#my family once had the Ice Barbie

[inkskinned]

i have so much to say about this but like. fuck social media for making certain types of "pranks" popular. just as a blanket statement? if the intent of a prank is to humiliate someone without their consent, there is a good chance what you're doing is actually just bullying.

and if you record that person, you are being twice the asshole in that situation. recording someone takes away their agency. do you really think someone you just humiliated on camera is going to have both the bravery and presence of mind to calmly ask you to please delete the video if it makes them uncomfortable? and do you think the people who pull these kinds of pranks would be like - oh sorry, sure, let me delete it, no problem.

"pulling a prank" is like. supposed to be funny for both sides. when you put people in unsafe situations and then laugh at them/judge them for their response.... like. that's not funny. that's abusive behavior. you are training them to accept their dehumanization. it's controlling and ugly. please fucking have any form of empathy.

if you don't actually care if they feel safe/comfortable, you're not being funny. you're being mean. labelling something "a joke" in hindsight does not undo the damage. it just gaslights the other person into thinking their reaction was invalid. you broke someone's trust and personal boundaries for clout. they deserve to be upset about it.

and as a side note? i will bet you 200 american dollars that most of these "pranksters" would immediately crumble into a huge overreaction if anyone even vaguely reciprocated and put them into that level of humiliation - because it was never about how "funny" pranks are. it was about control and manipulation. they like feeling powerful and they like making other people feel less powerful. which is ... bullying.

[asahicore]

cold hands - psh (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact

pairing. sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis. plot plot plot what is a plot when you can just have vibes and a vague narrative direction... if you MUST know you go to your brother's hockey team back-to-uni party accidentally matching one of the members with your cowgirl barbie costume. hopelessly romantic sunghoon sees this as a sign that the two of you are meant to be together, but you're impossible to read and soon the two of you settle on an ambiguous secret friends with benefits relationship. unfortunately, conflict ensues.

genre. strangers to friends to fwb to lovers..?? its not an asahicore fic if it doesnt have fluff angst AND smut, brothers best friend, jock x nerd type vibe, slight miscommunication put your pitchforks away and hear me out pls it works out i promise, reader has ISSUES 💜 loser loverboy sunghoon, its mostly in his pov, i know nothing about ice hockey

word count. 39.5k 😂

a/n. inspired by @moonlighthoon's request for the 1k trope event! sorry it took ages to write but i hope you like it and that i met ur expectations!!!! hope everyone else enjoys it too, this is the longest fic ive ever written and im quite proud of it, pls pls pls let me know what u thought <333 shoutout to @zreamy .. good luck with your studies, thank u for beta reading and making this fic exponentially better as u always do ⭐️ credit to @/plutism for the dividers :)

Some men never think of it. You did. You’d come along And say you’d nearly brought me flowers But something had gone wrong.

The shop was closed. Or you had doubts - The sort that minds like ours Dream up incessantly. You thought I might not want your flowers.

It made me smile and hug you then. Now I can only smile. But, look, the flowers you nearly brought Have lasted all this while. - Wendy Cope, Flowers

When Sunghoon falls in love, it usually goes as quickly as it came.

Just to name a few:

There had been Ahn Yujin, whose family had moved next to his when he was twelve, and whose dog got on perfectly with his. His crush on the cute girl next door grew with every walk the four of them took but disappeared the second she ditched him to walk home from school with Na Jaemin. 

A few years later, there had been Bae Sumin, who sat in front of him and always had her hair up in a ponytail he found exceedingly pretty. An appointment at the hairdresser was enough for him to stop liking her, as if his interest in her had been laying in the ten centimeters of hair she had cut off. 

In his junior year of high school, there had been Kim Yerim, a college student that tutored him in Math and English. She was three years older, but that didn’t deter him—what did was the fact that she was dating a college graduate. She showed him a picture once, and the guy had biceps probably twice the size of Sunghoon’s. He thought it was safer to give up on her than to fight such a bulky guy five years his senior. 

The first time it stuck was during his first year of college. She was his coach’s daughter and he liked the way she would smile at him when she came to watch their practice. Sunghoon didn’t like to think about her, mainly because even after she broke his heart, for a while there, he continued to love her. 

So, when he first spots you from across the room at the Welcome Back costume party thrown by his hockey team, unintentionally the Cowboy Barbie to his Cowboy Ken, he tries not to read too much into it. Barbie was a hit this summer, it’s an easy and topical costume, of course there’s a pretty girl wearing the same bright pink cowboy hat he is. It doesn’t mean she’s the love of his life.

Right?

He knows you from the pictures that littered the walls of Minjeong, Yunjin and Chaewon’s apartment last year, from Instagram posts, both yours and your friends’, from your video calls with Jake, who dragged him into the camera’s view. Say hi to my sister, he’d insist, like Sunghoon was a child who didn’t want to greet his great-great-aunt. He’d dip in to say hi as requested, ask how you were, and mumble me too like a fool when you said you heard so much about him and were excited to meet him in real life. 

These are the things Sunghoon knows about you: Jake’s older sister by a year, currently on a year abroad in Rome, studies something fancy like Classics, which he hadn’t known people still did in the twenty-first century, deep attachment to Stardew Valley in first year, rarely seen with the same man twice, very pretty. Absurdly so. He’s also weirdly obsessed over the texts you’ve sent to the group chat he was added to at the beginning of last year—scarce, short, elusive. Never more than two sentences, and always long after the conversation was over. But sometimes you’d send photos and videos out of nowhere, of your adventures or of funny things you saw online, and he always hearted them. He even replied to it sometimes (brave hahas or that’s so cool!s), in hopes that it would make you like him, would make you think, he gets me. 

The two of you have never formally yet because you left for Italy the year he started university. He’s been nervous about meeting you since the first time the group told him about you. 

Now that he is about to, he can hear his heart thumping so loudly in his ears, it drowns out the bass of the music. He’s glad he gets to see you before having to talk to you—he’s not sure he could take in your presence and form coherent words at the same time. He watches you laugh with your friends, the smile lines that form like dimples around your mouth, the strands of hair you keep tucking behind your ear. Then someone joins your group—except it’s not just someone, it’s Minjeong, her denim jacket so often worn he recognises her from the back, and he realizes the people you’re with have been Chaewon and Yunjin this whole time. The three of them have been banging on about you all year, even more so due to the fact that their replacement flatmate was dreadful, a Spanish girl who only hung out with other Spanish exchange students and looked the girls up and down when they tried to invite her out somewhere.

You turn towards Minjeong, and before he knows it, he’s in your line of sight, and your eyes meet. Confusion, then a flash of recognition goes through your eyes. He had been resting his elbow on a countertop, cider bottle in hand and watching you, he realizes, not unlike a creep, but now he stands up straight and looks around him as if you hadn’t just caught him staring. Before he can find a way out, Jake appears by his side and throws an arm around his shoulders, guiding him into the throng of party-goers and, coincidentally, closer to you.

“Dude, you’ll never guess what.”

“What?” Sunghoon says, tone coming out more irritated than he means it to. He’s just had to give up on making a good first impression on you, and he doesn’t even have the time to think of a way to redeem himself. When he dares to look back at you, your eyes are already on him, a small smile on your lips. You probably hate him already.

“My sister is dressed just like you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you guys came together or something. Hey, guys!” Jake calls out, and all of a sudden, it’s not just your eyes on him, it’s everyone’s. Well, to be fair, they’re also looking at Jake. But you’re only looking at Sunghoon, and he can’t look away from you either, can’t even manage the politeness to hug everyone in greeting like Jake is doing now. He watches as your eyes rake over his figure, taking him in, assessing him, and he suddenly feels awkward in his costume that matches yours, like he’s somehow overstepped a boundary, like you might think he’s asked around about your costume, found out you were going as Barbie and decided to match you so you’d think the two of you were meant together, like he had two minutes ago, and come to the fairly reasonable decision that he was the weirdest man on Earth. But then you meet his eyes, smile a kind, genuine smile, and his whole body relaxes. 

“Hey, Hoon!” Chaewon calls, arms open wide. He remembers himself and hugs everyone, even you, and he has to pretend like this is completely fine and normal, like his hands aren’t practically shaking as his arms circle your shoulders in a two-second embrace. 

You squeeze one of his shoulders, and keeping his countenance is a Herculean task. He feels like those people centuries ago who passed out at the sight of a lady’s ankle. “It’s so nice to finally meet you,” you say, peering at him over the rim of your red cup. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Sunghoon feels the blush growing on his face; he wasn’t expecting so much of your attention so quickly. He takes a swig of his lukewarm cider, hoping if he seems drunk, it might explain his redness. “Good things, I hope,” he says, aware of the unoriginality but unable to come up with anything better.

“Oh, don’t worry, they’ve made you out to be a saint.” You’ve not once broken eye contact or stopped smiling—it should intimidate him, but instead, it makes Sunghoon feel like you’ve known each other for ages and that this isn’t your first conversation at all. He finds himself able to relax into a smile, and manages to meet your eyes for more than three seconds at a time.

“You don’t believe them?”

You pause, gaze zeroing in on him even more intensely than previously, smile turning smirk-like. Sunghoon’s heart skips a beat. Okay, maybe he’s not that relaxed. “I don’t know you well enough to make up my mind yet. But we’ll be seeing plenty of each other from now on, won’t we?”

This is exactly what Sunghoon has been warned about. You at parties, the way you look at guys, the way you talk to them. Sunghoon has been the audience of more than one recreation of such a scene, Yunjin pretending to be you, Chaewon pretending to be your “victim,” as the others liked to call them. Because once you had set your eyes on a man, he had little chance of making it out. Jay prides himself as being the only survivor, although he has to admit it’s only because Jake interrupted your conversation, telling him, “I see you’ve met my sister.” And Jay was not the kind of person that got off with their friends’ siblings, especially since his and Jake’s friendship was only a week long at that point, and he didn’t want to ruin the atmosphere in their dorm for the rest of the year just because his dick had gotten the best of him. His words. Whenever they were all hanging out together and they called you, one of the girls would inevitably ask if you had “turned any Italian boys into men” or if you had been “terrorizing the good men of Rome recently.” You would either roll your eyes or say this was not a conversation to be had in front of your brother.

Sunghoon had been sure they were exaggerating—it takes two to tango, as they say, and it wasn’t like you ensnared innocent men into your trap. They had to be willing, to want something from you just as much as you wanted something from them. He’d also gotten them to admit it wasn’t that frequent, that you weren’t looking for a new prey every party, just once in a while when you found someone you liked. (He’d been very quiet when Jay asked why he was trying so hard to defend you.)

But now that he is on the receiving end of your alluring smiles, he starts to understand how one could fall for you without meaning to. He knows he can’t — Jake probably wouldn’t take to it kindly, and he didn’t want to spoil the dynamic of his best group of friends at uni — but he has a feeling that ten minutes of talking to you would be enough to shake his resolve.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure we will. Jake said you studied a lot, but I’m sure we’ll get to hang out. All of us, I mean,” he quickly adds, lest you think he’s already asking you to hang out one-on-one. Sunghoon would not be that forward.

“Of course. I have to see if you did a good enough job replacing me for a year.” Sunghoon’s eyes widen, and before he can blurt out something weirdly laudatory like “I could never replace you, I would never even try, I don’t know you but you’re clearly far superior to me in every aspect and I could never even claim to fill your spot,” you giggle and tell him it’s just a joke. “If anything, I’m happy Jake has managed to make a new friend that he didn’t meet through me, that loser,” you say, and together, you laugh at Jake’s loserness, a topic that will never fail to amuse Sunghoon, although he’s not faring much better in that department. 

“Like, look at him right now,” you say, jerking your head in Jake’s general direction, somewhere behind Sunghoon’s shoulder—and that’s when he realizes that it’s just the two of you standing there, the others gone without him even noticing. Sunghoon turns around, finding the girls, Jay, and a bunch of other people he vaguely recognizes huddled around Jake. They all start chanting his name as he gulps down a giant red cup of beer, then raises the empty cup over his head in victory and crumples it, beaming at the people around him. 

“What is he doing?” Sunghoon asks, laughing at his friend.

“Jay called him over for a beer-off,” you explain. After a beat, you ask, “You didn’t notice?”

The implications are clear in your tone and in your eyes. In the smile playing on your lips, just shy of being a smirk. You didn’t notice because of me, is what you’re really telling Sunghoon—at least, that’s the impression he’s getting. And you’d be right. He was too busy talking to you and trying his best not to make a fool of himself to notice his friends leaving, too engrossed with you to register the sudden disappearance of four people. Across the room, where people have shifted their attention to yet another hockey player downing a sizable amount of beer, he catches Chaewon’s eyes, and she winks at him. Of course—leave it to Chaewon, to whom Sunghoon once made the mistake of drunkenly rambling about how pretty you looked in your Instagram posts last year, to give you and Sunghoon some time alone, “to get to know each other properly,” she would probably say. Although he isn’t sure that small talk over 2000s music counts as getting to know someone. According to the others, she and Yunjin started dating a month into their second year, so Chaewon has proclaimed herself as the goddess of dating and is now always trying to set people up. Sunghoon thinks she’s just living vicariously through her friends now that she has a Mrs. at home.

Because the filter usually at work between the part of Sunghoon’s brain where sentences are formed and his mouth is apparently on leave today, he says, “I do have a pretty distracting sight in front of me.” He’s immediately both mortified and impressed by this sudden bout of confidence, but then you look down and giggle, actually giggle, the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, and only pride remains. 

“So, Ken?” you ask, a cute attempt to change the subject, taking the fabric of the pink bandana around his neck between your fingers. Sunghoon wonders if you’re going to yank him down to your level, and he thinks he wouldn’t have much of a problem with that. 

He realizes that even though you should technically know each other’s names, you haven’t actually exchanged them, so in a confused but correcting tone, he says, “Um, Sunghoon.” He only belatedly realizes that you hadn’t gotten his name wrong, you were just making a comment on his costume, which he had completely forgotten he was wearing in the first place. Just as he’s about to backtrack and salvage what he can of the situation, you burst into laughter, hand leaving his bandana to cover your mouth as he hides his face behind his own hands, laughing along with you despite himself. 

“I know your name is Sunghoon!” you exclaim. The gratification of hearing you say his name takes away some of his embarrassment. “I’m Y/N, by the way. Not Barbie.”

Sunghoon nods. “Good to know.”

The laughter gradually dies down, but your smile stays the same; wide, bright, a smile that exposes your teeth and turns your eyes into crescents. Sunghoon can’t look away. He’s awash with nerves, your gaze simultaneously planting his feet to the ground like they’re full of lead and making him light-headed. His heart is beating so fast, he can barely feel it anymore. 

The two of you stand there, looking and smiling at each other, like in a cliché movie scene where everyone else at the party seems to fade into the background. He has no idea how much time has passed when you break the silence. “It really is nice to finally meet you,” you say, repeating your statement from earlier, as though you mean it more now. 

“It is,” Sunghoon simply replies, because he doesn’t know how else to express the relief of seeing you in the flesh after hearing about you and looking at a digital version of you for a year. The relief, but also the anticipation of what is to come now that he knows he likes you even more now that he’s actually seen you. And improbable as it sounds, you might even feel the same.

Sunghoon can already feel it. The beginning of something.

You nod towards his now empty cup. “Want a refill?”

Together, you make your way through the crowd of increasingly drunk students until you reach the kitchen, where the countertops overflow with open bottles of liquor of all sorts and paper plates with half-eaten pizza slices on them. He watches your every move as you find a cold bottle of beer in the fridge, a bottle of strawberry syrup in a random cupboard that you had to know was there, and a half-empty discarded bottle of lemonade on the counter. You ask him to tell you about last year, everything you missed out on, and so he does. He knows you’ve probably heard it all from the others before, but you still laugh and gasp like it’s the first time you’re hearing about any of it, all the hockey games they won, Jay getting food poisoning from the sketchy pizzeria he kept eating at, Yunjin almost getting into a fistfight with a man twice her size who was flirting with Chaewon. 

You assemble two drinks and hand him one of them. When he takes a sip, his eyes widen at the refreshing and sweet taste. “Good, right?” you say. “I discovered it on a trip to France last summer.”

“Thank God for France. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever enjoyed drinking beer,” he says.

“That’s probably because you can’t taste the beer at all.”

Sunghoon smiles. “Probably, yeah.”

You turn around, lower back against the counter, and take in the current kitchen population. “We really weren’t very original with our costumes tonight.” Sunghoon, who had not taken his eyes off of you this entire time, follows your gaze. He counts five partygoers dressed in some version of Barbie or Ken, and that’s just the kitchen. He doesn’t blame them—the fact that so many people came dressed in costumes at all impresses him, especially for a party on the 10th of September and not the 31st of October. The social committee of the hockey team just seems to really love themed and dress-up parties.

He chuckles, then takes a sip of his drink. It’s really nice. “Yeah, but we look the best.”

Your head whips towards him, eyes glinting with something that makes Sunghoon smile, even though he doesn’t know what you’re thinking. “Should we enter the couple’s costume contest?” you ask.

At the mention of couple, his eyes widen, his brain tricking him into thinking you’ve asked him out for a second. But when what you actually meant dawns on him, the first thing to come out of his mouth is, “There’s a couple’s costume contest?!”

“Mh-hm. The sign-up sheet should be around here.” 

For what feels like the millionth time since he’s started talking to you, his face heats up. “Are non-couples allowed to enter?”

“We’re Barbie and Ken. I’d say that’s enough of a couple, don’t you think?” 

Right. Because he had been thinking of Sunghoon and Y/N, while you obviously meant Barbie and Ken. In the contest, it doesn’t actually matter whether the contestants are dating in real life—it matters that their costumes match. Sunghoon knows that. He just needed a second.

He grins, deep dimples punctuating his cheeks. “Okay, let’s do it.”

Armed with your drinks, you walk around the kitchen in search of the sign-up sheet. You find it on a wall next to the dining table, which has been turned into a beer pong table for tonight’s festivities, and the sheet is almost filled with names already. Sunghoon can only hope that by midnight, when the contest is set to take place, most participants will have had too much to drink to remember it. You write your names on the list, and Sunghoon likes seeing his name in your handwriting so much he almost wants to take a picture.

“There you guys are!”

You both turn around to find Jake stumbling towards you, clearly more intoxicated than when he had left you half-an-hour ago. He rests his arms on your shoulders, forcing Sunghoon down to his height and making you stumble forwards from the sudden added weight. “I’ve been looking all over for you- You’re entering the contest?!”

For a split second, Sunghoon is scared he’s going to get scolded by Jake for trying to hit on his sister, but surprisingly, it’s you he narrows his eyes at. “Y/N, what are you roping my little Hoonie into?”

Sunghoon groans, face perpetually red at this point. Leave it to Jake to make him seem like a total loser. 

You frown at your brother. “I’m not roping your little Hoonie into anything.” Sunghoon wants to bury himself alive. “We agreed on doing it together. Right?” you ask, turning towards Sunghoon and batting your eyelashes at him. It makes him feel a bit better.

He turns back to Jake. “Right. We’re just joining forces to crush the competition.”

Jake scoffs. “As if.” He snatches the pen from your hands and underlines his name as well as Kazuha’s, the girl he came with tonight, three thick black lines that almost erases the names underneath them. “You can’t beat the hockey player and cheerleader combo.”

“Those aren’t even costumes, you guys are a hockey player and a cheerleader,” you protest.

“So?” Jake simply retorts, more attitude in his tone than he would have were he sober.

“So, that defeats the whole purpose of a costume contest.”

Jake knocks on your cowboy hat, and you immediately put it back in place, glaring at him. “As if Barbie was the greatest costume ever. Whatever, let’s just play beer pong so I can defeat you guys twice in one night.”

“You’re on, Sim.”

“You’re going down, Sim.”

Sunghoon had just been watching your back-and-forth amusedly when you grab his hand, leading him to the side of the table opposite Jake. His fingers tingle under your touch, but just like that, it’s gone. He’d rather keep on holding your hand than play this stupid game, but he isn’t opposed to taking Jake’s ego down a notch, either. The boy can barely stand straight, anyway, so it probably won’t be a very tough match.

Some guy he doesn’t recognize in a striped black-and-white referee t-shirt fills most cups with beer and a couple on each side with shots of vodka—he’s so earnest, Sunghoon isn’t sure whether he’s just taking his costume-slash-role very seriously or if he has genuinely been hired to look over the beer pong matches of the night. Some order in the brutish world of college parties, Sunghoon guesses.

Minjeong, Yunjin, Chaewon and Jay appear then, exchanging a quick look at the sight of you and Sunghoon together. The two former join your team, while the two latter join Jake’s, as well as other people that Sunghoon vaguely recognizes from other parties. But by the simple action of getting behind him, they become his most trusted allies for at least this part of the night.

You’re a terrible shot, but Sunghoon makes up for it by scoring almost every round. In his defense, he only misses when you come up close to him and whisper in his ear which cup he should go for. Your breath tickles his (oddly sensitive) ears and the combined scents of the strawberry and lemonade on your tongue and your delicate perfume make his head spin. He can barely think straight, so his aim is naturally thrown off—other than that, he makes Jay drink a healthy amount of beer. He almost feels bad for his friend, but he’d arrived late at the party and needed to quickly catch up with everyone’s level of ebriety anyway.

When the opposite team is down to their last cup, a lightning bolt of luck strikes you, and your ball disappears straight into the vodka-filled cup that Jake now has the honor of downing. 

Sunghoon gives you no time to celebrate, to gloatingly pump your fists in the air and point a mocking finger at your brother, because as soon as you make the shot, he wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you off the ground. When you’re on your feet again, you spin around to find a proud-looking Sunghoon beaming down at you. You burst into giggles and high-five him, your palms perfectly clapping against each other, and he threads your fingers together. A current of electricity rushes through him, and for a second, he swears it’s just the two of you in this packed room.

The moment is cut short by the loud cheers of the others on your team as they shake your shoulders and raise their hands for you to high-five them too. Minjeong flips the other team off and Yunjin has to go hug Chaewon and reassure her it’s nothing personal. It’s really quite easy to make college students happy—or devastated. 

You raise your eyebrows at Jake, who’s busy glaring at you instead of accepting his defeat and taking his shot. With a begrudging sigh, he tips his head back and drinks the vodka in one gulp, the cheers doubling in volume when his face scrunches at the bitter taste of the liquor.

“Don’t act so proud,” he scolds you. “Sunghoon carried your team.”

“Maybe, but she made us win in the end,” Sunghoon retorts, putting an arm around your shoulder. 

Jake scoffs, frowning at Sunghoon’s hand placement before eye-rolling his gaze away. “Whatever.” He slides his phone out of his back pocket and smiles as he shows the two of you his screen. “Would you look at the time? The contest is starting soon.” Then, with an accusatory finger pointed at you, adds, “You may have won this battle, but I’m winning the war.”

He stomps away, presumably to find Kazuha before the contest starts, and it’s your turn to eye-roll at his dramatics. You grab Sunghoon’s hand that hangs off of your shoulders, and together, make your way through the crowd again to the garage, where the contest is taking place. All the alcohol he’s been drinking has definitely started kicking in by now, and he finds himself giggling at nothing with you.

When you reach the threshold, still hand in hand, Sunghoon stops so abruptly behind you that you almost stumble. You look back at him, then follow his gaze towards the garage and the sheer amount of people in there. Worriedly, his eyes take in every single one of the contenders. You let go of his hand and stand in front of him, placing your hands on his shoulders and putting on a determined expression. You’d almost look like a parent reassuring their kid before their first day of kindergarten if you weren’t so much shorter than him. “Don’t even worry about them, Sunghoon. We look better than anyone here.”

His eyebrows crease. “There’s like, three other Barbie-Ken couples here. Some of these costumes are so original. And do you see their makeup? Is that even possible?” he asks, staring at a couple in scarily realistic cosplay of Simon and Jeanette from Alvin and the Chipmunks, fur and all. He can’t look at them for too long without getting chills.

You shake your head. “Almost everyone here is either a hockey player or a… hockey-affiliated person. You’re the beloved and talented defenseman of the team and I’m the star player’s sister. They’ll love us,” you say with a smile, watching the worry dissipate from his features.

“We’re like nepo babies,” he whispers. His lips break into a grin when your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I don’t know how nepotism works,” he admits, smiling wider when you burst into laughter. “How do you know if I’m talented, anyway? You haven’t seen me play yet.”

Your eyes rake him up and down appreciatively. “I took a wild guess.”

Not unlike a cartoon character, Sunghoon audibly gulps. As a hockey player since his most tender age, and dare he say, a pretty good-looking guy, he is used to girls flirting with him, and he is even hit sometimes by the occasional lightning strike of confidence that allows him to flirt back (he still can’t believe he managed to call you “a distracting sight” without spontaneously combusting). But there’s something in your eyes, in your smile, in the way you talk—something about you that has his breath hitching and his heart racing. He doesn’t know if he wants to run away and hide in a corner or kiss you right then and there.

Heeseung, the captain of the hockey team, announces into a microphone (which Sunghoon wonders where they got the money for) that the contest will start now, so he can neither kiss you nor run away. Instead, he follows you to the side of the room where all the contestants, including Jake and Kazuha, wait for their names to be called out. There are so many participants, it takes way longer than Sunghoon would like for the two of you to step onto the makeshift stage. Judging by the looks on the audience’s faces, everyone is surprised to see you and Sunghoon together—the hockey community at your university may be big, but everyone knows everyone, and gossip travels fast. No one had seen you and Sunghoon together before, for the obvious reason that you hadn’t even met before tonight. But you could be sure that by tomorrow, as silly as it sounds, word will have gone around that you and Sunghoon had participated in a couple costume contest together. 

At least, you give them something of substance to talk about—as you and Sunghoon pose on stage, wearing your brightest smiles to please the crowd, you stand on your toes and press a kiss to Sunghoon’s cheek. Sunghoon’s eyes burn a hole in the side of your face but you just watch as the audience of drunken 20-somethings goes wild over something as simple as a peck on the cheek. Jake is the only one booing. 

Sunghoon is still in shock when the next couple is called forward and you have to step off. His cheeks are redder than before and he can’t quite meet your eyes. Apparently, he also goes wild over something as simple as a peck on the cheek. You nudge his shoulder. “See, I told you they’d like us.” 

He feels like a fourteen-year-old for it, but Sunghoon can’t stop thinking about your soft lips against his cheek, so much so that he barely says a word as the three judges deliberate. If you notice the sudden change in his behavior, you don’t comment on it, perhaps chalking it up to nerves. He’s glad for it—he doesn’t know if he could handle being teased about it, especially from you. Although he’s not sure he wants you to think he’s the kind to stress over a last-minute Halloween costume contest. 

In the end, you don’t win. He suspects it was a rigged contest all along: the couple in the unimpressive Edward and Bella costume are friends with one of the judges, probably leading to their anticlimactic victory. At least it isn’t Simon and Jeannette who win, or Kazuha and Jake, even less original than the winners. Anyway, Sunghoon couldn’t care any less. With your hand in his as you walk back to the main room in search of your other friends, he feels like the biggest victor of the night. He doesn’t even mind it when his teammates tease him about his costume and how good the two of you look together—the smile you shoot him makes putting up with it worth it. He tries to think straight, but between the alcohol and your proximity, he feels like you’ve cast a spell on him.

Jake stumbles into your group, three drinks drunker than when Sunghoon last saw him, enthusiastically reporting that a game of spin the bottle is about to start in one of the rooms upstairs, because what every college party needs is a middle-school game to shake things up. None of the guys seem particularly interested until Jake reveals that the cheerleaders are playing. 

Sunghoon looks down at you, laughing when he sees your mildly disgusted moue. “Don’t feel like playing?”

“Not really, no.” Your eyes linger on his face. “There’s only one person here I want to kiss, anyway.”

All capacity for thought leaves Sunghoon’s brain. He just stares back at you blankly, lips slightly agape, willing himself to say something but also terrified that whatever leaves his mouth might make him seem like the biggest loser ever. 

You couldn’t possibly mean him—but did you? Was he the person you wanted to kiss?

As these questions resound through his head, your gaze drops to his lips. There’s his answer. 

His heart beating wildly in its cage, Sunghoon decides to do one smart thing tonight and leans in, slowly but surely closing the gap between the two of you. Then a sudden vibration in the back pocket of his jeans zaps through him like lightning and he jumps back, as if startled out of the trance you had put him in. Shame flooding his cheeks, he checks his phone; it’s the stupid alarm he set himself earlier to make sure he doesn’t get home too late. Midnight, Cinderella-style. 

You scratch the back of your neck as your eyes dart around the room. For the first time tonight, you look embarrassed—Sunghoon is in disbelief at how pretty you look even then. “I, um,” he starts, clears his throat. “I have this thing tomorrow morning, so I can’t stay too long…” he says guiltily.

He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but he swears that what he sees on your face is disappointment. It makes him want to take it all back, to stay here with you for as long as you want and forget about tomorrow morning. 

“Oh, right,” you say, nodding. “That’s fine. What thing?”

“Oh.” Sunghoon turns an impossibly deeper shade of red, further resembling the strawberry syrup the more he gets himself in these embarrassing situations with you. “Just… choir. I go to choir on Saturday mornings.” He looks down at his feet like he’s just revealed a secret, shameful part of himself.

You burst into laughter, and Sunghoon is scared for a second that you’re making fun of him, and his feelings are a lot more hurt than they should be by someone he just met. Although, to be fair, you don’t feel like someone he just met.

“That’s so cool! It must be such a nice change from all the dudes on the hockey team,” you say, a sweet, curious smile on your lips. Like you mean what you say. Like you might want to know more.

Sunghoon thinks he just fell in love.

He chuckles. “Yeah. Definitely a nice change. As much as I love hockey, it’s nice to do something calmer, you know. And I like singing. And the cakes the local grandmas bring.”

“So that’s what it’s all about, really.”

“Yep, you caught me.” Sunghoon still feels the almost-kiss lingering, a tension between the two of you that has him on edge. He feels like he’s just missed his bus because it left a minute earlier than planned. The opportunity is gone, and he would definitely mess everything up, trying to kiss you now. So instead, he decides to leave. Whatever must happen, will happen, even if it’s not tonight. You have the same friends—this is definitely not the last time you will see each other. “Well, I should probably head. I have to be up at eight tomorrow.”

“Oh, wow. The choir grandmas don’t play around.”

“They really don’t.”

“Well, see you around then,” you say, a clumsy laugh falling from your lips as you wrap your arms around Sunghoon’s neck, bringing him into a tight but short hug. You also smell good, he notes to himself. Of course you do.

“See you, Y/N.” Just as he’s about to turn away, you wrap your hand around his wrist.

“Wait. Sunghoon?” He’s only half-surprised at the immense relief he feels to hear his name on your lips. Like you, too, didn’t want to part with him just yet.

“Yeah?” he says, wishing the hope and anticipation aren’t too obvious on his face.

“Where’s that choir of yours?”

--

When Sunghoon arrives at his neighborhood’s community center, ten minutes before nine a.m., you’re already there. Despite the seven hours of sleep under his belt, he feels like he could’ve done with three more, and the singular cup of instant black coffee he had for breakfast was both atrocious and useless. But your smile has the restorative effect of two Red Bulls and a power nap. You look surprisingly bright, like you either managed to get a very good night’s sleep or are just the biggest morning person to ever exist.

He hugs you when he reaches you on the sidewalk, tighter than he probably should, but you return it. You smell like fresh soap and sugar. The two of you exchange quick greetings before he leads you inside the center. 

“I made some cookies as well.” You point to your tote bag and Sunghoon’s jaw slackens.

“You had time to bake?” 

“Kazuha made me take Jägerbombs, so I felt crazy when I got home. I thought it wouldn’t be fair on the old ladies if they did all the work.”

Sunghoon laughs. “They’re going to love you.”

You follow Sunghoon up two flights of stairs and into a spacious room with a wooden stage. There’s a snacks table on one side of the room that is almost fully decked with plates and tupperwares of all sorts, and although their contents remain covered by tin foil or lids, the coffee and hot water pots are free to use. Most of the chairs are stacked on each side of the room but a few have been put in the middle, the grandmas sitting and chatting there waving at Sunghoon as the two of you walk in. There are about fifteen people in the room so far, most of them older ladies, but not only. There’s a dad that came with his daughter, a couple of teenagers, and a few other adults. It’s quite an eclectic mix, and Sunghoon loves it.

Minjeong is here, too, which Sunghoon realizes he forgot to say until he sees the sheer confusion of finding someone you know in an unexpected place on both of your faces. She walks towards you, suspicious eyes darting between you two.

“Hey,” she says only to Sunghoon before turning to you, arms crossed over her chest. “And what are you doing here?”

“Hi, Minjeong, so nice to see you too!”

“I invited Y/N,” Sunghoon says quickly, although you did technically invite yourself. For some reason, he feels the need to defend you, even though he knows you and Minjeong have been friends for years now, and Minjeong is just always this blunt.

“I didn’t know this was the choir you went to,” you say to Minjeong.

“Oh, this?” She looks around the room. “It’s only the choir I’ve been going to since I was a kid. You’d know that if today wasn’t the first day you showed interest in it, ever.”

“I came to your concerts!”

One of the old ladies calls Sunghoon’s name from the snack table, and he is glad for the diversion. “Right. I’ll let you guys talk this out.” A hand on your shoulder, he smiles down at you. “I’m gonna say hi to the ladies over there. Be back in a minute.” He shoots Minjeong a look as if to say, Be normal. 

As he approaches the small group, one of them asks very loudly if you’re his girlfriend. They all burst into giggles, blushing and eager-eyed like they’re sixteen rather than sixty. Sunghoon would be endeared if you didn’t look so alarmed and Minjeong so horrified, both of you looking at him before turning back to each other and getting into a very heated and secretive discussion. He is bombarded with a hundred questions: what your name is, where you’re from, how did the two of you meet, are you together? No? But you’re so pretty! And he’s such a nice boy! He answers all of their queries to the best of his ability while checking that your conversation with Minjeong hasn’t turned physical—your arms are now also crossed over your chest, and you look annoyed while she looks like she’s accusing you of something, but at least, punches aren’t being thrown. 

Thankfully, it’s only a couple more minutes until the conductor calls for everyone to gather on stage, and a weight is lifted off of Sunghoon’s shoulders once the ladies’ collective attention is no longer on him. He isn’t sure where they came from, or why they’ve decided to make the choir rehearsal their hang-out spot, but there is always a group of women who sit there and knit while chatting quietly or listening to the songs, and they are sometimes joined by children whose parents are part of the choir but don’t want to sing themselves and apparently have nowhere else to go. Sunghoon had been so excited at the prospect of having you come see him that he hadn’t thought of how boring this might be for you, sitting with sixty-year-olds for two hours, listening to an amateur choir go through scales and sing corny romance ballads—they’re rehearsing for a wedding they’ve been hired to sing at. But as the minutes go by, his worry dissipates when the delighted smile on your face hardly falters. He can’t imagine that his choir is that good, but you genuinely look like you’re having a nice time, and it makes Sunghoon stand a little taller, sing a little louder. Your eyes are on him for most of the time, and he blushes every time your gazes meet, but he still can’t keep himself from looking away from the conductor to check on you every few seconds.   

Once rehearsal is over, everyone gathers around the refreshments table. When you tell Sunghoon that he looked good out there, he stuffs his mouth with banana bread to stop himself from blurting out something stupid. Your cookies are a hit, and so is everything else—Sunghoon would be more than happy to watch you eat as many baked goods as you possibly can and chat with the grandmas, but he has something to ask you. Without thinking much, he wraps his fingers around your wrist, gently pulling you away from the table and towards him. The question that was at the tip of his tongue fades as soon as you meet his eyes, looking up at him like a deer caught in headlights, cheeks stuffed with brownie. You’re so cute that words fail him for a second, and when he notices the proximity between the two of you, takes a small, bashful step backwards. You glance at his hand still around your wrist, and he withdraws it like he’s suddenly been burned. 

A playful smile grows on your lips. “Everything alright?”

He scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. I just, um, well. There’s a bus that takes us from right across the street directly to the beach, if you’re, um, if you’re interested. In going. With me. If you want.”

Your eyebrows cock in surprise, and Sunghoon thinks he’s messed it all up. You shoot Minjeong a quick, worried glance, then seem to think for a second. But when you look back to him, your smile is soft. “That sounds nice.”

An hour later, you’re running around together on the beach—or rather, Sunghoon is running around, and after five minutes of watching him with a smile on your face, he’s convinced you to run around with him. You’ve both long discarded your shoes and socks, jeans scrunched up to your mid-calves, grins so wide, your cheeks start to hurt. The wet sand is hard under your feet and the water cold against your skin. Sunghoon’s t-shirt sticks everywhere you sprayed water on him, and he knows putting his shoes on later will be a whole ordeal, but it doesn’t bother him. Even the gray September sky feels brighter because you’re standing with him underneath it. 

The water-splashing battle quickly has you both out of breath, and Sunghoon is ready to call a truce when you spot something behind him, gasping and running towards it. He turns around to find you picking up a bunch of sandcastle-building toys that must’ve been left behind by some kids. “I haven’t built a sandcastle in such a long time, this is so exciting,” you say, excitement written all over your face. 

As much as he loves seeing the glint of childish amusement in your eyes, Sunghoon keeps looking around in case the owners of these toys might appear out of thin air. “I feel like there’s something immoral about this,” he says, and you stop stacking sand into one of the toys to look at him with a confused frown. “Aren’t we technically stealing from some kids?”

“Sunghoon. If those kids really cared about these plastic toys, they wouldn’t have left them here.”

“What if they come back for them?”

“Then we’ll give them back. We’re not monsters.” That’s all it takes for Sunghoon to give in. He helps dig trenches around the towers you build, carving out small windows on them and apologizing profusely when he accidentally pokes too hard into one of them, destroying half of it. 

The second he notices you shivering, Sunghoon is on his feet, unwrapping the scarf around his neck and laying it like a blanket over your shoulders. “I’m going to get us something warm to drink. I’ll be back in a minute!” he announces before you can even protest, and practically runs to the nearest café. 

He only leaves you and the slightly pathetic-looking sandcastle alone for a minute, quickly coming back with two take-away cups of milky Earl Grey tea and a brownie that he couldn’t help himself from buying. The moan you let out when you bite into it, gooey, sweet chocolate sticking to your teeth, goes straight down Sunghoon’s spine, but he tries not to let his thoughts get too carried away.

“Good, right?” he asks, laughing when you nod fervently. When you laugh too, it’s a sound so sweet, it rivals the decadence of the brownie. “I sometimes make the trip all the way here just for this.”

“I thought I’d be done with sweets after this morning, but this is so good.”

“Better than Berta’s banana bread?”

“Oh, a hundred percent,” you say, covering your mouth with your hand as you speak. “Sorry, Berta. I’ll be thinking about this for the rest of my life.”

Sunghoon hopes you’ll remember him as the boy who’d introduced you to those brownies, if nothing else.

The two of you are silent for a little bit, but it’s a comfortable silence—something Sunghoon didn’t know was possible with someone he’d just met. This was something he loved about the sea: it allowed for some quiet. The crashing of the waves against the shore, the calls of the seagulls, the dogs barking after them—it all meant he didn’t need to fill the space with needless chatter. He could look out at the peaceful water, you by his side, and just enjoy the moment.

“I’m still so amazed whenever I come to the beach, no matter how many times it’s been.” Sunghoon’s voice is quiet when he speaks, lower than usual. It sounds a lot more intimate than he means it to be. You turn your head to look at him, silently asking him to go on. There’s a small smile playing on his lips, a twinkle in his eyes as he watches the water. “The town I grew up in is right in the middle of the country, so the sea is like, a five-hour drive. There was a lake nearby, but it was nothing compared to this. It might sound silly, but being from somewhere where everyone knows each other, I never realized just how big the world was until I came here and saw the sea for the first time.”

“You’d never been to the sea before coming here?” you ask, surprise clear in your voice. 

He shakes his head. “My hometown isn’t far from the mountains, so it’s a huge tourist spot both in the winter and in the summer, which meant my mom had to work even when my sister and I were out of school and could actually go on holiday. We’d go visit my grandparents and aunts when we found the time, but that was it.” He meets your gaze, a smile playing on his lips at the thought of his hometown and his family. “This is the furthest I’ve ever been from home.” 

The corners of your lips raise into a smile too, matching Sunghoon’s. “And how has that been going?”

He sighs. “It’s okay. I miss my mom and sister like crazy, of course, but they FaceTime me so much that I barely notice it. And anyways, it’s also nice to be on my own. Discover another part of myself, and all that.”

“For sure.” 

There’s a slight shift in your expression that Sunghoon catches onto, a falter in your smile and a hint of sadness in your eyes. He doesn’t want to force a topic that you don’t want to talk about, so he just gently eggs you on, in case all you need is a small push.

“What about you? I think Jake mentioned you guys growing up around here, only an hour or so away.”

At the mention of your brother, the smile returns to your eyes. You take a deep breath and think for a bit, but eventually, you start talking. Although Sunghoon’s eyes are on you, you keep yours trained on the sea. “Yeah, we did. We live just up the coast, so we were always hanging out at the beach. In a way, it’s nice having the sea here as well. It’s like-I don’t know.”

