#ALL THAT AND IT WAS JUST A DREAM?!?!?! MAKE IT MAKE SENSE

[astrolook]

Birth Chart Family Secrets: What Your Planets Reveal About Home Life

1st House:

Sun - Whether you liked it or not, you were the center of attention. Your father probably made sure everyone knew you were the one to watch.

Moon - Your mother is either super loving or way too overbearing. Emotional rollercoaster, anyone? 🎢

Venus - you could be superficial at times in family gatherings. Maybe you don't want certain people around you.

Mars - You probably had some fiery family debates. “Who’s going to win this time?” 💥

Jupiter - You grew up with big dreams. Sometimes, your parents pushed you to take on more than you could handle. 🌍

Saturn - Your self-image was shaped by heavy responsibility. From a young age, you probably had to grow up fast, especially with your family’s expectations weighing on you. 👔

Uranus - You were the odd one out in the family. Probably the rebel who challenged norms and didn’t fit into the “traditional” family mold. ⚡

Neptune - Your sense of self might’ve been blurry. Family life felt like a dream—or maybe a fog. Were they loving, or were they distant? Sometimes it was hard to tell. 🌊

Pluto - You either love your family or hate them. Nothing in-between. Adopted children sometimes have this placement in their birth chart.

2nd House:

Sun - Money and security were at the core of your family’s identity. Success and status were everything, and your parents probably emphasized these values constantly. 💰

Moon - Whether your parents showered you with material goods or made you feel guilty for wanting more, there was always an emotional attachment to what you had. 💸

Mercury - Your family talked about money a lot. If you have a younger sibling, they could be earning well or would earn well.

Venus - Your family's way of showing affection and love is through gifts, comfort and luxury - whether it was food or designer shoes. It also shows you have a sweet tooth.

Mars - There was probably some tension over money, especially when it came to what was “mine” vs. “yours.” You learned to fight for your share, especially in a big family. 💥

Jupiter - If you have an elder sibling, they could be earning well and would spoil you with gifts or just buy you big things. Your parents probably showered you with bigger items or maybe you have a collection of these.

Saturn - The values in your home were built around hard work and discipline. Money didn’t come easily, and your family probably taught you that nothing was given to you.

Uranus - Unexpected financial situations and rebellious spending habits were a thing. You might have had a family that was either too conservative or too experimental when it came to money. 💡

Neptune - You probably saw your family’s relationship with money as a bit hazy. Was there enough, or was it all a mirage? Confusion was the name of the game.

Pluto - Power struggles around money. You might’ve grown up seeing money as a way to control or dominate.

3rd House:

Sun - You were probably the star of family discussions. Your voice was always heard, whether you wanted it to be or not. 👑

Moon - You communicated emotionally with them. Whether it was through feelings or moods, you shared your inner world with your family. Sometimes it was a bit much for them to handle. 😅

Mercury - Family conversations were fast-paced, witty, and a little too sharp sometimes. Growing up, you had to keep up with all the intellectual chatter. 🗣️

Venus - Your communication was all about harmony and beauty. You probably had the smoothest way with words—making everything sound more loving than it really was. 💕

Mars - You argued. A lot. You had the spirit of a warrior in family discussions. If you didn’t get your point across, you’d fight until the very end.

Jupiter - Your family encouraged you to think big and never settle for small talk. 🌍

Saturn - You may have felt like there was little room for emotion in your family’s conversations. 📜

Uranus - Your family probably had unconventional ways of communicating. Forget normal—there were oddball opinions flying around.

Neptune - Your family’s way of communicating was either filled with fantasy or complete miscommunication.

Pluto - Things get real fast, and sometimes, it was like you were discussing life-or-death issues at the dinner table. 🔥

4th House:

Sun - Your family probably made sure everyone knew you came from good stock. 🏡

Moon - Your family could be supportive and nurturing—or super moody and unpredictable.

Mercury - There were always family meetings, talks, and debates. Sometimes it was exhausting!

Venus - Your home was probably filled with art, nice things, and a lot of effort to create a peaceful atmosphere. 🖼️

Mars - There were likely a lot of arguments, physical activity, and maybe even fights over space and control. 🔥

Jupiter - You could be from a big family. Your home was probably full of optimism, maybe even too optimistic, and your parents encouraged you to think big. 🌍

Saturn - Two words - childhood trauma.

Uranus - Your family’s ways were always a bit… out there.

Neptune - You might’ve felt like things weren’t as they seemed, with a bit of an illusionary family dynamic.

Pluto - Family secrets or a secret family?

5th House:

Sun - Your childhood was likely full of performances, plays, or maybe even "My child is special" moments. 🎨

Moon - Emotions were a big part of your creative process, and your parents probably encouraged you to share your heart openly (sometimes too much). 💫

Mercury - Your family might’ve had clever inside jokes and sometimes you could have felt misunderstood.

Venus - Family valued beauty and art. Either you or your parents see the beauty in things or could be highly judgmental based on one's appearance.

Mars - You probably fought for attention in the family. Middle child syndrome.

Jupiter - Your family thought you could do it all.

Saturn - Your parents were strict about how you channeled your creative energy. 🏗️

Uranus - You probably rebelled against the “traditional” forms of expression. ⚡

Neptune - Your family’s vision of creativity was often dreamy, and it might’ve felt like there was a lot of idealization and escapism. 🌊

Pluto - Your family probably dealt with intense emotional highs and lows surrounding your self-expression. What you created could’ve sparked big changes. 🔥

6th House:

Sun - Health and daily routines were a big deal. Your family likely expected you to be disciplined with your body, maybe even pushing you toward a healthy lifestyle (even if you didn’t want to). 🏃‍♂️

Moon - Your family encouraged comfort, but it may have felt like an emotional rollercoaster when it came to health and wellness.

Mercury - Family advice on how to stay healthy. Sometimes too specific - eat this, not that.

Venus - Your family might have connected self-care routines with beauty—taking care of the body was just as much about looking good. 💅

Mars - Your family probably had a work hard, play hard mentality that may have led to burning the candle at both ends. 🔥

Jupiter - Your family believed in the power of positive thinking when it came to health, sometimes a bit too much. “Everything will be fine—just eat a salad!” 🥗

Saturn - Your family probably emphasized discipline over indulgence. “Get up early, work hard, and don’t complain!” ⏰

Uranus - Your family might’ve tried alternative methods or medicines that weren’t exactly mainstream. You probably rebelled against the standard family diet or wellness practices. ⚡

Neptune - Your family might’ve been either too focused on wellness myths or completely vague about it. A lot of idealistic views on “feeling better” but no real plans.

Pluto - Whether it was a major illness or personal transformation, your family might’ve faced some deep health-related struggles. 🔥

7th house:

Sun - Your would always have an opinion on your relationships/partnerships. You could even be the high earner in your family or would become one.

Moon - Your family was either overly supportive of your relationships or way too involved emotionally in every romantic decision you made. 😅

Mercury - Your family had constant discussions about your relationships, offering advice (sometimes unsolicited) and diving deep into every detail. 🗣️

Venus - Your family could be pushing the ideal of what true love or marriage should be.

Mars - Arguments in partnerships were common.

Jupiter - Your family probably has an expectation to expand your connections (sometimes to an overwhelming degree). 🌍

Saturn - Serious relationships were a big deal. Your family probably emphasized commitment and long-term partnerships. They were strict when it came to your choices in relationships. You either marry late or marry an older partner or not marry at all.

Uranus - Your family might’ve had a unique view on relationships, supporting unconventional or non-traditional pairings like same-sex relationships/marriages.

Neptune - Your family’s take on love might have been idealized, or there were a lot of illusions about what partnerships should be. 🌊

Pluto - Your relationship with your family is either intense emotionally or non-existent. Could also be living far away from family.

8th House:

Sun - your relationship with your father is either too intense or distant completely. Sometimes I have seen people with this placement who father died before the native turned 30.

Moon - Ancestral secrets. Could be mixed race. Internal conflicts with mother or family.

Mercury - Either you or your younger sibling could be homosexual or bi-sexual.

Venus - You could be having 2 or more sources of income. Your spouse could be richer than you. Wealth through marriage is possible.

Mars - Power struggles were a big part of the family dynamic.

Jupiter - Family business is possible here. Your family likely believed in the idea of growth through joint ventures or life-changing transformations. 🌍

Saturn - Family dynamics may involve financial burdens, secrecy, or a strong sense of responsibility toward ancestral debts.

Uranus - Family dynamics may be unpredictable, with sudden financial changes, unexpected inheritances, or unconventional attitudes toward death and shared resources. There could be secrets or shocks related to ancestry.

Neptune - Family matters may involve illusions, secrecy, or hidden emotional depths, possibly linked to financial deception, spiritual inheritance, or unclear ancestral ties.

Pluto - Generational trauma, or transformative experiences related to death, inheritance, or deep emotional bonds. There may be themes of secrecy, rebirth, and karmic debts within the family.

9th House:

Sun - Family identity is shaped by beliefs, education, or foreign roots; a strong father figure may be a guide.

Moon - Emotional connection to family comes through travel, spirituality, or distant relatives; a nurturing yet changeable home.

Mercury - Frequent relocations and you may even know more than one language.

Venus - Values centered on culture, arts, or diplomacy; may have wealth from in-laws.

Mars - Family tension with in-laws.

Jupiter - Luck through ancestors.

Saturn - Strict family beliefs, possible limitations in education or foreign connections; wisdom comes with time.

Uranus - Unconventional family traditions, sudden moves abroad, or a rebellion against cultural norms.

Neptune - Mystical or unclear family background, possible illusions about origins, or religious/spiritual ties.

Pluto - Intense, transformative family beliefs; deep ancestral karma or hidden power dynamics in the lineage.

10th House:

Sun - Your family basically handed you a résumé at birth. Success and reputation were everything, and you were expected to make the family name proud—no pressure.

Moon - Family might’ve been emotionally invested in your career choices. “Are you sure you want to be an artist? What about law school?” 🎭

Mercury - Career advice came constantly. Your family always had opinions on what you should do, and you probably learned to communicate professionally before you could even walk. 💼

Venus - Your family wanted you to have a respectable job that looked good—maybe even one that involved art, fashion, or diplomacy. 🎨

Mars - Family pressure to succeed at all costs may have left you feeling like you had to fight for recognition. Career competition might’ve started at the dinner table. 🏋️‍♂️

Jupiter - Big expectations, big ambitions. Your family believes that you are destined for greatness, whether that meant running a company, publishing books, or becoming someone important.

Saturn - Family expectations around success were strict, and you probably felt like you had to work twice as hard to prove yourself. Work-life balance? What’s that? 😬

Uranus - Family may have wanted stability, but you likely rebelled and chose an unconventional profession. “So, you’re telling me you want to be a… YouTuber?”

Neptune - Maybe your family pushed you toward a dream job that didn’t align with reality. “Just follow your passion, money will come!” (Will it, though?) 😵‍💫

Pluto - Your family’s expectations may have felt overwhelming, pushing you to transform your career path multiple times before finding your true calling. 🔥

11th House:

Sun - Either they knew all your friends or expected you to network your way to success. “It’s not what you know, it’s who you know.” 🤝

Moon - Either your family was super involved in your friendships, or you felt emotionally connected to finding your people outside of home.

Mercury - Your family loved discussing big ideas and future goals. Conversations were filled with debates about the world, innovation, and why society needs to change.

Venus - Your family probably valued charm, diplomacy, and making connections with the right people. 👑

Mars - Friendships = competition. Arguments with friends? Likely a common theme.

Jupiter - Your family encouraged big dreams and global connections. Travel, education, and broadening your horizons were a major focus. “Why settle for one country when you can live in five?”

Saturn - Socializing wasn’t always easy. Friendships might have felt like serious business, and making connections took effort. Your family may have encouraged quality over quantity.

Uranus - Your family encouraged uniqueness. You probably felt like the odd one out growing up, but your family may have secretly admired your rebellious streak. “You’ll thank us when you’re older.”

Neptune - Family encouraged you to dream big, but sometimes, social expectations felt blurry. “Just trust the universe!” 🌌

Pluto - Your family might have taught you that not all friends are who they seem. 🕵️‍♂️

12th House:

Sun - Your identity felt hidden in the family. Maybe you were the one keeping secrets, or perhaps your family just didn’t see the real you until later in life. “Oh, you have feelings? Weird.”

Moon - Deep emotional wounds from childhood may have made you feel like you had to suppress emotions. Your family may have been emotionally distant or unknowingly made you feel invisible. 😶‍🌫️

Mercury - Your thoughts were often private or misunderstood. You may have been the one in the family who kept deep reflections to yourself.

Venus - You may have been raised to give without expecting anything in return. Maybe your family had a history of romanticizing suffering. “Love means giving everything!” 🥀

Mars - Internal battles? Too real. You were probably raised in an environment where conflict was hidden, and learning to assert yourself took time. But when you do fight back? It’s explosive.

Jupiter - Whether it was spirituality, religion, or trusting the process, your family pushed you toward a higher understanding. ✨

Saturn - Isolation, responsibility, and heavy lessons. You may have felt alone in your struggles, and your family likely reinforced themes of sacrifice and patience. You were the “old soul” kid.

Uranus - Your upbringing was unpredictable. Maybe you felt disconnected from your family or experienced unexpected shifts that shaped your identity in ways no one saw coming.

Neptune - Family life may have felt like a dream—or a complete illusion. Maybe there were secrets, blurred truths, or unspoken expectations. “Everything’s fine!” (It wasn’t.)

Pluto - You may have had to navigate shadows from an early age, experiencing profound losses or intense emotional shifts that made you stronger than you realize. 🔥

💫 Your birth chart holds all the tea on your childhood, family dynamics, and why you turned out the way you did. Want to know exactly how your planets shaped your upbringing, relationships, and even your subconscious patterns?

📩 Message me for a Complete Birth Chart Reading and uncover the full story behind your everything! ✨

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[alinathinkstoomuch]

Heels of Dreams

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader summary: you wear heels for a fancy dinner, but in the end, it’s not your shoes that carry you home. warnings: suggestive, fluff, hotch being the perfect man once again by carrying reader home and taking off her heels, age gap implied, reader giving hotch a hard time about being old. (all i hear is hotch is a boobs man, hotch is an ass man no! hotch is a legs man! he told me himself!) word count: 2k ✧ masterlist

Your feet ached – so much so that you weren’t even surprised when Reid, probably fed up with your quiet whining, casually mentioned over dinner that high heels were originally invented for men. And honestly? That made perfect sense. Only creatures that ridiculous would willingly subject themselves to this kind of torture.

He had then launched into an explanation about how, somewhere in the eighteenth century, heels became associated with women’s fashion, but by that point, you were far too focused on two things to pay attention: the persistent throb in your feet and the slow, deliberate movement of Aaron’s hand as it slid over to rest on your thigh.

That had effectively wiped out any interest in Reid’s history lesson.

It had been a small dinner, one of those rare nights where the girls – Penelope, really –  insisted on dressing up. She had made a reservation somewhere far fancier (and significantly less sticky) than your usual bar, declaring it a much-needed change of scenery.

So, you had picked out the prettiest pair of shoes you owned – the ones you knew Aaron liked because he had insisted on buying them for you. He hadn’t even flinched when the price climbed high enough to require a comma, just given you that quiet, unwavering look that made it clear he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

And now, after hours of balancing on them, you were really hoping that look extended to carrying you to the couch.

“Regretting your choice of footwear?”

You huffed, dramatically shifting your weight onto one leg. “I regret your choice of footwear.”

His brow lifted. “Mine?”

“You picked these out, remember?” You gestured toward your aching feet, the expensive, unreasonably gorgeous shoes peeking out from beneath the hem of your dress. “You practically demanded I get them.”

Aaron hummed, slowing his pace just enough to make you aware of how much effort you were putting into keeping up. The ass. “I don’t recall any demanding,” he said, tone far too innocent. “I seem to remember you trying them on and looking at me like you were hoping I’d tell you to buy them.”

You gasped, stopping in your tracks. “That is not what happened.”

He turned to face you, his expression unreadable – except for the glint in his eyes, the one that only appeared when he was in the mood to toy with you. “No?”

You narrowed your eyes. “No.”

He paused for a moment before asking, “Which one is it going to be?”

“Huh?

“Do you want to walk home in my shoes,” he clarified, like he was offering you something as normal as his jacket, “or am I carrying you?”

You stared at him, trying to gauge whether he was actually serious. “You can’t just carry me,” you argued, crossing your arms.

Aaron arched a brow and before you could react, he took a deliberate step forward, closing the space between you. “You underestimate me,” he said and suddenly, you were very aware of how close he was.

“Oh, I don’t doubt you can – I just don’t think you should.”

His lips twitched, like he was holding back a smile. “Why not?”

“Because it’s ridiculous.”

“You’re limping,” he pointed out, not unkindly. “And you’re already dramatic when you’re comfortable, I can’t imagine how much I’ll have to hear about this tomorrow if I don’t carry you.”

“Jeez, you’re making me sound like a real catch.”

His smirk deepened just enough to make your breath hitch. “You are,” he said simply, like it was the easiest truth in the world. “That’s why I’m carrying you.”

And before you could even form a protest, his arms were around you, lifting you effortlessly off the ground.

A surprised yelp escaped your lips as he adjusted his hold, settling you securely in his arms, carrying you like you were weightless. The absurdity of it all – his confidence, the way he did it without hesitation, the sheer ridiculousness of being carried down the street like some sort of Disney princess – sent you into a fit of laughter.

“This is silly,” you managed between giggles, clinging to his shoulders. “Baby, put me down, I’ll walk barefoot.”

“Not happening.” His grip on you tightened, as if the very thought of letting you go was out of the question.

You let out another giggle, looping your arms around his neck for balance – not that you needed to, because Aaron held you like you were made for this, like carrying you home was just another part of his routine. Like it didn’t even require effort.

“Well, at least it’s not too far,” you mused, mid-yawn. “Wouldn’t want you throwing your back out.”

Aaron huffed out a laugh, the warmth of it brushing against your temple. “My back is fine. I think I can manage a few blocks.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, a teasing smile curling at your lips. “You think you can manage? Should I be concerned?”

“I should drop you just for that.”

Your eyes widened in mock horror, gripping his shoulders a little tighter. “You wouldn’t.”

Aaron’s lips curved into a smile “Wouldn’t I?”

Still, you gasped dramatically, clutching him even tighter. “Wow. Threatening to drop your much younger wife? That’s low.”

He sighed, the kind of long-suffering exhale that only came from years of dealing with you. “Here we go.”

You bit back a grin, pressing your cheek against his shoulder. “I mean, I get it – you’re not as young as you used to be. It must be exhausting carrying someone so full of youthful energy.”

“You do realize I’ve tackled suspects more than twice your size, right?”

“Yes, yes, very impressive,” you conceded with a wave of your hand. “But, you know, they don’t cling to you and distract you with conversation while you’re carrying them.”

“No, usually they’re either trying to stab or shoot me.”

You blinked, considering that. “And I’m the difficult one?”

Aaron didn’t bother dignifying your last remark with a response, he just shook his head, adjusting his grip on you. The movement brought you even closer and you could feel his warmth bleeding into you. If you weren’t still revelling in the absolute delight of being carried, you might’ve admitted that this had been your plan all along.

Eventually, the familiar sight of your apartment building came into view, and you sighed dramatically. “Well, we made it. Against all odds. How’s your back? Need me to book you a chiropractor?”

“Maybe a divorce attorney,” he mumbled, earning a swat at his chest from your clutch.

“Excuse me?”

But before you could demand a proper retraction, he angled you slightly, adjusting his hold so effortlessly it was almost infuriating, and you barely had time to react before he nodded toward the door.

“Kick,” he instructed.

Rolling your eyes but obliging anyway, you lifted a foot and tapped the door open, muttering, “Chivalry is dead.”

“Chivalry is alive and well,” he corrected smoothly, stepping inside with you still securely in his arms. “It’s just carrying a very mouthy woman up the stairs.”

You gasped again, scandalized. “Wow. I think that definitely just earned you a night on the couch.”

“We both know you’d end up joining me anyway. In fact,” he mused, his voice dropping as he carried you up the stairs, “I recall you saying that the best sex we’ve ever had was on that couch.”

Your mouth snapped shut, heat rushing to your cheeks so fast it was disorienting.

“You cannot just say things like that,” you hissed, your head whipping toward the door opposite yours. “We have neighbours. You know Agatha is a night owl.”

Aaron exhaled a quiet chuckle, completely unfazed. “Agatha’s hard of hearing.” He paused then added, “Keys, honey.”

With a dramatic sigh, you started digging through your clutch, fingers sifting through a graveyard of lip glosses and tiny perfume samples you had no intention of ever using but refused to throw away.

Aaron tilted his head, watching with mild amusement. “Need some help?”

“I’ve got it,” you muttered, ignoring his deeply unnecessary smirk as you fished out your keys. “Not all of us have the luxury of bottomless suit pockets.”

“That’s not what they’re called.”

“Whatever, Mary Poppins.”

He shook his head as he patiently waited for you to unlock the door – still very much carrying you.

Finally, your fingers closed around the keys, and with an exaggerated motion, you yanked them out. Aaron hummed, the sound low and pleased, before lowering you just enough so you could reach the lock.

The door swung open and he carried you inside, kicking it shut behind him. He made his way over to the infamous couch. The moment he set you down, you let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, stretching out dramatically. “Ugh. My hero,” you drawled. “My feet may never recover, but at least I died beautifully.”

You watched as he crossed the room with that same grace, making his way back toward the door. He slid off his suit jacket, draping it neatly over the back of a chair before reaching for the lock.

He made his way back over to you without a word, nudging your legs apart just enough to settle between them, sinking onto his knees. His fingers went immediately to the delicate strap of your heels, the pads of his thumbs brushing against your skin as he worked.

“Wow. Didn’t even have to ask.”

Aaron barely glanced up, his focus on your ankle as he did his best to undo the tiny buckle – one-handed, no less, because his phone and wallet were still in his grip. “I take care of what’s mine.”

Your stomach did a little flip, but you refused to let him win just yet.

“Hold these.” He pressed his phone and wallet against your stomach, and you took them instinctively.

Your fingers brushed over the wallet – the one you had given him for his birthday last year, the worn leather soft and familiar against your palm. You turned it over in your hand, shaking your head. “Oof. Trusting me with your wallet? Big mistake, Hotchner.”

He slipped the first shoe off your foot. “Spend whatever you want,” he murmured, his fingers wrapping around your ankle, lifting it slightly. “Take whatever you want. Take everything.”

Before the words could even land, he dipped his head and pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your ankle. His lips continued to trail lower, placing another kiss just above the curve of your foot, then another, his movements achingly tender.

