#and any time i talk about being korean i get terrified i’ll be told i’m lying

[solitaireships]

Found an article talking about racial imposter syndrome in mixed people who look white and finally I’ve found something that describes it

[eatyourchancletas]

SUMMARY |  y/n l/n; the trauma surgeon who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and is taken hostage by the terrifying mafia known as ateez. despite their situations, love arises between the doctor and san; but when an enemy comes in between the group, breaking trust and belief between the members, what will san choose to save; his newfound love or his brothers?

PAIRING | choi san x male reader

INFO/CATEGORY | mafia au, fluff, light angst

WARNINGS | violence, weapon usage/mention, foul language, lower case writing

[chapter index] [playlist] [previous chapter]

AUTHOR’S NOTE | woops, finally have chapter 3 here! alex wasn’t able to finish it so i (monnie) did, but alex edited it so it was a smooth process. please like and reblog!! feedback is greatly appreciated!! please excuse any mistakes!

WORD COUNT | 4.7k

TAG LIST :; @jonghoshoe​  if you’d like to be added to the list please say so in our inbox/ask box!

hongjoong had gathered everyone around, gaze settled upon his members. “this mission is very important. we’ve managed to get a good deal. he says if he manages to make a good first impression with us, he’ll be willing to work with us at a smaller price.”

everyone nodded along, understanding what he was trying to say: don’t mess this up. 

the leader continued as everyone seemed to catch the drift, “but we’re going to be very careful with this. we don’t put ourselves out there, so i don’t know how he knows our reputation enough to want to further business before we’ve even started.”

seonghwa perked up, arms tightening around himself, “that means old business is talking.” hongjoong nodded, letting him know they were both on the same page.

after a moment of silence, hongjoong sucked his teeth and looked up at y/n, eyes holding an emotion the older couldn’t read. the two held eye contact for barely 3 seconds before hongjoong spoke in yeosang’s direction. “i want you to stay here with y/n,” at those words, the younger gave a look that explained his feelings very well, y/n thought.  

yeosang thought this was bullshit, but he couldn’t speak out on it because he trusted hongjoong knew well enough. “don’t take it personal, i don’t trust y/n fully. we don’t know what can happen.”

yeosang could only nod, deciding against disobeying hongjoong’s orders. 

“alright, everyone get ready. we leave in an hour, i wanna get there early. scope out the place.”

y/n felt ashamed and angry. 

ever since the group left for the mission, almost an hour ago, yeosang has been rude and treating him like he was the cause of all his problems. he felt ashamed because yeosang’s bruteness made him feel, somewhat, small and embarrassed, like it was his fault they were in this situation.

“get out of my way,” yeosang had shoved y/n on the way to the kitchen. the older stared dumbfounded, patience wearing thin.

“a simple excuse me would’ve been nice.”

yeosang scoffed, opening the refrigerator. if there was one thing that bothered him, it was being on babysitting duty. 

“yeah, well i’m not exactly in the mood to play around and be all goody-two-shoes. so you know what would be nice?” he directed a sharp glare to y/n, not giving him a chance to answer his rhetorical question, “if you would fuck off.”

y/n bit his tongue, sizing up the smaller. his thoughts blocked his irritation, taking in the fact that yeosang was a gang member. he’s pretty sure size wouldn’t inconvenience the younger when handling a physical situation, much less a verbal one.

the doctor went to walk away as yeosang placed a plate in the microwave, until he noticed red markings on the skin of yeosang’s wrist, his shirt sleeve sliding down as his arm lifted. “are you okay?”

“last i checked, i didn’t ask for some psychological evaluation. so for the love of god-”

“no- i meant your wrist… is your wrist okay?”

a barely noticeable blush covered yeosang’s ears, “i’m fine. it’s nothing.” 

y/n’s head tilted, an unsure look on his face.“do… do you mind if i take a look at it?” 

yeosang stilled, the low hum of the microwave filling in the silence. he hesitated, but decided against it, knowing yunho had told him he needed to get it looked at because there wasn’t much he could do.

his eyes drifted to y/n, his arm slowly gravitating in the direction of y/n, a silent approval. the doctor carefully walked forward, gently grabbing yeosang’s hand and pulling the sleeve slightly. a small gasp left his mouth, the sleeve barely pulled back but the wound already looked pretty bad. “do you have a first aid kit?”

the metal lid of the small trash can clinked as it swung back and forth, ointment-clotted swabs and bandage wrappers crinkling within the confinement. “thank you,” yeosang’s voice was small, his upset mood dissipating as time went on. 

“it’s no problem,” y/n finished wrapping yeosang’s wrist, careful not to make it too tight, “that was a second degree burn though… how’d you get it?”

yeosang looked down, a blush settling on his cheeks. his head dropped and his feet swung under the medical cot he sat on. he mumbled something, biting his lip afterwards, and y/n’s eyebrows furrowed. “i’m sorry, what was that?” and yeosang mumbled once more, y/n still not hearing what he said. “huh?”

“i said i burned myself trying to help seognhwa hyung make your meals!”

y/n blinked, “oh.”

and for the next few moments, it was deadly silent, the ticking of the wall clock echoing. y/n couldn’t take the awkwardness any longer, clearing his throat, “well, next time you get hurt, please don’t be afraid to come to me. it’d give me something to do, i already feel pretty useless and lonely here, to be honest.”

yeosang looked up, his feet no longer swinging, and a confused look on his face. “you’re not useless. we wouldn’t have kept you alive if you were.”

at that moment y/n inhaled, not knowing how to respond to that. “uh, jeez, that uh… hm, that makes me feel better… i guess?” a moment passed before the two chuckled, a comedic break turning out to be a lot more comforting than they expected. 

minutes passed, their conversation dying down into light replies and subtle smiles when yeosang asked a question that threw the doctor off. “do you know anyone by the name of heeseung?”

dozens of thoughts raced through y/n’s mind; why does he want to know? is heeseung okay? did he do something he wasn’t supposed to? 

“. . . yes.” but y/n couldn’t ask any further because before he knew it, yeosang had nodded and gotten down from the cot, walking out of the infirmary area.

meanwhile, miles away the others had arrived at the meeting spot, every member cautiously looking out for anything strange. seonghwa began pulling in closer to the black van adjacent to theirs, letting hongjoong and wooyoung scout to make sure this was the man they were meeting with.

after confirmation that this was dongwoo, they holstered their weapons within the waistbands of their trousers and exited the van. 

“have you got it?” hongjoong cut to the chase; he was quite a brute person when it came to work. and dongwoo and his people wanted to make a good first impression? he’d see how well he could handle him.

“yep, got a truckload of ak-47’s, m16’s, and a couple 9mm’s. all smuggled from america.”

hongjoong pursed his lips, an impressed nod making dongwoo’s ego subtly inflate. word on the street said no one had successfully managed to smuggle weapons, specifically guns, to ateez without the korean law getting too heavily involved. the trader always got caught, and ateez always made sure to utilize their connections and silence those who they couldn’t trust to keep their mouths shut. 

hongjoong had to go to some expensive lengths just to get the glock 17’s they used now. the quality of the gun proved its worth though, they learned. however, it was rare that they resorted to guns—they didn’t rely on them unless they themselves were in danger or if someone needed to be silenced quickly.

“looks good to me,” hongjoong complimented, turning his head slightly toward wooyoung, “bring out their payment.” 

wooyoung nodded briefly, bringing his hands from behind his back, a large herbal drink-branded bag being showcased. dongwoo raised a brow, peeking over and catching a glimpse of the rolls of cash that filled the bag to the brim.

“thank you for your service,” hongjoong beckoned wooyoung to hand the bag to dongwoo, before he went to step toward his shipment.

“wait, what?”

at dongwoo’s abruptness, san stepped forward, “what do you mean ‘what’? take the deal or leav—” his words died down and he cowered back when hongjoong’s sharp glare met his eyes, immediately silencing him. 

the leader clasped his hands behind his back and made a sharp turn toward the man. “is there something wrong?” his head was tilted and a curious look was on his face, there shouldn’t have been anything wrong with this offer and if there was, there was only a problem on dongwoo’s side. call it being ignorant, but hongjoong didn’t say he never had a problem because he wanted to be cocky and egotistic. it was simply the truth. 

out of every issue he and the others had encountered with a deal, none had gone wrong on their part. it was part of the reason their group was at the top—they were efficient business partners and leaders. something only went wrong when non-mutual expectations weren’t met.

“there’s no ‘we’re looking forward to doing future business with you’?”

a small smirk had taken over hongjoong’s lips, hidden by the hanging of his head. “mr. yoo, we further business with those of the same intentions as us. do you, perhaps, know what those intentions are?”

dongwoo stood dumbfounded; of everything he heard about ateez and their leader, he didn’t think to find out just what their goal was.

“it seems you don’t know, so i’ll tell you. we, ateez, have come this far from one thing and one thing only—loyalty. when i heard your proposition of your first impression leading to cheaper traders, something was a little off,” his eyes squinted and he bought his pointer finger and thumb to barely touch, “you know a little too much, don’t you think?”

dongwoo’s eyes widened slightly but he recovered, however, it was noticeable. “what are you talking about?” 

“someone’s been talking, haven’t they? leaking information about us that they, most certainly, weren’t warranted to give, but you probably don’t know much—you’re not the loose tie that needs to be cut off,” he looked dongwoo dead in the eyes as his own narrowed, “i hope.”

his intimidating stare lasted for a few moments more before a light smile covered his face, eye lightening. “take your payment, we’ll be taking our things and leaving.”

hongjoong gave a nod of his head, him and the rest of ateez splitting up to hook the small weapon-filled-trailer to their own vehicle, dongwoo and his men pulling off once it was unattached. 

“boss, i don’t feel so good about this right now. i think we should hurry and get out of here.” yunho spoke, a hand rubbing at the hairs that stood on the back of his neck. hongjoong didn’t question further, sharing the suspenseful feeling that creeped up his spine, giving a prompt nod.

after 5 minutes were spent attaching the trailer and making sure they were ready to go, seonghwa started the engine and waited for everyone to get in. just as san and mingi were about to get in the van, the screeching of tires sounded nearby.

“get down!” and bullets went flying.

“do you like raisin bran?”

y/n gave a slight nod, folding his hands in front of him. “sure!” yeosang held the box in the air, stopping mid-grab.

“aren’t you a doctor? raisin bran has a lot of sugar…”

y/n shrugged his shoulders, standing to get bowls for the both of them, “i’m a doctor, not a dentist. besides, i’m quite the sugar addict. with the injuries i see and multiple hour surgeries i perform, i need some type of a high—so sugar high it is!”

yeosang laughed, shaking his head and setting the cereal box on the counter before grabbing the milk from the fridge. “quick question doc,” yeosang began and y/n looked at him, setting the bowls and spoons down. “milk first or cereal?”

yeosang held a laugh in when y/n had a visibly offended look on his face, a hand pressing to his chest. “yeosang, please tell me you put cereal fi—”

“shit! y/n where the fuck are you?!” someone had frantically shouted from the front of the house, yeosang and y/n giving each other a worried look before tripping over their own feet to reach the living room.

“oh my—what happened?!”

“fuck,” hongjoong let out a belligerent roar, “get him to the infirmary!”

y/n panicked, grabbing onto the injured man and hoisting him up into his arms, rushing to the infirmary. he looked down at the paled man in his arms, huffing out a breath of air, “don’t worry san, i’ve got you!”

san lies on the medical cot, eyes still and closed and chest rising and falling in a calming pattern. y/n is sitting next to him, checking his vitals every few minutes and making sure his labs are okay. after verifying everything is stable, he sat the clipboard down, closing his own eyes and lying his head in his arms on the cot, dozing off. 

it’d been about 3 hours since san was bought in like this. y/n could’ve laughed at how freaked out he was earlier—san’s injuries weren’t even the worst he’s ever seen or treated, but your emotions and professionalism change when the person lying on your operating table is someone you have a nice relationship with… and when said patient’s fellow gang members are breathing down your neck, reminding you that there’s no other option than survival for him...

“how is he?” hongjoong’s voice startled y/n out of his exhausted haze, the older jumping in his spot.

“he’s fine now. if you’d have been any later, he would have coded… and i can’t do much for coding outside a hospital.”

the leader nodded his head, his chest and shoulders dropping slightly as if he could finally breathe. y/n watched him, watched how hongjoong toed around the cot, staring san’s unconscious form down.

y/n fumbled with his fingers, running over his next words in his head before just blurting them. “is it hard?”

“what do you mean?”

he shrugged his shoulders, looking at the shorter, “being a leader… having to watch over everyone,” he held eye contact with the leader, trying to read his expression, “it must be suffocating when something happens to one of them.”

hongjoong’s tongue swiped over his teeth as he stared the taller down. the air around them was tense—hongjoong knew y/n meant good by his words, but he’s not the type of person to just get emotional with people, especially those who aren’t exactly close to him. the others may see y/n as someone more than a hostage, but to hongjoong, he was just that. a person they were taking advantage of—a person who was only cooperative because his life was on the line.

“we’re going to head back to the shooting scene and see if we can find anything that’ll lead us to dongwoo, son-of-a-bitch. wooyoung and yeosang will stay with you and san… so let them know if you or san needs anything.” y/n cleared his throat, giving a curt nod before standing up and walking toward the cabinets, desperate to escape the awkward and tense aura. 

when he heard the door to the infirmary shut, signaling hongjoong had left, he let out a sigh before starting to occupy himself again. he opened a cabinet, grabbing a roll of gauze—it was time to change san’s dressings.

as he made his way back to the cot, he noticed san was now awake and it caused him to stop in his tracks. “when did you wake up?”

“unfortunately, when it got awkward,” san watched y/n’s face fall, a look of embarrassment overtaking his tired features. he held back a teasing smile, leaning back on his arms, although hissing in pain and sitting back up when the pressure sent a stabbing pain through his side and shoulder. he watched y/n walk toward him and lift his clean shirt to start snipping at the dirtied gauze anchored around his naked shoulder.

a few moments went by of y/n re-bandaging and wrapping san’s wounds before the injured boy’s head tilted to the side. he didn’t know if it was because he was high off pain meds or if it was because he’s been so deprived of seeing an unfamiliar face… but y/n looked really handsome and flattering. even thinking about feeling that way sent a drunk feeling to san’s head, his mind getting lost and going blank in the echoing cavity of his skull. it was no secret to himself that he was rather flexible when it came to his romantic relationships and feelings, but he was still foreign to it.

he decided to push it to the back of his mind, feeling rather rushed and irrational at the moment, “y/n hyung… are you feeling better now?”

the older turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion, “i should be asking that—you’re the one who got shot in the shoulder and stomach,” he pulled san’s shirt back down, careful not to put pressure on his shoulder. he turned around for a moment before turning back and wrapping san’s arm in a sling.

“thank you,” the younger softly spoke, before continuing, “i just noticed you’re more at ease with all of...this. it’s almost a complete 180 from when we first met.”

the doctor’s hands froze against his own lap, a sigh leaving his mouth and his eyes fluttering in a blink of realization, “i guess so.”

“they’re not here—”

hongjoong sighed through his nose, looking rather composed; and the others thought it wasn’t much of a deal until the leader kicked the seat in front of him, scaring seonghwa, who was in the driver’s seat. “call yeosang.”

“been here for a while, what’s up.” said male spoke through their communicator, sounding calm and unbothered.

“can you please stop doing th—can you find anything about dongwoo’s whereabouts?”

“give me a sec,” the boy registered, the clicking of a keyboard sounding into the communication device.

“alright so while yeosang’s doing what should have been done, please tell me why there wasn’t an extensive amount of research on this client?” hongjoong was pissed. not only did their transaction end in a one-sided gunfight, it ended up with one of their own having more than one bullet wound.

wooyoung swallowed, knowing damn well the question was aimed at him. “hyung, i did do research. i made sure to look up what links he has with other businesses and everything that i could think of. i’ve never failed at doing so-”

“then why did you fail this time?”

it got heavily quiet, seonghwa looking at his boyfriend through the rear-view mirror. no one uttered a breath and looked away from a fidgeting wooyoung.

“aight i’m back.”

hongjoong ignored seonghwa’s prompting  gaze, “what did you find?”

“nothing. they’re good at covering their tracks and maybe that’s why wooyoung couldn't find much. usually, we resort to hacking, but i’ve never seen these sorts of codes before and if you want me to break the wall down it will take longer than what you’d want.”

the leader sighed once more, pinching the bridge of his nose while bouncing his right leg. “No it’s fine, we’ll just hope dongwoo and his crew don’t appear again.”

“but hyung, isn’t that a little reckless-”

“you shouldn’t be one to speak right now.” hongjoong turned to glare at wooyoung, the younger male pursing his lips and nodding. “everyone get in the car, we're going back.”

“...so i’m not going to try and hack this? aw.”

“what’s wrong?” san frowned as wooyoung sulked while sitting next to him on the cot.

“hyung’s mad with me…”

y/n had his back facing them, trying to arrange the mess that was on the counter where all the ointments and supplies were. yunho had came in earlier to apologize for not keeping it organized, his exact words being “i just clean up their wounds as best as i can, and i’m not really in here unless it’s an emergency.”

san lingered a glance at y/n as if the older would do the same. “is it because of dongwoo?”

the younger nodded with a pout, leaning on san’s side. “mhm, and he hasn’t talked to me since.”

“well you know joong-hyung, he’s…” san thought for a few seconds, and when he couldn't find the words, he bit the inside of his cheek. “ he’ll get over it, just give it time. or talk to seonghwa-hyung, he’ll know what to do, he always does.”

wooyoung whined, “i already did! and he said ‘i can’t do anything’ with that pained smile of his!”

san blinked, “what? you’re lying, hwa-hyung would never fail us-”

“no no, i was there. he talked to hongjoong-hyung before wooyoung came up to him...or at least tried. joong-hyung isn’t talking to anyone right now. that’s why hwa-hyung told you he can’t do anything.”

“yeo, i swear you’re the nosiest person ever. like, please, i’m not sure if that’s good or bad sometimes.” san grimaced after processing yeosang’s comment through the earpiece.

“as far as i know it’s done us more good than bad. plus, it’s my job to be nosy, remember? we all get paid for things, and i get paid for sticking my nose up yall’s business.”

“wait you do that 24/7?” wooyoung frowned.

“uh, no. sometimes i don’t even intend to do it, ya’ll loud as fuck so sometimes i don’t even need the communicators. and i only comment on things that mean something. and before you ask this did not mean anything, i just wanted to join in the conversation.”

san snorted, “then why didn’t you just walk in here?”

“cus i’m busy right now.”

“doing what?” wooyoung grabbed san’s hand and played with his friend’s fingers.

“doing what i was not authorized to do—hack that wall.”

“won’t you get in trouble?”

“maybe,” the sound of him smacking his lips sounded, “but at least i won’t be given the silent treatment.”

wooyoung sat up. “yah! yeosang i will come down there and kick you!” when he heard no response he jumped off the cot and walked out the room, “yeosang i warned you!”

while hearing his best friend yell down the hall, san laughed. his attention returned to y/n who had his head tilted and a confused look on his face. “what’s wrong, hyung?”

“how...were you two talking to yeosang?” 

san hummed, smiling while tapping the clear earpiece in his ear. “we have them on unless we’re showering and sleeping or something. but when we’re on duty we have them on, speaking of that, i’ll tell jongho to get you one-”

y/n shook his hands in front of him as san was about to move, “you shouldn’t move too much, you might reopen a wound. i’ll call him…” y/n’s voice died down when he realized what he was volunteering to do.

at the sudden look of horror on y/n’s face, san laughed. 

“don’t worry, jongho’s just a buff teddy bear unless in danger. but for now, i’ll call him over.” san raised his hand to his earpiece, making y/n question why he couldn’t do that before. “jongho, can you bring an earpiece for y/n?”

san nodded when the younger agreed, saying he’ll be there shortly. he lowered his hand and rested it on his lap. “have you gotten along with anyone here yet?” he tried to spark conversation with the doctor, highly interested in him and feeling the need to know more about him.

“aside from yeosang, seonghwa and you, uh, not really. maybe yunho? i mean, he’s never showed any sign of hatred towards me so i guess we get along decent too...but i haven’t really had a chance to meet the others.”

the younger nodded, “well we may look tough and all, but i promise we’re all chill. hongjoong-hyung is only tough and straightforward when he’s on the lookout. just give him some time and you’ll see how nice and caring he is.”

y/n hummed, “i guess..”

“i have arrived with the product~” jongho smiled while walking inside the room, a box in hand. “once you put it on it will send yeosang a message and he’ll grant access to it.”

san watched jongho gesture y/n to grab it, but he took it before the doctor did. “here, i’ll put it in for you.”

jongho did his best to not snort or laugh, leaning against the wall instead. he watched san help y/n with setting up the earpiece, amused at how san seemed interested in the doctor.

“ok done, yeosang should grant access soon.” san smiled at y/n, the doctor returning it with his own.

a few minutes of quiet tension passed and jongho felt the need to do something; he pressed the button on the side of his earpiece. “yeosang-hyung, are you not going to-”

“give me a second, i just kicked wooyoung out. if he goes up there with a black eye don’t question it, he’ll say what happened without you asking.”

“you didn’t actually give him a black eye did you-”

“if he did then that can easily be taken care of…” y/n commented while watching jongho roll his eyes.

“yeah i did-”

“no he didn’t.” wooyoung butted in, it sounded like he was munching on something. “it was the other way around-”

san chuckled, shaking his head at his friend's bickering. he realized y/n’s earpiece was successfully connected when he saw the older grin. 

“i bet they both have a black eye.” y/n nodded to himself.

jongho rose a brow, a grin prominent on his features. “and how much are we betting?”

y/n hummed, “thirty bucks.”

“i wanna bet too~,” san grinned, “let’s check it out then. can i move now?”

“hmm...i’d say no but you probably wouldn’t really listen to me so... as long as you don’t make sharp movements.” 

san cheered, extending his free arm to get help in getting off the cot. “let’s go then!”

“hello?” 

“mrs. l/n! how are you? it’s heeseung...lim heeseung.”

the woman on the other end of the phone gasped in what sounded like happiness, “heeseung! It’s been a while since i last heard of you, is something wrong?”

the nurse leaned back into his couch, “well i called to ask if you've seen y/n…”

“i see...well we haven’t heard of him for quite some time now. we thought it was because of work you know? but you two are close aren’t you, i assumed you would know about his whereabouts”

heeseung sighs softly, “well we were close before we broke up...i called because he hasn’t appeared at work for almost two weeks now. everyone knows y/n is a workaholic so it’s rare for him to miss days. and i wanted to ask if i can go to the police and file a report.”

“have you checked his apartment? you do know where he lives right?”

“i do...”

“well if he isn’t there then yes, go to the police station. please let us know if you find anything!”