“Like having a piece of home even when you’re away?”

Your gazes meet for just a second, the surprise clear in your eyes, but as quickly as it came, it’s gone, and you turn away from Sunghoon once more. “Basically, yeah.” A sardonic smile appears on your lips. “Although the constant reminder isn’t always appreciated.” 

He tilts his head. When you don’t say anything further, he flicks some sand onto your hand and asks you what you mean by that. He looks at you with curiosity and kindness only, eager to know more about you, to let you know that you can open up to him, that he won’t judge you, but careful not to overstep any boundaries either. It seems to work.

“It might sound stupid, but back home, the beach was a place I could go to when it all was a bit too much, you know? Like an escape from everyday life. Where I could forget about all of the pressure on my shoulders.” Sunghoon hums, and you take another deep breath. “I don’t know if you and Jake talk about this sort of thing, but… our parents are barely nice when we do well, and pretty awful when we don’t reach their expectations. So we were like, constantly having to outdo ourselves just for them to say, ‘Keep it up’, or something like that. And if we did something wrong, well…”

You trail off, but Sunghoon knows what you mean. “Yeah, Jake said they barely spoke to him anymore because he decided to play hockey instead of becoming, like, a doctor or something.”

You smile, but it’s humorless. “Yep. They send him money, and he comes home for a bit over Christmas and summer break, but that’s it. I’ve gone home by myself sometimes and they won’t even mention him, it’s insane.”

“He also doesn’t talk about it a lot.”

“I know. I’m always the one to bring it up. I know it’s a sensitive topic for him, obviously, but I still find it amazing how well he deals with it. But me… despite everything, I still need their approval, you know?” you ask, and Sunghoon nods.

“That makes sense.”

You sigh. “I guess. And I’m obviously not becoming a doctor like them. Not a medical one, at least. It took a year of convincing them that doing the degree I’m doing was okay. ‘Cause at the end of the day, it’s still me filling in my university applications, and they can’t actually force me to go to medical school, but I still wanted them to be proud of me. Even if I study languages.” It’s quiet for a few seconds as you both look out at the waves crashing against the shore. When you start talking again, you look down at the sand, picking it up and letting it filter through your fingers. “So, yeah. Jake got a scholarship here, and I didn’t wanna be too far from home, so here we are. We’re so close to home, the sea I went to when I needed a break in high school and the sea I go to now are one and the same. And now it reminds me of my parents rather than making me forget about them.”

“I’m sorry for bringing you here,” Sunghoon says. “I didn’t think…”

You cut him off with a smile. “It’s okay. Now I’ve created new memories. Nice ones. And you know… wherever I am, it’ll be at the back of my mind. It’s up to me whether I let it affect my life or not.”

“Letting go of these things is never easy,” Sunghoon offers. “You also can’t blame yourself if it does affect you sometimes.”

When you look at Sunghoon, your eyes darting back-and-forth between his like they’re searching for something there, he feels himself tense up slightly. He can’t read you at all, has no idea what you’re thinking even as you smile and say, “You’re right.” Even as you silently link your pinky with his, gazing down at your hands with a small smile. He hadn’t realized how cold his hands were until this small touch, so small yet able to spread warmth throughout his entire body. When he speaks, he can’t bring himself to meet your eyes—he’s still so focused on where your hands touch, too aware of the skin of your finger right against his. Such a small, innocent touch. He can’t even begin to understand why it means so much to him.

“For what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing is super cool,” he says. “I’ve always been so shit at foreign languages, let alone dead languages. And packing your bags and going abroad for a year, not everybody can do that. Becoming a doctor might be hard, but it also takes a specific kind of person to do what you do. And what Jake does. It’s all valuable.”

“Now, if you could say that again while I record you to show my parents, please,” you say, making him laugh.

“It’d be my pleasure.”

“What about you?” you ask him after a small pause. “I can’t be the only one who trauma-dumps on the first date.”

Sunghoon’s breath hitches in his throat. He hadn’t even dared entertain the thought that this might be more than a platonic hang-out in case he was crossing a line—but you’ve just called it a date. With just a few casual words, you’ve changed the entire meaning of the hours you’ve spent together. He hopes you can’t tell how flustered it’s made him.

“Well, there’s not much trauma to dump, really. Sorry.” 

You giggle. “Don’t apologize. That’s a good thing.”

Now that you’ve just opened up about your parents, Sunghoon is scared that telling you about how good of a childhood he had might come off as insensitive—but you smile softly at him, holding his hand face-up in yours, tracing the lines of his palm with the tip of a finger, and he starts talking. “So, it was just me, my older sister and my mom growing up. My dad died when I was 2.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It is a bit sad that I don’t have any memories of him, but everyone who knew him said he was a great guy. And my mom’s had this boyfriend since I was like, 10? He’s the one who got me to start hockey. So it hasn’t been that bad.”

“Your mom must be really strong.”

Sunghoon smiles. “She is. She’s amazing. To raise two kids on your own while grieving and not royally fuck up is… well, amazing. She’s always been so supportive of us, no matter what we wanted to do. My sister did well at school, but I wasn’t so good. I never really enjoyed it, but she’s never made me feel bad about it. She didn’t mind that all I wanted to do was hit a puck around.” 

“And you’re pretty good at hitting that puck around, aren’t you?”

“I’m not so bad,” Sunghoon says, chuckling along with you. He’s about to go on, but he is cut off by a raindrop hitting his hand, then another one; before either of you know it, your clothes are soaked through. Sunghoon takes his denim jacket off, using it as a makeshift umbrella for the both of you as you run towards the nearest awning, shaking with giddy laughter until you forget about the chilly rain and the clothes sticking to your skin. When it doesn’t let up for another few minutes, Sunghoon suggests catching the bus back, and you agree. 

The heating on the bus is set on low, but it’s enough to warm Sunghoon up as soon as he steps onto it. You sit at the back in a corner of your own, multiple rows away from the other people onboard. The two of you are relatively quiet, lost in your own thoughts until Sunghoon, after much internal deliberating, takes one of your hands in his and interlaces your fingers together. You look up at him, but he doesn’t return your gaze, eyes fixed on the window to hide his shy smile and the blush slowly staining his cheeks. To his surprise, you squeeze his hand and rest your head on his shoulder. He freezes for a second, unsure how to react to your reciprocated affection, but he makes himself relax into your touch, and starts brushing his thumb back-and-forth on the back of your hand. The sudden storm has made day turn to night a little earlier today, and with the quiet hum of the bus, he finds himself on the edge of sleep for the whole ride—the only thing keeping him awake is his booming heart.

The bus is nearing his stop when the buzz of his phone in his back pocket jolts him awake. You lift your head from his shoulder, massaging your neck as you fish your phone out of your own pocket. Sunghoon, more intrigued by you than by whoever has texted him, watches as the brightness of your screen makes you wince. Once you’ve read the text, you turn towards him, sleepy eyes and sleepy voice as you ask him whether he’s seen “this,” referring to a text from Chaewon. dinner at our flat tonight!!! come whenever. bring drinks. 

“Oh, I forgot she was doing that tonight,” you say through a yawn.

Sunghoon chuckles. “Do you have enough energy for it?”

“I always have enough energy for Chaewon’s cooking.”

You and Sunghoon make a pit-stop at a grocery store to buy two bottles of white wine and the hummus Chaewon likes, then head to your flat. Naturally, questions are asked when you and Sunghoon arrive at the exact same time, but before Sunghoon can explain that you spent the day together, Minjeong’s head pops out of the kitchen door, and she asks whether you ran into each other downstairs. Chaewon is only looking at the both of you, waiting for an answer, so she doesn’t see the very pointed look Minjeong gives you, as if to say Agree with me or else. You quickly glance at Sunghoon then say, “Yeah, we just arrived at the same time.” When they’ve both turned away, you tell him in a hushed tone that you’ll ask her about it later. 

The girls are busy in the small kitchen and Chaewon insists that they don’t need any more help, so you and Sunghoon bring two chairs by the kitchen door and sit as Yunjin catches the four of you up on the most recent drama in her Law cohort. Jay arrives twenty minutes later, but it isn’t another hour before Jake shows up with the excuse that he was taking a nap.

“Someone would think you don’t sleep at night, with the amount of naps you take,” you say.

“Oh my God, I miss when you weren’t here,” Jake replies, flicking your forehead before promptly plopping himself down on the couch. “I was so hungover when I woke up. I had to sleep it off,” he explains as he grabs four cans of beer from his backpack. 

Chaewon always makes a point to ask how everyone’s spent their day, but today, she unfortunately starts with Sunghoon, so he doesn’t have any time to come up with anything believable other than the truth, which is exactly what he does—and when Jay asks, What, to the beach by yourself? under Minjeong’s heavy gaze, he has no choice but to say yes. He isn’t sure why it’s such a big deal that you spent the day with him, or why it needs to be kept a secret, but there must be a reason. He’ll find out later. When it’s your turn, you look straight into Sunghoon’s eyes as you say you spent the day at the library but didn’t get much work done. Everyone ignores Jake when he exclaims Boring! and Chaewon swiftly moves onto Jay.

But you don’t. 

Your eyes stay on Sunghoon, unflinchingly watching him, expression unreadable, and he finds himself unable to look away, even as he feels his face heat up and his stomach flip. Then you smile, a satisfied smirk like you got what you wanted, and shift your gaze to Jay, who’s going on and on about the first six episodes of Lost he binge-watched earlier and wondering why nobody had told him about this “masterpiece of a show” before. Sunghoon is too busy thinking about the way you’d looked at him and pondering all the reasons for it to listen carefully. He watched Lost when he was fourteen anyway.

All throughout the evening, as the seven of you eat Chaewon’s pasta dish (which she made entirely from scratch, and is probably one of the best things to have ever graced Sunghoon’s taste buds), drink, talk, and afterwards, play card games, every glance between you and Sunghoon feels like a secret conversation that only the two of you are privy to. No one except for Minjeong is aware that you spent the day just the two of you until now—and even she doesn’t know what it is you did. Within a day of knowing each other, you already share memories that are yours and no one else’s. Sunghoon is giddy with the knowledge, heart skipping every time your eyes meet, no matter how fleetingly. When you’re all saying goodbye, it takes everything in him not to hug you for an awkwardly long time and to tear himself away from you. 

He can hardly fall asleep that night.

--

For the entirety of the year you were gone, Sunghoon could only nod and smile while the others bemoaned your absence or commented on how much more fun it’d be if you were here (even Jake, after enough wine spritzers, would admit to missing you). He understood that the group dynamics might feel different to them without you around, but this particular set of people was all he knew, so he never minded it. It reminded him of people telling him how sad it must’ve been growing up without a father, trying to be empathetic, when he didn’t know how he could miss something he never had. 

But now that you’re here, he gets it. You add something to the group that he can’t quite put his finger on. It’s in your affectionate gestures towards Chaewon and Yunjin, in your shared sense of humor with Jay (which no one else seems to find funny, save for Sunghoon, sometimes), in your bickering with Minjeong and downright arguing with Jake. It’s a hackneyed expression, but you do light up a room—at least in Sunghoon’s opinion, you do. In your presence, everything feels not only more lively, but also more cohesive, like you were the missing piece of a puzzle. Like a historic work of art that has been returned to its rightful owner. 

Sunghoon just finds himself drawn to you, at times unable to keep his eyes off of you, and the only things keeping him from making a move are his inherent shyness and the eyes of your friends. He doesn’t want to mess up the friendship he has with anyone from the group, least of all Jake, just because he can’t keep it in his pants. He thought of Yunjin and Chaewon, how their relationship had gone smoothly from the beginning and posed no problem to the dynamic of the group, but he had no idea if this was replicable between you and him at all.

If he had to be honest, a big part of him was also just afraid you’d reject him.

Getting a read on you is hard, which doesn’t help. It’s been three weeks since the gang reunited, since that party where you met. The first semester of his second and your fourth year started a little bit over a week ago; Sunghoon sometimes worries that you think there is some big age gap between you and that you see him as a kid, even though, admittedly, two years is not such a huge difference. In those three weeks, there have been many encounters which could be seen as cases of flirting between the two of you—Sunghoon has noticed every single one of them and replayed each an embarrassing amount of times in his head. A hand carefully posited on his shoulder; prolonged eye contact; jokes whispered in his ear at a crowded house party; knees lightly touching at first, then pressed together during movie night. None of it ever fails to make Sunghoon’s heart flutter. You could breathe in his general direction and it’d make his heart beat fast enough to worry a cardiologist, so when you smile at him, it’s a small death every time.

And so he dares hope that his interest isn’t one-sided—although most of the time, he is so stuck between thinking none of it means anything and thinking every single thing you do is a sign that you like him, that he rarely knows what to think. And whenever you’ve paid him enough attention to make him believe it’s not all in his head, you do something that proves him wrong. Watching you interact with other people, he realizes that you keep good eye contact with everyone and that you’re just as touchy and playful with all of your friends. At parties, you hit it off with new people and catch up with old friends without so much as a hint of awkwardness. He watches as you talk to other guys, the same smile that has been making him weak for the past three weeks, directed towards them and not him. Sunghoon assumes you’re either really nice to everyone and oblivious to the fact that it could be seen as flirting, or you just flirt with everyone. 

In that sense, the two of you are complete opposites. Sunghoon, whose entire friend group hangs on the fact that he befriended Jay, who knew Jake, who knew you, Minjeong, Yunjin and Chaewon. Sunghoon who has spoken to maybe half of his hockey team outside of the locker rooms and the occasional party. Sunghoon who, outside of his usual friend group, has managed to make three other friends on his own in the year he’s been at university, because they had been put in a group project and magically hit it off enough to upgrade from classmates to friends. 

Then there’s you, who has to stop every thirty seconds at a party to say hi to someone you know. You, who still keeps in touch with the friends you made in a foreign country, even those who spoke broken English. You, who didn’t make Sunghoon feel like his crippling shyness was a problem when you first met. 

He doesn’t understand how everyone who meets you doesn’t instantly fall in love. 

Or maybe they do, and he’s just one of many vying for your heart. 

Tonight is one of the nights where all he can do is watch from afar as you interact with another man that he desperately wishes was him. With your lower back against the kitchen counter, drink in hand as you laugh with that other guy, eyes never leaving his face, it almost looks like someone has copied your time with Sunghoon at the costume party and pasted it onto this post-hockey game party. All you’re missing is a bright pink cowgirl hat and boots to match.

And yet, it’s his team jacket over your shoulders, his name and number on your back. Sunghoon shouldn’t feel nearly as jealous as he does.

So he does what any good friend would do, and blames Jay for reasons completely unwarranted—even now, days after receiving his advice, and hours after taking it, Sunghoon still can’t help but regret involving him at all. 

Initially, Sunghoon hadn’t wanted to tell anyone about his growing feelings for you—he’d thought that if he pushed them away and kept them to himself, they’d go away on their own. But clearly, they didn’t, seeing as how his stomach always twisted in nervous excitement at the prospect of seeing you and how he could never get through a conversation with you without blushing. So, quicker than he’d like to admit, he’d given in and told Jay about the day you’d spent at the beach and how felt about you now, thinking it was some big shameful secret that would render his friend flabbergasted. 

That was his first mistake. 

Jay wasn’t impressed. “Yeah, it’s been pretty obvious, dude,” he’d said through a mouthful of cheeseburger. It was after hockey practice, and they were sitting in the burger joint near the ice rink that had some of the best student deals in town. Jake was going on a Hinge date, and Sunghoon had lured Jay in with the promise of free food (Jay wanted to go home and game, but all Sunghoon needed to do to convince him was to say “I’ll pay for it”). 

“Obvious? How obvious? Does everyone know? Does Jake know?” Sunghoon asked, growing more agitated by the second.

“Jake is possibly the worst room-reader that has ever lived, so no, I don’t think he’s caught on. But the rest of us know. I mean, you look at her like a twelve-year-old with a crush on his English teacher,” Jay said, unceremoniously cramming fries into his mouth.

Sunghoon ignored the slightly humiliating remark, still preoccupied by the fact that he hadn’t been as discreet as he thought he had. He leant in towards Jay and dropped his voice to a whisper, even though the restaurant was practically empty, save for them and a group of rowdy middle school boys who were definitely not paying attention to them. “Do you think… does she know?”

Jay dropped his fist on the table in sudden annoyance, causing Sunghoon to jump back in his seat. “Now you’re acting like a twelve-year-old.” Before Sunghoon could defend himself and argue that he’s being completely rational, Jay launches into a surprisingly moving monologue. “It’s fine if you like her, there’s nothing to be embarrassed of. Everybody feels attraction towards other people, everybody gets crushes, it’s no big deal. Just talk to her. Worst case scenario, she doesn’t feel the same way, and you both move on, because you’re adults.”

There’s nothing worse than a friend being right about something you absolutely don’t want to hear. Sunghoon did feel like he had been carrying a horrible secret around, but Jay was spot-on: crushes are a very common, very human experience. And yet Sunghoon managed to feel like he was the only one who had ever had to go through this torture. “You say that like it’s easy,” he said, sulking.

“It is easy. You’re making it hard.”

“So what, your advice is just to confess to her?”

Jay rolled his eyes. “See? You’re saying confess like it’s some sin you have to repent for. Yeah, just tell her.”

“Just tell her,” Sunghoon repeated, looking at his friend like he was crazy. Jay just took another bite of his burger.

“Yeah, dude. It’s not even like you’ve known each other for a long time, so there’s no risk of ruining a friendship, or anything.”

“But do you even know if she feels the same way at all?”

Jay shrugged. “She hasn’t mentioned anything,” he said, and Sunghoon’s heart dropped in disappointment. “But it’s Y/N, she’ll be cool about it. And who knows, she might actually see something in you, for some godforsaken reason.”

Jay laughed at his own joke, and Sunghoon afforded him a chuckle. They moved on to other topics, but later, as they waited for Jay’s bus to come, he couldn’t help himself. “Do you think Jake will mind? If something happens with Y/N and me?”

Jay thought for a second. “I think he’d be more upset with her than with you, what with everything that happened with Heeseung... But knowing him, he probably won’t care as long as you aren’t weird in front of him.” He puts a hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder and shakes it gently. “Don’t let that stop you from making a move, okay? You’ll cross that bridge when you get to it.” His bus came then, so Sunghoon couldn't ask for more details about this Heeseung situation—he knew that there had been something between you and him which hadn’t ended particularly well, but no one ever really talked about it so he didn’t dare bring it up. All he knew was that it had been significant enough for Jay to mention it now, and for Jake to seem bothered every time it was mentioned.

He put all of that out of his head for the time being. In a way, he had just received Jay’s blessing; even if it scared him shitless, he could make a move. Perhaps not something as straightforward as Jay was suggesting, but something, at the very least. 

The first major hockey game of the season was that coming Friday. Sunghoon had an idea.

The morning of, he shot you a text. He tried to make it sound as nonchalant as he can, so that you wouldn’t know he spent close to an hour deleting, writing and pouring over a singular sentence. Can you meet me in front of the locker rooms 30 mins before the game? 

That was his second mistake.

You replied twenty minutes later, twenty minutes that Sunghoon spent questioning everything that had led up to this moment.

yn.sim i’ll be there!!

You even got there five minutes early. He was waiting for you, all decked out in his hockey uniform, save for the gloves and protective headgear. He was anxiously chewing on gum, heart doing somersaults inside his ribcage—a grin found his lips as soon as you appeared around the corner, the sight of you alleviating his nerves for a second, then doubling them when you came close. “Hey,” he said, voice soft and slightly trembling.

“Hey,” you simply replied, a smile on your face to match his as he took you in his arms. It was a hug that lasted a second longer than it should, but that also ended too early for his liking.

“Um, I only have a second, Coach will be wanting to give one of his pep talks,” he said when you separated. One quick glance back at the locker room doors behind him, then back at you. The tips of his ears burnt, and he couldn’t stop his eyes from furtively darting between your face and the floor. But he’d come this far, so he couldn’t back out now. He just had to get it over with. “Here,” he blurted out, holding out the letterman jacket he had been hiding behind his back. You grabbed it, eyeing him with amused suspicion at first, but surprise spreaded over your features as you unfurled the jacket.

“Your team jacket?” 

He couldn’t tell whether you were amazed or horrified. You stared wide-eyed at the jacket, at its dark green sleeves, at the four letters of his last name and the huge number 8 embroidered onto the back. Your surprise faded back into what he thought — what he hoped — was excitement as you looked at him. He scratched the back of his neck, feeling his face flush red. “Yeah, I just, you know… It’s the first big game of the year, and I thought it’d bring me good luck if a pretty girl was wearing my name…” he explained, repeating the words he’d practiced over and over, voice turning into more and more of a mumble as he spoke. He had planned on speaking with more confidence, but now, the fact that he could speak at all felt like a miracle.

A light giggle spilled out of your mouth. Sunghoon immediately took it for mockery and regretted every decision that had led him here. “Sorry, it was a silly idea, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t like it,” he said, reaching for the jacket. But you were quicker than him, hugging the thick bundle of fabric to your chest as you now beamed at him.

“Are you kidding? I love it,” you said, shrugging off your jacket and replacing it with his.

First, relief flooded his body, then pride and excitement — as you spun around and showed the jacket off — at seeing his name on your back, and his attempt at making a move being successful. At least, he thought it was clear what he meant by giving you his jacket to wear at his game—he could only hope you understood. “Well… I’m glad.” Your eyes met, and you both chuckled softly, gazes holding each other’s for a second too long. 

Two weeks ago, Sunghoon still would’ve been able to convince himself this was a fluke; that this was just another one of his crushes that a gentle breeze could blow away. Because after all, when Sunghoon fell in love, it usually went as quickly as it came. But at that moment, in front of the locker rooms, his mind solely on you and not the opening game of the season, he realized this was something else entirely. And whatever it was, he hadn’t felt it in a good long while.

He was terrified—but infinitely excited, too.

“Okay, I should probably head back in now,” he forced himself to say, but made no move to go.

“Okay.”

He paused. “Will you be cheering me on?”

Your smile widened. “Of course.”

He nodded slowly, upper body starting to turn away but feet still firmly planted on the ground. “Okay.” 

Another second passed, and just as he was about to actually walk away, you grabbed his hand. Before he could compute what was happening, you lifted your head and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. His hand was still in yours when you took a step back, and for once, it was you who looked sheepishly at the floor. “For good luck,” you explained. He had no time to reply—you were already walking away, only looking back once to wave and shoo him in the direction of the locker room. He chuckled and nodded, but waited until you were out of sight to head back into the locker room.

Inside the locker room, everyone was too focused on getting their head in the game to notice his giddy smile. Your lips had been warm and soft against his cheeks, a welcome repeat of that time at the costume party, but the quickness of it all had only made him want more. From that very first night he’d met you, the question of how your lips would feel on his had scarcely left his mind. This brought him a step closer to getting an answer, but also made his curiosity grow tenfold.

Thankfully, by the time his coach gathered them around for a last minute pep talk, he’d managed to put the distracting thoughts of you out of his head, at least temporarily—he’d need to play well, for himself and his team mostly, but impressing you was also a priority. 

As the captain, Heeseung said a few words. He reminded the team of how important this match was and went over the main strategy points. For the time being, Sunghoon was able to forget about his arguably unfounded resentment against the older boy and whatever it was he had to do with you. This was not the time for jealousy over someone he had no right to feel jealous over. 

A few minutes later, his members and those of the opposing team poured out onto the rink for warm-up. Sunghoon searched the crowd for your face—when he found it, you were already smiling wide and waving at him. His heart did something funny, but Jay punched his shoulder pad and he remembered what he was there for. He could get lost in the eyes of a pretty girl later, specifically when he’d destroyed the other team and shown her how good of a hockey player he was.

Every now and then as he skirted around the rink and did his stretches, he stole glances at you. They didn't last long, because every single time, you’d already be looking, as if your eyes never strayed from him. Knowing you were watching made him nervous at first, but by the end of warm-up, mainly because he didn’t have much of a choice, he’d turned those nerves into an ever stronger will to do well.

The moment the referee blew the whistle, and for the hour that followed, Sunghoon was locked in on one thing and one thing only: winning. He was only competitive when it came to hockey—he didn’t care about dying in an online battle game or losing to Jake at beer pong, but once he was on the rink, he had to win. Pride surged through him and filled every crevice of his aching limbs whenever he or one of his team members scored, and the feeling that came with a victory, with hugging his teammates in celebration or hearing the crowd cheer for them, was like nothing else he’d ever known. The other side of that coin meant that any loss was a tremendous disappointment. Getting beat at an important game could put him in a week-long funk. His sister had once carefully hinted at his self-esteem relying too much on his hockey performance, and although his first reaction had been to dismiss her, he knew she had poked at some truth there. But what could he do—on particularly lonely nights, he truly thought hockey was all he had going for him. 

To his overthinking nature, becoming so single-minded the second the whistle blows was a relief, a break from the stress of daily life. He didn’t have to worry about his next deadline or about what the guys on the team thought of him or about the inevitable phone call to his mom asking for more money for groceries. It was respite from the thoughts surrounding you that plagued him: how you felt about him, how you might react knowing what he felt for you, how Jake might react. Why Minjeong hadn’t wanted you to say anything that evening, but why Jay had told him to just go for it. Heeseung, whom he had to respect as the captain and an undeniably talented player, but also as someone who had had something to do with you, whether good or bad. All of it had been wildly bustling around Sunghoon’s mind, but once on the rink, all he had to concern himself with was the puck and getting it in the opposing team’s goal. 

And Sunghoon did just that—he scored the first goal of the game, another one in the second period, then a third during the eleventh hour, breaking the tie between the two teams. He smiled right at you after each one, just to make sure you had seen everything. He couldn’t quite describe how it felt to see you clap and cheer for him, jumping up-and-down, forming a megaphone with your hands around your mouth and yelling, “Go Sunghoon!” all while you wore his jacket. It was a separate kind of pride and satisfaction from the sort he’d get seeing anyone else cheer him on, for sure. 

The other team put up a good fight, getting in a few goals of their own and protecting their side well, but in the end, thanks to Sunghoon’s goal, it was his team that won. He took his helmet off and got his hair ruffled by half of his team, then shook hands with the other team, trying to contain his boastful smile—some ice hockey players flew off the handle very quickly, and starting a fight was the last thing he wanted.

Kids and local fans huddled by the barriers on each side of the player’s tunnel to get an autograph or a picture. People around here were weirdly attached to their university sport teams, and the athletes on teams that did particularly well — namely football and rugby — were sort of local celebrities. Their ice hockey team wasn’t quite at that stage yet, but they were placing better nationally with every year, and so the local interest had grown. More kids had started signing up for lessons, and their parents often brought them to home games. As Sunghoon chatted with men twice his age and took selfies with ten-year-olds, he tried to find you in the crowd, to no avail. He’d been hoping for a thumbs-up from you for a game well played, or even a hug, but you were nowhere in sight.

It wasn’t until half-an-hour later, after saying bye to all the fans that had waited after the game for them, listening to Heeseung and their coach congratulate them (but also remind them to not take anything for granted), showering and changing, that he got to check his phone.

chaewon we going k-bbq! u guys played well see u later at da party!!!!

Disappointment only had a second to sink to the bottom of his stomach. He’d barely finished reading the text when he was hoisted up by the shoulders. Two of his senior teammates, Soobin and Beomgyu, marched him towards the exit. “We are getting you wasted tonight, Park,” Beomgyu announced, a wide grin on his lips.

“I have a good feeling about this season,” Soobin added. Sunghoon looked back to find Jay and Jake simply shrugging and laughing at him.

Indeed, the second they got to the dorm where tonight’s party would be taking place, a beer was thrusted in his hand. It was only 7 p.m., still light outside, but that didn’t stop the team nor their friends that had come to the game. They sipped beer like it was water, so much so that two hours later, when the party started to grow, Sunghoon was already quite inebriated. It didn’t help that his cup was never empty for too long, and that he had the reassurance of being in his own dorm—it was the closest student building to the ice rink, and so was one of the prime spots for hockey parties. He could get as drunk as he wanted — or as Beomgyu wanted — and still get home in less than a minute. 

He somehow ended up in the corridor, part of a nonsensical conversation about candle-making with two guys he had recognized from one of his Phys Ed classes but could not for the life of him remember the names of. One had shared that candle-making was a big hobby of his, and it had made Sunghoon and the other unknown man lose their minds—Sunghoon had never realized how curious about candle-making he was, but he couldn’t stop asking questions. It sounded great. Maybe he’d have to pick up candle-making, too. 

Eventually, he headed back to the kitchen for a new drink. For the nth time this evening, he thought of texting you, then immediately thought against it. He wanted to know when you’d get here, but he didn’t want you to know that he wanted to know—although as the night deepened and his intoxication rose, he could remember less and less why that would be such a bad thing. He stepped into the kitchen, and going from the brightly-lit corridor to the dark kitchen with flashing neon lights made him so dizzy that he made a beeline for the couch, needing to sit down for a second.

And that was when he saw you.

Lower back against the counter, talking with a guy he’s never seen in his life. You look like you’re having fun—smiling, laughing, keeping eye contact with that guy. You’re still wearing his jacket. It should probably reassure him—his name is literally on you, what does it matter that you’re speaking to someone else? But instead, all he can think is that wearing his jacket must mean nothing to you. What was basically a confession from him seems to have fallen on deaf ears.

His friends’ words over the past year come back to him—how much you flirt with people, how it wasn’t a rare occurrence for you to go home with a guy after a party and never speak of him ever again. Was this what was happening here?

He knows it’s unreasonable, but in his drunken state, he takes it as a betrayal. Like he can’t believe you haven’t read his mind, figured out how he felt about you, and decided to give special attention to him and him only. He’s only able to take it for so long—two minutes later, he trudges out of the room, walking right past you but not looking your way.

His new mission is to find his friends, but before he’s done much searching, he hears his name being called out. Of course, he recognizes your voice immediately, but he doesn’t quite believe it until he looks over his shoulder, and there you are, face glowing and smiling wide. You’ve clearly had a few drinks, but he likes to think you’d be just as happy to see him if you were sober. He turns around to face you, watching as you narrow the distance between the two of you. He’s not in a much better state—the simple thought that you had come after him makes him forget any sort of resentment he held against you a second ago. When you reach him, he holds on to one of your arms, as much an effort to stabilize his swaying body as an excuse to touch you.

“Hey,” he simply says. He’s always at a loss for words around you, so scared he’ll say the wrong thing that he ends up barely speaking at all. He’s only sober enough to know that with all the cheap beer and vodka running through his blood, his odds of making a fool of himself are even bigger. 

“Hey. I was wondering where you were.” 

“You’re the one who came late.”

“I know!” you exclaim. “I wanted to come right away, but Chaewon was hell-bent on getting her Korean barbecue.”

“She does get cranky when she hasn’t had pork belly in a while.” Sunghoon feels like he’s just won the Nobel Prize when you let out a laugh. “Was the food good at least?”

“It was amazing. So worth getting here late,” you joke.

He rolls his eyes playfully. “I see how it is.” Then, before he can stop himself, he adds, “Then we should go there together next time.” 

Your smile changes, turning from cheerful to surprised, but amused—almost mischievous. You take a step forward. Sunghoon gulps; the gap between the two of you was narrow to begin with. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Usually, this type of straight-forwardness would have him stuttering, but drunk Sunghoon is a man sober Sunghoon barely recognizes in the morning. “Yeah. I am. Is that okay?”

You nod. “Mh-hm.”

“Nice. Okay.” For a second, you just look at each other. Another thing about drunk Sunghoon: he doesn’t feel like prolonged eye contact will make him spontaneously combust. He actually quite enjoys it. He also stumbles, even when all he’s doing is trying to stand straight. “You’re still wearing my jacket,” he eventually says, reaching out to take the end of your sleeve between his fingers.

You stretch out your arms and appraise the team jacket as if you only remembered you had it on. “Yeah. It’s comfy.”

“It looks good. You look good.”

“You’re not quite sober, are you?” you ask suddenly. 

“Is it that obvious?” When you nod, he giggles, lowering his head in defeat. “The guys made me drink so much.”

“You did score three goals after all. And you looked good doing it.”

At the praise, he stands up to his full height and places his palms behind his head in a victorious pose. “I did, didn’t I?” he says, looking off in the distance with a self-assured look that makes you burst into laughter. He drops the confident facade and laughs along with you, until somebody bumps into him and sends him stumbling forwards. If you weren’t standing there to catch him, he’d probably have fallen flat on his face. But even though he doesn’t fall, he feels all the alcohol catching up to him and threatening to come right back out where it came from. You hold him for a second, and just as you ask him if he’s okay, he says, “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

You sigh. “Okay. Where’s your room?” 

Arm under his shoulders, you let Sunghoon lean most of his weight on you as you guide him towards the elevator. It’s just one floor, but you said you didn’t want to risk the stairs with him. “Hey, who was that guy with you in the kitchen? That guy in the striped shirt? You guys seemed real chummy back there…” he mumbles as you help him out of the elevator. Even on the verge of sickness, Sunghoon is preoccupied by more important things.

“Oh, that was Jaemin.”

“Jaemin,” he echoes, more venom in his voice than needed.

You look at him, taking in his disgruntled expression, and chuckle. “Yeah, he’s having some problems with his boyfriend. He asked me for advice.”

Sunghoon almost freezes in his tracks, but you’re there to keep him walking towards his room. “Oh. He has a boyfriend.”

“Yeah…” He can tell you want to tease him about it, but thankfully, you say nothing. He’s made it clear he had gotten jealous of your gay friend—no need to spell it out in so many words. Once you reach his studio (which he’d stupidly left unlocked), he heads straight for the bathroom, locking himself in, half out of embarrassment, half because he really doesn’t want you to see him throw up. Talk about a turn-off. He leans over the toilet bowl, waiting for the vomit to rise, but nothing comes. He waits, and waits, mind completely empty, head spinning even though he’s sitting very still, when suddenly a knock on the door pulls him out of his stupor.

“Sunghoon? It’s been ten minutes. Everything okay?”

He doesn’t say anything, just unlocks the door for you. Without realizing, he fell asleep like a bored teenager in math class. “All right,” he hears you say.

He’s surprised you’re able to carry him out of the bathroom—if he was a deadweight before, by now, rigor mortis has practically set in. Despite his small student room, crossing it takes you an entire minute, and when you reach his bed, you all but let him flop on the mattress. He doesn’t mind. As soon as his body hits the bed, he feels quite snug, curling against his blanket. You start to unbutton his shirt, probably just thinking he’s already fallen asleep and wanting to make him more comfortable, but your fingers freeze when he starts giggling. Shoulders shaking with unbridled laughter, he feels as delighted as a five-year-old who just said a naughty word and made all his drunk relatives laugh at the family dinner. 

“I know I looked really hot tonight, but can we wait until I’m sober?” he asks, slurring his words slightly and keeping his eyes shut, despite the shit-eating smirk on his lips. You hit him on the chest but it just makes him laugh more.

“Bold of you to assume I’d still hit when I’ve just had to peel you off your toilet seat.” He lets you finish helping him out of his button-down. 

“Wouldn’t you?” he asks. He tries to look at you, but his eyes don’t quite open all the way, and they don’t focus properly, due to a strong mix of alcohol and inappropriate thoughts. Of you, specifically. His body feels suddenly very heavy, his want for you weighing him down into the mattress. The room is dark, your face illuminated only by the light in the bathroom and the glow of the street lights outside. You always look pretty, but your beauty is especially breath-taking right now, Sunghoon thinks. He wants to reach out and touch your face, wants to trace your jawline and know what your skin would feel like against his fingers. He doesn’t realize he’s actually doing it until he hears you inhale shakily.

The expression in your eyes is unreadable, and quickly gone, replaced by an annoyed squint. You grab his wrist gently, setting it back down next to him. “I’m gonna make you some ramen. You need to sober up, and you haven’t had dinner, have you?”

Sunghoon shakes his head. He feels rejected, and it makes him inordinately sad.

For five minutes, he watches as you rummage around his cupboards for a pack of ramen, fill a pot with water and bring it to a boil. His thoughts float back to your day at the beach, memories that he’s preciously held onto for the past few weeks. You running around on the sand, opening yourself up to him and letting him open himself up to you, holding his hand on the bus. That day, he’d really thought it would be the beginning of something new; but as time passed, he became less and less sure of himself. He’s scared it might’ve just been a fluke, and that he’d have to destroy the castle he’d built in his head. He’s seen you almost every day since, but it’s never been the same. And even if your eyes met unexpectedly sometimes, or if you went out of your way to sit next to him during movie nights, he can’t let himself go on with so few signs. Jay was right—he had to be clear about his feelings, otherwise this would go on forever. Even if it didn’t feel like it, the Earth would continue spinning on its axis if you didn’t reciprocate.

“I’ve missed you.”

You pause in your movements. “Missed me? But we’ve seen each other every day,” you say after a few seconds, still facing away from him. Your voice is softer than he’s heard it before, almost unsure of itself.

“No,” Sunghoon whines, frowning. He can barely keep his eyes open—he wishes you could read his mind so he wouldn’t have to explain, but alas. “I miss you—the you from the beach. When it was just me and you. It’s not the same with the others around.”

Silence falls over the room again. Sunghoon wonders if you’re just going to ignore what he said, until you take a deep breath, and walk back to his bed. You crouch in front of him and take both of his hands in yours. Electricity flows from where your hands touch to the rest of his body. He suddenly feels a lot more awake.

“It’s just the two of us now,” you whisper. 

Sunghoon nods. “I know. It’s nice.”

You smile. It might be the alcohol playing tricks on him, but Sunghoon swears there’s a hint of sadness in your eyes. One of your hands comes up to his hair. You thread your fingers gently through it, pushing it away from his forehead, then bring your hand down to the side of his face, your palm cupping it tenderly. Sunghoon lets himself lean into your warm touch. With his eyes closed, the darkness surrounding him makes this feel like a dream—he basks in the moment so as not to let a second of it go to waste.

“Do you wanna do something just us two this week?” you ask softly. His eyes shoot open—he needs to be sure this is really happening. He nods again, fervently this time, and it makes you chuckle. “Okay.”

“Just us two?” 

“Just us two.”

He relaxes once more. He guides your hand towards his mouth and presses his lips against your palm. Something shifts in your eyes—Sunghoon thinks the opportunity to finally kiss you has arisen, but as soon as his gaze drops to your lips, you’re back on your feet. “Let’s eat some ramen, shall we?” you ask as you head back towards the kitchen. Sunghoon tries his best (and probably fails) to not let his disappointment show.

There’s no dining table to speak of, only a low table near Sunghoon’s bed, on which you set down a wooden board and the steaming pot of spicy noodles. You hand him a pair of chopsticks and a spoon, and tell him to eat. Neither of you say much for a while, and Sunghoon grows redder and redder under your watchful gaze. He asks if you want any a few times, but you always turn him down. The silence quickly gets a little too unbearable for him, and he’s got a question burning the tip of his tongue anyway. Now’s as good a time as ever to ask it.

“Something’s been bugging me recently, actually…” You wait for him to go on. “So, at the costume party, right?” You nod. “You said there was only one person you wanted to kiss… Did you mean me?”

You tilt your head, looking at him like you’re trying to figure out whether he’s joking or not. “Yeah, Sunghoon… I meant you. Who else?”

He’s only half-relieved. “So why won’t you kiss me now?”

To his surprise, you smile. “Because you’re drunk.”

Confusion fogs Sunghoon’s brain. Is that all you’re worried about? Is his blood alcohol level the only thing stopping you from kissing him? “But I-I’m fine. I give you consent to kiss me, Y/N.” He’s dead serious, so when you laugh, it only frustrates him further.

“Finish your food, Sunghoon. We’ll see about kissing later.”

He sighs. Later he could deal with. “Fine. But I’ll hold you to it, okay?” he says, pointing a menacing chopstick at you.

“Okay.”

But Sunghoon can’t keep quiet for long—ten seconds later, he’s remembered another question he’s been dying to ask. He continues drinking his soup in an attempt to appear nonchalant. “So what happened between you and Heeseung?”

The question takes you so off-guard, you look like you would’ve done a spit-take had you been drinking water. “That’s-you know about that?”

“Well, not much, that’s why I’m asking.”

You scoff. “Why do you want to know? It’s boring.”

At those words, Sunghoon whips his head up to look at you. “It’s not boring!” he exclaims, perhaps a tad too vigorously. “Anything that has to do with you is interesting to me.”

Finally, the corners of your lips rise. Sunghoon hated the ten seconds in which you weren’t smiling. “Well, there isn’t much to say, anyway. We had a thing when we were in second year, I caught feelings and wanted more, and he didn’t. The end.”

Sunghoon freezes, staring at you with his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth agape. He then sets his cutlery down neatly next to the pot of ramen and clasps his hands together like he’s in a business meeting. “So you’re telling me that he had the opportunity to make you his girlfriend and he just… didn’t?”

You shrug. “Basically, yeah.”

He hits the bedsheets next to him, huffing out in annoyance. “What an idiot.”