You exhaled a quiet, contented moan, your body melting into the cushions as his touch worked its magic. It was like he knew – of course he knew – the exact places that hurt, the spots that had been aching for hours, and now, with nothing more than his lips, his touch, his presence, he was undoing all of it.

Like he needed to make it better.

Like he wanted to erase every trace of discomfort you’d felt all night.

His hands skimmed up your calves, pushing your dress up, fingertips pressing gently into the sore muscles before his thumbs followed, kneading warmth back into you.

Then, with that same patient care, he reached for your other foot, undoing the second buckle. The strap slipped free and he set the shoe aside before his hands returned to you, skimming up the length of your legs.

And then his mouth followed. Kissing. Worshipping.

His lips trailed over your shin, each kiss pressing something deeper into you – something that made your chest feel full.

His breath was warm against your thigh when he mumbled, “Marry me, baby.”

You blinked down at him, another giggle slipping from your lips, light and breathless. “Aaron, we’re already married.”

You felt him smile against your skin.

“Marry me again.”

Another kiss.

“And again.”

Another.

“And again.”

Your fingers slipped into his hair, tugging it slightly, your heart stuttering as warmth curled deep in your stomach.

He looked up then, eyes full of love, lips hovering just above your skin.

“As many times as you’ll have me.”

And just like that, you knew – you’d say yes to him a thousand times over.

[the-silly-words-on-your-screen]

you know what? what the heck. i thought to myself 'it would be pretty stupid if i answered all these. and i am pretty stupid. so imma do it.' and here i am. if i dont make sense, (the expected outcome), you're free to ask me to elaborate

1: Perpetual. i've decided i'll simply not die just to live up to it 2: more than 19, less than 21 3: the 5 of 2 4: whichever one my birthday says i am 5: i like orange and purple and white and black and gold 6: 13. i'm using all of 13's luck, that's why it's unlucky for everyone else 7: one (1) goober. a creature, even. a feline. 8: the Miniature Soda state 9: like. about 5'10" i dont know. havent measured in a long while 10: no clue 11: 0.75 12: i do not and cannot dream 13: i can forge a sword, and know how to use one too. i play keyboard 14: i have a psychic ability to access my own mind and make myself instantly forget where i've put my phone 15: a good song never dies - saint motel 16: bullet train (2022) / everything everywhere all at once (2022) 17: the 2 lovely cuties i'm dating right now ^-^ 18: kiddos are cute, and i wanna raise one right 19: nah i'd rather be somewhere familiar 20: agnostic atheist. i don't have a damned clue and thats no reason to assume something exists (for me. believe what you want) 21: yeah. they broke my face once 22: i have never sillied too close to the sun 23: if i did they were real sneaky and didn't tell me 24: showers if need fast, baths if want slow 25: the nonexistent kind made from air 26: i mean. 300 of y'all are following me for some reason. that count? 27: i am actively doing my best to remain obscure here 28: the type that makes brain go wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee 29: i prefer clothing 30: (√(2x)) - 3 = 1 31: the infamous 'curl into a ball in the middle of my pillow castle' 32: not 33: i dont typically eat breakfast. just big linner 34: yes, it went pew 35: yes, it did not go pew 36: squimsh. tied with hemck. 37: dam(n) 38: like. probably at least 3 earth rotations 39: more than i'd prefer 40: if i did, they did a real good job keeping it a secret 41: i would argue that lying is bad 42: i think so but then again all i can provide is my own opinion 43: yes but i have no idea what they are half the time 44: not that i'm aware of 45: scottish. its just. ghgjdreamfirgrainfitjslotsgfjellogirsenjemgkjnrgemgrjneathnjkrnosegnj 46: different every time i take one of those silly tests :P 47: shirt i accidentally ordered from greece. 120$ shipping. not even a good shirt 48: up yes. down no 49: le in 50: it truly depends on what i'm doing

SPLIT IN HALF BECAUSE TUMBLR IS DRUNK AND WONT LET ME POST THE WHOLE THING AT ONCE> SORRY

Get To Know Me Uncomfortably Well

PLEASE DON’T LET THIS FLOP AHHHH

1. What is you middle name? 2. How old are you? 3. When is your birthday? 4. What is your zodiac sign? 5. What is your favorite color? 6. What’s your lucky number? 7. Do you have any pets? 8. Where are you from? 9. How tall are you? 10. What shoe size are you? 11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? 12. What was your last dream about? 13. What talents do you have? 14. Are you psychic in any way? 15. Favorite song? 16. Favorite movie? 17. Who would be your ideal partner? 18. Do you want children? 19. Do you want a church wedding? 20. Are you religious? 21. Have you ever been to the hospital? 22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? 23. Have you ever met any celebrities? 24. Baths or showers? 25. What color socks are you wearing? 26. Have you ever been famous? 27. Would you like to be a big celebrity? 28. What type of music do you like? 29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? 30. How many pillows do you sleep with? 31. What position do you usually sleep in? 32. How big is your house? 33. What do you typically have for breakfast? 34. Have you ever fired a gun? 35. Have you ever tried archery? 36. Favorite clean word? 37. Favorite swear word? 38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep? 39. Do you have any scars? 40. Have you ever had a secret admirer? 41. Are you a good liar? 42. Are you a good judge of character? 43. Can you do any other accents other than your own? 44. Do you have a strong accent? 45. What is your favorite accent? 46. What is your personality type? 47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing? 48. Can you curl your tongue? 49. Are you an innie or an outie? 50. Left or right handed? 51. Are you scared of spiders? 52. Favorite food? 53. Favorite foreign food? 54. Are you a clean or messy person? 55. Most used phrased? 56. Most used word? 57. How long does it take for you to get ready? 58. Do you have much of an ego? 59. Do you suck or bite lollipops? 60. Do you talk to yourself? 61. Do you sing to yourself? 62. Are you a good singer? 63. Biggest Fear? 64. Are you a gossip? 65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen? 66. Do you like long or short hair? 67. Can you name all 50 states of America? 68. Favorite school subject? 69. Extrovert or Introvert? 70. Have you ever been scuba diving? 71. What makes you nervous? 72. Are you scared of the dark? 73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes? 74. Are you ticklish? 75. Have you ever started a rumor? 76. Have you ever been in a position of authority? 77. Have you ever drank underage? 78. Have you ever done drugs? 79. Who was your first real crush? 80. How many piercings do you have? 81. Can you roll your Rs?“ 82. How fast can you type? 83. How fast can you run? 84. What color is your hair? 85. What color is your eyes? 86. What are you allergic to? 87. Do you keep a journal? 88. What do your parents do? 89. Do you like your age? 90. What makes you angry? 91. Do you like your own name? 92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they? 93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child? 94. What are you strengths? 95. What are your weaknesses? 96. How did you get your name? 97. Were your ancestors royalty? 98. Do you have any scars? 99. Color of your bedspread? 100. Color of your room?

[tsunodaradio]

pick your poison, babe (i'm poison either way) ⛐ 𝐋𝐍𝟒

♫ and i'll tell you one thing, honey: i can tell when somebody still wants me. come clean.

ꔮ starring: lando norris x dj!reader. ꔮ word count: 2.8k. ꔮ includes: fluff, romance. profanity, mention of alcohol consumption. unspecified monza race win, feelings realization/denial, lando has a crush. title from taylor swift's imgonnagetyouback. ꔮ commentary box: feels apt to dedicate my first post on this blog to the person who introduced me to F1, @norrisradio. papaya forever, baby. this feels like something that could be part of a bigger story, but for now! enjoy a down bad lando. <3 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The Monza podium still feels like a fever dream. The kind of night he should be spending at an over-the-top afterparty, champagne showers and all, with people yelling his name like he hadn’t just spent two hours driving for his life. 

Instead of basking in the glow of P3 with the rest of the grid, Lando finds himself tugging the brim of a McLaren cap lower over his eyes, slipping past the bouncer of an underground rave.

He mumbles something unintelligible when the bouncer glances at him for a beat too long, and the guy doesn’t press. Maybe he doesn't care, or maybe he just thinks Lando’s another kid trying too hard to look mysterious. Either way, Lando is grateful. 

Lando hurries down the narrow hallway, his trainers squeaking against the concrete floor as the bass rattles through the venue like a pulse.He tells himself he’s here for the music. That he’s been desperate for a proper night out, a way to blow off steam without the whole world watching. 

But the truth is, he knows exactly who’s playing tonight. He’d seen the lineup on Instagram— your name sandwiched between two other local DJs— and something in him short-circuited.

You’ve met a couple of times, exchanged a handful of words over mixing decks at a mutual friend’s house party in Monaco. He picked up DJ-ing as a hobby a few years back, a way to kill time between races. 

He had become painfully aware of how much of an amateur he was the moment you’d started playing. You made it look effortless. 

He’d been hooked since.

Not in a crush way, obviously.

That would be ridiculous.

Lando shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and follows the glow of LED lights deeper into the venue. The air smells like sweat and cheap liquor, the crowd a chaotic mess of limbs and blurry faces. People bump into him, and Lando mutters apologies swallowed up by the music.

He clocks you at the DJ booth almost immediately.

It’s embarrassing how quickly he finds you. How his eyes cut through the sea of bodies like they’ve been trained on you this whole time. 

You’re lit up in shades of red and blue, fingers dancing across the soundboard with a kind of swagger that makes Lando want to rip his cap off and run straight back to the paddock.

He tells himself he won’t get too close. That he’ll hang back, maybe grab a drink and nod along like he’s just here for the vibe. But then you glance up from the decks, and your gaze flickers through the crowd like you can sense him there. 

Lando panics, jerking to the side and bumping into someone holding a full cup of beer. “Mate,” the guy groans, shaking liquid off his arm, but Lando doesn’t even register it. 

His pulse is hammering, a bead of sweat rolling down the back of his neck. Must be the heat, he thinks to himself. 

He’s not nervous. 

He’s not.

Lando leans against a graffiti-splattered wall, heart in his throat as the bass thrums through his chest. He’ll stay for a bit. Maybe until your set ends. Maybe until you step off the stage, and he can casually, accidentally cross paths with you.

Just to say ‘hi’. 

Nothing else. 

The beat thrums through the floor, reverberating up Lando's spine like the aftershock of a race. Bodies move in synchronized chaos under the strobing lights, but he only sees you.

You, perched behind the DJ booth, fingers deftly turning dials and sliding faders. Your hair is damp with sweat, the glint of neon catching on your skin. You look like you belong here— like the music isn't just something you play, but something you breathe.

Lando tells himself he’s just appreciating the artistry, the technical skill. 

It has nothing to do with the way his chest tightens every time you flash a grin at the crowd.

His feet start moving before his brain can catch up. He snakes through the crowd, heart hammering harder than it did on the podium. He angles himself perfectly— or so he convinces himself— lingering just by the side of the stage. 

When you descend, your set concluded, your shoulder brushes his chest. Lando executes the most intentional accidental bump in history.

“Oh, shit— sorry!” 

He barely registers your words. The second your eyes meet his, he knows he’s completely screwed. 

Recognition blooms on your face like a firework. When you smile at him, it feels like the entire world tilts.

“Lando Norris?” you laugh, incredulous. “What are you doing here?”

He tugs his cap lower, hoping it might shield him from how devastatingly charming you are. “Just thought I’d check out the music scene,” he lies, his voice failing to land anywhere near casual.

You cock your head, suspicious but amused. “And you just so happened to end up at my set?”

Lando swallows, throat tight. “Just my luck,” he says, the words brittle on his tongue.

You laugh, the sound bright and sharp despite the dozens of other noises warring for his attention. The music hums through Lando’s body like a second heartbeat, but it dulls to a murmur the longer he stands next to you. 

He’s keenly aware of every movement you make. The way you tuck loose strands of hair behind your ear, the lingering adrenaline in your smile, the subtle shift of your weight as you rock on your heels.

“You here with anyone?” you ask, voice still pitched a little louder from your set. “Want anything? A drink?”

Lando shakes his head so quickly he almost gives himself whiplash. “No, I’m good. Thanks, though.” He licks his lips, nerves writhing in his chest like live wires. And because he’s a masochist, he asks, “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Here with anyone.”

You tilt your head, brows lifting. For a second, Lando thinks he’s made a mistake, that you’re about to brush him off, but then you shake your head with an easy grin.

“Nope,” you say. “Just me.”

The knot in Lando’s stomach loosens, and the relief is instant— almost shameful in how palpable it is. He feels a little steadier now, a little more like himself. The familiar tinge of confidence edges its way back into his voice.

“Well,” he starts, just on the right side of teasing, “I hope I’m not keeping you from anything.”

Your gaze lingers on him, contemplating. Lando swears his pulse stutters.

After a beat, you shrug. “Nowhere better to be.”

A small, smug smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, but he bites it back. “Guess that makes two of us,” he says, just loud enough for you to hear. 

The bass thumps back to life, rippling through the crowd like a living thing, and you tilt your head at Lando, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Do pretty little drivers like you even know how to rave?” you ask, voice raised over the music.

Lando scoffs, the sound drowned out by the beat. He lifts his chin, his usual cocky edge peeking through. “Do pretty little DJs like you know how to drive?” 

You laugh; Lando thinks he could live off the sound. Before he knows it, you’re tugging him back into the crowd, bodies pressing in on either side as the music surges. The neon lights flicker across your skin, and Lando, without really meaning to (or maybe meaning to a little too much), lets the crowd shift him closer to you. Shoulder brushing shoulder, arm to arm, fingertips grazing as you both move to the rhythm.

It’s a flimsy excuse to touch you, and he’s pathetically grateful for it.

You notice the way his eyes flicker to the occasional flash of a camera, the way he subtly angles his face down to keep the shadow of his cap in place. You lean in, close enough that your lips nearly graze the shell of his ear. Instinctively, he tilts his head down so you can reach him without straining too much. 

“Tell me, Norris,” you tease, your voice a low hum that curls through his chest, “are you still racing?” 

“What?” he sputters out with a laugh. 

“Answer the question,” you insist, unable to hold back your own laughs. “Are you racing away from something? Racing towards something?” 

Lando knows the answer. That doesn’t make things any easier. And so he does what he does best— play it off, be incorrigible. “Pardon?” he asks, feigning the hardness of hearing. “You have to speak up!” 

You roll your eyes, the expression making you look a lot cuter than Lando cares to admit. “Nevermind,” you holler, pulling away. 

The pang of loss he feels is incomparable to his relief. For the next hour or so, that’s how he dodges your more invasive queries. 

“Why are you really here, Norris?” you ask at one point, voice raised to cut through the noise. 

Lando cups a hand around his ear and squints at you like he’s struggling to understand. “Sorry, what did you say?”

You shake your head but try again. “Why are you here?”

“Did you just ask if I’ve got hair in my ear?!”

You smack his shoulder, but he only grins wider, reveling in the way your touch lingers just a little longer than necessary. “You’re impossible,” you huff, but your smile softens the words.

A beat passes, and then you add, quieter, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Lando’s chest tightens. For a second, he forgets how to breathe. He recovers fast, though, leaning closer until his forehead nearly bumps yours. “Yeah,” he says, voice low but clear despite the music. “That’s what I thought you said.”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion, catching him out. “So you can hear me!”

He laughs, and laughs, and laughs, feeling very much like he won for a second time that night. 

The night wears on. Lando could keep going, really, but then your hand grazes his wrist. A fleeting touch before you beckon him with a tilt of your head. Lando follows without a word, the warmth of your fingers lingering on his skin like a brand.

He keeps his head down, tugging his cap lower as you weave through the venue. He glances around often, wary eyes flitting to clusters of people, to the occasional glint of a camera lens reflecting the strobes.

“I promise you’re not going to have dating rumors come tomorrow,” you say, catching his unease. Your voice is low, teasing, but there’s a sincerity beneath it that makes his chest ache.

“Promise?” he asks, trying to match your tone, but his voice wavers.

You smile, throwing a casual look over your shoulder. “Swear on it.”

Lando doesn’t know how you manage to navigate the labyrinthine corridors of the venue, weaving through bodies and shadowy hallways with practiced ease. You take him through a side door and up a flight of stairs, the clatter of your footsteps echoing in the narrow space.

At the top, you push open another door. Suddenly, you’re outside. The rooftop stretches out before you, bathed in the glow of the distant city lights. The air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of night-blooming flowers and lingering smoke. From up here, the music is a distant hum, the chaos below reduced to a quiet murmur.

You walk over to the edge, resting your elbows on the ledge. “Better?” you ask, looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

Lando exhales all the tension in his body before settling next to you. “Yeah,” he says, voice rough. “Better.”

The view is breathtaking. Monza sprawls out beneath you, a patchwork of golden lights against the darkened landscape. Lando watches you tip your head back to look at the sky, the faint sheen of sweat on your skin catching the glow from the streetlights. 

You’re radiant. 

It’s not fair. 

“Is this your usual post-set ritual?” he asks, leaning his forearms on the ledge.

“Kinda,” you answer vaguely. “Helps me clear my head.” 

Lando hums in agreement, though his head feels anything but clear. His heart is still pounding— not from the dancing, not from the adrenaline of sneaking around, but from being this close to you.

You half-turn to face him, your shoulder brushing against his. “So,” you start, playful but quiet. “Are you finally going to tell me why you’re really here?”

“Ah.” Lando laughs at your attempt to double down. “So that’s what this is. A trap.” 

You arch a brow. “I mean, it’s a fair question. Podium finisher skips team dinner to go rave in Monza?”

Lando squints at you, a slow grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Wait,” he starts slowly, “you knew I podiumed?”

“Everyone knows,” you deflect, looking back out over the city lights.

He inches closer, eyes gleaming. “You checked.”

You don’t even hesitate, barreling on where Lando might’ve sidetracked. “Of course I did,” you say. “I wanted to know if you’d win.”

Lando blinks, caught completely off guard. The rush of exhilaration that barrels through him is almost disorienting. “You were rooting for me?”

“You act like that’s weird.” You glance at him again, the corner of your mouth twitching upward. “I may not know much about racing, but I know enough to hope you’d end up on top.”

Lando’s throat bobs with a hard swallow. He doesn’t know what to do with that, doesn’t know how to process the fact that you— the person who makes him feel like he’s spinning out even when he’s on solid ground— had been watching, keeping tabs.

He clears his throat, feigning nonchalance. “I guess I had to come celebrate with my number one fan, then.”

You snort. “I never said I was your number one fan.”

He clutches his chest like you’ve physically wounded him. “Ouch. Brutal.”

You laugh, the sound echoing into the night, and Lando fears it’s becoming his new favorite noise. Much better than the squeal of tires, the roar of crowds, the electronic dance music that’d been spun downstairs. 

“So?” you prompt, turning to face him fully. “Why are you here, Mr. P3?”

He tilts his head, mouth curling up in a sly smile. “What was that?”

Your eyes narrow. “Don’t start.”

“Couldn’t hear you,” he quips, cupping a hand to his ear. “Something about my heart?”

You push off the railing. “I swear, Norris—”

"Okay, okay!" He laughs, hands raised in surrender.

The second your expression softens, though, he falters. 

The truth sticks to the roof of his mouth like honey, too sweet and too heavy to spit out. He glances down, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the concrete. “I just… wanted to unwind. Long weekend. And…” 

Fuck it. Lando swallows. Scratches the back of his neck. “Maybe I wanted to see you play.”

The words slip out like he’s admitting a felony. He doesn’t dare look at you, afraid of what he might find in your face. Amusement, pity, or worse— understanding. Because you’re smart enough to figure it out, figure him out. Because you probably already know what he’s danced around this entire evening.

He risks a glance, and his heart stutters.

You’re smiling.

Not in a way that mocks or patronizes, but something softer. Something that knots him up inside.

“Maybe?” you echo, tilting your head.

Lando exhales, rubbing a hand over his face like he can physically scrub the embarrassment away. He takes a careful step closer, shrugging like the confession doesn’t carry the weight of the world.

“Okay, probably,” he relents. “But, like, only a little.”

You hum, pretending to think it over, and Lando swears his heart is trying to punch a hole through his chest.

“I can live with that,” you say after a moment. 

It’s not much. It’s not a denial, not an acceptance, but it’s not like Lando is asking for anything, either. 

He could, he realizes. Ask what you have planned after this, ask if you’d like to chase each other through Monza’s streets like one of those old romantic comedies his mum would make him sit through. 

Instead, he only manages a soft, almost breathless, “Yeah?” 

The hope in his tone is a dangerous, treacherous thing. It’s almost as damning as the way he shifts just a little bit closer to you, the two of you leaning back against the railing. 

Lando isn’t going to kiss you tonight. He knows that much. 

Not tonight, but maybe—

“Yeah.” Your voice sounds just like his. Tender, hopeful. A whisper of I don’t mind seeing you, a promise of next time. Wherever and whenever that might be.  

Your shoulders press against each other. 

Neither of you pull away. ⛐

[simonbrain]

i'm combining these since they're similar, but i'm so glad you both enjoy deer hybrid!reader 🫶🏽 also the tweet i was talking about is here

anyway, i don't think simon fucks you for a while. he makes you work for it, taking you apart with his hands and his tongue until the breathiest whimpers are leaving your spit-slick lips and your pussy is raw and sensitive. gotta teach you a lesson, doe, is his excuse, when you both know very well that following instructions is not your greatest strength.

when he finally has you on your back, sweet cunt slicking his cock with each glide he makes between your folds, he almost busts right there. he'll never get tired of staring at the soft patch of hair that covers your pussy or the way your hips move, so clumsy and needy. always fuckin' desperate for somethin'.

"calm down," he murmurs, petting one of your twitchy ears, but it's so hard to obey when you've been going cross-eyed dreaming about this moment. you're able to suck just the tip in, so soft and warm, and that's about all it takes to have simon's hips jerking forward, the low hiss he lets out making you smile.

"oops," you mumble, shoulders shaking with the effort of trying to not laugh, and he huffs, "cheeky lil shit," before punching in a few more inches and letting out his own noise of triumph at the sharp gasp you let out.

it's easy to lose himself once you get used to the stretch. you're so soft, sweet pussy so relaxed that he can slide right in to the hilt, and you'll have no choice but to take it. he coos when you try to squirm away and hiccup that you can't, it's too much, but he silences all your wanton noises with a sweet kiss on your pouty lips. you really are a silly deer, aren't you? so many wasted chances to run away from him, and now that he finally has you, you're waving a white flag.

"take it, hun," he grunts, spreading your legs wider to watch himself split you over and over again. the white, frothy ring around his length almost has his eyes rolling back, and he lets out a breathy chuckle when your hand finds his. "fuck, so cute, ain't ya? is this all you needed, sweet'art? jus' needed someone to put you in your place?"

