#ah taylor. i am so sorry

[rolandkaros]

TAYLOR TOWNSEND [USA] & KATEŘINA SINIAKOVÁ [CZE] in their runners'-up speeches || WTA FINALS RIYADH DOUBLES FINAL || 11 09 2024

[dolene]

I AM A WHAT? ; fernando alonso x wife!reader

summary: after taylor swift's song was out, people couldn't help but link him to taylor—while he didn't know anything about the current news.

note: sorry if this is so messy, it was a brainrot 🤭 and anyway happy ttpd day for those who celebrate!

the circulating news about his unreal relationship with the international singer taylor swift is no longer in doubt. there are many people who support them, shipping them, and even created a fan account dedicated to the two of them—who are not related or know each other at all.

“heh, yeah i'm aware of it.” he snort when the interviewer asked him about the swirling news. “but either way, i know that it wouldn't be possible.” he continues, simply shrugging with his wide smile still decorating his face when he saw the interviewer's eyebrows knit.

“oh? why is that?” he finally asked which fernando answered shortly, “i've had my wife, you remember?” and the interviewer chuckled, “no but really, if you hadn't marries her yet, would you choose her?” he said, making fernando goes silent for a quick moment.

“ah, probably.” he said eventually, “if i were still as young as her... and as tall. it would be okay.” the both of them laughed at his answer, leaving the interviewer with his tons of asks to continue the interview and leaving the taylor topic alone.

A YEAR LATER...

being chronically online in social media gave him a lot of benefits to offer. from not missing up with the latest news and trends makes him quite popular in his daily social media life as a trendy man on tiktok. but that also doesn't rule out the possibility that sometimes he is still left behind with other news that is not included in his list of interests. whether it's because he's not interested and allows himself to be left out of it, or he doesn't know about it all.

and having a wife who is also a journalist gives him many benefits, and one of them is not missing in any trending news that he doesn't even know it exists;

“ooh, i see that you were trending on twitter today.” you said as you walked to the counter to take a glass of juice from the mini refrigerator.

“twitter?” he asked from the bathroom, his voice echoed, and your uh-huh answers his question. “i haven't checked my twitter in a day or two now,” he said as he continued to brush his teeth, “so i don't know what am i even missed so i could be on the trending topic.”

“d'you want me to check it out for you?”

“mhm, sure.”

you immediately opened your twitter again after hearing his approval, searched for his name in the search column and finally found the topic you were looking for. lots of it. a lot of them were tweets about him and taylor swift with her new album.

you were silent for a moment, as you were getting too preoccupied with seeing what people were talking about about your husband and taylor swift, that you forgot about fernando who had been waiting for your response in the bathroom.

“so what is that all about?” he questioned, after he's finally came out of the bathroom, immediately standing next to you to peek at your phone. “apparently it's your gossip with miss swift.” he let out a loud laugh and stood up from his previous position as he walked towards his suitcase to look for a clean clothes for him to wear.

usually you are quite updated with the latest news, especially about taylor swift because you are a swiftie. but strangely enough, you don't know about this either.

“i haven't heard about the lastest album.” you said, and fernando hummed. “so you didn't know about the news, then?” he asked, and you answered, “no, i don't.” okay he said as a respond.

but after some time of scrolling through your twitter page, you finally find out what they mean about it. and you can't even deny it, you were also late in digesting the information.

MEANWHILE TWITTER...

“ooohhh, so you are taylor's car.” your face was still focused on your phone screen when fernando looked at you with a confused face. “i'm her what?”

“her car. and look, your relationship gossip with taylor is up again.” you giggled but didn't told him about the detailed things that you've been said to him earlier, making him keeping the confused face on his face longer.

“cariño, ¿de qué hablas?” he shakes his head, finally letting his desperation wins over the the lack of clarity in the information you gave him. you smiled, approaching him who was sitting on the bed, his mouth pouted with his lower lips is pushed forward—just like a 10 year old child whose parents weren't allowed to play.

“okay so, on her newest album, taylor wrote in the lyrics ‘i'm an aston martin’ and maybe that's why the public started to brings the taylor rumors again.” you said, and he nodded. “then you are her car, right?” and he finally get rid of the pout that he has on earlier as he slowly laughed. a breathy one, before he finally stops in a current slow motion.

“but that still doesn't answer your lack of clarity earlier!” he insists, but his face is still smiling from his laugh earlier, his eyes looking at you. “i already explained it to you!” you chuckled and his eyes lit up as you looked back at him.

there was a silence filling up the room for a moment after you said that, until he finally broke it; “you know, even if someday i could be with taylor, i wouldn't be with her.”

“really? and why is that?”

“because i could only be your aston martin.”

“oh my—” and before you could even rolled your eyes or completing your sentence, he had already pulled you in for a kiss first. luckily he's your husband.

taglist: @seasonswinter @haikyuen @callsignwidow

translation: cariño, ¿de qué hablas? = baby, what are you talking about?

[gluion]

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 @onedoornet

[mirrorball-leclerc]

i did something bad - part two

THE CHARLOS BREAK UP

masterlist//previous//next

BRAZIL 2023

daniel ricciardo please tell me charles did not get into an argument with carlos.

teagan horner charles did not get into an argument with carlos. carlos got into an argument with him, two very different things.

max verstappen what was the argument even about?

charles leclerc doesn't matter it was bullshit.

mark webber clearly not, if you two came to blows.

pierre gasly carlos said he was shit driver and and that he only had the red bull seat because he was 'fucking horner's slut daughter' or that was the tailend of what i heard.

pierre gasly not to mention he punched teagan in face because she stood in front of charles hoping to stop the situation.

alex albon well i'll be damned.

yuki tsunoda so we all follow that one gossip account? because i know none of you were near when this happened.

liam lawson i do. how else am i supposed to find out that fernando alonso was visited by taylor swift last week in austin? daniel ricciardo it's fun to follow them. one time they said max and i were hooking up, we weren’t, but i liked the tweet to fuel them more. pr was not happy that week.

mark webber christian's been awfully quite this entire time.

max verstappen we're planning on how to torpedo into carlos in brazil. i'm the sacrifice because i've already won the championship. checo perez he supposed to fail at getting pole position in quali next week to end up behind carlos. sebastian vettel pulling a kvyat i see, i respect it max verstappen the only time i'll do something like kvyat. yuki tsunoda HE PUNCHED TEAGAN?! WHAT THE HELL?? WHERE IS THIS MAN?!

liam lawson yuki, think about your actions. charles is getting fined for what you’re thinking about doing (i think)

yuki tsunoda do i look like i give a fuck?

pierre gasly we ride at dawn!

mark webber you two are perfect for each other

sebastian vettel YOU’RE IN A MEETING GET OFF YOUR PHONE GASLY!!!

yuki tsunoda that should be your sign gasly, come back to alpha tauri! daniel can take your seat at alpine

daniel ricciardo hell no. i saw what they did to my fellow aussie, oscar. do you think i wanna get sued by them?

teagan horner we’re back, carlos is still pissed but so is my dad.

mark webber how’s your face after that punch?

teagan horner i have a sick black eye. i look like i got in a bar fight. i got the proper texas experience. christian horner this isn't a laughing matter teagan. you could've been seriously hurt. sebastian vettel he's right teagan, it could've escalated to something worse. max verstappen so is the plan still on to crash into carlos or not?

charles leclerc not, i want to do it. who gives a fuck on where i end up in the drivers championship, i'm already p7. let me do it brocedes style.

daniel ricciardo ah, 2016 spainsh grand prix, those were good days.

sebastian vettel you got p4 and max won daniel ricciardo they were good days because both mercedes dnf'd

max verstappen he won't do it

sergio perez i'll gladly help, we can have a repeat of yesterday.

charles leclerc deal and sorry about that, again.

sergio perez it could've happened to anyone, besides it was my fault

alex albon so...talk about a dramatic brazilian gp

lewis hamilton why is it always thing 1 or thing 2 starting the awkward conversations? lando norris they have nothing better to do alex albon listen here you muppet!

logan sargeant (i'm so sorry lewis) it's giving brocedes 2.0

nico hulkenberg be grateful you weren't around then sargeant. those were dark times.

lewis hamilton i feel like you're being a little dramatic about it.

kevin magnussen we aren't. everyone walked on eggshells because of you two. toto could never seem to catch a break.

fernando alonso it seems you're the old one lewis, if your memory is failing already.

lando norris kinda surprised it took this long for those two to go at it a la brocedes

charles leclerc i was sandwiched, what was i supposed to do? crash into checo for the second time in a row?

carlos sainz not crash into me. you had no problem crashing into sergio last week.

charles leclerc well, checo is the one retiring this year, not you. you'll have plenty more races.

carlos sainz since when do you call him checo?

carlos sainz and i was on pole! i could've won!

max verstappen at charles' expense no less

george russell "horrified looks from everyone in the room"

daniel ricciardo i don't know if i should be impressed that you know taylor swift lyrics lance stroll coming from the guy who sang our song in an interview word for word last month. daniel ricciardo at least i wasn't the one spamming the groupchat with taylonso memes

lewis hamilton how did this become the mess it has?

fernando alonso this is the only time i will ever wish sebastian was still driving. at least he could control these baboons.

nico hulkenberg who are you calling a baboon, nando?

fernando alonso if the shoe fits, nico, if the shoe fits

LAS VEGAS 2023

pierre gasly i will be throwing hands with fred and the rest of ferrari’s f1 team, starting with carlos.

alex albon but we gotta give charles credit, defying team orders the way he did in vegas? respect, it further proves ferrari would keep sacrificing his race even if he was on pole and leading the majority of the race.

liam lawson what did we expect? it's ferrari, and that strategy was a shit one, even i know that. charles had been leading for 35/50 laps and they wanted him to let carlos through? who was down in p6? yuki tsunoda ferrari has shit for brains pierre gasly and it's not like carlos would've been able to make it past checo, oscar, danny, and max to get the win. in the end, lando and alex overtook him, alex who's in a williams! you would've given me a few more laps and i could've overtaken him.

daniel ricciardo also, rumor has it that piero ferrari is like super pissed they let charles go.

mark webber of course he’s pissed, charles was their golden boy, he won monza. the first to do so since 2010 when fernando had won.

liam lawson i think the biggest fuck you to ferrari would be having charles win both monza and imola

sebastian vettel i like this kid, where did christian find you?

pierre gasly outside of yuki’s home. he picked him up by the scruff of his neck and said, “i want you to be our reserve driver at alpha tauri” liam lawson he found me in a dumpster outside of his home. sebastian vettel i hate both of you

teagan horner i thank god everyday that there is only one race left until the season is over

¡leclerc-s speaks! would carlos ever act like this? probably not, doesn't mean i'm going to stop writing it this way. i think people react in different ways when they're hurt and unfortunately in this fic carlos is lashing out. don't worry, i'm going to fix their relationship, just not for now, i like drama. would any of these events happen irl, no way, but what's the fun in fanfic if you can't exaggerate events at least a little?

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[zhvakinnn]

Waaa no more request so I decided to make a school bus graveyard incorrect quotes:'D

Reader is here, but he/she/them a singel sorry

-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-

Aiden: if i were to punch myself and i got hurt am i strong or weak?

Reader: strong!

Ben writing: weak

Tyler: an idiot

-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-

Taylor: what's worst than a heart break?

Reader: waking up finding your phone unplug

Tyler: waking up in the morning

Ashlyn: waking up

-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-

Ashlyn: sometimes I wanna be a caterpillar

Logan: why?

Ashlyn: eat's a lot, sleep's a lot

Logan: oh.. but wait fun fact about caterpillars they have a life span of two weeks?

Ashlyn: hm that's another highlight

Logan realize: wait no!

-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-

Aiden: Quick Ashlyn hold my hand!

Ashlyn: now what?!

Aiden: nothing i just wanna hold hands

-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-

Tyler: hey reader

Reader: my old friend used to call me that

Tyler:...

Tyler: ITS BECAUSE THAT IS LITERALY YOUR NAME

-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-

Reader in a sleepover with Taylor: hey do you know what time it is my phone just died

Taylor: oh my phone died too, wait

Taylor stands up and took a flute and playing terrible

Tyler: WHO THE HECK PLAYS A FLUTE IN 5AM

Taylor: its 5am wait.. its already 5am?

-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-

Reader: what's a thot?

Aiden: a thoughtful friend

...

Taylor bringing you a snack

Reader: thanks Tay your such a thot

Tyler: exuse me what?-

-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-

Ashlyn: ah shit..

Mr. Banner: hey language

Tyler: oh fucking c'mon

Mr. Banner: language!

Taylor: ah shit that hurts

Mr. Banner: language!..

Aiden: what the frick brick jick kick jack is that shing shong

Reader: hey what the fick tick tickity tock was that about

Mr. Banner:...

Mr. Banner: what the fuck?..

-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-

Ben writing fast: your loosing a lot of blood, Quick what's your type?!

Tyler reading it: blonde, has glasses, and a sniper

Reader: NO DUDE YOUR BLOOD TYPE!

Tyler: dunno ask him

Aiden: red

-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-

Ben writing: do you think crabs fly?

Reader: how high are you?

Ben: 6'0

-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-

Reader: how high are you?

Aiden: how what?

Reader: high

Aiden: hello

-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-

Cop: you're receiving a ticket for having three people in one motorcycle

Ben was driving

Aiden: wait three?

Cop: yeah?

Taylor: OMG TYLER!

-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-

Reader: setting down an ace of spades

Aiden: setting down a 4+ uno

Ashlyn: Pikachu I choose you

Ben sweating because he doesn't know what the heck is happening

-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-

Ashlyn: why is Taylor and tyler leaning at each others back?

Aiden: they had a fight

Logan: why are they holding hands then?

Reader: they got sad after a fight

-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-✧-

I'll be making more of this and try to ship reader with someone:')

Masterlist | about me | rules

[schoopsahoy]

i'm holding every breath for you

steve harrington x nextdoor neighbour!reader {8.2k} based on the song i’d lie by taylor swift. friends-to-lovers. lots of pining, a bit of angst, steve being oblivious to reader’s feelings. reader uses she/her pronouns. no use of y/n. not proofread

You root through the glove compartment of Steve’s car, bent over at the waist to peer into the small space trying to find the lip balm you swore you left there the last time he gave you a ride. 

“Why d’you have so much crap in here? How am I meant to find anything?” You pull out random scraps of paper, food wrappers and notes scribbled in a hurry that were barely legible.

“You wouldn’t have to look through it if you didn’t forget something every time you’re in here.” 

You shoot him a glare, no malice really behind it because he was right, you did have a bad habit of constantly leaving your stuff in his car. Though to be fair, you were constantly leaving things behind in the places you’d been, it wasn’t exclusive to his car.

“S’not my fault, I just forget.” You’ve got a pile of rubbish on your lap now, the glove box empty enough for you to actually see its contents. When you finally see the plastic tube you’ve been searching for you let out a small ah!, inhaling quickly as you pull it out with a victorious smile on your face. “Got it.” 

“Best put it somewhere safe, god forbid you have to root through my stuff again.” Steve’s eyebrows were raised, a sarcastic twang to his voice, but you know he’s not really mad. He was never mad, not at you anyway. 

“I know, sorry, could have all sorts of secrets in here.” 

You put all the rubbish you’ve accumulated back into the compartment, really you should keep hold of it to throw it all out. But the thought doesn’t cross your mind until you’re back home in your room.

“Think you know all of my secrets anyway, I’ll let it slide.” 

You sit back in your seat, pulling down the sun visor to shield your eyes from the summer evening sun that was hanging low in the sky. You have your own car, and were perfectly capable of driving it, but Steve insisted on driving you around because your car was old and rickety and ‘should not be allowed on the road’. He was at least a little bit right, and you can't say you mind him picking you up from your shifts at the grocery store. His passenger seat had always felt a bit like home, even through high school and the girlfriends that would come and go, your presence up front was a constant. 

You undo a few of the buttons on your work shirt, the sticky heat of the day clinging to the fabric and your skin. The air conditioning near the checkouts in work was temperamental at best, and today it had decided to pretty much pack in altogether. The first thing you’d done when you got into Steve’s car was crank the AC up to try and lower your body temperature from feverish to just plain old hot. 

“You coming to the lake this weekend?” You pick at your chipped nail varnish, Steve finally able to actually start the drive home now you’ve dug through his mess successfully. It was a Hawkin’s summer tradition to spend at least one day down by the lake, drinking and smoking a bit too much and getting a little dizzy from a full day of sun exposure. 

Steve hums, nodding in response as he pulls out of the parking lot. “You’ll never guess who asked me that at work today.” 

“At work? Robin?” You look away from your nails, brows furrowed and nose scrunched with confusion. 

“No, not Robin.” Steve chuckles, your response typical of your mind, always a little ditzy and in your own world. It was endearing in a way, your world view simple and honest and good. “Tammy Thompson.” 

Your mouth opens to a small ‘O’, head nodding slowly. “You gonna go with her?” 

