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[radioactive-earthshine]

So.

I do have a lot of thoughts after seeing the Superman movie as a comic fan and I must say it really did deliver. I feel like this movie really had its heart in many of the comics, but adapted in a way that was digestible for the general public.

It has been the only recent DC film put out that didn't make me immediately want to rip my hair out.

A lot of what has already been said I would just be parroting at this point, but my worst fears (Guy just being the ASS and the JOKE of the movie) was incorrect. That was a GUY and every scene made my smile.

Until my thoughts are completely in order I'm just going to list off the things about this movie I genuinely loved.

⏬ Spoilers below ⏬

1.) EVERYONES performances. Everyone was so well in character and perfectly cast.

2.) The special effects, makeup, design, color, perfect.

3.) The story itself was relevant to today in a poignant way and it is very obvious why MAGA losers hate this film.

4.) Krypto was perfect - because he is just a dog. He's a super dog, not a super-smart dog! He's literally just. a. dog. I was worried this film was going to turn into a weird dog-training montage and I am glad it didn't.

5.) Krypto was literally perfect and I am glad I got to see a billionaire get mauled nearly to death by an animal.

6.) Lois really was perfection, she hit every single point I expected to see from Lois as her comic hero self. This wasn't Lois the love interest, this was Lois the super hero.

7.) I am so glad the movie cut in after Clark was already established as Superman and I didn't have to go through 40 minutes of origin story AGAIN. We know it, we don't need to see it again. He is already Superman with a connection to the other hero community. Done. We get him and love him immediately.

8.) Lex was really evil and I am glad for that because I feel like fandom in general generally always seems to forget that he is evil. Yeah I know Smallville season 1-4, yeah I know elseworlds, yeah know Clex baby clone bullshit forget that, yeah I know current comics he's in this weird space but listen forget that. He. Is. Evil. He is an evil, petty, envious, deeply insecure fearful billionaire. Full stop. The amount of people he cares about genuinely in terms of love can be counted on a couple fingers, and no, none of those people are Kon.

9.) Mr. Terrific's autism 💛💛💛💛

10.) Shayera's hawk screech 💛💛💛💛 HER EVERYTHING

11.) Guy Gardner's constructs.

12.) Jimmy Olsen being literally the catch of the day and absolutely irresistible. As he should be.

13.) The Daily Planet team in general was absolutely perfect and I love how they were also all superheroes and deeply instrumental in solving the real problem through journalism and THE TRUTH.

14.) The Kara reveal at the end was unexpected but a full on delight.

15.) I am glad that this movie really did say Hope Punk really is punk.

and finally but not lastly because there is more....

16.) I love, love, love Eve and how it was through her femininity and perceived stupidity/inferiority that allowed her to save the day - while Lex thought she was just being a silly self-absorbed trophy taking selfies, she had gathered everything they needed to win and tell the truth.

Anyway, go watch Superman 2025. It is signed off by me, a Superman comic fan who reads, and enjoys, the comics.

Oh and one more thing I liked.... No fucking Batman or any mention of him thank fuck.

[antithetical-bolter]

Out Of The Woods (3)

Hi besties!! I am overwhelmed in the best way by everyone's kind words and interest in this story. If I had to guess i would say it'll be between 7 and 10 chapters in total, but it's not outlined so we'll see what my lil brain cooks up. There's some more Robby POV in this one bc I felt like it was important to get a little look into his sweet but messed up head, pls tell me if you hate it or if it's unrealistic lmao

5.0k words | Pregnancy continues to wreak havoc on Iris's digestive system. Robby goes to therapy and begins the groveling process.

warnings: nausea, throwing up, unplanned pregnancy, excessive use of the word fuck, commas, and em dashes.

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page dividers by @cafekitsune

tag list: @snowflames-world @antisocialfiore @eviemonroeer @princessjayll @sizzlingkryptonitetale @two-bitkit @dizzybee03 @knifetotheback @nerdgirljen @legolas-the-homeschooled-elf @tradingtruthsforlies @robbyrosierobinavitch

(if you'd like to be added just lmk in the comments!)

Chapter 3

Iris

Rest is far harder to accomplish than I’d like it to be. Dana checks in on me a few times, and while I haven’t lost what little sustenance I’ve been able to keep down I am still nauseated as fuck. Sleep teases me with three minute stretches, consistently interrupted by nausea and full body sweats. Samira comes in around four and tells me she’s been tasked with seeing if I can tolerate any PO intake, and while I'm not thrilled about the idea I know it’s necessary. The crackers she’s holding up in front of me sounds lovely to my brain and seriously awful to my stomach. A small bite is all I can convince myself to take - and when I immediately start to dry heave we table the problem for the time being. 

“Dana and I think you should go home.” Samira tells me as she rubs slow circles on my back. That makes three of us, I swear I can hear my bathroom floor calling my name.

“Yeah I’d love that, but I’m not taking public transport like this and I’m not taking your car either.” The silence expands as she chews on her words before filling me in on whatever plan she and Dana seem to have hatched while I wasted away up here. 

“Uh, about that. We have a solution but I’m not sure you’re gonna like it.” She waits to see if I’m going to interject, but I really don’t have the energy right now so I just brace for whatever she’s about to suggest to me. “Jack will be here any minute to send Robby home so he can go to his appointment, he could very easily drop you off on his way there.” She’s right, I really don’t like that idea. But this bed is fucking uncomfortable and all I want is to be able to be miserable in my own space. 

“If that’s my only feasible option then I guess that’s fine, but he’s gonna have to pick me up out front. No way I trek through the ED like this.” It’s bad enough that I have to leave early at all - I’m not adding any fuel to the gossip fires that are bound to be raging on the floor below us. 

“I’m sure he’ll be fine with that. He’s been on our case about where you are the last few hours, he’s suspicious and definitely freaking out a little bit so I’m pretty sure you could get him to do literally anything you wanted.” God, if fucking only.

“That’s a reeaallly long list, Samira. But we’ll start with picking me up out front and getting some therapy and go from there.” Her phone is already out and I don’t have to look to know she’s texting Dana. We sit in silence for a few minutes, me focusing on remaining upright and Samira texting her co-conspirator back and forth. My eyes are just starting to droop, my head leaning on her shoulder when the door opens again. I expect it to be Dana with my stuff, but it’s Robby. My backpack is slung on the shoulder opposite his own pack and he looks like he ran up here - is breathing like he sprinted up the stairs. The words he’s trying to spit out sound suspiciously like ‘are you okay’ and ‘I’ve been worried about you’ and I just really do not have the emotional bandwidth for that right now, so my sense of self preservation kicks in and I interrupt his half formed statements of concern.

“Alright let’s get this show on the road, I miss my bed.” My legs are a little shaky underneath me as I stand and orient myself to being vertical again but I don’t feel nearly as faint as I did earlier. 

“Yeah, uhm yeah the car’s already out front so I’m ready when you are.” Robby stammers out as he comes to stand beside me, apparently not trusting my legs as much as I do. Not unfair but I’m still a little annoyed about it. I turn to face Samira, intending to thank her for all of her help but she beats me to the punch.

“I’ll swing by and check on you after I get off tonight, okay? I’ll just let myself in and come up so you don’t have to move.” 

“Sounds good, thanks Samira.” I turn towards Robby as I continue talking, now addressing him. “Let’s get a move on before I puke in your car.” He nods furiously in agreement, and pulls out a few fresh emesis bags from his pocket and hands them to me. Honestly great forethought from him, a simple solution but one that is definitely beyond my own brain's capabilities right now. 

We take one elevator and then walk about fifty steps out to the suburban, and it exhausts me. I don’t fight Robby as he puts a hand on my right hip and helps me get up into the car and then reaches around me to buckle my seatbelt. To my immense surprise and even greater relief, I’m dozing before the car starts to move. 

I wake up again to Robby opening up my car door, gently coaxing me back into the land of the living. That less than fifteen minute drive was the longest uninterrupted sleep I’ve gotten all day and it was nowhere near enough.

“Hey, honey, we’re at yours. Your bed awaits.” Fuck if that’s not the best thing I’ve heard all day. I accept his offered hand as I slide onto the ground and turn to walk inside. I make it as far as the porch, punching in my door code, so damn close to safety before I lose what little I’ve kept down this afternoon. Robby is quick with the emesis bag and he holds my hair back as puke. 

I manage to choke out “I need to sit down,” before I attempt to ease myself to the floor. Attempt being the keyword, because really Robby catches me and brings me down to sit against him as I catch my breath. I always cry when I throw up, but I’m crying for more than that right now. “This is fucking awful, god dammit.” He takes the used bag from my hands, twists it closed and sets it to the side before pulling a package of wipes seemingly out of thin air and wiping my face for me. “Thanks.” I croak out, feeling like speaking is far more effort than it’s worth. 

“Maybe I should stay…” He starts to speak, but no way am I letting him miss his therapy appointment for this. Absolutely the fuck not - I’d like for him to continue to take care of me like this but that isn’t happening unless he goes to fucking therapy. 

“No, Robby. Help me upstairs and make sure I’m settled and then go to your appointment. Seriously - I will be okay for a bit. It’s already almost five and Samira will be here when she’s off and I promise I’ll sleep in the recovery position. No aspiration risk here.” I sleep on my side naturally, which has really been working in my favor the last few weeks. And honestly if I continue to puke I won’t be sleeping anyway so really it won’t matter. 

Apparently I’ve managed to make my voice strong enough to get my point across because he doesn’t argue with me. Just quietly agrees before adjusting so that he’s holding me around the shoulders and under my knees and moves to a standing position. If I wasn’t still quite sick and trying to enforce boundaries with him I would let myself acknowledge that it’s pretty fucking hot that he can move so well while holding me like this - but I am trying to enforce boundaries with him so that thought gets quickly filed away for later use. 

Once we make it up the stairs and into my room, he sets me down near the edge of the bed and prompts me to sit down. 

“Pick out your pajamas and get changed, I’m gonna go get your bag and make sure you have everything you need up here.” He observes me just long enough to confirm I won’t be passing out on him before he heads back downstairs. 

I feel a little better after slipping on my favorite Noah Kahan concert t-shirt and comfy sleeping underwear, enough so that I’m able to stand at the sink long enough to brush my teeth and quickly wash my face. 

