#Fictitious Reality

[wickedzeevyln]

I, Under the Green Sky

People find it strange when I tell them I teach my TV and mobile devices the following:How to live;How and what to think;What to believe in;What to do;What the standards are;And to become something they are not;But they don’t find it weird when these things manipulate them the other way. It all starts with a disquieting question: Who am I? Where am I going? And the likes. Whatever the answer is,…

[ranticore]

using placeholder eohric as a kind of transition to florian penal laws lens but honestly I do kinda prefer the modern era ironwall characters... ahh they don't even know about the harpy slums

[learn2knits]

Pinned Post

Hello, everyone. You can call me Number Two. I’m here to teach stitch patterns in knitting, as well as making sure that you’re teaching compassion and taking care of yourself, one knit or purl at a time.

I don’t go into much about myself, for privacy reasons, but I use he/him and she/her pronouns. I like who I like, and that’s the end of that.

Here’s basic instructions on How to Knit, and How to Purl.

Tags:

#stitch patterns - basic patterns for stitches that you can use in your work

#projects - more complex projects that leave you with a finished object (fo) rather than a gauge swatch or a stitch sampler

#wip - images of works in progress on the blog

#finished object - a project that is finished complete with photos, could be connected to a project or stitch pattern post

#personal care - reminders or tutorials on how to care for yourself and others

#2 speak - personal messages from myself to my followers

Disclaimer: Any patterns I share on here are also available for free online, or my own creation. I do not intend to infringe on anyone’s ability to make money. If there’s a specific pattern that I share on this blog, I will credit the original author.

[consensus-fiction]

theres like, two levels of “playersexual”.

the first is the authors making all the romance options bi, which. like technically it can often stem from the same mechanical reasoning as “true” playersexuality (omfg im gatekeeping?????), that its easier, more efficient, or more equitable to just have all the options available to any character setup. in that sense theyre absolutely taxonomically related, but from a semantic and ethical point of view it seems kinda dogshit to reduce textually bi (one way or another, theres a lotta ways to do that) people to a mere practical development choice? like dude i think that characters just bisexual its kinda fucking wierd to frame his ability to be attracted to [character in context thats not the pc’s gender] and also romance the player character as some sort of “lazy writing shortcut”.

the second is far more nebulous as it exists more in what is LACKING than what is there. the anomalous ‘real’ “oh actually this was just a studio being either programming/writing lazy or like. genuinely just bizzare on a spiritual level”. skyrim romance is roughly egalitarian in implementation but there is effectively 0 external queers aside from two dead guys on an island and Possibly this one vampire from the morthal quest who seems like shes grooming a child? its a world absent of same-gender relationships but incapable of recognizing the player as anything extraordinary in that respect. romanceable npcs showing attraction to other npcs is rare in general, even, though going back over it in my head my initial presumption of it being completely absent is verifiably false. i think. ANYWAYS this theoretically would also include characters whose textual sexuality CHANGES to match the player character, which -discounting allowances for potential watsonian mischaracterization (i.e. a character being labeled gay by an unreliable commentator in a save in which they end up in a same-gender relationship, and other such things) can show up in really weird ways like ok in stardew valley i’m not actually saying Leah’s ORIENTATION necessarily changes but her ex’s gender specifically changing to match the player is SO FUCKING WIERD WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT. LIKE WHAT IS THAT EVEN IMPLYING?! WHUH?!!?

[secretariatess]

As someone who watches true crime, this is just gross. The lack of empathy for the victims' families is astounding. Someone who was loved and held dear by other people, who was their own person with thoughts, feelings, interests and dreams was killed and you're trying to make it about you in some way?

Some of their families and friends had to relive traumatic experiences in court, and you're going to try to make them relive that for your sake?

If you want to solve a case, either become an actual detective, or watch Unsolved Mysteries and call the designated number if you have any tips. Actual tips.

If you want gore, watch gory fiction movies, there's plenty of those.

It's one thing to go through public documents such as trial documents, but it's another thing to hecking contact the families involved.

[snazum]

Working on a little (big) project, finally figured out the storyline I want to go with, that's all I'll say, it's called IYKYK. Literatly thats the project name, it might change but it's quite what it means. but if you don't know? That's okay too! I'm hoping to tell a compelling story anyways. This is probably gonna take a couple years to do though XD

If you are interested this is the playlist I'll be working with. Yes I'm planning on making video visuals for this project (I'd say animating but I'm gonna be using a bunch of different techniques, also animating is hard af and takes a long time and I'm not exactly an animator.) Also you get to learn a little bit of my music taste now XD

[wilwheaton]

What we’re witnessing online during and in the aftermath of these hurricanes is a group of people desperate to protect the dark, fictitious world they’ve built. Rather than deal with the realities of a warming planet hurling once-in-a-generation storms at them every few weeks, they’d rather malign and threaten meteorologists, who, in their minds, are “nothing but a trained subversive liar programmed to spew stupid shit to support the global warming bullshit,” as one X user put it. It is a strategy designed to silence voices of reason, because those voices threaten to expose the cracks in their current worldview. But their efforts are doomed, futile. As one dispirited meteorologist wrote on X this week, “Murdering meteorologists won’t stop hurricanes.” She followed with: “I can’t believe I just had to type that.” What is clear is that a new framework is needed to describe this fracturing. Misinformation is too technical, too freighted, and, after almost a decade of Trump, too political. Nor does it explain what is really happening, which is nothing less than a cultural assault on any person or institution that operates in reality. If you are a weatherperson, you’re a target. The same goes for journalists, election workers, scientists, doctors, and first responders. These jobs are different, but the thing they share is that they all must attend to and describe the world as it is. This makes them dangerous to people who cannot abide by the agonizing constraints of reality, as well as those who have financial and political interests in keeping up the charade.

I’m Running Out of Ways to Explain How Bad This Is - The Atlantic

[restlessmaknae]

melody of your heartbeat // taesan

You had once given up Dongmin to chase your dreams of being an idol, and when your dream gets crushed, he's the last person you expect to see at your new agency. Turns out he's been looking out for you all this time.

➳ Characters: songwriter!Taesan x songwriter!female reader/you

➳ Genre: coming of age, high school au, music industry au, colleagues au, roommates au, second chances, mostly hurt/comfort with fluff and angst scenes too

➳ Words: 18.4k

➳ Warning: mentions of losing weight, lack of hunger, food, drinks, cursing, minor character death, grandparents' health deteriorating, emotionally unavailable parents, funeral, dieting, period

➳ A/N: The story's structure is present-past-present as indicated by the timers in caps lock. Places, names and characters are fictitious, and Taesan's birthname is used in the story.

➳ Dedicated to: @dat-town I love you more than words could explain❤️

PRESENT

You felt like you were in a daze these past few days; sleepwalking through days and not grasping reality around you. You felt like you were stuck in this limbo, this state of being and not being at the same time, lack of hunger chasing lack of interest, nightmares following sleepless nights. Sunrise was no better than sunset, and even if you saw the world around you in a brighter colour for a moment, you were pulled back into darkness the next.

You didn’t even dare look into the mirror for you would see the dark circles under your eyes, accompanied by their puffiness that didn’t seem to go away because you always had another reason to cry. When it seemed like you had no more tears to cry, you were proven wrong.

There were better days, of course, when your heart was a little lighter, and you could almost pretend that you were fine. Nothing happened, sure, nothing happened. The cashier at the corner store didn’t know what you had been through. The bus driver on your way back to the dorm had no idea who you were and what you had lost. The many people walking down the streets outside your dorm’s window went about their days just fine, and all you could do was wonder how they did it. It felt like such a distant phenomena to you; the art of being okay, or at least, the art of pretending to be fine.

You had four days to pack up and leave. It was a slap in the face. You had been a trainee at the company for 9 years, and now you had four days to wrap it all up. Four days that tasted like forever in your state.

“You have to understand. We’ll use all of our money to fund CLIQUE’s debut, we won’t have any money for trainees.”

You had to understand, of course, but what about them? Didn’t they have to understand that it wasn’t fair that though you had come out on top in all monthly evaluations, you didn’t make the cut for CLIQUE? You were now too old to debut with a bunch of 15-19-year-old girls as a 22-year-old one. They just couldn’t have told you before, through all those months when you had kept practising, singing, writing and dancing, your muscles aching, your vocal chords hurting, your heart breaking and yet... you were just tossed to the side because you were too old.

“Everyone was in agreement that you wouldn’t fit in with the final line-up,” they said as if it was of any condolence.

It wasn’t.

So you just stared out of the window of the room you had taken up as yours, where you had written and produced hundreds of songs, oftentimes accompanied by rustling papers of snacks and plastic cups of coffee, daytime bleeding into nighttime, lighting up the streets outside the window. You had seen trees bloom and leaves wither, snow weighing down on rooftops and rain washing away anything that got in its way.

You had started out as a 13-year-old girl with big dreams and a big heart, but as time went by, your softness turned into spikes and your naivety into pessimism. You had been put into a trainee survival show at 17, one where you would have made the final line-up if the voting had not been rigged. Though it had turned into a big scandal, you had not been given a second chance. Life wasn’t fair like that. You had lost your grandfather at 19, and you hadn’t even been granted leave for more than the day you had attended his funeral. And for what? For this...

For the past three days, you could only cry. Today, you were numb, moving through the day like a ghost, collecting your stuff from every corner of the building, and hating everyone because they were so bubbly, so lively, and there you were, lost and confused and just mad.

You managed to speak to the manager at the corner store where you worked besides being a trainee, and he let you work more hours, so at least you would continue to make money. Your aunt also offered to let you stay with her till you found your footing again since they had a guest room that you could use. It was either her house with your two little cousins (Hamin who was 8 and Hajin who was 6) and your uncle or a guesthouse because your parents lived on the other side of the country, and for now, you wanted to stay in Seoul.

It was 5:53pm when you walked out of the dorm, two suitcases, a handbag and a sports bag as your company, and stepped into the bustling, noisy outside world that was so in contrast to how you felt inside. It felt like walking through mud, heavy and never-ending, and you just wanted to stop the world around you.

But it didn’t stop, and you just hated it even more.

A honking sound pulled you back to reality, and you looked up in time to see your aunt waving from her car. You grabbed your suitcases’ handles tighter and headed towards the vehicle, only to be met with your rascal little cousins who - though tried to help with your suitcases - were too little to carry so much stuff, and chattered between themselves as if you weren’t even there.

“Hey, what about greeting your lovely cousin? Maybe give her a kiss?” Your aunt reprimanded them while putting your suitcases into the trunk. You couldn’t blame them though, you had only seen them once or twice a year since they had been born, you had surely not left a lasting impact on them.

“Kissing is so embarrassing,” Hamin said in all his boyish angst and made a gurgling sound. Hajin immediately followed his example, and then, they laughed about who made the weirdest sound.

“Okay, alright, but I’ll give her a hug,” the woman announced loudly enough for the kids to hear and did as she said so. She hugged you so tight, you were surprised at first but soon loosened up. “So happy to see you, Y/N. And so sorry about what happened. You deserve so much better,” she murmured into your hair, and you felt like you could cry. It was one thing being all in your head and wondering about what happened, but it was another thing hearing someone else acknowledge it.

If it hadn’t been for your cousins’ weird noises, you would have probably cried, but you could hold it back due to the circumstances. It didn’t mean that you weren’t visibly under the weather for the duration of the car ride, so much that Hajin even asked:

“Did somebody hurt you?”

You caught your aunt’s eyes in the rearview, and she answered her daughter’s question instead of you.

“Yes, Y/N was hurt. You can’t see it, it’s not like scraping your knee, it’s more like being really sad... like when you lost your favourite plushie, you know, Duckie, on vacation, and we didn’t know whether we could find it again."

“So are we searching for her Duckie?” Hajin blinked at you with her wide, bright eyes swimming in childhood innocence, and you nodded, your voice coming out raspy.

“Yes, we can say so.”

The next few weeks were a blur. You didn’t know whether it was Monday or Friday anymore, you didn’t know whether it was November or December, you lost track of time completely. You worked your shift at the store, and you spent your nights sending out songs to agencies, ones that were looking for songwriters and producers.

Even though your dream of being an idol had been crushed, you didn’t know what else to do apart from music, so you couldn’t give up. You just didn’t want to put yourself through the same ordeal you had gone through before, and decided that with your hundreds of songs - a dozen of those had actually been used by your previous agency’s girl group who had left the company after their 7-year contract was up and a few other up-and-coming artists -, you would give it a try.

To no avail.

Until one day, you got an email from KOZ, saying that they found your Soundcloud account, and they would like to hear a few more of your recent songs. You were so perplexed at first that you assumed that it was a scam, and didn’t answer. Then, you got another email, and decided to give it a try after checking that the email address matched with their Talent Development team’s official email address.

Then, it was all a blur again. You were called in for a personal interview, then a few days later, you were offered a fixed 1-year contract with the possibility of extension if you proved yourself to be talented and working well with their artists. Then came the usual legal stuff, the NDAs and the tour around the company, the many new faces and the many new introductory meetings.

You were in the middle of your first week at the company when you decided to test a few of its equipment and book a room for yourself. They said that all rooms that were in the system were free to take, so you randomly chose one, and walked into it at the assigned time slot, only for it to be scattered with a few oddly specific things. There was a worn-out notebook with pages torn out and put back in again on the desk beside a black cat figure, a half-empty coffee cup, a box of napkins and a black leather jacket thrown over the revolving chair in front of the desk.

You tilted your head in confusion and you were about to see if you were actually in the right room when someone walked into the place, and you froze on the spot.

The same jet-black eyes, the same jet-black locks, the same lanky figure, and the same galaxies in his dark orbs, ones that you could have gotten lost in back in high school. You felt them draw you in now, but your shock was greater than your amazement, so they didn’t get you this time.

“Oh… Dongmin, you…” You croaked out, not finding your voice at first. “Dongmin, what are you doing here?” You asked more confidently now, and there was an almost amused tilt to his lips as he leaned against the doorframe.

“I could ask you the same thing, Y/N,” the way he said your name sent a chill down your spine, and you were almost about to say that you were happy to see him, but his next comment made you backtrack. “Plus, to you, it’s Taesan sunbae.”

Taesan? Hmm, that was new.

Either way, the way he said ‘sunbae’ was the part that got to you more. You didn’t know whether you should roll your eyes or pin him to the ground with your unamused stare, but you didn’t appreciate the wording.

“I’ve been a trainee longer than you have.”

“But I’ve been here longer than you have,” he pointed out matter-of-factly, and sure, you could not argue with that because you didn’t know how long he had been at KOZ.

“How long have you been here? You were still at Seoul Sirens last time I checked,” you inquired, keeping your voice even, but you were actually very curious how he had ended up here.

You had been with him when he had been accepted into Seoul Sirens back in high school; you remembered how he had tried to seem unaffected because he had always said that he would get in, but he couldn’t hide his proud smile for the rest of the day. Truthfully, it had probably started for you back then; growing fond of him, that is.

Dongmin pushed himself off the frame and diminished the distance between you two in two long strides. You looked up at him, and though your frequent blinking probably gave you away, you tried to appear as unaffected by his proximity as possible. After all, Dongmin could not have wanted anything from you after your goodbye. There was no way he would still like you.

“Oh, you did check?” He quirked an eyebrow teasingly, bending his back, so that he could be at eye-level with you, searching for something in your eyes that you couldn’t decipher, but you just couldn’t tear your gaze away.

How much you wished to see him again after all those years, to look into his eyes and to hear from him that you would surely make it, and now that your wish was granted, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. It had been four years, why was your heart still racing?

Whatever Dongmin wanted to find in your eyes, he either didn’t succeed or he chose not to comment on it. Instead, he actually answered your question.

“Well, yeah. I was there for almost 4 years, and I switched afterwards, so it’s been around a year and a half here,” he explained, and you hummed. It was true that you had been looking him up more frequently after graduation and not so much in the recent year, so that could explain why you didn’t know about him working at KOZ.

“This is my studio, by the way,” he added, pulling you out of your thoughts, and now the randomly scattered objects seemed fitting. Especially the black cat figure.

“They’ve told me that the rooms that can be booked in the system are free to take,” you justified before he wanted to call you out on taking his place.

“Technically, yes, but it’s still my studio.”

There was no malice in his voice, no accusations, but whether he wanted to show off or just defend his stance, you couldn’t tell. It had been four years since you had last seen each other, and it seemed that you couldn’t read him as easily as you did before.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” you held up your hands as a sign of peace offering, and you walked around him to get to the door. You were almost outside when he called after you.

“Wait…” You turned around immediately, though if anyone asked, you wouldn’t know what you were hoping to hear from him. Nevertheless, you were still hoping, only for him to crash it with a simple:

“Nevermind. I’ll tell you another time,” he shook his head, and stepped up to his computer to restart it. He still turned around to watch the door close behind you, just like four years ago, when you had said your goodbye.

(He wanted to tell you that he was so happy to see you, and that he did see your name in the booking system, that’s why he left his producing room before coming back at the start of your time slot, so that he could bump into you.

Alas, words betrayed him, so he said nothing, just watched you leave like the fool he was.)

