#It says out of all the groups I am or will be the one I feel is the most severely underrepresented is Jews

[idiopathicsmile]

School Gymnastics: A Tragicomedy

So one day when we were in third grade, our P.E. teacher divided us into girls and boys. (I don’t remember what the boys had to do. Wrestling? Tackle football? I don’t know, probably not at age nine, but that’s not the point. Gladiatorial combat? I still don’t really understand kids’ sports.)

What matters for this story is that all the girls had to do gymnastics. Now—and I suspect this won’t surprise you if you know literally anything about me—I was always terrible at any form of school athletics. I am intensely, almost impressively uncoordinated. This doesn’t affect my life much at 36, but it was often a miserable way to be a kid. The only playground game I liked was playing pretend, because when you are playing pretend, you don’t have a bunch of people ostensibly on your side screaming in your ear, “Pretend faster! Pretend over there! Pretend with greater accuracy!”

Anyway, gymnastics and my clumsy, doughy little body. I couldn’t do a cartwheel. I couldn’t do a backwards somersault. I couldn't do any of it. We had an entire unit on this business and I literally did not learn how to even safely attempt a single move besides the log roll (lie flat and roll sideways on your belly). In retrospect, this seems like maybe it was in part a teaching problem, not a me problem, but that’s actually not the point either.

The point is, at the end of the unit, we were told to divide ourselves into little teams and choreograph a group gymnastics routine. My group, faced with my long list of limitations (more limitation than girl, really) decide my role will be to just forwards-somersault around the rest of the group as they do their moves. (This is itself kind of embarrassing but trust me, it is but the appetizer.) My friend Ashley has the Lion King soundtrack and we all agree that it is a great choice. The movie has only come out a couple of years earlier, and it of course features some funny, peppy options. 'Hakuna Matata'? 'I Just Can't Wait to Be King'? It's all coming together.

Carried on a wave of youthful enthusiasm, none of us even think to double-check which track Ashley has picked. Foreshadowing!

So the day of the performance comes. Another group goes right before us. They had picked “Wannabe” by the Spice Girls, which was a huge hit at the time. I mean, it still is because it’s a classic, but then it was big and new. They step onto the mat and immediately begin to do choreographed dance moves, which they have worked into their routine. We had not thought of this. Oops. Dance moves, of course! So they incorporate the necessary gymnastics, it goes over really well, the energy is high, and now it’s my group’s turn.

I take my place at the edge of the mat, the mat we are required to stay on for the length of the piece. Ashley cues up the track she’d chosen.

A song starts up. Instantly, I recognize it from the movie. It is the very slow instrumental music that plays when Simba realizes his dad is dead.

‘Well, this is not optimal,’ I think. I've been on this planet for nine years; I can see that much. But it’s too late to change the track, and so I tell myself, ‘It’s okay. I’m a performer. I can sell this.’ I put on an extremely solemn face and begin to execute a series of the world’s saddest somersaults.

Friends, when I say “sad” I mean it, in every possible sense of the word. Picture a nine year old with the gravest possible affect, determinedly doing somersaults to the slowest, most serious music she can imagine, in a careful ring around her friends who have actually learned any gymnastics whatsoever. Okay, now as the music starts to pick up and get more hopeful, imagine she gets real dizzy and in front of everyone, she rolls all the way directly off the mat, careening dangerously towards the assembled students.

Somehow, I roll myself back onto the mat, we survive what feels like hours of humiliation, we stagger away, and I blessedly avoid adding “puking my guts out in front of all of my peers” to my very short list of gymnastics tricks.

Later, I asked Ashley what in the world possessed her to choose that song.

“It didn’t have any words,” she said.

(There was absolutely no rule against using songs that had lyrics.)

Anyway, that’s why being an adult is better than being a kid.

I may have to do laundry and make my own dinner and wrestle with more complex existential angst, but you know what I haven’t been asked to do in like 26 years? Somersault for three minutes straight to the musical shorthand for “this cartoon lion cub has no choice but to process the weight of unimaginable grief for his dead dad.” And you know what? If I live another 50 years, I can be pretty confident nobody will ask me to do it then, either.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

🎲🖤 Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes 🎲🖤

Writing a little fic about the reader joining Hellfire after being kicked out of the original D&D group she's in, for reasons *cough (sexist arseholes)* and Eddie is literally in love with this feisty lady who interrupts the latest Hellfire campaign and asks to join the group, who's planned campaigns involving Vecna and has no trouble arguing with him if he's being a dick. (The latter might be in part two if people are interested)

Vecna who's Vecna? Eddie is alive and thriving in this fic. Also, I'm not 100% well-versed in D&D but I am learning, if I do part two I hope to include more into the plot.

The title is lyrics from Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift 💞

💞

"You can't just kick me out of the group," you say fuming as Ethan looks at you with pity.

"I'm the Dungeon Master so technically I can, the guys just think that you take playing a little less seriously than the rest of us" he lies straight to your face and the anger that is bubbling up inside of you threatens to explode.

"What! I literally built the last three campaigns because you couldn't come up with anything, I came up with the plan to defeat Vecna and...you glare at him, this is what it's about isn't it. You hate that I can come up with the ideas for campaigns and because I'm good at the game. Of all the idiotic, sexist bullshit...

Ethan blushes. "Look, I want to see if Eddie would let me and the guys join Hellfire and maybe he might let me DM sometimes but if he finds out that you helped make up most of them well...

So you're kicking me out to save yourself the apparent humiliation of a girl being better at D&D than you are" he flushes pink and glares at you.

"Whatever. We'll be fine without you. Good riddance" he storms off by that point leaving you alone and tearful. You're just so pissed that you have to leave the group, leave something you love playing.

There's a gentle pressure on your shoulder and you find Robin looking at you concerned. "What was that about? Did he do something to hurt you? I could ask Steve to kick his ass, unless you want to kick his ass yourself which is great and all and...

She stops talking when she sees one silent tear run down your cheek which you wipe away furiously, nope you will not cry because of that gargoyle Ethan.

"Robin breathe, and yeah I'm okay. I mean I will be" you explain everything that happened and by the end Robin is as angry as you are.

"He can't just kick you out, what a douchebag, how exactly is he going to explain away the fact he has no amazing ideas for campaigns without you there?

You should talk to Eddie and join Hellfire yourself, he's actually a nice guy well according to the Steve's child/brother friend. The dingus is jealous of Eddie which is kind of sweet and hilarious..." She cuts off her rant at the growing smile on your face.

"Oh no, I know that look" you grin widens and you link arms with Robin. Yes you'll join Eddie and expose Ethan for the slimy ass that he is.

❤️

With the idea in mind you decide to ask Eddie before Hellfire starts but instead find yourself walking into a session which is in full swing. Well shit. Way to make a good impression...

Eddie stops talking, he's in the middle of the campaign, just at the part where a group of rogue trolls have invaded the party and turned the gathering of friends at a tavern into a fight for survival.

"Yes... Uh cheerleader tryouts are the other way sweetheart" You scoff and raise your eyebrows at him.

"Do I look like a cheerleader to you? I'm sorry to interrupt. I wanted to catch you before you started the session, I was wondering if I could join Hellfire?"

You know Jeff from being in drama with him and he's the first to say, "Uh aren't you in that group with Ethan and George?" You shake your head.

"I was. Until they kicked me out" Eddie's big brown eyes widened and the annoyed expression was wiped from his face, he ignored the complaints of some of the freshmen and motioned you to explain.

"Ethan kicked me out because he's an arrogant, sexist troll" one of the freshmen groans and gestures widely to Eddie.

"Dude, can we hurry up and continue with the session" Eddie holds a hand up to quieten him and stares at you his eyes filled with grudging curiosity.

"Why did he kick you out?" You frown and the anger returns at Ethan and his betrayal.

"Because he wants to join up with you and impress you with his amazing DM skills which are a load of shit. He didn't even organise the last three campaigns, I did. He liked to use all of my ideas but won't have me blow his chances of pretending he's something he isn't" there's silence and Eddie looks impressed.

There's also something else in his expression that makes your stomach feel like it's doing somersaults but you can examine that later.

"So you're here to join instead before the little weasel does. Beat him at his own game huh sweetheart?" you nod and he smiles, all dimples.

"Well yeah basically, I love D&D but I also want to annoy the hell out of the asshole as well, he's just pissed that I came up with a campaign for Vecna and doesn't want me showing you how much he doesn't do for his own group" you finish your rant and wait for his answer.

Eddie's smiling by the end of your rant and gestures you over to the group.

"I like you, you can sit in and watch this session because we're more than halfway through but I'm happy for you to join the group and our next meeting. You can tell me about your stats and character after the session is over"

Thrilled you walk over to the table and Eddie barks at one of the guys to move so you're standing right beside him.

It was so not time for your heart to be doing its own version of a mini-marathon at the mere sight of Eddie's big brown eyes capturing yours. Fuck, you did not have time for whatever this was. You were here to battle dragons, defeat trolls (in real life as well) and be a badass.

Crushing on Eddie Munson would have to wait.

❤️

Eddie is definitely planning on killing Wheeler's character in the next session. He glares as Mini Wheeler finishes his rant about last night.

"You know it's so gross the way you were mooning over her all night right? Make it more obvious that you have a crush on her dude" he whines and Eddie scowls which seems to snap Mike out of his constant whining.

"I was not mooning Wheeler. I was impressed with the way she knew what she wanted and went for it, she will be a valuable asset to Hellfire"

Gareth hides a laugh as he continues eating and Eddie redirects his glare to his friend. "Anything to say Gareth the Great?" Gareth stops laughing at once but still looks amused.

"Dude, you were totally mooning over her, I think someone's in love" Eddie can feel the heat rise on his cheeks and scoffs, how dare Gareth make such an idiotic assumption.

"Love? I don't believe in love dude. This heart is far too cynical for any of that shit. I was just intrigued that's all" he's ready to fully rant when he sees you and his heart skips a beat, argument dying in his throat and his knees turn to jelly.

"Yeah be more obvious Munson" Jeff sniggers which causes Gareth to nearly choke on his sandwich.

Okay, scratch that. He's killing Gareth and Jeff's characters too.

💞

As you walk into the cafeteria the next day you avoid your usual table and head straight for Hellfire.

You wave cheerily over at Ethan and the guys and smirk at their thunderous expressions. Eddie snorts but when you look at him there's no trace of his previous amusement as he mentions the next Hellfire session will be tomorrow.

You're distracted by Ethan glowering in your direction, his arms folded as he snaps at Dean. There's a soft pressure on your hand and you look down to find Eddie's hand touching yours, it gets your attention immediately.

"We can go over your character tonight yeah? There's a spark between the two of you, it lingers in the air and your heart kicks up a notch as Eddie lets out a little groan.

He clears his throat and moves his hand away, you hide how flustered you are as he begins to talk about the new campaign but every so often his gaze meets yours and the same level of intrigue is in his gaze as you feel for him.

💞

"Lady Emmeline is an elven princess who ran away from her duties when her parents tried to marry her off to a vile prince, she's proficient with a bow and arrow but her real talent is swordsmanship, she's intelligent, brave and bold but can be impulsive and hotheaded if provoked" you read out to Eddie who nods.

"Was she your character in your old D&D group?" Eddie asks and you nod, leaning closer to him as he pulls out his notebook. It's chock-full of ideas for campaigns and drawings, being so near Eddie is playing havoc with your concentration.

He smells like leather, the faintest hint of smoke and whatever cologne he's using. It's woody and smells divine. The softness of his usually loud voice and his big Bambi eyes are distracting. It wouldn't bother you so much or at least you'd try to avoid it but the way you catch Eddie looking at you sometimes makes you melt.

It's ridiculous because you've never felt this way before about anybody but now it's happened it's overwhelming and intense.

"Nice tattoo" you murmur and he smiles as you nod to the bats and the Wyvern. "I have more" he pulls down his Hellfire shirt and you can see a black widow spider and a glimpse of a demon.

Very gently you trace a finger over one of the bats on his forearm, Eddie's breath hitches and you curse yourself for possibly freaking him out. "Sorry," you murmur and chance a peek at his expression. It's filled with longing.

"Don't be sorry princess" he's hesitant at first but then after a moment you feel his fingers trace soft patterns over your hand. The feel of his fingers on your skin is amazing and it makes you shiver in a good way.

His eyes drop down to your lips and the two of you move closer instinctively until you're both mere inches apart.

And that's when Dustin barrels in speaking a mile a minute and you and Eddie jump apart at the interruption.

Fuck.

[starlightkun]

⏯ word count: 16.6k ⏯ warnings: general angst around not knowing what you’re doing with your life, the usual cursing ⏯ genre: fluff, suggestive/steamy but no actual smut, strangers to lovers, band au, punk drummer!sungchan, office worker!reader, not really badboy x good girl trope, more like sungchan has tattoos and reader is… a bit boring and hates her job. but she’s trying!, reader is having a quarter life crisis, ft. shotaro/eunseok/wonbin as sungchan’s bandmates, and nct dream 00 line as reader’s normal friends™ ⏯ author’s note: take a shot every time i say ‘tattoos’ in this fic, and you’ll die of alcohol poisoning! ⏯ now playing… quarter life – txt | NEED (ooo-eee) – løren | medicine – woz

“If you really want to do something brand new…” Sungchan took your receipt out of your hand, writing on the back of it with a pen that was on the counter. “Make this your thing for tomorrow.”

“You still haven’t told me what you do.”

“Live a little. And bring some friends, yeah? Don’t want you getting lonely in the mosh pit.”

“Y/N’s hit her quarter-life crisis,” Jaemin announced for you as the two of you joined your other friends at dinner.

You groaned and dropped your head in your hands, already regretting telling him your idea.

“24…” Renjun muttered to himself, then said louder, “Hey, life expectancy of 96, not bad.”

“So what is it?” Donghyuck grinned. “A tattoo? Nipple piercings? I can’t see any hair dye or choppy bangs done with kitchen scissors, so—”

“Don’t give her any ideas.” Jaemin shot him a disapproving look.

“So she doesn’t know what her quarter-life crisis is going to be yet? She’s… planning it out?” Jeno asked skeptically.

“No. She’s decided to do one spontaneous and/or new thing every day,” Jaemin explained your idea to the group.

“Oh. That’s not so bad.”

“So you’re in your manic pixie dream girl era… at 24,” Renjun nodded slowly.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes, sitting up straighter as you went to defend yourself. “It’s not a… thing. I’m just tired of feeling like my whole life is filler, okay?”

“Main character syndrome,” Donghyuck declared.

“No, I’m not going to expect the entire world to revolve around me and call random people in public NPCs,” you retorted. “I just want something different in my life, alright? You know I’ve never even gotten drunk?”

“24 is not the time to start,” Renjun stated disapprovingly.

“Exactly, we’re not 19. Can’t get blackout and snap back the next day anymore.” Jaemin shook his head.

Donghyuck looked a bit miffed at Jaemin’s advice. “Speak for yourself.”

“I’ve barely been tipsy,” you pointed out.

“So you’ve always had a prefrontal cortex, unlike us. Congrats,” Jeno shrugged. “I don’t think that’s a bad thing?”

“I’m the boring friend, aren’t I?”

“Boring isn’t bad!” Donghyuck tried to reassure you.

“So I am,” you huffed, dropping your cheek into your palm.

“You’re plenty of fun, Y/N,” Jaemin promised, rubbing your arm soothingly.

“If we didn’t like you, and didn’t have fun with you, we wouldn’t hang out with you,” Jeno pointed out, actually sort of making you feel a little better.

“I’m fun like rotting in bed all day is fun.” You knew you were just pouting now, but you were finding it hard to shake your sullen feeling.

“Exactly!” Donghyuck said brightly.

“Shut up!” Jaemin hissed at him, and you heard a sudden yelp as you imagined that Jaemin had kicked your other friend under the table.

“Y/N, do what you need to do.” Renjun leaned forward across the table. “We’re your friends, so here’s the obligatory: don’t die, don’t get maimed, and if you do something illegal, don’t get arrested.”

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you guys. I’m not even doing crazy things. Yesterday I walked home instead of taking the subway,” you informed them glumly.

“That’s new!” Jaemin cheered supportively, squeezing your shoulders.

“Yeah, whatever…”

Clutching your tote bag strap tighter to your body, you turned onto a street, trying to ignore the sun that was getting lower in the sky. Surely this way would lead towards your apartment. You’d lived in this city your whole life, you could walk from your work to your home, two places that you went to every single day.

There was a tall man outside one of the shops on this street, and you went to skirt around him on the sidewalk as he swept a few stray leaves and dirt out of a bookstore. Other than him, the street was fairly quiet, many of the stores having already closed up for the day.

“What are you doing?” The young man called out to you before you could fully pass him by.

You pivoted around on your heel, quickly looking around to see if there was anybody else that he could possibly be talking to. But it was definitely just you and him.

He looked about your age, wearing a cream pink long-sleeve button down presumably as part of the store uniform, though you weren’t sure if he really needed to have it buttoned all the way to the top button. It seemed a bit too warm out for that.

“Walking. Why?”

“This is the fourth time you’ve walked by here.” He did a sweeping point to the sidewalk in front of the shop, then leaned against the broom he had been cleaning with. “Wasn’t sure if you might have a particular destination in mind.”

“Fuck! I knew I was going in circles!”

“You’re lost.”

“Yeah, this isn’t my normal way home…”

“And your phone died?” He cocked his head curiously.

“No, I’m trying to get home without using my phone map,” you admitted, looking around for any familiar landmarks.

“Why? That’s what it’s for.”

“It’s… You’ll think it’s stupid. My friends did.”

He shrugged. “Probably. But why does that matter to you? I’m just some guy.”

“I’ve been doing something new every day. Just small things. But if I change enough little things, then everything will have changed.”

The guy was quiet for a beat, looking altogether unimpressed, then asked, “Where do you live?”

“Uh…”

“General area, see if I can give you directions from here.”

“Oh, uhm, if you can get me to the tea shop on Magnolia, I can get myself home from there.”

“Jade Gardens, I know it,” he nodded, then pointed left down the street, in the same direction that you had just come from. “That way, left onto North Oak, right onto Foxtail, another right onto Broad Street, it’ll eventually dead end into Magnolia, keep going until you see the tea shop.”

“Left onto North Oak, right onto Foxtail, right onto Broad,” you recited. “Got it, thank you!”

“Stay safe.” He waved you off, returning to sweeping without seeing if you had gone the way he’d pointed you.

It was Monday that you got lost and were given directions home by the questionably friendly but overall helpful bookstore worker, and the tea shop on Magnolia had been on your mind since. So on Thursday, you decided to stop by after work. You were running low on the green tea that you usually kept in stock at home, and thought that you might pick up something new for yourself.

Opening the door to Jade Gardens that Thursday, you were enveloped by the familiar aromatic smells wafting around the small shop. When you didn’t hear the usual kind voice of the owner, Mrs. Choi, greeting you, you peered around the aisle that you were in to look for her.

“Mrs. Choi?” You called out, also not hearing her TV show that she usually was watching behind the counter between helping customers. You were by the black teas anyway, so you didn’t mind wandering into the next aisle as you looked for any other sign of life in the shop.

“She’s not in,” a voice that was definitely not Mrs. Choi informed you right as you turned the corner into the beginning of the green teas. You could see enough of the man’s profile to recognize him as he stood by some of the shelves in the store. The worker from the bookstore. He was standing over an open cardboard box, a couple tins of tea in his hands.

“Uhm…” You trailed off, blinking at him as you weren’t sure exactly what to say. He placed the tins on the shelf.

“You think I’m stalking you, don’t you?” He said flatly, turning to show you the name badge on his longsleeve teal shirt. It was metallic gold, with the name SUNGCHAN engraved into it. “I work here too. For the past six months.”

“Oh, right.” You relaxed, flashing him a smile. As he went back to restocking and you went back to looking at the tea on the shelves that he wasn’t currently stocking, you commented lightly, “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I work Tuesdays and Thursdays. You ever been here on a Tuesday or a Thursday?”

“No. I always come on Sundays.”

“There you go.” He had emptied the box of product he was restocking from, and carried it into the back. When he reemerged, he stopped behind the register, but engaged you in conversation again, “So is this your new thing for today? Coming on a Thursday instead of Sunday?”

“Yeah.”

“And? Is your whole life different yet?”

“I’ve only been doing this for two weeks…” You replied defensively, looking over at him from the two kinds of green tea that you were debating between.

“Have you done anything new yet?” Sungchan asked, arching an eyebrow.

“That’s the whole point—”

“From what I know, as some guy who doesn’t even know your name, is that you have walked home from work without using the maps on your phone—something you would have done anyway—and gone to a shop that you go to regularly, just on a different day of the week. Have you done anything that you’ve never done before at all?”

“My name is Y/N, by the way.” You bit the inside of your cheek, and grabbed your tea selection. “Ordering a drink I’ve never tried at my usual boba place doesn’t count, does it?”

“You already know the answer, Y/N.”

“The point isn’t to quit my job and travel the world and completely overhaul my life—”

“I thought it was to change everything?”

“If I change enough little things, then—”

“—everything will have changed.” “—everything will have changed.” The two of you finished at the same time, Sungchan putting more emphasis on ‘everything,’ a pointed look on his face.

“I just don’t get how everything is supposed to change by you coming to a tea shop on a different day one time, but still working the same job you hate,” he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“How do you know I hate my job?!” You retorted, bringing your selections up to the counter.

“If you loved it, you wouldn’t be in a crisis about changing your whole life.”

“Do you like your two jobs?”

“They’re fine.” He shrugged, ringing up your purchases.

You handed him your card. “Fine?”

“They’re just my day jobs.”

“And what’s your night job then?”

A smirk grew on his face as he bagged your tins of tea. “Nah.”

“‘Nah?’” You repeated incredulously.

“You’re not doing anything new. No point telling you.”

“If it’s stand-up, I don’t want to know,” you snorted.

“It’s not stand-up.”

“Mm, I don’t know, you’re giving me real stand-up energy right now,” you snipped, gesturing to his entire demeanor. “I’m really glad you haven’t told me, actually, because I can’t control my face when I’m told bad jokes.”

“I don’t do stand-up comedy,” he reiterated with the same calm, self-assured tone, handing you your bag of tea and receipt.

“Considering you’re refusing to tell me, I’m convinced it’s like, open mic nights. Tight fives, not even a full—”

“Not stand-up,” he said again. “But considering how badly you’re begging me to tell you—”

“Pretty sure you’re the one desperately trying to convince me you don’t do stand-up, but—”

“If you really want to do something brand new…” He took your receipt out of your hand, writing on the back of it with a pen that was on the counter. “Make this your thing for tomorrow.”

You accepted the receipt when he held it back out to you. “You still haven’t told me what you do.”

“Live a little. And bring some friends, yeah? Don’t want you getting lonely in the mosh pit.”

Your eyes scanned the address and time he had scrawled on your receipt. “Mosh pit?”

“We’re going to fucking die,” Donghyuck declared from beside you as soon as your group of friends entered the basement of the building that Sungchan had given you the address to. It was already packed with people, dark, and loud.

“Nobody drink anything!” Jaemin hissed, clutching onto your other arm. “Especially Y/N! Getting drunk is one thing, I don’t want getting roofied to be on your bucket list.”

“It’s not, Jaem,” you retorted. “Trust me.”

“Why the fuck are we here again?” Renjun yelled from behind you over the din of the crowd.

“Y/N met some hot guy—Ow!” Donghyuck had gotten cut off by you stomping on his foot.

“Sorry, it’s so crowded in here!” You glared at him. “I didn’t say anything about what he looked like. I needed something new to do for today, this seemed as good an option as any.”

“Okay, well, what the hell is this? Basement party?” Jeno asked, next to Renjun.

“I think it’s a concert?” You couldn’t see anything over the heads of the other people. “He said something about a mosh pit…”

They all exchanged a look.

“We’re going to fucking die,” Donghyuck repeated.

A roaring started up in the crowd, and you looked around in bewilderment to see what had gotten them all excited. In the far corner of the basement, it looked like a band was getting set up to play, two guitarists, a bassist, but it was the drummer that made you do a double take. You couldn’t be quite sure from the distance, the poor lighting, and the fact that the tank top he was wearing exposed two sleeves of tattoos along rather defined arms that you had never previously seen unclothed, but… that might just be Sungchan.

“We need to get closer,” you declared to your friends, yanking Jaemin along with you.

“What?!” Renjun yelped, following you nevertheless.

“Did you forget the part where he apparently said mosh pit?” Donghyuck scrambled after you.

“At least let Jeno be our human shield!” Jaemin pleaded with you.

“Thanks for volunteering me, Jaemin,” Jeno snorted, but willingly took the role, stepping in front of you to clear a path a bit easier than you had been doing on your own.

The five of you stuck out a bit, you noticed. You hadn’t exactly been given a dress code, nor a description of what to expect, so you did unfortunately stick out like a sore thumb among all the black, leather, and more black. It wasn’t that you were wearing a rainbow so much as you were clearly wearing something… uptight in comparison. Corporate. All you had was work clothes, and stuff to go to work dinners in. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone out to something even remotely like this. You’d done your best to dress down without wearing pajamas, but it was obvious that you were out of place.

Finally, you got close enough to the band to be able to make out the drummer’s face. He was looking down, making a final adjustment to his instrument, and when he looked back up, he pushed some of his hair out of his eyes. Definitely Sungchan. So this was his night job. Drummer. For just a second, his gaze flicked over the crowd, and you couldn’t be absolutely sure—after all, it was packed in there—but you swore he saw you for a second, surprise on his features for a moment before a cocky smirk overtook it.

One of the guitarists said something, they all had mics, you were pretty sure he was introducing the band or something, but this close to the speakers, all you could do was feel the words in your chest, not hear them with your ears. And when the music actually started, you felt like it was rearranging your brain matter. The crowd didn’t seem to really know the songs, as nobody sang along, but they were having fun nonetheless, dancing, jumping, and headbanging. As you got on your tiptoes to keep peering over Jeno’s shoulder at Sungchan, you found yourself bouncing along to the beat. Someone must have bumped into Renjun, as he stumbled into your back, and you let out a squeak and latched onto Jeno’s shoulders to avoid losing your balance.

“What is going on back there?” Jeno turned around.

You looked back at Renjun as well, who was now squeezing himself in between you and Donghyuck. Just behind and to the side of you, closer to the middle of the crowd, something was going on. Everyone was moving around a lot more, and… shoving each other?

“Mosh pit,” Renjun shook his head.

You kept your grip on Jeno’s shoulders, using them as leverage to stay on your tiptoes as you watched the performance. They had a lot of passion, you couldn’t deny that. You thought that maybe if you could actually parse out more of the melody and words being sung, you might even like their music.

Then it was over after what felt like less than a handful of songs. One of the guitarists seemed to thank the crowd briefly as Sungchan sat and spun one of his drumsticks mindlessly. And then they were done. The guitarists and bassist took their instruments with them as they disappeared into an adjoining room, and Sungchan stood up and took his sticks.

“They’re done, are we done?” Renjun requested.

“Sure, sure,” you agreed, having satiated your curiosity.

Back on the street, everyone let out a simultaneous breath of relief. Your lungs were happy to be inhaling fresh air again, and the sounds of the city streets at night felt quiet in comparison to that basement.

“My ears are ringing,” Jaemin groaned.

“Mine are bleeding,” Donghyuck scoffed.

“They weren’t that bad, Hyuck,” you rolled your eyes.

“Okay, which one was he?” He pointed an accusing finger at you. “Bookstore-slash-tea shop guy. Which one was he?”

“What?”

“He was in the band, wasn’t he? That’s why he invited you, that’s why you’re not agreeing with me right now. No way you actually liked that noise. So? Which one?”

“You’re annoying.”

“Bet he was the bassist,” Renjun took a crack at guessing. “Totally your type, Y/N.”

“I think it was the frontman, he would’ve been the only one shameless enough to beg for girls to come to their shows,” Jaemin retorted.

“Definitely not the drummer, did you see those tattoos? Our Y/N wouldn’t have gone to some random address that a guy like that gave her,” Jeno snickered.

“I’m not prejudiced, assholes,” you replied, a bit miffed when Jaemin and Renjun nodded their heads in agreement at Jeno’s assessment.

Jaemin gently reassured you, “No, of course not. You just… stick to what you know.”

“Says the four guys who were begging to leave. I thought I was supposed to be the boring friend?”

“There’s a difference between being fun and patently stupid,” Renjun snorted. “Going to a random address that some weird guy gives you falls into the second category.”

“I think it was the drummer,” Donghyuck announced, narrowing his eyes at you. “He invited you, didn’t he, Y/N?”