“No, absolutely not. Couldn’t pay me to go with her.” 

“She’s not so bad, in the grand scheme of Hawkin’s.” 

“If my best option is Tammy Thompson, I think I’ll just stay single forever.” 

You press your lips together, nodding again. You were overly familiar with Steve’s dating woes, both throughout school and now into adulthood. Maybe if you were bolder, with less to lose than your best friend, you’d just tell him to date you. Bite the bullet and take the leap and just give it a try. But you weren’t bold, you were safe and comfortable in the familiar and not ready to jeopardise that by confessing some big feelings that Steve was oblivious to.

“You just gonna hide from her the whole time then?”

“Maybe, use you as a human shield.” He grins at you, watching as you scrunch up your nose again. It was one of those mannerisms that you did all the time, whenever something confused you or if he teased you a little. It was a dead giveaway for your emotions, even if you were unaware of it. 

“But you’re bigger than me, I don’t think I’d be very good at it.” 

“Y’not even gonna try? I’d do it for you.” He pouts at you, you’re sure he’s doing his best puppy dog eyes behind his sunglasses too. 

“Sure, I’ll try. But don’t blame me when she spots you, I can’t grow like 3 feet taller in a few days.” 

“Don’t think you’d need to grow 3 feet, honey.” 

“To do a proper job I would.” 

Steve just nods, smiling to himself as he pulls into the street you’ve both grown up on. Carpooling was pretty easy when you only had to make one stop, though he’d take you to the other side of the world if you asked him to. 

“You gonna need a lift to work tomorrow?” Steve parks up in his driveway, turning the ignition off and cutting off the AC you’ve been basking in, a small sigh coming from your lips as the cool air stops fanning on your skin. 

“S’okay, I start at like 6am so I can drive.” You pick your backpack up out of the footwell, corduroy straps held tightly in your hand. 

“You’re not driving that death trap when you’re half asleep, you know I don’t mind dropping you off.” Steve’s car keys dangle from his pointer finger, the collection of keyrings you’d gotten him over the years from every holiday you’d been on jingling against one another. “Just bang on my door if I don’t knock before you need to leave.”

“You’re silly for doing this, y’know that?” 

“Only for you, sweetheart.” 

Steve leans over to ruffle your hair, earning him a huff from you as you try to move your head away. You smooth out the mess as you climb out the passenger side, slinging your bag over one shoulder as you start to make your way over to your own house. 

“You forgetting something?” Steve calls after you, and as you turn you see him holding out the same lip balm you’d left behind before. 

“Oh, thanks Stevie.” You hurry back over to take the tube out of his hand, giving him a sweet smile before heading back home again. 

—

You’re used to early mornings, pretty good at pushing past the grogginess after having to work so many opening shifts and be alert when the sun is still climbing in the sky, but being jostled about the back of Eddie’s van with the rest of your friends when you’re all still half asleep hurt your head a little bit. 

It was the easiest option, meaning you could all make your way to the lake together and only have one designated driver, but you did miss seatbelts. 

The heat was still yet to break, the air thick and clammy despite only wearing a tank top and some jean shorts over your bikini. You’re already slathered in sunscreen, the artificial coconut smell a bit overwhelming in the enclosed space and it doesn’t seem to lessen even once you’re out in the fresh air. 

“I wish we had one of those big umbrellas.” You stand with your hands on your hips, watching the boys lug the bags filled with snacks and the cooler of beer and soda out of the van. “It’s so hot.” 

“That’s what the lakes for, cools you right down.” Eddie smiles, shaking his curls out of his eyes as he stands up straight. 

You shrug, staring out at the glistening water. “I don’t wanna get my hair wet.”

“It’s gonna get wet.” 

“Shame.” You chew the inside of your cheek and hold your arms out to take one of the picnic blankets that’d been brought along. 

It took you about fifteen minutes to all settle on a spot along the shore, Eddie and Robin wanting to be as close to the pier as possible so they can dive-bomb into the water but Nancy saying there’ll be too much foot traffic there and nobody will be able to relax. You stand back, letting your friends argue it out and laying down your blanket once the issue had been resolved. 

The sun feels nice on your skin, the lake having more of a breeze than the rest of town making it bearable to lay out in. It doesn’t take too long for the midday heat to have you peeling off your tank top, shorts unbuttoned and rolled down a little so you can feel the heat on your stomach. 

Eddie hands out one of the joints he pre-rolled for the occasion, something about needing to start early so he can sober up before he drives you all home. The smoke has your head feeling a little fuzzy, mixing with the beer you’ve been sipping slowly and slowing your mind down. 

“You’re going pink.” Steve sits down next to you, cross legged and shoulders almost brushing. 

“I thought it was green?” You tilt your head to one side, putting the back of your hand to your head to feel your temperature. “I feel okay.” 

“No, not that, your shoulders.” 

You lift your sunglasses onto the top of your head, looking down to your shoulders which were turning a little pink. Your freckles coming out where the sun had kissed your skin. “Oh, right, I am.” 

“C’mere.” Steve leans over to reach for the sunscreen, not moving from his seat next to you as he stretches his arm over the blanket. “Your mom will be mad if I let you get burnt.” 

You shake your head, shuffling around so Steve can get to your shoulders easier. “You’re her favourite, she’d just tell me to be more careful.” 

The sunscreen feels cold, even as Steve rubs it in carefully against the hot patches of skin on your shoulders, being careful to get it under the straps of your bikini. You’re used to his gentle touches, him always looking after you ever since you were kids, but now you’re older and you’re more aware of the way his hands move and how he treats you like you’re precious and it makes your heart skip a little. 

He moves a hand away to take the joint off Robin, inhaling as he keeps massaging the sunscreen in with his other hand. He can feel the heat radiating off your skin, not yet in the sunburn territory, just a little warm. Your skin always feels soft, he’s not sure if it’s some moisturiser you use or if it’s just how you are. He leans his arm over your shoulder, holding the joint out to you as you take it between your fingers. 

You inhale, careful not to press your lips against the roach too hard in case your lipgloss transfers too much. Steve finally finishes rubbing the cream into your shoulders, and you shuffle again so that you’re facing him. “Is my face pink too? My nose feels kinda warm.” 

Steve lifts his own sunglasses up so he can look at you clearer, hair pushed back by the frames and his hand shielding his eyes from the sun's glare. “A little, you want sunscreen on there too?”

You nod your head, closing your eyes. Your eyelashes cast little shadows on your cheeks, something Steve hasn’t really noticed before but he likes it. Likes seeing you up close, even after all these years. His movements are careful as he brushes the cream across your nose and over your cheeks, just using one finger to rub it into your skin. 

You enjoy the sweet moments, but sometimes they’re too easy to get lost in. It's easy to pretend you don’t harbour all these feelings for Steve when you’re apart, even when you’re just hanging out at a safe distance. But when he’s close, your mind gets a bit carried away. Dreaming up scenarios where he might press a kiss to your lips whilst your eyes are still closed, hold your hand once he’s done and keep it there for the rest of the day. You’ve got a big imagination, it’s a real bother sometimes. 

Steve finishes his careful application, and sets his hand down in his lap to look over your face once more to check he hasn’t missed anywhere. He takes a moment to just watch how you breath steady, a small smile on your lips that always seems to be there without you even knowing. “Okay, you’re done.” 

You open your eyes, instantly squinting from the bright sunlight. You quickly bring your sunglasses back over your eyes, the red heart shaped frames contrasting against your complexion. “Thanks Steve, you’re the best.” 

“I know, s’why you love me.” 

If only you knew, you think. You have to force your face not to react to his words, simply giving him a smile as you lay back down to sunbathe some more. 

The heat and the smoke and the alcohol makes you clingy. They always do, even on their own, so mixing all three was sure to have you craving closeness. 

The boys had all been in the lake, splashing and tackling each other and making enough noise to draw attention from most of the people on the lake. When Steve walks back to the blanket, you hold out your arms to him as if to summon him. 

“Hey, honey. You good?” He sits in that same spot next to you, you instantly lean your head on his shoulder and hum a response. His body is still wet, but you suddenly don’t mind your hair getting a little damp. Steve knows what you’re like when you’re high, having spent enough nights on his back porch sharing a joint when his parents were out of town. Knows how you like to be close to him, he doesn’t mind it so much either. 

“M’good.” You mumble, pushing your face further into his neck. He smells like the fresh water, that same strong sunscreen but somehow still like Steve. You wish you could bottle it up, it's probably your favourite smell in the world. 

Steve puts his arm around your waist, head resting on top of yours. If it was anyone else the close contact in the heat would probably be too much, but it’s okay if it’s you. You’re like an extension of him at this point. “You had enough water today? Don’t want you going loopy.”

“Yeah, drank like two bottles.” You nudge your head in the direction of the empty water bottles discarded next to you, keeping them in a pile to collect at the end of the day. 

“Oh, must just be loopy anyway then.” He teases, giving your side a gentle squeeze. It feels like his hand has an electric current running through it and each movement sends shockwaves through you. 

“Thought you already knew that.” 

“I do, it’s cute.” 

“So you’ll visit me in the loony bin then?” You shift your head slightly so you can look up at him through your sunglasses, everything tinged some muddy colour from the lenses. 

“Every day, if they don’t lock me up with you.” 

“God, can you two get a room? Even Robin and Vickie aren’t this bad and they’re actually together.” Eddie shouts over from the other end of the mismatched collection of blankets, your cheeks heat up more than they already are with his words. The sun at least gives you an excuse for the flush of colour. 

“Can it, Munson.” Steve flips him off with the hand that isn’t still on your waist, the other boy returning the signal with a smug grin on his lips. 

You kind of want the ground to swallow you, suddenly aware that everyone probably knows you’re in love with your best friend. You don’t want the pity smiles or the sorry stares, but then if everyone else knows, why doesn’t Steve? Surely someone must have let something slip by now. Hopefully they haven’t. It’s even worse to think he knows and is ignoring it to save you from the rejection. You squeeze your eyes hard to try and push the thoughts away. 

You lean further into Steve’s side, the cool water on his skin feels soothing against your own. His hand finally moves from your waist up to stroke your hair. His thumb brushing slowly over and over. 

“You seen Tammy Thompson yet?” You want to put the question back inside your head as soon as you’ve said it. 

“Yeah, think you did a pretty good job at being my shield though. Took one look at us and turned on her heel.” 

You smile to yourself, a small laugh coming out as you put your arms around Steve. “That’s good. Maybe I’ll get a job as a bodyguard.” 

Steve chuckles and you can feel the movement against your body, the vibrations making your hairs stand on end. “Don’t think they usually let bodyguards do this sorta thing.” 

“Oh.” You hold your bottom lip under your teeth and exhale. “Maybe not then.” 

—

You’re wallowing. It’s maybe overdramatic, and you’re glad nobody else is there to see it, but you are. You have the house to yourself again, and the whole day off work, but you’ve spent most of it laid out on your lawn with a book trying to distract yourself from the fact that Steve is on a date. 

He told you yesterday, as he was dropping you off from work again, that some pretty girl had been in Family Video and he’d asked her out and she’d said yes. You’d smiled, told him you were happy for him, because he was your best friend and you wanted him to be happy more than anything else in the world. But it hasn't stopped you from moping about the entire day.

The grass tickles the skin on your back that’s exposed from where your shirt is riding up, the feeling irritating you more than it usually would. You’d managed to read about twenty pages in the past hour, having to re-read each paragraph at least three times because your mind keeps wandering. 

Your book is left at your side, defeated by the words that jumbled in your brain, your arm over your eyes to block out the last of the day's light. 

“Hey, you.” Steve chimes from over the shared fence, you hadn’t heard his car pulling up and his voice spooks you a bit as you quickly sit up. 

“Steve, you’re here.” You furrow your brow, confused by his presence. You were no expert on dating, but you had assumed he’d be out much later than this. 

“Can I come over?”

“Stupid question.” 

He smiles at your response, giving you a nod as he walks down the fence and back around into your back garden. “You been out here all day?” 

“Almost. I had to go inside for a bit because it was too hot.” Your legs stretch out in front of you as you lean back on your palms, head tilted up to look at Steve who’s still standing over you. His body blocks the sun, his shadow gives you some relief from it.

“It was pretty hot today.” Steve agrees, lingering in his spot for a minute before he finally takes a seat next to you mirroring your posture. 

“How was your date?” You try to sound interested, like you’re hoping he had the best time and was going to see her again and maybe she was the one. The thought really made you want to die a bit. 

“Bit of a bust.” Steve shrugs, he doesn’t sound too phased by it. You curse yourself for wanting to smile. 

“That’s a shame.” You say, shifting your weight off your palms so you can sit up straight and pick at the grass under your hands. “Not gonna see her again?”

“Probably not, just didn’t have much to say to each other.” 

“But you can talk anyone’s ear off.” You tease, looking at him with your eyes squinted a little, corners of your mouth turned up. Your features look soft in the evening sun, shadows rounding out your cheeks and the little bump on your nose bridge. 

“I can talk your ear off.” Steve corrects you, and gives your shoulder a light shove. The light reflecting off his hair has it turning the colour of honey, the same with his eyes. You wish he wasn’t so pretty, his face was far too easy to look at. 

“Sorry it didn’t go well.” You twist your mouth to the side, eyes all apologetic because you do want him to be happy even if it does hurt your heart. 

“Don’t be. It was nice enough, just not second-date nice.” 

“Y’want to watch a movie? We can watch A Nightmare on Elm Street, might make you feel better.” 

“Why would it make me feel better?” 

“Because you’re not getting chopped up in your sleep.” You say it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Touche. Okay, let’s do it.” Steve pushes himself up off the lawn, holding his hand out to you to help you up. You put your hand in his, his grip solid but still gentle as he pulls you up from the grass. 

You brush your legs off, little indents from the grass left in the bare skin of your calves. “I’ve got the good popcorn too.” 

You walk into your house through the patio doors, the laminate floor cold underfoot as you pad your way into the kitchen. You root through the cupboards, pulling out the various tins and boxes of health food your mom had stocked up on until you finally find the popcorn. 

“See, cinema quality.” You hold the packet out to Steve, pointing at the words printed on it. 

“You’re too good to me.” 

“Tell me about it.” You roll your eyes, all affection and sweetness really. You turn the stove on, placing the biggest pan you can find on the hob and letting it heat a little before tipping the kernels into it and putting the lid on top. 

You hop onto the counter beside the cooker, legs dangling and ankles hitting the cupboard below you as you swing them a little. “Now we wait.” 

Steve’s leaning against the island in the middle of your kitchen, hands in the front pockets of his jeans as he looks at you. You’re suddenly very aware of the fact you’ve been lazing around in the sticky heat all day, hair probably a mess and skin a little dewy and definitely not looking your best. 

“Can I ask you something?” He asks, head tilted a little as his eyes stay locked on you. 

You shrug your shoulders, trying your best to keep your breathing steady and not give away the fact that such a simple question has your throat drying up and your stomach twisting into a knot. “Sure, ask away.” 

“Do people ever just, like, assume we’re dating?” He asks the question so casually, like he was just asking how your day had been. “Like, when you’re trying to date, do they ever say that?” 

You scrunch your nose up, tongue pressing against the inside of your cheek as you try to come up with an answer, try to pull words out of your brain that currently feels like it’s been scrambled. “I d’know, I don’t date much, so I guess not.”

Steve pauses, just nodding at your response. He knew you didn’t really date, not after high school anyway. He’d never given it much thought, you’d always come away from dates complaining they were boring or got too handsy or didn’t laugh at your jokes and he’d always thought that those guys must be crazy. Because you were great, the best person he knew if he was being honest. 

“Why?” You force the question out, hoping your voice doesn’t audibly crack from how much effort it's taken to say just one word.

“I was just wondering. Heard it a couple times now, and I was just curious if you had too.” 

Heard it a couple times now. The words echo in your brain, bouncing around over and over to the point it was making you a bit dizzy. Your hands grip the counter beneath you to try and ground yourself. 

The sound of the kernels popping against the lid of the pan breaks the silence before you have to, a silent prayer of thanks to whatever God is watching over you in the moment. You hop down off the counter to get a proper look at the pan, watching as the kernels expand and pop until the little bangs slow and you can turn the stove off. 

You stand on your tiptoes to reach the cupboard above your head, fishing out the largest bowl in there and carefully tipping the popcorn into it. You finally turn back to Steve, bowl held close to your chest with both hands so you won’t drop it. “Okay, let’s go watch some people get slashed up.” 

Steve laughs, the little creases at the corners of his eyes deepening with his smile. “You’re morbid.” 

“No, I’m creative.” You say the words bluntly, but your eyes are still full of warmth for the boy in front of you. Even the coldest words wouldn’t be able to take away from the way you always look at him, a bit like a lovesick puppy. 

You put the bowl of popcorn on the table in the middle of your living room before trying to find the tape you need from the stack around the television set. You have to check a few cases, because most of them weren’t in the right one and there was no point trying to logically work out which one it’d be in. 