“of course, thank you.” heeseung smiled painfully to himself, bidding farewell to y/n’s mother before hanging up. soon after he turned off his phone and sighed, he really hopes y/n is at his apartment and only took a vacation.

y/n couldn’t help but bust out laughing when the three of them walked inside the kitchen. wooyoung did indeed have a black eye and so did yeosang. 

"darn it." jongho huffed as y/n ended up winning the bet.

seonghwa stood there confused, spatula in hand as he's setting out their plates for dinner.  "and what's this about?" 

san grinned, "we made a bet to see if yeosang and wooyoung gave each other a black eye or not. and luckily y/n ended up winning." 

"would that be called a doctors intuition?" yeosang rose a brow while glaring at the plates seonghwa handed him. 

"good question." y/n chuckled while walking up to the second oldest. "need help?" 

"oh, yeah, thanks." seonghwa smiled while gesturing to the drinks. "set them on the table, everyone will serve their own drinks."

"got it. oh, and after dinner, i'll need you two to come with me so we can take care of those shiners." 

“yeah yeah...”

[honeypwark]

[ Manhandled ]

  ↳ Clé 1 : MIROH era

       ↳ Xiang and the boys film a “Running Man” spin-off. Xiang does surprisingly well. Until she gets manhandled.

m.list

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“To be honest, I’m not that worried about tomorrow,” Xiang tells Hyunjin, as well as the camera he holds. “It’ll be no big deal, you know?”

Hyunjin giggles behind the camera at her use of Korean and English, “Shouldn’t you be a little worried, though? We’re all physically stronger than you.”

“I know. That’s why I just have to outsmart all of you,” Xiang strategizes. “It shouldn’t be too hard.”

“YAH!” Hyunjin shouts.

Xiang laughs, then says, “I also know there’s no chance of me winning with Channie competing, but as long as I make final three I’ll be content.”

“So what you’re saying is we should all team up to get you out first,” Felix says, sitting down beside Xiang.

Xiang laughs with the two boys and claps a hand on Felix’s shoulder. When their laughter dies down, she looks at him seriously.

“Don’t make me angry.”

“I’m sorry,” Felix squeaks out immediately.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“I want to die~,” Xiang sings to herself quietly, “Kill me please~ I’m asking nicely~ Chris is terrifying- JESUS!”

“Gotcha!” Chan shouts, trying to grab Xiang.

“Not today, satan!” Xiang yells, ducking under Chan’s arms.

She avoids Seungmin as well as he tries to grab her, sprinting off into the park with the two boys in pursuit of her. She actually manages to lose her cameraman due to the speed she’s running. She ducks behind a row of lockers, knowing she needs to lose Chan and Seungmin before she can be relatively safe again.

She tucks herself against the short end of the lockers so that as Chan and Seungmin run past they don’t see her. The two-person alliance slow to a stop, knowing they’ve lost her. As they look around, they spot Xiang’s cameraman now filming them, having lost his member. They laugh about it, still out of breath from chasing Xiang.

“Later, homies!” Xiang calls, both for comedic reasons and so her cameraman can locate her.

She takes off in the direction they’d all came, too much distance between herself and the two boys for them to even attempt to catch her. They instead stay in place as her cameraman runs after her, still catching their breaths. They look at each other and laugh breathlessly.

“She wasn’t kidding about outsmarting us,” Seungmin says.

“No, she was not,” Chan agrees.

As the two boys walk off in search of another member, Xiang waits for her cameraman to catch up to her.

“Giving you a workout, aren’t I?” Xiang teases the man behind the camera.

“Just a bit,” he laughs, breath labored.

Xiang laughs, “I ran a lot as a trainee because I didn’t like going to the gym. So I’ve got a lot of practice.”

She continues to walk around the park with her cameraman in tow. She passes one of the items they can find without stopping.

“Aren’t you going to see what that is?” her cameraman asks.

“No. I’ve been seeing what some of the boys are getting. I know it’d be more entertaining for me to open it, but if I get something bad, I’ll lose. My only chance of winning is playing it safe.”

She glances back at the box she’d passed then grins at the camera.

“Play smarter not harder.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Okay, okay. Let’s talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about?”

“I have a bargaining chip- JEONGIN!”

Jeongin lunges for Xiang and catches the corner of her name tag. She manages to spin around in a way that stops it from being ripped off by the younger boy. She gets out of his grip on momentum alone. However, she falls to the ground as her feet catch on one another. Reacting quickly, she wraps her arms around his legs from behind so he can’t reach her without twisting and bending backwards awkwardly.

“Let me bargain- LET ME BARGAIN!” Xiang shrieks, hitting Jeongin’s hands away as he tries to take her name tag off.

Jeongin can’t help but laugh and gives in, “Okay, okay, fine.”

“I know where an item is,” she tells him.

“You didn’t open it? Does that mean it’s bad?”

“No, I didn’t open it because I figured I could use it to get out of a situation like this,” Xiang says.

“Where is it?”

“It’s by the arcade.”

“The one by the carousel?”

“No, the one by the water slide.”

Jeongin is silent for a moment as he considers.

“Okay.”

Xiang doesn’t let go of Jeongin’s legs, “Promise you won’t attack me.”

“I won’t attack you.”

She thrusts her hand out and around to the front of Jeongin, pinky finger extended. Jeongin wraps his own around hers and presses their thumbs together.

“Alright, sick,” Xiang says, “I’m going to stand up now; please don’t attack me.”

Xiang unwraps herself from around Jeongin’s legs, scooting back so she has room to stand. Once she’s to her feet, she looks at Jeongin warily.

“Okay,” she says cautiously. “Let’s go.”

Xiang makes sure they walk a solid ten feet apart the entire way, both of them wary of each other. Jeongin is worried Xiang is just going to bolt at some point and he’ll lose her. Xiang is worried Jeongin will change his mind and just grab her to rip her name tag off. Eventually, though, they make it to the arcade.

“There it is,” Xiang says, pointing at the white box positioned on the ground at the arcade entrance.

“Thank you, noona.”

Jeongin tries to grab Xiang but she hits his arms and quickly side steps away.

“You said you wouldn’t attack me!” Xiang protests.

“Our pinky promise reached its expiration date.”

“You’re a sNAKE!”

Xiang runs out of the way as Jeongin tries to grab her again, taking off the way they came with Jeongin hot on her heels. She takes a sharp turn and runs down a stopped escalator. Jeongin hurries down after her. About halfway down, Xiang tries to jump the area between the two escalators. She doesn’t quite manage it and scoots rather ungracefully to the other side.

Nonetheless, she avoids Jeongin and runs back up to the level they were on. She nearly falls as she takes an extremely sharp turn to hard back where they just were. She grabs the item box off the ground and keeps going. She slows as she realizes she’s lost Jeongin, walking along the back of the theatre. She sees a figure running in place closer to the stage.

“Hey, Felix!” Xiang calls to the boy in English as she starts toward him.

“Hey,” he calls back.

“Whatcha up to?” she continues, sitting down on a bench one row away from him.

Out of breath slightly from running in place, he says, “Nothing much.”

“Looks like it.”

Xiang sets her box down on the bench beside her and takes the lid off. She pulls the card out from inside.

“Oh, nice!”

“What’d you get?” Felix asks.

“Mini name tag!” Xiang answers gleefully.

“Aw, what? No fair!”

She laughs at him as she swaps her large name tag for the miniature version. She leans back on her hands, looking at Felix.

“Are you not going to try to get me out?” he asks.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Why not?”

“Look to your left.”

Felix looks where she told him to, “Oh no, come on!”

“Hello!” Woojin calls as he gets closer.

“I’ll leave you boys to it, peace out.”

Xiang flashes a peace sign at Felix then takes off along the far right side of the theatre, giving Woojin a wide berth. She sees him debating which 00 liner to go for.

“I can outrun you,” Xiang warns, pointing at Woojin.

Woojin hesitates then nods, seemingly agreeing with her before continuing to walk toward Felix, who is still running in place.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“I feel like I’m in the Hunger Games,” Xiang says as she carefully glances around a corner, “And I hate it.”

Xiang knows there’s only four of them left now, her, Chan, Changbin, and Woojin. One more person and she’ll reach her goal of being top three. And if she lets the final two boys battle it out, she could get top two. Unless they decide to gang up on her, which is a very probable outcome.

Xiang notices that the six boys who are out are all turned and watching the same thing. She come up beside them to see what they’re looking at.

“Are you out?” Minho asks her.

“No.”

“You’re really not?” Seungmin asks.

“No,” Xiang says again, “I told you I’d outsmart you all.”

“She’s also lucky because she got a mini tame tag,” Felix says.

“That, too.”

Xiang watches as Chan tackles Woojin to the ground and tears his name tag off. Changbin prepares to take Chan’s off as well, but Chan grabs a hold of his. Xiang quickly darts around the carousel as Chan and Changbin approach.

“Before you get each other out,” Hyunjin speaks up, “You should get Changho out.”

“Oh, that snake,” Xiang growls.

“Changho’s still in?” Changbin asks. “I almost got her out right when we started.”

“Seungmin and I tried to get her out but she got away,” Chan says.

“She got away from me, too,” Jeongin adds.

“Yeah, same,” Minho speaks up.

“I saw her briefly,” Hyunjin says, “She ran away before I could catch her.”

“She found me when I was stuck in place and left me to be taken out by Woojin,” Felix says.

“Did we all really get outsmarted by her?” Seungmin asks.

“I told you I wasn’t worried about filming; I knew I’d last a long time,” Xiang says, cautiously walking back around the carousel.

Chan sighs and stretches out his neck, “Well, tactical skills aren’t working, time for brute force. Changbin, let’s get her.”

The two sprint towards Xiang and she runs back around the carousel to avoid Chan. Changbin goes the opposite direction as Chan and catches Xiang as she runs away from their leader.

“Ah, no, this is so unfair!” Xiang whines, trying to fight Changbin off but failing.

Chan comes up behind Xiang and throws her over his shoulder. The girl can’t find it in herself to fight him as the three of them walk back to the other members. The out members laugh as they see Chan carrying a limp and defeated Xiang. Chan sets Xiang on her feet and Changbin stands on her other side.

“This is how I die,” Xiang says dramatically. “This world has been so cruel. I was too weak. I’m sorry.”

“Any last words?” Chan asks, a hand on her name tag.

“Uuuuuh... yeet.”

Xiang spins toward Chan, making him lose his grip on her name tag. In one final act of defiance, she jumps on Chan and tries to reach over his shoulders to grab his name tag. To avoid her doing so, Chan let’s himself fall to the ground, bringing down Xiang with him. She still tries to reach under him and get his name tag. She grabs his arm to pull him up slightly so she can grab it and pull it off.

“Haha!” Xiang shouts joyously as she jumps to her feet. “Suck it!”

She throws Chan’s name tag back at him as he lays on the ground. He catches it, laughing while still attempting to seem disappointed. She turns to face Changbin.

“Alright, let’s go, Binnie,” she says.

Changbin approaches her slowly then quickly lunges to try and reach around her. She hits his arm away and tries to reach around him herself. He grabs her wrists and she tries to squirm away but physically can’t. She stops fighting him and sighs.

“My fate has been sealed.”

Changbin laughs and pulls her toward him. He makes her turn slightly and lets go of one of her wrists to grab her name tag. She squirms to try and get away but can’t, instead dropping to the ground. Despite her best efforts, Changbin stands above her victoriously with her name tag in hand.

“I won!” Changbin shouts triumphantly.

The first seven out members cheer for him. Xiang falls completely to the ground, laying there motionless except for her breathing.

Changbin pokes her with his foot, “Are you dead?”

“Yes.”

[iwillhaveamoonbase]

Love at First Bite

Rayla is taken by a client to eat at the Italian-Korean fusion place in town and falls in love with the food, and later, the chef.

-------------------------------------------------

Rayla smiled at her client as they waited for their server to come.  Her boss had told her that they had to keep the contract with the client’s company no matter what, and if that meant going to a Korean-Italian fusion restaurant that would probably be too spicy for Rayla’s Scottish, fried-food-loving taste buds, so be it.  The client, Ms. Danvers, had been hyping the restaurant up all evening.  “You said you like potatoes?  This place as amazing kimchi-style potatoes and potato pancakes.”

Rayla nodded.  “My grandmother is Irish and there are always potatoes cooking in her house.”  Rayla subtly looked around the dining room. The walls were mostly white with a few panels a beautiful red.  There was artwork on the walls, ranging from sceneries to portraits.  They all looked to be done by the same artist but Rayla couldn’t place a name to them.  The air was warm and smelled of spices and herbs and cheese.  Rayla could see a row of cheeses on one of the shelves.  “Do they use a lot of cheese here?”

“Korean food pairs wonderfully with cheese.  There’s a rumor that all the vegetables here are from the local farmer’s market as are most of the cheeses.  It’s fusion, but it’s as domestic as possible, too.”

“You’ve really been talking this place up.”

Ms. Danvers flushed.  “It’s my favorite restaurant.  I come here for lunch once a week and get take-away whenever I’m having a bad day.  This place is known for Korean-Italian fusion, but they make a delicious Thai laksa and a vegetarian Tom Yum that is to die for.”

“Really?”  Rayla didn’t know that much about Asian food, but she knew that Tom Yum was common in Thai eateries.

“The chef is a quarter-Thai and a quarter-Korean, his grandparents being from Thailand and South Korea.  He knows the flavors well and plays with them, but when he goes authentic, he’s the best in town.  He will also make almost any dish vegetarian if you request it.”

“How accommodating.”

A server came up, a smile on their face.  “Good evening and welcome to Sarai’s Place.  Any wine to start this evening?”  Rayla shook her head, surprised when Ms. Danvers asked for Thai iced tea for the both of them.  “And what can I get started for you?”

“Ms. Burrows?”

Rayla looked down at the menu again.  “Hmm.  I’m not sure what to get.  I don’t have a very high spice tolerance.”

The server nodded.  “Scale of 1 to 10?”

“Maybe a three.”

“Do you like kimchi?”

“Never had it.”

“Then I recommend trying the kimchi potatoes, if you like potatoes, or the risotto, which features chopped kimchi, sesame oil, and garlic.  The chef makes two kinds of kimchi, one mild and one spicy, so he’ll use the mild for you.  For the main dish, if you enjoy cheese, a pasta dish that has mussels, a Korean chili paste and tomato sauce, and fresh parmesan.  Everything that can be local, is local and if you eat vegetarian, the mussels will be taken out and instead you will get mushrooms.”

“My grandmother is Irish so I’m very snobbish with my potatoes.”

“I would rate his potato pancakes a ten.  He takes the traditional Korean recipe and adds parmesan cheese and some rosemary and its cooked with the house chili oil, so when you cut into it, it’s cheesy and subtly spicy.  The house chili oil is made with both gochugaru and the type of dried chilis usually used to make olio di peperocino.”

“I’ll go with the pancakes and the mussels pasta you suggested.”

“Excellent choice.  And for you?”

Ms. Danvers smiled.  “Did he make Tom Yum or laksa today?”

“Laksa.”

“I will take a bowl of laksa while Ms. Burrows is eating her pancakes and I will also take the mussels pasta.  Can we also get an order of garlic bread?”

“Of course.  I’ll get your Thai iced teas ready.  Anything else today?”

“What’s the dessert of the week?”

“Since it’s summer, mango pudding, Thai coconut pudding, and strawberry-lime cheesecake.”

“We’ll each take a slice of the strawberry-lime cheesecake.”  The server nodded and walked away after reading back the list.  “I hope you don’t mind me ordering dessert for you, but he only makes that cheesecake when the strawberries are in their peak season and it’s worth it.”

Rayla nodded.  “No problem, Ms. Danvers.  I wouldn’t really know what to order otherwise.”

They chatted while they waited, pausing when the garlic bread came to the table.  Rayla had been expecting the kind of garlic bread Americans seemed to adore, buttery and almost artificially garlic-y.  Instead, they got small, fresh loaves that had pieces of roasted garlic and thyme baked into it, served with the house chili oil and garlic that had been cooked until it spread like butter on the bread.  Rayla was impressed with the flavor and how the pieces of garlic were not overpowering.

When the potato pancakes came, Rayla could smell the spice but trusted the server had not led her astray, eyeing her glass of Thai iced tea just in case.  One bite and she was in heaven.  The cheese and the heat from the chili only enhanced the potato flavor as did the light smattering of soy sauce and vinegar-based sauce.  Rayla almost ignored Ms. Danvers when the pasta came, inhaling the dish.  At the end of the meal, once the excellent cheesecake had been finished, Rayla was in love with the food.  “Well, Ms. Danvers, I suppose I should be thanking you for introducing me to my new favorite restaurant.”

Ms. Danvers chuckled.  “It’s good, isn’t it?”

“I would marry the chef in a heartbeat if I got to eat like this every day for the rest of my life.”

-----------------------------

Rayla brought all her clients and her coworkers to Sarai’s Place in the following months.  She tried almost everything on the menu, though she was still mildly terrified of the spiciness of the laksa if the smell alone was anything to go by.  Every Monday and Thursday, she got take-away and ordered the dessert whenever she ate in on Saturdays.  She was thankful she was single or else she would have to come here every week with someone and she liked dining alone in the quiet restaurant.

Sometimes, they played classical music, other times K-pop, and Rayla would always remember the night they had played an opera medley when several people with the Katolis Opera Company had dined that night.  The chef seemed keenly aware of who came to his restaurants at what dates and times and played music to fit their tastes but also made sense with the theme.

It was a popular spot with not only Foodies and high school kids, but a lot of Asian-Americans dined there.  Rayla had looked up the reviews and had seen it was highly recommended by the Katolis Korean and Thai communities, the Katolis restaurant circles, and the Commission for the Promotion of Local Ingredients and Farmer’s Markets.  No one said anything bad about Sarai’s Place without at least ten people defending the restaurant’s choices.

And now Rayla was sitting with her boss, Ahling Patel, and having to stop herself from inhaling the food in front of her.  The risotto was so satisfying and paired with chicken breast stuffed with kimchi, perilla, and ricotta.  “What do you think, Mr. Ahling?”

“It’s delicious.  I’ve always felt that fusion was a gimmick, but I’m sold by this young man’s food.  Young lady,” Ahling called the server, smiling good-naturedly when she nodded at him and finished up with her current customer.  When she came up to their table, she greeted them again.  “Is there anyway we can speak to the chef?”

The server blinked before nodding.  “I’m sure I can arrange it.  Dinner service is almost over and there are only you and two other tables.  Can I bring you dessert while I’m talking to him?”

“What do you recommend?”

“Our pastry chef made yakgwa, which are little honey pastries made with pine nuts, ginger, and sesame oil and they also made a yuja polenta cake and a play on Italian lemon cake, but with yuja.”

Rayla ordered the yakgwa and Ahling got the polenta cake and waited for the news.  Rayla couldn’t recall having ever seen the chef even though she came there at least twice a week, closer to three.  She hadn’t seen any pictures of him, either, surprisingly enough.  He was said to keep to himself and shunned the limelight, which is why he never made TV appearances.

A few minutes later, it wasn’t their server, but a man who looked be about 26 arriving with their desserts.  His green eyes were striking, as were his cheekbones and sharp jawline.  He gave them both an awkward smile as Rayla noticed his ring finger was bare and didn’t seem to have a tan line.  Was this the chef?  His coat would seem to say so.  “Nice to meet you both.  I’m Callum Evans, the owner and executive chef here at Sarai’s Place.”

Ahling smiled.  “It’s nice to meet you, young man.  I’m Ahling Patel and this is my employee, Rayla Burrows.”  Rayla nodded her head in acknowledgement.  “Your food is delicious.  How on Earth do you even think of this?”

The young man flushed, looking down at his feet.  “Um, I’m not that special.  Many people before me found that Korean and Italian food go well together.  Most of my recipes are riffs on family recipes and all my Thai dishes are family recipes.  I was originally going to go traditional Korean or Thai but there were no fusion places in the area and I’m part Irish and German on top of being a quarter-Thai and a quarter-Korean.  It felt…right, I guess.  I’m mixed and grew up with a variety of food cultures in my house, so why not do fusion?  Korean and Italian just made the most sense, so…”  He looked embarrassed at the praise, rubbing the back of his neck.

Rayla leaned forward a bit.  “I’ve eaten here at least twice week for the past six months.  I can tell you, without a doubt, it’s my favorite place to eat.”

“Thank you.”

Ahling cleared his throat.  “Are you single, Mr. Evans?”

Callum flushed even deeper.  “Ah.  Yes.  Being a chef requires long hours and running a restraint requires even more.”

“You need a good partner to help you find balance in your life!”

Rayla remained quiet as she watched them talk.  The only thing going through her mind was ‘I’m going to marry this man for his food.  I’ll eat well for the rest of my life.’  She stayed when Ahling said good night and while the restaurant emptied out.  Callum stayed at the table, fidgeting under her gaze.  “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“A date.”

Callum blinked.  “We have a sticky rice made with dates-”

“No.  A romantic excursion.  An outing.”

He gulped, looking her up and down.  “A date?  Really?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I fell in love with your food almost immediately after I tasted it and would like the chance to know the man who cooks it.”

Callum blushed.  “OK.”  They exchanged info and Rayla smirked as she left with his number in her cellphone.  There was no way she would be letting this one go.

------------------------------------------

After four months of dating, Rayla could confidently say that she was now just as in love with Callum the man as she was with his cooking.  Learning that his restaurant was named after his mother who died when he was in high school had endeared him to her, as had the knowledge that all the art on the walls were his paintings.  Was there anything he couldn’t do?

They were currently in Callum’s kitchen, him developing a new recipe while Rayla took down notes for him.  Even on his days off, he was always thinking about what he would do next and Rayla admired his passion to his craft.  When he brought her up to try the dish, she groaned.  “I will marry this man if it’s the last thing I do,” she muttered.

“I can hear you, you know,” Callum chuckled.

Rayla raised a brow.  “Then why haven’t you accepted my proposal?”

“Because you proposed to my food?”

“I hardly see the difference.”  Callum laughed at her, shaking his head.  “Hey, move in with me.”

“We’ve been together for four months.”

“Is that a problem?  Too short?”

Callum stared at her.  “You’re serious.”

“I told you; I fully plan on marrying you to eat your cooking ‘til the day I die.”

“So, it’s my cooking you love?”

“When have I hidden this?”  Rayla reached for his hand, pulling him closer.  “I’m serious.  Move in with me.”

“Why?”

Rayla shrugged.  “I’m happy when we wake up next to each other.  I like the idea of coming home to you or you coming home to me.  I don’t like sleeping alone, and, for the past month, the two of us have been alternating sleeping at each other’s places and it doesn’t make sense to pay rent on two places when we could be happy together?”

“That and I’m the only person willing to put up with your stubborn ass.”

Rayla gave him a mock offended looking, giving his arm a playful smack.  “You love my stubborn ass.”

“I do.”  Callum leaned down and captured her lips, letting her taste the dish he had been working on for the past hour.  When they pulled apart, he looked down into her eyes with his bright green ones.  “I think I love you.”

“That’s good, because I think I love you, too.”

