#and it’s not like the man isn’t talented but like. as soon as i remembered where i knew him from i never regained focus

[murdleandmarot]

Sometimes you go to bed and wake up an entirely different age

(Also I am NEVER GOING TO SHUT UP ABOUT THAT BLUEBELLE STATUE. OH MY GOD. MUTUAL YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE 🫶🫶🫶)

[starbuck]

i KNEW it was gonna be a problem when i got to know actors too well… great, great film, but i could not take ANY of that seriously…

[mikuluvu]

TACTICAL DISTRACTION

Summary: Task Force 141 goes undercover at a nightclub for a mission. You wore a bold, eye-catching "Euphoria"-style outfit to distract a VIP guard, allowing the team to infiltrate undetected.

A/n: 2/10 COD fics posted! And yes, I did put some designs here and there lmao. Requests are open for COD/Tf141

The loud music vibrated through the crowded nightclub, neon lights flickering around the club. Task Force 141 was scattered across the room, each blending into the crowd while keeping their eyes on the mission. They all sported casual outfits to stay low-profile—Soap in a bomber jacket and jeans, Gaz in a leather jacket, Price looking like an unassuming older patron in a dark button-up, and Ghost opting for a simple black hoodie. But you? Oh, you stood out like a beacon, wrapped in an outfit that screamed Euphoria—sparkles, mesh, and barely-there fabric that had them all questioning the mission.

Soap leaned closer to Ghost, trying to be heard over the music. “She’s really leanin’ into it, yeh?” he said with a chuckle, gesturing to you as you sauntered toward the VIP area.

Ghost’s eyes, partially obscured by his hood, followed your path.“Bloody ‘ell, she’s got the lad starin’ like he’s never seen a woman before,” he muttered, lips twitching like he wanted to smirk but wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction.

Price’s voice crackled in their earpieces. “Stay focused, lads. We’ve got a job to do.”

Meanwhile, you approached the guard stationed outside the VIP room. The man barely registered you at first, but as soon as you flashed a sly smile and toyed with a strand of your hair, he stiffened.

“Hey there,” you purred, leaning closer. The guard blinked, clearly trying to keep his composure but failing miserably as his eyes darted over your outfit.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he stammered.

“Really?” you teased, brushing your fingers lightly along his arm. “I thought this was where all the fun people went.” Your tone dripped with playful mischief, and you stepped even closer, making sure his eyes were only on you.

In the comms, Soap snorted. ““She’s bloody good at this. Poor lad’s practically droolin’.”

Gaz’s voice chimed in. “She’s making it look way too easy. Remind me not to owe her a favor.”

While you kept the guard distracted with flirty banter, Price and Ghost slipped behind him unnoticed, disappearing into the VIP room. You caught the faintest glimpse of Ghost’s nod before turning your attention back to the guard.

“So,” you said, leaning on the counter beside him, “what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this? You don’t look like you’re here for the party.”

He chuckled nervously, completely oblivious to what was happening behind him. “I’m... working.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” You tilted your head, pouting slightly. “You deserve to have some fun. Maybe…with me?”

Price’s voice crackled in your earpiece. “Good work, love. We’re in.”

You smiled sweetly at the guard, then straightened up. “Actually, I just remembered—I’ve got somewhere else to be.” Before he could respond, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving him utterly confused and flustered.

As you rejoined the team near the club's exit, Soap greeted you with a wide grin. “Ye’ve got a dangerous talent, love. That was somethin’ else,”

You smirked, tossing your hair over your shoulder. “What can I say? I’m a professional.”

Ghost’s low voice cut through the banter. “Next time, let one o’ us handle the target, aye? You’re gonna put the lot of us in an early grave.”

You laughed, shooting him a teasing look. “What? Jealous, Simon?”

He didn’t respond, but the slight tilt of his head told you everything you needed to know.

Gaz came up next, leaning casually on the wall beside you. “You know,” he said, his voice smooth, “if you ever decide this whole Task Force thing isn’t for you, you’ve got a bright future in acting. Or breaking hearts.” He gestured to the VIP entrance. “That poor guy’s probably still trying to figure out what just happened.”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “He'll be fine...”

Price chuckled from behind his cigar, his tone playful but warm. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or worried. You might’ve set the bar a little too high for the rest of us, love.”

“Oh, don’t be jealous, Captain,” you teased, tilting your head at him. “I’m sure you’d be great at flirting your way past security.”

That got a laugh from the group, even Ghost, who stood a little apart but was still listening.

“Flirting’s not exactly my specialty,” Ghost finally said, his voice low and dry. “But if I did, it wouldn’t involve wearin’… that.” His gaze flicked over your outfit, lingering just a second too long.

“Aw, you don’t like it?” you said, feigning a pout. “I thought it was pretty effective.”

Soap interjected before Ghost could reply, grinning wickedly. “Oh, don’t mind him, bonnie. He’s just a wee bit shy.” He pulled you closer, his hand lingering a little longer than necessary. “Though if you’re takin’ votes, I’d say the outfit’s a bloody masterpiece.”

Gaz raised a hand. “Seconded. Might need to keep it on standby for future missions. You know, for ‘tactical purposes.’”

You rolled your eyes, shaking off Soap’s arm but laughing as the group continued to rib you. “You’re all acting like you weren’t ogling me from the second I walked out in this.”

Price raised an eyebrow, an innocent look on his face. “Who, us? Neva'.”

Soap leaned in, resting his chin on your shoulder. "I mean, ye can’t blame us, lass. Ye’ve got a certain… presence about ye". His voice dropped to a mock-whisper. “Dangerously distractin’, really. Almost too good at yer job”

Gaz smirked, nudging Soap out of the way to stand closer to you. “Ignore him. If anyone’s got the charm to keep up with you, it’s me.”

You laughed, hands on your hips as you looked between the group. “You’re all hopeless, you know that?”

A/n: WKWKKW IM HAVING TROUBLE DOING SOAP'S ACCENT

Buy me a coffee?

[mywritersmind]

NOT SO HAPPY HOLIDAYS - LN4

↳pt.4

christmas special

part one - part two - part three

summary : You’re not a damsel, just someone who happens to enjoy the help of an attractive man once and a while. This goes down the drain as soon as he refuses to kill a spider for you. Christmas is approaching and Lando is inching closer and closer to the nice list, only if he stops mentioning that kiss.

og summary : Spending Christmas with my brothers best friend isn’t my ideal way to celebrate. With my parents in the maldives and my ex calling me non stop, I was hoping for a small town cozy christmas! I was going to get that with Max and his girlfriend until Lando Norris worked his way into the mix.

listen up : kissing! dual pov! mentions of sexual content!

words : 4157

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I thought that I wouldn’t be able to sleep. My mind was already racing after kissing Lando and my thoughts always take over when I'm in my bed.

I couldn’t stop thinking about his lips on mine while I brushed my teeth. Or his hands under my shirt while I braided my hair. But the second I slipped under the covers, honestly wanting to over analyze the moment, I fell asleep.

There was one catch though. A glaring and irritatingly obvious catch.

I dreamt about him.

It wasn’t horny or scary, it was just… him. We sat on the couch and watched a movie. I don’t remember what he was saying, just remember how he looked in the firelight.

I woke up actually sad that it was over.

⋆༺

I barely talk to Lando in the morning, there’s definitely no time for any sort of conversation revolving around our secretive kisses.

Do I even want to talk to him about it?

Yes and No. I need to understand what it was but I’d also like to not embarrass myself and become another one of his one night things.

And then there’s Max and our little friends christmas. P definitely is sending me suspicious looks when I drag her to sit with me in the back seat instead of Lando.

Lando and Max sing christmas songs the whole way to the rink. Yes, you heard that right.

The rink.

It’s outside and I've never been more bundled. In a thick pink scarf and puffer jacket, I struggle to get my ice skates on. Lando sits next to me, hitting my arm as he tightens his skates, gripping the laces with how ungloved fingers.

He ties his into little bows as he says, “Need help, Sunshine?” I blink, for some reason, the nickname catches me off guard.

Max and P are already taking photos together as I nod, not even saying anything before he kneels in front of me, “I’m not some damsel in distress, you know.” I say as he takes my foot between his knees.

His curls are refreshed, those green eyes glancing up at me as a small smirk tugs at his lips, “I’m aware. Are you worried I think that?”

He tightens the laces, “I just want you to know I can do things for myself.” Even with snowboarding, he had to carry me. It makes me feel helpless even if he does look good helping me.

“I know you can, Sunny, trust me.” He moves to my other skate, “You kissed me all by yourself last night.” He says it in a low, quiet voice. Tieing off my skates and tapping my knee.

He's not smirking anymore, just looking at my partially shocked face. Lando stands, walking away as I wobble on my feet to get to the ice.

Contrary to my walking on the ground skate skills, I’m great at skating on actual ice. I used to skate when I was younger, Max had his one thing with karting and I wanted that.

For me, It wasn’t skating. But I did find a certain love for the cold sport.

Lando however, is not multi talented when it comes to sports. He grips onto the side rain as Max and P hold hands next to him.