“Didn’t you loan this from Family Video like, two months ago?” Steve asks, already in his usual spot on your couch as he watches you open your fifth case to no avail. 

“Probably, yeah.” You don’t sound too bothered by it, the late fee something you’ve never had to pay thanks to Steve always wiping it for you. Finally, on your eighth try, you pull the correct tape out and hold it up to Steve with a grin. “Got it.” 

You eject the tape that’s currently in the VCR player, putting it into the case that you’d found A Nightmare on Elm Street in without checking if it was the right one, and push the right tape into the player before you stand up. 

“That seems like a flawed sorting system.” Steve nods towards the scattered cases on the carpet as you sit down next to him. 

You shrug. “It works for me. We don’t all work in a video store, Steve.”

“You’re right, my bad.” He holds his hands up in defeat. 

You lean forward to grab the popcorn bowl and pass it to Steve. “Try it, I need an unbiased opinion on it.” 

“Why would you be biased?” His question is muffled by him throwing some popcorn into his mouth. 

“I bought it, I want it to be good.” 

“Makes sense.” Steve nods and takes another handful of popcorn. “It’s good, but not cinema good.” 

You sigh, taking a handful for yourself now that Steve had given his review. “They always lie on the packets.” 

You and Steve had watched this film about ten times, including when it was in the theatre and you made him go twice. Knowing the plot back to front was really not helping to distract you from how close Steve is sitting to you, you didn’t have to pay attention because you know what’s about to happen so instead your brain is entirely focused on the fact you can feel Steve’s body heat, his leg pressing against your own and his arm resting on the back of the couch behind you. 

You’re really trying to keep your mind on the movie, eyes stuck to the screen barely blinking, but your brain just won’t cooperate. It’s not like Steve doesn’t always sit this close to you, because he does. But you’re still reeling from what he said in the kitchen and your thoughts show no sign of slowing. 

Steve sits up to put the half eaten bowl of popcorn back on the table, his movements making your breath hitch in your chest and your muscles tense. You think you must look crazy. 

“You feelin’ okay?” He puts a hand on your shoulder, which only makes you tense up more.

“Mhm.” You hum, turning just a little to glance at him and give him your most convincing smile. “Probably just got sun sickness y’know? Brains been cooked all day.” 

“You mean heat stroke?” He rubs his thumb over the curve of your shoulder, the feeling comforting in a sickly sort of way. 

“Nah, different things.” 

“You wanna go to bed? We don’t have to watch the movie.”

You shake your head, eyes focusing back on the gory scene on the tv in front of you. “I’m okay, I think it’s helping.” 

“Watching people get chopped up?”

“Exactly.”

—-

The Hideout is dark and loud and warm, and you’re a bit out of place. You promised Eddie months ago you would come and watch his band play, always meaning to do so but things never lining up the right way, but tonight you were making good on that promise. 

You try to dress the part, at least to the extent your wardrobe allows, a strappy black top and a short skirt - that definitely used to fit fine but was now bordering on indecent - all covered up by a big denim jacket that you thrifted a couple years back. A bit of eyeliner smudged across your lids, messy and already creasing with the heat of the venue. 

Steve is at your side, obviously. Because he heard you were planning to go to The Hideout and there was no way he was letting you go alone, not when you look like that and the place would no doubt be crawling with creepy guys. Not that he told you all this, he just said he wanted to come along. He was always protective over you, but this felt different to him for some reason. Like, he didn’t want creepy guys to bother you, but maybe he didn’t want any guy to bother you? Those were thoughts he’d have to unpack later. 

You pull at the hem of your skirt as you linger near the outskirts of the room, shuffling from one foot to another in your doc martens that aren’t quite broken in yet. You look up at Steve through your mascara coated lashes, eyes wide a bit like a deer caught in headlights, mouth open a little with your tongue pressing against the back of your teeth. 

“You all good?” Steve has to shout a little to be heard over the music thumping through the venue, the old sound system struggling to keep up with the heavy bass. 

You nod, eyes darting between Steve and the bustling space around you. Your hands stay at the hem of your skirt, finding a loose stitch to pick and pull at as a distraction. “I think I need a drink.” 

“Yeah? What d’you want? I’ll get it for you.” Steve could see the way you were staring at the bar, it’s at least two deep the whole way along and you’re definitely smaller than at least 90% of the people waiting. It just made more sense for him to be the one to try and fight his way through. 

“Just a lemonade. Unless they don’t card, then I’ll have a beer. But lemonade's totally fine.” The words fall out of your mouth quickly, the heat of the room suddenly sticking to your chest and making you feel flushed. 

“Okay, just wait here and I’ll be back.” Steve steps away, but turns back to put his hands on your arms. He locks his eyes with yours, your pupils still blown from the dim lighting. “Right here.” 

“Right here.” You look down at your shoes and then back up to Steve, giving him a reassuring smile that you weren’t going to move. 

You watch Steve make his way to the bar, feeling a bit exposed now you’re standing alone. He turns back to you from his spot in the queue - if you could even call it that - only briefly, just to check you’re okay and haven’t moved. 

It doesn’t take Steve that long to get served, probably about ten minutes from him leaving you to actually having the drinks in his hands. He tried to keep an eye on you, but the closer he got to the bar the more people crowded behind him and blocked his view. So he curses himself a little when he finally breaks through the mass of bodies to see you talking to some guy. Some guy who is definitely at least ten years older than you, and is definitely drunk. 

“Um yeah, my friend is in one of the bands playing tonight.” You try to be polite, making small talk has never been your strong suit but you don’t want to be rude. Especially not when you’re on your own. 

“Oh right, cool.” The guy - you think his name is Mark? He did tell you but you didn’t really listen - nods enthusiastically. “Just a friend, though? No boyfriend?” 

“I, erm -“ You laugh awkwardly, not really sure what to say. You want to lie, it’d be the easiest way to end this conversation. But you’re even worse at thinking fast than you are at small talk. 

You don’t have to lie though, or say anything at all, because Steve is back at your side and standing so close your body’s are practically pressed together. He holds out a cup for you to take without a word, and as soon as you take hold of it his arm snakes around your waist to hold you to him. 

“Hey, honey. Who’s this?” Steve looks between you and the other man who’s now looking much less interested in talking and much more interested in leaving.

“Oh, I was just telling him that we know Eddie.” You dodge the question of who he is, because you can’t give a real answer. 

“Right, and that’s it?” Steve sips his drink, not taking his eyes off the guy in front of you.

“Relax dude, I get it. I don’t want your girl.” Mark, or maybe it was Matt, holds his hands up before he skulks off back into the crowd, most likely to find his friends or another girl to try and hit on. 

Hearing the phrase your girl makes your head spin, especially with Steve’s arm so tight around your waist and his body pressing into yours. You take a deep breath and a shaky sip of your drink as you try to calm yourself, because everything is fine. Steve is here and people think you’re together and it’s so fine. 

“You alright?” Steve finally breaks the silence, squeezing you somehow closer to him as he speaks. 

“Yeah, thanks Stevie.” You grin up at him, the low lighting doing you a favour by covering up the pink that was spreading over your cheeks. 

“You didn’t wanna speak to that guy, right? Because you can totally speak to any guy you want, he just looked a bit…” He trails off, scrunching his face a little and shrugging in place of words.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t want to, I’m here with you.” The words come out before you really think about them, your eyes widening a little as soon as you realise what you’ve said. 

Steve doesn’t seem to react, if he heard what you said - or more so what you meant - he doesn’t show it. “Okay, good. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.” 

You just smile at him, enough confirmation that you are happy. Perfectly content just in his presence. Even if the room is too close and the beer is kinda warm and you feel like you’re dressed up in a costume instead of your clothes. 

When you see Eddie walk out onto the stage you step away from Steve, tugging on his hand to pull him closer so you can actually watch your friend and hopefully get his attention to prove that you held up your promise and came out to a show. 

Even when you settle in a spot close to the stage, you don’t drop Steve’s hand, and he doesn’t drop yours. Your plastic cup in one hand and Steve in the other, it all feels a bit surreal. Maybe it’s the heat making your brain a little mushy. 

You manage to catch Eddie's eye at some point, grinning and holding your drink up at him. He looks between you and Steve, down at your conjoined hands, and nods dramatically with a wide smile. You’re going to have to tell him it’s not what it looks like later, not sure how to articulate that with just one hand and facial expressions. 

It’s nice seeing your friend so in his element, the energy of the room lifted by the band's energy on stage. You feel bad for waiting so long to come and watch, even if it was always out of your control. 

Their set isn’t too long, only five songs, but they really make the most of their slot. The whole place seemed to get involved, everyone cheering when they finally finished up and headed off the small stage. 

“You wanna get some air?” Steve asks, some loose hairs falling into his face as he looks down to you. 

“Yeah, s’pretty hot in here.” 

Steve leads you through the crowd, still holding onto your hand, and out through the venue doors into the parking lot. There’s a few people outside smoking, little groups gathered together all talking and drinking and looking like they belonged. It made you laugh a little to think about what you and Steve must look like here. 

“That was fun, Eddie is so good.” You look down at the almost empty cup in your hand, swirling the remaining liquid around in it til it nearly splashes over the sides. 

“Yeah, it was. Don’t think I’ll become a regular here though.” Steve laughs, giving your hand a squeeze as if to acknowledge that he is still holding it. You try not to read into it.

“Yeah, the place doesn’t really scream ‘Steve Harrington’.” You shrug, finally drinking the last of your beer. If it wasn’t warm when you first got it, it definitely was now. 

You see Eddie walk outside and finally release Steve’s hand to skip over and hug him, already wishing you hadn’t let go because what if he doesn’t hold it again. You push the thought out of your head and try to focus on Eddie. “That was so good Ed’s, you looked so cool.”

“Thanks short stack.” Eddie leans back to pat you on your head. “‘Bout time you finally came.”

“I know, I don’t break promises.” You speak matter-of-factly, face all serious as you cross your arms over your chest.

Steve was beside you again, though not so close this time. “Good job, Munson. Guess you’re not all talk.” He teases, Eddie giving his shoulder a playful

shove in response. 

“It’s good to see you two together. About time.” Eddie points between you and Steve, and your chest tightens as you process what he’s said. 

“Oh, no, we’re not-“ You laugh, but it comes out awkward and forced and you look between Steve and Eddie and the floor and try to bargain with the powers that be to strike you down. 

“Oh, shit, my bad.” Eddie looks around the parking lot, pressing his lips together as he sighs. “Better hurry it up Harrington, or someone else’ll snap her up.” He pats Steve on the back, and you look at him like he’s gone absolutely insane. 

Steve nods, a weak laugh at Eddie's comment giving nothing away about how he feels about it. 

You take a deep breath through your nose, hoping the cool night air might stop you from passing out on the spot. 

“I better get back inside, have a good night kids. Stay safe.” Eddie waves you off as he walks back inside, disappearing into the dark room and leaving you outside with all the tension and awkwardness in the air that he’d put there. You’d be mad at him if he wasn’t such a nice guy. 

You and Steve are both quiet for a minute, and you think this is finally it. You’d managed to keep your friendship untouched by your feelings for so long but it’d finally come crashing down. 

“Reckon we head home?” Steve cocks his head as he looks down at you, you must look a sorry state given the pity filled smile he’s giving you. 

“Yeah, probably for the best.” Your voice is quiet, and you drag your feet along as you walk to Steve’s car. You toss your cups away in a bin along the way, all over dramatic and woeful as you sigh with the movement. 

The drive home was quiet. Steve would try and spark up a conversation but your brain was whirring and everything felt like too much and you could barely force a coherent sentence out. 

When you finally arrive at Steve’s house, and your house respectively, you feel frozen in your seat. Because what if you get out and go home and that’s that? Steve stops giving you rides to work and stops watching movies with you and stops letting you stay in his bed when you drink a little too much and don’t want to be alone. 

Steve says your name, and you force yourself to stop spiralling in your own thoughts to look over at him. “I had a really nice time tonight.” 

“Really? You didn’t think the place was a bit gross?” You pulled the sleeves of your jacket down over your hands, holding them in your lap.

Steve laughs, shaking his head at you. “The Hideouts always been gross. I had a really nice time with you.” Even under the dim street lights Steve can see your puzzled expression, brows pinched together and a little pout on your lips. 

“Well, yeah, we always have a nice time Stevie. S’why we’re friends.” 

Steve sighed, because you were right. But it’s not what he was trying to say. He was never all that good with his words, and he also didn’t really know exactly what he wanted to say. “Y’know what Eddie said?”

“We don’t have to talk about it, it’s just Eddie, he just says stuff.” You can’t make eye contact as you speak, in half a mind to just bolt from the car, hop your fence and lock yourself in your house for the rest of your days.

“Well, yeah, he does. But I guess lately I’ve been thinking about it, about us.” 

You swear your heart was moments away from actually bursting from your chest it was beating so hard, your hands feeling clammy as they gripped tightly onto the denim of your jacket sleeves. “What about us?” 

“Just that we’re so close, you know? You’re my best friend, but then sometimes, lately, I look at you and it feels different.” Steve tries to gauge your reaction to his words, but your eyes are staring down at your hands in your lap and your hair is falling so that it covers your face. Maybe he’s got this majorly wrong, completely misread things between the two of you. 

“Different how?” All you can manage is stupid questions pushing him for more, for him to just be clear and concise and put you out of your misery. 

“Different like sometimes I think I want to kiss you.”

You stop fiddling with your jacket then. The words hitting you in the chest like a semi-truck. You’re not sure you actually heard him right, because you’ve been so certain all this time that your feelings were one sided. A hopeless crush that would just burn in your chest forever, longing for more but never getting it. 

“You think you want to? Or you want to?” You finally look up at Steve, turning slightly in the passenger seat so you’re facing him. Seeing the way he’s looking at you, so full of affection and like you put the stars in the sky, makes your stomach flutter like there’s a hoard of butterflies in there waiting to be set free. 

“I want to.” Steve breathes the words out, soft spoken like if he says them too loud it’ll scare you away. “If you want me to.” 

Your mouth hangs open a little as you try to speak, words failing you completely. So you just nod, blinking quick a few times to make sure you’re actually awake and this isn’t just a cruel dream. “Yeah, I want you to.” You eventually manage, your voice cracking a little. 

Steve moves carefully, his hand cupping your cheek so softly it’s almost as if he’s not touching you at all. You breathe in deep through your nose, closing your eyes in anticipation. You’re still not entirely convinced it’s happening until you feel his lips press against yours. 

It’s slow and shy at first, a little unsure of what’s allowed when you’re kissing your best friend, when you finally cross that boundary. You tilt your head into his hand some more, as if to say it’s okay, permission to kiss you the way you’ve been dreaming about. 

Your hand moves to Steve’s jaw, thumb running along his cheek against the stubble that was there after a couple of days of not shaving. You part your lips a little, and Steve takes your movements as a green light. He kisses you a little harder now, still gentle but with more behind it. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip making your breath hitch in your throat. 

It’s a simple kiss, nothing crazy or wild but it’s just what you want. Because it was Steve, and he wants you. 

When he finally pulls his mouth away from yours, he rests his forehead against your own. “Was that okay?” 

You can’t help but giggle, because it’s such a ridiculous question to you. Of course it was okay, God, it was so much more than okay. “Yeah, Stevie, it’s okay.” 

“So I can do it again?” 

You’re both whispering, faces still so close that you don’t need to speak any louder. “Yeah, any time.” 

Steve presses another gentle kiss to your lips, just a quick one this time but still as full of affection as first. You have to blink hard when he properly pulls away from you to try and stop your head from spinning. 

“I wanna do this properly, y’know. Not just kiss you in my car. I wanna take you on a real date, wine and dine you.” Steve nudges your chin with his finger, head cocked to the side as he looks at you.

“I don’t really like wine.” You shrug. “I’ll give it a try though.” 

“You’re a real trooper.” 

“Anything for you.” You smile sweetly, and you mean it. You think you’d do absolutely anything for Steve Harrington. But it’s fine, because he’d do absolutely anything for you, too.

thank u so much for reading + thank u to the anon for the song rec / request <3

[mrsmikaelsxn]

Santa Klaus

masterlist

pairing: niklaus mikaelson x female reader

warnings: fluff, some gore/blood, nikki being your lapdog, possesive, kissing, cursing, humor that was needed in tvd

summary: just some scenes of you and nik being a dream couple

a/n: idk with this one but these scenes popped into my head and i thought they were cute

song: paper rings - taylor swift

"Niklaus!" you snap at him, as he stands at the doorway covered in blood. You two were at a store and a guy accidentally backed into you. He decided that the man didn't deserve to see another day after bumping into your precious self.

"Sorry, love- actually no, he deserved it," Klaus shrugs holding his hands up.

"Well in that case... come a little closer," you giggle. He narrows his eyes at you, but of course listens. He takes a slow step into the room and freezes when he feels himself soaked in cold water.