Rayla would take that for now.  And in two years, when she would be standing next to him in front of their new house, matching rings on their fingers, and a very pregnant belly, she would remind him that he had his food to thank for their relationship.  “I fell in love with your food first.”

“I’m glad you did, because you kept coming back.”

“Lucky you.”

“Lucky me.”        

[atinydise]

Ateez reacting to their s/o calling them because they’re in danger (2/2)

❦ Genre: Horror/Fluff.

❦ Pairing: OT8.

❦ Word count: 3k2.

❦ Requested: Yes, thank you! 🦋

❦ Masterlist.

Part 1

SAN (ft. Stalker)

You were closing your apartment’s door. You checked twice if it was well locked before exiting the building. You were relieved when you saw that the streets were crowded. So, you walked up to ATEEZ’ dorm. In the last one week, you noticed that a man approximatively around your age was following you. Even when you went at this shop to buy lingerie, he got in. You never saw him before, but he was seriously creeping you out now. San was ignoring your situation; he would freak out more than you. Fortunately, your stalker never harmed you or threatened you in any kind of way. But as you walked peacefully, enjoying the atmosphere, you spotted the young boy against the wall next to you. You gulped but ignored him, going a bit more in the crowd to make him confused. You didn’t know why but tonight he seemed angrier. The look in his face almost gave you a panic attack. He was following you, keeping a shorter distance than usual. Your heart raced, you needed to call San this time, he could help you.

You were scared to hear his voicemail but, his smooth voice reassured you right away. [“Hi Y/N! You already in front of the building?”] he asked. [“San help me.”] You simply replied. [“Help you with what? You forgot the code?”] he giggled. [“A man is following me.”] [“Where are you?”] he asked straight, not kidding anymore. [“I’m near the playground square.”] you whispered. [“I’m coming. Don’t stop walking okay?”] You hummed, not daring to say something else. The man was approaching you a bit more every time you glanced behind you. [“San… I think he’s going to hurt me this time.”] [“THIS TIME?! Since when he’s following you Y/N?”] [“Monday…”] you bit your lip. [“What? It’s Saturday Y/N?! Are you crazy?”] You were surprised to see that he could run like if it was a competition and scold you at the same time. [“I thought it was okay! He was keeping his distance with me! But now…”] San growled through the phone and told you something that you couldn’t hear well. Bad connection. [“San? San? You there?”] You freaked out. Talking to him was reassuring you but now it was scarier than before. You rushed to ATEEZ’s dorm but unfortunately, the street became emptier. You knew that he would do something here, when no one could help you or see him. Then you ran. Like if you were participating at a marathon. Your legs were running fast as possible, untying your messy bun miserably. Your stalker was now running too and faster than you. San called you back to know your location. [“Y/N?! Where-“] [“Near the ramen restaurant! He’s following me!”] [“Shit!”] [“San, wh-“] You couldn’t finish your sentence that the stalker threw your phone far away from you. “Who are you! And what do you want?” you asked terrified. “When I saw you the first day leaving Mcountdown* hall, I knew that I would see you again!” he smiled mischievously. “I don’t know you!” He grabbed your arm forcefully. Too strong for you. “Don’t touch me!” You closed your eyes, too afraid to look at him. Suddenly, you felt him letting your arm free, but you heard a loud growl too. “Don’t touch her!” You opened your eyes, recognizing your boyfriend’s voice. “Who are you?” Asked San, ready to beat him up. The man didn’t answer, he just simply stood up and faced San. “You don’t need to know anything about me.” San grunted, “she’s my girlfriend so if you keep stalking her, I will punch you till you faint.” You looked at your boyfriend. The expression on his face was a new thing. You never saw this look on his eyes. You noticed that he was containing himself to not punch him or use a Taekwondo technic once again. The stalker saw it too. So, he just turned away and went back somewhere. “Are you okay Y/N?” You nodded, happy to be with your boyfriend in peace. You thought that he would rub your cheek as always, but he just flickered your forehead. “Ouch San!” “You should have told me about this! That was dangerous and irresponsible!” You pouted; being scolded was the last thing you needed right now. But you deserved it.

A week later, you saw that the stalker was arrested, he was stalking 6 girls, including you. You were a bit scared to go out alone, but San helped you to go through it.

*Mcountdown: Korean music program broadcast.

MINGI (ft. Crazy ex-boyfriend ⚠️ Jinwoo is a fictive name, it’s not related to an idol, actor or public figure)

Before dating Mingi, you had a toxic relationship with your ex-boyfriend. At first, everything was fine, but it turned into a big nightmare in few months. Mingi knew about it. You had a hard time to trust men like before. Of course, the ATEEZ member understood your situation and never rushed you in any kind of way. Now, it’s been 2 years that you are with Mingi and you wouldn’t change a thing. He was so perfect for you that you wanted to show how much he means for you. And what would be more significant than the Valentine to prove your love. You sat on your bed, looking at the prospectus you had today on your mailbox. “What I can give you Song Mingi…” you whispered, chewing your pen. There was so many possibilities but not the perfect one. “Maybe the famous video game? He could play with Yunho and Jongho…” You rejected the idea when you saw the price. “A Frozen plushie?” You giggled thinking about your boyfriend singing “Into the Unknown” with the plushie in his arms. But you rejected the idea too. You growled and lie down miserably on your bed. You glanced at the alarm clock on your nightstand: 2 am. You sighed again. “I should probably sleep…” Before turning off the light, you sent a message at Mingi. [“Sleep well sweetheart. See you tomorrow!”] He was probably sleeping so you didn’t mind that he didn’t answer. When you slid under your sheets, you saw the light outside of your apartment turning on. Probably a cat. But someone knocked at your door. Who would come at your house at 2am? Mingi? No, he would let you know. Another knock scared you, it was louder and stronger than the first one. It reminds you the way your-ex boyfriend was drumming at your door when he was drunk. Your old neighbor was complaining a lot when it happened. “Y/N! Get out of here right now!” Your heart stopped. He was back, after 2 years he was right there at your door. To haunt you like a ghost. “I know you there!” He was forcing the knob, trying to get in no matter what. What should you do? Call the police? But maybe he will get madder than now. The only option was Mingi, he could give you advice. With your noisy-ex boyfriend bumping at the door, you searched Mingi’s phone number. Your hands were shaking, and tears were dripping off your chin. You prayed that he wasn’t sleeping. Otherwise, you got no chance to force your ex to leave. “Mingi please…” you begged, jumping every time he bumped at the door. [“Y/N?”] answered Mingi. You could say that he was sleeping because his voice was low and hoarse. [“Mingi! He’s here! Please help me!”] you shouted. He growled, “Hold up Y/N… who’s here?”] he asked. [“Jinwoo…”] You sobbed. Mingi stood up in his bed when you mentioned his name. [“Jinwoo? Your ex?!”] [“Yes…”] you cried quietly. Your arm wrapped around your knees. [“What is he doing here?”] You heard Mingi hopping off his bed. [“I don’t-“] “OPEN THIS DOOR!” Yelled Jinwoo louder than before. [“This bastard.”] Cursed your boyfriend. [“I’m coming okay. Do not open the door!”] You wanted to reply but you busted in tears, too much pressure. [“Y/N. You will be okay… let me 15 minutes babe. I’ll beat his ass.”] [“I’m so scared… what if he touches me again…”] you sobbed, remembering the bad memories. [“I won’t let him touch you again. Never ever.”] said the member seriously. You nodded. [“Stay safe. I’m coming.”] he said before hanging up. You were on your own now. Like before. You felt all the scars your ex left on your body when he was drunk. You were like his punching ball every time he was mad. All these times, you needed to hide the wounds with makeup. It made you hate him a lot more. He was non-stop apologizing the next day but started again and again. You met Mingi at the bus stop while you were trying to avoid Jinwoo. The first night, you talked until 4 am and he made you realize everything you missed. “Y/N! I’LL BREAK THIS DOOR IF YOU DON’T OPEN RIGHT NOW!” He threatened you. You covered your ears to stop hearing his loud and harsh voice. But all his kicks were shaking the walls. “Just leave please…” you whispered, helpless. But everything went quiet again. Nothing was shaking and the apartment remained quiet again. You stayed on your bed, waiting any sign of Jinwoo but a big silence settled. You stood up carefully, trying to be quiet as possible. You put your ear against the door to hear something. The only sound was a slightly whine. “What are you doing here?” You blinked when you noticed that it was Mingi’s voice. “I saw her with you at the mall,” laughed Jinwoo, “I needed to show her who she belongs to.” “You better get your ass out of here. She doesn’t need you anymore.” Threatened Mingi. You thought that Jinwoo would reply but your boyfriend is intimidating when he’s angry. With his height, no one wanted to fight him. Jinwoo spitted on the porch but he visibly stepped away. Was it over? You opened the door slightly. Mingi faced you, a wide smile on his face. “You are safe now.” He held your head to hug you. “Thank you so much…” you sobbed. “He won’t come back again.” “How do you know?” you wiped your tears. “I just know it.” He smirked. You smiled at him. You were so grateful that he was in your life. What would you do without him? “Can we go back to sleep now?” he asked. You rolled your eyes. This sleepy man would never change.

WOOYOUNG (ft. Dangerous man)

You were at a night club with your friends, to celebrate the birthday of one of them. Going in night club wasn’t your thing but you couldn’t decline. When Wooyoung knew that you were hanging out with your friends, he questioned you until you left the apartment. “You are really going to wear that?” he pointed at the red dress. “Yes Wooyoung,” you smiled, turning around in front of the mirror. “With these heels?” his voice cracked. “Of course! If I put sneakers, I’ll lose the sexy effect!” you winked. He was jealous and you teased him a lot with that. “Sure…” he grunted. “When will you get back home?” “I don’t know but for sure… later than 3 am.” You giggled, fixing your heels. “What I will do alone…” he sighed, sitting on the couch. “You can invite the boys but don’t mess in the whole apartment!” you ordered. “They are all busy… they didn’t reply to my text!” Wooyoung rolled his eyes, feeling alone. “You are a big boy! You can find something to do!” You slapped lightly his cheek. “Don’t flirt too much!” he warned before you left the apartment. Few guys tried to dance with you or get your number, but you always declined politely and went back to your boyfriend. Sometimes, you could feel Wooyoung’s aura near you. Maybe few men felt it too. “Y/N!” called you one of your friends, visibly drunk. “Dance with me! This is our song.” You smiled and yelled back, “I’ll take something to drink first and I’ll join you!” “Then do it fast! You can’t miss it!” You rushed to order a simple iced tea at the bartender. “So, we are thirsty?” smirked the man next to you. You nodded awkwardly. “May I pay for your drink?” he rubbed your forearm. You were disgusted. “No, it’s fine, thank you.” You moved your arm out of his grip. He scoffed while the bartender held you your glass. “Oh look, seems like your friend is having a lot of fun over there!” You turned around and saw that few men were encircling your friend. “I should go. Bye!” You got goosebumps when you left the bar, like if something bad will happen. Finally, you rescued your friend, and everything went normal again. Until you felt dizzy. Your head was spinning a lot and your vision was blurry. You sat on the corner, looking (or at least trying to) at your friend. All the lights and the loud music gave you a headache. You left the hall for the women restroom and you just sat there on the floor. Something was wrong and you knew what. You grabbed your phone, which slipped of your hands at least 3 times before that you could keep your grip on it. You blinked 10 times before being used to the screen light. You scrolled with difficulty on your contacts number before finding the good one. [“Y/N?”] [“Woo… Wooyoung…”] you stuttered. [“Are you drunk?”] giggled your boyfriend. [“A man… this asshole… he put something on my drink…”] you said, your head bumping at the wall behind you. [“Y/N? He drugged you?!”] You hummed, not having the strength to answer. Wooyoung cursed at least 5 times in a row before ordering you to stay at the restroom till he arrives. Your brain couldn’t process the severity of this situation but a part of you were actually scared, even terrified. What if this guy finds you here, almost lying on the floor and do something you don’t even want to think about?

Wooyoung haven’t hang up, he was keep talking to you making sure that you were not in danger or that you fainted. You kept humming at his questions. [“I’m almost there Y/N!”] said Wooyoung in a taxi. [“I want to throw up…”] you informed him, not controlling what you said. [“Then do! Maybe you will throw up this drug too!”] A tear slid on your chin, “I’m so scared Wooyoung…”] you sobbed. [“Everything will be okay baby.”] He comforted you as he could. Despite all of your effort you made, your eyes closed. The last thing you remembered was Wooyoung talking to the security outside and warned them about your situation. But you knew that he would help you.

The next day, you woke up on your bed like if all of this was a nightmare. But Wooyoung summarized what happened after that you fainted. He found you in the restroom. All of your friends were worrying for you. One of them spotted the guy at the bar and tell at the security that he might be the one who drugged you. After this drama, you continued to go at a night club. You were just more careful with your drink. And you needed to text Wooyoung every 30 minutes to tell him that you were okay. Otherwise he would show at the night club and scold you the entire week.

JONGHO (ft. Serial Killer)

[“How it feels to be back in Korea?”] you asked at your boyfriend and idol, Jongho. [“Good. I want to eat ttaekbokki* so bad! I’m craving for it!”] he said. You laughed at him. Every single trip he went, at his return, he would need to eat a Korean meal. [“Oh, by the way… at the airport, there was so many policemen and soldier. Seems like a serial killer is trying to run away from Korea.”] [“Yes, they are talking about it in the news. It’s so scary…”] you gulped. [“Maybe I should go back to Japan.”] he laughed. [“Coward! Or maybe you should come here and made me feel safe in your arms!”] yon cringed at how kitschy it was. Jongho laughed but became serious again, [“I need to wake up early tomorrow…”] You pouted, [“pleaaaase… just tonight! I need hugs right now! It’s been 2 weeks!”] The maknae sighed but accepted. You shouted a big “yes!” that made your lover giggle lightly. He asked the driver to change the way to your address. You heard his teammates complains but you didn’t mind. [“I’ll change the sheets!”] you said, rushing to your bedroom. [“It’s fine you know…”] [“Yes, but still!”] You throw the new sheets on your nightstand when all the lights turned off. “What is happening...” You whispered. [“Sweetie? You’re okay?”] asked Jongho, feeling that something went wrong. [“The lights turned off but not the TV… I can still hear it.”] You turn on the lamp on the nightstand but nothing. You looked at the street, but you saw light illumination your neighbor’s house. [“You should go to the cave and turn on the lights back.”] advised Jongho. But when you came back in the living-room to take a flashlight, you noticed that all of your pillows were in a different position. It wasn’t a big deal but sometimes when you were alone, you liked to get all the cushions next to you. Now they were positioned like an advertising for Ikea. But that wasn’t the only thing that changed. Your curtains were closed, and it was impossible for you to close it since you hated the darkness. You went back to your bedroom. [“Jongho! I think the serial killer is in my house!”] You whispered. [“What are you talking about Y/N? I told you that I’m coming, you don’t need to find other excuses.”] he laughed. [“No, Jongho. I’m in danger for real”] You sobbed, afraid to stay in your house. Jongho went quiet. He was realizing that you were serious. [“Leave the house now!”] Ordered your boyfriend. You opened the window, trying to stay quiet before he catches you. Fortunately, your bedroom was on the ground floor. You would just get scratches because of the flowers. [“Y/N are you out?”] The other members were freaking out for you too. They called the police while Seonghwa was begging the driver to speed up. [“I’m out! What I should do?!”] You asked, seeing no one on the street except you, wearing your pajama. [“Run! To a crowded street!”] That’s what you did, looking behind you sometimes. You were 5 minutes away from them. The plan was to join them for your safety and to wait the police. You heard steps behind you. A man wearing a full black outfit was walking fast toward you. [“He’s following me!”] You warned them breathless. [“Do not stop running Y/N! We are almost here!”] To be honest, you didn’t know where you headed, and you were too stressed to look at any signalization or the name of the street. When you heard him approaching you, the ATEEZ’ van got on your way. Jongho opened the car door and pulled you inside. “Are you okay Y/N?!” asked Wooyoung in front of you. “No…” you whispered, busting in tears. Your boyfriend held your hand and rubbed your back to comfort you. “You are safe now… he won’t hurt you.” The only thing Jongho wanted to do was to run after him and beat him up till he dies. But that would be too dangerous. All of you just stayed in the van till the police came.

After that you never went back to your house. Jongho found a cool apartment at 5 minutes away of his dorm so he could spend some time with you. You wouldn’t be in danger anymore.

*Ttaekbokki: a spicy korean rice cake.

Part 1

[bodybymegatech]

Strangers when we meet

One partly sunny day in Long Beach, California…

I was sightseeing with my family near the Queen Anne. My brother had just proposed to the woman who would become my sister in law and during a boat ride I did something that I am historically not very good at: I introduced myself to an attractive young lady from Seoul. I’ll call her “Heather” “Belle” for reference.

I said hello, made a little small talk and asked her where she was from. When she said she was Korean, I replied “Annyong haseyo” - the only Korean I knew at the time. She was genuinely surprised and the ice was officially broken. Belle asked me who the girl I was with was. “Oh that’s just my sister”, I said dismissively. My sister rolled her eyes and said “I’m outta here”.

We exchanged email addresses and parted ways. She had been visiting her grandparents and as I said goodbye, her grandfather gave me the side eye, which I still think is funny.

We would spend the next few years writing each other via snail mail and during that time maybe feelings got stronger. Being a part of her life is one of my fondest memories. One year, I sent her a snow globe of my hometown and a Norah Jones CD (the first one with “Come Away With Me”) and maybe the second one too. I don’t know if she ever got it because I never heard back from her.

I wrote back a couple of times. Nothing desperate sounding or long missives like this post. Just a “hey, I sent you something for Christmas. Let me know if you got it. I hope you like it. Missing you.”

The next one was a “hope you’re doing okay. Things are fine here. Write back soon…” type of letter.

Nothing.

Strange, considering the last thing she sent was a large greeting card that declared in big cartoony letters “Sarang-he” — I Love You.

The package I sent included a letter that reciprocated her feelings but the silence was crushing.

Over time, I came to accept the possibility that she lost interest and moved on with someone in the same city. Maybe she focused on her career or maybe she was pressured into stopping the relationship. Maybe her heart broke because she never received my messages and she thought I ghosted her. I don’t know. I didn’t push the issue because I didn’t want to make it awkward by harassing her for a response. Or maybe something happened to her? Like an accident? The thought terrified me. Her email address had long since been abandoned.

I moved on. I met someone new. She filled a void. She was nice but she had a habit of pushing me away. This is a habit I would pick up and is still something I’m trying to undo.

Every now and then I would try looking for her in various social networks over the next couple of years and came up with nothing. Although I’d taught myself Korean, I was nowhere near the level of skill needed for any kind of deep dive.

I let it go. There was just no point.

Time passed and things take a turn for the surreal.

I would have a recurring dream where I would be at school, or at work. Maybe while out shopping or out doing something. I would talk to someone in this dream and this person I don’t recognize would say, “Do you remember Heather Belle? She was just here.”

Any further responses to my questions were met with vague and conflicting information and I’d spend the rest of the dream looking for her.

I would have these dreams maybe once or twice a year.

Sometimes this would prompt me to look for her again and I would wonder why, after all this time I would still be haunted by her ghost.

The last time I had this dream was nearly two weeks ago just after New Year’s Day and it was the same as all the others except this time I was at a convention.

I decided to try again. I found one of her postcards and plugged it into google maps. I wasn’t expecting her to live in the same house but I can get an idea of what to expect in street view. The address showed me an apartment building and I knew there was no way she’s still there. But there was no indication the old address was a condo, apartment or even a multi-family home.

There was a button to show what this corner looked like in 2009 and it showed a single family home.

Like a hole in the water, her trail was gone.

I’ll try Facebook again, I thought. Instagram, too. Belle is a very common name so I’ll probably run into the same dead ends. After narrowing down a list of candidates in Instagram, I sent a query to two users.

I turned to Facebook and did the same. I had a short list of leads but one stood out. It had no selfies or personal pictures. It was scarcely updated and the last post was back in august 2020. The earliest post was 2016 which by that time I had long since abandoned Facebook (Instagram would follow three years later.) However, it said she worked at a news agency. She had told me in one of her letters that she was studying journalism.

I have nothing to lose. The worst that would happen is I’d run into another dead end and keep having these dreams in perpetuity. After a few drafts, I sent a message through messenger.

We had a brief conversation - we both needed to go to work but I think the overall tone was a happy one. I hope…

This happened Thursday, January 7, 2021.

To be fair, I know she has a busy job with hard deadlines and odd schedules. Add to that all the duties that married life brings and a 7-year old girl.

I get it. And I didn’t have any illusions that no one would put a ring on her finger. It’s fine and I’m very happy for her. I’m just glad that she’s okay and doing well for herself and told her as much. A couple days later I had a good cry out of sheer relief and that I was finally able to find her.

But I don’t know how to proceed now.

I haven’t heard back as of this post (nearly a week later).

She did say she wanted to meet again after the pandemic but I’m concerned that maybe she was being insincere. Or I may have opened a wound. Or perhaps I introduced an unwanted complication in her personal life. Maybe she is having second thoughts and thinks I have some kind of an ulterior motive. I don’t know.

I’m tempted to write back to apologize for any problems I might have caused and say that it’s not my intent to do so. I don’t know why I felt compelled to keep looking. Actually, I do know but I’ll get to that later.

I do know this: I want her to know that regardless of how we may have felt about each other in the past, we were friends first. She was my friend when we kept in touch, and I had always considered her to be my friend after we lost contact. I would not hesitate to call her friend for the rest of my life.

Even though we’re on opposite sides of the world, I would always want to be there for her with the good and the bad, because that’s what friends do.

Now, how do I say that without sounding creepy? Should I send another message?

How I found her was very difficult. But why I kept looking, even after we both moved on…

The why is easy. I would say,

“Because you’re worth it.”

[inspired-by-the-music]

For You: Stand By Me

Taglist: @jineunwootrash​

If you would like to be added to the taglist of any of this blog’s works, please ask!

Recommended Reading: For You: 4 O’Clock; these works have separate, independent, but deeply interwoven timelines.

Warning: This chapter contains themes of bullying, especially in regard to one’s appearance. 

Chapter 4: The Boy Who Couldn’t Give More

Lei’s POV 

When I turned twelve, I was officially cast as an S.M. trainee. For many reasons, I would rather not describe every trial and hardship. I don’t want to tell you every high and low, so I will just tell you about what stands out as the worst and (somehow) the best day of training. 

I’m sorry if you think this approach isn’t entirely honest. There are just some things that I would rather not remember. Plus, I worry that if I detail everything that ever troubled me, you won’t be able to understand that I was, in my own way, happy. I hope you understand me. I hope you believe that I am happy— that I have always been as happy as I can be.

I was probably naïve to believe that I would find a real friend in the training rooms full of people closer to my age. Environments like the one in which idols are trained aren’t exactly conducive to healthy relationships, if you know what I mean. Everything was a competition. Everybody wanted to be the best dancer, the best singer, the best rapper, the best visual. 