"y— yes," you manage to squeak out. heavy pants and choked moans leave your open mouth, and it's all you can do, each drag of his cock knocking the breath out of you. "more, gimme more, wan' it deeper—"

"fuckin' hell, the mouth on you," he groans, sliding his fingers over your engorged clit. the fat head of his cock hits so deep it feels like he's about to breach your fucking womb, and you can only drool all over yourself, every coherent thought being fucked out of your head. he's rewiring your brain, you're sure of it, getting you hooked on the smell and taste of him, getting your cunt addicted to being overwhelmingly full. you think he's snarling something about giving you a couple of babies, fawns, but that's all you can comprehend before you're arching your back and warmth is coating his cock all the way down to his balls.

(after the first time, asking him to chase you through the woods at night was a no-brainer. you really made him work for it by using your brilliant senses, smart girl, but that's what made it all the more satisfying when he finally caught you. you surrendered so easily too, letting him shove your face down and hike your hips up. getting poked by the sharp leaves and twigs was totally worth it.)

[dduane]

And don't forget: this is a revenge story. It's not all about rare earths or mineral rights... not by a long shot.

Trump got impeached the first time because he got caught trying to get Zelenskyy to lie about Joe Biden doing illegal/corrupt things, and Zelenskyy refused to do it. The Suit without a Man In It* will have cuddled that grudge to him like a vomit-soaked teddybear, dreaming of ways to someday inflict maximum punishment on Ukraine's President for making him look bad.

So the mugging, as described above, went forward. But I seriously think no one associated with the current inhabitants of the White House realized how badly the event could or would backfire and/or catalyze opinion, both in the US and in other parts of the world.

It's going to be interesting—in the historical (annoying) sense of the word—to see how all this unfolds over the next couple/few months. But today's speech from the Danish prime minister is a real banger. (Apologies for the TikTok-ized version of this with background music. I'll look in a while and see if I can find one with, you know, just the words.)

Earlier I ran across a comment from somebody to the effect of, "The inhabitant of the Oval Office may just have accidentally created the United States of Europe." An interesting take. We shall see...

*There's a description of yesterday's events making the rounds: "A man without a suit on had a meeting with a suit without a man in it."

So this was a pre-planned (and likely paid for by the Kremlin) show: to invite Zelenskyy, scold him like a kindergartener in front of the press, present him with an unreasonable "deal" - an ultimatum - knowing full well he will refuse it (as anyone in this position would). And then tell the world: "Look, our mighty Orange King could've ended this horrible war in a day, but this poorly-dressed, warmongering, ungrateful twat just doesn't want peace! It's not our fault, we did what we could!"

The show is so cheap, so transparent, yet still effective for so many brainless people.

[multiversediaries]

MORE THAN FRIENDS

⤷ FRANK CASTLE X READER

Summary: After overhearing a conversation between Matt and Karen, you find comfort in the arms of the big, bad Punisher.

Warnings: mentions of cheating, small angst, soft, and i mean, VERY soft frank

Part count: 1/?

A/N: i loved, loved, LOVED! writing this!!!!! i hope u guys like it as much as i do ^-^ apologies for any mistakes! english is not my first language!

“Why aren’t you listening to me?” You heard Matt’s voice from outside of their office. You had just came back into the office, after looking more into a few cases you were all working on. You were eager to share the information you acquired to both your boyfriend, Matt, and Foggy.

“You are in a relationship, Matthew. This is insane.” Karen soon spoke up. You raised your ears in curiosity. Were they talking about you? You leaned into the door, trying to listen into their conversation.

You have been in a loving relationship with Matt for about two years now. You met him while working at his law firm, and ultimately fell for him. Who wouldn’t? Matt is a dream come true. It didn’t make you uncomfortable to know that his ex girlfriend, Karen, also worked along side Matt, since you knew he loved you. He reminded you every single day of how much he loved and appreciated you. He never gave you a reason to doubt him.

“Y/N? God, Karen. Can’t you see? She means nothing— not next to you.” Matt said, your heart sinking at his words. No, this isn’t the Matt you knew. The Matt you knew and fell in love with would never speak of you like this. No.. he loved you. He told you every day.

He loved you… right?

“You don’t mean that, Matt.” Karen replied softly. You could sense pity in her voice for you.

“Y/N… she’s lovely. She really is— she’s so good to me, but she’s not you. She will never be you.”

You heard Karen reply, but you weren’t paying attention anymore. You bit your bottom lip, hiding your silent cries, and shuttering breaths. You started to walk away from the office, not daring to even look back. You were grateful it was usually noisy around the office during that time, so Matt wouldn’t have been able to hear you.

You stood in the middle of the sidewalk, finally allowing yourself to hurt. Tears streamed down your face, painful sobs leaving your throat. The stares of people didn’t matter to you. How could he? How could you have been so naive? It was all too good to be true, and you knew this. You knew it was, yet you brushed it off. Just thinking this was the universe finally letting you be happy, for once. How naive.

You walked around the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. not having a place to go. You shared the apartment with Matt. You couldn’t go to Karen, or Foggy. Gosh, where were you going to sleep for tonight? Those were the only people you truly trusted and knew. You didn’t have any family left in Hell’s Kitchen. No one.

As you walked around town, flashbacks kept replaying in your head. Walking past that italian restaurant Matt loved so much, the small bar Matt liked playing pool in, the park Matt loved taking walks with you at, everything reminded you of him. You closed your eyes in defeat, as you felt small rain drops fall on your skin.

Just what you needed.

But even then, it was comforting. You always liked how the city looked during rainy nights. It brought you peace and now, consolation. You walked around the streets you loved so much, an emotionless expression in your face. You felt empty. You felt so pathetic, and like you had wasted two years of your life. Two years of nothing but what you thought was happiness and love. But it was just a fantasy. A delusion. Fiction. It just wasn’t real, nothing was real. You weren’t Karen. You didn’t have as much history with Matt as Karen did. You just weren’t her.

While you continued to walk, your tears now hidden in the rain, giving you the freedom to let go, to cry as much as you pleased, you heard a name you hadn’t heard in a while.

The Punisher.

Frank Castle. The man who once saved your life. The man who seemed to care so deeply about you. A long lost friend. You lost communication with him a few months ago. It was nothing new, Frank traveled a lot, he never truly stayed at one place for too long. You didn’t know he was back, as he hadn’t told you. He’d always find a way to contact you, to let you know he was alive and well. Most of the times, he simply got you flowers. He knew how much you liked them. So he wanted to be associated with something you liked so much.

You soon found yourself at his front door. Terrified he wouldn’t be home. After composing yourself, or at least trying to, you knocked twice on his door. You bit your lip, looking down anxiously.

Please be home, Frank. Please.

After a few minutes of silence, that sense of hope inside of you started to die down. He wasn’t home. Of course he wasn’t home. You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head. Again, how fucking naive. You wiped your teary, swollen eyes, and turned around on your heels, starting to walk away from his door. You began thinking of where you could spend the night. If anything, you could wait under they all leave the office, and you could sleep there.

“Y/N?” You heard a deep, raspy voice call out behind you, interrupting your thoughts. You could have sworn your heart stopped. You turned around slowly, finding Frank.

“You’re home…” You managed to whisper, earning a cautious nod from Frank.

“Everything okay, doll? What’s goin’ on?” Frank asked, his eyes scanning you, looking for any injuries on you. His expression softening at the sight of a broken you.

You opened your mouth to speak, yet nothing came out. You faked a smile, wiping your eyes once again. Frank’s heart tightened. He slowly began making his way to you. Your smile soon turned into a frown, small sobs leaving your lips. You couldn’t stop yourself from breaking down in front of him. Loud, and sore wails filling the hall you both were standing on.

Frank didn’t say a word either, he only embraced you into a tight hug. His strong arms stroking your back lovingly, as he held you together, knowing that if he let go, you’d fall apart right in front of him. Once he noticed your cries had calmed down, he finally spoke up.

“Let’s change you out of these wet clothes.” He spoke lightly, guiding you into his apartment. He closed the door behind him, leading you into the bathroom. He brought some of his clothes for you, and a towel.

“Take a warm bath, and then we’ll talk if you want to, alright?” Frank said, before offering you a small, pitiful grin, and closing the door. You took off the damped clothes and jumped into the shower, instantly relaxing as soon as the hot water touched your cold skin.

Frank could hear your whimpers and cries from his living room, where he impatiently waited for you. He had never seen you like this. His heart felt heavy while looking into your blood red, swollen eyes, your quivering lips and broken expression. He sighed harshly, remembering how cold you felt when he held you into his arms, how much you were shaking. He quickly stood up, gathering warm blankets for you. He also prepared warm chocolate for you, your favorite kind, in hopes of lifting your spirits, even if it’s just a little.

He must have gotten too caught up in trying to make you feel comfortable, that he didn’t notice you. You stood by the counter of his kitchen, wearing one of his t-shirts and long pants, which were most definitely a little big on you. He smiled just a bit, once he locked eyes with you. You returned the kind smile, watching him as he poured the hot chocolate into a cup for you.

Soon, your eyes drifted to a flower arrangement, carefully sitting by the end of the counter you were leaning on. You sighed quietly, in relief.

“Those are yours, sweetheart. Was gonna have them delivered to you tomorrow, or somethin’.” Frank said, handing the cup to you. You smiled, genuinely this time. Of course he was going to. How dare you doubt him? He cares about you. Truthfully. You brought the cup to your lips, softly blowing it, before drinking from it.

“See, I just didn’t know where to send ‘em to.” Frank continued, looking at the flowers he got for you. Tulips. “Didn’t know you moved in with Matt.” He said. You sighed at the mention of his name, a frown appearing once again.

“Yeah, well. Definitely don’t send them there.” You replied, so soft it was almost a whisper. Frank nodded, not wanting to push you. He didn’t want to pressure you into telling him anything.

“Are you alright, doll? Talk to me.” Frank said, as softly and tenderly as possible. You sighed shakily, recalling what you heard. Frank bit the insides of his mouth. “Let’s go sit, okay?” He offered, a hand lightly on your waist, leading you to his living room. Frank sat across from you, giving you all the space you needed. You looked down at the cup in your hands, trying to find the right words.

“It’s Matt, he—”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No! Of course not— I mean, yeah? Kind of?” You replied, placing the cup down on the coffee table in front of you, before your hands ran to caress your temples in frustration.

“I’m sorry.” Frank said after taking a deep breath. “Didn’t meant to interrupt ya.” He finished, his eyes never leaving yours. Your heart almost melted. Frank has always been this kind, this attentive.

“It’s fine, Frank. It’s just—” You continued, running a hand through your damped hair, trying to find the best way to explain your situation. “I don’t even know how to explain it, he just— he just doesn’t love me.”

“What?” Frank asked, truly baffled at your words. Because how can anybody not adore you?

“I heard him speaking to Karen. And he told her I was nothing compared to her, and that he only wanted her.” You continued, your voice breaking. “He doesn’t love me, Frank. Simply because I’m not her.” You finished, your head dropped in embarrassment and hurt. You held back your wails, yet there was not point in stopping the tears that now ran down your face. You heard Frank sigh.

After a few minutes of nothing but your silent cries, Frank had now moved to sit next to you, an arm wrapped around you, as you cried into his chest. His fingers traced circles on your skin, attempting to comfort you as much as he possibly could. A few more minutes passed, yet Frank hadn’t said a word.

“Why haven’t you said anything?” You finally spoke up, your voice sore and tired from all the crying. Frank shrugged his shoulders, looking down at you.

“Just can’t understand how anyone would want anybody else but you.” Frank said, his eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion. He was dumbfounded. “You’re it for me, sweetheart.” Frank continued, his face showing utter bewilderment.

“Didn’t know Red could be so goddamn stupid.” Frank said, looking down to stare into your eyes. Your eyes glassy and overflowing with tears. He sighed, his rough fingers wiping away the small teardrops on your cheeks.

“I’m sorry I can’t comfort ‘ya any better, I’m just bamboozled.” Frank confessed, making a small giggle leave your mouth. He offered you a small grin.

“Don’t you dare doubt yourself ‘cause of him. You know your worth and how fucking amazing you are— he’s missing out on you, pretty girl.” Frank continued, his rough hand felt warm and even soft against your skin. You bit your lip, killer butterflies filling your stomach while you heard Frank speak so softly and lovingly to you.

“I just don’t understand— if it were me, I would’ve put a ring on your finger ages ago. Fuck, I would’ve made you a mom by now.” Frank rambled on, your eyes softly widening at his sudden confession. Frank seemed to realized what he said, since he quickly looked into your eyes in panic.

“I mean— I would’ve never exchanged you for anyone or anything. I’m telling ‘ya, you’re it for me.” Frank finished, his hand leaving your cheek. You frowned at the loss of his warmth.

“You should be exhausted, go to sleep, alright? We’ll talk more in the morning.” Frank said softly, before planting a tender kiss to your forehead. You nodded, mostly speechless by what just happened. You made your way to then vacant room Frank had offered you, looking back once in a while, locking eyes with Frank. You smiled timidly, before walking into the room, and closing the door behind you.

“‘I would’ve made you a mom.’ ‘The fuck were you thinking?” Frank cursed under his breath, cleaning up his living room. His eyes going going over to the room you were sleeping at, wondering if you needed anything, and most importantly, if you were okay.

Inside, a smile had formed in your lips, remembering the words Frank had said to you. You couldn’t help the obvious attraction and love you felt towards him, from the very first day you met him. Matt hated Frank, probably because of how fondly you spoke of him and how excited you used to get when a bucket of flowers would get delivered to you. You used to reassure Matt to not worry about Frank, that you two were just friends.

But were you?

[bunni-v1]

smilk winning the pettiest jealous bitch award every year until beast yeast 8 cuz the man dead ass is just "yeah doll it's just a test :)" but the second you start getting close to truthless recluse he's just ">:( no I don't like this anymore"

we're just befriending your other half bro!! u wanted this and you're mad about it!! little bitch (affectionately)!!

i love my petty husband-

(also, your honor, was the "remembering who you belong to" thing a hit to jealous intercourse?? 🙏 cuz i love that 👀 love to hear more about that if ur in the mood, if not, ignore this lmfao)

MDNI!!!

Ohhhh, Shadow Milk is a jealous petty little bitch, and he knows it too! He really wants you two to get along, it’s great! Until it isn’t…

Oooo seeing you being so sweet on Truthless Recluse really makes him feverish. You were his little dolly, so why were you so sweet to some other cookie? You should be giving him all that attention! It’s not right! You know who you belong to, don’t you?

You’ve got that bite on the back of your neck, is that not enough? The tug and burn of his annoyance should’ve reminded you, but… Well. If you need the reminder, he’s more than happy to give it to you! Just be a good little cookie and he’ll take care of you <3

But seriously, he doesn’t really cause a fuss, mostly pouting and grumbling, UNTIL you touch Truthless Recluse. Just a brush of the hand was all it was, nothing with any meaning, but oh did it set him off. He was patient! Kind! Benevolent even! But you crossed a line with that one, and he won’t tolerate your actions any longer.

You are swooped up off your feet and transported to your shared bedroom within a fraction of a second. Having been with him for so long, you already know where this is going, so you don’t bother fighting him. But jealous sex with Shadow Milk Cookie is something entirely different than the norm.

What you think will be a regular session turns into something else entirely. Not only does he intend to remind you just who’s you are, he means to show Truthless Recluse that as well.

He’ll tie you up and blindfold you, which isn’t strange by any means. He likes forcing you to use your sense of touch, heightens the experience and really makes you squeal like he wants. All the while he’s playing it nice and cool, jealousy not quite bubbling over for the sake of the performance.

He runs his hands all across your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His mouth following to leave marks all across your pretty dough, nipping a few bites where he can. He pointedly avoids touching you where you need him most, though. Knowing better than to give you what you want right away, lest he ruin the fun for himself.

He gets you positively squirming beneath him, then, he stops. Not only does he stop, leaving you whiny and flustered, but he leaves. He leaves you tied up and dripping and alone. It’s a cruel punishment you’d never experienced from him before, and it nearly makes you cry until you hear his pleasant little giggle.

“Ohhh, did you think I left you all alone? Poor thing… you know better than that, dolly~” He’ll coo, returning right back to where he was before.

He’s a bit more aggressive about his ministrations now, leaving bites that leak jam and are sure to scar. Licking up the wounds with a kindness that gives you whiplash, until finally that sinful mouth of his reaches right where you need it.

With practiced precision, he swallows you whole, forked tongue working over you like a dream. It knows all the right spots, moving across your most needy areas and leaving you weak and breathless. He goes and goes until you reach the edge, and then he pulls away like he always does.

He lingers a moment longer, though, and you feel his eyes burn into you from his place. You wonder if this time he’ll just give you what you like, but instead you feel a sharp pain shoot up from where he just left. A shout of surprise forces it’s what out of your lungs, and before you can process what he’s done, he’s already licking away to soothe the bite on your most sensitive areas.

“Did you just bite me?” You accused.

He snickers like a delighted kid, “What? Not into it?”

Aching and huffy, you grumble out a ‘no.’ Though it was certainly more pleasant than you’d like to admit, you’d prefer to be told before he tries something like that.

“Well…” He purrs, and you feel him crawl onto the bed, positioning himself nicely between your legs. His eager member is already free, and like it has a mind of its own, is rubbing against your inner thigh in a sort of apology. “Lemme make it up to you then, hmm?”

You don’t get a chance to respond before he is pushing into you. It tears a moan out of your lips, never quite used to how odd he feels the first time he enters. You swear he can expand the damn thing on command with how it fills you, rubbing all the right places at all the right times.

He’s kind enough to let you adjust, though you know he doesn’t have to be. The damn thing squirms excitedly inside you anyway, negating the whole point of his waiting. Maybe he just liked watching it press up against your stomach, or maybe… something else was going on. Before you can mull on it too much, he moves his hips in a brutal thrust.

It nearly knocks the wind out of you, pushing yet another surprised noise from your mouth. He giggles to himself at the sound, making his next thrust even harder to draw it out again, and again, and again, and again, until you can’t think straight. Each harsh thrust is another reminder that he’ll be carrying you around all of tomorrow, and your raspy throat tells you speaking won’t be much easier either.

He leans over you at some point, though you’re not exactly sure when. His body covering you from the cool air of the spire. He uses the closeness as an excuse to leave more marks across your neck and shoulders, happy to scar you up for everyone to see.

His dick twists in a way that has you seeing stars, throwing your head back into the sheets to cry to the heavens. He has every intent to fuck you until you couldn’t think straight tonight, and just as you think he’ll let you cum, he pauses his rough pace. You nearly whine, but stop when the blindfold stars to be undone.

He’d turned off the lights, so your vision adjusts much faster, and you are met with his sharp toothy grin. He seems satisfied with himself, so you smile weakly at him.

“Awwwwh, you’re so cute! Aren’t they cute?” He coos.

It takes you a second to realize he is talking to someone else, blinking in confusion a few times before you follow his gaze across the room. You meet dull ones, seemingly uninterested in the affair unfolding before them. Your jam freezes, jerking in your restraints in surprise. Why was Truthless Recluse here? How long had he been watching? Why was Shadow Milk okay with it?

“Oh, nonono, you’re not going anywhere!” He purrs, rubbing his cheek into yours like your attempt at escape was cute, “Don’t you like the surprise I made for you? It seemed like such a good idea, don’t tell me you’re upset!”

It’s hard to keep up with him, so all you manage is a very stupid, “What?”

He giggles with good nature, “Well, you seemed to like Vanilly’s attention sosososo much, that I thought it would be fun to have him watch us! And I was right, you’re never this vocal… it’s a little annoying honestly. Y’know, I’m getting the impression you like him more than me!”

You shake your head adamantly at him, and you mean it too, even though you’re fucked out and stupid you still manage to understand what he’s saying. You can’t come up with a good argument against him in your state though, petrified eyes unable to focus on staring at him or hiding from Truthless Recluse. It seems to make him happy, but he doesn’t stop his teasing despite the satisfaction.

“You do know who you belong to, don’t you dolly?” His words are accompanied with a thrust, a gasp forcing its way out as you nod, “Use your words pretty~”

Another thrust and you manage, “Y-you.”

“Mhm~ What’s my name, c’mon. You’ve still got some brain left up there, dontcha?” He teases, tapping on your forehead. If you weren’t so horrified you might’ve laughed.

“Sha~adow Milk— shit.” You manage between the steady smacks of his hips against yours, the tip of his dick rubbing your g-spot each time making things all the more difficult for you.

He smiles proudly at you, as if you were a pet he’d broken in. You certainly felt that way right now, not that you’d complain too much. His hand grabs your face tightly, jerking your head to the side with a smug smile.

“Tell him who you belong to.” He commands, and there is not room for debate.

“I belong to Shadow Milk Cookie,” You cry out to the silent cookie. He seems… unsure of the sight in front of him, whether he enjoys it or not, but Shadow Milk pulls your face back to his before you can make it out.

“Good job! I’m so proud of you! Now,” He squeezes your face tight in his grip, smiling cruelly at your struggle, “Keep your eyes on me. Don’t make me have to remind you again, alright?”

You nod dumbly, only verbally responded when he raises an eyebrow, “Of course, I’ll be good.”

He giggles, pressing the kindest kiss he could muster to your lips, “That’s my dolly~”

[ivesambrose]

Heard the astro weather of March is supposed to be intense but I don't want to perpetuate that. I intend that you still make the best of it regardless of circumstances.

So I did something new for change 🤍

Have a good month ahead retrogrades or not xx

To book a personalized reading with me in regards to the coming months or any query you have in mind dm or email me at ivesambrose@gmail.com

Click here for services offered

Tips are appreciated 🧡

Picture 1

For you,

March whispers secrets to those who listen.

This month, you stand at the edge of knowing. You might find yourself looking through a hazy veil initially but it won't mean that you're being blinded. Will you trust what you feel before you see?

Your intuition will sharpen and dreams will whisper answers.

You will have no other choice but to nurture yourself from within. Be it eliminating certain foods or fluids or adding them. You will also be reminded that growth is quiet before it flourishes. Something within you (an idea, a love, a version of yourself) will begin to blossom into fullness.

You'll feel as though some event has cleansed your path, there will be a reckoning that brings clarity. What was once uncertain will its rightful balance. Whether you believe in karma or not it feels as though a karmic justice will play out for you.

You shall be offered emotional steadiness, either from someone or it will come within yourself. A sense of emotional maturity. You'll find yourself being less reactive or in simple terms 'less crash outs over circumstances'.

Where once there was confusion, there is now control. You hold your heart like an anchor soft yet unwavering.

Subconsciously, you're being asked to dance with change. March brings shifts, but they do not shake you. They will teach you rhythm instead. You will juggle choices, emotions, and revelations, but you will not longer feel lost.

What does March bring?