You poked your tongue against the inside of your cheek. “He was wearing longsleeves…”

“Knew it,” he grinned victoriously. “The other guitarist was blonde. Blondes aren’t your type.”

“So I’m predictable even when I’m trying to be unpredictable?” You groaned.

“Uh-huh.”

“We’re still getting food, right?” Jeno asked hopefully.

“Hell yeah,” Donghyuck threw an arm around your neck and shook you around. “On Y/N!”

You elbowed him in the side. “Yes to food, fuck no I’m not paying for you again Hyuck. Freeload off someone else.”

“It’s not freeloading, it’s compensation, for the damage that your boyfriend’s shitty band did to my eardrums.”

“I don’t even know him, you dick.” You shoved him off you this time, inadvertently directly into Renjun, who complained loudly at being collateral damage. “Sorry, Renjun.”

“Push him off a bridge next time, not into me,” he scoffed, straightening his clothes.

“You’ve got to stop letting him rile you up, Y/N,” Jaemin advised you, looping his arm with yours.

“Says the man who was literally threatening to run him over two days ago.”

On Monday, you walked down the street with a particular destination in mind this time. You pushed the door to the bookstore open, making the bell above it ring lightly. The inside smelled like old books and pine.

“Sorry, we’re actually about to…” Sungchan trailed off when he looked up from the register and spotted you.

“Are you closing? I can go,” you offered, already sheepishly backing up towards the exit again.

“No, you can stay. Just turn the closed sign around and flip the lock for me, will you?” He gestured to the door.

You did so, and took a few hesitant steps further into the shop as he went back to closing out the register. You were admittedly staring at him a little, trying to line up the visage of the tattooed drummer you’d seen at the show with the man in a cream pink button-up in front of you, no visible body art in sight. His hair was nicely parted and styled to show some of his forehead; he could even blend in at your office.

“Wasn’t expecting you to actually show up,” Sungchan said, pushing the drawer of the register closed.

You rolled your eyes. “Do I really seem like that much of a drag?”

“You’re wearing a pantsuit.”

“It’s a blazer and slacks! That’s not—” You looked down at your own clothes, cutting yourself off with a huff. “Point taken. From the man wearing a pink button-up.”

“Uniform.” He indicated to the shop around him generally. “I’d wear the short-sleeve option, but I have to look… how’d Mr. Kang put it? Respectable.”

“Mm, of course. I almost didn’t recognize you without the sleeves and with the… sleeves,” you finished awkwardly, trying not to picture his biceps right in that moment.

He chuckled, sitting down on a stool behind the counter. “So who was the guy?”

It took you a second to follow his leap in conversation, and even then, you didn’t quite stick the landing, only able to explain, “The guys were my friends. You told me to bring some, if you’ll recall.”

“I meant the one that you were hanging onto the whole time.”

“I didn’t realize you were watching me the whole time,” you teased, tilting your head.

“You picked a spot right in front of me. Couldn’t help but notice.”

“Jeno is my friend, as I just said. He’s sturdy, I was trying not to fall over.”

Sungchan looked at his phone. “Have you done your new thing for today?”

“By your standards? No.”

He stood up, grabbing a backpack from the ground to sling over his shoulder and jerked his head towards a narrow hallway behind him. “Come on.”

With the voice of Jaemin nagging you in the back of your mind, you followed him. At the end of the hallway was the back door of the bookstore, which led you into the alleyway between rows of shops. Sungchan locked up behind you, then dropped his bag at his feet and opened it.

“Where are we going?” You questioned.

“Food. You haven’t had dinner, have you?” He replied, starting to unbutton his shirt from the collar.

You failed to come up with an answer as he untucked it and slipped one arm out. “What are you doing?”

“Changing my shirt.” He stared back at you, the button up hanging off of one arm. You could see now that the tattoos extended onto his pecs as well. “Turn around if you want.”

Feeling like you were losing some kind of challenge, you turned your back to him, continuing your previous conversation instead. “No, I haven’t eaten.”

“Neither have I.” The zipper on the bag opened.

“But what if I’ve been to the place before?”

“I don’t think you have.” Zipped back up.

“If you told me the name—”

“Ready,” Sungchan declared, stepping up next to you. He was now in a dark shirt that had the logo of what you were sure was another band on it, and a worn leather jacket with an assortment of patches. He ran his fingers through his hair, intentionally shaking it out of the nice style from before and into a more natural, messy state. He took off down the alley, leaving you to follow after him.

“You’re not going to tell me the name of the place we’re going, are you?” You sighed.

“No.”

“What if I have allergies?”

“Do you?”

“…No.”

Sungchan turned down another street. “You left early. You missed the other bands.”

“Didn’t know there were other bands, and my friends were hungry.” You shrugged, opting not to tell him that your friends hated his music and had been begging you to leave. And that you didn’t put up a fight about going.

“Leaving after four songs to get food. Your friends sound lame.”

“They’re fun,” you immediately went to defend them. “I’m the boring one out of us. They’ve at least actually gotten drunk.”

The two of you had reached a crosswalk with the stop hand lit up. You stopped and pressed the button to wait for it to change. Sungchan paused just long enough to look both ways, then took your elbow in a loose grip and pulled you into the empty crosswalk.

“Let’s go.”

“What are you—”

“There’s nobody coming.” His hand slid down your arm to grab your hand as he walked backwards in front of you, gesturing widely with his other arm. “See? Not the end of the world.”

“I’m going to laugh if you trip over the curb behind you,” you informed him mildly, already eyeing the approaching sidewalk.

“If I fall, I’m taking you down with me.” He grinned.

“And you’ll break my fall.”

“Like in every good rom-com.”

“Are we making bets on if you’ll have a first- or second-degree concussion from hitting your head on the pavement?”

Sungchan turned around then, just in time to step up onto the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. He smiled down at you smugly, and you made a small ‘hmph’ sound in the back of your throat. You noted that he didn’t let go of your hand as you kept walking. You didn’t shake him off.

“How far away is this place?” You checked the time on your phone. “I have work in the morning.”

“Not too far. I can’t be out late either. I have practice tonight.”

“You called the bookstore and the tea shop your day jobs, and the band is your night job…”

“Uh-huh.”

“We didn’t have to pay a cover or anything to get in on Friday. How much does your night job actually pay?”

“That one was for fun. And a twelve-pack,” he answered nonchalantly. “Where we are now, a gig is a gig.”

“They paid you in beer and exposure?” You summarized dryly.

“It was just a friend’s basement, not a real concert venue or anything.”

“Oh, underground. Literally.”

He snorted. “You’re hilarious.”

“I try.”

“Maybe you should do stand-up.”

“No thanks, my day job is paying me just fine.”

He clicked his tongue. “And yet you hate it.”

“Your words, not mine.”

“You’ve yet to tell me otherwise.”

You sighed, but unfortunately, you couldn’t outright disagree with him. The two of you turned onto another street, where you bumped up into the back of a line for a food truck. Sungchan stopped you there, letting go of your hand to reach into his jacket and pull out his wallet.

“You got cash on you?” He asked, flicking through the bills in his wallet.

“No, do I need some?” You only had your phone and your credit cards.

“They’re cash only,” he nodded towards the food truck. “It’s fine, I’ll pay.”

“Sungchan, you don’t have to,” you insisted. “We can just eat somewhere else.”

“My idea, you didn’t know, I’ll pay.” He shook his head. The line moved up then, and he urged you forward with a hand on the small of your back. “Unless you think I’m broke because I don’t have some office job that I hate like you.”

“I didn’t say that! But you did just tell me you recently got paid in beer and exposure.”

“And have two other jobs,” he reminded you.

You didn’t outright accept his offer, but didn’t argue anymore. Getting on your tiptoes, you tried to look for a menu over the other customers in line.

“What do they even have?”

“Changes every week. We’ll find out when we order.”

“What if you don’t like what they’re selling this week?”

“What do I keep telling you? Live a little.”

“Fine.” You dropped back down to flat feet with a sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. “How do you know about this place?”

“Couple of my friends run it, when they’re not playing.”

“They’re in a band too?”

“Uh-huh. That’s why it’s only open once a week. They’re performing or rehearsing every other day.” The line moved up again.

“Why have a food truck then? Food trucks run on narrow margins, they can’t be making enough money to cover their living expenses if they only do it once a week.”

“It’s not their day job. Music is.” He pointed to a piece of paper that was taped onto the side of the truck, the handwriting so faded you could barely make it out. Sungchan told you what it said anyway, “All the profits go to a local women’s shelter. And a lot of their ingredients and other stuff is donations, makes the margins a little less narrow.”

When you looked up at him curiously, he simply added, “The most punk thing you can do is help people.”

The two of you were finally at the front of the line, and a man’s head popped into view at the window. With the t-shirt he had on, you could see the tattoos that seemed to cover every inch of skin from his knuckles to his neck, the ink looking well-settled. He had gauges in his ears, the jewelry a bright rainbow of colors, and you couldn’t even count how many other piercings he had in addition to those. He seemed older than yourself and Sungchan, maybe late thirties or even early forties if you had to guess, a few specks of grey peppering his stubble.

He flashed Sungchan a bright smile as soon as he recognized him, deep crow’s feet around his eyes. “Hey, Sungchan! How are you? Sorry we missed your set Friday, SooSoo was up all night with a fever.”

“Don’t worry about it. Is she feeling better?” Sungchan asked.

“Yep, fever finally broke at like three in the morning Saturday, back to her normal self by Sunday.”

“Good to hear.”

“Anyway, let’s get you some food. I’m sure you didn’t bring your girl all the way out here to hear about my sick baby,” the older man chuckled.

Sungchan just laughed along and put in your orders. When the man turned around to help the other worker, a woman, prepare the food, you looked up at him suspiciously.

“Hm?” He had apparently noticed your look. “Oh, sorry, he was talking about his daughter, Yeonsoo. She’s… oh probably six months old now? Real cute.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Here you go.” The man was back at the window, two paper baskets of food in hand.

Sungchan went to grab a few bills out of his wallet. “How much?”

“On the house.”

“Jay, come on. Seriously, man, how much?”

“I’m serious, no charge tonight.” Jay shook his head. “You’ve never brought a date. So say thank you, don’t keep her waiting, and stop holding up my line.”

Sungchan sighed, stuffing the bills he had already grabbed into the tip jar that was on the counter and taking the food. “Thanks, man.”

“Goodnight, you two!” Jay sent you off with a jovial wave. Before you got too far, you could’ve sworn you heard a woman���s voice ask from inside the truck, “Did you say Sungchan had a date with him?”

The drummer handed you a basket of food as you started a meandering pace down the sidewalk. You took a bite to avoid talking about what just happened, despite the fact that it was very much the only thing you were thinking about.

“Oh, that’s really good,” you said, unable to contain your tone of pleasant surprise.

“I wasn’t going to take you somewhere shit for your new thing,” he replied.

“So if I told you that I had already completed my new thing for today, we would’ve gone somewhere with bad food?”

“Well, no, because I wouldn’t have believed you.”

“Oh, of course,” you scoffed.

“You probably would’ve counted going to see me at the bookstore as your something new, right?”

“I’ve never done that before. I don’t know how that doesn’t count.”

“You have talked to me at the bookstore before. When I gave you directions.”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t on purpose. And I didn’t go into the store, and it wasn’t like, a real conversation.”

“Still doesn’t count.”

“And who assigned you to decide if something counts or not? This is my thing.”

“You’re the one listening to me. I’m just some guy, remember? You could’ve told me to fuck off at any point.” He took a big bite of his food, wiping at the stray crumbs around his mouth with the back of his hand. “So either you’re really easy to peer pressure—which I doubt, considering you’ve never even gotten drunk—or you actually kind of agree with me.”

You were silent, scowling down at your rather delicious food.

“Which is it? Want me to fuck off or am I maybe kinda right?”

“Why do you even care?” You questioned in lieu of an answer. “I’m just someone who you gave directions to one time. Why do you care if I actually change my whole life with my stupid little plan?”

“Who said I care?”

“Then what is all this?”

“I’m not trying to be your life coach, Y/N.” Sungchan shrugged, then his features split into a grin. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t want to be along for the ride.”

You stared down at your feet as you thought about it, about how different Sungchan’s life was from yours just from the brief glimpses you’d gotten of it. Looking back up at him, you nodded. “I could probably use some help brainstorming new things…”

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

“Hell no.”

Sungchan grabbed your arm before you could turn and walk away from him completely. When he’d texted you the address to meet at, you thought that surely the online maps listing hadn’t been updated recently, and it was actually a restaurant or concert venue, or any other litany of things. But no, you were in fact standing in front of a tattoo shop with Sungchan, as your something new for today.

“Not for you, not for you,” he quickly reassured you. “I’m getting a new one. Have you ever been in a tattoo shop?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, looking at the darkened windows apprehensively. “No…”

“I promise you’ll make it out alive,” he teased, to which you shot him an unamused glare. “Let’s go.”

Inside was surprisingly quiet. Rock music played over the speakers at a low volume, and there was already one artist set up with a client, the tattoo gun buzzing as she worked on a large piece on their calf. But really, you’d been in libraries that were louder. Sungchan guided you over to the front desk with a hand on your back, the man behind it already standing up to greet him.

“Sungchan, hey!” The guy beamed, reaching out to shake Sungchan’s free hand. He was younger, around your age, maybe a few years older, with a patchwork sleeve of dozens of colorful, bold tattoos along his arms.

“Hey, Johnny,” Sungchan shook his hand. “How are you?”

“Just got back from doing guest slots out of town, so I’m happy to get back in the groove of my usual shop.” Johnny’s twinkling eyes then focused on you. “And who’s this?”

“This is Y/N.” Sungchan seemed to smoothly sidestep mentioning who you were in relation to him. “You don’t mind if she hangs out during my appointment, right? One guest?”

“Not at all.” The artist then picked up a tablet from the counter. “Let me show you what I’ve got drawn up, hm?”

You peered around Sungchan curiously as they went over the design. It was a black and grey circle of flowers, leaves, thorns, and branches all interwoven together. A few birds hovered along the outside of it. In the corner of the canvas that the sketch was on, you could see the reference photos that Johnny had used, of an old porcelain plate that looked like it belonged in your grandmother’s china cabinet, not on a punk drummer's skin.

“It’s great, man. You nailed it,” Sungchan gave his approval.

“And for placement, you said your back, right?”

“Yeah, I was thinking left shoulder blade?” He shook off his jacket, grabbed the collar of his tank top and took it off in one go. Both him and Johnny moved around so Sungchan could see his own back in the full-length mirror propped up on a nearby wall.

“If you fill up the rest of your back in the future, you’ll have an odd hole in the middle of that shoulder from the center of this tattoo,” Johnny pointed out, tracing where the gap would be on Sungchan’s otherwise bare skin with his tablet stylus. “Unless you were to add something in the middle of this design later on. Depending on the size we do now, that might be difficult.”

“That’s a couple options. What else you think? Upper middle?”

“Yeah, centering it will look good, whether or not you fill the rest of your back, and even if you leave the middle of the ring empty,” Johnny agreed.

“Center it is then.”

“How big are you thinking?” Johnny held his hands up parallel to each other at the top of Sungchan’s spine. “This? A little bigger? I wouldn’t go any smaller or you’ll lose detail.”

“Bigger.”

Johnny moved his bottom hand down. “Hm?”

“Yeah, about that much?”

“I’ll print a couple sizes and we’ll see how it looks.”

As Johnny sat back at the desk to print out the stencils, you walked over to Sungchan, keeping your eyes on his face.

“Whose plate is that?” You asked curiously.

“How do you know I didn’t just find it on the internet and like the design?” He tilted his head.

“The cottagecore vibes really don’t match the rest of your work.”

He looked down at his own forearms and laughed. “Okay, fair. It’s my grandmother’s.”

“Hm.” You couldn’t help but smile fondly at the idea.

Johnny returned then with a couple different stencil sizes, and he and Sungchan went back to the mirror. After determining the size of the design, the area was prepped, and the stencil applied. You watched with interest as the design was transferred from the paper to Sungchan’s skin in purple ink.

“Go check that in the mirror,” Johnny instructed.

Sungchan stood back up from where he had laid down for the application, using a second mirror in his hand to look at it closer. He motioned with his head for you to join him. “What do you think? Is it centered?”

You got up from the stool that you had been given to walk over to the mirror as well, standing behind Sungchan to evaluate the placement of the stencil. “Stand up straight. And straighten out your shoulders, you know you slouch?”

Johnny snickered from his seat.

Squinting one eye closed, then the other, you finally gave a short nod. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“That’s the best you can hope for with her, Johnny,” Sungchan joked, returning to the padded table to lay down. “‘Fine.’”

You rolled your eyes, but took your seat on the side opposite from the tattoo artist anyway.

“High praise. Let’s do it,” Johnny grinned.

As Johnny got to work, you watched the first few strokes of his tattoo gun with interest, as the ink was deposited into Sungchan’s skin.

“You have any tattoos, Y/N?” Johnny asked, not looking up from his work.

“No,” you replied. Looking at Sungchan’s face next, which was mostly concealed by his arms and the pillow, he didn’t have any outward expression of pain. “Does it… hurt?”

The both of them chuckled, and you tried not to feel patronized, then Sungchan answered, “You ever been scratched by a cat?”

“Yeah…”

“It’s like that, but worse, and continuously.”

“Doesn’t sound pleasant.”

“It’s worse if you’re by bone,” Johnny added. “Or other sensitive areas.”

“Again, doesn’t sound pleasant.”

“An hour or so of unpleasantness in exchange for a lifetime of a cool tattoo,” Sungchan said in a tone of voice that made you think he would’ve shrugged if it weren’t for the tattoo gun currently on his upper back. “Easy trade-off if you ask me.”

“So how did you two meet?” Johnny’s voice didn’t carry any judgment, if anything he almost sounded amused.

“She came by the bookshop,” Sungchan answered simply. “You know, one of my day jobs.”

“Now that makes sense. No offense, Y/N, but you seem much more like a bookstore and coffee shops kind of girl than a basement mosh pit regular.”

You nodded slowly. “None taken… What you see is what you get with me.”

“Oh, she’s been trying new things,” Sungchan chuckled. “She’s been to a show.”

“And? What’d you think?” Johnny looked up at you eagerly.

You were a bit caught off-guard. Sungchan hadn’t even asked you if you liked his band’s performance. He’d commented on the fact that you’d showed up, who you were with, and that you left without seeing the other bands perform. But he never asked if you liked it.

“It was different for me,” you admitted. “Good different. I had fun.”

“Yeah, they’ve got a lot of heart, don’t they?” You could see the tug of Johnny’s smile at the corner of his mouth.

At the end of the appointment, Sungchan had one new tattoo and you were hungry. After paying Johnny and giving the artist your goodbyes, the two of you stepped back out onto the sidewalk in front of the tattoo parlor. It was dark out already, and you looked up at the moon, just past the streetlamp shining down on you.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Sungchan declared. “Dinner?”

“Sure,” you agreed. “But, I pick. I’ve already done my one new thing for today, and I’m craving fries.”

“Hard to argue with that.”

The place you had in mind was only a few blocks away from Johnny’s tattoo shop. As soon as you walked in, however, you wanted to turn back around. But you were craving fries and had already been spotted. Jeno perked up curiously from behind the counter, giving you a friendly wave. Honestly, you should’ve considered this as a possibility when you brought Sungchan into his place of work. You smiled back as you stepped up to the register.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted you brightly, clearly interested in who you had with you, but not outright asking as his gaze strayed over to Sungchan.

“Hey, Jeno,” you said. “I didn’t realize you were working tonight.”

“Coworker got sick, I picked up a shift,” he explained. “So what can I get you? Your usual?”

“Just the fries and milkshake.” You then pointed to Sungchan with your thumb. “And whatever he wants. I’m paying.”

“Y/N—” Sungchan was clearly about to argue.

“You got it last time. Kind of.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “And they take card here. So order.”

He held his hands up. “Alright, alright.”

Picking a table in the corner as far from the cash register as you could get, you waited for Jeno to call your order number out as usual. Except this time he brought the food right out to your table on a tray. You eyed him suspiciously as he walked over.

“Here’s your food,” he smiled brightly at the both of you, taking the food off the tray to set the individual items in front of you.

“Right, thanks, Jeno,” you said. When he was still standing there after he was done, you looked at him more pointedly, “I’m not tipping you again if that’s what you’re waiting for. Goodbye, Jeno.”

“Enjoy your meal!” He took off back behind the counter.

Sungchan watched him for a moment before turning back to his food. “He was at the show.”

“Yeah, he was.”

“Your sturdy friend.”

“Yup.” You grabbed your first fry.

“The show, that reminds me—” Sungchan stopped in the middle of his sentence, sandwich halfway up to his mouth. “Uh, I think your friend just took a picture of us.”

Your phone buzzed then, and you checked the notification from your lockscreen, letting out a deep sigh. “He definitely did.”

[jeno: attached image]

[jeno: ⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️]

“Hold on, sorry,” you apologized as you unlocked your phone to properly open the message.

As soon as you started typing a scathing text about privacy, another text came through.

[jeno: FUCK WRONG GROUP CHAT]

[you: wtf do you assholes have a gc without me in it??]

You looked over at the register, shooting Jeno a glare as he was very obviously trying not to look at you. His entire face, ears, and neck were visibly pink from the other side of the restaurant.

[jeno: it was to plan your surprise party last year!]

[jaem: Y/N ON A DATE CONFIRMED???????]

[renjunnie: jeno you’re an idiot]

[hyuck: wait jeno take another picture of his face im trying to see smth]

A large group of teenagers entered then, and Jeno had to quickly put his phone away to take their orders.

Sungchan had been quietly eating his food the whole time, and raised an eyebrow as you put your phone down with a groan. “Everything alright?”

“Sorry about that…” You let out another sigh. “So what you were saying? The show?”

“Oh, I’m glad you liked the set.” He looked almost self-conscious as he spoke, a small smile on his face as he ran a hand through his hair. “You hadn’t said anything about whether or not you actually liked the show, so I figured it might not have been your thing, you know? Or, you at least told Johnny you liked it…”

“You didn’t ask.”

“Didn’t want to seem like I was fishing for compliments.”

“I had fun,” you assured him, grabbing another fry. “I’m still surprised you could even see me. It was packed in there.”

“You were easy to spot,” he teased.

“You didn’t exactly give me a dress code.”

“If I did, would you have been able to dress for it?”

You pursed your lips as you thought for a moment, then relented, “…No.”

He shrugged off his jacket and offered you the garment. “Here, so you’ll blend in better next time.”

You accepted it, already giddy at the idea of a ‘next time.’ “Then how will you spot me?”

“I think I’ll manage.”

[jeno: attached image]

[jeno: no need to see his face, hyuck. its definitely the drummer from the basement]

[hyuck: fuckin knew it]

[jaem: are we SURE those are the same tattoos?? maybe y/n knows another guy with sleeves???]

[renjunnie: still the same gc, dumbasses]

[you: jeno don’t be a weirdo challenge FAILED]

[jeno: definitely the same guy, jaemin]

[you: im gonna get you fired lee jeno]

[jeno: my rent :( ]

[hyuck: y/n out here trying to SILENCE independent investigative journalists and whistleblowers i see 🫵]

[you: OR i was trying to eat in peace and meanwhile you guys are having your weekly ‘being the most obnoxious guy ever’ competition and somehow jeno is winning this time]

[jeno: :(( ]

[jaem: you were on a DATE with drummer guy and didnt tell us???]

[you: omfg because it wasn’t a date? im allowed to hang out with people who aren’t you four]

[jaem: no youre not?]

[hyuck: since when?]

[renjunnie: and since when do you know people who aren’t us lmao]

[you: im gonna block all of you]

[jeno: :'( ]

Thursday night and you were back in the basement. This time you didn’t bring any of your friends, not wanting to subject them to an experience that they clearly hadn’t enjoyed last time, and also to save yourself from having to explain why exactly you were back in the basement again and wearing Sungchan’s leather jacket. Due to the oppressive body heat around you, you just had it draped over your shoulders, but made sure to grab either side and hold it tight to not lose it as you maneuvered through the crowd. You unfortunately barely had time to run home and grab the jacket on your way here, as your boss kept your whole team late after hours today working on an urgent deadline. You were still wearing your work clothes; you didn’t trust yourself to change quickly without freaking out over what to wear and ending up missing Sungchan’s short set.

Just as you had wormed your way into a good enough spot towards the front and near the drumset, the band walked out from the adjoining room, waving to everyone. It was easy to spot Sungchan, not only because he was the tallest, but because he wasn’t even wearing a shirt this time, as opposed to the others, who were all wearing a tank top or t-shirt of some sort. His gaze was very clearly searching the crowd for something, and stopped as soon as it landed on you. You gave him a small wave, and he smiled back as he headed to his spot.

You weren’t sure if they had set up the speakers differently this time, if your ears were just used to the volume now, or if you were positioned better than before, but you could actually understand what the frontman was saying as he introduced the band.

“Hey! How is everyone?” His voice was cheerful, and you couldn’t help but laugh as the crowd cheered back. “First, uh, big thanks as always to our buddy Anton for having us. Second, if you don’t know us, that’s fine, nobody does.”

Everyone let out a unanimous round of chuckles, and the frontman was smiling too.

“Anyway, we are Roses for Eyes. I’m Shotaro, that’s Wonbin—” He pointed to the other guitarist, then the bassist, “—That’s Eunseok over there—” and finally Sungchan, “—And we’ve got Sungchan on the drums. And we’re supposed to be performing for you guys, not reading you our non-existent Wikipedia page. Here’s the first one, ‘Lonely as Mars,’ hope you all like it.”

From the first kick of the bass drum, you couldn’t take your eyes off Sungchan. The music reverberated through your chest, and this time you could hear their voices, and the words they were singing. They were good, you decided, and you liked it. But your focus never left the drummer. He had the same relaxed, easy-going smirk on his face as the last time he played, arms flexing with each hit of his sticks.

The set simultaneously felt like ten years and ten seconds. It was a blur, and before you knew it, Shotaro was once again speaking into the mic to give the crowd another thank you and goodnight. He, Eunseok, and Wonbin took their instruments with them. Sungchan tucked his drumsticks into the back pocket of his jeans as he stood up and followed his bandmates. With no friends urging you to leave, and what certainly seemed like an infinitely long list of reasons to stick around, you stayed put exactly where you were. Exactly where Sungchan knew you were.

The next band had just come out when you felt a hand grab your arm. Turning around, you knew who exactly that hand would belong to. Sungchan had found a shirt somewhere between performing and now, a tank top that didn’t cover much more than before. And despite him having just been performing a few moments ago, nobody in the crowd seemed to notice him, all their focus on the next act.

“You did good!” You had to shout over the music of the band currently performing.

He bent down to talk right into your ear. “It’s loud over here.”

You let him guide you to a corner further back from the crowd with an arm around your shoulders. There were a few other people back there, either smoking, making out, or both. You rested your back against the wall, looking up at Sungchan, who leaned over you with his hand on the wall next to your head. You opened your mouth, about to repeat what you had said out on the floor.

“Fuck, you look so hot in my jacket,” Sungchan groaned, sufficiently wiping all previous trains of thought from your brain. His fingers messed with the zipper teeth of one side, eyes scanning your whole frame.

“I feel a bit silly wearing it with the pantsuit, but I got hung up at work and didn’t want to be late…” You trailed off, noticing that his gaze was definitely now on your mouth. Tilting your head, you asked teasingly, “Sungchan, are you flirting with me?”

“Have been for like three weeks now, thanks for noticing.”

“Unfortunately, we can’t count this as my something new. I’ve been to one of your sets before, at this exact basement,” you sighed wistfully, latching onto his free arm and pulling him even closer to you.

“Mm, good point.” His hand grabbed your waist. “I think we can come up with something to do tonight that you haven’t done before.”

“I think I’ve got one.”

“Oh, here I thought I was the ideas guy?”

You wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, pulling his mouth down to yours. Sungchan let out another low sound against your lips, grip on your waist tightening as he pushed you back into the wall as hard as you were pulling him down with you. He dropped from leaning on his hand to his forearm, caging you in closer. Your hand that wasn’t tangled in his hair was shamelessly feeling up the muscles of his arm and shoulder. When he softly sank his teeth into your bottom lip, you couldn’t help but dig your fingernails into his tricep in surprise, pushing your hips up against his insistently.

“Fuck, Sungchan,” you panted against his mouth when he pulled back for a brief moment of air, his thigh now wedged between yours.

“God, you’re so—” He pressed his lips to yours again, hand at the small of your back to pull you as close to him as possible. If you thought you were warm before packed in the crowd, you were in a stifling heat now, pinned between Sungchan’s body and the wall. He broke the kiss, asking between deep breaths, “Can—Can I take you home?”