Everybody except Mark Lee, who was content with being his best. I would never tell him this because he would probably get the wrong idea, but I admired him first. It was never a crush. I just wanted to possess his passion, his optimism, his ability to smile through every challenge. 

Because of Super Junior’s influence, I didn’t struggle with dancing, singing, and rapping as much as some of the others. By no means was I perfect or anything. My pronunciations were always weird because of my accent and my braces. I could probably count on one hand how many times an instructor praised me. Talent-wise, I was average. I could have passed on to my debut under everyone’s radar if I didn’t look so different. 

Even though I was among the youngest trainees, I towered over the other girls. While they were petite, I was naturally muscular, and my dedication to taekwondo only added definition to those muscles. My hair, although long and dark like everyone else’s, fell in tangled curls over my shoulders. While my braces were closing the gap in my front teeth little by little, my teeth were still way too big for my face. At age twelve, the only beauty standards I met were credited to my cartoonish eyes and pale skin. 

Anyway, there was never a moment for as long that I can remember that I didn’t feel different because of my appearance. At twelve years old, I think the last thing anybody wants to do is stand out— especially for looking the wrong way. It was uncomfortable enough when I cursed myself for looking the way I did; it was worse when others noticed the differences and started to point them out. 

I guess I always knew that I wasn’t popular. Because most of the girls were older than me— and none of them were quite as inviting as Taeyeon or Amber— I didn’t quite know how to befriend them. Heeding Sehun’s advice, I didn’t talk to the boys under any circumstances. Everybody probably thought that I was mute or that I didn’t understand the language well enough to speak. 

Still, even though I didn’t have any delusions about my popularity, I wasn’t quite prepared to hear what they— the girls— thought of me. 

I looked like a chipmunk. I was a giant. My hair looked like a bush. My pale skin made me look like a vampire— and apparently not in a cool way. I was fat. 

That last one always bothered me because in all my years of self-criticizing, I never once thought I was fat. Yeah, my cheeks were full and I wasn’t crazy about looking like a super tall baby because of that, but my body— I wasn’t overweight. And even if I had been, why should that warrant commentary from people who never bothered to say a word to my face?

The most insulting part was that the girls would drop their voices just slightly into half-whispers. They would speak Korean quickly, obviously assuming that I didn’t know the language, assuming that I hadn’t lived in the same country as them for most of my life. 

Trying to follow Sehun’s advice, I reminded myself that some people wouldn’t like me. I told myself that was okay. I fixed my eyes on the shiny wooden floor and kept them there through every practice. Just keep your eyes down, I told myself, and they will stop staring. 

Even when they kept staring, I knew that I wouldn’t stand up to those girls. How could I have argued when I agreed that (visually, at least) I was as far from perfect as an idol could be? I think that if I could have disagreed with them, even internally, their voices wouldn’t have followed me. 

Mark didn’t want to argue with them either, but he must have heard them too. Every day that we had co-ed training, he would sit next to me and, between stretches, say, “You’re beautiful, Lei.” 

At first, I eyed him cautiously, unsure of what to do with the attention. Nobody who wasn’t Mom or Super Junior or any of those “safe” people had ever called me beautiful before Mark did. 

It wasn’t that I didn’t believe Mark. There was always something endearing about the obvious fact that he couldn't have lied even if he wanted to. The issue was just— what did it matter if Mark thought I was beautiful if I couldn’t smile at my reflection? What good were Mark’s compliments when his voice didn’t follow me into the dark? 

Sehun told me that it doesn’t matter if people dislike me. During trainee days, I learned that it didn’t matter if people liked me either. Maybe that’s toxic. Maybe it’s untrue. But it’s what I believed for years. 

The mean girls’ voices followed me because they spoke my insecurities. If I could have learned to admire myself, then Mark’s voice would have followed me. Even then, at twelve years old, it was clear that Mark’s admiration was no substitute for self-love, so — please don’t judge me too harshly for this— I didn’t want him to look at me with little hearts in his eyes. His feelings served no purpose, and, to my absolute horror, everybody noticed how Mark looked at me. 

Everybody noticed that we spoke exclusively in English. Everybody who couldn’t understand us misinterpreted our very casual friendship as a young budding romance— even our dance instructor, who warned us once when we were partnered together, “Be mindful never to meet each other’s eyes while performing for an audience. Be mindful!” 

Mark and I flinched as we heard for the first time, “You don’t want to end up like the idol who never debuted because she was distracted by romance!”

No, I decided then as the instructor looked solely at me, I didn’t want to end up like the idol who never debuted. 

Squirming under scrutiny whenever I stood too close to Mark, I understood why Sehun warned me to stay away from boys. It doesn’t matter what your intentions are; people see only what they want to see or whatever will justify their hatred. That’s another lesson I learned as a trainee. 

Anyhow, I think I was doing a pretty good job of hiding the fact that I was absolutely miserable behind a carefully crafted blank stare until the day I overheard one of the girls saying, “You know, she’s only becoming an idol because her mom is a manager!”

That was true enough that, even if I had the nerve to bicker back, I couldn’t have truthfully argued. I lowered my head so I wouldn’t catch my blush in the mirrored wall. 

I hadn’t even lowered my backpack before another girl said, “Yeah. I bet she’ll get to debut before all of us because—” She glanced over to see if I was paying attention. Satisfied when I broke our eye contact to stare down at my sneakers, she continued, “her Mom has been sleeping with Heechul for years. Who knows how many executives rely on her for favors?”

When I looked up from my feet, I saw red. Before I even processed the words, I had grabbed the girl around her shoulder, fingers digging small bruises into her bare skin exposed under her tank top, and growled, “Who are you talking about?” as if I didn’t know.

Even if she hadn’t been trembling like a leaf as she stared up at me, too terrified to speak, I wouldn’t have let her answer. “Just go back to calling me chipmunk cheeks or bush head or vampire or fatty or Mark lover or whatever makes you feel clever and better than me.” My entire body flushed, and I hoped that I was burning her with my fingertips. “Don’t say another word about my mom ever again, or I’ll—”

I didn’t even get to threaten to knock her crooked teeth down her throat. Johnny, who was my senior by about four years, carefully pried me off of the girl, tutting, “Ladies, ladies, isn’t training challenging enough without all this fighting?”

It was.

“Can’t we all be friends?”

No. I never could have been friends with those girls, and I said so plainly, snatching my hands out of Johnny’s gentle grasp to cross my arms over my chest. You’ll find that I can hold a grudge like no other. I’m not saying that’s a good thing; it’s just a fact.

“We don’t want to be your friend either,” the girl spat at me. “We don’t want anything to do with the daughter of a glorified hooker! Just look at you.” Her glare trailed from my head down to my toes. “You’re wild. I don’t wonder where you got it from, but at least your Mom knows how to hide—”

Had Johnny not been standing there as an insurmountable barrier, I would have punched that girl, and I probably would have been kicked out of the agency, and my behavior would have reflected poorly on Mom. Fortunately, while I was too furious to think clearly, Johnny was there to wrap me in an almost suffocating hug, trusting that I wouldn’t strike him in my rage.

“Just take the day off,” he urged quietly. “I’ll tell the trainers you got sick, and—”

I started to shake my head and insist on peacefully standing my ground before a sharp pang of nauseated hunger pierced through my stomach. Owing to my lack of appetite those days, I hadn’t eaten much for dinner the night before, and I had woken up too late to eat breakfast that morning.

Johnny promised, “I’ll take care of these girls. Just go and take some time to yourself, please.”

When he wiped my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, I realized that I was crying. I ran out of the room purely to escape the embarrassment of having been reduced to scalding tears by something so stupid in front of so many other trainees. It was a failed attempt; embarrassment followed me into the hallway.

Eager to try again to make me feel better, Mark chased after me, calling my name. “Are you okay?”

As I slumped down at the table by the vending machine, I thought the answer was obvious. Still, I took the chance to lie. “Yes.” When I brought a hand up to touch my cheek, I was relieved to find that I wasn’t crying anymore.

I had an epiphany: even if I’m not strong, I can pretend to be. Clenching my jaw, forcing my hands into fists under the table, I said, “You should go to practice, Mark, and you should stay away from me.”

“What?” His eyes widened. “Why?”

“Because,” I forced myself to look away from his pained expression, “you don’t want people like those girls to talk about you. They’ll bully you if you keep being nice to me.”

“I don’t care.” Mark stood across from me, but he wouldn’t take a seat. He shifted his weight from one foot to another.

I said, “Well I care.” I really did. I didn’t want to put the target on Mark’s back. “I don’t want to end up like the idol who never debuted,” I swore without knowing her whole story.

Mark scratched at the back of his neck. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything. I just know that I like you, and I’m not gonna pretend that I don’t to please anybody.”

Too annoyed by Mark’s stubborn resolve to like me without knowing me to feel flattered, I kind of rolled my eyes.

“Does that mean you don’t like me that way too?” Mark wheezed, and I understood that he had a crush on me. On some level, I guess I had always known, but I tried to ignore it because I didn’t want to hurt him.

No, I didn’t like Mark like that, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him— not when he looked so sad. Thinking of Sehun (as usual), I mumbled, “I’m sorry. I’m not allowed to like anyone like that.”

Slowly, Mark nodded, and I think he understood that I would never return his feelings. “Well, if it’s okay with you, I’ll just keep liking you anyway.” Without waiting for me to reply that I didn’t think feelings worked that way— I didn’t have to give him permission to like me— he bowed and ran back to practice, carrying most of the burden of his unrequited feelings.

I was sitting there, feeling small because I had given in to my temper, feeling cruel and cold because I rejected Mark’s pure infatuation, when Sehun sat across from me. I didn’t meet his eyes as he laid his head down on the table.

He asked, “What’s up with your face?”

For some reason, that question set my eyes watering again. I tried to wipe the tears before he could notice, but nothing got past Sehun. His eyebrows twitched. “What’s wrong, Lei?”

My chin dimpled as I lied, “I’m just hungry.” Well, it wasn’t quite a lie. My stomach growled loudly enough for him and everyone in the building to hear.

Perhaps eager to believe that I wasn’t troubled by anything too serious, Sehun nodded. “That’s nothing to cry about.”

I watched him spring from his seat and pound a fist against the side of the vending machine. A pack of chocolates fell out without payment. “Here you go.” He tossed the candy before me. When I only stared at it, he said, “If that’s not enough, and if you’re not busy, I was about to go to McDonald’s. You can come if you want.”

That must have been the first time that I didn’t burn to be in Sehun’s company. I didn’t exactly want him to rush to leave, but I also didn’t want him to stand there looking at me that way— like I was falling apart. It’s impossible to please me when I’m upset. I frown if you try to talk to me about my feelings, and I frown more if you try to act like everything is okay.

More than anything, I wanted to be alone in my room where nobody could see my flaws. I couldn’t even console myself with the thought that these feelings would pass within a few years by the time I debuted because it was starting to sink into my mind: the realization that every day for the rest of my life, people would try to tear me apart with their eyes. They would try to weigh me down and drown me with their expectations. There wasn’t any way to eradicate that overwhelming sense of dread because it was rooted too deeply in reality.

I would just have to try to silence it— the dawning knowledge that I would always be more human (a wounded one, at that) than idol— until Mom found me at the table by the vending machine as she always did at the end of long days. Then, I would be too afraid to say anything on the ride home. And then, not too long after we walked through the door, she would probably fall asleep on the couch again, and I wouldn’t have the opportunity to tell her about the unnamed monster tearing me apart even if I miraculously found the courage to string words together. I would just turn the television off, drop the remote on the coffee table, run upstairs to my room, and tuck my radio into bed so I could fall into restless sleep while listening to SHINee because they were real idols. I would comfort myself by imagining that my voice could become for others what Onew’s, Jonghyun’s, Key’s, Minho’s, and Taemin’s— especially Taemin’s— were for me: inspiration and healing.

I wouldn’t have wanted to repeat those girls’ insults to Mom anyway. Imagining her disappointment if I confessed to almost punching someone, I sank. It was best to just keep biting my tongue. I would get used to the taste of blood, and soon the pain would scar and numb.

Looking back, I can see that I kept too much to myself. I went through too many trials alone because I was determined to become strong and self-sufficient even if that meant being forged by fire. In some ways, now I think that strength is a little overrated. Maybe I could have been happier— maybe my shoulders wouldn't have felt so heavy had I talked to Mom or Heechul or Yesung or Donghae or anyone. But I couldn’t. I just couldn't.

Once upon a time, I prided myself on my honesty, but it’s easy to be honest when your feelings are simple. It’s easy to be honest when you feel the right things— happy when you’re supposed to be happy, excited when you’re supposed to be excited, sad only when you’re supposed to be sad. It was too hard to shake the fear of being a burden. I never wanted to be a burden.

Despite deciding to carry my own weight, I wasn’t strong enough. That's why I dropped pieces of myself left and right to become something like the blank canvas my instructors wanted.

Sehun broke through my spiraling thoughts with the promise, “I won’t make you talk about it. I just—” he gnawed on his bottom lip— “I’ll feel like trash if I leave you here alone when you’re hurt.”

Sehun rarely talked about feelings first. His shoulders were tense; the muscles along his jaw were protruding. Obviously, he was making himself uncomfortable in an attempt to console me. Half numb with shock, moved by his concern, I nodded and (after grabbing the candy) followed him outside where we boarded the bus.

This is a little embarrassing to admit following my promise to work through my feelings alone: our bus wasn’t even five minutes down the road before I blurted, “I almost punched somebody today.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback, but he tried to hide his surprise and/or disapproval behind his natural stoic expression. Taking the candy from my hand, he opened the box, popped a colored chocolate into his mouth, and asked, “Why?”

“A girl called my mom a hooker.” I tried to replicate Sehun’s calm, even tone.

Sehun choked, and I felt somewhat vindicated in my rage when his pale face flushed crimson.

“I tried to be good. I tried to be a proper lady,” I promised. “I tried to be strong like you said. Remember my tenth birthday, when you explained that some people are just gonna dislike me, and I can’t shed tears for everyone?”

“Yeah.” Sehun nodded once he noticed that I was looking to him for a response. He returned the candy to me. “I remember.”

“So I tried not to shed tears when they made fun of my hair, my teeth, my skin, and my weight. I told myself that even if they’re right—”

Sehun interrupted to say, “They’re not,” in a tone so stern and authoritative that I never could have argued back.

I nodded, cheeks burning pink. “Well, even if they were, and I’m not saying that I believe them,” I added when Sehun cut his dark eyes at me— “I told myself that being pretty isn’t that important anyway.”

“It’s not,” Sehun agreed instantly. “Being pretty on the outside isn’t important at all.”

Without thinking, I grumbled, “That’s easy for you to say. You’re the most handsome person on the planet.” I didn’t care that he gave me that warning glare. I was telling the truth, not flirting. Heart pounding, I maintained, “It’s easy to say that beauty doesn’t matter when you’re beautiful.”

Sehun frowned at me. “I didn’t say that beauty doesn’t matter. I said that being pretty on the outside isn’t important at all, and I’m right. Superficial beauty is overrated, and nothing as subjective as the words ‘pretty’ and ‘handsome’ can ever define a person.” Turning his gaze out the window, he concluded, “Or, at least, they shouldn't. Those words are too small.”

It occurred to me that Sehun was right. I was in danger of becoming the kind of person who couldn’t look past my reflection long enough to find anything worthwhile inside. Shame washed over me, and hot tears spilled onto my hands, which formed fists around the candy box.

“Please don’t be disappointed in me, Sehun. I promise that I’ll work harder to believe what you say.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I swear that I never would have tried to fight about anybody’s opinions about my appearance. I’m not that shallow. It’s just— they talked about my mom, and she—” my voice wavered— “she’s everything to me. If my whole world was just one person, it would be her. She— you know, there aren’t many people who only deserve compliments, but she’s one of them.”

It didn’t matter that those girls were probably too cowardly to ever talk about Mom where she, Super Junior, or any of the many idols who loved her could hear. They had no right to insult Mom when she worked to the point of exhaustion, when she greeted everybody with her sparkling smile, when she treated everybody with kindness, when she was the most beautiful person in the world— inside and out. They had no right to ridicule her when they wanted to hurt me.

“I know,” Sehun said softly.

When I looked up at him, he was looking down at me, eyebrows knit together in anger or concern, and for half a second, I thought he was mad at me. My stomach sank until he swore, “I’m not disappointed in you, Lei. I told you not to care what people say, and I also told you not to be a pushover. I’m—” He wrestled with his words before deciding, “I’m proud of you. Not just for following my advice, but for working so hard to become an idol. I know it’s not easy.”

He raised his hand, and I held my breath because I thought he was going to hug me, but his hand stopped short and landed atop my head. He patted my hair twice. “Maybe just— um— try to avoid fist fights. It won’t be good for anybody if I have to get involved.”

At first, when Sehun retracted his hand, his protective anger was real and frightening. It lit a fire in his eyes. But then he made a spectacle of popping his knuckles, and we broke into a fit of laughter that lasted so long that we missed our stop.

It wasn’t often that I heard Sehun’s laugh. It sounded more youthful and golden than you can probably imagine. Still, as happy as I felt even with our mistake, I apologized as I finally stuffed a piece of chocolate into my mouth. “I’m sorry we missed the stop.”

“Don’t sweat small stuff like that,” Sehun instructed, shrugging. Moments later, he said, “I’m sorry too.”

I cocked my head to the side and wondered aloud, “For what?” but Sehun didn’t respond with words. He gave me this look that I had never seen before— one that held about a thousand foreign words that I wanted desperately to understand, but my conscience whispered that it was wrong to ask for a translation.

It seemed that Sehun was sorry for a lot, but I couldn’t understand why. From the day we met, he had been an unlikely sort of friend— a protector— and all crushes aside, I truly loved who he was in my life. Beyond the childish infatuation that made my heart race and painted my pale cheeks pink, there was a warm love that shaped every memory of him— a love that shaped aspects of my own character.

It didn’t matter that he would never look at me the way I looked at him; maybe no two people ever look at each other in the same light anyway. He didn’t have to love me or stay by my side as an almost imaginary Prince Charming. I was just grateful that we crossed paths, even if the way we met determined that he would always see me as a gap-toothed nine-year-old. I was beyond happy to sit beside him for a moment where I could admire him up close. I was content, knowing that I would always remember my first crush as a good person.

Of course, I didn’t tell Sehun anything like that. He didn’t appreciate that sort of sentiment. While talking to Mark, I decided that I would never date because I couldn't stand the whispers or the stares. Looking at Sehun, though, I knew that I would forget that decision in an instant if ever we woke up one day (when I was older, of course) and Sehun wanted to love me.

If that day should come, I wouldn’t notice any stare because I would be too busy admiring his every feature. I wouldn’t hear any whisper because I would be too busy listening to his every word.

For that moment, however, I was fulfilled just by smiling at him because I believed that feelings don’t have to be expressed with words to be real. Feelings don’t have to be reciprocated to be real. Sehun didn’t have to give me permission to love him; I always had, and I always would, and nothing could change that.

“I’m about to say something very mushy,” Sehun grimaced, “and I have a feeling that you’re really gonna like it, so write it down or record it in your memory because I won’t repeat myself no matter how many times you beg.”

Holding my nose up in the air, I asserted, “I never beg.” Sehun laughed, and my heart swelled, and I prayed with all of my soul that someday somebody with a warm, gentle touch and a kind, bright smile would make his heart swell too.

“You’re like your mom,” he said, meeting my eyes. He didn’t say it as an insult like those girls did. He said it with a faint hint of a smile— the smile that imprinted forever on my heart. “You’re one of the people who only deserve compliments.” Then, as if he couldn’t tell from my unrestrained smile that he had given me the greatest praise imaginable, Sehun turned his gaze back out the window and mumbled, “I’m really sorry that I can’t give you more.”

[rq-s]

Title: Falling Down 

Pairing: Xu Minghao / NB!Reader

Genre: Light Angst & Platonic OR Romantic

Word Count: 2.9k+

Warnings: None. However, I do interpret the timeline and meaning of his lyrics loosely. I can’t and don’t claim that it’s the “correct” way to do so; he wrote it to be ambiguous for a wide audience to enjoy. Please watch the Falling Down Making Film for clarity.

Credits: ENG Translation of Falling Down 

Summary: You and Minghao have been consistent penpals since 2004, sharing each other’s cultures, languages, passions, and lives as you both grew up. 2014 came around and letter from him only came in 4 times, and only 1 in 2015. The last this you ever heard from him read he was a bird in a cage.

Notes: Italic = letter  ... = omitted letter content 

My Masterlist

Spring 2004

“How about this one, honey?” Mom handed me a postcard from a spot on the rack that I couldn’t reach. The large font caught my attention and told me it was a landscape picture of the closest national park. Though nothing in the picture was recognizable, it reminded me of camping, which made me smile despite having never been before.

“Sure.” Was all I said, and I followed her as she pushed our full shopping cart to the register and began chatting with the cashier.

Like usual, I quickly put the postcard on the conveyor belt along with the groceries. As soon as it was empty, I went to the bagging station and put the scanned and bagged items back into the cart. Making sure to the boxes and cartons together neatly like Tetris, careful not to squish the bread.

“What a diligent little kid you have!” The cashier spoke, her voice worn with age, but with a sense of joy that reminded me of a stereotypical grandmother.

“She always says I do it wrong.” Mom joked, smirking at me. She never did let go of my “If you want it done right, do it yourself.” attitude I had even as a kid.

 Mom finished paying, and we went put into the chilly morning air of the parking lot that was made even colder by the shadow of the supermarket. I once again moved the bags from the cart to the trunk and brought the cart to the nearest drop off spot while Mom started the car.

The ride home was mostly silent, save for the sound of the road beneath the wheels and the hum of the heater.

“Thanks for letting me do the penpal thing, Mom.”

“You’re welcome, but remember the deal; you get more chores to do. You’re 7 years old now, you can handle doing the dishes by yourself, right?” The tone of her voice was completely serious, but I couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’ve been helping with the dishes for years, and I’ve learned from the best. I’ve got this!”

 When we got home, I scoured the bags for that postcard, and luckily it was only bent on one corner. I wrote down bit of info about that park - whatever Google told me, and set it aside. I grabbed the template application from my school binder and filled in the blanks. 

Hello! My name is _____________, I’m __ years old, and I am from ________! I am learning Mandarin, but I’m still a beginner. I hope to learn more about your culture and language as we exchange letters!

For now, I will tell you a bit about myself. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Along with this letter is a postcard and other information about where I am from!

I hope to hear from you soon!

Signed,

_____________

It was a pretty basic template that we had to copy from, and in retrospect, it was cringy as all heck, but it had to be formatted juuust right and follow the guidelines exactly, or the penpal program admin’s wouldn’t accept it.

From what I was told, someone from China who’d also applied and been approved would be paired with me, based on age and interests. Only this first letter was prewritten. Once we were paired up, the letters themselves and the mailing of them was up to me and my family. 