As I open the door to my bathroom and slowly make my way back to my bed, I take in what he’s brought up for me. A whole pile of emesis bags, a garbage bag for any used ones, tissues, mouthwash (where did he get that??), my water bottle and a bottle of glacier cherry gatorade. He has the covers pulled back and ready for me, and I not-so-gracefully flop onto my pillows. Robby pulls the covers up around my shoulders and kneels down next to the bed. 

“Alright I’ve gotta go if I’m gonna make my 5:15 appointment time. I know Samira will be here after shift change but would it be okay with you if I drop in on you on my way home? Would be around 6:30 or so.” 

“Uhh yeah sure, I guess. But I won’t be getting up. The door code is 474713. If I’m sleeping, don’t wake me up. I’ll be pissed about it.” He laughs a little bit at that, and I’m glad I’m feeling well enough to joke a little bit. A good sign, all things considered. 

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be quiet. I’ll leave my phone on silent during the appointment but if anything comes up call three times an-“

”It’ll override the do not disturb, I know how it works. If for some reason I need someone here that badly I will call three times but I doubt I’ll need to. Go, you’re gonna be late if you stay much longer.” 

“I know, I’m going. If you come up with anything you need between now and me coming back just text me, I can stop at the store for you.” 

“I will. Thanks, Robby. Now seriously - go. I’m not fucking around about this and being late to your establishing appointment isn’t a great way to start out.” He sighs and nods his head like he’s resigned himself to his fate. His left hand lands on the edge of my bed as he pushes himself to a standing position, running the other over my hair before he turns to leave. 

Sleep gives me a measly thirty second taste of relief while he’s gone. It’s the opposite of restful and I’m once again on the verge of tears - this time from exhaustion. 

At 6:15 on the dot my phone starts to buzz. 

Robby (6:15pm)

Walking out now, you awake? Need anything?”

Iris (6:16pm)

against my will, but yeah I’m awake nothing off the top of my head

Robby (6:17pm)

Alright, I’ll be there soon. Just gotta make one stop on my way. 

I thumbs up his text and close my eyes, trying my damndest to fall into a real sleep. It does not happen and by the time I hear my front door open I have unwillingly started crying. Again. I swear - this kid is going to make me emotionally unstable before they even get here. Robby finds me sitting on the edge of my bed, water in hand, sobbing like someone just died. 

“Hey, hey, Iris, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” The bed dips as he sits down next to me and puts an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. 

“I’m, i-“ I pause to take a deep breath, but all I can manage is a gasp, “I’m just so fucking tired, but I can’t sleep and I feel like I’m going insane.” A few more sobs before I get the rest of it out. “Everytime I lay down my stomach gets upset again but I can’t get comfy sitting up and all I want is some fucking sleep!” The last part comes out as more of a yell than I intend it to, but Robby takes it in stride.

”That sucks, I’m sorry. Wish I could fix it for you.” My shoulders shrug, and I’m a little disappointed in myself as I realize that him being here is making me calmer. Especially as I recall that the only actual sleep I’ve gotten today was in his car. Fucking pregnancy hormones, making me all soft for the man responsible for said hormones. ”I can’t fix it, but maybe we move down to the couch for a bit? We can sit up and I can rub your back and if you fall asleep on me then I’ll just let you sleep?” Yes, please.

“You don’t have to do that, I’m sure you’re tired and ready to go home.” And maybe if he leaves I’ll feel a little less like he’s the only thing keeping me stable.

”Nah, I’m at least half the reason that you’re feeling like this anyway so the least I can do is stick around and suffer with you if it comes to that.” Or maybe it’s okay that he’s keeping me stable - he is partially responsible for my current state of being, afterall. 

“Well when you put it like that… Just let me splash some water on my face and I’ll be down.��� And take a few minutes to reign it in - it’s nice that he’s here and showing up but I don’t want to get my hopes up too high. 

“Do you want to try and eat? It’s been long enough since your last zofran that you could have another if you wanted.”

“Yeah I should probably try, there’s some of my favorite ramen in the pantry and it’s usually pretty tummy-friendly so I’ll give that a go I guess.” 

“I’ll go get it started while you make your way downstairs. Take your time, okay?” I take a fortifying breath and nod against his shoulder before pushing myself into a standing position and walking to my bathroom. Robby stays in the room long enough to make sure I’m steady on my feet, and once I close the door I hear him walking down the stairs and rummaging around in the kitchen. While sitting down to pee I quickly fire off a text to Samira, letting her know that Robby is here and that she can skip the check in visit tonight. She doesn’t respond, likely busy being a doctor and all that, but I know that I’ll be getting the fifth degree from both her and Dana the next time I see them. Five minutes later, bladder freshly emptied and face washed of tears, I slowly make my way downstairs. I expect to see Robby in my kitchen, but I don’t expect to see the massive bouquet sitting on my counter. It’s so big that I have to walk around it in order to make eye contact with him. 

“Uh, wow. What are these for?” I can hazard a guess, but I’d like to hear him say it. So much for reigning it in. 

”Well I realized that I never actually told you that I’m pretty fucking thrilled about you having my baby, so these are ‘I’m sorry, I’m a fucking idiot and also thank you for giving me the best gift anyone has ever given me’ flowers.” That gets a real laugh out of me, and all of a sudden I’m feeling a lot better. No less exhausted but a little hit of joy gives me a second wind. 

“Wow, that’s a pretty loaded bunch of flowers. They’re beautiful, thank you. I tentatively accept your apology.” A visible wave of relief washes over his face as I finish speaking, and it has me feeling pretty damn hopeful. ”And for the record, I’m excited too. Scared out of my fucking mind, but in a good way I think?” He nods and laughs lightly, reaching out to pull me in for a hug with one arm as he stirs my ramen with the other. I go willingly, folding myself into his side. We both take steadying deep breaths - me because I’m exhausted and my emotions have run quite the gambit the last few hours. I can’t speak to why he needs a few deep inhales before speaking, but I can only guess that he’s remembering the last time we hugged and how it ended with me kicking him out and sobbing on the floor of my entryway. 

“I’m glad to hear that.” He pulls me in just a little tighter, his arm lightly running up and down my side. 

“In a day or two we can talk some more, but tonight is not the night for me to have any heavy conversations if that’s okay with you. Maybe we just put on a movie and eat and then hope I fall asleep?” I want to hear about therapy, as much as he’ll tell me, but I fear if we try to talk tonight that I will either be a bitch or just cry and neither of those are things I want to do. Healthy emotional regulation or whatever.

“Sounds perfect. Go get set up on the couch, I'll bring your meds and food over to ya in just a sec.” I step out of his hold as he moves to grab two bowls for the soup, and as I watch him get everything together for me it’s impossible to squash that hopeful, romantic voice currently making itself known in my head.

Robby

Iris finishes and keeps down the ramen, much to my relief. It’s not uncommon to lose a little weight in the first trimester but it still hurts me to see her feel so terrible. While we eat I turn on her TV and ask what she’d like to have on, but she just shrugs. I make an executive decision and put on Parks and Rec, knowing it’s one of her favorites. This seems to be the right choice as it earns me the biggest, most genuine smile she’s given me in months. 

Once she finishes eating I take our dirty dishes and load them into her dishwasher alongside the pot I used to cook. As insurance I grab a few emesis bags and put them within arms reach, though I hope she won’t need them. I’m not sure how much cuddling she’d like to do - I did offer to rub her back while she tries to fall asleep but I don’t want to force her into physical contact if that’s not what she wants. She decides for me, patting the cushion right next to her on the couch. Her legs are extended onto the L shaped portion, so I sit in the middle right next to her. Immediately after I sit down, she leans into me. That seems like invitation enough so I put my right arm around her shoulders and pull her close, resisting the urge to lay a kiss on her hair. I honestly was not sure if she’d ever want to be close to me like this again so I just enjoy the feeling of her pressed against me. 

Therapy this evening was just as hard as I expected it to be. Carson, the guy Jack referred me to, seems competent. While I did not enjoy it I can see the benefits and will make an honest to god effort to give it the time it deserves. Seeing how badly my actions hurt Iris fucking gutted me so if this is the solution for making sure I never cause her to feel like that again then I will show up and participate. 

It’s been hard for me not to draw parallels between Iris and Heather, and it’s not lost on me that had she decided to terminate the two situations would be even more similar. As I’ve gotten older, I just assumed that kids were not in the cards for me. Jake and I are on better terms but still slightly rocky ground - and after Heather filled me in on the day of Pitt Fest I figured my fate was all but sealed. Iris has been the biggest surprise and blessing, and now that there’s a kid on the way I feel like the luckiest guy on the whole fucking planet. 

She caught me off guard, we’ve always been friendly but our shifts have never overlapped all that much due to her having been on nights the past few years. A schedule change right after Pitt Fest last year brought her to days full time and we became fast friends. I’d had a little crush on her for the months leading up to Jesse’s birthday party - but seeing her walk in the door wearing the cutest fucking dress, her hair down and laughing made me realise that my feelings were stronger than I thought. Two drinks gave me the courage to flirt with her, and she seemed to be feeling it as well so going home with her felt natural. 

I spent a lot of my session tonight talking about how much I regret leaving that morning, and while I know it’s because I’m afraid Carson made me dig into it a little bit. Being scared is not a feeling I can fix overnight, but I can change my actions. It seems so fucking obvious to me now - but showing up scared is half the fucking battle. So, here I am. Showing up fucking terrified. Scared that she’ll never want to be in a relationship and that co-parents is all we’ll ever be, scared because I'm definitely in love with this woman, scared that these feelings seemed to appear out of nowhere and hit me like a mac truck. 

When she’s ready to talk, I’ll tell her whatever she wants to know. But for now, if all she wants is for me to hold her and cook for her, then that’s what I’ll do. Happily and to the best of my ability. 

Her voice pulls me out of my head and back into the room.

“Thanks for cooking for me tonight, it’s nice to have you here.” The blush that I feel heating my face is entirely out of my control and I’m glad she’s facing the TV.

“No need to thank me, if anything I should be thanking you for letting me be here.” She doesn’t respond verbally, just snuggles in a little closer and I swear I feel my heart bursting at the seams. “You comfy like this?” 