You burst out laughing as he stares at the wall. He slowly turns to you, as you continue to laugh.

"Figured you needed a shower, you know, for all that blood," you get out in between you giggles.

"That's it, if I am cold, you're going to be cold too," he grins as he speeds towards you, bringing you into a cold hug.

"Nik! Let me go!"

"Now why would I do that?"

You were in the kitchen baking some cookies. You had the trays of them sitting on the stove as they cooled. You put some on a plate and turn around to get a paper towel. As you look back at the dish, you notice one missing.

"Hm, that's weird," you frowned. This then happened two more times, you realized it had to be Klaus. Either that or the cookies just happen to disappear.

"Nikki darling, stop being a baby and hiding," you pout. "Come out and face me like a real man," you try to say in a funny deep voice.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he suppresses a smirk.

"Do you take me for a fool Niklaus?"

"... no?" you bring your hand up and smack the back of his head.

"Hey, what was th-" you cut him off by pressing your lips on his. You swipe your tongue on his bottom lip so he opens his mouth. He does, and you allow your tongue to roam his mouth. You pull back a few moments later.

"Funny, you taste like chocolate chip cookies," you laugh and start to run away.

"You sneak!" Klaus yells as he speeds up to you, throwing you over his shoulder and smiling at your adorable giggles.

"AH!" Nik's high pitch scream reaches your ears while he jumps and covers his eyes.

You two were currently in the dark, watching a horror movie. You have seen it a few times already, so the jumpscares didn't bother you. The movie didn't interest you anymore either, but you watched it for the mere amusement you get from seeing Nik get scared.

"Nik don't be a wuss," you playfully roll your eyes.

"Did you see how that man looked?! He was- bloody hell!" Nik shouts as the guy popped up out of nowhere.

"Niklaus, you're as scary as that man to most-"

"Tosser! If I were still human, I would have died from a heart attack by now- fuck! Okay, love, that's it, we are watching something else"

He reaches over you and snatches the remote, putting on toy story.

"See, watching the story of toys that come to life is much more interesting. Don't you agree, love?"

"Sure... baby," you mutter with a grin. Laughter spills out of you when he attacks you with tickles.

It was Christmas, you were dressed in a lovely deep red gown and your hair and makeup was done. While you looked like royalty, across from you was a Nik in a Santa costume.

You had been trying to get him to do this for years, but he never agreed. He refused to have something as stupid as a Santa costume ruin his reputation.

He even said, "I wouldn't be caught dead wearing this bloody thing"

To which you replied, "oh well, then I suppose it's a good thing you are already technically dead," you shrug with a cheeky smile.

Now that he finally gave in, your bucket list has been completed. He said he wouldn't leave the house with it, but he didn't say you couldn't take pictures.

"I don't see what's wrong with it, you look great in my opinion," you gave his fake beard a little tug.

"Y/n this was a horrible idea," he shakes his head.

"I think it was a great one, Santa Klaus," you give him a bright smile.

"This was very unnecessary, love"

"Your siblings disagree," your pretty lips turn into a small smirk.

"I beg your pardon?!"

A few moments ago, you sent some pictures of him to a secret group chat you're in with his siblings. Nik - of course - isn't in this one. The one with all of you is full of threats he sends to his family who mess around with him.

The photos got you replys such as, "I can't believe you got Niklaus to finally agree to that, LOL," from Elijah. "You underestimate Nik's love for you," and "I'm going to print these out and tape them everywhere in the house," from Rebekah. As well as, "I bloody love you, darling," and "my brother is going to kill me for what I'm about to do with these," from Kol. Finn gave you a simple, "well done," which you almost rolled your eyes at his unenthusiastic message.

"Oops," you shrug with a fake innocence.

You were currently hunched over, laughing your arse off. You got Nik to wear an Easter Bunny costume. To your surprise, he let you paint whiskers on his face, along with a pink nose.

You finally are able to stop laughing, and look over his shoulder at the line of little children in a line, waiting to take picture with him.

"Go on, bunny. The kids are waiting," you peck his lips and pat his head.

"If you were anyone else you would be dead by now," he grumbles.

He was taking the pictures, when it was a new kids turn. You saw the fear in his eyes, you understood. You were also scared of the Easter Bunnies and Santa Clause's that you would see in stores and malls.

When he got to Nik, he sat on his right lap and started to cry. As you were about to go over, you hear Niklaus yelp as he quickly grabs the kid and lifts him off his lap and on to the floor.

You were confused when he rushed over to where you were standing, but burst out laughing with tears in your eyes as you saw a wet stain on his leg.

"Oh- m-my goodness! Th- this is gold!" you laugh out, grabbing your phone taking more pictures that you'll send to the groupchat later.

"Stupid children, I quit"

You and Nik were in some random fancy restaurant in Paris. You both knew nothing in french, so you though you would have some fun.

You planned out a fake scenario to get a reaction out of the people in there with you both.

You fake gasp loudly, grabbing peoples attention around you.

"You sick fool!" you place your hand on your chest as you dramatically stand up. "You cheated on me?! With my sister!"

The room fills with synchronized gasps from the people around you.

"Love! No, I would never!"

"I just saw a picture! I also got sent a photo of you with what looks like my best friend!" More gasps come around you as people look between you both in shock.

Nik stands up hiding his amusement.

"They are fake! I was going to propose to you tonight! He says pulling out a fake ring he found," holding it in front of you, people start whispering with interest at what was unfolding before their eyes.

"My friend had the same ring the last time I saw her! How could you," you slap him in the face, knowing he was going to whine about how that was not a part of the act, later. Gasps of shock chorus around while some people have their eyes wide, and some are laughing into their hands.

You turn and speed walk out as Nik follows. Once you get outside, you both burst out laughing after holding it in for so long. You hold out your hand for a first bump as he connects his fist with yours.

"Oh that was brillitant!" you smile, wiping fake tears from under your eyes.

"Did you see their faces, love? They were bloody hilarious," Nik grins.

"NIKLAUS! Y/N!" are the shouts from Kol and Elijah as they get covered with eggs and flour. You, Bex, and Nik set up a series of pranks to go off on them.

"Alright!" Bekah highfives you with a bright smile.

"Nikki we should do more pranks with Bex," you hug the girls waist.

"But pranks are our thing," he pouts.

"Now they are ours and Bex's," you give him a thumbs up.

"Yeah, Nikki- please don't dagger me again," Bekah says looking away from her brothers death glare.

"FUCK!" more shouts come from the kitchen.

You and Bekah were shopping with a grumpy Nik trailing behind you. You had been at this for at least three hours now and he wanted to go back and cuddle with you in bed.

You just tried on a tight club dress and stepped into the couch area were the other two were waiting.

While NIk was drooling over you, suddenly happy about shopping, Bex stood up and walked over to you.

"Perfect! You look so hot!" Nik nods as Rebekah's statement while still staring at you in awe. "Those boys through the window seem to agree with me," Bekah nods her head in the direction of the window where a small group of boys around your age were drinking in your figure.

Niks head snaps over to them and his face hardens. He stands up and walks over to you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

"You look bloody stunning as always, my love," he kisses your head. "We are buying this dress. You know, I don't know what I did to deserve you,"

"You didn't have to do anything," your lips tip upwards.

"Ugh, you two," Rebekah rolls her eyes. "Nik is not coming with us next time, you guys are too sappy, makes me sick," she sighs.

"Don't be jealous, Rebekah"

You were finishing up some final touches on a tray of pastries you baked for Nik. You made all his favorites and decorated them to look cute. You hear a knock on the door and look out the window. You see Nik at the door with flowers in his hands.

You open the door and smile at him, "Nikki, hello!"

"Hi, love," he smiles and pecks your lips. He hands you the flowers as he strolls in the house.

"Oh, Nik! Come in the kitchen"

You pick up the pastry tray after putting the flowers in a vase. "Tadaaa!"

"My favorites! Thank you, sweetheart," he kisses you.

"You are very welcome, thank you for the flowers"

"You are very welcome. I love you so much, you know"

"Of course I know, I also know that I love you so much too"

[sgiandubh]

Yes. Toddlers are 3 and below. However this doesn't mean Sam doesn't know her as a friend nor mean he hasn't met her son, as they are friends, not dating. We all know they had lunch as friends, he cheered her at event as friend. Photos and video prove this. The park story is a story, no photos, no proof of any of it being real. Before you go there, yes video he and Caitriona had some hug/peck at a concert, but still no proof of marriage, nor romantic anything or intoxication. Believe what you want, beliefs aren't truths.

Dear Beliefs Aren't Truths Anon,

Congratulations, you have won the Weekly Audio bingo, since I am now speaking with more ease:

Excuse me, but... you accuse me of lying?

With such desperate arguments?

A question in return for you, Anon: did you, by any chance, grow up with a single/divorced parent?

I did. And while I have discussed at great length Sarah H's irresponsible ways of exposing her underage son to Internet's predatory scrutiny (and potentially worse), I can assure you:

No single/divorced mother would bring along her son for Hogmanay at some vague, single, male friend's house.

No single/divorced mother would send her son for a walk in the park, on a Sunday early (and chilly) morning with that same vague, single, male friend of hers.

Unless they date. Which we both agree they weren't.

The above are simply not done. Not ever, not in any culture on Earth.

So, if they are friends (as you say), that means you guys spent literally months in a row in empty, mendacious speculation about Nothing At All, triggered by the fanfic written by a troll. I mean, just WOW, Anon. I have no words: mature women, who have a life, peeking into a stranger's whereabouts. I hope you are proud of yourself!

And doll - I happen to believe they were mutually beneficial acquaintances, for a very clear purpose (more followers for her and a naive diversion from his real life, aka the Elephant in the Room, for him). That is all. Things have noticeably chilled since she overexposed her son on the Web, yet she might make a cameo later on the timeline, if desperation requires it. Happened before, you see.

And yes, I will always go back 'there', Anon, simply because I know what I saw with my own eyes (and I am not the only one). Also, you seem to fail making the logical difference between being intoxicated with alcohol (one of your side's most pathetic, ludicrous 'arguments' ever ) and being infatuated with someone. That is how I know your English vocabulary is as poor as your logic or common sense, Anon. And I am sorry, so fucking sorry to bother you, buttercup, but that Taylor Swift kiss was caught on video alright.

Thank you for confirming toddlers are aged 3 and below, in the meanwhile. And thank you for confirming that basically three months after I finally published that Park Anon I was sent (https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/751391542332325888/i-always-read-the-comments-on-sams-posts-because), you are still as unsettled by it as on Day 1.

Now you tell me what that means, in your book, Anon. Because in mine that surely smells of slow burning despair.

[Later Edit, not on audio]: ah, yes, that friendly, ripe with innuendo London lunch. So long for that poor convenient imbecile, the Brazilian Journo, eh? She thought Sarah was his lover and here you are, Anon, bursting her post-teenage inacceptable bubble.

Wasn't she explaining with great impertinence that shippers were in need of immediate medical attention? I wonder what she would do if she'd meet me in an official capacity, really. Probably go hide and cry.

But this is great, Anon, I mean wow - you surely KNOW stuff, eh?

[riaarivic]

HIS - KNJ x F!reader: 2 Clean

💗Pairings idol!NamjoonxReader

💗 Genres idol!AU, Smut, Angst, Romance, Enemies to lovers to enemies to lovers

💗 Rating 18+ minors DNI

💗 Summary Three years have passed since the last time you saw Kim Namjoon. But now he was right in front of you, with the same stupid warm smile that made your good judgment (and underwear) disappear without a trace. You haven't seen him for four years. But now here you were working for BTS again. Having to see his insufferably attractive face every day of your life again.

But there's something Namjoon doesn't know. The little girl with almond eyes and dimples in her smile clinging to his ex-girlfriend's hip, not only looked too much like him. But she was… His.

💗  Warnings for the chapter: reader has very conflictive emotions about the news of her pregnancy at the begining. This chapter will have some back and forth time skips, miscommunications, pinning, SO MUCH PINNING, Hurt/comfort.

💗 A/N: ⚠️ dialogue in BOLD is intended to be in English if not, they are speaking in Korean. ⚠️

Love, Ria

💗 Chapter wordcount 4,8k

💗 Series index: 1 2

“The drought was the very worst, ah-ah. When the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst It was months and months of back and forth, ah-ah, ah-ah. You're still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore” -Taylor Swift

💗💗💗MARCH 2022💗💗💗

Your daughter, Hana.

Amid the rapid-fire questions echoing in Namjoon's head, his pulse raced as you introduced the unexpected star of the show—

Who had just barged into the already tense conference room.

Like a small– But charming tornado. 

"Everyone, this is my daughter, Hana. Baby, say hi; they will work with mommy." You said sitting her on your lap.

"Hello, I’m Hana. I’m Three years old.” Hana greeted, her innocence oozing charm. 

She spoke korean. 

That made Namjoon smile.

Cute.

"Baby Hana, do you know who we are?" Jimin asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She nodded. Did she?

"You are Jimin, Jk, V, Jin, J-Hope, Suga, and… Rap Monster?” Hana’s innocent attempt earned laughter from everyone.

 Everyone but Namjoon.

He halted what he was doing, a sudden realization hitting him like a ton of bricks.

She was three years old. 

And she looked like him.

Too much like him. 

“She’s so polite!” Jimin exclaimed.

“That’s so cute!” chimed in V.

“Are you an army, baby Hana?” Jin inquired, curious.

“No,” Hana replied. “I like Seventeen more.”  Jin's shocked expression made everyone burst with laughter.

“Oh! But we’re cooler than them!” Jin tried to protest.

“I’m sorry; she has her interests, and right now, she’s obsessed with Wonwoo from Seventeen.” you tried to explain. But Seokjin was already about to get into a fight with a three year old to prove that, In fact, BTS were much cooler. 

Not that Namjoon had a problem with Seventeen.

But he considered himself objectively cooler than them. 

He stopped mid thought. Why the hell is he caring so much of what a toddler thought?

"Hana! Here you are!" A tall man with glasses emerged, breaking the charm of the moment. "We apologize for the interruption. Our Hana tends to run too fast. I am Eric Lee, Stardom’s chief financial operator and Y/N’s husband," he added, the unnecessary detail sending a ripple through the room.

The oblivious members resumed their excitement, but Namjoon felt like a computer crashing and about to explode. The mathematical calculations in his head were on the brink of causing a stroke.

If Namjoon's eyes could kill, Eric would be a bloody stain on the floor. Jealousy surged within him, a feeling he knew he didn't deserve. 

But your daughter, she was three. 

That meant you met this person around the same time you broke up.

You surely moved fast.

The Eric guy apologized again and took Hana from your arms to take her outside. She smiled at everyone and waved goodbye. 

Her dimpled smile made Namjoon’s heart do a somersault.

The meeting continued as if background noise, but Namjoon's focus shifted to you, studying your face. That girl, she looked too much like him and nothing like this whoever-I-don’t-care guy. 

It couldn't be possible.

He admitted he hurt you. But you would never do that to him.

Right?

If that girl was his.

You would have told him.

But he looked too much like him.

And he needed to talk to you. 

💗💗💗FEBRUARY 2017💗💗💗

The conference room hummed with tension.

As the team gathered for a crucial meeting on the North American leg of their Wings Tour. Namjoon, the usually composed leader, wore a furrowed brow and an air of defiance. The discussion centered around their press schedules.

Namjoon's frustration boiled over as he voiced his stance, "I won't be a clown for them. We're artists. I won't subject the group to this circus. Where the only thing they ask us if we had ever eaten a hamburger"

You, seated across the table, shot him an incredulous look.

"Namjoon, we can't afford to cut the press schedules. If we want BTS to break into the mainstream music market, we need exposure. Press appearances are non-negotiable."

He scoffed, "Exposure won't matter if they don't take us seriously. I won't compromise our art for popularity."

The heated exchange drew the attention of the other members and the managers.

This was the third time this week.

And the main managers were starting to think if you were worht all this tenssion.

But you did get them an appearance on the three main late night shows in the US for their tour promotion.

So you two had to learn to get along.

The room crackled as you shot back, "This is not about compromising your art, Namjoon. It's about strategic promotion. We need the media to understand and appreciate you, all of you."

Namjoon's eyes flashed with anger, and just as the confrontation seemed to reach its peak, J-Hope intervened.

"I think it's enough. This is about the success of the group. We'll do what it takes to keep BTS in the public eye, and that includes press appearances."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of the decision sinking in.

Yoongi, who had remained quiet, finally spoke up. "I get where Namjoon is coming from, but we have to adapt to the market. If this is what it takes, then we'll do it. And Namjoon, you have Y/N's support. She won't let us down."

You nodded, your frustration simmering beneath the surface. The resolution hung in the air as the team grudgingly agreed to move forward with the press schedules. 

The future of BTS in the North American market now rests on the delicate balance between you and him.

And none of you would give the other the satisfaction of a win. 

After the intense meeting, you needed a moment to decompress. So you headed to the lounge to join the stylist crew for lunch. 