I was lucky I got a match at all, most of the kids in my class didn’t. I learned pretty quickly why: I was the only one who put “dancing” as an interest.  

Summer 2007

...

This was a frog I found at the lake! Mom got mad that I touched it, and when it jumped out of my hands and back into the water, it got mud all over us!! 

Later we had a barbecue and some other campers came buy, but their kids were teenagers and didn’t wanna play with me, so here is a picture of me pouting in the tent instead of having fun. 

...

This is the last one, when we finally got home from the long car ride. we all were sunburned really bad, but it looks like you can see freckles on my face because of it! 

Whenever either of us would go on trips, even just to the water park or to a festival, we’d take Polaroid pictures to send. Most the earlier pictures Minghao sent were of him at tournaments, then they turned into selfies from after dance practice. It wasn’t until they were in their teens that he began to take more artsy pictures, with the occasional selfie thrown in. He’d always put at least one polaroid in each envelope, and photography quickly became one of the many things he excelled at. 

Winter 2010

…

And I still can’t believe you were on TV!! Twice!!! All these letters… I can use them as blackmail someday when you’re a superstar! Muahah!!

I’m not nearly as good as you still, but Miss Lilly says my footwork has gotten a lot better! I wish you could teach me, but words don’t have the same effect as seeing it. I doubt I’d get it even if you tried to explain… and don’t even think about trying to teach me any martial arts, my brain will melt!!

…

My letters were always a bit longer than Minghao’s, and were full of run on sentences and unorganized thoughts. He was always clear and concise, yet sensitive. He always gave strong and encouraging advice on my Mandarin, but my English tips barely seemed to help him. I always cared more about getting to know him and telling my own stories than about practicing. Though, I don’t know what stories I had worth telling as a 13 year old. We contrasted each other a lot, and Mom said it made us a better fit for each other.

It wasn’t a weekly thing, but we always wrote when we could and has a steady back and forth. Sometimes the envelopes were thick, with many pages, postcards, candies, cool leaves or rocks we’d found, songs we had been listening too; things we cared about and wanted to share. But sometimes they were thin, barely a page long, with hastily written characters and a sincere apology. Both made me smile the same just the same – both showed how much he cared.

 Spring 2012

Perhaps it was because we were the same age, and despite not meeting, had spent so much time together. He somehow always understood me, and never made jokes when I was opening up about the less fun sides of life. He went at his own pace, and it took quite some time, but he eventually felt comfortable doing the same.

…

I’ve worked so hard for this, I know I’m capable, but I’m genuinely terrified. But I’m excited, too. I feel so overwhelmed and I don’t feel like I can tell anyone, they’ll worry, or they’ll tell me I shouldn’t do it.

I want to try. I want to be on that stage and in that tournament and I want to come out having earned something.

…

 Fall 2012

 Congratulations!! Now I can brag that I know THE Xu Minghao who won 8th at a WORLD DANCE COMPETITION!!!! I knew you’d do great. Yeah, you were nervous, but your hard work showed through!

As soon as I read the news online, I was so happy. Eight is a good number, right? I think It suits you. Even when you're laying down, you have infinite potential! That’s you, Xu Minghao, Number 8, my best friend.

Come to think of it, it's been about 8 years since we met, hasn’t it? it must be some sort of prophecy!!! Haha I’m kidding, but seriously… That’s more than half our lives. We’ve spent knowing each other half of the time we’ve even been on this Earth!

I’m really glad I know you, Minghao. I’d be lonely without your letters, I think. I hope I make your days brighter, like you make mine. I hope we never forget about each other.

 It was rare for me to get so sentimental, but he needed someone to be his fan, and I wanted to be the best fan of Xu Minghao I could be. Not to say I was the first, like I would joke about doing, but because he deserves it. I knew it from the way he talked about training, that he’d make himself a star someday, no matter what.

Because of this, though, it was this letter and onward that we stopped doing the copies and corrections. I noticed myself missing his teasing marks on my papers, or the cheeky smiley faces he’d draw when I did well. We stopped sending trinkets and polaroids too, so each envelope felt a lot emptier.

 Spring 2013

I’m really going to Korea now… The flight is in a few days, I’ll send you another letter from the new address as soon as I get there, so please wait for it!

…

I had bad dreams back then, about how things would be different, slower and distant. His letters were a significant part of my life, and I was afraid to lose that. Yet I was surprised he was even allowed to keep sending me letters. Retrospectively thinking though, it wasn’t like he wasn’t allowed to write to his family.

Was I like family to him back then?

 Winter 2013

I’m sorry for not writing you back sooner. The company has been really busy with Seventeen TV starting. I’ve been practicing a lot, I barely have time to eat or sleep, let alone sit down and write. There’s barely anyone around who knows Mandarin, and I’m still just learning how to make sentences in Korean, and they call me Myungho… Those who I can talk to are all boys, but they’re my friends, and possible group members, so I shouldn’t mind.

I miss your handwriting. Sometimes I reread our old letters, and notice that we’ve changed so much. But I keep every memory, did you know that?

I always feel better quickly. When I think about being on a stage, having fans singing with us and cheering for me… It makes me so happy that I cry, sometimes. But then I can’t help but think, “Will it ever be me? Or will I just dream of being there, and someone else will get the chance?”

That’s usually when I find one of your letters. The one you sent on my birthday a couple months ago, that you sprayed with that citrus scent? It’s my favorite, I relax so much when I read it. It reminds me of home, somehow.

I’ll try to write more often, I’m sure you’ve been patiently waiting. Let’s exchange pictures again, it’s been a while, right? I just really miss you.

 Was he like family to me? No… I think, back then at least, it was something special for me.

Summer 2014

Hey! I haven't heard from you since April! I miss you a lot, but I know you must be really busy. I’ve been trying to watch the previous Seventeen TV episodes when I can, the other boys seem funny and nice. I hope they all take care of you, like you say Junhui has been.

I’m always wishing you sweet dreams, I worry about how you’ve been. I wish I’d have asked for your phone number or email or something before, but now that you’re so busy and under a big company… I just hope these letters and postcards reach you well.

…

Fall 2014

…

Also, they’ve been saying I’ll qualify to be on SeventeenTV soon. The others are hoping it’s a sign that we’ll get to debut soon. You’ll watch it, right?

Things are looking bright for me and my brothers here, but I can’t help but feel full of dread. I can’t pinpoint why. Junhui said it might be stage fright, but I don’t feel afraid.

I know they all support me, and I support them, but I feel like I might disappear, and not even you would remember me. I know its not true but it’s what I’m feeling.

…

Winter 2014

I SAW YOU!! I watched it as soon as it released, I didn’t understand what most of them were saying without English subtitles, but I could understand you, and I saw you! I’m so proud of you Minghao, you’re an official member of Seventeen!! You’ve been working so hard, I’m sure you’re exhausted. Please try and take time to rest and heal before debut, all of you need it!

…

Spring 2015

May 26th 2015. That is the day I debut. I know we haven't talked much, but I hope you’ll be there in spirit. Thinking about you cheering for me makes it easier to handle. I’ll fight for you, for me, for them, and for us. I’ll try, even though things feel like they’re ending.

I’m going to be busier than before. I’m not sure about the contract, but I’ll try to still get letters out. For now, have this. Thank you for everything.

A layer of grey I can't escape Walls built of fear are colored all over with red Who will listen to the sound from the bottom of my heart at the end of the world(/day) There's no one by my side Flee Flee

The world is collapsing, shattering, breaking I can't find love at all So why why why (Where will I ) fall, where Hidden by the dark clouds, helpless and pitiful Can't feel myself, light is lost Before the end of the world(/day), (I'm) yelling, sounds of pain But there's no one by my side Flee Flee

The world is collapsing, shattering, breaking After I disappear completely, (you) won't realize I once existed Why why why (Where will I ) fall, where Falling endlessly, falling in silence What did I ever do wrong

Missing someone you’ve never met is an entirely separate kind of heartbreak. I began to doubt every single thought and feeling I had, every single word I wrote, everything began to bleed between imagination, ideal, and reality. 

The Minghao I watched on the screen wasn’t the Minghao I knew, and I started to wonder if I ever truly knew him in the first place. I felt like a fool, and even then, I continued to be foolish. I wanted to believe I knew what he meant; that I understood him, but as the years went on, I got more and more lost.

They won awards, they went on variety shows, they released albums, they went on tours. They traveled, they worked, and they grew. I needed to believe I knew him, but Minghao and The8 are not the same. And as I grew to love The8, Minghao began to fade into the back of my mind. When I watched him try to express himself beyond his stage persona, each time I saw flashes of a beautiful bird locked in a rusted cage.

I always kept the letters.

They’re my private collection of memories between he and I. They were the only way I knew it was real. I could run my fingers over his handwriting, feel how he sometimes pressed too hard and left marks in the paper. I could see how the paper and ink warped when he accidentally got tears on it. I could look at his pictures from his childhood and know what he was thinking as he took it. 

I knew him.

Summer 2020

Hey, Minghao. It’s me, do you still remember my handwriting? Maybe it’s changed... No, I know it has, because I’ve changed as a person. It feels strange, I know what you’ve been up to, but you might’ve even forgotten my name. But I feel in my heart that you havn’t. Maybe thats wishful thinking.

Anyway, I’m so proud of you Minghao. You’re a superstar, just like you dream of being back when you first started dancing. You’ve become part of a family, and have so many fans cheering for you every single day. Congratulations!!

…

5 years. Does the smell of citrus still remind you of home? Of me? Maybe it just reminds you of the hard times you had back then. But I guess you’ve been reminiscing about that a lot lately?

I watched the video as soon as it came out, and I was shaking as soon as I heard your voice. That song isn’t a special piece of yourself that you shared with me anymore, but it’s part of your story for the whole world to see, and you told it so well.

...

I miss you.

It was finally time.

It was a fairly thick envelope, inside were many postcards of where I’ve been, quickly written notes as I reacted to songs and memorable moments, and full-length letters that never got sent.

It was so surreal to sit in front on him at this panel. He looks just like he did as a kid, but more refined, stronger inside and out. His aura intimidated me like I was seeing a skyscraper touch the clouds for the first time, and yet he maintained eye contact with me like I was a dandelion about to be blown away with the breeze.

“It’s me, Minghao.” The words barely drifted from my mouth, but they struck him like lightning as realization stealing his breath away. For a moment I saw his eyes twinkle, and the corners of this lips twitch.

A member of staff took the envelop away from him; he barely was able to read the label.

My time would be up soon.

His fingers intertwined with mine and he opens my photobook to his page with his free hand, looking down for only a moment to sign it.

The next Carat was nudging my shoulder already.

“Not yet.” I whispered both to them and to him with a squeeze of his hand. He did the same, like a beat of the heart, and then released. I watched his chest rise and fall with a deep breath as he gave the next fan the same focus and care he gave me. 

I forced a smile on my face as I scooted over.

Did he truly realize it was me? Why could I feel his heart beating faster from the tips of his fingers? Did he want to contact me all this time, or had he chosen to stop and was scared to tell me? Did he miss me too?  

My smile was only fake for a moment, though.

I was meeting his second family for the first time, after all, I needed to make a good impression. After years of keeping up with the group, it should have been easier to feel comfortable, and to be happy like the others.

Yet my hands continued to shake, their faces blurred and the sounds around me went quiet. My senses went in and out of focus like waves reaching and leaving the shore.

The warmth and the texture of his hand stained mine, and as i stared down at it after going back to my seat in the crowd, it felt alien. His hands are same hands that have been writing my name on every envelope for so many years...

I felt like I was falling.

[k-llama-llama]

Confidence Boost

SuperM AU: 8th member

YinYin x SuperM

YinYin during SuperM’s american interviews!!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!!

A/N:YinYin is here for a limited time, so if you have any requests for her send them in now!!!. ALSO FYI check out my patreon (patreon.com/kllamallama for exclusive posts!)

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“And, what do you think about the support you’ve been receiving from your fans?” The interviewer asked.

They were currently sitting for an interview in LA, and YinYin had never been more anxious. Through every single press conference and interview, she was just trying her best to keep up. She barely understood most of the questions, and the ones she did were quickly answered by the more outgoing members, like Mark or Baekhyun.

She mentally cursed herself. Since when was she the shy one? But here, speaking English all of the time, she had never been more out of her element.

But this question...this question she understood. She’d been practicing possible answers in the car, and this was one of them.

Mark knew it too, turning to her with a supportive expressing. “YinYin? You want to answer this one?”

She nodded, biting her lip. “We...we all are in diff...different groups. We have different fans, so...”

The interviewer nodded like he understood, encouraging her to keep going.

“So, it makes us very very happy that-”

“That you can see all of your fans coming together to support you? I imagine that must be nice, to really feel united as a group.” The interviewer finished for her.

He talked fast and YinYin barely understood, but she was certain that he had finished her answer for her. She nodded and sunk into her chair.

The interviewer turned to look at his cards.

“Wait, hold up.” Mark switched to Korean. “YinYin, you had more prepared. Do you want to say it?”

She shook her head quickly. “It’s okay.”

The interviewer barely noticed their exchange, and quickly jumped into the next question.

For the rest of the interview, YinYin reacted supportively to the other members answers, but every time she thought she knew the answer, something in her brain told her to let someone else answer it.

She supposed she couldn’t blame the interviewer for jumping in. Her English sounded painful even to her own ears. But still...she was certain the pronunciation had been right. She’d repeated the words to Mark a hundred times.

The interview finished, and they gave a group farewell before officially being dismissed. 

YinYin stood, smoothing out her hair and stepping off stage. After this interview they were supposed to have a couple of hours for lunch, which she was anxious for.

“Hey, man.” The interviewer clapped Mark on the shoulder.

Mark turned to speak with him, and all of the other members waited nearby, trying not to eavesdrop.

Taemin leaned his head on top of YinYin’s giving a heavy sigh to indicate his own urgency for food.

“And, hey, sorry if it sounded like I was cutting you off on some questions. It’s just, you know, it’s best for the viewers to not have to struggle to understand. Especially that fan question, you know? I just needed to jump in, cuz you could tell she was struggling.”

“Really?” Mark suddenly sounded a lot less friendly. “I thought she was doing great.”

There was a long awkward pause. 

“But hey, we’ve got to get to lunch. See ya.” Mark shook his hand one last time and hurried back to the group.

Half an hour later they were camped out in the private booth of a Korean restaurant. YinYin was really craving Chinese food, but she was so hungry that she just shovelled chicken into her mouth.

As she ate the last bite of her chicken, another piece appeared on her plate. She gave a thankful nod to Taeyong, who simply smiled and continued eating his own meal.

“Do you want to practice any more answers, YinYin?” Mark asked her. “To get ready for the next interview?”

She covered her mouth to finish chewing before answering. “No, it’s okay.”

“But you did so good.” Kai said encouragingly.

“Yeah, much better than me, so you can talk for me.” Baekyun winked at her.

She still shook her head. “It’s okay, I’ll just let you guys talk.”

Ten sighed. “Is this because that guy cut you off? He was an idiot, Yinnie. You were doing great.”

“Screw that, you were doing awesome.” Mark crossed his arms. “Here, I’ll set you up to answer in the next one, and you can answer, and I won’t let anyone cut you off.”

YinYin bit her lip. “I don’t want to make people listen to me.”

“They’re listening to all of us, they can listen to you too.” Taemin said with a smile.

YinYin shrugged and took another bite of her noodles, effectively ending the conversation.

An hour later, YinYin stood as their stylist fixed her hair for the next interview. Despite her conviction not to speak English, she was actually terrified. 

“Yinnie?” An arm wrapped around her waist, and she looked up and smiled unconvincingly at Lucas.

“What?” She asked in Chinese.

“Why are you nervous?”

“I’m not.”

“I can tell. You aren’t smiling enough.” He teased. “Come on, be confident. Be the crazy Yinnie that I know and love.”

“Lucas, I don’t want to. I don’t think I can handle someone else saying my English is bad.”

“Yin.” He pulled her into a hug. “Whenever any member of our group was struggling, you were the first to encourage them. You’re always the first to help Ten or I when we don’t know a word. So let us help you, because you’re a part of this group and fans want to hear what you have to say.”

YinYin sighed. “You know, sometimes you’re actually pretty smart.”

“I know.” He beamed. “I save it just for you. So, you’re good?”

She nodded. “I’m good. I’ll try.”

“YES!” He picked her up and spun her around, setting her down after a stern look from the stylist. “Sorry! Let’s do this Yinnie!”

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Sick Day (John Wick x Reader)

Summary:  John gets sick and you take care of him

Author’s Notes: This has been sitting in my files for a while so it’s time to see the light of day. It’s slightly canon divergent.

Wordcount: 1904

Warnings: mentions of disease

You and John hadn’t known each other for that long, but in the time that you spent with him, he always felt like an unmovable, untouchable force. It was almost as if he was completely unaffected but things that would make most people break.

When you learned about what John really did for a living, about his life as an assassin for the High Table, you began to understand why he was the way he was. He needed that amount of control not snap under the horrors he witnessed and practiced.

That was why you didn’t think much of it when John arrived at your apartment that night with a headache and a stuffy nose. There was nothing to worry about, he assured. Everybody gets colds sometimes. Even world-famous, super dangerous assassins. Still, you made him lemon tea with honey and the two of you cuddled under the covers, watching a movie on the TV instead of going out like as planned.

You weren’t worried. Not until the cough started and John’s voice, which was already low and gravelly, became rough and raspy. You could tell the inflammation was worse than he was letting it on because he could barely draw a breath without wincing in pain and considering how high his pain tolerance was, it had to be really bad.

“Are you sure I can’t take you to the hospital? See a doctor?” You asked petting Dog’s head. The pitbull had taken residence by John’s side and didn’t seem interested in leaving, not even when you showed him the leash.

“I’ll be fine,” John croaked, buried under the bed covers. “It’ll go away in a couple of days.” Almost as if to prove him wrong, his body shook with another coughing fit that made him wince in pain.

You thought about protesting, because that sounded really bad even to your untrained ears, but whenever John dug his heels on something, it was next to impossible to make him let go of it. You just nodded in resignation and moved downstairs to make him soup and more tea hoping John was right.

Except he wasn’t right. The coughing got even worse and John started running such a high fever, his shivers looked more like a small seizure. Every breath was shallow because he couldn’t take the pain of deep breaths. Moving was torture and he couldn’t bring himself to eat anything more than a couple of spoonsful of soup and only after much cajoling from you. His headaches were becoming so bad, any little light would make him wince and curl tighter into a ball.

It’s been only a little over a week of this, but you could already tell John had lost some weight and worried gnawed your insides. Seeing him like this was terrifying. And you could tell he was getting scared, unused to this kind of situation. He could handle being punched, kicked, stabbed and shot. That was just part of his job. Being sick seemed to be a completely foreign concept for him. Especially because he took such good care of himself and was as methodical with his health as he was with every other aspect of his life.

“You need to see a doctor,” you pleaded, massaging his scalp, the only thing that seemed to help with the headache.

“Basement,” John rasped. “Second drawer. You’ll need a coin.”

You extricated yourself from the bed where you had been lying with John, keeping him company. He shifted his position, cradling his head and shivering even though he was already under a thick duvet. He was sweating so badly his clammy forehead had left a wet spot on your shirt.

You hesitated for a second in front of the basement door because you had only ever been there one other time when John gave you the tour of the house and showed it to you. It was the place he kept the tools of his job. Both bookbinding and the other one.

You moved to his worktable and searched inside the drawers but found only a locked wooden box. For a moment, you considered going back upstairs to ask, but a wave of inspiration hit you and you checked bellow the drawer. You found the key taped to the bottom of the drawer and unlocked the box, finding a small handgun, a pile of gold coins and a little black book. You flipped through the pages until you found an entry with the name doctor and a number.

It was almost a second nature to you to reach for your own cellphone, but there was no service downstairs. Too much concrete above you. Instead, you picked the landline and you couldn’t help but smile despite the situation. John was the only person you knew that still had one.

The phone rang twice before the call connected. There was no greeting, no words.

“Hi…” you faltered not knowing exactly how to proceed.

You learned about this part of John’s life a couple of months after the two of you started dating. One day, he just disappeared, stopped answering his phone. Worried, you came to his house, only to find it destroyed, burned to the ground. A firefighter told you they didn’t find any bodies. It gave you hope that John and Dog were alright, even if you didn’t know where they were. Even if John’s phone had been disconnected.

So, you did the only thing you could think of, you went online and checked the GPS location for Dog’s chip. It had been your idea to put one on John’s pitbull, make sure he could locate Dog in case he ever got lost or stolen.

You found Dog in a fancy hotel in Manhattan called the Continental. It was the manager Winston that told you the truth about John, about this part of his life. It had been terrifying at first, but slowly you began to understand the rules for this world. You knew what a coin meant and that it could get you almost any service associated with the Continental, including health care.

“I need a doctor,” you said after a long pause.

“Where?” a man on the other side of the line asked and you gave him the address. There was another pause on the other end of the line. “Thirty minutes.”

The call disconnected, leaving you confused and uncomfortable as you put the phone back and pocked one of the gold coins before headed to the living room.

When you told John he needed a doctor, you were thinking more in the lines of taking him to the hospital, not calling strange people in the middle of the night, but right now, you would take any help available, from your world or his. You paced the foyer, Dog right on your heels, maybe sensing your apprehension until the doorbell finally rang.

You weren’t expecting the short Korean man you let into the house any more than he seemed to be expecting you. He stopped by the door, watching you from above the rim of his glasses, holding onto a small leather bag.

“Well?” he said, making you jump into action and guide him to John’s room.

John whimpered pitifully when you turned on the lights but didn’t fight when the doctor approached him for an examination. The man worked quickly, with gentle, but nimble hands as he checked John over. You watched by the door, keeping Dog calm with a hand on his head, as the doctor talked to John in hushed whispers before going through his medical case and pulling out a glass vial and a syringe.

“What’s that?” you asked, unable to keep quiet anymore.

“Medicine,” the man replied, searching John’s arm for a good artery.

“For?” You pressed, but the man ignored you.

“It’s alright,” John wheezed, glancing at you with hazy eyes. “I trust him.”

With a sigh, you sagged back against the wall and watched as the man injected whatever it was in John’s arm, before standing up and moving towards you. He handed you two orange bottles.

“One of each, every 8 hours. With food, if you can get him to eat. If he doesn’t show signs of getting better in a couple of days, call me again.”

You stared at the pills for a moment. There were no labels, no indication of what they were or what they did. Why everything in John’s world needed to be so damn mysterious? With another resigned sigh, you handed the doctor the coin.

“I’ll show myself out,” he announced as he stepped out of the room.

Once he was gone, you turned off the lights and climbed back on the bed with John, maneuvering his heavy body until he was half on top of you, head resting on your chest. Dog lied on your other side, head on your thigh.

“Thank you,” John whispered as you combed the dark, sweaty locks away from his forehead. “I know this is all new and strange to you.”

