls can’t do it in a weird way either

yn: they can but most of the time man make it weird 

sunoo: they both have valid points 

heeseung: i support women’s rights.. but more importantly i support woman’s wrongs 

*jay glances at heeseung then bursts out laughing, riki following along as the rest of you broke into laughter*

kat: oh my god when he said i hate periods in the group chat that got me 

heeseung: i felt bad!!!

sunghoon: what gets me is he texted our group chat a couple hours after saying he was embarrassed

riki: because he’s old?

heeseung: only four years bro

riki: one foot in the grave too grand pappy 

*sunoo and giselle attempt to hold back their laughter but fail when jake looks at them and laughs along*

yn: you’re never letting him rest 

riki: the other three fools are next your [BLEEP] isn’t safe either

*giselle laughs as you slap riki’s arm and sunghoon giggles slightly. it wasn’t very hard to tell what was bleeped out*

kat: so next question i take it?

yn: please before i kill him

riki: don’t threaten me with a good time

jake: this kid is funny as fuck *spoken in between laughs*

kat: so as we’re all well aware there’s a new generation after gen z, my question is how does this day and age affect love and has love lost its meaning since maybe shakespeare era?

riki: heeseung would know

heeseung: now this is bullying

jungwon: *he rolls his eyes at riki then looks to kat to gesture her to continue talking*

kat: *she nods and closes her phone* what i mean is that do you think that love now and love back then is different. like do you think you could find a jane austen love in a 2024 relationship?

sunoo: i mean ive never been in love so i couldn’t tell you 

riki: same 

kat: okay then a show of hands who has been in love. 

*everyone except jake, riki, and sunoo raise their hands*

kat: then you guys who raised their hands, do you think it was true love or do you think you conditioned yourself into thinking it was. 

sunghoon: me personally i don’t think i was ever truly in love, it sounds bad but i think i sort of said it because i was obligated to? like i felt like i couldn’t be in a real relationship without saying that we were in love. 

heeseung: it’s kind of the opposite for me.. i was in love with her like i can say we were in love. 

jungwon: in sunghoons case i can see what kat means. i think some people don’t know what love is anymore. 

giselle: it’s so conditioned in people’s heads that love has to be this bond that can never be broken and just everlasting but sometimes it really isn’t like that. love is hard to overcome and some couples never make it to that stage no matter how long they’ve been together 

sunoo: that was poetic giselle *he smiles at her softly causing her to smile and nod as well*

jake: can i be honest? i feel like ill never fall in love. 

jungwon: cmon don’t say that 

kat: i promise it’ll come towards you when you least expect it. 

jake: it’s not like im incapable of love, i just think that it’s hard to realize if it’s just love or something else? i’ve been in relationships but i guess i never got to feel that 

jay: it’s hard to pinpoint like i really couldn’t tell you. 

heeseung: love is like.. that inescapable feeling you have with someone. it’s sometimes left unspoken, kinda just a sigh from them and you can tell how they’re feeling. 

giselle: it’s the little things as corny as it sounds, it doesn’t even have to be romantic sometimes but you could feel like comfort with them. 

*whilst heeseung and giselle talk, sunghoons looking at you. it seems a million thoughts are going through his head and he looks down at his hands, then to you again. there’s this look in eyes, admiration? hard to pinpoint. riki’s eyes shift between you and sunghoon and he smiles at how he looks at you. he then looks away*

yn: bottom line is, no matter how much you feel like you’ll never experience love you will and it’ll be so worth the wait. 

jake: thanks guys, i kinda needed to hear that. 

riki: i still wanna experience a shakespeare or jane austen kind of love

sunoo: okay look at you not being mysterious. 

*riki rolls his eyes and smiles softly* 

yn: as much as people want to say that love back then was dramatized i don’t think it was. i would want someone to fight for my love, to overcome every obstacle thrown at us and be equally as in love with me as i am with them 

kat: i agree, i mean we’ve talked about how unequal love just never works out. 

jay: recipe for disaster, i think shakespearean love is beautiful. 

giselle: it’s not even the picture perfect representation of love but it shows how far people are willing to go for someone they feel so true to. 

sunghoon: is it weird to say i’m almost.. jealous of it? 

jungwon: no, not at all. i mean i am too 

sunoo: i am too honestly, it’s kind of one of those things that keeps me up at night 

jake: i would give a lot up to experience a kind of love like that 

yn: i think anyone would 

*there was a silence amongst the group, a couple of you made eye contact and started laughing.*

heeseung: i didn’t know what else to say

jay: i kinda need to use the bathroom… *sunghoon glances his way only to laugh at him*

kat: that is perfect because i was gonna announce a break anyways 

sunoo: i was gonna go get water jay so ill show you where the bathroom is

*both jay and sunoo get up, pushing their mics out of the way so they can go*

giselle: wait can you get me my red bull sunoo! *sunoo gives her a thumbs up as they both leave the room, talking about something that the mics can’t pick up*

jake: wait you guys have red bull

jungwon: we have a lot, do you want something i can text sunoo

jake: no no it’s okay *its clear on his face that he does want something, he’s just too embarrassed to say it*

kat: we can tell you want something spit out

jake: i could use a kool aid jammer… *mumbling*

jungwon: okay ill text him, was that so hard?

*jake shakes his head no, making heeseung giggle at him. currently everyone is scrolling on their phones, checking their notifications since they couldn’t earlier.*

kat: did you guys see chilis is closing down?

riki: oh my fucking god don’t bro i’m gonna cry

heeseung: why is chili's closing down when the real enemy is burger king

jungwon: i’ve been saying that for years 

giselle: oh i need me a triple dipper real bad

jake: *groans* those fucking mozzarella sticks

yn: they started saucing those babies up 

jake: i am so picking up chilis on the way home

heeseung: can we stop and eat there because you’re taking me home today 

jake: i’ll place an order right fuckin now 

kat: there’s a chilis right down the corner here and it is so heavenly 

jungwon: most rundown place ever but when i tell you the food is life changing i mean it 

jake: really? because usually i would go to the one in LA but that one is so busy all the time 

riki: yeah like there’s barely anyone and it’s just right down the corner

yn: i might go too honestly 

jungwon: okay wait i’ll go with you 

sunghoon: should we all just go after this

riki: i’ll place a fat one on your lips right now bro

sunghoon: excuse me?

giselle: YES let’s go after recording 

jake: i need to try those sauced up mozz sticks

*jay and sunoo enter the rooms again, sunoo giving jake his kool aid jammer and giselle her red bull*

jungwon: we’re all gonna go to chilis after this

sunoo: god bless

jay: i’ve never been to chilis 

*theres a couple gasps and riki side eyes him with a nasty look. heeseung furrows his brows then looks at jay*

heeseung: he’s fucking lying because yes you have

jay: i literally haven’t 

heeseung: my mom took us after we lost the lacrosse game in like 6th grade

jay: how the fuck am i supposed to remember that bro

sunghoon: that lacrosse game was so messy 

sunoo: you know you look like you would lose at lacrosse 

jay: in my defense there was some dirty shit going down there

yn: at a middle school lacrosse game? *you tried stifling a laugh but jungwon laughing set it off for the rest of you*

heeseung: don’t get him started

jay: will you shut up? no i SWEAR someone was setting me up because i had that match in the palm of my hand

jake: it’s been like 15 years bro 

jay: oh yet you can’t shut up about your senior year basketball match

jake: THE LAST FUCKIN MINUTE AND THAT DIPSHIT MISSED THE BASKET  *he yells, pointing at heeseung*

jungwon: senior year was so rough the same thing happened 

riki: no im so blessed you fucked up senior year so after you i could like messi after you graduated 

kat: i love when men start plotting against each other

yn: i know they’re doing the work for me 

sunghoon: weren’t you the one who told me about your videography club incident 

*you slap his arm, making him laugh aloud and giselle looks at you with furrowed brows*

yn: i told you in confidence can you not! 