“What about the other bands?” You giggled, lips ghosting over his as you spoke.

“Fuck the other bands,” he replied immediately. “As soon I saw you out in the crowd wearing my jacket, could barely focus on the set because you looked so good.”

“Yes, Sungchan.” You kissed him again. “You can take me home.”

As soon as Sungchan’s front door was shut, he had you pressed up against it again. You pulled at his flimsy tank top as his tongue slipped past your lips. Finally, he gave in to your persistent hands and let you pull it off him.

“Honestly, don’t even know why you bother with shirts at this point,” you scoffed, throwing it off towards the side somewhere.

“With how much I’ve spent on tattoos? I agree,” he chuckled, cupping your cheek to pull your mouth to his again.

Still attached to each other, you’d only succeeded at getting Sungchan’s belt unbuckled by the time you made it to his bedroom. Before you could unbutton his pants, however, he stepped back from you, familiar teasing glint in his eyes.

“Well this isn’t very fair, don’t you think?” He gestured between his half-dressed state and your fully dressed self.

“I thought you liked me in your jacket?” You taunted, wrapping the garment tighter around yourself.

“Which is why you’ve got to let me take it off you.” He put his hands together in a pleading motion. “And the pantsuit…”

“Mm, alright.” You dropped your hands from the jacket.

He circled behind you, hovering close to remove his leather jacket from your shoulders, pressing kisses to your neck as he did so. With him no longer blocking the rest of his bedroom from your view, you couldn’t help but be a little surprised at the presence of one thing.

“You know, I was mentally prepared for you to not have a bedframe,” you commented as he took off your blazer next.

“You got mattress-on-the-ground vibes from me and still came home with me?” Sungchan asked incredulously, letting out a breathy laugh. His deft fingers started unbuttoning your blouse next. “I think I’m flattered? And you’ve got to raise your standards.”

You turned around to face him, feeling the smirk on your face as you replied, “Let’s see how high we can raise those standards, hm?”

“Is that a challenge or what?” Sungchan laughed again, wasting no time in attaching his lips and teeth to your neck, dropping your blouse off your shoulders and to the floor.

When the garish blaring of your work alarm came, you reached over to the right to blindly grab your phone off your nightstand. Instead, your hand hit what felt like someone’s face, and you jolted up in bed as they did as well, already swearing.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Sungchan was holding his eye. “What the hell was that for? That’s not my alarm.”

Blinking a couple times to orient yourself first, you then jerked over to grab your phone off the floor on your left side. Sungchan may have had a bedframe, but he did only have one nightstand. You quickly turned off your alarm and fell back onto the mattress. You weren’t going to be able to go back to sleep, having been sufficiently scared awake, but you needed a second to catch your breath.

“Work alarm…” You explained belatedly, in case that wasn’t apparent.

Sungchan made a grunt of acknowledgement, dropping his hand from his face as he laid back down as well. He rolled over towards you, slinging an arm around your waist and burying his face in your shoulder. You stared up at his ceiling, feeling his warm breaths washing over the skin of your arm.

“Mars isn’t lonely,” you blurted out into his still-dark room.

“What?” He mumbled into your shoulder.

“It’s got two moons.”

Sungchan shifted around, propping his head up with his other hand to be able to talk. “Yes… Phobos and Deimos. Named for the Greek gods of fear and dread, respectively.”

“So to be lonely as Mars… with fear and dread as your only companions.”

“That was the idea, when we wrote it.” He brushed hair back from your face. “Don’t tell me the title of one of our songs kept you up all night.”

“No, was just kind of in the back of my mind.” You felt a sudden prickling along your skin as his hand fell to your arm, fingers playing with the sleeve hem of the t-shirt you were wearing—his. Sitting up out of his grasp, you pushed the covers off of you. “I have to get ready for work.”

Sungchan wordlessly watched you gather up your clothes from the floor and get dressed. When you went into the adjoining bathroom to check the tuck of your shirt into your pants and make other adjustments, he followed, leaning in the doorway with a troubled look on his face.

“Am I just something new, Y/N?” He asked bluntly, arms crossed over his chest.

“Am I just entertainment?” You immediately fired back, trying to smooth out a wrinkle that your blouse had acquired from sitting crumpled on the floor all night.

“What? Why would you think that?” He seemed genuinely confused.

“‘I don’t care. I just want to be along for the ride.’” You paraphrased what he said when he agreed to help you with your plan. “Am I just entertainment?”

His features softened. “No, you’re not entertainment.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, shoulders falling as they lost the tension they’d just held. “No, Sungchan, you’re not just something new.”

He walked over to you with a wide grin on his face, cupping your cheek and pressing his lips to yours. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss too, giving him one more peck before turning back to fixing your attire in the mirror. There was nothing you could do right now about the wrinkles, but you could at least attempt something with your hair.

Sungchan stepped behind you, resting his hands on your hips and pulling you back into him. He placed a few lazy kisses along your neck, murmuring, “I think the pantsuit is growing on me, actually.”

“Then why are you trying to take it off me?” You questioned, grabbing his hand that had been reaching for your blouse buttons again.

“Because I like what’s under it better.”

“Nice try. I have work.” You spun out of his arms, heading for his bedroom door.

Two steps into the hall, you knew something was wrong. There were other voices in Sungchan’s apartment, which stopped when they saw you. As soon as your eyes registered the three men in the living room, you skittered backwards back into Sungchan’s room again.

Practically slamming his door closed behind you, you didn’t let him get whatever surprised statement he had out of his mouth, as you hissed, “Sungchan! Why is your whole fucking band out there?”

“Probably because your work alarm woke them up too,” he laughed, which turned into a yawn as he stretched his arms over his head. “They’re not really early birds…”

“Why are they here?”

“They live here?”

In your rush to get into Sungchan’s bedroom last night, you had somehow missed any signs of three other people living here. You didn’t even hear them come home last night, and you weren’t exactly… quiet yourself. Definitely not three roommates quiet.

“Oh my god…” You sunk down against the door, shaking your head. “I’m just going to stay in here and die, I think.”

“I thought you had work?” Sungchan pointed out smugly.

“Ugh…” You groaned, covering your face with your hands.

“Y/N, they’ve already seen you. Here, I’ll walk you out. Will that help?” He offered, pulling on a shirt and his leather jacket.

“Fine, I’m gonna be late if I stay any longer.”

He held a hand out to you, and you placed yours in it for him to pull you to your feet. “Let’s go.”

The chatter that had started up again in your absence died down as soon as the bedroom door opened. Sure enough, the other three members of Roses for Eyes were sprawled out across the living room exactly where you’d left them. Shotaro was sideways in an armchair, Switch in hand as his thumbs moved over the controls quickly. Eunseok was sleepily eating a bowl of cereal on the couch, while Wonbin didn’t actually look awake, slumped against Eunseok’s shoulder with his eyes closed.

“Morning, guys,” Sungchan nodded to them as you walked by, still ushering you to the door.

Eunseok wordlessly held his hand out palm-up towards the armchair, and you saw Shotaro smack a few bills down into it.

At the front door, you were just ready to leave. Patting Sungchan’s arm, you gave him a nod and hushed, “Bye.”

Turning to grab the door handle, you heard Sungchan’s voice, nowhere near the whisper yours was.

“Baby, you almost forgot—” Sungchan stopped you, grabbing your hand and spinning you back around.

The sudden pet name made your skin burn. “What is it, Sungchan? My phone?” You started patting your pockets.

He took off the leather jacket that he just put on, putting it squarely on your shoulders. “Oh, and—” He cradled your face with two hands, kissing you.

It was short, sweet, and made your knees feel like jelly. When he’d pulled away, still holding your face, you whispered in the small space between you, “I’m going to be late.”

“Have a good day at work.” He smiled, letting you go and opening the door for you.

With a sigh, Eunseok gave the money back to Shotaro.

You weren’t late that morning, thankfully, but your mind was still in the stratosphere as you bustled around the breakroom making yourself coffee. You’d left Sungchan’s jacket hanging off the back of your chair; it wasn’t exactly in dress code for your office.

“Morning, Y/N,” Renjun said through a yawn, shuffling into the breakroom as well. He paused as he seemed to be taking in your clothes. “Am I crazy or did you wear that yesterday?”

“The only thing worse than an outfit repeater is an outfit remember-er,” you jested back.

“No, I mean like…” He got closer, rubbing his eyes as he peered at your blouse. “You didn’t wash them. They’re all wrinkled and—You got laid.”

“Or I need to do laundry.”

He pointed to your neck. “Hickey.”

“Damn, you caught me breaking my undying vow of chastity—oh wait,” you retorted sarcastically.

He held his hands up. “Hey, no slut-shaming here. Love that for you. One question?”

“What?”

“Was it drummer guy?”

You looked around the breakroom as you stirred sugar into your coffee. “…Yes.”

Renjun chuckled and grabbed a coffee mug. “Something new every day…”

“Why can’t you just get the food delivered?” You complained, pulling Sungchan’s blankets tighter around you as the bed grew cold without him in there with you.

He hopped on one foot as he pulled a shoe on. “Because the delivery charge is as much as the food is, baby. And it’s just around the block.”

You huffed dramatically, watching him start searching the sheets for his phone. He secured it in his hand victoriously, tucking it in his back pocket.

“You could come with me, you know,” he pointed out, mischievous hands already reaching for the covers and pulling them down, revealing your bare legs to the cold air conditioning. “But you’d have to put pants on.”

You yanked the blankets back over you. “I’ll wait.”

He snickered, leaning down to press his lips to yours. “Be back in a few.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you sighed, kissing him again.

He dropped one more peck to your forehead before standing up straight and heading out, shutting his door behind him. You snuggled back under the covers, pulling the blanket up over your shoulders as you tried to enjoy the fleeting warmth left over as you scrolled on your phone. Sungchan had only been gone for a few minutes when you heard the front door open again. You perked up with interest. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d be back soon. Then there were a couple light knocks on the bedroom door. Not Sungchan. One of his bandmates must have come home.

You scrambled to throw the sheets off you and grab a pair of your shorts from Sungchan’s floor, putting your legs through them as you stumbled towards the door. Opening it just enough to peer out, you saw Wonbin on the other side, a plastic grocery bag in his hand. He didn’t seem surprised to see you at all.

“…Hi?” You greeted him hesitantly. You had been seeing Sungchan for a couple weeks now, and had caught glimpses of his roommates around his apartment, but had yet to say much more than the occasional ‘morning’ or ‘night’ or ‘hey’ in passing.

Wonbin held up the plastic bag. “Can you help me dye my hair?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” You looked down at what you were wearing, one of Sungchan’s black t-shirts. “What color? Should I change? Like, is it bleach?”

“Black. That’s fine.” He turned around, walking back down the hall.

You followed him as he opened another one of the doors, this one leading to a bathroom. As he prepped the dye, you read the pamphlet of instructions carefully.

“I’ll do the mixing,” he interrupted your deep focus. “I just can’t see the back of my head.”

“Oh. Okay.” You set the directions down on the counter next to the bottles. “I’ve never done this before… Don’t want to ruin your hair.”

He shrugged, handing you a pair of gloves. “If you miss a spot, we’ll just do it again.”

After Wonbin mixed up the dye, he sat on the edge of the tub for you to stand over him and start applying it to his hair. As you worked the dark dye into his blonde hair, you watched his soft waves straighten out.

“I liked the blonde curls,” you commented, moving onto the next section.

“Me too.” He flicked through his music library on his phone. “Time for something new, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” you smiled to yourself, adding more dye.

“What music do you like?”

“Oh, put on whatever you want. I’m trying to broaden my horizons.”

He wordlessly selected a song, a soft guitar melody coming through the speakers. It was so different from the music that you’d heard them perform, your hands slowed as you listened thoughtfully.

“Is that why you’re dating Sungchan?” Wonbin’s question caught you off-guard.

“What?” You parted his hair, double-checking that you had gotten every bit of blonde in that section.

“You’re broadening your horizons.” He picked at his nail polish that was already chipped. “Is that why you’re dating Sungchan?”

“Something like that.” Satisfied that you had fully saturated that area, you went to the next one. “I also just like him.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Why? Because we’re so different?”

“No, because he’s lame.”

You laughed right as you had started squeezing more dye out, missing his head as the liquid dripped right down the back of his neck instead. Wonbin hissed in surprise, shoulders jumping.

“Oh! Sorry!” You were still laughing as you grabbed the end of the towel that was around his shoulders, wiping at the stray hair dye.

Shotaro came home soon after that, joining the two of you in the bathroom, hopping up on the bathroom counter to watch you apply the hair dye. He showed off his new nose ring that he just got, and tsked when he saw Wonbin’s chipped nail polish.

“We’re gonna have to redo that, Wonbin,” the frontman shook his head. “After Y/N’s done with your hair.”

“Once it’s applied, it’s got to sit for thirty minutes,” you recalled the instructions. “Will that be long enough?”

“Plenty.”

You were a little more than halfway done with Wonbin’s hair when Sungchan finally got back.

“Wonbin? Taro? You guys here?” He called out into the apartment. “Y/N’s here too by the—”

He’d poked his head into the bathroom then, brown paper bag of food in hand. You gave him a wave with your hair dye-covered, gloved hand.

“Hi, Sungchan,” you smiled. “That was more than a few minutes.”

“Clearly,” he gestured to the scene in front of him. “I leave you for like twelve minutes and my bandmates adopt you.”

“We can eat once I finish applying Wonbin’s hair dye.”

“Sure.”

“What’d you get?” Shotaro leaned over towards the bag with interest.

“Only four extra crab rangoons. Fight over them however you want.” Sungchan pulled out a smaller bag from within the takeout bag.

Wonbin and Shotaro locked eyes.

“None for Eunseok?” Shotaro proposed.

Wonbin nodded minutely, as much as he could with some of his hair still in your hands. The front door slammed closed then, and they both groaned.

“I smell chemicals!” Eunseok yelled out. “What is it this time, Wonbin? Purple? Red? Both?”

The bassist appeared in the doorway behind Sungchan, peeking over his shoulder at everyone. “Oh hey, Y/N.”

“Hi, Eunseok.” You nodded to him, applying more dye.

“Shotaro, are those crab rangoons you’re hiding behind your back?”

A random Sunday afternoon found you at Sungchan’s apartment, as you seemed to be most days now. If you weren’t at work, at one of his gigs, or with your own friends, it was a safe bet that you could be found there.

He opened the door for you, pecking your cheek in greeting, “Hi, baby.”

“I know what we’re doing today,” you blurted out, before you could lose your nerve. “My something new.”

He tilted his head curiously. “And? What is it?”

You took a deep breath. “I’m going to get my ears pierced. Second lobe piercings, I already have the first done. I’ve been wanting to do it for like forever, but I just… haven’t. It’s allowed at my work, I checked the employee handbook, and asked someone from HR on Friday to be extra sure.”

Sungchan beamed at you. “Hell yeah. We can use Shotaro’s piercer, unless you’ve already looked someone up?”

“Whoever Shotaro goes to will be fine.”

Wonbin was taking a nap on the couch in the afternoon sunlight, and you walked past him to get to the hall where Shotaro and Eunseok’s rooms were. Shotaro’s door was ajar already, and Sungchan pushed it open the rest of the way. The frontman was laid out on his bed upside down, his feet kicked up on the wall as he lazily plucked out a melody on an acoustic guitar. Eunseok was in there too, scrawling away at a notebook at the guitarist’s desk.

“Who do you go to for your piercings?” Sungchan didn’t give either of them so much as a hello.

Shotaro craned his neck to look over at the two of you. “Huh? Oh, uh, Sid, at Black Cat in downtown. Why? What are you getting?”

“Not for me,” Sungchan informed him happily, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

Eunseok’s head snapped up from where he had been focused on his notebook, and Shotaro set his instrument aside to roll over and fully face you.

“Y/N?!” Shotaro’s jaw dropped in delight. “What are you getting?”

“Ah, just my second lobes…” you muttered self-consciously, hands instinctively feeling at the jewelry that you already had in your existing piercings. You pushed further into Sungchan’s side to hide your face from them, especially when the bassist muttered a ‘woah’ at this revelation.

“Sid taking walk-ins today?” Sungchan asked.

“She should be. You know what? I’ll call her right now.” Shotaro eagerly brought out his phone.

After he confirmed that Sid was, in fact, taking walk-ins, Sungchan went to get changed as Eunseok and Shotaro put shoes on as well, ushering you towards the front door. All the commotion woke Wonbin up, as he sleepily lifted his head up and rubbed one of his eyes, watching the four of you.

“Where are you guys going?” Wonbin squinted against the sun.

“Y/N’s getting pierced!” Shotaro announced brightly.

“I’m coming.”

At Black Cat, which you learned was a tattoo and piercing shop, you met with Sid, a young woman who was no older than you, and told her what you wanted. She nodded, looking at your ears for just a second.

“Easy. How old were you when you got the first ones done?” She asked, pulling out a tray of jewelry from under the counter she was standing behind.

“Thirteen maybe? I know it was done with one of those piercing guns…” You admitted sheepishly.

“We don’t use those here.” She shook her head. “Injures the tissue too much. I’ll be using a needle, should take like half a second on each side. I’ll explain everything back at the station where I can show you all the tools.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“I’ll give you a minute to pick your jewelry while I prep the station.” With that, she walked towards the back of the shop.

Everyone huddled around while you browsed through the options, seeming to have their own input. You finally settled on a pair of studs with small diamonds in them, not too outlandish; you’d be able to easily match them with the rest of your jewelry and any outfits you wore to work easily while the piercings healed.

“You nervous?” Sungchan murmured, rubbing your back as Shotaro and Wonbin wandered over towards the other end of the clear case of jewelry, looking at industrial piercings. Eunseok flipped through a book of flash tattoo options.

You shook your head. “No. Excited.”

“So you’re not gonna need to hold my hand?”

“I didn’t say that…”

As Sid walked back over, the others crowded around you excitedly again.

“Do you all really need to be here? It’s not that big of a deal…” You muttered, a bit embarrassed at how hyped they were over you just getting a couple ear piercings.

“I’m with Y/N on this one. Only you can come back.” She pointed at Sungchan. “The rest of you will have to wait up front.”

Sitting on the padded chair at Sid’s station, she walked you through each step and the tools she’d be using first, then marked where the piercings would go on your ears.

“Check the placement.” She handed you a handheld mirror.

You appraised them, then looked up at Sungchan. “What do you think? Even?”

“Sit up straight. And straighten out your shoulders, did you know you slouch?” He teased, grabbing your shoulders and straightening them out for you.

You glared up at him, but fixed your posture nevertheless.

“They look good, baby,” he approved, squeezing your arm.

Sungchan stood off to your side, holding your hand as Sid got ready on the on the first ear.

“Alright. One, two—” At the pinch, you squeezed Sungchan’s hand tighter, face screwing up in surprise.

She moved to the other side. “Next. One, two—” Pinch. “All done.”

“Wooh!” The other three cheered from up front, pumping their fists and jumping up and down.

“Fuck yeah, Y/N!” Eunseok yelled out.

“Baby’s first body mod!” Shotaro pretended to wipe a tear from under his eye. “They grow up so fast…”

“So pretty, baby,” Sungchan kissed your cheek, a wide grin on his face when he pulled back. He wiped at the single actual tear that had spilled over from your own eye. “So proud of you.”

Your face hurt from how much you were smiling, more than your ears did.

“Y/N!” Jaemin stood up from the table as soon as he saw you, pulling you in for a hug. The two of you were meeting up on your respective lunch breaks at a café equidistant from your workplaces.

“Hi Jaem—Ow!” You hissed as his head bumped into your ear.

“What? What’s wrong?” He pulled back, clearly worried.

“It’s nothing, sorry.” You cradled the wounded ear, giving him a reassuring smile. “I finally got my second lobes done the other day and they’re still tender.”

“Let me see!”

You tucked your hair behind your ears to show off the small diamonds. “Just some studs…”

“Cool. They look good.” He was still smiling as the two of you sat down. “What made you want to do that?”

“I’ve been talking about it for a while.”

“Yeah, I know. What made you finally get them?”

“Something spontaneous or new every day, remember?”

“Well, I’m happy you finally did it. Seems your little quarter life crisis is actually working, huh?”

“Sungchan’s been helping me,” you acknowledged, watching his face carefully.

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “The drummer guy?”

“Yeah, I’ve been seeing him...” You sat forward, lacing your hands together in front of you on the table. “Speaking of—Dinner tomorrow, I figured I could bring him? You guys could all meet?”

Jaemin rubbed the back of his neck, tone turning remorseful. “Damn, Y/N, I wish you’d told me sooner. I already made the reservation for five people.”

“You can’t call back and change it to six?”

“Limited space.”

“There’s not a lot of five-person tables. Wouldn’t they be putting us at one that seats six anyway?”

“If I change it, we’ll be bumped to the bottom of the list again.”

“Oh. That’s alright, another time,” you acquiesced as your waiter came over, handing you menus.

“Another time,” your friend agreed.

You were in the ‘green room’ of Anton’s basement, which was actually the laundry alcove that had a few chairs set up for the acts to sit and wait before they went on. All of Roses for Eyes were back there, chatting as the time for their set to start got closer.

“You know what I’m craving?” Sungchan hummed in your ear.

“What is that?” You turned to look at him out of the corner of your vision from your current position on his lap.

“Fries from that place where your sturdy friend works.”

“He has a name,” you laughed, pinching his forearm. “Do you want to go get some after this? They’re open late.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“After the day I had at work, I’ve earned a milkshake,” you sighed, leaning back against him.

Sungchan wrapped his arms around your waist, and you could hear the frown in his voice as he asked, “What happened, baby?”

“You’re about to go on, I’ll tell you later,” you promised. “Just my boss—”

“Yo! Roses!” Anton poked his head into the room just then. “Two minutes! Let’s go!”

You got up from Sungchan’s lap as the others started grabbing their instruments. “I should go grab a spot.”

“Okay…” He cupped your cheek to bring your mouth to his. “See you in a minute, baby.”

“See you.”

You picked your way through the crowd until you found a group of familiar faces: Anton, and two more regulars and friends of Roses for Eyes, Sohee and Seunghan. When the band still hadn’t come out after a few minutes, you got on your tiptoes to look over the crowd towards the green room.

“Wonder what’s keeping them?” You mused, dropping back onto flat feet again.

“Oh, Jay and Hayoung popped in there right after you left,” Anton explained. “Said they wanted to talk to them.”

“I thought they already left,” Seunghan commented.

“No, their tour starts in a couple weeks, I think,” Sohee explained. “Or at least, the tickets I have aren’t until next month.”

“Is that for the Venue:Hell show?”

“Yeah, are you going?”

“Waiting to get paid then I’ll buy my ticket.”

“Anton and I have an extra,” Sohee offered. “He was going to bring that girl he was seeing, but we all know how that worked out.”

“No need to rub it in my face,” Anton grumbled as the other two simultaneously snickered and tried to comfort him. He then turned to you. “Where’d Sungchan find you, anyway?”

“Oh, uh, I got lost and asked him for directions at the bookstore he works at,” you answered, knowing that wasn’t going to help your friend very much.

“You’re useless to me.”

You laughed and patted his back. “I’m sorry, Anton. Maybe instead of trying to find someone the same way Sungchan and I met, you should just try meeting different people. Sungchan could tell that I wasn’t into this kind of stuff at all when we met, and still tried anyway.”

“Alright, got any pantsuit-wearing friends you can set me up with?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

It was then that Roses for Eyes finally started walking out, Sungchan at the front. They seemed to be even more energetic than usual during their set, and you could feel it radiate out through the whole room. You couldn’t stop jumping, dancing, and singing along to the songs that you had finally learned the lyrics to.

When they were done, Shotaro gave their usual thank-you and goodbye before leaving. By the time the next act was starting their first song, Roses for Eyes had joined the rest of you in the crowd.

“You guys did so good!” You praised them, squeezing Shotaro’s forearm as you wrapped your other arm around Sungchan’s waist. “Like, I think that was like the best set I’ve ever seen!”

“Thanks, baby,” Sungchan laughed breathlessly, kissing your temple and pulling you even closer with an arm around your shoulders. “You looked like you were having a good time.”

“She’s right, you guys had a lot of energy up there,” Seunghan complimented them as well.

“What did Hayoung and Jay want, by the way?” Anton asked. “They kept you guys for a while.”

The band exchanged uncertain looks, Eunseok, Wonbin, and Shotaro looking to Sungchan as if waiting for his cue.

He shrugged and squeezed your shoulder. “Just dropping by before they go on tour, you know?”

The rest of Roses for Eyes declined accompanying you and Sungchan for your midnight snack, so it was just the two of you squished into the same side of a booth, Sungchan taking sips from your milkshake as you stole fries from his plate.

“Tell me about work,” he prompted you, nudging your leg with his.

“Oh, God, it was just… long,” you groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “Felt like it would never end. My boss put off starting his part of this project until literally the day before our deadline to send it to the VP, which meant I had to rush to finalize everything. Meanwhile, he was breathing down my neck the whole time about the deadline! Like! Dude, I fucking know! We wouldn’t be cutting it so close if he had done his part earlier!”

“That’s really inconsiderate.” Sungchan frowned, rubbing your back. “I’m sorry, baby, that sounds really stressful.”

“But we got it submitted, so that’s all that matters, I guess,” you sighed. “You were right, Sungchan. I hate my job.”

His hand stilled on your back, just resting there as you sat in the wake of your admission.

“You remember my friends from the food truck?” He asked, abruptly changing topics.

“Yeah, Jay and Hayoung.”

“Well, we actually got an offer to open for their band on tour,” he told you, voice pitching up with excitement. That must’ve been what they were discussing before their set tonight. “It’ll be for a couple months.”

“Oh… congrats. I know this is big for you guys. Have fun.” You smiled, trying to hide the sudden emptiness inside you as you tried to imagine what your days would look like without Sungchan or the rest of his bandmates for two whole months. “When do you leave?”

“Next Saturday. Their original opener dropped out, it was last-minute.”

“Oh. I’ll see you when you get back, then.” You then paused, your mind suddenly changing directions and racing with other thoughts of why he might want to be telling you this. He was a drummer in a band going on their first tour, maybe he’d want the full rockstar experience. “Unless this was something else…”

His eyes widened as he shook his head fervently. “I’m not—I mean, I won’t ask you to wait for me if you want to get on with your life while I’m gone, but I would wait for you.”

“Why not?” You furrowed your brow thoughtfully.

“What?”

“Why wouldn’t you ask me to wait for you? You want me to ask you to wait, but you won’t ask me.”

“Because I’m about to ask you for something even bigger than to wait two months for me to come back.” He grabbed your hand, holding it tight.

“What…?”

“Come with me.”

“What?!” You blinked, for a moment unsure that you had even heard him right.

“On tour. Come with me,” he repeated, as sincere, eager, and genuine as he was in everything.

You immediately stammered out, “Sungchan, I’d have to quit my job—”

“And then when we get back, you can find one that you actually like.”

“If I can even get one.”

“This is exactly what you’ve been trying to do, Y/N. Something new every day.” He was sandwiching your hand between both of his now. “Please, just think about it?”

“Alright, what are you moping about?” Renjun asked, pushing an already-opened beer into your hand as he walked by.

The five of you were over at Jeno and Jaemin’s place for a movie, pizza, and beer night, and the first movie hadn’t even been started yet. As usual, you were an open book to your friends.

“Sungchan’s band is going on tour. For two months,” you told them glumly before bringing the bottle to your lips. “They leave Saturday.”

“They have enough fans to do that?” Donghyuck snorted, picking up a slice of pizza.

“They’re opening for another band.”

“Aw, I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Y/N,” Jaemin went to comfort you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

You tapped a fingernail against the glass bottle in your hands. “He asked me to go with him.”

“Does he think you can just quit your job for two months and come back and your boss will rehire you?” Renjun retorted. “This guy lives another world, sounds like you dodged a bullet.”

“You’re considering it.” Donghyuck pointed at you knowingly. “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have brought up that he asked you until after he was long gone.”

You were quiet, looking down at your slice of pizza.

“Are you?” Jeno asked.

“I mean, I’ve been trying to do something different every day—”

“Woahwoahwoah! Seriously?!” Renjun cut you off, waving his hands wildly.

“I have enough in my savings to cover my rent and stuff while I’m gone, plus a few months after I get back while I look for a new job—”

“Holy shit you’re like, serious about this,” Jeno breathed out, blinking in surprise.

Jaemin took over, “When we joked about you having a quarter life crisis, we didn’t mean for you to actually do something like quit your job and go run off to join your punk boyfriend that you barely know on his dirtbag boyband’s tour for months.”

“We kind of figured you seeing this guy was already pushing your limits…” Renjun added.