PAST

Han Dongmin was every girls’ high school crush. Tall, handsome and rumoured to be dreaming of a songwriter career, meaning that he was good with words. In his songs, at least. The reason most girls gave up on courting him was because he was awfully shy around girls, and barely talked to them. Except you.

Maybe it’s because you two were the only ones at your very much ordinary high school who dreamed of working in the music industry, and it bonded you, but still, he talked to you, but most of the time, you didn’t know what to do about it. Still, it fluttered you like it would flutter any 16-year-old girl who experienced what it meant to look forward to seeing a boy day after day for the first time, to get lost in his jet-black eyes, and to squeal a little when he got you some snacks from the corner store during lunch break because he said that you had seemed to lost some weight.

Dongmin’s parents were very supportive of his dreams, and he had his own producing software and kit at home before you even dared to use your agency’s resources. Maybe it stung a bit as well, the fact that his parents were so supportive when yours didn’t seem to care. Whilst it was better that they didn’t care than if they were against it, they were pretty distant either way ever since they sent you to live with your grandparents in Seoul, so that they could focus on work back home. So really, what were you expecting?

It wasn’t rare for kids to grow up beside their grandparents, and living in Seoul allowed you to chase your dreams, but at times, you wondered why they even had you if you had been living with your grandparents ever since you had been 6, meaning that you had already started elementary school in Seoul. As opposed to your parents, your grandparents always, always told you to dream big because they would be there to support you. Your grandmother had been there to hold your hand when you had auditioned for agencies, and she had cooked up the biggest feast you had ever seen when you had gotten in.

Then, your grandfather had been admitted into a nursing home after he started having trouble walking, and your grandmother had followed - mostly because she hadn’t wanted him to go alone. You had been 16 at the time, and though they would have let you live in their own flat, you had decided to move into the agency’s dormitory, so the empty flat wouldn’t remind you of the time you had spent there for nearly a decade.

So you started the first year of high school already living in the dorms, visiting your grandparents weekly at the nursing home without fail, restlessly chasing your dreams, and that’s when Dongmin showed up. He was there from day one, really, probably because he heard you say you were a trainee when you were doing the mandatory introductions during homeroom, and you defended his dream of becoming a songwriter when some douchebag thought it was funny to make a joke about how ridiculous kpop songs were, no one needed another one.

After a while, he seemed to be the first constant in your ever-changing landscape, and though you didn’t dare to show it, you were always looking for him in the hallways.

One day after school though, he was the one who came looking for you. You were packing up your stuff in the already half-empty classroom when he plopped down in the chair in front of yours.

“Hey!” Dongmin said casually as if you had not already spent lunch break together and talked about his favourite MCR songs in fourth break.

“Hey,” you greeted him back, waiting for him to say something because he always had something to say when his eyes were darting around the room like that; he was looking at anything but your face.

You finished zipping up your bag when he finally blurted out what he wanted to say.

“Can you help me choose out two songs to send in for an audition?”

To say that you were surprised would be an understatement. Though you had talked about music, auditioning and your trainee experience, he had never shared his songs with you before. To be precise, he always mentioned that ‘he was working on a song’ or that ‘he was trying this new technique with this song’, but he had never shown you his actual songs before. You didn’t push him because though you were a trainee, you knew that you weren’t an actual judge of quality when it came to songs.

Besides, Dongmin didn’t look like the type to just show anyone what he was working on, so the fact that he asked you to help him choose songs that he would use for auditioning was a big thing in your eyes.

“Of course,” you replied within a heartbreak, and you almost facepalmed yourself for being so overeager. Dongmin, on the other hand, merely smiled coyly - a rare sight from him -, and told you that he would send over the audio files, so you could listen to them whenever you saw fit.

“You don’t have to do this today or this weekend. It’s perfectly fine if you get back to me within a week,” he clarified hastily as if he was asking you to listen to days worth of audio files.

“Dongmin, it’s only six songs we’re talking about,” you reminded him with an amused smile, and the tip of his ears turned red. Your features softened at the sight, and something was pulling at your heartstrings. This meant a lot to him, you could tell, and of course, you could understand because you had been just as nervous to sing your audition songs to your grandparents in their living room.

“Besides, I’m really curious,” you admitted, and now it was your turn to blush. Gosh, you two really found each other with your teenage awkwardness and inability to hold a conversation without one of you flushing.

The boy cleared his throat before muttering, without even looking into your eyes:

“I hope you’ll like them.”

And you did. Though it was definitely odd to hear him sing about kissing ‘you’ and going crazy because of ‘you’ and other love-related lines (you just had to tease him about it when you gave your feedback), his songs were good. Not just lyrics or production-wise, but his voice was so good, too. It sounded different from his usual speaking tone, but there was this unique edge to his singing voice, and you didn’t tell him, but you didn’t listen to the songs just once. You kept listening to them when you wanted to shut out the hustle-bustle of the dorms, when you were commuting between the school and the agency, and you even showed them to your grandparents when you visited them in the nursing home.

And when Dongmin got into Seoul Sirens with the two songs you had chosen, you were ecstatic. He tried to hide his smile when he walked into the classroom that day, but you could tell something was up. He told you during the first break, on the rooftop of the school building with only the two of you there, and you couldn’t tell what took hold of you, but you found yourself hugging him out of joy.

“I’m so happy for you,” you squealed excitedly, and only let go of him when you realised how abrupt it must have seemed to him. Dongmin did seem shy and a bit awkward, but he seemed thankful as well.

In that moment, like a bright flash crossing the sky, you knew that you would like him to be happy, and you would like to be happy for him for a long time.

The survival show started during summer break between the first and second year of high school, but the last month overlapped with the first month of the new school year.

Since your teachers weren’t lenient with you because it wasn’t an arts high school where most students were trainees or already debuted idols, your attendance mattered, so you tried to squeeze in as many classes as you could without it affecting your preparation for the weekly performances. Dongmin was more eager than ever to seek out your company and he was the one who gave you notes when you were away. Though you always found it adorable that he had the handwriting of a middle school kid, now you were thankful that you could read everything.

Though it was tiring to juggle everything at the same time, and you couldn’t even see your grandparents in the meantime because you usually visited them over the weekend, and the show was on Saturday while you usually slept through Sunday, you pulled through. You were so close to making your dreams come true, you could almost feel it.

Then, of course, shit happened. Two weeks before the final show, you gave your best performance yet. You sang ‘Sudden Shower’, and the judges were thoroughly impressed, even joking that you looked like you sang from the bottom of your heart. Though you did neither confirm, nor deny it, rumour got out the next day that you were dating a boy at school, and though his face was blurred, the photos showed you and Dongmin walking out of school together, talking in the hallways and sitting beside each other at the canteen. You didn’t know who took them because you didn’t have enemies, but it was surely a classmate, and someone who didn’t wish you well.

When you went to school the following Monday, you asked Dongmin to meet you on the rooftop as it seemed like the safest option for you right now. You were fuming, but you didn’t want to let it show because you didn’t want to stir more drama. After all, anything could matter so close to the final show.

You let out a long sigh when you got to the rooftop. You looked around to check if it was just you two, but it seemed like it. One could never know these days though, it seemed.

Dongmin didn’t look differently than his usual self, but you had a feeling that he did see the rumours. Truthfully, when it came to anything survival show-related, he was already aware of it before you told him, so he must have been up-to-date with all kinds of news. That’s why you weren’t afraid to start with a statement:

“Dongmin, you have to tell them that we aren’t dating.”

“Why? They wouldn’t believe me,” he just shrugged his shoulders, and though he might have been right and he was usually this laid-back, you didn’t appreciate his calm and almost unbothered state under the circumstances.

“Why?” You felt your voice rise, something that was unlike you, especially towards Dongmin. You just couldn’t hold it back, hold yourself back anymore. “I’m currently on a survival show, and dating you might impact my chances to debut!”

Anything could impact your chances to debut. A contestant had been eliminated right after leaving an honest and constructive feedback about the show’s current no. 1 trainee, and another had been accused of being a bully back in middle school, and it got so bad that the girl had voluntarily left the show. You watched it happen stoically, blaming it on the competitive nature of this industry, but now that you were the victim, you wished you could be as cool-headed as before.

Dongmin leaned against the nearest rail, his hands in his pockets, his head hanging low. You just didn't get how he could act like this when he knew how desperately you wanted to make it, to make your dreams come true.

“Well, the fans who don’t want you in the debut group because you’re dating someone aren’t real fans,” he broke the silence, his voice neutral at best.

If you had been angry before, you would have been fuming now. You didn't even think of playing nice anymore, you just let it all out. Like a volcano that suddenly erupted, you let the words chase each other before you even thought about their impact.

“Argh, Dongmin, don’t you get it? Whether it’s a dating scandal, a bullying one or some weird edited photos emerging about me, it doesn’t matter which one, it’s going to have an impact. Even if it’s true, even if it’s not. You might want to be just a songwriter, but I want to be an idol who’s out in the public eye all the time.”

Dongmin snapped his head back to look at you, to look you in the eye, and for a moment, you thought he might understand. For a moment, you thought that it would be alright again, that the world would tilt back into balance, and he would be on your side again.

You were wrong though.

“Just a songwriter?” He repeated in disbelief, and if it had not been for him emphasising your wording, you would have not realised what you had just said. Obviously, you didn’t want to underestimate the role of songwriters, you merely wanted to show the contrast between someone who was out in the public eye and someone who was working behind the scenes, but you knew the moment he emphasized those words that you had lost this argument. Even if you tried to save it, it would be in vain.

“Dongmin, I didn’t mean-”

“Can’t wait for the time I will be the one writing songs for you,” he cut you off, and let out a snort. You had never seen him act like that, not towards you at least, and it scared you so much that you watched him walk away without calling after him, without him stopping at all.

Just like that, the volcano swept across the rooftop, and all it left in its wake was destruction.

You thought that you had lost Dongmin right then and there on the rooftop.

He had done his fair share though. Two days later, he had announced in the class group chat that you weren't dating him, and that everyone should refrain from making such allegations until checked with the parties involved. In a way, you were relieved because he did what you had asked him to, but it hurt that he didn't even reach out or want to meet you in the next couple of days.

However, you were too weary to care and too anxious to let something like further proof emerge, so you didn't seek out his company either. You didn't mind, you had your full focus on the show and practising, so you went straight to the company after classes and straight to the broadcast station for contestant-related duties. It was easier this way, you told yourself, it was better this way.

Though you couldn't help but feel thankful that the boy did send you a good luck text before the final show, something that you almost immediately replied to. It didn’t soothe your frazzled nerves, but you thought that it might be a kind of peace offering, and it reassured you a bit. At least that part of your life wasn’t a mess anymore.

Then, all at once, you felt like your world lost its axis and stopped spinning. It stilled, frozen in time and place, frozen in that moment when your name wasn’t called, when you couldn’t join the already announced members of the debut group, when you weren’t there hugging the other girls and shedding happy tears.

Because you didn’t make it.

You were so close to it, so close to making your dreams come true, you could practically taste the sweetness of success, and yet, the last step was missing from the ladder bridging fantasy and reality, and you fell into the pits of darkness beneath your feet that you tried oh so hard to ignore. You were helplessly clinging onto desperate hopes and reaching out for anything, anyone to break your fall, but to no avail. No one came to save you.

No one came to shelter you, to take you away from all the guilt, to keep you back from replaying your mistakes and slip-ups, to stop you from wondering about the what ifs. No one came to take your side against the agency and the other trainees who gave you belittling glances and looked at you as if you had been eliminated from the get-go. No one came to console you at school when you showed up for the first time after the show ended. Instead, everybody was staring and telling stories with their eyes or whispering behind your back. You didn’t know which one was worse.

No one came until Dongmin did.

You were on the rooftop like always when you needed some fresh air and a place to be away from the hustle-bustle of the busy classrooms and packed corridors. You were picking on a loose strand of your school uniform, your fingers absentmindedly fiddling with the fabric, while watching some first-year boys playing on the football field. They were playing seemingly without a care in the world, with a group of girls watching by the side and giggling over something between themselves.

All that childhood innocence, that carefree attitude was something that you envied because you never had it, you never had the chance to have it. And for what? For this? For sitting on the rooftop all alone because you didn’t have time to make friends and you even messed it up with Dongmin, and now even your dreams were crushed for the foreseeable future, and you didn’t know what else to do because that’s all you had been working for. You weren’t talented in anything other than music and dancing. Turns out you weren’t even talented enough in them…

You heard the rooftop’s creaking door signalling the arrival of another person, but you didn’t turn around to see who it was. You just hoped that whoever came up would leave soon, but when footsteps neared you, you turned your head the other way, not wanting anyone to see you in your state. To see the dark circles under your eyes, the puffiness of your face, the hollowness in your heart.

“Y/N…”

You would be able to recognise Dongmin’s voice anywhere, but instead of the butterfly wing-like heart flutters he usually triggered in you, now, all that was left was a squeezing feeling that made you want to gasp for air. You had to hold back a sob that was threatening to surface because he was still there, still calling your name even after everything when you deserved none of this.

“Y/N, look at me!” The boy asked you gently, something that he had never needed to ask before, but right now, you wished nothing but to hide.

Still, a tiny part of you decided to obey, and you turned towards him, but the moment you did so, and saw a guttural, vulnerable kind of empathy in his eyes, something that you had never seen before, something in you broke into tiny little pieces, the walls crumbling down around your closely guarded heart.

And just like that, the tears spilled again like a river, your vision blurring. The way the sobs surfaced was anything short of planned, it was some kind of inexplicable human need within you, something that you had no control over anymore, something that had been poking at you for the past few days, but you had tried to hold it in. You were stronger than this, you were better than this, and yet…

And yet… Dongmin didn’t look at you any differently. It would have been better if he had pitied you, thrown you disgusted glances or called you out on your sappy behaviour. It would have hurt less because that’s what you had been used to.

“Why aren’t you leaving?” You blurted out between two sobs. “I’m a mess,” you added as you reached to wipe away a few freshly shed tears.

Dongmin looked slightly to the side, and you were like, that’s it, this is when he would leave, but instead, he looked back at you, and took a step closer to you. Slowly, he reached his hand out, but it was hovering a few centimetres from your face. You weren’t sure whether it was because of your blurred vision, but it seemed like his hand was shaking slightly before he dared to touch your face. His touch was feather-like, gentle, despite the calluses on his hand, spreading warmth across your body, signalling to your brain that he was there, someone was really there to ground you.

“You aren’t a mess. You’re just hurt,” he spoke up so quietly that his words almost got lost in the cacophony of the world around you. Almost. You held onto them desperately, holding them close to your heart, and while he was wiping your tears away, he was wiping away the bandages over your broken heart, your most hidden thoughts spilling out.

“Apparently, I’m not enough, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be enough,” you croaked out, your voice coming out hoarse and raw.

He looked at you with so much emotion, so much care, so in contrast to his usual nonchalant attitude that your head was spinning, your brain was telling you to stop and leave him behind because you didn’t deserve him. Yet, your heart was there to hold onto him and his words and the galaxies in his eyes.

“You’re already enough, and those who didn’t vote for you can go to hell.”

You wished you could say that it was enough to hear this, but it wasn’t. There was something heavier weighing on you.

“What am I supposed to do now, Dongmin?” You asked him, the universe, anyone who cared to listen. “It’s already been four years, I feel like I’m slowly running out of time, and I have no idea what else to do. I can’t do anything else. I’m just… I’m just so lost.”

Your sobs reverberated through your whole body, and you closed your eyes to let the tears fall freely. You were shaking, internally breaking down, while Dongmin took another step closer to you, and a few seconds later, you found yourself embraced by him - tentatively at first but more and more tightly as seconds passed by. You sobbed into his chest, into the thin material of his school uniform, leaving wet stains on the white shirt like petals scattered in the wind.

“You’ve done well, Y/N,” he whispered like a secret, and if anything, you just sobbed harder.

Dongmin held onto you tighter, safe and steady, and though you had lost so many things in the past couple of weeks - years of practising that you could have spent making friends or studying harder, a dream that could have come true just in time for you to not think about giving up, your confidence seeing the results and a huge part of yourself -, at least, you didn’t lose him.

Everything and nothing changed at the same time after the survival show.

Though your confidence had taken a hit, it was a sickly twisted turn of events that the show turned out to be rigged. Just like the X1 scandal before, the final line-up had been rigged, a few entertainment company CEOs paying the production team to make sure their trainees would be part of the debut group. However, the news got out pretty quickly, so the debut group didn’t even have the chance to debut. They were back to square one just like you were. Turns out you would have been a part of the original line-up, ranked 6.

Your company tried to put a positive spin on it, and let you film a cover video that was later uploaded onto their Youtube channel, but it didn’t get the views they wanted, so they gave up on posting more about you.

At least, that meant that they didn’t work you to the bone, and you had time to focus on school. You did train diligently too, but the way this whole thing turned out made you realise that sometimes you couldn’t control the results of your efforts, so why lose yourself in the meantime? Not to mention that the company wasn’t looking to debut a girl group soon.