giselle: waittt you didn’t tell us this

riki: oh my god the story is so fucking funny

yn: i am not saying it front of the camera 

*sunghoon starts humming the theme of boyfriend by big time rush, making you slap his arm once more*

sunoo: chilis, you have to tell us

yn: fine i will *you side eye sunghoon who only grins at you, making you laugh*

giselle: im already dreaming of my order 

jake: i am going to murder that triple dipper bro 

jungwon: okay let’s not talk about it or else ill want to sign out and go right now

kat: good for you i have one more question and it’s pretty short. so you know what are your icks in friendships 

yn: okay thank god because i am like i have a list i swear. *you sit up, sitting criss cross on the couch.* one big thing for me is a girl who just always needs a guy in her life 

giselle: *groans* ohhhh my god it is so frustrating 

kat: like talking to a girl who just always thinks of a man is so annoying because she is worth so much more than that

riki: lowkey [BLEEP] is like that

*sunoo and jungwon look at each other, the 6 of you bursting out in laughter. heeseung snickers a little*

heeseung: she was in my dms like last week

jake: oh my god i remember 

sunoo: i thought she was with [BLEEP]? 

yn: noooo i think it’s casual sex 

sunghoon: *he elbows heeseung, giggling* you wanna slide in there

heeseung: worry about you and [BLEEP] bro 

*everyone laughs at heeseungs comment, giselle knowing there’s so much she has to edit out*

sunoo: i think having a friend who can never have a deep conversation like for the life of them

jay: it’s so hard to talk to people like that, it’s like a conversation can’t go surface level 

yn: talking to yeonjun is like that 

giselle: i am not editing that one out 

jungwon: he is does not care 

sunghoon: oh my god his last party he asked to be on the pod 

riki: dream guest on my podcast *jojo siwa voice*

sunoo: here you go again

yn: the same party you dumped a drink on me?

*sunghoon only looks at you and smiles. he tilts his head and held eye contact with you.*

sunghoon: how many more times do i have to tell you im sorry? you want me to beg on my knees pre- yn? 

*jungwon and jake side eye each other at sunghoon almost slipping out a petname*

yn: maybe, don’t know yet. *you smile softly at his slip up*

sunghoon: well i am sorry 

yn: hoon i was joking 

*the two of you hold eye contact for a little while longer, a small smile growing on your faces. your friends know the two of you are idiots who are unaware at the moment but hey, what they know can’t hurt you*

jay: anyways.. i think having a friend who cheats in relationships is such a red flag

heeseung: we’ve talked about this

jungwon: it’s like having a liar as a friend

*you make a face when jungwon says liar, sunghoon shifts himself in his seat causing heeseung to send a look his way*

yn: i despise liars. i don’t care nasty the truth is if you felt as if you had to hide it from me it shows how little you care for me

giselle: i agree so heavy with both statements 

jake: it’s kind of hard talking to someone who just lies to you. 

sunoo: i agree, it’s almost like at some point i stop believing everything they tell me 

jungwon: another ick for me is someone who doesn’t have a single close friend 

yn: meh, if it’s a guy i get it but for some girls it’s so hard 

giselle: i agree with yn. i mean i know so many girls who were simply wronged by their friends and left alone

heeseung: they’re always like the nicest people who ever met 

jungwon: i guess so but a guy it’s just.. what the fuck are you doing for that to happen?

yn: no yeah i understand 

jay: some guys we’re friends with are sooo weird 

sunghoon: [BLEEP] or [BLEEP]

giselle: you guys have been name dropping all day 

riki: that’s real because i know those two and they’re weird as fuck 

sunghoon: we were in a group chat with them and yeonjun and even yeonjun was weirded out 

giselle: what were they saying 

jake: just some nasty shit about girls, it’s so weird

jungwon: why are some guys like that 

jake: wish i could tell you 

kat: i think an ick for me is someone who doesn’t have good music taste 

jungwon: maybe you hate yourself 

*riki snorts, causing a chain reaction of laughter*

kat: i MEAN people who listen to only tiktok music 

jake: oh my god it’s like hellaur listen to something 

*sunoo mumbled ‘hellaur’ in jake’s accent, causing everyone to laugh*

jake: don’t piss me off bro

sunoo: yeah i am so threatened 

jungwon: im thinking of that shark attack drink from chilis 

giselle: once i asked my server to spike it for me 

kat: wait.. that’s an amazing idea 

heeseung: those espresso martinis are so good 

riki: this old hag 

heeseung: imagine not being the legal drinking age 

the rest of you: OOOOO

*you reach over to dap heeseung up, who only reciprocated it, giggling a little*

riki: okay whatever 

jungwon: should we sign out then? 

yn: god yes i need to go NEOW 

kat: *looking at the camera* i hope you all enjoyed your stay in yap central, please like, share, subscribe and check out our other resources in the description as well as round tables which will be linked below. till next time!! 

previous masterlist next

AUTHORS NOTE » can u tell i wanted chilis LAWL, pls like n reblog as always 🫶

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[neolxzr]

hey you get it its an alien stage alien au—wait a minute... this is just invader zim !!!

some more random info abt this au under the read more ^_^ open at your own risk its a lot of yapping

till makes it his mission to expose the aliens (mostly ivan. he has personal beef with him) to the rest of humanity, but he's the boy who cried wolf. no one believes him because he's been talking about aliens and bigfoot and mothman and whatever nonstop all his life.

till loves the supernatural but also fears it. it consumes most of his waking thoughts. he doesn't like how quickly the aliens grow close to mizi out of a desire to protect her from the (presumed) threat. he's kinda like if dib invader zim was some gay art kid instead of like a supergenius

this threatening feeling comes from till assuming that ivan and sua are on earth for some kind of conquest and or abduction reasons. are they actually? who knows...

mizi is a bit of a hopeless romantic and finding out that sua was an alien only served to make her fall for her more. she could think of nothing more romantic than this scenario, actually. even till screaming danger at her cannot deter her from her love

ivan fights with till and riles him up because he finds how expressive he is utterly fascinating. he says its to "learn more about humans" but mostly he just wants till's attention. he himself doesn't know why he wants this attention, though.

sua and ivan experience a range of emotions in a similar way to humans, yet their species is discouraged from acting emotionally and isnt taught about what any of their feelings mean. all they know, at the start, is that these humans draw some kind of strange feelings out of them that they've never felt before.

(it sticks with the overall theming of alnst being about trying to understand exactly what love means.)

ivan and sua's earpieces are multipurpose tools. they're connected directly to the brain and can't be taken off. they can be used to generate their disguises (its a hologram type of thing), works as a translator so they can communicate with other alien species, etc.

what looks kind of like a nose on the aliens' faces is not a nose. their antennas are used as their olfactory system (they are also quite sensitive)

till is no longer crushing on mizi at this point in his life. sometime during middle school mizi came out to him as a lesbian and so he told her he liked her and it was a whole thing and they both cried. it ended up serving to strengthen their friendship. its been about 4 years-ish since then and theyre still inseparable

till works some kind of shitty service job part time, at which he met hyuna. she's like his cool older college friend and sort of older sister. he plays with her band sometimes

this takes place in who the fuck knows where midwest united states, and the humans are korean-american. till is first generation and usually speaks korean with his mom at home

it takes a while for till to first get a glimpse of ivan and sua's undisguised forms, though when he finally does something about them seems oddly familiar to him.

mizi sees sua's undisguised form long before till does. she does not tell him this

luka is an alien too. wonder what he's up to...

ok thats all love you bye ^_^

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 23 - Footjob]

Pairing: needy sub!Namjoon x  service Domme!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU

Kinks: foot massage with oil, using oil as lube, footjob, dirty talk, praise, loving degradation (my needy boy), he kneels for her, he wears glasses & a jumper do with this information what you want, he cums on her feet, cunnilingus, cuddly aftercare

Wordcount: 3.2k

a/n: so uhm i didn’t have a good day when i wrote this and i hope you guys can’t notice it fjsdafjsa anyway, why is sub!joon the hottest thing ever? i might need to take a walk tbfh

You didn’t have the best day. One of your co-workers is a jealous, passive aggressive woman and she more often than not pisses you off. Today was such a day. If you weren’t so civilised, you would call her the rudest names. But you are civilised and so you are left brooding in your own soup of annoyance.