I snap a picture of him where he looks utterly distressed. He frowns at me laughing at him, P joining, “Lan, we should get you one of those crutch things.”

His jaw drops at the implication just as a kid skates by, holding the plastic helper. “Help me out here.” Lando reaches for Max’s arm but my brother pulls it away quickly.

“You’re on your own for this one, bud.” He leaves as P starts speeding up. The rink isn’t too crowded which is good especially for the time of year.

Lando looks at me, uncomfortable and annoyed at the kid behind him who yells at him to hurry up, “Fuck no.” I laugh and start skating backwards, “It’s not that hard.”

He chuckles a bit, “That’s what she said.”

I frown and start to leave but am abruptly pulled back by Lando’s hand on my arm. He’s let go of the side and is grabbing my arm with impressive strength.

I roll my eyes and move his hands to mine, turning around so I can face him. It’s taking everything in me now to laugh, he’s hunched over in a dior jacket as his ‘4’ necklace dangles. “Look at me, Norris.”

He looks up hesitantly, “Stand up straight.”

“Yes Ma’am.” He winks and I almost let him go but he holds on tighter, his rings indenting into my gloves.

His posture improves as Max and P pass us, but I don’t even think he sees them because his eyes are on me.

He laughs a bit at the kid who zooms past us, and starts getting the hang of it more, “There you go…” His smile widens as we start up faster, then promptly trips.

“I’m feeling humbled.”

I laugh, “You should be. You’re shit at this.” He pulls me closer and I can’t if it’s on purpose or because he just tried to speed up.

Either way, he’s looking down at me and dropping one of my hands so we both face the same way. I go to pull my hand away but his grip tightens.

“You’re not gonna fall on your face.”

“I’m gonna fall on my face.” he says immediately as I laugh a bit and look away. “I need my face!”

“Right… brings in the big bucks at work.” Lando tugs me closer and smirks down at me.

“Are you… flirting with me?”

I bite my lip, shaking my head, “Keep dreaming.”

“Oh I had a great dream last night!” He says, far too chipper for me to fall for his words. “After a quick cold shower, I fell right to sleep.”

I roll my eyes at his words, “Now you’re just boosting my ego, Norris.”

“C’mon, Sunshine. You saw me last night. That fucking movie was torture.” I shiver at the icy air even though my legs are warming up from the workout.

“I thought it was good.” I shrug.

“Yeah well you didn’t have a raging hard-” Max and P catch up to us then and Lando switches his speech seamlessly, “Hard! This is so hard!”

P giggles and takes my other hand so we’re in a row now, the boys on either side of us. I send Lando a look but he doesn’t look at all guilty, just smirking innocently.

Pietra and I leave the boys, allowing me to speed up and do some rounds without my deadweight that is Lando. “Did something happen?” P asks as I dodge a man.

“Lando almost fell?”

“No.” She laughs, “I mean between you two…” oh shit. “I mean, did you take my advice?”

Translation : Did I fuck Lando Norris.

“No!” I say quickly, “I’m not going to either.”

We kissed. We kissed. We kissed.

“Ugh!” P groans as we pass them again, “Just a little holiday fling!”

I shake my head once again, pretending like the best kiss I've ever experienced didn't happen at all. “We just argued all though the movie, he stole my popcorn.”

“You two were pretty quiet when we got home.”

I sigh, “I’m sorry that we didn’t go at it, P!” We did. We would have probably gone further if it wasn’t for her and Max.

I’m soon taken down by my previous weight. Lando literally lands on top of me, sideways, and groaning. I rest my head against the ice, accepting defeat at this point.

“You’re a horrible teacher.” Lando says as he lifts himself off me, kneeling next to me as I sit up on my elbows.

“Excuse you!” I scoff and stand, looking down at him, “You’re a bad student.”

He's smiling still, even as I place my hands on my hips, “Maybe skating really isn’t my thing.” No shit.

I help him up anyway, only because I'm genuinely scared he will claw up my body if I don’t. His hand is warm even against my glove.

He moves it to my hair, smoothing it down a bit and brushing some ice off. It’s odd and so very gentle, “You’re blushing.” He says it almost as a whisper.

“I’m cold.” Is all I say in response, skating off and resting my hands on my hot cheeks.

⋆༺

Our day goes by incredibly fast. After a movie and some take out, we’re all slumped on the couch.

“Max was totally in love with you after the first date!” I laugh, playing with my sweats waistband.

P laughs with me as Max gets red, “It’s not a bad thing to understand your feelings!”

“No, just a bit creepy.” Lando says, his arms stretched around the couch.

“Oh right, Mr ‘I don’t date’!” Max retaliates, putting his arm around P, “When was the last time you kissed a girl that you actually liked!?”

My face goes hot while I reposition myself and laugh with Max and P. I move off the couch and sit next to the fire, doing anything to avoid eye contact with Lando.

He looks like he wants to spill everything, but then remembers his audience and just shrugs, “None of your business, Mate.”

“We should set you up!” P hits Max’s chest repeatedly in excitement as he coughs, “We know someone!”

Max raises a brow, “We do?”

P just rolls her eyes, “I do. I went to school with her, she’s an instagram model.” P starts to pull up her instagram on her phone when Lando eyes me, a bit scared.

“I’m okay, P. I like my life womanless right now, especially Instagram model-less.” I smile at his words and lay back on the carpet.

“I don’t know, I’d be fun seeing you actually fancy someone.” I say, hating the idea but liking the way Lando looks at me.

“Oh would it?” Lando deadpans.

Max pours more wine, “What about you, Y/n? That asshole stuck on you still?”

I smirk a bit and shake my head, glancing at Lando quickly, “No… he stopped calling.”

“I smell a match making opportunity!” P starts.

I quickly shut this down, “I’m off men right now. I don’t want a boyfriend and even if I did, i’m all fucked up from my ex.”

P looks sad but I didn’t mean to bring down the mood! Max sighs, “I knew he sucked from the beginning! Just saying!”

Lando smiles, “You never like Y/n’s boyfriends.”

“This one was extra bad!” my brother whines, “But yeah, so what? You have horrible taste, Y/n!”

I scoff, sitting up, “I do not!”

“You definitely do!” Lando laughs along with my brother, “Remember when you went out with that guy Max HATED in highschool?” He’s laughing harder now as Max’s jaw drops.

“I forgot about him! Fuck, sis, you need to find someone actually good for you!”

Lando sits up, grinning at me, “Yeah like me!”

“Not like him!” Max says quickly, “You’ve got good friends though, Bob.” He’s smirking now, “A certain spaidnard?”

Lando doesn’t look like he finds this funny, “No.”

“I don’t know, I'm into older guys.” Lando looks genuinely horrified at my answer, “Actually fuck Carlos give me Lewis. I’m down to be his controversially young girlfriend any day.”

“Can you not drool over my coworkers!?” Lando stands, “I’m gonna grab some snacks.” He leaves and P practically catapults herself onto the floor.

She kicks her feet behind her, smiling at me, “So… Maybe I have someone else for Lando.”

I raise a brow, “No.”

Max looks at the two of us, “P if you set Lando and Y/n up i’ll-”

His girlfriend turns to him, eyeing the man, “You’ll what?”

Max laughs, actually laughs! “Nevermind. Y/n would never go for him.”

⋆༺

I’m all cozy in my bed when I feel something on my leg. I think it’s just a hair at first, until it starts moving up my leg.

Lando’s in my room in seconds, eyes wide and in only sweats once again. “Why the fuck are you screaming bloody murder!?”

My heart is hammering in my chest as I run over to the door, “There- fuck! A huge spider just crawled up my leg!”

He makes a disgusted face and backs up into his room, “No way.”

I see the thing on my bed still and hop back, pointing, “Lando!” I keep my voice down now because Max and P are definitely already sleeping, “Kill it!”

“No chance, Sunshine! You kill it!” He puts his hands up and I swear it’s just an excuse to remind me that he’s shirtless.

I cross my arms, “You’re the man!”

He scoffs, stepping closer to me so I have to look up, “You’re the feminist!”

I scowl and look back at my bed, “I’m not sleeping there.” I stare at my once comfortable bed with disgust, looking back at Lando who’s smirking. My face drops, “No.”

“If you want to take the cough P spilled wine on, be my guest.” He shrugs and moves back to his room, his bed is screaming to me, I swear!

I look back at mine room once again, grabbing my hoodie and pushing past him, “Hands to yourself.”

“No problem…” When I turn around, he’s staring at my ass.

He climbs into bed after pulling a shirt over his head. Very polite of the man I was on top of yesterday.

I try to sleep immediately but am stuck looking out the window that Lando keeps open. I can see the snow falling onto his balcony, his slides are outside and getting covered by the white powder.

Lando shifts next to me and I'm suddenly ultra aware of his warmth. I can hear his breathing and my heart starts beating faster. I hate him. I hate him for making me feel like this.

“You awake?” His voice scares me in the dark, shifting to my side to look at him. I can see him lightly in the shadows, the moon adding light to the room and letting me see a strip of his face.

He’s so close that I can see the faint scar on his nose. “Mhm.” I mumble.