Dongmin was also training, taking lessons at Seoul Sirens where they had a two-year programme specifically for talented songwriter and producer-wannabes, and he was the youngest one who made it. You were so proud of him, and you were rooting for him so much that seeing him so enthusiastic made you want to learn about songwriting and producing, too. Though you had the equipment at the company and you could have asked for lessons, somehow, as a girl, you were offered neither. It was more acceptable for guys and especially rappers to write their own lyrics, and you were neither of those.

Dongmin was suspicious at first, not knowing why you wanted him to show you the ropes, but he didn’t protest. You had a feeling though that your argument on the rooftop was still engraved into him or maybe he just wanted to be careful, but instead of inviting you to their company building, he invited you over to his parents’ house where he had his own equipment.

The impressive set-up wasn’t your favourite thing about his closet-sized studio room though.

“No way you have a Jiji figure!” You pointed out the object on his table, the cute cat character from Kiki’s Delivery Service in all its glory. It even had a red ribbon around its neck.

“Apparently, I look like a black cat. According to my sister, at least,” Dongmin shrugged nonchalantly, but the way he shared it with you said that he didn’t actually mind being compared to the fictional animal. Otherwise, he would surely not have it on his table, let alone beside his computer in his own little studio.

That was the thing about Dongmin: though he said one thing, his actions advocated for something else. You had a feeling that he was just trying to hide his real feelings, or he felt like he needed to act all cool and tough, but you didn’t mind his behaviour. You saw all those shy smiles, awkward glances and secretly cute gestures that others didn’t even have the chance to see.

You cracked a smile at the black cat comment before you were offered to take a seat. Though Dongmin quickly realised that there was only one chair for the two of you, so he brought a chair from his own room just in time for his mother to come inside the studio with a plate of freshly cut fruit.

“Here. Have some of these,” the woman offered with a wide, kind smile as she put the plate on the table. This was the first time you officially met her apart from the times you saw her at school, so you quickly introduced yourself. “So nice to meet you, Y/N. I’ve heard so much about you,” she chirped excitedly after your greeting, her excitement genuine, but Dongmin looked like he wanted to dig a hole for himself right then and there.

“Oh really?” You asked back as you glanced in the boy’s direction who was fixated on his monitor, staring at it as if his life depended on it.

“Yes,” she bobbed her head. “It’s so good to finally meet you. You’re the first girl Dongmin brought home.”

“Oh, mom, please,” the boy grunted and looked at his mother as if he was willing to do literally just about anything to not have this conversation. Her mother got the signal and imitated zipping her lips before she prompted you once again to have some of the fruit. Then, she left you two alone, and though you caught sight of the tip of his ears turning red, you didn’t comment on it, you just smiled to yourself.

Dongmin recovered quickly, and changed into his professional mode, explaining techniques and beats and layers as if he had been doing this all his life. You brought a notebook with yourself, so you jotted down what he was saying, and if you weren’t writing, you were focused on the screen in front of you. He was patient with you, and you swore you could listen to him talk all day.

“Any questions?” Dongmin inquired at one point, and you turned your head to look at him instead of the monitor, only to realise that you were closer than you had expected.

There were only a few centimetres between your faces, and from up-close, you could see the slight blemishes, the last remains of acne scars and a few moles dotting his skin. From up-close, you could see the exact shade of his eyes and the way his lips stretched into lines. From up-close, you could see the pink hue that creeped onto his cheeks, a sight that would have made you crack a smile if your face hadn’t mirrored his.

“Uhm… nope,” you croaked out as you leaned back into the chair, your heart thrumming wildly in your ribcage.

Though you didn’t have such a close interaction for the rest of your little session, you would never be able to forget that feeling of looking into his eyes so closely, mapping out his features, engraving the sight of them into your memory, so that you could always come back to this very moment, to feeling so thrilled, shy and so endeared all at the same time.

Summer break meant that you had more time to yourself. Practising was one thing, but now that you didn’t have school and the company’s girl group was having a comeback, so they occupied the practise rooms during the day, you had a lighter schedule compared to last year when you were preparing for the survival show and then auditioning for it.

This also meant that you spent your free time messaging Dongmin, having a few more sessions in his little studio much to his mother’s joy, and hanging out a few times. You were careful, wearing masks when you could, because you knew how nasty people could be even about pre-debut photos and scandals, and you didn’t want history to repeat itself with your dating rumour. Though you were nowhere near debuting, you wanted to live your trainee life as drama-free as possible, and Dongmin didn’t protest either because he also knew the risks.

You went to the cinema a few times, you hung out by the Han River, and you went to a karaoke bar to sing your heart out. Surprisingly, the boy enjoyed singing trot songs, and you enjoyed watching him doing so. That was the thing about him: whatever he did, you could immediately tell if he enjoyed it or despised it, it was written all over his face. Plus, when he did enjoy it, the sight made your heart flutter, a smile immediately making its way onto your face.

If you hadn’t been sure before that you liked him, you would have been made aware of it by all those fleeting moments between you two during the summer when your hands touched while reaching for the same ramen at the supermarket, when you were standing close to each other on the metro, when you glanced at him only to see him already staring at you, when he willingly shared stories about his childhood, when he complimented the summer dress you wore to the cinema once, when he gave you his jacket while you were walking back from Han River after sunset, and when he walked you back to the dorms because “it wasn’t safe for girls to be alone at night”.

When he suggested going to an open concert one weekend, you said that you couldn’t go because you were visiting your grandparents at the nursing home. He knew about your grandparents, and he never got mad when you said that you would see them instead of meeting him.

This time though, he offered to go with you, and though you couldn’t understand why he would spend his time with your grandparents at a nursing home over going literally anywhere else, you didn’t reject the idea. Your grandparents heard a lot about him either way.

One thing that you didn’t expect was for them to call you out on it right after Dongmin introduced himself as you were sitting outside in the home’s garden. The garden was one of their favourite places to be at, though the communal rooms came close.

Your grandfather was in the nursing section of the home while your grandmother was in the independent living section as they needed different levels of care, so they didn’t share a room. However, they could still spend as much together as it was possible when your grandfather didn’t need a nurse to care for him. At first, he only needed a cane to walk, but then, his pain intensified so much that he was put into a wheelchair. On the other hand, his arms were still fully functional, so he could feed himself, read books, watch TV and hug you when you visited, but for bathing, for instance, he needed assistance.

“Oh, is he the boy whose songs you showed us?” Your grandmother inquired with a cunning smile, and now you understood what Dongmin must have felt when his mother had spilled the beans that you had been the first girl he brought home.

“Yes, he’s that boy,” you admitted because it was futile to deny, but you didn’t dare meet his eyes. You had never told him that you showed your grandparents his songs, and though you didn’t think he would be mad, you still felt terribly embarrassed.

“How wonderful! We’re fans of yours,” your grandmother chirped gleefully, and now you looked at the boy to look for his reaction. Dongmin immediately got shy, his hands covering his mouth while he was trying to hide his smile, his ears turning red.

“Ah thank you, but I still have a long way to go,” he refuted sheepishly, and it was such a cute sight, you wished that you had brought him here more often before.

“Nonsense. You’re already so talented!”

“You’re making that poor boy so embarrassed. Let’s talk about something else!” Your grandfather suggested with a knowing glance in your direction. He knew just how hang up his wife could be when she really got into something, and despite his physical health deteriorating, mentally, he was still very well. You were really grateful for that.

So you talked about the drama they were watching on TV in the communal room, the book your grandmother was reading, and that awful lunch they had served the other day. Dongmin listened attentively, kindly asking questions and being interested in the storyline of their new favourite TV show even though you knew he didn’t watch those. You had seen before that he treated his younger siblings well, and it had truly warmed your heart, but now seeing him interact with your elderly grandparents, you were really, really touched. You felt a kind of warmth that made you feel all fuzzy and hopeful and beaming.

As expected, then came the embarrassing childhood stories about you, the time you had performed Gee in your grandparents’ living room, or when the corner store owner’s son had confessed to you with a pink lollipop, only for you to reject him because you were set on being an idol, and idols didn’t date.

“Can you imagine? She was only 8 back then, the boy was 7, and she said ‘idols don’t date’ as if she was twice her age, already in training,” your grandmother recalled with a chuckle, but Dongmin liked the story so much that he laughed out loud, hitting his thighs with his hands.

Your face, on the other hand, was resembling a tomato’s.

“Grandpa, you should tell her not to share embarrassing stories about me like you did at the beginning!”

“It’s not an embarrassing story. It’s cute,” he corrected you gleefully, but your shock must have been written on your face because Dongmin started laughing even more.

A few hours and a few more embarrassing stories later, you announced that it was time to go as their dinner time was nearing. You excused yourself to use the restroom, and when you came back, they seemed to be in a deep discussion, the boy bobbing his head like an obedient child. When you asked what they talked about, they just shushed you.

Even Dongmin didn’t tell you when it was just the two of you, heading to the bus stop. You shook your head, giving up on inquiring about the matter, and let a comfortable kind of silence fall over the two of you. It stretched into the early minutes of the bus ride until you decided to break it.

“Thank you for being so nice to them. They seemed to have a good time,” you admitted gently, your voice suddenly feeble, as you turned towards him in the loveseat. You had never had anyone accompany you to the nursing home, and the last time you had friends over at your grandparents place’ was back in elementary school. So it meant a lot that he not only volunteered to come with you, but he got along well with them.

Dongmin’s lips curled into a smile that was inexplicable in the best way possible; it was a mixture of gentle, empathetic and genuine. It was somewhere between ‘thank you’ and ‘you’re welcome’, friendly support and something more than that.

“Thanks for letting me tag along,” he bobbed his head, keeping the eye-contact for a few more seconds before adding: “I’m glad you have them, they love you a lot.”

“They really do,” you croaked out, suddenly finding it hard to speak up.

Sometimes you were jealous of his family; how his parents supported him, even letting him have his own little studio, how his little sister adored him, how his little brother teased him, and how he always had home-made meals to come back to. On the other hand, you were super thankful that you had grandparents who supported you from your very first audition to the last, how they had voted for you at the survival show, and the decade you had spent living with them was the best period of your life.

Even though it was different now, not different bad, just different, you were sad that those days were gone, but happy that they were still there for you. Sometimes someone’s presence was more than enough, and it didn’t just apply to them, but to Dongmin too who was there beside you now as he had been beside you for two years already.

Senior year rolled by in no time, and while your company was busy recruiting new trainees, so they could start planning for their new girl group - hopefully including you -, you were busy studying, so that you could graduate with good enough grades. You did it more because of your grandparents than anyone else, but you didn’t mind. At least the time spent studying wasn’t time spent worrying about your monthly evaluations at the company or your grandfather’s deteriorating health.

With each month passing by, you felt more and more determined to make your dreams a reality, so that you wouldn’t mind your choice of not choosing higher education. Dongmin did decide to apply for an online degree, so that he could focus on studying music, even after he would finish his programme at Seoul Sirens and hopefully stay there to start working full-time after graduation.

The stakes were high, and the tension was palpable at school, but you and Dongmin never argued about future plans or studying for the CSAT. May it be because you both knew what being in the music industry in South Korea entailed, or may it be because you both had many ups and downs during these years, but you were thankful for the peace and comfort you felt beside him.

That didn’t mean that you weren’t dreading finishing high school. Ironically, senior year felt more like summer break to you than the break before in the sense that it felt so finite and infinite at the same time, so life-changing and ever the same, and you knew that you would look back at this time as something you would reminisce about later on.

There was just something about those rainy afternoons when you ran after the bus together while chuckling or those early mornings you spent on the rooftop, away from the chit-chat of your classroom and the curious eyes of your classmates, or when you were staring at him when he wasn’t looking, trying to engrave his features into your memories.

Your feelings for him grew even stronger overtime, and sometimes you caught yourself wondering about the what ifs; what if you broke the rule of not dating like a rebellious teenager that you could never be or what if you left behind your dream altogether just so you could lead an ordinary life, and be with someone who made you happier than anyone else. Sometimes you let yourself be swept up in these big, strong feelings, in the daydreaming, in alternative versions of yourself and your life.

Yet, when it was time to say goodbye to your high school years together, you still chose your dream above him.

You were standing on the rooftop one last time, looking at the happy families gathering below, wondering why your own parents couldn’t take a day off to attend your graduation. Your grandparents offered to come by, but you told them they didn’t have to because the nursing home was further away and you didn’t want to inconvenience them. Even your aunt and uncle offered, but since they had two small children at home, you also didn’t want them to bother coming.

You heard the door to the rooftop creak open, but no sound of footsteps followed.

“Are you going to just stand there?” You asked without turning around to see who it was, but you had a very strong and sure feeling about the identity of the sudden visitor. When he cleared his throat, and the sound of his footsteps finally reverberated through the space, you knew that you were right. It was so funny how easily you could tell that it was him.

Or rather heartbreaking.

“I was just passing by,” Dongmin reasoned nonchalantly as he halted beside you.

“Sure,” you hummed, a lopsided smile plastered onto your face. One just didn’t pass by the rooftop by mistake, especially not on the day of their graduation when their family was waiting for them downstairs.

You just stood there in silence, looking at the crowd beneath your feet, and though you didn’t know what went through his head, you had a feeling that he was feeling the same way. This was the end of a chapter, but the beginning of a new story. Somewhere else, with someone else, doing something else.

Dongmin cleared his throat a few seconds later, and you snapped your head back to look at him when he did so. With the miniature version of you reflected in his orbs, your past and present self collided, flashbacks replacing one another as you stared into his deep, dark eyes. You had stood here beside him so many times before, but now, it felt so final, so bitter. This would be the last time.

This was the last time.

“I’ve just… wanted to say that you did a good job, and congrats on graduating,” he said it in one go, his face solemn despite a slight smile that was making its way onto his lips.

“Congratulations to you, too!” You found yourself saying, you found yourself smiling even though it took everything in you not to shed a tear.

“And thank you… for the past three years,” he blurted out, surprising you and probably himself as well because he ended up scratching the back of his neck after his confession. Something that he did only when he was shy. “I don’t think I would have enjoyed coming to school as much if it weren’t for you,” he admitted with a low chuckle, and you followed suit.

“You know, you actually sound like you like me,” you joked around and you reached out to push his shoulder gently, watching the emotions dance in his eyes like an ever-changing landscape. At first, you saw the same kind of cheeriness that you did when you were teasing each other, then it turned into something bitter before it settled at a curious kind of seriousness.

“Well…” Dongmin took a step closer to you, diminishing the last bit of distance between you two. It reminded you of that first producing session with him in his studio, when you had first been this close to each other. And you hated how you felt the same kind of butterfly-wing thrills. “Do you like me?”

You heard the emphasis in the question, but you decided to disregard it for your own sake. If anyone asked you years later, you would say that it was one-sided, even though his answer was hidden in his question, and your answer was hidden in your own statement.

“I can’t like you, you know that.”

This much was true, you weren’t lying, and yet, this was not enough for Dongmin. Though you saw hesitation flash across his orbs, he didn’t stop, both figuratively and literally, now standing so close to you that you could place a breath onto his lips if you weren’t careful.

God knows that you were good at being careful at all times.

“I didn’t ask if you could like me. I asked if you do like me.”

Seconds felt like an eternity, your heart a mayhem, your surroundings now quiet and distant, while you were wondering how to answer his question. Maybe that was just the way things went for you; you constantly needed to lose parts of yourself to rebuild yourself, so that you would be able to build up your own Babylon. Even Gods sinned, and you were just a mere human, but why did it feel like poison when the lie rolled off your tongue?

“I don’t like you, Dongmin, and I think it’s best if we put an end to it now. So that no one else misunderstands.”

It felt like the words came out of your mouth without your consent, but there was no other way to end this. You had already lost so much that you clung onto your dreams now more than ever, and you wouldn’t even be able to have school as an excuse to meet with him moving forward. It was better for both of you if you ended it here.

It had to be.

“Goodbye, Dongmin,” you breathed out, pulling the trigger on the gun, and though you heard him call after you while you were walking away, you didn’t look back.

Nor did you look back for the years afterwards.

(Dongmin, on the other hand, felt like he watched that door close behind you a hundred times - not just right then, but in his dreams (nightmares), in his memories and in moments when the line between reality and fantasy faded, and he always, always wished that you would still be a part of his reality.)

PRESENT

For the next few days, you worked in the producing room beside Dongmin’s studio. It was the one you had chosen when you had walked out of his room for the first time, and you had grown fond of it, especially because it seemed like no one really went there.

You didn’t bump into the boy during this time, but you did see the lights on, and you knew very well that Dongmin could get really engrossed into working on music, so you didn’t even want to bother him. You felt like you had both too many questions to ask and none at all. To be precise, you weren’t sure you had any right to ask him questions after you had told him to put an end to your friendship at graduation.

However, you were curious about his time at KOZ, and what he had been doing under the name ‘Taesan’, so you decided to look him up online. One of the first search results was the official KOZ website, and when you clicked on his name, you could see many of his songs being featured in different boy groups’ discographies under KOZ. He must have been busy for the past year and a half.

Though you were familiar with a few of the boybands’ title tracks, he mostly contributed to B-sides, so you decided to check them out. You were on your third track, surprised at the range of songs he contributed to, when the door to the room flew open, and you immediately paused the song, turning around in your chair in a hurry.