You sighed and wondered how to explain to John that your awkwardness with all of this had less to do with the weirdness of his world and more to do with the overwhelming fear of losing him. You didn’t care if he had made you call a freaking witch doctor to perform a bloody ritual as long as he was alright.

“If this doesn’t work in two days, I’m taking you to the hospital. No arguments.” you declared and felt John’s low chuckle turning into a coughing fit.

“Ok,” he agreed, voice barely a whispered as he closed his eyes and slept.

Fortunately, he did get better. Almost miraculously fast and you wondered what kind of medicine could be that effective but knew it would pointless to ask John. He either didn’t know or wasn’t willing to tell you. Regardless of what it was, in less than a week he was on his feet again. You were relieved of course, but it was also strange to see. It was like nothing had even happened.

You always teased John about being indestructible after he told you how he got his scars. It was just playful fun of course but at times like this, when he recovered so fast for something that had him bedridden for days, it made you wonder if there wasn’t a little bit of truth behind your teasing.

Two strong arms wrapped around your waist, interrupting your musings as you were getting ready for work. You met John’s gaze through the mirror and there were still dark shadows under his eyes, but his cheeks now held some more color and he looked considerably healthier.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” His voice was still raspy, but slowly going back to the familiar baritone you loved.

“No problem,” you replied, turning around in his arms and pressing a kiss on his lips. “But who knew the deadly Baba Yaga could be taken down by lousy flu?” you teased, making John chuckle. He still winced a little at the action.

“Better not let anyone know that,” he said with one of his gorgeous smiles that never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

“I really am glad you’re ok. You scared me for a second.”

“I know,” John kissed your forehead. “But it’s over now. I’m not going anywhere, anytime soon. I’m staying right here with you.”

“Good.”

xxx

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[kim-lexie]

week-by-week playback: crash landing on you.

just to preface, pardon that some of this may not be cohesive. i made this a separate post because otherwise the collective review would be insanely long. and i wanted to keep a space where i just let my thoughts from each episode exist, so here it it. 

if you want to see my semi cohesive thoughts from the themes and characters here is my actual review. crash landing on you.

*spoiler alert*

ep 1-2 my goodness this man, hyun bin (aka ri jung hyuk in this drama) is dreamy as ever. *like swoons*. son ye-jin is perfect, i loved her in "something in the rain” and this character is completely different and i am loving it. this free easy going aide of this actress. she is adorable and i love how in a crazy situation the first thing she thinks is ‘you’re totally my type’ bc seriously a girl after my own heart.

now the concept is completely ridiculous but i’ll jump on the band wagon and live my best life bc i think this is going to be a unique concept that i fall for. the fact that she doesn’t listen to him and goes directly into north korea i’m like girl you’re crazy.

i love how they added the clips at the end of the episode and how he was laughing at her. precious how he’s already falling for her quirky side. i am intrigued to see where their relationship first started like how did they meet before how did he leave north korea and enter back in as a general captain?!? so many questions and i’m so excited.

ep 3-4.  kim ju-meok (captain ri’s company of 5) saying i haven’t seen any drama characters that don’t fall in love in that situation. hahaha same dude same. when the guy was spying, jung man-bok, and trying to keep up with the drama plot. hahaha

i loved when the ladies tried to see her and she made him act all sweet walking him out the door.

he said all nice things to the plant!!!

ep 5-6. his relationship with his fiancé is soooo weird. and her family must be super high up in north korea. same to his family though. his mom has an ostrich in her yard!!! i love how they got stuck on the train on their journey to pyeongyang. i love how he jumps to his feet to get her anything she wants. they’re precious together. i’m excited to see where it takes us bc now that the man on the run knows that she is there, there is leverage. he was the first guy she waited for TT. i’m really enjoying the little tidbit scenes at the ending.

he’s gonna keep a photo of her even though he said it was silly to get a momento. the clarification between destiny and coincidence.

ri jeong-hyeok do you want to be my destiny. ‘as long as you stay in my sight you’ll be safe, as long as she is in my sight i will protect her.’

ep 7-8. her character growth since meeting him is extensive and i love to see this side of her not as callused and closed off but rather vulnerable.

‘so happens that you’ve become a special person to me

for once i had to protect you too.’

the heart on his uniform she stitched up.

it’s his brothers song. TT

him going to find her bc she might have been waiting in him. he’s not wrong. and her being concerned with him not being in the hospital bc of his injuries.

your life here might be shattered bc of me.

and i don’t like that.

she’s gets kidnapped. after all this. she even decorated a christmas tree and got him a gift.

held my breath for a solid minute after that gunshot.

ep 9-10. yes his freaking dad in these moments where i’m crying just provides the perfect comedic relief bc he can’t freaking believe what’s happening in front of him. “you make my heart flutter. the other dude.” even when you didn’t know it you saved my life. when he played the song for the first and last time for his brother.

how would i forget about a woman who feel from the sky? -jeong-hyeok

i didnt fall. i descended. -se ri

she freaking wrote i love you with the books.

his brother was such a good person and got the medicine for his friends baby.

when they had to say goodbye to each other. and when their eyes met once again.

ep 11-12. this episode. i loved seeing how the comrades reacted to the daily living of those in seoul. they were too precious. absolutely terrifying that cheol-gang made his way into a security. like what kind of background check did they get?!? like. come on.  

cannot believe that jeong-hyeok found her in an echoing parking garage. it’s destiny.

seo dan got the term ‘sweetmeat’ from seri stop it!!

all of the almost encounters had me dying, while the boys were trying to track down captain ri. the gaming to ignoring the call for chicken.

they wanted to recruit kwang-beom for an agency. they’re like your cover was blown bro.

talking about a future when he didn’t go back. married with twins. and he’ll play piano again.

them dresses as south koreans got me like. my goodness. they’re too much. them all hugging was beautiful. he missed them all so much.

her mother left her at the beach. like what the even. her sister in law gave him her address what the even, this side of her family is wack.

they surprised her for her birthday. my goodness. this moment i’m weeping then it’s like dang that would have been cute.

i’ll be thankful the person i love is still breathing.

and it will be a good year.

-ri jeong hyeok

ep 13-14. the couple rings.

our boys. slaying it. my gosh. when they’re all surrounding her after she was shot. and crying my heart broke.

i never played the piano. and i’ve never told anyone. until you crash landed into my word one day. that’s how i lived. but now i’ved changed. even if i have to worry about losing you, i want to have you in my life. even if it breaks my heart bc it’s a dream that can’t come true, i’d like to sincerely dream of a future. so please live. and listen to my words i still have stories that i haven’t told you yet. -ri jeong-hyeok

when she finally woke up and he ran in. the fact that the mole wire tapped the room while she was unconscious. and then the tape of her mom telling her and wanting to thank seri and ask for forgiveness, and also the fact that her oppa and sister in law wanted her gone...wack.

when he was showing her his scars and the boys walked in and thought something scandalous was up, i died laughing.

i love them together. “they’re curious about your face. i understand bc you look great from the back.” -seri with regards to the paparazzi posting a photo of him online.

the split second after cheol-gang died and ri jeong-hyeok contemplated ending his life, because he didnt know what would happen when he went back to north korea.

while seung-jung was hiding in the market after he ran away from his captors, and the orphans collectively sang that sad song to distract the officers and protect him.

when seung-jung gave seo dan the ring that she picked up from the store so he could give it to seri who gave it to the pawn shop, and he picked it back up and proposed to seo dan. i weeped, because why does this have to be so hard.

when the NIS was collecting data on the ‘spies’: purchases at internet cafe, downloading videos of his favorite drama star, chicken restaurant, etc.  i can’t.

him deciding to go protect her even though he missed his chance of leaving the north with his life. and that she would be the one crying for him once he died made him sad and happy.

seri would make the same decision again. to meet the people and keep the experiences she had. “the wind blows to move in, not to stay.”

the exchange at the boarder was all too much. they all had to say goodbye so quickly.

ep 15-16. her family is wack. thank goodness seodan was able to get her revenge and get all the information from the chinese gang to turn over her older brother.

he wrote her back in the bookshelf. and is sending her notes after he’s gone. her breakdown in the kitchen when she saw all that he left for her. and receipts.

them going for walks at the same time of day to have a shared moment.

all of captain ri’s men reminiscing of the good things seoul had. internet. electricity.

i love that seri made a limited edition product to pay tribute to the ladies that helped her in the north.

he got her a freaking plant. i can’t. she is carrying for the plant like a baby and taking it around with her. got to say nice things to it. i knew it the last thing she said was rihoseok. (honestly wanted it to be a tomato plant)

“season changed but messages kept coming.” i really love this.

“it was eldewiss let’s meet in the country where these flowers bloom.” tell me they meet. please. oh please.

when ri jeong-hyeok broke the news that he was moving on to become a pianist and that the new captain is not a handsome man. the ladies of the village faces just dropped. i can’t.

“he found me every time. and i’m sure he’ll find me again someday.” -seri

“edelweiss symbolizes precious memories. what should i do jeonghyeok? it’s impossible for me to herons your just as a memory. so even if we don’t meet this year, maybe next year. if that doesn’t work too, i’ll anticipate the year after that. until the day you find me i’ll be waiting and praying.” -seri

stop it she is going to go paragliding and meet him again. come on.

eun-dong saying he misses his sister. i love them.

most wonderful two weeks of the year. stop it they have a house together in switzerland. and they are living happily ever after.

i really don’t want it to end...

[avmisworld]

BTS when you call them "oppa":

Kim Seokjin:

You met Kim Seokjin when you were chosen to be Bangtan Seonyeondan's new stylist. It was the biggest, best paying job you've ever had, and after a few months of being with the boys, you were very close to all of them, particularly to a tall, handsome, broad-shouldered one.

You and Jin started dating barely a year after you began working for Bighit, and you've been in a happy relationship for nearly five months now.

Being a foreigner and living in Korea for less than a year and half, learning Korean wasn't a simple task, and your vocabulary was still very limited. Additionally, you were still studying the Korean culture and the different ways to address people, depending on their position and so on.

Lately, you noticed that a lot of the younger female staff members were calling some of the members "oppa". After researching a bit, you understood that it was a nickname for an older guy, literally meaning "older brother".

You found it awkward calling any of the members that way, especially your boyfriend, so you stuck with "ssi" most of the time, or just their regular names when you're alone. But today you decided to do a little experiment.

You tapped your foot impatiently against your carpeted parceut floor, waiting for Seokjin to arrive after a day of grueling practice. It was your day off, so you had lots of extra time to freak out over your ridiculously easy, yet terrifying, plan.

Scrolling through your Instagram mindlessly, you let out an anxious sigh when you heard the familiar sound of keys turning in the keyhole, turning off your phone and getting up to greet your boyfriend.

"Hey, sweetheart", Jin said tiredly, walking through the door with a small smile. His eyes, dull from exhaustion, seemed to light up when he saw you, and he reached forward to pull you in for a warm hug, lips pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Hey", you responded gently, wrapping your own arms around your lover's strong torso and letting your eyes slip shut, basking in the comforting smell of Seokjin as you press your ear to his chest, enjoying the sound of his heartbeat against your ear.

The two of you stood there just like that, embracing each other, for a few more minutes. You could have stayed there forever, wrapped in your boyfriend's arms, hidden from the world, but Jin had other plans, gently detaching himself from you, smiling slightly when you whined in frustration.

"I have to go make dinner, sweetie. It's late.", Jin explained, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear lovingly. You turned to look at the clock, frowning when you realized that it was, indeed, late. Your stomach rumbled at the mention of food, suddenly remembering that you hadn't eaten all day, too occupied with thoughts about your little social experiment.

Grumbling, you let Jin take your hand with a victorious grin, and lead you to your small kitchen, already waiting for the two of you, shiny and squeaky-clean.

Jin starts making your dinner, the two of you making small talk as you sit on top of the counter, despite Jin's protests and complaints, swinging your legs as you watch your boyfriend cut vegetables and juicy pieces of meat expertly.

You start feeling restless when the meat starts to cook, the delicious wave of smell coming from the fried pork filling your nostrils and causing you to cling to Jin, pacing around the frying pan and following your boyfriend around expectantly, waiting for dinner to be ready.

Jin scolds you for getting in the way of his cooking and "making it hard for him to stir the food by acting like a human sized koala", but doesn't do anything legitimate to stop your clingy behaviour.

The idea pops into your head out of boredom, when you're standing next to Jin, leaning on the counter as you watch him sing some ballad under his breath, mixing the colorful assortment of fresh veggies with the now-brown chunks of mouth-watering meat.

He's focused entirely on the food, cute creases adorning his forehead and eyes narrowed slightly as he pours in different spices carefully into the stew. He looks like the embodiment of "boyfriend material" right now, with his oversized pink hoodie and messy chocolate brown hair, his full pink lips pursed in concentration.

"Oppa, I'm hungryyy~~", you whine cutely, smirking to yourself when your boyfriend freezes for a second, eyes widening slightly in surprise.

You cross your arms over your chest, tapping your foot against the floor when Jin turns to look at you. He concealed his shock successfully, but there's a fond smile on his face that reveals his excitement at your sudden use of the word.

"I just finished", he says, removing the pan from the fire with his glove-cladded hands and pecking your lips quickly as he moves to place the food on the table. "Let's eat".

Min Yoongi:

Yoongi and you have been dating for almost nine months now, and these months were the best in your life. You grew very comfortable with the older, and you were positive you knew him better than most people, even if you were still learning something new everyday.

But today, Jungkook managed to surprise you when he secretly told you about Suga's very obvious liking for the honorific "oppa", and how he confessed to the guys one day this week after too many shots of alcohol that he wished you would address him like that.

Staring at the maknae, you felt your cheeks burn bright red as you played with your hair nervously, twirling it around your finger. The youngest member looked amused at your nervous reaction, biting his lips to stop his natural instinct to smile at your cute behaviour, and shrugging. "I just thought you'd like to know. He'll never admit it in front of you. Not sober, anyway."

And now, you were walking home, and Jungkook's words were echoing in your mind, messing your thoughts and making you blush continuously. You see your boyfriend at least once a day, even if it's just to say hello, and you've never sensed he wanted to be called "oppa".

Honestly, you don't have a problem with the term. The only reason you didn't call Yoongi "oppa" by now was because, ironically, you thought he might find it awkward. If you knew he liked it so much, you definitely would've used it before.

Making up your mind, you walk quickly to your boyfriend's studio, feet tapping on the shiny marble floor as you half-jog to the familiar opaque glass door, knocking on it hurriedly.

"Who is it?", You hear the surprised voice of your boyfriend, not used to people daring to interrupt his work, and before you can answer, the door is already sliding open, revealing the confused face of your boyfriend.

He looks as cute as usual, standing in the doorway with his comfortable black clothes you've become so used to, an oversized black shirt with sleeves up to the elbow and loose training pants, barely brushing the top of his knees.

His faded white hair is tucked unceremoniously under a gray beanie and there's a sealed coffee cup in his hand, which you are sure is filled to the brim with coffee so black you wouldn't even be able to smell it.

"Y/N", Yoongi still looks confused by your unexpected visit, but the slight annoyance seen on his face is gone now, replaced with a glimmer of happiness in his dark eyes. "What are you doing here?"

You shrug, not really sure yourself, before stepping in to peck your boyfriend's lips gently, "Just thought I'd come say hi. I hardly get to see you with the comeback around the corner".

"Oh.", Yoongi says, nodding slowly before closing the door behind you. You move over to sit on the couch while your boyfriend returns to his chair, facing the computer once again.

You watch Suga work for a few minutes, a calming silence enveloping the room as the only sound comes from the keyboard, where your boyfriend is ticking away.

"How's the song coming along, oppa?", You ask innocently, unable to stop the smile surfacing your lips when said oppa freezes completely, his fingers hovering in the air above the keyboard.

'He really does like it', you think to yourself with a silent chuckle, enjoying the sight of your boyfriend trying to regain his composure uselessly, clearing his throat repeatedly as he continues to write.

"It-It's going well", Yoongi stammers, still facing the computer stubbornly, and you grin, getting up from the couch and fixing the creases on your clothes.

"Well, I don't want to be a burden, so I think I'll-" "Stay.", Yoongi interrupts you, and you feel your cheeks hurt from the force of your smile, turning away from the door and back to the couch with a slight bounce in your steps.

"Okay, oppa".

Jung Hoseok:

Korean was a difficult language to learn, but having your lovely boyfriend as your teacher certainly made it easier.

You sat on the couch in your shared apartment with Hoseok, only half listening to your boyfriend's explanations of attaching particles and irregulars and lot more things you would like to ignore.

Usually, you were a very focused student, drinking up every piece of information Hobi gives you and asking questions when something isn't understandable.

But today, you were tired, and Hoseok looked exceptionally good, with his freshly-died black hair and ripped blue jeans at the thighs, showing off melanin skin. The way his mouth was moving was far more interesting than the words coming out of his mouth, his lips shiny and red...

"Y/N?", Hoseok's voice interrupted your hungry thoughts, and you raise your eyes to meet his own. He's staring at you with a raised eyebrow, an amused glint in his eyes, as if he knew exactly what you were daydreaming of.

"Oh. Sorry.", You mumble, trying to hide the blush slowly covering your cheeks by lowering your head, your hair streaming down to cover your face.

Your boyfriend chuckles lightly, squeezing your thighs gently in reassurance. "You know what? Maybe we should learn something else today. Something easier. Maybe... Honorifics?", Hobi suggested, taking everything by a stride like he always did, his eyes searching your eyes. "It's really simple, I promise."

You nod, still embarrassed, and will yourself to listen to what your boyfriend's explaining now. The subject is pretty understandable and interesting, especially coming from a culture who regards it differently, so it's not as hard to focus. It also helps that Hoseok explains everything as if it's the most fascinating topic in the world, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, hands gesturing widely.

"So... You know that technically you're supposed to call me "oppa"?", J-hope says casually after a few minutes of studying, and you choke for a second, raising your head to look at your boyfriend's slightly blushing cheeks, matching your own.

You cough, shifting sideways to look at your lover better, who is now avoiding your gaze, eyes focused on the material of the couch underneath him.

"Well... Do you want me to?", You ask carefully, smiling when the older's eyes shoot up to you, the previous shyness he showed gone completely.

"Yeah!", he exclaimed with excitement, scooching over on the couch to be closer to you and grabbing your hands in his, his lips stretched to reveal a blinding smile.

You shake your head with amusement at his cute behaviour, and lean forward to press a gentle peck to the other's nose, unable to hide the fondness lacing your voice.

"If that's what makes you happy, oppa."

Kim Namjoon:

It was a hot summer day, and you wanted ice cream. More specifically, you wanted to get ice cream with your boyfriend, Kim Namjoon.

The only problem in this flawless plan was that Joon was working. He agreed to work at home, under the condition that you wouldn't distract him too much, a condition that was proving to be harder than you imagined. Especially when it was a hundred degrees outside.

You bite your lip lightly as you contemplate if you should actually bother RM, despite promising you wouldn't.

Huffing, you stare at the wooden door that leads to Namjoon's studio angrily. 'He needs this as much as I do', you convince yourself. 'He's been working all day'.

Feeling more confident now, you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear and open the door slightly, peeking through the crack.

Your boyfriend is sitting with his back to you, mumbling under his breath as he writes something down on a piece of paper, occasionally raising his head to look at his computer screen.

His rusty blond hair looks messy even from behind, and you know he's probably been running his hands through it for hours now. His broad shoulders are hunched over his desk, his torso clad in a red checkered pyjama top.

"Hey, Joon", you say softly, knocking on the door to get your boyfriend's attention as you step into the room quickly, shutting the door behind you quietly.

Namjoon turns his head to you, his eyes wide with surprise, but thankfully, he doesn't look annoyed in the slightest. He swivels on his chair so he's facing you, a dimpled smile appearing on his face.

"Hey, love", he responds sweetly, the thick black glasses perched on the top of his nose making him look annoyingly sexy and cute at the same time, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You smile, making sure to add a bit of puppy eyes as you walk forward to sit on the edge of your lover's thighs, straddling him with your legs on either side of his body.

"I wanted to check up on you", you say truthfully, playing with the collar of Namjoon's soft pyjama top, before looking up to shoot him a sheepish smile. "And maybe I also want you to go with me to get ice cream".

Your boyfriend raises his eyebrows at your confession, his hands placed on either of your legs as he rubs circle on your jeans with his thumbs. "I thought you weren't going to bother me?", he asks with a small smirk, not even trying to sound mad.

"I wasn't!", You defend yourself before shrugging helplessly, making Joon let out a gentle chuckle that you felt in your bones.

Shaking his head, you could already sense the 'no' standing on the tip of your boyfriend's tongue, so you move to the last resort before it's too late.

"Please, oppa?", You say with the cutest voice you can muster, wrapping your arms around his neck for good measure and moving even closer to him, so you're literally in his lap.

You can feel the way Namjoon's breath hitches, his cheeks turning a nice rosy shade of red as he shakes his head at your antics, looking defeated.

Your boyfriend sighs loudly, closing his eyes, and you almost feel bad for using the "oppa" antic, knowing how easily it turns him to putty in your hands.

"Fine, but-" "Yay, thank you, I love you!", You interrupt him, pecking his lips quickly and jumping from your place on his lap, intertwining your fingers together tightly as you lead the way out of the dimly lit room, your boyfriend following you with an exasperated sigh.

Park Jimin:

Being sick sucked, but you couldn't be more thankful for Jimin and his infinite care and love, especially during times like these.

You cough for the hundredth time today, your throat feeling scratchy and dry like the desert. Your eyes are closed, not because you're tired, but because it feels like someone placed sandbags on top of your eyelids, making it hard to keep them open for more than a few seconds.

You continue to lay on your bed, curled up in the covers as shivers wrack through your body, the temperature around you switching from freezing to burning within seconds.

"Hey, baby", you heard the gentle voice of your boyfriend, and then the tap of feet against the ground before the bed underneath you shifted, signaling that Jimin sat on the edge of it.

You can't get your mouth to move enough to answer his greeting, but you manage to flutter your eyes open slightly, blinking away the tears of exhaustion lining the bottom of your eyes as you focus on the figure of your boyfriend.

He looks amazing as usual, but worry and tiredness is etched all over his features as he looks at you closely, examining you for any visible discomfort.

His platinum blonde hair is matted to his forehead, sweaty from the run he probably did to get here. His almond eyes are staring at you with so much care that something inside your chest comes to life, stirring with warmth. His full lips are pressed in a thin line as looks at you, a sigh escaping his lips.

"How are you feeling?", He asks, running a hand through your tussled hair slowly, a small smile appearing on his face when you lean into his touch unconciously.

"Better", you say with the voice of a dying toad, lying despite knowing Jimin can easily read right through you, if his slightly raised eyebrows are anything to go by.

Not trying to disagree with your pathetic attempts to calm him down, your boyfriend takes out the medicine the doctor had prescribed for you, the only reason Jimin left your shared apartment for the last twenty-four hours.