Still boiling in it, you call out for your long-term partner as you take off your outdoor clothes.

“Baby, I’m home!”

“Living room!”

The sound of his voice already cheers you up a lot. You cannot wait to see him and tell him all about this annoying human. You leave your bag on the dresser in the hallways, washing your hands in the toilet sink as you pass it on your way to Namjoon.

Once finally cleaned of the day and the dirty outside, you hurry straight to your love. He has some jazz music playing quietly and scented candles burning.

Like on most days, Namjoon relaxes on the couch with a book in his hands. He looks at you over the brim of his glasses. His dark hair is styled into a handsome side-part today and he is wearing an ivory jumper with baggy jeans.

“Oh no, was she being annoying again?” he asks, lowering the book.

“Is it that obvious?” 

“To me it is.” He puts the book aside and opens his arms. “Tell me everything.”

“She is so fucking annoying, you have no idea. I could actually just punch her one day. Maybe I’ll do it…”, you begin ranting, settling into his arms. 

Namjoon listens to you intently, talking whenever necessary and reacting in shock or disgust whenever it is appropriate. By the time you are finally finished, you feel lighter in your chest. 

You rest your head on his strong chest, caressing his stomach gently. The music sways you into a state of tranquillity, his loving touches do the rest. His pulse is so relaxing to listen to, making you forget all about your day. He also smells so good.

“This just helped me so intensely, you have no idea”, you whisper into the silence.

“That’s good to hear”, he says, kissing the crown of your head. His voice is so, so, so nice to listen to when you have your ear against his chest. He is like your very own relaxation helper.

“And what about you? How was your day? I came home and started yapping”, you say, craning your neck to look at his face.

“That’s alright. I’m always here to listen. I had a good day. I drove my bike along Han River, went to an exhibition and then read. I’ve been lost in this book ever since I came home.”

You chuckle, “that sounds like a perfect day for you. I’m happy to hear that you had a good day.” 

He leans in to kiss your lips. You kiss him back with a smile. You end the affection with a soft rub to his cheek, gazing at him.

“My day’s good too now that I’m home. You’re so handsome, my darling.”

He smiles with his eyes, “you’re beautiful too, darling. I love this skirt on you.���

“Yeah? I kinda regret wearing it.”

“Why?”

“The shoes I wore to it were uncomfortable. My feet are aching like crazy. Urgh, I need to throw out these damned shoes. They’re always making my feet hurt.”

“Should I take care of it?” 

“What? Throwing out my shoes?”

“No. Giving you a massage.”

You grin, “is it gonna end in you begging me to step on you again?”

He laughs deeply, “in my defence, it’s not my fault that you have sexy feet. And that was one time.”

“Lies. You almost do this every time you massage my feet.”

“Yeah, well…” he doesn’t know what to say to that, looking caught in a lie.

You chuckle, “you’re lucky that you’re so cute. Otherwise I would curse at you for being a horndog.”

He lowers his eyes shyly, showing off his dimples in a big grin. You tilt his head back up, making him look at you. His eyes carry a certain sparkle in them, which they only get when he is with you. It is devoted and submissive.

“Yes, you can massage my feet. Including all the consequences. If you insinuated what I’m thinking you did.”

Namjoon gulps, licking his lips after. He nods his head, whispering his words. “Yeah, I was insinuating that.”

“Good, then get on with it”, you taunt, kissing his lips.

Namjoon kisses you back with a soft moan, sitting up for it to get closer to you. You allow him the heaven for a little while before breaking away. He whines softly, chasing you but you don’t allow him more. This is exactly what you wanted to happen. Give him a taste of paradise only to break away and make him hungry for more.

“Go on, be a good boy”, you order.

“Yes, ma’am”, he says and stumbles off the couch to get the oil. 

Today will not be the first time Namjoon massages your feet and it is definitely not the first time you make something sexy out of it. Your teasing was not just teasing, it was the truth. There were many occasions where you and he ended up having sex from a foot massage. Sometimes it ends in him wanting to be stepped on while you call him your needy slut. Sometimes it ends in him kissing your feet and promising his undivided devotion forever. And sometimes it ends in you jerking him off with your feet until he releases all over you.

It is so much fun to do and it is a fairly new kink you and he discovered.

The awesome thing about being long-term partners is that you are with each other when you change and rediscover yourselves. Namjoon didn’t always have a kink for feet, neither did you. It is a recent discovery you made together one night. Namjoon was kneeling in front of you, begging to eat your pussy, when you decided to trace his cock with your foot. It turned him on so much, which turned you on in return. You and he haven’t been the same ever since, including the kink in your sex life from time to time. 

You can’t wait to feel it tonight. And Namjoon seems to share your feelings as he almost stumbles over his own feet when he hurries back to you.

“Careful, don’t break something now.”

“I’m so excited, you have no idea.”

“I can’t tell at all”, you tease sarcastically.

He falls to his knees in front of you, fumbling to open the oil bottle.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Hm?”

You lift your right foot and place it against his chest. Namjoon inhales sharply, having to gulp as you dance your foot down his torso.

“I’m still wearing my stockings.”

“Oh? Right. Sorry.”

He takes them off carefully, folding them neatly before placing them to the side.

You put one of your feet on his thigh and the other you rub on his chest again.

“Now get to work.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Namjoon finally opens the oil bottle, pouring some of it into the palm of his hands. He rubs them together, warming the oil this way. Once he seems happy with it, he meets your eyes.

You instantly understand, placing your foot into his hands. You relax back, lowering your lids halfway in a playful yet tranquil manner.  

Namjoon instantly gets to work, moving his skilled fingers along the aches and tensions in your foot. He wants to do a good job. It might end in sex later, but Namjoon will be damned if he didn’t make sure that your feet actually stopped aching. This is supposed to help you first and be something sexy second. 

“That’s amazing, Joonie. You’re doing such a good job”, you praise. 

“Is there a spot which hurts most?”

“Just the middle of my sole. It feels so sore.”

Namjoon glides his fingers to it and tries to relax it with eager circles and pressure.

“Yes, right there. Mhhhhm so good”, you gush, closing your eyes and rolling your head back. 

Namjoon shifts a little because of your reaction. The noises you make are so sexy to him. He knows not to act up yet however, working hard to relax your foot instead. 

Once he is done with your right foot, he repeats what he did on your left foot. He spreads the oil first, starting off on your ankles and making his way to your toes. He lingers on the spots which seem  sore and tense, helping you to complete relaxation like this. 

“Ma’am?”

“Are you finished?”

“Yes, I-”

“No, you’re not. Massage my calves as well”, you order and put your feet on his thighs, dangerously close to his cock. 

Namjoon inhales sharply, watching with a dizzy head how you smirk to yourself. He gulps. You are doing this on purpose. 