The atmosphere was more relaxed here, a welcome change from the tension in the conference room. The aroma of delicious foods filled the air as you settled at the table with your colleagues.

As you unwrapped your lunch, the stylist crew delved into a gossip session. 

“Y/N-ssi, Do You know Ha-young? She’s from the makeup team” You nodded. “She just confessed to PD-nim that she caught one-sided feelings with one of the members” the younger stylist said leaning closer to you “Bad girl. She should have known better” 

“My money is on Jimin” one of them said and the others giggled. You couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for the girl who had just lost her job. 

Their director was unforgiving. 

Just like they have told you on your first day here. Having any type of personal relationship with any of the members was the cardinal sin. 

Poor Ha-young, was going to be blacklisted from the industry, a harsh punishment for what was deemed reckless and unprofessional behavior.

Listening to the gossip, you couldn't help but shake your head. 

The idea of jeopardizing your career for a simple crush seemed both reckless and foolish.

As the chatter continued, you found yourself silently reaffirming your commitment to keeping personal and professional boundaries intact. 

That will never be you.

💗💗💗NOVEMBER 2019💗💗💗

“I am really sorry, doll,”

Yoongi murmured, his eyes filled with genuine concern.

“I don’t understand anything that’s happening,” you admitted, the weight of the situation heavy on your shoulders. You patted Hana’s back as she slept peacefully unaware of the deep wound on her mother’s heart.

One that you would have to mend. 

To have the strength to raise a child…

By yourself.

“You know it takes time for him to wrap his head around things. He’ll know better, give him time,” Yoongi offered, his voice reflecting a hint of confusion and frustration with Namjoon's actions.

“I wish I had that luxury, Yoongi. But she’s here. She’s alive, she needs things. I can’t just go and say that I need time. She needs a parent… Both of us.” Yoongi sighed, understanding the gravity of the situation. 

“I considered it, you know? Not Having her” your heart sank confessing this for the first time outloud “But, I guess I was selfish, and I resent myself for it. The selfish side of me wanted to at least have this. But she’s so much more than just us. She’s so special.”

“I can see that,” he replied, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You hate babies, Min,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“This one’s alright. She’s a part of you too. And that makes her special.”

“I’m scared,” you confessed, vulnerability seeping into your words.

“I know, doll,” Yoongi reassured, his tone softening.

“I don’t know if I can be a good mom to her. I can’t do this alone.”

“First of all, you are not alone. Second of all, you are the most capable, hardworking, and kind person I’ve met. It’s going to be fucking hard? Yes, I’ll not sugarcoat it. But you got this.”

“I want to punch him in the face so much.” You felt the first tears start to fall from your eyes. 

“I know, doll. Me too,” Yoongi admitted, the unspoken understanding between you two creating a bond of shared frustration and support.

Yoongi placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his gaze filled with both empathy and frustration. "Look, Y/N, I know Namjoon, and this is so unlike him. We've been through everything together for more than ten years, and he's not the type to turn away from responsibilities. There has to be something else going on."

Your eyes filled up with tears again, a mixture of sadness and anger. "I just don't understand why he sent his mother, with an envelope full of money instead of facing us himself. It feels like he's treating us like a burden."

Yoongi's expression hardened, a rare sight for someone known for his calm demeanor. "He messed up big time, and he needs to face the consequences. You and Hana deserve better."

"I thought he loved me. I thought we meant something to each other," you confessed, your voice cracking.

"He does, Y/N. I can't explain his actions, but I've never seen him act this way. Whatever it is, he needs to sort it out. Meanwhile, you focus on being the amazing mother I know you can be."

Tears spilled down your cheeks, and Yoongi pulled you into a tight embrace. "I'm here for you, Y/N. We all are. BTS isn't just about the stage; we're a family and both of you are a part of it. Families stick together, no matter what."

As you let out a shaky breath, a mixture of gratitude and sadness, you whispered, "Thank you, Yoongi."

"Anytime, doll. You’ve got this," he reassured, his words carrying a promise of solidarity and support. The hotel room, once filled with the weight of uncertainty, now held a glimmer of hope amid the storm of emotions.

You’ve got this. 

You had to. 

💗💗💗MARCH 2017💗💗💗

They just got nominated to an international award.

Everyone else was celebrating their milestone.

But Namjoon just couldn't enjoy it as much as he wanted to.

He was happy.

For the first time in his life he felt like they were finally receiving the praise they deserved for their art and their hard work.

But the weight of their public persona and the fine lines they could never cross as idols in Korea, was growing heavier by day. And the endless possibilities of major exposure scared the fuck out of him.

They were on their six date of the tour when he felt like he was going to die.

The air backstage in Newark was thick with the aftermath of Namjoon's exhaustion-fueled breakdown.

You found him leaning against a wall, a cigarette between his fingers. He couldn’t hide the trembling of his hands.

"That's an awful habit you have right there," you commented, eyeing the smoke.

"I can say the same to you," he retorted, nodding at the Coca-Cola can in your hand. "What can I say, everyone picks their own poison." you smiled at him honestly. For the first time. 

Surprisingly, it led to the first civil conversation between you two.

You leaned against the wall beside him, sipping your cola, the fizz providing a rhythmic contrast to the quiet.

He broke the silence, "You know, sometimes I feel like I'm just a puppet, dancing to whatever tune the media plays."

"It’s okay to feel tired sometimes, you know?" you offered.

"I do, but being their leader and their spokesperson. I can’t afford to be nervous or too tired," Namjoon admitted. "I speak for myself in these interviews. It is a huge weight on my shoulders to speak for everyone. Sometimes they might not agree with what I’m saying."

"Yeah, I reckon Panda Express being your favorite restaurant in America is a pretty controversial opinion," you teased, earning a hearty laugh from him.

"Do you think they are going to ever take us seriously?" he asked with a laugh and a touch of desperation.

"They better do. You guys will own this industry one day."

He shot you a grateful smile, and for a moment, the weight on his shoulders seemed to ease.

"That is a pretty controversial opinion. I am a 'what’s your favorite American food' away from literally losing it," he confessed.

"You know," you began, changing the topic with a playful grin, "I think your controversial opinions are what make you more human to your fans. They love you for being real."

Namjoon chuckled, the tension dissipating. "Maybe I should start a blog—'Kim Namjoon's Unfiltered Thoughts.'"

"You might break the internet with that," you joked, enjoying the rare camaraderie.

As the conversation lightened, you both shared a laugh, finding solace in this unexpected connection. The backstage chaos seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of understanding.

"You'll do fine. You always do," you reassured him.

"Thank you."

As a friendly gesture, you pulled a small disinfectant from your pocket.

"Manager Sejin was looking for you; you better use this before he finds you. You don't want him scolding you for the smell." you said before turning away to head back inside. 

Namjoon chuckled, taking the disinfectant. "Thanks, Y/N. For being here."

"Anytime, Joon," you replied, the use of the nickname a testament to the newfound camaraderie

He smiled, and the scent of the disinfectant mixed with your fragrance, like flowers in the air.

As Namjoon walked away, disappearing into the backstage hustle, he took a moment to collect his thoughts. 

"Y/N!" A familiar voice called out, it was Sejin, the ever-watchful manager, threading through the maze of crew members and equipment.

You approached him, noting the stern expression on his face. "Mr. Sejin, you were looking for Namjoon?"

He nodded, "Yes, he needs to wrap up the interviews and rest. The schedule is tight, and we can't afford any delays."

You couldn't help but feel a sense of protectiveness toward Namjoon. "He's doing his best, Sejin. But he's human, not a machine."

Namjoon was about to walk to where you were but that coment made him freeze on his feet.

Sejin sighed, his stern expression softening. "I know, Y/N. I just worry about them all. The pressure is immense."

"It is, but moments like these," you gestured to the chaotic backstage, "it is good remind them that they're not alone."

He offered a small smile, appreciating the sentiment. "You're right. Well, let's make sure Namjoon gets some rest."

As you both navigated the backstage maze, you didn’t know he listened to the conversation. And he couldn't shake off the unexpected warmth that had emerged from the brief encounter with you. 

The chaotic world of stardom was vast, but in that moment, a connection had formed—one that hinted at the resilience and humanity behind the larger-than-life personas.

Maybe you weren’t that bad.

💗💗💗AUGUST 2021💗💗💗

You had gone to a therapist when Hana was two. 

The therapist's office had become a sanctuary for you, you needed guidance on the hard task of being a single mother to Hana. 

She was going to ask the inevitable questions about her father one day. And you needed to know what to say. But no amount of therapy could have prepared yourself for this day. 

Hana was smart, too smart for her age. 

And when you came back from a playdate at her friends house. 

She wanted answers to her questions. 

"Why don't I have a daddy?"

You two were back in her room getting ready to sleep and you knew that question was coming.

You took a deep breath as you sat next to her, trying to find the right words. "All families are different, baby. Some have a mommy and a daddy. Some have two mommies or two daddies. Some, like ours, have a mommy and all your uncles and aunts. Isn't that fun?"

"It is fun," she replied, but the dissatisfaction lingered in her eyes. She had more questions, and you knew your initial answer wasn't enough.

And now she discovered kpop. 

And she was obsessed with it. 

You felt like throwing up everytime you saw him on your screen. 

The bitter reminder that she deserved to know the truth. However, you weren't ready to shatter the illusion just yet. Telling anyone that her father was the leader of the biggest music group in history seemed unbelievable.

You knew how crazy you will sound.

Even your therapist had a hard time believing your story the first time you went to her.

But, your daughter was the living image of her father.

And you had shown her your old Big Hit contract for her to finally believe you.

"So I don’t have a dad?" Hana's expectant eyes pleaded for an honest answer.

"You do have one. He is living his dream, making millions of people happy," you stammered, your hands trembling as you combed her hair. Even though Hana was still a child, she sensed the discomfort and wisely chose not to press the topic any further—for today.

Later that night, as if the universe mocked you, he appeared on your TV screen. "I want to be a dad," he confessed to the interviewer, his smile was radiant as always. It felt like a punch to your stomach, the wine glass slipping from your hand and staining the new rug.

Fuck him. 

He was a dad. He just chose not to be one. 

The fandom even had the joke that he had a hidden wife and kids. 

You entertained thoughts of shattering his public image, creating rumors that could strip away the disarming smile he flaunted. But the truth was, you could never inflict that pain on your daughter.

As the wine stain marred your rug, you vowed to shield Hana from the harsh realities as long as you could. But beneath your composed exterior, a storm of emotions raged.

Just for a little longer.

She will soon be old enough to understand.

But you didn't look forward breaking her heart with the news that her father didn't want her in his life.

💗💗💗FEBRUARY 2018💗💗💗

Everyone was tense.

The word disbandment floated heavily on the air. 

After this morning’s team meeting things were pretty rough. 

They were tired. 

They felt like nothing was working in their favor. 

Some of the members wanted a break. 

Some of them wanted to keep going. 

He had to remain unbiased. 

You knew how unfair it was. 

For him and for all of them.

Message from NJ:  meet me upstairs. studio. 

You knew what that meant. 

He wanted to fuck the frustration away. 

And you would be lying if  you said you didn’t want to. 

This was the riskiest thing you've ever done yet. You knew how dangerous it was for you especially. You were breaking your own rule and you were being careless. 

You knew perfectly well what were the consecuences of what you were doing.

But you couldn’t get to care enough to stop you from hurriedly hitting the lock combination of his Studio. 

His tired eyes greeted you. And a second later you were pinned to the wall behind you, hands everywhere and not enough at the same time.

And you wanted to ignore how much it hurt you that you were just this to him.

A relief.

“I missed this” he whispered against your lips. His tounge tasting your lower lips. Wanting to savour everything before devouring it all at once.

You missed it too. 

But you were too stubborn to say it outloud. 

And he was too, trying to pretend that he missed this whatever you had going on.

Instead of just you. 

As always it started like a fight for dominance. His kisses carrying a hunger that transcended mere physical release. The urgency in his touch revealed a deeper need, one he was too stubborn to acknowledge.

Namjoon steps between your thighs and you can feel how much he needed this. His body is warm against yours as he lowers his lips to kiss down the column of your neck.

"You smell so good" you feel the soft breeze of his breath against your skin. And before you could reciprocate his words you felt the sharp pain of his teeth biting the same spot of your skin he just kissed a second ago.

"Namjoon-" a small whisper leaves your lips and a wave of conflicted feelings wash over his body.

He wanted to drown the world around you.

Where only the two of you existed.

And that scared him.

How much he really needed you.

He lifted you, his grip momentarily loosing his balance, and both of you erupted into laughter as you tumbled onto the sofa. "I'm so sorry," he said, his eyes holding a vulnerability that surpassed the laughter. "I'm just... I'm so tired."

His heart was breaking. 

With a gentle smile, you cupped his cheek, your thumb wiping away his tears. "It’s okay, Joonie. Everything is going to be okay."

Your words rendered him defenseless. He was so tired of pretending he didn’t feel safe in your arms. He wrapped his arms around you and you could feel his body trembling with sobs. 

He called you to fuck his frustration out of his system. 

Just like you’ve been doing for a few months now. 

But now on his studio floor he had a realization he wasn’t ready to confess just yet. 

Everything else he had been saying to himself about you was a lie.

How he didn’t care; that you were just a passing crush. That he was too tired and too frustrated and that you both enjoyed each other’s company. That you were only good sex to him.

All of that was a lie.

As he kept crying and hugging you on his studio floor. 

Both of you came to the same conclusion silently. 

This wasn’t just sex; friends-with-benefits secret thing you had going on. 

It was something much more complicated. 

Something that could potentially destroy you.

The two of you stayed in silence on the floor, still wrapped on each other's arms.

That was the moment Namjoon realized.

He called you for sex.

But he just needed you.

💗💗💗MARCH 2022💗💗💗

A Battleground.

That's how the room felt like it had become a battleground of emotions, the air thick with tension as memories and unspoken words lingered between you and Namjoon.

He dragged you into a conference room. It had been a week since you had met again and they were preparing to go back to Korea. 

There was silence.

The air froze between the two of you. Alone for the first time in three years, you imagined this moment so many times. You could almost play out how it was going to go. 

Last time you were alone in a conference room he told you he loved you. Whispered like an oath against your lips.

Just like the one you were in.

Today he stared back at you, all his movements were calculated. As if he was making sure it was real. That the girl who was playing outside in your office was just a dream… 

Or a joke. 

It felt like a joke. 

And you both were the punchline. 

Namjoon's gaze intensified, the atmosphere heavy with unsaid words. Finally, the tension snapped as he demanded, "Is she... mine? That girl, is she my daughter?." His voice, sharp and accusing, cut through the room.

For a small heartbeat of time you considered lying.

But what was the point? He knew. He just chose to ignore it. 

"Yes, Namjoon, she's your daughter," you replied, your voice strained, trying to keep a semblance of control. “Her name is Hana Lee.”

Two heartbeats passed before he spoke again. And you realized This was a Namjoon you did not know. The young man you once knew, was filled with raw emotions and always had something to say. Usually, he spoke way before he thought. 

The man before you was a diplomat. You could see his mind working, calculating all the right words to say next. 

He was deflecting, you knew what he was doing.

You trained him to do that.

He was controlling his real emotions and speaking like at a press conference.

“Lee?” His voice started to fill with an anger that seethed beneath the surface. Like molten lava fighting the cracks of a volcano to rise to the surface. 

You were too civil, faking control and composure. And you both knew it was a matter of seconds before all hell broke loose. 

"You gave another man's last name to my daughter" his eyes darkened in disbelief and you couldn't help but chuckle at his nonsense.

If he was going to be this cruel.

You could play the game just as well.

You both were used to tearing each other into pieces anyway.

"You weren't there to give her yours, so." your voice sounded even more cynical than you intended it to be “She has my husband’s last name.”

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" 

A sour chuckle escaped your lips “Did you expect a wedding invite?”. 

He clenched his jaw furrowing his eyebrows. “I meant… the fact that I have a daughter.”

"I did," you shot back, frustration bubbling over. "Got on a plane for sixteen hours with a baby on my lap. But you didn't want to see me. You sent money and told me to stay away. What was I supposed to do?"

Namjoon's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "I don't know what you're talking about." 

"You don't know what I’m talking about” You repeated, bitterness lacing your words. “Let me refresh your memory, shall we? Your mother and  Sejin handed me an envelope full of money, told me to disappear." You were shouting now, you realized. You didn’t know when you started to shout.

All the things you have wanted to say for  three years started to flow out of you like a dam that had just broken.

And the water would destroy everything on its way.

Starting with the both of you.

Namjoon's expression twisted in confusion. "I would never do that to you." his tone was accusatory now “I didn’t know. There has to be another reason.”

“And what other reason would I have to raise a child by myself? With no more than two suitcases and sleeping on Hyung-Joon’s couch for a year.” Anger surged within you. "Oh yeah. Because having an unplanned child out of wedlock would have 'destroyed you and Bangtan,' as your manager put it. Since you just didn't have enough balls to say it to my face."