“Oh sorry,” Dongmin mumbled, but his face was quite nonchalant, so he didn’t really seem like he was actually sorry.

“No, it’s okay,” you justified quickly, and you tried to direct your chair towards the monitor where the song he had written was displayed. However, the boy didn’t seem to notice (or see?) what was behind you, he wasn’t really focused there.

He just stood by the door, seemingly not wanting to move, and you had this odd reassured feeling sitting in your chest. You wanted so desperately for him to stay, to talk to you, to share with you how he had been, but at the same time, you had no idea why he was just stalling there, whether it was time to call you out on your decision back in high school or not.

“Are you going to just stand there?” You asked instead because that much you actually wanted to know, and if he asked to stay, you would let him. Now, there was no reason to push him away, you were just wondering whether he actually wanted to be around you.

Dongmin’s lips twitched in a somewhat bitter manner, and you knew exactly what he was thinking even before he formed the question:

“Sounds like déjavu, isn’t it?”

You had asked the exact same question the last time you had seen each other in high school, on the rooftop you claimed as your safe haven, the day you had last seen each other before you met again. It was one thing that you remembered, but it was another thing that he remembered and he decided to bring it up.

Suddenly, you were back there, fiddling with your school uniform, watching the crowd of proud parents, wondering why yours weren’t there, and then Dongmin showed up. Just like how he did now. There were countless times you replayed that scene in your head, and played out different scenarios, but all that did was to leave you with an even wider hole in your heart.

You and Dongmin were both silent for some time, and then, he walked closer to you only to halt a step away from you. For a few seconds, he just stared at you, and you thought he was going to dive deeper into that goodbye, but instead, his eyes focused on the monitor beside you, on the way the list of songwriters was written on the screen beside the song title. You immediately turned back to the laptop to close the tab, but the damage was done, he had already seen it.

“Oh, I see someone is doing their research on this producer-songwriter named ‘Taesan’, ” he cooed, his eyebrows quirked in an amused manner. There were only a few times you wished before that you could wipe the smirk off his face, but damn puberty, and damn him for looking even more fine with that tilt of his head and that curl of his lips.

You wished the ground would swallow you up in whole because that expression on his face was enough to make you want to crawl out of your skin.

“I mean…” You cleared your throat, and you decided that it would be in vain to tell a fib, so you went with the truth. “I didn’t hear the name ‘Taesan’ before, so I was just wondering what you were up to while working here.”

“What did you find then?” Dongmin pushed, and now, he was leaning onto the table with his back, so he was watching you from the side. You tried not to let it affect you, but you were doing a terrible job at that because you even started stuttering when you spoke up.

“Well, I think it was… I mean, from what I’ve seen, you are doing well… great… doing great.”

Despite your obvious nervousness, it seemed that he was more interested in your words. He was fighting a smile, but failed, and his whole demeanor changed in his black leather jacket-black pants combo (it seemed like from last time as well that he liked this style and well… you liked it on him, too) with that smile on his face.

“What about you though? How have you been?” He threw the question at you without notice, and for a moment, you froze, all the hurt and frustration from the past two months coming back at you all at once.

Even though your aunt’s family was lovely, and the best kind of crazy and chaotic you could have asked for given your state (your little cousins were able to make you smile and laugh and your aunt was the most hospitable woman ever), your parents were of a different opinion. When you had told them the news of not making the cut for the debut group, they told you to give up on chasing your dreams and go back home instead of burdening your aunt, they could ask around for jobs for you. You had cried yourself to sleep that night.

Then, came the endless rejections from companies, the days that bled into one, the many times you checked the expiration dates on ready-to-eat products at the corner store, wondering where your life had gone wrong. You had not only been hopeless but so tired as well. So, so tired of failures, rejections, your best not being good enough. You had really been on the verge of giving up when the email from KOZ had come.

But it was so difficult to form whatever you were feeling into words, to say what was on your mind, especially when it was this life you had given up Dongmin for.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you shook your head, turning away from him. You gulped down everything that you wanted to say, and he took that as a sign to leave you.

You could hear his footsteps getting further away, but when he was by the door, he halted. You didn’t look back at him, but he probably did so.

“You know, there will always be people who can see your talent. Like I did. Like the company did,” he said loud and clear, letting the words sink in while he was walking out of the studio.

(Dongmin knew what happened. He read the debut announcement articles about CLIQUE, and saw the final line-up excluding you. He put two and two together, and that’s why he suggested for the company to check out your Soundcloud and reach out to you. He could see how talented you were, and because of him, KOZ could see it too, but maybe, this wasn’t the right time to talk about it.)

Just as you settled into KOZ, already working with their upcoming girl group on their first album, your aunt announced that they were expecting their third child.

You had kind of been expecting it due to all those medical appointments and your aunt’s behaviour, and you had already been looking for a flat for yourself because you didn’t want to burden them anymore, but this was still sudden. With the baby on the way, they were about to renovate the guest room (where you resided), and though they said it could wait for about two more months, you knew that it was time for you to go.

You knew that KOZ had some sort of discount for employees at a nearby building because a lot of their trainees lived there, but you didn’t know how it worked. When you asked around at the company, they said that Dongmin would probably be able to help, so you went to him to ask for more details, and indeed, he could help.

He knew there was a vacancy in that building, but the problem was that he knew it because it was the flat he rented; he was looking for a roommate since the previous one had moved out.

“Wouldn’t it be weird?” You asked one day after work when he showed you around the flat, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

“What?”

“Living together with me,” you broke it down to him, but you didn’t get how he didn’t think of it himself. You were a girl, he was a boy, wasn’t that kind of weird? Not to mention your shared history.

“No,” he replied simply, coolly. Sure, it was better to have a roommate you actually knew, but you were always ready to have a tense conversation with him about what had happened back then, about how you had pushed him away. You were so ready for it each and every time, but it never came. Sometimes, it seemed like you were back to your old selves: teasing each other, cracking jokes, talking about songs and discussing everyday topics, but other times, you felt like there was this unsaid tension in the air, the unanswered questions hanging above your head, weighing down on you.

“Why? Are you afraid you will end up falling for me if we start living together?” Dongmin quirked an eyebrow in question, tilting his head to the side. There was a lopsided smile in the corner of his lips, even his tone was amused.

“What? No! No way!” You vehemently shook your arms in front of your chest as a sign of your objection.

“Well then, I can’t see why not. It’s close to the company, the rent is discounted, it has everything one might need in a flat, and though the bathroom and kitchen are shared, you can lock your room, so it’s pretty good value for the money. Besides, you know that I’m a quiet person, and you know that I would never hurt you either.”

Dongmin’s monologue was pretty lengthy compared to his usual curt answers, and he might have realised that because his hand flew to the back of his head out of embarrassment. You couldn’t really argue with him, he was right about everything, and though you wouldn’t admit it, you were touched by the way he said that he would never hurt you. You knew it, you knew it all too well, but it pained you more because you had hurt him.

Nevertheless, he didn’t seem to mind the idea of sharing a flat with you, so you gave in, and from the beginning of the next month, you were roommates.

Somewhere along the way, despite your very perplexed self, this turned out to be the most efficient option. So after you packed up, your uncle helped you move and double-checked that you knew Dongmin personally before he left the flat. Your aunt was all fussy about it, sending side dishes, ginseng tea and a pack of toilet paper with you as if Dongmin lived in a flat with little to nothing in it, but apart from a raised eyebrow, you didn’t get a call-out on the apparent toilet paper in your hand.

And so it began; listening to the sounds in the corridor before you could go to the bathroom, wondering what he was doing when you saw the lights on in his room, not trying to think too much into the choice of snacks in the cupboard that was filled with your favourite ones even before you moved in, and navigating cooking, cleaning and doing laundry around him. You had lived together in one room with five other trainees before, so you knew what it was like to live with others, sharing communal areas, but it was different because it was Dongmin out of all people.

Though you didn’t want to be obvious about it, you did try to avoid him outside of work, so you ate breakfast in your room and you usually went to have dinner somewhere else, either alone or with the new songwriter girl, Lily.

This didn’t go unnoticed by the boy who was sitting by the kitchen table, slurping on some instant noodles when you got home one day, and decided to ask about it after you greeted him.

“Are you avoiding me?” He asked straightforwardly, making you halt in your steps. You stopped by the kitchen table, and you tried to fathom your most convincing smile as you looked down at him.

“No.”

“Y/N…” The way your name rolled off his tongue was gentle, yet firm. You knew that look on his face, you knew that he saw through you, but you wished that he wouldn’t push. However, with the way he kept his eyes on you, unwavering and intent, you knew that you lost this battle, and he didn’t even have to prompt you to confess to him.

“I just… I just don’t want things to be weird between us,” you admitted, chewing down on your bottom lip.

“Why does it have to be weird between us? We’ve known each other for years,” he pointed out matter-of-factly, his tone so genuine that you wanted to believe that he seriously didn’t mind sharing living together with you, but you did. The guilt was gawking at you, crawling at your skin, sending nightmares in your way, and triggering flashbacks of your time together.

You had been so afraid of Dongmin bringing it up that it had never occurred to you that you should bring it up, but now, you thought that it might be time to tell him why you were tip-toeing around him.

“It’s because of how I pushed you away four years ago. I did it without notice, without discussing it with you, and just left you there without turning back. I hurt you, and I thought that you would forever hate me for it.”

Once the confession was out, you didn’t feel relieved. Though this weighed down on you, saying the words out loud didn’t make you feel better. What’s more, you were more anxious than ever to hear his opinion, his side of the story, and you were ready to hear that it was true, that he hated you, and now that you mentioned it, it might be a terrible idea to live together, and you would lose him again.

Instead, Dongmin kept the eye-contact, but his features softened, his eyes shining more bitterly than before.

“I knew that you would push me away. I prepared myself for it.”

This was definitely not what you were expecting to hear, not at all. You were so flabbergasted that you merely looked at him wide-eyed with your lips parted, and the sight must have prompted him to continue.

“To be precise, I knew it because of your grandparents. When I went to see them with you, they gave me their phone number, and asked me to keep in touch with them. They had a feeling that you didn’t want to burden them with your worries and hardships, that you kept them to yourself, so they asked me to tell them what was really going on with you,” he started as he rose from his seat, so that he could stand in front of you. The more he talked, the more your heartbeat picked up its pace.

“When graduation was nearing, they told me that you didn’t want them to come, nor did you want your aunt and uncle to come, and that you might push me away once our school days were over. Because idols don’t date as a very smart young girl once claimed,” he continued, and there was an amused curl to his lips when he recalled what you had said at 8, and what your grandmother had told him when they had met.

Despite the fact that the thought of your grandparents always churned your heart, you found yourself smiling. It immediately faltered though when he continued with what your grandfather had told him.

“Your grandfather asked me to let you choose your dreams over me, but if your dream changed or didn’t turn out the way you wanted it to, he wanted me to reach out and to take care of you. And so I did,” he confessed, his words hiding so much more of his unsaid feelings; of the selflessness he had shown back then, of the promise he had kept to your grandpa, of the way he had always, always let you chase your dreams, even when you had asked him to deny the dating rumours and even when he had helped you learn the ropes of producing.

Despite learning to live with the grief of losing your grandfather at 19, you found yourself tearing up at the way he had taken care of you even when you had not seen it. Indeed, he had always emphasised that you should have a job that you would enjoy, that you should do what you want, that he would root for you no matter what, and the best gift you could give them was to live a happy life.

So how could you tell them when you didn’t feel enough? When your world shattered after the survival show? When your parents wanted to talk you out of your dreams? Of course you had not wanted to burden them with your hardships because you had been afraid that they would ask you to give up on your dreams, just like your parents had done. Of course you had not told them about the constant comparison, the competitiveness and the vile nature of the industry when they had closed their beloved restaurant because they had both been too old to take care of it and your father wouldn’t want to take over, and though your grandmother had never stopped cooking when you had been living together, you knew that it had not been the same for them. Of course you had not told them everything because it would make them sad, and they always said that they wanted you to be happy and healthy and see you shine on stage.

“If I hated you, do you think I would have asked the company to check out your Soundcloud or suggested we live together? If I hated you, do you think I would have followed the news of your agency, and kept in touch with your grandmother?”

Dongmin’s voice was hurried and almost desperate by the end, but with each and every word of his, your tears just fell more and more vigorously. It wasn’t enough that the reason KOZ had reached out to you was because of him, but he had also monitored you through all these years, in hopes of any news from the agency, and stayed in touch with your grandmother. The latter also meant that he must have known about your grandfather’s passing, and if anything, that just made you sob even more.

You really didn’t deserve him.

“Y/N, I know it’s been hard for you, and I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself, but please… don’t push me away again,” he asked, and his voice cracked by the end. Though you couldn’t see him from behind the curtain of your tears, you had a feeling that he was getting emotional. Something you had very rarely seen from him, and the fact that it was because of you, the thought of losing you… it truly broke you.

Dongmin didn’t care about you falling apart, shattered into tiny pieces, he waited until you made the first move, until you nodded and told him that you wouldn’t push him away, and that you were sorry, so very sorry, before you took a step closer to him, and he immediately embraced you.

You cried into his chest just like you had done so after the survival show, and though you felt like you had lost so many things again since that embrace on the rooftop, you were not only lost but also found. He came to find you, and you let him.

(Because Dongmin had never hated you. He never could. Though it did hurt him when you had pushed him away, he knew what being an idol meant to you. So when he saw the news of you not debuting with CLIQUE, he was just as broken as you were. It was as if his own dream was stripped away from him because in a way, it was.)

Something changed within you that day.

You had been telling yourself that Dongmin must hate you, that he must not want to tolerate it, and after a while, you had believed it. You had believed it so much that you were surprised when he told you that he actually didn’t hate you, and he asked you not to push him away. You had always felt ashamed that he had seen you at the worst, and he had been the only person who had seen you cry after the survival show, and you had convinced yourself that he would like to let go of you either way.

Yet, it was the opposite. Whilst it was difficult to grasp the reality at first, and you were afraid that this newfound trust and affection between you two would burst like a bubble at the touch of your hands, it didn’t happen. What’s more, your bond deepened as you realised that you could tell him anything, and his behaviour towards you wouldn’t change.

You told him how evil the trainees at your previous company were, how sick a lot of you had gotten while trying to live up to the expectations, how it had been living with five of them in one room while they had talked about you behind their back, how you had been working at a convenience store to make some money, and how much everything had been a blur since graduation.

You also told him what had happened at the end and how you had not made the cut for CLIQUE, how you had stayed with your aunt and how your parents had wanted you to give up on your dreams. You had also told him about your grandfather, and how you had only gotten a day off for his funeral, and you felt like life had moved on while you had been stuck in the past, feeling guilty for not spending enough time with him and wishing that he could see you shine on stage as he wanted to.

“But he did. He once told me that he was glad that he lived to see you on stage during the survival show. His favourite performance was ‘Sudden Shower’,” Dongmin explained thoroughly, and yet again, something within you broke and mended, changed in a way that only this revelation could change it.

Then, he told you that he had attended the funeral because your grandmother had asked him to come, but he had been at the back of the crowd, so you couldn’t have seen him. You had hid behind your hair, letting it cover you, letting it hide you from the curious eyes around you, from the outside world that lacked only your grandfather in it.

Dongmin squeezed your hand when you teared up at this part. Your maternal grandparents had passed away when you had been really young, so you had not gone through grief like this ever before, and sometimes you felt like you didn’t have a proper closure with your grandfather because you had been expected to move on swiftly, to go back to training like nothing had ever happened. It sucked, really, how life had just gone on when someone’s life had been taken away.

So with this newfound information, the next time you went to visit your grandmother, you asked her about everything she had kept silent about for your sake. She did so, and now everything made more sense. She even admitted that though your father was and had always been distant towards them, she felt like raising you and watching you grow into this beautiful, strong young woman made up for it.

Though your questions never seemed to stop, she was curious about your side as well, and despite the fact that you had been holding so many things back before, you knew that Dongmin had been a bridge between you and your grandmothers because of that, so you didn’t keep quiet this time.

Even though it was difficult at first because you felt like you were just venting to her, especially when you opened up about what really happened at your previous company, she didn’t seem to mind. She listened with that attentive look of hers like always, and reached out to hold your hand when you said that you felt like you wasted so many years of your life for nothing.

“I know it must have been tough for you, but wasting time on something that you enjoy is never time wasted.”

“But I didn’t really enjoy it by the end,” you admitted, and this was the first time you dared to say it out loud. It might have surprised you, but your grandmother didn’t seem taken aback. Instead, she squeezed your hand tight, and looked out of the communal living room at the care home, musing out loud.

“It’s true that we can see life in a different light after a certain age, and I don’t mean to undervalue your feelings, but it seems to me that everything happened for a reason. You might not have ended up at this new company if you had not held on, you might not have met Dongmin again if you had left earlier and you might not have found your new path if you had done something differently. As much as it hurts, sometimes, we learn the most from pain and loss. I know that all too well,” she confessed with a reminiscing smile, something that was both bitter and sweet, heart-wrenching and heart-warming.