A deepening. An unfolding. A knowing. This is the month your soul speaks, and for once, you listen.

Picture 2

For you,

March arrives like a storm and a sunrise all at once.

Spring cradles you in abundance and here I want to remind you, where you focus dominantly, whatever it is, will see an increase. Remind yourself this each time you find yourself wavering to a thought that feels unfavorable.

You'll find your mind being sharp as well.

You'll also learn to establish firm boundaries. I feel as though some of you may have been feeling like their authority is being challenged or are being subtly bullied, I want to remind you that you will emerge victorious not those attempting to dim your glow. They feel threatened by that's their problem to solve, not yours.

There's softness and steel, both alive within you. And you see that clearly now, even if that clarity isn't necessarily comfortable.

You will be shown the knots of your own making, fears that have kept you still. But March is not a month for stagnation for you.

You will surge forward confidently. It is important to hold your ground if you believe in something even if it's just you. You might consider travelling or make plans for the same this may not be a short distance travel either.

This month, whatever falls was never your foundation. Let it crumble, and you will find yourself standing stronger. It's okay.

At the root of it all, I'm seeing you build a wealthy foundation for yourself. Instead of slaving away for money, learn to harness it for what it is that is, energy.

What does March bring?

A breaking. A building. A reclamation. This is the month you take your power back.

Picture 3

For you,

March turns the wheel.

The tides shift

where you were once waiting, now momentum sweeps you forward. You'll find yourself being aligned with destined moments. A lot of quick confident decisions or communication will take place. I feel some of you might be musically inclined and this month will be significant when it comes to that. Since it's a general reading I can't be too specific but music plays a crucial role for you this month be it literally or symbolically.

Be mindful of what you tell yourself as well as the media you consume. You can feel a certain emotion but not make it a part of yourself.

Your once empty cup will overflow, offering love, renewal, or a heart cracked open in the best way.

Your desired business or career will begin to flourish as well. Expect wealth. A good amount of it. Beautify yourself and your surroundings please. Your environment plays a very important role in attracting what you seek and becoming who you desire to be.

I want to remind you that your patience has not been in vain. You are moving forward now, with no hesitation. You are ready.

At the core, this month reminds you that good things take root in time, it's already inevitable so why worry? What you have sown begins to bear fruit.

What does March bring?

A turning. A revelation. A harvest. This is the month your patience meets its reward.

[tojicide]

chapter one ── pest control. the spider’s sense: a spidercaleb series.

♥︎ spider-man!caleb 𝑥 fem!reader

synopsis. ┆ caleb’s life was perfect—until it wasn’t. a radioactive spider bite turned him into linkon’s friendly neighborhood spider-man, the daily bugle started hunting for the man behind the mask, and to top it all off, he was forced to partner up with you—his smart, competitive, and infuriatingly perfect classmate who threatened his spot as number one in the class rankings.

warnings. ┆ college/modern au, academic rivals to lovers, fluff, angst, eventual smut, gran isn’t evil in this LOL, the canon event, college parties, alcohol consumption, cliches, depictions of serious crime, references to the spider-man comics and movies

chapter summary. ┆ caleb's worst fear comes true when the two of you are assigned as lab partners, especially after your first experiment together goes horribly wrong in more ways than one.

series masterlist. ┆ next: soon!

Most days in Linkon City begin with sirens.

Loud, blaring, unmistakable screeches that cut through the early morning quiet like a blade, carving their way through alleyways and avenues alike. They seep into walls, curl beneath locked doors, and coil around the restless minds of those who have long since stopped flinching at their call.

To them, the inhabitants of this city, it is nothing more than background noise—a city’s heartbeat, rhythmic and ceaseless. But to you, it is a warning. A sign that the world beyond the window of your dorm room is a battlefield, and you, a stranger in its midst, are only beginning to understand the rules of this strange place.

Perhaps, in time, you will grow desensitized as they have. Learn to sleep through the wailing cries, to walk these streets without the ever-present weight of caution pressing against your ribs. In a way, they forbade you from venturing out, instilling a fear within you that if you did, you would be the individual these melodies chased—or worse, the victim they had been called for in the first place. 

The entirety of the first semester has passed, and you haven’t even finished unpacking. Your suitcase remains half-full, a tangible reminder that you do not yet belong here. That you still have a choice—to do something before this place sinks its teeth into you, before you become just another soul who mistakes chaos for comfort.

But that choice is an illusion.

Here, people like you make no difference. You are not a hero, nor anything close to it. You are just a student who knows better, one who recognizes that the sirens will always be there, a requiem for the city’s unrest. And the crime will persist, as will the men in uniform who fail to stop it.

Somewhere beyond the blaring wails, beyond the tangled skyline and shadowed alleys, someone is fighting a battle you will never quite understand.

And for now, all you can do is listen.

Yet, in a way, you know that this was exactly where you wanted to be.

Despite its rapidly deteriorating surroundings, Linkon University remained a place of prestige. Young children dreamed of acceptance into its ranks, babbling to their parents about how they, too, would one day make these halls their stomping grounds. Maybe it was naivety that brought you here. Or maybe it was the last remnants of a dream that hadn’t yet died on your tongue.

Or perhaps, it was the medical journalism program—a rare gem, dwindling into obscurity at every other university.

You were lucky to be accepted. But humbly speaking, luck had very little to do with it. Your stats spoke for themselves: a 1540 SAT, a 4.98 weighted GPA, more extracurriculars than you could count on both hands. A smart cookie, as written in the shining letters of recommendation that paved your way here.

And yet, imposter syndrome festered like a quiet disease, creeping into the spaces between your confidence. You have spent your entire life at the top. Always number one.

Here? You were number two.

Number two to whom? You did not know. Not yet, anyway.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Caleb’s perfect life has unraveled in the span of a week and a half, but he positively swears it’s not his fault.

It’s yours.

Ten days ago, at precisely 12:57 PM, he endured the worst torment known to man: his seat in the lecture hall was stolen. A cruel move, truly. Class had been in session for four days, he’d claimed that seat twice—twice—and by the unspoken law of university students everywhere, that granted him full ownership. So why, then, were you sitting in his allotted property?

Looking back, Caleb sees only two possible explanations. The first: you had unknowingly taken the seat after enrolling just before the census date. The second: you were out to get him from the very start.

And personally? He’s convinced it’s the latter.

But alas, he hadn’t made a fuss about it then. It wasn’t like he’d just lost the single best seat in the entire hall—the one with perfect access to the exit, the projector, and the professor’s desk. But hey, he could be cool about this, right? Yeah… totally cool. So cool. The coolest.

Days passed, and everyone seemed to be settling into the spring semester just fine. The weather was getting warmer, flowers on the great lawn were blooming, and Caleb was thriving.

That was, until the unthinkable happened.

Time? 2:19 PM. Class? CHEM 001 AH. Location? The Grand Hall.

Caleb sat directly behind you, having resigned himself to the second best seat in the room, as the sound of pencils scratching against paper filled the otherwise quiet space.

Taking practice exams felt pointless. A waste of time, really. His efforts could be better spent elsewhere—like taking the real exam or absolutely demolishing his roommate Zayne in Apex Legends yet again. But instead, here he was, surrounded by classmates diligently scribbling away as the session inched closer to its eventual end.

And when it did, Caleb would have simply packed up and gone on his merry way—if not for the single most bone-chilling sentence he had ever heard in his entire academic career.

You were chatting with the girl beside you, talking about things he had zero interest in. Your shared biology class at 3 PM, your dorm building, plans to meet up at the dining hall later… blah blah blah. But then—an acronym. A single, horrific acronym triggered him like a sleeper agent.

“My GPA? Oh, it’s… 4.30. I think. To be honest, it’s been a while since I checked.”

His jaw went slack. His eyes widened. The color drained from his face.

A 4.30 GPA? No. No. That couldn’t be real. That could not be real.

But as his gaze flickered between the back of your head and your friend’s, he came to the most horrifying conclusion of all.

You weren’t lying. And if that were true… then that meant you had the same GPA he did.

Which meant that, depending on your course load and how well you performed, you could take his spot as number one in the class rank.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Caleb burst into his dorm room, slinging his backpack onto his mattress before face-planting into it with a sound somewhere between a groan and a hmph.

Across the room, Zayne didn’t even glance up from his desk, fingers tapping away at his mounted laptop. Click, clack. Click, clack. For a stretch of time, that was the only sound in the room—until he finally exhaled, the kind of quiet sigh that could only mean here we go again.

“Rough day?”

Caleb didn’t even hesitate. “The worst day.”

Zayne closed his eyes for a moment, like he was mentally preparing himself, before pushing away from his desk and turning his chair just enough to look at his roommate. “What happened?”

Still face-down on the bed, Caleb let out a long, exaggerated sigh—nowhere near as silent as Zayne’s. “I think I have to take trig next semester. Honors.”

That made Zayne pause. Brow quirked, he leaned back. “Why? Your counselor quite literally said you’re already on track to graduate with honors and as one of the top-ranked students in our year.”

That was the problem, though. Caleb wasn’t satisfied with being one of the best. He wanted to be the best—and now, that source of pride was under attack.

“Well, that was before I found out I’m sharing a GPA with some girl in my chem lecture,” he said, rolling onto his back to stare blankly at the ceiling. “Which means if I don’t get my shit together and pack on a few more honors courses, I’m cooked.”

Zayne laughed. Actually laughed. Shaking his head, he turned back to his desk, plucked his glasses off the mousepad, and slid them on. “You should hear yourself right now.”

Caleb’s head snapped to the side, eyebrows pinching together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just amusing, is all.” Zayne smirked. “I find it endearing that you, Mr. ‘I can skip the final and still pass with a 94%,’ Mr. ‘I think I might take astronomy honors for fun this semester,’—”

“All riiight, I get it,” Caleb cut in. “What’s your point?”

Zayne snickered, amused. “My point is that if you of all people feel threatened by a classmate you hardly know, maybe there’s a reason for that.”

Caleb hated that there was probably some truth to that. Not that he’d ever admit it. Being threatened by a classmate he barely knew? Please. He knew enough. (And yes, he had meticulously sifted through the entire roster of his chemistry class to stalk your Canvas profile. What? It’s… field research.)

“Y’know, you’re terrible at pep talks,” he muttered, folding his hands behind his head.

“I’m not trying to be,” Zayne replied easily. “But if you want my input—take the trig course next semester. Something tells me you’ll need it.”

Caleb rolled onto his side, fishing his laptop from his backpack as the weight of his evening workload settled in.

And maybe Zayne was right.

Maybe he would need all the help he could get.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

It wasn’t until six days later—today—that Caleb knew for certain fate was no longer on his side.

The professor’s voice cut through the shuffle of students packing up their belongings, all of which were currently praying that their first lab of the semester wouldn’t be a complete and utter disaster. It was a well known fact that Dr. Rappaccini was quite the harsh critic, and an even harsher grader. Her score on Rate My Professors was a whopping 2.8/5 for crying out loud.

“Alright, it’s time for you all to receive your lab partners for the semester. Before heading to the lab next door, please check the list of pairings at the front.”

Luckily, Caleb had committed the syllabus to memory and knew that each person was scored individually no matter how their partner performed, but it was recommended that the pair conduct their experiments together to save time and... okay, maybe he hadn’t memorized it as well as he thought, but at least he knew the core details, right?

Scanning the list, his blood ran cold. He squinted, hoping that the prescription of his glasses had failed him, but of course, it was unmistakable. Your name was printed next to his. Emboldened, unignorable, in a perfectly neutral 12 pt Times New Roman font.

The walk to the laboratory was a quiet one, and you were walking a few feet ahead of him without a care in the world. Reaching for the door handle, he twisted the metallic lever and gestured for you to enter ahead of him with a single nod of his head. It was a force of habit. He may not care for you as an academic peer, but you didn't directly wrong him in any way. Not knowingly, that is.

With a curt nod of your own and a sliver of a smile, you entered the class with a quiet “thank you.”

And before he could follow in step behind you, the neverending line of your fellow classmates began to flood into the room, leaving him to stand idle while offering each of them a thin-lipped smile. It felt like an eternity before he was able to step inside of the laboratory too, and his first instinct was to map out the classroom to find the best possible seating arrangement. 

To his surprise… you’d already claimed the most optimal lab station, and as he approached, you made the first move to speak. 

“I hope you’re okay with sitting here,” you say, fishing out your sleek notebook and a bright blue pencil. “It’s the only lab station with equal access to the exit, the supplies cabinet, and the professor’s desk.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side as bewilderment etches into his features. Were you inside of his brain? He clears his throat, shaking away his confusion as he nods. “Yeah, I’m alright with this spot. Good choice.” 

Smiling, you nod too. “Cool.” 

A beat of silence passes, and you smooth your hands over the black resin material of the table, a movement that his eyes instinctively follow. Then, your hand raises and extends out to him, forcing him to blink himself out of his state of daydreaming. 

You say your name while tilting your head with a smile—this time, a smile with teeth—as you wait for his hand to take yours. “And you’re… Xia?” 

Raising his eyebrows, he shakes his head while a chuckle slips through his carefully crafted exterior. “Caleb,” he corrects, his firm grasp enveloping your hand as he gives it a shake. “Caleb Xia.”

“Ah, got it,” you remark, an epiphany dawning on you as you slip your hand from his hold. “Well, I’m going to go get our safety goggles.” 

But before leaving, you straightened, eyes glued to him—or rather, his head.

Huffing out a laugh through his nose, Caleb’s lip tugs up in the corner. “What are you doing?”

Tapping your chin, you sigh. “I’m trying to see if you have a big head. If you do, I’ll have to go fight tooth and nail for one of the ones with adjustable straps.” 

Rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm, he rests his elbow on the edge of the table before leaning his cheek into his hand. “Well, lay it on me. What’s your diagnosis?”

Humming, you tilt your head back and forth before nodding your head a single time. “Big-head syndrome. I’m positive.”

Caleb’s eyes crinkle as he laughs. “I should take that as a compliment. Big head means big brain, you know.”

“Or a big ego,” you retort with a shrug, giving him a once-over with raised brows before whisking away towards the horde of students currently going to war over the remaining pick of the litter. 

Yeah, that too, he thinks. 

In your absence, he takes the liberty of prepping the lab for the both of you. Beakers? Check. Random substance that the two of you were going to be experimenting on? Check. Hydrochloric acid? Check. Sodium bicarbonate? Check—

“Safety goggles,” you state, plopping down on your stool and handing his pair to him.

Without missing a beat, he speaks. “Check.”

Drawing back slightly, you turn to look at him with an arched eyebrow. “Uh… yeah. Check.”

Faltering, Caleb slides the item onto his face as he stammers through his words. “I was just… never mind, let’s start.”

The class had settled into a low hum—the murmur of newly paired partners, the scribbling of notes, the soft hiss of chemicals reacting. 

As the two of you began the experiment, an incredibly prominent conclusion dawned on him: Disliking you as a person wasn’t as easy as he’d hoped. As a competitor? You were treacherous. As a lab partner? You were… tolerable. Efficient. Annoyingly easy to work with. 

It wasn’t the end result that he was hoping for, if he were to be entirely honest with himself. He wanted you to be difficult to be around, he wanted you to be stuck up, he wanted you to give him a genuine reason to dislike you apart from being the root of his newfound insecurity. But you weren’t, and that was a problem. 

“Pass me the baking soda?” you ask.

“The sodium bicarbonate?”

“Yeah. The baking soda.”

Caleb tilts his head with a smile. “Also known as sodium bicarbonate.”

You glance his way, and your eyes met. “Congrats, big guy. You know big words. Now pass it.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Biting back a smile, he hands it over, only to retract it at the last second. “Wait. What’s it called again?”

Your force smile was all teeth. “Sodium bicarbonate.”

Finally relenting, Caleb places the bowl in your orbit with a triumphant grin. 

He was smart enough to know that this was a bad idea. Despite how easily the two of you worked together, he knew that he couldn’t entertain this any further. You weren’t just his classmate, his peer—you were his competition. And while he’s heard the saying keep your friends close, but your enemies closer just as many times as the next person, he knows that mixing any ounce of developing friendship with his pursuit for greatness would be wrong.

It would work best that way. You can’t be friends, and that’s okay.

And for the first time in what felt like ages, fate seemed to agree with him.

“Hmm,” Caleb soon rumbles, squinting at the beaker. “This isn’t lookin’ too good. You said you added the sodium bicarbonate, yeah?”

You frown, glancing up from your notes. Your stomach twists at the sight of the clock—barely any time left before the lab ends. The professor would be making her rounds any second now.

“What? I didn’t add it. You said you added it.”

Caleb flits his gaze to the side of your face. “No, I added hydrochloric acid.”

Your head snaps toward him so fast he was surprised it didn’t snap right off. “No, I added hydrochloric acid.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No, you didn’t.”

You exhale sharply, frustration creeping up your neck. “How are you gonna tell me what I did or didn’t do?”

Your pulse ticks up a bit faster than it naturally should, and your eyes rose up from the glass cylinder. Around the room, students were already wrapping up their conclusions while the two of you hadn’t even finished the experiment. You suck in a breath and push up from your stool.

“Fine. Fine. Can you just pass me the baking soda?”

Caleb nods, handing over the pre-measured bowl of sodium bicarbonate. While you worked to fix the mess, he jotted down a few quick notes. You added just enough of the powder to neutralize the acid—but not smother it completely.

And then? Silence. The two of you sat. Watching. Waiting. Hoping. Praying.

Then, miraculously, the beaker decided to behave and the fizzing subsided.

Like clockwork, you both exhaled, shoulders slumping as small, victorious smiles tugged at your mouths—

Until yours vanished entirely. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Caleb falters, eyes narrowing. “I didn’t say thank you.”

“Well, you should have.”

“Why? If I hadn’t pointed out the weird reaction, we’d have been screwed.”

“Oh? If I hadn’t realized neither of us added the sodium bicarbonate—which was your responsibility, by the way—we would’ve actually been screwed.”

Tension thickened between you like a drawn bowstring. You clench your jaw and look away, scribbling down your final observations. Stupid man, you thought to yourself. And here you were, actually believing that this semester wouldn’t be a total shitshow, that maybe, just maybe, you’d gotten lucky.

Unfortunately not.

Then, your attention was caught by something out of the ordinary. Your gaze lands on his neck, and your breath hitched. Staring back at you was a small, multi-legged beady eyed monster. Sticking out your pointer finger, you still find yourself instinctively drawing back, as if it were out to get you next. “There’s a spider on—”

But before you could finish your sentence, Caleb winced, his veins tightening as he instinctively flicked the eight-legged menace off. You sucked your teeth, drumming your fingers on the table. So much for your timely warning.

Glancing his way, your brows elevate as you see the already forming bite mark on his neck. “Yikes. It got you good.”

“Did it?” he asks, raising a hand to rub over the mark with narrowed eyes. “Hm. Guess so, yeah.”

Reluctantly, you ask, “Are you okay?” 

With a nod, he picks up his pencil once more and works on finishing the last of his lab report. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Sighing airily, you can’t help the smile that tugs on your mouth. “Poor spider, being flicked through the air like that.”

Like routine, Caleb shot a glare your way. “Funny.”

“Thanks.”

With that, you left for the washing station. Meanwhile, Dr. Rappaccini stood from her desk, making her rounds. It was in that moment that a shrill of panic shot up his spine—the stimulation foreign, unfamiliar, and… terrifying. 

He could feel his heart rate shooting through the roof, a sweat break on his forehead, and his fingertips flex at his sides—all things that he wasn’t even conscious of. And before he knew it, he was glancing in your direction, noting that you were distracted. Good.

With a quick ease, he snatched up your notepad and erased a few numbers, replacing them with subtle, logicless mistakes. 34? Now a 26. 32 to the power of 5? Not anymore.

It wasn’t his proudest moment. Sabotaging his own lab partner’s work? Definitely not.

Ten seconds. That’s all it took to ruin you just enough. He slid the notepad back into place, brushing away the eraser shavings. Like clockwork, you returned, none the wiser.

Exhaling softly, you turned to him. “Look, I just wanted to say that—”

“Now, you two,” Dr. Rappaccini’s voice cut you off.

You both turned as she scanned and picked up Caleb’s report, making a few marks with her fine-pointed marker before sliding it back into place. You glanced over, making note of his grade. 94.

Then, she picked up yours. A moment later, she handed it back. Your professor held up a roll of stickers, tearing two off before setting them down on the table.

Despite the vibrant designs on the stickers, your stomach dropped. Your grade was big, bold, and unmistakable. 82.

“Wait—Dr. Rappaccini,” you call after her, staring at the page with widened eyes of shock. “I… I don’t understand. What did I do wrong?”

“Well, your experiment was solid—your observations were well-written, and your documentation was precise. But your math?” She sighs. “Completely off.” A beat of silence. Then, a smile. “Don’t feel discouraged. You’re a good student as you are—no need to compare your scores to others.”

The implication was clear. She thought you were smart—just not as smart as Caleb.

Huffing, you toss your notebook onto the table, fingers curling against the edge of it.

“You got cut off earlier,” he says casually, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “What were you sayin’?”

Blinking, you tried to retrace your thoughts. “Oh, yeah… I was just saying that…”

Your voice trails, eyes drifting to your lab report. Caleb caught the flicker of realization dawning on you—and when you turned to him, his not-so-hidden grin said it all.

“I was just saying,” you snap, “that you’re an asshole whose handwriting looks like a drunk chicken clawed at my report.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he says with a shrug, peeling off his sticker to plaster it onto your shoulder. “Good luck on the exam tomorrow morning.”

And with that, he walks out of the lab.

“Yeah, you too,” you murmur, though he was already gone before he could hear the hissed “bitch” that followed.

Irritation pricks at your skin as you stuff—more like shove—your belongings into your backpack. Prick. So much for not knowing the single person you were beneath in the class ranks.

Guilt stirred in his chest as he walked towards his dorm building… but only a little.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

By the time Caleb stumbled back to his dorm, he felt like he’d been hit by a freight train.

He barely managed to push the door open before kicking off his shoes, letting his backpack slump to the floor with a heavy thud. His head swam, his breath uneven as he widened his eyes in a feeble attempt to stay awake. Slapping himself on the cheek, he quickly realized it was no use. His neck stung worse than it had when the spider first bit him, the dull throb pulsing beneath his fingertips as he rubbed over the puncture point.

"Are you drunk?" Zayne’s voice drifts from across the room.

"No," Caleb mutters, face buried in his pillow. "Just… tired. Really tired."

He sank into the thin mattress like dead weight, the springs groaning beneath him. With sluggish hands, he pulled his glasses from his face and tossed them onto the bedside table, missing by an inch. His breathing grew heavier, his skin slick with cold sweat. His pupils—blown wide as saucers—fluttered shut as he barely mustered the strength to tug his shirt over his head and toss it aside.