“Eh kinda, maybe you scoot this way so we can at least kinda be at an angle? I’ve never been able to sleep fully sitting up.” I follow her instructions, moving so that I'm fully on the same cushion as her and no longer sitting up completely straight. My legs join hers on the L-shaped extension of the couch and she rearranges so her top half is molded to my side and her legs are tangled in with mine. Sleeping upright is historically not great for my neck, but I will happily endure a little bit of soreness if it means getting to have her draped over me all night. 

The next episode of our show plays as she settles in and I toss a blanket over us, and she tells me it’s one of her favorites from the series. Something about the flu and Ann being her nurse spirit animal.  Despite that, she falls asleep before the episode is even halfway over. I stay awake a while longer, making it through three more episodes before I decide she’s asleep enough for me to rest as well. If she wakes up feeling sick it will inevitably wake me but it seems like she’s going to be able to continue to catch up on some much needed sleep. I let myself lay a gentle kiss on the top of her head as I silently thank my lucky stars that I have somehow earned her trust enough to be here. 

Iris

Fuck, it’s hot in here. My place tends to run cold (because I keep the thermostat at 66 year round) but I am currently sweating like a dog. I peel my eyes open, unwillingly bringing myself back into consciousness. It becomes immediately obvious why it’s so hot in here. Robby is already awake, and I can feel his arm running over my back in very light touches. My head is resting on the junction of his shoulder and neck, and I’m all but on top of him. One of my legs is bracketed between both of his and I can feel the heat seeping out of his hands and into my back. I’m not sure how long I slept, but it’s still dark out so it can’t have been that long. 

“What time is it?” I ask him after clearing my throat a few times, sitting forward a bit so I can look at him.

“Uhh, just about 2am I think.” 

“Shit, I’m sorry for nap trapping you here for so long, I'm okay now if you wanna go home and sleep in your own bed.” His expression shifts from tired and affection to looking at me like I’ve lost it. 

“There’s literally nowhere else I'd rather be. You’re gonna have to pry me off this couch with a crowbar if you want me to go. And besides, seems like good practice for being nap-trapped when our little one shows up.” A sleepy laugh tumbles out of me and he leans over to kiss the top of my head. Between that and him saying ‘our little one’ I’m about to melt into the couch - and not because he’s a human heated blanket.

“I’m so glad to hear that but I really need to pee…” He immediately lets go and shifts to help me up, making sure I’m stable on my feet and pointing me in the direction of my downstairs bathroom. While I’m sitting down, I check my phone to see if Samira texted me back. 

Samira (7:47pm) Omg what!! Okay I will go home but call me if you need me. Also expect to give me all the details soon

Iris (2:17am)

He came back after therapy and cooked for me, we fell asleep on the couch and I begrudgingly admit it’s the best sleep i’ve gotten in weeks And he got me the biggest bouquet i’ve literally ever seen

I slip my phone back into my pocket and wash my hands before going back out into the living room. Robby is up and moving, having found two glasses and filled them both with water. He is just finishing his as I come out, and he heads to use the bathroom himself. I drink my water slowly, not wanting to risk waking the beast that is my ever present nausea. A little bit of a rumble occurs just as I finish my first sip but seems to stay at bay after that, so I walk to my pantry and grab a packet of saltines to nibble on. 

Robby exits the bathroom to find me eating a cracker with so much caution it’s almost laughable. 

“If that stays down, want something more substantial?” I do, I’m actually fucking starving, but I don’t want to get my hopes up. 

“Yeah but I’ll let you know, don’t wanna rush it.” He gives me a thumbs up and he refills his water glass and comes to stand beside me. We exist in companionable silence while I work on my cracker and I can tell he’s trying not to stare at me. “What? I can feel you looking at me.”

“Nothing, uh, I’m just really glad you’re feeling better.” I stay silent, knowing that’s not all he has to say but letting him take his time getting it out. “Andyoulookreallygoodinthatshirt” comes racing out of his mouth and it takes me a few seconds to process what he says. Once I do, I lean up and kiss his cheek. He turns tomato red and it’s endearing as fuck. 

“Thanks, glad you’re a fan.” I tell him before taking the last bite of my saltine. 

“Most definitely a fan.” The t-shirt with just boyshort underwear definitely was not meant to impress him but it’s a nice confidence boost that he’s clearly still attracted to me even after having to hold my hair while I puked. 

“Seems like my stomach is going to cooperate for now, and I'm feeling kinda hungry.” “Yeah? That’s great. What do you want?” I mull over his question for a bit before landing on an answer. 

“Meh I could go for some more ramen, I don’t really have a lot in the house since I’ve been feeling so shitty the last few weeks. And I don’t wanna ask you to cook for me in the middle of the night.” My parents were solidly in the ingredients household camp, and old habits must die hard because the only things in my pantry and fridge require cooking. 

“We both just got 6 plus hours of sleep, I’m gonna be up for a bit anyways. What do you want to eat? I really don’t mind cooking.” I’m very glad to hear him say that, I probably would’ve ended up cooking for myself anyway because apparently my cravings have decided to make themselves known now that the nausea was less in the forefront. And I lowkey hate cooking. Baking? Great. Baking is chemistry - an exact science. Cooking? Based on vibes and estimates? Not my forte. 

“Some pasta, I have some alfredo sauce and parmesan. Oh, and some bread! And maybe some pickles.” He smiles and chuckles at my enthusiasm, leaning in to kiss the top of my head.

“I can do that. You go sit, I’ll bring it to you.” He’s looking at me like I’ve never seen before, all soft and fondly. Like he actually wants to be here, cooking for me, far past midnight the night after a shift. I’m inclined to believe him. 

[calmcoldevening]

What are the slashers red and green flags?

Slashers GREEN and RED flags

Michael Myers

🔴 He's often not at home, especially during the Halloween season.

🔴 He might be a little obsessed with his little sister, but that's not certain.

🔴 Chocolate and other sweets tend to disappear quickly in his house.

🟢 He would never cheat on you.

🟢 He's not particularly jealous, and if someone bothers you, he'll just kill them and come back to hug you.

🟢 He values silence and personal space.

🟢 He won't become an alcoholic, drug addict, cheater, womanizer, or anything else.

Jason Voorhees

🔴He's quite shy and fearful

🔴 A mama's boy (he listens to "mother's voice" in his head, so you need to be careful with this)

🔴 Unconfident

🟢 Protective, loving, and gentle

🟢 A big hugging pillow

🟢 A good listener (but don't expect an answer or sensible advice)

🟢 An eco-friendly boy! He lives in nature, in the fresh air, protects you from "pests," and makes sure you eat well

Bubba Sawyer

🔴 He gets easily overstimulated and needs rest (but the fact that he needs your cuddles isn't so bad, right)

🔴 Quite emotional and sensitive, sometimes he can't explain to you what he wants to say, even with gestures

🔴 A slob, especially his workspace in the basement. His brothers didn't take good care of him, so it will take you some time to teach him cleanliness.

🟢 He's a very creative and gentle baby!

🟢 A family guy. If you want a big family, even with children, he's the right guy for you! Bubba knows how to take care of children, at least those over the age of two.

🟢 He's very diverse! You wake up with your boyfriend in the morning, and he falls asleep with a caring woman in the evening! (He's wearing a pretty lady mask) Role-playing in bed is guaranteed!

🟢 Your pet puppy who follows you obediently everywhere.

Thomas Hewitt

🔴 Jealous. He's pretty insecure, so he's afraid someone might steal you away from him.

🔴 You'll have to eat human meat.

🔴 Relatives 3/10 (Hoyt 2/10, Monty 5/10, Luda 9/10), so yeah, there's a problem. Although it's not his fault, of course.

🟢 Hardworking. He can fix anything, and he can do anything.

🟢 Modest. The ideal man, right? Doesn't brag (although he's very happy that you're dating him)

🟢 Loyal and family-oriented boy. Once he loves you, it's forever. He's a one-woman man

🟢 Protective

Vincent Sinclair

🔴 Modest and insecure (why are they all like this?)

🔴 Under the pressure of his twin brother

🟢 He's an excellent artist and sculptor. You'll be his muse

🟢 He always has time for you. He's a master of romance. You can sit and cuddle, watch the sunrise, and admire the stars

🟢 He's a great cook.

🟢 He's a very gentle and attentive boy.

🟢 You're the only one for him.

Bo Sinclair

🔴 Black humor and hard jokes (it's fun, but if you're too sensitive, it's a minus)

🔴 Problems with his mother. Well... he might compare you to her or complain about his bad childhood to you

🔴 Problems with anger. It's just... well... yeah

🟢 He'll just pick you up and carry you wherever you need to go. If he likes you, he doesn't care about your appearance; you're his treasure, and everyone else is a pathetic bitch

🟢 No matter what kind of bastard he is, he is a family-oriented and loyal person.

🟢 A handsome and charismatic bastard

Mark Hoffman

🔴 He may suddenly disappear for a few days without warning, because he's busy helping John.

🔴 He's not in the best of moods. At the beginning of your relationship, his "mood" meant that you should leave and leave him alone. Now, it means "baby, I'm tired, give me a hug, please." He also needs support, don't forget that.

🔴 He works late and drinks a lot of coffee and alcohol. However, your presence in his life may make his existence a little better.

🟢 Loving and understanding. He will put every problem of yours through himself, listen and support.

🟢 In his eyes you are beautiful, so he will make you forget all your complexes. You have no flaws, baby, only more reasons to love you

🟢 You have seen those lips, right? This is definitely a green flag. Dreaming of those lips

🟢 He will always have your back. No matter what, just call him and he will solve everything

🟢 Princess/princ treatment

Bughuul

🔴 Well.. he's a demon

🔴 He doesn't have a face

🔴 He has a lot of children who will demand your attention. Although time flows differently in his world, the children's energy is exhausting. But it keeps you from getting bored.

🔴 He's in every photo. When you develop or view your photos, he's always there, wrapping his arms around your waist. Baby, I know you love us, but we need a photo with us alone, without you!!