“I can’t sleep.” He whispers, “I’m scared that there’s gonna be a spider.” I can’t help but laugh, covering my mouth as he smiles across from me.

“Remember that time…” I giggle, “That one halloween.”

His jaw drops a little, “Holy shit. I blocked it out of my memory!”

I roll my eyes, “You screamed like a little girl when that fake spider fell on your head.”

“Fell!?” He whisper yells, “You threw it at me!”

I shake my head, “You took half my candy. It’s called redemption.”

“I was trying to flirt with you.” He admits as I laugh a bit, “Shut up, I was fourteen!”

“Aw don’t be embarrassed.” I smile, “It’s cute.”

His groans and shoves his face into his pillow, mumbling, “You know what, sunshine? You still manage to make me blush the same as back then.”

I groan, sitting up and resting my head against the headboard, “Stop.”

He sits up with me, leaning back on his arms and looking at me, “Stop making me blush first.”

I shake my head, “It’s not my fault you l-” like me. He can’t like me. Fuck he cannot like me! My smile drops and I look down at the comforter.

“It’s not your fault I what?” His tongue darts over his lips, his eyes locked on mine. I shake my head slowly and he starts again, “What do you want for Christmas, Sunshine?”

I blink, “It’s in two days. You still haven’t gotten me a gift?”

His smile is back now, “Maybe. Maybe not. I still want to know what you actually want. Hey, if it’s me, I won’t protest.”

I bring my feet under me, getting the sudden urge to run my hands through his hair, “You're too cocky for your own good.”

“Getting kissed by a pretty girl does that to a person.” His voice is deeper, more tired. Which makes me more breathless.

His shirt is riding up a bit, the blanket and his sweats tugging down so I can see a sliver of his stomach. “You’re not gonna let that go, are you?”

“I’ll stop joking about it, if you want.” He shrugs, “I can’t promise I won’t stop thinking about it. Or you.”

I lean closer, “Were you born a flirt?”

He smiles, toothy and happy, “Yes. And you love it.”

I give in, just a bit, “Maybe.” I sigh, looking at Lando as his eyes pierce mine. Maybe I like it because I shouldn’t.

Maybe I like the idea that no one in this house knows I'm in his bed.

Maybe I like that he hasn’t tried to kiss me.

“I know what I want.” Lando swallows, leaning closer as he nods, “But I'm not waiting until christmas.”

Maybe I like him a bit more than I planned.

I can feel his breath, smell his shampoo, “I'm a very generous gift giver.” His eyes flick down to my lips as I don’t say anything, “Use your words, Sunshine.”

“Kiss me.” He leans in but I stop him, “But, Lando. I can’t- I want this to stay quiet. Just us, quiet.” He looks hurt for a second but nods.

“I can stay quiet.” He whispers, his lips an inch away from mine, “Can you?”

I gasp a bit when his lips lock over mine. His hand on my waist. He’s slow and sensual, his body pushing against mine with none of the pressure or nerves I've felt with other men.

I think a part of me was meant to kiss Lando.

He slips his hand under my shirt, mumbling through the kiss, “Tell me to stop and I will.”

I groan as he moves off my lips, kissing down my jaw and finding my neck, “Don’t.”

⋆༺

The next morning, I sit by the window of my room, reading with the door open. I have my headphones on and am so engrossed in my book that I don’t even realize Lando was watching me until Max’s footsteps heavily move across my room.

Lando watch’s his best friend join me while just slowly walking past, into his room. I hate this. I hate him.

My brother sits opposite of me, “Hi.”

“Hey?”

“How are you?” I raise a brow at my brothers words. He never is weird and casually like this and he can definitely see the confusion on my face. “Okay, I need to talk to you.”

“Go ahead…?” I close my book and watch him speak nervously. “Seriously, you’re freaking me out.”

“It’s nothing bad!” he says defensively, “It’s just…” He looks to the door and whispers, “I think Lando fancies you.” This is a very weird turnaround because he said he knew I wouldn’t go for him last night.

My jaw actually drops. Like I’m genuinely shocked at his words. “Um no he does not.” My mind goes to Lando from last night.

Lando on top of me.

Lando’s hair in my hands.

Lando’s face between-

“I’m just saying, be careful. I know him.” My brother knocks my foot with his so i’ll pay attention again.

“So do I… He definitely doesn’t care about me. Not in that way, or any really.” I go to pick up my book again, praying that this conversation will be over.

He stops me, “Y/n, I’m serious.”

“So am I.” I’m serious too. He stopped me before we could go all the way and I think a part of that is my brother's influence and room downstairs. I shut my book, “Lando doesn’t like me, he likes to flirt and he likes to piss you off. I’m an easy outlet for that.”

Max shakes his head, “Don’t let him kiss you.” Oh my poor naive brother…

“I won’t!” I laugh when I say it because I'm lying directly to his face.

⋆༺

lando

“I’m going to the store or else we will stare!” Y/n wraps a thick scarf around her neck, “Anyone wanna join?”

Now think with me here.

If the girl you went down on is looking incredibly beautiful again and asking if you would like to spend more time with her, despite sleeping in your bed with your arm around her the whole night, what would you do?

I guess my real question is, How eager is too eager?

I play it cool, pretending like I’m not jumping for joy in my mind that I've finally gotten to her. “I’ll go.”

She rolls her eyes when Max and P stay silent but I know she’s happy.

The car ride there is quiet, I convince her to let me drive as she reads off the list of things we need. The snow came down hard last night so the fact that we even made it to the store is a blessing.

Y/n is now leaning against the trolley, her back arched as she leans over it and walks. I follow her like a fucking puppy.

“Bacon.” I grab it for her.

“Olives.” I grab it for her.

“Fusilli…” I stop.

“Fusilli?” I groan, “Can’t we have Penne?”

She frowns, looking up at me as I hold the two boxes of pasta. “You’re such a child. We’re not having Penne for Christmas eve dinner.”

“Why not? It’s pesto! It’s only right.”

“Well it’s not very christmassy.” She puts her hand on her hip, her fingers tapping against her waistband. The same fingers that were in my hair last night.

“Wanna go make out?”

She grabs the Fusilli and rolls the trolley away from me. I laugh and follow her. She reaches for the wine she likes but I grab it before she can break anything, handing it to her I say, “What else is on that list of yours?”

She sends me off to grab tomatoes and garlic. I grab some mozzarella on the way but am stumped while looking for the garlic.

I finally spot it but a woman is standing in front of it, making the tiny food out of my reach. I pretend to look at something else and hope she will go away but am surprised at her commitment to finding the correct pickles.

I finally give up, knowing Y/n will be annoyed if I take too long because her ice cream might melt, “Excuse me.” I say as she steps back.

“Yes?” She looks at me with a smile as I awkwardly return it.

“Sorry, I need to grab the garlic.” She moves and I grab some, “Thanks.”

“No problem, sorry for being in the way.” The way she giggles makes my smile falter, “I like your shirt! Do you like racing?” I’m wearing an old McLaren shirt that I didn’t expect would be seen because it’s so cold out.

I clear my throat, “Yeah.”

“Me too!” Oh god i’m stuck. “I love McLaren as well.” Right….

“Do you follow indy car or Formula one…?”

“Formula one!” I can’t tell if she’s tricking me or just lying. “How about you?” And she’s definitely just stepping closer to flirt with me.

“Indy car!” I step back, trying to go but she keeps talking!

“Formula one is just so glamorous! I went to a grand prix once and…”

“Lan.” My tension is released as soon as Y/n rolls up with the cart, “Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She sounds pissed off and very dry which almost makes me laugh.

“Oh!” the woman's smile turns sour, “Don’t worry.”

“We should go.” Y/n says, smiling politely.

“Don’t want the ice cream to melt!” I agree with her and practically run away.“Awkward that she didn’t know who she was talking to.”

Y/n scoffs, “Yeah I don’t think she actually liked F1…”

I laugh as we approach the checkout and I get a glimpse of her face. “Oh my god.”

She eyes me as we put the items up, “What?”

“You’re jealous.” She looks horrified that I even suggested it.

“I am not!”

“You so are!” I laugh, “Admit it. She was just talking and you called me Lan and you gave her the stink eye!” She doesn’t reply, just finishes with the food and moves to the register. “Do you know how many men flirt with you on a daily basis! Especially this trip!?”

The worker smiles at her and our things get bagged quickly, “Y/n…” I say teasingly as we leave the store.

“Shut up, Norris.” she snaps.

I open the trunk, leaning over the filled trolley to get closer to her, “You can be jealous. It’s hot.”

She goes to say something but shuts her mouth, loading the bags into the car and slamming her door shut.

[iniquitousyearning]

can you please write something about tom being tied up!!!! please please!!!! i know you would write this so well🥹

hejsjahshs uhm okay this could go many different ways but if you read my fic ‘this is your punishment’ i feel like reader from that fic would be looking to get revenge and what better way to disarm tom than to take away the one thing that man needs more than anything? control.