And within seconds, he was out like a light.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

The morning sun sliced through the blinds, painting golden stripes across Caleb’s bare back as he jolted awake.

His chest rose and fell in sharp, erratic breaths, but despite the abruptness of it all, he felt… alert. Fully awake in a way that didn’t exactly make sense.

Blinking rapidly, he reached for his glasses and slid them onto his face with a groggy groan. And then—he froze.

His vision was still blurry.

Frowning, he pulled his glasses off, breathed onto the lenses, and wiped them against his bedsheet. When he slid them back on—blurry again. He pulled them down. Clear. Glasses up. Blurry. Glasses down. Clear.

He stares at them in his hands. “...Weird.”

Setting the frames down, he threw his legs over the bed and staggered toward his closet—only to catch sight of his reflection in the mirror. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

Since when the hell did he have abs?

He flexed instinctively, stomach tensing under his own scrutiny. Then his gaze trailed up—to his arms. His biceps. His shoulders.

Turning, twisting, he inspected every angle of himself like a stranger in his own skin. He’d been in shape before, sure, but this? This was different. He would’ve noticed this.

Knuckles rapped against the door, making him flinch.

“Caleb? Are you awake? I forgot my key.” A pause. Then, “Are you feeling any better? You slept like a log last night—perhaps you’re catching a bug.”

"A bug?" Caleb echoes under his breath, flexing again just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. “Holy shit… Uh, yeah, man, I’m good. Just—gimme a sec.”

Turning back toward his desk, he reached for his chair, only meaning to push it aside—but the moment his palm touched the wood, it stuck.

His brows furrow.

He yanks once. Then again.

Nothing.

His heartbeat quickens as he curls his fingers, attempting to lift his hand—and instead, he lifts the entire chair clean off the ground.

“What the—” His stomach drops. He waved his hand. The chair waved with it. Up. Down. Side to side. Still stuck.

“Caleb?” Zayne calls from the other side of the door.

Caleb whips his head toward the sound, panic tightening in his throat. Shit. He bolted across the room—chair still attached to his palm—and somehow managed to unlock the door just as Zayne strode in.

Zayne, clearly in a rush, barely spared him a glance as he grabbed a stack of papers from his desk, clipped them together, and breezed back out with a nod.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Caleb exhaled sharply—only to realize his hand was still stuck… to the doorknob.

Huffing, he gave it a firm tug, expecting it to pop free. Instead, the entire knob wrenched out of the door, hinges snapping with a loud crack.

"Shit."

He barely had time to process before his body betrayed him once again—this time, with a sharp thwip.

A thick strand of silk shot from his wrist, attaching him to his bedpost.

His pulse stuttered. 

"What. The. Fuck."

Another sharp tug. Another web. More panic. Before he knew it, his dorm room looked like a crime scene from some horror movie—threads of silk stretching from walls to furniture to the ceiling.

His gaze snapped to the clock on his desk. 12:56 PM.

"Alright," he mutters, inhaling deeply. "Exam starts in four minutes. I’m sticking to everything I touch. I’m half-naked. Cool, cool, cool."

But nothing about this was cool.

If anyone in the history of Linkon University could take an exam like this, it was going to be him.

series masterlist. ┆ next: soon!

a/n like & reblog if you enjoyed!! this was really fun to write :) also i should’ve mentioned it rly isnt specified how old reader is, just that she’s in college and just starting her second semester at linkon university :) she can be a transfer student (which is kinda what i had in mind), a first year, etc lol it doesn’t really matter bc i’m fine with that being a “plot hole”

i could not stop laughing while writing this at 4am bc i was just imagining caleb coming up with an elaborate ass internalized beef with reader and she’s just sitting in her chem lab like

taglist. (join it by commenting under this post)

@leonskenthusiast @universallysoulcreator @devonjs-blog @lacieohlacie @kisswithyoureyesclosed @lovesick-sylus @livonianmaia @hqnge @yuuuumii @mizzfizz @simpfortheseven @nyxthejinx-rantsaboutlads @mariojins @rcvcngers @yizhoupilled @irlsammy @gloomuri671 @risagichi @drinking2nite @seikamuzu @flowers-wilt-on-juniper-lane

@that-one-scoundrel @joy-laufeyson @missaengg @wheatrice @gvenone @desiree-archive @jayhyunglover @flwerie @miffysoo @jijijihanji @ssetsuka @mglwhor3 @sureconfused @vorfreudevortex @honehbee42 @angelbeat994 @codedove @cheesemachine44 @mocha-the-muse @msanimeotaku181 @breadiestpuffs @idkwhatursayinh @hannahchk @rxelarailuj @littlebabyypeach @wooasecret @nikilig @theweevilofsweetreef @etsuniiru

[taeyongdoyoung]

beg for you

summary: missing your ex, you stumble upon an interesting song that brings back memories you thought you could bottle up... pairing: vernon x reader genre: angst, smut, exes to online friends to lovers warnings: mentions of past break-up, reader felt neglected and lonely, insecurities, lowkey catfishing+lie by omission, swearing, song-writing themes, some serious talks, hand-holding, kissing, spitting, eating out, fingering, dom!vernon, orgasm denial, public unprotected sex (in a café bathroom), mainly lots of emotions, idk author's note: the fic was inspired by this iconic song, in particular vernon's verse and it has some occasional references to the lyrics in bold word count: 2.6k

It's been three months since you ended things with Vernon, blocked his number and all his socials and tried your best to forget about him. The reason for your break-up was mainly because you felt like he never had time for you, his music always came first and while that was appealing at the start of your relationship, it began to infuriate you and make you feel invisible towards its end. He would stand you up and forget about your dates more than once. He would make you feel like you were always his second choice. Not being around him hurts like hell, because you'd become so used to his presence that the lack of it brings so much emptiness. And also because a part of you still loves him.

One evening, you can't fall asleep so you're scrolling through some music apps. Suddenly you discover a new song. The artist hides their face behind a mask but their voice sounds somewhat familiar. Strangely enough, the lyrics just speak to you:

I don't think I'll ever feel this type of way again (This way again; Yеah, uh, yeah) I beg for you, please (Don't let go), don't let go of me, don't let go of me All the endless conversations about us been going on in our head In the night, we dream a future together and I feel bad in your bed I beg for you, please stay, I can't go a day without No, I can't go a day without you, hoo

So weird. It's like the artist knows exactly what's been on your mind for the past three months. You shut your phone off with a sigh and attempt to get some sleep. The next day, that same melody and those words haunt you. And the following day…It goes on for a while and you've become so obsessed with it that you try to do some research on the artist. Unfortunately, it's not of much help. Nobody knows the identity of the artist, how they look or their real name. It's frustrating but it is what it is. Maybe you should drop it. But then again…you really can't stop thinking about these fucking lyrics and how well they described how you've been feeling.

You decide to do something stupid and slide into the DMs of the anonymous artist. They'll probably never see this message as they have thousands of followers, but still, you need to get this off your chest somehow.

You: Hi, you probably get this a lot but your lyrics are really relatable, like they truly spoke to me and totally represent the way I've been feeling for the past three months. You're incredibly talented and I'd be happy to hear more of your music in the future.

It's a short message, nothing too crazy. You feel a sense of relief once you've sent it. You realize it doesn't matter if the artist ever sees it. You're just happy you were able to express your feelings.

To your immense shock, about 30 minutes later, you receive a notification. This is actually so insane you can't believe your eyes. The anonymous artist…texted you back?!

RevN98: Hi, this really means a lot to me. Actually, I don't get a lot of feedback, as I'm just starting out. I'll try my best to write more music. In what ways did you relate to the lyrics?

Is he seriously…initiating a discussion? It is wild enough he texted you back but the fact he wants to continue texting baffles you. But you are not one to look at a gift horse in the mouth. So, you respond rightaway.

You: I got out of a long-term relationship a couple of months ago and even though I should probably move on already, some part of me wishes my ex begged for me to stay. I know it's probably a selfish thought, considering I'm the one who broke up with the guy, but…I miss him sometimes and I keep thinking of a universe in which he'd fought for me.

After sending that message, you look at it in horror as you realize how personal it was. Why is it so easy to open up to a complete stranger? And not to people who actually know you…

You: Sorry, that was probably a whole bunch of TMI. Anyways, I really thought your lyrics were connected to how I was feeling if that makes sense.

You double text just in case. The response from the mysterious artist comes soon after.

RevN98: It makes sense, yeah. When I was writing them, I was also thinking about my past relationship. Honestly, I kind of wish I'd begged my ex to stay. I thought that by not doing so, I was respecting her wishes and giving her space. But now that it's been a while, I can't help but think I should have expressed myself better. I really miss her, though, so I guess that got reflected in the lyrics somehow.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts and figure out what to text.

You: Aw, man. Whoever your ex is, she's lucky to have such lyrics written about her. Even if it's over, maybe there's a way she finds your music and…I don't know, reconsiders things?

RevN98: Hah, that'd be a dream come true. I don't think she likes the kind of music I make.

You: Why not? Your music is great!

RevN98: Well, the truth is I was spending more time on my music than time with her. So, I guess that's one of the reasons for our break-up.

My God. This feels…too similar to your situation it gives you goosebumps. Despite that, it's like your fingers are possessed as they keep itching to text the anonymous artist back.

You: Time changes the way people feel. Maybe if you're honest with her and how you're feeling, there's a chance for a reconciliation. Or at least some closer. You should call her!

RevN98: I'd love that but she's blocked my number.

You: Use a friend's phone, duh!

RevN98: That'd be suspicious, considering I haven't told any of my friends about our break-up.

You: Dang…you're really not over this girl, huh?

RevN98: Not a chance.

You: So…what are you going to do?

RevN98: I don't know, for the time being texting you helps to ease the pain.

You: Likewise. But just to give you a heads-up, I'm not interested in any rebound relationship.

RevN98: Great. I'm not interested in that, either.

You: So…online buddies, then?

RevN98: Sounds good to me.

It is so strange how quickly the mysterious artist becomes part of your everyday life. You text each other quite often about anything. From what you've had for breakfast to what other music you've been listening to. From where you're planning to go with your friends to…how much you miss your exes. It is truly extraordinarily easy to talk to them. You still don't know much. How they look, what their real name is, where they live…But somehow it's enough knowing they're out there making awesome and relatable music.

Until one day it isn't.

You: We should meet up!

RevN98: I don't think that is a good idea…My schedule's crazy lately.

You: What do you mean? It's not like you have live performances.

You point out the obvious because from what you've gathered, maintaining this anonymity is key to RevN98.

RevN98: I just don't feel comfortable meeting in person…

You: Are you worried I'd expose your identity? You know I'm not that kind of person, right?

RevN98: I'm not worried about that. It's hard to explain. It would make sense if we met up, which is exactly why we can't meet up.

You: I'm super confused right now. But you know how important honesty is to me. So, it's now or never, I guess. If you don't want to meet up in the near future, I don't think I want to continue being friends…

You wait a couple of minutes, to give them a chance to make a decision. Finally, the response comes.

RevN98: Okay, let's meet up.

They text you a time and place. And then you ask the crucial question.

You: How will I know it's you?

RevN98: Trust me, you'll know.

This is…so cryptic. You guess you'll just have to rely on the fact that there are a bunch of photos of you on your profile, so the musician would be able to recognize you first.

When you arrive at the small café, you look around nervously, waiting. Negative thoughts keep haunting your mind. What if they change their mind in the last minute and stand you up? What if they are disappointed upon meeting you and never want to text you again? What if you were too harsh by giving an ultimatum? What if-

So many scenarios and you failed to consider the one that truly matters.

What if…you run into your ex at said café? What are the fucking odds?!

"What are you doing here?" you ask Vernon, sounding a bit too rude. Better to be rude than to burst into tears or something more embarrassing.

"Waiting for you," Vernon replies simply.

"What are you talking about?" you blink in confusion. Until it clicks…No. Freaking. Way.

Vernon sighs and takes his phone out, showing you the texts between you and RevN98. And the only explanation is…fucking hell. He is RevN98.

"Please, tell me you're joking right now."

"I wish I was," Vernon looks down, feeling guilty.

"How could you do this to me?" you inquire, eyes welling up already. You feel so weak upon seeing him.

"What was I supposed to do? You had me blocked on everything."

"What, and writing me a song under a false name sounded like the greatest idea?" you snap at him.

"I just needed to talk to you again. Somehow."

"Why? What is there to say?"

"I miss you," Vernon murmurs.

"You lied to me," you insist stubbornly.

"Please come back to me," he keeps trying.

"It's too late…" you try to reject him gently.

"I'm begging you," Vernon really wants a second chance.

You shake your head, but your hands are already reaching for his. Desperate to hold them one more time, you lean closer.

"I'm not taking you back," you keep fighting it.

"Okay," he nods.

"We're just…gonna talk, yeah? Seems a waste of my great outfit to go back home."

"Okay," Vernon repeatss.

As the two of you sit down to have a chat, suddenly all of the unsaid words and undelivered messages bubble up to the surface.

"I should have fought for you. I mean it. Music is important to me but not as much as you. You are my muse, how could I go another day without you?"

"It seems you've been doing a great job writing music without me," you say bitterly.

"Oh, yeah?" Vernon raises his eyebrows cockily. "Well, I bet I can write even better if you're back in my life."

"I was too harsh," you admit. "I let my overthinking and insecurities get the worst of me. When I broke up with you, it seems I had forgotten how much I love music, too. I was so caught up in my own dark thoughts that I didn't matter to you that things escalated."

"You had a point," Vernon chuckles sadly. "I wasn't giving you the attention you needed. The attention you deserve. I was being selfish."

"I was selfish, too," you confess. "I shouldn't have made you feel like you needed to make a choice between me and music."

"I would pick you. For the record."

"Record is exactly what you'll be making," you tease him. "I'm serious. I need to hear more of what you've been working on."

"I'd love to show you. But there's something else I'd like to do first," Vernon smirks mischievously.

He grabs your hand and takes you to the café's bathroom. He pushes you inside a free booth and locks the door behind him. He kisses you under the bathroom lights eagerly, not wanting to let go ever again.

"Hey!" you chide him playfully. "I said I wasn't taking you back."

"Too bad. 'Cause I'm taking you," Vernon says assertively.

"You…you've changed," you blink in surprise.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Vernon smiles and his palms dig into your lower back deliciously, as he kisses you again. "God, I missed this taste."

"You're insane," you laugh but you can't find it in you to deny it any longer. You want him so bad.

"Don't let go of me," he repeats the song's lyrics in your ear.

"I won't. As long as you promise the same," you ask.

Vernon doesn't say a word as he kneels in front of you. He picks up one of your legs and swings it over his shoulder as pulls your panties to the side. Suddenly, you're so grateful for your genius decision to wear a dress. He spits on your pussy and attacks your folds with his skilled tongue. You're already losing your mind over how good it feels, when suddenly, he pulls back.

You gasp in disappointment as your pleasure was so abruptly interrupted.

"Beg me," Vernon commands you easily. "Beg me to make you come."

"You're fucking insane," you refuse. You've always had a little bit of a brat in you.

Vernon, however, doesn't seem perturbed by your refusal to cooperate and sticks one finger inside you, teasing you slow enough to frustrate you but not fast enough to get you there. It hurts so sweetly you both hate and love it.

"Beg me," he repeats.

It would be so easy to do that. Just to get that sweet release…But the stubborn part of you is still stronger than the part of you that wants to come.

''Try harder," you grin cruelly.

Vernon is not one to back down from a challenge and unleashes his final weapon. He takes off his jeans and slides his hard cock inside you. Fuck. You'd forgotten how girthy he is.

"I missed you so much," he whispers in your ear. And his genuine words affect you more than his actions. And oh, how terribly you've missed him, too.

You hold on to the back of his neck, needing him for support. He keeps tormenting you, not moving a lot, just making you feel so full but so dissatisfied at the same time. You truly can't take it anymore.

"P-please, let me c-come," you beg for him hopelessly.

"There's my good girl," Vernon smiles proudly and adjusts his movements, adding pressure with his fingers so that you come in mere seconds.

"T-thank you, thank you," you chant, not knowing what demon possessed you to act this way.

"So polite," he laughs adorably and holds you close as he reaches his own high.

You don't want to let go of him ever again. But you're gonna have to, because you hear angry people who want to use the bathroom. Uh-oh.

You quickly try to clean each other up and rush outside, cheeks red with embarrassment.

You get a few weird looks from random people, but honestly, it doesn't matter. This felt too good.

"Sooo…" Vernon says once you've arrived at his chill but cozy apartment. "Does this mean you'll take me back?"

"Hmm, I don't know. Beg me nicely?" you suggest teasingly.

"Oh, you know I will," Vernon promises.

Bonus:

"Veeern, it's been hours, didn't you finish the song already?" you complain, desperate for his attention.

"Just five-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," you warn him, though you don't really mean it. You're just playing around. You know he cares about you deeply. Perhaps more deeply that he lets on.

"Won't you wait another hour or two?" Vernon teases you back.

"You know what? I'd wait as long as it takes," you smile and put your lips on his lips.

The End

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

3 AM crisis

character: Nam-Gyu X fem!reader

Summary: After watching a conspiracy theory video, Nam-Gyu wakes you up in the middle of the night to ask if you think pigeons are real.

Warning: namgyus crazy ass theories

You’re fast asleep, comfortably curled up in your blankets, dreaming about something pleasant—probably food, if you had to guess. But then, a sudden weight shifts on the bed, followed by a sharp poke to your arm.

"Hey," a hushed voice whispers. "Hey, babe. Wake up."

You groan, barely cracking an eye open. The room is dark except for the faint glow of Nam-Gyu’s phone screen, casting eerie shadows across his face. His brows are furrowed, his lips pressed into a serious line.

"What?" you mumble, voice thick with sleep.

"Are pigeons real?"

You stare at him. Blink once. Blink twice. "What?"

Nam-Gyu leans in, his expression deadly serious. "Pigeons. Are they real? Think about it. Have you ever seen a baby pigeon? Ever? Anywhere?"

Your brain, still struggling to boot up, short-circuits. "Nam-Gyu. It’s three in the morning."

"I know! But I fell down this rabbit hole, and I think—no, I know—they might be government drones. Or spies. Or something! It makes too much sense!" He shoves his phone into your hands, showing you a video paused on an ominous-looking thumbnail: a pigeon with glowing red eyes. The title reads: "THE PIGEON PARADOX: BIRDS ARE NOT WHAT YOU THINK!"

You sigh, rubbing your temples. "You woke me up for this?"

"Yes! And you need to hear me out!" He sits cross-legged on the bed, full of nervous energy. "Okay, so pigeons are everywhere, right? But we never see them at night. Where do they go? Government charging stations, that’s where."

"Nam-Gyu—"

"And the way they stare at you? Like they're always watching? Because they are!" He gestures wildly. "Have you ever noticed how they don’t seem scared of people? They just strut around like they own the place. You know why? Because they do!"

You groan and flop back down. "I cannot believe this is happening right now."

Nam-Gyu dramatically flops next to you, staring at the ceiling. "I'm just saying, what if we’ve been lied to this whole time?"

You roll onto your side, looking at him through tired eyes. He’s fully in detective mode now, eyes wide, brain running at full speed.

"Do you actually believe this, or did you just watch too many videos again?" you ask.

He hesitates. "…Maybe both.

A deep sigh escapes you. You should be annoyed. You should roll over and ignore him. But he looks so genuinely invested in this nonsense that you can't help but crack a small smile.

"You’re ridiculous,"

you murmur, reaching out to ruffle his already-messy hair.

"Ridiculously woke," he corrects.

"Go to sleep, Nam-Gyu."

"But—"

"Sleep."

He huffs but finally lies down, mumbling under his breath. "You’ll see. One day, the truth will come out."

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his forehead before snuggling back into the blankets.

Just as you start to drift off again, he mutters, "But seriously… where are all the baby pigeons?"

You pretend not to hear him.

🦑🦑🦑

[revelboo]

Just wanted to say your writing is absolutely amazing and I’ve been starting my mornings with it for over a week now, lol

Do you have any characters that are your fave to write for? This isn’t a request or anything I’m just curious:p anyways, I hope you enjoy writing as much as we enjoy reading it!<3

Thank you! I really love writing Starscream, Waspinator and Wheeljack

18+ Mass displaced mech 🌶️

Everything Is Alright Scenario- Honeymoon Pt 1

Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Startling when arms come around you and pull you back into a warm frame, you feel Starscream vent to stir your hair before resting his chin on top of your head. “Bad day?” You ask, resting your hands against the back of his. Relaxing into the feel of him holding you, before he ducks his head, mouth brushing your neck. Denta teasing to give away his agitation. Meaning Megatron had pissed him off. Again. You swear the warlord goes out of his way to antagonize Star, delighting in it like a malicious child. And you get why, know Star isn’t exactly innocent, but still.

• Huffing through his vents as he grounds himself in the feel of you in his arms, he turns his hands and you slide your palms against his without hesitation. Soothing some of his annoyance. “We could just fly away,” he mutters. No more Megatron. No more Soundwave. Just the two of you. Even if he knows it’s a lie. You’re fully bonded to them, need them to replenish those bonds regularly. And they’d hunt him down if he ran with you. Wouldn’t be able to just let you go. “You like deserted tropical islands, right?” He asks, smiling against your skin. Because it’s a lovely dream, but even if you agreed, he’s not sure he could just give up what power he has, that he’s fought for. Can’t give up on his goals, just like you can’t abandon the other two.

• “You thinking Bermuda?” You tease, playing along even though you know he’s not serious. That neither of you can just disappear now. And you don’t really want to. Love Soundwave, might be falling for Megatron. Feel him slide the backs of his hands against your middle and wonder if he can sense something of Soundwave’s sparkling inside you. “I mean I don’t have to spark bond every day or anything with them. We could run away for a week or so. Have a honeymoon.”

• Growling, he rubs his cheek against yours, servos interlacing with your fingers. Has no idea what a honeymoon is, but alone time with you? Without the other two making constant demands of your time and attention? “We could,” he says, trying to feel out how serious you are about it. If you’d let him have you to himself for a week, maybe longer. Making love and spending the time tangled in each other, talking. Like before Soundwave and Megatron. “If you wanted to?”

• Shivering with awareness when he nuzzles against you, lips brushing your cheek, you know you’re going to agree. That he deserves a little calm in all the chaos and honestly, you need that, too. “A secluded beach. Sun and warmth. An ocean to play in?” And he slides your intertwined hands down your body, between your thighs. “Just us,” you whisper as he parts your robe and your hands grip his wrists. And he makes a low, rumbling noise, servos teasing you.