“He sure is,” you say. You smile to yourself as you grab Sunghoon’s spoon and try some of the broth. He wonders whether anything lies behind that smile. “But it happened a while ago. Don’t be weird with him on my account. He’s still your captain.”

Sunghoon thinks for a second. “Can I side-eye him once in a while? Or not pass him the puck during practice?”

“Sure,” you reply, laughing. You swiftly move on to other topics as Sunghoon slurps the last of his noodles, asking him about the beginning of the party and just how much his teammates made him drink. He’s recounting the shot contest they held, which Mark won with an impressive seven shots of tequila in a row — Sunghoon hopes the boy is okay now — when your phones buzz at the same time. Minjeong’s name appears on your screen, Jay’s on his, both asking where you are.

“Should we head back now?” you offer, although Sunghoon, wishfully perhaps, detects a trace of reluctance in your voice. “You look like you’ve sobered up a bit, seeing as you’re able to string more than two sentences together.”

“I wasn’t that bad!”

“I should’ve filmed you.”

It’s one a.m. when you head back down, and the party is in full swing. Pop music blasts through someone’s JBL speaker in the shared kitchen, the hallways are more crowded than the subway at rush hour, just as full of hockey fans celebrating their team’s win as students who just wanted an excuse to party, and every window is open to alleviate some of the stuffiness. They probably have another hour left before the dorm residents who decided not to join in the festivities call campus police on them.

Sunghoon is relieved to find that Jake is off with other team members, reaching levels of drunkenness that will most definitely be regretted in the morning. Technically, he hasn’t done anything wrong—he simply let you nurse him back to sobriety after he almost regurgitated his pre-game protein bar and three beers all over your nice shirt. Chaewon and Yunjin are busy making out in a corner, their lack of decorum only increasing when they’ve been drinking, but Jay and Minjeong eye you suspiciously upon seeing the two of you arrive together. You explain what happened so casually that they don’t question it any further.

Chaewon and Yunjin only tear themselves off of each other when a Beyoncé song starts playing, and they drag all four of you to the makeshift dancefloor, which is really just three meters away in the middle of the kitchen. Sunghoon is practically all sobered up by now, but he’s loosened up enough not to feel self-conscious with every step he takes; the fact that you look so happy, dancing with him and laughing at his silly moves, is a considerable bonus. He won’t drink any more, not wanting to risk embarrassing himself further in front of you, and Jay, as the group’s self-proclaimed health guru, probably had his last beer around nine p.m., but the girls, each of them with a cup of suspicious transparent liquid in hand, are getting drunker by the minute—and so is Jake, who has now joined you all on the dancefloor, if his inability to stand straight is anything to go by. Sunghoon assumes you’re also done with alcohol for the night, until you turn to him in the middle of a song no one has heard since 2015 and tell him you’re going to get a drink.

“Okay!” he simply answers, and for a good thirty seconds, basks in the blissful satisfaction of knowing he was the one you informed of your whereabouts. That is, until he realizes a minute later that it was probably a covert invitation for him to come along, which he totally missed. But when he looks over at the counter where all the drinks are, his heart drops—Heeseung is standing in front of you, pouring gin and lemonade into your cup. A flurry of emotions course through Sunghoon, emotions he has no idea what to do with, because he’s not sure they’re entirely warranted. He’s angry that Heeseung is talking to you, after what he did, confused that you’d let him; but mostly, he’s jealous. But he knows it’s only because he has no guarantee that you like him, and that you won’t go off with Heeseung, despite having just talked about how you were over him.

Wait—is that really what you said? You told Sunghoon that what happened with Heeseung didn’t bother you anymore, which doesn’t necessarily mean you wouldn’t go back to him, given the chance. 

Before he can think it over a second time, Sunghoon heads over to where you and Heeseung stand. He places himself right behind you, reaching for a bottle of Coke on your side and pouring himself a drink.

“Oh, hey, Hoon,” his team captain says, clearly surprised to see him there and looking so discontented. Sunghoon can’t remember whether they’ve ever been close enough for Heeseung to call him by his nickname. “Having fun?”

“Yep,” he curtly replies, avoiding eye contact with either of you and looking out at the crowd of party-goers instead. He can feel your gaze, heavy on his face, can see the knowing smirk slowly rising on your lips. How was it that you could see right through him so easily?

“Too much dancing made you thirsty?” you ask, taking a drink from your cup and hiding your smile behind it.

He glares at you, more annoyed that his attempt at subtly sussing out what you and Heeseung were doing together was shut down so quickly than anything else. “Yep,” he repeats.

“You guys know each other?” the older boy asks, eyes darting between the two of you.

“Jake introduced us,” Sunghoon quickly answers. To his surprise, this makes Heeseung chuckle.

“Jay, Sunghoon, me… Wow, do you meet all your friends through your brother, Y/N?” he asks jokingly. Immediately, so many alarm bells ring in Sunghoon’s head—the implication that you and Heeseung are friends, the fact that he put himself and Sunghoon in the same bag, and above all, that teasing, almost flirtatious tone of his. 

He’s horrified to find you rolling your eyes playfully and saying, “I have other friends, thanks,” in a tone far too similar. At that moment, Minjeong starts yelling about how much she loves everyone in this room but particularly “you guys,” pointing to Jake, Jay, Minjeong and Chaewon, and “you guys, too!” screaming over the music as she points to you and Sunghoon.

“There’s one of them,” you say, half-amused, half-exasperated. “We should probably go check on her. See you around, Heeseung.”

“Right. See you, Y/N. Sunghoon.” 

Back to no-nickname basis, apparently.

Your group’s indicator of when it’s time to go home is when Minjeong starts one of her “I-love-my-friends-so-much” rants—if she’s that drunk, everyone else must be wasted. Indeed, Chaewon and Yunjin are holding onto each other to keep themselves from falling down, and Jake is unable to keep his head up. You, Sunghoon and Jay herd your friends outside and wait for Jake’s Uber, making sure to get him safely inside and to tip the driver generously for his pains. Jay lives nearby yours and the girls’ flat, and Sunghoon, ever the gentleman, walks you all home.

“Just ‘cause you and Jay might need a hand getting these three home,” he tells you. Yunjin, Chaewon and Minjeong are currently running around on the road, pointing and laughing at random shop names, and Jay is yelling at them to get back on the sidewalk.

“Mh-hm.”

“And it’ll be good to completely sober up before going to bed.”

“Right.”

There’s no use putting up a front with you—he’s an open book and you’re an avid reader. You don’t need to say anything to make it clear that you know it’s just an excuse to spend more time with you.

“You know, I told you not to be weird with Heeseung,” you say, gently punching him in the arm.

“Was I weird?” he asks, knowing fully well he hadn’t acted at all like he usually did around his captain. 

“You basically only spoke to let Heeseung know we’re friends. You were making yourself all tall and looking mysteriously out into the distance instead of at us.”

“But I am tall and mysterious,” he says, pride coursing through him as it always does when you laugh at one of his jokes.

“You’re probably the least mysterious person I know, Hoon.”

Hoon. How much sweeter that name sounds coming from you over anyone else.

“So you agree that I’m tall?”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a grin on your face. A win is a win. “That’s just a fact.”

Sunghoon smiles victoriously. “I’ll take a fact. But I’m sorry if I was acting weird… I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t bothering you.”

“Heeseung is always bothering me,” you say with a sigh. “He comes up to me like this at every party. He’s just asking how I’ve been, but it’s like he’s sussing out whether or not he’s still got a chance.”

“Do you need me to beat him up? Threaten him? Dox him?”

Even though Sunghoon was only half-joking, you burst out laughing, hard enough for Minjeong to whip around and shout, “What are you laughing about?” as if you had offended her personally. At least Jay is there to make her turn around and focus on walking straight.

“I appreciate the offer, but that won’t be needed. I just don’t like talking about it, ‘cause it’s really not that big a deal anymore. It feels like digging up old bones, you know?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “I’d commit grave robbery with you.”

“You-what?”

“Nevermind. We obviously don’t have to talk about it, but I’m curious.”

You sigh. “I guess it’d make sense for you to know about this.” Sunghoon thinks he sees something like panic flash across your features, but it’s so quick and such a rare expression on you that he’s not sure whether he just imagined it. “You know-just ‘cause everyone else is aware of it, and everything,” you quickly explain.

“Sure.”

“I just… I’m sure Heeseung is a nice guy when it comes to other things, but what the girls and I have concluded is that he’s a bit of an attention whore, you know. When it comes to girls. We fooled around for a while, and he never made it official, even when I made it pretty clear that that was what I wanted. But every time we saw each other after that, he’d flirt with me like nothing had happened. I fell for it at first and flirted back, thinking he had changed his mind… but he really just wanted to make sure I was still into him.”

“Looking for validation,” Sunghoon says.

“Exactly. And when I realized that, I stopped giving it to him. I was getting tired of him anyway, saying the same thing every time. But now, I entertain him for a couple of minutes before I walk away. I shut him down before he gets a chance to do it to me.”

“That’s smart.”

“I know,” you say, smiling. “I understand the need for validation, but he won’t be getting any from me.”

Jay bravely handles the three drunkards the whole way home, letting you and Sunghoon hang behind and carry on talking. You reach the boy’s apartment first, and yours five minutes later. But when you reach your front door, Minjeong announces she needs to talk to Sunghoon. “Privately,” she emphasizes.

You give Sunghoon an amused look and shrug as if to say “She’s your problem now.” He doesn’t have time to protest before you’ve bid him goodnight and disappeared behind the door, Yunjin and Chaewon in tow, yelling good night at Sunghoon like they’re not going to see him for months. 

Minjeong places her palms flat onto Sunghoon’s torso and looks right at him—to the best of her ability, at least, considering she’s having a hard time focusing her eyes. “Sunghoon,” she says gravely.

“Minjeong?”

“Listen, there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you,” she says, slurring her words. “You know I love Y/N, she’s amazing…”

“Yeah, she is,” Sunghoon says firmly—already, he can tell where this is going, and he doesn’t like it.

“But she’s not the best with relationships.”

“What do you mean?”

Minjeong’s hands drop by her sides and she exhales deeply. “I’ve just never seen her in a committed relationship in the-in the almost four years I’ve known her. She never lets things get serious. She’s just so afraid of being hurt, Hoon, and I-” 

A hiccup escapes Minjeong’s lips as tears start pooling in her eyes. Sunghoon has only ever seen Minjeong cry when drunk—even movies that had him sobbing barely made her eyes water. Even if she isn’t in her right state of mind, he knows it means this must be important to her. He holds her arms and tries to put on the most reassuring tone he can. “But I wouldn’t hurt her.”

“No, I know that. I’m scared you’d get hurt. I don’t want things to become weird between all of us.”

Sunghoon shakes his head. “Minjeong, what-that wouldn’t happen.”

“But it will!” she exclaimed. “If something happens with you and her, and it doesn’t work out the way you want it to, it’ll make things awkward-”

“If that happens,” he interrupts, “I’ll deal with it. I won’t make it your guys’ problem. Y/N and I are adults, okay?”

“You’re like, nineteen…”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t worry about it, okay? It’ll be fine.” He takes a step back and opens the door for her to get in. 

She’s only on the first stair when she turns back around. “But, Hoon-” she tries, though he cuts her off.

“Minjeong, I promise-”

“Just don’t rush into anything, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Go inside.” 

She complies, giving him one last look before climbing the stairs to her apartment. Sunghoon closes the door behind her, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.

--

Sunghoon is on his way home from hockey practice when his phone buzzes with a text from you.

yn are you still up for doing something this week?

He almost throws his phone in the air in celebration, as if it was a graduation cap. His Sunday was spent going back-and-forth between lapidating himself for his drunken stupidity, memories, rough as stones, hitting him in the face every time he thought of what he said and how he acted, and congratulating himself for having finally made his feelings for you somewhat clearer. Hopefully, you now know he isn’t just awkward and silent around new people—well, he is, but it’s worse with you.

She never lets things get serious.

Minjeong’s warnings echo in his head as he types a positive — although not over-enthusiastic, ‘cause that’d be uncool — answer, but he dismisses them easily. Perhaps he shouldn’t; Sunghoon is, after all, incredibly serious about any and all romantic encounters. The girl at the grocery store who reached for the same red bell pepper as him was the most serious thing to him in the world for a good ten minutes; all of his school crushes were of utmost importance to him, however long they had lasted.

So this? This is capital-s Serious. But therein lies the problem; he’s so serious about you that he’d let you not make it serious. If Minjeong is right, and you’re not planning on taking this nearly as far as he wishes for it to go, he can already tell he’ll just let you. He’ll probably be happy you wanted anything to do with him at all. 

He has ways of reassuring himself, of convincing himself he isn’t a totally lost cause. Because when Sunghoon falls in love — and he had an inkling this was what this was — it usually goes as quickly as it came. Who’s to say this time next week he won’t have completely moved on? Maybe this date that he’s agreed to will go horribly wrong, you’ll be rude to the waiter, you’ll spill tomato sauce all over your shirt, and the flame in his heart will be put out. Easy as that.

You decide to meet on Wednesday evening, two days from now. Sunghoon suggests a Japanese restaurant he likes, a place he had gone to with his mom and sister when they had dropped him off at university before his first year, and that he knows is nice enough for a date but won’t burn a hole through his wallet.

Seeing you at the library the day before is a real thrill. Nobody but you knows of your plans—at least not until he caves in and tells Jay about it, who congratulates him with a roll of his eyes and a pat on the head. All of your eye contact feels loaded with the kind of complicity that comes with sharing a secret. As much as he would love boasting about it to every soul who’d listen, this secrecy electrifies him—it binds the two of you with something much more real than before. At least, more real than Sunghoon’s imagination and one-sided feelings. He knows that your text wasn’t in any way a confession of your own feelings for him, but it’s a step in the right direction.

In the few hours before your reservation at seven p.m., Sunghoon spends so much time thinking about the date that he’s almost late for it. He thinks about his expectations, then tries to get rid of them; he comes up with ideas of what your expectations might be, remembers Minjeong’s words, dismisses them, remembers them again; he goes through scenarios upon scenarios of everything that might go wrong and everything that might go spectacularly well. He ends up with less than twenty minutes to get ready, but manages to arrive at the restaurant a minute before you.

When he sees you approaching, Sunghoon feels like one of those boys in Disney movies as they watch their girlfriend coming down the stairs in her prom dress. You’re not wearing an over-the-top poofy purple dress, but the effect is the same—his eyes are glued on you with every step you take towards him.

You grab him by the arm and lead him into the restaurant as soon as you reach him. He’s too busy taking in your appearance to be bothered by it. “Don’t look at me like that,” you chide as you wait for waiting staff to seat you. He’d actually think you were mad at him if it wasn’t for the small smile playing on your lips.

“Like what?”

“Like what you’re doing right now! You’re staring.”

Realization slowly dawns on him; your gazes have made him lose his composure too many times for him not to know what being flustered looks like. He’d be lying if the fact that it was you in this tight spot and not him didn’t heavily stroke his ego. 

“Why wouldn’t I? You look beautiful,” he says, dropping his voice to a whisper so that the approaching waitress can’t hear. Her presence saves you from responding verbally, but as she brings you to your table, you pinch his arm lightly as if to say Be on your best behavior—although Sunghoon would argue this was his best behavior.

You have trouble making up your mind about the food—you want to try everything on the menu. Sunghoon tentatively offers to order a bunch of dishes and share them. “It’s what my family always does at the restaurant, just try as much as you want and take the leftovers to go. We never ate out very often because my mom would spend so much money every time,” he recollects, smiling fondly.

“That actually sounds like a dream. My parents would never do that. It was always just eat what you got, but I’m unable to look at someone else’s food and not want to try it. It honestly should just be common practice to share dishes at the restaurant.”

Sunghoon thinks he could get down on one knee right then and there. Whenever they went out to eat, the boys would roll his eyes at him when he stole bites of their food. But you—you’re like him. He knows he’s prone to over-exaggeration, but he can’t help but feel like if you understand each other on this, you must understand each other at a molecular level.

He had expected a level of awkwardness to your date, at least at the beginning — God knows the moments in which he doesn’t feel like a mumbling fool in front of you are few and far between — but to his surprise, everything goes smoothly. There is no uncomfortable silence, all his jokes miraculously land, even the lousy ones, and you both laugh and talk and share sushi and pork cutlets like it’s the most natural thing in the world, which perhaps it is. His attempts at flirting are well-received and he only turns violently red twice when you compliment him and smile at him in a particularly pretty way.

It’s that day at the beach all over again. Always on the same page, you dip in and out of topics with a synergy he has rarely felt before. Sunghoon realizes it must be the presence of others, rather than you yourself, that makes him feel like he can’t act the way he wants to around you, makes him so nervous. Save for the moments where you make his heart flutter like a thousand butterflies’ wings, he actually feels quite at ease with you, all things considered. Of course, he still tries — and fails — to look cool for you, but he knows it comes from a place within himself rather than because you make him feel as though he has to meet a certain standard. Surprisingly, he can be totally himself, and it seems to be enough for you.

He loves his friends. He wouldn’t trade them for the world. But he’s not sure he won’t have moments where he’ll wish nothing more than for them all to go away and leave the two of you be.

You eat until you can’t anymore and are still left with enough food for another full meal. You only let him get the bill once he’s promised that next time will be on you. If it means there’ll be a next time, he’s more than happy with making that promise. The sun has set when you exit the restaurant. Sunghoon shivers as he steps outside, the temperature having gone down by at least four degrees in the last two hours.

You grab his hand; it warms him right up.

Your apartment is a thirty-minute bus ride away, but Sunghoon offers to walk you home. Anything to spend more time with you.

He spends the first few minutes of the walk worrying about his hand, whether it’s too clammy, whether it’s holding yours right, but he eventually relaxes into the touch. When a particularly chilly gust of wind blows, you drop his hand and hold onto his arm instead, inching closer to him for more warmth.  He only drank lemonade with his meal, but he feels blissfully light-headed.

Silence only arrives when you reach your doorstep. You stand in front of each other, Sunghoon looking down at his feet, you gazing out at the empty street. He knows this is the moment where he is supposed to kiss you. If there was a step-by-step guide on how to date — there probably is, but Sunghoon hasn’t resorted to such loser-like measures yet — this would probably be the moment where it would be written to just kiss her, you idiot. But nerves get the best of him.

At least, you’re there to save the day. You direct your gaze towards him, a bashful smile playing on your lips. “So… are you gonna kiss me now?” you ask, essentially reading his mind. 

He reacts immediately. “Y-yep. Yes. I am.” Heart racing, he takes a step towards you as he rests his hands on your waist. Then he changes his mind, and brings one hand up to your cheek. There’s an eyelash that has fallen below your eye; he brushes it out of the way with his thumb before leaning in and pressing his lips against yours.

In all of his late-night scenarios and daydreams of kissing you, he had never imagined something as good as this. You find your rhythm within seconds. It’s slow, almost hesitant, yet so tender, it makes Sunghoon’s heart ache. As your lips move against each other in perfect sync, as your hands find their way around Sunghoon’s neck, he realizes he should have known — this will not go away as quickly as it came.

Only when you grab a fistful of his hair, making him react viscerally and wrap his arm around your waist to bring you closer to him, does he remember where the two of you are. He leans back, then almost passes out when you chase his lips and press a shorter but just as sweet kiss there. He commits this view to memory—the smile on your lips, the glow on your face, the haziness in your eyes.

“Do you wanna come up?”

“Yes,” he replies immediately, and it makes you laugh. You grab his hand and lead him up the stairs and into your apartment.

“Are the girls in?” he asks as you lock the front door.

“Minjeong is at karaoke with her school friends, and Yunjin and Chaewon are at a dinner party somewhere.”

“Minjeong karaokes?”

“Get enough G&Ts in her and she’ll do anything.”

You turn on a small lamp in your room and take off your jacket. Sunghoon has been in your apartment before, but never in your room—at some point, he’ll spend an hour observing every photograph and trinket in detail, asking you about every backstory, but right now, he’s got more important things to tend to. His heart beats uncontrollably as you shut the door to your room and walk towards him, eyes gazing deeply into his. The corners of your lips rise when you tug at the bottom of his sweatshirt, a clear indicator that you want it off. He wastes no time in obliging.

The air is buzzing with electricity when your lips find each other again. You’re both more confident this time around, and so the kiss is deeper, your touches bolder. Everything happens quickly—one second, you’re standing in the middle of your room; the next, you’re laying on your bed, Sunghoon underneath you. 

“You know,” he says between kisses, “I’d really planned on being a gentleman and not going up to your room after the first date…”

Your lips move from his lips to his jawline, warm and soft against his skin. Sunghoon closes his eyes and lets out a low hum of approval. “I’m glad you changed your mind,” you whisper, lips brushing against his neck as you speak. “And since we’re onto confessions, I can finally say I’ve been wanting to do this since we met.”

This information sends his mind reeling. Not once had he been sure of how you felt about him — he even remembers you saying no to a kiss — and here you are, saying you’ve been wanting to kiss him since the beginning, just like he had. 

“You’re me,” he replies breathlessly.

“Hm?”

“I mean, me too.”

You pause your kisses to giggle, a sound so soft and intimate it has Sunghoon melting impossibly more. “You’re me?”

Unfortunately, he is too preoccupied by you to put a filter between the weird, half-formed thoughts in his brain and the words that leave his mouth. “Don’t question it,” he says, a smile audible in his voice, before moving his head and catching your lips. If he couldn’t stop himself from saying odd things, he could at least distract you from them.

Sunghoon thinks he’s doing a good job keeping himself together, until you roll your hips against his. It’s barely anything, but it sends waves of pleasure and anticipation through his body. His grip on your waist tightens, and when you repeat the motion, his hands sneakily find their way down your back and under your dress. Palms splayed against your ass, he brings you down closer to him. The second you moan into the kiss, he’s a goner. 

After that, it doesn’t take long for clothes to be discarded or for curious fingers to find the other’s waistbands. Your movements are hasty, messy—the tension that had built up over weeks of pining for you, after getting close to kissing you twice and thinking about it a hundred times more, it all comes crashing down in this moment, as his teeth sink into the flesh of your neck, as your hands pull at strands of his hair, as your bodies gently bump into each other. If someone asked Sunghoon right now how long he’d known you, he’d say years, not mere weeks. It couldn’t possibly be real that this much desire had accumulated inside of him — and inside of you, if your broken moans and rapid breathing are anything to go by — in just over a month. 

He only slows down when he has you naked and heaving underneath him, reminding himself to savor the moment instead of rushing it. His fingertips graze down your sides until they reach between your thighs, and he marvels at the way his touch makes you shiver. His eyes are so wide with amazement at the sight of you that he probably looks like he’s never seen a woman before, but he can’t help himself—he always thought you were beautiful, but this is something else entirely. 

His first touch is hesitant, a slow upward motion of his thumb between your folds as if quite literally testing the waters. But it has you arching your back and gripping his bicep, meeting his eyes to silently plead for more. Sunghoon takes that as his green light, thumb circling your clit as his lips continue their work on your neck, on your face, everywhere they can reach. He slips a finger inside of you, then a second one, and when he is satisfied with the state he’s gotten you in, all disheveled and gasping for air, he replaces his fingers with his dick, rock-hard just from seeing and hearing you.

He slowly inches forward until he’s bottomed out, letting you adjust around him. “All good?” he whispers, lips moving against the shell of your ear.

“Never better,” you whisper back, smiling. You kiss him, and the tenderness of your lips on his, mixed with the feeling of being inside you, has Sunghoon’s heart constricting inside his chest. He starts rocking his hips back-and-forth into you, the side of his face is pressed up against yours, head light from the little oxygen the two of you share. It all feels oddly intimate for a first time, feels more like the kind of sex two people would have after years of knowing each other’s bodies. He moves like it’s second nature, thrusts deep and slow, trying to reach those spots that have your hands clawing at his back. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, using his free hand to push the hair that sticks to your face with sweat.

You wrap your legs higher around his hips, the shift in angle letting him go deeper. “Fuck, right there,” you say, voice strangled. Sunghoon doesn’t need to be told twice—he picks up his pace, and already within a minute, starts to feel himself reaching his limit. He tries to muffle his groans against your skin, but with the way your hold on him tightens and your moans go higher in pitch, you seem to be just as close as he is. When you do come undone around him, breath hitching in your throat before you release a heavy sigh, he has mere seconds left in him. A few thrusts later, his orgasm finally releases him from the tension that had been twisting his stomach into a knot for the past half-hour. You’re both spent, but he continues lazily rocking his hips against yours chasing the last remnants of pleasure, wanting to bask in it just a bit longer. He rolls onto his back after sliding out, wrapping his arms around you. You bury your face in the crook of his neck.

His chest rises and falls as his breathing takes its time returning to normal. In a way, he’s almost relieved it’s over, like any longer would’ve actually taken too much of a toll on him. He likes the comfort he gets from having you in his arms as much as the sex itself. “I didn’t know it could feel this good,” he says, the words spilling out of his mouth before he can stop them. He needs more than a few minutes to get his head back on straight and start thinking before he speaks again. You chuckle airily, he chuckles too, and within seconds, you’re both laughing for seemingly no reason. The bliss of such an intense orgasm and the lack of oxygen must have gone to your brain, too.

“Me either,” you say once the laughter dies down. When your lips find his once more, Sunghoon forgets entirely about his exhaustion and feels like he could go for a second round. “Shower?” you ask right when he realizes how sticky and smelly he is.

“Yes, please.”

He can’t keep his hands off of you in the shower, rubbing soap on every square inch of your skin when you could do it perfectly fine yourself, kissing you even when you’ve both got foaming cleanser on your faces. The taste of soap in his mouth is worth the giggles he gets out of you.

Sunghoon reaches heaven when you drop to your knees in front of him, water rushing down his back as you take him in your mouth. He’s eager to return the favor, of course, thumb flicking your clit with a speed and dexterity even he didn’t know he was capable of. If you weren’t already in the shower, you’d have needed another one.

As soon as your bodies hit the mattress, you both drift off to sleep, limbs wrapping around each other as though they had been separated for too long and finally found each other again—not to let go again.

--

When Sunghoon wakes up, it takes him a few seconds to realize that he hadn’t dreamt up last night’s events. He reaches a hand out hesitantly, still half-asleep and scared that you’ll disappear into thin air at the touch of his fingertips. But no—he feels your skin, warm and soft, and he knows this is real.

You’re laying on your side, facing away from him, so he has to strain his neck to peek at your face. You look so peaceful as you sleep—he doesn’t want to wake you up, but he can’t stop himself from wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing his torso against your back, humming contentedly to himself. He presses a soft, quiet kiss to the top of your head, just because he can.

Outside, clouds part, and a bright ray of sun shines through the window, landing right on your face. Sunghoon watches as you grumble and turn around, burying your face in his chest to avoid the blinding light, but the damage is done—you’re awake. He can tell from the drawled-out whine you let out and the way you grab tightly onto his waist, as if it was his fault the sun had decided to shine right on you. 

He lets you settle in a comfortable position. Stays still as you hike your leg over his legs, then slip it between them instead; as you press your cheek against his chest, then bury your nose in his neck; as you wrap your arm around his waist, then move it to thread your fingers through his hair, until you give up on falling back asleep altogether. “It’s so bright in here,” you mumble in lieu of a good-morning greeting.

You can’t see him, so Sunghoon smiles and tightens his grip around you—one arm circling your shoulders, the other, your waist. Skin to skin. “We forgot to close the blinds yesterday.”

“It’s okay,” you say, sighing. You press a kiss to the base of his neck, right between his collarbones, then lift your face to look at him. “How are you feeling?”

This is what it feels like to wake up next to her, Sunghoon thinks. He’d thought about it so many times: what you would look like first thing in the morning, what you’d say to him, what it’d feel like when your eyes met. If you’d be a slow sort of morning person, cuddling in bed with him until the very last possible second, or if you’d be up and about as soon as you woke up. If you’d be grumpy. If you’d want coffee. If you liked morning sex. 

It seems to be a recurring theme that Sunghoon’s imagination never quite lives up to reality. Your sleepy eyes boring into his, struggling to stay open, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck; your skin, so warm and so soft, your scent, so intoxicating he can barely think straight.

You’re better than a dream.

“I feel great. Do you feel great?”

“I feel amazing, thank you so much for asking,” you say, burrowing yourself impossibly closer to him.

The two of you stay like this for a while, talking about your plans for the day and begrudging how little you want to go about them. Sunghoon wishes this could go on forever, but then his stomach growls so loudly, his face turns red from embarrassment. He hadn’t even noticed how hungry he was. 

“You’re me,” you say, laughing, and Sunghoon can’t help but join in. “Is it crazy to have last night’s leftovers for breakfast?”

What Sunghoon hears is that you want him to stay; that you don’t want to part ways just yet.

“If by crazy you mean the best idea ever, then yes.”

“Amazing, because I’ve been thinking about that curry all night.”

“Really? I was thinking about something else,” he says, burrowing his face in your neck and leaving warm kisses there. 

You hum and lean into his touches, leaning into his touches. Chills run down his spine as your nails graze his sides. “There might’ve been other things occupying my mind, too.”

And just like that, breakfast is postponed to thirty minutes later.

--

After that night, Sunghoon forgets how to act right.

His mind has never been so singularly taken up by sex in all of his life. It was already preoccupied with you most of the time, but now that it has more material to gnaw on, it’s practically started to eat away at him. It doesn’t help that you’ve seen each other every day since, or that at every chance you get, you smile knowingly at him or try to get him to play footsies with you. Of course, he loves every bit of attention that he gets from you, but whenever he feels his heart get carried away, Minjeong’s words come back to him in a panic, and he remembers that he has no idea what it is that’s happening between you and him. You could be stringing him along, for all he knows, or you could be as into him as he is into you and just letting things happen. Unfortunately, just letting things happen was not something Sunghoon was good at—if things weren’t written black and white, he’d find a way to overthink even the littlest of details. Like how you’d kissed him for a good five minutes before letting him leave your apartment, otherwise known as the least platonic parting to exist, or conversely, like how you’d sometimes take hours to reply to texts.

If he was already a mumbling fool in front of you before, his condition has only worsened now. He tries his best to be normal and not make you or anyone in the group feel weird, but the fact is that you rocked his world and now he can’t look you in the eyes and not remember how it felt when you touched him or the sounds you made or the way you looked. It’s all playing in a loop in his mind and the only way he knows how to control it is by limiting his interactions with you, which doesn’t even work that well. 

The first couple days, you seem amused by his shyer-than-usual demeanor, but you quickly grow confused more than anything. Sunghoon won’t sit next to you, only speaks to you when necessary, doesn’t seek you out outside of a group setting. He tells himself he just needs some more time to be able to be around you casually again, but before that happens, one day at the library, you make a point to ask him if he’ll come help you get drinks for everyone from the dispenser machine. He knows it’d be too odd to say no, so he follows you.

He presses the buttons for everyone’s order (a Sprite for him, Diet Cokes for the girls, a Red Bull for Jake who has a midterm tomorrow and nothing for Jay who only swears by his disgusting herbal infusion) as you lean against the machine, arms crossed over your chest as you stare at him.

He has never felt so awkward in his life.

“So…” he starts although he has no idea what to say—he hopes something will just appear in his mind and that it’ll alleviate the tension. However, you seem to have other plans.

“What the hell, Sunghoon?” you say, taking him aback. When he glances at you, you don’t seem angry—just genuinely confused. “You’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”

“I haven’t!”

“Sunghoon,” you say sternly. He gives in right away.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I just-I didn’t know what to do. After we, you know…”

“After we had sex?” you say, then burst into laughter when he looks around the room to make sure no one’s heard. His cheeks heat up.

“Yes, after we had sex,” he whispers.

He pays for the drinks and picks them up. When he looks at you again, your smile has completely died down, and worry has settled into your features. “Do you regret it?” you ask, voice now as low as his. As if it hurts to say the words too loud.

Panic overcomes him, and he almost drops half of the drinks as he shakes his head. “No, of course not! I’m really sorry, Y/N, I never meant to be weird about it, I was just trying to wrap my head around everything, and I just… Well, I just didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry.”

You nod, taking his words in. “That’s fine. I get it. I just wanted to say, you know, it doesn’t have to change anything. We can still be friends and all. Like you said, it shouldn’t make things weird.”

Sunghoon’s stomach drops. He knows you’re trying to make him feel better, but you’ve inadvertently said the exact opposite of what he wanted to hear. He doesn’t want things to stay the same, or for you to stay friends. For him, things can’t go back to normal after that night — whatever normal means for the two of you — and he was foolishly hoping that you felt the same.

But clearly, you want to let the whole thing die and pretend like it never happened. And whether it’s a good thing or not, his feelings for you have grown so much, he’ll just let you lead him anywhere. Even if that turns out to be nowhere. 

So he conjures up the most convincing smile he can, hands you half of the drinks to carry, and says, “Yeah, sounds good.”

--

After that conversation, Sunghoon doesn’t think anything else will happen between the two of you. You had sex, you talked it out, and that’s the end of it. But then, it turns out that both of your last midterms are at the same time, in the same building, so you invite him to celebrate with pork belly and some drinks. Sunghoon is finishing his second beer when he starts to feel like he’s on that date again, laughing for no reason, butterflies in his stomach every time his gaze catches yours. You lean on your hand as you listen to him talk about a stupid memory from his childhood and he thinks he’s never seen anyone as pretty as you. 

The sun has long set when you say, “You know, it’s Wednesday today.”

He’s not sure what you’re trying to get at. “Yeah?”

“Minjeong’s out at karaoke tonight.”

With these simple words, all the images of you that Sunghoon had finally managed to banish from his mind come flooding back, and he is not even surprised to find himself half-naked in your bed thirty minutes later. So much for staying friends—one time is one thing, but Sunghoon knows he’ll never be normal again after a second time with you.

It’s not a long time before he finds himself in your room again. Every item of clothing between the two of you is gradually discarded while you kiss, lips growing more impatient with every inch of bare skin uncovered. He reluctantly lets you go when you suddenly giggle and say that you really need to pee, watching as you grab his t-shirt off the floor and put it on, just in case Minjeong comes home. You wear it like it’s yours, like it’s the most natural thing in the world that you’d be wearing his clothes. An indescribable feeling washes over Sunghoon at the sight, so intense he feels tears welling behind his eyes. Like something he’s been yearning for is finally at the grasp of his fingers; like it might slip away at any moment. 

His feelings must’ve transpired in the way he was looking at you—when you meet his eyes, your expression shifts slightly, and you quickly slip out of your room. He tells himself to reel it in. Get it together, he thinks. Or you’ll drive her away. 

A wave of tiredness hits him in the minute that you’re gone, probably due to all that soju and beer. “I’m back,” you whisper, but he doesn’t move, only opens his arms wide for you to get back into bed with him. It’s like a weight is lifted off his heart when he feels you against him again. You’re back. Your face is fresh, as if you’d splashed it with cold water, but when he slips one of his hands underneath your (his) t-shirt, your skin is still just as warm as before. Far from the fuzzy, tingly feeling he had gotten when you’d woken up together the other morning, now, he feels his desire for you deep in the pit of his stomach. The kind of hunger food couldn’t satisfy. “I missed you,” he whispers, voice low and gravelly. He reacts immediately when you squirm against him, tightening his grip around your waist and pulling you to him.

“I was gone two minutes.”

“I mean these past few days. I was starting to think I’d dreamt you up.” His hand on your lower back sneaks its way up between your bodies until it finds your breasts, cupping one of them with his palm before taking your nipple between his thumb and index, gently twisting. It pulls a half-gasp, half-moan from your throat, and the sound goes straight to his dick. “But you’re real, aren’t you?” 

“Very real,” you reply, a tremor in your voice. He’s barely touching you, and you’re already having trouble breathing. Sunghoon smiles at the idea of him having as much of a hold on you as you do on him.

“Good,” he says, voice so low it’s almost a growl. In one quick sweep, he pushes you down so your back is against the mattress, resting his palms on each side of your head.

He’s inside you within mere minutes. He’d wanted to hold back a bit, but you whispering Just put it in after thirty seconds of his fingers loosening you up was enough to convince him. His mind is already fuzzy with remnants of alcohol, and his overwhelming desire for you only makes matters worse. He barely has any control over his movements, rushed and sloppy, but as he drives himself deeper into you, your moans increase in volume. He only later realizes how tight his grip on your hips is when he sees two small bruises forming on the skin there. 

He comes quickly, probably embarrassingly so, but he can’t bring himself to care—he’s got other things on his mind. He’s not even bothered to discard the condom as he makes his way down your body, lips around your clit before you’ve even had the time to register what was happening. You cry out, a sound that Sunghoon works to pry out of you over and over again. Even when your thighs start shaking and you squirm away from him, he doesn’t relent. He’s just as desperate to make you feel good as he was desperate chasing his own pleasure earlier. He hooks his arms around your thighs, bringing you down to him and ensuring that you can’t get away. One hand still in his hair, the other clutching the bed sheets, you’ve turned your face sideways into the pillow so that your moans come out muffled. He is only satisfied when you’ve reached your second orgasm. 

As your breath slowly returns to normal, Sunghoon makes his way back up your body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. You clear your throat of its dryness and burst into soft, quiet laughter. “What’s funny?” Sunghoon murmurs, lips against your neck. 

“Nothing,” you say, still laughing. “That was just really, really nice.”

Sunghoon smiles. “I’m glad,” he says before kissing you, lips moving slowly against yours.

As he lays against you, the top of his head under your chin and your fingernails grazing along his back, a weird feeling overcomes him. Sunghoon is usually a pine-from-afar sort of guy, with at least five instances of hanging out that could or could not be a date before making things any sort of official. The pining has been a constant with all of his crushes. He’s gotten to the hanging out stage a couple of times, but the officialising has only happened once. Despite its low success rate, it’s a cycle Sunghoon feels comfortable with, and he’d imagined the rest of his romantic encounters would follow that pattern. 

But this is completely different. Of the three times you guys have met separately from your friend group, already two times have included sex. This isn’t a stage Sunghoon usually reaches before at least a few months and it disorientates him. What does it mean? That you like him so much, you decided to skip all of the steps and jump straight into the thick of it? He is reasonable enough not to delude himself into such a thought. He likes you a lot—that much he can be sure of. He’s liked you since the moment he laid eyes on you, even if the reason eludes him. Something in the way you smiled at him, the way you took him in stride as if you’d known him forever. When he thinks back to that party, he can’t believe it started out as the two of you being strangers. Even now, feeling your warm skin against his, it feels like a lie that just two months ago he hadn’t even met you. 

What he can’t say with total certainty is that you like him the same amount. Or that you like him any amount, really, although in his naivety he doesn’t understand how anyone could be this intimate with another person without liking them at least a little bit. And he doesn’t just mean the sex. He means this. The silently laying in each other’s arms, the soft kisses, the caresses wherever hands can reach. Eating post-sex snacks together, laughing as you watch the first episode of each other’s favorite sitcoms (Brooklyn Nine-Nine for him, Pen15, oddly enough, for you). Falling asleep together, cuddling the entire night then waking up and diving right back into each other’s embrace. 

After an entire day spent in rumination, Sunghoon’s still not sure what to make of it all.

All he knows is that when he DMs you that night, asking you how your day went, he goes through every emotion between anxiety, self-hatred and indifference in the five minutes that separate his text from your reply. He’s never been so happy to hear that someone couldn’t concentrate in class because of him.

--

Sunghoon has always been obsessed with the way couples stand together in public. 

Every time, it takes everything in him not to stare, because he wants to take in every little thing they do. He has that practically everywhere he goes, wanting to stare at people just to see what their deal is, but he is never quite as simultaneously fascinated and envious as when he spots a couple. But he knows staring isn’t the socially appropriate thing to do, so he either steals glances or watches for a little bit then pretends they aren’t there. He can’t help himself—even if they aren’t holding hands or obnoxiously making out in public, it’s still visible to anyone with eyes that there is something tying these people together. It’s in the way they stand near each other, their bodies turned inwardly, as though enveloped by a bubble containing just the two of them and no one else; in the way they look at each other, their eyes never straying from the other’s face as they talk, intimacy showing itself even in a loud, crowded room. Sunghoon craves to find that proximity, to be able to touch and be touched so softly, every graze of a hand purposeful and unconscious at the same time.

It’s the first of November already. The Weather app, as it tends to do, has deceived you; so instead of a walk on what was supposed to be a sunny day, you find yourselves in a busy café near the University, the air outside too chilly even with your scarves and gloves. You’re waiting for your order at the end of the counter — a mocha for him, an oat flat white for you — when he notices it. Your body is fully facing him, you’re distractedly playing with the hem of his sweatshirt, and you’re not looking at anything but him as you rant about that annoying classmate of yours that goes by a self-made nickname and always talks over the tutor. In this light, the two of you are like the couples he’s always longed to be—the simple thought makes him want to cry. As more and more often is the case these days, you have no idea what you’re doing to him.