“what is this—what are you—“ tom’s voice dies off as you tighten the magical bonds around his wrists, tugging him back snug into the chair he’s so adorably trying to slip out of. it’s laughable really, the way you turned the tables back onto him and just how much he fucking hates it. “this isn’t funny. you don’t want to start this with me—“

with a flick of your finger, his tie is between his teeth and his pitiful threats are muffled—as useless as his squirming. with a smirk, you take a step back from where he’s seated, drinking him down in all his glory under the dim lighting inside his dorm. you’ve never seen him like this. vulnerable. the way his muscles flex against his shirt as he squirms, brows pinched and jaw tense—

it’s intoxicating.

”c’mon, tommy…you didn’t really think i wouldn’t get you back, did you?” your fingers find the buttons of your shirt, slowly undoing them one by one. his squirming stops as soon as you move to the second button, chest heaving as he watches you—your pulse soars, spurred on by the way his eyes burn your skin. “look, you’re talented—so bloody good with spells, i’ll give you that. but i think you forgot that i’m good too.”

at that, his eyes narrow and his head tilts just slightly—you slip the last button free on your blouse and let the fabric fall free from your shoulders, black-laced breasts bared to those raging midnight eyes.

“we’re more alike than you thought, tommy. you underestimated me, and that carelessness is the reason you’re sitting there, and i’m standing here.” you step closer again, leaning forward until you’re bent before him, breasts spilling out of the thin lace barely containing them— “a pity, isn’t it?”

he groans into the tie, and you see it—the way he’s warring with himself, not sure where to let his eyes settle—bouncing back and fourth between your tits and your smirk laden lips, hiding behind the irritation as if letting you know he loves this would mean losing.

tom riddle has never been a good loser.

“yes, such a pity.” you nod to yourself, pursing your lips. he is beautiful—beautiful in a way that is far past disastrous but when he’s stuck like this, tied up before you, he’s tamed in a way you know isn’t possible otherwise. all that danger, held back by a silly little spell. “though, i have to say…what’s even more pitiful, is the way you’ve been denying yourself.”

you slip a finger under his jaw, urging his chin up until his eyes have no where to look except into yours. you can’t believe how bold you’re being.

“you could have fucked me, you know. merlin knows i wanted it.” you whisper, free hand slipping down to his knee. “but you chose a spell. because you’re superior, right? a man above impulse?”

he grunts against the fabric in his mouth when your fingers tease timidly up his thigh—you glance down just as he shifts his legs, spreading them wider, pants tight in the crotch as his body betrays him.

you shush him, tutting. drunk off the power trip. “i know. you’re so disciplined, tommy. the rest of us could only wish to be as strong as you.”

salazar save you—you’re playing with matches, biting your lip, unable to look away. you can’t tell forsure but the outline of him looks monstrous under this shitty lighting—and you remember now, just how much you hate this game.

but regardless, you’ll play along—after all, he’s the one that made the rules, who are you to break them?

“look at you,” you whisper, fingers slipping higher, dangerously close. you graze his bulge and his hips twitch, his head almost falling back until you slip your fingers around his jaw, holding his eyes to yours. “you’re so hard.. and i’ve barely touched you…when’s the last time you got off, huh? when’s the last time you’ve fucked?”

AKSJAISHSJ OK I CANT WRITE BLURBS IM SORRY THIS GOT AWAY FROM ME BUT—

[hisuiya]

hiii

could you possibly write boyfriend!kirishima hcs?

thank uu

hi! ofc i can :)

kirishima ejirou as your boyfriend ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

pairing. boyfriend!kirishima x gn!reader

content warnings. pure fluff, pda!

if you’re lucky enough to have kirishima as your boyfriend, best believe this man will treat you like royalty.

he’s so supportive and wholesome, never wasting an opportunity to tell you how awesome you are

his love language is definitely a mix of acts of service and words of affirmation, so expect lots of thoughtful gestures & compliments!

also he’s a big fan of physical touch & feels no shame whatsoever with pda

oh, you guys are walking side by side? his strong hand is already snaking its way into yours.

def the type to send you random texts throughout the day like “miss you sm!” or “thinking about u!”

he remembers the little things. did you mention that you thought the new restaurant down the street looked good? he’s already making reservations & surprising you!

being the best boyfriend ever is the manliest thing that a guy can do—so best believe kirishima makes it his civil duty to love you as much as possible.

insists on carrying heavy things for you even though you’re perfectly capable—it’s just chivalrous!

you better hope that nobody disrespects you while kirishima is around. his entire mood changes, and he wastes no time in standing up for you. nobody messes with his s/o and gets away with it.

either way, he brags about you to all of class 1-A, and he never passes the opportunity to talk about how pretty and cool and talented you are.

you guys have movie nights on friday where he’ll come over to your dorm and you guys cuddle up on the couch.

always lets you pick the movie, and will watch everything, even if it isn’t his favorite genre. just for you, he’ll pretend to like it!

you look over & he’s crying a little bit after a sad scene in which the main character sacrificed himself for his friends. “how manly!” he says, tears streaming down his cheeks. don’t worry, though. you pull him closer and kiss the tears away.

it’s moments like those where he’s truly so grateful to have you in his life.

the both of you just went out to eat for a date, and now you’re walking back to the dorms. but as soon as you stepped outside, it was so cold. don’t even need to ask—he’s already taking off his jacket and putting it around you.

you blush as he zips it up. “no way, you’re not freezing on my watch!” and he kisses your forehead.

if he’s cold, he’ll play it off. just a small price to pay for his lover!

loves randomly flexing his muscles and showing off how strong he is, and he’ll get adorably flustered when you compliment him.

definitely lets you hop on his back while he’s doing push ups for conditioning. doesn’t matter your weight, he gets through 100 push ups with no sweat!

surprises you with flowers spontaneously. “happy 219th day anniversary!” he’ll say as he hands you the prettiest bouquet of flowers you’ve ever seen. “but these flowers aren’t prettier than you!”

cuddling with him after a long day is the best. you guys will lay on his bed, and he’ll wrap the blanket around you guys, trapping you inside. you lay on top of him, your legs tangled in a mess and your arms around his neck. kirishima strong arms are wrapped around your frame, and he holds you close. “i love you so much, y/n.” he says, kissing your forehead.

you truly have the best boyfriend ever.

author’s notes. kirishima is literally the best boyfriend anyone could ask for. writing this was so sweet!!

hisuiya © 2024. please do not copy, plagarize, translate, or repost my works.

[misspygmypie]

Witnessing A Dream Come True

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader Requested: Yes by the lovely @remmysthings Summary: It's Y/N's first concert of her first big tour and Lando is just so proud! Words: 667

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

Lando stood backstage, surrounded by the pre-show buzz, feeling excitement creeping into his veins. The smell of fresh paint, stage lights, and a hint of backstage nerves filled the air. He glanced around at the crew making final adjustments to microphones, lighting, taping the setlists down and ensuring the pyrotechnics were ready to go. His eyes, however, soon were fixated on the doorway leading to the stage, where he knew Y/N would soon make her entrance.

Tonight marked a significant milestone: His girlfriend's first official tour. As a race car driver, Lando was no stranger to high-speed thrills and adrenaline, but this was different. Watching Y/N take the stage was like witnessing a new kind of race, one where the finish line was applause rather than the flag at the end of a circuit.

Y/N had always been a dreamer. Her voice was a force of nature, capturing every emotion she poured into her music perfectly. In the 4 years they had been together Lando had seen her journey from small local gigs to this grand stage, and he was honored to be a part of it.

Their best friends, Max and Pietra, stood beside him, both their expressions mirroring his own.

“Can you believe this is happening?” Max asked, barely able to contain his enthusiasm.

“Not in the slightest,” Lando replied, his gaze never wavering from the door. “She’s worked so hard for this, I’m just so proud of her.”

P nudged him playfully. “You’re not the only one. We’ve seen her perform before, but this is something else entirely, isn’t it?”

Lando nodded, a grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, it’s amazing. I remember when we first met, she was always talking about her dreams and how one day she wanted to be on a big stage like this. And now, here she is. I just…” He trailed off, finding it hard to express his feelings with words.

Max placed a hand on Lando’s shoulder. “You’re doing great, man, she’s lucky to have you here. It means a lot to her, you know.”

Lando looked at his friends, grateful for their support. “Thanks. I hope she knows how much this means to me too. Seeing her up there, living her dream, it’s incredible and all I ever wished for her.”

The lights dimmed, and a ripple of anticipation swept through the backstage area. The crowd grew louder, and Lando’s heart pounded in his chest. Y/N was about to take the stage, and he could hardly wait to see her shine.

The door to the stage opened, and Y/N stepped through. Her stage outfit shimmered under the lights, and she was radiating with confidence. She glanced back towards the backstage area, her eyes meeting Lando’s. In that short moment he saw the excitement in her eyes, the determination, and the joy of finally reaching this point.

As Y/N took her place under the spotlight, the audience erupted into applause. Lando’s chest swelled with pride, and he turned to his friends, his eyes full of emotion. “She’s amazing,” he said, his voice filled with awe.

Max and Pietra nodded in agreement, their own faces reflecting the same pride and admiration for their mutual friend.