"Here you go", he says, placing the small container of pills on the desk next to your bed, before taking out a water bottle and box of steaming rice cakes from another bag, which, judging by the smell, is from your favorite restaurant.

"You hadn't eaten anything for the last day, and you can't drink these pills on an empty stomach", Jimin explains at the sight of your questioning gaze. "I thought it's the least I could do."

You smile at Jimin's innocent way of thinking. He was always willing to do anything for you, even if it meant going to the other side of Seoul to buy you your favorite dish. Yet for him, it's the "least he could do".

You sit up with your lover's help, letting him place your pillows against the headboard of the bed to support your back, and you watch him with soft eyes as he opens the box of steaming food carefully, handing you a pair of chopsticks with a gentle smile.

"Thank you, "oppa", you say, shocking yourself and Jimin as one. You hardly ever call Jimin oppa, only when you want something from him or here and there when he asks you to jokingly.

But now, with the way Jimin was taking care of you, nothing like his usual baby-boy behaviour (which you loved as well obviously), you couldn't help but think the term fit more than usually.

Jimin's eyes widen for a second, before softening completely, and he leans forward to press a firm, warm, kiss to your temple. "Anything for you".

Kim Taehyung:

You and Taehyung had went to Daegu to celebrate the holidays with your boyfriend's family. It wasn't the first time you were meeting the Kim family, and you had already gotten to know and love the members of it.

"Y/N eonniee~~", you smile at the sound of the happy shout directed towards you, opening your arms for the small girl running towards you with all her might, sneaker-clad feet hitting the pavement.

"Yoona!", You let out a laugh as said girl leaps at you, wrapping her small arms around your neck as she hugs you tightly, burying her face in your neck with a squeal of excitement.

"Yah! What about a hug to your uncle?", Taehyung scolds half-heartedly, a small frown on his face as Yoona detaches herself from you, clambering off of you with a smile, before leaping towards your pouty boyfriend.

The angry expression immediately dissapears from Taehyung's face as his niece hugs him, and he lifts her up easily, twirling her around while she clings to him tightly, cute giggles of joy erupting from her pink lips.

You small as you watch the two reunite, unable to hide your own happiness at your boyfriend's happiness. You knew Taehyung was constantly missing home, and the blinding smile he was wearing right now proved that he was right where he belonged.

Placing Yoona on the ground gently, Taehyung intertwines his fingers with the little girl, letting her place her free hand in yours as the three of you start walking toward the family house slowly, swinging your conjoined arms with Yoona and occasionally lifting her up to entertain her, and hear more of the beautiful giggles she let out.

When you finally reach the door of the house, Taehyung lets go of Yoona's hand, returning to the car to take out your shared suitcase, a large blue one, big enough for the long time you'll spend here.

Yoona's chocolate brown eyes widen at the sight of her uncle coming back, carrying the luggage in his hands easily, and her small mouth opens slightly, revealing two rows of blinding white teeth.

"Wow~~ How can Taehyung oppa carry such a heavy bag?", She asks, awe laced in her voice as Taehyung reaches you, a small smile on his face due to the kid's cute question.

Before the older has an opportunity to respond, you're already ruffling the girl's silky dark hair gently, pinching her cheek lightly. "Well, Yoona, Taehyung oppa is really strong."

You smirk slightly when Taehyung's chest literally puffs out at the sound of the compliment, his demeanor gaining even more confidence as he makes a big show of lifting the bag over his head, as if he was lifting weights.

Trying to hide your giggle behind your hand, you let Yoona continue ogling at her Superman uncle, leaning against the doorframe.

'So he likes to be called oppa', you think to yourself, a mischievous smile making it's way onto your face. 'Good to know'.

Jeon Jungkook:

You snort as you watch the video your friend sent you just a few minutes ago, raising your eyebrows at the screen in wonder.

The video was from a recent fanmeet of BTS, and it focused on your boyfriend, aka BTS' maknae, Jeon Jungkook.

In the video, taken by a fan, you could see your boyfriend's strangely aggressive reaction to being called oppa by one of the fans in the crowd, a noona, specifically.

As a foreigner, you never really called Jungkook 'oppa', just because it felt weird to call your boyfriend your 'big brother'. You did, however, address the rest of the members that way, after being sure they were okay with it.

"Babe, I'm home!", You raise your head from the screen at the sound of Jungkook's melodic voice, exiting the video you've been watching and getting to your feet, an idea starting to form in your head.

"Coming!", You shout back, padding barefoot out of your room and to the living room, where your boyfriend had just entered, dropping his black backpack on your cream colored sofa with a huff of exhaustion.

He looks tired, as expected after a day of recording BTS' new album, but he still smiles brightly when he sees you, pulling off his black bucket hat and letting his long raven hair tumble down his face.

His hair is long now, incredibly so, and it makes him look like some handsome villian from a Disney movie, especially with his all-black outfit, a black t-shirt with matching skinny jeans and mountain boots.

The only thing ruining his perfectly evil image is his baby face, the sparkling doe eyes and the sweet bunny smile, directed straight towards you.

You make a step towards you boyfriend, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his nose gently, before stepping back just a little bit, so your noses are almost touching.

"Welcome home, oppa", you say with a small smile, watching Jungkook's expression morph into one of surprise, his eyebrow knitting together in confusion before a displeased frown makes it's way to his face.

"Oppa?", He asks incredulously, his bottom lip jutting out as he sends you a look of distaste, making you laugh whole heartdely.

"What's the problem?", You ask curiously, wrapping your arms around Jungkook's slim waist and placing your chin on his chest. "Do you not like it?'

Your lover shrugs, placing his own arms on the small of your back as you sway back and forth slowly, staying in place. "Makes me feel old", he admits, scrunching his nose cutely.

You giggle, leaning forward to boop his nose, just to see it scrunch even more. "There's nothing in the world that'll make you seem old, babe.", You assure him gently, "You'll always be a baby to your members and ARMY.", You say with confidence, looking up to Jungkook's slightly scared eyes.

"And to you?", Jungkook asks with a hint of a smile, only half joking as he peers down at you expectantly, a curious glimmer in his eyes.

"You'll always stay my manbaby, Kook.", You say with a wide smile, hugging your boyfriend even tighter in your arms. "I promise."

[honeypwark]

[ Milkshakes ]

  ↳ Double Knot era

       ↳ Xiang and Jisung get milkshakes. Xiang gets milkshake up her nose. Jisung’s secret comes out.

m.list

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“I swear this place has the best milkshakes in all of Seoul,” Jisung says.

“That doesn’t mean you have to rip my arm off to get there,” Xiang retorts.

With the midday crowd filling the streets of Seoul, Jisung has been dragging Xiang along behind him, only gripping her hand tighter when she nearly gets caught behind someone. He slows down and lets Xiang catch up to him, letting go of her hand once she’s walking at his side.

“My bad,” he says.

“Mhm,” Xiang acknowledges.

They continue to walk down the sidewalk until they reach the ice cream parlor Jisung has been raving about. Jisung tugs the door open and Xiang follows in after him.

“What’re you gonna get?” Jisung asks as they get in line.

“Since Moose Tracks isn’t an option-“

“What is it with you and Moose Tracks?”

“-I’ll probably get cookies and cream.”

Milkshakes in hand, the two leave the parlor for a nearby park, finding a bench to sit down on.

“Okay, I’ll admit they’re good but they’re not astronomically better than any other place’s milkshakes,” Xiang says.

“Are you sure you just don’t want to admit that I’m right?” Jisung asks.

“Maybe you just don’t want to admit you‘re overdramatic about everything,” Xiang counters.

“Overdramatic? I didn’t realize we were talking at Hyunjin.”

Xiang laughs, “Damn, you just gonna wreck on him like that? He’s not even here to defend himself.”

“Man, I used to hate him. And you.”

“Our weird little petty feud thing was entirely your fault,” Xiang says.

“It was not!” Jisung objects.

“You started it!”

“I didn’t!”

“The second time we ever met you told me I’d never be a good rapper.”

“That’s not-“

“But the reason I was struggling so much was because I didn’t speak Korean!”

“Okay, that’s fair, but remember when you threatened to burn my notebook?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Literally all I did was borrow a pen.”

“You stole a pen.”

“And that constitutes all the lyrics I’ve ever written being destroyed?”

“... That’s fair.”

“I know it is.”

“God, we were so stupid.”

“We were idiots.”

“Cheers to that.”

Xiang takes a long sip of her milkshake.

“Remember when I tried to fight Hyunjin because he called me short?”

The memory of a scrawny fifteen-year-old Jisung trying to square up with a fifteen-year-old Hyunjin who stood a head taller than him at the time floods Xiang’s mind and she snorts in laughter. Unfortunately, this means she also snorts milkshake.

“OW!”

Jisung bursts into laughter at Xiang’s mishap.

“Oh my god, it went up sinuses!” Xiang whines, feeling the chill of her milkshake in the middle of her head behind her eyes.

Jisung just laughs harder, nearly falling off the bench.

Xiang hits Jisung’s arm, “Oh my god, you suck!”

“How is this my fault- is it coming out your nose?”

Jisung somehow laughs even harder at the sight of Xiang’s cookies and cream milkshake dripping slowly out of her nose, the girl leaning over to blow her nose out towards the ground.

“Ugh I hate this,” Xiang complains, doing her best to hold her hair out of the way of the drink leaking out of her nose.

Jisung is still laughing hysterically, “How did- How did I ever have a crush on you?”

Xiang wipes her nose with the back of her hand, swiping away a bit of milkshake. She turns to face Jisung, who has fallen deathly silent and looks moderately terrified.

“You had a what on me?”

“...nothing.”

“You have a crush on me?”

“No.”

“But that’s what you just said.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You said you have a crush on me.”

“Okay, had a crush on you. I had a crush on you. Past tense. Not anymore. Long gone.”

“But you still had a crush on me,” Xiang points out, “Is that why you were mean to me? Oh my god, you’re such a boy!”

“Well, excuse me! It’s not my fault you’re pretty! I was intimidated!”

“You think I’m pretty.”

“I- Wha- You’re an idol! Of course, you’re pretty!”

“But you think I’m pretty.”

“So what?!”

“So... you’re intimidated by me?”

“I was. Not anymore.”

“Really? Then why won’t you look me in the eye?”

“Because I’m embarrassed!”

“I thought you said you didn’t feel that way for me anymore.”

“I don’t! That doesn’t mean I wanted you to know! You’re never going to let me live this down.”

“Of course, I’m not,” Xiang says. “Imagine how the others will react when I tell them.”

“Xiang, I swear I will murder you if you tell them.”

“I think you’ll be too preoccupied by Hyunjin and Felix roasting you to be able to murder me.”

“Joke’s on you, Felix already knows,” Jisung says.

Xiang thinks for a moment, “Is that why he acted so weird after we fell off the couch and you found us? He was all,” she mimics Felix’s deep voice, “‘Xiang and I are not dating, Jisung.’”

“I needed someone to confide in and not everyone is as emotionally unavailable as you,” Jisung says.

Xiang splutters, “I- I’m- I am- I am not emotionally unavailable.”

“You are but that sounds like a personal problem.”

“At least I wasn’t an asshole to my crush because I was intimidated by her prettiness. Minho’s going to love this.”

“Xiang, seriously, don’t tell them.”

“Mm, I think I will.”

“I know where you sleep.”

“Oh no, the guy who’s intimidated by pretty girls and never confessed to his crush is threatening me. I’m terrified.”

“I didn’t confess because you would have rejected me!”

“Yeah, I would’ve. Doesn’t mean you’re not a pussy.”

“Hey!”

[sockparade]

tips for surviving the pandemic: things i learned from my immigrant parents

It’s hard to believe that it’s only been a little over a week since the WHO announced that the coronavirus (COVID-19) was officially a pandemic. This has been a long, challenging week for a lot of people and it is nothing short of terrifying to read reports of what is happening in Asia and Europe as many predict that we’ll likely endure a similar fate here in the United States. In the midst of all of this chaos and uncertainty, I’ve been reminded of so many lessons that my Taiwanese immigrant parents taught me. I’m sharing them here so that others might also benefit. Thanks Ma. Thanks Daddy.

你昨天已經出去了.

“You already went out yesterday.“

1. Learn how to stay home. Our family is eight days into self-isolating at home and Tony asked me this morning if I had cabin fever. And strangely, the answer is no. I’m not. Not to downplay the difficulty of this moment but my experience with this “shelter-in-place” ordinance reminds of pretty much all my summers between kindergarten and 8th grade. Both of my parents worked full-time so summer was just three blissful months of nothing. No structure, no plans, no camps, no playdates, and no responsibilities. My parents never made me feel like I was missing a thing by staying home and I don’t remember ever feeling bored. There were always library books to read, stories to write, and thoughts to journal. Hours were spent playing school with my big sister (now a first grade teacher!), making up random games like who can avoid touching the carpet longest, learning Kim Zmeskal’s latest gymnastics floor routine, writing lyrics to Kenny G saxophone solos, and rehearsing for our variety show that we would perform to our tired parents at the end of the day. And that’s not even including the hours we spent watching The Price is Right, CHIPS, Knight Rider, and Airwolf (yep, no cable).   

As a teenager I carefully plotted all my hangouts with friends so that I didn’t have too many consecutive days when I was out of the house. Whenever I asked my parents if I could hang out with friends, they would always say, “But you already went out yesterday. What’s wrong with staying home? Why do you always have to go out?” It was as if having too much fun two days in a row was off limits. If there was a big party on Friday, I would purposely make sure I stayed home Wednesday and Thursday just to increase the chances of being able to go out on Friday. I know a lot of people talk about how awful their high school years were but I was one of those lucky kids who had a really great group of friends that made me feel seen, loved, and cared for. The downside was that I couldn’t get enough of it. I was always thinking about the next hangout, the next event, the next thing. It took me all the way until my late twenties to fully appreciate the fine art of staying home and to finish my unexpected transformation into the expert homebody that I am today. 

I’m reminded of that old quote by Blaise Pascal, “All of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone." 

It’s great to be out and about, but it’s also really important to learn how to stay home.  

______________________________________________

晚上要吃什麼？清冰箱.

“What are we eating for dinner?” “Cleaning the fridge.”

2. Be creative with what you have. I love food. Not in a foodie sense, but I get a lot of pleasure out of eating. I’m not a food snob by any stretch of the imagination. I thoroughly enjoy a Stouffer’s frozen lasagna or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich as much as I enjoy a fancy, inventive, Michelin-starred meal at Commis. What’s hard for me is when food is eaten as sustenance rather than with delight. But my parents taught me that you can always take pride in preparing a meal. No matter your ingredients.

My mom is an excellent cook. I know a lot of people think their mom is a good cook but my mom is legitimately skilled in the kitchen. There were some nights when I’d ask what was for dinner and my mom would just reply, “Cleaning the fridge.” 

Now for some, this might sound terrifying. But my mom could honestly make something out of nothing. I still crave my dad’s simple egg and garlic fried rice. My parents raised me to be able to make an tasty meal just from rummaging in the pantry and fridge for random leftover things. There were plenty of summers where lunches and snacks were an individual culinary adventure for each of us kids. I still remember the day I witnessed my baby sister add a Kraft single on top of her onion ramen noodles. She saw my confusion, shrugged and said, “You should try it, it’s good.” 

With all the hoarding folks have been doing during this pandemic, I’ve found myself feeling quite anxious. Trying to calculate if we have enough food. Estimating how many more meals we can eat at home before we need to make another grocery run. As someone who struggles with a scarcity mentality it has been hard not to panic. But then I keep reminding myself that I know how to make good food using just whatever’s available. 

You know, I was pretty disappointed with Mary H.K. Choi’s second novel, Permanent Record, given how much I enjoyed her debut novel, Emergency Contact. But I was absolutely thrilled with the shine she gave to what her protagonist calls “Hot Snacks”.

Here’s an excerpt from Permanent Record that is a beautiful ode to creative food mashups and immigrant kids everywhere: 

“I edit and post a Shin Ramyun Black video set to music. My favorite instant noodles with three flavor packets and so much garlic. It’s a classic Korean HotSnack, especially when you throw in cut-up hot dogs, frozen dumplings, extra kimchi - and this is where the artistry comes in- eggs, cheese, corn from a can, and a drizzle of sesame oil on top. And furikake if you’re feeling wealthy. The next night I put up a bacon, egg, and cheese not in a bagel but in a glazed honey bun. Laced with sriracha and pan fried on the outside. Then it’s chilaquiles with Spicy Sweet Chili Doritos and chorizo. Jamaican beef patty casserole disrespected with a smothering of Japanese curry and broiled. With Crystal Hot Sauce over the top and pickled banana peppers. I’m trolling with that one but the controversy is berserk. When I run out of old videos, I make saag paneer naanchos with Trader Joe’s frozen Indian food, and it’s a hit. Especially when I add yogurt and a thick layer of crushed-up Takis on top.”

______________________________________________

看連續劇.

“Watch soap operas.” 

3. Find a way to escape. I’m generally pro technology but I’ll admit I’m a little bummed at the way iPhones and iPads have made TV viewing such an individual activity. I like how Disney+ has gotten some families back to watching TV together again. Although I will say, we really coddle our kids these days. I grew up in a time when movie ratings only applied in the theaters and we watched movies with our families like Alien, The Fly, and Gremlins. We were scared out of our minds and sometimes could only watch through the cracks between our fingers covering our eyes because it was so scary. Okay, this also might be why I can’t watch horror movies as an adult. 

From a young age, my parents taught me that watching other people’s drama unfold on screen is one of the best way to escape your own drama. Some people say binge watching became a thing when the TV networks started releasing shows on DVD. Others give credit to Netflix releasing their original content a whole season at a time. But truth be told, I first learned how to binge watch from my parents. 

We would rent 30-40 VHS cassette tapes from that random spot in Bellaire Chinatown. Can you picture it? You needed multiple plastic bags to transport that many VHS tapes. 

Do you remember the one about the dying mother who needed to find homes for each of her 7 children? I don’t think it’s normal for a 10 year old to cry so much but you better believe it’s made me learn the true value of a soap opera escape hatch. 

Are you in a pandemic? Now’s the perfect time to pick up that YA novel, binge that reality show, start that kdrama, or rewatch all six seasons of The Sopranos again.

______________________________________________

下個禮拜會下雨.

“It’s going to rain next week.”

4. Be informed about what’s ahead. If you ask either of my parents about the weather at any given time they can reliably tell you the daily percent chance of precipitation and humidity for at least seven days out. They’ve always been this way. They would inform me of the weather at various points throughout the week. They planned their yard work and car washes around the weather forecast. There’s something about the way the weather forecast is available to everyone. And it feels like it’s just a matter of making the small extra effort to access it and gain a slight advantage. I feel like so much of the immigrant mentality is to be diligent in making the right choices to not screw yourself over and seizing opportunities whenever you can. And it wasn’t just weather but this is such an obvious example of it. 

I remember my dad saying to me once, "Can you imagine if someone decided to read every book in their local library? If they just went shelf by shelf and systematically read all the books? You could do it, you know. It’s free, it doesn’t cost any money to check out a book from the library. But no one really does it.” 

I think immigrant parents get a bad reputation for forwarding chain letters and health/science hoaxes they get on email, WeChat and Line. And in a pandemic, yes, they are definitely susceptible to misinformation, rumors and flat out untruths. But the thought behind it seems right. 

The mistrust of government leadership is actually quite relevant right now in this pandemic. Many immigrants left countries with governments that were overtly corrupt, oppressive, and used propaganda to influence its citizens. And while many Americans still take pride in living in a country that verbally champions freedom and democracy, the truth is that our government has already failed us and lied to us in many ways. During this pandemic, we cannot wait on leaders to tell us what to do. We must be diligent in reading for ourselves, seeking experts, using our critical thinking skills, and making preparations accordingly.

______________________________________________

會不會冷?

“Are you cold?” 

5. Check in with yourself. Check in with others. I have so many memories of my parents walking through the living room and asking me and my sisters if we were cold. It felt like they couldn’t walk past the thermostat without asking us if they needed to raise it or lower it. As if they couldn’t hear us sneeze and wonder if they needed to turn off the ceiling fan. They couldn’t see us sitting in a dim room without turning on a light for us. There are so many times I fell asleep reading on the couch and woke up with a blanket over me. Or sometimes I was fully awake doing something random, like playing Egyptian Rat Screw with my sisters (a cardgame for the uninitiated), and my mom would walk by and wordlessly drop a warm, heavy blanket over my shoulders. That’s care, y’all. Consistent, immediate action, and often without words.  

The tip here is to pay attention to your discomfort during a pandemic. There’s this immigrant stereotype of stoicism and that’s true to some degree but maybe the resilience is made possible not because of unnatural toughness but largely because immigrant parents can also be so incredibly perceptive and tender in some very tangible ways. 

When everything is chaotic around you and you’re busy multitasking these next few months, don’t ignore your needs. Notice how you’re feeling. Physically and emotionally. Where are you carrying your stress and tension in your body? You don’t have to tough it out. Oh and remember to check in with your people on how they’re feeling. Is there a light switch you can turn on for someone? 

______________________________________________

笑死人.

“Laugh to death.” 

6. Laugh to survive. Look, we didn’t have the perfect family or anything like that. We’ve definitely had our share of difficult times, financial stress, health issues, arguments, and pain. But my parents also really knew how to laugh and taught us to laugh with abandon. Like, bent over, tears running out of your eyes, can’t breathe kind of laughing. Our dinner table was kind of like a writer’s room. It was difficult to tell a mediocre story. You had better come prepared with a punchline or a point. It was a tough crowd, every night. On many occasions I stopped myself halfway through a story upon the self-realization that there was no real way to land the plane. Polite laughs were nowhere to be found, except perhaps a charitable smile from my baby sister. But it didn’t stop us from trying. I think my sisters and I are all probably better storytellers for it and we definitely have learned to try to bring humor into difficult times.  

I know that this pandemic is so incredibly dark and depressing that it can sometimes feel disrespectful, inappropriate, or childish to laugh at anything. But my parents taught me that you laugh to survive. Nothing is ever so dark that you can’t find a reason to laugh. And sometimes you really need to find something to laugh about.

I’ve been taking long breaks each day from major media news outlets but I have been finding such joy and laughter from the meme creators on IG and the comedic geniuses on Twitter. In Taiwanese when something’s really funny, people will say a phrase that is imperfectly translated as laugh to death. Like you killed a person it was so funny. Now’s the time to find that content or those people who will get you to laugh to death. 

______________________________________________

我要去挪車.

“I’m going to go re-park the cars.” 

7. Go to bed with a plan for the next morning. I grew up in a suburb of Houston, Texas where one property developer built the entire neighborhood and used the same eight or nine floor plans for all the houses but changed up the brick and trim color to keep things interesting. Most homes have a long driveway that connects a garage set near the backdoor of a home to the street. By the time I was driving, we had four cars in total -- two in the garage and two on the driveway. At the end of the day when everyone was home for the night and my dad was getting ready to go to bed, he’d announce, “I’m going to go re-park the cars.” Then we’d all kind of stop what we were doing and rearrange the order of the cars to match our morning departure schedules. This meant figuring out who was leaving when in the morning and sometimes also prompted brief check-in conversations about any changes in our usual routine. 