It’s been around two months since you first met and in that time, although Sunghoon is lucky not to have enough fingers to count the number of times you have seen each other one-on-one, not much has happened. Minjeong, who had understood what was going on the first time she saw the two of you eating leftovers from the Japanese restaurant on the couch at 10 a.m., has grown accustomed to his presence in the apartment and even sometimes sits down to watch a movie with the two of you—a movie that Chaewon would usually have forced you to watch in the living room instead of the privacy of your bedroom, so that everyone could join. Sunghoon is just glad Minjeong has stopped silently scolding him with her eyes every time he comes out of your room. She never mentions that night when she essentially warned him against you after the party. 

Jake seems to be the only oblivious one in your group. Yunjin and Chaewon have eyes like hawks and horrifyingly vivid imaginations when they put their heads together, so they were probably already making plans for your wedding and fighting for the title of godmother when you and Sunghoon met at the beginning-of-semester party. They cornered him once at a party and forced him to spill the beans and spare no detail, because you apparently were “denying everything, but we know there’s something going on.” Jay is still Sunghoon’s go-to person when he needs advice concerning you, although the older boy doesn’t understand why it has to be so complicated and always tells him to “just tell her how you feel,” which Sunghoon will not do unless there is a gun to his head. But Jake just seems happy to see his friend and his sister get along this well—no matter how many times you wear his jacket at their games or disappear at the same time at the end of parties, he doesn’t grow suspicious. If he does, he doesn’t mention it to Sunghoon, at least.

Between the two of you, not a word is spoken about the nature of your relationship, which remains unbearingly undefined. For a while, he weakly convinces himself that he doesn’t need to have that conversation with you. He’s young, he’s free, he should be able to enjoy casual sex without putting a label on it. The main problem, though, was that the sex could not be further from casual, at the very least not to Sunghoon.

He has never known anything quite like it. In mere weeks, you’ve both mastered the art of pleasuring each other. He understands your body like it’s his, knows what each of the sounds and expressions you make means. He knows where to touch you to have a kiss go from light-hearted to dizzyingly intense, how to move his mouth to have you arching your back and holding onto him for dear life. And you—he thinks your skin must be laced with cocaine, the way he can never get enough of it. 

But it’s always the moments afterwards that get him in his head. To him, casual sex means getting dressed the minute it’s over and going off to do other things, which is the absolute opposite of what you do. Whether it’s falling asleep together or spending Sundays in bed, you always stay together afterwards, curled up in each other’s arms as you talk away the hours, conversations interspersed with slow, lazy kisses. He’ll say things like, “You’re so pretty,” or “Why do you smell so good?” because he’s so smitten with you that he can never stop himself from uttering every compliment that flashes through his brain, but the things he really wants to say are harder to speak out loud. Even just a What are we?—three simple words that he can’t bring himself to ask, too scared it’ll ruin everything. 

Arguably worse is that sex isn’t even a requirement for when you and Sunghoon see each other. He goes on walks with you whenever you’ve spent too much time in the library and need some fresh air. You go shopping with him when his department throws a fundraiser and he needs a formal outfit. He cooks you your favorite meal when your period is particularly nasty. You sneak into the ice rink after his practice and let him ‘teach’ you how to skate, even though you already learned how with Jake when you were kids. Even mundane moments become fun when spent with you, and you share so many hobbies and interests that you never run out of things to do or talk about.

And yet, it feels like one step forward, two steps back with you—if you let him close one night, you’ll run away the next. A week will pass without you seeing each other outside of the library or group hang-outs, and if Sunghoon asks you out, you’ll say no, usually blaming the amount of work you have. He gets it—due to the nature of your degree and your being a fourth-year student, your workload is much heavier than his, with essays, translations and oral presentations due every other week. And that’s not even including midterms and finals. But still, he doesn’t see why you would need to stay at the library for ten hours straight for days on end. He’d start worrying about your health if you didn’t at least relax on weekends. 

So while Sunghoon wants nothing more than to go all in with you, he senses you holding back. He notices you avoiding eye contact during particularly intimate moments, and when you look at him perhaps too fondly for your liking, you quickly catch yourself and resume your neutral, sometimes almost cold expression. When he tries to broach more personal, sensitive topics, you always find a way to change the subject or turn the conversation towards him before you get too deep. 

As time passes, and especially as exam season nears, he can tell there’s something that you’re not telling him about. His suspicions are confirmed when you come back from a weekend at your parents’ house. He’s also been away for an out-of-town hockey game, and because he hasn’t had much time to text you (and because their team won, so he wants to show off a little), he’s particularly looking forward to seeing you again that Monday. It’s only been three days since you’ve last seen each other, but he misses you like crazy. 

But the minute you’re back, you bury yourself in work like never before, often waking up at ungodly hours and staying at the library until midnight. More than once, he stays behind with you, long after the others have gone, reminding you gently every hour that it might be time to go home and get some rest. The moments you actually agree are few and far between, and although he sticks it out at first, sleeping with his head on the table until you tell him you’re ready to go, your stubbornness soon starts frustrating him, and he ends up leaving when he gets too tired. He knows this is important to you, but he doesn’t understand why you have to go to these lengths—you’d still easily be one of the best students in your class without all this exertion. And despite his many attempts, you won’t tell him what’s wrong, won’t even admit that something is wrong—you keep repeating that “it’s just what exam season is like.”

When he asks your friends about it, they seem just as confused as he is. One evening when you have plans to order some food and watch a movie at your apartment, he shows up at the agreed time, but you’re nowhere to be found. Thankfully, the girls are there to let him up and not leave him standing outside in the rain. You don’t pick up when he calls you and call him back a minute later, apologizing profusely but still saying that there’s something you really need to finish first. If it was only a one-time thing, it wouldn’t make him as angry as it does—but this has been going on for almost two weeks now, and Sunghoon is close to boiling point. 

The fact that it’s been months since your date at the Japanese restaurant, and the only thing that you’ve said about what was happening between you and Sunghoon “didn’t have to change anything.” The fact that you’re essentially each other’s boyfriend and girlfriend without the label or the reassurance that comes with it. The fact that there’s something clearly bothering you but that you won’t tell him about it. The fact that this something is effectively coming between the two of you. Sunghoon was originally more worried about you than anything—now that studying has taken obvious precedence over him in your list of priorities, he’d be lying if he said his ego wasn’t wounded. He isn’t asking to be the number one most important thing in your life, and he knew before even meeting you that high academic performance meant a lot to you, but he likes to think he deserves at least a little bit of your time and attention. 

Except, does he really? It’s not like you’re actually dating.

There’s a pang in his heart as he remembers this fact that he should never have forgotten in the first place. It hurts—and so perhaps, he’s less patient than he ought to be.

“Whatever, Y/N. Don’t worry about it, just let me know when you have time for something other than getting As.”

He hangs up and meets your flatmates’ worried eyes. 

“She still at the library?” Chaewon asks, tone delicate as if trying not to scare off a wounded animal. Sunghoon nods, a deep sigh escaping his mouth. 

“She always studies a lot,” Minjeong starts, “but this is something else.”

“Have you guys tried saying something?”

The girls nod. “Even Jake has talked to her, but she won’t listen. And he usually always gets to her,” Minjeong says. 

He goes home soon afterwards and spends the rest of his evening in rumination, torn between his worry and his anger towards you—emotions which only increase as more days pass, and he sees less and less of you. Your behavior was already concerning while preparing for your exams and final assignments, it gets even worse when exams actually do start. He doesn’t hear from you for an entire week, and the one time you miraculously agree to a short group hang-out in the form of getting coffee, you’re only half there, physically present but mind far, far away. You barely react when the guys tell you about their victory at the latest hockey game—which you didn’t attend, as well as any other game recently. 

No matter how much he tries to put it out of his mind, to focus on his own exams and hockey games, you stay at the forefront of his thoughts. The hockey team is away for another out-of-town game when he decides to broach the subject with Jake, with whom he’s sharing a room. The entire semester, he’s been careful not to raise Jake’s suspicions about the two of you, both out of consideration for you, who’d mentioned you didn’t want your brother to know what was going on, and for himself, who would also rather Jake not know, at least not until your relationship became official. Which it never did. But now that all he gets from you is radio silence at a time when you’d usually be an hour into a FaceTime call, he can’t help himself.

Jake is just coming out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel, when Sunghoon takes his shot in the dark. “Have you heard from Y/N recently?” he asks as nonchalantly as he can, pretending to not be avidly waiting for his friend’s reaction by keeping his eyes on his phone.

“Y/N?” Jake echoes. “No, not really. Why?”

“Just ‘cause I haven’t seen her around much. I’m wondering if everything’s okay.”

“You mean her staying at the library all day?” Sunghoon nods; Jake sighs. “Yeah, she’ll snap out of it soon enough. She gets somewhat like this every time exams come around, but even I have to admit it’s pretty tough this time around. The last time I saw her like this was way back in high school, and that’s because our parents were watching right over her shoulder. It’s been better in university thanks to the distance.”

“So this has to do with your parents?”

“Oh, one hundred percent. She’s always wanted to do well at school, but she only gets this obsessive when our parents are involved.”

“I guess this did start after that weekend when she went home…” Sunghoon muses absent-mindedly. It could’ve passed off as an off-hand remark, but Jake pauses in his movements and looks at him warily.

“Yeah, she did… You noticed that, huh?”

Sunghoon pauses. This whole time, he was sure Jake was oblivious to anything happening between you and him—but he might have underestimated his friend. Like brother, like sister; he can hardly read either of you when he really needs to. Jake might genuinely be surprised that Sunghoon remembered your whereabouts that weekend, or he’s onto him. “I guess I did,” he finally says, going for as noncommittal an answer as he can.

Jake says nothing for a bit, and Sunghoon thinks he’s managed to get through the conversation without raising too much suspicion—until a minute later, when Jake speaks again. “Do you… like Y/N?”

Sunghoon freezes, snapping his head towards Jake, who’s lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. His first instinct is to deny, but there’s no point pretending anymore. It’s one thing keeping it from Jake—lying to him about it is something else entirely. It’s an uncomfortable conversation, but it must be had. “Yeah, I do,” Sunghoon replies, guilt clear in his voice, more because he’s only now admitting it to Jake than because of his feelings themselves.

A shaky breath comes out of Jake’s mouth, as if this was the exact answer he had dreaded. “Right, okay. Since when?”

“Since I met her, basically.”

Jake’s head whips towards Sunghoon, and their gazes meet awkwardly. “Since that party in September?” he asks, shock written all over his face. Sunghoon nods, and to his surprise, Jake bursts out laughing. “Don’t tell me it’s because you accidentally matched costumes?”

Sunghoon looks away, frowning. “That might’ve helped things along,” he mumbles, embarrassment washing over him as Jake’s laughter intensifies. At least he was taking it well—a bit too well, perhaps.

“You’re so predictable, man,” Jake says when he’s calmed down, wiping a tear from his eye. 

“How did you know, anyway?”

“You’ve been pretty obvious with it recently,” Jake replies after a few seconds. “I could tell you were a bit shy around her at first, and when it got better I just thought you’d become friends or something. But when she showed up with your jacket at every game and you never left her side at parties, I assumed something else was going on. You’ve always been staying behind at the library these days, and I know you don’t have that much work.”

Sunghoon chuckles. “I guess I haven’t been trying hard to hide it lately.”

“Yeah, why would you hide it in the first place? You could’ve just told me.”

“I didn’t want to make things weird.”

Jake frowns. “It wouldn’t have been weird. If anything, hiding it makes it weirder.”

“I just thought, if one of my friends had a crush on my sister, I’d probably rather they hid it. Like, I don’t need to know about that,” Sunghoon says, and it makes Jake laugh.

“Dude, Y/N and I are only a year apart. Do you know how many guys have come up to me asking me for her number or advice on how to ask her out? It’s been, like, one every few months since middle school. Guys here especially have no shame telling me how hot they find her.”

Sunghoon makes a face. He doesn’t disagree, but he’d never go out of his way to tell your brother how exquisite you looked in certain outfits. “That’s gross.”

“Yeah, it is. But you’re my friend, not some greasy rando, so I trust you. If anything, I’d probably have to tell her to be nice to you, and not the other way around.”

“Yeah, you could say that again,” Sunghoon grumbles, then realizes his mistake immediately, eyes widening.

“What do you mean?” Jake asks, sounding genuine at first, but when Sunghoon stays quiet for a couple seconds, debating whether he should just lay the truth bare, Jake sits up on the bed and repeats his question, his tone much warier this time around. Sunghoon glances at him then looks away guiltily.

“Well, to be completely honest… We’ve sort of been seeing each other, kind of. But it’s complicated.”

Jake flops back down on his mattress with a grunt. “Who else knows?” he asks, rubbing at his eyes with his hands as if suddenly very exhausted.

“Everyone…”

“Everyone?!”

“Well, Jay, Minjeong, Yunjin and Chaewon.”

“So everyone.”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Great.” Jake sighs. “Since when?”

“Since October,” Sunghoon mumbles, feeling guiltier than ever. He’s belatedly realizing that it would’ve been much easier to have everything out in the open from the get-go, both with you and with Jake; now he’s both stuck in situationship limbo and has to face the consequences of keeping something this important from one of his closest friends. “Are you upset?” Sunghoon asks, feeling a bit like a ten-year-old.

“Kinda, yeah, but more at her than at you. I’ve told her not to go after anyone from the hockey team.”

“‘Cause of Heeseung?”

“Yeah. God, that was messy. He gave her mixed signals for so long, I could barely talk to him without thinking of her crying for so long. And now he’s the one who can’t quite look me in the eye,” Jake says, shaking his head at the mere thought of his captain.

“Was it that bad? She made it seem like it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “Really? It upset her for a while though,” he says, then turns his head to look at the ceiling again. “I guess that’s not so surprising of her. She sometimes likes pretending she doesn’t have any emotions, even though I’m pretty sure she has more than most people.”

“Huh.” That would explain some things, Sunghoon muses. Emotions are not a topic that comes up very often with you, and every time he’s gotten an inkling of them, you seem to shut it all down immediately.

“But you know, I’m more surprised than anything. About… about it all, really. Not just that you’re only telling me now, but that it’s lasted this long. She must really like you.”

“You think?” Sunghoon says, his face brightening with hope, the words slipping from him before he can stop them once again. He shrinks when Jake laughs at him.

“Look at you. Down bad, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“But yeah, dude. I’ve told you about this. I’ve never seen her in a relationship, ever. Says she doesn’t have the time,” Jake says, air-quoting you. “I’ve only had the displeasure of seeing her go home with one-night-stands. You know that since she started college, she’s had a rule that she’d only see someone three times and that was it?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, so she wouldn’t catch feelings. I’m telling you, she’s crazy. So you must be special.”

Sunghoon can’t stop the smile from spreading on his lips—special. But it doesn’t make him feel that much better, either. “It’s not like we’re actually dating, so I’m not sure how special I can be…”

Jake’s head turns to look at Sunghoon again, but the younger boy keeps his eyes trained on the ceiling fan above him. “What’s happening between you guys?”

A blush creeps on Sunghoon’s cheeks. “Is this something you really want to talk about?”

“Well, spare me the gruesome details, please,” Jake says, chuckling, “but yeah, I would like to know what’s going on with my best friend and my sister.”

“I’m your best friend?” Sunghoon says, grinning as he meets Jake’s gaze, who rolls his eyes.

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Fine.” He sighs. “Well, I didn’t think it would happen more than once-”

“What would happen more than once?”

Sunghoon pauses. “Well, you know…” Jake gives him a look as if to say, Well, no, I don’t know, so Sunghoon is forced to go on: “Sleeping together.”

“You guys slept together?!” Jake exclaims, sitting up on his bed once again.

“Yeah, what did you think?”

“I don’t know, just that you were going on dates, hanging out one-on-one, or whatever…”

“Well, we were.”

“Ugh, whatever,” Jake says, waving his hand in front of his face like swatting a fly away. “So, not just once, then?”

“No. And I thought it’d be a one-time thing, ‘cause a few days afterwards she said something about it not having to change our friendship…”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. But then it did. Happen again, I mean. And it’s been happening frequently since. But we’re not… dating dating. We haven’t had that conversation.”

Jake frowns. “Why not?”

Sunghoon releases a shaky breath. Why not, indeed. “‘Cause she hasn’t mentioned it. And I’m too scared to do it.”

“What are you scared of?”

“The typical stuff. What we have now… it’s not what I want, but it’s managed to not disrupt the group, you know. I’m scared that if I tell her how I feel, it’ll make things awkward between the two of us, and between all of us by extension.”

“Well, it might,” Jake says after thinking for a few seconds. “I wish I could tell you with certainty that she’ll like you back, but I honestly can’t. As obvious as you were towards her, she was not giving anything away.” Sunghoon chuckles, more out of self-deprecation than anything. This was not the pep talk he had hoped for. “But, I can tell you that she won’t be the type to make things awkward. You have nothing to risk by telling her, because in the long run, you’ll be better off that way. I know you, Sunghoon. You’ll be miserable if you can’t be fully yourself with someone.”

Decidedly, Sunghoon’s friends had a way of telling him the exact opposite of the things he wanted to hear while being completely right. He wishes things with you could stay the same — minus the overworking yourself and ignoring him in the process — and that he wouldn’t have to do anything that might make them change. But just as Jake said, he’d also reach a point where he couldn’t take it anymore—a point he was already inching closer and closer to with every passing day. He likes you enough to let you not define the relationship, but he likes you too much to let it go on. He likes you too much to not be able to tell you, and show you, and remind you of it every day. He hated having to hold back, and he hated feeling you holding back. He wanted to give you his all and he wanted all of you, too, not just bite-sized portions of you.

“You’re right,” he finally says. “I haven’t been able to talk to her lately, but I’ll have to tell her soon enough. When her exams are over, I guess.”

Jake sighs. “Yeah. I don’t know if there’s any getting through to her right now.”

“She’s blown me off so many times! I don’t know what she’s doing, spending so many hours in that library. I’d go insane.”

“She’s a perfectionist,” Jake says, shaking his head. “I’ve talked to her about it. When it comes to school, she needs everything to be as flawless as can be. She spends hours re-reading and editing her work. It’s not good.”

“Not really, no.”

“But she’s only got a week left. I’ll try to convince her not to go home for too long, and it’ll be better after the holidays. Then we’ll make sure there’s not a repeat of this next exam season.”

He thinks of Christmas break and of not seeing you for two weeks; of next semester and going through all of this with you a second time. The uncertainty, the fooling around behind your friends’ backs — although that might not be needed now that Jake is in on it too — Sunghoon’s not sure if he can go through it all again. “Yeah, we will.”

--

They lose their game the following day. They had an amazing run, either winning or tying every game so far; this loss is not enough to make them drop significantly in the rankings, but it’s enough to demoralize Sunghoon. It couldn’t have come at a worse time—between you and this failed game, his self-esteem is taking a real hit.

He dared hope for some comfort from you once he was back, but in vain. He doesn’t know why he imagined your attitude might’ve changed overnight, and when he texts you asking to hang out, the same old sorry I can’t atm fills his phone screen. And just like that, as strong as his feelings for you have been all this time, so is his resentment—unwarranted, perhaps, but he thinks he deserves better than this, and he’s both angry at you for not giving him anything and at himself for letting it happen.

Now, he’s the one who spends hours working himself to the bone in the ice rink, who’s clearly preoccupied with other things when everyone gets together, and who doesn’t even show up to the party the whole group goes to when you’re all done with exams. The last game before winter break is in two days, and he doesn’t want to waste a day nursing a hangover when he could be practicing.

That night, he thinks everyone is out at some random club downtown, so he does a double-take when it’s past eleven p.m. and you show up at the rink. He’s skating laps, practicing his speed and his goal-shooting, only noticing you when you’re standing in the middle of the rink. He almost skates right into you.

“Y/N?” he asks, not completely sure you’re not just a figment of his imagination. He’s so exhausted, he wouldn’t be surprised if he were dreaming you up.

“Jay texted me.”

“Oh. Why?” He’s out of breath, and the words come out blunter than he intends them to.

“Because it’s almost midnight and you’re still here,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest. There’s a hint of a smile on your lips, but your eyebrows are furrowed in what looks like worry. It’s the first time Sunghoon’s seeing you concerned over something other than an assignment. 

He shrugs and resumes his laps, slower this time, forcing you to keep turning on your feet. “I’m practicing. There’s a big game coming up.”

“Which is exactly why you should be resting, like everyone else on your team right now.”

He resists rolling his eyes. “Why would I rest when I could be getting better?”

“Because you need rest as much as you need practice. You won’t be any use on the rink if you’re too tired to play properly.”

“And I won’t be any use if I can’t shoot properly, either.”

“Sunghoon, you need a break. You’re clearly exhausted-Will you stop it?” you suddenly snap. “I’m trying to talk to you, and I’m getting dizzy.” 

Your small outburst only has him growing more agitated, and even though he does stop, it’s more so you can see the annoyance on his face than anything. “You know, this is a bit rich coming from you, Y/N.” He knows this is not the right time to bring this up—if he has grievances against you, he shouldn’t be bringing them up when he’s already frustrated. He’s well aware of this, but he can’t help himself.

You scoff. “Excuse me?”

“You’re the one who spends twelve hours a day in the library during exams and does not budge even if I tell you you should go home.”

“That’s different-”

“How is it any different?” he interrupts, voice rising. “You don’t listen to me when you overwork yourself. I don’t see why I should.”

“So you realize that you’re overworking yourself?”

“Of course I do! But I have to.”

“No, you don’t-”

“Y/N, please. I have to win as much as you have to get the top grades. Is it actually necessary? No, but you know how shit it feels not to.”

“And it’s exactly because I know that feeling that I’m telling you to stop. You’re just feeding into it.”

“So are you, staying until 2 a.m. in the library. You’ve never once gone home when I asked you to.”

“Again, that’s different-”

“How?! How is it different? Please enlighten me, ‘cause they’re the exact same thing to me.”

You sigh. A sudden sadness appears on your face. Sunghoon is torn between wanting to see this to its end and taking everything he’s said back. But he keeps quiet, and your eyes, when they meet his again, harden. “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

“Yes.”

As if you couldn’t say your next words while looking at him, you tear your gaze away from his face. “Because I’m actually concerned about you, here. The only reason you want me to stop and go home is so we can fuck.”

Sunghoon is so astounded that all words fail him—he stares at you, mouth wide open like you just shot him. After a few seconds, all he’s able to come up with is an incredulous, “What?” His voice is a mere whisper. 

“You heard me,” you say coldly.

He closes his mouth and swallows. “So… you’re the one who’s worried, and I’m only after sex?”

You glance at him. “Yeah.”

A chuckle escapes Sunghoon’s throat, then another, until laughter spills out of him uncontrollably. He feels like the world is upside down. How could you have lived the same thing and come out of it with such different perspectives? Your account of his intentions with you is so ridiculous and unfathomable to him that he can’t do anything but laugh.

You seem taken aback at first, but your surprise quickly turns into annoyance. “Something funny?”

“Hilarious, actually,” he says, holding his stomach. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. All he finds at the end of his amusement is anger, bright red and hot. It’s not an emotion he feels often, its rarity only serving as an intensifier—he starts making his way out of the rink before it can explode and hit you in its wake. “Well, that’s convinced me to call it a day. So you got what you came for, I guess.”

His fingers tremble as he undoes the laces on his skates and puts his sneakers on again. You stand by the door of the rink, holding onto the frame as you look at him, that same sad look still on your face. “Hoon,” you say, voice weak. What would usually have him melting only has his anger flare harder.

“Don’t. For the first time ever, I actually really don’t want to talk to you right now.” He stands up, gives you one last harsh look, and turns away. He only halts right before exiting the bleacher area, and after a couple seconds of thinking, turns back around. “Oh, but don’t worry, I’ll let you know when I want to fuck again. Since that’s all this is, clearly.”

--

It seemed to you no one thought you were good enough for Sunghoon.

Only Yunjin and Chaewon seemed excited at the prospect of the two of you getting together, or at least getting to know each other, but they were also the type to coo at dogs in the street and tear up at the sight of old people holding hands; Minjeong was apprehensive from the start, and made it clear; Jay was indifferent; Jake was oblivious for a while. Sunghoon was…

What was Sunghoon?

Someone who had come out of nowhere, shaken up your routine and messed with your head. That’s what Sunghoon was. He didn’t seem apologetic in the slightest.

Maybe it was your fault for not opening up to the people closest to you and letting them think you were some kind of no-strings-attached one-night-stands-only emotionless maneater who had been single for as long as they had known her, who would be seen with someone new every few months, and never for long, who, as far as the eye could tell, only used men for sex. Maybe it was their fault for never trying to dig deeper.

No, okay, it was definitely your fault.

Based on your conversations with your friends, they thought Heeseung had broken your heart, and you had never bounced back properly. He’d hurt you so much, you couldn’t fathom a real relationship anymore—you could only be with someone casually. Which wasn’t so far from the truth, but what Heeseung had done was much worse than just breaking your heart. He’d confirmed what you already knew of yourself: you want too much. You want what you can’t have, what you don’t deserve.

From the moment you met Park Sunghoon, you knew you didn’t deserve someone like him. Minjeong seemed to agree, and when she saw you and him together at choir that Saturday in September, three months ago already, she made sure you knew her thoughts on the matter.

“This is so… unlike you,” was the first thing she’d said after she pulled you aside. 

“What is?”

“This,” she repeated, waving her arms around. “Being here. Coming with him.” She pointed at Sunghoon, whose hair was being ruffled by one grandma and his cheek pulled by another. He kept glancing back worriedly at you—you liked him so much already. “See? You’re smiling at him,” she said, making you realize a sappy smile had started growing on your lips at the sight of him. Your face dropped and you scoffed at the disgust in her voice.

“Yeah, some of us like to smile. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Y/N, you know what I’m trying to say.”

“I don’t think I do, actually.”

She sighed. “You don’t do this. You don’t meet a guy and show up to his choir practice the next morning. What’s happening?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. Had you known your presence would be questioned like that, you might’ve thought twice about coming. “Can’t a girl enjoy a choir without getting interrogated these days?”

“You’re avoiding my question! Listen, Y/N. Sunghoon is not the kind of guy you usually go for. He’s-Stop. Don’t smile at me like that.”

“If you like Sunghoon, you can just tell me. You know I wouldn’t stoop so low as to go after a guy my best friend likes.”

“So you are going after him?”

“So you do like him?”

Minjeong shook her head violently and put her hands on your shoulders, staring into your brain as if trying to make you see some sense. Calmly, she said, “No, I don’t. Sunghoon’s nice, but he is so far from my type. He’s too… nice.”

“You mean he doesn’t wear leather jackets or ride a motorcycle?”

“That was once. But no, he doesn’t do that. And what I’m trying to tell you is that he’s not your type either.”

“And how have you gathered that?”

“Because so far, you’ve only wisely chosen guys who are as detached and emotionally stunted as you.”

“I’m not-”

“But he’s not like that, Y/N. He’s the bring-home-to-your-parents-for-Christmas type. Not the hump-and-dump type.”

“I’m starting to get offended by this conversation.”

“All I’m saying is, don’t go breaking his heart. Or yours, for that matter. It pains me to say but I care about both of you very much and I don’t see this going anywhere good.”

You shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Was her opinion of your romantic tendencies — or lack thereof — that bad that she couldn’t even recommend you to her friend? You felt like a chastised child whose mom told you you couldn’t get the toy you wanted. Despite being well aware that you weren’t the most committed when it came to relationships, you still felt like she was going overboard. Just because nothing had stuck so far didn’t mean it wouldn’t now—she was acting like you went around playing with people’s feelings for fun.

“Jesus, this is my second time seeing him. I just wanna see what his deal is. I’m not breaking anyone’s heart, okay?” 

The choir conductor had called out for everyone to gather on stage then, and that was the end of that conversation. You still remember how funny of a thing it was, seeing Sunghoon in his nice shirt and trousers, his hair falling into his eyes, singing diligently with the choir, when just the night before he had been playing beer pong dressed as Cowboy Ken. In this new light, you understood why Minjeong was so adamant about him not being your usual type, and why the grandmas were fussing over him. You hadn’t known what had pushed you to invite yourself to this rehearsal, and even then as you sat there, you weren’t sure what you were doing or why you couldn’t stop smiling as you watched Sunghoon sing. 

Time made things clearer, starting with that afternoon at the beach. The salt in the air that day had clouded your thoughts, covered them with a thin layer so that your usual reluctance to share anything remotely personal had dimmed. Or maybe it had had nothing to do with the air and everything to do with the boy sitting next to you on the sand, the way words came tumbling out of your mouth before you could think about them and were only met with understanding and empathy on his part. For once, you didn’t feel the need to guard yourself, to adapt your words and actions to the person in front of you. It was something you didn’t know was possible with a near stranger—perhaps because Sunghoon felt nothing like one.

He made you feel things you hadn’t felt in a long time; things you had been craving to feel, needed almost as much as oxygen. Being with him felt like breathing again. But you had been underwater so long, being on land again felt foreign, scary, and you couldn’t help but dive back into safe waters, coming up for air once in a while.

Whether he had intended to or not, Sunghoon had started to scratch at your surface, until he’d burrowed a small hole—shallow, but enough for cracks to appear, cracks you were quick to put back together as best as you could.

So when his gaze was too tender, his touches too gentle, you bristled. You went away, because you were afraid of what might happen if you stayed. The more you wanted to give him, the less you gave him anything at all. Your own desire overwhelmed you. His letterman jacket was warm around your shoulders, you proudly walked around with the four letters of his last name on your back, but you couldn’t get out of your mind how cold it would be if it was one day ripped away from you. 

You thought of Heeseung, how disillusioned you had been when you thought you had finally met someone who would love you the way you had always yearned to be, only for him to toss you away when you started asking for too much. You thought of your friends in middle school, how it seemed that no friendship could be more wonderful until you overheard them talking about you at a sleepover, about how clingy you were. You thought of your parents, how they had only bestowed kind words upon you when you performed well in your role of perfect daughter, of academically gifted child. How they hadn’t even glanced at any of the drawings you’d done of the four of you, mother, father, son and daughter holding hands with a bright yellow sun in the corner of the sky. How they had pushed you away from their bed when you seeked some comfort after a terrible nightmare. How they had never bothered to hide their disappointment when you came home from school with anything less than an A. How they had shunned your brother for not going down the path they had envisioned for him, how hard you had to fight to make them accept yours was not a worthless one.

Even your best friend seemed to think you were unable to receive affection of the likes of Sunghoon’s—but what you were afraid of was that he wouldn’t handle the amount of affection you knew you were able to give. In a way, that was what had drawn you to Sunghoon in the first place—from the moment you’d met him, you had been able to tell there was something of you in him. It seemed to you he had a heart that was overflowing with love, love to give, love to spare on whoever would have it. In his words, you were him. Nevertheless, your fear of getting hurt overrode your desire to feel Sunghoon’s love, and you didn’t know whether you would be able to revert to your nature after having spent so much time perfecting your new facade.

You knew what it was like to be cold. And so you prematurely braced yourself for it by pushing away Sunghoon’s warmth. If it was going to happen at some point, like Minjeong had hinted it would, might as well get used to it, right?

Except the cold never came. Sunghoon kept on burning relentlessly, no matter how much wood you fed his fire with—you could cling to him for nights on end or ignore his texts for days, without fail, he’d welcome you with his usual, unwavering warmth. He allowed you to bask in it, to momentarily let down your defenses. But something always happened to make you raise them back up—Minjeong would eye the two of you suspiciously, Heeseung would post on Instagram (Is one of the girls on slide five his new fling? Are they serious and it wasn’t that he wasn’t ready for a relationship, it’s that he didn’t want one with me?), or your mom would text you to ask you whether everything was okay.

Yet increasingly, you suspected there was something behind Sunghoon’s warmth, something you had missed, something that was tricking you. He looked at you like you had hung the stars in the night sky, yes; in public, a knowing look from you was enough to have his face turn bright red, and in private, one simple touch had his chest heaving, yes; he expressed disappointment every time you turned him down for a hang-out. Your attachment to him grew, and it became harder to put what the two of you had into words.

It wasn’t just sex—it couldn’t be. It ran deeper than that. You knew what relationships that consisted of just sex were like, and this wasn’t that, it was too good, too intimate to be just that. But you weren’t a couple, that much was clear. Only four other people were aware something was even going on, your brother not included, and you acted as regular friends in front of everyone. Jake had insisted you didn’t fool around with another member of his hockey team because his relationship with Heeseung had already deteriorated enough, he didn’t need to be on weird terms with anyone else on your behalf, so you were not keen on letting him know about what you got up to with Sunghoon. Anyway, even if everyone on earth was in on your shenanigans, you and Sunghoon hadn’t convened on what it all meant. Who knew what was going on in his head? You were no stranger to how deceitful men could be when they were after certain bodily pleasures. Unless Sunghoon said it in so many words, multiple times, you would not be a hundred percent sure he wasn’t only looking to get laid, or wanted someone to act like his girlfriend without the label and the obligations that came with it.

Because you basically were acting like his girlfriend, and he like your boyfriend. You always went to each other. Always, only each other. Whether he needed a second opinion on an outfit, you needed a rant session about your dissertation, either of you a really good orgasm, it was each other you went to.

You waited for him to initiate a conversation about the status of your relationship like one waits for church bells to ring at the turn of the hour—you knew it was coming, but the sound might be too much to bear. And the longer you had to wait, the more you dreaded it. Because how would you react when the time came? You didn’t trust yourself not to run away; neither did Minjeong.

The cold hadn’t come yet. You couldn’t let yourself feel the warmth unreservedly. It was all unpleasantly lukewarm.

Then you went home for a weekend.

It was a good friend from school’s birthday, and despite having spent a lot of time with Sunghoon at the expense of studying, you had done well this semester and thought you deserved a break. After having been away for so long, you had started to underestimate the power of your need for your parents’ approval over you. One small instance that your brother and many other people would’ve brushed off easily was enough to set you off—that same cold look of disappointment when you decided to be honest and told them one of your courses was deadly boring all while being unnecessarily complicated and you had received a low B-grade in it. They barely spoke to you for the rest of the evening.

Exams were a mere few weeks away when you got back. You buried yourself in work, forgot everything and everyone else, even Sunghoon, even yourself.

The cold hadn’t come yet, so you sought it out for yourself.

At the same time, you hadn’t indulged in enough introspection to realize how frustrated you had been at Sunghoon for not trying to create defined boundaries around your relationship. You were unable to do it yourself, you unrealistically wanted him to do the work for the both of you, you got upset when he didn’t. What you were able to do was make up reasons why he wasn’t giving you the what are we talk—he doesn’t like you that much, he just wants sex, he’s settling for you until he finds the next best thing, the real thing. This wasn’t leading anywhere, so you cut it off before he could.

You set foot in the library at seven thirty a.m. on a Monday and every following day of that week, then the next, then the next. He managed to pull you out every now and then—you weren’t that strong against his big pleading eyes, his soft messy hair, his warm hands that entirely covered yours. 

Oftentimes, you were too tired at the end of a long library day to have sex. Sunghoon never held it against you—he seemed more than happy to cook you dinner, let you fall asleep halfway during a movie you had chosen, and cuddle all night long. But your body burned with resentment at his mere presence in your bed, in your home, in your text messages. Who was he to stop you from studying, from achieving your goals, to distract you from that top grade just so he could get off? Even your friends and brother weren’t trying so hard to make you take breaks. The worry that furrowed his eyebrows, which you used to want to see fade away with a caress of your thumb, now infuriated you to no end, it seemed — to you — put-on. He kissed your neck and you wanted to push him away instead of melt into him like you had before.

It was his turn to leave for a weekend for an out-of-town hockey game, and you convinced yourself his absence came as a relief. But on the Sunday evening they got back, as you came out of the library, you spotted your brother waiting right outside of the building.

“Why is it so hard to reach you?” he said when he saw you in lieu of a greeting. “What’s the point of having a phone if you don’t even use it? I called you, like, five times.” “It was on airplane mode.” He rolled his eyes so hard, you could almost hear them moving beneath their lids. “What have you done to Sunghoon?” You stopped dead in your tracks. “Sunghoon? What about him?” you asked, chest constricting at the mere thought of him and at the implication that something had happened to him, even if you were the cause. He hadn’t said it in so many words, but it was clear the truth had been revealed to Jake, and for some reason, it didn’t surprise you. You knew they roomed together and assumed Sunghoon must’ve told him. You tried your best to take it in stride. “I thought we said the hockey team was off-limits after Heeseung,” he said sternly. “Also, Sunghoon, of all people?” he adds before you can say anything. “That’s like, my bro. And he’s the nicest guy ever. Not the perfect pick for one of your victims, I must say-” “Oh, please, he’s not a victim. He’s a consenting adult.” “Then why is he so upset over you spending more time studying than with him?” “That’s the male ego for you, Jakey.” Your brother sighed deeply. “He’s really hurt, Y/N. If you were going to reject him, you could’ve done it nicely.”

You frowned. “Who said anything about rejecting him?”

“You’ve shut him out. You’ve shut all of us out.” Jake was staring at you, trying to get you to look at him, but you kept your gaze on the ground and kicked non-existent pebbles around, hands hiding in your coat pockets. “You might not have meant it as one, but he took it as a rejection.”

You scoff. “There was nothing to reject. It’s not like we’re actually together.”

“Yeah, thanks for telling me anything was going on, by the way.”

“It wasn’t any of your business.”

“It is, ‘cause it concerns my sister and my best friend.”

“He’s your best friend?” you echo, a teasing smile on your lips. He rolls his eyes again.

“God, maybe you guys aren’t so bad together after all. But Y/N—I’m serious. You need to do something.”

“Why can’t he?”

“Because you’re the one who’s been fucking around.”

Ouch. “You’ve known about this whole thing for what, two days, and you’re already blaming me for the fact that it’s not going perfectly? How little do you think of me?”

“I don’t think little of you, Y/N, I just know you have a track record of not being serious about relationships.”

Your body tensed up. Maybe it had been a particularly long day. Maybe it had been a long time coming. Tears well up in your eyes—a sight you’ve not let your brother see in many, many years.

“You know what, fuck this, Jake. I’m stressed enough as it is. I’ve done my best with what I have, and you don’t get to pin this on me. As if I was the only person in that relationship. If Sunghoon has a problem, he can take it up with me directly.”

You walked away. Jake called after you once, and when you didn’t come back, caught up with you. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I don’t wanna upset you. I just-I hate seeing him hurt, you know? And you too.”

“I’m glad my feelings are of some importance to you.”

“Of course they are,” Jake said, too concerned to detect the sarcasm in your words. “And you’re right, I’ve only heard Sunghoon’s side of the story. But it really sounded like-”

“Listen, Jakey, I really don’t wanna do this right now. Let’s talk about it when exams are over. I can’t have anything else taking up mental space. I mixed up my Greek third declension endings earlier.”

“God forbid.”

After some arguing, Jake let you off the hook—“Just for now,” he said. You’d get him to recount his and Sunghoon’s conversation in excruciating detail later.

You come out of an evening of contemplation resenting Sunghoon for bitching about you to your brother, of all people. As if he had been begging on his hands and knees for your devotion, as if you had been cool-headed and detached and not thinking he’ll ask me to be his girlfriend any second now every time you spent time together. You told yourself you were well and truly done with him for the time being. If there was anything to salvage, that was future you’s problem.

But late on Thursday evening, Jay sent you a voice message, something he only did when he was gravely drunk, shouting over loud chatter and rap music that Sunghoon hadn’t shown up to a party and was apparently still practicing. You’d caught wind of their loss at the game, and even though your heart had swollen with concern for Sunghoon, very well aware of how important winning was to him, you’d managed to squash it down. You had bigger fish to fry, namely, an Italian written exam that made up 75% of your overall grade for that course. But after ten minutes of re-reading the same three lines of an article from Republicca, you couldn’t get the image of Sunghoon skirting endlessly around the ice rink and potentially hurting himself out of your head. You told yourself you only had this one exam left and plenty of time to revise for it, packed up your things and headed for the rink.

It was past eleven p.m. when you got there. The rest is history. 

Your grievances came out in an ugly way, but Sunghoon’s refusal to listen to you got the best of your nerves, and although you really did feel that your worry was more genuine than his, you didn’t truly believe that all he wanted from you was sex—at least, you hoped it wasn’t. It was the first time you ever saw any sort of negative emotion on Sunghoon’s handsome features, be it anger, sadness or pain. It tugged at your heartstrings, made you want to wrap him in your arms and get him away from whatever it was that tugged his eyebrows into a frown—even if that was you.

Now, as if the water has inched up your ankles and frozen over, your feet stay planted on the ice for a while after he’s stormed off. You don’t even realize you’re crying until a hot, salty teardrop falls on your lips.

Your feet regain control of themselves, and they seem to move of their own accord as they guide you right in front of Sunghoon’s dorm room. You’re barely conscious as your knuckles rasp against the door, and the tears that had fallen back behind your eyes spill out once more as soon as your eyes meet his. He’s just come out of the shower, a white towel wrapped around his hips, another one that he uses to dry his hair. His movements stop when he realizes who’s standing at his door, mouth falling slightly agape, chest visibly rising and falling. He’s so beautiful, you feel your heart breaking all over again.