“Yes, ma'am”, he croaks. He covers his hands in more oil and begins the massage.

“There we go, such a good boy”, you purr, parting your legs. 

You make him dizzy. Everything about this is starting to turn him on. Your praise, your voice, your open legs and your feet on his thighs. Judging by the faint smirk still present on your lips, this stopped being innocent relaxation for you as well.

He is allowed to be turned on by it. Namjoon cannot control the voices anymore and so he lowers his head to your inner thigh to kiss you in devotion. 

“Huh?” you gasp and lift your head. A chuckle leaves you. “Now, what are you doing here?” 

Namjoon lifts his head, grasping your ankles desperately.

“I can’t think straight anymore. Please I…please.”

The smirk grows, your eyes flicker playfully. You straighten up.

“Then take off your pants, will you?”

“Yes ma’am. Thank you ma’am”, he stutters and gets out of them, working as quickly as possible to slip out of his jeans. 

He stands up for it but instantly falls to his knees again once bared. You wave him closer with a wiggle of your finger.

“There we go. Look at how hard you already are”, you taunt, rubbing your feet up and down his thighs. 

His cock twitches each time you come close to it. 

“Please.”

His begs satisfy you and so you lift your feet to fulfil his wish.

You put them on each side of his cock, meeting his eyes. He is breathing so heavily, pupils widened.

“Go ahead now, cover them in oil.”

“Yes, ma’am”, Namjoon obeys, biting his lower lip at the feeling of oil trickling down his cock. It is so cold in comparison to your warm soles.

You begin moving as he still pours the oil, forcing him to twitch and accidentally spill more than necessary.

“What a needy boy. That’s enough”, you say, chuckling fondly.

Namjoon places the bottle aside and instantly grips the rug, rolling his head back. A deep moan slips off his tongue, letting you know just how good it feels for him.

It feels amazing for you as well. His cock is really hot to the touch, a clear indicator of his desperation. It is also so soft and fragile. One wrong movement and you could squeeze him painfully. The power you have over him and the trust he puts into you is making you delirious. You switch your eyes between his blissed out face and the view of your feet.

The oil made them messy and allows them to glisten in the candle light. Each time you move them down to his base, his flushed cockhead appears between them, looking wetter and wetter each time you do.

You can’t do a lot of variations of the movement because the position limits it, but that’s alright for you. This is the perfect way to jerk off his cock. You can see everything. His meaty thighs tensing and twitching each time you rub your feet on his tip, his stomach and chest flexing and flinching each time you drag your feet down his veiny shaft and his blissed out face changing and contorting in pleasure.

“You look so handsome like this, darling. Kneeling for me is really your best look”, you coo, rubbing your feet back and forth on his tip. You can squeeze it gently like this, watching in delight how it moves between your feet.

Namjoon answers you with the sweetest moans, arching his back as best as possible. He loves it when he kneels for you. Everything about it is perfect to him. The loss of power, how small he suddenly is, the fact that he can look up at you and that you look down at him in return, the total surrender of control. He is completely and totally in the palms of your hands when he kneels and there is nothing sweeter to him. Although, palms of your hands might be wrong choice of words today. He is very much in the soles of your feet and it makes him want to pray to your name.

Maybe he does. Maybe he moans your name with such submission that you have to moan as well.

“Why are you praying to my name like that, mhm? Is it the kneeling or how I’m playing with your pretty cock?” you taunt, applying a little more pressure just to tease.

“Both”, Namjoon croaks, leaking all over your toes. It is so warm and slick, making it easier to please him.

“Both, I see. You’re such a needy boy then, aren’t you?”

“Yes, needy. Your needy boy.”

“My needy boy?”

Namjoon nods his head vigorously, bucking his hips up against his will. He keeps doing it, chasing the pleasure your feet give him. You let him, watching him with widened eyes and a tingling stomach.

“I see. My needy boy.”

“___”, Namjoon croaks, thighs trembling especially aggressively.

He rolls his head to the front and opens his eyes, instantly moaning loudly at the view. He knew that it would look sexy, because it feels so good, but it’s better than he imagined it to be. Your feet are so wet and oily and beautiful and perfect and beautiful and… his brain keeps repeating the same words, going foggy at the same time. The movements are suddenly so much more clearer to feel, seeping into his fibres deeper than before. He twists the rug as best as possible and moves his hips with more vigour.

“Does this feel good to you, darling?”

“Yes, so good. It’s insane”, he moans, following it up with the sweetest noises.

You match his sounds, keeping your feet still to allow him movement. He is chasing his orgasm. You know that he is because of how eager his hips twitch into your hold. He is basically rutting into you, using your slippery feet for pleasure. His dark hair hangs messily into his face and his glasses slipped down the slope of his button nose. He must be really hot in his jumper because his neck is slightly sweaty and his tanned skin flushed.

The part most flushed however is his cock. Hard and throbbing and so, so red it leaks just for you. And that means something with Namjoon because his cock is normally a pretty tan colour as well. This is feeling really good to him for his cock to flush that much.

“I, I don’t know if can- ah uhm, woah, I can…mhmm fuck. Fuck, I don’t know”, he is stuttering, changing between rasping and whimpering the words. How wonderful he is when he loses control over his voice.

“Whenever you need to, darling. I’m right here”, you encourage him, rubbing your feet back and forth.

“Shit! ___!” he yelps, losing the fight against pleasure. He gasps, grinds his teeth and growls, cock finally spurting all over your feet in a messy, hot orgasm.

“That’s it baby, that’s it. Cum for me, such a good boy. My needy boy, cum all over my feet, you messy boy”, you talk him through it, feeling dizzy at the sexy view. This is getting you off as if you were the one having an orgasm right now.

Namjoon finishes after five aggressive thrusts of his hips, flinching back and therefore releasing his sensitive cock from your feet.

“Fuck, that was intense”, he presses out, holding your ankles. He is breathing heavily, head rolled back and mouth agape. His chest heaves up and down quickly, stretching the material of the jumper.

You kind of just enjoy the moment, gazing at him and thinking to yourself that he is the hottest man to ever exist.

“You’re a fucking goddess”, he gets out, making you chuckle.

“You’re a needy boy.”

“Mhm, I am. I bloody am”, he agrees and purrs, rolling his head to the front lazily. He gives you a tired yet happy smile, lifting your feet to his lips afterwards to lick the cum off them.

“What the heck? Oh my god, that’s hot”, you gasp, dropping into the pillow naturally. He made you lose balance, but you don’t mind. What he is doing right now is the hottest thing he ever did.

Namjoon purrs and slurps happily until your feet are squeaky clean. His hunger still remains however and so he puts your legs on his shoulders and licks sloppy paths up your inner thighs. Your breath speeds up more and more the closer to your pussy he gets.

He disappears under your skirt. Your knees are now bending over his back.

“My goddess”, he lulls, tugging your panties to the side and connecting his tongue with your wet pussy.

“Joon!” you yelp, arching your back. “Holy fuck!”

Namjoon purrs, thanking you for the pleasure with skilled laps of his tongue. He would never dare to take an orgasm from you without giving you one in return. You are his everything, the reason why he breathes. Your pleasure is so important to him that it would feel wrong not to eat you out right now. You are so wet and soft and swollen. Just imaging that he could have left you in such a state makes Namjoon angry. He pulls you closer with his strong arms wrapped around your thighs, using his plumb lips to rub your sensitive pussy.

“Wow, what the fuck?” you get out, squirming from side to side and arching your back. You do these two movements alternatively, unable to decide on which one you love more.