Namjoon's features shifted from confusion to a hint of regret. "I... I didn't know. I would never have done that."

“I don’t understand what game you’re playing right now Kim Namjoon, but I’ll tell you something. It 's over. I will not let you make fun of us anymore” Your throat tightened and the tears started to itch your eyes. “You left me a letter, remember? and the text message after that. “I hope you understand”.” you said, mocking his voice.

He was about to speak but you didn't let him.

"They said you didn't want anything to do with us. And that if I ever came back, they would take Hana away from me. That I was just a minor mistake, an experience you just needed to have'' Tears were falling down your cheeks, you couldn’t pretend anymore. It hurt too much. "Riding the white horse isn't what you call it, right? And that my daughter was just the consequence of my own carelessness. That I should have known better."

“That didn’t… I didn’t” 

“You didn't do what?” You turned your face to see the windows, unable to look at him anymore. "You can't just waltz in here and pretend like you didn’t know," you said, your voice cracking with rage. "You missed everything, Namjoon."

“Y/n” his voice was barely a whisper as you felt his finger touch your wrist. Electricity traveled through your whole body. “I was waiting for you, but you never came.” 

“Bullshit” 

“Why didn't you come back to me?" Namjoon's voice softened, regret coloring his words. 

Your laughter was bitter, filled with the pain of betrayal. "You sent me away, Namjoon. I couldn't just come back after that."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I waited for you at the hotel. I called you so many times that day." he said, desperation lacing his voice. "I waited for hours and you never came. Do you really believe that I wouldn't have taken responsibility for my daughter? That I would send her away? Send you away?"

He was close, too close to you now. 

You could bear his presence from a distance.

But not this close.

This close you couldn't pretend that your heart wasn't reaching out to him.

"I don't know, Namjoon. When you have a child, a life to protect. You would do anything to keep them safe. From anyone and everything. Not that you would know any of that" The words slipped from you before you realized how low of a blow was that. But you couldn't find yourself regretting it.

"Because we both know what you would choose if it came between the group or us." You stopped and smiled at him bitterly "And I understand, Namjoon. I truly do. You were finally living the dream you sacrificed everything for. I don't blame you anymore for it."

"I understand"

And you truly did.

You knew how much he sacrificed.

He fought for his success with teeth and nails.

They all did.

And you knew how unfair it would have been to ask for him to drop everything for you and your daughter.

You understood him.

And that was the worst of it.

"I could never do that to you. I love you, and I always have," he said, desperation lacing his voice.

There were those words again. 

Whispered in the quiet peace of an empty conference room. 

Last time they were the mischief of a shared secret. 

Today they felt like a confession to a crime. 

You were about to respond when you heard a small knock on the door. Your eyes never left Namjoon's, the intensity of the unspoken words lingering between you like a heavy fog.

Namjoon stepped back, breaking the physical connection between you. He cleared his throat, the diplomat persona returning, but the vulnerability in his eyes betrayed the turmoil within. "We're not done," he said, a mixture of command and plea in his voice.

As the door creaked open, your eyes darted to see a petite figure standing there, a shadow in the doorway. Hana's eyes mirrored yours, wide and uncertain as she looked between the two adults. The air thickened with tension, the past colliding with the present in a collision of conflicting emotions.

"Mommy, who is he?" 

Hana's innocent voice cut through the charged atmosphere. Her gaze shifted from you to Namjoon, her curiosity evident. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

Namjoon's eyes softened as he looked at Hana, and for a moment, the hardened exterior cracked. "I'm... a friend of your mommy's," he said, his words carefully chosen.

"A friend?" Hana repeated in Korean, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. She might be young, but she wasn't oblivious to the undercurrents in the room.

She was smart. Even for her age, she was quick to understand the things that were in front of her.

Just like him.

You knelt down beside her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Yes, sweetheart, just a friend," you assured her, shooting a pointed glance at Namjoon. 

The distance between you felt like an unbridgeable abyss.

Namjoon, sensing the tension, attempted a reassuring smile, but it looked strained. "I heard you like drawing. Do you draw a lot?" he asked, trying to engage Hana in a conversation that felt more awkward than casual.

Hana nodded, her gaze never leaving Namjoon. "I like drawing flowers," she replied, the tension in the room momentarily diffusing as she shared a piece of her world.

Namjoon crouched down to her eye level, a genuine smile softening his features. 

"Flowers are beautiful. Maybe you can show me your drawings sometime?" he suggested.

Hana's eyes flickered between you and Namjoon, processing the complex dynamics in the room. "Okay, but only if Mommy says it's okay," she declared, a hint of protectiveness in her voice.

Namjoon glanced at you, seeking approval. You nodded slightly, acknowledging the silent agreement. Hana's presence had inadvertently shifted the focus, giving you a momentary reprieve from the emotional confrontation.

As Namjoon and Hana engaged in a tentative conversation about art and colors, you retreated to the periphery, watching the scene unfold.

The wounds of the past were still raw, the emotions tangled, but for Hana's sake, you found a fragile truce with the man who once held your heart.

The journey from enemies to reluctant allies had just begun, and the path ahead was uncertain, shrouded in the complexities of a shared history that demanded resolution.

"Y/N, we need to talk" Hyung-Joon reappeared at the door, his voice filled with urgency and you nodded.

You knew this shouting match with Namjoon would bring consequences.

And you felt for a second that you just stepped into the past.

💗💗💗💗💗💗

Well hello!

First of all, THANK YOU. I am so happy to see all the love this story is getting and it means the world to me. Every comment, like and repost I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart.

And now, some notes for context:

This story is inspired on real events and people. But it is not a real representation or is trying to say that any of this happened IRL. With that beign said I'll take some creative licenses and adapt things that happened to the plot of the story.

2. I fucked up.... math is not my thing guys. Hana is three years old not four. Im sorry.

3. We all want a supportive friend like Yoongi in our lives.

4. The story is written in time skips, but the main storyline is March 2022 'The present' And some dates WILL be changed for the story to make sense.

I'm really exited for you guys to see what's next!!

Love,

Ria. 💗💗💗💗💗💗 TAG LIST: @felicityroth @cuteipat @jjinjo @mochimommy2002 @amarawayne @canarystwin Ps. If you want to be on the tag list drop a comment below!! 👩🏼‍💻✨

[anitalianfrie]

I am begging you to translate this: https://www.instagram.com/reel/C7eN1flsqvO/?igsh=Y3R5MGFuMWdiZzNr

(It is several minutes long though and will probably be a huge pain so no pressure!)

sure! here's the link . I recommend watching the video while you read this bc the volg is cut really weird, there's not one long conversation and what happens in the video is pretty useful to understand what's going on in the translation. unfortunately i wasn't able to translate some bits, but i tried my best

as always, my comments/specifications are in between []

Mig: hello everyone, I've arrived at bez's house. Cele's not here yet

Mig: hey

Bez: sium

Mig: I couldn't not start a video like this, could i?

Bez: with the plane

Mig: with the plane. it gives it the look of a vlog, doesn't it? We're waiting for Cele

Bez: the excruciating wait

--

Cele: I'm at the roundabout, the one with the car dealers

Bez: what car dealer bro?

Cele: ehhhh, the ones that-

mig: what kind of question is that

Cele: i don't know, anyways i'm here, two minutes and i'm there

Bez: okay, okay

Mig: two minutes like those before, or two real minutes?

Bez: sorry, but what car does he have?

Cele: the Cupra

Bez: yes, here he is, here he is

Mig: listen to him

Mig: tac!

Mig: in the end, [something i don't get]

Bez: we're ready

Cele: the boots for Mugello, because I go to Mugello. With stile.

Mig: well, it's not like those boots are super new. Understandable. you- why-

Bez: one different from the other

Mig: one different from the other

Cele: obviously. I even have another pair even more broken

Mig: but the backpack is the right one

Cele: yes [something i don't get]

Mig: well i mean, we stay away the night but, whatever. everybody- this pair [of boots] is in a bit of a better state than the other one

Cele: yes. better. [cele shows the boot to the camera]

Mig: this one is perfect

Cele: nooo

Mig: two left boots

Bez: but the others are left and right

Cele: yes, I know, but-

Mig: what shoe size do you wear?

Cele: but what if I slip on the left?

Mig: what's your shoe size bro?

Cele: 40, 41, 42

Mig: You can borrow mine

[here's the song they were listening to in the car]

--

--

Franky: Marco

Bez: Franky! how is it?

Franky: everything's okay

Mig: hi Chicco! [chicco is usually the nickname given to people named federico. knowing mig this is a reference of some sort i'm not able to place]

Bez: yes, we were doing a round fo calls, we wanted to know how you were

Franky: everythings alright

Franky: there's also Celestino, what is he doing

Cele: hi Franco

Franky: what is he doing?

BEz: he's here, he's here

Mig: hi Franco!

Franky: hi Celes!

Cele: hi!

[i assume bez's laugh here is bc franco is completely ignoring mig wich. hilarious to me]

Franco: hi!

--

[second song they were listening to. yes it's calcutta i almost couldn't believe my ears]

mig: we're here. one hour and- almost two hours later

--

Bez: ohi where are you?

Pecco: at the hotel

Bez: in hotel?

Pecco: have you arrived yet?

Bez: ah so you've arrived before us

Pecco: well, obviously

Mig: we're here

Bez: we've arrived just now

Pecco: ok, then now we'll go downstairs, let's meet in the lobby at eight. which is now.

Bez: we're here now, now we park

Mig: i would do the check in, and then we go back downstairs

--

Mig: here they are, here they are

Mig: it's like in shining

Cele: we can go to misano directly tomorrow

Pecco: if we go back in time, we go

--

Mig: hello everyone, ehhh we're ready we've woken up and now we go to the circuit, we go to the others

Mig: now, where are our champions? Let's go see near the car. oh, here they are

Mig: Come on! Good morning! Let's go, come on! and sbam!

--

Mig: you do the greeting, this is the classical greeting when you arrive at the circuit, you rise your hand

--

Guy: - because we were thinking of putting down the names of singers, or-

Cami: the name on the transponder is the name of a singer

Pecco: for me either Steve Taylor or Francesco Renga. Now i have to decide

Franco: good morning

--

Mig: ehhh, what's the theme? Singers or bands, or like is it the same...

Guy: singers

--

Mig: my denstist will be proud of me. Shoutout to Doctor Bausi, he's the number one. Super important [something i don't get bc of the toothbrush]

Bez: you cut three, four tens of a second each lap

--

[all the conversations in the box were either very difficult to hear or with too little context to make them translatable (or even useful to translate) sorry]

--

Mig: well guys, this is all, from the track, now the return trip awaits us

--

Mig: that's true, we stayed on the phone the whole time, but now we're here.

Bez: yeah

Mig: bye. we're here, and nothing else. we go home, it was amazing, and... do you have something to declare to end this- here there's a knee slider by the way, i guess it's vietti's... is it yours?

Bez: i declare that.. this return trip has been one of the greatest trip of all time, with a group phone call of...

Mig: one hour and fifteen

Bez: one hour and fifteen

Mig: since before Bologna

Bez: we never felt alone, we felt cuddled by our friends

Cele: we never felt this close

--

Mig: there's a spider, it doesn't open

Bez: can i say it now? you didn't do as you- what is that, what rug is that?

Mig: it's nice isn't it

Bez: where did you stole it from?

Mig: i bought it. I bought it from Toriani, a carpet- from Toriani Tavullia's hardware store, a rug with the sun and the moon, for a step, this a step rug

--

Mig: bye everyone, it's been great

Cele: thank you [while hugging bez]

Mig: it's been a pleasure

[miley1442111]

down bad- jj maybank

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: yes, i am a swifty- sorry lmao. I was thinking of doing a story for every track but we'll see how that ends up lol.

intended for fem!reader

summary: based off of down bad by taylor swift

pairings: jj maybank x fem!reader, (platonic) rafe cameron x adopted sister

warnings: break-ups, no happy ending

Did you really beam me up

In a cloud of sparkling dust

Just to do experiments on

Tell me I was the chosen one

Show me that this world is bigger than us

Then send me back where I came from?

It was another party and another useless attempt at calling Jj. You sat in the corner, exhaustion pulling at your eyelids, yet you stayed. You stayed for the small chance that Jj might come. It might’ve been your birthday, but you’d never been less merry in your life.

For a moment, I knew cosmic love

What happened? You two had been the pogue couple. You two were perfect for each other, his teenage petulance, your logical mindset. You were going to college on the mainland, you’d probably bring him with you. At least, that’s what the entire island thought. 

You were his sense. You were his saviour. You stopped his excessive drinking and smoking. You were there for him every time he stood up to his father. You helped him with schoolwork when everyone else had given up on him. You stayed by his side, always. 

And he discarded you. 

Now I'm down bad, cryin' at the gym (Cryin' at the gym)

Everything comes out teenage petulance

Fuck it if I can't have him (Fuck it if I can't have him)

I might just die, it would make no difference

Down bad, wakin' up in blood (Wakin' up in blood)

Starin' at the sky, come back and pick me up

Fuck it if I can't have us

I might just not get up, I might stay

You sat there all night, waiting for a sign of him. He didn’t show. He forgot your birthday. He must’ve really been done with you. 

As you swept up the remnants of a party you didn’t want, a familiar voice rang through the house. 

“You alright?” Rafe, your brother. You wanted to scream, but you took a deep breath instead, a pleasant smile on your tear-stained face. 

“Fine,” you lied. “How are you?”

“I heard Jj left you,” he sighed. “I’m sorry-”

“If you’re here to gloat Rafe, I’m not in the mood,” you sighed. “Just go.”

He didn’t move. “I’m sorry-”

You rolled your eyes and pulled his hand off you. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m here for you, you know that, right?” 

You didn’t want Rafe to be there for you, you wanted Jj to be there for you. You hadn’t felt rejection and devastation like this break-up. Jj was your first love, your first everything. Every time you closed your eyes you felt his hands on your body, his whispers in your ear, his smile on your skin. 

Down bad (Like I lost my twin)

Fuck it if I can't have him (Down bad)

Down bad (Wavin' at the ship)

Fuck it if I can't have him

“You’re my everything,” he whispered, a hand dusting your waist. “We don’t have to do anything.”

You shook your head. “I want to,” you promised. 

“You sure princess?” he smiled. You nodded. 

I loved your hostile take-overs

Encounters closer and closer

All your indecent exposures

How dare you say that it's?

I'll build you a fort on some planet

Where they can all understand it

How dare you think it's romantic

Leaving me safe and stranded?

'Cause fuck it, I was in love

So fuck you if I can't have us

(Ah)

'Cause fuck it, I was in love

You opened your eyes again, tears spilling freely. “Get out Rafe.”

“I don’t think you want that.”

“I do,” You sobbed. “I want you and everyone else on this shitty island out of my fucking life! I can’t fucking wait to get out of here, away from you and fucking away from Jj! I hate you Rafe, truthfully, I do. But I hate Jj even more, and you’re just here because your dad asked you to be and we both know it, so if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to be left alone.”

Jj stilled, the flowers in his hand falling to the floor. You turned at the sound and another choked sob left your throat. 

“Get out of my life!” You shouted, running up the stairs to your bedroom. 

Now I'm down bad, cryin' at the gym (Cryin' at the gym)

Everything comes out teenage petulance

Fuck it if I can't have him (Can't have him)

I might just die, it would make no difference

Down bad, wakin' up in blood (Wakin' up in blood)

Starin' at the sky, come back and pick me up

Fuck it if I can't have us

I might just not get up,I might stay

Rafe sighed and looked at Jj. “What the fuck are you doing here man?”

“I wanted to see her,” he mumbled.

“You fucked her up, get out,” Rafe was baring his teeth. “I’m not telling you twice.”

“Please-” he tried but Rafe just sighed. 

Down bad (Like I lost my twin)

Fuck it if I can't have him (I'm down bad)

Down bad (Wavin' at the ship)

Fuck it if I can't have him

The summer months passed, you went to the mainland for an internship and slowly tried to forget about Jj. He forgot about you. You dreamt of him every night, wished for him every day.You left thousands of messages. 

He didn’t read them.

Like I lost my twin

Fuck it if I can't have him

Down bad (Wavin' at the ship)

Fuck it if I can't have him

[tojifile]

@Dazai Osamu . . . ( ﾉ´ヮ`) ﾉ

Tags: ada!dazai, camgirl!reader, mentions of sex, suggestive, pining, cursing

A/N: Since a lot of people liked the first part I’m going to write chapter two. No, they don’t have sex. And Yes, the chapter title is a Taylor Swift reference. No, I am not a swiftie, I am a casual enjoyer. (December Mo: Hi guys, this will be my LAST post with the old style and probably the last time I’ll be doing a long, drawn-out fic. The old title was ‘Whiskey on Ice’ so that explains what I said before.)