• Smiles against your skin when he hears your breathing shift and the hand on his wrist pulls at his hand, trying to get him to touch you. “And what would we do? Just the two of us? Alone?” Teasing himself as much as you as your scent shifts. “You wouldn’t get bored?” Lazily stroking you, he feels you rock up onto your toes with a noise, hips pushing against his palm.

• “No,” you manage, breathless as that servo slides against you, skirting around where you want him. “Star.” His name becoming a whine of protest before he nips your neck. The little sting making you gasp and his servo presses inside you as his other palm finds the counter in front of you. Bending you forward slightly to let you move against his palm while his hips rock against you. All too soon, slipping his servo free and chuckling when you turn your head to glare back at him as he frees his spike, before he’s seizing you and bending you over the counter on your belly, legs dangling. Feel the head of his spike slide against you before he’s sliding deep, draping himself against your back to move in lazy thrusts.

• “A week of no sharing. Of you being only mine,” he growls in your ear, hips rolling. And you whimper, a knee thumping against the counter trying to find purchase to move against him before realizing he’s in complete control. And he’s not going to be rushed this time no matter how good you feel wrapped so tightly around his spike in this position. Hips pumping as he finds a rhythm, he nips at your neck, your jaw, and ear, listening to those sounds you make become more urgent. And you tighten on him, trembling and moaning his name when he gives you your way, moving faster. Until you’re crying out, milking his spike and he rides it out, denta gritted. Trying to hold out as long as possible before burying himself deep to fill you, hips moving in shallow thrusts while his venting becomes ragged. “You can tell Megatron and Soundwave,” he manages, as soon as he recovers and you snort at him, cheek lying on the counter. Resting his cheek against the back of your neck, he intertwines his servos with your fingers, venting softly.

[djdjdjmk]

DreamTravelerStan

A Discord Conversation inspired me to an au, where Stan, after the portal incident gained an ability to look at other dimensions/AUs via dreams through the eyes of other versions of him.

The idea that sparked this au goes like this: Stan wakes up, confused and looking for his kids but then he realizes that they weren’t real. He just had one of those very realistic dreams where you hold your children in your arms to then wake up all alone in an empty house cause these kids never existed in the first place.

As it was mentioned earlier he is able to “look” through the eyes of his multiverse counterparts when he sleeps. Time passes differently in his dreams, he can spend a minute there, or even 40 years, yet in the real world time barely moves forward. His sense of time is basically nonexistent, which is why he always has a watch on his person.

Stan easily falls asleep. Because he falls asleep so much he prefers to wear a warm cardigan, since if he gets sick from being cold he won’t be able to work on getting his brother back. 

Has a hard time accepting anything good happening to him, can't shake off feeling that he's still dreaming and he will wake up at any moment now. 

DreamtravelStan can change his appearance in his dream depending on what he feels like. Occasionally he does that unconsciously, but more often than not he has full control over it.

As time passes and he gets better at controlling his abilities he learns that he can interact with dreams of people, who are sleeping close to him. The radius in which he can use that ability is roughly around the same size as mystery shack. 

In other people's dreams he can appear as whatever he pleases, though most people describe him as an "old guy in pastel clothes”. He can make his own face extremely blurry so that he won’t be recognise

Sometimes he draws people he met in his dreams with cheap art supplies (he feels like he isn't allowed to get anything slightly expensive while Ford suffers in the multiverse). Drawings just keep piling up all around the shack, his room filled with them from top to bottom.

[2i1han]

if time stood still, would you?

Rewind.

pairing: musician!taesan x fem!reader │ word count: 12k │ genre: oneshot, angst, romance, nostalgia

tags: 90's au , first love , bandmember!taesan , musicshopowner!taesan , boyfriend!taesan , college!reader , 90's grunge inspired

warnings: mention of accidents/injury , unrequited love , mention of loss/tragedy

synopsis : follows a story about youth, and the passage of time. on your every birthday, you watch an old tape—one you've held onto for decades. in it, a familiar voice from the past makes a promise that was never fulfilled. some things change, but some feelings never do.

playlist : everything/the black skirts , reality/richard sanderson , the last stop of our pain/hanroro , back to the old house/the smiths, no surprises/radiohead , all apologies/nirvana , drain you/nirvana , about you/the 1975 , shower/1968 , silence/sunwoojunga , sunsetz/cas , no.1 party anthem/arctic monkeys , this life/moon sung nam , dream/han hee jung , you&i/kim jong wan , space/the poles

"happy birthday, my beloved y/n."

taesan's voice crackled through the old television speakers, distorted by time yet still undoubtly his. the grainy vhs footage flickered, casting a dim, bluish glow across the room. there he was— forever twenty, wearing his classic nirvana shirt. his face was bright with the kind of smile that had once made your world feel infinite.

"i'm sorry i can't be there today. you know i love you, right?"

your fingers curled tightly around the edge of the couch, knuckles turning white as you tried to keep yourself steady. but it was useless. the warmth of his tender voice, familiar, and you yearn for, sent a fresh wave of tears pooling in your eyes.

"the first time i met you, it was as if my world pressed 'play' for the first time. before you, my life felt like a song stuck on pause—waiting, and unfinished. but then you came along, and suddenly, everything made sense. you are the music that turned my silence into something beautiful."

the screen flickered as the tape struggled to play smoothly, but you didn't need to hear the rest. you already knew every word, every pause, every soft breath he took between sentences.

"y/n, today is your day, and i need you to promise me something—smile, even if i'm not there. celebrate, even if it's just for yourself. because you deserve every bit of happiness this world has to offer. and don't you worry, next time, we'll celebrate together. i promise it. we'll be together soon."

this message had been meant as a temporary goodbye—a placeholder for the promise that never came.

"i love you more than yesterday, and less than tomorrow, my dear darling, always."

han taesan. the only man you had ever loved. the only man you would ever love.

a sharp pain formed in your throat as you reached for the remote, pressing the power button with trembling fingers. the tv screen faded to black, leaving only your miserable reflection staring back at you.

a soft knock came from the door.

"come in," you called.

the door creaked open, and your niece, yujin, stepped inside, her gaze immediately landing on your pale face.

"you're crying," she said knowingly, her voice was gentle as she walked closer. "watching his clip again?"

you didn't answer, only swallowing back the lump in your throat as you wiped at your damp cheeks. careful taps, trying not to ruin the mascara you had applied earlier. you turned to the mirror, fixing the smudged edges of your makeup carefully—as if concealing your tears was something you had mastered over the years.

yujin sighed softly. "come on, the guests are waiting downstairs." she hesitated for a moment.

"happy 49th birthday, auntie."

you forced a small, tired smile and turned to her, pulling her into a gentle hug.

"let's go downstairs," you finally said.

as yujin walked ahead, you turned back toward the vhs player. your hands slightly trembled as you ejected the tape, the small cassette still warm from playing. you placed it carefully inside a worn-out box, the edges are frayed but you still refuse to let go of it.

with one last glance at the screen, you followed yujin out of the room.

▶• ılıılıılılılıılıılı.

the laughter still lingered through the dining area, the hum of conversation echoed through the house. plates clinked in the kitchen, wine glasses half-empty on the white table. the warmth of candlelight flickered across the walls, reflecting orange hues over the framed photographs—pictures of years that passed too quickly.

"going out?" your sister asked as she cleared the plates, glancing at you from the kitchen.

you stood by the coat rack, adjusting the sleeves of your white coat. "yeah, gonna fetch some, uh... more wine from the store." you offered her a small smile, though it didn't reach your eye.

she didn't question it, she already knew.

your sister just gave you a nod, the same look she always did whenever you slipped away. making excuses while you go out.

you turned toward the door, exhaling as you stepped outside. the cold air brushed on your skin, opposite to the warmth of the house behind you. your feet moved instinctively, leading you to your car. but you weren't heading for the wine store. no, this was something else entirely.

a habit of yours from a wound that never healed.

the drive was short. five minutes away from home. a lifetime away from your past that you still keep on returning to.

as you pulled up by the sidewalk, your hands stayed on the steering wheel, looking at the music shop stood just outside, unchanged. a piece of memory frozen in time.

you then stepped out, clutching your coat around yourself as you made your way to the entrance.

the door was the same—beige paint slightly chipped, a large glass pane in the middle. the brass bell chimed softly as you pushed it open, and the scent of aged vinyl wrapped around the room, enveloped in nostalgia.

inside, are the same shelves, the same wooden counters, the same dim lighting that cast an old glow over rows of vinyl records. the walls were lined with faded posters—nirvana, oasis, the beatles. his personal favorites.

your fingers grazed the spines of the records, stopping at the one you always reached for— mtv unplugged, nirvana.

"the usual?"

a familiar voice came from beside you, the shopkeeper—now in his 50s— wore a smile.

you just looked for a moment, then nodded. "yeah... this one's a classic."

"you know, you could always buy it," he chuckled. "you've been a regular here since back then."

you exhaled softly. "no... i'm fine with listening to it here. every week, through that old player."

you nodded toward the turntable in the corner, the needle was worn but still working, still playing the soundtrack of your youth.

the shopkeeper didn't push. he never did. instead, he just gave you a nod before turning away.

and then, the bell chimed again.

a woman walked in, followed by two girls in their early twenties. their laughter filled the room—light, gentle, untouched by the weight of the past.

"hi, dad!" one of the girls beamed, holding up a paper bag. "we stopped by the store. figured we'd bring some snacks!"

the shopkeeper—their father, smiled as he walked toward them, his voice livelier, happier than you'd ever heard it before.

and for the first time in years, you allowed yourself to look. really look.

one of the girls had his eyes. the same deep gaze you had drowned in long ago. and the other had his smile. that comforting smile that once made your whole life felt complete.

you stood there, vinyl still clutched in your trembling hands, as you watched the scene in front of you. the way they laughed, the way they easily existed in a world you no longer belonged to— you once belonged to.

your vision blurred, but you didn't cry. not yet.

instead, you closed your eyes for a little moment, letting the nostalgia sink in.

and then, the memories rewound.

↺ rewind, to 1994

detention, again.

you sat slumped at your desk, one foot tucked up on the chair, the other tapping impatiently against the floor. the loose jogging pants you had sneakily worn under your school skirt bunched at your ankles, but at least they kept you warm in this freezing classroom.

the culprit behind your punishment?

blasting rock music through the entire school's p.a. system like some kind of teenage anarchist.

the sentence of your crime?

will not trespass in the p.a. room again. written over and over on a sheet of lined paper, front to back, no gaps, no mercy.

you sighed loudly—for the fifth time. maybe sixth. you had lost count.

your teacher, the one who was supposed to be watching over you? passed out at their desk, head tilted back, mouth slightly open, snoring softly.

then, you eyed the window, thinking of an escape plan. but, when you second looked towards it, ryujin's grinning face popped up out of nowhere.

"psst—hey!" she whispered through the glass. same mischievous smirk.

"what now?" you muttered, barely looking up as you kept scribbling.

"new arrivals at mr. han's shop." she wiggled her eyebrows, waving both hands to hurry you up.

your head snapped up. new arrivals?

that changed everything. your mild consideration of escaping turned into a fully thought-out plan in less than a second.

the only problem? you were on the second floor.

but, of course, ryujin had a plan—she always did. she clung to a pillar outside, balancing on a maintenance ladder that neither of you were supposed to have access to. the school had confiscated it multiple times, but ryujin, being the delinquent mastermind she was, had bribed some p.e. students into sneaking it out.

"hurry up, dude!" she hissed, motioning for you to move.

you glanced at your sleeping teacher one last time. and then, out the window you went.

the cold metal of the ladder chilled your palms as you climbed down, ryujin barely holding it steady. both of you hit the pavement without getting caught. bingo.

giddy with adrenaline, the two of you bolted for the front gate, ducking past groups of students as if you were fugitives on the run.

your destination? flannel culture. your sacred safe haven. the best record shop in town.

ryujin had barely finished telling you about the new vinyl arrivals before you were both sprinting down the street, nearly tripping over your own feet in your hurry to get there first. your neatly tied ponytail had come completely undone, strands of hair flying everywhere.

by the time you reached the shop, breathless and slightly messy, mr. han—the owner, was already grinning behind the counter.

"morning, mr. han!" ryujin greeted, barely winded.

"i knew you two would get here before anyone else," he chuckled, arms crossed like he had been expecting this exact scenario.

you barely heard him. you were already beelining for the vinyls.

"sweet! these are fresh off the press!" you gasped, flipping through the stack, fingers gliding over brand-new releases.

"ditto," ryujin muttered, just as focused.

"i'll be behind the counter if you girls need anything," mr. han called out, but you were already in the zone.

your fingers immediately skimmed through the fresh arrivals, heart hammering in anticipation.

"definitely maybe" by oasis.

"dookie" by green day.

"weezer" by weezer.

"holy shit," you whispered, eyes widening as you flipped through the stack.

"jar of bells..." no idea.

then, you found it.

"mtv unplugged."

you had barely muttered the title under your breath when another voice joined in.

"mtv unplugged..."

you turned to find yourself face-to-face with a guy you hadn't noticed before—probably because you had been way too invested in the stack of squares in front of you.

and he was cool. nirvana shirt, ripped jeans, red flannel tied around his hips, short black hair, clear skin, a damn good jawline, and a smirk that only grew as he caught you staring.

your eyes flickered back to the vinyl still clutched in your hands, grip tightening. he was looking at it. he wanted it.

no way in hell.

your grip tightened.

"mtv unplugged. new release," he mused, glancing down at the album still clutched in your hands.

your hold on it locked. damn right, it was.

the boy chuckled, clearly entertained by the death grip you had on it.

"you should go for nevermind first." his voice was casual—like he wasn't trying to steal your vinyl right in front of you.

you shot him a narrow-eyed stare. "i've already listened to every single song on nevermind."

his smirk grew, realizing you weren't going to budge, he let out a short laugh and reached for a cd.

"fine, i'll let you have that one."

he grabbed nevermind instead, the cd, inspecting it with an approving nod.

your heart rate finally slowed down. victory is mine.

as he turned to go to the counter, he glanced over his shoulder one last time. "good taste, by the way."

and with that, he turned his back, leaving you standing there—still clutching your vinyl like your life depends on it.

ryujin strolled back over, a comic book in hand, the corners of her mouth curling into a knowing smirk.

"dude… who was that?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, her voice low enough not to attract any unwanted attention.

you exhaled slowly, trying to hide the faint blush creeping up your neck. "i don't know, but he tried to rob me off a good vinyl," you muttered, still clutching the album in your hands.

ryujin snickered. "classic." she bumped your shoulder lightly before pulling out the book, flipping it open to the next page. "come on, let's listen to it."

with a shrug, you led the way to the player, and the two of you settled next to each other, comic books in hand. the needle dropped onto the record, you plugged in the headphone jack. the soft crackle travelling through before the music swelled. for the next few minutes, you both silently absorbed the music through wires.

by the time the last track played, you were practically fighting back tears. it was almost dramatic how much you adored the album.

"that was gnarly," you said, as you carefully set the vinyl back in its case, treating it like the treasure it was.

ryujin nodded without looking up from her comic. "nirvana was the real shit." she shifted, tapping the side of her comic with a finger. "go look for more new arrivals. we haven't even finished this one yet."

you let out a half-hearted groan but couldn't resist. you liked the idea of finding more gems, anyway. but as you strolled back toward the shelves, your eyes caught something familiar.

it was him.

the guy from earlier. he was sitting near the counter now, leaning against the wall with a cd player in hand, his earphones hanging loosely around his neck. his relaxed posture and the way he completely disappeared into the moment caught your attention.

you looked down at the album in your hand, then back at him.

"poor guy…" you muttered under your breath. "if he doesn't get to listen to it right away."

without thinking, you walked over, tapping his shoulder lightly. he glanced up, removing his earphones with a raised brow.

"hey," you said, offering him the vinyl. "i noticed mr. han doesn't have the mtv unplugged cd in stock yet. it'd be a shame if you didn't get to listen to it instantly. it's really good."

the guy smiled, his eyes softening as he accepted the record from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours just for a moment.

"thanks," he said, the gratitude in his voice making you feel like you had done something right for once.

"you can use the turntable over there," you gestured toward the corner of the shop, where the record player sat. "there's a headphone jack available."

he nodded and walked past you, heading over to the turntable while you returned to ryujin's side.

"where was it?" she asked, nudging your shoulder.

you shrugged, your attention still on the guy who was now setting up the record player, eyes already closed as he settled into the music. "let's just play another after he finishes," you muttered, your head leaning closer to ryujin's comic, pretending to focus.

ryujin narrowed her eyes at you, the smirk creeping back. "you're way too generous today."

you flicked her arm. "focus. i don't want to wait for you to flip the page." she rolled her eyes but continued reading, letting you do what you do best.

it wasn't long before ryujin's stomach growled, cutting through the silence between the two of you.

"go grab something to eat," you said, pointing to the door. "i'll wait here."

she shot you a look, rolling her eyes dramatically. "you better not flip through the pages while i’m gone."

"promise nothing," you replied without missing a beat.

as soon as ryujin disappeared out the door, you leaned over and sneakily turned the comic to the next page.

but then, a voice caught your attention again.

"thank you," the guy from earlier said, appearing beside you, looking almost embarrassed to interrupt.

you jumped up, startled. "oh, it's nothing," you quickly reassured him, trying to brush off the awkwardness. "how was it?"

he smiled, almost sheepish. "as expected, it was great." he chuckled softly, adjusting his cd player.

you smiled in return, feeling the familiar rush of excitement when talking about music. "i freaking know, they've always been the best." the conversation flowed just naturally.

"i'm taesan," he said, a hand rising awkwardly in the air like he wasn't quite sure whether to offer a handshake or just a wave. "i'm the son of the owner of this shop."

you froze for a second. internally, you cursed your luck. of course, you had competed over the vinyl with the son of the shop's owner. but whatever, the early bird gets the worm, right?

"jang y/n," you replied with a smile, reaching for his hand. "nice to meet you."

you both sat down, the tension easing as you settled into conversation.

"were you playing nevermind earlier on the cd player?" you asked, curiosity getting the best of you.

taesan hummed, his lips pouting as he thought for a moment. "yeah, i was. what's your favorite song?"

you leaned back slightly, thinking. "hmm, probably all apologies. especially the instrumental break. god, i love that song." your voice trailed off as you grinned widely, caught up in the thought of the song.

taesan laughed softly, eyes glimmering with something like amusement. "you're passionate. i like that."

you chuckled awkwardly, hoping the blush creeping up your cheeks wasn't too obvious.

"so," you said, eager to keep the conversation going. "do you go to school here?"

he nodded. "yeah, i'm at a university just one bus ride away from here."

you processed that for a moment, realizing with a small sigh that he probably wasn’t talking about your university. but still, you smiled. "oh, cool."

a comfortable silence settled between you two but that didn't feel awkward at all.

then, the chime of the record store door rang out, and you barely had time to look up before ryujin strolled back in, but her hands were empty. no takeout bags, no snacks—just an exhausted expression as she groaned dramatically.

"where' the food?" you asked, frowning.

ryujin groaned like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. "the convenience store ran out of kimbap, and the cashier was taking a lifetime to restock. let's just go eat at the food court. i need actual fuel if you want me to swing around longer."

"but—" your eyes flickered toward the bench where your bag sat. taesan was still there, his fingers idly drumming against the wooden surface as he looked at you and ryujin, confused. you hesitated, glancing between ryujin and the him.

before you could make a decision, mr. han waved you off with a smile. "go ahead, kid. your stuff's safe here."

ryujin had already grabbed you "move it. you'll live."

you barely had time to turn to taesan and wave. "we'll be back!" with a sigh, you let ryujin drag you out the door.

▶• ılıılıılılılıılıılı.

you spent the next twenty minutes watching in mild horror as ryujin absolutely demolished two platters of bibimbap and a side of banchan. she didn't even pause between bites.

"you know, for someone who complains about getting broke from buying comics, you sure eat like a king," you muttered, stabbing at your food halfheartedly.

ryujin barely looked up, shoving another spoonful into her mouth. "shut up—'s called survival."

you exhaled, pushing a few grains of rice around your plate.

you wanted to get back to mr. han's shop.

at first, you convinced yourself that it was just because of the new vinyl arrivals. you hadn't even finished browsing yet—there were at least three more shelves to go through, and you hadn't checked if they had any used tapes in stock.

but then your mind drifted back to taesan.

you could still picture his thoughtful expression, the way his eyebrows furrowed when he was trying to pick a favorite nirvana song. the way he had smirked slightly when he caught you rambling about all apologies.

you shook your head. nope. it was definitely about the records.

and the moment ryujin swallowed her last bite, you practically dragged her back toward mr. han's store.

but as soon as you stepped inside—taesan was gone.

you scanned the shop, almost hoping he'd just moved to a different section, but his spot near the turntable was empty. the warmth that had settled in your chest earlier flickered out, replaced by something you didn't know what.

you deflated instantly. ryujin barely noticed, already flipping through another volume of the comic she was reading earlier. you debated for a second before hesitantly walking over to mr. han at the counter.

"mr. han?"

the old man didn't even look up from his book. "mmm?"

you shifted awkwardly. "uh… do you know where taesan went?"

that's when he finally glanced up with a smirk. "i knew both of you would instantly match," he said, amusement laced in his voice.

you blinked. huh?

he simply chuckled, flipping a page. "he went back to school for a band practice. he has a packed schedule on weekdays."

you tried and failed not to look too disappointed as you dragged yourself back to the bench where ryujin was sitting.

she barely looked up from her comic. "what was that gloom all about?"

you flopped down next to her. "nothing."

"also," she continued, flipping a page dramatically, "why are you suddenly being all buddy-buddy with that music thief?"

you rolled your eyes. "come on, he's nice, ryu."

ryujin scoffed. "wow, you're saying that like you weren't just playing tug-of-war with him over a vinyl a few hours ago."

you ignored her, pulling out your book from your bag—then froze.

there, stuck to the back of your bag, was a small yellow sticky note.

your eyes narrowed as you peeled it off, fingers smoothing over the inked numbers scrawled in slightly messy handwriting. a pager number. and beneath it, just one word:

—taesan.

you froze, staring at the note like it had just fallen from the heavens, and for a moment, you forgot how to function.

your face went from deadpan to pure joy in under three seconds. you had to physically stop yourself from grinning too hard because ryujin would never let you live it down.

carefully, you peeled the sticky note off your book and folded it neatly. you then placed it inside your pencil case like it was some kind of rare artifact.

firmly, securely, so it wouldn't fly away.

ryujin finally looked up, her eyes narrowing. "why do you look like you just won the lottery?"