“Gee, thanks.” You rolled your eyes. “You thought I was—What? Getting it out of my system? Then I’d settle down with a guy who’s as boring as I am?”

“When you phrase it like that—”

“You guys don’t even know Sungchan.” You cut Jaemin off, getting to your feet to face them all as your skin pricked with anger.

“Do you? You’ve been seeing him for like a month.” Jaemin gestured to you pointedly.

“Three. But thanks for proving my point so well,” you snapped. “You haven’t even tried to get to know him! You don’t like his music, fine, I wouldn’t expect you to go back to a show. But you haven’t invited him anywhere and you somehow always have an excuse when I invite you guys to something with him. None of you have even really met him. Not even Jeno from that one time, so don’t try to start that.”

They all seemed to be at a loss for words, looking at each other as if waiting for someone else to say the right thing.

“Y/N, come on…” Jaemin tried again, but trailed off at your furious glare.

“I’m going,” you declared, grabbing your phone from the coffee table. “Unless any of you plan on getting your heads out of your asses in the next five seconds.”

They were quiet again, and you took that as your answer, storming out of the apartment.

“Oh hey.” Eunseok’s face held mild surprise when he opened the door for you. “Sungchan said you weren’t coming over today.”

“Is he here?” You were still agitated from what just happened with your friends.

“In his room.” The bassist stepped back to let you in.

You passed by Wonbin and Shotaro in the living room, a game paused on their TV. They gave you greetings as you walked by, and you tossed a hello back over your shoulder. Sungchan’s door opened before you even got to it, confusion on his features when he saw you there.

“Hey, I thought I heard your voice.” He watched you as you stomped past him into his room. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, baby, but I thought you were hanging out with your friends tonight. What are you doing here?”

“I’m pissed at them.”

“What happened?” He sat down on his bed as you paced angrily in front of him.

“I was trying to tell them about the tour.” You gestured between the two of you. “You know, bouncing ideas off them or whatever. My mind was pretty much made up, I just needed to talk it through. And they couldn’t even be happy for you, or actually listen to me! They just called you a dirtbag and patronized me like a dumb child. Apparently, they’ve just been waiting for me to dump you and settle down with some boring guy that’s better for someone boring like me! They’ve been refusing to meet you, I mean, I can’t believe they think they somehow know anything about if you’re good for me or not.”

Sungchan had been listening patiently while you ranted, and when it seemed like you had come to a stopping point, he asked, “They really said all that?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Pretty much?” He repeated knowingly.

You put your hands on your hips. “They called you guys a dirtbag boyband. And said I was ‘pushing my limits’ by seeing you.”

“‘Dirtbag boyband,’” Sungchan repeated with a laugh. “Yeah, I like that.”

“Of course you think it’s funny.”

“That part? Yeah, I do,” he snickered, holding a hand out towards you. When you had reluctantly put yours in it, he pulled you closer, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. “The part where they’re being super judgmental and treating you like you can’t make your own decisions? No, I don’t think that’s funny.”

You took a deep breath, already beginning to calm down a little as he continued working soothing circles into your skin.

“You said your mind was made up? Mostly?” Sungchan asked tentatively, eyes focused on your intertwined hands.

“I want to go with you,” you said, watching his head snap up to look at you, his face hopeful. “On the tour. I fucking hate my job and I love you.”

Sungchan’s eyes went wide as he gazed up at you. Then he was yanking you down into his arms, and you let out an embarrassing ‘eep!’ as you threw your arms around his shoulders, trying to find some stability in your sudden change in orientation. He held you tightly, burying his face in your neck. You could feel his smile against your skin.

“I love you too,” he murmured, pulling back to cup your cheek. He was grinning. “I love you.”

Your skin got warmer as you realized exactly what you’d said, but you couldn’t take it back now. You’d said it, you meant it, it was true, and you wanted to say it again.

“I love you.” You repeated, feeling a smile creep across your face.

Sungchan leaned up to kiss you, cradling the back of your head as he pressed his lips to yours. You kissed him back, tangling your fingers in his hair as you pressed even closer to him.

Your phone started buzzing relentlessly in your back pocket then, and you let out an annoyed groan into Sungchan’s mouth. You broke apart just enough to pull out your phone and look at the screen, fully intending on declining the call. Then you saw the caller ID and paused.

“Who is it?” Sungchan asked, kissing along your jaw.

“Jeno.” You continued staring at the screen.

He drew back. “You should answer it.”

“Sungchan—”

“Just see what he wants. Might be important.”

You sighed, and hit the accept button. “What?”

“You picked up! Great!” Jeno sounded genuinely shocked. “Uhm, will you come back?”

“So you guys can continue belittling my life choices? Pass.”

“No, no, so we can all talk. Actually talk this time.”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you sized up your options: staying here with Sungchan, or going back to that unpleasant atmosphere. Seemed like a pretty obvious choice to you.

“Jaemin will apologize,” Jeno added. “He wants to apologize, uh, to you.”

“Why didn’t he call me then?” You asked dryly.

“He didn’t think you’d pick up if he called.”

“I wasn’t going to pick up your call either,” you informed him. “Sungchan said I should hear you out.”

“Oh. You’re with him right now.”

“I’ll come back,” you stated. “But I’m bringing Sungchan.”

You would be feeling awkward right now if you weren’t so pissed off. As soon as Jaemin had opened the door and you saw his face, you just got pissed off all over again. The only thing keeping you here and mostly civil was Sungchan.

“This is Renjun, Jeno, Donghyuck, and Jaemin,” you blandly pointed out all your friends for Sungchan’s sake.

“Hi, Sungchan, dirtbag boyfriend,” Sungchan introduced himself with a broad smile, making the first move to shake all their hands.

Jaemin looked at you incredulously. “Y/N, you told him—”

“They’re your words, Jaemin. Now eat. them.” You said through gritted teeth, arms crossed over your chest firmly.

“I didn’t call you a dirtbag,” Jaemin tried to explain himself to Sungchan.

“Just his band,” Renjun pointed out helpfully.

“I thought it was funny,” Sungchan told him with a chuckle, stepping back to wrap an arm around your shoulders. “Y/N, not so much.”

“Well, she has no sense of humor, as I’m sure you know,” Donghyuck teased.

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t introduce you guys for you to all pick on me.”

“I think you’ve got a great sense of humor, baby,” your boyfriend reassured you, squeezing your arm.

“So do you have like, a tour bus or something?” Jaemin asked.

“We’ve got a van,” Sungchan told them proudly. “We won’t be sleeping in it or anything, we’ll get hotels.”

“How many tattoos do you have?” Donghyuck flopped back into his armchair.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Jaemin rounded on him.

He shrugged. “Nothing. Just curious.”

“I’ve lost count,” Sungchan answered candidly.

“Cool.”

“Y/N mentioned you worked at a bookstore and a tea shop as well,” Jeno said. “Are they cool with you uh, going so suddenly?”

“I’m a part-timer. My bosses at both places knew what I actually wanted to do when I started,” he explained. “If they still have a spot for me when we get back, that’d be nice, but I don’t expect it.”

“So, are you going to be quitting tomorrow, Y/N?” Renjun’s voice held no judgment, just curiosity.

You nodded. “Yeah. I fucking hate that place.”

“Good. I could tell.”

“When do you guys leave? This week?” Jeno asked.

“Saturday,” Sungchan confirmed. “We’ll be popping back over here in a few weeks for a show at Venue:Hell, though.”

“Are there tickets… left?” Jaemin rubbed the back of his neck. “To the show in town?”

“You want to go?” You blurted out, a little dumbfounded.

“Totally, man.” Sungchan was absolutely beaming. “I’ll get you guys some.”

Donghyuck raised his beer to him before tipping it back. “Hell yeah.”

Later that night, tucked under Sungchan’s covers and curled up in his arms, your fingertips traced the lines of his tattoos as you were slowly lulled closer and closer to sleep.

“Thank you, Sungchan,” you said aloud into the darkness.

“Mm? For what, baby?” He questioned sleepily, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder.

“For not giving up on me. Even if you were just tagging along for the ride at the beginning, I would’ve just given up on my stupid little idea to cure my quarter life crisis if I didn’t have someone else doing it with me,” you admitted.

“Thank you for not telling me to fuck off when you had every right to,” he chuckled, tangling his legs with yours. “I love you, baby.”

You turned your head to kiss his hair. “I love you too, Sungchan.”

⤷ masterlist

[kaisturni]

cabin fever | m. sturniolo

→ matt x fem!reader

→ plot; things are heating up at the triplet’s cabin in vermont; especially between you and matt. the group of you, him, his brothers, nate and madi spend a needed getaway at the cozy house. unknown to everyone else, confessions, tension, and late nights make it even hotter between you two.

→ includes; smut, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, f!oral receiving (matt the munch AF), mentions of drinking, blood/bleeding (NOT PART OF THE SMUT), light fluff

→ a/n; madi nate nick and chris all have super minor rolls and they don’t add to the plot at all btw. this one is HOT. CALOR. CALIENTE. (imo) enjoy!

MINOR PROOFREADING

——————————————————————————

“hey, we’re here,” a voice gently whispers to me, i realize belonging to nick as i slowly come back to consciousness.

the groggily feeling of sleep soon goes away and in its place is excitement; we’re finally at the cabin.

this isn’t my first time vacationing with the triplets; we’ve been going here since we were little. once becoming friends with nate and madi, they soon joined in on our yearly trip to the cabin.

i almost immediately fall stepping out of the car, my brain forgetting that my body was completely stagnant during the 4 hour car ride up here.

i put my hands out and brace for impact; but it never comes. instead a pair of arms swiftly caught me before i had my lunch with the gravel,

“dude, you gotta be more careful,” a voice chuckles from behind my head. it’s matt; i know his voice the best out of all of them.

he helps me stand up right, “whew thanks,” i breathe out with a laugh, he says nothing but delivers a nod in response. i turn on heels to grab my suitcase from the trunk,

“here let me help you, wouldn’t want you to almost fall again,” he offers, i roll my eyes at him as he takes the duffel bag from my arms and slings it over his shoulder, not giving me any time to think of a response.

i know to some that may seem flirtatious, but unfortunately it isn’t. sometimes i can’t help but feel disappointed that there isn’t something more but the guilt of feeling like that towards one of my best friends since childhood is stronger than my urges.

however, i would be a liar if i said i didn’t find him attractive. the tattoos on his body, light stubble he lets grow in sometimes, messy curls, plump lips, his eyes… jaw…

i quickly get the ongoing list of the physically mouth watering things about matt out of my head; feeling almost a guilt that i found him so hot. i shouldn’t think about one of my best friends since childhood this way, so i force myself not to.

forgetting about my previous daydreams, i follow the rest of them into the house, taking in the joy of being at the cabin again.

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the house is big enough to where everyone is lucky to have their own room, and mine sits at the end of a long hallway, just past where chris and nate sleep.

i open the door and smile at the sight that matt has already placed my stuff down on the bed for me.

i internally slap myself, why am i reading into this? he just put my stuff down in my room. nothing else about it.

i take my duffel off the bed and seat it on the floor beside me and replace it with myself on its cushioning. i hear a knock at my door,

“come in!”

thinking i’m going to be met with matt in my doorframe, i look up, and i am only about half right.

“we’re gonna start cooking dinner now since it’s getting pretty late and we’re all starving, wanna help?” chris asks, poking his head between the a small sliver in the door.

i can’t help but giggle at his actions, “yes, i’ll help you, but next time you knock just open the door all the way, don’t be creepy,” i kick my feet up and yank the door open,

“i’m not creepy i’m polite!” he argues, voice fading as he descends to the kitchen,

“never said that!” i joke, my footsteps quickly follow behind him.

i join the rest of my friends in the kitchen, and start slicing vegetables, while chris and madi go on their own dinner tasks.

getting way too caught up in a conversation with nick, my knife skills began to be… less than subpar.

“FUCK!” i yell and instinctively drop the knife, the sound of the blade echoing through the room and blood from a large cut in my hand leaking everywhere on the counter causes all hell to break loose.

“oh my god! do we need to go to the ER?!”

“get a towel, NOW!”

“i’m fine, i’m fine!” i yell, doing my best to stop the panic from everyone else, the pressure from the towel stopping the blood flow for now.

“we need to get that cleaned, the first aid kit is in my room, come on,” matt says, taking my unadulterated hand into his and guiding me upstairs into his bedroom.

“sit,” he points to his bed and i follow his finger and take a seat on the edge of the mattress.

he ruffles through a drawer and pulls out a large first aid kit, since when was it in his room?

“this will sting like a bitch, but it’ll stop it from getting infected,” he says, shaking a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and removing the make shift dressing i have from my hand.

i close my eyes tightly and wince at the contact of it on my skin, biting my lip through the pain.

“it’s almost over, don’t worry. i’m gonna put some ointment on it then a bandage okay?”

his words are soft and comforting, which somehow eases the pain to a lower level than before.

he applies the ointment first, and i sign blissfully at the relief it has on my wound.

“that’s it, you’re doing so well,” he adds casually, wrapping the bandage around my finger.

i can feel my cheeks grow hot at his statement, him not knowing the effect his words of praise had on me.

i internally slap myself again. why do i keep thinking about him like this? jesus christ there’s something wrong with me.

“thank you matt,”

“anytime.”

for a moment, we just stare at each other. the silence is almost suffocating, and for the first time i feel like he wants to say something but doesn’t. i wonder if he thinks the same thing about me today.

i decide to quickly break the silence, “let’s go back down and eat, yeah? i don’t know about you but i’m starving,” i lie, i’m actually not hungry at all. almost cutting my hand off had a way of perfectly curving my appetite, but it’s the only thing i can think to say to rip me out of the chokehold that this silence has on me.

“me too, c’mon” he stands up and reaches out his hand for mine.

i’ve never been more confused in my fucking life. it was one thing to catch me when i fall, bring my suitcase inside, but praise me? hold my hand twice? i don’t know if i’m just delusional or if this is part of some code matt wants me to decipher, either way, i’m at my wits end.

i take his hand to help me up, and he smiles at me and we drop our hands at the same time. i smile back and he turns away to lead us back downstairs, i make sure he’s first so that he doesn’t see my face contort into a look of embarrassment.

definitely way over thinking it.

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after a great dinner and a few drinks all around, everyone says their goodnights and head to their bedrooms.

i do the same, and after a few hours, despite no one else in the house being awake and a couple drinks in me, i am nowhere near the point of falling asleep.

tossing and turning is all i can manage myself to do, sweating i don’t know which; being so hot and bothered by everything matt has done earlier or the vermont heat just personally attacking me and only me tonight.

i peel off the sheets and pillows, and it provides me with some relief for a little, but does nothing to fight my consciousness. with this temperature, maybe i just need a glass of water.

i creep downstairs as quiet as i can to not wake anyone, and i do the same with opening the fridge.

i look through it for a few seconds trying to find a water bottle, when a sudden voice behind me makes me jump,

“couldn’t sleep either?”

it’s matt. what the fuck, i thought he was asleep?

“matt, you scared the shit out of me! i thought you were asleep,”

i put my hand on my chest to cure the spike in heart rate, and turn around changing my focus back to the fridge.

“looking for a water? great minds think alike,” I hear his feet shuffle close behind me, and i feel the immediate spike in heart rate come back again when he moves me over, brushing up against me with a steady grip on my waist.

“right over here,” he says? pulling out two water bottles from the fridge. i feel like i’m going to fucking explode.

“thanks,” i crack open the lid, “so what’s keeping you up this late?” i say as my best attempt at remaining as calm and cool as possible.

“eh, y’know, just thinking about things. what about you?” he asks, and we sip simultaneously.

there’s honestly two answers to this question, I could say the truth or i could just agree.

i decide to go with the significantly less risky answer, but before i can even get the first word out he starts again,

“idea, let’s go in the hot tub,” his smile is so fucking innocent when he says it, it just drives me nuts.

i don’t even bother bringing up how ‘the heat is bothering me’ when he’s standing there, asking—no, not even asking me to go to the hot tub with him; telling me.

“oh yeah i’m down. maybe the heat will help us get sleepy,” i lie through my teeth, but saying it as nonchalantly as possible so he hopefully can’t hear the nervousness in the undertones of my voice.

“perfect, i’ll go change real quick and meet you out there,” he slips away with a light jog and i head his door close before i can even actually process what’s going on.

unfortunately there’s no time to think too deeply about it, and i book it to my room to change.

i have a couple options that i need to decide through quickly, ultimately landing on a dark blue stringed two piece.

i throw on the tshirt i had while sleeping over my bikini and quietly jog to the hot tub, located on the back end of the property, in its own reserved area. matt is already in there waiting for me, arms spread and his eyes lock with mine right when i come outside.

“hey,”

“hi, how’s the tem-“

“are you just going to stand there and talk or are you going to come in?” his words leave me slightly dumbfounded, but i can bounce back from this.

“oh, i’m coming,” i say, beginning to peel off the shirt I have on. i walk to the edge and begin to lower myself in, matt’s eyes locked on my body the whole time.

i pretend not to notice.

“thank you,” i say to him, a confused look popping on his face.

“for what?”

“taking care of me today, you didn’t have to do anything you did at all,” the words somehow just flow out of my mouth without realizing and i watch him as he lets out a light hearted laugh and looks down,

“you already thanked me today before, but no problem, i wanted to,” he replied, turning his gaze to match mine, i swear i feel like his eyes can see into my soul when he looks at me now.

“you did? why?” i ask out of genuine curiosity. it’s not like he would have never done something for me before today, but it was different; it was how he did. whether it has to do with me specifically or not, i really want to know.

“you’re my favorite girl in this world, how could i just not take care of you?” i don’t notice that we’ve slowly been moving towards each other this entire conversation, and now our bodies are just a few inches apart.

“this whole time i was thinking you were just being nice— matt, you don’t know what you do to me,” i confess, my stare going back and forth between both his eyes, aching for any hint at what he could be thinking.

“god, speak for yourself, it’s almost impossible to stop how i feel about you; or hide it” he pushing the hair in front of my face behind my ear and pulls me closer to him by the back of my neck.

the feeling i had when he caught me today, cleaned my hand and praised me, brushed up against me, all comes rushing back to me instantly, blissful in the knowing that it’s justified.

“can i kiss you?”

this man could not get any more perfect.

“mhm,” i give out and nod in affirmation, and immediately feel his lips press against mine.

at first the kiss is slow and deep, his hands not being able to sit still against my skin.

i feel the heat between legs rise, and i shortly become impatient with the painfully slow pace he’s at. as much as i love it, i’m craving more; more of him.

i gently bite and suck on his bottom lip, earning a groan from him, and he instantly gets the message. his kisses become sloppier, less tamed, and they start to work their way down my neck.

i moan in pleasure as he sucks the sweet spot between my neck and my collarbone, holding my back and nipping as he makes his way up to hungrily claim my lips.

“can i take this off?” he waits for my consent, fiddling with the small strings that are holding my bathing suit together.

“do whatever you want to me,” i breathe out, and i mean it.

he pulls me in by my waist and kisses me again, our tongues battling as he unties the strings of my bikini top and removes the fabric between us without breaking a single kiss.

the cold air on my tits compared to the steaming hot tub causes me to gasp, and i pull even closer to matt, pressing my chest against his own.

he moans lightly and moves his mouth from mine, holding me up by the legs around his lips to carry me to the edge of the hot tub.

in no time he claims my nipple, sucking and licking hard on the area, making me grow even wetter by the minute.

“mmh, matt” i moan out, tipping my head back in pleasure.

“feels good, baby?” i nod vigorously, and he descends his kisses down me stopping when he gets in between my legs to my clothed core.

his thumb circles my clit, and i have to bite my lip in order to not scream his name immediately.

“you’re so wet already, i love it. can i taste you baby?” he purrs, knowing exactly what kind of answer he’s getting, well aware of the state he put me in.

“y-yes, god, please do,” i beg him, and he works immediately to untie the strings of my bottoms and let them fall off, exposing myself to him.

the steam from the hot tub does not do me any favors in the burning heat in my core, both from that and the sheer fact i want him to fuck me senseless right now.

“mmm” matt begins,

“i knew your pussy would be pretty, just look at how beautiful you are,” he rubs his fingers between my wet folds and i blush at his words.

“i’m gonna show you how beautiful you are,” he says, right before pushing my legs further apart for him to suck my clit.

i can’t help myself from grabbing a handful of his brown locks and squeezing my legs together against his head, and he groans in response.

his groan sends vibrations further into my pussy, making it even more impossible to suffocate the loud moans escaping from my lips.

he goes to work making out with my core, and each suck, kiss, and moan makes me exponentially closer to exploding all over him.

“m-matt i feel it i’m-“ and he stops, i shoot him a confused look, attempting to get rid of the edge that’s holding me right now.

i rub my own clit, looking him in the eye and watch his breath hitch as i moan at my own self pleasure.

i almost manage to stick two fingers in myself, but before that happens he grabs my wrists, taking the pleasure from me yet again.

“i stopped because i want you to cum on my dick, can you do that for me?” he questions softly, rubbing his clothed erection on my pussy.

the feeling of it makes me buzz, “yes i can matt, fuck me,” i say in a mix of demanding and asking, and he removes himself from his black swim trunks and lets his throbbing dick spring out.

he pumps himself a few times before aligning up with my entrance. matt pushes himself in, lewd noises escaping from both of our mouths and bodies slapping against one another.

“yeah, take that shit baby. you’re doing so well.” he moans into my ear, his repeated statement of praise is music to me.

“you’re so beautiful, how can anyone be so perfect,” he breathes out, hard deep strokes becoming sloppier by the minute.

matt’s words cause me to hit dangerously close to cumming, and without warning i paint white all over his dick; but that doesn’t stop him”

“sorry i d-didn’t say it happened s-so fast,” i apologize as he keeps thrusting into me,

“mm don’t be sorry, you did just what i asked. i’m gonna cum too angel,”

“cum in me, matt”

he wastes no time arguing with me and releases shortly after into me; his and my own liquids leaking down my thigh.

i do my best to catch my breath, and he cups my face and presses a sweet kiss on my nose,

“i made a mess outta, you huh,” he laughs playfully, also trying to regain his own air.

i let out a tired laugh of my own “yeah, i’m gonna have to shower and go to bed; after all that, im surprisingly ready to sleep,” i tease and poke his chest, he drops his jaw pretending to be offended.

“yeah yeah, surprisingly, whatever. can i join you in that shower?” he suggests, handing me a towel before covering himself with one too.

“hm, only if you join me in my bed after,” i smile, wrapping my body in the soft material,

“deal,” he whispers, kissing my head, carrying me all the way to his bathroom, before grabbing my things and putting them on his bed.

except this time, it’s our bed.

[whyse7vn]

RFWF -

[ ot7 x reader ]

RM’s NUTS

8 participants - 8 online

———————————

jimin: right freak wrong freak

that’s what you should of called ur album joon

jk: rfwf

hobi: ok but who gonna match MY freak

tae: who wanna go band for band

jin: let’s go shower for shower

you first

tae: STOP SAYING THIS

yoongi: lollll

tae: girlfriend tell them i don’t smell fr

namjoon: all of you shut up

jk: rfwf

jimin: who matching joons freak

jin: a JAIL CELL i hope

hobi: cool but i asked first

does no one care about my freak 😔?

y/n: i care

jk: ME TOO ME TOO

hobi: thanks guys >.<

tae: talking about freak this riding that what happened to the namjoon who hugged trees and read books

jk: that’s really bad because how can he show love to the trees by hugging them giving them false security and hope to then go an cut them down to make books

tae: wait ur spitting rn

jk: not true that’s nasty i’ve said this before

namjoon: i have never hugged a tree

or cut one down

jin: cuz you’re too busy writing about riding

you disgust me

yoongi: good pussy

namjoon: can we not please

tae: joon when you said HE a pro rider what did you mean by that?

y/n: happy pride month!!!

jk: who is pride

hobi: joon was talking about tae

tae: WHY WOULD THE PRO RIDER BE ME??

I AM NOT OF RGB DECENT

jimin: didn’t you kiss jungkook

hobi: Lgb

tae: i take NO L’s

hobi: cuz you take DICK

y/n: LMAO

yoongi: tae the biggest dick rider to walk this earth

hobi: yoongi gets it

tae: HOW AM I A DICK RIDER???

hobi: if we think about this logically you dick riding y/n 24/7

tae: OK WHAT

SO ARE YOU THEN????

I WOULD ACTUALLY ARGUE THAT YOONGI DICK RIDES HER THE MOST

jin: tea

yoongi: shut up

jin: ok sorry

tae #1 dick rider

jk: i’m confused

jimin: i vote joons talking about tae

y/n: same

jk: still confused i thought y/n was girl

jin: jk close second but tae takes it

hobi: real

tae: wtf????

hobi: freak of all freaks!!

tae: ok whatever

fine

don’t care

jimin: you accepted that very easily

y/n: my little dick rider 😘

jk: me too please

tae: i mean as long as it’s y/ns dick i’ll fuck around and cream on that shit too like

no shame

y/n: there is something severely wrong with you

jin: wow

yoongi left “RM’s NUTS”

hobi: he takes everything too far

jimin: like

jk: ok i don’t know if i want to be a dick rider anymore

i don’t want to cream

namjoon: jungkook stop talking we are moving on

namjoon added yoongi to “RM’s NUTS”

tae: don’t act like you all wouldn’t cream on her shit too

yoongi left “RM’s NUTS”

namjoon: tae stop talking now

tae: whatever

jk: rfwf

hobi: definitely surpassed my freak

namjoon: y/n

y/n added yoongi to “RM’s NUTS”

yoongi: why

y/n: stay with the family yoongi

hobi: family 💜

jimin: we practice incest here

jk: insect

namjoon: really…

jimin: just saying she literally called us family and you just wrote a song about her riding you

jk: i thought it was about tae

tae: jungkook did it first

jk: i did NOT ride joon

namjoon: guys

jk: I DIDN’T @Y/N I DIDN’T

jimin: she did LMAO

tae: nuts wishes it was seven

namjoon: shut up

hobi: family 💜

yoongi: fuck ur family

jimin: i know a girl that does

y/n: are you mad i don’t fuck you or something???

jimin: LMAO

you wish

jin: WOAHHH

jk: nct wish

hobi: come on family let’s not 💜💜

y/n: trouble with taemin again sighs this is getting old jimin

jimin: don’t talk about taemin

y/n: don’t talk about who i fuck

namjoon: ok guys chill out

tae: hold on ur all typing so fast ohmygod

y/n: tell HIM to chill

jimin: just saying you are most definitely the root of like 95% of our issues as a group

hobi: my root came 2005

wait

jimin wtf??

namjoon: jimin take that back

yoongi: are you crazy??

jk: jimin that’s mean

jin: and unfair

tae: ???????????????

jimin: she fucks you guys knowing there are feelings involved and then acts like everything is normal when you’re all at each others throats

hobi: we would be at each others throats regardless of feelings or whatever

that’s just our dynamic no??

tae: throat talk kinda rgb guys

hobi: L

tae: don’t call me a loser the hell??

also wtf is jimin talking about

jimin: tell me i’m wrong

yoongi: you’re wrong.

jin: you need to back the fuck up jimin it takes two people to have sex you know idk why ur putting this all on her

jimin: i’m just saying

jk: maybe you should stop saying

yoongi: definitely

namjoon: ok seriously everyone needs to shut the fuck up right now this isn’t something we should be talking about now or over text

jimin: yeah you’re right because we SHOULD of had this conversation ages ago

namjoon: you’re pissing me off jimin and this doesn’t actually involve you stop talking

jimin: yeah and maybe that’s the fucking problem namjoon

namjoon: what are you trying to say right now?

jimin: nothing bye.

tae: are we fr fighting

jimin left “RM’s NUTS”

tae: ok we are fr fighting

why did no one tell me we were fr fighting

hobi: can you not read

tae: ok there were a lot of words on screen going very fast may i add and i can only take in what i can take in

y/n: so you took in the word throat

tae: don’t speak to me right now

jin: anways y/n ignore jimin he’s clearly going through something right now

don’t let what he said get to you we’ve talked about this ok?

namjoon: you have?

sorry not important yeah

what jin said

y/n: i know

jimin didn’t upset me it’s fine

yoongi: it’s okay if you were to be upset tho

like later

or something

y/n: yoongi

yoongi: sorry

y/n: i appreciate you

all of you but i’m honestly fine

i’m more concerned about jimin rn

that wasn’t like him

he clearly had something say and he’s normally one to speak his mind fully not just leave half way

jk: yeah :/

namjoon: i’ll talk to him

hobi: no i think i should

no offence or anything joon

just trust me on this one

namjoon: oh

ok

that’s cool yeah

let me know when you do

hobi: thank you

i will

jk: we were on our biggest no fighting streak

this sucks

hobi: i thinks that’s part of why he’s upset

yoongi: 🤨?