Inspo: Mingwa’s BJ Alex. Links: Part 1 , Masterlist

Camgirl’s Crush – 💋

“I was wondering if you wanted to go to a bar with me tonight, since you did say I was such a good boy today.” Dazai whispered seductively in your ear. You felt the heat of his breath on your neck, “O- okay..” you nervously spoke. Dazai had a way of making you feel nervous at times, especially when his moves are sensual.

You’ve experienced teasing and flirting before, but when he whispers in your ear, when he pays attention to your idiosyncrasies, when he takes you out on little dates; only to disguise it as “work lunch” you feel—special.

Dazai was still holding you by the waist as you walked back to the agency to clock out. You told him that the both of you had to do it before going to the bar to which Dazai reluctantly agreed; he just wanted to make you happy. “Osamu-kun, people might make up stories if they see us together like this..”

Like he cared anyways. He chuckled at your worries, “Ah darling! You don’t need to worry about that! Pretty soon, those rumors would be true anyways, yeah?” Without thinking, you immediately respond, “yeah!”

You then realized what you just said. Your face turned red and you looked away from Dazai. “I- ‘m.. sorry.” You nervously mumbled. Dazai found your actions adorable! You were just so cute, he wanted to keep you all to himself.

Once you got to the agency, Dazai hurriedly clocked the both of you out while you waited for him downstairs. While he was upstairs, you thought of your moments with Dazai, you wanted him so bad. You’d fantasize about him during your streams and sometimes—at work. You were definitely not proud of that.

“Darling!” Dazai’s words snapped you back into reality. He ran to you then scooped you up into his arms, carrying you roughly to the bar. “Osamu!! Put me down!” You huffed.

But he didn’t, and you were happy. He almost makes you want to quit streaming. You just want to be his and you hope he wants to be yours. You just held onto him tightly, silently hoping he liked you back.

Dazai smiled softly as you held onto him tightly. He liked you like this, sweet and vulnerable. If there was one thing on his mind, it’d be if there was someone else or not, if you heard of him—IU, and if you could hear the love in him, waiting to burst.

His touchiness with you didn’t stop when you got to the bar. Not that you expected it to, but it was quite the opposite. He placed you on top of him, with your back to his chest as his bandaged arms encircled your waist.

He bought you drinks, obviously, he wanted you drunk. Dazai wanted to take advantage of his cute little coworker who may or may not be his favorite cam girl, not that he watches any other.

“Darling..” he whispered in a deep, sultry voice. “Wanna go home to my place? I’ll take care of you, I promise.” You only nodded in response. You knew you shouldn’t, you knew this couldn’t be. But you were only human, a slave to your urges. And right now, what you want is Dazai Osamu.

He gently laid you on his bed once you got to his apartment. Can you believe he carried you all the way there? It was his fault anyways, he got you so drunk!

“So cute..” he whispered underneath his breath. “‘Samu..” you called out softly. You then put your arms up, opening and closing your fists, wanting him to give you a hug. God! If you were sober this would’ve been embarrassing, acting like a fucking baby?!

“Hold me!!” You whined, to which Dazai chuckled. But he still happily complied. Taking off your shoes and sitting beside you on his bed, pulling you closer to his body. “Such a cute girl..” he whispered as he gave you a kiss on the cheek.

As the clock struck 10PM he saw that there was no new livestream, but there was an announcement. But he knew you had typed this out when you were waiting for him downstairs as he clocked the both of you out. Such a sneaky girl.

There was no going back now that Dazai knew that his adorable, seemingly innocent coworker was a cam girl.

@toxicramune @oh-my-beel @nymphsdomain @morinuu – Comment 🪩 to be on my taglist !

++ @yasu-masashige @ninin8nin (who asked for pt.2)

[gluion]

finger trapped (ripped to its seams) ➵ ji changmin

ji changmin x reader

with an unexpected reunion, you and changmin 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, unexpected reunion, keeping secrets & lying, jealousy remains but love triumphs, journalist reader (u kno i had to do it), reader is a nerd and changmin 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 is my submission for @deoboyznet's the love letter collective event! 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. i'd like to thank @hcuyk for being a betareader for this fic! i also want to dedicate this one to @sungbeam and @wavesmp3 <3 your works inspire me so much and i think this fic is a product of how much they've influence me. hanbin's version is now available! please don't forget to 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 “in their climactic performance on road to kingdom,” 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 12 articles. like, 11 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 2014. 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 12 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. “2014, 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 2014

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 a ‘j’.

“ji changmin.” 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.

“ji changmin?” 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.”  

ji changmin 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 cheng xiao, 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,” changmin 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 changmin 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 kim donghan, another dancer on the team, all while listening to the teacher.

you don’t notice how long you spend staring at changmin 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 changmin; 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 changmin 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.”

changmin 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 changmin, 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 changmin 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, “changmin, 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 changmin, 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 changmin. 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 the bo—”

“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. “changmin.”

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 changmin were once painted with the hues of the sun. this reunion is tainted with blue.

changmin’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.”

changmin 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.

changmin 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 changmin’s item first before grabbing onto your ice cream.

“oh, i’m paying—”

“no, let me,” changmin 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. changmin 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 changmin 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 changmin sits across you, the one you knew back in cheongju still lives. in the busy, unfamiliar expanse of seoul, meeting 10 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 changmin. “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, changmin 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 changmin 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 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 changmin. 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 changmin’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, changmin takes it as your answer.

and for the first time, the distance feels greater since you first left cheongju.

summer of 2014

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?” changmin’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!” changmin 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.”

changmin 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 changmin, 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,” changmin 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.” changmin 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 changmin’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.”

changmin’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,” changmin 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 changmin 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 changmin 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,” changmin 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,” changmin 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 changmin 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 changmin 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 changmin 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 changmin 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 changmin 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 changmin. 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,” changmin 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, changmin 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 changmin 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 changmin 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?”

changmin’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 changmin 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 changmin’s role in your life.

the first time you mentioned changmin 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 changmin. 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—changmin’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 changmin, 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 changmin’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 changmin 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.” 

changmin 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 changmin 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 changmin’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 changmin. 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 12 articles,” he says and your mouth gapes over the number. “well, one main article and 11 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 11 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 the boyz?” you still in your seat. “wait, let me check. yes, that’s their name.”

“the boyz?”

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 orange-haired boy 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 five years ago; it’s the same amount of time between this achievement and your departure. within those years, what did changmin 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 changmin 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, changmin’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.

changmin 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 2014

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 changmin 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 changmin?

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, changmin 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, changmin?”

“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 changmin’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 changmin, 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.

changmin 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 changmin.

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 changmin 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 changmin. 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?” changmin is snapped out of his thoughts by namjoon’s suggestion.

his manager looks at the group. “do you guys need a break?”

sangyeon shoots namjoon a smile before looking at his members. “you guys can use the washroom if you need to.”

although everyone seemed fine with proceeding, changmin 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,” changmin says before walking to the door. “you can discuss the details without me. i’m sure you guys will manage.”

with sangyeon’s and his manager’s nods, namjoon settles back into his seat. “okay then, here are some of the dates i have in mind...”

changmin 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 10 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 2014

out of all the seasons, changmin’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, changmin 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?” changmin looks up from his desk to see cheng xiao 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.”

changmin laughs in disbelief. “no, i was with them last week.”

when changmin 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, changmin reminded you that he’ll be there if you need him.

“damn, that sucks,” cheng xiao groans as her shoulders slump. “these stupid rumors.” as soon as she leaves changmin 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. “cheng xiao, you’ll be in charge of attendance today.”

as changmin’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 changmin. 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 changmin’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 changmin 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: as the first trainee meant to debut in the boyz, you’ve spent more time training compared to your other members. 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 sisters 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 the boyz’s q?

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 sisters, 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 [the boyz], 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. deobi, thank you for your love and support over the years. i wouldn’t be the boyz’s q or ji changmin 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.

tag list: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @mosviqu @vernyangel @stealanity @deobi0412 @blue-rainydays @maessseongs @dearly-somber

[jungshookz]

just a small compilation of yoongi and y/n being platonic soul mates

➺ pairing; lveb!yoongi x lveb!y/n pre-namjoon (sorry namjoon u r not a part of this) 

➺ genre; so much friendship fluff i love platonic love so much 

➺ wordcount; 2.8k

➺ summary; yoongi and y/n love and care about each other very much but they’ll never actually say it outright bc real friends never do that! yoongi loves y/n a lot and y/n loves yoongi a lot and to be honest I AM JUST TOO SOFT FOR ALL OF THIS!!!!!!!!!

➺ what to expect; “and don’t lie to me again, please. i’m supposed to have your back and i can’t do my job if you’re hiding things from me.”

➺ currently playing on cee.fm; how sweet it is (to be loved by you) — james taylor 

»»————- 🧸 ————-««

yoongi and y/n get drunk and discuss very important things 

“ah…” you suck in an air of breath through your teeth, patting your chest a few times as the whiskey trickles down your throat

you’re not much of a drinker but yoongi insisted that this was the best whiskey he’d ever had and the only reason why you agreed was because he said if you mixed it with apple juice, it’d just taste like apple juice with a spicier kick 

“you are such a baby.” yoongi snorts, downing the rest of his glass before setting it down on the table, “you don’t have to drink if you don’t want to.”

“i do…” you shake your head, leaning back against the couch, “i don’t, but i also do.”

it’s not often that the two of you spend a sunday evening getting drunk in your apartment but you’ve had a rough week with the business (you’ve had to deal with many, many impatient and annoying customers this week) and yoongi just hasn’t drank in a long time and he recently got paid so why not spend it on some good quality alcohol?? 

“we should play a game or something.” yoongi turns and leans back against the arm of the couch before kicking his legs up onto your lap, “we should do something while waiting for the pizza, otherwise we’re both going to fall asleep.” 

“a game?”

“a game.” yoongi nods, reaching over to crack open the fresh bottle of jameson whiskey (surprisingly smooth, actually. and you do taste the alcohol but you quite like it with the apple juice), “what do drunk people talk about?” 

“they don’t talk. they call their exes.” you joke, yoongi rolling his eyes at your teasing smile

“for your information, i only did it one time. and she didn’t even pick up, so i just left a voicemail. and i don’t even remember what i said in the voicemail.” 

“one time too many.” your eyes widen a little at the reminder of that chaotic night that involved you chasing yoongi around the street trying to get him to give you his phone but his legs are longer and he’s very speedy when he’s drunk so it took you a while until you finally managed to pry his phone from his clammy hands 

love really does make people crazy 

“what’s your biggest fear?” you ask, turning to look at him 

“oh, we’re going to be that type of drunk tonight, are we?” yoongi snorts, reaching up to scratch the side of his nose before pursing his lips in thought and looking up at the ceiling, “probably that i’ll never be good enough in all aspects of my life, but to be honest, mostly when it comes to any romantic stuff. i’m terrified that i’ll try my best with someone and that my best still won’t be good enough for them, and i know i shouldn’t be so dependent on what someone else thinks about me, but if i was dating someone and i felt like i wasn’t good enough for them and then they told me to my face that i wasn’t good enough for them, that would probably send me into the biggest depression spiral i’ve ever had in my entire life. what about you?” 

yoongi looks back down at you to see that you’re staring at him with wide eyes before you reach over to pour some more whiskey into his glass, picking it up and holding it out for him to take 

“…flying cockroaches.” 

“that’s valid.” 

y/n keeps (choosing) to make the same mistake and yoongi’s kinda over it 

“you know, i was just doing some thinking when i was getting the ice cream and i don’t understand,” yoongi shuts the front door behind him before kicking his sneakers off, leaning against the wall with one hand, “didn’t you guys end things, like, a year ago?”

“he reached out in february n we’ve been seeing each other since then…” you sniffle, wiping at your red eyes as you look at him from your curled-up position on the couch, “…didn’t tell you because- i know how you feel about him-“

“he’s a fucking dickhead, that’s how i feel about him. he’s a walking red flag in a very concerning way- like, i have some red flags but they’re the ones that make me seem hot and mysterious, not the ones that make people wonder if i’m a narcissistic sociopath- also, are you telling me you’ve been secretly dating this man for the last-“ yoongi pauses, counting the months on his hands before his eyes widen slightly, “holy shit, you’ve been hiding this from me for the last eight months?” 

you press your lips together as you avert your gaze sheepishly, “…yeah. i’m sorry…” 

“well, what happened this time? why’d you guys break things off?” yoongi plops himself down on the couch next to you, pulling the two pints of ice cream and the cheap wooden spoons out of the thin plastic bag

“he- he was kind of seeing other people at the same time because we never made things exclusive-“

“well, were you seeing anyone else?” 

“no- and… he told me that i wasn’t allowed to see anyone else but he was- so- so basically he started dating-“

“ah, ah-“ yoongi holds the wooden spoon up to shut you up before letting out a laugh, “i’m gonna be so real with you, i don’t feel any sympathy for you at all.”

“i’m not asking for sympathy-“ your voice wavers slightly (you were definitely asking for sympathy and also you fully expected yoongi to come in here and just validate all of your feelings but to be fair you’d probably also feel some type of way if you found out he’d been lying to you for the past eight months of your friendship), “i’m just… sad…” 

“gee whiz, you’re sad because you made a choice to reunite with a known horrible human being!” yoongi exclaims sarcastically, peeling the lid off of the first pint while he shakes his head, “you have to take some accountability here, y/n. it’s not that he forced you to be in this weird relationship with him- and you know, i get it, when you’re reunited with an ex, old feelings come up and yada yada, but you already know the type of person shownu is, so i don’t really know why you’re surprised that being involved with him ended up with you needing emergency pints of ice cream… again. i feel like we’ve had this conversation so many times. it’s getting boring!” 

“i don’t know, yoongi, i thought things would be different…” you mutter, picking at your cuticles, “i thought he’d changed-“

“people rarely change. small habits, maybe, but people rarely change. and you have to take responsibility for the way that you let people treat you, too, because at some point it’s not just because oh yoongi, i was dumb, oh yoongi, i made a mistake, oh yoongi, he seemed so genuine when he was apologising to me — at some point you have to accept the fact that oh, yoongi, maybe i’m the one who has the power to not be crying over a piss-poor human being.” yoongi snaps, turning to look at you with a frown 

he only feels 1% bad when he sees chubby teardrops forming at your waterline and he lets out a quiet sigh before handing you your pint and a spoon, “you know i’m just saying all this shit because we’re friends and i care about you.”

“i know.” you sniffle, taking the pint from him delicately and scraping a little bit of ice cream off the top, “‘m sorry.” 

a moment of silence passes as yoongi gets comfortable with his own pint, his lips pursing as he looks back over at you in all your sad glory 

“i’m sorry things didn’t work out with him. i know you really liked him. but he’s genuinely a horrible person and in the long run, you’re going to be grateful you didn’t end up with someone like that.” he pokes you with his foot to get you to look up at him, “and don’t lie to me again, please. i’m supposed to have your back and i can’t do my job if you’re hiding things from me.” 

yoongi’s really passionate about getting strangers to try y/n’s strawberry cinnamon buns 

“what the hell? these are so good. you should sell these. why don’t you sell these??“ yoongi sucks strawberry glaze off his thumb before his eyes widen, “you could really turn this into a business, you know.”

“i don’t know…” your cheeks flush a little as you wipe flour off the counter, giving him a little shrug, “don’t know if i’ll be successful…” 

you had some spare time today so you decided to whip up a batch of strawberry cinnamon buns (they’re just like regular cinnamon buns except you also add a homemade strawberry compote in the layers, no biggie) and yoongi came over just as they came out of the oven, so you offered him one and obviously he said yes because he’d be crazy to turn down a little treat 

“sure you’ll be successful. you’re really good at baking, and if you start now, you’ll at least have some sort of income after we graduate.” yoongi frowns, “you can’t talk about yourself like that. you have to, like, manifest your success and speak it into existence and all that shit-“ 

“maybe one day…” you purse your lips before offering him another shrug, “i dunno if people’ll like em.” 

“STRAWBERRY CINNAMON BUNS! HOMEMADE STRAWBERRY CINNAMON BUNS-“ that one day comes a lot sooner (as in, this is happening an hour after yoongi suggested you start your own business) and you can’t help but stand off to the side shyly as yoongi continues pushing for people to try your buns

“come on, give this a try and tell me they’re not the most incredible thing you’ve ever put in your mouth-“ yoongi hands someone a free sample in a paper cupcake liner and the stranger looks at it before holding it back for him to take

“this looks great, but i’m allergic to strawberries-“

“well, that’s what your epipen is for, pal-“ yoongi slaps him on the shoulder before pushing him aside and turning his attention to other people, “strawberry cinnamon buns! free samples of homemade strawberry cinnamon buns! get over here and put my friend’s buns in your mouth- oh.” he immediately stops, turning around to look at you, “so sorry, did not mean to sound like i was pimping you off-“ 

you shake your head with a giggle, watching fondly as yoongi spins back around and practically chases someone down to get them to take a free sample from him 

yoongi gets stood up and he’s never seen y/n so upset before 

“who did this to you.” 

yoongi looks up from where he’s sitting on the cobblestone steps to see you standing there, your eyebrows furrowed tightly and your lips set in a tight frown 

if he squints, he’d probably be able to see fumes coming off the top of your head by how upset you seem 

“took you long enough.” he jokes, getting up from his butt and picking up the bouquet of wilted flowers next to him 

he messaged you twenty minutes ago about the situation and you literally got here in warp speed 

“who did this to you?” you ask again, and yoongi shakes his head 

this night has been humiliating enough and he really does not want to go into further details 

“don’t worry about it.” he clears his throat, holding up the bouquet for you to take, “for you, madamoiselle.” 