You won’t last long anymore, but that was never your goal. You want to fucking orgasm like he wanted his’. The day was long, it was stressful and annoying and this orgasm would make all of it go away. There is no better way than to truly leave the day behind than climaxing on Namjoon’s skilled tongue.

And you do, oh you fucking do.

“I’m cumming, darling”, you moan, feeding him your orgasm a second later.

Namjoon eats it up happily, moaning with you and keeping his tongue still so you could hump his face until you are satisfied.

“Fuck, this was perfect. God, come here you.”

You pull him from under your skirt after your high died down, kissing him messily and giggling when he falls atop of you clumsily. His glasses are fogged up and tilted to the side, his hair is a mess and his puffy lips taste like you. This is perfect. Everything about this is perfect.

Namjoon would agree, melting into your embrace with a fluttering heart and a tingling stomach.

“Was nice, really nice”, he mumbles.

“Yeah, so nice”, you agree, smiling with him because it is amazing to be together.

[lovecla]

TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

chapter one:

<next chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: shitty mom.

➴ word count: 2.6k

💌 from me to you: and finally, the first chapter of TYPA is here. i wanted to post this only when i had at least the first five chapters ready so you guys wouldn’t wait too long for updates, so thank u all for waiting. again, i cannot stress this enough: read the story’s warnings before reading the story!!! aaand i love u all!!! (also thank u for 200+ followers? insane!)

౨ৎ

2024, MARCH

YOUR ALARM went off at half past five, and you grunted, smacking it with your right hand, trying to make it stop yelling.

After you turned it off, you laid your bed on your pillow again, sighing. Turning your head to the side, you watched as Bella snored like she paid all of your bills and worked a nine to five everyday. You smiled, happy to see her so relaxed.

You got up, put on your slippers and walked to your bathroom, turning on the lights and regretting immediately after, because your eyes took a long time to adjust to the bright, white light.

You opened the tap, putting in warm water and gently wetting your face, before closing it and grabbing your cleanser and starting your morning skincare routine.

Even though you loved to stay in bed, there was something about the early hours of the day. You could go on with your morning with no one bothering you, just working on the steps of completing your morning routine with ease, while the world was still asleep outside— even though Los Angeles never got entirely asleep.

You can wash your face and apply your moisturizer, before stepping in the shower after letting your skin absorb the products. Then, you can scrub your body and exfoliate it, humming to this week’s top song on Spotify charts. You can dry yourself with your fluffiest towel, smear your skin with your favorite vanilla scented body lotion and perfume.

Then, you can wake Bella up, and force her to leave your bed so you can make it. She’ll growl and bark at you, but in the end she’ll be too eager to go outside to do anything else.

You’ll change into your outfit of the day, something cozy, and grab your keys before leaving the house with Bella by your side, taking her to the dog park your apartment complex has, and let her enjoy the synthetic grass while you stare at her, smiling from ear to ear.

You’ll both stay there for ten minutes, with you talking to her about everything and anything, while she sniffs around the place and answers your yapping with occasional barks.

Then, you’ll call her name and go back to your place, starving for food. You’ll make your breakfast, nothing too heavy— a cup of green tea and a yogurt bowl.

You’ll leave your house at sometime around seven a.m., after grabbing everything you’ll need for the day and saying goodbye to Bella, telling her that her dog sitter, Carly, will be there in just a few hours. You’ll get into the car your agency sent to you, greeting the driver and sitting in the back, checking the texts on your phone. And then, you will feel your heart stop inside your chest, because—

What the hell does she want? You thought, squeezing your phone so hard between your hands that, for a second, you thought you’d actually break it.

You haven’t seen your mom in a year. Or your family, for that matter. Your parents, your brother and Canada felt just like a distant, hurtful memory that you wanted to keep away from yourself, buried deep inside your heart.

After making your teenage years feel like hell, and after making you hate yourself in more ways you’d ever think possible, your mom got you signed at the most prestigious modeling agency in all LA, IMG Models. Some people online talked about how you were only the cover of last year’s VOGUE because you’re basically a Nepo Baby, and even though your social media team did their best to debunk those comments, you knew— everyone did— that they were right: you only reached the top that fast because you are the daughter of the editor-in-chief of Fashion and retired model, Jessica Carter.

Not that you weren’t pretty, no, you were. But your last name opened more doors for you than your face and body ever would.

But at the end, you were grateful to be living a normal life— as normal as it could get— away from Canada. That country held painful memories and people that you would much rather watch from afar.

You didn’t reply to her text, you didn’t need to. She made it very clear that your attendance wasn’t an option. Even at twenty-two years old, your mom would always have the final word.

You arrived on set ten minutes after reading that text, sad to have your good mood ruined. But you still had a long day of work ahead of you, so you should just do what you’re best at: pretending you’re fine.

You spent your entire morning at a photoshoot for Elle, posing for infinite pictures and changing as fast as you could, while trying your hardest not to focus on your mom’s text.

Glad to be working with people who were actually nice, you slipped into your work headspace and when you checked your phone again, it was lunch time.

Grabbing the biggest salad from the agency’s restaurant, you ate with no hunger or pleasure. Thinking of your life back in Canada made you sick.

After lunch, you were sent to another location so they could take more pictures of you, the photographer, Garret, making sure to get the right photos of you.

At six, you were ready to head back to home, but unfortunately, part of your job meant interacting with people on social media. Sometimes answering questions online, making TikToks or even posting on Instagram.

౨ৎ

liked by gigihadid, champagnepapi, darianka and 560,929 others.

madisoncarter @britishvogue 🧸

View all 12,082 comments

user1 she’s just so pretty i cant

user2 looked at my gf and sighed

user3 user4 this yo boyfriend?

user4 user3 EX boyfriend now.

britishvogue Stunning 🤩

imgmodels you never disappoint bbg 😌

user5 i love u thank u for blessing my feed

౨ৎ

“ARE YOU leaving already, darlin’?”

Nicholas’ voice echoed as you bend over to grab your purse.

Looking at him, you smiled, tiredly. “Yes, hum. Actually, I need to talk to you about something,” you took a step further, stopping in front of the man you've known as your boss the past four years.

“Yeah, go ahead.” He leaned against the wall, waiting.

“I need to have Friday off,” you started, biting your lip. “It’s a family thing. Promise I’ll be back on Monday.”

“Madison, you’re literally the only model here who hasn’t missed a work day for an entire year, maybe even more than that,” he laughs, blond hair moving as his head turns around. “If you want to take the entire week off, you’re allowed to.”

A week in Toronto? No, thank you.

“No, I just need Friday.” You replied, adjusting your bag on your shoulder.

“You’re free to go, my love. Send kisses to your mom, okay? Tell her to visit us sometime.”

“Of course, thank you.” You kissed his cheek quickly before heading back to the elevator.

On your way home, you thought about all of the things your mom might want of you. Sure, she said that she wanted the family to get together and all of that, but you’re sure there’s more to that. She wouldn’t make you fly to Canada just because she wants to have dinner with you. She’s just not that kind of person.

Entering your apartment, the first thing you did after removing your shoes was go looking for Bella, who had somehow managed to lock herself inside the guest's bathroom, and was whining loudly.

“Naughty, naughty girl,” you kissed her, petting her fur gently. “How did you even do that?”

She just licked you and you sighed, the long hours of work finally hitting you completely. You just needed to shower, drink your daily glass of warm milk and play with Bella for a while before going to bed.

Locking away all thoughts related to Canada, you followed your night routine like you’d usually do, trying your hardest to let the people you buried years ago stay away like you wanted them to.