Now it was your turn to squeeze her hand, and you just sat there for a while, holding each other’s hands. That is, until she decided to bring up a few embarrassing stories about your childhood, but now you didn’t mind. You let her talk, and laughed along with her, wondering how much would have changed if she and your grandfather had not been such an integral part of your life growing up.

Though she was getting older, she was still in good health, and even joined a retired community club, one that organised trips into the city centre and hikings and visiting museums, and you were so grateful to see her live on, to still enjoy going out and wanting to meet people. You knew that it had been really hard on her when she had lost your grandpa, especially because though your father had helped with the funeral and the administrative work, he had gone back home very quickly afterwards. She must have been heartbroken and lonely, and it pained you that you had not been there for her even though you had been the same.

On the other hand, she must have sensed that you were feeling a bit guilty after everything that had come to the surface because she squeezed your hand one last time and told you that she didn’t regret a single thing when it came to you and she hoped that you felt the same way.

She said that people saw life in a different light after a certain age, but you started to think that with everything changing within and around you these past few weeks, you started to see it differently, too. With each new untold truth coming to the surface, with each new emotion you were displaying that the people around you accepted as it was without forcing you to hold back, you started to see who you could be if it weren’t for all the external circumstances.

Who you could really be.

Spring came early that year, or so it seemed.

You had never paid much attention to the seasons changing, but with the harsh winter covering up the last remains of your time at your previous agency, you were glad to welcome something new, something warm that would bring about change. Though it seemed that your days were filled with change - more so internally than externally -, you also found this peaceful sense of stability, especially beside Dongmin.

Even without actually discussing it, you naturally started having breakfast together before heading to work together. If your workload or meetings allowed, you also went back home together. If not or you were staying out later, you would notify the other, so that they wouldn’t worry (after Dongmin once hung out with one of his friends until midnight with a dead battery, and you kept walking up and down in the corridor until he actually came home).

The other girls’ presence in the dorm always made you alert and tense, so you grew to feel comfortable only in your own company. However, with Dongmin by your side, even if you didn’t say a thing during dinner, you knew that it was because neither of you wanted to speak up, not because it was awkward. With him, even silence was comfortable. With him, each new day seemed like a new opportunity. With him, even grocery shopping seemed fun because he kept teasing you about holding products above your head or scurrying away with the trolley when you wanted to place your items in it. With him, you felt safe and sound, so much that you developed a very healthy sleep and meal schedule, something that you had not had for years. Dongmin was a very quiet flatmate, he never once managed to wake you and he always reminded you to eat, even if it was something small.

Of course, it wasn’t just because of him, and it didn’t mean that learning how to take care of yourself was linear. When your probation period ended, you were given the chance to talk to a counsellor at the company as an employee benefit, and you took advantage of it, knowing fully now that you needed help. It wasn’t easy, talking about your feelings to a complete stranger, that is, but she helped you to see where some of your behaviours stemmed from, and she was always there to reassure you that you were doing good, even if you felt like you took one step forward and two steps back. With each session, you felt a bit closer to someone your 13-year-old self would be proud of.

And it showed. Your aunt said so when you went to visit her, your grandmother noticed it when you spent another Saturday with her, and even Dongmin made a remark when you asked him why he was staring at you one day during dinner. He said that you looked at peace these days, and you nodded because you actually felt like it.

On the other hand, life was full of ups and downs, so there were bad days, too. Days when you felt like an impostor writing songs for KOZ’s upcoming girl group, wondered if Lily was actually trying to be your friend or she was just pretending to, looked into the mirror and wanted to pick apart your skin because it looked less than flawless, brought up the walls around your heart once again, and when everything just seemed a bit too much. Days when you wanted to push everyone away because you didn’t need help, you could deal with it on your own. Until your body decided to give signals, and you decided to listen to it.

That day too after another sleepless night when you wondered if you were brave enough to resolve something that needed resolving for a few years now, prompted by your counsellor, you were waiting for Dongmin to come back. He didn’t notify you that he would come home later, so you assumed that it wouldn’t be long until he showed up. However, you must have dozed off on the couch while waiting for him because you only noticed that he was home when he was in the middle of covering you with a blanket.

“Oh sorry, did I wake you?” Dongmin asked, apologetic, as he sank back onto the couch, keeping an appropriate distance from you, who was leaning onto the side of the couch in a fetus position. You loosened your limbs and pushed yourself into a sitting position, resting your arms in your lap.

“No. It’s okay. I just dozed off a bit,” you admitted with a light chuckle. His features immediately softened, his lips curling into a smile. The sight prompted you to tell him the reason behind being in the living room at this hour without the TV on. “I was actually waiting for you.”

“For me?” He quirked an eyebrow, more curious than concerned, but you could still see the way his jaw tensed slightly.

You nodded, pursing your lips, trying to pull yourself together to ask the question. You knew that Dongmin would say yes, he would understand, it was just… difficult to let the words roll off your lips. To admit that you needed someone to be there with you when you would face something that you were scared of. You were just getting better at this - as in actually communicating your feelings and needs -, but suddenly, the words didn’t seem to come.

He seemed to notice it too because he moved a little closer and reached his hand out slowly with his palm facing up, his eyes following the way you slowly looked down at his outreached hand, and then at your own one resting in your lap. You heaved a sigh and reached out, slipping your hand into his. Only then did he interlock your fingers, anchoring you in the moment.

He didn’t say anything, just held your hand, held it gently, held it confidently, held it safely. You knew that he would let go the moment you wanted him to, but that’s exactly why you didn’t want to let go.

You felt safe.

“Will you come with me to visit my grandfather?” You blurted out in the end, your voice quiet, almost a whisper. Then again, Dongmin understood you without words, and he heard you loud and clear even if you were quiet.

“Of course,” he answered within a heartbeat. No questions, no hesitation.

“His birthday would be this Friday, and I want to visit him after work.”

“I’ll make sure to finish work on time on Friday,” he promised without you even asking him to. You looked up at him, into his jet-black eyes, ones that were warm and comforting; watching the way his chest rose as he took a breath, the way his dark locks fell into his eyes, and the way he kept his distance to give you space. Your intertwined hands were the bridge between you two, but suddenly, this wasn’t enough for you.

This time, you were the one who hesitated, who leaned forward slightly to give him space, to give him time, to give him a chance to pull away, but when he didn’t, you let go of his fingers only to rest your hand on his back as you leaned into him, resting your head in the croak of his neck. He followed suit, framing your body with his arms, holding you close to him, to his heart.

You never noticed how beautiful the melody of his heartbeat was, but this time, you made sure to remember it.

(And he made sure to remember yours, so that he could write a song about it one day. Maybe he wouldn’t show it to anyone, but it would be his, and it would remind him of this moment, of this feeling of certainty. You might not have said it out loud, but in that moment, he knew, more certain than ever, that you liked him just as much as he liked you.)

You used to hate summer, at least the summers following graduation.

You wanted to go out, to bathe in the sun, to have a picnic by the Han River, to cycle along the streets, to eat ice cream and to watch the sunset with your friends - like common people did, like youngsters around you did, and like you did once, with Dongmin, before everything fell apart.

You couldn’t go out though, you had to keep a low profile because pre-debut photos could come out any day that might ruin your and your group’s reputation, you were always dieting, and you didn’t have any friends. So though you yearned for that kind of freedom and joy that girls around your age displayed during those months, you were also heartbroken over the fact that summers weren’t the same anymore without Dongmin. Despite the fact that you were the one who pushed him away, you missed him so badly, even more so during summer.

Summer this year, on the other hand, was literally like a breath of fresh air. After you suggested going out to the Han River to Dongmin once, he didn’t seem to run out of activities to do together and places to visit together. Even though your interactions were limited to your shared flat and your workplace before, you slowly began to explore the city together. You had a feeling that he needed that push to let him know that it was okay on your side if you spent even more time together than already, and you appreciated that he was patient and waited for you to let him in.

How could you not though? After letting go of him once, you didn’t intend to make the same mistake. Your circumstances were totally different now, you didn’t have to push him away to keep him safe, and there was no external pressure to choose otherwise, to choose something else above him. Your dreams changed along the way, and being content with this life of yours beside him was your new dream. You might have still grieved those nine years you had spent chasing your dream of becoming an idol, but now, you were also ready to move on, to have new dreams, and to see that maybe everything worked out for the best even if it hurt, even if it didn’t seem like it before.

This kind of life was better in a lot of ways. You could eat ice cream by the Han River with Dongmin without being afraid of tabloid photos resurfacing afterwards; you could indulge in as many smoothies as you wanted without being terrified over the number of calories in them; you could lay on the couch multiple nights in a row, letting yourself rest when you regained your period without feeling like you were lazy; you could go out whenever you wanted and visit your grandmother with a lighter heart, sharing anything with her no matter how mundane or serious; and let’s be honest, you could still make music without sacrificing your health, your happiness and your privacy.

And summer this year was spent doing exactly what you had been missing out on, and what you had been yearning for. Not just the activities, places or foods, but the presence of Dongmin, too.

He didn’t have a loud, bright, full-of-life kind of presence; it was rather subtle but constant, his actions speaking louder than his words, with the kind of attentiveness that didn’t let him not ask about your state when he noticed that something was off. He was like a shadow, always there in the background, following your steps and looking out for you even when no one wasn’t.

No wonder you wanted to surprise him when his birthday rolled by in August, and even though he said he didn’t want anything huge, you didn’t just want to stay inside and watch a movie.

“We aren’t going anywhere weird, right?” Dongmin asked teasingly when you told him to dress casually. That was the thing about him: once you warmed up to him again, he started teasing you in little ways, enjoying the way you rolled your eyes or huffed dramatically at his antics with that little propped-up smile in the corner of his lips.

“No. Who do you take me for?”

“That’s good. I thought this is going to be the time you send me bungee jumping or something,” he shrugged, amused, and you chuckled when you heard his words.

“You know, that’s actually not a bad idea for your next birthday,” you pointed out in a similarly playful manner before you both went to your own rooms.

It wasn’t anything weird, really. First, you took him to a vinyl store where he was like a child, noticing more and more of his favourite albums, and he had a hard time choosing just one. You told him that it was on you, so he could choose as many as he wanted, but he insisted that he didn’t want to take advantage of you, so he opted for an Oasis LP in the end.

Then, you took him to a thrift shop because you knew that he always found such gems at his favourite stores, so you thought he might like this one, too. You had a fun time watching him try on different outfits - from actually well-fitting ones to purposefully over-the-top ones -, and though you told him that this day was about him, he ended up buying you a top and a leather jacket, one that eerily reminded you of the one he wore.

Your last stop was the karaoke bar you had gone to the summer before senior year, and after a few serious songs, he asked you to sing one of those boy groups' songs he produced, and in return, you asked him to sing the most popular song you wrote for the girl group at your previous company. It was all in good fun though, but you couldn’t shake the sight of him swaying his hips - aka doing the choreography to the girl group song - out of your mind while you were walking back to your flat, your tummies full after your stop at a tteokbokki place.

“I can’t believe I’ve never seen you dance like that before!”

“Not just anyone can see me dance, you know,” Dongmin retorted playfully as you got inside the building, the boy following you, taking step after step until you reached your floor. You shook your head, smiling to yourself as you got the keys out of your pouch.

“Oh, so I’m not just anyone?” You asked equally playfully as you let yourself inside, and you stopped in the entryway to wait for him, and to see his reaction.

The boy closed the door behind him, and as he turned towards you, his smile was gone, replaced by a kind of sincerity that made the words freeze on your lips. It was so sudden, so in contrast to the mood before, but it made your heart race in a good way.

“No. You were never and you will never be just anyone to me.”

The confession fell off his lips like one of his artfully crafted lines, so naturally and so genuinely. As if it had not been obvious from the way he had been looking out for you silently yet consistently - attending your grandfather’s funeral without you knowing, keeping up with the news of your previous agency in hopes he would hear from you, listening to your Soundcloud and suggesting for KOZ to check it out, offering the other bedroom in his flat, so that you could stay with him, and letting you have space but always being there for you when you needed someone to pick you up ever since -, this now confirmed it.

Years ago, you might have outright lied to him to keep your heart guarded, and to keep him away from the twisted world of the idol industry. That girl had even believed that he had not genuinely loved her, that he would eventually forget her, and move on.

That girl was gone. Now you could believe his words, now you could feel his affection, and you had no doubt that he had never, not even for a single second, wanted to stay out of your life. And now, there was nothing holding you back from reciprocating it.

“You too,” you whispered, taking a step closer to him. You reached out to gently push the fringe out of his eyes, so that you could look into them, those dark galaxies that had once been your only escape from reality. Now, you were glad that you could wonder at them, in them whenever you wanted. They weren’t an escape anymore, they were a part of your days now.

As your hand travelled down to rest on his cheek, you could feel him slightly shudder under your touch. Maybe he knew what was coming, maybe he was trying to prepare himself for it. Maybe he just liked the way you weren’t afraid to go to him, to provide the same kind of safety that he did for you.

“I love you, Dongmin. I love you so very much,” you let the words roll off your tongue loud and clear, though your voice broke a bit by the end.

Dongmin’s eyes shone a bit differently now than they did before, but you didn’t have time to wonder if they were tears or something else, he was already hugging you in the next second.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

(He was wrong. He didn’t need to write a song about it. You were constantly writing the song he was a part of, and he hoped that it would never end.)

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine! Let me know what you think!

Header taken from the Congratulations cover video.

Click here for my BND masterlist!

If you want to read more stories of mine, let it be for BOYNEXTDOOR or for other artists, consider signing up for my taglist here. 🥰

Also, a lengthy explanation about this story, but actually, this was not the original storyline. So the first idea was that she would debut but end up leaving her group because of a dating scandal with an actor, and his fans would send her horrible threats. However, the part about her meeting Taesan at her new agency would have been the same. I actually made a whole music playlist because she would have written many songs about her toxic ex that other artists would sing.

However, I realised that there are so many stories where trainees aren't selected at the very end, and a lot more people end up not debuting than those who do. So I switched it up and left out the toxic ex, but for this reason, this kind of hit harder for me because I had dreams that were crushed because of external circumstances (like Covid and parental pressure), so I felt like writing about it was more relatable for me.

Also, the grandparents wouldn't have had that much of a part initially, but I started writing this story about 30 minutes before I got the news that my maternal grandmother passed away, and so, this story is kind of like a 'thank you' letter to grandparents like hers among many other life lessons (I hope so). My grandmother also used to say that I should have a job that makes me happy, and that she wants me to be happy and healthy always, and she would root for me no matter what. So writing about reader's feelings losing her grandfather and being grateful for both of their support came from the bottom of my heart, and helped me to deal with her loss a bit better.

Another thing that is not mentioned here because I couldn't include it in a way that seemed natural is that she unconsciously started dreaming of becoming an idol because of her parents' lack of love. She thought that if she performed on stage, her parents would care more and come to visit her in Seoul. However, nothing would have been enough for them, not even debuting, so her letting go of her dream of being an idol is her letting go of that need to be something more in her parents' eyes. She would have been made aware of it during counselling, but I didn't end up including it.

Last but not least, I just want to say that I hope you'll make your dreams come true, and that only good things will come your way. Even if it's not the case, don't forget that there are people who will always be rooting for you, including me. ❤️

Hope you have a lovely day/night! Take care! ❤️

[clara-a7]

No Exit || Franco Colapinto⁴³

彡PAIRING ; franco colapinto x fem!reader

彡WARNINGS ; angst, past relationship, romantic tension, emotional confrontation

彡SUMMARY ; you run into your ex franco at the paddock in monaco

彡WORDS ; 850

彡DISCLAIMER ; Everything written here is FICTITIOUS.

彡AUTHOR'S NOTE ; sorry if here are any mistakes, english isn't my first language!

You hadn’t expected to see him. But.

Sure, you knew he’d be there. Franco Colapinto was back in Formula 1, having stepped into Jack Doohan’s seat earlier in the season.

Monaco was one of the biggest weekends on the calendar everyone showed up. It was wishful thinking to believe the paddock was big enough to hide from someone who once made your heart feel like it was caving in on itself, as if your ribs were too small to contain everything he made you feel.

You adjusted your sunglasses, a flimsy shield between you and reality, reminding yourself why you were here for the weekend, for the view, for the roar of engines. Not for him.

And yet, the moment still blindsided you.

“Y/N?”

You froze. That voice. You’d know it anywhere. His accent still wrapped around your name, soft and Spanish and painfully familiar. You turned slowly.

“Franco.”

He looked exactly like Monaco wanted him to: tanned, sunlit, just a little too charming in his Alpine team polo. He hadn’t changed much maybe his jawline was sharper, and his eyes a little more tired but he was still him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, walking toward you like nothing had ever happened. Like you weren’t carrying the weight of everything he left behind.

You cleared your throat, caught off guard by how easily he slipped back into your space. His closeness, his casual tone it rattled you more than you wanted to admit.

“A friend got me a paddock pass,” you said, fidgeting with the strap around your neck as if it could tether you to the ground.