hobi: anyways i’ll talk to him

let you guys know

namjoon: cool so uh

jin: did you just type “so uh”

tae: namjoon personally i love it

so…uh

*puts hand behind head bashfully smiles*

hobi: johnny so uh

get it

like johnny suh

y/n: smash

namjoon: nice guy

jk: hobi pls don’t mention the enemy rn

hobi: didn’t you mention nct wish earlier??

what is the harm in mentioning johnny ://

jk: hobi he’s tall

like really tall

hobi: ok??

jin: remember when hobi punched jaehyun lmao

hobi: no moving on

yoongi: i would also smash johnny suh’s head in

tae: YOONGI WANNA SMASH A MANNNN

A BOYYY

MALE HE WANTS TO SMASH A DUDEEEE

RBG BOY RGB BOY

hobi: for the last time it’s lgbt fucking idiot

y/n: homophobia in june is crazy

tae: i’m just saying how it is

yoongi wanna smash johnny spread the word

yoongi: how about you kill yourself

tae: how about no

spread the word

like yoongi spreads his legs for johnny

jk: he’s 6’2 btw

y/n: why do you know that

tae: bet the height difference turns yoongi on real bad

namjoon: okay stop

jk: joon you say stop a lot and nobody stops most of the time so why do you continue to say stop when it is uneffectuve

namjoon: don’t talk to me

jk: oh :c

jin: namjoons stop worked like 2 times today so this is actually a win for joon

tae: yeah the first 2 times in 74 years

hobi: LMAO

jk: i thought joon was 34

namjoon: i’m not even 30 yet

hobi: LOOLLLLLL

namjoon: stop laughing at me

shouldn’t you be talking to jimin rn

hobi: i said i would talk to jimin meaning i would talk to him in the near future further meaning not right now because i don’t want to be verbally assaulted and or blocked

gotta let him cool down you know how he is

namjoon: yeah okay makes sense

cool

going to bed

keep me posted on jimin

hobi: of course

namjoon: gn all

y/n: night joonie ^3^

jk: gn!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hobi: night

tae: it’s like 6 tf

jin: it’s 11:45 pm

tae: ok clock wtf

i said it’s like 6 not that it’s actually 6

jin: next time i see you i’m punching you in the face

goodnight namjoon

tae: WOAH??? GUYS ARE YOU SEEING THIS RN????

yoongi: thumbs up emoji

tae: jin just threatened me can we all care rn

jk: i care

tae: you care about the turtles right to freedom of speech

jk: they should be able to speak

tae: you’re a care WHORE

you care for everything

you’re care is worthless overused skirted out

jk: but it’s still care 😢

tae: used and abused care

jk: 😥😢😭

tae: @y/n do you care

y/n: no

yoongi why did you type out ur emoji

yoongi: couldn’t be asked to look for the emoji in the thing

hobi: wait that’s so real fire emoji praying hands emoji dance emoji

yoongi: thumbs up emoji

jk: how do i unwhoreify my care guys

tae: @hobi do you care

hobi: i am done communicating with you today

tae: @yoongi do you care

yoongi: middle finger emoji

—

#nopeacealllove

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @earth2ela @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @seokmyballs @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @meowgiz @jmnscutie @threeopossumsinacoat @cynicalyoongs @lightningpussy54 @eunthv @gigiiiiislife @lowkeykin @iammeandmeisiam @socksfirstalways @knjlvr06 @lailaisarmy @thvkives @xstfudaisyx @xxxanimangxxx @solstice34 @ml8dy @hoeforseoks @futuristicenemychaos @featjunranghae @jksgirlfrl

[sweetteainthesummerx]

THE LOVE LASTS SO LONG (blurb 2)

the wedding bells ring!!

series masterlist

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

dior.n.goodjohn posted

dior.n.goodjohn still in shock that the baddest baddie is off the market 😫 congrats to my best friend, partner in crime and the most talented woman on earth

tagged: aubreyyang, alexandrasaintmleux, oliviarodrigo, lilymhe, leahsavajeffries

liked by aubreyyang, olliebearman and 78,112 others

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aubreyyang I LOVE YOU I cant wait to have u as my maid of honour

oliviarodrigo stop the last photo turned out so good!!

olliebearman who's that baddie in the first slide wow

-- dior.n.goodjohn ur so luck that she walks you like a dog

-- user1 BYEEE she clocked him w that one

aubreybearmanxx THE CONTENT WE ARE ABOUT TO RECEIVE

user2 her having the girls but also Ollies little sister in her bridal party is everythingg

dinobeganovic_ posted

dinobeganovic_ letting the man have one more wild night (we knocked Oscar into the ocean) before being tied down forever (we confiscated his phone because he kept trying to text Aubrey)

liked by charles_leclerc, arthurleclerc and 56,384 others

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aubreyyang my mans devoted what can I say 😘

-- olliebearman love you babe

-- landonorris can't believe their letting kids get married

-- olliebearman ur like 5 years older than me

-- landonorris I said what I said

-- aubreyfanpage22 they went public and now they have no shame 😨

oscarpiastri anything for my brothers big night

-- user3 girl the f1 friend group is another level

user4 OH THEYRE ALL SO FINEEE

lilymhe posted

lilymhe big day for my best girl

Aubrey, the first time I met you, you were 17 and out of your first relationship. It pained me to see someone who held so much love in their heart to be hurt. Now, 6 year later you've found the man of your dreams who treats you like a queen. I'm the proudest big sister 🤍

tagged: aubreyyang, alexandrasaintmleux, oliviarodrigo, dior.n.goodjohn, leahsavajeffries

liked by i.am.charliebushnell, dallasliu and 83,002 others

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user4 im crying sm they're perfect for each other the haters can shut up

morganfreeman my little girl is all grown

-- aubreyyang MORGAN THANK YOU FOR COMING

aubreyyang lily ilysm words cant describe how grateful I am for your wisdom and company its helped my relationship so much

alexalbon our daughters so old

-- user5 this is so wholesome

--pastryboii33 ever since Oscar made that joke the grid has become an interconnected weave of familial ties

aubreyyang & olliebearman posted

aubreyyang & olliebearman mr. and mrs. bearman

liked by mckennagraceful, zendaya and 201,998 others

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user6 OH THEYRE SO BEAUTIFUL

aubreyyangfan1 the real ones know the soft launching days

user7 aren't they kinda young

-- olliebearmancontectts they're 24 and 26 so no not really

lewishamilton congrats!

terribearman welcome to the family!

-- aubreyyang ty mama bearman xx

user8 just watched their wedding video AND I SOBBED

aubreyyang posted

aubreyyang got married to the loml, anyways how was your weekend?

tagged: olliebearman

liked by walkerscobell, lilymhe and 99,923 others

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user9 ABSOLUTE ICON

f1tracks00 the sheer amount of fame at this wedding

-- user10 who was there

-- f1tracks the whole grid, aubreys current and past costars (Morgan freeman, Michelle Yeoh, dallas liu, Mckenna grace, the whole Percy jackson cast) and like hella celebrities

charles_leclerc shoutout to LEC for catering the dessert

-- alexandrasaintmleux babe not the smalls promotion rn

alexandrasaintmelux the most beautiful bride

olliebearman posted

olliebearman my beautiful bride

tagged: aubreyyang

liked by scuderiaferrari, oscarpiastri and 92,105 others

view all comments

scuderiaferrari congrats to the prince and princess of Ferrari!

-- user11 wow she is so ethereal

-- olliebearman ikr

-- user11 BYE WHAT R U DOING HERE

aubreyyang my handsome groom

ollieyangg92 the way ollie was crying when she was walking down the aisle

-- user12 AND THEIR VOWS LOVE REALLY EXISTS

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

Taglist: @callsignwidow @iloveyou3000morgan @honethatty12 @taygrls @destinyg237 @ilivbullyingjeongin @eiaaasamantha @1uvsptnik @yla-aira @ririyulife

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[terry-perry]

Out of Business

Pairing: Alastor x Carmine!Reader

The next part of this

Tags: @mysterypotatoink @lokis-imaginary-friend @lonelysimp18 @readergirlstuff @amyking300 @for-hearthand-home @wonderlandfandomkingdom @purple-umbrella-girl @saccharine-nectarine @monomas-girl @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog @junieshohoho @yourmom132 @thebreadisthetruevillian

He lurked in the background, observing the lovely doe before him grazing on grass. She was a sweet thing that was none the wiser of his presence as he slowly snuck up towards her.

He did his best to muffle the static radiating off him. He was normally able to keep it under control, but lately, he'd been out of sorts. He could deny it as much as he wanted, but everyone knew what was happening. Further proof came in how he spotted the markings of a nearby tree as he got closer to the doe, leading him to release an audible growl, alerting the doe of his presence.

It was too late for her, however, since a large, dark tentacle pierced her middle, killing her in an instant. He pounced on the carcass and took a giant chunk of it by ripping it with his teeth. For the majority of the time, he isn't so primal with his food and takes his time with it. That day and the past few had him unreasonably angry at everyone and everything.

He was mad at Carmilla for speaking with him, Y/N for not giving him a chance to explain himself, and at himself for letting her go. At that moment, he was mad at what was carved on the tree, which now looked over him and made him feel more judged for his recent actions.

It didn't help that he still remembered how the markings got there...

Months ago...

"Husker, my good man! I need you to serve only the finest bottle of wine tonight, you hear?!"

Everyone was caught off guard by Alastor's presence, seeing him trudge down the hotel stairs more animated than usual.

"I want things to be 100% top-notch this evening for me and my gal,"

"Aww, Alastor," Charlie approached him at the bar with curiosity and intrigue. "Do you have a friend stopping by?"

"Suppose you can say that," Alastor replied, still practically beaming as his shadow was conjured up with a mirror so he could adjust his bowtie and spruce up his hair. "I'm inviting a special someone to the hotel. Someone I've grown accustomed to after spending time with her."

"Oh shit! Am I hearing things right?!" Angel was the next to approach Alastor after hearing this bombshell. "Big, scary Alastor found someone he's willing to get it on with?"

Alastor snapped his head away from his reflection to glare at Angel, but it was only a second or two before regaining his composure. "I wouldn't put it so crudely, but yes. I have been courting someone."

Charlie practically squealed upon hearing the news. "That's great! I'm so happy to hear such news! She must be quite special to get you so happy and want to make this a lovely night for you both."

"Special, or out of her fuckin' mind..." Husk grumbled from the bar so only Vaggie, who joined the rest of the group, could hear and silently nodded in agreement.

"Thank you, my dear. I do request one thing. My lady love is a very private person and would rather keep our relationship under wraps for the time being. I assume you all can refrain from any gossip that can be conjured from our romance."

"Of course! Your secret is safe-"

"Why exactly do we need to keep this a secret?" Vaggie interrupted her girlfriend to offer the usual suspicion she reserved just for him. "You're not trying to rope us into some shady business, are you?"

Alastor refrained from rolling his eyes. She was always so distrustful.

His relationship with Y/N might've started as a potential business and a possible deal, especially since it was so easy to capture her heart so her soul would've been no problem. The more time spent with her, however, it instead was slowly turning into something else - something dearer that left him so unsure. Instead of him getting something out of her, he always made sure she'd want for absolutely nothing, no soul required.

He wondered how he could've gone through life and death not knowing such an endearing, trusting darling. She was kind and gentle but didn't possess any of the bubbly naivete Charlie did. She was not only aware of where they were but also came from a family of assailants and weapons dealers who raised her to be alert and to fend for herself. He both feared and admired that along with how she accepted him for who he was and never judged the darkest parts of himself.

It was all so new and a bit alarming, whatever this was. He just knew he had to keep a good hold on it--

----

Alastor's thoughts were interrupted by a tapping at his door. No doubt Charlie chose to stop by to check on him after he charged back to the hotel a few days ago, after his fallout with Y/N.

It wasn't the princess' dulcet tones that implored him, however, after some insistent knocking. Instead, Alastor heard a more unwelcoming voice that under more proper circumstances he'd find entertaining.

"Alastor?" Vaggie continued to call out to him outside his room. "Come on, let me in. We need to talk."

[zzoguri]

finger trapped (ripped to its seams) ➵ myung jaehyun

myung jaehyun x reader

with an unexpected reunion, you and jaehyun relive the memories of cheongju—and confront what could’ve been between you two.

general genre/warnings ➵ friends to almost lovers, angst, fluff, gender neutral reader, some depressive and insecure thoughts, hurt/comfort, the last five years story-telling method (aka present will be told going backwards while past will be told moving forward… i hope that makes sense), brief mention of blood from picking on your skin, tiger parents so… parental issues, both of you come from cheongju for the sake of the story, unexpected reunion, keeping secrets & lying, jealousy remains but love triumphs, journalist reader (u kno i had to do it), reader is a nerd and jaehyun is a student-athlete, kms jokes from jongseob (all /lh), finger traps aren’t efficient after all

word count ➵ 15.7k words

playlist ➵ end of beginning by djo // high school in jakarta by niki // i know it won’t work by gracie abrams // no big deal (i love you) by dodie // keeping tabs by niki // no one knows by stephen sanchez & laufey // so what now by reneé rapp // i wish i hated you by ariana grande // the 1 by taylor swift // seasons by wave to earth

a/n ➵ it's finally out! this work is so so personal to me on so many levels so i hope you all love and treat this fic with care :')) for the bitches who struggle with parents and dreams.... this one's for you (i am in the same boat) i appreciate everyone who's been so patient and looking forward to this fic's release. you can access the changmin & hanbin vers as well! please do reblog and leave feedback!!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

present -> three weeks after the interview, 2024

the newsroom never sleeps. the rings of landlines and clacks of keyboards bounce off the four walls. through light bulbs or sunshine, light continues to remain. and at every corner, a journalist stands—ready to enter the depths of slumber but remain on their toes as they await for an update on their unraveling story.

but the newsroom is rarely busy unless there’s a major nationwide event, election season or the super bowl to name a few, for most journalists are out to discover what the world has to offer.

knowledge doesn’t only come from the chitchat of your coworkers. it’s only on the field that you’ll hear of hearsay and testimonies. after all, the choice to probe rests on your shoulders.

“there’s a typo over there.”

“huh? where?”

“over here,” you mumble as your finger darts to point at a section on the screen. “it’s supposed to say “with their climactic performance,” not climatic.”

“ah, i see it now. sorry about that,” lee jihoon of digital development says as he corrects the error. his hair is disheveled from the hood that once perched on his head during the night he spent in the newsroom. you would’ve scolded the guy—go home and take a shower before you stink up the place—but you are no better, grouped with the other journalists who stayed up in the office.

“there we go. should be all good. now, are you ready to go through the profiles?”

an exhausted chuckle departs from your lips. “yeah, let’s go—”

“what’s the update?” life and arts editor kim namjoon—your editor—comes to you with a smile.

the grey hoodie he wears paired with comfortable jeans shows that he’s a little relaxed. for once, you don’t see him on his phone, battling the deadlines or getting pitched stories by the other editors. it’s a nice sight but one that won’t last for long.  

“we just finished going through the article about the group, so we still have yet to go through the profiles.” jihoon then looks at you. “i can’t believe you basically wrote seven articles. like, six profiles and one main article is a lot. you didn’t want to work on it with anyone else?”

once namjoon stands beside you, you bump your shoulder against his figure. “i didn’t have a choice, did i?” it’s a rhetorical question but one your editor still chooses to answer.

“unfortunately, we’re understaffed, but it seemed like you got the hang of it. i wouldn’t have trusted anyone else to do it.” namjoon shoots you a smile before redirecting his attention back to jihoon. “and as much as i’d love to tell y/n more, we have to pick up the pace.” without any further questions, the three of you resume with work. 

there’s no time to waste in the journalism industry. still, his praise doesn’t go unnoticed. 

one article turned into eight done in a matter of 30 minutes, all with the help of three pairs of eyes to go through them. (namjoon seemed to carry the heavy lifting. after all, the guy was trained to be quick in reading and spotting errors.)

it should’ve been easy to keep up with your editor for all the other articles; you know each profile like the back of your hand.

then, the face of a boy who you once knew sits on the screen.

his gaze seems to pierce through your soul, almost in the same way you last talked to him. the loose ends of composure slip through your fingers; your breath’s stuck in your throat as the hammering of your heart fills your ears. yet, he stands still on the monitor.

as your eyes drift through the passages you’ve written, every sound is drowned out. the voice of your editor fades like the everchanging seasons and the clicks of the keyboard resemble the sobs you let out in the comfort of your childhood room.

and suddenly, the hands of the clock have turned all the way back to 2019. the cubicles transformed into aisles of chips and instant ramen, and you hear mr. kim’s voice in the distance—i have some hotteok! fresh from the pan! but amidst it all, you hear the giggles of the boy, your best friend, as he rushes towards you—i’ll go audition and make you proud. as your arm is wrapped with the heat of his fingers, you almost believe that your life as a journalist is nothing but a dream—

“i knew him.” the illusion disappears within a blink of an eye. namjoon’s eyes snap towards you and jihoon stops scrolling through the website. “we went to the same high school.”

you aren’t sure why you revealed that to your coworkers, let alone your boss. it’s an old memory—your weight to carry. before you can apologize for disrupting their work, namjoon’s hand rests on your shoulder, his thumb drawing shapes into it. when you look over at him, you’re greeted by his smile. it resembles your bed after a long day of work or a slow day at the newsroom.

but it never lives up to him, whose giggles resemble nature’s symphonies. the two shots of espresso you need at the start of the day once came in the form of his warm embrace. most of all, his smile is enough to illuminate the world even through the strongest storms and times when power went out.

for the remaining articles, not a single word leaves you. before you know it, all seven articles were ready to go up on the web.

“that’s all of it. should i still schedule them to go up around 12 p.m.?” jihoon notes as he saves the drafts.

“yeah, 12 p.m. still sounds good. thanks a lot.” namjoon nudges his shoulder before looking over to you. “let’s talk in my office.”

you don’t question his orders. once namjoon takes off, you follow him all the way to his office. as he swings the door open, you are met with the familiar sight of his workspace. hues of green and brown mix, where nature and art meet within the space of corporate.

once namjoon takes a seat on his chair, you find your spot across from him. his eyes stare off to the window. for a moment, you’re not sure what to expect from this impromptu meeting.

seconds pass and not a single word has been said—

“this place’s always alive,” your editor breaks the silence. “don’t you think so?”

you follow his line of sight. busy seoul never changes; the skyscrapers pollute the sky and the people never sleep, off to work or off to party.

“where’d you grow up again?”

you look back at namjoon whose eyes still remain locked on the city. “cheongju.”

he hums. “i haven’t been there. nice place?”

“yeah, but i haven’t gone back in a while.”

“when was the last time?” his eyes finally meet yours.

your teeth grasp the inside of your cheek. “2019, since i first left,” you admit. 

“do you miss it?”

you’re not sure how to answer. the pavements you’ve scraped your knees against and the walls your laughs bounced off of—do you miss them all? or is the reason behind your laughter and scabs the one you long for?

“is that why you were hesitant about interviewing them?” namjoon’s thumbs fiddle with each other. “because of your history with him?”

now, you stare at your linked hands. maybe the silence from you is enough to answer his question but you know namjoon would never settle for a soundless answer.

“i—i’m not a good person. and even if i didn’t make the choice to leave, i—” you hold yourself back. your fingers start to pick on the skin around your thumbs, peeling it so blood can spill. 

“it’s okay, i understand. you don’t have to share it with me.” your eyes drift back to namjoon, spotting a small smile that rests on his face. “it must’ve been hard to relive it all.”

the bond you have with namjoon is one that you hold close to your heart. through his mentorship, you got to learn about what it means to be a writer. the fears of being a journalist would loom over you, where questions of salary and demanding work hours would occupy your mind, but namjoon became someone who would absolve them all. he became a pillar in your life, one that provides you hope and comfort within the industry.

“so, don’t feel pressured to talk about it. but if you ever want to open up about it, then i’ll be here.”

namjoon’s giving you an exit. are you willing to take it?

you cross your arms as you lean back into the chair. “you know how i was a science major then?”

“yeah, i remember looking over your resume. and then i saw that you were part of your university’s publication.”

your tongue pushes against the inside of your cheek. “i would’ve gotten some job in that field, like, i had it lined up for me.”

“really? like lab coat and all?”

as namjoon attempts to hold back his laugh over the image, you chuckle along. “yeah, lab coat and all! it’s crazy how my life was all set for that field, but i’m here now.” you look down at your arms. “i think just facing him in a completely different field that i once used to imagine with him was just strange. but i think hearing his answers really did it for me.”

namjoon nods at your words. “care to have lunch with me?” your eyes snap back to your editor. “i’m guessing you want to talk about it, after all.”

all you do is smile before getting off your seat.

spring of 2019

the season of spring has graced cheongju; the sun gleams in the expanse of blue and birds perched on tree branches sing their songs. it’s the perfect season to embrace the wonders of the town.

while it would be a delight to bask under the returning warmth, you’re stuck within the walls of the classroom, head resting on crossed arms. 

still, the lilacs have yet to bloom.

“y/n.” you quickly sit up before your eyes settle on your adviser, ms. jeon, who stands in front of the classroom. “let’s take attendance.”

with that, you’re beside her as you call out each name on the class list. it’s a quick process of saying your classmates’ names for them to respond in variations of “present,” until you reach the section of last names that start with an ‘m’.

“myung jaehyun.” no response.

you rip your eyes off the piece of paper, only met with your classmates who either look at each other in confusion or spaced out in their own worlds.

“myung jaehyun?” when you’re met with the same reaction, you’re ready to mark the student absent—

“sorry!” the doors slam open. a boy clad in a white polo and jogging pants is panting by the entrance, covered in sweat as he rests on the edge of it. “sorry, i’m late.”

“oh, it’s okay! you arrived just in time.” ms. jeon smiles at the tardy student. as you watch him take a seat, his eyes lock with yours, but your adviser nudges you before saying, “y/n, proceed.”  

myung jaehyun made his name a few years back at a competition. the applause and roars from the crowd marked his spot in the school. others describe his movement as of cranes, standing in the middle of a pond as they do their best to minimize forming any ripples, or of elephants, swaying their trunks with control like no other.

but he’s a versatile dancer; nothing can truly capture him.

once you’ve finished marking the attendance, you go back to your seat. you’re ready to start the day with no bother but you can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

“now, you can see in these,” your art teacher, ms. park, points to the screen showcasing works from her favorite contemporary artists like kwon yongju and félix gonzález-torres, “that there are no borders to what constitutes art. and that’s not wrong because we have to recognize that art comes in different forms as we progress, from traditional painting and sculptures to digital ones.”

this field isn't your strong suit. with a greater understanding of the sciences, you struggle to create anything that could be on par with the works of any artist. yet, you enjoyed learning about every piece that your teacher shared, like unfolding and admiring something you know you can never replicate or create. still, the universe decides that they have other plans for you.

“as i mentioned before, i’ll be giving you time to work on your final assessment, which is to create an artwork for the class exhibit. for this deliverable, i’m asking that your work will be a collaborative one, meaning you aren’t working alone.” in a sea of chatter, some groans exit your classmates. “remember, inspiration doesn’t come from your own bubble! take this as your opportunity to create something that you’ve never imagined.”

within a split second, students are off their seats as they attempt to find a partner to work with. you, however, were struggling to think of who you could team up with. admittedly, you have a very different work style compared to others—even baek jiheon, aspiring valedictorian, didn’t enjoy working with you. she turned every activity into a competition against you. (you didn’t enjoy her, either.) while you’re considering shamefully going up to your classmates like a stray dog looking for anyone willing to care for them—

“hi!” in front of you stands the tardy student of today, all smiles as his hands find comfort in the pockets of his jogging pants. “do you have a partner already?”

with furrowed eyebrows, you can’t help but look him up and down. “no, why?”

“well,” jaehyun looks around the classroom, “everyone seems to have paired up except for us.” as his eyes drift back to you, he flashes you a smile, one that shows the dips engraved into his cheeks. “which leaves me to ask if you would like to work with me for this.”

you don’t have a choice. ms. park would never bend the rules for you. if anything, she would find a way to pair you with another student who would dread the idea of working with you. (“i’m sure they won’t mind being partners with you, right?” is what she would ask the poor student, only to be met with their retreat.)

“unless we accept a failing mark, which i’m sure we both don’t want.” it’s not like jaehyun had a choice as well.

“okay.” with one word, light fills his eyes, enough to resemble the starlight that grazes your skin every night. “we can meet and discuss our schedules, especially because i’ve got ap stat, and you have, uhm,” a cough leaves you, “training, i’m assuming, or rehearsals. i don’t really know what you call them.”

his eyebrows shoot up as his mouth parts open. “o—oh, yeah. i usually have training after class until 8 p.m. on tuesdays, thursdays, and saturdays.”

“same. my classes are until 7 p.m. on tuesdays and thursdays, so maybe we can use the other days to work together?”

with one nod from him, his dimples reappear. “great! i’ll see you tomorrow.”

before you know it, everyone finds their way back to their seats for ms. park’s final reminders. you do your best to pay attention to every announcement, jotting down every word on your planner and planning out your agenda for the upcoming weeks. yet, your eyes seem to have a mind of their own as they drift back to the boy who discreetly passes notes to hwang intak, another dancer on the team, all while listening to the teacher.

you don’t notice how long you spend staring at jaehyun until he turns to meet your gaze. in that split second, you look at each other—then, embarrassment washes over you. you shift your attention back to ms. park. as you drum your fingers against the desk, mentally kicking yourself over the interaction, you still can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

you look back at jaehyun; he’s still looking at you.

his dimples make their reappearance before he looks back at ms. park. you do the same as you attempt to listen to her ramble about banksy’s works. 

(you’re still thinking about the dips in his cheeks.)

the first time you get to meet with jaehyun for the project happens the following week. you two had different commitments to attend to, whether it be other projects or training. and while you would usually settle to meet in the school library or a cafe nearby, you find yourself inside the empty gymnasium, sitting on bleachers while your partner stands in front of mirrors.

“don’t you think it would be nice to combine our hobbies together?”

your pencil taps against the notebook. “like, your dancing? with what?”

“whatever you like to do!” once he makes his way to you, he leans on the row in front of you with crossed arms. “i mean, do you have anything you like to do during your free time?”

a scoff leaves you. “funny of you to assume that i have free time.”

“what’s your schedule like?”

“well, i have our classes and ap ones, then kumon at night.”

jaehyun reels at the thought of your schedule. “that’s brutal. the last time i had kumon was back in grade 4.”

“yeah, but i’m sure yours is busy as well. the amount of time that you put into training is…” his eyes are wide, hanging on your words. it’s the hope they hold that has you say, “admirable.”

a shy smile takes over his features. “yeah, but it’s only because my family is supportive of what i do.”

then, limbs whose color resembles the void slither their way to your heart, wrapping around it while the organ struggles to beat; it’s a slow process but an unending hole that will birth from it. yet, you do your best to fight off these limbs, unraveling them one by one in hopes it will give up—until you settle for shaking them off.

you only muster out a hum.

“do you have anything you like to do during those short breaks?”

your lips trill. “i don’t know. watch something on youtube?”

his cheeks puff up, stuck in his thoughts as he tries to navigate this project—and you—until his eyes glint. “what do you do when you want to vent?”

“you sure have a lot of questions,” you comment, trying to hold back a chuckle at his curiosity. “i can just adjust to you. maybe attempt to draw, picture, or even film you.”

his eyebrows furrow. “but that wouldn’t make it collaborative. i want us to work on something that aligns with what we do.”

a beat passes.

he holds your gaze. “i want us to create something that shows us.”

inside you, a gong is struck; its sound reverberates throughout your body, from the crown of your forehead to the tips of your toes. then, silence seeps in—a moment only for you and him.

“i, uh, write,” you whisper as your eyes shift to the notebook resting on your lap.

“really? like, stories and poetry?”

you nod. “i like writing people’s stories more, but i do like making ones.” when you look back at jaehyun, his eyes are still filled with curiosity. “i would, like, find interviews online and try to make my own, sort of, uhm—god this is embarrassing. forget about it.”

“huh? no, it isn’t!” he attempts to reassure your shrunken figure. “i mean, you don’t have to share more if you really don’t want to, but i’d like to hear more about it.” and when his dimples appear, you almost can’t help but feel your face warm up.

“i’d make articles, i guess?” he nods along with your words. “i don’t know, it’s just interesting to hear about people’s lives and kind of create something out of it, and i like thinking about all the possibilities of who would love to hear them. like, don’t you think that some of the stories that we read hold fragments of someone?”