From the side, Lando watched Y/N perform, never losing the proud smile on his face. Each note she sang, each movement she made showed her talent and hard work. As the concert went on Lando felt nothing but happiness, knowing he was witnessing his girlfriend’s dream come true.

After Y/N took her final bow she looked towards the backstage area and her gaze locked with Lando’s. He quickly opened his arms while she was rushing towards him and she fell into them, a radiant smile on her face. “You were incredible,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so, so proud of you babe!”

Y/N eyes filled with tears of joy. “Thank you for being here, I couldn’t have done this without you.”

[hxrsheykisses]

I’ve been following this acc for a bit and I LOVE your writing and how you characterize the boys, I was wondering if I could request an oc x canon fic (My main man CJ x Josh,,,) All his info is pinned on my blog! >:333

Awwww!!! This oc is so creative! I love the design!♥️ i’m glad that I can finally get to this request since I got sick before I could even get a draft started up. I love writing for Josh SOOOO much, he’s so underrated and whenever I see OC X CANONS of him my world just brightens. I really hope I got your oc right… I get really anxious with these ocs x canons because I don’t want to mischaracterize the c LOLOL!!! Thank you so much for requesting!!♥️💋💋

🩷 SPECIAL | CJ TAKAHARA X JOSH LEVY 🧡

CJ was cool.

Ever since he joined in with the club, it was a new thing for Josh and the other members. They never met someone who had a crazy passion for Karate—something that wasn’t technically put into play in the club. Everyone had their personally views on CJ being the newest member in the club.

Josh had a few that ran deep.

CJ is that type of kid who may look relaxed and easygoing—which is true. But as soon as you spark up about one of his interests, he talks about it in such a way where you can see that CJ loves his passions, he lives on his passions, and he isn’t afraid to show it off or tell it. Josh found that to be a fascinating character trait. He too was passionate about his nerdy interests but it wasn’t like he had anyone else to talk to death about them besides his so called friends. He liked the fact that CJ didn’t care if some of these people who got an earful from him about his passions didn’t know jack about him, they will hear it and get to know CJ as a person.

CJ is confident.

Josh envies CJ for this one. CJ is loud and lets everyone know who he is. If he was a stranger a second ago, he sure won’t be now because he’ll let everyone know that he has talent. He has the potential. He has the ability. He is willing to show out for anyone who spares a moment—just a moment. That feeling of accomplishment runs deep. CJ isn’t afraid—he’s fearless. He doesn’t let anyone tell him that his successes are a waste of time because he believes that it’s not true. CJ is everything that Josh isn’t and wants to be. It’s a tough pill to swallow but it draws Josh in more. He wants to listen to whatever CJ is spouting about when nobody else would and he’d remember every single thing.

CJ talks a lot.

And Josh loves a long talking session. Oh, he loves them so much. He does it everytime when he gets the chance too during club. The guys aren’t as good when it comes to listening into what Josh had to say unless it included something about a tape or a comic that shows female anatomy, they’d get a rush for that, no duh. But with CJ? He’s able to talk. He’s able to go into detail. He’s able to go on and on.

CJ gets the same respect back. Josh loves hearing what CJ has to say. Whether it’s about his all time favorite action movie, something that happened in karate, how he learned how to play a character from Mortal Kombat or Street Fighter, the new fighting techniques he learnt—Josh wants to hear it all. Josh yearns to hear about the latest details of anything that CJ has for him and he savors it every single time.

…

…CJ is—

“Hey! Are you watching?”

Josh audibly gasped as he jerked a little bit, shaking his head to bring himself out of the daze he was in. “Oh—Oh, yeah! I-I’m watching!” Josh said quickly, readjusting his glasses. He had forgotten that CJ was going to show off one of his newest techniques he learned from watching this choreography video last night.

CJ put his hands on his hips as he gave Josh a look. “Really?” He asked flatly. “These techniques aren’t easy to do, y’know!”

“I know! I’m sorry, okay? I was just thinking! I’m for real watching right now.” Josh encouraged CJ to get back into his original stance in the middle of the mat on the floor, sitting upright and watching CJ intently just so that he knew that Josh was giving him his full attention.

…CJ is special.

CJ has a lot of talent—amazing talent. His love for Karate is what puts all the pieces together, it’s what makes CJ—CJ. Josh was always the first one to get to see these new skills that CJ had picked up on and he felt honored. He enjoyed seeing the determination on CJ’s face as he prepared himself. It felt kinda like a movie, an action movie at that. It also a little intense in a good way and that’s how Josh liked it. The various moves CJ did looked like something straight out of a comic. It had so much perfection, stealth, and most importantly—focus. During these times is where Josh finally shuts his mouth for a moment so that CJ can concentrate. The silence is breathtaking as Josh watches with astonishment each time.

After CJ finished up with the choreography, Josh would lift both of his hands and clap. “Holy shit? That was insane!” Josh exclaimed. “And what did you say that move was?”

CJ let out a slow sigh leave his lips before replying, “That was a Jumping Back Kick I just did! I spent hours perfecting this yesterday night so now I remember it like the back of my hand.” CH proudly boasted in triumph. “It was practically light work!”

“That was…amazing. Especially since you learnt it just yesterday! CJ—how come your not a black belt yet?” Josh asked. Josh was still in much disbelief at how CJ wasn’t a black belt yet, this seems like black belt level techniques!

CJ felt his heart skip a beat at Josh’s words. He fidgeted with the orange belt that was wrapped around his waist as he looked away for a second. As crazy as it sounded, CJ never really got compliments—he’d get them—but not as much as he thinks he should. Karate is a hard sport and it takes time, effort, and patience. He wishes that more people would see that. He’s grateful that Josh understands that and knows that Karate isn’t just some sport where you do some easy techniques and call it a day. It’s so much more than that—and Josh knew. CJ shook off the thought with a toothy grin. “I’ve been wondering the same thing! But it is what is… someone needs to stay back and teach my peers how to do some hand and kicking techniques!”

Yeah, CJ is one of a kind.

[scotianostra]

One of Scotland's' most iconic films, Local Hero was released on February 18th 1983.

In the days before mobile phones we used to use things called phone boxes when we were not at home, and the phone box in Local Hero has become as iconic as the film itself.

There aren’t many films that have a 100% Tomatometer , on the movie website Rotten Tomatoes, backed up by an impressive 87% audience score, it should be all you need to know when choosing a movie to watch, expecially if you haven’t seen it before. IMDb also rate it highly with 7.4 out of 10.

Bill Forsyth’s oil-refinery comedy isn’t billed as a weepy. It is, however, a love poem to Scotland, and that’s what brings the lump to my throat.

Quirky, wry, gentle are words most often used for this comedy on the movie database site, IMDb, the starting point for many of my posts about those Scots in the acting profession in my posts. They brief story line on the site does not hint at the emotional turbulence you might soon be experiencing. So maybe it’s just me being a big sissy. Wouldn’t be the first time I lost the plot. All it says is "An American oil company sends a man to Scotland to buy up an entire village where they want to build a refinery. But things don't go as expected." The film is so much more than this and it stands the test of time much better than other Forsyth films like Comfort & Joy and Gregory's Girl, well in my opinion anyway!

Crackpot Texan oil magnate Felix Happer (Burt Lancaster) gets the idea that a small Scottish fishing village would be a marvellous acquisition for his so-rich-it-makes-you-sick company, Knox Oil and Gas, so he sends an executive gopher named MacIntyre (because that sounds Scottish, yeah – played by Peter Riegert) to close the deal and get the pipeline pencilled in.

“Mac” is met by some local “dork” called Oldsen (a young Peter Capaldi), who attempts to steer him through a tartan microculture that includes a lawyer-cum-publican/hotelier (Denis Lawson) who tapdances while standing on a chair shouting “Stella” – the name of his ever-randy wife; there is a super-hard marine biologist played by Jenny Seagrove who, after delivering a short lecture on the North Atlantic drift, ends up helping Oldsen to find that pistol in his pocket; and then there is a scene in which a very whisky-sodden Mac calls Texas from a red phone box on the harbourside, a phone box that has featured in so many peoples snaps when visiting Pennan in Banffshire.

Other bits of business in the film involve a salty Russian seafarer and overflying warplanes. You can see how it got the comedy tag, and I haven’t even mentioned the thing with the rabbit. And you can see how Mac ends up smitten.

This is all top material from a very talented writer/director, with photography and music from Glasgow born Mark Knopfler matches the acting and direction perfectly. But on first viewing I found myself asking halfway through, “What is this film actually about?” After not very much thought, I came to the conclusion that it was not a How Things Never Go According to Plan story, but a love poem to Scotland and the Scots. A bit slushy, but never mind. It’s only a film.

The scene when Mac phones to describe the Northern Lights, to me is very special, but the scene that prompted the lump in my throat at the end of the movie is when, having failed in his mission to secure the Knox refinery deal and mutilate one of Planet Earth’s most beautiful locations, Mac returns to his frigid steel-and-glass Houston apartment. He stands at his kitchen counter wondering what to do next, the hushed march of oil capitalism buzzing gently outside. He pulls from his coat pocket a handful of pebbles and shells, smelling one of them poignantly remembering as he spreads them on the work surface.