🟢 He has children, so you don't have to make them yourself, baby. But if you have it, he will be happy

🟢 A devoted, loyal, and wise man

🟢 Wears nice suits

🟢 Always by your side. Literally. Even if you can't see him, that shadow behind you is watching your safety

🟢 Quiet and unobtrusive, he has a gentle and calm love

🟢 He doesn't care about age or appearance. He truly loves with his soul. And even when you're 80, he won't leave you (although by then you'll be eternally young in his world, yes)

🟢 He's quite an intelligent man who loves art

Billy Loomis

🔴 Jealous as hell. Literally kills someone because they laughed too loudly at your joke

🔴 Psychologically unstable (although he has a calm face)

🔴 Loves blood, no matter whose. He might cut you for fun

🔴 He has problems with his family

🟢 He's a good listener and pays attention to details. If you mention that you like purple, he'll find purple roses for you

🟢 To some extent, he's a prince on a white horse. When he truly loves, he'll go to great lengths for you

🟢 You can watch cool horror movies with this guy, and he knows his way around them

Stu Macher

🔴 He's too cheerful and too unserious.

🔴 He quickly forgets what you said. He had trouble remembering your birthday (Billy put a date sticker on his front door).

🟢 He's a fun and lively guy, and you'll never get bored with him.

🟢 He's a cute and shy little guy (of course, that's just a facade. Beneath it lies a passionate tiger who loves caramel popcorn).

🟢 He spends all the money he has on you. Don't worry, they won't end soon.

[crystalela]

crestfallen on the landing, champagne problems by mortina has destroyed any lestappen secret kid trope for me with how breathtaking it is and how much it makes me want to cry myself to death but also tattoo its quotes to my soul and scream at the pillow because of Aslan.

It also got me making up scenarios of his f1 career in my head as he got older and because my brain cannot faction normally I started to make him friends.

One of them that is his best friend is non other than the daughter of Nico and Lewis, who are basically that divorced couple coparenting that the only time they agree on anything is about their daughter ( Does any of this have anything to do with the fic? No but fuck it we are rolling with it because my brain said so).

After that, I saw a couple of brocedes edits and they destroyed me. And for some reason, the concept I had made up in my head basically, intertwined with them after I saw that one edit of brocerdes with Taylor Swift's "Midnight Rain" song in it and it became one.

So Nico and Lewis have a daughter(let's name her Aurora) and she is also into racing but because she is a girl, trying to get into f1 is difficult since they haven't been any girls in it yet but she is determined. Aslan, her and the youngest son of Sebastian Vettel (let's call him Arthur) all race together since they were kids(don't ask me how that works I'm free balling it here).

Like I said they all have been friends since kids and get to F1 as rookies about if not the same time and Aurora becomes the first woman to do so at 18 years old.

Now the thing is that Arthur and Aurora are together and they have been with each other for a long time so everyone knows that they are together from f2 before they go to f1.

And they all love them, they are basically high school sweethearts-not even high school more like middle school sweethearts since they start dating at 14 so when they come as rookies they are thought of as the young cute couple. But after one or two seasons where they have all 3 proved their worth as legacy kids and become individually well respected (especially Aurora as the first woman in F1 and the only as of now, who basically opened the door for other women in the sport ), they all are taken more seriously and Arthur and Aurora basically become the Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake of F1-it's golden power couple. Especially after Arthur gets signed to Red Bull and Aurora and Aslan to Mercedes (Maybe Ferrari because Lewis and Charles parallels but I like them better in Mercedes because brocerdes parallels🤪-they are basically the brocerdes that friendship doesn't get fucked up✨).

So they are like what? 5 seasons in their f1 career and they are the 3 favorites for the championship. (Aslan won the year before and while Mercedes gives them the same car and doesn't have a first driver, they do prioritize the one with better pole position).

Just a reminder that those are legacy kids and while their fathers didn't abuse them(*cough*Jos Verstappen *cough*) they are still beasts on track by nature.

Now, every one of them wants the win but Aurora wants it because look, she is the only female driver there and while she has been a runner up for the championship the last 3 seasons, being a powerhouse to her own right and is respect by the other drivers and most of the fans there is still the reporters and FIA who make her life a living hell( because well misogyny and maybe something else since not only is she a woman but a woman of color👀) so she wants that win to basically prove that she deserves to be here and mostly as a fuck you to everyone (and because she like every driver has an ego bigger that the moon and wants to be known as the first female champion since she has the opportunity to).

They have been fighting for the championship (they be called like The War Of The Triple As or something like that, you find a cooler name ) Aslan has the lead by like 20 points but after an accident happens where he crashes badly and breaks his hand (I think I have seen this film before 😢) he needs 3 weeks off which gives the lead to Aurora and Arthur and the Brocerdes era of the relationship begins.

We are talking about big mindfuck games, manipulation, using rumors sometimes even engineering failures and safety cars to get ahead of each other. They crash, they fight, they walk off cooldown rooms the moment the other comes and give each other the silent treatment sometimes they even be petty on interviews (poor Aslan just watching it all unfold). There are reports saying they have broke up every single day,even tho through everything they never do but the things are bad like catastrophically bad (brocerdes watching them at their homes and getting war flashbacks even tho this two aren't even on the same team).

Then comes the last race for the championship at Abu Dhabi. The Champion will literally be determined from the race because they both one point apart and every one of them just looks destroyed.

Aslan looks sad, (not only for the hand that cost him the championship but also for the whole thing happening between Aurora and Arthur) Aurora is stressed and angry(at herself, at Arthur, at the world, she doesn't really know. Maybe at everything) and Arthur is just tired, he is so tired like emotionally, physically, he looks straight up destroyed and with such hatred in his eyes at everything.

Moments before the race Aurora and Arthur have one of their now normal heated conversations which Arthur stops before it escelates and looks her straight in the eye and in that moment tells her two things: One. No matter the outcome of this race, championship or not, he is going to retire and Second. He asks her to marry him.

She doesn't known how to take it, she is so overwhelmed by the emotions that she feels in this moment, the love that she has for this man but she was never one for settling down and she knew that if she says yes she will have to because she sees the look in Arthur's eyes, the pure disgust he feels for the sport they once both loved and she knows that she can't make him come and witness it all again and again just for her. Arthur could never ask her to quit, he could be there for her but he could just end up resenting her as much as he resents the sport and she could start to resent him if she had to quit it for him. There isn't a scenario where He and Her don't end up miserable together. So for herself and for him she says no. She says No because HE deserves the peaceful life of the house with the garden and the kids and because SHE deserves to do what she loves, the titles, the trophies, the Championships. She deserves to race for the women who weren't able to, for the women who didn't have her luck and for the teenagers and the little girls watching as she gives them hope of accomplishing their own dreams. And just like that Formula 1's Golden Couple broke up. Not in the very public blow out fight the world excepted for them but in a quite supply closet with both being to exhausted to utter a word.

Literally moments after they are on track fighting each other for the win, an angry battle breaks out but Aurora catches herself making little mistakes from being destructed (like who can blame the girl her whole life got destroyed not 1 hour ago) and while it isn't anything major since Arthur has been making his own mistakes, it is what does the difference. Arthur wins by half of a second. Arthur Cerberus Vettle was The World Champion. For one moment alive He Was The Greatest In The World. Job Done.

Aurora was furious. Because why could he say to her that she was the only one who knew? Why could he ask her before the race the question? Why? Just why? To Aurora as she was hearing the german anthem the question was obvious to her. He did it to destruct her. Of course he did, why else wouldn't he ask after? That's the shit they have been doing from the beginning, the fucking mind games they have been playing with each other to secure a win, why couldn't he do it in the most important win of it all? The moment the anthem stopped Aurora in her anger walked off as fast as she could, ignoring reporters , toto and Mercedes team and closed herself in the closet. The same closet it happened. And she started to cry about everything she lost to this day.

She feel asleep from the cries and woke up from the noise at the other side of the door. Aslan came to find her and he told her that she never showed up for the post interview and that Arthur basically pulled a Nico and announced his retirement after winning. They have a heart to heart about what happened.

Five years later. Abu Dhabi. Last race of the season. Aurora Hamilton - Rosberg becomes a 3 Times World Champion. And who is there to watch it? Arthur FUCKING Vettle. With his WIFE and KID. In the end both got what they wanted but at what cost?

So as you can see I am not OK since I am crying in my pillow for two characters that my brain created at 2 am. I need help.

[chiqita]

Show-your-WIP-Sundas <3

I was tagged by @theoneandonlysemla and I'm making it everyone's problem! /jk

No pressure tagging @skyrim-forever @hircines-hunter @sunlightpassingthroughthewater @labskeever @sulphuricgrin @solcaeruleus @umbracirrus @dirty-bosmer @friend-of-giants @madam-whim @silly-little-diary @heavy-metal-dick @pocket-vvardvark @pyre-of-pages and YOU.

Anyone's free to tag me, as always! Love seeing people's works. :)

So uhh I was going to update Where the Tides Meet this week but I guess it'll be next week. :)

CW: Violence, blood and gore

Talisse loosed one arrow before realizing the futility—there was no safe distance here. The open space was crowded and chaotic, her bow suddenly more a liability than a weapon. She drew it on her shoulder and switched to a dagger, her heart hammering in her ribs. She wasn’t built for fights like these. To her left, Rellus was already in motion—swinging hard, fast, with a furious rhythm. His strikes weren’t just calculated—they were violent and personal. He fought like a man possessed. One Forsworn rushed him and he met the blow with brute strength, catching the man’s axe on the flat of his sword and shoving him backward. But Rellus overextended—left side exposed. A second attacker lunged and struck. The axe hit his ribs with a heavy thunk. His armor held, but the force knocked the wind out of him. He snarled, twisted, and with one vicious sideward arc, he cleaved clean through the Forsworn’s neck. Blood sprayed the stone in a fine mist as the body fell. Rellus staggered and spat to the side, his eyes blazing with something feral. He was fighting like a man burning through grief, like every Forsworn was a stand-in for the ones who had taken his mentor. Talisse couldn’t breathe for a moment, bile almost rose to her mouth because of the stench of sizzling flesh. Her senses spun, overwhelmed by sound and heat and movement. In the chaos, she didn’t see the Forsworn rushing her until it was almost too late.