“that’s an interesting way to look at it.”

as you doodle on your notebook, you say, “yeah, it’s just fun to hear these stories and maybe create something out of it. or even think of stories that i could never live out, you know?” you expect yourself to be met with the bored face of jaehyun but his eyes remain on you.

“what if you interview me?”

your eyebrows shoot up. “you?”

“yeah,” he stands up before walking up to your row, finding a spot beside you. “think of me as your first interviewee if you want.”

the sudden suggestion has you stumbling over your words. “huh? b—but, i don’t have questions prepared. and how does this help our project?” 

when his arms brush against yours, you start to become aware of the distance between your shoulders—and his face from yours. warmth spreads throughout your body, almost like you’re about to have a fever. once his open hand rests near yours, you don’t know what he’s asking.

“let me draw it out for you.” you hand him your pencil and notebook, allowing him to see your doodles. (you don’t miss his grin.) “you know, with that article you make, we can cut it up and create something out of it.” a roughly drawn sketch of a boy posed in the middle of a dance move now rests on the page. “i don’t know if a collage would be okay.”

as you think about what can be done, you perch your chin on your palm. “we can do papercut art? basically, it’s cutting up the article in a way to form an image.”

“oh, that sounds cool!”

“yeah, but the only challenge is that we can only use one piece of paper.” a sigh leaves you. “it would be impossible for me to even do that.”

“that’s why you have me.” his small smile causes wind chimes to ring. (you’re positive you heard them, even if there were no such things in the gymnasium.)

he continues to sketch out the layout of your joint artwork. “how do we feel about this?” on the paper, there are two boxes beside the figure, where one is labeled as “photo of me” while the other is labeled “an article by y/n.” your head tilts. “it’ll be a three-set piece. so, it’ll be a photo of me and your article, and in between is the papercut art that we’ll make.”

you hum. “you know, you’re very creative.” you look at him only to see that he’s been staring at you. “like, you’re inclined to the arts. i wouldn’t have been able to think of something like this.”

“you’re just as creative,” he argues back as he writes down something.

you shake your head before retorting, “jaehyun, you’re very talented. i’ve seen the way you dance,” his movements halt, “and you’re like no other dancer i’ve seen. if you ever try out to be an idol, i’m sure you’d do great, maybe end up on the list of the best dancers in the industry.”

but he shakes his head, going back to writing on your notebook and shutting down your compliments. you decide to not push.

“i can get the photo sometime during my training,” he says as he hands you your notebook.

“then i can have the questions sometime this week. for the article, i can have it done maybe four days after the interview. how does wednesday, after school, sound for the interview?”

he shoots you a smile before standing up from his seat. “that’s perfect! i’m looking forward to meeting journalist y/n.” you can’t help but scoff at what he calls you. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you shake your head. “it’s just a silly name.” because the reality is that you had your future planned out—and it definitely didn’t involve that field.

he shrugs. “i don’t know, i think it would fit you.”

“but you haven’t read any of my works.”

“but i want to root for you in the same way you do for me. i don’t want you to feel ashamed of your works.” a fire ignites in your heart; it’s a fireplace.

you’re baffled that jaehyun, out of all people, now holds your secret, but you’re even astounded over the idea of him supporting you. you almost can’t remember the last time you heard such words of support. is it genuine or nothing but a facade?

“anyway, i’ve got to go. i need to catch up on some homework.” while you shoot him a nod, his dimples make their appearance once more. “i’ll see you tomorrow!” as he takes off, you’re left in the gymnasium with your opened notebook and unlocked heart. you look back down at his sketch surrounded by your doodles, but you don’t miss his little note—cute doodles btw <3

the season of spring has unfolded in cheongju; a single lilac has bloomed.

present -> a day before the interview, 2024

it’s a late night on a tuesday, about to be a midnight wednesday, and you’re in a convenience store as you scout for your dinner. all hauled up in the newsroom, the idea of ordering food during a time where restaurants would still be open slipped your mind. now, you’re left to scan through the same options you’ve eaten for the past years since you started living in seoul.

the convenience clerks are familiar with you, both kim jongseob and kim jiwoo. with your constant late-night meals at the store, you’d talk to whichever one had a shift. jongseob is saving up to upgrade his setup at home to record more music. with all the stories he shares about his time in underground rap battles along with the short verses he’s performed for you, you’re positive that he’ll get signed to a label soon. as for jiwoo, this is one of the many jobs she has in order to save enough money for fashion school. you’ve seen her sketches and outfits she’s put together and you’re hoping that she’ll get accepted.

a sigh leaves you. you didn’t have a problem with eating the food here but you were craving for something new in your life in seoul. the perpetual cycle of eating takeout food and unconsciously skipping meals for work needed to be disrupted just for a moment. but you weren’t seeking michelin-star food—all you wanted was something home cooked. something from home.

the spice of tteokbokki, the burn of freshly fried hotteok, and the sweetness of homemade peach iced tea—mr. kim’s convenience store had it all.

your tastebuds long for cheongju.

“planning to beat your record of spending 23 minutes on deciding what to get?”

you roll your eyes before looking to your right, seeing jongseob stock up the drinks in the fridge. “i hate you.”

“what? i’m just saying, you’re taking a lot longer to decide today.” he chuckles before placing the last bottle of sweetened probiotic milk in the fridge. “none of the options look good to you?”

“sort of,” you hum before you scan through the aisle of packaged meals. “i think i’m craving for something different.”

“i get it. the food here can get boring, which is why i’m planning to order pizza if you want to split the costs.”

your eyebrows shoot up at jongseob’s suggestion. “really? you’d share pizza with me?”

“yeah, as long as you pay for your share.” he shoots you a smile before grabbing on a trolley carrying empty boxes. “unless… you want to pay for the whole thing.”

you bite back a smile as you shake your head. you should’ve known the guy would ask you to buy him food, but you knew that he needed the money and you at least had a stable income to keep you comfortable. “fine,” jongseob’s smile grows as you fish out your wallet from your pocket and pull out a couple of bills. “just order enough for us two.” 

“of course,” he says as soon as you hand him some money. “i’ll make sure to order the most expensive thing on the menu.”

you scoff at his joke. “just make sure to treat me to something.”

the bell by the door chimes. “sorry, can’t hear you over that! need to attend to a customer!” jongseob dashes away from you while dragging the trolley. that little shit just knew how to press your buttons, but you love the kid, anyway.

still, you stand in the middle of the mart and your heart longs for home.

then, you shut your eyes, and you’re transported back in front of the familiar aisle filled with bags of potato chips and sweet corn. the noisy fan along with the soft sounds of mr. kim’s korean drama fills your ears. a mix of yellow and orange hues paint every corner of the mart, including you—and you’re not alone.

your best friend stands on your right, wearing the unbuttoned school uniform polo over a tank top along with jogging pants. he’s lost in thought as he scans through the options of snacks you two can have for today’s afternoon. he starts to giggle to himself, probably from a silly thought he’ll share with you in the next second or a memory involving you, and the dips in his cheeks appear—your heart thumps in your ears.

and just like how quickly you were transported back to cheongju, your surroundings transformed into the cool-lit convenience store found in seoul. all you have left is the image of him bathed in the sunlight.

but he fades away like the ink on old receipts, never gone, because the glowing image of him warps into a different version who stands next to you in the cold mart. he’s grown a few inches taller and his hair doesn’t get in the way of his line of sight. while he wears a green sweater, you notice that he’s gained some muscles. his eyes scan through the aisle behind you filled with different brands of instant ramen.

but he bites the inside of his cheek and his dimples appear.

it’s a tornado that brews within you, enough to uproot trees and displace buildings, all because of an unexpected reunion with jaehyun. why did the universe decide to bring two ex-best friends on a random tuesday night? what brings him to the convenience store at the same time you’re there? and why did it have to happen a day before the interview?

you weren’t going to commit the same mistake; keep your eyes off of him and make your way out of the store. it didn’t matter if you had an empty, growling stomach, or gave free money to jongseob. you need to leave without the distant, familiar face noticing.

your feet act fast, and you're almost certain that might’ve caught his attention, but it didn’t matter as you see jongseob standing behind the cashier with his phone out. “i just ordered the pizza. it should arrive in about… 20 to 30 minutes.”

“yeah, about that…”

“don’t tell me you’re taking your money back.”

at the sight of jongseob’s pout, you roll your eyes. “no, keep it. i just—i need to go.”

“what? why?”

you peek behind you. it seems like he didn’t recognize you, after all. “i’ve got… work!”

“but don’t you only have your interview with boynext—”

“hey!” your fingers snap at him. “you cannot—i mean, you just… just take the goddamn money.”

“but we’re supposed to share the pizza. you haven’t eaten.”

an exasperated sigh leaves you. “jongseob, just treat me next time. i can eat at home.”

and you’re ready to leave the convenience store, bid farewell to jongseob and a delicious pizza made for two, and never greet or say goodbye to the living fragment of what you last know of cheongju—

“y/n?”

and the plan failed.

when you meet his gaze, you’re able to take in the different version of him. he’s grown so much—it’s such a pain that you weren’t there to witness it. his eyes are a pool of emotions; you can’t identify them.

all it takes is one breath from you. “jaehyun.”

a beat passes.

“i’m just gonna… go through the storage,” jongseob points his thumb at the back of the mart, “and maybe kill myself afterwards. i don’t know.” before you can protest, he’s already gone. (and he still has your money. that fucker.)

you and jaehyun were once painted with the hues of the sun. this reunion is tainted with blue.

jaehyun’s fingers tense up, almost as if he was hesitating—debating—on how to approach you. his body would waver, but he never took a step towards you. “i… i wasn’t expecting to meet you here.” 

“same here.” you lean your back against the checkout counter. “d—do you stay around this part of the city?”

he shakes his head. “i live around 15, maybe 20, minutes away from here. i’m only here because…” your breath gets caught in your throat. “i don’t know.”

fate. that’s what brought us here.

“do you live here?”

you nod. “yeah, ever since—” the sentence never gets completed; you and him already know.

for a moment, sorrow flashes in his eyes, but a smile shows up. the dimples don’t appear. “i, uh, i was going to get something from here but it seems like your friend is busy.”

“sorry about jongseob.” you whip out your phone and scold him through text. “he should be with us in a bit.”

jaehyun hums before walking to the freezer filled with different ice cream. as he looks through the selection, he asks, “do you still like twin bar?”

“y—yeah.”

“still the grape flavor?” you don’t know what to say, but when his gaze meets yours, you settle for a nod. with your favorite ice cream in one hand and a sandwich in the other, he finally walks towards you. you don’t miss the slight stagger in his steps.

jaehyun finds his spot beside you. there’s still distance between you two—two tiles worth, enough space for one person—but it’s enough for your muscles to freeze. thankfully, jongseob comes just in time to manage the cashier (with an awkward smile plastered on).

he scans jaehyun’s item first before grabbing onto your ice cream.

“oh, i’m paying—”

“no, let me,” jaehyun insists. “you can always treat me another time.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, thinking over the second half of his sentence. jongseob holds back from scanning the item, until you shoot him a nod. jaehyun pays for the food before jongseob hands them to you.

“i’ll just let you know when the pizza gets here.” his small smile is enough for your shoulders to ease and a quiet exhale to leave. a small nod is all you give him.

you follow jaehyun outside to the tables in front of the mart. once he’s settled on a spot, you sit across from him. he tears away the plastic wrapping of his food while you play with the ends of yours. 

while he swallows what you assume to be his dinner of the day, you’re left to swallow your own pride.

“i’ve seen your performances.” his chews halt. “you’re—” captivating. “you’ve improved a lot.”  

with one gulp, a shy smile takes over his face. “i still have a long way to go.”

“you always say that, even back then.” a half bitten sandwich now rests on the wrapper. “but i admire your drive.” always have.

while a different version of jaehyun sits across you, the one you knew back in cheongju still lives. in the busy, unfamiliar expanse of seoul, meeting five years later, he’ll never be stranger. you could never treat him as such, even if you wanted to.

“there’s always room for improvement,” he says.

you hum along with his sentiment. “did you stick with early childhood education?” you’re met with his orbs that hold a thousand of emotions, some you can name as shock, confusion. a question hangs in the air—what did you deserve to know?

“sorry, i’m assuming you still went to college, which is totally fine if you did or didn’t, by the way. and it’s also okay if you didn’t stick to your major. i mean, you always talked about pursuing a performing arts degree before—”

“y/n,” he giggles, “you’re okay. i still went to college but i took media & communication.” your eyebrows shoot up at the revelation. “i thought it made sense to study something related to what i do, just the more technical and theoretical side of it, i guess. and the online classes were easy to squeeze into my schedule.” he lifts up the sandwich. “what about you?”

“uh, i ended up in the same course as well.” a hum of shock leaves jaehyun. “yeah,” you chuckle, “i managed to shift courses.”

“that’s amazing! i’m happy for you.”

you smile at him. “thanks. now, i’m just—” you should tell him what you do. what would be a better time to reveal that you ended up in the path he dreamed for you to be than now? “—figuring things out.”

with your vagueness, jaehyun only nods before munching away. if there’s anything about you that still remains, it’s that you shouldn’t be pushed to share something you didn’t want to talk about. he still knew that.

as he finishes his sandwich, you tear off the plastic wrapping of your ice cream. with the twin bar in your hands, you snap it into two before you hand him a piece. confusion paints his features, wide eyes glossing over the popsicle in your hand, but he takes it before you can say anything.

“thanks.”

you shake your head. “don’t even worry about it. it’s only tradition.”

silence settles between you two. as you eat away on your share of the twin bar, you look up to the sky. from where you sit, you can’t see a single star; the lights of seoul seemed to outshine them. and during those moments, you almost can’t help but miss the view of the starry night from your childhood room.

you glance at jaehyun who looks up to the sky as well. yet, one hand remains in his pocket, almost as if he’s fiddling with something. 

as if he feels your eyes on him, he asks, “did you ever think about coming back?”

you halt your movements. if there’s one thing you were expecting your old friend to ask, it would be related to your sudden departure. but you’re hit with an entirely different question, one you didn’t get to rehearse the answer to in case you ever cross paths with him. 

because after all this talk about your yearning for cheongju, why didn’t you choose to visit? despite how much you long for mr. kim’s home cooked meals, skies filled with stars, or the presence of your best friend, why didn’t you ever come back?

if you miss home, why is your first instinct to run away from it?

and the reality is that you do think about it all the time. since you left cheongju, you drafted out how many plans to go back. you were homesick, missing the familiar landscape you spent your entire childhood growing up in. but most of all, you missed jaehyun. as long as you had him, you would survive anywhere, whether in seoul or cheongju.

despite how much you yearned for him during your years away, you learned that your relationship wasn’t always filled with the warmth that would grace you two every afternoon. for so long, you’ve sat with jealousy. while his family was his pillar of strength, you were met with a home that offered nothing but criticism.

the black limbs slowly ate away at your heart; the void was born.

it became easier to remain resentful. with the distance, you weren’t faced with jaehyun’s genuineness. yet, with time, you discovered that you still cared for him—regardless of your jealousy—because you still wanted more for him than you did for yourself.

for a long time, you resented. now, it’s only guilt that held you back from going back to him.

so when you remain silent, jaehyun takes it as your answer.

and for the first time, the distance feels greater since you first left cheongju.

summer of 2019

it’s the peak of summer. amidst the expanse of verdant fields, bees seek solace in the fully-bloomed sunflowers and kaleidoscope wings illuminate as they soar.

but summer is where mouths go dry and clothes cling to skin. as days blend with each other, the comfort of your bed is all you have until the season passes.

the fan rumbles against the wooden floor, doing its best to cool you, but the heat prickles against the back of your neck. the wind has turned into nothing but hot waves. with your elbows perched on the desk, a sigh leaves you as you attempt to make sense of the worksheet filled with math equations.

your room is your favorite place in cheongju. within these four walls are scattered fragments of you, from your favorite books and mangas that rest on the bookshelf to the stuffed toys that rest on your bed. book tabs stick out of your workbooks lined up on your desk and your cork board is filled with crossed out to-do lists.

and every once in a while, you would look out through your window, admiring the neighboring houses and all their greenery. as people walk on pavements, you cannot help but think about where they’re off to—are they on their way to work? did they leave an important document back home? or are they coming back to a meal and home filled with warmth?

despite the halo soundtrack filling your ears, the cogs in your brain seem to drown them out. the numbers on your paper have jumbled up. it should’ve been easy. after all, you’ve become friends with the letters who��ve squeezed their way into math. once you’ve wrapped up on this assignment, you know you’ll wake up to another set of work to do. it didn’t help that you’re stuck watching kids your age enjoy their break.

with a tired mind, you consider making yourself another cup of iced coffee. maybe another dose of caffeine will make sense of the numbers—

your phone buzzes against your table. as your eyes rip from the unfinished worksheet, you spot the familiar name flashing on the screen. with one glance at your door, you bring your headphones to rest around your neck. it takes three rings for you to answer.

“what do you want?”

“the fuck? what’s wrong with you?”

you roll your eyes as you fiddle with your pen. “i’m studying, you fucker.”

“on a sunday?” jaehyun’s question has you only groan. “what happened to resting?”

“i wish,” you murmur as you scratch the back of your head. “i’ve been stuck on this stupid worksheet for the past hours. it’s annoying too. i mean, i already know this topic, so i don’t know why it’s so hard.”

“awe, is my best friend suffering over kumon?”

your forehead rests on crossed arms. “yes. i think i’m going to die.”

“okay, then. i’ll take that as my sign.”

“sign to what?”

he chuckles as if it were obvious. “to save you! let’s go to mr. kim’s.”

a groan leaves you as your back meets the chair. “no, i can’t. do you know what would happen if i don’t finish my kumon?”

“uh… no?”

“me, neither. i’m not taking my chances.”

“but, you’re not even doing anything!” jaehyun pointing out the obvious has you rolling your eyes. “wouldn’t it be better to take a break with your best friend? i can even help out.”

as you bite the inside of your cheek, you glance once more at your closed door. you weigh it out; would you rather take a break with your best friend or would you save yourself from the consequences brought by home?

but the answer was already clear. “give me 10 minutes.”

jaehyun laughs before you drop the call.

it’s the smell of fresh hotteok that greets you. the quiet buzzing of the fan accompanied by mr. kim’s favorite trot music fills your ears. while the owner seems to be away from the cashier, a white, stray cat takes over, body flopped on the counter as it snores away the heat. as the sun pours through windows, coating every corner of the mart with a glow of fireflies, you know this will be a place of its own.

“y/n, over here!” a familiar voice calls out. as you whip your head to the source, you see your best friend by the chest freezer, eyes crinkled and all dimples.

now, you’re certain that nothing could ever replicate this.

you walk towards jaehyun, finding your spot beside him as you two look through the collection of frozen treats. “so, what do you want from here?” you ask.

“uh… i’ll be honest, i just realized i’m short on money.”

you glance through the price tags, only for a groan to leave you. “i’m short too. when did mr. kim raise the prices?”

“no clue. i thought i’d have enough to get a summer crush,” jaehyun complains as his eyes are glued to the coffee sorbet. “i hate inflation.”

“come on.” you fish out for the coins in your pocket. “let’s see how much we have together.” jaehyun does the same. with palms out, you two count through your shared funds.

“we can get a summer crush!”

“you can get one. i’ll be left with barely anything.” you look through the selection once more. “man, i really want samanco. the red bean sounds so good right now.”

defeat casts over jaehyun’s features. for a moment, you almost consider giving up on having a frozen treat and settling for a glass bottle of orange soda, until you spot a familiar popsicle brand.

“holy shit, it’s right there.”

“what?”

“there!” your finger points at the stack of twin bars. “we can probably get that and split it.”

jaehyun’s expression morphs into realization. “okay, let’s get—”

“dibs on grape.”

“dibs?” he furrows his eyebrows at you. “you can’t just call dibs. you’re doing it wrong. clearly, we should discuss—”

“nope,” you retort. a chuckle laced with disbelief leaves your best friend. to him, it seemed like you were joking around. “i made the suggestion and contributed a lot more to our shared funds.”

“okay, but—”

“don’t tell me you want the peach flavor more than the grape.” as you continue to shut him down, he knows there’s no way around you.

(plus, he wasn’t a fan of peach-flavored things, anyway. how unfortunate that mr. kim only has those two flavors right now.)

“next time, we’re choosing a flavor that i want,” he gives in. you let out a cheer before grabbing the frozen treat.

you two make your way back to the cashier and spot mr. kim slouched in front of the television, hand stroking the sleepy feline. he’s still wearing an old, red plaid apron on top of a pair of basketball shorts and a loose graphic tee which had the name of a band you’re unfamiliar with. with how he sits, you’re afraid that his back problems will get even worse. (still, you don’t say anything. he’ll only play it off and say he’s still one of the “youngins”... whatever that means.)

once his eyes land on you two, a grin takes over. “ah, my favorite kids! it’s nice to see you both.”

“yeah, it’s been a while,” jaehyun starts off. “y/n’s always busy with kumon.”

you narrow your eyes at the boy. “hey! you’re busy, too! you’ve been practicing at the studio almost every day!” the wrapped popsicle now rests on the counter. “every time i’m free, you’re not.”

“hey! whenever you’re free, i’m tired from training!”

“okay, let’s settle down,” mr. kim breaks up the banter. he then takes note of the ice cream on the cashier, the price showing up on the cashier. “isn’t the heat hard enough for you two to be studying or practicing?”

“yes, very much.” you count the coins once more before dropping the exact amount on the counter. “but,” you glance at jaehyun and his disheartened expression is enough for mountains to move, “i don’t think we have a choice.”

in reality, these were the circumstances you two had to work and live with. during the days jaehyun ended practice early, you were drowning in summer school assessments. whenever you managed to finish your homework, it would be during the hours your best friend was off at the studio or passed out at home from exhaustion.

“choice, no choice, people always say that.” mr. kim counts your payment before putting it into the cashier. as he takes note of what you’ve bought, he says, “everyone has a choice. i’m sure you two can figure it out.”

the only difference is that one chose this path; the other had to suffer from the decision forced onto them.

“don’t worry, mr. kim,” jaehyun nudges your shoulder. “i’m sure we’ll figure it out.” and when the dips in his cheeks appear, you find yourself smiling back.

maybe you were okay with the life you had to live, just maybe.

“anyway, we’ll go ahead,” jaehyun bids farewell to mr. kim.

you giggle. “he means we’re just going to eat our ice cream at the front.”

as you two slowly make your way out of the mart, mr. kim shakes his head. “you lovebirds go ahead. i’ll see you next time!”

“mr. kim!” you and jaehyun shout in unison before glancing at each other.

“what?!”

your best friend groans. “you know we aren’t together.”

“yeah! like, i can’t imagine it,” you join in.

still, the owner laughs at your reactions. “you two are so funny. just go and enjoy your ice cream.”

you roll your eyes at his words. “bye, mr. kim!”

with that, you and jaehyun were out of the mart and took a seat on the benches. you hand your best friend the wrapped frozen treat before letting out a sigh. “i still can’t believe this is one of the few times we got to meet up during the break.”

“i know.” he tears the plastic wrapping off. “you would think that summer break would mean we get to hang out nonstop, but i’m starting to think we saw each other more whenever we had school.”

you hum. “i know. and i had ap stat while you had training.” your eyes dart at jaehyun who grips onto the popsicle sticks, struggling to split it into two. “oh my god, don’t tell me you can’t split it.”

“hey! it’s hard.”

as you giggle, you reach your hand out. “let me do it.” once jaehyun hands you the twin bar, you attempt to split the two. for a moment, you almost think about agreeing with him. yet, the frozen treat splits into two perfectly, and a satisfied smile rests on your lips.

you hand him one popsicle, only to be met with his glare. “i know, i’m just better.”

“just shut up.” to that, another laugh leaves you.

under the sun, you enjoy the coolness of the twin bar. while you would’ve stared off to nowhere, you and jaehyun were here at the right time to catch civilians bustling away. some were on dates, where one would go on about their interest while the other would smile at their rambling. there were kids whose chatter could be heard all the way from the end of the block, and blue-collar men who were off to enjoy their break.

you can’t help but imagine what people saw—thought—of you and jaehyun. did they think of you as unexpected friends? has it ever crossed their minds that you two were only classmates who seemed to always be paired together? or did they ever think the same as mr. kim?

“you know,” jaehyun starts off, causing you to look at him, “i was going through college courses the other day.”

your eyebrows shoot up. “oh?”

with your reaction, jaehyun giggles. “i was just curious, you know? not that i’m giving up on dance or anything, but,” he licks the popsicle, “early childhood education sounds cool.”

you hum. “i wasn’t expecting that.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“no, it’s not a bad thing!” you reassure the boy. “it’s just,” you rip your gaze off of jaehyun and look at the playground, “i always thought of you as a dancer, you know? kind of like you were meant for the stage.” the laughter of the kids who passed by you two bounces all over the block and you can’t help but smile. “but i don’t doubt it.”

the breeze graces your sweat-covered skin. “what about you?” you look back at him. “would you ever consider journalism? maybe communication as your major?”

you’re quick to laugh at his suggestion, but when confusion paints his features, you realize it’s a serious question from him.

“no.” it’s a straightforward answer from you, but jaehyun could never settle with that

“why not?”

a sigh leaves you. “i just don’t consider it. i mean, i think about it,” all the time, “but not enough to consider it. plus, astrophysics is cool.”

“but is it your dream?”

jaehyun’s question is an easy one to answer—not at all. you’ve had enough learning about theories and making sense of the numbers. if your future is going to only complicate that further, then maybe astrophysics isn’t made for you. 

but who’s to say that you’ll even enjoy journalism?

“we’ll see.” you leave it at that and jaehyun didn’t push for more.

because the reality is that if you ever did consider it, transform those dreams into action plans, you were terrified to be met with your parents’ disappointment—it wouldn’t only be from your lousy desires but from jaehyun’s role in your life.

the first time you mentioned jaehyun to your parents happened over dinner, letting them know you would be staying later at school to work on the final project for art class with him. they didn’t bat an eye at his name as they continued to talk about what happened during work and pester you about your progress in other classes. (art class didn’t matter to them, only the sciences and math were ones they seemed to track. still, they would criticize you if you didn’t place first honors.)

with your parents’ oversight, something blossomed between you and jaehyun. from there, there were more days you would get home later than usual. while you were still on top of your work, they took your late arrivals as a form of negligence.

all it took was one night for them to demand an explanation. the reappearance of him in the conversation had only caused them to reprimand you—jaehyun’s not like you. he’ll only hold you back. 

from that day on, you’ve learned to keep his name out of conversations. you’ll enjoy what you have with jaehyun, even if it has to be kept under the wraps.

“how’s training?” you change the subject, trying to keep the attention off of your failed dreams to jaehyun’s flourishing ones.

“well, it’s a lot,” he chuckles as he munches a piece. “you already know that it takes how many hours to get to the company, and the hours i spend in the practice room are unlike the trainings i have at school.”

as his eyes meet yours, you only shoot him an apologetic smile. it was never going to be easy; you two knew that before jaehyun entered the doors of the company. yet, he still held on.

“you know, i never considered it before, but i like where i’m going,” he admits. “even if i’ve always had dreams to pursue dance, i want to make my family proud if i ever get to debut.” 

jaehyun knows how to persevere. regardless of all the bruises he gets from performing complex dance routines or the hours of sleep he longs for, he knows how to hold on. you wish you could say the same for yourself.

“and you will,” you reassure the boy, wrapping your arm around his shoulders. “who wouldn’t be proud of you?”

he holds your stare and your smile falters. for a moment, you don’t know if you touched on a sensitive topic. would he shrug your arm off? do you think he’ll shut you off, maybe cut your time together short? will jaehyun get mad at you for something you didn’t know was wrong? would he be just like them?

“i want to make you proud.”

that’s enough to answer it all.

you shake your head. “don’t even doubt that for a second.” your arm finds it spot back to your side, and jaehyun’s loops his with yours.

although he knows how to persevere, he never knows when to shut his ears from the shadows. 

“i am proud of you,” you tell him. “always have, always will.” he can’t help but smile. all you can hope is that he’ll listen closely to your voice.

“i almost forgot,” he says out of nowhere.

“forgot what?”

as he tugs his arm away, his hand fishes for something in his pocket. “close your eyes.” you furrow your eyebrows. “just do it!” you follow his orders. “and keep them closed, okay?” you let out a hum.

before you know it, something wraps around your index finger. you would’ve opened your eyes, confused over the foreign yet familiar material, but they remain shut. 