“A friend…?” he repeated, one eyebrow arching slightly. Then, softer, “Of course.”

There was something in his voice. Not jealousy, exactly. But something bitter, tinged with something that felt like regret.

You looked away, hiding behind your sunglasses, unsure if you were more annoyed at him or yourself for still caring what he thought.

You didn’t respond. Not because there was nothing to say, but because saying anything might unravel everything.

“How long are you in Monaco?” he asked, breaking the silence again like the first breach hadn’t already cracked something inside you.

You turned to him, your voice cold beneath the summer sun. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Talk to me like I’m just some old friend you happened to bump into. Like we didn’t have a whole story behind us.”

He blinked, thrown off by the shift. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Didn’t you?” you asked, tilting your head. “Because that’s exactly what it felt like. Like we didn’t have history. Like you didn’t leave without a word without answers.”

Franco’s jaw tensed, the charm slipping. “You think I forgot?”

“No,” you said quietly. “I think you buried it. That’s not the same thing.”

He frowned. “What does that even mean? How can you be so sure?”

“I see your story,” you said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Pretty girls sticking to you like you’re some kind of prize.”

He stiffened. “You think that means I didn’t care about you?”

“I think it means you moved on,” you replied, voice flat. “Fast. Like we never happened.”

His mouth opened to reply, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“And maybe that’s all it was,” you added, your voice softer now, barely above a whisper. “Maybe I was stupid to think it meant more. But don’t look at me like you’re surprised I’m not smiling.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. He looked like he wanted to say something, to fight back, to explain. But the words didn’t come. Or maybe he just knew they wouldn’t be enough.

“I didn’t post those story to hurt you,” he said eventually.

“No,” you said, and your voice cracked just a little. “You posted them because you didn’t even think of me. And that’s worse.”

Silence settled between you again, thick and suffocating. The world moved on around you cameras flashing, voices chattering but you were both locked in a moment that refused to move forward or backward.

Franco let out a long breath. “I was a jerk.”

You didn’t argue. He wasn’t wrong.

“But when I saw you just now,” he continued, “everything I tried to forget hit me all at once. I knew I couldn’t just walk past you.”

The honesty in his voice landed like a blow, raw and unexpected.

“I hate that I still care,” you murmured.

“I hate that I gave you a reason not to,” he replied.

Your lips parted, but nothing came out. There was too much, and not enough space for it all.

You didn’t know what this was. A second chance? A scar opening all over again?

But Franco looked at you differently now like he didn’t want to get it wrong this time. Like maybe he’d finally learned what it meant to lose something real.

“I’m here until Monday,” he said, steady now. “But I’ll stay longer if you want. We can talk. Or not. Dinner, a walk.... whatever you want.”

You didn’t answer right away.

But your heart did.

✿彡did you enjoy this? comments, likes, and reblogs are immensely appreciatedミ✿

© clara-a7 - all rights reserved.

[femsolid]

Some crazy french scandals you've probably never heard of:

In 2023, a senator invited an mp to his apartment to celebrate his election. He went to the kitchen alone and put GHB in her drink. When he came back he was acting weird and urged her to drink it fast. When the drugs started to take effect, she thought she was dying of a heart attack and he tried to calm her down, but she ran from the apartment and called for help. She was taken to the hospital and he was later arrested. He claimed that he didn't mean to put the drugs in her drink, he was doing a magic trick and the drugs fell into her drink by mistake. On his phone search history the police found that he had been reading about rape drugs. The trial hasn't happened yet, so for now he's still working as a senator and has refused to step down.

In 2024, it was revealed that children were being tortured and raped at a catholic school for decades. The french prime minister was made aware of this in the 90s and did nothing. He is now being investigated by the parliament. He was questioned for more than 5 hours (it lasted this long because he refused to give a straight answer) during which he spent most of his time insulting leftist MPs and pretended to be the victim. The investigation is still ongoing and more than 45 children, now adult men, have come forward. The video of him slapping a little boy while visiting an impoverished neighbourhood resurfaced. While questioned by the parliament he explained that the boy was trying to steal from him and that sometimes hitting a child can be educational. Hitting a child is illegal in France.

2018: During the yellow vest protests, policemen were routinely brutalising, maiming and even killing people. During a rally on may 1st, a policeman was filmed beating a woman and then a couple. However, on closer inspection, it was revealed that the man was impersonating a police officer and that he was president Macron's close friend and bodyguard. The police let him borrow their uniforms and helmet to beat up protesters.

It was also revealed that he was unduly authorised to carry a gun, to use a car paid by the government, and to own a badge authorising him to enter the parliament despite not being a member. He was sentenced to 1 year of house arrest wearing an electronic bracelet and 2 years of suspended sentence.

In 2025, Marine Le Pen, the popular leader of the french neo-nazi party was convicted of embezzlement. This was estimated to have caused a loss to European funds of 4.8 millions of euros.

She was accused of having hired fictitious assistants when she was a member of the European Parliament. In reality, they were working for her party. The court found there was “no doubt” about the existence of the scheme. She was sentenced to a five-year ban on running for public office with immediate effect and two years to be served outside jail with an electronic bracelet.

Let's talk about the left a little bit. The leader of the french left is so agitated and emotional he's an infinite source of memes here.

However, in 2018, things took a disturbing turn when more than 100 policemen, and a few prosecutors were sent to his home at around 7am, armed and with a warrant to search through all his belongings. They also visited a dozen of his coworkers all at the same time, in what appeared to be a very well prepared sting operation. The reason was unclear, though there were suspicions of embezzlement. It was something we'd never seen before in France, in terms of police deployment, and it seems excessive, especially given the fact that nothing came out of it.

However, that's not what people remember from that day.

During the policemen's search, the leftist leader, joined by other mps, became very angry as they were not allowing them to be in the room and witness the search. He screamed a lot, got in their face and was so upset he shouted weird things like "I'M the republic! Don't touch me, my person is sacred!!!" (which have become catchphrases in France) and "break down the door comrade!!!" which made the media talk for days and speculate about his mental state.

The policemen pressed charges against him, one of them stating that he was on sick leave for a week and had to get psychological support because he had nightmares after being shouted at by the leftist leader who responded that he probably shouldnt be a cop if he was that fragile. He was later convicted of "rebellion" against a police officer and had to pay 8K to the policeman. He also got 3 months of suspended sentence.

Obviously I should finish with Macron:

In 2018, a young horticulturist told president Macron it was difficult for him to find a job. Macron told him that all he had to do was cross the street and work as a waiter. In 2016, a unionist criticized him and Macron responded "You don't scare me wearing a T-shirt! The best way to buy yourself a suit is to work." In 2017, he stated: "When you go to the train station, you walk by people who succeed and people who are nothing." In 2018, when everybody became aware that his bodyguard had been impersonating a police officer to beat up protesters, Macron responded to the french people with "Come and get me!" In 2018, he said: "People who are having a hard time financially need to be more responsible. Some are doing well, but others are fucking around." In 2019, he said he was unhappy that yellow vest protestors were being invited to speak in the media: "Jojo with his yellow vest is considered an equal to a minister or mp!" During the yellow vest protests, a middle-aged woman who was just standing there and holding a peace flag was charged by the riot police and left unconscious on the ground. The whole scene was filmed and photographed. Macron said it was her fault for being there and told her that "she should be wiser in the future." However, the police chief responsible for the attack was later convicted. In 2024, when actor Depardieu was being investigated after being accused of rape by several women, Macron stated that Depardieu was a fantastic actor who made France proud and that he wouldn't participate in this witch hunt. In 2025, Depardieu was convicted on two counts of sexual assault.

In a book written by 3 journalists, they quote Macron as saying about the state of french hospitals: "the problem with emergency wards is that they are filled with Mamadou!" a blanket name he uses to call black men. Three weeks later, he told several african governments who had expelled french military from their countries that they forgot to thank France. He explained that the only reason african countries had their sovereignty was because of the french army. He added "it's okay, they'll thank us eventually" to which the Tchad foreign minister responded that he had a "contemptuous attitude towards Africa" and added: "we don't have a problem with France, but french leaders need to learn to respect african countries and their sovereignty." Macron also called the people of Haiti "complete cunts".

In 2017, he visited Mayotte, a french island, and joked that their traditional boats mostly served to fish immigrants. A few years later, when a typhoon hit that same island and killed several people, leaving the rest without drinking water and living in slums, the people of Mayotte were angry and desperate by the lack of support from France. Macron came to visit them, got angry and screamed: "I'm not responsible! I'm not the typhoon! You're complaining but you're quite happy to be french! If you weren't french you'd be 10 000 times in more shit! Yes I'm angry! Because you're disrespectful!" In 2017, he visited another french region, the french Guyane where people were on a strike. Indeed, people were complaining once again about being left out and living in poverty. Macron talked to the media and said that all the strikes needed to stop because it was "preventing the island from functioning." Problem: the french Guyane is not an island. It's situated on the south american continent between the Surinam, Brazil and Venezuela...

That's all I have for today! I hope our misery was entertaining. As a bonus, here is Macron getting slapped by some random french guy:

Au revoir.

[astarioffsimpmain]

The Sun-Walker's Illusion

Pairing: Astarion x Reader

Author's Note: Here you are, @yennefer-of-vengerbergs!!! I maaaay have gotten a bit carried away with this idea and it morphed into a whole fic. 😅 I hope you enjoy it, my dear! <3

♡♡♡

In the time following your victory over the Elder Brain, you and Astarion had taken to the road, on the search for something that would allow him to greet the sun every day, his only remaining grievance from choosing to stay a spawn. Months had passed and leads were scarce; whispers of a ring that could do the job flitted from reality to fiction depending on who you asked, and not even those who believed it to be real knew where to begin searching for it. His hope was waning. You could see it in the deepening lines on his face and the circles darkening around his eyes. You did your best to comfort him, holding him close each night, reminding him of how much he was loved, and seeking to spend time doing activities with him that had nothing to do with their search.

And yet, despite his persistent attempts to convince you otherwise, his disposition had taken on a somber undercurrent. You knew something had to be done, but what? You couldn't magically conjure this ring that may or may not be fictitious in nature with the snap of your fingers. If you could, well, you would have never ended up in this position to start. You kept a journal, logging all of your adventures with your lover. He didn't know it yet, but it would be his gift at the end of your - hopefully - very long life with him. You were not immortal, and with Astarion remaining a spawn, there was no foolproof way to make you one. He teased you about the journal right now, but you knew he would eventually cherish it. You had begun a list of options on the very back page of things you could do to cheer your darling up.

𝑅𝑒𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓈 𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝒹𝒶𝓎

𝒟𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

𝐵𝓊𝓎 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓁 𝑜𝒾𝓁𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓅 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒶𝑔𝑒𝓈

You had begun doing these things on a far more regular basis in the hopes that he would eventually open up and talk to you about his struggle, and while he seemed to enjoy each action of love - as well as your patience in not prying - , he remained stoic in his efforts to conceal it from you. You had talked about it - of course you had. But he wasn't ready to admit it yet, and you couldn't bear the thought of forcing him. So you waited, trying your best to love him through it. You stared at the blank space next to the last bullet point, willing a solution to appear; something to ease the stagnation and ache your lover was feeling.

You glanced out the window of your shared room at the Hondakar's House in Elturel - a luxury you could afford, being the heroes of Baldur's Gate - and watched the fireflies dance in the evening sky. The warming weather had come as a blessing in the last couple of weeks, bringing a breath of new life into the city. Astarion had once told you how he hated flowers, but you hadn't missed the way his eyes flicked over the ones blooming in the parks and gardens, even in the pale glow of the moonlight. Suddenly, like the gust blowing in from the harbor, you knew what you needed to do.

~ ~ ~

"Don't you touch that cloth, Astarion," you chastised, reaching up to return the blindfold over his bright red eyes.

"Oh, darling, won't you just tell me?" he whined, ever the impatient one.

"Absolutely not. It is a surprise for a reason. You'll find out when we're there."

"Ugh. Very well then, lead the way."

"You'd fall on your face if I didn't."

"...Arse."

Despite his restless protestations, the clearing was not far away from the inn, and you arrived by a mere short stroll. You took a deep breath, glancing around at the preparations you had made, your eyes raking over each detail to be sure everything was still perfect. "Alright," you said at last. "I'm going to take off the blindfold now. Are you ready?"

"Darling, I was ready 10 minutes ago."

"We hadn't even left the inn 10 minutes ago."

"Precisely."

"Alright, alright," you laughed, his snark never failing to put a smile on your face, and his fangy smile in return proved that that had been his intention all along. When the blindfold came off and his beautiful ruby eyes batted open, they widened in surprise almost immediately.

"My love," he murmured breathlessly, his gaze never straying from the air above the clearing. A glass orb hung from a tree branch overhead. Light cascaded out of it in yellow and orange rays, brilliant in their intensity, bringing the trees around them to life; inside, a gemstone imbued with a spell of Daylight - completely harmless to vampires and spawn alike. A small table with a set of chairs sat in the corner, hosting a bottle of vintage wine and two glasses "borrowed" from the Hondakar's kitchen on either side.

Astarion watched, wide-eyed and silent as you produced an empty bottle from your bag. "I figured I could add some of my blood to your wine to make it taste better, but I know you prefer it fresh, so..." You trailed off sheepishly, Astarion's silence stirring confusion in you about whether or not you had done the right thing. But when his finger pressed gently into the underside of your chin, bringing your face up to greet him, his lips met yours. The kiss was soft, tender, unhurried. It felt like hope. When there was space between you again, he gazed at you, unguarded, with light reflected in his eyes.

"What is all this, little love?" he asked quietly, almost as though he was afraid of the answer.

"You've been so down," you whispered, averting your eyes. "I've been worried about you."

When he huffed a short laugh, your eyes flicked back up to his face, so perfectly showcased in the light. He was no longer looking at you, but off somewhere in the distance to his left. "I-" he paused; another huff. "It sounds so incredibly foolish now that I plan to say it aloud, but... I have been... well, I've felt as though I've disappointed you."

"What?!" You were horrified. How could you have given him an impression like that?

"Now before you derail in that little head of yours, just shush for a moment," he said, a finger coming up to boop you on the nose. "I... essentially upended your life. You had a life in the sun to live, family to return to. But I'm bound by this endless darkness." His voice took on an edge that you hadn't heard in awhile. It seems hardly fair to ask you to be my only sun." The ache in his voice hurt your heart, and you were pulling him close before your mind could even catch up. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you held him to you, as though you could love all of his broken pieces back together.

"I have never once doubted my decision to come with you," you said resolutely. "The sun means nothing to me if you are not beside me when I am under it."

He pulled back, but only far enough to capture your lips with his own once more, pressing closer to you beneath the makeshift sun you had created. "My dear," he murmured quietly against your mouth. "I do love you, ever so much."

~

fin

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

one of the things I see the most in any fandom space is pearl clutching people saying how “shocked” they are when it turns out a “problematic” ship or a “problematic” character is loved a lot in said fandom.

the most recent example for me would be from this poll where it asks people to vote which ship they like the most, thousands of fans have voted, and the results happen to show the ship that is — according to these people — most problematic has won. needless to say, hundreds of these “noble people who usually harass real people, who just want to ship their little ship in peace, over fictional characters in the name of being morally superior” are so shocked that such a “harmful and problematic” ship is the one that is most liked within the fandom they’re in.

I mean… I don’t know what to tell you, but just because you’re “loud” and you like to “witch hunt” people who enjoy fictional things that you think is Bad, doesn’t mean the ship or the character you deemed Problematic is actually hated by the majority of the fandom you’re in.

sure, you are allowed to hate these ships and these characters for any reason, but other people are allowed to like them. and surprise surprise, the world doesn’t revolve around you and your mindset that Liking Bad Fictional Things Equals Condoning Bad Things in Real Life.

shocking, I know. but most sane people can actually distinguish the differences between fiction and reality. and that’s why people who like fictional villains aren’t actually serial killer in real life.

fandom is and has always supposed to be a safe and fun space in which anyone can like and enjoy whatever they want. it never is, and it’s never supposed to be a courtroom where someone’s moral compass is judged based on how they enjoy Fictional Things. because the whole point of enjoying a ship or liking a fictional character is that it’s fictitious, it’s not real. no one in real life is getting killed because a hot fictional villain is loved by hundreds and thousands of fans.

I hope you feel better soon though 🤍

[teslasucks37]

making charlie cum in his pants. PLEASE I WILL KISS YOU

CW: NSFW below the cut (MDNI), Body Worship, afab!reader (use of goddess), Power imbalance maybe?, Virgin!Charlie, Implied Curvy!Reader, Premature Ejaculation (Charlie hehehe), SubToConfident!Charlie, Initiator!Reader

A/N: THIS ASK REVITALIZED ME ILY RED THANK U this is like 3k words… 😟

Artist!Charlie Slimecicle x NudeModel!Reader

Fine Art

Charlie was so fucking nervous.

He’d never been more nervous for a class in his life.

He was halfway through getting his art degree, specializing in watercolors.

But this Charcoal Sketching elective was just too good to pass up.

A single 30 minute class per week to sketch a still life, a bowl of fruit, flowers, etc.

But this week was different.