[yournightmary]

hello dear !! :3 here's a req for headcanons !! how would Jinx show her affection? <3 im pretty sure her canon love language is gift giving, but do u think she has any other way of showing her love? ty ! ! 🩷

content warning:: literally one mention of stalking and it’s not even bad

AN:: I am going crazy over all of the news about arcane s2 omg.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She is totally a trinket girly. Not your typical gifts, she’ll find a pretty looking cog and give it to you because it ‘reminds her of you’. Just leaves small things for you all over your place.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She shows her love through yapping and/or listening. Once she’s comfortable with you she’ll talk for hours on end, literally about anything and everything.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Maybe stalks you… but in a harmless way? Like when you go out to do something and she has nothing to do she’ll wait a moment before following after you. She just wants to make sure you’re safe and nothing bad happens to you.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She just stares. Loves looking at you because she loves you. A lot of the times she’ll zone out while you’re talking because she cannot focus on anything else than your face. Literally this.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Doodles on your stuff, things like hearts with arrows, smiley faces, small flowers or just shit ton of hearts.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She is so protective oh my god don’t get me started. Always wants to be with you, whether you’re working or going out with your friends- she knows how dangerous the Undercity can be and this girl is not risking loosing another important person.

xoxo

[artsyannierose]

Movie sonamy hcs?

i feel like i haven't solidified an opinion of them just because Amy's character can be taken and interpreted in so many different ways, which inevitably makes it so that movie sonamy has many different possibilities

but here i'll try

1. I think Amy will live with the Wachowskis

i know a lot of people are concerned about her technically getting adopted, making her and Sonic adopted siblings but like...no?? She could just live there and have a familial relationship with everyone except Sonic and not get officially adopted

she gives sibling vibes with knuckles anyway, and im sure maddie is going to be thrilled to have amy in the house

or maybe they can all be her in-laws /j

2. Sonic and Amy definitely have beef at first

Doesn't matter about what, they're constantly biting at each other for the dumbest stuff

For example, Amy def likes manga the way Sonic likes comics, and they both fight about which is better

but like give them a week and now both of them never shut up once they start talking about their interests, and pretty soon everyone else just leaves the room and they will yap for HOURS

3. Amy's all girlboss since she's had to live on her own for so long, but the second she realizes she has a knight in shining armor now she totally plays the part

Like she beats up Eggman when he tries to kidnap her, but the second she realizes Sonic was coming to save her, she quickly runs back and sits all dolled up and pretty waiting for him

meanwhile eggman is sitting in his ruined rubble pile like "wtf"

4. Right from the get-go Amy makes it clear that she thinks Sonic is cute

She'll constantly make off-handed comments like "We can't do that, cause singed fur isn't a good look on your handsome face" and Sonic's thrown off at first but as she keeps doing it he eats it up

but bro cannot say that she's pretty to save his life even though she's literally the prettiest person he's ever seen in his entire life)

5. Sonic grows dependent on Amy’s attention

While everyone obviously believes in him and is not shy of saying so (save for Knuckles), there’s something different about having someone you like always hyping you up and doting on you, and he likes it a lot

Kind of like Twitter Takeover Sonic, when Amy said “You’re my one, perfect Sonic,” and he just laughed happily.

6. Whenever Sonic finds a new place of flowers while running around, he always brings one back for Amy

But of course, Amy always prefers it when Sonic takes her to the original place so she can take in the natural beauty

7. They start to mimic each other

This is a headcanon I share with modern SonAmy but you know how they say you act like the people you spend the most time with

Well yeah pretty soon after everything that happens in Sonic 4 you just see Amy tapping her foot when she’s impatient, Saying her catchphrase the way Sonic does, taunting her enemies the way Sonic does

But you also see Sonic showing more interest in fortune tellers, trying to cook chili dogs at Amy’s behest (which he usually would blow up the kitchen before), showing more interest in quill maintenance

im having a hard time coming up with stuff for him cuz idk how movie amy acts help

8. They are both AVID horror movie fans

Sonic used to have no one but Ozzie to watch horror movies with, because Tails sometimes gets scared but he’ll try to do it for Sonic, meanwhile Knuckles just flat out refuses

So when Amy comes along and she’s into horror movies as much as Sonic he’s just like “THE LOVE OF MY LIFE” and they just stay up super late watching horror movies only for everyone to find them the next morning all snuggled up with each other after falling asleep

Aaaaanyways maybe I’ll revisit this once we have a trailer of sorts but I hope this was entertaining :D

IM SO EXCITED FOR MOVIE SONAMY LETS SEE IF THEY OVERTAKE MODERN SONAMY AS MY FAVORITE

[kissitbttr]

hiii, can we see frat!Miguel when he first met muñeca and started crushing on her. I'll love to see how he was always talking about with his brothers. thank you babess

truth be told, miguel never exactly noticed you until you came to one of the fraternities party. you are not an introvert but not exactly a social butterfly either.

he did hear a thing or two about you through beck. since his frat brother is having this weird on and off situationship with a girl named gloria and she’s friends with you. every time the two come over, gloria would mention a lot of things about you to beck and quite hoping that miguel would listen. she discreetly tries to hook you up with him.

not that miguel actually looked for you, he was fooling around with dana at that time. so he may not actually cared about her that much, but he’s not a fucking asshole that loves to play around with other girls when he himself already dating someone.

though the relationship did end shortly after. not exactly surprising.

but something changed in him when he sees you for the first time. or more like—what he saw that one priceless moment during his party and didn’t realize it was you.

“i think i’m in love” miguel mutters softly, pupils dilating as he watched you sucker punched a guy who wouldn’t stop bothering you. earning a few collective gasps from the crowd,

“who?”

“that girl” miguel points when beck comes closer, his eyes are locked in on your figure, still trying to get the guy off your back and it makes miguel’s lips twitch into a sense of proud smile. “damn. she’s got a good strength”

beck looks over at his friend with a smirk. he���s not that good at reading people, but if miguel was ever a cartoon character. there would be hearts drawn on his eyes when he continues to stare at you,

“that’s y/n”

and miguel never whips his head so fast that he’d probably get a whiplash. “you fucking with me? that’s y/n?!”

from that moment on, he cannot stop thinking about you.

since his relationship with dana ended shortly after, miguel finds himself trying to dig into a pieces of small informations about you through gloria and beck. even going around asking people in his class if the knew you.

“she’s in the cheerleading team. you can see her during thursday practice”

it’s what they say. and it confuses the hell out of him.

why haven’t he seen much about you if you’re in the cheerleading team then? fuck. where has he been all this time? not paying much more attention that’s for damn sure.

“she is so dreamy…” miguel sighs, eyeing you through the window glass where he can see you in your practice uniform. laughing with your friends. “wonder if i could make her laugh like that”

carlos and beck share a glance, one of them shrugging their shoulders.

“you know you’ve been doing this shit for weeks now. why don’t you just go and talk to her?” beck advises,

“say that shit like it’s easy, mano” he mutters out, then his eyes wander a bit lower to your thick thighs and he wanted nothing more than for you to put him in a headlock. “she’s a woman—a fine ass woman, and i’m me” he sighs, resting his chin upon the open palm,

carlos shoots beck a ‘what the fuck was that?!’ look and beck could only chuckle,

“does that mean we’re still going to hear you yapping about how in love you are with this chick back at the house since you’re too much of a pussy to ask her out on a date?” carlos questions,

and miguel is quick to push him off the chair

—

extras:

“have you seen y/n at the game today? fuuuckkk, she looks so damn cute”

“hey beck, ask gloria if y/n is looking for a date. i’m single, i promise! pleasepleasepleaseplease—“

“do you guys think if i wear this one she’d finally look my way? wait no— scratch that I don’t want her to think i’m dressing up for her, wait—maybe i do”

“I don’t think i have ever seen a girl look that good wearing a sundress. do you? nope! you don’t!”