She turned, barely fast enough to register the sword coming down—and then hands seized her and she was pulled sideways—hard. A sharp tug on her arm, a blur of motion, and she slammed into a solid chest.  Ondolemar. He yanked her sideways, pulling her flush against his chest as the blade swept through the space where her neck had been. Her head hit the curve of his shoulder, and for a second, everything froze. Then came the fire. Behind them, the Forsworn’s momentum carried him forward, right into Ondolemar’s waiting hand. He didn’t even glance at the enemy, his fingers already aglow with searing blaze. The spell ignited in an instant—a sudden, roaring inferno—engulfing the charging Forsworn in a wave of flame. The man screamed, his skin blistering, fur armor catching, and the air filled with the pungent reek of burnt hair and meat, acrid and suffocating. Talisse held on—fists clenched in Ondolemar’s robes, her breath short and shaking. She realized she was trembling from the close brush with death. But he stood like a statue, unmoved, until the screams stopped and the man crumpled in a smoldering heap. Then he pushed her away firmly, like a soldier returning to duty, and she stumbled back, hitting the stone wall just as another Forsworn charged from the firelight. Ondolemar turned and met him with a defensive spell—oakflesh blooming across his skin in a ripple of glowing bark. He didn’t flinch as the man’s weapon struck. But Talisse moved first. She took out her bow and swung it low, catching the Forsworn’s shins mid-sprint. He buckled forward—and Rellus was there in the next heartbeat, sword driving straight through the man’s chest. The body hit the floor and didn’t move again.

[thelaurenshippen]

#i sent these to maddy last night but im still thinking about it. like ms shippen speak to me how much of this is style slipping through and#how much is intentionallllll via @ispyspookymansion

HI HELLO I normally try to not just barge into analysis/meta posts on here because tumblr is a fan space and I always want to respect that but if you genuinely want me to comment on this I would love to because I LOVE THIS POST AND YOUR TAGS SO MUCH

to answer your question: I'm glad the cornbread parallel set you on your parallel-finding path because that was 100000% intentional. pretty much all the parallels in season 4 were written with intention. I don't remember exactly where it happened, but sometime in season 3 I had the realization that Sam and Damien were actually a lot more alike than I had initially conceived.

you are spot-on with your analysis of internal vs. external and the fact that they don't know how to be people and the control aspect! they both seek control, sometimes over all else. when confronted with something difficult, Mark wants to run away and both Sam and Damien are like "well, surely, I can grip so tightly to this problem that I can change it, who cares if I make myself and everyone I care about miserable in the process". neither of them really believe they're capable of being loved - Damien because it's never real and Sam because if she loves and is loved in return, she'll surely destroy it - so when they fall in love they, uh, behave badly.

so of COURSE a huge piece of the parallel comes from the fact that Damien fell in love with Mark and, uh, he was not supposed to do that. when the idea to have Damien kidnap Mark crystallized (after Charlie suggested Damien break Mark out of The AM, an idea I loved), he was supposed to be a sort of dark mirror for Mark and a way to explore what Mark had gone through in The AM/a way for Mark to get some of his own agency back by ultimately taking the reins from Damien. and he still was those things, but when we sat down and recorded a first take of episode 303, the chemistry just popped OFF. we finished that first take and the three of us looked at each other and were like "uh....I guess we're going in this direction now?" so the way in which Damien falls in love with Mark and how that complicates the Sam and Mark of it all, and what both Sam and Damien are looking for in Mark and vice versa...a lot of that came from the natural chemistry between Andrew and Charlie.

and the three of us are actually going to be doing a livestream all about this in a little over a week! so go submit questions and then tune into the stream!

sam and damien parallels in s4 (or, moments where mark is having some pretty awful deja vu)

and the bonus, whose stunning obviousness started me on highlighting these parallels:

[cluescorner]

I cannot imagine being a Damian stan right now. You've got both Zdarsky's bullshit (where he clearly doesn't give a shit about your boy) and The Boy Wonder (where Juni Ba clearly gives so many shits about your boy) coming out on the same day. The whiplash must be insane. I hope y'all get some nice warm soup for your efforts jfc

[kuppikahvia]

and sometimes the time is "while playing metal gear solid" and the place is "my room" and it's only one-sided because he doesn't exist

[depressedtheatrekiddo]

I found someone in my classroom!!! She's so cool and I've sat next to her last year and she always loves to talk and I love to listen to school recent gossip and this year she's on my latin classes and we've been getting back in touch and!!! And!!! We discovered we both have similar ideas!! I'm explaining her anarchist theory and she shares acab media she just discovered, we circle the 13/12 date in the classroom blackboard and run, I send her tutorials I've discovered on how to do moss graffiti and she asks for information about world events and if I don't know about them we investigate together and then we exchange opinions!! And this, this is so special to me, because I've been trying to connect with someone in my surroundings, and there wasn't— interest. Like I talk and there's this tight smile on my friends face. And. And sometimes it breaks my heart? But this. This is so fucking cool.

[hexagonaldecency]

Putting a timer for my mental breakdown hiding in the toilet

[valiasims]

Cozy Cabin Collection - Nursery

Hey everyone!

Sorry for the delay I was working a lot on this to be the way I wanted it to be but here it is! The next part of the Cozy Cabin Colletion is the nursery.

This time I wanted to bring a cozy, bear themed nursery with neutral colors and elements that represent nature.

This set has started a little difficult and I had to change some things because I wanted to include windows too but I realized there are so many things I want to make that the windows have to be left out this time. So I basically wasted a 3-4 days. Technically those days aren't wasted because I'll include the windows hopefully in the next set but I had less time for the items in this set.

I had a rough time with the curtains because at first these looked more thrown on the crib but I discovered that the arch is exactly the same as some in-game arched windows and I wanted them to be useable more ways so I redid them to be more curtainy. This inspired me to do arched windows so maybe I'll do them next, I'm not sure yet.

So about the items. I made these arches with the wooden frames to go together as you can see. All of them come in all 3 wall heights. The best to place them with half tile placement turned on with the F5 key.

I added 3 different furniture to slot into the wooden frames. You can mix and match these however you like or use them separately. With the half tile placement you can put them next to each other perfectly. 2 of them are shelves and one is a dresser with dresser functionality.

I mentioned the curtains the fit perfectly under the arch so you can use them like a canopy above the crib.

The changing table is base game and functional.

(The armchair and deco cushion is from the previous Entryway set.)

I think that's it, please let me know how you like it and if you have any errors, problems let me know as well! Hope you have a nice day/night and enjoy this set as much as I loved to create it. Despite some things being difficult I really enjoyed doing these items and this is my favourite collection I've done so far.

The Set Includes

Crib

Changing Table

Wooden Arch (3 heights)

Wooden Frame (3 heights, Left and Right variation)

Dresser

Shelves (2 variations, with tree design, without tree design)

Sheer Curtains

Bear Lights (3 heights)

Baby Blankets

Stack of Books

Children's Books

Lying Bear Plushie

Sitting Bear Plushie

Wooden Bears Family Deco

Round Rug

-DOWNLOAD HERE- Public release on the 17th of December 6PM CST

[tonycries]

SECOND masterlist! This masterlist has all my writing from 02/10/24 up until now — for my earlier works check out my FIRST MASTERLIST <3

👻 = from my Kinktober!

MONSTA! 👻

WILD WILD WILD 👻

Bad Bad Boy 👻

PONY 👻

Girl, I'm Into It! 👻

KNOTTY GIRL! 👻

NNN

Madam.

BUTTER

FEVER FEVER FEVER

BUMPIN' THAT!

DDD

CHERRY-POP!

JUNO

O-O-O-OBSESSED!

D!LFMAS?!

BIIIG STRETCH.

STICKYYY

Like a Dog!

P*SSY POWER!

TALKIN' BOOODY!

STUFFED.

OL-F*CK-TORY ETHICS?!

ABRACADABRA

Can't Feel My Face.

ATTACK ON P*SSY!

BIG BOYYY!

TRACKSTAR?!

JUICY!

FEVERRR?!

KREME!

RAW-MANCE!

Jujutsu? Gnarly.

FIT CHECK?!

FAST N' FURIOUS!

BAD INFLUENCE

KiIlin' It Girl!

Animals — Yes, your best friend is secretly an alpha. Yes, he acts like a fúcking anímal when he rúts. No, you don’t think you’ll make it out alíve. 👻

Corpse Groom — Till déath do you part…or does it when a déathly error leads your newly-wedded husband to be from beyond the gráve? 👻

The Initiation — From now onwards, you’re the madam of the Gojo clan - and your clan leader husband is going to prove it to everyone.

Cake or Fake — The only birthday gift your brother’s best friend wants? You. And not just for fake-dating…

Sweetheart Online — Isekai-ed into another world, or isekai-ed into your pants?! Gojo Satoru is in danger - in danger of losing his prized, otaku vírginíty, that is.

Knight of Roses — You, heir to the throne and fated to be married off to a royal you’ve never even met. Gojo Satoru, your personal knight and the one man that will not let this happen. He will not.

Night(wing) Crawler — Trapped with a too-smug, too-handsome Nightwing by the very same villains you were trying to swindle was not how you planned to spend your night. Luckily for you, Gojo can think of a much better way to pass the time.

To Tame A Monster — Gojo Satoru, the most dangerous underground fighter in all of Japan - and the…hottest, too. You, the cute nurse that takes care of him, and totally not his favorite prize, right? Right?

STRONGEST — The strongest. The most feraI. Gojo Satoru’s powers aren’t the only thing that goes out of control after a battle.

Hot Nerd Summer — The best way to beat your tall, nerdy, hot academic rival during finals? Fúck him!

Cruel Summer — The five times Gojo Satoru would rather díe than marry you, his (infuriatingly pretty, oh-so-irresistible) arranged fiancée - and the one time he comes back from déath to.

Amen (Hey, Men!) — BIoodshed. BIoodIust. Vampires. It was no wonder you’d turn to the charming new priest in town during dark times like these…but Father Gojo seems to be interested in you in ways that are more than sinful. And there’s nothing holy about him, either.

Heavy Metal Lover — A group project with your tall, nerdy, hot academic rival and your handsome punk best friend? Oh, you’re getting a D++

SODA POP! — Five times Gojo Satoru - the hottest k-pop idol right now - gets exposed for wanting you, his pretty, totally-not-girlfriend best friend. And the one time he gives them headlines to talk about.