“okay, open.”

your gaze rests on your finger wrapped in yellow and blue. it’s a finger trap—and the other end is connected to jaehyun. despite your tug, it still holds you two together.

it’s the warmth that fills your cheeks, the heartbeat in your ears, and your starstruck eyes that has him smile. “no matter what happens, we’ll stick together, okay? regardless of what paths we end up pursuing. all that matters is that we have each other.”

he’s filled with hope. hope for his dreams. hope for your relationship. hope for what the future holds for you two. you can’t help but hope as well.

all it takes is a nod from you to solidify the promise to the universe.

you two sit in silence, finishing up the popsicles as people continue to pass by. at one point, you heard mr. kim let out a curse over the drama he’s watching. the sun is about to set, wrapping you two in a golden blanket, and all that matters is the finger trap.

present  -> two weeks before the interview, 2024

it’s no surprise to you that the newsroom is quiet. while your peers are off to gather more information, you’re with lee chaeyeon of news as she tries to meet the deadline for her article’s first close.

“do you think dokyeom will be late?” you ask as you watch her rephrase sentences.

she laughs. “when is he never? minho’s always assigning him coverages.”

“that’s true.” your eyes drift to the hallway. “i’m just hungry. he still owes me food, you know?”

“over another bet? or you saving his ass?”

“over helping him with an article,” you reveal, earning a shocked look from her. “for some odd reason, he needed another writer to help out with a live coverage, and all the sports writers and sports editor were busy handling the other events.”

“holy shit.” chaeyeon continues with her work. “i didn’t expect you to work on anything sports-related.”

“yeah, but it helped that it was a dance competition. at least i know something about dance.” you only know who to thank. “i’m going to make sure i get compensated for that. i’m planning to raise it to minho and namjoon, anyway. that’s if dokyeom would fucking come and help in explaining the situation.”

with the mention of the tardy writer’s name, he’s scrambling through the halls with his backpack in one hand and a paper bag in the other. the moment he sees you, he shoots you an apologetic smile.

“speak of the devil,” you say as you stand up straight. “why do you always show up late? i helped you with the article.”

dokyeom finds his spot beside you as he sets down the bag on your desk. “i’ll have you know that wasn’t the only article i had yesterday. i was catching up on other ones that minho assigned me.” before he can plop down on his seat, he spots chaeyeon working. “damn, tough life at news.”

“no need to point out the obvious, doofus.”

“wow, harsh,” he replies to her insult. “just so you know, i bought food for us.”

“thank god,” you exclaim as you open the paper bag filled with takeout containers and sealed cups. as you pull them out one by one, you spot your usual order from the vietnamese restaurant around the corner. “oh my god, thank you for getting me this.” you take a seat before you pass dokyeom his food and utensils.

“yeah, i know. i’m just the best.” his shower of compliments for himself only has you rolling your eyes. “but thank you, by the way, for helping me out with the article. i needed an extra pair of hands and my own editor couldn’t stand in to help out.”

“it’s fine. just make sure you help me get compensated for that article,” you say before you open the container. as the smell of bun bo nam bo fills your nose, you can’t help but let out a quiet moan. “holy fuck, i’ve been craving this.”

“i made sure to get you some vietnamese coffee also.”

“yeah, i saw. thank you.” you split the chopsticks with one hand. you’re about to mix the bowl of your favorite food—

“is y/n here?” your editor calls out, causing you to let out a sigh before you stand up from your seat.

“yes?”

namjoon’s gaze lands on you. “can i talk to you for a bit?”

despite your grumbling stomach, you give him a nod and set your food down. as he retreats to his office, you glare at dokyeom who munches away on goi cuon. “i hate you.”

“hey, what did i do?!” you ignore his attempts to defend himself as you make your way to your editor’s office.

once you swing the door open, you spot namjoon whose eyes are stuck to the screen. “you can take a seat,” he says with no attempt to look at you. you sit across from him, hands folded on your lap, while he types away on his keyboard.

the moment he hits the ‘enter’ key is when he finally looks at you. “sorry about that. i was just replying to minho regarding your compensation for the article you worked with dokyeom. we both appreciate what you did. next time though, make sure to loop in minho or me before you two start working on beats not within your staffs.”

“sorry about that,” you start off. “dokyeom only asked for my help and i thought it would be fine since i’m familiar with dance, anyway.”

namjoon shakes his head with a small smile plastered on his face. “it is fine, just make sure to inform us.” you only nod.

“anyway, i’m sorry to have this meeting with you right now but i have to leave work early today, and i thought that you’d appreciate that i tell this to you now instead of tomorrow,” he says. you hum, curious about what he has to say. “i have a coverage for you, a very, very, long one.”

over the sight of your wide eyes, he can’t help but chuckle. “it’s seven articles,” he says and your mouth gapes over the number. “well, one main article and six profiles with very brief introductory paragraphs.” his attempt to ease your shocked state does nothing.

“namjoon, that’s… a lot.”

“yes, i know. i would love to split the workload but everyone else is handling other articles, and i trust you. i know i’m asking for a lot but i’ll make sure to help you out with them. it’s just that we’re working on a time crunch and i don’t know anyone else i can ask but you.”

the faith that your editor seems to have in you is like no other.

“profiles, like, those q&a transcripts?” you ask.

he nods before saying, “yes, and just a brief introductory paragraph for each profile. i’m just expecting you to put more work into the article about the group. i’ll make sure to help out with the profiles.”

namjoon’s trust should be anxiety inducing, enough to send you complaining, but you find yourself relieved. your mentor became your second-in-command; the mountain of workload transformed into a hill.

“okay.”

a relaxed smile appears on his face at your acceptance. “thank god! i was going to stress about this the whole day if you refused. i’ll make sure to send you the details about this once i’m done with my appointments, and then we can see how we’ll divide the work later on.” he types something. “we’re covering a k-pop group which is why there’s one main article about the whole group and then six profiles.”

“yeah, i figured that out.” this isn’t anything out of your usual articles. “can i ask who we’re interviewing? maybe i can do some research on them while you attend your meetings.” you pull out your phone, ready to search up whoever your editor says.

“don’t know if you’re familiar with them but they’re called boynextdoor?” you still in your seat. “wait, let me check. yes, that’s their name.”

“boynextdoor?”

namjoon looks at you, now met with your features that have transformed from wide eyes to scrunched eyebrows.  “yeah. do you know them?” 

you shake your head without a second thought. “no, i don’t think i do,” you whisper the last sentence to yourself. his narrow eyes look over you, almost dissecting you.

the walls surrounding you are painted in solid colors of pearl, almost untouched. yet, under the paint are cracks that spread like cobwebs. every burst is a testament to the earthquakes they’ve faced; no one should be able to see a single line of black amid the white sea. now, they’re filled with paste, and it should be enough to cover them all.

but for the first time, the paint has chipped and the paste has deteriorated; the different colors of cheongju seep through the cracks.

you clear your throat as you straighten your back. “i’ll be sure to research them.” you wave your phone at him, hoping to divert his attention, but his gaze remains on you.

a sigh leaves him. “okay. expect to receive the documents later in the afternoon.”

he doesn’t push any further. for now, the walls remain intact. (or appear as so.)

it was never going to be easy.

“honestly, i gave up expecting to win as we practiced,” the youngest says through tears. as they huddle, they let out silent wishes for the upcoming years. before they blow the candle, they don’t forget to express their gratitude to the fandom who stuck with them through thick and thin.

a time of celebration turned into a moment to remember their struggles. these were pockets of their time that marked their spot in history.

“oh, everyone behind us is crying!” another member points out as the camera captures the team’s bittersweet cries.

and when you catch sight of the brunette who hides his tears behind his friend, the ache in your chest starts to spread through your veins. the video cuts to his low-hanging head as his members comfort him. they knew all of his hardships—you only know a fraction.

such a tender moment happened a year ago; it’s shorter than the amount of time between this achievement and your departure. within those years, what did jaehyun undergo? did his trainings waver his passion or did the fire burn just as bright as it did since he first auditioned? was he confident in his skills or was he still critical about every performance he had?

but most of all, what did he face? what did he learn? to hate? to love?

what did he go through without you?

you don’t forget to take note of their first win on your document filled with bullet points of information. while you were going to continue watching, a recommended video caught your attention. it’s a jaehyun focus. you don’t hesitate to click it.

the video starts off with him checking up on the fans before the performance starts. as he mimes out eating, they answer his question with reassurance.

and there they come—his dimples appear.

it transitions to their group in their opening formation. as they await for the song to play out, jaehyun’s familiar smile shifts into a dominant gaze.

in the same way the first notes draw people to listen, your eyes never leave the boy. his movements are fluid, like water droplets sliding off leaves. he commands the stage regardless of where he’s positioned.

jaehyun is meant to be on the stage—no, every stage is made for him. every crowd is meant to cheer his name and remain captive to his talents, and every spotlight is meant to shine on him.

you rest your chin on crossed arms. long gone was the bowl cut and loose school uniform. he’s grown. matured, even. yet, the moments where his smile appears makes you realize one thing: the 16-year-old boy you knew still lives within him.

as their performance comes to an end, you don’t bother to move your cursor, letting the next recommended video play. and when his vlog plays out, you realize that a fragment of his identity is a whole of what you know.

what an honor it is to have known him for even a fraction of your lifetime.

his voice is a lullaby, the same one you used to fall asleep to, so you allow yourself to close your eyes. you let go of the responsibilities for just this moment, and allow yourself to be transported back into the warmth of his arms.

fall of 2019

out of all the seasons, autumn took its spot in being your favorite. clusters of green slowly morph  into shades of oranges and browns. it’s a symphony of chirps that fills the silence. while the breeze brings you comfort after the heat of summer, it also reminds you of the looming winter.

it’s a shame that autumn does live up to its other name: a season of fall.

“you’re always like this,” your mother comments. you stand in front of your parents, slumped shoulders and downcast eyes, as they hold a sheet of paper they believe dictates your future. “always so sensitive. we’re just asking you what went different. why did your grades drop?” to them, a shift from a to b+ is a threat to your future. 

while your feet stand on wooden floors, a flood starts to form. murky waves crash against your legs, but you do your best to keep your balance.

“answer us when you’re being talked to.” your father snaps you out of your thoughts. “what have you been doing for your grades to drop?” you want to answer but a single sound that leaves you may only lead to blubbers that your parents will scold you for. 

with your silence, your mother sneers. “i knew we shouldn’t have let you do your own things. i told you so.” she shifts her gaze to him. “what did i tell you about y/n? you know they’ll only slack off!”

“i thought we could trust them. clearly, i was wrong.” your father’s glare raises the water levels, reaching your chest. you don’t know how to swim in the foggy ocean.

“i know why.” she crosses her arms. “it’s because of that jaehyun boy, isn’t it?” she says his name laced with disgust.

you don’t think twice to defend him. “no, it isn’t!”

“don’t you dare talk back at me!”

“but i’m not! he’s done nothing.”

your father begins to raise his voice. “and that’s what’s wrong! that lazy boy does nothing for his studies. he clearly doesn’t care about his future.”

you always knew it would be a losing battle, but you’ll put up the fight to protect your best friend’s name. “that’s not true! he does care. he’s planning to do early childhood education for college, maybe become a teacher.”

“that job has no money. see, i can already see that you’re being influenced by him,” he argues back.

and as the murky waters rise, filling your lungs, your first instinct is to close your eyes and scream. “stop saying that about him!”

a beat passes.

“i don’t want you hanging out with him.”

“but—”

“shut up.” your mother’s words cause you to look up, meeting your parents’ faces filled with anger.  “go to your room. now.” you’re nothing but a puppet for them.

was it even a battle if you always knew you were going to lose?

despite the safety of your room, you don’t let the tears flow down. you do anything to distract yourself; maybe a book will convince you that your life is only a figment of your imagination.

waves continue to crash against your body. if you let them take your body, would they send you far away from cheongju? from your parents? from the weight you were entrusted to carry since birth?

but would you allow the waves to send you away from jaehyun?

your phone buzzes against the mattress. with tear-filled eyes, you see your best friend trying to reach you. you don’t think twice about declining his call and shutting off your phone.

as you curl in your bed, you hope the sea will swallow you whole—the slow, burning pain that comes with drowning won’t compare to the burns that haven’t healed. but you know that the blame rests on your shoulders. if only you had studied harder, cut off hours of rest for your work, then maybe you would be the perfect child your parents wanted.

were you wrong for allowing yourself to enjoy the small breaks between classes? was the time spent in the mart supposed to be for schoolwork? should you have found yourself a tutor? were you in the wrong for not working yourself to the bone? did you not work enough?

are you not enough?

then, a knock. your eyes snap open. like a stroke of light in the middle of the dark, jaehyun is by your window.

you get off your bed to open the window. as the glass barrier disappears, he enters your room. “are you okay?” he spots your glassy eyes and his hands find their spot on your shoulders. “what happened?”

you break eye contact. “what do you want, jaehyun?”

“you didn’t pick up your phone. and when i tried calling again, i couldn’t reach you,” he starts to explain.

you shrug off his grip on you before you take a seat on your bed. “i’m fine. my phone died.” as you feel the spot beside you dip, you look at your best friend. at the sight of his furrowed eyebrows, you know he doesn’t believe you. “i said i’m fine.”

“i didn’t say anything.” for you are an open book to him.

he opens his arms towards you—it’s your move to make. then, a tight-lipped smile shows on his face, his dimples appear, and you allow yourself to fall. with his arms wrapped around you, you shut your eyes as you nestle your face into his neck.

breathe in. breathe out.

his hand finds its spot on your back, rubbing it in circles.

breathe in. breathe out.

“it’s okay, i’m here,” he says, and you allow yourself to crumble in front of him for the first time.

the tears hit jaehyun’s neck like a light drizzle. your wails bring earthquakes into his world.

yet, his warmth is enough to dry up droplets, and his embrace protects you as you fall into the cracks of the earth and into the depths of the world. the flood starts to subside.

in your time knowing jaehyun, how much did he know about you after all? had he always known of your strained relationship with your parents? did he hear about it from others or was he able to connect the dots?

because you didn’t know yourself outside of your parents anymore. did you like science because of your kumon classes? was your interest in writing birthed from a desire for validation from your parents?

are you nothing but an array of achievements and failures?

but your parents will never be satisfied; a standard too high is practically nonexistent.

jaehyun moves so that you two can lie down. his arms remain wrapped around you as you hide in his neck. “i’m sorry if i wasn’t there for you when you needed it then.” his whispered apology causes you to shake your head.

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” you blubber out to his neck.

“and you didn’t, as well.” his hand finds its spot behind your head. with every stroke, a tear streams down. “and i want you to know that i’ll be here for you.”

in your house, your room was the only space you called home. solace built by you. 

now, your home is jaehyun.

present -> two weeks before the interview, 2024

something about the newsroom feels odd to you. there’s nothing out of the ordinary aside from it bustling with journalists. the familiar sounds of printers and chatter from your workmates fill your ears. it’s a typical occurrence for your peers to meet their deadlines on the day itself. the tug in your gut doesn’t resemble ones formed out of your anxiety. why does it feel like one of destiny?

“where is dokyeom? i swear, this guy never shows up to the office.”

you snap out of your thoughts, looking over at chaeyeon who browses through her phone. as you shove a bill into the vending machine, a chuckle leaves you. “when is he never?”

“maybe if he finishes his coverages on time then he’d be getting enough sleep. then, he won’t be late.”

you side-eye your friend before you click on a button. “you know that’s not true.”

she sighs at the same time your bottle of iced tea drops. “yeah. apparently, if you have free time, you’re not a good journalist or some shit which i find stupid.” you grab your drink before facing her. “am i not allowed to do something else that’s not related to my job? i swear, this is why i’m single.”

“then date another journalist.” your joke earns a scowl from her.

“i’m never dating anyone in my field. a journalist dating another journalist is like,” she looks up to the ceiling as she thinks, “a long distance relationship with how much they’ll never see or have time for each other.”

a laugh erupts from you, one that may be too loud for your liking. “true.”

as you walk out of the breakroom with chaeyeon, you notice something in the corner of your eye: a brunette by the restroom. while you can’t see his face, you spot what’s in his hand and you halt in your tracks—a finger trap.

“hey, is there someone there?” your eyes snap back to your friend who looks at you in confusion. when your eyes drift back to where the brunette once was, he’s already gone. you shake your head before walking back to your desk.

the same gut feeling lingers. with a frown, you open up your article only to be met with a few comments that namjoon left last night. maybe your gut knew that you weren’t done with your work. thankfully, it’s nothing too major, and you can have them done within the next few minutes.

“there you are!” chaeyeon exclaims, causing you to look up from your screen to a panting dokyeom. “were you working on your articles again?”

“actually, i went out last night.” while you shake your head at dokyeom’s reveal, chaeyeon gasps. “yeah, i did! i actually had fun for once!”

as he nods proudly at last night’s events, she complains, “are you serious?! how come you have time to go out? i was just talking to y/n that we never have time to ourselves.”

“i’m in sports,” he points out as he shrugs his shoulders. “you’re in news.” at this point, you’re expecting the two to spiral into an argument, so you redirect your focus back to your article.

“hey, did you hear though? there’s a k-pop group in the building.” you glance at chaeyeon.

your other friend leans on the cubicle. “really? who?”

“no clue.”

dokyeom lets out a groan. “what type of journalist are you if you can’t find out?”

“yah!” chaeyeon smacks his arm, causing him to wince in pain. “says you who can never submit on time.”

“hey, i’ll have you know that minho has been understanding!”

“whatever.” she rolls her eyes before looking at you. “that means you’ll probably be handling them. i hope they’re cute so that you can finally have something going on with your life outside of work.”

a chuckle leaves you as you get back to work. “i’m never dating an idol. i’d get hunted down by their fans.” 

“yeah, but can’t you dream a little? do you ever imagine what it would be like?”

the past plays in your mind. after school performances and interviews. broken-up popsicles. finger traps. a life you shared with jaehyun then—one you still cling onto.

yet, you shake your head as you edit your article. “not even.”

it’s a life you’ll keep to yourself.

“what’s the update?”

the three of you look away from each other, spotting namjoon who comes to you with a smile. long gone were the sweaters that failed to drown out his figure and the boxy glasses that would rest on the bridge of his nose. now, he wears a dress shirt and trousers with hair slicked to the side. there were no frames for him to hide behind.

“ah, namjoon! you’re dressed so nice today.”

with dokyeom’s compliment, he can’t hold back on his smile. “thank you. are you guys done with your articles?”

as your friends nod, you add the finishing touches to the document. “and done! i just finished addressing your comments.”

“great. thanks, y/n.”

“do you have something?” chaeyeon asks your editor, causing you to roll your eyes. one thing about journalists is that they love to know everything.

namjoon nods before saying, “i just had a meeting with some possible interviewees.”

“is this the one with the k-pop group?” as dokyeom asks the question, you can’t help but laugh as chaeyeon looks at him in disbelief for spilling confidential information.

your editor chuckles. “yes.”

“can we know—”

“no, you can’t know.”

chaeyeon pouts at namjoon. “not even a hint?”

namjoon ignores her question and begins to walk off. “good work, y/n!” he calls out before leaving you three alone.

“man, namjoon never tells us shit,” chaeyeon complains as she leans on the table.

“to you guys, at least,” you argue with a small shrug.

still, the gut feeling remains.

something about the newsroom feels odd to jaehyun. while he’s had his fair share of paranormal experiences, his gut tells him that there’s something in the office. yet, the tug isn’t one that speaks of danger. why does it feel like one of destiny?

“should we have a short break before we discuss the schedules for the photoshoots and interviews?” jaehyun is snapped out of his thoughts by namjoon’s suggestion.

his manager looks at the group. “do you guys need a break?”

“should we have a short break before we discuss the schedules for the photoshoots and interviews?” jaehyun is snapped out of his thoughts by namjoon’s suggestion.

his manager looks at the group. “do you guys need a break?”

although everyone seemed fine with proceeding, he couldn’t shake off the feeling. maybe the leftover curry he had this morning went bad. “i’ll go,” he says as he gets off his seat.

namjoon slowly stands up. “okay, i can bring you there—”

“it’s okay! i saw the washroom on the way here,” jaehyun says before walking to the door. “you can discuss the details without me first.”

with his manager’s nods, namjoon settles back into his seat. “okay then, here are some of the dates i have in mind...”

jaehyun exits the room. he bites on the inside of the cheek as he thinks of what his gut could be telling him. is it the nerves for the upcoming tour? is he worried about the next comeback they’ve been preparing? or is he scared about what the future has in store for his group?

with his mind on these questions, he doesn’t realize that he arrives in front of the bathroom door. a sigh of frustration leaves him. the worst thing about gut feelings is never knowing what they’re trying to say.

he grips the handle, ready to swing the door open, until a familiar laugh hits his ears. one of the past. one he hasn’t heard in years. his muscles freeze.

when was the last time he heard that chortle? when was the last time he became the cause of it?

his eyes dart around the area for the source but no one else is here. he can’t help but shake his head in disbelief.

it should be stupid for him to think you two would ever reunite. in what world would you be in the same place as he is? it’s been five years. you could be anywhere around the world. yet, he fishes for something out of his pocket; the same finger trap he linked you to him rests on the palm of his hand.

he sighs before entering the washroom and shoving it back into his pocket.

maybe he’ll hold out a little longer.

winter of 2019

out of all the seasons, jaehyun’s favorite is winter. snowflakes fall, filling the sky with stars that people can touch, and snow piles on sidewalks, letting him throw snowballs at his friends. despite the freezing temperatures, jaehyun prefers this over nearly-boiling ones.

he can’t wait to share this season with you.

yet, the familiar, chilly breeze of the season transforms into whispers, and word gets around like thrown snowballs. 

“is y/n really not going to school anymore?” jaehyun looks up from his desk to see jiheon standing in front of him. he tilts his head in confusion, causing her to roll her eyes. “are they not going here anymore?”

he frowns. “huh? what kind of rumor is that?”

“i don’t know. it’s what people have been saying,” she says as she crosses her arms. “i asked because i wanted to know if my competition’s gone, you know? and you’re the only one here who has an idea about their whereabouts.”

jaehyun laughs in disbelief. “no, i was with them last week.”

when jaehyun last saw you, you asked for space. with what’s been happening with your family, you needed time to process and cope with your issues, and he respected that. after all, he only knew a fraction of your relationship with your parents, and he didn’t want to intrude in anything you didn’t want him to be a part of. still, jaehyun reminded you that he’ll be there if you need him.

“damn, that sucks,” jiheon groans as her shoulders slump. “these stupid rumors.” as soon as she leaves jaehyun alone, he shakes his head.

the bell rings. students start rushing into classrooms and teachers scold those who aren’t on their seats. ms. jeon enters the room, walking to the desk in front and setting her things down. “baek jiheon, you’ll be in charge of attendance today.”

as jaehyun’s classmate gets off her seat, he can’t help but look at your desk that still remains empty.

“you have to message us when you land,” your mother says as she fixes the collar of your coat. despite your nod, she clicks her tongue. “answer me properly.”

“yes, i will.”

once your father finishes placing the last luggage in the trunk of the taxi, he stands beside your mother. “don’t forget why we’re sending you there. we expect you to do better with no distractions.”

your phone buzzes in your hand. as you look down, you see a message from jaehyun. as he asks about your whereabouts, the weight gets heavier—will you stand or crumble under it?

“who’s that?”

you stash your phone away as you look back at your parents. “nothing. it’s just an email from the school. they sent over the date for the orientation.” at the sight of their satisfied smile, you let out a small sigh of relief.

“well, go on.” your nod at your mother before getting in the car. with the windows still down, she adds, “don’t forget to get endorsement letters from the professors i sent over to you or else you won’t get to study abroad like we planned.” her choice of pronouns is funny; a plan that they crafted which never considered your input.

“okay.”

as your father commands the driver to go, your gaze remains on the two. it should be okay with you to leave cheongju; you’d be far away from your parents and experience an entirely different landscape to explore. it’s time you break away from the chains of this town. learn a life outside of what your parents forced you into.

yet, as the car takes its leave, the figure of your parents slowly shrinks. the distance from them should’ve given you the space to breathe, a relief you’ve longed for, but it only reminds you of your strained relationship. to them, it would be better that you’re out of their sight—and with your farewell, you never heard the three-word phrase.

the window rolls up. you try to hold back the tears, but the scenery of cheongju that you pass by births a storm within you. you didn’t want to say goodbye to home, regardless of how much you say you didn’t have a home in this town. every corner holds a piece of you in the same way you hold a piece of them.

the car approaches a safe haven you share. despite the snow that piles at the front, mr. kim’s convenience store is still open. you’ll never get to have his hotteok again or hear his favorite dramas play in the background. worst of all, you never got to say goodbye.

then, the familiar figure of your best friend exits the mart, and the storm transforms into a typhoon. the plastic bag he holds is filled with your favorite snacks, from the grape-flavored twin bar to a bottle of mr. kim’s homemade peach iced tea.

and in that moment that your car passes him, he pulls out his phone from his pocket, and you spot the familiar trap wrapped around his finger—the other end holds no one.

as quickly as you came into jaehyun’s life, he disappears from your view.

finger traps were fascinating. if you tug hard, the contraption won’t let your fingers go. yet, if you allow the two fingers to meet, allowing the toy to loosen, it’ll let you go with no harm.

but your finger trap with jaehyun was different. maybe it was already ripped to its seams.

interview

q: what made you decide on becoming an idol?

a: i’ve always loved dancing. growing up in cheongju, i always made time [for dance] whether it be [for] school competitions, talent shows, or even [choreographies] i wanted to try out. but i never considered becoming [an idol] until high school. a lot of my friends and family thought i was capable, and i’m glad they trusted me. it feels good to give back to them with every performance.

q: compared to your other members, you’ve spent a lot of years dancing and training to become an idol. what kept you going throughout your years of training?

a: my family’s support was one big thing that helped me [during my training.] every trip from my house to the company would last hours, and it drained me physically. so as the years went by, i started to question if all the time, money, [and] effort i was putting into an unpromised debut would be worth it, but my parents and brother were always there to support and [take] care of me. but i’d also like to think my best friend was a major support in training years. i think they were the first one to [tell me that they saw me as an idol,] and at the time i brushed off the idea. but, look where i am now? so i think i owe a lot to them.

q: is there anything you’d like to say to those who’ve supported you as boynextdoors’s myung jaehyun? a: mom and dad, thank you for believing in me. i know it wasn’t easy to wait until midnight for me to come home or take care of me whenever i got sick from training. thank you for always supporting me in every performance. to my brother, thank you for helping mom and dad out at home. every day, i remind myself that you gave up so much just so i can pursue my dreams, and i want you know that i’m forever grateful for your sacrifices. to the rest of [boynextdoor], thank you for always allowing me to rely on you. i’m glad i can say i have brothers who i get to achieve my dreams with. onedoor, thank you for your love and support over the years. i wouldn’t be boynextdoor’s leader or myung jaehyun if it weren’t for you. and lastly, thank you to my best friend. i hope you’ll always be proud of me the same way i’ll forever be proud of you.

taglist: @kflixnet @blankjournal @blissfullsvn @lovialy

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Place in the Sun 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Nick Fowler

Summary: Trouble in the big city follows you back to your sleepy village home.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You have your prize; a limited edition and a surprise! With all pre-orders, the bookstore gave gift card. Now you have to come back. You giddily carry off your book into the vast mall and trace your way back to the food court. You only have to walk in circles a few times before you figure it out. 

You join the line at the pretzel stand, perusing the many different flavours and toppings you can add to the classic twisted treat. You settle on the cinnamon bun pretzel before it’s your turn to order. You wait patiently near a group of teen boys using words you don’t understand. 

As you rock listlessly, you peer around the food court. It’s getting loud in there. The tables are filling up as the heat of cooking food and bodies warms the space. You don’t think you’ll stick around. You’ve never been anywhere so full of people, it’s kind of scary.  

As you turn back to the pretzel stand, you wince as you sense a speck at the edge of your vision. Dark blue and gone before you can look. You squint at a woman with several children clustered around her as you try to track the strange flicker. This place is chaotic, that’s all. 

Your order is called and you step up to take the container. The smell of cinnamon makes your stomach growl. You hurry between the tables, sidestepping children and dodging around parked strollers. You finally get to the other side and recognise the same entrance you came in through. 

The monstrous bronco isn’t hard to find in the parking lot. You secure your things in the passenger seat and climb up on the driver’s side. You feel almost like a child behind the large steering wheel, sat up so high on the axle that you look down on all other cars. In Hammer Ford, you walk more than you drive, more often, your dad is behind the wheel of the truck he’s had longer than he’s had you. 

You roll down the window to let the air in and wipe the sweat form your hairline. You didn’t realise how sweltering you were. You balance the container in your lap and pop it open. You tear off a piece of the pretzel and nibble on it. You don’t want to rush back home, you don’t know the next time you’ll have this chance, even with the gift card as an excuse. 