“okay fess up! which one of you told y/n bad things about me?! SHE LOOKED AT ME WITH DISGUST THIS MORNING!”

it has been going on for weeks, making his friends get gradually tired of his constant talks about you. because that’s all he ever talks about when he’s at the frat house. when one tries to get him to talk about something else, he would then shift it back to you,

and it makes them love to gossip about him when he’s not around,

“jesus, beck! you had to tell him her name, hadn’t you? now we gotta deal with this puppy love shit!”

“what?! how is this my fault! he’s the one who’s fucking whipped”

“o’hara isn’t fucking stopping and i am this close to beating his ass!”

“can you or your girl just hook him up with this chick?!”

“don’t tell him this or he’ll cry but— y/n isn’t interested” beck winces making the rest groan

“i swear if i hear her name or muñeca falls off that motherfucker’s mouth one more time, i am going to lose it”

[insert-random-account-name]

Analyze the Princess- The Razor

An important thing to recognize about the Razor is the means by which you get her. There are two ways to get the Razor. The first is by asking the Narrator if he’s sure the Princess is unarmed, and then attempting to slay her. The second is by successfully slaying the Princess, but then doubting whether or not she’s actually dead, and then checking her pulse or removing the blade. In both instances, you show doubt about things the Narrator has clearly stated to you, and that doubt leads to your demise in the form of your worst-case scenario coming true. You think she has a trick up her sleeve, and so she does. This results in a Chapter 2 Princess that has something to hide, and a desire to trick you into dying. The Razor is, quite fittingly, made of metal, her bones being sharp blades, and as the chapters go on, starts becoming more and more metal, until the final Chapter 4, where she turns into a skeleton of blades.

The Razor has similarities to the Contrarian, in that they both live to amuse themselves, and don’t particularly care for the consequences of doing so. The Razor finds a thrill in watching you bleed, so she stabs you over and over again, waiting to see how long it will take until she tears you apart so violently you can’t pull yourself back together. Part of this mentality is based on her lack of empathy. She’s having fun, so you must be too! Isn’t it great that you keep coming back over and over again, so that the two of you can do this forever? Even if you aren’t having fun, the Razor doesn’t care. This isn’t your cabin, after all. It’s hers, and therefore she can do what she likes. Her lack of empathy is further showcased in her manner of speaking. She sounds wrong, like a robot. She cannot lie, her words being tainted by an overly-exaggerated tone. At this point, she’s so far detached from humanity that she can’t even remember how one talks, let alone how they feel. 

The Razor represents isolation and control. She has been locked up far away from human contact, her only company being cold iron chains. Her emotional range suffered from this lack of company, until she lost the ability to be human. Now, even if you freed the Razor, and reintroduced her to society, she would push people away with her robotic mannerisms. The unfeelingness she needed to survive will always hurt others, and this is shown in the blades that erupt from her skin. She spent her whole existence as a helpless prisoner, prepared to live or die at a single person’s whims. When the Razor found agency in cold steel and blood running down her arm, she began to crave it. Plunging her knife into her would-be killer is the only freedom she’s known, and it becomes an addiction for her. Killing you over and over again reminds her of the moment she took her fate into her own hands, and that’s the real reason why she does what she does. In the end, the Razor is self-motivated, and shows little to no empathy towards others, her only true emotion being shown when you kill her. Her route is sharp and piercing, like her heart. (The Razor is my favorite, if you couldn’t tell)

Other parts:

The Razor The Stranger The Damsel The Prisoner The Tower The Witch The Spectre

(If you like my yapping, check out my other analyses. There's one for the voices here and my one for the narrator here)

[cyree]

answering the age old question of why i hate pesos mother 🤑 (this is also an excuse to yap about the great penguin race)

i made a video on this but it’ll take fifty years to upload so i’m just re typing it and i shortened the great penguin race to tgpr bc i am not typing allat 😭🙏

yes this is me losing it over fucking octonauts i am very normal about a certain episode ahah

okay so first this isn’t some random ass beef i came up with i have many reasons #d1hater

number one:

assuming you have watched tgpr then you know that peso did NOT sign up it was his mother and pinto who did.

why?? why did they have to go behind his back to do it?? why didn’t they ask peso about this??

like brother you are signing up your kid for the PENGUIN OLYMPICS and you don’t get his input?? did she just not gaf about how her son would feel about this 😭

neither pinto nor his mother gave a flying fugly fart about if peso would wanna participate which is odd considering HES THE ONE PARTICIPATING and considering this doesn’t seem like something peso would want to do.

number two:

okay so maybe i could get past that but no pinto and his mother just had to go and surprise peso with ts???

BROTHER WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN SURPRISE??? THE ONLY SURPRISE IS HOW HE DIDNT CRASH OUT PESO IS BETTER THAN ME GOODNESS GRACIOUS

so not only do they surprise him they do it HOURS before the race starts.

so pesos mother wants to send him into a race he is not prepared for, very OBVIOUSLY doesn’t want to do and that he had no say in.

not only is lil broseph going up against the REIGNING CHAMPION with little to no training but pinto and his mother want peso to win??

listen you guys i fucking love peso but he stood absolutely zero chance against hugo lets be honest

number three:

why is she going along with pintos stupid plan because this bs is a disaster waiting to happen and anyone with a working brain knows that pintos idea is astronomically stupid

now pinto has some excuse since his brain probably isn’t even halfway developed but his mum?? a grown ass woman?? how the fuck did you hear this and think “hell yeah lets do this!” like??? are you insane?? lacking braincells?? diseased?? idk anymore

number four:

okay so like i said earlier pesos mum really doesn’t seem to gaf about pesos feelings like at all and theres one scene that really pmo.

shockingly the first event goes horribly for peso since hes extremely unprepared and so he lands in that bigass pile of snow so pinto and his mum run over

and you might think “oh is she gonna comfort peso?”

no.

no comfort, no “you did great” all she says is

“peso you’ll catch a cold”

YOU LIVE IN THE SNOW?? THATS IS THE LAST THING THAT SHOULD BE ON YOUR MIND ARE YOU DUMB????????

then she says nothing else and walks away not even a “good luck” like girl do you have any sort of empathy for your kid?

number five:

ok this is more yapping about the race itself but it ties into my point.

so i cannot be the only one who thinks this race is like extremely dangerous not in the extreme sports way but in the extreme lack of safety precautions

some examples include multiple animals in the water where the swimming races take place, its because that there’s other animals that peso and hugo get stuck under the ice

now this is not me blaming pesos mother for them getting trapped because no one saw it coming but you would think shed put more thought into sending her child into the olympics yk

also there are literally predators in the water LIKE THERES AN ORCA THEY EAT PENGUINS ITS IN AN EPISODE IN ABOVE AND BEYOND RIGHT??? LIKE I SWEAR THERES ONE WHERE PESO AND PINTO ALMOST GET EATEN BY ORCAS??

heres the aforementioned orca btw

also there is ZERO first aid or rescue teams at all like if the octonauts hadn’t been there to rescue peso and hugo they likely would’ve run out of air by the time a rescue team arrived

considering they watch the race every year pesos mum had to have known this and intentionally or not she put her son in danger because of her decisions.

conclusion:

i really dislike pesos mum due to her stupid decisions she made and her frankly concerning lack of consideration for her son’s feelings. considering we never see her again. there’s no real redeeming qualities for her for me, atleast.

okay yap sesh over sorry for the wall of text i’ve been waiting to talk about this

@hers-underwraps hope you don’t mind being tagged in this you seemed like you wanted to hear abt this 🤑

ok thanks tee hee

[muniimyg]

OKAYYYYY MY THOUGHTS (I have so many of them)

first of all - this fic is a mf masterpiece

the tension, them being mean to each other and jk being a simp UGH!😩😩😩😩 I want him so bad

the scene where he asks her to feed him and I’m like this man is NAWT shying away and so he is THAT kinda boyfriend like.

and him not going to that function because “his girl” is sick. like I was shy reading this as if he was speaking about me🤣🤣🤣 and the dolphins book he finds - oc was such a cutie for that🥰

and then the scene where they Yk do THAT when he is wearing his glasses I FOLDED. I FOLDED SO BAD CAUSE HE IS SO HOT AND THWIR BED CHEM WAS BED CHEM-ING.

and then the jealousy era like girl why would you push his button like that but also valid cause walk him like a dog sis 😁

And then their talk and finally a man who has communication skills 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 cause real men just cannot🤓 at least the ones I have dealt which. Just like oc only had situationships😁 waiting for my jk now.

and then they started dating and everything is amazing in the world again😪💕

in all - a mf masterpiece like I said ❤️

you have done it once again.