Sobs pour uncharacteristically out of you, so much so that you have to hide your face behind your eyes. He ushers you in, holds you tight as everything flows out, the stress, the resentment, the loneliness, the longing. How could he be so close yet so far away this whole time? Did he want those miles of distance between you, or had you forced them upon him?

Sunghoon smoothes your hair down and shushes you, telling you it’s okay and that he’s here, voice strangled as if he’s on the verge of crying, too. A part of you still feels angry towards him, but the bigger part of you knows only he can give you the comfort you need.

“I missed you,” you say when you’ve calmed down partly. You only realize how true those words are once you’ve spoken them. You’ve missed waking up next to him, watching trashy reality TV together, taking coffee breaks that lasted too long in-between study sessions. You’ve missed the scent of his hair, the scent of his skin, you’ve missed watching the way his back muscles shift at the slightest of movements, feeling the weight of his head as he lay on your chest. All for a bunch of As you would’ve gotten without exerting yourself so much anyway.

“I missed you too, baby. Where did you go?” Just like that, you break down again, and he dissolves into apologies. “You’re here now, it’s all that matters,” he whispers against your hair.

“You didn’t see them, Hoon. You didn’t see the way they looked at me,” you say, struggling to speak, unsure you’re even making any sense but unable to stop. “I got As in everything, I worked so hard. Just one B, one week where I had four things due at the same time. Their faces, Hoon, like they were thinking, what was the point of letting me do this degree if I wasn’t even going to excel in it?”

“But you do excel in it, Y/N. You’re amazing at what you do. And even if you weren’t, you love it, and that’s what matters the most.”

“Not to them, it doesn’t.”

“Then forget them.”

“I can’t, Hoon,” you say, voice trembling. “I just can’t. I need them to be proud of me.”

“Isn’t it enough to be proud of yourself?”

“I wish it was.”

“Does it help if I tell you how proud I am of you and of how hard you’ve worked?”

He doesn’t see it, your face is still hidden in the crook of his shoulder, but a small smile makes its way to your lips. “A bit.”

“Then I’ll tell you everyday until you don’t need their approval anymore. They don’t deserve you, Y/N. They don’t even see what an amazing, beautiful, smart daughter they have. Or her sort-of-okay brother.” You laugh, and so does he. Sunghoon’s words and soothing touch against your back already alleviate the weight on your heart. “But I see it.”

You lift your head to look at Sunghoon. His eyes are glassy. “You see how amazing, beautiful and smart Jake is?”

He laughs again as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, exactly.” The way he looks at you makes you wish you could go back to the day you met him and right all of your wrongs. No more hiding or running away. You only want to stay under that gaze of his. But sadness soon replaces the joy in his eyes. “You mean so much more to me than you give yourself credit for, Y/N. This has never been just about sex for me. Not even for a second.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then what has it been about?” 

He frowns like a student in an advanced math class who’s just been asked what three plus three is—isn’t it obvious?

“I love you.”

Your eyes dart between his as if searching for any trace of deceit there. Of course, you don’t find any—because there hasn’t been any since the start. You’d let your own fears invent things that weren’t there. Your lips tremble and you find yourself bawling on his shoulder once more, your tears like a well that digs deeper and deeper so as to never run out of water.

“I hope these are good tears,” Sunghoon says light-heartedly, but you can detect the nervousness behind his words. You nod your head vigorously, willing yourself to say something back, but your tears overflow, make your breath hitch.

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” you manage in between sobs.

“I didn’t think it was the kind of thing you wanted to hear,” he explains.

“I was waiting for you to say something.”

“I didn’t know. I thought I was being obvious enough.”

“You probably were. I was the one who couldn’t see it,” you admit.

“I thought you didn’t want me like that.”

“I thought you didn’t want me like that.”

Sunghoon chuckles, a sound of relief. “I’ve wanted you like that since the start.”

“I think I have too.”

“You think?”

You lift your head again and when your eyes meet Sunghoon’s, it feels like coming out of your hiding place hours after the round of hide-and-seek was over. He hadn’t forgotten to come and find you. He was waiting for you to reveal yourself.

Which goes against the rules of hide-and-seek, but you don’t blame him.

You smile; he smiles, deep dimples carving crescents into his cheeks. “I love you, too.”

You hadn’t realized how cold your hands were until Sunghoon found them.

--

Everything after that was a blurry mess of tangled limbs, warm kisses, happy tears and relieved laughter.

Your touch had always been intoxicating, but Sunghoon was particularly sensitive to it that night. The mix of not having felt you close in weeks and the heightened emotions driven by your confessions made his skin tingle everywhere it came in contact with yours. He’d never slept so little without regretting it in the morning.

It goes without saying that most of the night was not spent talking, but you still had things you needed to discuss. The two of you laid out all of your fears, and Sunghoon was immensely relieved to finally get a glimpse into that mind of yours. He made you promise to always tell him what was going on, and he promised you you’d never be too much for him. Always just right.

Now, he gets to wait outside of your exam hall with your favorite flowers in hand, to put his arm around your shoulders during movie nights instead of holding your hand beneath the blanket, to kiss you over the barrier at the end of a hockey game he won. Heeseung’s narrowed eyes at the sight of the two of you is an added bonus.

You text him that you’ll hang around the locker rooms after the game so that you can head to the party together. The end of December is nearing and you can’t wait for the new year, for twelve whole months of not hiding your feelings for Sunghoon from anyone, not even from yourself, least of all from him. At least, that’s what you told him in a sappy, drunken voice message at two a.m. the previous night when the girls made you drink a bottle of prosecco to yourself—their way of congratulating you for an arduous but successful exam period.

He steps out of the locker rooms with Jake and Jay. You’ve never looked quite as pretty, face lighting up as you spot the three of them, his jersey on your shoulders. You’d worn it during your last exam—“I thought it might bring me luck to wear a pretty boy’s name on my back,” you’d told him, to which he’d replied that it was good practice for when you actually took his last name. You’d looked away, fighting a smile.

Now your smile is full-blown as you look at him, but the downside of being an official couple is that Jake has now more material to tease the both of you with.

“Oh my God, you waited for me, what a sweet sister I have been blessed with!” he exclaims, arms outstretched as he barrels towards you.

“Fuck off, Sim,” you say but accept his hug nonetheless. “Nice game.”

“I know.” He pulls away and ruffles your hair. Jay nods at you like you’re someone he shared a class with back in second year and not his friend of almost three years.

As if on cue, just as Sunghoon reaches you and envelops you in a hug, Jake turns around and yells loud enough for all the players spilling out of the locker rooms, “And don’t forget to wear protection! I’m not ready to be an uncle yet.”

“That’s disgusting, Jakey,” you yell back, and he smiles proudly. Sunghoon had never thought the day would come where you’d initiate a kiss in a room full of people—he’s on cloud nine when you take his head in your hands and press your lips to his, murmuring praises about how well he played.

“It was all for you, baby,” he says, trying to appear cool even though a blush is creeping up his ears. 

“Not for the recruiter of the national team?” you asked with a smirk.

He smiles, shrugging. “Maybe a bit for him too. You’re the one I want to impress.”

“Consider me impressed.” You stand on your tiptoes to kiss him a second time.

You head towards your friends, hands warm against each other.

--

In classic mysterious Jay fashion, he organizes a New Year’s Eve party that he can’t attend himself.

He’s on holiday in some exotic country halfway across the world with his family, but he’s offered up their house for a celebration and tasked Jake with making sure no one trashes anything.

The party started three hours ago, and you’re sure it’s in full swing by now—you’re sure everyone is having a jolly old time, getting drunk enough to welcome the new year with a hangover, searching the crowds of people for the person they’ll want to kiss at midnight. You’re sure that people are having so much fun that whoever notices your and Sunghoon’s absence might think you’re missing out.

And maybe you are—but there’s nowhere you’d rather be than where you are now, straddling your boyfriend’s lap in the backseat of his car. He’s a little bit tipsy, you’re a little bit tipsy, it’s obvious in the way you kiss each other, messy, impatient, interspersed with giggles and with perhaps too much tongue. Your hands are not much more polite, harshly grabbing at his hair just the way you know he likes it, and neither are his, having snuck their way underneath your black satin dress long ago already.

When Sunghoon pulled you away from the party, you’d appropriately exclaimed, “But the party?”, to which he replied, “Fuck the party.” It wasn’t like him to curse, or to have anything but a bashful smile on his lips, like a guilty dog who’d been caught doing something it knew it shouldn’t, even though he was just standing there, so when you see his stoney expression, you think something serious must’ve happened.

The something serious turned out to be “that guy who was touching your shoulder.”

Clearly, it’d take Sunghoon a little bit more time to be entirely secure in your relationship. In the meantime, you didn’t mind letting him fuck his jealousy away.

Although he’d been the one to whisk you away, you’re the one who finds yourself begging for him to speed things up. Your flimsy thong does absolutely nothing, so you’re basically grinding yourself bare against his clothed erection—and it’s not like the fabric of his suit trousers is very thick, either. A girl can only put up with so much dry humping before having her boyfriend’s dick inside of her goes from being a want to a need.

“Need you, Hoon,” you coo against the shell of his ear. A few words usually do the trick, but Sunghoon has other plans tonight.

“What do you need, baby?”

“You.”

“I’m right here,” he says, punctuating his words with a squeeze of your ass.

“You know what I mean,” you say, practically whining.

“I’m not sure I do, actually.”

You pull away and, looking at him directly, say, “God, Sunghoon. I want you to fuck me.” His shit-eating grin simultaneously makes you roll your eyes and goes straight to your core.

“That I can do.”

He keeps one hand on your ass as he loosens his tie first, then undoes his belt and trouser buttons. His slacks and underwear pool around his ankles, and all he needs to do is hike your dress up around your hips and push your thong to the side. You wrap a hand around his dick, but your mind is too hazy to do much with it—he’s started rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb, the pressure and speed as perfect as it always is. You let your forehead fall against his shoulders and moan unabashedly, thankful he decided to park the car far enough away from the house.

“You like it when I touch you like this, baby?”

“I love it, Hoon.”

He hums his approval. “You’re so perfect. So perfect and so wet for me, isn’t that right?”

You start to say “yes,” but you interrupt yourself with a gasp. You hold onto Sunghoon’s arm, feel his muscles move under your palm as he slips two fingers inside of you without warning. “Please,” you choke out, a tight knot already forming in your stomach.

“Please what?”

“Need you. Need your dick, baby.”

He smiles as if endeared, but his words couldn’t be more different. “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before going off with some random guy the one minute I was somewhere else.”

“He’s just-fuck, Hoon, he’s just a mutual friend of Jay and I. Fuck, right there, baby.” Forming coherent sentences when Sunghoon’s fingers flick against that perfect spot deep inside you again and again is no easy task, but you need to defend yourself.

“Right there?” he echoes, voice a whisper against your ear. When you nod, eyes shut tight, he slips his fingers out. You look at him, betrayed. “That’s too bad. Why don’t you ask him to touch you right there, hm?”

You don’t know how much of his jealousy is put-on to get you to beg and how much of it is real. You make a mental note to have a conversation with him about this later—right now, you don’t mind playing along if it means your boyfriend will deign to fuck you. You know he wants to, he’s just making you work harder.

You move your hand up and down along his dick, brush his reddening tip with your palm every now and then. “He couldn’t touch me like you, Hoon.” You lean in and trail kisses along his neck, his jawline, his ears. “Can’t fuck me like you, either.”

With exams, hockey matches and any other responsibilities out of the way for winter break, the two of you had had an obscene amount of sex in the past couple of weeks. You’d done other things, of course, namely having much-needed conversations with each other, your friends, your families. Sunghoon’s mother was overjoyed at the news, glad her “duckling had finally met someone” — her words — and his sister kept stealing his phone from him to talk to you when you were on FaceTime. You and Jake had gone home for two days for Christmas, and although Jake had needed to pep talk you into it for over an hour, you managed to tell them that you wouldn’t stand for being belittled for your life choices anymore.

But in-between these conversations, you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. You’ve grown more comfortable with each passing day, both of you bolder in vocalizing what you want and how you feel. And so, you quickly found out that your Sunghoon, your shy, sweet Sunghoon, got off like nothing else on salacious words. In line with his possessiveness, he loved hearing about how he and only he could do these things to you; in line with your need for validation, you could practically come from hearing his praises alone.

“That’s right, baby.” Like the gentleman he is, he fishes out the condom wrapper he had gotten ready from his trouser pocket, tears it open with his mouth and rolls the condom on with one hand, his other one still preoccupied with you. “Come here, my love,” he whispers, his sweet tone worlds away from his previous teasing, almost cocky one. He grabs your hips, guides you closer to him and lines your entrance with the tip of his dick. He lets you go at your own pace, rubs your thighs soothingly as you sink down onto him slowly and adjust to his size. You throw your head back, mind hazy with pleasure as you move your hips back-and-forth against him.

“You feel so good, baby. You’re doing so well for me.” His words make you pick up your pace, and you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers grabbing at his hair and sides of your faces pressed against each other as you start lifting your hips and sinking back down. Sunghoon’s hands hold your ass tightly, guiding you up and down. It’s hot in the car; sweat runs down your hairline and your back, air is running low, the windows are fogging up, but it only adds to the dizzying bliss growing in you. Even the seatbelt receiver digging into your knee doesn’t bother you.

“Feels so good, Hoon,” you moan.

“I know, baby.”

Your hours of studying everyday means your thighs aren’t the strongest—good thing for you that your boyfriend has enough stamina and strength for the both of you. As soon as he feels you tiring, your rhythm becoming slower and more irregular, he picks up your slack. One hand on your back, one arm around your waist, he presses you close to him, his hold on you so tight you can barely move. He bucks his hips harshly into yours, faster and faster, making you cry out with every brush of his tip against that spot deep inside of you. Your whole body shakes with pleasure as your moans grow higher and louder, until the tension in your stomach hits its apex and unravels. A gasp leaves your throat as you come around him, but he’s unrelenting, the overstimulation quickly making tears form in your eyes. Strings of curses and praises of how perfect you are spill out of Sunghoon’s mouth disorderly as he reaches his own end.

Together, you take your time catching your breath, his fingers roaming your back while you trail soft kisses all over his face and neck. “My pretty baby,” he whispers, and it makes your heart swell with so much affection for him that you press your lips to his, shutting him up in case he says something that actually has you exploding.

You wish you could spend some more time just the two of you before returning to the party, but when you check your phone, it’s already five minutes to midnight—he puts his clothes back on as you fix your hair in a rush, Sunghoon helping you wipe away traces of mascara under your eyes, and together, run back to the living room where everyone has gathered. You find Minjeong, Yunjin, Chaewon and Jake, who has Jay on FaceTime. It’s only five p.m. where he is.

Everyone counts down from ten together. The first thing you do in the new year is kiss Park Sunghoon—and you’ll make sure it’s the last thing you do, too.

© asahicore on Tumblr, 2024. please do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works. support your creators by reblogging and leaving feedback!

permanent taglist: @zreamy @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts @moonlighthoon @4imhry @rikisly @loves0ft @iamliacamila @theboingsuckerasseater9000 @chaechae-23 @baekhyuns-lipchain @hyuckslvr @vernonburger @amorbonbon @fluerz @jakeflvrz (ask to be removed/added!)

[lightlycareless]

Au where y/n takes her daughter to go see the barbie movie 🥺🥺🥺

Heya anon!

I'm sorry I took a while to respond, but I never forgot about this ask!

I gotta say, I was happy when I got it; I was in the middle of a trip I didn't enjoy very much, so it gave me something to look forward to when I got back home! So thank you so much for this and your patience!! 🥺❤️❤️❤️

As always, here is thy chapter warnings: pure fluff, a bit of... innuendos but like slightly, almost invisible, it's Y/N and Naoya being gross with one another, like a true couple lol. And some of the topics that the Barbie movie talks about.

Without any further ado, happy reading!

It took me a while to decide whether Y/N would take her daughter to watch the Barbie movie or not, considering its PG-13 (I’m going with the idea that she’s not a teenager yet, maybe around 7-8?) and it has some topics that someone that young might not understand or become frightened by them you know? At least that’s what I thought when trying to put myself in the situation if I had a kid that would want to see the movie.

But after going through that dilemma, I’ve finally decided that Y/N would definitely take her daughter to see it, but only once she checked some things first of course!!

Let’s set a bit of context first.

I’m assuming you must know what my fixation, or major one at least, is so imma say Y/N and Naoya met during college, fell in love, got married, and after a while (not so much, they wanted a family ASAP) and had a lovely daughter named Naomi 😊

Naoya is the “breadwinner” per se, the one that works most of the time to provide his family with a good lifestyle, and that he certainly did. He initially bought a small apartment when it was still just the two of you, because in your own words, “with him at the office, and yours in your, there’s no need for that many rooms.”

That immediately changed when your pregnancy was announced. If anything, it seemed there were not enough rooms now.

“Our baby needs a room to play with her toys. But what if she wants to draw, or paint?”

“We’ll set up a room for that, that way she won’t dirty her toys.”

“And if she wants to play with her plushies? I’m afraid she’ll get hurt by the soft-hard contrast of each other!”

“We can’t take any risks; I’ll order a plush upholstered room just for that—”

“No, all the rooms! What if she accidentally trips and hits herself?!”

Of course, they didn’t follow through with that, because after sharing their plans with fellow relatives, they were quickly talked out of it. Saying that it wasn’t for the good of the baby to grow up so sheltered, and their wallets. Something that Naoya didn’t really pay attention to, eventually convinced otherwise when suggested that instead of spending money on that, it could be saved in literally anything else.

Cue the expensive, never-ending gifts from Naoya. Whatever his girls wanted, they would get—he’s the next CEO to his family’s company, it would be stupid to act like he wasn’t!

Because he’s so doting in one aspect, he’s a bit reserved in the other, at least outwardly… and a bit inwardly too since this is all new territory for him—He didn’t grow up in a loving household where words and displays of affection would be done, but Naoya is really trying his best.

He still cares for you and Naomi, of course, he just lets money do the talking for him.

But worry not, where he lacks, that’s where you step in!

Taking the role of “stay at home mom” once announced your pregnancy, you’re the one that ends up all the time with Naomi, showering her affection, reminding her how much she’s loved by the two, as well as keeping Naoya up to date when he’s away.

Wherever Naomi went, pictures needed to be taken: either posing near the ducks of her favorite garden, showing off her new acquisition (you always bought something for her, whether she asked for it or not) or just enjoying a scoop of ice cream in a hot day, or when picking her up when school—didn’t matter, it had to be shared, and Naoya appreciated all of those pictures, keeping them in a dedicated album for him to look back on to when he’s feeling particularly down, although he always ends up a bit regretful because he wishes he could be there in person.

Because of your closeness to her, you’re the first person she runs to tell of her day, or whatever crosses her mind, thus Barbie comes into your life.

Outside of the craze that seemed to taint every living thing with pink, your closeness with her is what led you to learn that Naomi wants to see the Barbie movie, which you were more than happy to oblige to as you usually did, until of course, this became the first exception.

You always liked going to the movies with her because it usually meant an amazing day out altogether. It was either going to the park first, getting something to eat later, and watching a movie at the end of the day; or anything else really, whatever Naomi felt like doing—it didn’t really matter, because going out with her was enough for you.

In fact, as soon as Naomi came to you, with her big adorable golden eyes and her even cuter smile to tell you how she wanted to see Barbie —which you were waiting for, really, it’s what everyone has been talking about after all— you immediately pulled out your phone to buy tickets… but upon seeing the rating, you stopped.

It was the first time you’d have to tell her a maybe, instead of the decisive yes she was accustomed to, making her frown and pout out of confusion.

“Oh, it’s nothing! It’s just that I remembered I had some things already planned with my friends, but I’ll let you know when we can go, ok?” you smile, gently ruffling her hair before pulling her into a tight hug and peppering her cheeks with endless kisses, only ceasing when she whined you to stop.

You’d let her be soon after, while you… well, continued to debate whether to take her to the movie or not.

After all, the whole world seemed to be in on it: the dressing in pink, greeting each other Barbie, or Ken, blasting the classic song from Aqua and singing along to it… it was only natural that your cute daughter wanted to be on it too, hell, you even the parents of her classmates being on it too!!

As days went on, and you still had to make a decision, guilt began to settle inside you for having unwittingly made Naomi feel excluded.

You attempted to mend this by changing her school supplies to all pink, decorating her hair with pink accessories—clips, ribbons, diadems, you call it, she has it— or styling her uniform with whatever was allowed to be pink. Her school actually bent the rules to comply to the children’s wants, after being… “persuaded” by the parents to do so—talk about the privileges of being in a private institution!

It didn’t take long after that before Naoya was deeply intrigued by her daughter’s newest obsession; first it was some show she watched when she was younger, then it was zebras, and now, the color pink.

Ever the one to ignore things he considered mainstream, more so when they extended beyond his realm of interest, this caught him completely off guard; even getting the point of believing he was going mad because once he saw his daughter obsess with the color, he began to see it everywhere.

It was in Naomi’s school supplies, her clothes, even bedroom, everywhere he glanced, pink was in. Sure, by that point he was really intrigued to know the reason behind this craze, but it still wasn’t enough for him to ask.

If that’s what his baby wanted to be happy, then he’ll oblige. He wasn’t like those parents that didn’t have money to subsidy their children’s interests, so he was for sure not going to act like one.

His curiosity would only get the best of him one night when laying beside you in bed.

Naoya had other plans in mind for the night, which were quickly foiled upon seeing you hyper focused on nothing but your phone, scrolling through endless and endless pages of stores, social media, and articles, all relating to the cause behind his wonder: Barbie.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” he’d finally relent after minutes and minutes of being ignored, resting his head over your shoulder and draping an arm over your waist. “Surely your phone can’t be much more interesting that me.”

“No, of course not” You smirk, getting into a more comfortable position so he could see what you were looking at. “But I have to this first, or I won’t be able to sleep!”

“Is that what’s keeping you up at night?” you sigh.

“It’s Naomi—she wants to see the movie, but I don’t know if it’s the right thing.”

“What’s this?” he smirks “You? Telling her no? That’s a first.”

“And it hurts me to do it!” You pout, he kisses your cheek.

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“Because the movie is actually much deeper than I thought, and I don’t know if our pumpkin is ready for that.”

“What the hell can a movie about dolls talk about?” he scoffs, voicing the same thought you had when seeing the rating.

“Very interesting topics, actually.” you explain, and he raises his eyebrows. “Social topics”

“Oh”

“Yeah, and I don’t know if she’s ready for them yet” you sigh again, before turning off your phone and putting it to the side, finally allowing you to snuggle against Naoya, who didn’t hesitate to move in a way that allowed your head to rest on his chest.

“I don’t recall ever worrying about those things when I was her age, but I guess it can only go two ways” you say.

“Which are…?”

“She either learns from this or is horrified by it!” you shrill “And I don’t want to scare her! If only could know what kind of reaction she’ll have beforehand!!”

“Why don’t you watch the movie first before deciding whether to take her or not?” he suggests, and at that moment, like the sun breaking the horizon, a new opportunity opens before you.  

“That’s it! That’s exactly what I could do! And once I see it with my own eyes, I can debate whether it’s suitable for her or not” you look up to him, eyes glistening with excitement. “How about it, hm? Shall we go to the movies, like we used to back in the day?”

Naoya hesitates, for he doesn’t want to be seen watching that movie, but your pleading eyes, the same one Naomi uses when she wants something, as well as the cause behind it, gets through him, and soon finds himself complying to your demands—not like he didn’t do so anyways, but truly, you and his daughter have him wrapped around their finger.

“Alright” he murmurs with a pout. “I Guess I could clear up my schedule and go.”

You giggle, admiring how he loves to play hard to get, as if he wouldn’t drop everything for his family.

It’s quite charming, cute even, and you feel so lucky that only you can see that side of him. Although you wished he’d be a bit more open with Naomi…

“I knew I could trust you to clear up my mind” you smile, snuggling further against him. “My dear husband.”

“I’m glad I was of help, but…” he begins slowly, one of his hands sliding further and further down your body. “I know another way to clear up your mind, I can show you if you’d like.”

You bite your lower lip, face flustered as you around, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Well, we can’t be too sure.”

You end up buying tickets for a showing two the days after, the day Naoya took off to go with you—it’s one of the perks of being so high up the chain in his job, he doesn’t need to give explanations or why he’s not going to work, he can just do it and that’s it.

Doesn’t mean his co-workers won’t inquire about it, more so when his day off was in the most random of dates.

Knowing this, the two end up going to a theater of his choosing, far away from the ones he considered busy, but still up to his standards, and of course, with extra cautionary steps to avoid being followed by his pesky relatives, and subsequently recognized.

“Naoya, honey, this is too much.” You’d say when walking towards the entrance, hand-in-hand with your husband. “Don’t you think we’re… attracting too much attention like this?”

Naoya wanted to go undercover, discreetly as possible so as to avoid suspicions, although his definition of discreet greatly varied from one another.

While you decided to wear a pair of jeans, and a comfortable pink hoodie (gotta follow the trend)… Naoya decided to go full on… well, he looked good, that’s all you’re going to say.

“What? Just because we’re going undercover doesn’t mean we’re going to do it… like that” he says, referring to an unsuspecting movie-goer and their… seemingly underdressed appearance. You gently elbowed him. He groans.

“Don’t be rude” you scold. “Besides, we’re standing out too much.”

You tried to be solidary to his appearance by wearing a pair of black shades, but now that you compare yourself to literally everyone else, it looks like you’re both part of the Men in Black.

“Then what do you suggest?” he asks, rubbing his arm where it still hurts.

“Lose the glasses” you suggest with a pout. “We look like total weirdos going into a building with them…”

“Hey, you agreed to it.”

“I mean, that was before we got here. It’s not my fault I just realized how silly we look” you say, swiftly taking off your glasses and placing them on their respective case before putting them away. “There, much better—besides, you’re too handsome to be hiding behind them!”

“That’s what it was, eh?” Naoya smirks, taking off his glasses; you grab them. “You just wanted to see me.”

You blush.

“And what about it?” you look away. “It’s been a while since we’ve gone out on a date just the two of us… not that I mind going out with Naomi, but… you know… it’s not the same.”

He sighs, giving you a smile before pulling your hand to his lips and kissing it. “I promise to go out more with you—just the two of us.”

Your heart flutters.

“I’d like that.”

After promises were made, you and Naoya go ahead to check in, deciding to buy popcorn and a drink—at first your husband said he didn’t want anything, saying something about a diet or so, but after getting a taste he succumbed to them immediately.

Once finding your seats and getting comfortable, the movie finally begins.

There isn’t much commentary to give at the beginning, outside of laughing at some of the silly scenes (mainly on your part, Naoya just scoffs) and how suddenly dark it gets from time to time. But outside of that, you and Naoya seem to think of the movie as… well, adequate for their daughter, nothing extraordinary, it certainly has the silliness she enjoys, making them wonder why it even got that PG-13 rating…

Until, of course, “real world” part; that’s when you and Naoya understand why many people thought this movie might be inappropriate for younger children.

There’s a lot of topics most kids don’t even fathom yet, ones that need the appropriate guidance of a caring adult, so they know how to handle them when they reach certain maturity.

It doesn’t take long before you and Naoya began to envision how confused Naomi was going to be upon seeing Barbie getting catcalled, kicked out of her house, the sudden change of behavior from the rest of the Barbie’s, and overall, the dilemma Ken has regarding his relationship with her.

But most importantly, the main point of the movie: existential crisis.

While Naomi would most definitely not understand that, or any of the past points, you and Naoya would feel the movie to be hitting “a bit too close to home” having been forced to reflect on these issues in the past as the young adults they were, either for their own individualism, careers, or their future as a couple…

Soon, they no longer worried how this would affect Naomi, but rather, how it spoke to them.

And by the time screening ended, lights turned on abruptly and revealing your and Naoya’s response to it: teary eyed, soaked cheeks, and speechless.

Your husband was quick to cover his face, putting his glasses on before anyone else got to see him in that state, whilst cursing how “there’s no respect nowadays” as he dried the tears on his cheek. You, on the other hand, simply wiped the tears out of your face, careless if anyone else saw you like that because first, it was a darn good movie, so yeah, you cried because of it. And secondly, you weren’t the only one crying in that room so who cares…

It's only until they get into the car that they realize one of the messages of the movie, at least the one they could relate to the most: their baby girl was growing.

In a few years, she’d be a teenager, bringing along all the struggles that come with such age, and then, a woman. One that will have to face the world on her own—because even if they will always be there to support her, there are some battles only she could take.

No one ever said raising a child was easy, less in a society as harsh as the one they lived in, but even with all their fears, it was something both still looked forward to. To create memories together, guide her through this difficult thing called life, and see Naomi grow into the wonderful person she was bound to become.

Getting the overwhelming need to see their daughter, you and Naoya skipped the rest of their plans and headed straight back home, where Naomi was eagerly waiting for them alongside her nanny.

The child was undeniably happy to see her parents back home, always did, but at this moment she couldn’t be anything but surprised when Naoya was the first one to rush to her, picking her up in her arms and giving her the tightest hug he could without hurting her.

“What’s wrong, papa?” Naomi would eventually ask upon feeling his hug go uncharacteristically longer than it usually does, as if him hugging her wasn’t weird on its own.

“Uh—nothing.” Naoya would say, doing his best to hide the tears in his eyes and the tremble in his voice. “Can’t I hug my princess?”

And while she’s never one to deny affection, Naomi can’t stop herself from looking at you perplexedly, as if seeking the answers of her confusion from you.

But you only reassure her with a smile, walking towards them and joining their hug. It’s then that Naomi concedes to simply accept her parent’s doting, nuzzling against Naoya as she reciprocates the hug, as much as her small arms could.

“How about we go out to eat?” Naoya suggests, looking at her with a smile. “We can go anywhere you want, pumpkin.”

Her eyes twinkle, for it’s no secret she’d been waiting for the perfect moment to suggest this place—not like she needed to, but she likes to organize her dates. You and Naoya chuckle, kissing her on the cheek, each on one side, a gesture that makes her blush out of embarrassment.

It’s safe to say that after careful consideration, both decided to take Naomi to watch Barbie, dressed up in the cutest, pinkest, most adorable outfit you could put together—with you and Naoya to match along, although more discreetly in your husband’s part, he still doesn’t get the pink trend, less when he was suddenly called Ken.

And as expected, the movie was a total success to Naomi, although there were moments where she’d look confused, but those were nothing compared to the ones where she’d laugh out loud.

Overall, it was a movie she greatly enjoyed, even with the confusions that came along: ones that both you and Naoya were prepared for, having long understood this could be the perfect opportunity to introduce to her.

She’ll understand half of it, perhaps even less than that, but it didn’t matter, for both were ready to support and guide her through every step, like the good parents they swore to be the moment her existence was announced—and that’ll never change. Even after the Barbie craze ends, when Naomi grows and no longer lives with them, they’ll never stop loving and supporting her.

Extra:

“How was your week—” Ranta freezes mid-greeting when something… peculiar catches his sight.

“What?” Naoya asks, not bothering to glance up from the paperwork he’s supposed to finish before the day ends.

“Is that—is that a pink tie?” he says, taking a closer look at the pastel pink garment contrasting against his black suit.

“Got a problem with it?” Naoya sternly responds. One subtle gesture is sufficient to have Ranta immediately retract.

“No, of course not!” he shrieks, nervously waving his hands. “It’s just— it’s just different. It looks good on you though!”

“I know” your husband groans, eyes still intently looking onto his desk… before eventually lifting his gaze towards Ranta, cheeks slightly flustered. “…I just got it; do you think Naomi will like it?”

“Huh?” Ranta blinks, Naoya frowns. “Oh, I mean, yes! I’m sure she’ll appreciate it!”

It’s a sentence that makes a smile break through Naoya’s lips as he glances back down to his work, satisfied.

“I’m glad” He match to see the look on his baby’s face once back home, after all, he just bought a bunch of clothes to match with her.

A/N: not me making Naoya cry and cover it up with his shades lol. Ah, he's truly devoted to his family.

[purpleheartskies]

Some fans say that there's no realism in stories, or that Cobra Kai is a "silly", "fun" story and isn't the type of story that would explore serious topics, like trauma.

Taking a step back from Cobra Kai for a bit, there are a lot of stories that are "silly" and "fun" that explore serious topics. Last year, the Barbie movie was the highest grossing film in the box office. It too explores serious topics in a silly, fun plot and universe. There are a lot of people who dismissed that movie and the topics it explored, but those topics were explored regardless if people acknowledged or dismissed them.

ATLA is a great example of a silly, fun tv series that also explores serious topics. Within a completely made-up animated universe with people with elemental magic powers, the realities of war, colonization, childhood trauma, and trauma due to war are explored.

Many Pixar films are also great examples of exploring serious topics in silly, fun stories. Inside Out takes complex psychological concepts and portrays them in silly, fun ways, all while telling a story about the importance of grief and sadness in coping and healing. Up is another great example. Within its first few minutes, it shows a lifetime of memories that Carl and Ellie shared together. I remember, after one of my friends watched it in theaters, she told me that she couldn't believe that a certain moment in the beginning was in a Disney movie. You may have immediately thought of the moment I'm talking about: Ellie and Carl in the doctor's office getting the news that they can't have kids. This moment came immediately after a moment of them happily putting together a nursery. Following this opening montage, the whole movie itself deals with grief, the importance of finding new connections, and found family. These topics aren't just explored through Carl's story, but through Russell's as well. When he's first introduced, he says that he's trying to get his Assisting the Elderly badge. As the story goes on, he reveals that his dad said he'd come to the ceremony to pin his badge on his sash. The empty spot for the badge is right above Russell's heart. It's such a simple detail that shows the void in Russell's life now that his dad doesn't spend time with him anymore. Later, Russell recounts some memories with his dad, and Carl rolls his eyes at first because Russell is once again prattling on about his dad. Russell says that he and his dad used to sit on the curb outside of an ice cream shop and count different color cars. Then, Russell says in a solemn voice that he liked that curb. He pauses, and then says that it may sound boring but it's the boring stuff that he remembers the most. Carl gets it then because he remembers all the "boring stuff" that he did with Ellie. At that point, he still believes that he and Ellie had a boring life without adventure, but later on, he learns that the life they had together was their adventure. Of course, all of these heartfelt moments happen amongst Carl and Russell flying in a house carried by hundreds of colorful balloons, meeting a bunch of "talking dogs!", and finding the infamous snipe.

It's pretty sad if people really believe that there is no realism in stories and that you can't explore serious topics in silly, fun stories and film. The realism is usually what allows us to emotionally connect with the characters and the story.

When it comes to Cobra Kai, fans focus so much on the plot and the karate fights, but the characters, their traumas, and the relationships is where a huge chunk of the story has always been.

For example, Daniel's entire journey has been about his own past with Cobra Kai and how that affects him and his loved ones. When Daniel was reintroduced for the first time in over 30 years, he seemed like he was doing great. Life was going really well for him, and it seemed like all of his internal demons were dealt with and gone. But they weren't. Seeing the Cobra Kai dojo again in s1e2 triggered him. Since then, he's been dealing with the physical "demons" of Cobra Kai but hasn't fully recognized how his internal demons have been affecting his behavior, which in turn affects the people around him. His behavior is realistic, yet it's an aspect of his character that is misunderstood and dismissed by many fans. Regardless, it's there and it drives his journey.

In Kreese's case, they've added a lot of backstory, including a series of flashbacks throughout s3, that shows why he is the way he is and what drives his motivations. In s3e10, the juxtaposition of the flashbacks of Kreese's fight with his own sensei/mentor and the scenes of Kreese's fight with Johnny is no coincidence. Johnny and Robby's first and only violent confrontation was also included in this mix of generational trauma and conflicts. In s5, Kreese had a whole therapy arc, including a scene in which he imagined people from his life who he had unresolved relationships with, including his younger self. Kreese choosing war instead of redemption at the end of s5 makes sense for his character.

In a lot of his Cobra Kai interviews, Thomas Ian Griffith comments about how, in this absurd world in Cobra Kai, the writers have been able to include elements that ground the story and get you to connect (emotionally) with the characters. Although Thomas plays Silver, one of the most batshit characters in the story, Thomas himself has written for other shows (for example Grimm) and understands more than most all the elements that go into telling a story like this one.

When it comes to Johnny and Robby's relationship in s5 specifically, their characters and relationship were portrayed as they always have been throughout the series.

Johnny kept choosing Miguel and the Diazs over Robby: Johnny manipulated Robby and endangered his life to find Miguel in Mexico. Johnny later ignored Robby's request for space and forced him to have a physical fight with Miguel and accept the Diazs as family because of the baby plot device. Johnny gave fatherly advice to Miguel and not to Robby.

Before s5, some fans would describe Robby as a chameleon because he would adapt based on his circumstances. Sadly, Robby had to change completely in s5 to survive Johnny's behavior: After Johnny had lied and dragged Robby down to Mexico and tried to manipulate him to stay to help find Miguel, Johnny dumped Robby at a bus stop with some cash to get home on his own because Robby had gotten upset that Johnny had done lied to him. Robby could either help Johnny find Miguel or Robby would be on his own to get back home with only some cash from Johnny, so Robby chose to help Johnny. Later on, Johnny ignored Robby's request for space from Miguel. After Miguel said yes to Johnny for a fight with Robby, Robby had to say yes to the fight too. After the fight, when Johnny asked if they're okay now, Robby paused and then nodded yes, although Miguel never took accountability for his wrongs against Robby. Robby also had to act excited about the baby news, like Johnny said they have to. Robby later had to ask Carmen's permission if he could have dinner with his new "family". Robby also had to take back his comment about Johnny giving fatherly advice to Miguel and not him. Throughout the season, Robby had to adapt to survive Johnny and be accepted into his life now.

Johnny is a still a deadbeat alcoholic: Like in previous seasons, in s5e3 Johnny had a montage of cleaning up his apartment. But in s5e4, nothing about his portrayal indicated that he'd changed. In fact, he was portrayed as the exact opposite of Carmen's dream. (I think she even imagined him as Maverick from Top Gun, although in s4 he'd said that he's a fan of Iceman.) Carmen's dream Johnny is definitely not who he really is, and the rest of the episode was used to show that. Although Johnny gave a sincere apology to Shannon, Johnny never gave one to Robby. In s5e5, Johnny had beer cans stacked into a cactus and had used boxes with the coors banquet logo as makeshift doors to the hallway for the escape room. When Daniel came to the apartment, Johnny commented about him reeking of booze, but then he gave Daniel a beer and Daniel later thanked him for it. Funny that many fans proudly call out the first part but don't call out the latter parts. They also proudly say that Johnny "put his family first", but he actually just put himself first. He forced Robby into a physical fight for his own gain. Since most fans have always viewed Johnny's mistreatment of Robby as acceptable, it's not surprising that they were okay with how Johnny treated Robby throughout s5. In s5e6, Johnny had a beer in his hand when he and Chozen went during the day to scope out the Topanga Karate turned Cobra Kai dojo. In s5e9, Johnny got drunk as he celebrated knocking up his girlfriend and then committed a trespass and assault. He ended s5 with yet another self-centered speech, this time about what he would lose if something had happened to him. The sad thing is if you point all this out, most fans will just dismiss you and say that you just "hate" Johnny and the Diazs and don't want to accept that he's changed, instead of themselves admitting that he's still the same Johnny and they're fine with that. In a way, he's actually worse now because he's escalated to actively endangering and physically harming Robby, while also believing that he has changed for the better.

For sometime now, fans have believed that Miguel was going to help Johnny grow and become a better father to Robby. The trope is that Johnny would apply what he has learned in his relationship with Miguel to his relationship with Robby. Johnny hasn't done that though. Even in s5, Johnny was clearly shown choosing Miguel over Robby repeatedly, even endangering and abusing Robby to ensure Miguel's safety and happiness. All these people claiming that Miguel and the Diazs have had a "positive" impact in Johnny's life intentionally dismiss the aspects of the story that don't support this claim.

The baby plotline in s5 seems to have taken away any chance of the story eventually focusing Johnny becoming a real father to Robby, but this plot device was used in such a negative way in s5. It reminds me of how the medal of honor was used in s2 to negatively impact character arcs. In addition to the psychological and physical trauma Johnny subjected Robby to because the baby is coming, Johnny kept talking about the baby as a chance to make up for screwing up with Robby. So, Johnny was using the baby the same way he uses Miguel: as a do-over. Clearly, by the end of s5, Johnny hasn't grown because of the baby coming, just like how Johnny hasn't grown as a father to Robby because of having Miguel in his life.

Throughout the series, subtle verbal and visual indications have always been included to remind the audience that Robby is Johnny's son. In s5e10, this sequence of scenes stands out.

Kenny hits Robby with the Silver Bullet, and Robby starts falling to his knees. The scene cuts to Johnny falling to his knees and spitting out blood.

Silver comes and says a few things to Johnny, including that Johnny would screw up another kid. This scene ends with Silver saying, "Finish him." The scene cuts back to Robby, and Kenny and two cobras teaming up on him, essentially "finishing him". Silver had told his students earlier that day to show no mercy to Robby and his friends if they came to the dojo again.