Love Thy D!LF — Yes, your neighbor is a hot, pérvy D!LF. Yes, he’s a total tease. No, you don’t think your poor new bed frame is going to stay in one piece…

Bed Chem — No, you’ve never gone through a heat. No, your big bad neighbor, Toji Fushiguro, hasn’t had a rút in years. No, you don’t think you’ll make it out alive when all that changes with your…bed chem.

Bat(man) Romance — Running into Batman AKA your ex-husband, Toji, after a heist? Could this night get any worse? Well, there’s also one tiny problem…you’re both covered in séx pollen.

Lady & The Sick Man — Most people would run away from the ghost in their shabby new apartment, Toji Fushiguro makes you lose your mind.

To Have Your Eyes — Toji Fushiguro - strong, hot, and your steadfast personal knight. And his duty to the crown means that Toji should…help the princess he’s always loved with obtaining an heir, right? Right?

Love Island — Islanders, you’ve got a steamy date! An unfortunate recoupling leaves only you and one other participant unpaired - the mean, smug, hot Toji Fushiguro. Too bad you hate him, right? Right? 

SCREEN QUEEN! — To see a movie or to make one? Four times Geto Suguru absolutely ruined you for the cameras, and the one time outside of them.

Video Game Lover — Suguru Geto, the resident nerd who “helps” you with your homework. Tall, gloomy, mean, and- and an alpha? And he’s in rut?!

Heavy Metal Lover — A group project with your tall, nerdy, hot academic rival and your handsome punk best friend? Oh, you’re getting a D++

Sweetener — You, hit by your heat cycle and accidentally calling your best friend over in a daze. Choso Kamo, your utterly sweet best friend - and totally not an aIpha, right? Right?

Madam Kamo — Bréeding kínk? Going feraI? What the hell is that? Maybe your sweet clan leader husband knows the answer…

Hey, Venom Boy! — Venom’s had enough of his host’s racing heartbeat and tíghtening pants around you. So he does what any good symbiote would do - help Choso lose his vírginíty, of course!

Heat Waves — The two things they don’t tell you about a hot emo half-curse? 1. He’s in heat. 2. He needs you badly.

Your (Super)Man — He’s not a bird. He’s not a plane. He’s…just Nanami Kento from the journalism department. But you have a feeling that Nanami’s hiding a super big secret - and not just the one down there.

50 Shades of Kento — You help your hot uptight boss blow off some much-needed steam, and he makes an absolute mess of you - that annoyingly flirty new employee of his. Deal?

Heaven — An aIpha? Please, your arranged husband was the perfect gentleman - soft, strong, shy to even look your way and- and damn feraI when he’s in rút?

The Duke and I — Dearest gentle reader, it is with great pride that we introduce this season’s most eligible bachelor, Duke Nanami Kento. However, ladies be warned, rumors swirl that our most gallant gentleman already has his eyes (and hands) set on a particular chambermaid. You.

My Oh My — Trick or treat! The mean ínmate in Room 6/9 doesn’t want halloween candy - he wants something else much, much sweeter. 👻

Executioner Style — How long does it take for the demon king, Ryomen Sukuna, to figure out why you summoned him? Three hours. How long until you wonder whether you’ll make it out of the bed aIive? Well…

Type Dangerous — Five times Ryomen Sukuna’s “wingmanning” family is the biggest cóckbIock in existence, and the one time he finally gets what he wants - you, his nephew’s hot preschool teacher.

©2025 tonycries. All work belongs to @tonycries. Do NOT repost, modify, translate or plagiarize in any way on ANY platforms. This includes themes, headers, and pinned.

[dilfosaur]

well i haven't spilled my guts on tumblr since i was in college but it's the platform that's felt The Most Mine thru the years, so

let's talk!

i've had a huge chip on my shoulder that i wanted off before the year ends. very bad professional experience to follow

so firstly to get ahead of the speculating, i'm not naming names or anything. some of you will puzzle out who i'm talking about, but please don't bother anyone especially not on my behalf. i've worked hard to distance myself from them the past few months. shit happens, especially when you're a dumb bitch (that's me!)

but also this person was someone i considered a close friend and it makes me uneasy to possibly direct backlash at them. "then why post about it" bc i did intermittent work for them for over a year. this is just about that. so hear me out

basically it started off fine. i initially did some commission work for good pay, then was invited to become more involved with their team. unfortunately as i became more involved with their operation it became more disorganized over time. projects started then forgotten, constantly shifting schedules, lapsing communication between roles, confusing financials, and often inconsistent if not late payments. during mid 2023 i was doing colorist work, sometimes on a one day turnaround (all while also preparing drawfee's summer merch launch). the payroll wasn't set up correctly so i wasn't paid for that work for over a year (more on that later), tho to be fair that was largely my own fault at first as i just didnt realize the payments didn't go thru lol

i always consider myself decently capable of separating friendship and coworker-ship; i run a company with 4 wonderful friends, going strong for almost 5 years. that didn't really work out in this case. by early this year our friendship was on the rocks; work issues fed into personal issues and vice versa. so as the rest of this shit plays out, we had just had our first "big fight" which i felt very bad about and added to all the upcoming tension

a huge point of friction was the fact that i really wanted to work with them to make a music video for one of their songs. i've always wanted a chance to make a music video, was confident in a concept i came up with, and even did some concept art for the idea. everyone insisted they loved the concept and that we should do it, but we kept pushing it back for various reasons. it ended up becoming a huge sticking point for my frustrations, which i tried to express productively. TLDR, we eventually got around to discussing it seriously around april.

i planned to ask for $4000 with negotiable add-on for the whole project, which was my Friend Discount price. i was offered a contract for $1000 flat rate, as they insisted that was the only budget they had for it.

don't ask me why i signed it lol. i didn't even counter offer

there was some girlmath to it: i wanted an extra 1k for a student scholarship i provide every spring and well, there it was. but if i had to guess, i saw it as something i just couldn't back down from any more. i caused these folks- my friends- a lot of problems bc i dug my heels in so deep to chase this project, so fuck it we ball

i had about 4 months to solo a 3 minute music video. they wanted it done in august so they could release it before summer ended, bc "it was a summer song". to be fair i was asked if i needed them to pay for anything extra like assistants (which i would have to find and manage) but i was so immediately overwhelmed that i didn't wanna slow down to wait on that process lol. there was very minimal communication other than brief progress check-ins every few weeks. i did everything for that project myself: the original concept, character designs, storyboards, layouts, backgrounds. i even did the editing/compositing for the final cut of the MV. the only favor i did myself was limiting the amount of it that was actually animated to simple loops and motions. hardly my best work but it was work still done

i did it all in between my full time job. i ended up having to take nearly a month away from most of my drawfee duties (with the support of the others) to make the august deadline. i only ever asked for a 3 day extension (notice given about a week in advance, around the same time i was given the final song file lol). i finished the music video at 6am on the final deadline and recorded drawfee the next day on 2 hours of sleep

but it was done, coolies. the team was very happy with the final product. honestly, without getting into it, those were a very emotionally taxing 4 months. on the professional side, i regretted agreeing to the project and especially for the dogshit rate they offered. i felt like a hypocrite- as someone who always wanted to advocate for younger artists demanding their worth in a world that's getting increasingly hostile toward creatives, i failed myself

so when i met with the manager to discuss the release plan, i told them to do whatever worked best for them as i only had one request: i wanted my credit removed from the project

tbh... like... lmao this dramatic bitch right!! but really, i decided that bad practices only breed worse business. friends or not, it was unprofessional of me to accept such a low paying job so i just didn't want my name used in association. everything felt so muddled to me and i was just really tired at this point

the manager was very understanding and then offered that i could be paid more. they said that their team "was surprised" i accepted their low rate and they would be happy to up the amount. this confused me as the initial budget seemed pretty set and at no point between april and august was i offered a better rate. i knew these guys weren't made of money. so, i declined. i didn't want to put anyone out of their means over work that was already done and agreed upon. but more importantly, i was over the whole thing and didn't want to prolong the project with a contract renegotiation. i just insisted my name be removed

they decided to use a pseudonym (which i was fine with) so they could create a story about a character who made the MV (this sounds really convoluted but i don't know how better to put it without getting specific, sorry). that way if people asked about the credit, they could speak comfortably about it without signaling that something went wrong behind the scenes. ok, kind of a silly narrative imo but whatevs. and maybe this is where i finally went truly wrong but. yolo i guess

i gave the name "D. Smithee", D as in dilfosaur and Smithee as in Alan Smithee. look it up for fun film trivia ig! was it passive aggressive of me to reference that in this context? yeah, honestly. but i thought it was kinda funny and really not that deep. if it was a problem, i have other real, non-cheeky pseudonyms i regularly use. the manager accepted it and all i had to do was wait for them to post the video and i could leave the whole experience behind me

a week later i received a message from the manager that my pseudonym had been denied by the rest of the team bc one of them got the reference. fair enough lol. however, they decided that rather than ask for a different name, the were going to make one up for me that they liked and would "fit the [story]", without asking me

and that! is when i finally snapped!

i was so tired of giving them concessions at this point and having a credit made up for me without any input from me felt genuinely violating and unethical. i started to Panic bc of how stressed i was, and asked for my overdue payments (aka the $500 still owed on the MV, and the colorist rate from a year prior that was never paid even tho i reported it in january) to be scheduled ASAP as i was leaving the work discord immediately

i finally told them off for exploiting me throughout the months while i kept trying to just be nice and finish my contact cleanly. in return i was told that it was unfair to say that as i agreed to everything- i accepted their cheap rate and denied further payment so that was all settled, and it was ok to change my credit without my consent bc i "said they could do whatever with the release". i called bullshit, ended the convo as kindly as i could, and cried lol. they agreed to ditch the pseudonym and just give no credit. that night was the last i heard from anyone on that team

and the real kicker?