Just a future drabble if you decide to do it - the gangs reaction when they found they are together 🤨🤨 jus a small little idea hehe

Also big props to you for writing this in a fic cause I can imagine how stressful that might have been plus you being sick. hope you are feeling better ❤️

also my take on ranking the kimi verse jk’s - ITS VERY HARD

fuck - bed chem jk (Obviously) but also like c2u jk cause laundry scene was insane 😭

kiss - aao jk or baby daddy jk

marry - baby daddy jk no questions asked

WE DONT KILL c2u jk in DIS HOUSE CAUSE HE IS SUCH A CUTIE 😭😭💕

ok lemme yap with u 🤝

tension/dynamic

i've been absolutely CRAVING to write a tension filled fic where they both want each other but don't know how to have each other. oh my god,,, did this concept absolutely scratch my brain.

i personally had to think for a hot minute abt their banter cos,,, yes, banter is 60% of their chem,,, but the stillness??? between them??? the way they react to each comeback??? how they look at each other or stand or sit too close??? how thick the air feels and how easy it would be to just have them kiss??? oh !!!! i really had to sit in their moment and intensify their feelings

the tension between them was slow with a sense of pressure... ugh. i really wanted to emphasize that their situation was easy. no one was stopping them from being together... but instead,, it was the pure fun of it that complicated things for each other. their dynamic is established since part 1. it's too easy to show the sudden change and honestly? unrealistic.

real tension,, real friends to lovers,,, is slow. awkward. it's this weird sense of uncertainty but also knowing and believing in them.

further, subtle things were so purposeful in each chapter imo. when i write fics,, i take a moment to think abut what each character has to offer the other/their specific traits. (my uni/college au's for example) deeper than what major i give them,, i think about their attitude and how it ties to to their little things.

for bed chem,, jk as a chem major was like a lightbulb moment for me because 1) it fit the title 2) it made it easier for me to write him as a grumpy nerd 3) it practically paints the picture of what kind of guy he is by all by itself... like, all i really needed to do was be specific with word choice and body language. being a part of the marine conservation club was like a hehe haha thing but also showcased his softer side (caring for the world and wanting to make change,,, etc).

meanwhile, oc majors in psych and she's kind of reckless. she's constantly tripping over her own feet and is unhinged for most for their banter... but she's intentful. she's good at talking around her feelings and her actions,, but she's even better at sticking to what she wants.

part 5 behaviour

because at this point,, they're together but not together,, jungkook tests the boundaries. they have a lot of unspoken rules so he does all he can to break them. oc,, doesn't really do much to stop him and i found it really important to decrease/limit her doubts because 1) the tutor thing wasn't really meant to be this whole trust issue thing 2) they have a lot of security in each other 3) the scenes where he skips the gala,, shows up when she has food poisoning,, when she had a hard day and he comes over to check on her ... it all shows the kind of friend he is and oc feels safe and secure in the man he is and how good he is to her

smut

ok i was realy nervous about this because 1) i was sick as a fucking dog writing the scene 2) i didn't want to disappoint 3) it had to live up to thefic title.

sometimes, i think i have to write these really wild scenes with position switching and insane dirty talk,, but because oc is a virgin... i thought it would be more fun to show her increasing interest to be intimate with him. the dry humping scene was HILIARIOUS to me. i thought it was a funny way of her exploring how fast jungkook would fold and the glasses part... yeah. i really like the way it led to their moment lol.

the actual sex scene i think turned out really cute. they have this... intense yet intimate energy between them. jk taking the lead but oc also knowing what she wants? the way they fuck and kind of just get lost in holding each other... the kissing narration?? learning her?? yeah. that tickled my brain. love the way oc has this playfulness during the entire thing,, meanwhile jungkook was losing his mind seeing her tits.

jealousy/communication

what's a kimi fic without her collateral damage hottie of the month ? first it was eunwoo/dex for c2u, mingyu for aao, and now it's dohwan for bed chem LOL. i think adding this and specifically my choice in who is coming in to play brings this relevancy into my fics that readers are able to laugh and relate to. brings connection yk!!

dohwan was so harmless ahahhaa. ngl, i think oc hearing jk fuck someone was like a "uh... omg. yikes.. i think i'm kinda jealous rn lol" moment but jk seeing a hickey on oc + being in a complicated state with her was a very "i want to die and i want you in the front row so you can see how much u hurt me and then i want u to cry over me,, only for me to beg god in the afterlife for another chance to live so i can comfort you" moment for him.

their communication/banter was such a big part of this fic. i think the plainness of their words held so much significance that after each line,, it felt like their tension would shift. again, specific word choice was really important. their banter and ongoing walking around their feelings was essential in keeping them (and readers) on their toes. their original ending was supposed to be this vague realization that they wanted to be together and the irony was that i wasn't supposed to write their smut scene and leave it as this tension filled open-ended fic,, but i'm glad i did what i did and gave them a definite ending.

some key lines i put into oc's dialogue was

"think i can do it? get you to want me?" to "i don't know how to have you" and finally; "i want you" was veryyyyyyy... premeditated. it gave this storyline through 3 lines and i really liked thatttt

the pavlov thing was funny as fuck cos again,, she's a psych major LOL. and the woof woof thing LOLLOLOL. very kimi core crackhead vibes

kiss, marry, fuck,, and kill;

you're so real and so funny for that HAHAHAA. protecting c2u jk fr cos that kid went thru so much chasing after c2u oc LOL

extra/ending note;

i'll think abt the extra!! i don't really think they have much left in terms of plot cos everything is basically all done... the friendgroup def knew smt was up but never said anything cos they mind their own business. i think it's pretty obvious as they 1) always sent oc to jk's room 2) teased them a lot 3) scolded them a lot esp taehyung

anyways,, u are literally the sweetest !!! i love receiving asks like this. i was afraid that ch5 would be too long and because there were so many scenes,, i felt like the significance of each one would be mushed up into one entire review/outcome. thank u for going into detail !!! i know a few readers say they read every word i write ,, so it's very rewarding to hear your thoughts with each scene and letting me yap from a writers/creative perspective

currently still recovering from being sick ,, finishing up my winter sem at school + preparing holiday related events for my preschool LOL. bed chem was so fun to write and i'm so incredibly blown away from the amount of love and support it has received in the past since i posted it. like... 1.7k already?? almost 1k on avg with each part?? uhhh... what the heck !!!

all in all,, i'm glad it fed everyones delulu mind. glad to know we're all ovulating together <3

i can't wait to share more fics with you all in 2025 😽💓

mwahh

kimi