As Knopflers music gently plays he goes to his balcony and looks out to the city......the scene fades to black, then reopens 4,500 miles away, where, on the harbour side of a small Scottish fishing village, we see the phone box, perhaps ringing and the credits begin as the horns of Going Home blast out.

Others in the film include Rikki Fulton, Alex Norton, Kenny Ireland, John Gordon Sinclair and of course Burt Lancaster.

I watched Local Hero last year, and the film has stood the test of time and in my opinion remains one of the finest films to come out of Scotland.

[milkistay]

this, for now — bc

synopsis. after 12 years, you reunite with your childhood best friend, chan, who comes back home from his idol life in korea.

pairing. childhoodfriend!chan x gn!reader

format. imagine

word count. 1.5k

a/n. this could also be seen as platonic...i believe. there’s nothing explicitly romantic, just two very close old friends yearning for each other. kind of bittersweet, too. 

"do you remember when we'd go here after school?" 

it’s maybe a few minutes before sunset and you’re walking around your old childhood neighborhood with someone you never thought would see again this soon: chan, your old childhood friend. the streets are painted a strange tone of nostalgia; it’s like you’re walking through hazy memories, dream-like and familiar. sometimes, you’ll spot a house or a street corner that sends you back to your 13-year-old self so strongly, you feel as if you’ve shifted to the past. but then, you look to your left and you see chan, who has so obviously grown up, and you remember all the time that has passed.

he’s grown taller, of course, with broader shoulders and bigger arms. he’s lost most of his baby fat in his face—his jawline is much more apparent, as are all of the sharp angles in his features. you can almost barely recognize him. almost, because you don’t think you could ever forget the little things in chan’s appearance that make him who he is. he smiles and there's something about it that makes you ache—there’s your old best friend again, happy and smiley.

.

.

chan’s pointing to a convenience store up ahead when he asks his question. the storefront hasn't changed a bit——still displaying its ice cream cooler next to the front entrance, its 3-for-1 cough drop deal, and its blue and yellow ATM. you could find your way through the aisles in your sleep, despite the 12 years that have passed since the last time you and chan slipped in, exhausted after a long school day, and left with candy and soft drinks. sometimes, you'd spend the afternoon at the nearby park, the sun on your face and the grass under your thighs as you complained about your teachers and took turns trying to catch m&m's in your mouths. other times, you'd head straight to chan's house and play games in his living room, even staying for dinner. 

"of course, i remember," you tell him. “it hasn’t been that long.”

maybe 12 years isn’t that long. maybe it is. it feels long, that you know for sure. 

in those past 12 years, you've watched chan move to seoul and follow his dream of becoming an idol, growing more talented and more mature with each comeback photo and video that pops up on your social media. in between your busy days, you could only catch glimpses of his rapidly-evolving career and his sudden rise to stardom. with each stray kids photo you saw, the chan you knew so intimately appeared to turn more and more into a stranger. the boy from your childhood grew into a man and you weren't even there to see it.

but he returns to australia after all these years and he smiles at you and suddenly, he's the same 13-year-old who swore, pinky interlocked with yours, that he'd never stop being your best friend. he was chris again. 

and you tried. of course, you tried to keep in touch. he cried in your arms before he left for the airport and promised to call you every day. but being a trainee was busy and being an idol was busier and you had to grow up and move to college and find your own future too, so, after a while, his daily calls became weekly, then monthly, then a rarity. you learned more about his life through stray kids youtube videos than you did through his own words. and you were so happy for him, of course. but you missed him so fucking much. 

“do you remember all of our sleepovers?” you ask, praying he does. 

please remember us. please remember me. please tell me i still have a place in your life. 

he doesn’t even take a moment to think: “yes, yes i do.” he’s grinning now. “we’d basically live out of each other’s houses for a week, just: school, your house, games, dinner, sleep, wake up, school, my house, listen to music, dinner, sleep. god, that was fun.”

“remember hannah would always say—”

“that you were basically her other sibling?” chan finishes with a laugh. “yeah, i think she saw you and me together more than she saw just me alone sometimes.”

you laugh with him. “she said she couldn’t imagine anything pulling us apart.”

“yeah,” chan concedes. “i couldn’t imagine anything either.”

the both of you fall into a sudden silence that’s tinted with an awkwardness that would’ve never existed when you were both 13 and inseparable. it’s a silence of grief, mourning the past determination to stay best friends forever and never leave each other’s sides. during those sleepovers, you’d brainstorm the rest of your lives together—how you’d live in the same dorm in college, then get an apartment together, adopt a dog, and grow up side-by-side. 

was it foolish that you believed in it? was it always just wishful thinking? over those years spent apart, you’d ponder what could’ve been—what your life would look like if chan never moved. it was always bittersweet and you found yourself longing too much so you decided to stop. there’s no point in thinking about what could’ve been—it isn’t, so just focus on what is. and ‘what is’ is a life where chan lives across the ocean and you’re creating your own separate worlds. the too-harsh reality.

"god, you have no idea how much i missed this," chan admits with a sigh, looking up to the sky that was slowly turning shades of pink and orange. 

you offer a chuckle. “yeah, it’s nice to be home, i guess.”

"no, no," he begins. "well, yes—i missed my family like crazy, like you wouldn’t believe—but i’m talking about this." he gestures to the both of you. "us. i missed us."

"oh.” somehow, you weren’t expecting that. “well, someone moved away," you say with feigned accusation. 

he lets out a laugh. "i did, didn't i?” he thinks for a moment. “i don't regret it. i love my boys, i love our fans, i love what we're doing. i just…i miss you,” he says, plain and simple. “and i wish there was some way that i could've had it all. you're the one thing that's missing from my life.”

during the times you pondered what could’ve been, you always came to the conclusion that you were the only one thinking about it, that chan had forgotten you. it hurt a bit, but you thought it was the best way to see it if you wanted to move on from the past. 

but this—you're the one thing that's missing from my life. fuck. you didn’t even realize how much you had been aching to hear that chan still thinks about you. fuck, how can you move on?

"i wish you could've had it all, too. i miss you. so fucking much.”

he sighs. "and there's no way for you to somehow have the urge to relocate to seoul?"

you laugh. "i want to, believe me when i say that. but..."

he nods. "but."

"i have a life, too, you know. a job. friends. i can't just leave."

"i know, i know. i just—"

"me too." you offer a sad smile. "me too."

the sky turns pinker as the sun sets. the neighborhood grows dimmer. 

“so what now?” chan asks.

“what do you mean?”

“i miss you, you miss me, what are we supposed to do now?”

“is there anything we can do?” from the way his expression falls, you can tell he was hoping for a more optimistic answer. “we’ve spent so long cultivating these lives exclusive of each other, is there any way to weave one another into them?”

“you could move to seoul…”

“i can’t.”

“i could move back—”

“you won’t.”

“i could—”

“no, you couldn’t. and you won’t. i know you won’t and you know i won’t let you.”

“i know.” he sighs. “i know.”

“i think this is all we can have.”

“this?”

“this—you and me, coincidentally back home at the same time for a few days, reminiscing for a bit, then parting ways again.”

he nods, reluctantly agreeing because it’s true, as unfortunate as it is. “for now,” he adds optimistically. “maybe, one day, we can figure it out.”

“maybe,” you say, not thinking you’d believe it. but as you say it, maybe foolishly, you find a little hope. 

“i’ll take it. i’ll take what i can have. i’ll have this, for now.”

he offers a smile and who are you to not give him one back?

[kennedyism]

Dirty little secret.

Jackie Kennedy x Female!Fashion Designer!Reader (I have issues ✨✨)

Summary: Being a fashion designer in 1972 for Mrs. Jacqueline Kennedy-Onassis isn’t half bad!

Warnings: Younger!Female reader, affairs, reader has some internalized homophobia, Jackie is a cougar in this idk leave me alone. This is all just for fun. Don’t take this seriously and come for my throat 😭

Tag list: @quietamericans, @vixenihy, @jackiesgirl (Tell me if you want to be apart or removed from my tag list!!)

author’s note: i NEED her.

Based on this confession! <3

“Thank you again for the dress.” Jackie thanks, staring up at you as she hangs up the gown in her closet. “You’re quite talented.” She praises with a grin, her breathy voice is stunning to listen to. It’s like an old song. “It’s a bit of a shock you have such a vintage taste given your age.” She jokes, looking back at you with her hands on her hips.

“It’s no problem, Mrs. Onassis.” You say, watching her admire your work, and then you smile as she praises you once again. She always does it. She knows what makes you blush, smile, and laugh. You then roll your eyes playfully as she implies how young you are—you’re only twenty-five after all. “I inspired it off one of your outfits about ten years ago.” You share with her.

That peaks the former first lady’s interest as she sits in a chair with her legs crossed. Wow, she looks beautiful today with a blouse and some white slacks. She then tilts her head. “What outfit?” She asks, trying to think of which one. A fashion icon, yes, but even she can’t remember everything she’s worn.