"no reason," you said quickly, zipping your pencil case shut.

ryujin stared at you for a long moment before muttering, "i don't like the look on your face."

you just smiled, pushing her shoulders.

and, the second you got home, you threw your bag onto the floor and face-planted onto your bed. you rolled onto your back and snatched your beeper off the nightstand like it was holy.

you sat up, unfolded the sticky note, and traced the inked numbers with your thumb.

your heart thumped.

should you page him now? would that seem too eager? maybe you should wait. play it cool.

you glanced at your clock. it had literally been twenty seconds.

groaning, you rolled onto your stomach, kicking your feet against the mattress like some schoolgirl in a romance movie. then, without giving yourself time to overthink—you punched in the numbers and sent a simple message:

"hope class didn't bore you to death. thanks for the sticky note. - jang y/n"

the second you hit send, you muffled a scream into your pillow.

what the hell were you doing? what if he didn't reply? what if he thought you were annoying? what if—

your beeper vibrated almost immediately and quickly scrambled so fast you nearly dropped it.

"would've been worse if i didn't have all apologies stuck in my head. consider this your official music karma. - taesan"

a stupid, uncontrollable grin stretched across your face. you flopped onto your back, rolling around in pure, ridiculous giddiness, nearly sending your comforter tumbling to the floor.

before you could even type a response, another beep flashed across the tiny screen.

"7 pm? dad's store. - taesan."

you froze.

you clutched your beeper like it was a lifeline, rereading the message again. and again. was he… asking you out? no. no way. it was just a hangout. a casual thing between new friends.

you shook your head, forcing yourself to focus, and typed back quickly:

"sure! meet you there. - y/n"

then, you practically leaped off your bed and dashed to your closet. your hands flew across the hangers, eyes scanning every piece of clothing like you were preparing for the most important night of your life.

denim skirt? too much.

plaid jeans? too casual.

then you caught yourself.

you groaned, pressing your forehead against the closet door. why am i even stressing over this? it's not a date. it's not.

exhaling sharply, you grabbed a denim skirt and a brown flannel, slipping them on before you could second-guess yourself.

▶• ılıılıılılılıılıılı.

you were walking ridiculously slow.

your heart drummed against your ribs, your hands fidgeting with your sleeves. you told yourself you weren't nervous. you told yourself this was just some casual meet-up.

but the second you spotted taesan standing outside the now-closed store, your breath caught in your throat. he hadn't noticed you yet.

earphones in, cd player in hand, his head tilted slightly upward as if lost in the music. his eyes were closed, his expression relaxed—lips barely parted, a faint, smile playing at the edges.

you hesitated, just watching him for a second.

the streetlights cast a soft golden hue over him, making the moment feel unreal—like something out of an indie film, grainy and warm, like a memory you were supposed to witness and never forget.

you bit your lip. then, finally, you stepped forward and lightly tapped his arm.

taesan's eyes fluttered open, turning to meet yours. his expression shifted instantly—calm turning to warmth, like the moment you step into a sunlit room after the cold.

"hey," he said, pulling his earphones out and tucking his cd player into his large pocket.

"hey," you echoed, stuffing your hands into your skirt's pockets. you glanced at the shop door behind him. "so... where to? mr. han already closed the store."

taesan just grinned. then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a key, dangling it between two fingers. "i'm not the owner's son for nothing."

a subtle laugh escaped your lips. you shook your head as he turned, unlocking the door and pushing it open. the blinds remained closed, keeping the outside world at bay.

inside, the air was warm. the scent of old records and faint aroma of coffee hung in the contained air. taesan flipped the switch, and the shop lit up—not with the bright, fluorescent glare of daytime but with the muted, greenish glow of the overhead bulbs. the only other source of light came from the street lamps outside, their soft yellowish tint seeping in through the cracks of the blinds.

you puckered your lips, stepping in and looking around.

taesan closed the door behind you with a soft click before roaming around the store.

"i have a favorite here, and i want you to listen to it," taesan said as he made his way to a shelf tucked in the corner.

you watched as he ran his fingers over the spines of records. then, with a small, satisfied hum, he pulled one out and turned to you, holding it up to show you.

you leaned in, studying the cover. the title and artist were unfamiliar. taesan noticed your puzzled look and smirked.

"you haven't heard of it, huh?"

you shook your head, but a smile crept up your lips. but that only made you more eager. something new. something taesan liked.

a small smile tugged at your lips. "i've never heard of this one."

"even better." he grinned.

taesan walked over to the turntable by the counter, motioning for you to follow. you stood close beside him as he carefully placed the vinyl onto the platter. the way he handled it—gentle, the kind only someone who truly cherished music would have, made you watch him a little longer than necessary.

"it's reality, by richard sanderson," he murmured, lowering the needle. "me and dad used to listen to this a lot when it first came out. i was eleven."

then, he turned to you, slipping the headphones gently over your ears.

you blinked up at him, caught off guard by the sudden closeness. his fingers barely brushed your skin as he adjusted the ear cups, making sure they sat just right. he was so close that you could see the way his lashes fanned over his cheeks, the way the dim lighting softened his already soft features.

for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to say anything.

the vinyl crackled. and then—music.

a slow, dreamy melody slipped into your ears. nostalgic, like the kind of song that belonged to another lifetime. your lips parted slightly as a smile crept onto your face.

you let your head tilt slightly, eyes fixed on the wall in front of you, absorbing every note. your fingers tapped lightly against the table in time with the beat, a small, unconscious movement.

and taesan— he just stood there, watching you.

the muffled sound of the song spilled from the headphones, barely audible, but he didn't need to hear it to know exactly what you were experiencing. he saw it in the way your eyes shimmered slightly, the way your breath seemed to sync with the rhythm, the way you looked like you were slipping into some other world entirely.

for a moment, everything slowed.

he should've looked away. should've focused on the music, or the record spinning beneath the needle, or literally anything else. but he didn't.

he just stood there, completely still, watching you as if you were the song itself.

you let your eyes flutter shut, surrendering to the music, letting it paint a scene behind your eyelids. a quiet, hazy film reel of things you couldn't quite place—warm streetlights, cityscapes blurring past, the kind of love that only existed in faded polaroids.

and taesan, he only saw one thing, a whole moment right in front of him.

the song had already started to fade out.

you opened your eyes, expecting taesan to finally move— to lift the needle off the vinyl, maybe say something about the track, but he didn't. he just stood there, watching you, completely still, as if he hadn't noticed the music had ended.

"i loved the song. really." you smiled, still caught in the the melody. "thank you for letting me hear it. it's something special to you, so... i feel honored."

your lips curled into a small, tight-lipped smile as you tilted your head slightly.

but taesan didn't reply.

he only stared, looking at you in that same quiet, unfazed way—as if he was trying to memorize you, to carve this exact moment into his mind so he wouldn't forget it.

you tried looking anywhere else. the wall behind him, the floor, the logo on his shirt, but your eyes kept finding its way back to his.

then, finally, he spoke.

"you're interesting." his voice was low, almost amused, a small, endearing smile on his face.

you let out a nervous chuckle, trying to shake off the weight of his stare. "i am always interesting." you threw in a playful shrug, encouraging whatever thought had just crossed his mind.

taesan laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he turned back to the turntable, carefully placing the vinyl back into its sleeve. "no, i mean it. you are interesting."

you froze for half a second before sinking onto the bench beside the turntable desk, looking up at him. "you just met me."

taesan placed the vinyl on the desk before settling next to you. his head tilted back slightly, gaze drifting up to the ceiling, lost in thought.

"it's the first time someone's ever beaten me to a vinyl," he said with a chuckle, recalling what had happened earlier morning. "the way you gripped onto it with that look on your face—i don't know, i just thought it was funny. interesting. made me wanna know you."

his voice was quieter now, as you carefully listened.

"but then..." he exhaled, his hands resting loosely on his knees. "the way you listened to music—the way you get lost in it, i think that's what really got me."

he turned slightly, just enough so that you could see the corner of his lips quirk up.

"and when you gave me that vinyl, i guess that was it."

you blinked. that was it?

"but, you know," he added with a slight laugh, "your friend kinda stole you away before i could even say anything. then i had band practice, so..."

you remembered something then. the sticky note.

narrowing your eyes, you leaned forward. "how did you even know which bag was mine?"

taesan chuckled. "hmm... let's just say you have a pretty unique in utero keychain hanging from your zipper."

you let out a breath—half a laugh, half genuine disbelief.

"you're observant," you muttered.

taesan's smile faded slightly. "i'm observant when it matters."

he then turned his head toward you, while yours remained far away, simply existing in the moment. the air between you was still, the occasional whoosh of cars passing by outside, blurred and distant. it was quiet, but not empty.

then, as if sensing his gaze, you turned your head—only to find him already looking. but he didn't look away.

"let's go out," he said. his tone was steady, and effortless. no hesitation can be sensed

you nodded, tapping your lap before pushing yourself up to stand in front of him. "let's go?"

taesan let out a low chuckle, shifting upright from his relaxed lean, his eyes still fixed on you. "out." a smirk tugged at his lips, "like, a date."

you stood there, blinking at him, gazing in the way his eyes shimmered—starrier than the sky outside. you didn't think. you didn't need to. it felt like a decision had already been made long before this moment.

"okay," you said. "let's go out."

there was no rush of surprise, no shift in the air—just a mutual understanding, easy and natural, like falling into place. the way you spoke, the way he asked, the way his voice filled the quiet, and the way you both existed in each other's presence. it felt like you had known him in every lifetime before this.

taesan simply smiled, standing up with ease. "it's a date, then. but—" he said, glancing at the store's old stereo, "we're not going out just yet. it's still early, and we've got more music to dance to." he grinned, stepping away to browse through the shelves, searching for the next song.

you watched him move, the way he hopped from one record to another, flipping through them with an enthusiasm that made the moment feel infinite. and just like that, the night went on in your own little world.

two month had passed since you and taesan made it official.

at first, it was almost amusing how natural it felt—how seamlessly he fit into your life, as if he had always been there. after weeks of getting to know him, of late-night messages filled with laughter and quiet walks where words weren't needed, saying yes to him wasn't difficult at all. the only real challenge had been your parents, who—like all parents—wanted to make sure he was worthy of you. they made him chop firewood for grill nights, tested his patience with endless questions, and gave him skeptical looks whenever he came over. but taesan, with his charm and sincerity, had won them over before long. now, he was not just your taesan, but theirs too.

after spending the day hanging out with ryujin and the others, you were heading home. and there he was—waiting at your gate, earphones over his head as always.

even after all this time, the sight of him still made your heart race. it reminded you of the first time you both went out, of how everything had started.

smiling, you skipped toward him and playfully shook his shoulders.

"hi!"

taesan's expression immediately shifted, his cold face melting into the warmest, brightest smile.

"you made it." he beamed. "how was today?"

before you could answer, he wrapped his arms around you, swaying you gently from side to side.

"fine," you mumbled against his chest. "but i'm tired."

taesan pulled back just enough to hold your shoulders, leaning down slightly so your faces were level.

"wanna go for a walk? or stay in?" he reached up, tucking a few stray hairs behind your ear.

you smiled. "come on, let's walk."

he would've objected. if it weren't for the genuine excitement in your voice, he would've already ushered you inside and made you dinner.

but instead, he laced his fingers with yours, walking around the quiet neighborhood, hands swaying back and forth.

then, after a few moments of silence, taesan glanced at you.

"i wanna show you something," he said.

you raised a brow. "what is it?"

he only chuckled before moving behind you, gently placing his hands on your shoulders and guiding you forward.

"come on. trust me."

and of course, you did. you always do.

as you neared a greener part of the neighborhood, taesan suddenly spoke again.

"close your eyes."

you blinked up at him.

"if you look now, the surprise will be spoiled," he added, a small smirk on his face.

wanting to play along, you let out a soft laugh before nodding and shutting your eyes. taesan's pace slowed as he led you forward, his hands still firm on your shoulders.

your heart beat faster with each step. then, finally, you came to a stop.

you could feel taesan's presence in front of you, towering. his voice was gentle when he said, "open your eyes."

slowly, you did.

as your vision adjusted, the first thing you saw was his glowing smile. and behind him— a tree.

not just any tree, but a large, beautiful one standing tall in the night, its branches stretching over a small wooden bench. fireflies floated lazily through the air, their soft glow twinkled like tiny stars. dimly lit post lights stood around, casting everything in a cozy dim.

it was breathtaking. like something out of a dream. like something you'd only read about in a story, but never expect to see in real life.

and yet, here it was. with taesan.

your chest swolled with joy as your eyes welled up. you turned back to him, voice barely above a whisper.

"this is beautiful..." without thinking, you pulled him into a hug. "i love you, taesan."

for a moment, he didn't say anything.

then, he gently grabbed your shoulders again, tilting your chin up so you were looking into his eyes.

"i love you most, y/n."

then, with a small nod toward the bench, he spoke, "come, let's sit. i prepared something for you."

you followed as he led you to the seat, your fingers still tangled together.

then, you noticed a brown acoustic guitar leaning against the tree. taesan reached for it, settling next to you as he rested the instrument on his lap.

you smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder.

"i've sung a lot of songs for you already," taesan said. he let his fingers glide across the strings of his guitar, testing the weight of the moment before continuing. "but this one... this one's different."

you looked up as his lips curved into the smallest smile, his gaze shifting between you and the instrument in his hands. the glow of the streetlamp nearby cast golden light over his face, making him look almost unreal—like something out of an old, forgotten film.

"i started writing this the night we first went out. i add to it day by day," he admitted, his voice hushed, as if the confession itself was fragile. "after we crashed at my dad's shop. i don't know... i just felt like i had to put it into words. and now, i think it's time for you to hear it."

something in your heart ached at his sincerity. the night was quiet, save for the hum of cicadas and the occasional rustling of the leaves with every breeze that passed. the world seemed to pause just for the two of you.

then, the first strum. a comforting sound, followed by the melody that caressed you like a lullaby.

"you're my everything, the light that lingers in my eyes, the whisper in the quiet rain—the warmth that fills my empty skies."

you closed your eyes, letting the music pull you in. each note, each lyric, felt like it was written from the very core of your moments together—the stolen glances, the panicked laughter under sudden rains that caught both of you, the silence in the back of the store just listening to old tunes.

"on rainy days, we lie in silence, no words, just breathing, heart to heart. with closed eyes, the world dissolves—only you and i exist in the dark."

taesan's voice was dreamy, filled with something deeper than words could capture. it wasn't just a song; it was a piece of him.

and then, without realizing, a single tear slipped past your closed eyelids.

taesan's voice softened as he reached the last verse, his gaze never leaving you.

"and if you change, if time should fade you, know i will take you as you are, for even then, you'll be my always, my everything—my guiding star."

the song faded, but the air still hung with its presence. taesan placed the guitar down, his hands immediately finding their way to your face, thumbs brushing against your damp cheeks.

"open your eyes, my love," he whispered.

you did, only to find him looking at you as if you were the only thing in the world worth seeing.

"you're the most precious thing that's ever happened to me, y/n," he said, his forehead resting against yours. "no music, no melody—nothing will ever compare to the harmony you brought into my life."

a soft kiss landed on your forehead, filled with so much meaning.

"happy birthday, beautiful."

you barely found your voice, still drowning in the moment. "but... my birthday isn't for another two days," you whispered.

taesan chuckled, his fingers tracing along your jawline. "i know. but i'll be leaving for gwangju tomorrow. my mom needs me for a while." his voice held a slight hesitation. "just for a week. and when i'm back, i swear, we'll do whatever you want. just you and me."

you wanted to believe those words more than anything. but deep inside, something held you back, a feeling you couldn't describe. as if a part of you already knew—this moment, this song, this night, would be the last perfect memory you'd have of taesan.

still, you smiled, pushing the unease aside.

"okay," you whispered, reaching for his hand, squeezing it just a little tighter.

"i'll wait."

and in that moment, you had no idea that those two simple words would become the cause of your life falling apart.

▶• ılıılıılılılıılıılı.

morning arrived too soon, and with it, the inevitable farewell. you stood at the station, watching taesan board the train. at that moment, it felt like nothing more than a temporary goodbye—a short hurdle to overcome before he would be back in your arms in just a week.

but now, looking back, the memory plays differently in your mind. the scene isn't just a brief separation anymore—it's the sight of watching your life leave you, like grains of sand slipping through the gaps of your fingers, no matter how tightly you tried to hold on.

you waited. the two of you depended on a single beeper for communication, and though the messages were short and few, you cherished every one.

then, as the morning of your birthday approached, you found yourself at mr. han's vinyl store with ryujin.

"good morning, mr. han," you greeted, pushing through the door.

"early today, huh?" the old man smiled at you, his eyes kind. "happy birthday, daughter. i'm sorry taesan couldn't be here for your special day, but rest assured, he'll be back by monday."

his words melted in your heart. mr. han had always been more than just the owner of your favorite record store—he had been a constant presence in your life since you were thirteen, and now, he was taesan's father. the thought alone made you feel closer to him, even with the miles between you.

"she can't 'rest assured' anymore, mr. han," ryujin teased. "your daughter-in-law nearly got a fever from homesickness, you know. being away from her home and all."

you rolled your eyes, nudging her shoulder. "shut up."

mr. han chuckled. "here, i'm gifting this to you." he reached beneath the counter, pulling out a vinyl wrapped carefully in plastic.

you took it hesitantly, but as soon as your eyes landed on the cover, your face lit up. "in utero? no way! this is so sweet, thank you so much, mr.—"

"ah," he held up a hand, stopping you. "no more 'mr. han.' call me dad from now on."

"you've been a regular here since you were a stubborn 7th grader," he continued, smiling easily. "and now you're my son's girlfriend. so, no more formalities, alright?"

something in you softened at that. without thinking, you leaned against the counter, wrapping your arms around him in a hug.

"i feel like i'm at a family reunion i wasn't invited to," ryujin joked, shaking her head beside you.

mr. han grinned, then reached for another package. "oh, and this—this one's from taesan. he mailed it here yesterday and told me to give it to you today."

your fingers curled around the box, taking it with both hands. "thank you... dad," you whispered, testing the word on your tongue.

mr. han's smile widened. "anytime."

the entire morning passed in the record store, the feeling of missing taesan softened—if only for a little while. and by evening, you and ryujin returned home, where your family had set up a small celebration for your birthday.

fhe two of you found yourselves in your bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the tv, the muffled chatter from the living room fading into the background.

"ew, you're nineteen now," ryujin teased, wrinkling her nose. being a year younger, she never missed a chance to remind you.

you rolled your eyes, tossing a pillow at her. "still far away from thirty," you snorted, laughing as you fidgeted with the box in front of you—the package taesan had sent.

ryujin nudged your arm. "what's that, anyway?"

you shrugged. "guess we'll find out."

carefully, you untied the yarn wrapped around it, peeling back the flaps to reveal its contents. a mixtape, a vhs tape, and a stack of cds from your favorite bands sat neatly inside.

you let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. "he knows me a little too well."

ryujin leaned in. "damn, he really went all out. let's check what's on the tape."

without hesitation, you crawled to the player beneath the tv, sliding the vhs inside before grabbing the remote. the screen lit up to life, static buzzing before clearing—revealing taesan's face.

a bright smile, soft eyes. he looked straight into the camera, and for a second, it felt like he was right there in the room with you.

"happy birthday, my beloved y/n."

his voice crackled through the old speakers, slightly distorted, yet every syllable carried the sincerity of someone who loved you with every fiber of his being.

"the first time i met you, it was as if my world pressed 'play' for the first time. before you, my life felt like a song stuck on pause—waiting, and unfinished. but then you came along, and suddenly, everything made sense. you are the music that turned my silence into something beautiful."

he smiled, pausing for a brief second as if searching for the right words.

"y/n, today is your day, and i need you to promise me something—smile, even if i'm not there. celebrate, even if it's just for yourself. because you deserve every bit of happiness this world has to offer. and don't you worry, next time, we'll celebrate together. i promise it. we'll be together soon."

a trail of silence.

"i love you more than yesterday, and less than tomorrow, my dear darling. always."

he leaned closer to the camera, and then, the screen faded back to static.

you exhaled, with a shaky breath. a lump formed in your throat, but you refused to cry—this wasn't meant to be sad. it was meant to make you feel loved, even from miles away.

ryujin glanced at you, then patted your back. "you okay?"

you nodded, still staring at the screen.

ryujin leaned back against your bed, staring at the ceiling. "damn, taesan really does love you." she grinned, then looked at you. "i'm happy for you, y/n. happy birthday, my guy."

and in that moment, despite the distance, despite the ache in your chest, you felt whole.

you were happy. you really were.

lying on your bed after the long day, you stared at the ceiling, letting the glow of the streetlights outside reflect against your walls. after ryujin left, you stayed up, replaying taesan's message again and again, as if you could carve his voice into your mind, make it something permanent.

the way he smiled. the way he said your name, the way his voice crackled through the old speakers but never lost its warmth.

"i promise it. we'll be together soon."

you pressed your earphones closer, the mixtape he had sent playing, the song he sang for you that night before he left. it felt like he was right there, fingers strumming the chords.

you could already picture it—the week passing by quickly, and then he'd be back. he'd step off that train with the same boyish grin, shaking his head at you for missing him too much, even though he would've missed you just as much. he'd pull you into his arms, teasing you for being dramatic, but still holding on a little tighter, a little longer.

nothing bad could happen.

with that thought warming your chest, you drifted off to sleep with a smile on your lips.

and then, before you knew it, a noise.

the sudden, loud sound of footsteps storming up the stairs. the door swinging open with too much force.

▶• ılıılıılılılıılıılı.

"y/n!"

you stirred, groggy. you've overslept. the afternoon sunlight streaming through your window, instantly blinding you. headphones still in your ears. for a second, you thought it was just ryujin being ryujin—barging in like she always did, shaking you awake for something stupid.

but then you felt it, the weight in the air. something was wrong.

you sat up, fast, the mixtape player tumbling from your hands. your pulse pounded, a sudden chill creeping up your chest as your best friend stood frozen in the doorway.

ryujin was breathless, shoulders rising and falling in quick, uneven pace. her hands trembled at her sides. but what scared you the most was her face—pale, drained of every bit of mischief and joy she always had.

she couldn't look at you.

"ryu...?" your voice barely came out, your own heartbeat drowning it.

she swallowed, her throat bobbing. she opened her mouth, but nothing came out at first. then—

"taesan."

one word. just one. and suddenly, the world wasn't real anymore.

your breath hitched. you felt it before you even knew what it was, a weight pressing down on your chest, curling around your ribs, tightening, squeezing.

your hands clenched the sheets, your mind racing, trying to fill in the blanks. maybe she was overreacting. maybe he just missed his train. maybe his beeper was out of range. maybe—

"taesan, what?" you gasped. barely recognizing your own voice. "what, ryujin?"

she flinched, her lips parting, but she still wouldn't look at you. her fingers dug into the fabric of her jeans.

seconds passed. she finally lifted her gaze, eyes trembling.

and before she even said another word, before she could let the next sentence leave her lips— you already knew.

you can barely remember what happened after ryujin told you. everything blurred together, the world tipping over, voices had muffled, your own heartbeat drowning out everything else.

she had gone to mr. han's store early in the morning, like she always did. but today, instead of the usual quiet hum of records playing inside, she found the store getting closed, with mr. han outside, hands shaking as he fumbled with the keys, his face was pale and stricken with terror.