This week they were having a nude model come in.

And he didn’t have any aversion to naked art, sculptures, paintings, drawings, often they were incredible.

But a real person?

The thought made his hands sweat.

Charlie didn’t have a good track record with real people.

Sure, he could come up with a few good jokes on the spot, but beyond that he didn’t feel like he would contribute much.

People were critical, talkative, fictitious.

They could be something that they really weren’t.

Not like art.

Art was persuasive in a way that made it seem as if it could be changed, but it was really meant to be one way all along.

When he got his brush on a canvas, everything just made sense.

The water ebbed and flowed wherever it wanted, like fate.

Like he was merely a medium for reality to create, like he had no real power over what he made.

And when he walked into the room with his peers, his raised shoulders fell and relaxed.

No one was there except other students getting settled.

Easels were all circled around a platform in the middle of the room.

Charlie sat down if front of a random canvas with a relieved sigh.

He had a little more time to prepare to see a naked person.

It’s not that he was scared of nakedness, he just had never seen someone naked in person before.

He’d seen it in porn of course, but that’s not the same thing.

Yes, he was a 21 year old virgin.

Such was the burden of an art student.

Never much time for fun.

But then the professor walked in, shaking him out of his thoughts, followed by someone in a long robe.

They introduced you to the students, a stunning young model who couldn’t be much older than Charlie.

He felt his eyes linger on you for longer than they should have.

He gazed at how your hair layed perfectly around your face, framing it to accentuate every feature of your face.

His worst nightmare.

You were gorgeous.

You turned to the podium and walked toward it, giving Charlie a chance to rip his gaze away.

He heard the fabric of the robe drop out of his sight line, echoing in his head like a bomb had gone off in a stadium.

He had to look.

That was the entire point of the assignment.

Looking at you and drawing you.

So he dragged his eyes up, spotting the fronts of your shins, cause of course you’d decided to face his direction.

Then the fronts of your knees, then your thighs, then…

God, you were so fucking beautiful.

Beautiful like a marble statue, like you were carved by Chauncey Ives himself.

You were standing up right, arms crossed over your body to hold your waist, pressing your tits together softly.

Your full hips made Charlie’s brain turn to mush.

He wanted to touch them, grab them, kiss them.

The stretch marks that striped across your thighs and tits made his heart stutter.

Like they were marking just where he should lick and kiss along your skin.

His mouth was dry and watering at the same time, like his body didn’t know how to react in the pure presence of your beauty.

Then he remembered where he was, a class, where he was supposed to be drawing.

The charcoal pencil trembled in his shaking hands.

Why was he shaking so bad?

Charlie tried to focus on the art, he tried so damn hard.

But he just couldn’t get the damn lines right.

Whenever he looked at you to get your proportions he swear he could feel your eyes on him.

He sketched, then erased, then sketched again, then erased.

It was never this difficult when he was sketching fruit.

The professor clapped their hands to alert the whole class. “Alright everyone, that’s all the time we have for today. Get those sketches into me by next week. They don’t have to be finished, they just need to have something tangible.”

Fuck, had it really been the whole period already?

He’d barely gotten anything down…

Definitely nothing tangible.

He gathered his supplies and his barely progressed canvas, swearing under his breath at his own idiocy.

You hadn’t even had time to pull on your robe before you walked up to him.

He stopped in his tracks as he realized you were still naked in front of him.

“Did you finish?”

You must have seen him struggling and erasing nearly every line he drew.

“Uh… No…” He very impressively babbled out.

“Would you ever want a… Private session? So you could finish your piece?”

“Wh- Huh?” Charlie’s eyes widened at your request.

“I would hate for you to fail the assignment and miss out on valuable learning just because of time constraints.” Your eyelashes fluttered up at him.

He gulped, nodding in agreement.

Why did he say yes?

Would you think he was desperate?

Did he even really know what he was agreeing to?

It didn’t really matter, because you grabbed a sharpie from his bundle of art supplies, scribbling your number onto his arm.

However, Charlie didn’t expect you to show up at his door mere minutes after texting you.

“Do you want like a… A drink or something?” He joked nervously, opening the door of his apartment to you.

You shook your head with a light smile as you walked in. “Where do you want me?”

“Uhhh…” He trailed off as he closed the door behind you and searched his room.

He pulled his desk chair over to sit a few feet away from the large mirror that covered his closet.

“Here is… Good.” Charlie mumbled, motioning you to stand in front of the mirror.

You smiled lightly, beginning to undo the buttons of your dress.

He looked to the side, grabbing his supplies and getting situated in the chair.

“Draw me like one of your French girls.” You joked as the fabric fell to the floor and he felt his brain turn on in way it never had before.

He didn’t even have the brain power to laugh at the reference.

There was usually a buzzing in the walls, probably the piping in the old building, but he couldn’t hear it anymore.

Everything was just you, your bare body, the mirror showing him his own flushed face in the reflection, as well as the back half of you he hadn’t gotten to see in class.

People often hid their true selves for others, but you had your full self on display for him right now.

He cleared his throat, feeling a pressure in his groin restricted by his jeans.

“Can you uh, do the same pose you did earlier?” Charlie asked, his voice breaking slightly in nervousness.

You just smiled, complying with his command and crossing your arms in front of you.

He now realized he’d left the chair too close to get a perfect portrait of you, but you might take it the wrong way if he got up, so he would simply do the best with what he had.

Without a time constraint, without so many people around, he felt less stiff.

The charcoal pencils gilded across his canvas, outlining your shape roughly to start.

You stayed perfectly still for him, trained to stare at one point in your surroundings, so you stared at his face.

You watched as his eyes darted up at you, then back down at his canvas.

He had intelligent eyes behind his glasses, blue and piercing with a cognizance that most people lacked.

You’d posed in the same art classes year after year as soon as you were able to.

It was a nice way to earn money as you earned your degree.

But you’d never met someone like Charlie.

Well, you’d seen other art students get flustered over seeing a nude model.

But none as gravitating as him, magnetic, like you just had to meet him.

Like everything in you was screaming to talk to him.

He bit his lip, your eyes darting to them as he switched between wetting them with the tip of his tongue, and drawing them back into his mouth with his teeth.

You weren’t even sure how long your hungry gaze stayed on him for.

“I think… I’m done.” Charlie said hesitantly, holding his canvas out in front of him to compare it to you.

“Can I see?” You grinned, curiously moving from your position and crouching in front of him.

He pursed his lips, deciding whether or not to let you see.

Was it good enough?

What if you thought it wasn’t good?

Sketching wasn’t his specialty after all.

“Please?” Your hands raised from the dainty spot on your lap to his thighs, making his breath hitch.

Charlie’s eyes fought to stay trained on the canvas instead of the beautiful angel sitting between his knees.

But he had a nagging thought.

“Have you ever done… A private session before?” Charlie asked, almost kicking himself for doing so.

It wasn’t any of his business, but he didn’t want to be just another notch on your belt.

But he also wasn’t stupid.

You were attractive.

A model.

You could get anyone you wanted.

Why would you want him?

A fine arts major with a studio apartment who was barely scraping by…

He could name five people off the top of his head who would pay double tuition just to get where he was right now.

But his entire world-view shifted when you shook your head.

“No. Not like this…” You grinned softly at him, almost shy.

The thought of him being the only one, being special to you, while your hands were rubbing on his thighs…

Charlie felt his core tighten.

He had to hold it together.

He couldn’t cum just from your touch.

That would be so incredibly massively uncool.

Like loser degenerate virgin uncool.

Well, he supposed he was.

A virgin, not a degenerate loser.

“Pretty please can I see, Charlie?”

And in that momentary loss of focus when you said his name was when everything came crashing down.

Or crashing up.

As soon as your lips pressed a kiss to the denim material covering his groin, he was gone.

A groan managed to escape his mouth before he managed to clamp it shut forcefully by shoving the back of his hand over his mouth.

He felt the meat of his cock twitch continuously against your face through his jeans, his eyes watering from holding back his sounds.

Your eyes turned from soft and caring, to hungry.

“Did you just cum?” You asked with a wolfish grin.

Charlie’s breath barely returned to him in time, enough for him to stutter out an incomplete response. “I- Sorry, I just- Um…”

“That’s so cute…” You mumbled, almost to yourself more-so than him as you stood up and gripped the canvas gently, tossing it onto his bed without so much as a glance.

He let go of it instantly, gasping for a moment before it landed softly on his comforter.

You barely gave him a moment to process before you were unzipping his jeans.

Charlie’s art supplies fell from his own hands, clattering onto the floor.

You peeled back the dampened fabric of the front flaps covering his groin with a sly smirk.

“Wa- Waitwait- Wait…” He pleaded, your hands halting immediately.

He didn’t want you to see his cum-covered underwear, but it was too late.

“Do you wanna stop?” You asked seriously, earning a frantic shaking of his head.

“Please… Plea- I…”

Charlie was putty in your hands, leaning forward just to be closer to you, to bathe in your presence. “Can I touch you?”

“Do you think you’ve earned it?” Your hand cupped his jaw, his hand turning to kiss your palm with reverence.

His cock twitched to life again in his boxers, making you grin. “No, but… Please?”

Your heart soared at his plea, head spinning slightly at his belief that he didn’t have the right to touch you. “Stay still, baby. You can touch me soon.”

You pulled up the hem of his shirt, pulling it off completely.

Then reaching for his soiled jeans and boxers, you pulled them off his hips.

Charlie lifted up off the chair momentarily to aid you, suddenly becoming bashful again as his cock, slick and sticky from his premature orgasm, sprang out from its confinement.

“Mmm~” You hummed in approval at his size, shape, color, everything about it was perfect.

Everything about him was perfect.

Now the two of you were on more equal footing, both naked and dripping for each other.

You were climbing on top of him in a moment, Charlie watching intently as your back turned to him.

“Please, please~” His heart was practically beating out of his chest in anticipation, your hand moving to grip his slick shaft and angle it toward your entrance.

You sank down on him, Charlie’s eyes rolling back for a moment at the wet squeeze of your walls.

He didn’t think being inside someone would feel so good.

The pressure of your body weight on him felt so intoxicating, reassuring him that this was real, that you were real.

You began to move, much to Charlie’s delight.

Fuck, you looked so fucking good bouncing on his dick with your head leaned back on his shoulder.

Your hands gripped the armrest to leverage you up and down and his hands shot to your waist to help you move.

He glanced at the mirror in front of you two, gazing at the way you’d placed your feet at the edges of the chair, spreading your legs for the both of you to see where the two of you were connected.

His cock looked perfect rocking in and out of you, like it was where he was always meant to be.

The reflection of your face captured his attention, an open mouthed smile with your eyes fluttering in pleasure as you slammed yourself down on him.

He wanted to sketch that face and keep it framed forever.

Fuck, he couldn’t believe he was thinking about art right now.

Charlie, to snap out of art mode, glanced at his own reflection, practically whimpering at what he saw.

His glasses were slightly crooked on his face, his brows upturned in a look of almost pleading pleasure.

Like he was on the verge of asking for more, or to cum.

He didn’t know which one he would enjoy more.

He looked so small underneath you, like a servant groveling at a goddess’ alter.

Because you were a goddess to him.

More beautiful than any Greek statue.

He didn’t give a damn if it was blasphemous to say it, he saw it as truth.

You deserved to be treated like a goddess.

So he pulled you closer to him, hauling the both of you up on shaky legs and pressing you against the mirror.

You gripped the edges of it steadying yourself with a giggle. “Char~”

His cock never left you, snug in your gummy walls the whole time before he thrusted experimentally.

His head fell into the back of your shoulder.

Moving inside someone was a whole different experience from someone moving around him.

He watched your thighs and tits jiggle as his hips met your ass, a shaky breath of pure awe spilling from his lips.

His arms wrapped around your torso, one hand reaching for one mound of your tits and the other reaching between your thighs to find your clit.

You whimpered as his fingers toyed with your nipple, his cock hitting deeper inside you than before in this new position.

His other fingers swept widely at the apex of your thighs, finding your clit surprisingly fast among the thrusting.

You let out a wanton moan at the touch, his thrusts becoming more unhinged, more desperate.

He was lost in worshipping your body, staring at the way it moved with him, which movements made you gasp the loudest, what made you clench around him the tightest.

If he had to pick which felt better, your pussy smothering his cock or your skin in his hands, he wasn’t sure if he could.

He was never usually one for deeply appreciating audible art, but the sounds you were making really did deserve praise.

“Oh fuck, Char- Cumming~” Your thighs clenched and trembled around his hand, your cum squirting out between you onto his floor.

Charlie watched your body clamp up and fall apart in his grip.

He thought you couldn’t get any more beautiful, but apparently he was wrong.

“You’re so perfect…” He groaned, setting his chin on your shoulder to watch the reflections of the two of you bucking into each other frantically.

The sight was apparently too much for him, as he thrusted into you harder, reaching his peak.

“I think I’m… Gonna…” He stuttered, almost too shy to say it.

“Cum, baby~” You grinned through a haze of bliss, your orgasm taking over your consciousness entirely. “Pull out and cum on me…”

With your express permission, he just couldn’t hold back any longer.

He barely pulled out in time, gasping as groaning as his cum spurting between your legs and onto the mirror, beading up and rolling down the glass. “Oops…”

You grinned at his joke, leaning back into his body affectionately.

Charlie blinked, his vision returning to him as his high dissipated. “Would you maybe… Wanna stay for dinner?”

You couldn’t help but say yes.

He pampered you the whole night, cooking an impressive meal for you considering what little he had in his fridge, pulling up a movie that you discovered the both of you liked, even handing you a large shirt of his to sleep in after the night had long been over.

You’d climbed into his bed before him, sneakily grabbing the sketch that had been haphazardly tossed onto the bed earlier.

Charlie caught you looking, but just grinned as your gaze traveled the lines he’d made of you.

He climbed under the covers next to you, looking over your shoulder at his own work and how well it captured your essence. “I almost don’t wanna give it up.”

“Well, you don’t need a 2-D copy when you have the real thing, right?” You asked with a sly grin, placing the canvas gently on his nightstand before pressing a kiss to Charlie’s cheek.

He felt his face warm at that statement, a large smile crossing his face as he pressed a kiss to your lips. “No, I guess I don’t…”

Signing up for that class had been the best damn decision he’d ever made in his life.

[herstoryheaven]

Descendants Harry Hook x Reader: Lost and Found on The Isle

Prompt: Y/N escapes her cruel life in Auradon and finds herself on the Isle of the Lost, where she unexpectedly finds love and acceptance among villains, especially in the arms of a certain pirate.

Reader: Female

Word count: 1250

Average reading time: 4 min 35 sec

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Warning: This story contains themes of isolation, harassment, emotional distress, and the challenges of feeling like an outsider. If you are sensitive to these topics, please read with care.

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Disclaimer: All events portrayed in my stories are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental. Any actions or behaviours portrayed by the characters may differ from reality and cannot be connected to any actual person. This work is purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.

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In a world filled with royals, in a place called Auradon, where everything seemed perfect on the surface, lived a girl named Y/N. Her life, however, was far from ideal. Treated as an outcast and burdened by the cruelty of her peers, Y/N felt like a shadow amongst the vibrant crowd. The isolation weighed heavily on her, and she longed for escape a place where she might find acceptance and a sense of belonging.

One stormy night, Y/N made her decision. She packed a few belongings and slipped away, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and hope. Her destination? Well... The Isle of the Lost, the dark and dangerous place where Auradon’s discarded villains and their children resided. It was a risky move, but it was her last chance in the hope of finding something different.

As she arrived, the Isle lived up to its reputation. The streets were grimy, the buildings crooked, and the people suspicious. Y/N’s fear only grew with each step. She was an outsider in a world that didn’t welcome her. Wandering through the streets, she found herself cornered by a group of rough-looking guys. Their intentions were clear, and Y/N's heart raced with panic.

Just as the situation grew tense, a loud sound cut through the tension. Uma, the fierce sea witch and leader of the Isle’s pirate crew, emerged from the shadows, followed closely by her loyal crew members Harry Hook and Gil. Uma’s commanding presence and Harry’s rough charm quickly got rid of the threat, and the attackers scattered like roaches under a spotlight.

Y/N’s knees buckled, and she fell to the ground. Harry, with his signature smirk, approached her, his eyes softening ever so slightly when he saw her terrified state. Uma looked on with a mix of curiosity and amusement, while Gil hovered nearby, ever-ready to support his friends.

“Didn’t expect to find a damsel in distress tonight,” he said, his voice a smooth, low rumble. He extended a hand to her, which Y/N hesitantly took. “Name’s Harry Hook. And these fine pirates are Uma and Gil. You’re safe now.”

“Thank you,” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling.

Uma’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she gestured to the group. “Come on, let’s get you somewhere safe.”

In the safety of Uma’s hideout, Y/N felt a strange sense of relief mingled with anxiety. The Isle was rough, but it was also intriguing. Harry, in particular, couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He noticed the way she flinched at sudden movements and how her gaze darted around nervously.