In a pandemic it can sometimes feel like there are a million different things to attend to and large conceptual concerns that demand your attention. But there’s something calming and centering about spending a few minutes each night thinking through specifically what needs to happen just tomorrow. Not the day after or next week. Get super tactical and specific about what tomorrow morning looks like. Check-in with your partner about any aberrations to your schedule (e.g. I have a super important conference call at 7am tomorrow) to minimize any unnecessary surprises. There’s something magical about setting up your morning that helps you rest just a little easier at night. 

______________________________________________

星期三我們有禱告會.

“On Wednesdays we have prayer meeting.”

8. Make time for your spirituality. Growing up my parents both had physically demanding jobs. My mom was a seamstress for many years, providing alterations at my aunt and uncle’s dry cleaners. She later worked in an elementary school cafeteria and then eventually became a classroom aide for special needs students. My dad worked at that same dry cleaners for years until he got a job at the post office. He then became a letter carrier, delivering mail on foot. The summer months were especially grueling, carrying a heavy sack of mail in 100 degree, humid weather, and walking until sweat soaked his shirts and blisters formed on his feet. They had every excuse to skip weeknight events. But unless they were sick in bed, I can’t remember a time when they missed their weekly prayer meeting with their friends from church.  

Pandemics have an unsettling way of forcing us to confront our mortality and can trigger a bunch of unresolved shit that has been bubbling underneath the surface. We’ve lost some of our usual coping mechanisms and it can be super hard to quiet the anxieties, fears, and other demons that we usually try to keep under control. This isn’t a lecture about a particular faith or belief system. It’s just a reminder to prioritize your existential questions, your interior life, and your connection to things much bigger than yourself -- whether that’s a community, a yoga practice, a faith group, a tradition, or something else. 

I have a fledgling meditation practice that I’ve been trying to strengthen since last year. When I say fledgling I mean that sometimes I bail before the ten minutes is up and check my phone. Even though I’m not very good at it yet, I can really tell the difference on the days that I make time for it. Our church started hosting its weekly Sunday service online and that’s challenging for me because a church service feels like it’s designed to be so much about the physical rhythm of going to a place, seeing faces of people I love, hearing their voices co-mingling with mine in song and in prayer, and tasting the bread and wine in my mouth. The online service was short, and just for viewing through a zoom conference call, but there was still something meaningful about setting aside that time Sunday morning, asking our wiggly kids to be present, and saying the liturgy out loud knowing that in homes all across the country, other people are doing the same. 

If things are really going to get as bad as some are predicting, we’ll need the spiritual strength to make it to the other side. Those habits are hard to form overnight. My parents taught me that you really have to make the time for your spirituality non-negotiable, so that you won’t abandon it when it’s inconvenient or when you are too tired.    

______________________________________________

沒辦法.

“What choice do we have?” 

9. Rise to the occasion. Whenever my parents are telling old war stories about things they had to do to get to where they are today, inevitably one of us will say, “Man that’s crazy, how did you manage to do it?” And instead of pointing to some super personality trait of theirs or some complex self-help principle, they always say, “We had no choice.” It’s not said in a defeated way, but in a posture of accepting that life can be cruel, unfair, and capricious. And that it’s not helpful to dwell too long on the why’s and how’s. My parents taught me that you can’t stay in despair mode. You eventually have to push yourself into problem solving mode and you do whatever it takes to move forward.  

This coronavirus is so unlike anything we’ve ever experienced in our lifetime. It is so unprecedented for me that my brain is having a hard time processing the reality of what’s happening right now and the rest of my lived experience. I spent the first few days of this week just being overwhelmed, anxious, angry, and irritable. At this point though, I’m in go mode. I’m doing what needs to be done for our family and taking care of business. What choice do we have? I can hear my parents saying it. One day, if we’re lucky, we’ll say it to our kids too. 

[gamerwoo]

[SF9 Imprinted] Inseong: Home is Where the Heart Is

@neverknewgrey2016 asked: Idk, something with Inseong probably. I’m feeling fluff but really whatever you want tbh

Characters: Inseong x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, college au, fluff, some crack, slight angst but like super slight i swear

Word count: 2,698

Summary: Having a long distance relationship is hard enough, but it’s even worse when you’re a werewolf struggling to deal with the pull to their mate. 

a/n: hello!! for anybody who doesn’t know, Imprinted is a series I have for multiple groups I write for. they’re all set in the same universe and do mingle sometimes but for the most part, each group’s respective series is separate. it’s all based on request aka you request more parts for somebody (you can include what genre you want and even a plot) and I’ll write it if it goes with the story (for example, you couldn’t request for Inseong to have a mate that’s one way if his mate in this is another). you can see what’s already been requested here! (and anything in bold in this story is in english)

Next | Imprinted Masterlist

“Wait, Dawon did what?”

“It was only a small fire, don’t worry about it.”

“Inseong, that’s very worrying.”

“Hey, have I ever told you that your Korean’s getting better?”

You chuckled, your eyes closing briefly as you shook your head. You knew he was just trying to distract you from what he just told you, but you decided to go with it since he already told you that nobody was hurt and nothing burned down.

You held your phone to your ear, trying to adjust the textbook you were carrying in your other arm with your knee, letting out a soft sigh, “I kind of have to get better if I want to spend my life with you.”

“I dunno,” Inseong replied, “some people make it without speaking a lot of Korean here.”

While Inseong was your mate, you lived a 23-ish hour flight away from him. While he was in South Korea, you were all the way in America. You only met Inseong when you went to Korea to study for a semester, and Inseong was hired at the translator for your program. It was literally love at first sight.

Of course, dropping the werewolf bomb on you wasn’t easy. You could be described as a laid back person, but anybody would freak out a little bit realizing the person they had strong feelings for could shift into a giant wolf. But once your panic subsided, things were fine.

Well, up until you had to go back home.

“So...is Inseong gonna die?” Chani wondered when he found out you were going home, sounding like he just asked what the weather was like outside.

“No, because she didn’t deny him,” Youngbin explained, “but he definitely won’t be at his best without his mate nearby for however long.”

You’d been back home in America for three very long months, and all you wanted was to be able to cuddle and kiss your boyfriend again. You tried your best to make the timezone thing work, too, so you could talk to each other, but that was difficult. Basically, everything about being in a long distance relationship with such strong ties to each other was a struggle.

You couldn’t even imagine what it must’ve been like for Inseong.

“You know, a few more paychecks and I should have enough to come visit!” Inseong informed you cheerily.

Ever since you left to go back home, Inseong had been keeping what was in his savings to go see you. He wasn’t sure for how long, but any little bit of time would be enough for him after not being near you for three months.

Little did he know that you were saving up, too.

“It’s so boring here,” you told him as you put your book on top of your car and unlocked the door. “I don’t even know what we’d be able to do together.”

“Doesn’t matter. As long as I’m with you, it’ll be fun.”

“God, you never get any less cheesy, do you?”

“Nope, I only get more cheesy!”

-

Things with the pack were getting a little...complicated this last week. Inseong wasn’t the only one to imprint in the pack, with Chani having imprinted but keeping his mate as far away from the pack as possible, and Juho recently found his since Inseong last spoke to you, and she was trying to keep herself away from him. Juho was a lot more open about his mate, though, so everybody pretty much assumed what the issue was: she was afraid. They all understood, but considering you were pretty open after that initial shock, and Chani’s mate didn’t even seem to care, this was kind of a wake up call to the pack that the rest of them could have mates just as difficult to get through to.

For now, though, they were trying to help Juho do just that: get her to warm up to him.

“The only way she’ll ever like me is if I’m not...me,” Juho sighed, dropping his head in his hands.

“I hope I get a mate like Inseong’s,” Dawon mumbled, but with Juho’s hearing, he heard it. He lifted his head to glare at the older wolf, so Dawon added, “...Sorry.”

“Not every person will be okay with all of this,” Inseong reminded them. “Even  _____ was afraid.”

“But not for long,” Rowoon pointed out, only to realize he wasn’t really helping.

“It’s a lot to take in: werewolves existing, being told they’re meant to be with you forever, and everything that comes with that. It’s really scary from their perspective,” Inseong tried to reason. He had spent a lot of time trying to look at the situation through your eyes when he first told you and you’d panicked about it. “You’ll gain her trust in time.”

“Werewolves don’t have time,” Taeyang reminded them. “If she doesn’t accept him as her mate soon, then...”

He trailed off, pretending to choke himself while he dramatically stuck out his tongue and rolled his eyes up into his head.

Chani gave him a blank look, “...She’ll strangle him to death?”

Taeyang sighed, using his hand to hit the youngest in the arm instead, “I’ll strangle you.”

Everybody knew what would happen if a werewolf wasn’t accepted by their mate: death. It happened slowly, the wolf’s life getting drained little by little over the course of about a month until they just died. The just needed their mate that badly that they couldn’t live without them.

The only way that wouldn’t happen was if the mate died, but it was still an awful thing to live through. But without that pull there, fate would reset, and they’d have a new mate to find. It was kind of fucked up, but it was how things worked.

“Ooh, you know what you should do?” Dawon spoke up excitedly, his golden eyes wide as he pointed at Juho. “You should save her from danger! Like in Twilight!”

“You watched Twilight...?” Youngbin asked slowly, making a face at him.

Ignoring the alpha, Dawon continued, “When Bella got in trouble, Edward was always there to save her! And now look at them!”

“They’re fictional,” Inseong reminded him.

Jaeyoon shrugged, “It would gain her trust though, I guess. But she’s not in trouble, and I don’t suggest you get her into any.”

“I wouldn’t!” Juho whined, seeming offended his brother would even think he’d do that. “But...Dawon, tell me more about this.”

Inseong sighed and rolled his eyes, standing up to leave the living room before this conversation got any weirder. He just hoped things were sorted before he had to leave for America. He was so close to having enough for the round trip, he just needed a little bit more. But if his pack was still a mess, how could he leave them? Sure, he wasn’t the alpha, but as the oldest, he felt he should stick around to make sure everybody was okay and nobody was getting in trouble. Plus, with Juho being rejected meant he wouldn’t have much time left, which was why the pack was scrambling for ideas.

He shook his head. He couldn’t think negatively. For now, he had to focus on the positives. It wouldn’t be long until he could see you again and hold you in his arms, and that was all he wanted to think about.

-

As always, Inseong tried to call you everyday. However, about a week and a half after the time you spoke to him and he told you how Dawon set the microwave on fire, Inseong didn’t sound as happy as every other time he had called you since then.

“Inseong, what happened?” you asked, knowing something was wrong just from the tone of his voice.

He sighed deeply and stayed silent for a moment before saying, “I can’t come to see you.”

You didn’t understand that. Did he not want to? Did something happen to the pack? Did something happen to him?

“What, why?” you asked.

“This is going to sound dumb, but Juho punched my car.”

Now you were quiet, not really knowing what to say to that. His brother...punched his car? Like, for fun or what?

“Can I have elaboration on that?” you asked.

So Inseong began to tell you the story of how Juho’s mate was terrified of him because he was a werewolf, and how Dawon had come up with this dumb idea that was inspired by Twilight of all things, and Juho hadn’t understood it all that well.

“So?” Dawon had asked eagerly when Juho had come through the door. “What happened?”

“I punched a car,” Juho replied, but he didn’t seem happy.

Then Inseong took in his words and turned to talk to the younger wolf that was now looking through the fridge and running a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry, you did what?” Inseong asked.

“I punched a car like Dawon told me to,” he repeated, looking at the eldest around the door of the fridge.

Not only was Inseong staring at Juho like he was stupid, but Dawon was too -- and that was saying something because Dawon was the king of doing dumb things.

“That’s not what I--” Dawon cut himself off, sighing and shaking his head, “Whatever. So what happened?”

Juho shut the fridge with slight force, throwing his hands out to his sides in frustration, “She’s even more terrified of me.”

“Well yeah, you punched a car for no reason!” Inseong laughed.

“Wait,” Dawon spoke up, holding up a finger as he narrowed his eyes at Juho, “who’s car did you punch...?”

Now, instead of looking annoyed and upset, Juho looked nervous and slightly scared.

“So I had to pay to get my car fixed because he didn’t even punch the side of it like in the movie, he punched into the hood and actually broke something in the engine,” Inseong sighed in frustration. “And by ‘something’ I mean ‘a lot of things’.”

You frowned even though he couldn’t see, “I’m sorry, baby.”

“I’m just so upset I can’t go see you now,” he said, sounding completely defeated. “I’ve been saving up for so long and now I’m back to almost nothing in my savings. I have to save up all over again.”

With how upset your boyfriend sounded, you wanted to just blurt out your plans. You felt so bad because he sounded so heartbroken, but you wanted to surprise him. Plus, the surprise would mean so much more to him now.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out,” was all you told him.

-

Tired. The only thing you felt was tired. You couldn’t even feel happiness or excitement because jet lag was a bitch and you wanted to just curl up in bed and pass out. But it was the middle of the day here so that wasn’t really ideal. You were wondering if maybe a short nap would suffice but you were scared you’d sleep through your alarm and then be awake all night.

It definitely took a lot to transfer to this new university, but it would be well worth it. You just had to stay awake long enough to call Inseong, but you weren’t sure if you could even do that. But you were going to force yourself to.

Standing in the middle of your new dorm, you went to Inseong’s contact in your phone and called. It rang longer than normal, and you thought maybe you caught him at a bad time at work -- if you weren’t so sleepy, you’d know today was his day off -- before somebody answered.

“Hi, _____!” somebody chirped.

“Um...who is this?” you asked.

“Rowoon,” he replied with a chuckle. “Sorry, I should’ve figured you wouldn’t know. Inseong’s out doing groceries right now and he forgot his phone here. If you need something though, I can give you Chani’s number and--”

“Actually,” you spoke up, “maybe you can help me.”

“With what?”

“Would you be able to come pick me up?”

“What?” he asked like you were crazy. “You’re all the way in America! I can’t just float my car across the ocean.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not far,” you promised with a sleepy laugh. “I’ll send you the address.”

-

Inseong was confused the entire time he was with Chani doing grocery shopping. He had instincts that they called the mating pull that would lead him to you no matter where you were, and those instincts were telling him you were closer to him than before. His instincts had really been all over the place the last 24 hours, actually. But he couldn’t call you and ask about it because you had already told him you’d be at your parents and couldn’t use your phone because they had a thing about ‘family time’.

“Inseong, what’re you making that face for?” Chani asked as he looked over at Inseong while they drove home.

The older wolf couldn’t tell, but his eyes were narrowed slightly, and his brows were furrowed just a bit like he was concentrating or thinking. But it was only because something must’ve not been right because he felt like you were very close by. Last he checked, your parents didn’t live in South Korea, so he knew you couldn’t possibly be anywhere near here.

“I feel...weird,” was all he replied in a murmur.

Chani just nodded, raising his eyebrows, “Sure, dude.”

Chani was already in on it. Rowoon had texted him about it, so Chani was well aware as to what was up with Inseong. But he was very good at playing dumb.

Inseong pulled into the driveway, shut off the car, and opened the door. But as soon as the air hit him, he smelled something vaguely familiar. It was a scent he hadn’t smelled in a while, but it was one he could never forget. It was like the sweetest, best scent he’d ever smelled, and he knew exactly what it meant. He just didn’t know how.

Without even saying anything to Chani, Inseong booked it into the house and followed his instincts up the stairs. He burst into his room, just barely catching his door from slamming against the wall when he saw you fast asleep in his bed. He was so happy, tears started forming in his eyes. He couldn’t believe you were here, and somehow having you sleeping so soundly in his bed made him even happier. He still didn’t understand how or why you were here, but it didn’t matter because you were here and he could touch you and kiss you and be with you.

Inseong quietly closed his door before he made his way over to you, he crouched down at the side of his bed and looked at your peaceful face as you slept, reaching out to lightly stroke your cheek with his thumb to make sure you were real. The widest, brightest smile spread across his face being able to look at you and touch you and hear your heartbeat.

He stood up to slide off his shoes before he carefully climbed over you into bed. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer to him, not wanting to wake you but just needing to hold you as close as he could.

You woke up just a little bit -- enough to just feel that Inseong was with you -- and rolled over to face him. You buried your face in his chest, clinging to him and making him chuckle. When you were settled again, he nuzzled into your hair and just took in your scent, just wanting to stay in that moment with you forever.

“She’s here for good, y’know,” Rowoon said as he quietly entered the room. “She transferred to the college in the city. The train ride there isn’t too long.”

“A train ride isn’t anything to me,” Inseong scoffed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

You used to be a 23-hour plane ride away, so he would sit on a train for hours if he had to just to see you. But luckily, you were right here with him, in his arms. You were home.

[ladydorian]

tag game ★~(•◡•✿) 50 questions you’ve never been asked before

THIS LOOKS SO MUCH FUN thank you @ithinkwehitametaphor​

what colour is your hair brush?

I had a green and white one for years but it just broke so I’m using my backup mini black one that I keep in my purse until I can get another.

Are you typically too warm or too cold?

I’m usually cold except for in the summer.

what were you doing 45 minutes ago?

Proofreading IFUs while blasting music to drown out the sound of my neighbor blasting music.

what is your favorite candy bar?

Oooh Japanese Kit Kats. I’ve got some matcha ones in the cabinet right now, but the apple pie ones were also really good.

have you ever been to a professional sports event?

Mostly baseball and hockey when I was younger. Nothing recently, I’m not terribly interested in sports.

what is the last thing you said out loud?

“Saigo ni nan to itte ita kke anata wa nan to itte ita kke...” (I was not even paying attention while writing this but “Kekka-ron” by SUPER BEAVER came on and I automatically started singing the opening lines)

what is your favorite ice cream?

So I really can’t eat dairy (even tho I do sometimes), but there’s this brand of coconut milk ice cream called Luna & Larry, and their cherry amaretto is the besssssst.

what was the last thing you had to drink?

Drinking coffee right now.

do you like your wallet?

It’s cute, it’s pink and black and has cats on it, and I bought it from an anime con a couple years ago.

what was the last thing you ate?

Chocolate almond milk pudding for breakfast.

did you buy any new clothes last weekend?

No but I bought these awesome Shintaro Kago enamel pins for when I finally get off my ass and redo my itabag (link contains kittens exploding from cute girls’ faces, and there is a bit of blood - also the site is very NSFW).

the last sporting event you watched?

We watched some marble racing after seeing John Oliver talk about it.

what is your favorite flavor of popcorn?

Caramel I guess. Not a huge popcorn eater.

who is the last person you sent a text message to?

I texted my brother Mark about Rakuten Global Market closing. Though I’ve only bought maybe one j-rock CD off of there once. I usually just go to cdjapan.

ever go camping?

A few times. I’m really scared of bugs and spiders, so it’s not something I do often. But I’ve had the fun experience of getting up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night and seeing a snake slither right past the building.

do you go to church every Sunday?

I haven’t been in a church since I was in high school (except for funerals) and I’d like to keep it that way.

do you have a tan?

I don’t tan, I burn. I got my dad’s Italian hair and my mom’s Irish skin.

do you prefer Chinese food or pizza?

Oooh, Chinese food. Especially crab rangoon if they’re homemade.

do you drink your soda with a straw?

I slam that shit straight outta the can.

what color socks do you usually wear?

If I had a choice, I would never wear socks. But when I do wear them, they’re usually novelty socks with, like, tacos and poptarts all over them.

do you ever drive above the speed limit?

When my stepdad taught me how to drive, he said “always go 10 miles over the speed limit, because that’s what everyone else is doing and they’ll run you off the road otherwise.” I’ve only gotten caught about 3 or 4 times.

what terrifies you?

Talking to people. Being judged. Failure. All my friends abandoning me. Being alone.

look to your left, what do you see?

My ONE OK ROCK tote bag with an Arches cold press watercolor pad sticking out of it. I need to paint larger pictures more. That’s good quality just sitting around going to waste.

what chore do you hate?

Emptying the dishwasher when it’s cleaned.

what do you think of when you hear an Australian accent?

That episode of the Simpsons when they went to Australia because Bart got in trouble, and Marge went to the bar asking for a tea and the guy just kept saying “Beer?” -- “No, TEA.” “BEER?”

what’s your favorite soda?

La Croix, though it’s technically sparkling water.

do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thrus?

I usually just get takeout, I haven’t been in a typical fast food place or a drive-thru in years (unless you count the Korean chicken wing place, I guess that’s kind of like fast food. But I don’t go to McD’s or anything.).

who’s the last person you talked to?

I told Greg I was going to throw some laundry in but he already did it.

favorite cut of beef?

Not really a steak person but I’ll eat a burger all day long.

last song you listened to?

[Alexandros] - “Philosophy” (it’s gotten me thru some tough shit a couple months ago)

last book you read?

I read @ithinkwehitametaphor​‘s Narcos fanfiction and @mouthface​‘s Brommet wip. I’m a straight-up fanfic person these days.

favorite day of the week?

Probably Saturday, but Friday is a close second.

can you say the alphabet backwards?

Oh god no.

how do you like your coffee?

1/2 - 1 teaspoon of sugar. No cream.

favorite pair of shoes?

I got an old pair of Chinese Laundry black boots with studs in the heels that I wish I had bought 2 pairs of before they were discontinued.

the time you normally go to sleep?

During the week, about 10:30PM - 11:30 (it’s a little later now that I’m working from home). Weekends are usually between 1AM-2 (look, I’m old OK).

the time you normally get up?

8:30AM or so (working from home), and between 9AM-10 on weekends.

what do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets?

I have maybe been awake for 2-3 sunrises in my life, so sunsets it is.

how many blankets on your bed?

Just one.

Describe your kitchen plates.

I have a couple plain blue ones and then some white with black trim. I think they were all housewarming gifts from my grandma from about 10 years ago.

do you have a favorite alcoholic beverage?

Vodka and beer.

do you play cards?

I used to on occasion, but I don’t have friends who live around me, so I don’t really have anyone to play with.

what color is your car?

Red with the coolest bumper stickers ever.

can you change a tire?

If I need to, I guess.

favorite job you’ve ever had?

I don’t think I’ve ever had a job I liked.

how did you get your biggest scar?

I fell off a bike at Soulcycle a couple years ago and punched a quarter-sized hole in my right thigh. Rode thru the entire 45-minute class, drove home, made dinner, and about 2 hours later finally asked Greg to take a look at it. I thought it was just a scrape, but he told me we were going to the hospital immediately as fat tissue was leaking out of it. I ended up getting 10 stitches and was called “one badass bitch” for my ridiculous pain tolerance.

what did you do today that made someone else happy?

Idk, I like to think I’m a good listener if anyone wants/needs to talk.

I’m always terrified of bothering people, so if you want to do this, please do!