You blink in shock at her question and she reach into your bag, digging around for a couple seconds before you pull out a picture of Mrs. Onassis in 1962. She’s wearing a peach dress with white gloves and of course, a three strand pearl necklace. You then hand it to her to let her look at. “I think this was your trip to-“ She talks over you.

“India, yes. Your attention to detail is marvelous.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Onassis.”

“I’ve always admired you, you know.”

That makes your cheeks heat up just a bit, a light shade of pink brushing across your cheeks. You’ve always had somewhat if a crush on Jacqueline Kennedy-Onassis, but you’ve always tried to push it away. It’s not right to like a woman! No, you need to marry a man. That’s God’s plan, this? Absolutely not. You then clear your throat. “Thank you.” You mutter, not looking at the former first lady.

Jackie then stands up, putting the picture on her small table, inching towards you. She’s quite tall, but she isn’t towering over you. She’s can do that in heels, but not in the flats she’s wearing. “Your work is just so intriguing… and you are as well.” She praises, looking into your eyes.

Your face heats up a bit more at her praise and then you smile. Wow, she’s really pretty—Ugh, nope! Not doing this now. You need to get out of there, and it needs to be fast. You then reach for your bag. “Thank you, Mrs. Onassis, but I have to go now. Ring me up if you have another request.” You say swiftly, putting your purse on your shoulder, moving to exit her bedroom.

“Ah, I see… it’s a shame you have to leave so soon. I do enjoy your company, Y/N.”

She isn’t making this easy.

You turn to look at her. Her beautiful features. Her eyes, her lips, her body. All of it, it makes you so hot. You then look at them, your face heating up once again. “Well, I don’t want to interrupt you and Mr. Onassis, so it’s best if I leave.” You excuse, even if Aristotle is a drag to be around.

Jackie laughs softly, it’s intoxicating—she is intoxicating. “He won’t be home for a little while! You’re welcome to stay.” She says, walking towards you, putting her hand on your forearm, brushing her hand around it delicately. “If you’d like.” She finishes.

“Mrs. Onassis—“

“Jackie, Dear.”

“… Jackie, I, I just-“

“You just what? I see the way you look at me. It’s obvious.”

Are you serious? She knew this whole time? What the fuck? Whatever, just play dumb.

“What are you… what are you talking about?” You sputter, backing up towards the door, but you don’t want to leave, but you have to. This isn’t right. She’s so fucking breathtaking. One more look and you’re on the floor. If you hear her speak one more time, you’re never getting up.

Jackie continues to smile softly. “You have feelings towards me—an attraction.” She tells you, and she’s not wrong. Far from it. God, you thought you had it together. Never. You never do for Jacqueline Onassis.

“… What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I feel the same, Y/N.”

After a moment of silence, you pull the former first lady into a loving kiss, and she’s taken back for about three seconds until she kisses you with just enough passion to overwhelm you. She’s been wanting this too. She then pulls away, blinking.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it was rather nice.”

“So… uhm—“

“You better not tell anyone… This is our dirty little secret.”

[johaerys-writes]

Hello! How does a WIP Wednesday sound? Thank you always and I wish you a happy day😆

Hello!! I didn't have time to answer this yesterday, so I'm answering today :) This is from the next chapter of As Fate Would Have It which is almost done and should be up soon!!

Patroclus on his third trip from their cart, and sweating buckets in the warm spring afternoon under the mountain of pelts he's carrying, when he notices a customer that has drifted close to their stall and is speaking with Achilles. The man is not very tall, but he's broad at the shoulders and looks quite strong. He has an oily beard which he strokes every so often with fingers covered in golden rings and gemstones, and his beady eyes twinkle with delight as he regards Achilles. By the look—and smell— of him, he must be a sailor of some sort, out in the town on errands. 

"It's my first time here," Patroclus hears Achilles saying as he draws near. "I've never been to Iolcos before."

"I would remember a face like yours," the man says, the words accompanied by a nauseating leer. "Tell me, sweetheart, did you fall from Olympus? Because you look divine to me."

Achilles' brow furrows in confusion. "My mother is a goddess," he replies earnestly. "But she's not from Olympus."

"You're a clever one, eh? Not just a pretty face." The man chuckles indulgently, leaning ever closer to Achilles over the stall between them. "Listen, I have a boat nearby; I could take you for a ride if you—"

"You need something?" Patroclus asks gruffly, depositing the pelts unceremoniously on the stall. 

The man blinks at him in surprise, as if he just materialised out of thin air. "Oh, I was just talking with your, um, associate? I have an interesting proposition for—"

"Either buy something or get lost," Patroclus cuts him off. "We're trying to sell and you're hogging all the space."

"Well, if you say so," the man replies sourly. He clears his throat and peruses the pelts without much interest; it is clear that it was not their wares that drew him there. It isn’t very long before he sets his beady eyes on Achilles once again, and his lips curl in that oily smile. "That is very lovely," he says, picking up a pelt at random. "Is it a fox, or a lynx, perhaps?"

"It’s… a deer," Achilles answers, rather perplexed, for the pelt couldn’t have been more obviously that of a deer’s. “We don’t hunt foxes. Or lynxes, for that matter. Our teacher has shown us way to keep them at bay without—”

"You hunted these yourself? My, so many talents! A man after my own heart," he chuckles, completely ignoring what Achilles was saying, which somehow makes Patroclus’ temper flare even more. The man spreads his disgusting fingers over the pelt as he says, "Doesn't Artemis get mad that you're hunting in those woods, rivalling her in beauty? I should like to see you in action, in fact; I bet you're a sight to behold—" 

"Are you done?" Patroclus snaps, incapable of keeping his anger in check any longer. He snatches the pelt out of his oily hands and gives it a quick rub down before throwing it back in the pile.

"Hey! I was going to buy that!" 

"It's not for sale."

"But—"

"I said: it's not for sale." Patroclus crosses his arms before his chest and glowers at him. "Now, beat it." 

The man lets out an angry huff. "You don't get to talk to me like that. I'm a paying customer and it's a free country. I can stand wherever I want."

"Don’t care where you stand as long as it's not in front of my stall." He straightens to his full height and squares his shoulders, stepping protectively before Achilles when the man's eyes slide to him. A low growl vibrates in his throat before he can stop it. “Do I need to make myself clearer?”

The man swallows thickly and takes a step back. "This isn’t over," he mutters sulkily before he walks away.

[dubusnotes]

Interests | Kim Jennie

⤷ (word count: 18,293)

⤷ (tags: romance, slight angst, slow burn, friends to lovers, bits of fluff, male reader, original characters, multi-part story)

I'm not one for romance stories, but there was something about her that drew me in. Maybe it was the lingering emptiness—the absence of someone's warmth for far too long—that made me gravitate toward her. Or maybe it was something else, something unspoken yet undeniable. Whatever it was, I couldn’t ignore it.

But I knew I had to tread carefully. Because what happens when my ex—the ghost I’ve been carrying for two years—starts noticing the cracks in the grief I’ve wrapped myself in? What happens when she realizes I might finally be moving on?

There’s Kim Jennie, a talented idol who I end up befriending. And then there’s Kang Eunji, my ex-girlfriend. And then there’s me, just trying to get by the bustling entertainment industry of Seoul.

⤷ (Kang Eunji is an original character)

Seattle, Washington

September 19

"For the love of... please, just listen—” My words barely make it past my lips before an ear-splitting shriek rattles my skull. It’s the kind of scream that could send grown men running. The voice of a woman unhinged. The only woman in my twenty-four years of life who has ever managed to strike both fear and sheer humiliation into my very core. Mi madre.

In our little neighborhood, the kids didn’t just call her strict. They didn’t just call her scary. No, they had a special name for her—El Demonio Madre. The Devil Mother. And right now, she’s living up to every syllable of that title.

Instinct tells me to hold my phone at a safe distance—anything to spare my poor eardrums from another auditory assault. But at this point, I think they’ve built up a tolerance.

Wait a second. Isn’t this, like, the third time she’s called this week? I really need to remind her that I’m a grown adult and not in need of constant surveillance.

"¡¿Cómo pudo haberte dejado así?!” (“How could she have left you like that?!”)

Her voice bursts through the speaker, loud enough to rattle the tiny café walls—and my dignity along with them. I wince, subtly lowering the volume, but the damage is done. A few heads turn.

I steal a glance at the couple sitting to my left. They’re already looking at me. Our eyes meet—mine, mortified; theirs, laced with quiet sympathy. Great. Just what I needed: an audience for my public humiliation.

 I reply in haste, grasping at the first excuse that comes to mind.

“Mamá, if she’s happy with her choice, then I should respect it and move on. Así son las cosas.” (“That’s just how it is.”)

It’s not the best response. Not even close. My mom barely takes a breath before bulldozing through every Spanish curse word known to man, each syllable chipping away at my already fragile composure. And honestly? She has every right to be furious. Who wouldn’t be, after watching their child get blindsided by a partner of three years—someone who packed up and moved to another country without so much as a warning?