august came and went. then september, october... and they never released the music video

and i don't know why, because i was never contacted about it. i've been removed from the picture entirely i guess. 4 months and boatloads of stress. just. up in smoke. i don't know what i expected honestly

it's hard to not take everything that happened personally and as done in bad faith. i really do, honestly. i've had plenty of shitty deals in my almost 10 year art career, but it hits different from people you saw as friends. but to the point of "why not keep it private", i have never felt so disrespected as a professional as i did this past year. i can toy with money and credits and other formalities all i want, but my work- my ideas, my labor, my effort- is still so important to me. i felt like the biggest idiot for doing so much work, pouring so much of myself into a piece for someone's use, for what has amounted to nothing

but more importantly i hated myself for undervaluing my work, even if initially i thought this person was a trusted friend. money is not really an issue for me- drawfee is my main job and i am fine and comfortable. it's so important to pay artists appropriately but i often undersell my own work bc i value the collaboration and passion between creatives more than the reward. i think a lot of artists tend to feel the same, and it often makes us easy to take advantage of. it's so difficult to find the balance between passion and making a fair living, and i think there's some shame within ourselves when artists choose to prioritize that passion

i wanted to finally get all this off my chest bc i was ashamed of every choice i made. things like this happen all the time i'm sure and hiding these mistakes only make it easier for it to happen to other people

tldr always value your work and protect your passion from people who just see it as a product. and don't give cheeky pseudonyms i guess lol

(and again pls don't bother anyone involved about this. a lot of chaos has left my life as i moved past all this, and this is me closing a door without opening new ones hopefully lol)

this shit was truly

so ass.

but i'm moving past it now

but on a nicer note. outside of all of this nonsense, i made lots of good memories this year. i'm truly so grateful to the many wonderful people in my life who keep me going even when i fuck up big time!

and thank you to all of you strangers who, despite everything, give me the time of day. especially if you read this whole thing. you're a real one :')

happy new year!

[buntanteen]

svt fic recs list <3 - svt 10 year anniversary: wonwoo - sfw & nsfw

summary: 10 sfw & 10 nsfw wonwoo x reader insert fics :)

contains: 18+ nsfw (mdni!!) majority is afab reader

✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩

✩ sfw section ✩

1. ❥ You’re mad at BF!Wonwoo, but he decided to make it a SEVENTEEN problem - @vernonverse

this was TOOOOOOO funny. he was reallllyy going out of his way making everyone suffer kjfgbdkj

2. ❥ bf!wonwoo thoughts - @boorines

quality time!! (my lil extrovert self LOVESSS doing everything with everyone omgjnfv) the i don't think i could survive flirty wonwoo omfggg

3. ❥ a shot in the dark - @xinganhao

perfect for when you're in your "wonwoo is enlisted" feels :,)

4. ❥ wonwoo random twitter au series: one | two | three | four - @wonuism

reader is me and i am reader. we are one in these

5. ❥ idol!wonwoo bf texts - @cheoliedollie

loving??? caring?!?!? silly?!?!? YESSSSSSSSSS MUHAHA

6. ❥ dating wonwoo feels like.., - @ssentimentals

dating wonwoo would feel like everything i'm looking for (WHY DOES HE SOUND SO DAMN GOOD HERE AHHH)

7. ❥ wonwoo headcanons pt. 1 | pt. 2 - @wonuism

he's such a gentle sweet lover :,) what if i just- *faints*

8. ❥ wonwoo bf habits - @odxrilove

THE SHOULDER MOVE EEEEEEEEEEE KJSGBFDK NOMS??! WARMING UP A TOWEL FOR MEEEEEEEEEEEE? HEHE

9. ❥ love languages: jeon wonwoo - @cxffecoupx

i loveeeeeeee the idea of someone being this thoughtful and wanting to be spending quality time with me :,)

10. ❥ you vs the universe - @cheolism-archive

“get it together, mother.” HAHA PLSSSSSSSSS (the way nonu reacted in the reader getting hit by a ball story made me sooo soft :,) the way he takes care of reader?? that's my guyyy)

✩ nsfw section ✩

1. ❥ Stripper Joke - @hoshifighting

the CONFIDENCE from reader versus wonwoo's shyness?!?!?! AHHHHHHHH

2. ❥ blindsided | expansion blindsided!wonwoo - @studioeisa & @xinganhao

there's just something so hot and attractive about glasses wearers and wonwoo wears them sooooooooooo well and he's sooooooo dumbly hot in this

3. ❥ perv wonwoo x roommate reader pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3 - @rubyreduji

he's so disgusting in this...(why am i into it!!?)

4. ❥ 21:34 - @eomayas

heheheh HEHEHEHHEEHHE (i thoroughly enjoyed this)

5. ❥ “warm-up” - @pochaccoups

getting fucked and getting snacks afterwards?!?!?!? FUCK YES

6. ❥ we can’t be friends (wait for your love) - @eomayas

AHHHHHHHHHHH THE SEX THE CONFESSION THE AHHHH

7. ❥ gamer bf! wonwoo - @svtswhorehouse

...THIS IS ALL I'VE EVER WANTED HEHEH

8. ❥ desperate - @toruro

fucking the horny out of reader?!?! OOOOOOOOOOOOHHH

9. ❥ the peephole - @rubyreduji

this concept goes CRAZYYYYYYYYY

10. ❥ watching him masturbate - @hoshifighting

*sigh* it'd be so pretty watching this

[100vern]

ex-conomics | csc

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

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

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

“You’ve got to be joking.”

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

“Um—”

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

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

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

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

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

That, however, was two years ago.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your stomach plummets to the floor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dunno. What’s it smell like?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And continued wearing it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Explains this weird text Ken sent me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They never do.

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

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

This time it is an accusation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cannot go there again.

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

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

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

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

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

But you did, so it stings all the same.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Depends. How long do you have?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“At this university?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh—yeah, right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are there cookies in the fridge?”

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

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

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

“Not bad, actually.”

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

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

“Can I help you?”

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

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

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

You blink. “No, you didn’t.”

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

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

“They want to know about his girlfriend.”

“His what?”

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?”

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

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

“Oh. Are you okay?”

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

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

“It wasn’t about your grades, Cheol.”

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

“Seungcheol,” you correct.

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

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

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

Seungcheol shared a location with you

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh. How’s he doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s the familiarity, you realize.

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

“That’s not what I’m say—”

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

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

“Right—not good enough, like I said.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Also fruitless.

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

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

But it isn’t, and you’re not.

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

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

Perhaps he never did.

“What are we discussing, then?”

Still not looking up: “Consumer theory.”

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

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

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

He nods.

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

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

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

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

Kaori invites you to a party.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seungcheol finds you in your office.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cut to black.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m sorry.

I love you.

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

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

“Could you send another container of yakgwa?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And start recording.

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

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

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

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

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

And then there it was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I love you, too.

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

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

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

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

“It’s me,” Seungcheol yells back.

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

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

Somehow you taste the same.

Somehow you taste like redemption.

You taste like home.

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

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

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

“I always will.”

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

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

i would love to hear your thoughts! <3

[harrysfolklore]

i see your face in every crowd - op81

summary: the asutralian grand prix is right around the corner and oscar's face is everywhere in melbourne, his ex girlfriend can't help but miss him (he misses her too)

folkie radio: if you know me you know i'm a sucker for an exes to lovers trope, and honestly this one is one of my faves i've ever done. ENJOY AND LEAVE FEEDBACK

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by oliviarodrigo, lando and 2,107,399 others

yourinstagram back home for a bit... needed some time to reset & breathe. been writing loads lately - the songs are just pouring out 🌊 feeling more inspired than ever tbh. can't wait to share what i've been working on with u all soon. huge thank u for all the love lately, means more than u know xx

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username1 BABYYYY

username2 i'm happy she's home and surrounded by love

sabrinacarpenter miss ur face already 😭 these songs are about to end lives fr

chappellroan THEYRE NOT READY FOR WHAT'S COMING!!! also pls come back to LA soon i'm dying without u

username3 chappellynbrina is a forever thing

username4 the way melbourne gp is gonna be so awkward next month...

└ username1 why does everyone have to make everything about that 🙄 let them live

└ username2 no fr like can we focus on the music instead

username5 oscar ain't shit anyway, ur so much better without him queen

└ username3 y'all don't even know what happened, stop being toxic

└ username6 they literally both asked for privacy can u respect that maybe

alexandrasaintmleux being home suits u sm! can't wait for the new era

└ username2 once a wag always a wag

username7 THE BREAKUP ALBUM IS COMING AND IM HERE FOR IT

username8 take all the time u need but also pls drop a song soon we're starving 😩

lando yooo text me when you get the chance !

└ username1 THEIR FRIENDSHIP LIVES

└username2 oscar piastri you can't break this one

username9 some of y'all are being so mean for no reason, they were cute together and now they're not, it happens

username10 manifesting a collab with sabrina on this album 🕯️

liked by lando, alex_albon and 467,958 others

oscarpiastri Last few days of prep before heading home for the season opener. Ready 💪

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username1 THATS MY BABY GOAT

username2 we're so taking that wdc this year

lando looking a bit weak mate might need another few months of training

└ oscarpiastri stick to gaming mate

└ carlossainz55 Children, behave 😂

└ username1 THIS INTERACTION

username3 we're so back. man's entering his thirst trap era and we love to see it

└ username1 healing through gym pics, real

username4 the transformation from rookie to absolute unit we love to see it

username5 melbourne's gonna go crazy for him

└ username2 the city will be pretty much covered with his face

username7 the post-breakup glow >>>>>>

username8 bro said watch me get faster AND hotter

username9 yn is stronger than me bc i definitely would've given him another chance

georgerussell63 Looking strong 💪🏼

└ lando but still slower than me

└ oscarpiastri We'll see about that mate

└ username3 WHAT IS LANDO'S PROBLEM

aussiegp Our hometown hero getting ready to give us a show 🇦🇺

username10 YN GET BACK WITH HIM I BEGGG

liked by shortandbrina, livbedumb and 119 others

definitelynotyn not me stalking his instagram at 2am with a glass of rosé in hand... why he gotta post gym pics looking like THAT 😭 someone take my phone away fr because what if i do something stupid like text him rn???? also why does he have to look so good while training I HATE HIM

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shortandbrina girl DELETE instagram rn i'm not joking!! calling u in 2 mins

└ definitelynotyn too late i already watched his story 3 times help

midwestprincess this is why we don't drink wine alone bestie... coming over with ice cream and we're watching mean girls

└ definitelynotyn pls hurry before i do something stupid like listen to our playlist

livbedumb first rule of breakups: BLOCK THE GYM PROGRESS POSTS!!!! trust me on this one

└ definitelynotyn but what if i just want to check if he's doing okay 🥲

└ gracieeeeee she's lost it completely someone intervene

arithegood not me literally writing a song about this exact situation last week 💀 wine drunk stalking is universal bestie

└ definitelynotyn pls send me the song i just know it'll hurt so good

phoebenotbuffay okay but like... we've all been there 😭 remember when i almost texted #him after he decided to walk around in those short shorts

└ definitelynotyn at least urs wasn't wearing race suits that make his arms look like THAT

whostaylorswiftanyway time to write a song about it bestie x

└ definitelynotyn already got three verses and a bridge done ngl

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f1updates Melbourne is getting ready for the Australian GP! The city is covered in @/oscarpiastri billboards and posters as they prepare to welcome their home hero

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username1 imagine being yn trying to get coffee and boom there's your ex's face on a 50ft billboard 💀

username2 the way you literally can't escape his face anywhere in the cbd this week

username3 the way this gp would've been so different if they were still together... remember last year?