The only line that acknowledges the reality of Johnny becoming a father again is bookended by these two editing cuts, one of the many subtle, visual reminders throughout the series that Robby is Johnny's son. The statement itself literally tells us what to expect if Johnny were to become a father again: Johnny will screw up another kid.

If the writers had rushed the story in s5 thinking that they may not get renewed, as some have claimed, the writers would have focused on properly resolving Johnny's storylines with Kreese and Robby first, which is the storyline the writers care about, and having Johnny actually grow in the process. Instead they used s5 to give Johnny a shallow "happy ending" with the Diazs with no positive character growth and included another negative plot device to worsen his behavior with Robby, essentially continuing with Johnny's failures to do right by Robby and not yet addressing the generational trauma that Johnny passes down and that will just "screw up another kid". Given the crucial loose ends for Johnny's story at the end of s5 and the writers' own statements up to the release of s5 that there's more story to tell, it's obvious that s5 ended with more story to tell especially for Johnny. It's not surprising that fans who believe that Johnny's primary story is with the Diazs are satisfied with s5 as a "real" ending. However, Johnny's story with them has never been Johnny's primary story at all. Even if people discount the importance of Johnny's story with Robby, Johnny's story with Kreese and Kreese's story with Johnny are still unresolved. At the start of s5e10, Kreese recounted Johnny's promise to wipe out his legacy. At the end of s5e10, Kreese set out on the warpath. Next season, as the story concludes, Johnny will have to face his past, and this time, he won't be able run from it like he has been doing since s3e10, the story's midpoint and the episode that emphasized 3 generations of Cobra Kai, trauma, and conflict.

This story has always been about tackling the topic of generational trauma. The writers have always said that they're exploring how Johnny's relationship and past with Kreese affects Johnny's relationship with Robby. By the end of s5, Johnny's relationships with Kreese and with Robby have yet to be resolved, especially from Johnny's side. Johnny hasn't wiped out Kreese's legacy, as Johnny promised in s5e7. Johnny also hasn't resolved anything with Robby. For example, Johnny could have apologized to Robby sincerely, like Johnny did with Shannon, and made the same or more efforts with Robby to ensure his safety and happiness, like Johnny did for Miguel. Instead, Johnny consistently focused on his unhealthy codependent relationships with the Diazs and on his own ego, like he has throughout the series, endangering and traumatizing Robby in the process. Although Johnny told Chozen in s5e9 that he'd decided to move on from the past, which Johnny did in s3e10 including leaving Robby behind with Kreese, Johnny himself kept bringing up his failures with Robby whenever he talked about the baby throughout s5. The past is still gnawing at Johnny from the inside. Johnny clearly hasn't moved on from failing Robby. After all, Johnny stated his motivations at the beginning of s5: "I'm out here trying to fix my mistakes so that I don't have to live with the regret of making them." The baby became another do over for Johnny instead of a "person" of its own because Johnny is still looking to appease his own guilt for failing Robby instead of truly redeeming himself to Robby. That's also why Johnny's finale speech was still about himself and what he would lose. Johnny is still focused on himself first and foremost, as he has been since s1.

3 generations of Cobra Kai

[jerzwriter]

Karma is... a Barbie Premiere (1/2)

I completely blame @jamespotterthefirst for this! It started as a simple edit, then it became a gossip page, and now it's a full-blown fic.

I've long hinted about Dr. Eva Mendoza joining as an OC in my Tobias & Casey world. She's only been briefly introduced once, but what better way to bring her back than for the Boston premiere of the Barbie movie? 💄💗💋 It's definitely a date for the Carrick's, but what about their friends, Ethan & Eva? No one can get a straight answer, and rumors are swirling.

Part 1 of fic below.

Book: Open Heart (Post Series) Pairings: Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey) Ethan Ramsey x F!OC (Eva) - Maybe? Rating: Teen Words: 1,700 Summary: Tobias scores tickets to the biggest event in Boston, and he & Casey each invite a friend. When they learn who each invited, the wheels start spinning. A/N: See above. It's all Bree's fault. lol. This is just a two-parter, and part two will be up later tonight. This was fun, I hope you enjoy it, too! Participating in @choicesflashfics (prompt in bold below)

Part 2 found here

It had been a brutally hot summer in Boston, leaving most residents eager for something to do indoors just to keep cool. That included the doctors at Edenbrook. So Casey was elated when Tobias told her he scored four tickets to the event of the summer, a premiere of the Barbie movie being held by a local charity. She had told him she didn’t mind missing it, but her reaction when he said they’d be going proved otherwise.

“So,” he smiled between breaths as Casey rolled off him and snuggled into his side. “I’m glad to see you really didn’t want to go.”

“Oh, stop,” she giggled with a playful shove. “You know we would have done that anyway.”

“Good point,” he agreed. “Now, who should we offer the other tickets to?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t we each pick a friend?”

“Bryce would be all over this, but he’ll be in Hawaii that week.”

“Same with Sienna. That’s the week she’s visiting her family. Jackie would rather have food poisoning.”

“I think you’re right about that,” he laughed. “Don’t worry, we’ll think of someone.”

_____

But with the movie premiere just a week away, neither had picked anyone to go, and they made a pact to correct that by the end of the day. 

Casey was reading an article on her phone in the cafeteria when she heard a familiar voice. Desperate for adult conversation that didn’t involve medicine, she eagerly waved Eva over.

“Hey,” the stunning brunette smiled as she approached Casey’s table. “I saw you, but I didn’t want to interrupt. I thought this might be your only alone time.”

“Nah,” Casey smiled. “Tobias is a great hubby... he makes sure I breathing room when I need it. But what I need now is some mindless girl talk! I haven’t had that in ages!”

“Oh, wonderful,” Eva sighed. “I’ve never been terribly good at mindless girl talk, but I promise I’ll give it my best shot. What are we supposed to discuss? Boys? Make-up? Waxing?”

“No, silly!” Casey laughed. “It can be anything... just not work and nothing too serious. Like, tell me, do you have any summer plans?”

“Mmm, not really,” Eva replied, biting into her sandwich. “My first anniversary at Edenbrook is in September; I don’t have much vacation time until then.”

“Well, that sucks! I hope you’re doing some fun things anyway.”

“Oh, I am! I love exploring Boston. I’ve been going to a bunch of concerts and rollerskating in the parks... It’s sort of my thing!”

“Now, that is something I’d love to do with you!”

“You rollerskate!” Eva enthused.

“Ice skating is more my thing, but... transferable skills. I’m going to have to get a new pair of rollerskates. The last ones I owned were Barbie skates to show you how long it’s been.”

“So... last year,” Eva chuckled. “Sorry, you strike me as a woman who would wear Barbie rollerskates even now. And I don’t mean that as an insult.”

“Mmm,” Casey hummed. “GUILTY! But it really was some time ago.”  Then, a lightbulb went off. “Hey! Wait! Were you a Barbie girl growing up?”

“Not exactly,” Eva sighed sadly. “I wanted to be. It’s so steeped in American culture; it’s a right of passage. But my traditional Greek and Cuban families felt they were too provocative. So, I only got to play with them when I visited my friends’ houses.”

“Well, that sucks!”

“I think my parents would have been OK with it, but my Abuela and Yiayia wielded far too much power with my Mother in those days. My father sneaked me off to the Barbie section when he took me to the toy store. He also encouraged playdates with Mindy Schumacker, and I believe her rivaling the Barbie Dreamhouse had something to do with it.”

“I think I’d like your Dad!” Casey smiled.

“I’m certain you would.”

“Well, I would be a failure as a physician if I didn’t do my part to help cure your Barbie Deficiency Syndrome! Tobias and I are going to the premiere at the IMAX next week, and I have a spare ticket. Want to join us?”

“Wait! Those tickets are impossible to get? How’d you score them?”

“My husband is a miracle worker,” Casey winked. “And he loves spoiling me.”

Eva shook her head. “I’ve known you a while now; I attended your wedding and witnessed that man being the most doting husband and father I’ve ever seen... but it’s still hard for me to reconcile that he’s the same man I knew back at Kenmore.”

“Well, love has a way of doing things to people. But I know he’d love it if you joined us. What do you say, are you in?”

“Oh, you couldn’t keep me away!”

_____  

Tobias stepped into the Diagnostic Teams office, humming a song vaguely familiar to Ethan as he entered. Looking up from his paperwork, Dr. Ramsey feigned annoyance with his friend. 

“I don’t understand how you’re always so chipper. You have a newborn and don’t sleep.”

“She’s three months old now, not a newborn.”

“Practically ready to go off to college then!” Ethan teased. “What were you humming... was that... Taylor Swift.”

Tobias raised a brow. “And what if it was? I have an excuse for humming it twenty-four/seven, and it’s called Casey. But what’s your story for knowing it?”

“Also, Casey! I’m trying to be supportive with her returning to work part-time, so I let her play the godforsaken stuff when we’re in here together.”

“She really can convince anyone to do anything, can’t she. Do you like any songs?”

"No."

Tobias stared at his friend with a wicked grin. "You always were a terrible liar. 'Fess up! What are your favorite Taylor songs?"

Ethan sat back in his chair and rocked as if deep in thought. “Some of her work from Folklore and Evermore is quite appealing. But if you tell Casey, I’ll fire you.”

“My lips are sealed,” Tobias laughed. “I heard you canceled your trip to the Cape. Everything all right? I’m happy to take over some of your work if you need help.”

“I appreciate the offer, but it’s not canceled. Just delayed. I was foolish to plan it around budget time.”

Tobias rubbed his chin as he studied his friend, his concern growing. “You know, Ethan... I’ve been a little worried about you. I’m a new dad, and I do more fun things than you. You need to work some playtime into your life.”

“Please,” Ethan groused. “I hope you’re not suggesting another boys' night out with Lahela. I have neither the budget nor the energy.”

“You damn well do have the budget! As for the energy, I can see how it's hard at your age. But you have to push through.”

“I’m a year older than you!” Ethan reminded.

“But you act twenty-two years older!”

“I can’t help it if you’re immature,” Ethan countered with a grin.

“Say! Case and I are going to the premiere of the Barbie movie next week...”

“She has you so pecked,” Ethan chuckled.

Ignoring him, Tobias informed him he had an extra ticket, Ethan was coming, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“I’m more of an Oppenheimer person. Barbie isn’t exactly my thing.”

“I don’t care; you’re coming.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Fine,” Tobias grinned, picking up his phone and pretending to dial. “I hate to do this, but you leave me no choice.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m letting Casey know how much you loved Folklore and Evermore. I’m even going to fabricate and tell her you’re experimenting with Midnights; she should play that for you on her next shift. Don’t worry, Ethan. You’ll love it!”

“Hang up that phone right now,” Ethan ordered.

“Too late!” Tobias smirked. “Casey, baby, how’s your day going? Guess who's coming with us to see Barbie? Ethan! I know it’ll be a blast. See you at home soon, hon.”

Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”

“Hey, it’s joining us at the Barbie movie once and maybe... gasp... having some fun... or listening to Taylor on loop for the remainder of time. I think you made a wise choice, Ethan.”  

“I didn’t make a choice!”

“Oh, you did,” Tobias winked as he left the room. “You’ll need to wear something pink!” he hollered as he entered the hall.

“I don’t own anything pink!”

“Good, you have time to fix that!”

_____   

Tobias opened the front door to his home and couldn’t help but smile. Casey stood just beyond the foyer, holding little Sammy on her hip as they danced to The Temptation's “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg.” 

“Look!” Casey beamed, pointing towards him. “Daddy’s home! Now he can dance with us, too!”

“You better believe I am,” Tobias grinned. He took Sammy from Casey, then wrapped his arms around her hips. “I’m so glad you’re giving our daughter a balanced musical diet. It can’t be all Taylor, all the time.”

“Hey, my love of Motown is what sealed the deal and made you fall in love with me,” Casey said, kissing his cheek.

“Heh,” Tobias snickered. “It certainly impressed me, but that wasn’t what sealed the deal.”

“Oh, really, then what did?”

“Not in front of the baby, dear,” he grinned. “But hey, speaking of Taylor Swift, your fellow fan at work is joining us at the Barbie movie next week.”

“My fellow fan? I told you Sienna is away next week.”  

“I know, but I’m talking about Ramsey.”

“ETHAN? Ethan is coming with us to the Barbie premiere?”

“Yeah,” Tobias replied. “He really needs to expand his horizons. I hope it’s OK with you.”

“Of course! It’s just... he doesn’t seem like the Barbie type.”         

“He’s not,” Tobias laughed. “But we’re going to have so much fun with this. I even told him to wear pink!"

"We're going to have fun, for sure! But Ethan? The jury is out on that. There’s just one tiny problem, babe. I asked Eva to come along.”

Tobias’s face fell. “Oh, shit. They’re totally going to think we’re trying to hook them up.”

“Which we’re not,” Casey replied. “I mean, I would... but this wasn’t our intention.”  

“Maybe not,” Tobias smirked. “But you know... me and karma vibe like that.”

“T.,” Casey said, shaking her head. “Please leave inserting Taylor quotes into situations to me... but... we are going to have so much fun with this!”

Tobias jiggled Samantha on his lap. “You hear that, Sammy? Your Mommy’s got ideas in that head. No one is safe now.”

Part 2 found here

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[kathyprior4200]

Heaven Hotel: "Prologue"

The Story of Hell…(But not the one you know)

“Once upon a time, there were four main afterlife realms. One was a golden city guarded by golden gates known as Heaven. It was created by God and high-ranking angels who spread harmony throughout the universe. In the Hazbin Universe, Lucifer was a dreamer angel who had unique ideas for creation, but the elder angels didn’t like his wild, unconventional ideas. Sera and the angels helped create Earth and thus created Adam and Lilith in the Garden of Eden. Lilith fled the garden to escape her controlling husband, met Lucifer and fell in love. Lucifer wanted to share free will with humanity, so he gave the apple from the forbidden tree to Eve. Presumably, Roo, the Eldritch goddess of evil was able to escape the tree, corrupt the Earth and ruin the angel’s plan for humanity. Thus, Eve was corrupted, and Lucifer and Lilith were banished to Hell. Charlie, the princess of Hell, wanted to rehabilitate Sinners through her hotel to keep them safe from Adam and his female Exorcists who went down to kill them every year. A Sinner named Sir Pentious reincarnated to Heaven as an angel and Adam reincarnated as a demon after their deaths. Hell was a place with seven Rings ruled by the Seven Deadly Sins and the Sinners and demons could do whatever they wanted under Lucifer’s circus-like rule.

Those are the worlds you know. But those are different to where I’m from.

The Heaven where I live (what you would call 2P Heaven) is more complex than a simple golden Hollywood city. It has Seven Halos, each ruled by an Archangel or the Seven Heavenly Virtues. Humility, the lowest, is ruled by Archangel Michael. Charity is ruled by Gabriel, Chasity by Camael, Diligence by Raphael, Patience by Uriel, Temperance by Jophiel, and Kindness by Zadkiel. The Born-Again Council is our equivalent to the Hell Overlords. Sinners are ex-humans in Hazbin Hell, Winners are ex-humans in Hazbin Heaven. Here, we call them Saints. But those in our Hell? They have a lot of complaints. They are so far gone we don’t even know what to call them…”scum” is an understatement. Instead of I.M.P. imps going down to kill those on Earth, or Hazbin Cherubs going to save people, the main commoners here are elves of E.L.F. They not only save people, but they bless their families and comfort them after their losses. Much more efficient than C.H.E.R.U.B. at least. (See “Heavenly Boss.”)

You probably are wondering who I am. I am Princess Coerciona Vespar, only one of the most important people in this Heaven world. The angels here are shapeshifters and often have blue dots on their white cheeks instead of red ones. The only ones above me are my parents King Hesperius and Queen Evanna and the Archangels and God. I have black hair, black wings with eyes on them, barbed wire in my hair, dark green/teal dots on my white face and carry all sorts of weapons. My eyes can change to a deep black with white pupils, but mostly they are ice-blue.

Not only am I a princess, I also happen to be a leader of my very own Exorcist army, the Cleansers. Unlike blonde bimbo Barbie in Hazbin Hell, I enjoy killing demons and Sinners with great passion. (And why shouldn’t I? Most of them are rapists, Nazis, serial killers and the like…if they all get any ideas, I’m just making them double dead to feed Roo.) I also enjoy daily praise, respect, and rock music. I used to have a crush on Hazbin Exorcist general Adam, but when he lost to a cyclops maid, I figured he was pathetic after all. Coercing others is my specialty.

Who are the Cleansers? They are the Exorcists 2.0. They are of all genders and all classes: Heavenborn, Saints, and even lowly elves and cherubs can sign up. You see, we don’t just go down to Hell once a year to kill; we have to constantly be on the lookout 24/7. In our universe, what you would call 2P Hell…it’s a nest for Roo and Eldritch monsters. In fact, her influence makes up part of the Hazbin Hell, where double-dead Sinners and demons serve as her food and her eyes. Here, she is more known than in the Hazbin world. In our Hell, Lucifer switches between good and evil; he actually fell after losing to Michael and now hates humanity 90% of the time. Lucifer’s face is black and looks more devil-like than a clown. Lilith in our world is a succubus but much nicer than all the other royals in Hell. Eve gets to visit Earth and Heaven to help humans as the Mother of Humanity. All the Seven Deadly Sins have their traditional appearances, and they are all greedy and malicious. (Think dragon-wolf Mammon, Sloth Belphegor, and Fly Beelzebub. If your job was to punish people every day and you always got what you wanted, you’d be that way, too. It’s the blunt karmic way of “You’re on the receiving end of rape/pain whatever sin is around”.). Hellborns are at the top and the most powerful ones are those who own the most human slave souls.

Anyway, the Cleansers have to stop these white, bat-winged Satanics from sneaking up into Heaven and turning angels into demons with their black energy weapons. (Yes, they can do that, and if those in Hazbin found out, there’d be all-around panic in Hazbin Heaven.) In our Hell, Sinners are slaves, zero-free will, having to watch demons indulge in their associated sins. The only way to escape is if they are chosen to go to Purgatory or if they make it through Dante’s Inferno Circles. If they can endure the cleansing Purgatory flames, they then have to prove their worth by completing three incarnated lives on Earth after their first main life. If they pass all three, they go to Heaven, but if they don’t, they are sent back to Hell in dishonor. (Yeah, unlike Hazbin world, our rules are very specific about who goes where. Unless you’re the lucky few in Heaven with God, the afterlife is not pleasant.) The rules? No killing unless in self-defense. No stealing unless for survival. No raping anyone for any reason. No using money for self-serving/harming others without giving back in some way. Suicide is debatable…usually it’s bad but there are exceptions. Many Sinners in our Hell desire to go double dead and become food for Roo to escape the punishment…that’s where the Cleansers come in. We can see who might be worthy enough for redemption, who still needs to suffer and who has had enough.

So I help manage the Cleansers, but I still find many of Heaven’s rules stifling. They can accept killing Sinners, but they’re still often against LGBT rights and abortion and women’s rights and all that BS? To combat the extreme opposites of sin, I created my “Heaven/Haven Hotel,” a place where angels and Saints can come by and indulge in moderate sin and hide from the Satanics, provided they follow my rules. (Let’s be honest, one night of drinking and sex and swearing out loud to punk rock isn’t gonna hurt anyone. You can call me a stereotypical mean goth girl, but I have more responsibility, power, and beauty than your average human.)

Personally, I don’t care about trying to redeem Sinners 24/7; they have to do most of the work on their own. I guess I’m a good supporter of free will but only in moderation. As for me being a “brat” as many say, I’m just cynical of Heaven, Hell, and the systems in general. Those of us in Heaven come from a variety of species, sexualities, and the like, but due to Christianity, there will be an orientation to traditional roles, much like on Earth. 

My father King Hesperius used to be Lucifer’s lost twin brother, the Evening Star. He is basically Lucifer without the desire to bring up chaos and wild ideas. He is sort of like Michael; stern, older, an opposite to Lucifer. My mother Queen Evanna is what Lilith and Eve would be had they not fallen. As for our Adam? He’s in Heaven working with Jesus to try and improve things on Earth. How’s that for the real first man? (And don’t forget my giant cherub baby bodyguards Pub and Chub.) Why am I so dark and vicious like Hazbin’s Exorcists? Perhaps I got a little too close and curious to Roo’s forbidden fruit when I was little and now I want to do things my own way; trying to follow some of Heaven’s rules while also being the best leader I can be. And if it means gloriously bathing in the blood of evil demons and getting even richer than I already am, all the better! Someday I’ll be just like the privileged Seven Deady Sins but without the Sin.

You want to know how I ran my hotel surrounded by a bunch of f**king idiots? Here you go…

0 0 0

Heaven Hotel: Season One Episode One: “Prelude”

I walked out onto a high balcony under the skies of Heaven. I wore a black undershirt with a white bow tie on top. A dark teal shirt, long white pants and white high heel shoes completed my look. My face was pale white and teal blushes were present on my cheeks. My eyes consisted of white pupils and dark blue sclera. Perched on my head was a black spiked crown. I was the inverted, antithesis of Charlie, the princess of Hell.

For all my life, I’ve been taught that all angels have good inside them. But I know that to be a lie. Ever since Lucifer and Lilith, God’s closest angels betrayed Him… I don’t think I can believe in these flawed teachings anymore…

I am Coerciona Vespar, Coercia for short. I was born and raised in Heaven…though I’m not at all one would expect to be in such a place. Some call me self-entitled and pessimistic, though I do enjoy heavy metal music, rebelling against the rules and the occasional brawl.

It makes sense that only a worthy few are able to be here in Heaven. Choosing them out of the sea of Sinner scum. Yet ironically, even the Saints and Heaven-born aren’t flawless all the time. It’s inevitable that all imperfect beings will go to Hell. They deserve to deal with suffering and challenges. Best of all, they wouldn’t be bound by social expectations. Heck, I wouldn’t be too surprised if I went to Hell if I were to piss off too many people. I do enjoy my comfortable life here, just not these restrictions.

I have two muscular servants, Pub and Chub: fat white naked cherubs with horns on their heads, small white feathery wings, and black eyes. One tested the strings on my black electric guitar while the other shot out torpedoes from a small cannon.

Outside was a white clock tower standing tall against the blue sky. The numbers read 0 then changed to 365 days. Writing above the numbers read “Days until the next cleanse in Hell.”

The Exorcists or rather the Cleansers did their job in eliminating part of the demon population in 2P Hell like they did every year in the canon Hell. But at the same time each year, the Satanics, risen white demons with white bat wings and horns, tried to invade our world. They carried glowing black pitchforks and turned innocent denizens into demons. They would carry books and tempt angels with their innermost desires. Sex, sin, self-expression, sorcery, whatever that need was. Then, once they were hooked, they were stabbed with the pitchforks, causing their wings to burn off and sending them plummeting down to Hell. Nearby families would grieve at their loss.

I leaned against the marble balcony and began to sing in a low growl.

(“I’m Always Evading Shadows”)

 “At the end of the journey, there’s suffering

Denying it, how often I’ve tried

But my life’s a disgrace

Just a slap in the face

And the harsh truths have all been denied”

“A sliver of despair in this world of light

I know this world’s not free of sin

I search for the good

But get misunderstood

And reality will always win”

“Why have I always been imperfect?

Lost in this brainwashed sea

I wonder if the world’s to blame

I wonder if it could be me”

“I’m always evading shadows

Trapped, drowning in the social flow

Free-will forbidden, my answers are hidden

Lying down below”

“Some people sugarcoat their speeches

I always blab out what I mean

I may be cruel but I am no fool

Things are never what they seem

Believe me”

“I’m always evading shadows

Waiting for people to awaken

In vain.”

A nearby portal opened and out came the Cleansers. Their weapons drew no blood, for the Sinners would be transported to Purgatory without a trace. They took off their LED masks, their white angelic faces revealed. One by one, the citizens clapped and cheered. One of the Archangels with four black wings flew up to the front, his spiked halo glowing. He took off his mask, revealing a white stern face with yellow eyes and short black hair. In his utility belt were a few daggers, whips, chains, and a bottle of emergency holy water.

“Another successful purge,” one of their other leaders Samael (Venom of God) praised. “You cleansed more Sinners while still keeping the population in a good balance. Well done, all of you.” He cleared his throat and made a cross symbol over his heart. “For the greater good in the name of our Lord.”

The angels repeated the phrase.

“Until next year. Dismissed.” The Archangel soldiers saluted and then flew off separately to see their families.

All around me, Holy City was basked in a heavenly glow. The city was located up in the sky among the clouds, but no one had to worry about falling, even the ones without their wings out. A large church with the appearance of the Notre Dame Cathedral stood proudly in the city square, made of polished marble. Choirs and songs floated through the stained-glass windows as the regular angels went in and out to pray and visit with their neighbors. A large fountain sprouted non-alcoholic wine of a golden color. It had a white statue of Mary and Jesus as a young boy at the top, both with welcoming faces.

The streets were spotless and clean. Roofs and roads were powered by the sun’s rays. The Cloud 9 supermarket had endless amounts of food for sale…no one ever had to worry about going hungry. Charity workers and volunteers worked by the dozens, passing out extra food and bestowing miracles for those who needed them. Metatron, the highest-ranking angel, was busy keeping records of human lives, deaths and the messages of God.

This version of Heaven was very similar to the Heaven in the realm next door, the one above the familiar Hell with the Hazbin Hotel. The architecture was almost the same. But unlike those angels with their blonde hair and red blushes, these angels most often had black hair and teal blushes on their pale cheeks. Like in the other Heaven, some of the bipedal angels displayed animal-like characteristics: some had heads of doves, others had swan wings and mannerisms. Many of them had fur, ears, and fluffy tails of dogs and wolves. It was the only place where dogs and cats could dance and prance together without conflict. Still a few others had faces of flowers or even objects like harps and musical instruments.

God’s Palace was the grandest place of all: it was settled at the highest point of Heaven like Mount Olympus. Only a few angels were allowed to visit there. God’s abode, the Empyrean, had an elite group of angels guarding it. Seraph angels with six fiery rainbow wings guarded the throne of God, chanting “Holy, holy, holy!” much to the annoyance to those nearby. There were rumors that in the palace gardens, the Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge were grown there, heavily protected.

King Hesperius and Queen Evanna are my parents. They took the place of our version of Lucifer and Lilith after they were banished. They were named the new king and queen of Heaven (Under God and a few Archangels), thus I became the princess.

King Hesperius had a white face, teal blushes on his cheeks and short dark hair. He wore a gray suit with a dark blue bow tie and a black top hat with two white feathers attached to the brim. Evanna’s hair was long and black, and she too had typical angel features. She wore a golden halo crown and an elegant white sequined dress. Both had white wings which could turn black when they were angry or defensive. My mother keeps in contact with me more than my father and seems more supportive of my project.

Now that you know my family, let’s take a look at my sidekick character crew.

0 0 0

Along the street, a red car stopped beside the sidewalk. A tall creature opened the car door and stepped out. The dragonfly angel had a furry dark gray face and body, plus multiple slender arms: four in total. He wore tall boots, green gloves and a shirt with a teal bowtie near the top. His shirt and sleeves had black and dark green vertical stripes. Green dots resembling eyes were located under his eyes. He also had thin dragonfly wings that were surprisingly strong.

“Thank you for the ride,” said the dragonfly angel.

“No problem, Frank Myrth,” said the driver Sivart, a white furry owl guy wearing a top hat. He tipped his hat to him and drove away.

Frank Myrth walked over to a vending machine and bought himself a granola bar. He walked inside a building and onto a stage in an auditorium. The crowd settled into their seats and the debate began.

“Those other brave do gooders will do great with helping me with my presentation. Anyone want to try?”

The words came from a rather peculiar angel, E-Gull. Tall and mighty, he was an eagle angel with powerful white and brown wings covered with eyes. He wore a white top hat on his white furry head and his suit was blue with thin horizontal purple stripes. Rummaging next to him were robotic black birds tinkering with various tools. One of the birds gave a rubber duck to an angel boy with white hair. These minions were called the Nestlings.

A couple of hands shot up.

E-Gull pushed a button and a presentation showed up on a screen titled “Heaven Economics and Invention Ideas.”

“I don’t like to fight,” E-Gull said, clearing his throat, “and I’m super nervous up here…”

The Nestlings nudged him in support.

Frank Myrth rolled his eyes at his cowardly opponent eagle who then yelped, “Don’t look at me like that!”

“Heaven doesn’t need any future technology,” Frank Myrth argued as he stepped to his podium, “because we already have better things: friendships, food, and fun.”

E-Gull glanced down nervously at his note cards and read from them. “At this rate I will persuade the entire East end of Holy City by night’s beginning. Or was it day’s end? And nothing, not a single beauty in this paradise of bliss, will be able to change my mind or escape the constrictive grasp of persuasive argumentation.”

“Heaven will be ours, though it’s mine in my mind. And everybody will know the name of…”

“Bald Dud,” said a female voice.

“W-who said that?” E-Gull asked.

“You ready for a debate, old man?”

The voice belonged to Berri Blossom. She was a tall cyclops with dark skin, with a single green eye with a black cross in the center. She wore a long dark green dress and white high-heeled shoes. Her black skin was decorated in some areas near her shoulders with tiny teal specks. Her long hair was curly, blue at the top and black near the bottom. She pushed her thin dark rimmed glasses up to her face, looking at her organized set of notes in front of her.

She walked over beside her academic partner Frank Myrth. “Why don’t you play with your tinker toys somewhere else while I go over the logistics of divine law school?” She looked professional and poised. “For my presentation: Seven Reasons Why Heavenly Traditions Never Fail.”

“You want to go, madam?” E-Gull asked, a spark of rebellion in him. He fiddled with a few gadgets before the well-dressed Nestlings chirped at him on to continue. He flapped his wings a bit. “Well, let the battle for tenure and status begin!”

A neon logo appeared on the screen, saying “777 News” surrounded by a halo. The names of the news cast appeared on the bottom of the screen.

“Good afternoon, Holy City!” smiled a pale woman with short black hair, wearing a light blue dress. “I’m Catie Carejoy!”

“And I’m Ron Wrench!” said the man next to her, wearing a business suit and who had two wrenches for hands.

 After discussing the weather, various humane societies, and legends on Earth, Catie Carejoy continued, “The debate battle is underway between inventor E-Gull and professional economics expert Berri Blossom. Coming up next, we have an exclusive interview with the daughter of His Majesty King Hesperius, who’s here to discuss her brand-new passion-project! All that and more after the break!”

Inside the break room, Phalla the romantic butterfly angel adjusted my white bow tie. Nearby, a blue tinted sign read “No smoking.” Another sign read “In The Air” in large letters.

“Okay, you remember what to say?” Phalla asked.

“Yes, I’m ready,” I stated.

Phalla brushed her long black hair from her face. She had light gray skin, curly black hair with gray outlines and two large light blue eyes, her right one covered by a teal green heart. She had a matching teal green butterfly bow in her hair and a teal green shirt with a white collar and white buttons. She wore a white collar and a black Christian Cross necklace. Her skirt was white, just reaching her white leggings with black lace on top and she had black pointed shoes.

She was ever the girly romantic, always chasing after men and not having a violent bone in her body. Some claim that Phalla’s name is a nickname for “penis” since, you know. She makes for a good friend and an even better servant.

“Oh, this is gonna be great!” Phalla squealed happily. “How about you make your speech sound more exciting?”

“Come on, Phalla, I know what I’m going to say,” I scoffed, crossing her arms.

Phalla walked over to the pitcher of ambrosia punch on the table. Pub and Chub ate bagels from the table. Phalla got an idea. “Oh! What if you…”

“Sing a song about it?” I asked, with a roll of her eyes. “I’m not going to. This is serious!” I curled her hand into a fist and brought it down on the palm of her other hand. “They won’t take me seriously if I start belting out some random pop song. Life isn’t a musical.”

“But neither is it an emo tragedy,” Phalla pointed out. “Life is great, especially with all the cute guys around.” Her eye shined.

“Romance, bleh,” I made a face and Phalla giggled.

“Hey,” Phalla brightened, pulling out a piece of paper. “I have some ideas about what you could say.” She bounced up and down. “The highlighted bits are the best parts!”

“They’re all highlighted,” I replied, scanning the paper. I narrowed my eyes. “You call your childish drawing your ideas for me?”

“Sure!” Phalla said. “Look here.” It showed a list of different terms “Sinners = Winners” “Misunderstood are still good” and “demons and angels party between worlds!” Skulls were lined up at the bottom of the page: “we’re all connected by death.”

“Say, that’s actually pretty good!” I said sarcastically with a smile of sharp teeth.

“Thanks!” Phalla beamed.

I snatched the piece of paper from her and tore it in half, much to her shock. “But you should know my ideas are always better.” I tossed the pieces of paper aside, gave a salute and walked out the door.

Catie Carejoy waved with a smile. “Hi. I’m Catie Carejoy.” She held out her hand, but I didn’t take it, instead remarking, “You can put that away. I don’t touch commoners, I have standards.” Catie Carejoy looked stunned, pulling her hand back. “So, this project of yours, when did you come up with this idea of creating a hotel in order to…break the law as the rumors say?”

The angel crew murmured nervously.

“I’m gonna keep this short,” I said as I walked over to the desk. “You might think my idea doesn’t hold water, but that doesn’t matter to me. I’m too influential to give a flying feather about what some stuffy old news lady thinks of my proposal.”

The crowd gasped. Ron Wrench shook his head.

“Well, if you can’t take constructive criticism and be polite…”

“…and we’re live!” called a voice as a buzzer sounded.

“And we’re back!” Catie Carejoy said, rushing over into her seat. “So, Carrie…”

“It’s Princess Coerciona Vespar,” I spat, sitting in a chair beside her and Ron Wrench.

“Sorry. So, tell us about your so called passion project.”

I took a deep breath. “As most of you know, I was born here in Heaven, and growing up, I’ve always tried to see the good in everything around me. But recently, I don’t believe that’s always the case. We just completed another Extermination...erm Cleansing. So many sinful souls lost but for what reason? God said in the Commandments “thou shall not kill,” yet killing random people is okay in both Hells? I know I like the thought of the evil Sinners getting destroyed, but I often forget there are innocent people down there, too. If we can’t even trust ourselves with our actions and thoughts, is Heaven truly paradise? Not to mention that ever since Lucifer and Lilith betrayed Him, we don’t know who to really trust. Some people are given too many chances!” I pounded my fist on the desk, startling Catie carejoy.

I stood up and made my way forward. “No one is truly flawless. Mistakes are made, but we get blamed for doing things we sometimes enjoy. Sex, drugs, partying, swearing, even violence. All because we don’t live up to impossible standards imposed upon us, both here and on Earth! I can’t stand idly by while the place I live is subjected to such lies and propaganda! So, I’ve been thinking…isn’t there a more liberating way to hinder forced compliance here in Heaven? Perhaps we can create an alternative way to express change through…recreation? While still Cleaning those in Hell, of course. And preferably eliminating evil demons once and for all?”

The angels talked quietly amongst themselves. Phalla nodded in appreciation.

“Well, I think yes,” I continued. “So that’s what this project aims to achieve.” I walked back to the desk and sat down. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m opening the first of its kind, a hotel that encourages moderate amounts of so-called sin!” I spread out my arms.

The audience stared in stunned silence. Many of the adults were shaking their heads.

“Who is that girl?” asked a dragon watching from inside a soup kitchen. “What’s her deal with trying to cause more trouble for this world?”

“She’s nuts!” added another angel with an eagle’s head and wings, wearing a suit.

I added nervously while still trying to keep a glare, “I figure it would serve a purpose…a place to work toward self-expression. Yay.”

Among the crowd of angels watching the news outside, a tall man with a thin pale face stood toward the back. He wore a light blue dress suit, had blue and white hair, fluffy dog ears, and large blue eyes. His white wings were folded behind him. He watched the program with a look of worry. A dog creature made of light appeared beside him. A sign posted on the wall showing the same man as a DJ read: “Counseling and good times with the Techno Angel!”

A camera man shook his head at me. Phalla walked up to him and pleaded, “Please give her a chance.”

I sighed. “Look, I know every single one of you has insecurities and issues that need not be bottled up. If you could just embrace those sides of yourselves…”

I then smirked. “Maybe I’m not getting through to you.”

Phalla clapped her hands and “ooohed” in excitement as Rub and Chub got the electric guitar ready.

I barred a pair of sharp white teeth and black curved horns emerged from my head. My black feathery wings spread out from my back and an X appeared over my right eye. A harpoon appeared in my right hand and a spiked halo appeared over my head. I was in her dark angelic Exorcist form, a handy costume look I often use for my shows. I posed over the desk and began.

(“Inside of Every Angel is a Sinner”)

 “I have a dream

I’m here to tell

About a fantastic mind-blowing hotel

One of a kind, go and yell

A great place to dwell

Catering to specific clientele”

*Guitar starts and scream vocals*

“Inside of every angel is a Sinner

Inside of every do-gooder is a beast

Inside of every jolly go-lucky mentality

Is a subconscious portion we know the least”

“Resist all the rules

You’re not passive fools!

With just a little time

Down at the Hazbin Hotel!”

“So all you rescuers, priests, and heroes

Gifted athletes, jocks, and cheerios

And the sheep citizens, relief is here!

All of you angels, leaders, and stars

Traditionalists with fancy cars

And the activists on Mars

Show no fear

No taboos, no laws

Embrace your flaws

You’ll be truly free

Check in with me

It’s the right path, you’ll see”

“There’ll be no more pressure

And no more status quo

Just friendship, fun, and endless bags of dough

Establishment put to rest

You’ll be like, “Yes!”

In the tunnel of darkness you’ll go!”

“So all your hierarchies, GMOs, politics, and isms

Lectures, labor standards, and diamond studded prisms

Ancient Indian elitisms

All must die”

“All you fantasizers, artists, servers, and lords

Spoiled children, winners of awards

Imposers of chores

Face your fears!”

“Be who you are

And you’ll go so far

Our service will raise the bar

You’ll be the star

Come from near or afar at the Hazbin Hotel!

Yeah!”

I finished with a pose.

“Wow,” said an angel in a top hat. “That was…alright.”

The crowd clapped half-heartedly.

Catie Carejoy shook her head. “What in the Nine Levels of Heaven makes you think a single denizen of Heaven would give two feathers about becoming a sinful person? You have no proof that your little experiment even works! You want people to disobey God and the rules just…because?!”

I lifted up my head. “Well, we have a patron already who believes in our cause.”

“And who might that be?” Catie Carejoy asked.

“Oh, just someone named…Frank Myrth.”

“The grumpy old dragonfly?” asked Ron Wrench.

“He’s not old,” argued Catie Carejoy. “He just acts older than he is.”

“Anyway,” said Catie Carejoy. “You couldn’t even get that guy to do something bad, even if a gun was pointed at his head.”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” I argued. “He’s been troubled, dirty, and having conflicted thoughts for two weeks now.”

“Breaking news!” called a voice as the screen changed to a recent debate shown in a building.

The news came on, detailing Frank Myrth and his recent TED talk about the 7 Heavenly Virtues.

“Well, it looks like the one discussing the Heavenly Virtues is none other than…conservative Frank Myrth! What a coincidence!”

She and Ron did a “ratings!” and jazz hands.

I rolled my eyes.

“I’m sorry to say, but it looks like your plan’s departed on arrival,” said Catie Carejoy. “If you were smart, you would cease this rebellious club and embrace the way things are done here. I hope you learned a good lesson.”

My eyes twitched, her teeth barred. “Lesson?! I’ll teach you a lesson, b*tch!”  We fought fist and claw on the desk. Ron Wrench called for security.

After I was kicked out, Phalla followed me wordlessly to the white limo. Frank Myrth, Phalla, and I rode back to the hotel.

0 0 0

Frank Myrth lounged in the far seat, wearing an outfit of black with green stripes and green gloves on his four hands.

“Frank,” said Phalla with concern. “I know you were trying to do good by doing your professional speech. But could you please try not to help society in public? Now people won’t believe us when Coercia says that people are free to express their earthly desires.”

“I’m sorry Phalla,” said Frank from the other seat, “But I have a reputation to keep up. Helping the greater good is His plan for all of us. Besides, a good professional debate is a reasonable form of self-expression right?”

“Not to everyone,” said Phalla. “What about the hotel? People are thinking that you don’t care about Coercia’s project at all.”

“I do care, senorita,” said Frank. “Sort of. I just don’t think it’s going to be easy to accomplish in such a short time. So many angels are fixated on tradition, myself included.”

“I do appreciate all of your help,” I said, still fuming after the interview, arms crossed. “But I will make this project work, even if I have to do it myself.”

The white limo pulled up in front of the hotel, a pristine building made of glass and marble. The group got out of the car and stepped inside.

White wings made of rainbow scales posed as part of the structure on the roof. The stained-glass windows by the door were decorated with apples, a tree of life, and many shades of blue and green. The sign above read “Hazbin Hotel” in big letters on the roof. Inside the lobby, a painting of Adam reaching toward God was displayed on the high ceiling. The hotel had seven floors with seven rooms on each floor. A bowl of blue berries and blue raspberries sat on a table below a welcome banner. Phalla rested on a couch while Frank Myrth munched on a granola bar.