"taesan... he's caught in an accident."

that was all it took.

the next time you became fully aware of your surroundings, you were already running through the cold, sterile halls of the hospital, barefoot, still in your pajamas. your breath came out in ragged gasps, tears blurring your vision, but you didn't stop. you couldn't.

everything hurt—your legs, your lungs, your head. but none of it compared to the fear clawing at your chest, the paralyzing dread wrapping around your throat like a noose.

left. right. where is he?

your heartbeat pounded in your ears, blocking out the sounds of nurses passing by, the beeping of machines, the low murmur of worried families.

and then you saw him— mr. han.

sitting in the waiting area in front of the emergency room, his face buried in his hands. the moment your eyes landed on him, the final thread holding you together snapped.

"dad..."

the word fell from your lips in a broken whisper as you collapsed onto the chair beside him.

he didn't say anything at first. he just pulled you into his arms, his embrace just as tight, just as desperate as yours.

you both sat there. painfully long hours passed, but time meant nothing.

then, they let you see him.

mr. han went in first. you hesitated at the doorway, unable to move, unable to breathe, scared of what might lie before you.

and then you saw himyour heart audibly shattered.

taesan lay in the hospital bed, his face was pale, his body wrapped in layers of bandages. his left leg was lifted, secured in a cast, wires and tubes connected to him like a lifelines. he looked small, fragile. so unlike the taesan you knew—the one who always stood tall, always carried himself with effortless ease, always made you feel safe.

now, he was unconscious. a deep, unmoving stillness. you couldn't step forward. you couldn't bear to get any closer.

"taesan... he went home earlier than he was supposed to."

mr. han's voice was rough, almost a whisper low.

"but i hope you won't blame yourself for this, y/n. it was his choice... an unfortunate one."

guilt wrapped around you like a claustrophobe. he was here because of you.

he was in pain right now because he loved you.

you pressed a trembling hand over your mouth, trying to stifle the sob trying to break free. but nothing could stop the way your chest caved in, the way your entire body ached with something so heavy.

mr. han reached out, squeezing your shoulder gently.

"at least he's alive. and he'll be okay."

that was all you could hold onto. that was all you could hope for.

▶• ılıılıılılılıılıılı.

the first few days after the accident were unbearable.

you visited the hospital every single day. sat by his bedside, hands folded in your lap, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. you had already memorized the sound of the machines, the way the heart monitor beeped in slow, rhythmic pulses. sometimes, you spoke to him—soft, whispered words that never received an answer.

"hey, taesan... it's me."

"ryujin's been making me eat properly, but you know how she is. she doesn't know how to cook for shit."

"i've been playing the mixtape you gave me. over and over. it's still my favorite thing in the world."

but taesan never responded.

his fingers never twitched. his breathing never changed.

he was there, but he wasn't.

and that was the worst part—watching him sleep, watching him remain so still, and not knowing when he would wake up. if he would wake up.

mr. han tried to stay hopeful. "he's a fighter, y/n. he's strong."

but late at night, when the nurses thought no one was listening, you overheard the hushed conversations between doctors. the uncertainty in their voices. the way they said "if he wakes up" instead of "when."

and it terrified you. some nights, you didn't sleep at all.

you sat by your window, hugging your knees to your chest, playing the last recording taesan ever sent you. his voice the only thing keeping you together— cracked slightly as he sang. you closed your eyes and imagined he was still here, still whole, still the same boy who left with a promise to return.

you whispered to yourself, like a prayer. "please come back to me."

and then—

one morning, the beeper went off.

you almost didn't answer. you had spent the entire night awake again, too afraid to close your eyes, too afraid that when you opened them, something worse would happen.

but then you saw it's from taesan's father.

"y/n, he's awake."

the phone nearly slipped from your fingers.

you didn't even bother grabbing your jacket. you just ran.

your legs felt weak as you reached the hospital doors, but the rush of adrenaline kept you moving. every step felt like you were running towards something unreal, something you had spent weeks desperately hoping for.

you imagined it over and over—

taesan waking up, his tired eyes landing on you, his lips curving into the smallest, weakest smile. "you're here," he would say, and you would laugh through your tears, grabbing his hand, feeling his warmth.

you wanted that moment— you needed that moment.

but when you stepped into his room, when his eyes finally met yours, you expected to be greeted with the same eyes you've seen just a month ago, the same smile you saw in the vhs clip.

but his direct, empty, and confused gaze says otherwise.

"dad, who is she?"

your heart stopped, and the world suddenly spun faster. you had prepared for everything—except this.

except for the possibility that when he woke up, you wouldn't exist to him anymore.

petrified, you couldn't do anything but stare at him, your vision blurring, body turning ice cold.

this wasn't how it was supposed to go.

"taesan, she's..." mr. han hesitated.

but taesan's confused gaze never flinched. he didn't know you, didn't remember you.

every memory, every moment, every smile, every night spent whispering about forever— gone.

you turned abruptly, stumbling out of the room, your hands shaking so violently you could barely push open the door. the walls of the hospital hallway felt like they were closing in, suffocating you, crushing you under the weight of a new reality you never thought you would have to face.

you pressed your back against the nearest wall, gasping for air.

the nausea hit first. then the dizziness. then the overwhelming, unbearable grief.

mr. han followed you out, his face lined with concern, his voice was comforting when he knelt beside you.

"i'm sorry, y/n."

you shook your head, gripping your arms as if holding yourself together.

"no, no, no..." the words came out as broken whispers.

"the doctor said the trauma to his head was too severe," mr. han explained gently. "he's lucky to be alive. his memory... it's in pieces. some things, he remembers. some things, he doesn't."

you barely heard him.

everything else drowned in the roaring noise in your head. it felt like someone had reached inside you and ripped out your heart, leaving a hollow, aching space behind.

"give yourself time," mr. han said. "i'll help you reintroduce yourself to him—"

"no."

it came out sharper than you intended.

mr. han blinked, taken aback.

"no, mr. han. don't." your voice cracked at the end.

you couldn't do this.

you wouldn't do this.

because the taesan you loved—the one who knew your favorite songs, the one who always hugged you from behind when you least expected it, the one who promised to come back to you— that taesan was gone.

and maybe it was selfish. maybe it was weak, but you didn't want to be just another stranger in his life.

mr. han exhaled slowly, his eyes filled with something close to sorrow. but he didn't argue.

"i understand," he murmured. "but i'll be here if you ever change your mind."

except, you didn't. you never did, and that's it.

the guilt still sat in your chest like a sickness that had no cure, a lifetime illness that never fafrd. you spent the next year drowning in it, avoiding everything that reminded you of him—the store, the streets you once walked together. you kept yourself hidden in the comfort of isolation, blaming yourself until the weight of regret became unbearable. the only constant was ryujin, who sat with you through every sleepless night, listening to your sobs, carrying the same sorrow in her own heart.

but you never wanted to see taesan again. not because the love had faded—no, it was because it hadn't. because it still lived inside you, and that love had nearly destroyed him.

and just like that, in the blink of an eye, you were erased from his world.

two years later, after mr. han's passing, you left. you went overseas, studied, worked, and tried to piece yourself back together. you built a life—a good one, stable, structured. you had everything, everything except the warmth you once held in your hands. the kind of love that once made your heart feel alive.

that emptiness stayed with you for the next 16 years.

▶▶ fast forward, to 2010

the air smelled the same. that was the first thing you noticed when you stepped out of the taxi, suitcase in hand, standing in front of the house you called home. it had been a decade and a half since you last walked this street, yet the scent of the trees, the faint saltiness from the nearby river, and the warm, lingering aroma of your mother's cooking still clung to the air.

your mother was the first to rush out, arms wide open, pulling you into a warm hug. the comfort of her touch was the same, but her body felt smaller, frailer. her hair was streaked with more silver than before, and the deep lines on her face told stories of the years she had spent waiting for you to come back.

"you've gotten thinner," she muttered as she held your face, eyes scanning you as if trying to memorize every detail. "are you eating well?"

you let out a small laugh. "i'm fine, mom."

your older sister, now a mother herself, stood behind her, smiling softly. in her arms was yujin, her six-year-old daughter, peeking at you with curious eyes. she looked so much like your sister when she was younger—same round cheeks, same smile.

at lunch, the dining table was livelier than you remembered. your sister talked about her job, your mother shared neighborhood gossip, and yujin, growing more comfortable, proudly told you about a drawing she made in school. you listened, letting their voices fill the hollow that had followed you for years.

then, the conversation shifted.

"are you settling back here for good?" your sister asked.

you nodded while slicing into your food. "yeah, i've earned enough, but i still took a job at a company nearby. i'll be staying here for a while until i find my own place around the city."

your mother and sister exchanged glances but said nothing. you could already tell they wanted you to stay, but they wouldn't push. at thirty-five, you had already built a life away from home—except,

"y/n, dear," your mother spoke after a pause, setting her utensils down. "when are you getting married?"

you froze for just a second, but it was enough.

the room quieted, only present was the sound of yujin humming to herself. you didn't look up, simply pushing the food around on your plate.

your sister cleared her throat, sensing the tension. "mom—"

"i'm just worried," your mother interrupted softly. "you've been alone for so long."

you sighed, putting down your fork. "let's not talk about it."

she lowered her gaze, nodding in understanding. "we just want you to be happy."

happy.

the word sat heavy in your chest. you weren't unhappy, not really. you had built a life, studied, worked, traveled. you had done everything you were supposed to do.

but happiness? that was different.

"i'll figure it out," you said finally, offering a small, reassuring smile.

your mother let it go after that, but the thought stayed in your mind even as the conversation moved on.

and then, as if drawn by an invisible string, your thoughts drifted back.

to the store. to the past you had locked away.

to taesan.

▶• ılıılıılılılıılıılı.

after lunch, you found yourself holding on the car keys. the decision to drive to the store mr. han used to own wasn't made on impulse—it had been in the back of your mind since you arrived in town. you told yourself it was curiosity. you just wanted to see if it was still there, if time had been kind to it, if someone else had taken over.

it wasn't about him.

at least, that's what you convinced yourself as you pulled out of the driveway.

the thought of taesan crossed your mind like a wind. once, the idea of seeing him again would have sent your heart into a spiral, would have made you rehearse scenarios in your head. but now? it didn't thrill you anymore. it had been sixteen years. whatever was left of those feelings had dulled with time, worn down like an old photograph left in the sun too long.

or so you thought.

as you pulled up to the familiar street, your eyes brightened. the store was still there.

a small, involuntary smile formed on your lips. it looked the same, almost eerily so—like it had been preserved in amber, untouched by the years that had changed everything else. the sign still hung above the door, its paint slightly faded but still legible. the same large glass windows framed the front, revealing shelves lined with records, just as they had always been. not a single thing seemed altered.

it was as if time had stood still here.

and for a moment, you let yourself believe it had.

your grip on the steering wheel loosened as memories flooded in—memories of you and ryujin, laughing as you ran up the sidewalk, her voice echoing in your ears. you could almost see it, the shadows of your younger selves running past, breathless from excitement, pushing open the door with a little too much force. mr. han would already be at the counter, a cup of coffee in his hands, shaking his head with a grin.

the memory felt so vivid, so real, that you had to blink yourself back into the present.

through the window, you peered inside, searching for a figure behind the counter. but no one was there. the space looked empty.

you hesitated. then, exhaling softly, you stepped out of the car.

the afternoon air was slightly cold, carrying the slight scent of autumn leaves from the ground. your steps were slow, as you walked toward the entrance. the familiar wooden panels creaked beneath your weight as you reached for the door handle.

the store smelled the same—dusty vinyl, aged paper. it wrapped around you like the old times.

your gaze instinctively drifted toward the counter. it was empty.

your fingers hovered over the small bell placed neatly beside the register. for a second, you debated leaving. maybe this had been a mistake. maybe digging through old places would only unearth things better left buried.

but then, before you could retreat, you tapped the bell.

a few seconds passed. and then, footsteps.

a door creaked open at the back of the shop— a man stepped out, taller, and hair slightly longer.

everything went in slow-motion.

you had thought you were past this. you had convinced yourself that all those feelings, all those stupid heartbeats, had faded with time.

but the moment you saw the man walk through that door— looking different, but still painfully the same, everything came crashing back.

taesan.

your fingers curled instinctively, gripping the hem of your sleeve.

he looked more matured. his hair was neatly styled, and there were faint lines around his eyes. but his presence—his quiet, effortless presence was the same.

and he was smiling, but not in the way he used to.

this wasn't the smile that had once made you feel like the world had paused just for the two of you. this wasn't the same expression he had worn that day when he first saw you holding mtv unplugged, standing right behind where you were now.

no, this smile was polite. distant. the kind of smile you give to strangers.

"hello, ma'am. can i help you?"

his voice was calm, and professional.

you tried not to look, not to search for any remnants of the boy you once loved in his still-starry eyes. but in doing so, your own eyes began to glisten with the weight of sixteen years that had passed too quickly, and yet, not quickly enough.

before he could ask if you were okay, the bell chimed again.

a voice called out—

"hi, honey!"

and there it was. the smile. the one you had been searching for.

but it wasn't for you.

your gaze shifted toward the woman who had just walked in.

she had short hair. a soft yellow dress flowed around her frame. her presence was gentle, warm, as she stepped closer in a way that made something in you sink.

taesan's face softened. his entire posture changed.

"how's eunyoung?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"your daughter's been really naughty. good thing her sister's a responsible one," the woman chuckled.

daughter.

your ears rang.

you turned away before you could hear more. before you could process what it meant. before the tight wrap of reality could fully drag you down.

your steps carried you—perhaps instinctively, to the back of the store, where the old shelves stood. the same ones where you and taesan had once stood, side by side, two teenagers who thought the world only revolved around music and endless possibilities.

your fingers skimmed the edges of the records. some were familiar, old classics that had stood the test of time. others were newer, fresh additions to replace old ones.

and then— your hand stilled.

a single vinyl, untouched, tucked carefully between the others.

mtv unplugged.

a whisper of a memory stirred.

"mtv unplugged."

the voice echoed behind you.

you turned, and suddenly, you weren't standing in a record store in 2010—you were eighteen again.

"that's been a personal favorite," taesan said, his voice lighter now. "i don't know why no one buys it."

your lips parted, but no words came.

he glanced at you, but not like before, not with the warmth of love. just as a store owner speaking to a customer.

"gonna buy it?"

"no," you murmured, gripping the record a little tighter. "i'll just rent it."

taesan nodded, unfazed. "great. i'll be at the counter if you need recommendations."

and just like that, he walked away. without a second look. not realizing who you were.

without realizing what this place—what he, had meant to you.

but that didn't matter. you had no intention of crashing back into his life. he was happy.

and for you, that had to be enough.

▐▐ resume, to 2024

your eyes flutter open.

for the first time in three decades, the weight in your chest isn't unbearable anymore. it lingers— like a memory that no longer claws at your chest but merely exists somewhere distant. you exhale, grounding yourself back to the present.

turning back to the shelf, you run your fingers along the spines of the vinyls, their covers weathered by time. you pause, pulling out nevermind, feeling the rough texture under your fingertips. then, without hesitation, you stacked the vinyl along with the mtv unplugged in your arms.

the bell above the door chimes again.

you sense taesan's presence before he even speaks, his footsteps light as he steps beside you.

"nevermind too?" he said, amusement in his tone.

you let out a soft chuckle. "yeah, someone once told me i should go with nevermind first."

he hums in approval, the corners of his lips tugging into an easy smile. "sounds like a wise man advice."

you both laugh—softly, naturally.

the moment feels strangely effortless, as if the years between now and then have thinned into something preserved.

then, without warning, taesan reaches for a different shelf, pulling out a cd from a tucked-away spot. you glance at it—reality by richard sanderson.

"here," he says, offering it to you. "recommendation. i listened to this out of pure boredom once, and for some reason, i was drawn to it. it felt like—" he pauses.

you turn to him, waiting.

"...home?" he finishes.

you smile, nodding, taking the cd from his hands. "yeah. some songs do that to you."

a comfortable silence passed between you as you stare down at the album in your hands. then, almost without thinking, you speak.

"do you ever feel like you've lost something important, but you don't know what?"

taesan tilts his head slightly, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling in thought. he exhales through his nose, contemplative.

"sometimes," he admits. "i get these dreams, and... weird feelings whenever i sense something familiar. maybe old things i should remember."

you nod at his response, lips pressing into a flat line. there's no sadness in his voice, only curiosity—like someone who has long accepted that some pieces of his past are just that: lost, but not necessarily missed.

that freed you.

"well," you say, lifting the cd slightly. "maybe you loved this song in another life."

a small smirk forms on his lips. "maybe."

you adjust the stack in your arms. "alright, i'll take all these. buying them, finally."

taesan follows behind you as you walk to the counter. the transaction is simple—just another routine exchange. but as you take the bag from his hands and turn to leave, his voice stops you.

"you've been visiting here since 2010, if i remember correctly," he says. "but i don't think i ever got your name."

you hesitate. then, with a steady stance, you turn back to him.

"jang y/n."

for a fleeting moment, you swear you see something—a flicker of recognition, a spark of something buried deep in his eyes. but just as quickly as it appears, it's gone, replaced by his usual easygoing expression.

taesan nods, polite, casual. "okay. please take care on the road, ma'am jang. i'll remember you."

you nod back, stepping out of the store for the final time.

▶ ılıılıılılılıılıılı.

tonight— an hour before your birthday ends, the air feels lighter than it has in years.

settling into your bed, you turn on the old vhs player, the usual static rustling before the screen flickers on.

there he is, again. smiling through the grainy footage, his voice carrying through the years like a remnant of your youth.

"today is your day, and i need you to promise me something—smile, even if i'm not there. celebrate, even if it's just for yourself. because you deserve every bit of happiness this world has to offer."

for the first time, your chest doesn't tighten. your eyes don't glisten with unshed tears.

maybe, after all these years, this wasn't a promise left unfulfilled. maybe this message was never meant to be a placeholder for something that never came.

maybe it was closure all along.

maybe, the answer taesan gave you at the store earlier was the final piece of it—the confirmation that you were never completely erased from his world. buried, perhaps. forgotten in some ways. but never truly gone.

we all exist in someone's life, even if only in echoes. and maybe that truth—that you were once there, that you once mattered, is enough.

you glance back at the screen one last time.

taesan—your taesan is still there, frozen in time, forever twenty, forever smiling. wishing you happiness.

you reach for the remote, pressing the stop button.

the screen fades to black.

ejecting the tape carefully, putting it back in its place, you finally lay him—and the past—to rest.

■ fin.

[wolftarotcrafts]

*Art is mine*

Hey everyone! If you are looking for personal paid readings, you can now find them on my Ko-fi. I also have a few readings on there, and I am planning on adding more readings on there too.

I also have more readings on my tumblr page if you want to check those out. I will make a master list soon to make it easier and more organized. 

If you want to leave a request for readings you want to see, you can leave a comment on this post.

Pile One

Hi pile one. I see that other people think of you as very powerful and intuitive. People's impression of you is that you are charming and caring. Some of you could be quite emotional and very empathetic. People also see you as optimistic, and there is this sense of innocence. Almost starry-eyed and dreamer energy. Some of you could be daydreamers and could always be looking at and for the light in dark situations. People see you as light and airy; you could even be a healer. You make others feel comfortable and safe. You make others feel like they can be themselves without being judged. You have a healing and calm energy about you. People may go to you for advice and just to rant. Some of you could be therapists or looking to go into some healing careers. You could also just take your healing journey very seriously. When making decisions, you can think and lean more into what your heart wants. You have that Disney princess vibe. This is a wonderful and beautiful energy you all have.

Extra:12, 21, 1212, 1221, F, V, B, L, T, Blue, Red, Stars, idealistic viewpoint, dancing, ballroom, quinceañera, Huapango, Jarabe Tapatío, Disney, Princesses, Cinderella/movie, ‘A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes’, Sleeping Beauty, Aurora, ‘When you wish upon a Star, healing, vibrational, Vivian, Vera, Val, Vasquez, Gloriana, Loriana, Laura Fran, Tony, Toby, Beatrice, Braun, Luck, decisions, blond hair, water signs, long hair, elegance, in touch with the feminine side, and Latina.

Pile Two

Hey pile two. Some of you may have been drawn to pile one, and I see there's some similarity between the very feminine aspects. I also see that they have more princess vibes; you guys are more of queens. You guys may be on the quieter side and keep to yourselves in some ways or be ambivert, but when you need to be a leader or take over, you stand on business. Other people see you as someone who can take control when needed. I see them seeing you as the boss and looking at you as a leader. People see you as hardworking and intelligent. You are very caring and grounded. You treat others with respect, and you demand the same treatment back. People close to you see you as witty and sometimes even sarcastic. Some of you may be gift givers or just really love to help others out. Some of you could be on the more spiritual side or practice witchcraft/the occult. You have the energy that turns heads, and people definitely notice you. You could be very independent and strive to get where you want to be. You make goals, and you achieve them. You carry some strong and intense energy, pile two.

Extra: 10, 23, 26, 34, 35, 39, 333, 555, Q, R, E, B, S, Queen, Queen energy, Reyna, Reina, Elissa, Gimme More—Britney Spears, stand for no BS, move in silence, Earth signs, Air signs, Capricorn, Cancer, Aries, Bad B energy, Mexico, Europe, Russia, Slovakia, Scandinavia, making money moves, chill, down to earth.

Pile Three

Hello, Pile Three, people see you as a bit of a badass. Some of you could have been bullied, or you were the bully, but something shifted, and you decided to stand up for yourself and others. You aren't afraid of confrontation, and you will stand up for what's right, and many people admire you for that. People see that you fight for others and root for the underdog. People see you as very quick-witted and fast on your feet. I also see you maybe a little impulsive at times. People see you as strong, and you possess great strength. You may have gone through some challenges, but you have passed them, and now you are stronger than before. Those challenges shaped and made you into the person you are now. People may also view you as spontaneous and very funny. People see you as fast and when you are in you are all in. People see you as passionate about things you care about. 

Extra: G, O, N, D, T, Donovan, Orlando, Orlando Bloom, Omar, Gloria, Go, Race, Ready Set Start, jumping, leaping, pole-vaulting, athletic, strong, working out, school, martial arts, Shy by Jai Waetford, relationship, happy home, DND, gym, training.