└ username1 they were the cutest in the paddock

└ username2 pls she probably won't even be in melbourne this year

username4 our boy is everywhere and we love to see it!!

username5 the promotional team really said oscar piastri world domination

username6 the billboards are giving everything they need to give tbh

username7 maybe she should drop the breakup album during race week for maximum chaos

└ username1 now that would be iconic behavior

└ username3 the way the charts and the podium would be fighting for his attention

username8 MELBOURNE IS OSCARLAND

username9 imagine not being an oscar fan rn… or worse, being his ex

username10 CAN SOMEBODY THINK OF OUR GIRL YN

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liked by lando, charles_leclerc and 597,388 others

oscarpiastri Seems like there's a few of me around Melbourne at the moment... has anyone noticed? 😅

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username1 OSCAR FUCKING PIASTRI

username2 HE DID NOT

lando bit of an upgrade for the city tbh └ oscarpiastri Better than your face mate

username3 OH HE'S MESSY FOR THIS ONE

└ username1 posting this RIGHT after her story i'm screaming

username4 he chose violence today and i'm here for it

mclaren Our guy's everywhere! Can't wait for the weekend 🧡

└ username2 admin pretending they don't see what's happening here

username5 THE TIMING OF THIS POST??? someone's feeling petty

username6 he really said "oh you can't escape me? let me show you why" 💀

georgerussell63 Just ran into your face in the airport

username7 the way he probably had these pics ready and WAITED

username8 bro saw her story and chose chaos

danielricciardo looking good mate! although i remember when it was my face everywhere 👴 └ oscarpiastri Times change old man

username9 it's giving "oh you miss seeing me? here's more" energy actually

username10 focusing on the important stuff: he looks good in every single billboard

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yourinstagram missing tour life so much today! can't wait to get back on the road and see all your beautiful faces again 💕 thankful for the memories we've made together x

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username1 MY GIRL I MISS HER

username2 the way she posted this exactly after THAT story... we see you

└ username3 damage control era

troyesivan SUPERSTAR 🤩🤩

username4 girl we know what (who) you're really missing

└ username2 not her trying to distract us 😭

username5 we're not fooled bestie but we support you

sabrinacarpenter miss you too angel!! ❤️

└ yourinstagram love you sabs 🥺

username6 NOT THE DAMAGE CONTROL POST

username7 WE NEED A TOUR ASAP

gracieabrams I miss being on the road with you 🥹🥹

username8 EVERYONE TALKIG ABOUT OSCAR HELP

username9 can we talk about how good she looked on tour though??

username10 the way she's probably sitting with sabrina rn planning damage control posts

└ username11 the group chat must be WILD right now

liked by midwestprincess, livbedumb and 109 others

definitelynotyn well. something just came in the mail and i think i might actually throw up. universe really said "you thought that instagram story wasn't enough embarrassment for one day?"

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shortnbrina GIRL CHECK YOUR TEXTS RN

└ definitelynotyn I'M HAVING A CRISIS

midwestprincess the way i SPRINTED here when you texted

└ definitelynotyn help what do i do

└ midwestprincess BREATHE FIRST

gracieeee wait is that what i think it is? 🏁

└ definitelynotyn 🙃🙃🙃

└ gracieeee OH MY GOD????

livbedumb the timing… someone's been plotting

└ definitelynotyn don't. i can't think about that.

maddiebeer okay but like… are you going?

└ definitelynotyn MADS PLS I'M ALREADY SPIRALING

└ maddiebeer that's not a no 👀

arithegood manifesting a rain delay so you have to stay longer

└ definitelynotyn I HAVEN'T EVEN DECIDED IF I'M GOING

└ arithegood sure jan

phoebenotbuffay imagine if you'd actually posted this on main too

└ definitelynotyn DON'T EVEN JOKE ABOUT THAT

└ phoebenotbuffay too soon? 😂

dulapeep at least you have time to plan outfits

└ definitelynotyn NOT HELPING

└ dulapeep the green dress. trust me.

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liked by lando, charles_leclerc and 665,583 others

oscarpiastri Close. Bring on tomorrow

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username1 THATS MY BABY GOAT

username2 oscar piastri man of few words

username3 pole position if he was still with yn

mclaren Our home champ 🧡

username4 OKAY CHAT DO WE THINK YN WILL ATTEND THE RACE??

└ username1 maybe focus on racing?? this isn't about his ex

lando sorry about that

└ oscarpiastri Should've just let me keep it

username5 can't help but think about yn in parc fermé for his win tomorrow but they're not together anymore

username6 HES WINNING TOMORROW THERE'S NOTHING THAT CAN CHANGE THAT

charles_leclerc An existential crisis later

└ carlossainz55 Let him breathe

└ username1 HUUUH WHAT ARE THEY TALKING ABOUT

username7 brb listening to yn's songs about him.. specially lover

liked by midwestprincess, shortandbrina and 107 others

definitelynotyn watching from my couch because apparently i'm the biggest coward in the universe. the pass is literally staring at me from my coffee table. i hate myself.

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shortnbrina GET IN YOUR CAR RIGHT NOW

└ definitelynotyn I CAN'T

└ shortnbrina YES YOU CAN I'M CALLING YOU AN UBER

midwestprincess GIRL THERE'S STILL 40 LAPS YOU CAN LITERALLY MAKE IT

└ definitelynotyn and then what?? walk in mid-race??

└ midwestprincess YES EXACTLY LIKE A MAIN CHARACTER WOULD

livbedumb not you watching his every move on tv when you could be there

└ definitelynotyn this is less scary ok

└ livbedumb is it though??

maddiebeer remember when you said you'd never be that girl who's too scared to face her feelings?

└ definitelynotyn low blow mads

whostaylorswiftanyway THE PASS IS RIGHT THERE GO GET YOUR MAN

└ definitelynotyn STOP YELLING AT ME

└ whostaylorswiftanyway NO

gracieeee remember when you said his note was the sweetest thing ever? remember crying about how much you missed him? but sure stay on your couch

└ definitelynotyn this is emotional manipulation

definitelynotyn FINE YALL WIN. CALLING A CAR RN

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liked by shortnbrina, landitooooo and 113 others

definitelynotyn we did some talking. then we did some kissing. then we did some more talking. then we did some more kissing. might have cried a bit (him too). wearing his sweatshirt again. life's funny sometimes.

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midwestprincess OH GOD FINALLY

gracieeee I'M SOBBING

leclercccccc FINALLY you accepted the follow request

└ definitelynotyn oh my god

└ leclercccccc i helped with the speech you know

└ notoscarpiastri mate.

└ leclercccccc you're welcome btw

landitooooo took you both long enough bloody hell

└ notoscarpiastri says you

└ landitooooo oi what's that supposed to mean

└ shortnbrina no idea really

└ definitelynotyn lando norris and sabrina carpenter... there's stuff you need to explain

arithegood THE TIMELINE HAS BEEN RESTORED

└ definitelynotyn dramatic much

└ arithegood says the girl who showed up mid-race

whostaylorswiftanyway I expect a full debrief tomorrow but I'm happy for you my girl

notoscarpiastri Can we go back to the kissing?

└ definitelynotyn please

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popbuzz YN AND OSCAR PIASTRI SPOTTED TOGETHER IN MELBOURNE

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username1 THE SWEATSHIRT THE SWEATSHIRT THE SWEATSHIRT

└ username2 SHE'S WEARING HIS CLOTHES AGAIN

username3 FROM SPINNING OUT TO BREAKFAST DATES IN 24 HOURS

└ username2 character development at its finest

username4 IM GOING TO CRY THEY'RE BACK TOGETHER

username5 Sources say he went to her place last night...

└ username1 and didn't leave 👀

username6 I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY REALLY GOT BACK TOGETHER

username7 this is proof that crying over your ex on main actually works

username8 YN IS A WAG AGAIN OMFG

username9 everybody say thank you australia gp billboards with oscar's face

username10 OSCAR LOVE SONGS ARE SO BACK

username11 WE WON SO HARD

liked by yourinstagram, lando and 876,494 others

oscarpiastri Home race took some unexpected turns both on and off track. P9 wasn't the result we wanted, but somehow still ended up winning this weekend.

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username1 HE'S SOOOO

username2 LOST THE RACE BUT GOT THE GIRL??

lando mate that's actually smooth

└ oscarpiastri Learned from the best

mclaren We'll take this kind of victory too 🧡

username3 THE THIRD PICTURE IM SOBBING

username4 mans really said forget p9 i got the girl

username5 HE'S SO BOYFRIEND WE'RE SO BACK

nicolepiastri ❤️

username6 OSCAR PIASTRI THE MAN THAT YOU ARE

username7 oscar's guide to get back with your ex with just ten simple steps

sabrinacarpenter FINALLY !!! OUR GIRL CAN STOP MOPING AROUND

└ chappellroan now we need oscar's friend to grow some balls too

└ oscarpiastri @/lando

└ lando well...

└ username1 OMFG LANDO AND SABRINA??

└ username2 WHAT JUST HAPPENED

username8 I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS REAL LIFE

yourinstagram 🥺🥺 i love you