“It’s probably a good idea to stock up some more food in this place,” said Frank Myrth. “Good or bad, people always seem to be greedy when they’re hungry.”

Frank Myrth pulled out a chart and went over probabilities and graphs regarding the hotel and the potential number of visitors. I sighed and walked away toward the door. I went outside and took out my cell phone, calling my mother.

“Carol cakes!” called Evanna through the phone. I cringed.

“Mom, I told you not to call me that! I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“Sorry, I can’t help it,” she said with a giggle. “How was the interview?”

“Meh. It was alright. I proposed my idea, but nobody seemed to buy it.”

Evanna’s tone turned more serious. “Coercia, why do you insist that everyone must go down to that horrible place? Why can’t you just see the good in people?”

“Because,” I said, “Everyone has flaws and they don’t realize it. Also, I didn’t say that people should go to Hell. I said that we should truly be able to do what we want in Heaven.”

“Yes, but that also applies to you, too. Before you get involved with the lives of others, you need to look inside and critique yourself.”

“I’m a princess. Everyone else has more flaws than I do.”

Evanna let out a long sigh. “Young lady, we’ve been through this I don’t know how many times. You have to push your selfish thoughts aside and just accept the way things are. It’s part of a higher purpose.”

“And what is this “higher purpose” anyway? To be His flock of dazed sheep, dancing around without any care in the world? To not experience ecstasy and adventure, even for just a moment?”

“That stuff is dangerous and forbidden. Thousands of souls would do anything to get up to this level of Heaven. And you just want to throw your life away? You’re lucky you’re not those Sinner slave sin Hell! Or those gay furries in Hazbin Heaven.”

“At least those Sinners in Hazbin Hell, disgusting as they are, get to do what they want.”

“You have delusions of what entertainment and happiness is, Carol. Sometimes, you need to take the time and appreciate the beauty that’s in front of you.”

“Other than my own refection, I don’t really see beauty in many other things. Well, heavy metal and watching battles…oh and watching Sinners beg for their last breaths…”

“You have a lot to learn, dear daughter,” Evanna replied. “I’ll leave you alone to think about it.”

“Whatever.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

 I hung up and went back inside, shutting the door behind me. I leaned against the door frame, closing my eyes in frustration…trying to hold back a stream of tears from the stress.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Two knocks, four knocks, then a last one. “Shave and a Haircut” backwards. I turned around with a sigh to answer it. I swung the stained-glass door open. From outside stood a tall slender man with a pale light gray face, wearing a light blue pinstriped dress coat. A white upward cross was part of the design on his light blue undershirt. He was carrying a modern microphone atop a staff in his left hand. He had light blue and white dog ears near his light blue hair. His suit was light blue with dark blue horizontal stripes, a white Christian Cross design on his blue undershirt. He had white angel wings, a white halo, white pants, pointed white boots with blue tips and a strange blue furry tail. His eyes were big, blue and sad, a blue monocle under his left eye.

What a clown!

“Hi, excuse me…” he spoke quietly. “Is this…”

I slammed the door in his face.

I opened it again.

“…the right address?” finished the man.

“No!” I shouted, slamming it again.

“Hey Phalla!” I called.

“What?” her friend asked.

“The crybaby Dog Man is at the door!”

“What?!” she asked, blushes appearing on her cheeks.

“Who?” asked Frank Myrth.

“What should I do?”

“Well…let him in!” Phalla cried, eye shining.

I rolled my eyes and scoffed. I sighed and opened the door again.

“May I talk now?” the man asked in a radio voice.

“Sure, whatever.”

The man held out a white gloved four-fingered hand. “Stalaro, it’s a pleasure to meet you, miss.” He walked in. Worry was etched on his face. “I saw your interview on the picture show and I was worried sick! I was afraid you were never coming back after your argument. Why I haven’t been that upset since the 1929 Stock Market Crash!” He sniffed, “So many poor orphans…”

“Hello there!” Phalla called with a smile, staring up and walking in front of him. She greeted in Spanish. “I’m so glad you’re here to help out my friend with this new hotel! I’m a big fan of yours and just being in your presence is just…” She swooned. “Oh just take me already you cute, pompous, talk show, blueberry pimp lord!”

She embraced him and he stood stunned, his face blushing. “I do love hugs,” he whispered as she stepped back. “I bet all of you would be so nice and soft after we get to know each other for a while…”

Phalla blushed while Frank Myrth and I made disgusted faces.

“A blowjob for you, gray fellow?” Stalaro asked Frank Myrth with a bow.

 “Not gonna happen, creep,” Frank Myrth spat.

Stalaro gave a nervous laugh and popped a strawberry and blueberry into his mouth.

“I don’t trust him,” I said.

“Me neither,” Frank Myrth agreed.

“You’re not gonna cling to us are you?” Phallas asked. “Or, you know…”

 “Dear, if I wanted to screw anyone here…I would’ve done so already.”

Stalaro tilted his head. His blue eyes briefly glowed with blue upside down radio dials in them. Electricity sparked around cyan colored voodoo symbols in the air. His eyes filled with tears, tears spilling down his pale gray cheeks.

Phalla watched in bliss, while Frank Myrth and I rolled their eyes at the show-off.

Stalaro shook his head and his eyes returned to normal blue.

“No, I’m here because I want to relax and help out.”

“Say what?” I asked, eyebrow raised.

Stalaro held up his staff which glowed blue. He said with a sad crack in his voice, “Goodbye, is this thing off?”

He tapped it. A blue sad looking eye appeared in the center of the microphone. It spoke in a mechanical voice. “You’re silent, quiet and unclear!”

“That’s your motivation motto every day?” Frank Myrth asked, crossing his four arms. “Pathetic!”

“Tragic and mysterious, I love it!” Phalla squealed. “It’s like the opposite of announcing. It’s…denouncing.”

Frank Myrth elbowed her. “Hun, could you not get attracted to every other man you see?  I’m your boyfriend.”

“I can’t help it, love!” she cried. “I just get so distracted easily.”

 “Um…you want to help?” I asked, suddenly curious.

Stalaro appeared behind us after morphing into light.

“With…” he spoke in her growl then his normal shy sounding voice, “…this random thing you’re trying to do. This hotel. I want to help you run it, if that’s okay.”

“Uh…why?”

Stalaro choked a bit on his words. “Why doesn’t anyone do anything? Sheer absolute lethargy! I’ve been partying around and keeping busy for decades. I would like to do something more relaxing and easier.”

“A sad wimp like you at parties?” I asked.

“I’m a pretty good actor,” he replied. My work became overwhelming, lacking focus. I’ve come to crave a new form of disengagement!”

I rolled my eyes. “Does getting into a fist fight with a reporter count as disengagement?”

“No,” Stalaro said. “It’s violent and messy, not really my thing. Life is truly strange…reality, fantasy, true tragedy. After all the world is a grave, and the grave is a world of disengagement!”

“You’re a f*cking disengagement,” I retorted just as Frank Myrth warned, “No swearing!”

Then I brightened a bit. “So, does this mean you think it’s possible to taint an angel? You know the selfish angels who deserve a kick in their ass? That life is meaningless without your own self to temporarily control it?”

Stalaro sniffed and held up a hand. “Who knows? Anything’s possible. Sinning, oh the vice of humanity! Oh, but I think there’s plenty left that can change such marvelous saints. But then again, the chance that was given to them was the life they lived before. The reward is this!” He spread out his arms. “According to God, there’s no undoing what is done…or at least that’s the way it should be.”

“So then, why do you want to help me if you don’t fully believe in my cause?” I asked.

Stalaro turned around to look at her. “Consider it an investment in ongoing knowledge for myself and others.” He let out a small smile. “I want to watch the blessed of this world struggle to give into temptation, only to repeatedly realize and raise themselves up the golden ladder of success!” His eyes glowed blue.

“Right…” I began. “Boring.”

“Yes indeed,” Stalaro said, both of us walking off to the side. “I see you taking risks and who better to keep you grounded than I.”

“Ah, so what’s the deal with Mr. Frown over there?” Frank Myrth asked.

“Wait, you’ve never heard of him before?” Phalla asked. “You’ve been here longer than me!”

Frank Myrth shrugged his shoulders.

“The Techno Angel, one of the most complex beings Heaven has ever seen?”

“Eh, I’m not too big on people.”

Phalla sighed and leaned in close to explain.

“Decades ago, Stalaro manifested in Heaven, seemingly in one day. He began to catch the attention of Lordships and Archangels who had kept to themselves for centuries. That kind of attraction and magic power had never been harnessed by a mortal soul before. Then, he broadcast his adventures all throughout Heaven just so everyone could experience some joy, tragedy, and emotions. Saints starting calling him the Techno Angel, (as unoriginal as that is). Many have speculated what unimaginable force enabled him to rival our world’s most ancient and constructive heroes. But one thing’s for sure: he’s an unpredictable source of silliness, a depressed spirit of mystery and a loving being of order…or disorder, the likes of which we can get involved in, especially if we want to end up aroused!”

“You done?” Frank Myrth asked. “He looks like a blueberry businessman. Or a shady con-man. Either way, you’re delusional.”

“Well, I trust him completely!”

“Do you blindly trust any man? All men?”

Phalla skipped over to me. Stalaro examined a family portrait of Hesperius, Evanna and a young me in the center. I wore a white dress with a turquoise top to it. My hair was jet black, braided in black barbed wire, my cheeks had teal blushes. Evanna had long black hair and wore a fancy white dress and a round gold crown.  Hesperius was dressed in a dress suit of white and blue, with blue and black stripes in the center below a white bow tie. He wore a large light gray top hat with a dove and a green apple on it. His cane also had a green apple on the top. Both of them were smiling, showing rows of sharp teeth, white wings folded behind them.

Phalla looked excited as she explained. “Coercia, listen to me, you can believe this dreamer. He isn’t just a sad face. He’s a miracle maker, pure good! But… don’t count on him to believe in your cause. I suppose he could be tainted and rebel, but we don’t know that. He could very well side with God and your parents. And he’s most likely looking for a way to hinder everything we’re trying to do if it means following God’s rules. But still, give him a chance. He’s really sweet.”

“I…” I began. “…we don’t know that. Make up your mind. Whose side are you on, anyway? Is he a rebel or another boring elite? I’ll tell you. He’s a crying b*tch, and he probably doesn’t want to change.”

Phalla put her hands on my shoulders.

“The whole point of your hotel is to give people a chance! To have faith things will be better and people can embrace their flaws, their true selves! How can you turn someone away? You can’t. It goes against everything you’re trying to do. Everything you believe in.”

I looked downcast. She had a good point. I hated when people made good arguments against me.

“Just take care of yourself,” I said.

“Coercia,” warned Phalla, “Unless you are serious about responsibility, do not make a promise with him!”

Demons often made deals with each other that often resulted in gaining power at the cost of one’s soul or freedom. Usually the one who initiated the deal would gain advantage. A demonic deal was bad in and of itself. Breaking an angelic promise could result in rejection, eternal torture, and damnation.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I learned one thing from my dad.” I mimicked his low voice, “Ya don’t break trust with other angels!”

I marched over to the Techno Angel.

“Ok Mr. Dog-face... You’re prissy as f*ck, and you clearly see what I’m trying to do here is a too-dangerous risk. But I don’t.”

Glowing blue symbols briefly appeared around a concerned Stalaro, then vanished.

I continued. “I think everyone deserves a chance to prove they can be themselves. After all, it’s in their nature and the sooner they realize it, the better. So, I’m taking your offer to help. On the condition there be no lessons or lovey-dovey speeches made.”

Stalaro twirled his cane and held out his smallest finger from his right hand.

“So, it’s a promise, then?”

The room was surrounded by a pink aura as light spirits roamed around the walls. The wind blew against Phalla’s and Frank Myrth’s faces.

“Nope!” I yelled, holding out my hands. The energy stopped. “No shaking, no promises! I…hmmm…”

I paused in thought.

“As Princess of Heaven and heir to the throne, I hereby order that you help out with this hotel for as long as you desire.”

A moment of pause…

“Sound fair?”

“Fair enough,” Stalaro said with a slump of his shoulders and walked on. His cane vanished.

Stalaro stopped and spotted Phalla to the side.

Phalla went up and tickled him under the chin, much to his shock.

“Smile, dog man!” she giggled.

Stalaro walked on, speechless.

 “So…where is your hotel staff?” Stalaro asked me.

“Uh well,” I began. Stalaro peered at Phalla through his monocle below his left eye.

He stuttered. “You’re going to n-need more than that.”

Stalaro walked over to Frank Myrth, who was sitting on a stool.

“And what can I do, my business fellow?” asked Stalaro walking over to the dark dragonfly, blushing.

“You can suck a dick,” Frank Myrth retorted in a grumpy tone.

“AH! Ok,” said Stalaro, blushing and stepping back. “Can it be yours?”

“F*ck off,” Frank Myrth added, pulling out a long holy knife from his belt.

“Now who’s swearing?” I smirked at him. Frank Myrth glared.

Stalaro summoned his cane. “Well, this just won’t do. You want others to cause trouble, yes? I suppose I can cash in a few favors to deaden things up!”

He snapped his fingers and the wall beside the fireplace cracked. The circle went dark, the fire going out. Ice cold water appeared to fill in the circle and a shadowy figure solely formed inside. Stalaro walked over and removed the dripping figure from the water. A large single white eye with a teal iris was revealed.

Frank Myrth, Phalla and I peered at the creature. With a balloon deflating sound and a puff of white smoke, the figure was revealed.

“This little rascal is Klutzy!” Stalaro announced with a worried smile, dropping the figure.

A white-skinned short cyclops female landed on her face on the floor. She stood up with a grumpy look on her face. She wore a dark blue skirt with a white stray cat off to the left side. Her arms and legs were white and thin. Her shirt was black, and her large eye took up much of her pale white face. Her short hair was light blue with a dark blue spot off to the left. She had a halo and wings with eyes and icicles on the ends.

“I’m Klutzy,” she grumbled, clenching her fists. “It’s a waste of time to meet you. It’s been a while since I’ve seen strangers.”

 Her pupil narrowed from side to side.

“Why are you all men?” she asked. “Have any women here? Or video games? Screw this place.”

She briefly picked up Phalla, then let go.

“Oh man, this place is boring!” she exclaimed. She ran over to a vase and proceeded to knock it over with her elbow. It shattered to pieces on the floor. She tossed couch cushions aside.

“It really needs a more manly touch, disorganized clutter’s more fun.” She grinned as she poured dirt from a flowerpot onto the rug.

“Yes, yes, yep, yeah!” she yelled as she proceeded to break windows and knock down more stuff. Then she plopped down on a couch once the room was messy. “I’m bored. Make me some food or something.”

Phalla, Frank Myrth, and I looked on in worry, while Stalaro just stared off into space. “She has quite the temper sometimes.”

A cat angel was working on a Rubik’s cube with colleagues. His furry face was black, framed by white fur. His little top hat was white with a blue band across it. A big teal bow tie was under his neck, over his black furry chest framed by white fur. His wings were a brilliant blue, with black and red mathematical symbols on either side: the pi symbol, E = mc squared, signs for addition, subtraction, multiplication and division, among others. More symbols were visible within his two pointed ears. His teeth were sharp and purple and his long eyebrows were teal. His eyes were purple and sclera white. The angel placed a Rubik’s cube in front of him. “Ha!” he declared in triumph. Read ‘em and weep, boys! Full…whoa…”

He felt himself being transported in a flash of light to the hotel. Part of the science room that the cat had been in was merged with the hotel lobby…posters of the elements, the solar system and Biblical works of art.

“What in Heaven’s name is going on?

Then he brightened when he saw Stalaro. “You!”

“Ah, Core, my old friend,” Stalaro sniffed. “You made it.”

“Glad to see you, you son of the sun!” Core said. “I just completed my Rubik’s cube after just an hour.”

The cube vanished as Stalaro looked on.

Core raced over to Stalaro and embraced him in a side hug. The dog-like man blushed. “So, what can I help you with this time?”

Stalaro blinked nervously. “C-Can we snuggle?”

Core laughed. “I mean, seriously, why’d you bring me here? You know you’re under my contract.”

“My friend, I’m doing some dirty work, so I took it upon myself to volunteer your services. If that’s okay?”

“You must be joking,” Core said, laughing nervously.

“I don’t think so,” he replied.

“You thought it’d be a great idea just to pull me out of nowhere? You think I’m some kind of tragic boy?”

“Maybe,” Stalaro sighed, as crying sounds came from his microphone.

“I ain’t doing no dirty work.”

Stalaro appeared behind him. “Well, I figured you would be the perfect face to greet and critique the guests at this fine establishment.”

“That’s not dirty work at all…”

He pointed his staff off toward a stand with vegetable drinks as claps and boos sounded from his staff.

“With your grumpy cat face and love of solitude…”

Core lifted up the corners of Stalaro mouth with his paws. “Aw come on. Don’t forget to smile once in a while!”

His mouth frowned once he let go.

Stalaro walked over to the stand. “Don’t worry, my friend. I can make this more interesting…if you wish.”

He conjured up a bottle of catnip with his finger.

Core stared with wide happy eyes. “What, you think you can buy me with sad eyes and some cheap catnip? Well, you can!” He purred and took the bottle with him.

The three of us arrived.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Phalla squealed. “Brilliant idea to have healthy drinks!”

“No!” I protested. “This is supposed to be a place that encourages moderate sin! Not some kind of, frilly, Zen, child’s play garbage!”

Core noticed Frank Myrth and slid up to him. “Hey cutie,” he flirted.

“Go screw yourself,” muttered Frank Myrth.

“Only if you watch me,” Core joked. “Or more likely, Stalaro will watch you.”

I leaned in close to Core. “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! You are going to go insane here!” I grinned, her teeth sharp.

“We’re all mad here,” Core replied, sniffing the catnip. “You don’t scare me.”

Stalaro walked in, an ever-present frown on his face. “S-so, what do you think?”

“It’s amazing!” Phalla beamed.

Phalla leaned in close between me and Stalaro, embracing us in a hug.

“This is going to be very disengaging,” Stalaro exclaimed.

“Stop using that word,” I spat.

Dubstep sounds emitted from his mouth as he stared around with worry.

Stalaro changed his light blue suit into a dark blue funeral outfit with a matching top hat. He did the same with me, Frank Myrth, Core, Klutzy, and Phalla, who were all wearing black clothing from the early 1900s. I wore a short tan flapper dress and a round matching ladies’ hat. Klutzy and I stared at our outfits in disgust, while Frank Myrth, Core and Phalla smiled as they stared at theirs. The room changed, the walls now covered with Voodoo symbols, Christian crosses and paw prints.

“Take it boys,” Stalaro said. Light spirits appeared and played violins, a piano, and a flute in a sad symphony.

Stalaro sang his reprise to me as we did a slow dance, much to my disgust.

(“Stalaro’s lament Reprise”)

“You’re on a mission

Your innocence fell

And it’s so dangerous but hey, I wish you well

Yes your blunt protests

Will send you straight to Hell

And I can’t bear to see you banished, or your soul up to sell”

“Don’t bring your life to an end

No matter what you say, I’m still your friend

We all have our wounds to mend

And you’re vulnerable feelings are real, don’t pretend”

“Inside of every angel is love and emotion

They have values and lasting devotion (devotion to God)

While you recruit those around

Don’t be swallowed by the ground

The authorities can retrieve you tight and bound (no turning around)”

“Here above the sky

Spread your wings and fly

They’ll spend a little time

Down at this Haven Ho…”

An explosion rattled the windows. Klutzy saw a door flying toward her face and she broke it in half with a karate chop.

The room and everyone’s clothing returned to normal.

Everyone looked outside and saw a podium in the air, held up by flying robotic baby birds. A familiar eagle debater appeared.

“Look who it is harboring the annoying opponent! We meet again, Stalaro!”

“Do I know you?” Stalaro asked.

E-Gull looked taken aback.  “Oh yes, you do! Watch this presentation!”

The birds danced in the air, singing a song about E-Gull trying his best to rule Heaven. He read from notecards. “My dream is to be the best inventor…in the world. I bring joy to the young…and your hotel…may cause trouble. You all can’t compete with me. Your hotel sucks. I…shall…destroy it…with… my…”

Stalaro giggled and blushed. “Your baby weiner havor?”

E-Gull looked up from his cards in anger. “How immature!”

Stalaro snapped his fingers. A portal appeared and white tentacles shot out, knocking the podium off balance. The metal birds knocked into E-Gull, and he yelled, “Ow that hurt! Show mercy!”

Stalaro used a drop of his blood and the podium exploded in green smoke.

E-Gull emerged from the crater, wings shaking. Stalaro waved a hand, and the eagle was healed.

“Shoot me with your ray gun,” said a metal bird beside him. E-Gull rolled his eyes.

Stalaro looked on, sadly while everyone else stared, stunned.

“Anyone hungry?” Stalaro asked turning around. “Please don’t make me cook jambalaya. It’s way too spicy and it nearly killed me! I much prefer tea and sugared strawberries, oh the way they melt in my mouth… but anyway, you could say the kick brought me straight into Heaven.”

Stalaro led the way back to the hotel, the group following him.

“Yes sir, new changes are about to take place. Now…”

Stalaro waved his finger at the lit-up sign above the glass, gem-encrusted building on the roof.

The sign changed from “Hazbin Hotel” to “Haven Hotel.”

“Stay tuned.” He finished with low whimpers.

0 0 0

A week later, I stared calmly out the window of my hotel, gazing at the teal sky outside. In the distance was a golden gate similar to the one in the other Heaven and several of my Cleansers were standing guard. They had white wings with a single black stripe and wore LED masks except they were white and had no xs over the eyes. They had no horns and wore proper gold and blue armor instead of the short gray shirts and leggings the canon Exorcists wore. These fine warriors never leave their angelic weapons behind in Hell, for if they did, they’d be punished on the spot by yours truly. Their weapons can kill demons and angels alike, so we always have to be careful. Removing their masks, they looked just like regular human-like angels. If I ever met Lute, I’d teach her a thing or two.

The Exterminations still appeared to be going on in Hazbin Hell. Our angelic council often sends us news about what goes on in the canon worlds just to keep us prepared. It’s incredibly hard to enter the canon universe and if we get killed there, it’s double death. That also means the canon characters can’t get killed if they come to our universe…lucky freaks.

The white angelic key in front of me morphed into my handy white dog bodyguard, a creature with sharp pointed ears, sharp teeth, small wings, and eyes along his back. I nicknamed him “EekEek,” because he can shoot fire from his mouth when provoked. I patted him on the head before he scurried off from a knock on the door. The door opened and Phalla came in.

Phalla was my closest servant, a ditzy romantic kind of lady. She had long black curly hair with a gray outline, a teal heart over her right eye (both her eyes were fine, it was just for show), and wore a teal-green shirt with white buttons, a white collar, and a Christian Cross necklace. She had a white collar around her neck. Her skirt was white as were her leggings and she wore black shoes. A teal butterfly bowtie was in her hair near her halo. Uniquely, she had butterfly wings with eyes and white angel feathers in them.

I don’t even know her real name but apparently “Phalla” relates to “penis” due to how much she lusts after men. Unlike her, I choose my men wisely and don’t let others choose my name out of mockery. I mean, why didn’t Vaggie switch her vagina name after being with her Adam? Pathetic.

“Princess Coercia?”

“Come in.”

Phalla stepped forward. “Great to see you again, your majesty.”

I turned. “We still have our clients?”

“Yeah, they’re downstairs. You thinking about anything?”

“Family stuff, I guess.”

“Did you hear from your mom yet?”

I smiled. “She talked to me yesterday. Said I was bold to start this hotel project, but she’d support it if it makes more of our people happy.”

“And your dad?”

I sighed. “Too busy as always. Still doesn’t like my idea. Says I’m breaking too many of Heaven’s bulls**t rules.”

“No need to swear all the time,” Phalla chided.

“Swearing is caring,” I smirked.

“Sometimes I think you’d fit better with those edgy demons in Hazbin Hell.”

I scoffed. “At least as a kid, I was brave enough to try a few drops of forbidden fruit in the garden when my parents weren’t looking. Made my wings black and sharpened my free will instincts. Drove them crazy. Why they didn’t have anyone guarding that tree and preventing Roo’s escape even in our world is beyond me.”

Phalla chuckled. “Frank Myrth is cute.”

“What?” I rolled my eyes.

“He is, though. Totally against drugs and porn and all that. And those cute dragonfly wings he has.”

“Whatever. My angel wings are the best there is, and they aren’t even white. Now let’s go get started on our hotel commercial.”

“Our commercial has no chance of being recognized here; even less in the canon worlds…”

“I’ll take my chances,” I said.

The church bells tolled happily from outside as I followed Phalla downstairs.

0 0 0

The television screen later showed my commercial for the Haven Hotel. It first showed two angels with white wings looking bored on a cloud. One had his head on his hand, and another was absentmindedly strumming a small harp.

I began. “Hello there ordinary Saints! Are you tired of following the same rules over and over again? Are Bible study lectures, sermons, and community charities not enough for you? Do you still like to help others? Of course, you do, that’s why you’re in Heaven! But what if I told you there was a place where you could experience true freedom?”

The scene shifted to show a large building made of marble in the sky. A white winged key with a gold eye in the center served as the front piece and the double front doors were golden. The walls were decorated with small sapphires in diamond shapes. The top sign on the roof read in lights: “HAVEN HOTEL.” Off to the left side, attached to the building, was a blue tower which housed a small studio for the angel Stalaro, complete with a dancing pole and a dubstep stereo inside. The lawn in front had golden grass and a Christian Cross on it.

“Welcome to the Haven Hotel,” I announced, “Your path to freedom and safety…founded not too long ago by yours truly, Princess Coerciona Vespar!” I posed with rocker signs and a black crown on my head. “Come place your fate in my hands, and discover your true self, as long as you follow my every command!” The slides showed a drawing of me posing on a golden podium while white-winged subjects prostrated themselves before me. Pub and Chub looked like large butler babies with black wings and thick arrows in their hands as they opened the doors. Above the mantle in the parlor room showed a portrait of me holding a spear and above that was the glowing blue sigil of Archangel Michael. EekEek slept under an onyx table near two blue couches, the frames decorated with eyes. The light fixtures had the appearances of doves and the light blue wallpaper had Hesperius’ royal symbols on it: a dove surrounded by six white wings.

“Look at this gorgeous parlor! And check out our new resident…Frank Myrth, I think his name is.”

Frank Myrth did a small wave before continuing his protection business on a computer. He wore a black suit with teal green vertical stripes, long teal-green gloves, and a white bowtie with a teal center. His right eye was black, and his left eye was white with a blue-green iris. He had white fur like Angel Dust, but he also had four dragonfly wings with eyes on them and white angel feathers. He also wore long white boots.

“We have the best rooms, cleaned by our maid, Klutzy. Hey, Ice Girl!”

A small cyclops turned around and blushed. She had one large blue eye, white skin, short light blue hair with a dark blue streak in it and a halo over her head. She wore a black shirt and a blue dress with a white cat design on it. Her thin arms and legs were white. She was eating a hamburger while a lady model magazine and a video game controller were by her side.

“Are you being messy and lazy again?”

“No?” she asked with a yawn. Icicles briefly hung from her white wings.

“Shouldn’t you get to work so more people can come in and adore my hotel?”

“Well, I was gonna keep playing ‘Slay That Demon,’ but…I guess if it’s for you…just don’t invite any men!”

She slouched and got to work.

“Gotta love that gal!” I chuckled.

“And let’s not forget our bartender of mostly non-alcoholic drinks, Core!”

A tall white cat grinned widely as he folded his hands in prayer. A Bible was next to him on the counter. He had large white wings with lots of eyes and a teal-green stripe with white small Christian Crosses along it. He wore a white top hat with a black Christian Cross and a black Christian Cross necklace. His eyebrows were long and teal with small white stripes on the ends. He wore all white clothing and his tail had blue and green scales on it.

“Welcome to the Haven Hotel, may I interest you in our tenants and the wonderous teachings of Jesus?”

“Hey, you’re not Core!” Phalla exclaimed.

“No,” he replied. “I’m his twin brother Leeson. Core’s doing sacred geometry at a university.”

Phalla facepalmed.

I scoffed. “I don’t even know what his deal is. Creep.”

The camera moved and a frightened bark sounded.

“Oh yeah, let’s not forget the d**k-loving coward, Stalaro! Say hello, loser!”

The blue dog angel frowned at the camera. He wore a light blue suit with navy blue horizontal stripes and a white bowtie. His undershirt was blue with a white Christian Cross design in the center. He had a halo and white angel wings, white pants, light blue sleeves, and white shoes with blue tips. His blue monocle was under his left eye. His two large blue eyes were usually filled with sadness. He carried a magic white microphone with angel wings at the top and a square blue speaker with a white pawprint in the center. He had a gray face and thick blue hair with white tips at the bottom. Finally, he had a thick furry tail in various shades of blue and two large blue and white dog ears.

“This freak likes sweets, dubstep music, light magic, and looking at nude men. He’s always worried about something.” I smirked. “Hey, Stalaro, fetch me some water!”

Stalaro gulped and ran from the room, appearing later with a glass of water. “H-here you go, your majesty!”

“Thank you,” I said. “He’s a great servant, such a coward!”

“P-please don’t be mean!” Phalla called from nearby.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of…” I began as the camera shifted to a shot of the hotel again. “All this and more at the Haven Hotel! Your path to greatness starts here!” The words on the screen read in bold blue, “CALL NOW! PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW OF FIVE STARS OR MORE…unless you’d like to volunteer for target practice!”

I turned off the TV, turned around and smiled. “So, what you do think?!”

Phalla and Stalaro sat dumbfounded on the blue couch.

“Um…” Phalla began, “I don’t really know what that was…”

“Only the best, right?” I grinned.

Phalla began. “One note, Coercia, thank you for so much for making this…seriously amazing…but, maybe the tone is a bit…off…”

I narrowed my eyes.

“We want people to come here,” Phalla said, “And you come across as…um…”

“Selfish,” Stalaro stuttered. “That’s the word.”

“Oh really?” I inquired, pacing back and forth. “I was going for amazing! It’s my hotel, after all.”

“Well not everyone is going to want to serve you right and left,” said Phalla. “There may be royals that come here, too, and you of all people should know when to treat those with respect.”

“As long as they do so for me first,” I said.

“They’ll be freaked out at your…appearance,” Stalaro said. “You aren’t exactly…”

I glanced at my wings. “Bubbly and loving? That’s the point,” I said.

“We’re also part of this team,” Phalla said. “We need to work together, it’s not all about you.”

“Well,” I shrugged, getting an idea. “I suppose if you all want to be at the forefront, I can relax with a Bloody Mother Mary instead.”

Phalla glared at me. Frank Myrth raised his hand.

“Yes?” Phalla asked, blushing at him. Frank Myrth blushed too.

“If you guys are filing a commercial, perhaps we can also discuss our earthly accomplishments, to peak up interests?”

“Your former anti-mafia police career on Earth was fine, but that’s off topic,” Phalla mentioned.

Frank Myrth shrugged. “Just thought I’d throw that out there. Haven Hotel could be a safe place to share past lives.”

“Only if you’re a Saint,” Coercia said. “We need more inclusion.”

“Says the only Heavenborn here,” Leeson mentioned. “I’m surprised that this place isn’t only for Saints.”

I bared my teeth. “It’s for any angel who wants safety from the Satanics. They could attack at any time.”

“So…Satanics can harm any angel, not just Sinners?” asked Klutzy.

“If you’re an Archangel, canon Hazbin character or mythical figure, you’re immune to them,” said Leeson. “Yes, that means you’re vulnerable, too, Coercia.”

I had to admit it was true, but I wanted to strangle that cat in the hat so bad.

Leeson continued. “Also, I believe the Hazbin Exorcists have killed Hellborn demons on the side, not just Sinners.”

“Not surprised,” I said.

“Would you kick angels out into the Satanics if they didn’t follow your rules?” Phalla asked.

I glared. “Depends.”

“A Heavenborn royal willing to let someone be turned into a filthy Sinner just for not obeying you? How low,” Leeson snapped.

“You want me to rip your whiskers off, pussy?” I seethed. “I love you and your philosophies, but go too extreme right and…”

“You’re just an extreme left away from the demons,” Leeson retorted.

“Then why are you even here at this place of freedom? I’m only against the bad Christian bias, not the good parts of it. I’m all for Jesus and love and all that…I just hate it when some people are so stubborn that they get lost in their beliefs and boss others around.”

Leeson snickered. “Ego issues much, hypocrite?”

“Both of you are equally annoying,” Klutzy mentioned. “All I need is some cold, slowness and quiet.” With a glare, she slurped frozen golden ambrosia from a cup with a straw, ignoring the food stains on her dress.

“You’ll get it soon, slob,” Leeson spat. “You’re the epitome of gluttony and sloth.”

“I guess not even angels are perfect,” Phalla added.

“What are you talking about? Angels don’t make mistakes,” I stated.

“Yeah, Hazbin Adam and Lute believed that but look what Lucifer did that got him where he is now,” Stalaro said.

“Good point,” I conceded with a sigh.

Stalaro cleared his throat and did a small smile. “Uh…princess, do you think you could film me snuggling with Frank Myrth? You know, to show this place has love and happiness in it? For those who may secretly like the more…intimate things?”

“I don’t think so,” Frank Myrth made a disgusted face. Stalaro whined glumly. “Okay, then.” Stalaro knew better than to ask Core later…he was under him in a divine contract. Core didn’t have his soul, but Core could ask him to do divine favors on occasion.

“Could I snuggle with you?” Phalla smiled at Frank Myrth.

“Please do,” Frank Myrth grinned in return.

“Get a room, freaks,” I rolled my eyes.

Just then, my cell phone rang with a ringtone of demon screams. “I’ll be back,” I said. I walked off to the side and answered it. “Hello Mother, how are you?”

My face fell and a scowl appeared. “Wait, what? He said that…oh come on! Okay, I’ll be right there.” I hung up.

“What’s going on?” Phalla asked.

“My mother called. She said that Adam…our Adam wants to meet me. Says that my hatred of demons is too strong and to be more ‘harmonious toward others.’ Give me a break.”

“When’s the meeting?”

“Today.” My eyes brightened. “Oh, I know! I will pitch my hotel idea and then I’ll pitch an idea to move the Extermination up six months instead of a year!”

“In our Hell or Hazbin Hell?”

“Both!” I grinned.

“Hazbin Adam already did that,” Phalla mentioned.

“No, he didn’t,” I said.

“As reverse denizens created after the canon characters, we can receive information about the future events of the Hazbin world, provided we don’t interfere.”

“Your talk is nonsense, Phalla! Protecting Heaven is my job!”

“But slaying Sinners in our Hell is very dangerous. It’s not like they just run away and scream; they actually fight back! It’s the reason the Cleansers only do it once a year! To end those suffering for long periods of time and to potentially choose others for Purgatory.”

“Then perhaps I need to train my warriors harder!” I raised my fist. “Find a way to eliminate all the Sinners so they don’t decide to become Satanics and invade our world like they’ve been doing for who knows how long! Never just once a year…they’ve come at such random times!”

“There’s way too many of them,” Phalla warned. “Satanics train for years and they are often regular demons. And besides, Sinners are already being punished by the Seven Deadly Sins until they can try again in Purgatory and on Earth again. That’s how it works.”

“I can see why Hazbin Heaven was so worried about a demon uprising,” Leeson added. “But they would have better reason for an Extermination if the Satanics were also there and if Roo was a confirmed threat.”

“Very true,” I finished. “But it’s not as much fun when I don’t get to be the one that does it,” I grumbled.

“You know you can’t go down there without permission from your parents and the Archangels. Once a year is enough in my opinion.”

“Says you,” I muttered in disappointment. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to the meeting and to declare how much I hate this place.”

“I thought you loved your people,” Phalla said. “And I thought you would go out and sing!”

“I do…” I replied, adjusting my black pointed crown, “…if they don’t get in my way. And singing? Um…I guess I’ll do…’Just Another Crappy Day in Heaven’…ugh, I can’t make things up on the spot…”

Phalla groaned as I stormed off.

(I’m not one for cheesy musicals unless they are epic rock solos. I didn’t even bring my electric guitar with me! So, I’ll just skip my embarrassing yelling and swearing and shoving angels around as I made my way to a golden Heaven Embassy building. Maybe I’ll write the song before a concert or something.)

0 0 0

The meeting with Adam and Jesus went about as well as you’d expect…utter crap. And Jesus mostly just stood there as a holograph, listening to me and Adam debate.

“Coercia,” said Adam as he sat in a chair across from me at a round light blue table with high backed light blue chairs. We were in a small meeting room, a similar one that Charlie, Adam and Lute met in. It had blue Egyptian-fan wallpaper, stained glass windows of Christian Crosses, a few seats, a globe with angel wings on it. It had more stained-glass window designs of an Ophanim shooting rays down toward flames. There were even Exorcist sculptures protruding from the walls. Indeed, we were at one of the many golden Heaven Embassy buildings. Adam had short brown/black hair, a goatee, and white skin, looking just like his Hazbin counterpart. He even wore the same outfit with the “A” in the center of his white and golden robe. He had a golden halo and golden angel wings. He even had a matching golden harp-shaped guitar, the top of the guitar a harp shape and the main part curved and golden. However…his eyes were full of kindness and he displayed none of the arrogance of the canon Adam. Strangely enough, Adam enjoyed both ribs and apples. He was actually there in person, not a holograph like Jesus was behind him.

Nonetheless, it still didn’t make me happy when he said things like…

“You are still very young and very headstrong. The people of Heaven count on you and if you dive down into Hell and are killed down there, it’ll cause great fear up here.”

“At least I’ll die with honor,” I said.

“By becoming food for Roo? I don’t think so,” Adam shook his head. “I appreciate you wanting to protect your people. But creating a hotel just to break the rules…”

“To have liberation from mental suffering…” I cut in. “Do you really expect our people to enjoy paradise if they can’t have sex before their afterlife marriages? Or have gay relationships that are 100% accepted as they are in the Hazbin Hell? Or worse yet, have Saints be oblivious to their Sinner ex-family members in both worlds?”

Adam held out a hand. “I’ll explain. Our community is very accepting of all genders and sexualities…”

“Then why doesn’t anyone mention gay marriages on TV here? Why is divorce still a long process? Why are the Heavenborn still getting the best things?”

“Why are you going off topic?” Adam asked.

“Because all these things are connected. Maybe there wouldn’t be so many Sinners if there were more lenient rules.”

“Rules and customs take years or even centuries to change…even here. Being cautious is better than letting people run amok.”

“It’s only a matter of time before some people break down from all the stress and rules.”

“We have healing hypnotic hymns for that.”

I scoffed. “Magic can’t solve everything. Please tell me there’ve been people from here who’ve fallen to Hell.”

“Sadly, yes, but it’s not very common,” explained Adam.

“Then you admit our world and angels are not perfect either.”

Adam somberly sighed. “We do our best for the Lord, and you should, too. Yes, just like Hazbin Heaven, the denizen’s memories of Earth and their Sinner ex-family members are wiped clean. It would be heartbreaking for them to find out that they went to either Hazbin Hell or our Hell. They’d probably try to rescue them, and we all know that is utter suicide. If the citizens become too much like the demons because of your project, they will fall to either one of the Hells and you’ll be held responsible.”

“It would be their fault alone. And rapists and murderers are still family to them, right?” I almost couldn’t believe what I was saying. “So…Sinners can be redeemed right to Heaven, at least in the Hazbin world and the reverse is still true.”

“But you would be the one that encouraged the people to sin in the first place,” Adam pointed out. “Royalty can only do so much before they too, must suffer the consequences. Micheal can easily banish you just like Lucifer if you aren’t careful.”

I seethed, my eyes downcast, not knowing any retorts. Adam looked down upon me…I suddenly felt small and feeble.

“I hereby deny your request to move our Extermination up by six months. We don’t need to take any unnecessary risks. Your job is to save our people up here…and the Cleansers send the message in Hell once per year…‘We choose worthy Sinners to go through Purgatory, and those who have no life left in them shall be slain from their cycle of suffering to the second death.’ Dismissed, your majesty.”

“Man, these worlds are f***ing confusing,” I stomped in defeat, slamming the doors and walking out.

When I got back and entered the hotel, Phalla was waiting for me.

“Feel better, your majesty?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I replied in sarcasm. “If losing to authority and swearing as you walk back works. And I still can’t think of good song lyrics for this s…”

“Wait until you see this,” she said, pulling me to the couch. The whole group was sitting there. Frank Myrth sat up straight in a chair. Stalaro leaned on his cane. Klutzy lounged on the floor. I sat next to Phalla who beamed with excitement. “Oh, I can’t wait to see us on TV! The way we show our love for our people in every scene!”

“It probably won’t be as good without me in it,” I pointed out. “I’m surprised you didn’t just keep mine.”

“And I know that Phalla will look beautiful in each shot,” Frank Myrth smiled, wiggling an eyebrow.

“Shh! It’s starting!” I hissed.

On TV, Phalla smiled as she stood with the group in front of the hotel sans Leeson. They were all dressed in blue, purple and white 1920’s outfits. (Core made Stalaro create them with his magic once he found out about their project, go figure.)