As you chew, your eyes flick up and more teen girls approach the mall’s facade. Or maybe they’re older. You can’t tell. Not with their highlighted hair and fake lashes. There weren’t too many people in Hammer Ford that went all out like that. One girl you know but mostly for selfies. 

It’s both fascinating and intimidating to notice the difference between the city and the village. The more you do, the more you feel completely out of your depth. You watch after the group of girls, wishing you had some pals to bring you, and your eyes catch on a figure. You recognise the smooth stride before the blue suit or his vibrant eyes. It’s the same man as before; the one who caught your keys and growling in the bookstore. 

As you bite into a particularly gooey morsel, his gaze flits over to you. You blanch, eyes rounding, and you quickly look down in embarrassment. You grab a napkin and hide your mouth. Look at you, the bumpkin in the ancient farm truck chewing on fried dough. It's kind of funny. You smile and swallow. 

When you look back up, he’s gone. Oh well. He’s just a stranger. 

You take your time and enjoy each bite. When you finish, you get out to toss the napkins and box in the nearby bin. You don’t want the truck to smell of cinnamon when you get back. As you get back behind the wheel, you pause. You wish you could bring something home for your parents. You suddenly feel very selfish. 

You try not to dwell on it. You turn the engine into a roar and it settles to a rumble. You check your mirror and crane to see beside you. You shift and back out, angling slowly between the rows of car. The truck might be colossal but it handles well enough. 

You roll through the lot slowly, waving other drivers ahead of you, not so eager to be back on the country roads. A honk blasts from the car behind you. Unlike the baritone blare of the bronco, it’s higher, almost tooting. You try to see the car but only see a sleek silver blue roof in your rear view. 

You take your chance to exit and join the traffic towards the highway; from there, you’ll take the exit to the back roads. It’s busy. Lunchtime has cars clogging the lane way. It doesn’t break up until you head off onto the highway and you’re the only one signaling toward Hammer Ford. The sign itself is half obscured with overgrown vines. 

You roll your window further down and let the country air blow over you. The smell of the field and the crunch of gravel gives you a sense of nostalgia. Not like the smoky, rubbery atmosphere of the city. It was an exciting visit but after all that, home is a welcome reprieve. 

You yawn over the wheel and glance over at the bag with your book in it. You might be too tired to start it today. Ah well. You want to savour it just like the pretzel. 

As you relax into the seat and your mind falls into autopilot at passing the familiar gnarled tree, a sudden rev makes you squeak. It’s definitely not the bronco. If you lean to heavily on the gas, it starts to huff and puff and shake so much you think it might explode.  

A streak of silver blue appears at your right, just visible along the lower edge of the window. Another car you hadn’t noticed until then. You’re so used to the backwoods being empty, you hadn’t bothered to check your mirror. 

The car keeps pace with you and you try to lean over and see without veering. Their windows are tinted. Again, they rev and their tires speed ahead, zooming off as you keep your lazy pace. Even so, you barely have a chance to react as they turn suddenly and block the road ahead of you, setting their car perpendicular to your path. 

You slam both feet on the brakes and brace the wheel, barely keeping your chest from hitting the rigid leather. You grip it tight and push yourself back against the seat with a huff. You blink at the car idling in front of you, confused and nervous. That’s strange.  

Cars like that don’t come around here often. The Odinsons have a few vintage cars that outshine the locals, and that new resident with the bristly mustache zips around in his shiny red corvette, but you don’t recognise this car. 

You could try to drive through the fields but you’d do more damage to the truck and the crops without getting very far. You just sit there and watch and wait. You have a bad feeling in your stomach. You check the lock on your door and crank up the window. 

You remember that shade of paint. That honk back in the mall lot. Your father did say that city folk can hold a grudge, but for what? For letting another driver ahead of you? 

You gulp and wring the slender steering wheel. There’s a tire rod in the back, on the floor. You can reach it if you need it but could you really use it? You weigh the question, the car ominously still as you wait for something, anything to happen. 

[ghostsworld1234]

Kento Nanami x f!reader - Happy House

Fluff; Reader is referred to as a mother-figure and called mom

---

I heard the door open, my heart filling with joy as I turned running to the door. “Ken!” I shouted, giggling as I ran over, his arms catching me with little struggle as our lips met for a quick kiss. I looked up at him, my lips pulled into a large smile. “You’re home.” I whispered. He nodded his head, a gentle smile on his lips. 

“I am, my love.” He whispered back. I looked seeing a pink haired boy, Yuji Itadori. I knew of him. “This is Yuji Itadori. Gojo is keeping him hidden from the higher ups and the school right now. I figured you wouldn’t mind if he came home for dinner.” I nodded my head. 

“He’s more than welcome!” I said, smiling at Yuji. “Hello Itadori, I’m (name).” I said, ushering him into the apartment. “Ken rarely brings students over.” I said, turning and grabbing plates. Kento taking them to set the table. 

“Thank you for letting me stay!” He said cheerfully. I nodded my head. 

“Of course, sweetie.” I said, waving my hand. “I made Katsudon, that’s okay with you right? I can make you something else if you’d prefer?” I asked. He shook his head. I nodded. “Wonderful! So how long have you been at Jujutsu High?” 

“I started not long ago, but then I got killed. Gojo and Nanamin have been teaching me Jujutsu.” He said. I looked at him worried with how okay with it he seemed. I looked to Kento who shook his head. I smiled at Yuji. 

“Isn’t Jujutsu weird? I feel like I had so many weird different days.” I said, trying to differ the conversation. I turned grabbing the items for dinner, Yuji helping me bring it to the table. 

“You were a sorcerer?” He asked. I nodded my head. 

“Technically I still am. The higher ups don’t tend to send me out.” I said, shrugging. 

“What’s your technique?” He asked. 

“I have two, they’re called the Soul and the Mind Techniques.” I said, sitting down next to Kento, Yuji sitting on the other side. He tilted his head. I motioned for him to help himself, the boy quickly plating his food. “I can control souls and minds of people and curses.” I explained. He looked up surprised. 

“What? So you’re a special grade, right?” He asked. I nodded my head, giving him a polite smile. 

“I am yes. However, I am currently out of commission due to the higher-ups suspending me from missions.” I said. He looked at me confused. I shrugged. “I accidentally may have nearly killed a higher-up who went on the mission with me.” Kento sighing.

“Love, you threw him into a brick wall.” 

“He should have stopped his body from hitting the wall.” I said, Yuji stifling a laugh. The three of us moving into a casual conversation about their day. 

---

I smiled at the pink-haired boy as I stepped into the room. His friends were making him hold a picture frame around his face. “You really shouldn’t have gone with Gojo’s idea, sweetie.” I said, everyone turning to me. The second years cheering my name, while Megumi explained who I was to Nobara. 

“It sounded like a good idea.” He mumbled. I giggled, shaking my head. I looked around the room. 

“Well, either way, you all better win. I have a bet going with Utahime.” I said, smiling. “Don’t tell my husband though.” The group nodding their heads. I looked to Yuji. “Is everything going well?” I asked him. He nodded his head, smiling at me as he stood up. I nodded my head. “Good, I’ll see you later. Be sure to win!” I said, he nodded his head again. 

“I’ve got this!” He said. I giggled, saying goodbye to everyone and heading to the viewing room. Gojo walking in step with me. 

“So how’s the happy couple?” He teased. I laughed, shaking my head. 

“We’re good.” I said, looking up at him. “How are you doing?” He shrugged. I frowned. “Please let me know if you need anything Gojo.” He looked down at me, before nodding. 

“Of course (name)-chan! You’re the only one who’s strong enough to fight me on a daily basis!” He cheered. I smiled at him shaking my head. 

---

The knock resounded on the door. Ken looking at it confused as I laughed, hopping up. I walked over opening it up. “Yuji!” I cheered, pulling the boy in for a hug. The boy accepting it quickly. 

“Itadori, is everything okay?” Ken asked. He nodded. 

“(Nickname) invited me to dinner!” He said, smiling up at Kento. Ken’s eyes changing slightly, a warm look in them as he nodded his head. 

“Come on in.” I said, ushering Yuji in. The boy excitedly walking into the home, sitting on the couch, excitedly talking to Kento, who nodded his head, patiently listening. I leaned my head on my hand as I admired how he treated the boy. The three of us eventually moving to the table as the boy continued to talk to us, clearly feeling comfortable in the apartment. He eventually stood next to me helping me clean the dishes as Kento put them away. 

“How is Todo?” I said jokingly. He laughed, shrugging. “So Yuji, is there anyone special in your life?” I asked. He shook his head. “Really?” I asked, the boy blushing as he scratched the back of his head. “Oh come on, Yuji, you can always tell me.” I said, giggling. 

“Mommm.” He said, dragging out the last syllable, when the three of us all paused, silence filling the air. My eyes widening as my heart filled with pride. He sees me as his mom? He sees me as his mom! My hands shaking with nerves and excitement.

“D-do you see me as a mother-figure?” I asked him, a smile stretching onto my face. His face turning red as he nodded, happy tears filling my eyes. My stomach twisting with joy. “Ken! Yuji sees me as a mother-figure.” I said, excitedly pulling Yuji into a hug as he let out a laugh, hugging me back. He sees me as his mom! I hugged him tighter, my body feeling warm and happy at that revelation. His arms tightly holding me, as if scared this was a dream. Ken smiling in the reflection of the microwave. I waited until the boy pulled away, a smile on his face. His eyes showing happiness and relief. Mine showing joy and Ken's showing a certain warmth while looking at the two of us. My family may be considered weird, but I couldn't ask for anything different... I would never want it any different.

[dreamquest]

DREAMQUEST EPISODE ONE! “Hello, and welcome to the new survival show, dreamquest. I am your host, Jennie. We have a lot to learn and talk about, but first please welcome our lovely judges, who took the time out of their busy schedules to join the panel of judges. These judges are staples in the K-pop industry, having established careers and know what it takes to become the next big thing and have success in this saturated market.” Jennie smiles as she looks over to the judges, who she’s either friends with or have acquainted to.

“One by one, I will introduce each judge, please give them respect and take in every piece of advice that they may have for you.”

“On the far left we have renowned and experienced, Poppy! Poppy is a seasoned idol and member of the girl group hiræth, she feels as if she can give great advice to the trainees. Poppy is the main judge, and will be the deciding vote on who gets into tiers and who gets eliminated.”

“Next to her, we have Clem, who is a member of the talented group hashtag, she has a lot of knowledge and experience that is needed to be an amazing idol. Clem is the second main judge, right after Poppy, like the other judges her votes and feedback count just as much. She's also able to save a trainee from elimination once.”

“In the middle is the talented Veronica, Veronika is not in a group, instead she debuted as a soloist and found success all by herself. She is the third main judge, right after Poppy and Clem, like the other judges her votes and feedback count just as much. She's also able to save a trainee from elimination once. She specifies on vocals, meaning that will be the criteria she will critique the most.”

“Next to Veronika is the lovely Judy. Judy is actually the most experienced judge on the panel, her career started all the way back 2013. She has a lot of knowledge, and if I were you I would take what she says and hee critiqued and apply it. Judy loves to help others and give advice to flesh out or strengthen their skills. Judy is the fourth main judge, right after Poppy, Clem, and Veronika. Like the other judges her votes and feedback count just as much. She's also able to save a trainee from elimination once. She specifies on vocals, meaning that will be the criteria she will critique the most.”

“And last but not least, we have Hana, Hana is a member of the co-ed group NCT 127 and their female unit, NCT 143! Hana didn’t have it easy while she was training to be an idol, so she was more than willing to take the chance to offer guidance for contestants. She wants to give her best advice, criticism, and support to those who need it most — aiming for high levels of succcess within dreamquest, hoping for it to be the beginning of her solo image! Hana is the fifth main judge, right after Poppy, Clem, Veronika, and Judy. Like the other judges her votes and feedback count just as much. She's also able to save a trainee from elimination once. She specifies on dancing, meaning that will be the criteria she will critique the most.”

“Now that we have our judges introduced and you all have already met our trainees and seen their talent, it is now time for the first ever group performance!” Jennie beams. “ This first performance is by all seventeen trainees, they’ll be performing a cover of the hit record “Genie” by Girls’ Generation, and by the end of the night votes will be made by the trainers, who you’ve also met, the judges, and the trainees themselves. Whichever three trainees has the most votes will be safe from elimination and able to pick what group they’d like to be apart for when the first actual group performance is to be practiced.”

“However, whichever bottom three trainees has the least votes are in the risk of elimination and will have to do a last minute performance to save themselves. In the occasion of elimination, the judges have the opportunity to save a trainee, only if they want to. All judges have one save the entire series so make your choices wisely.”

“Without further ado, please welcome Team Genie!”

⠀⠀ׂ ⠀ ੯ ◟ 𐙚 υ ⠀ ִ aries notes

this is just part one of episode one, episode one will consist of the both showing which trainees got the most votes & who got the least, it’ll also show the songs that the girls will be performing. I’ve already sent the link of the forms to the judges/trainers & posted it, so if you didn’t get it please message me ☺️

that little video thing took me like two hours to make so please lmk if ya’ll like it 😭

& yeah i think that’s about it, if you have any questions just ask! or any conservative criticism, please tell me, i like to lmk what can make me better at what i do!

[tanadrin]

do polls of the whole country tell us anything? don't you need to look at swing states?

National polls aren't useless, because movement in polls tends to correlate. If a national poll moves a couple points in one direction or another, that will tend to correlate with some degree of movement in several states. As I understand it, though, certain subgroups of states (e.g., ones with similar demographics) have much closer correlations in how their polls move, so that a shift in the polls in one Sun Belt state should correspond to a similar shift in the polls in another. This means you can make predictions like "If Donald Trump wins Virginia, he's probably winning a crushing victory nationally," because his performance in Virginia should correlate to his performance in many other states.

Swing state polls are very valuable, but keeping those correlations in mind helps to understand whether a swing state poll is an outlier or not. If a poll shows a shift in a certain direction, but that's not correlated with similar movement in similar states, it's worth questioning of that poll is accurate. Ditto if the poll shows unusual breakdown of results in demographic subgroups: if Trump is winning (say) 30% of young black voters, given the way demographics and party alignment usually break down, he should be winning a massive margin with other groups.

One reason I am not so bearish on Biden is that my understanding is that a lot of polls have had these demographic anomalies, with Trump's lead coming largely from support among younger, politically disengaged voters of color, and Biden, apparently, doing well with demographics like older whites. It is not a coincidence, in this view, that Trump seems to be performing unusually well with demographics that are particularly hard to poll in the modern polling landscape--response rates to telephone polls are very low among millennials and gen Z--and while there are various ways you can try to compensate for non-response bias, those depend on your model of the electorate.

Now, I am not extremely confident about this, because I am the furthest thing in the world from a polling expert, but as I understand it, there are two possible situations here:

One: the polls are broadly correct, and Trump is ahead. The election in November, if current trends continue, will feature a historic realignment of voters along demographic lines like age and race of the likes not seen since the 1960s (called "depolarization" by some commentators), perhaps driven by the rise in far-right internet media and social media.

Two: the polls are broadly incorrect, and we should be more agnostic about the state of the race, or even assume Biden is a little ahead, because such a massive realignment is extremely unlikely to have occurred in only two years since the 2022 midterms (where no such realignment was in evidence, and Democrats broadly overperformed polls), and polling right now is plagued by historically low response rates in the same key demographics that give Trump his lead.

Some commentators, including commentators whose field is polling, seem to want to have it both ways: the demographic crosstabs are wrong, but the top-line polling numbers are right. I'm not sure how this can be true. On top of that, big political realignments usually take time (i.e., we should have at minimum seen some evidence of this coming in 2022), and are unlikely to occur in a race where both candidates have been president before.

So on balance I think the second scenario is more likely. Now, I am not a stats person, nor particularly knowledgeable about polls; all of this opinion is second-hand from other commentators. As such, I am not going to claim any kind if ironclad certainty about this, and you're perfectly entitled to rub it in my face if I turn out to be totally wrong. And if I do stumble across someone who does know the polls really well with an explanation of why I'm wrong (even just at the level of "you are factually wrong, here's why the crosstabs are actually perfectly normal") I may well revise my opinion.

[velvetvexations]

I.D.K. I feel like I’ve said this a million times but it drives me fucking insane how eager people are to undermine the struggles of gnc women and transmascs for the sake of the TIRF Oppression Hierarchy being upheld.

Its “nobody cares if little girls are tomboys or women wear pants”, until they’re talking about transfems, then its “women’s gender expression is most policed out of any group”

But it’s also “nobody cares about fem men”, until they’re talking about transfems, then its “there is no room for gender nonconformity in male spaces, and being gnc in any way removes you from patriarchal privilege”

(NOTE!: I do not say this to imply trans women and fems have it easier. I am trying to state that EVERYONE’s gender expression is policed because we live in a cissexist society, and I would really fucking appreciate if people would stop calling butches and transmascs whiny bitches for like. One second. Butchphobia is real, transandrophobia is real. Please I’m begging you (general you, not directed at op))

I don't have a lot to add cuz you're just Right anon, but I do wanna take the time to thank you for still caring to emphasize that you believe we all suffer equally under transphobic systems. It means a lot to me as a transfem that in spite of the backlash you get prioritizing one kinna trans person over another, you still feel it important to keep in mind that we're in the same bad spot.

[dtmsrpfcringe]

it's genuinely hilarious seeing the logical backflips people are doing to turn david into some kind of racist misogynist. like amusing in a concerning way.

lemme break it down for anyone who doesn't understand:

he absolutely did not, by any stretch of the imagination, imply that only some women/woc are deserving of life or freedom of speech and that he's somehow the judge of which women are "good" ones.

all he did was say that he wishes someone who is actively harming lots of people, one of whom is his child, didn't exist. he said he wanted this person, who poses a threat to his family and many others, to shut up.

he didn't call for her to be forcibly silenced. he wishes she wasn't using her life and voice to perpetuate oppression.

it has nothing to do with blanket statements or collective prejudices against women or pos. that, in this case, is completely irrelevant. he dislikes her on a very ideological basis. she parrots ideas and supports policies that can literally endanger lives (see: the massive reduction of suicide and self harm rates among trans youth who are respected, can trust those around them to protect their privacy, and those who are allowed to transition within reasonable bounds for a child's decision making abilities).

he doesn't like that she does that.

there, simple.

i am very much not british, but after looking into her, she seems like a genuine threat to all vulnerable groups. considering who she gets her money from, i wouldn't be surprised if many black brits consider her to be a danger to them.

david tennant did not do anything wrong. in fact, he's standing for something wonderful: safety for trans people and other marginalised groups. kemi badenoch is the antithesis of that.

i say this as a woman of colour myself.

amazing. Ten out of ten. when they have someone as pure as david tennant that they cannot dredge up anything on, they will simply make it up.

[pheonixxfoxx]

My Flashy Haul!

This is an ideal time to show off all the goodies that came in that enormous box from Japan on Monday. Plus, other cool stuff I've acquired over the week! First up is this sexy mint in box Buggy Samurai figure by D.P.C.F-DX!

This brilliant figure is even more amazing then I could have ever anticipated! Well worth every penny, even the pennies on shipping!! Admittedly, I didn't expect it to be quite so, um...big though, LOL!! Will I eventually remove him from the box? I'm hesitant of that at this time, space being a contributing factor. Next up we have a variety of goodies! Yes, there will be lots of can badges; I seem to like them and cards/flats a lot!

I finally was able to snag the Mascolle Great Deep figure of Buggy for a reasonable price! Seems like he is moderately obscure to find too, but now I don't need to worry. The hunt was successful and is now over, woot!!!

The volleyball Buggy can badge is one of the best things ever! A fun addition to my ever growing collection. A mutual friend of mine wisely said that Buggy should be banned from sports, LOL!! As previously mentioned, I seem to have a soft spot for flats. While some specific items in this group are duplicates, there were a lot of intriguing things I didn't own yet, but had been eyeballing.

Besides, I couldn't pass on the "Buggy Conspirators" sticker. One thing I often seek out is unique items, and that sticker seems to be rather different. I honestly can't believe how many can badges that are in my collection at this point, LOL!! They are located in various suitable places around my collection room. The plan is to eventually take individual photos of every item I've obtained.

The face can badge, from what I perceive was part of a special promo this year for the 25th anniversary of One Piece. They took 10,000 face images from the manga and made them into can badges. Best part, no two are alike! I purposely obtained this one, as it is from Impel Down. The part where Buggy goes to kick out a Muggy Ball at Minotaurus. The nose can badge was a fun find too, apparently it is relatively old! Here is the last group of items from the glorious box of flashy goodies. The box that made my entire week as I I grinned like a Cheshire Cat.

There are in fact 8 of the birthday can badges, LOL!! I might have to create me an itabag with all the extras, it would make for a fun project. Oh and the art on the Amada sticker is beyond sexy!! *drools* I treasure it more then words can express!! Yeah, it doesn't take much to make me happy. Now onto the other items I received throughout this week.

I really like the composition of this card. It's a card, which has been on my radar for a bit and was ultimately able to snag for an affordable price. This is where you all will find out that I am an immature 2 year old.

This card set was mainly purchased because it mentions "Buggy Balls," LOL!! Eh, I'm a kid at heart, what can I say? Last, but not least is this rather flashy keychain of Buggy at Marineford.

Done for now, though there is one other item I could add to this for funsies. However, it is my most prized item of the Star Clown. I think it should receive a post all its own.

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Hiya! Have never made a fic request before, but here goesssss:

You and Andy met through mutual friends in Nashville during the summer of 2022 while he was recording some tracks for Unreal Unearth. You spent nearly three months in each other's beds before you abruptly "ghosted" him by moving to LA for your dream marketing job w/ Warner Music Group.

Now here you are, at an engagement party of your childhood best friend Stephanie to one of Andrew's childhood mates, sitting across the table from the man you never thought you'd have to see again - one who's staring at you like this:

🫣😬🫠

Wow, ehm, this was quite the specific request. I usually don't do these, as I find that my creativity works best with a bit of freedom. I somehow managed to come up with something, I don't know if it is any good though.

So please, for future requests, be a bit less specific. The idea was to just send a pic with a request for fluff or smut. It's absolutely fine to ask for a certain outfit, hairstyle, setting, trope, etc., but please don't get mad if I choose to ignore detailed requests like this in the future.

warnings: talk about past ghosting

 Gloomy eyes bore into you, staring you down from across the table with a resentment you had never seen in them before. Was he sulking? Or trying to read your mind? Or did he hope his gaze would turn into actual daggers and pierce right through you on the spot?

Whatever it was, it was working and even though you had given it your all to hold your ground these past hours, your walls firmly pulled up all evening, you could steadily feel the inner storm build that tugged on your nerves from both ends until they would eventually snap.

But beside all the grim looks he had shot your way, he had not said a single word. Not to you, anyway, and also not to many of the other guests. But as he leant in now, eyes narrowed, his elbows supporting his weight against the table, you knew that the dangerous clenching of his jaw could only mean that he was finally ready to fire his venom your way. 

You rose to your feet in an instant, the blatant noise as your chair scraped across the floor silencing every single conversation in the room. And even though all eyes were collectively resting on you now, it was that one familiar set of green orbs that forced the heat into your cheeks.

“I’ll just,” you stuttered, pointing across your shoulder to the nearest escape route into the garden. “I just need some fresh air. Be back in a sec.”

With one last apologetic look at your friend, you wasted no more time on half-hearted excuses and hurried your steps to get away from the table—from him—as far as possible. 

A cool breeze welcomed you as you stepped through the large glass doors, but you did not hold your steps until you had crossed the entirety of the terrace and your feet touched the pliable surface of the lawn. The silence was heavenly, allowing you to properly breathe for the first time tonight. 

Sadly it was disturbed by hurried steps all too soon. Probably Stephanie’s, who must have come to check on you after that suspicious stunt you had pulled mere moments ago. Good, you thought, you had a bone to pick with her anyway. How could she, after everything that had happened, invite that man without at least giving you a heads up?

“Is this your idea of a joke?” you blurted out, hoping she was already close enough to hear you. You did not care to turn, being far too angry to face her yet.

“Can’t really say it is, no.”

But the voice that answered you was not Stephanie’s at all. You spun around on instinct, wide eyes finding the outline of his familiar form against the lights that fell from the house behind him.

“Andrew.”

What a stupid thing to say. Of course it was him. However much you wished it was not. And his reply made it unmistakably clear that he did not care for your presence either.

“Why are you here?” “What do mean, why am I here?” you snapped. “I was invited, just like you, I presume.”

“You didn’t need to come,” he stated plainly, and the cold in his voice made you shiver.

“I might not have if I had known you’d be here.”

“That’s rich!” he spat. “Especially since you are the one who chose to leave.”

“I chose to, yes,” you defended yourself, taking a step towards him. Why, you did not know. Were you getting ready to throw hands with him? You would, if provoked. Or did you just succumb to the need to look into his eyes while you said what you had been needing to say for so long. “Because I wanted that job. You know how much it meant to me. But even more so,” you paused for a moment, reluctant to finally reveal the full truth. A truth you had never been able to tell before. The real reason why you had so cowardly deserted him almost two years ago. “I needed space.”

“Space?” his brows furrowed as he pondered the revelation. “So, you were running from me?”

“No, not from you.” How could he ever think you were running from him? And if that was not enough to make your heart heavy, the broken look in his eyes almost killed you. It tempted you to give in, to reach out and touch his cheek to ease the harsh creases in his forehead. But you could not. “I ran from whatever it was that you and me were. It…I couldn’t do it any longer.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

He sighed, the frustration in his tone was apparent now. “No, I don’t.”

“Because I wanted you,” you blurted out. “I wanted you so much.” And then your voice broke underneath the weight of your confession. "But not like that.”

“Like what?”

It was your turn to sigh now. Why did he have to make this extra hard for you? Why couldn’t he just understand?

“Andy, I wanted a life with you. Not some casual sex whenever I fit into your busy schedule.”

“That’s not fair. You knew who is was, what I do.”

He was right of course. You had known all of that from the start. And still you had clung to that frail thread of hope that this, you and him, would somehow be different.

“I did. But I didn’t know…” You could not bare to look at him. Not when your vision was already starting to blur. He would notice, and you could not allow that on top of everything else that was already turning this night into your personal living hell. And so you spun around.

“What? What did you not know?”

The sudden softness in his voice finally made your eyes spill over. Hot streams of tears ran down your cheeks freely now, and when he touched you, so tender, just like you remembered, there was nothing left inside of you to resist. As if your soul had left your body, you watched the scene unfold, watched him turn you back around, your heart almost leaping out of your chest when his formerly furious eyes softened instantly. It was time.

“I did not know how much I would…” you sniffled, “how much you would come to mean to me.”

There, you had said it, and it had not nearly hurt as much as you had anticipated. Actually, you were feeling a little better, lighter, somehow. But at the same time it was almost unbearably clear to you that your fate now hung in the balance of the deafening silence that loomed in the darkness all around you.

Time trickled by torturously slowly, but still no words had left his lips. You were almost beginning to wonder if he would ever speak to you again, if you should just walk away and leave it all behind. But things were different now than they had been two years ago, you were different, and so you stayed put. 

And then he moved. Carefully, as if he was afraid to scare you away, he reached out for you. His hand felt heavenly against the cool skin of your cheek and the gentle brush of his thumb as he wiped away your tears made your heart flutter. Yet it was nothing compared to his words.

“And you think you did not mean just as much to me?”

You could not speak, your tongue heavy as lead. And so you simply shook your head instead. You were still trying hard to process his words, so afraid your foggy brain might have misheard that you did not notice at first. It was only when you felt his breath crawling along your lips that you realised he was pulling you in. 

With the point of no return long passed, there was no going back now. Fisting the cool leather of his jacket, you closed the small gap that still remained and with the long lost taste of him fresh on your lips, you lost all control.

Lips moved in a fevered frenzy, tongues dancing, exploring, tasting what they had dearly missed all this time, glad to find that nothing had changed, even though everything was different now. 

You both broke away with a gasp, panting heavily as he rested his forehead against yours, your face still framed by his large hands.

“I’m sorry I fucked this up,” he pushed out between two harsh breaths.

“We both did.”

But you did not think it mattered anymore, all the pain and frustration and anger washed away as you buried your face in the soft cotton of his shirt and let his familiar scent calm your racing heart. You had no idea how long the two of you had stayed like this, his arms wrapped around you, tender lips pressing a kiss to your hair every now and then. All you knew was that you never wanted this to end. And there was only one question left to ask.

“Where do we go from here?” your words came muffled against his chest.

“How about back inside?” He must have felt you stir upon his words and so he was quick to add, “Just for a start. We can figure out the rest along the way.”