“you didn’t tell me you were going on a date.” you take the bouquet, bringing it up to your nose for a little sniff before smiling lightly (you love tulips), “love tulips.”

“i know. and it was a second date, technically.” 

“second date??” you ask incredulously, shocked that yoongi hid not one but two important pieces of information from you, “when was the first date??” 

“i didn’t wanna talk about it… i… didn’t wanna get my hopes up in case things didn’t work out and obviously things haven’t worked out.” yoongi shoves his hands into his pockets as he walks alongside you, “whatever, it’s stupid. i hate dating apps.” 

you twist your lips in thought as comfortable silence washes over the two of you 

you know that he’ll probably want to talk about this later, but right now it seems like a bit of a sore spot so maybe you’ll bring in up in a week or so 

or you’ll just wait for him to bring it up to you 

“you hungry?” you loop your arm with his as the two of you walk slowly, and you perk up a little at the sight of a diner two blocks down (they have really good cheesecake there) 

“well, i was supposed to have dinner an hour and forty-five minutes ago, so i guess i’m a little hungry.” yoongi snorts, kicking a pebble off the sidewalk before letting out a huff, “i don’t know. i could eat.” 

“…tuna melt time?” you squeeze his arm and he lets out a loud groan almost immediately 

“oh my god, you are so gross, you know that??” yoongi shoves you off his arm playfully, “who in their right mind likes warm tuna and cheese- you’re basically eating, like, cat vomit-“ yoongi makes a face and you can’t help but laugh, feeling a little better now that you’ve seen him smile a little 

“tuna melt, tuna melt…” you sing softly, yoongi letting out another groan before shuddering

“this could actually be a dealbreaker in our friendship, i’m telling you- only sick freaks like tuna melts-“ 

“guess i’m the sickest freak around, baby-“ 

y/n picked a gross drink from starbucks and refuses to admit she doesn’t like it 

“i still don’t know why you decided to try that.” yoongi shakes his head, holding his wallet out for you to take so you can put it in your purse for him, “what is it again?”

“apple… cinnamon cold brew something?” you shrug, raising the cup for a quick glance before shrugging, “trying something new!” 

“we both know what happens whenever you try something new.” yoongi grumbles, taking a sip of his own iced americano, “you try it, you don’t like it, you refuse to admit you don’t like it, and somehow i’m the one who ends up having to finish whatever it is you picked for yourself because you decided you wanted to be spontaneous.”

“nuh-uh.” you frown, yoongi holding the door open for you as he rolls his eyes 

you can be such a baby when it comes to arguments like this — it’s like you never want to admit he’s right even though you know he’s right 

“nuh-uh-“ he mocks, barely avoiding your whack as the two of you walk side by side, “the pineapple-walnut scone from that gluten-free bakery, that weird alfredo-truffle-pesto pasta dish you ordered when we went to get italian on valentine’s day, that godawful cauliflower crust pizza you got for brunch one time-“ 

“but i like this drink!” you take a hearty sip before swallowing, your lips puckering for a second as your eye twitches and you immediately stop walking to look at the drink

…perhaps the barista was having an off day but there’s something a lil funky going on in your mouth right now 

“oh my god, i fucking knew it-“ yoongi groans, his shoulder slumping as he looks at you with a raised brow, “who in their right mind would order an apple cinnamon cold brew something-“

“it’s not bad!” you insist, bringing it up to your lips for another sip, your other eye twitching now as you swallow thickly 

oh dear god 

is it supposed to be chunky?? are drinks normally chunky like this??? 

“just give it to me.” yoongi gives you a deadpan expression as he holds his iced americano for you to take, “take mine.” 

“no, no-“

“y/n y/l/n, give me your godawful drink right now-“ 

“are you sure?”

“are you sure?” yoongi mocks again, tsking at you when you take his drink from him and he takes your drink from you, “i knew this was gonna happen, and i still let you order your own drink… the next time we’re at starbucks, i’m ordering for you-“ 

🎙️ ask y/n for her strawberry cinnamon bun recipe (talk to my characters!) 

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (go say hi to yoongi and y/n in la vie en bonsai!) 

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!) 

[liquidorcard]

Lily can't keep her own "Sympathetic" Villains rules Straight: Anthony Gramuglia edition

See Crim's edition for the rules and outlines. Here we go.

Lily's Response to Ant:

Lily's probably going to get a significantly worse score on this one because me and Ant I think have similar media diets. We begin:

1. In the book, 100% he is THE villain. The movie not as much. Still though, I think movie Hammond more than fit's Lily's criteria. -1 life found a way

2. We already went over this (yes I am still writing p.3 of my Magneto post.) -1 Anthro cow delivering your children

3. Kyubey's keeping the universe from ending Lily. How could you get closer to having a point than that? -1 timeline

4. See Crim's post. He does fail #2. Again though, by Lily's original parameters this was a valid entry. But I have to give her the point. +1 spider gets it's legs ripped off

5. I bet she thought this was clever. -1 gate keeper.

6.N/A

7. I don't even know what she's talking about here. -1

8. Del Toro sends his regards. -1 Nerdy fish man.

9. LILY HASN'T SEEN THE BROADWAY SMASH HIT PLANET OF THE APES THE MUSICAL, STARRING TROY MCCLURE!? For shame! -1 (has anyone else watched that movie recently? I'm not saying it's aged poorly, but like, it is profoundly unintentionally hilarious, watching it in the modern day. I know this was like, the whole thing back then-- leading men who were too cool for school, but Taylor is such a fucking asshole. Cornelius is the real hero of the film, and everyone bullies him for not matching their lunatic energy. #justiceforCornelius #GeorgeTaylorisoverparty)

10. N/A (Trekkies don't try me.)

11. N/a

12. N/A (I mean I feel like I've probably seen the whole Mummy franchise just through memes at this point but. Lily's reasoning here is fucking asinine though-- as per usually Ant us uniquely getting her goat.)

13. This is actually the first example that breaks rule #3. Sorry fam I love Elfen Lied too, but it's a bit of a hot mess. +1 dead puppy

14. Scar is a dead ringer to Lily's criteria. She straight up just didn't have a pot to piss in, so she just wrote "no." -1 Dwarf in a flask

15. For the record, my boomer mom has seen Ghost in the Shell. The movie anyway. -1 body on loan

16. I watched this as a kid but can't really remember anything about it, so, I gotta put it as N/A.

17. This might actually be the first time I've seen anyone else memtion this movie . . . But still. -1 burnt wheelchair

18. Not plus ultra. -1 for all

19. Oh fuck off Lily. Glass houses. -1 jutsu

20. Sai, Crim and Ant spoke pretty extensively about this one. -1 angry hair raise

21. This one too. -1 demon pig

22. Yes she is. -1 dad

23. See Crim's list. -1 Prisoner 24601

24. N/A

25. Read ANY book, Lily. -1 absent godly parent.

26. I've only read the first one. N/A

27. Lily's reason here is bullshit but I haven't seen Columbo either. N/A

28. Why not Lily? -1 Jimbo

29. YES SHE FUCKING IS LILY. Just because in a modern context her story is a lot more tragic doesn't mean she isn't intended to be a villain. Lily made up the rule "has a point," but if they have an iron clad one she just declares them not a villain. -1 head

30. OBJECTION! NOW YOU REMEMBER VILLAIN AND ANTAGONIST ARENT TRUE SYNONYMS FOR EACH OTHER!? -1 Lily if you could just ONCE try to engage with a media discussion honestly.

31. N/A. I'll get around to watching it.

32. Not in Dracula Untold. -1 Damn Luke Evans looks like he was cloned from Orlando Bloom. I can't tell those two apart.

33. DIFFERENT DRACULAS. HOLY SHIT. -1 Lily this rational is so piss poor it's embarrassing. Even for you.

34. N/A

35. Isn't he in Kingdom Hearts? -1 Ah Ha Ha Ha

36. Another non-surprise. -1 traveler on his way home.

37. I haven't played enough Kurby to know why Meta Knight is a sympathetic villain. N/A

38. I've played enough to know Lily's right on this one. +1 Deddeddeedeeededededeeedede

39. A) several characters on both Crim and Ants' lists have been protagonists. B) IT'S FUCKING COMMON POPCULTURE KNOWLEDGE DONKEY KONG WAS THE ANTAGONIST IN THE FIRST APPEARANCE OF BOTH MARIO AND DK. -1 Lily I'm fucking shocked you don't know this. Genuinely. That's saying something, considering it's you.

40. Solid Lily continues to be the worst one. -1 LIQUIDDDDDDDD

41. Yes she is. Her point is the magic is what keeps her fucking family safe. -1 gift

42. You'd probably like this movie actually, Lily. Not the book, but. Or maybe not, there's no incest lesbians I guess. -1 sexy tree

43. I'm going to give Lily the point to maintain consistency that mind-manipulation doesn't count as "a point." Before he put on the crown he's not really even an antagonist, so. He IS an example of a sympathetic villain, however. +1

44. THERE ARE OTHER ANIMALS ON THIS LIST. Another one who's spot on, so she can't figure out how to even pretend to argue against it. -1 Beauty who killed the beast

45. GODZILLA ISN'T LITERALLY A NUKE. -1 pop culture jokes don't substitute proper media analysis

46. The Kaiju Lily. Her name is the title of the film. It's not Ant's fault You're too lazy to Google shit. -1 Viking Relic

(Biollante would have been my personal pick for sympathetic Kaiju. And her dad. She would have broken Lily's first rule since she's probably not aware of exactly what's happened to her, but. Her father at least fits Lily's criteria. A lot of the Kaiju are sympathetic though.)

47. This is a perfect example as to why Lily's rules are ridiculous. John Kramer is, in my opinion, outrageously unjustified in what he does. He follows her rules though. Having a bad point is still having a point. How "well written" he is wildly different depending on the movie, but because he's at least well written sometimes I'm counting him. -1 foot

48. You haven't read Paradise Lost Lily. I know you haven't. -1 Satan crying for everything he's lost

49. God Lily I wish you'd actually read something for once because this is an even better example as to why your rules are a joke. -1 Facist Worm King

50. This is a specific example. -1 tears, it's a waist of good suffering.

LILY'S FINAL SCORE: 19/50

38% - F

Got wrong: 24

Got right: 2

Removing the ones I haven't seen:

19/39

48% - F

Removing the ones Lily hasn't seen:

15/37

40% - F

Removing the ones we both haven't seen:

2/26

7% - F

[synthleeius]

new years day

kind of taylor swift reference,,,, ☹️

NEW YEARS FIC!!!!! im sorry its 4 days late um. (im lazy)

lee!xiao

ler!aether

Xiao materialises silently on the balcony behind him, arms crossed. “Hmph, it’s you,” He murmurs, his voice barely audible.

“It is,” Aether said, waving him over as he leaned against the rails. Xiao complied, moving himself to stand next to the traveller. “So, is Liyue big on new years? It seems like it..”

Xiao’s gaze shifts to the bustling streets below, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Yes, Liyue is known for its grand celebrations during the lantern rite. Mortals gather to welcome the new year, hoping for good fortune and prosperity.” He turns his attention back to the figure beside him, his expression softening ever so slightly. “Is there a reason you ask..?”

“Not necessarily.. I was more asking if you were big on it.” Aether admitted, smiling softly at the city.

Xiao's eyes flicker with a hint of surprise, as if caught off guard by his question. "I... I suppose I don’t partake in such festivities," he admits, his voice tinged with a touch of melancholy. "As an adeptus, I have always maintained a certain distance from mortal affairs. My duty lies in protecting Liyue and its people, but I have never been one to revel in celebrations or seek personal enjoyment. It’s not in my nature."

He pauses for a moment, then adds, "However, I am willing to make an exception, if it is your wish to experience these festivities together."

Aether chuckled at the offer, shaking his head. "You don’t have to do that, Xiao, I know you’d rather not. But if you want.. we can stay up here for a bit?” He asked, tilting his head. “Please?”

Xiao's gaze shifts back to the lively streets below, watching as the crowds grow larger and the excitement mounts. "I appreciate your consideration.”

He turns his attention back to the blonde, his eyes meeting his. "If you wish to join me in this seclusion, I would be honoured to spend this time with you." He gestures to the balcony, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

He smiled widely, “Thank you~..” He lowered himself to the ground, his legs criss-crossed around each other.

Xiao follows Aether’s lead, lowering himself to the ground beside him and crossing his legs in a similar fashion. He glances at him, his smile a rare sight. “I hear your back from your travels in Fountaine, correct?”

“Yeah, it was.. well, Fountaine.” He laughed softly, his eyes trailing down his arm before he noticed something. “The ocean was amazing though, they-.. Hm.”

“..What is it?” The adeptus asked, a confused expression on his face as Aether’s fingers reached out to his skin. With anybody else he’d flinch away, but he's learnt to accept the travellers touch. “You're bruised.”

“I.. suppose I am,” He stated, seemingly not paying much mind to it. “Mere consequence of my battles.. You shouldn’t worry, There's probably many more to come. But.. they will heal due to time.”

“I know, it doesn't mean I like it.” He muttered, huffing quietly. “Yknow, if you ever need me to patch you up all you need to do is ask.”

“No need,” Xiao insisted, “But.. If it comes to it, I’ll remember that.”

“I’m glad.” Aether smiled, satisfied with the answer he received. His fingers dragged down the skin until he reached the end, his hand moving to rest on top of the other’s. -which of course would’ve been fine, but..

His fingertips trailing down his forearm made Xiao gasp, reflexively flinching back a bit. “A-Ah.. apologies, Aether. You just..”

“It's okay,” He replied, softly cutting the other off from speaking any more excuses. “My fault.”

The two sat like that for a few minutes in silence, simply enjoying each other's company. Well, it was simple until the blonde’s hand began to shift, nails drifting across his wrist an-

“Aether,” he spoke in a faked stern tone, turning to look at him.

“Uhuh,” He replied calmly, his nails grazing the same sensitive spot. “I'm just making sure you're not hiding any more injuries from me. What if you're in a critical condition and I didnt even know, hm?”

“Ihim- i’m not..?” a soft yelp left his lips, dare he even say– a giggle? “You’d know..”

“How am I supposed to believe that though? You're a very secretive person, Xiao. Now, I insist, stay still.” Aether smiled smugly, speaking whatever excuses came into his head first as he sneaked a hand to the adepti’s torso and latched onto his side.

“A-Ah! Aetheher..” He let out a shaky breath, restraining himself. “Don't just-..”

“Don't just what?” Aether tilted his head with a fake confused expression, his hand perfectly still.

“I.. ugh, your childish, Traveler.” Xiao sighed, turning his head away. Aether simply laughed softly, letting his fingers wiggle gently up his ribs. “I’m funny, excuse you.” He huffed, “I'm sure you’ll find me funny in a few minutes too.”

“I will no-hot!” He gasped, desperately trying to keep a straight face. He debated hiding with his mask on, but knowing Aether he’d probably give him hell for it..

“You’re no fun.. Come on, you're supposed to be laughing.” He whined, a playful smile shining on his lips.

“I don’t laugh.” He states, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his composure. “I’m an adeptus, it's un- hah.. unprofessional..”

“Sure you can, giggles. I’ll even help you!” Aether teased, gently pressing his thumbs into the bone.

“Don’t cahall me thahat!" He tried to grumble the best that he could, but he couldn't refrain from the small giggles that started bubbling from his chest.

“What, giggles? But it's cute! And you are giggling, y’know.” He pointed out, his hand darting to the others mid section and rubbing circles into his hip bones.

Finally, the dam broke with a gasp and breathy giggles, the shorter ducking his head down. “Thahats- nohot the pohohint..”

Aether cooed at the sight, shifting his position a little to be able to reach over and use both his hands. “Awh, Xiao~ I can think of a different point. Maybe about how you aren’t pushing me away?”

“I.. do nohot wihish to huhurt yohou.” Xiao mumbled out, his hands squeezed in fists to restrain himself. “Hm.. Excuses, excuses~” He sighed dramatically, giving his torso a couple last squeezes. “Alright, alright.. I’m done, sorry.”

As he regained his composure, he sighed softly, arms crossing over his chest idly. “It's.. fine. I suppose.”

“I bet.” Aether replied in a monotone voice, a knowing expression on his face. “No more tricks, ‘kay?” He promised, slinging an arm around his shoulders as a truce.

“..Mhm.”