“Welcome to the heavenly Haven Hotel!” Phalla began, before the screen buzzed and cut to the 777News logo and choir music. Everyone groaned in anger.

Catie Carejoy and Ron Wrench appeared on screen, a black-haired woman wearing a blue dress and a male angel with wheels for a head, holding a wrench in his hands and wearing a gray suit. Three black menacing Exorcists appeared on an image on the screen with “EXTERMINATION” under it in red.

“Breaking news in Hazbin Hell today,” reported Catie Carejoy. “We have just received word from the angel messenger council that the next Extermination is happening sooner than ever before. Hell’s princess Charlie Morningstar met with the arrogant canon version of Adam, who, after being upset about the murder of one of his Exorcists, decided to move it up to six months. As expected, her idea to redeem Sinners at her hotel has not yet shown any progress.”

“Do you know what that means, Catie?” asked Ron Wrench.

“No, what does that mean, Ron?”

“It means they are totally screwed!”

“But…we’re safe, right?”

“Of course we are. We’re talking about a different universe here. Though…still keep your eyes peeled for Satanics. They may get fired up after hearing of war in other worlds. Remember, they can transform angels of all kinds into demons…”

“…even pretty royal princesses…” Leeson grinned in my head, making me briefly flinch in horror. He snickered at his use of telepathy. One of my greatest fears was turning into one of…them. I could almost feel sorry for Hazbin Adam and his future demonic fate. (Angels can see future events, too, just not future events in our own universe, which is pathetic.)

“Anyway, goodbye Hazbin Sinners…” Catie Carejoy finished with a worried look.

Recovering, I laughed manically in excitement and Leeson did a “go figure” look while the rest of the group howled in horror.

“Come on guys! This is great!” I declared, standing up. “Those Sinners are getting what they deserve!”

“But they are still human souls…” Phalla countered.

“Being murdered by their own kind if the Exorcists are ex-human!” Stalaro said, suddenly not passive.

“Not too different than the Sinners who die in our Hell,” I shrugged.

“The Hazbin Sinners are more relatable and less…monstrous,” Phalla argued. “Based on what they have shown us on TV.”

“They are not supposed to be. They had their chance on Earth!”

“I have to agree with princess here,” Leeson said with an eerie slim smile. “There is no mercy for the dammed.”

“Then why allow them second chances anyway?” asked Klutzy. “Why allow Hazbin Sinners immortality and free will to do what they want in Hell and not learn their lessons?”

“Because Lucifer is a goofy moron clown,” I replied. “At least, the canon version. Insult our Lucifer and you’ll be turned into a snack.”

“Being stuck in their habits in their world isn’t a good thing. Ironically…” Stalaro began. “In the Hazbin world, Sinners who die noble deaths and overcome their vices can be turned into angels. They only have to do it once. In our universe, they have to prove themselves many times in different ways to make sure it sticks.”

“But they can still die a second death!” I exclaimed.

“Or repent. Or redeem. Or reincarnate. The choices are endless,” said Stalaro.

“So…there is free will…?” I pondered.

“Rather like…more forced choices,” Phalla worded.

“More options…more free will,” I stated. “No use sympathizing with people we don’t know about, especially other demons.”

I stretched and yawned after a pause. “Thanks for a good for nothing commercial, since, you know, there was nothing to see! I’m going to bed.” I strolled off, leaving behind my bewildered and worried group.

“What are we gonna do?” Phalla whispered in a low concerned voice. “I love Coercia, but she only cares about herself and doing what she wants. And she doesn’t care about any human souls.”

“But there’s us,” Klutzy said. “We all used to live on Earth.”

“Yeah, but she’s a Heavenborn, after all,” said Stalaro.

“Not all Heavenborns are stuck-up,” Phalla said. “Jesus always spread the message of second chances…’love thy neighbor.’ What if even faraway demons are our greater neighbors?”

“Coercia hates humans and demons,” said Leeson. “I’m only here because Coercia enjoyed my Bible talks and how we both like Adina. You know, the demon-hating lady. And Core is joining because he likes helping people.”

“I’m here because Core dragged me along,” Stalaro whimpered.

“I’m here because it’s free room and board from…sexy royalty,” Klutzy added with a smirk.

“I’m here because I admire Coercia’s incredible discipline and her army,” Frank Myrth added.

“And I’m here because I’ve been her only outside servant and friend,” Phalla said. “Although she can be mean…I still don’t want her to…fall.”

The group sat in stunned silence. Stalaro stroked the white dog’s fur and he smiled softly.

“Very weird how such an arrogant rebel could bring a group of angelic misfits together,” Frank Myrth mentioned. “I think we should give her a chance. I mean, if all goes wrong, we can all at least walk out.”

“But she can overpower us all,” Stalaro worried.

“Let’s just be on our best behavior,” Phalla added. “Coercia may be bossy, but she has good intentions. She does want her people safe from the Satanics. And she does care about others having freedom almost as much as for herself.”

Frank Myrth pondered and then smiled. “You really do see the good in people, don’t you?”

Phalla smiled. “Trust is what I do best. So…you guys with me?”

Everyone nodded.

“Then it’s settled. Let the Haven Hotel’s grand opening begin! Tomorrow, of course.”

Everyone yawned in agreement and headed to bed.

[midnightkens]

For a one word prompt: Deer

~gk<3

Colt grips the steering wheel so tightly that it creaks under his grip. Ken gives him a soft smile and rubs his shoulder. It's Thanksgiving, and Colt's mother somehow talked him into coming to Seattle for the holiday. They decided to make a road trip out of it, though as they got closer to Washington, Colt insisted on driving.

"You've never driven in snow," Colt says firmly. "It's slippery and dangerous and...It's just better if I do it."

Ken could have figured it out. He's a good driver. But he knows Colt, and knows what he needs. Driving provides a distraction from the anxiety. Ken's only met Julie once, and frankly, that had been enough, but Colt needs support. His mother, stepfather, and younger half-siblings can be intense. Colt's a pro at handling intensity under normal circumstances, but his family brings out a side of him that he keeps hidden from the world.

Colt claims that his family of origin doesn't bother him. Ken sees the fear, though. It's the way his posture stiffens, the way his eyes go blank. Ken's seen that look in the mirror far too many times.

They're in a rural part of the state. Some part of Ken admits that maybe Colt was right - the snowy terrains are nothing like the canyons and mountains of California. Even when they slide on black ice, Colt doesn't panic.

"See why I wanted to drive?" Ken's eyes are closed, but he feels Colt's smirk and huffs. "I was riiiiiight."

"A right pain in my ass," Ken mutters. He opens his eyes and straightens up. Despite his nerves, he has to admit that the scenery is beautiful. They're surrounded by trees cloaked in snow. It reminds him of something out of those Hallmark movies Barbie pretends not to like. It's serene.

"Aw, look!" Colt points to something ahead of him, and Ken's eyes widen in delight. In front of them is a family of deer, a mama guiding her babies safely to shelter. Ken's only seen them in movies. The mama eyes the car like she's sizing them up before crossing the road.

Ken pulls out his phone and snaps a few photos. "They're so cute!" One of the babies skids a bit on the ice, but quickly rights herself, and Ken grins. "Like something out of a movie."

When Ken turns his head, he notices Colt staring at him fondly. "What?"

"I'm just happy you're here," Colt says. His voice is so soft that Ken has to lean in to hear him. "I don't think I could do this without you."

Ken takes Colt's hand and lifts it to his lips, planting a feather-light kiss on his knuckles. "Anything for you, honey."

[zoeyslament]

siblings, right?

zoey gets careless at a family gathering and zach stages a little intervention. these two love (hate) each other i swear

“So, were you ever planning to tell me about her?” 

The words felt like bullets being fired into Zoey’s skin. She sat next to Zach on their mother’s old red leather sofa, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“Zoey Mariah Chambers. Look at me.” She winced at the usage of her middle name. He was staring at her, not with any contempt, mostly just confusion.

“What, Zach? You want me to drop everything and tell you all the shit I’ve worked so hard to hide from you?”

“That would be nice, yeah.” He shrugged. “Come on, let’s go outside, talk away from Mima.”

He tugged on her sleeve. “We’re gonna go for a walk! Sibling bonding or something!” He announced to the rest of their family. He only saw one head turn: Zoey’s little redheaded ‘friend’ who she’d brought along to meet the family. Dumb fucking move, or at least Zach thought so.

Once they made it outside, he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “You are so lucky no one saw that. You’re underestimating how much you have to sneak around in this family, Zoey. Do you know how hard it is for me to be here right now? You over-privileged asshole!”

She looked down at her feet. “Jesus, I didn’t know you’d get like this.”

“You outing me made my life so fucking hard, Zoey, do you realize that? And now you think you can go prancing around with that girl, showing her off? You’re gonna ruin your life, mom and dad are gonna cut contact with both of us.”

“I never told them what’s going on between me and Stel.” Zoey rolled her eyes. “As far as the rest of the family is concerned, she’s my friend and she didn’t have somewhere to go for Thanksgiving dinner.”

“And yet you shoved her against the dining room wall when they weren’t looking? You’re walking on thin ice. I just hope you know that.” 

He turned and started to walk back to the house, before suddenly whipping back around to Zoey. “I knew before you brought her.”

“Hm, Zachary?” Zoey followed him close behind.

“I said I knew you were a lesbian. You’re careless.” He smirked. “It’s a miracle mom found out about me before you.” 

“Like you’re any better, mr “I had a crush on the red power ranger”. You played with my Barbies!”

“Only after you were done kicking out the Kens and making the Barbies kiss.” He reminded her, and she just scoffed.

“Whatever.”

“Whatever is right. I’m still pissed at you. And…a little bit worried about you. Tell your girlfriend I said hi.”

[usoppsasscheek]

I miss being a kid.

I miss the feeling of my pajamas hugging my skin and every imperfection on my body, but I never cared because it felt so good to feel the somewhat tight clothes against my skin.

I miss when I sat at the dinner table before my father pushed my chair in as far as I wanted to so I could feel the table right up against my chest.

I miss sprinting outside with my sister when we heard the ice-cream truck from our rooms, my grandpa following along so he could pay for us.

I miss when I used to cry and cling onto my grandfather when he tried to drop me off at school, because I never wanted to leave his side.

I miss when I could eat whatever I wanted without worrying about what I looked like or how many calories something had, I merely enjoyed it.

I miss dancing around and singing while my family laughed with me, filming me on their phones so they’d be able to look back on the memories.

I miss when I used to run to my dollhouse to play with my Barbies the second I got home from school, after thinking about playing with them all day.

I miss making funny videos with my father everyday, us making silly faces or dancing around.

I miss when me and my family would all sit together and have brunch with lots of food every Sunday, no matter what.

I miss how easy and simple everything was.

now I wear baggy pajamas to hide my disgusting, imperfect body that I hate and cry over oh so much.

now I push my own chair in at the dinner table, some days not eating at all.

now I ignore the sound of the ice-cream truck blaring through the windows, its music taunting me to cave in and restart my cycle of binge eating.

now I tell my grandfather goodbye and that I love him as he drops me off infront of my high school every morning.

now I check how many calories I eat in a day, and how much I let myself indulge in food.

now I stay inside of my room, trying to ignore the screams of my grandmother as she fights with my grandfather on a daily basis.

now I frown at the sight of my old, beaten up toys that do nothing but grow dust in a corner of my basement, only being touched every once in awhile when my cousins come over.

now I stare at my father as he yells at me for merely refusing to give him the television remote.

now I can’t remember the last time my family has sat down to eat together at the table, let alone have brunch.

I miss my childhood,

I miss being happy.

[marshmallowprotection]

Very very important question:

What are the Mysme characters favorite barbie movies?

Bonus, what are your OC’s favorite barbie movies?

Finally. A question that fulfills two of my special interests. So, let’s think about this using every Barbie film since 2001 since there are a lot of materials to think about and plenty of characters to consider.

So, I guess we’ll start off with these group’s gamer boy, Yoosung. I feel like you could get him invested in more of a modern era Barbie so the films after 2009. Cliche but, Video Game Hero has a whole story arc about solving video games by programming as you venture in a plot that’s better than anything SAO could ever dream to be. Let’s get Yoosung into more games instead of leaving him to climb through LOLOL.

Jaehee deserves Barbie & the Diamond Castle film. Which is, hands-down, one of the more sapphic films in the series. What’s more powerful than learning how to work together with your best friend, singing songs and finding yourselves in a world of chaos? Nothing, you’re right. It’s what she deserves and this would be a great watch as Jaehee starts to realize more of her romantic inclinations toward MC.

Zen is one I would give to Swan Lake. I feel like he would be able to identify with that story in more ways than one. Feeling trapped and unable to live the life he wants because he seems to be nothing more than an “oddity” instead of a guy with a huge heart that shines on stage. It doesn’t matter if he feels “Cursed,” he will make the best of his situation, just as Odette does in that film since it has a much brighter ending then the original ballet does.

I know what you’re thinking here and you’re going to ask, hey, what would I give to Jumin? Well, you’re in luck. I’ll be happy to inform you that he’s getting to sit back, relax, and engage with Princess and the Pauper. I feel like he enjoys the aspect of the original story, but now they’ve added charm to it with cats and that happens to be easy to watch with Elizabeth. But, really, he would enjoy watching two worlds collide and the lessons that come from realizing everyone could have a way of relating to each other if given a chance.

Saeyoung would love Star Light Adventure, hands down. It’s the Barbie sci-fi films of the century and since it’s one of the more modern films, it doesn’t get a lot of love or attention. But, Saeyoung would love the hell out of this movie for a lot of reason I can’t spoil to you. But, let me tell you, he would love to be Barbie in this situation, surfing the stars to save space from losing its glimmer... and the little pet sidekick is cute.

V is one you’re gonna need to hear out. Okay, so, Magic of Pegasus is probably the most sassy Barbie film ever. She is a stubborn girl who dreams of nothing in this life but ice skating, but when her family and life is threatened by a wizard, it turns out she has to learn more about her family and the curse that came to take them away. Conflict happens in more ways than one, and I think V would be able to see his younger self in this movie, as well as his current self, the one who is at his wits end trying to decide what’s good for him. Literally the comeback and all the quips in this film are teenage V.

GE Saeran is my love. Therefore, I’m giving him Rapunzel since that’s always a story he can relate to. I appreciate that this Rapunzel has the ability to draw and paint her way to her freedom with a magic paintbrush set, and he would love that brand of whimsy once it was shown to him. Also, this movie has a dragon... who doesn’t like dragons? I debated if there would be a better option for him but this is what makes the most sense to me.

Vanderwood is my most cliche answer by far since Spy Squad is a movie about spies. But, I feel like this movie would be comforting to him somehow. Just this thought of Vanderwood thinking about how he wishes that the job had more a lot more like this, not corrupted, just doing good for others and not losing yourself to despair and death. It’s a movie where Vanderwood claims to be hate-watching it but... not really. There’s something about plucky spies who are too happy for the sake of it... cough cough, reminds him of the brat.

Rika... might be another cliche decision but i feel like this is the best choice in this situation. Barbie did a take on the Christmas Carol, and it’s about an opera singer instead. I feel like Rika would like this film despite how many already are aware of the plot, simply because this story is about a girl who has friends, but her trauma and frustration with the past begin to isolate her from the people in her life who love her. I think Rika needs a reminder that she’s more than all of her anguish and fear, and seeing someone overcome that and get her closest friends back could do wonders.

Bonus OCs!

Lila gets The Nutcracker, not just because it was my favorite as a child, but because there’s a lot of warmth in the story itself. It’s about not giving up when you’re faced with impossible circumstance. She would be able to do that since she’s the Saeran MC, you know? She has a heart that won’t shatter when the going gets tough. Yet, she would never be able to believe she was a princess... much like how Clara in the story doesn’t realize she’s the Sugarplum Princess until her strength reveals itself in the last second.

Judas... yeah, we already know he’s going to say that Princess Charm School would be his favorite. I assume it’s because he sometimes wishes that he had been born to better parents who cared for him instead of the ones he had. It’s a cruel dream of his to discover his parents weren’t really his parents at all, but it’ll never be the case. So, he can project onto Barbie who gets to live happily with a lot of friends and a newfound family that wanted her from the start. Of course, it’s got to have drama, too, which is why the conflict here as why this princess was far from her kingdom is right for him.

Minji is our down to earth girl. I’m giving her both of the Mermaid Tale movies as they’re both very enjoyable films that she’d take to like bread and butter. This is a series about a surfer who discovers her mother is a mermaid, and tries to find her way back to her only to discover the kingdom is in need of help. I will say it’s enemies to lovers in the second film when you meet Barbie’s newest rival and it happens to be one of Minji’s favorite tropes in media. You would think I might be thinking of a more food centric Barbie movie, but, nope, it’s about sports!

[quokkacafe]

One Night Stand Pt. 1

>Summary: You have had nothing but horrible luck lately and it is time to let loose. You take all your courage stored up and decide to go to the bar down the block and let anything happen. Who knew that you would meet a handsome music producer and have the night of your life.

>F!Reader x Bang Chan.

>Word Count: 1k

>Warnings: mild sexism in workforce, cheating (ex-boyfriend), suggested alcohol use.

>Notes: This is my first ever fic published to my account. I did not know Tumblr would have a character limit on the posts so...this will be in multiple parts. Nevertheless, I will have all parts posted back to back. Please bare with me as I am new to the cite and will be learning as I go. Constructive criticism and recommendations are always accepted. Hope you enjoy part 1!

Your day sucked, your week sucked, your month sucked. Everything lately has just sucked. Not only were you denied one of the largest company promotions that was offered yearly, for the third year in a row, your boss suggested pulling longer hours because “women need the hours to get the attention.” That alone made you want to punch a hole in your thin cubicle wall. The only thing holding you back from doing so was the end of the week date you had planned with your boyfriend. That same boyfriend you found out just 2 days later was prancing around the city park with a blonde hair, plump lipped, obviously money hungry, plastic Barbie of a woman. You held back the urge, once again, to use your fist as a way to communicate your emotions. Your fist was the perfect “fuck you” for the guy who had obviously lead you on for 6 months. But, to act more “ladylike,” you chose the easiest route. A long, strongly worded text, followed by a lovely large red block button on anything that had his name or face plastered on it. If that wasn’t the worst timeline of events, your parents had called tonight letting you know that they needed you home from the city very soon. Their family business was bought out by a much larger corporation and needed your help to move the rest of the inventory out. Your family had owned this company since before you were born and was practically a second home to you. Your parent’s did not seem to be phased by this change, in fact seemed relieved to finally retire. However, this was the final straw that you needed to plummet into a full blown emotional spiral. Not one where you cry into your pillow and eat buckets of ice cream until you feel like vomiting. One of the spirals where all you see is red.

You see the little black dress in the back of your closet that seemed ever so tempting. You see your hair slicked back into a high ponytail, a stark contrast from your usual attire of loose curls covering much of your face to seem as least amount of attention grabbing as possible. After all the build up you had to endure for the longest time, it was time to let loose. Who knew how much longer you’d be in the city anyway. The heels seemed to slip on a little too easily and the door to your studio apartment seemed to slam louder than ever before. You did not care. You were off to get as drunk as possible at the club just one block from you.

continued in part 2:

[duunswitch]

WHAT NOT TO DO WHEN INTERACTING WITH MY BLOG - Customizable Edition

BASICS !

Name / Alias: Kelpy, though you may also know me as Newt or Ven!

Pronouns: they/them, though I'll also accept she/her since I'm not out among family

Blog type: single muse | Multi-muse | non selective | semi selective | selective | mutuals only | private | other

Type of muses: canon | OCs | both| other (specify)

GENERALITIES !

Triggers people MUST tag: Dolls, specifically porcelain and BJD. Lifelike dolls as well; toys like barbie are fine.

Interest tracker / checker: I have it and it’s mandatory | I have it, it’s not mandatory but I’m more likely to follow back / interact with the people who fill it | I have one and I prefer it if people fill it in | I have it but it’s up to people whether to fill it or not | I don’t have one | other (specify)

Reblog karma: I practice it | I practice it sometimes | I don’t practice it | I always reblog memes from the source | indifferent | other (specify)

Rule passwords: I have one and it’s mandatory | I have one and it’s optional | I don’t have one | I send passwords | don’t sent passwords

3-5 ESSENTIAL RULES PEOPLE HAVE TO RESPECT

I have no sleep schedule, please don't try to match my reply speed bc I reply immediately a lot of the time and do not expect people to do the same.

Mutuals mean mutuals only.

I'm small and anxious so I tend not to reach out first a lot of the time; I promise I don't bite though so you should definitely just kick in my inbox and forcibly befriend me. I promise I'll be happy about it.

Sometimes I'm like a rat terrier with a rat about subjects; if you're tired of hearing about it just tell me to shut up lmao. autism means I don't always recognize the cues and need to be told straight up that I'm doing a thing

I'm just a small seaweed, please be gentle

3-5 IMPORTANT PET PEEVES TO KEEP IN MIND

Despite my best attempts, I promise I'm not stupid. Please don't treat me like a child; lmao I had an ex friend treat me like I was an idiotic 5 year old at a con once bc we got separated and never have I wanted to punch someone so badly. Don't condescend to me. If you do chances are I'll go silent and you'll never hear from me again.

Acting like I owe you my time! I'm always willing to interact and yell w/ people, I promise! I'm really excited to interact with people at all times, but more than once I've had other muses both IC and OOC act like I/my muse owed them all of my time and energy and that always ends in a block. 

Please be legible posts lmao. I have bad eyesight, don't make it worse.

2-5 THINGS THAT WILL LEAD TO INSTANT (SOFT)BLOCKING

Lack of respect. Treating me like I'm an idiot/child, or not respecting my time.

Not actually giving me equal effort. I absolutely do not expect anyone to match my length and definitely not my reply speed lmao but if I give you a couple paras, please don't slap down one line and call it good. UNLESS you can give me enough to work with in said line for a reply. (Legit once had someone reply to a ten para starter with two lines and MAN did that kill a muse.)

Harassing me/friends over people they're RPing with or ships we have. If someone is genuinely dangerous that's one thing, then sure lemme know privately but showing up on anon or posting vagues about it doesn't get you the result you think it does.

2-5 THINGS THAT LEAD ME TO UNFOLLOW / SOFTBLOCK A MUTUAL / SOMEONE I INTERACT WITH

Yoinking my icons/other stuff. Unless otherwise specified, I make everything myself. I've had icons drawn specifically for me by friends as a bday gift stolen more than once in other fandoms, and it's annoying.

Forceshipping. I promise, I'm super easy to ship with; I see two characters interact once and my brain's already going "hey what if they kiss tho" within three posts if they have the chemistry for it so if you're interested then just say so! Forcing it when I/the muse clearly aren't interested tho, no pls.

Not tagging things, or being an asshole about people politely requesting you tag a trigger for them. Your blog so if you don't wanna tag triggers alright, but don't be a dick about saying no. 

2-5 REASON YOU DON’T FOLLOW (BACK) SOMEONE

I don’t know your muse, our styles wouldn’t click, or I’m not a fan of a lot of the content you post. I like to keep my dash clean with people I know and those I can see myself writing with.

I know you from before and you’re someone I haven’t had good interactions with. I've been in many fandoms on tumblr in the last decade or so in the RP comm, and surprise I do in fact recognize distinct rp styles; if you're known for being a predator or anything in another fandom, there's a high chance I know and I've been there to watch it happen. I know who you are, you aren't fooling me with a new blog and a new alias.

I didn’t see you follow; tumblr's bad at doing it's job so I may not have noticed. Or I did, but you're a personal with an RP sideblog and didn't post anywhere where your RP blog is so I don't know there's an RP blog to follow.

tagged by: @pseudomonacarriea tagging: theft!

[thistleandthorn-rpg]

Congrats (and welcome back) Emma with your application for Barbie Blossom! Please check out this page here for more information and send us her blog within 48 hours! Welcome back!!

OOC INFORMATION:

Name/Alias: Emma Preferred pronoun: She/her Age: 31 Timezone/Country: EST/US RP Experience: Loads Activity Level: 7, school and work.

IC INFORMATION:

Name: Barbara Ivy Blossom Designation: Dominant Age: 21 Faceclaim: Madelaine Petsch Birthday: 1/7 Orientation: Bisexual with a preference for girls Kinks: Strapons, orgasm control, denial and forced, cnc and spanking Anti-Kinks: Feet, vore, gore, vomit

BIO:

Barbara Ivy Blossom was the oldest born to her parents  and she never really understood why they named their triplets out of order, but she tried not to focus on it much. Barbie always had a love for school and politics, both of which were some of the only things that could tear her father’s attention from her siblings  and onto her. She was much closer to her mother and her father’s other submissive than she was to him. Growing up in south, the rules were clear. The system brought order to their world and that was needed. Her father was someone who wrote the rules and made sure policy was up to date and par. She was also part of the elite and famous, her father well known and liked by all. He was a strong dominant who led by example and enforced the very policies he wrote in their home. This made the girl work even harder, knowing she was a direct reflection on her family’s name. Barbie was a proud girl her entire life and even more determined. She wanted to make everyone around her proud. Growing up pampered made her prime. Sometimes it was as easy as walking into a room to demand the attention one needed. Her lifestyle allowed her to be the perfect princess. Some people would have become bitter with their family, two parents who were often not around or when they were, working on some important project but Barbie became manipulative, spinning anything to her advantage. She knew that there wasn’t anything like love in the world. She wanted to always be seen as gregarious and sociable, be the girl who got invited out to dinner and tea all the time. Even if she might be a little high maintenance, weird and high strung. Barbie lived the life many people could only dreamed about and she loved it. She could have graduated high school earlier, but chose to stay on and take college credit classes. She graduated at the top of her class and with enough credits to start her politics classes once she turned 17. Barbie is someone who is used to being respected by people and her cleverness mixed with charm made her irresistible to people. She was smart, a socialite with a brain and dangerous. Now she’s balancing living in the shadow of her father’s name and also making her own name, especially because she planned to take over his seat whenever he decided to retire, so her life was spent understanding the human brain and politics. She knew where her future was and it was following her father’s footsteps, a successful powerhouse dominant. The first thing she needs to do is get a respectable claim to help with this journey.

BIO QUESTIONS:

What are your feelings about the mark you have received?  - I am very confident in my mark. I’ve watched my father for years closely and had the privilege of knowing many dominants throughout my life. Now, I don’t know many female dominants but the ones that I do make me feel confident I can easily lead someone else and find a partner who can support me as well. The only hesitation I have  is being able to do my family name well.

How do your feelings on the system compare to your parents’ feelings on it?   - We share the same feelings, minus my father doesn’t think women in charge is the best thing. I disagree with him, as I like women who know what they are, want and will go after it. I’ve managed to appreciate the company of those women at my schools and I don’t agree that men are better dominants because of a penis. However, I can see why some of the weaker, more emotional female dominants give us a bad name.

Where do you see yourself after you graduate?     - I always wanted to moved to Washington and do politics. However, I also want to serve the good people from my hometown. So we’ll see where I go realistically. Either place will be really good for me and I’ll have my claim and be working in politics. I think that my life will be very impressive.

How do you feel about authority?   - I don’t have a problem with it, though at times it can be annoying. As someone who tends to think she is right, it can be hard knowing someone disagrees with you and has their own vision, but what if  they’re right? I have to remember that even the president has advisors and I need that as well.

[chill-that-ur-inmyhead]

Are you between the ages of 30 & 40?

Not yet :)

What was your favourite Saturday morning cartoon growing up?

As to whether it was Saturday morning I am unsure, but Scooby Doo immediately pops into my head

What was your favourite toy as a child?

All my barbies

In High School, did you wear acid washed jeans?

I had a uniform in secondary school and I think I missed the acid wash jeans trend

How much was a gallon of gasoline when you first started driving?

Mmmm whatever the prices were in 2021 UK.

What was your first car?

I drove my mum's ford fiesta but have yet to buy and own my first car and already planning a mini countryman green or black preferably but probs will just take whatever I can afford at the time haha

Who taught you how to drive?

My mum sat alongside me but just practice and I had three different instructors (due to moving around)

What was your high school mascot?

We did not have one , or I suppose you could say it was Jesus as a catholic school. Haha

Did you go to your Senior Prom?

I did go to prom

What did you do after graduation?

Tried to find a job but it was the pandemic so took me some time

What was your first job?

Worked in Gap part time during uni

What did you want to be when you grew up?

Working for Vogue

Any posters on your bedroom walls growing up?

YES! In fact, for a time I had wall to wall posters of the classic pop mainstream celebs, Taylor, 1D, Justin Bieber, Katy Perry, Beyonce etc

Do you remember the first time you drank a beer?

Probs tried some whenever my mum had some maybe 18 but didn't like it

Did you ever try cigarettes?

Nope

How did you spend your summers growing up?

Usually we would go on holiday mainly in the UK and to see extended family.

If you could change anything from your teenage years, would you?

I would start learning to drive earlier!

Do you remember your first time?

Yes

Ever look back and wish some things were still the same?

Yes, I miss socialising with friends and meeting new people. I am currently unemployed and so my days are mostly spent looking for jobs alone. I didn't realise how surrounded by people I was and how much I would miss it until it was gone. Life is taking a slower pace right now.

After high school - straight to college or straight to work?

Uni

How much did you make per hour at your first job?

Pretty sure it was £8 something an hour

Favourite home-cooked meal growing up?

Fish fingers classic!

Favourite place to eat out growing up?

Pizza Hut - the ice cream machine was unlimited refills

Did your parents live in a different country before you were born?

Nope

Do you have a preferred coffee brand?

Nope

Have you ever dated someone who was terrible with money?

Nope

If so, how did it affect the relationship?

How often do you paint your nails?

I go to the salon just over once a month

Do you know anyone who’s related to a current or former world leader?

Not that I know of off the top of my head

What is something you don’t have any natural talent for?

Balance sport - skateboarding, surfing etc which sucks

Did you watch this year’s Eurovision?

Nope

Have there been any periods in your life that could be described as being chaotic?

Yes, pretty sure I have consistently had chaotic moments throughout

What is something you frequently forget?

I would say I am pretty good at remembering most things, I write things down in my calendar. Maybe when my life picks up the pace a little, I will start forgetting things.

If I looked in your fridge right now, what would I find?

Cheese, yoghurt, peppers, cucumber, celery, hummus, milk and much more. Very much an ingredient household.

How do you feel about your body?

Yikes. It is a work in progress. I'm trying to get into an active routine but I know it will change when I get a job.

Who is someone you would like to get to know better?

I don't think I have met them yet!

What is something that turned out for the best recently?

My friend invited me last minute to see Renee Rapp in London. I technically was busy but could have rearranged things if I really wanted. I said that 2024 was the year where I wanted to see more artists live but I am glad I didn't go because:

The tickets were standing and I'm not about that rock n roll life, much prefer seated tickets, that way I'm not packed into a crowd like a sardine. I watched a live stream of the concert and I joined at a moment where there was a break, for the concert employees to give out water to the crowd because it was so hot in the venue. Just from the concert stream I was feeling claustrophobic! (Maybe 2024 will be about learning about myself better and being okay with it!)

It is an hours journey into London and the venue was North London so essentially it adds an extra 30 mins to the journey time. Living at home means my sociable hours are limited to during daylight but as soon as it is night, I am indoors. Ofc when I move out I will go to any event at any time mostly because I won't have the stress of getting back at a certain time and feel guilty if I am keeping anyone up. And ofc there will be plenty of opportunities later in the year to see artists live, this won't be the last time :)

If you had to move to a new city, where would you move?

I would love to live and work in Paris for a while.

Have you ever travelled on a double-decker train?

I think the train from Paris to Versailles was a double decker.

What’s your opinion on assisted suicide?

Pro

At what point do you consider a relationship to be ‘long-term?’

After the first year mark.

What jobs did your parents have when you were growing up?

IT jobs

Do they still have these jobs? Or different jobs? Or have they retired?

Both retired.

Do you own any winter sports equipment?

Not yet but love to get into skiing.

Do you have a cell contract plan, or are you on a pre-paid plan?

Umm I own my phone and just pay monthly.

[survey--s]

636.

Think back to yesterday, what were you doing around this time? I was at work - walking Bailey, Bobby & Red.

What was the last thing you watched on the TV? I'm currently watching The Hobbit but if you're talking about TV shows, then it was Keeping Up Appearances last night.

Do you think pets can get annoying easily? Hmm, I wouldn't say annoying but sometimes it's just like...MOVE lol.

Did you know that pickles have no calories? According to Google, pickles have 11 calories per 100 grams.

Do you enjoy family get togethers? My family doesn't really do get togethers. My biological family all live abroad (except my parents) and my in-laws aren't particularly close as a group.

In a group of three, do you often feel like the third wheel? It depends on the group.

What color are your pants? Black.

Is there snow on the ground where you are? No, but it definitely feels like autumn now. It was 11 degrees when I went out a couple of hours ago.

What is keeping you warm right now? A blanket, fuzzy socks and a cat, lol. You know it's cold when Toby voluntarily comes and cuddles with you.

Has anyone bought you a piece of jewelry? Yes, several times.

How far away is your next birthday? Two months, ten days.

Do you have plans for that birthday yet? No, though I do actually have the day off for once. I'll probably go for lunch with Mike or something, that's what we normally do.

When did you last take a shower? About two and a half hours ago.

Have you ever been to the Grand Canyon? No.

Have you ever flown somewhere alone? Yeah, quite a few times. It felt weird at first but it was quite fun really.

Are you more serious or funny? It depends on the situation? I guess on here I come across as quite serious though.

Is there someone that annoys you but you haven’t told them? Hahah yes.

When is garbage day in your area? Alternate Mondays, and then alternate Thursdays for recycling.

Who/What was the last thing to really irritate you? I don't remember the last time I was genuinely really irritated.

Do you think people either love or hate spongebob? Haha yeah, I guess so. I go through phases. It's good for a kids show but sometimes it does annoy me - I think because it's quite repetitive.

Have you seen that new “Lie To Me” show? No.

What is something you’d rather be doing right now? I'm happy just having a chill day at home - it's been a crazy week.

Do you find that people are too hard on you? No.

Do you take surveys often? I rarely take any during the week unless I'm off work. I normally do all my surveys between Friday and Sunday.

Do you tend to slam things around when you’re mad? I used to, but not so much anymore.

Do you know anyone who hates/dislikes chocolate? Yeah, a few people. I'm not a huge fan - I mean, I like but it but all seems to have palm oil in it now so it's just greasy and bleurgh.

Could you vote in this last election? Yes.

Have you taken a shower today? Yes.

How much sleep did you get last night? About eight hours.

Do you have more girl friends or guy friends? Girl.

What is your current mood? Relaxed.

Is there anything on your mind at the moment? I can't believe it's October tomorrow and I'm already wearing fuzzy socks and winter jumpers.

Are there any movies out that you’d like to see? I still need to see the Barbie movie.

Have you ever been on a website called Stickam? No. I know what it is though.

Have you ever hated yourself? Yeah, I was a very dramatic teenager lol.

Are you hungry? Not really, I had breakfast just over an hour ago.

Did your parents ever ground you? No.

Where was the last place you went out to eat? The local ice-cream/coffee place.

Have you ever felt like you needed a better life than the one you have? I have felt like that in the past, yeah.

Do you own an MP3 player of some kind? No, I just use Spotify on my phone.

Do you have a moment in your life you wish you could replay over again? No.

Have you ever been in a play? If so, did you like it? Yeah, all the time in school. I loved it. I still enjoy theatre and musicals even as an adult.

What is one musical artist you wish wasn’t making music? I don't really care. I just don't listen to artists I dislike.

When was the last time you cleaned something? This morning - I cleared out the litter trays, washed the dishes and vacuumed the living room. And rinsed out the shower and did a load of laundry.

Have you ever been so sick you had to be taken to the hospital? Not sick, but injured.

Do you like your smile? Not really.

Do you have someone that you think truly understands you? Sure.

When was the last time you doubted yourself? Walking two particular dogs together but it turned out absolutely fine once they had treats lol.

Is there anything currently bothering you? Not really. I had a bit of a headache but it's finally fading.

Would you say that you’ve got something ‘special’ about you? I don't really think anyone is particularly special, to be honest. We're all just people.

Who was the last person to cheer you up when you were down? I can't remember.

Are you scared of what you do not know? No.

Is there anything in the next six months that you’re looking forward to? Yes! Going to the theatre next weekend, my birthday in December and then Christmas break a week later.

Were you/are you popular in high school? I was not.

Do you really care what people think about you? I mean, I don't want people to think badly of me, but equally I'm not bothered if they like me or not.

Do you find yourself treating others like you’d want to be treated? I try to, but it doesn't always work out that way.

Are you constantly envious of others? Not really.

Are you more of a whiner with things or a do’er of things? I do them - I mean, I might complain but nobody else is going to do my shit for me lol.

List three of your favorite TV shows: Friends, Black Books, Keeping Up Appearances.

Would your friends say you’re a relaxed person or stressed? Relaxed, I guess?

What do you find yourself worrying most about these days? I don't really worry about much, to be quite honest. I guess Simba as he's proven to have a really sensitive stomach unlike the others who can just eat anything lol.

Would you say it’s hard to earn your trust? It’s easy for me to trust people and just as easy for me to take it away. <--- yeah, that sums it up really.

Who was the last person to compliment you? Suzanne.

Anything interesting happen this past week? Not particularly, it was just a normal working week.

When was the last time you felt scared? Last week when I had to reverse up a horrible single-track road and around a blind bend. EURGH. My legs were shaking so badly but I did it and I actually did it quite well even though there were like three other cars watching me. I surprised myself hahah.

What’s on your mind this very second? I need a wee.

Do you know the difference between ‘your’ and ‘you’re’? Yes.

Do you correct other people’s grammar/spelling when talking to them online? Never.

Is bacon one of your favorite foods? No. I do like it though.

Are you one of those people who like to sleep in on the weekends? I like to sleep in a bit later but I wouldn't want to waste half my day in bed - I'm normally up by 9am on the weekends if I'm not working.

Do you like things vampire related? No.

Have you ever cussed at a parent or teacher? Yes.

When was the last time you saw snow? Last winter sometime. I think we had snow in March?

Have you ever felt stupid after saying something? Yes.

Do you find yourself cold at the moment? Not anymore, but I was earlier. I refuse to put the heating on yet though.

Are your nails currently long? No, I cut them yesterday.

Are you the kind of person who does not like talking about their past? It depends who I'm talking to.

Do you have long slender fingers or short chunky ones? Longer and slender ones.

Do you think your foot size fits your body type? Yeah, I guess so?

Are you the competitive type? I can be - especially when playing Monopoly for some reason lol.

Are you more of a mommy’s person or a daddy’s person? I was a daddy's girl growing up, but now I'm definitely closer to my mum and we have much more in common.

[littlewalken]

Sep 21

Started rewriting the boy band story in preparation for typing it. The way this one worked is I did a draft by hand from my notes (this story has had several drafts over the years but was stripped back down to plot points and notes for reasons) and the next draft is also being hand written. I'm still tidying up and trying out a few things and it's easier to go back over hand written notes right now.

Once I finish this next draft and let it rest I should be able to type it in to the computer then print out a copy so I'll have a version on hand just in case. Of what? Exactly. Last house had a week long black out because someone decided they wanted copper wire, then another one because someone hit a major power pole while street racing. Here brown outs are just part of the dystopia.

Wait a minute, it's not a dystopia because no one in this zip code is a White Person. We're just the white ladies who share the bounty from our junk runs and returned squirmy neighbor puppy when she got out.

But if you're poor and already on the poor people electric plan, they do check so you can't scam, and have medical equipment like a sleep breathing machine or something do ask the power company if you can get a generator. Because we live in a place that seems to hit the brown out lottery on a daily basis they gave us a generator and portable solar panels to charge it.

You can also request the poser company inspect your home and if you're poor enough or your fridge is old and shitty enough they might give you one. No ice maker or wifi but it still fridgapates. The one they gave us is nearly 20 years old, should have got replaced at the last house with a few other appliances but guess which family member fucked that up too.

But the place we're hoping to get in to will come with appliances so we'll get to leave that fridge for the next people who move in here and that could be a blessing for them.

Well, we start physically butting things in storage in preparation for the eventual move today. This time it should only be for 3 months at the most, the destination is supposed to be ready to walk thru in October which means we can hopefully got in sometime in November or December but I don't hold my breath for shit like that, and it will be close enough to visit and not half a continent away.

So hopefully there will be some healing mixed in with this. It will be one large unit, not three of varying size because half of it has to be the Life Ruiner's literal trash, and there is time to organize how the stuff goes in to utilize the space more efficiently.

Hell, most of my stuff like my craft room and pretty much everything doll related has been packed since 2021 anyway. Can't sort what I literally can't get to. Now aside form compacting anything of the dealing with nature will just have to wait for the new home.

Aside from books, of which I thinned out the hoard quite well, and the Barbies I want to part with I'm pretty sure my possessions spark joy. I just haven't been able to use or display them in a joyful manner for a couple of years because shit happened.