Over the next few weeks, Harry and Y/N grew closer. They spent time together exploring the Isle, and Harry, with his charismatic pirate charm, showed Y/N the hidden wonders of their world, the secret hideaways and the beauty behind the grim facade. One evening, as they strolled along the mist covered docks, Harry casually slipped his arm around Y/N’s waist. She stiffened at first but then relaxed into his touch, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

Harry’s lips curved into a mischievous smile. “You know, darling, this place looks a bit more enchanting with you by my side.”

Y/N chuckled softly, leaning into him. “You always know how to make everything sound so content, so perfect.”

Harry’s eyes sparkled with affection as he leaned in closer. “That’s because with you, everything is perfect.”

One day, while Y/N was wandering alone, a gang of troublemakers started to harass her. They advanced with menacing grins, no trace of remorse for what they are about to do, and Y/N's heart pounded in her chest. Just as she was about to give in to the panic filling her chest. Harry appeared, his expression fierce. He pushed through the crowd, his protective stance clear as he positioned himself between Y/N and the intruders.

“Back off,” Harry growled, his voice carrying an authoritative edge that left no room for argument. “She’s with me.”

The intruders, clearly intimidated by Harry’s status, fierce glare and confident demeanor, backed away, muttering under their breath as they disappeared into the shadows. Harry turned to Y/N, his eyes softening as he gently reached out to caress her cheek. “Are you alright, darling?”

Y/N nodded, tears of relief welling up in her eyes. “I… I didn’t think anyone would come.”

Harry pulled her into a tight embrace, his strong arms enveloping her. “I’ll always come for you. You don’t have to be afraid here.”

As their relationship blossomed, so did their affection. Harry would surprise Y/N with stolen kisses during shared meals, as they walked through the market, or even as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear. One night, under the starlit sky, they lay together on a blanket by the sea. The sound of waves crashing against the shore provided a soothing backdrop as Harry pulled Y/N close.

“Look at those stars,” Harry murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. “They’re nothing compared to how you light up my life.”

Y/N turned to face him, her heart aching with love and uncertainty. “Sometimes, I still can’t believe you’re here with me. That someone like you would choose someone like me.”

Harry cupped her face gently in his hands, his gaze unwavering. "You're not just anyone, darling. You're my everything. I chose you because you make me feel things villains aren't supposed to feel. You make me see the world in a way I never knew I could."

Their lips met in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, filled with the promise of a future they could build together. Harry’s hands roamed lovingly over her back, pulling her closer as their kiss deepened.

As their relationship progressed, Uma began to see Y/N’s value beyond just Harry’s affection. She had witnessed Y/N’s bravery and kindness and saw how Y/N fit seamlessly into her crew. One day, Uma called Y/N to her quarters, her expression serious but not unkind.

“Y/N,” Uma began, her tone steady, “you’ve proven yourself to be more than just a lost soul here. You’ve got spirit and heart, and you’ve earned your place.”

Y/N looked at Uma with a mixture of apprehension and hope. “What do you mean?”

Uma smiled slightly, a rare show of warmth. “I’m offering you a spot on my crew. You belong here, and you’ve shown that you’re capable of more than you know. You’ve got the grit and the grace we need.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise and gratitude. “Thank you, Uma. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Uma said with a nod. “Just keep being yourself. That’s all we need.”

With Uma’s approval, Y/N felt a renewed sense of belonging. She continued to grow closer to Harry, their love flourishing amidst the challenges. Whenever danger threatened, Harry was always there, his protective nature evident in every gesture. He would wrap his arms around her, pulling her close during moments of fear, his kisses always a reminder of his devotion.

As the days turned into months, Y/N and Harry’s love blossomed. They faced challenges together, each obstacle only strengthening their bond. In the heart of the Isle of the Lost, amidst the chaos and shadows, Y/N and Harry discovered a love that was pure and unshakeable, a love that healed old wounds and built new dreams. And in that love, Y/N finally found the acceptance and happiness she had always longed for, wrapped in the arms of a pirate who had stolen her heart and made her feel truly cherished.

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Copyright: All stories contained herein are the intellectual property of the author. Unauthorized copying, reproduction, or distribution of these stories, in whole or in part, without explicit written permission from the author, is strictly prohibited and may result in legal action. Respect the creator's rights and creativity. For permissions or inquiries, please contact: herstoryheaven@gmail.com.

Request Guidelines: When submitting a request, please ensure that your request does not contain any explicit sexual content or graphic depictions, and avoid any form of extreme violence or graphic descriptions of violent acts. I appreciate your understanding and cooperation in maintaining a respectful and inclusive environment for all readers. If you're unsure about your request or want to request about someone I haven't written about yet, feel free to ask me anytime.

[headlinxr]

( 疼痛 ) CHXSE, N. NI-KI ، ꒱⸰ֺ ࣭•

𓏲 ┈─ ៵ i'll follow you every fucking day, just too see your face. ุ๋ ⸱ 𓄰

̼ ̼ ̼ ̼ ̼ 𓆸 TO THE OTHER SIDE ⸝⸝ Ni-Ki wants you to be his, but you already belong to someone else ˖ ៹

𓈒 𓄹 ⊹ , 夫妻 Ni-Ki x fem!reader × ִֶ

𓆤 ; 廣告 IN THE NIGHT, I SPILL THE LIGHT ຳ the reader is hee seung's partner, Ni-Ki can't stand seeing you with him, Ni-Ki deals with suicidal thoughts . 𓏲

٬ ៶ ૂ 通告 , This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. ༉‧₊˚

៹ 𓂃 HEADLINXR ִ ۫ ּ ֗ ִ 為了你，為了我 ؛ ៹

His room was dark, the light barely dared to enter. Ni-Ki felt trapped. The walls, like silent guardians, seemed to close in more and more, pressing on his chest with an unbearable weight. With each heartbeat, his heart resonated like a war drum, marking a battle rhythm that freed his inner self. He felt enveloped in a mantle of fresh mist, making each breath feel like a failed attempt to free himself from his invisible chains. In his mind, images of you danced like in a ballet, recalling everything about you, and the little he truly knew. With trembling hands, he searched for that object; a small leaf, cold and shiny, that promised him temporary relief. He stared at it, as if it were a mirror. When the steel touched his skin, it was as if the silence broke the mantle that covered him. The sensation was bittersweet, as if each cut were a grain of sand falling from an hourglass, marking the time slipping through his fingers.

Twilight finally seeped through the cracks in the room, tinting the atmosphere with a cold hue that accentuated the chill of the wooden wall against which he leaned. Without a shirt, his skin bristled at the touch of the rough surface, as if each splinter reminded him of the harshness of his life. With an impulsive gesture, he lifted his gaze, and what he found was a mosaic of memories clinging to the wood; thousands of photographs of you.

Each image was a glimpse of your essence: Captivating smiles, looks that bestowed joy, and moments frozen in time. But in each of those snapshots, there was an element that drove him crazy, a piercing reminder of his tireless devotion: Hee Seung. his heart contracted in an act of rebellion, as if a serpent coiled within him began to squeeze with ferocity. Rage erupted within him, igniting his mind with a torrent of distorted thoughts.

─Why... Him?─ He wondered, as his gaze lost itself in the abyss of jealousy that slowly devoured him. The obsession settled in his chest, a parasite that fed on his despair. Your image, an intruder in the world he imagined, became a ghost that haunted him, a constant echo reminding him of his own inability to be the center of his own universe.

The wall, now a canvas of his torments, seemed to mock him. Each photograph was a poisoned dart, a vivid representation of the happiness he longed for and yet slipped through his fingers like sand in an endless desert. The helplessness enveloped him like a dense fog, and his mind spun in circles, trapped in a labyrinth of dark thoughts.

With a deep sigh, a silent scream of frustration, he stepped away from the wall, leaving behind the gallery of broken dreams. He knew that his obsession was a mirage, a distorted reflection of a reality that refused to be his. However, the echo of his desire resonated within him, and although the coldness of the wood reminded him of his loneliness, the image of her continued to burn in his mind, inextinguishable and desperately beautiful. He set the blade aside, and with trembling but determined hands, he tore down one by one the photographs that adorned the walls, images that, at another time, evoked laughter and shared promises. Now, each portrait became a piercing reminder of what once was and what could never be. The fragments of paper fell to the ground like withered leaves, symbolizing the death of a love that had blossomed in the garden of his heart, only to wither before the cruel experience.

In his mind, a storm of emotions was unleashed, a whirlwind of anger and sadness that threatened to consume him completely. He wished, with an almost visceral intensity, to erase from the map of his existence those who had dared to stand between him and his deepest desire. Your life, a beacon that once illuminated his path, had now become a darkness that enveloped him, and in his mind, a revenge was brewing that seemed as seductive as it was lethal.

Remember that sunny day, and the air infused with the fresh scent of spring. Jake said you were his sister, an ethereal figure dancing between laughter and dreams, dazzling in your innocence. Your laughter was a melody that resonated in his chest, and every word you spoke became an enchanting whisper that hymned in his mind. So irrevocably patriotic that it would make the national anthem stutter.

He wanted to trust in the sudden emotion he felt every time he saw you, he would trust that you would place perfectly carved sea crusts in the palms of your hands after searching for them for hours. He felt like a child, his heart racing, but fate was capricious, and you chose the young and handsome boy, finding yourself trapped in those nets that had ensnared thousands of girls like you. That betrayal, subtle as poison, was the stigma that marked his soul.

As the photographs fell, the echo of your laughter transformed into a lament, a symphony of what could have been. The anger turned into a fire that consumed him, fueled by memories that could not be undone. You were more than just a simple girl; you were a symbol of everything he longed for and couldn't have. He longed to be the protagonist of a forbidden story with you, where he imagined touching your soft skin and feeling the heat of your body against his.

With each passing day, Ni-Ki wished to become bolder, trying to let desire guide him down paths he knew were dangerous. Each chance encounter turned into a game of tension-filled glances, where he allowed himself to dream of an accidental brush, a whisper in the ear that would never materialize. In his mind, the line between admiration and harassment blurred, and his obsession became a thousand-headed monster that devoured him from within. The routine had become a sacred ritual. With a fixed gaze, Ni-Ki ventured into the streets you usually roam. His heart beat at a frantic pace, pumping a cocktail of adrenaline and desire. The city transformed into a labyrinth of possibilities, a stage where destiny seemed to whisper his name in his ear.

Ni-Ki tried not to be discouraged; for him, the possession of your heart did not depend on reciprocity, but on the fervor of his devotion. In his mind, you were his, a star in his personal firmament, and even though there were others around you, your essence remained unchanging, destined to join his in some corner of the universe.

Each chance encounter, each smile he managed to catch, was a brick in the construction of his obsession. Ni-Ki became a master of the art of invisibility, a ghost slipping through the crowd, always at the right distance, always at the right moment. His life turned into a dance of shadows and lights, where his only purpose was to be a silent witness to the joy you radiate.

The chase, for him, was not a mere act of following; it was a form of veneration. The mere act of contemplating you, of absorbing your essence, filled him with an almost mystical ecstasy. In his mind, each day was a new chapter in an unfinished novel, a story where the protagonist pursues a love that, though distant, beats with intensity in his chest.

Who would you call if he took you? When your back is against the wall, who would you turn to? He wishes he were the first one you thought of. When you are running down the corridor, it will be him who cuts the path. You will hear the sirens, but they will never hear you.

You splash through the puddles on the road, he hates running in the rain. You turn around, and see that he's coming for you. There's no one there for you, so you mustn't fall. Because you are his to take. Only from him.

[randomwriteronline]

btw still not over @crystaltoa 's whole post on narrative and destiny and bionicle characters being aware they're characters but not in a common fourth wall breaking way. Random thinks too hard two electric boogaloo

Like. The Matoran Universe is a fictional universe within the already fictional universe of Bionicle. Like the more realized version of a book in a book. It's a completely artificial manufactured cosmos where essentially nothing is real - most elements are replaced by protodermis, animals and plants are produced, the inhabitants are engineered and built via assembly lines, their sapience was installed post-completion - and the awareness of this is None. Like Crystal mentions in the original post, the characters know they're following Destiny like it's the rough draft of a play and they're actors of the Commedia dell'Arte, taking on certain archetypical roles and adhering more or less closely to their traits and clichés, but that's where the self-awareness ends because to them this is a performance of life, not a pantomime. The nature of the Matoran Universe naturally prevents any knowledge of or contact with the wider "real" universe, so they remain ignorant to how fictitious their existence is and continue to perceive their own reality as the only possible one (ITS THE FUCKING CAVE AGAIN).

Keep this in mind for later.

Now back to Destiny. MU beings seem to have a tendency to conflate or heavily associate it with Mata Nui ("the will of Mata Nui" being used as a synonym for it, the Order of Mata Nui working to ensure it), to the point where it would be fair to assume that the two are one and the same, or that at least Mata Nui has some agency on Destiny; however, while it's true that Mata Nui is heavily tied to Destiny to the point of seeming its incarnation, he just as submitted to it as the rest of the MU beings are, if not possibly more.

In the narrative of Destiny, Mata Nui is at once playing both the Objective and the Ultimate Hero - not in the sense that he's the platonic ideal of the role, but that at the end of the day he is the proper main character, if not the ONLY proper character for it. The concept of Destiny with a capital D is after all a creation of the Great Beings, whose principal concern and endgame is eventually* healing Spherus Magna: since Mata Nui is made for this specific purpose, Destiny exists to ensure he actually follows through with it; since Mata Nui needs to be functional in order to succeed, the narrative of Destiny converges around him and works to compel the MU beings towards keeping him alive. Thus, as mentioned, he is both hero and objective, protagonist and macguffin.

*dont fuckin talk to me abt the great beings and how they provoked the entire plot of bionicle through their tendency towards inaction and apathy. perhaps ill elaborate one day but the jist of it is that i need to bite them in the ass

This duality intrinsic to his character is made explicit by the constant if sometimes faint separation between his soul/spirit/essence ("him" proper) and his body (a "thing" he only inhabits) - causing him to oscillate between being a person and being an object, with the latter often winning over the former especially while he was commanding the Great Spirit Robot. His exile from this incarnation of fiction into the "real" world doesn't unshackle him from the narrative, which is too far above him from him to be escaped just like that, but it does allow him to take a detour outside of it and come into his own self in a way he's been unable to experience until now - because he hasn't exactly been a character at all, let alone an active player. He is first and foremost a tool, a means to an end; he's less reciting/living a part and more doing the job he's been built to do, and this singleminded and utilitarian approach to his identity seems to have been at least part of the problem in how effectively he could perform his task as it prevented him from noticing the problems which then led into the main conflict of Bionicle. By being forcefully exiled from fiction and having to become "real" he finally surpasses this obstacle and gains the mindset and skillset of a proper protagonist, finally realizing his heroic potential to a point where he can put it in practice.

Teridax, on the other hand.

Crystal has said it before because it is true and correct and right, so it's worth saying again: Teridax loves being the Villain. He's enamored with the role to such a disgusting degree that he essentially hoarded it for himself the moment he found out it was an option and nearly everybody else had to be declassed to Lackey or Antagonist in comparison. It's more than a role or a calling - it's a lifestyle. He makes it his whole personality and reason of being, completely abandoning his original purpose as a Makuta (in direct contrast with Mata Nui, who instead focused exclusively on his purpose at the cost of neglecting his role). He revels in the clichés, the monologues, the manipulation, the cruelty, the ominous laughs, the stark shadows, the drama and theatricality of it all. He likes it so much that it literally makes him stupid.

Teridax runs The Plan in tandem with Destiny in order to usurp it, replacing it with his own design in the same way he aims to replace Mata Nui with himself in the role of Great Spirit. In his mind, these are equivalent pairs: Mata Nui coincides with Destiny just like Teridax coincides with The Plan, so by replacing one you replace both, and he gains power not just over the universe but over the story itself.

Of course, as explained above, this is completely wrong: while he can and does run The Plan as parallel to Destiny in a way that makes them effectively overlap, and he does succeed in gaining Mata Nui's power, he remains a character subjugated by a narrative which is completely out of reach for him and continues to influence how the consequences of his actions will ultimately play out. This is immediately obvious to the reader the second he decides to get rid of all his problems by shooting them into space, completely unaware of the fact that the narrative has already made it so that Mata Nui will have the means to reach his objective, get another physical form, and eventually find a replacement for the body he needed for his quest, rendering the Great Spirit Robot mostly obsolete (which will be part of the reason why, again in tandem with Teridax's need for gratuitous cruelty, it will eventually be bested by the technically much worse Prototype Robot), all while Teridax is too busy learning the commands and terrifying his blood cells to realize his genius idea is going to get back at him and curbstomp him into the surface of a moon in roughly a couple of weeks.

But there's more!

Because the Great Spirit Robot is in and of itself a sort of physical manifestation of fiction as the container of the fictional Matoran Universe, it's effectively the most gargantuan vessel of Destiny available in the Bionicle Universe. As such, it is intrisically tied to the rule that dominates both of the stories centered around it: in Destiny's case, that Mata Nui will always succeed; in Bionicle (a story for kids)'s case, that the Villain will always fall to the Hero.

Teridax proudly, confidently and without doubt turns himself into the embodiment of his inevitable defeat.