I sigh, pressing a hand to my temple. “Está bien, lo admito..., I wanted her to stay. But I should support her, not bring her down. Even if it means getting hurt in the process.” (“Okay, I’ll admit…”)

Hah. What a load of... 

Truthfully, I was happy but also it destroyed me when Eunji told me she was returning to South Korea. She had always talked about studying abroad, but I never thought it would happen so soon—never thought we would run out of time so quickly.

We’d been together for three years, started dating in senior year of high school, and yet, her future was hers to decide. That was the reality of it. No matter how much it hurt to admit, no matter how badly I wanted to be part of that future, I couldn’t stand in her way.

I still remember the way she looked when she got the email. The way her eyes lit up. The way the sweetest smile spread across her face—so full of hope, so full of excitement.

And all I could do was watch as I felt my heart break slowly.

It wasn’t easy for either of us. Even with her excitement about going home, the reality of our breakup frustrated her just as much as it did me—especially with how sudden it was. We had so many plans, so many moments we thought we’d still have. But in the end, none of it mattered.

We both knew we weren’t built for long distance. Our dreams for the future were too different, pulling us in opposite directions. And no matter how much I tried to convince myself that we could make it work, deep down, I knew the truth.

It would only lead to resentment. To tension. To something uglier than a clean goodbye.

I can still hear the last words she said to me before her flight, clear as day.

“I know it’ll be hard from here on out,” she started, her voice already thick with emotion. “But, for me… take care of yourself. Don’t forget to keep your apartment clean.”

There was a small pause. I could hear her struggling to keep it together, a soft sniffle betraying her.

“Make sure to show 마일로 (Milo) lots of love. I know our baby pup will be so sad to see his mom leave, but I know you two are going to need each other more than ever.” Her voice wavered again, but she pushed through. “And, I want you to remember to keep yourself in check with your medication. I won’t be there anymore to remind you to take it.”

There was a brief silence before she added, quietly, “Promise me that, all right?”

I think this is the moment when we both finally broke down. Neither of us was the type to hide our feelings—no masks, no pretending. And there we were, both crying in the rawest way possible. Despite the tears, she still found the strength to speak, her voice cracking.

“Lastly, I want to remind you how much I love you… and how much I wish you could be here with me. I love you. Forever and ever.”

I take a shaky breath and try to steady myself.

"Hijo,” my mother’s voice cuts through the silence, surprisingly low and serious. It snaps me out of my trance.

“Yeah?” I croak, my throat painfully dry.

“Why can’t you just go look for someone else?”

I freeze. My fingers tighten around the handle of my cup, the pressure so intense it feels like they might snap. The pain spreads through my chest, a suffocating ache that feels like tiny thorns digging into my heart. It’s a question I’ve heard too many times. Too many variations of it.

I’m caught off guard by the way my body reacts. Normally, it’s just a deep, burning sting in my chest, but this time… this time, I feel something hot trickle down my cheek.

"Honey? Are you still there?”

I quickly wiped away the tears, forcing a couple of fake coughs to mask the tightness in my throat. “I’m fine. I just drank my coffee too quickly.”

She lets out a heavy sigh, her voice tinged with concern. “Mi pobre bebé, ¿cuántas veces te lo he dicho? ¡El café es malo para ti!” (“My poor baby, how many times have I told you? Coffee is bad for you!”)

I shrug, my fingers absentmindedly tracing the handle of the cup. The pain in my chest doesn’t let up. And that question… it keeps looping in my mind, over and over. I can’t move on, no matter how hard I try. It feels like trying to escape a trap you’ve already set for yourself.

I just need to…

Thankfully, my mom stopped pressing about Eunji. She apologized for taking up so much of my time and left me to focus on my script. I told her it wasn’t a big deal, that I appreciated her calling.

Once the call ended, I turned my attention back to the screen, where the unfinished script for a small film stares back. I have a college friend who’s an amateur director, and he’s asked me to help with the script. I’m not entirely sure what kind of story he wants, but he trusts me to write something worthwhile.

The story was about two people from different social classes who fall in love. Their families and friends are vehemently against it, pushing them to break up. Despite the pressure, the couple realizes just how deeply they care for each other. In the end, they can’t bear to follow society’s rules any longer, so they run away together, leaving everything behind to build a life free from judgment.

You can tell I borrowed a little inspiration from Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice and Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.

I could picture myself as Elizabeth Bennet—coming from a family that worked their asses off just to get by. My mom was born in Mexico and raised with two siblings, but abuelo managed to find work here in the States. They fought through the hardships, clawing their way forward, especially in those days.

She met my papá during their senior year of high school. They had one class together, and that’s where they started to get close. Despite abuelo thinking of dad as a troublemaker, he could see how deeply papá cared for my mom. I remember him telling me how terrified he was when he first met abuelo. It made me think of the first time I met Eunji’s parents. I was just as terrified as dad had been. 

If only our love story had been more like my mom and dad’s.

But instead, ours was a tragic love story.

The news came on August 25, when Eunji received an email from a university in South Korea. She had been waiting for nearly three months for their response, so when it finally came, it took us both by surprise. I remember feeling proud and happy for her, sharing in the excitement of her achievement. But deep down, in the back of my mind, a nagging feeling told me it wasn’t going to be that easy.

A few months later, she had packed everything she needed, and we said our farewells. It was one of the most emotional days I can remember.

Abuela was right when she told me that Eunji and I were very much alike in terms of willpower. Even though we were going through something as heartbreaking as that, we both still wanted to carve out our own paths—still strived for our futures, even if we were in so much pain.

I remember abuela telling me, “Dos almas que finalmente se encontraron pero se separaron tan rápido.” (“Two souls that finally found each other but parted so quickly.”)

And here we are now—a few weeks after she left. I stayed in touch with her for the first few days, but as our schedules grew busier, we stopped talking. It’s almost as if we’re both forcing ourselves into the painful process of moving on, trying to outrun the ache that keeps threatening to swallow us.

I glance at the screen, watching the blinking cursor, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. I want to keep typing, but writer’s block has hit me hard. The call with mom, though I appreciated it, only dragged me deeper into a dark place. With this ache in my chest and my mind scattered, I closed the laptop and stood up.

I slipped it into my bag, then checked the time on my phone. 10:30 A.M. I still had time to walk around the campus, maybe give myself a chance to clear my head.

"Thanks for the coffee!” I called out to my friend at the cash register. We exchanged waves before I stepped out of the shop. As I walked, I caught the faint sound of music leaking from someone’s headphones—probably turned up too loud. But what really grabbed my attention was the language. It was Korean.

She would have listened to this.

I glanced quickly at the person’s laptop screen, catching a glimpse of a music video. I gave the video one last look before continuing on my way.

"I wonder what it would be like to live in Korea with you, Eunji…”

The words slipped out quietly, almost lost in the rush of passing moments. I couldn’t help but wonder what life would be like if things had turned out differently.

Seoul, South Korea

Two years later

The airport buzzed with excitement as my film crew and I stepped into the airport, heading toward the luggage pick-up. We were in Seoul for this big award show happening later tonight, but we weren’t here just as spectators. We were here to capture the behind-the-scenes moments, the raw footage, and the unscripted chaos that comes with events like these.

As a scriptwriter, I didn’t usually get involved in the hands-on part of things, but this time, things were different. Our film production company had recently partnered with a popular K-pop label to document the life of idols outside the stage, and our team was tasked with creating a documentary-style film. My job? To write the script, shape the narrative, and capture the emotion behind every scene.

There was Jonathan, my assistant, who was as enthusiastic as he was naïve about the film industry. His eyes darted around, already acting like a tourist, taking in the hustle and bustle of the airport. Beside him was Richard, the lead manager, who worked with the studio to ensure everything was on schedule. Richard had been with me the longest, ever since we made our first feature film together. His calm demeanor always kept the rest of the crew in check.

And then there was Mrs. Henderson, who was, without a doubt, the most intimidating of the bunch. Her role as one of the senior managers meant she had to make sure everything went smoothly—no matter what. I never knew what to expect from her, but I had learned to keep my head down when she was around.

“Let’s go, everyone,” Richard said, guiding the rest of us toward check-in. “We have a lot to do before tonight’s rehearsal.”

As we walked through the terminal, I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the wave of sounds and sights. Everywhere I turned, Korean was all around me—announcements over the speakers, groups of people chatting, and the hum of hurried footsteps. It felt like I was stepping into a whole new world, one I was excited to explore but also a little uneasy about.

There was a strange feeling settling in my chest. Maybe it was the rush of being in a place that was both foreign and familiar, or maybe it was just the jet lag kicking in. My eyes kept darting around, trying to take everything in, but something caught my attention in the crowd.

A woman with long, dark hair walked past us. She had the same way of tucking a strand of hair behind her ear that I knew all too well. For a moment, my heart stuttered. My mind immediately flashed to Eunji. Her voice, her smile, her eyes—all of it hit me in an instant. But when I blinked and focused, I realized it wasn’t her. The woman’s features were slightly different, but the resemblance was uncanny.

For a split second, I almost thought she’d turned her head and caught me staring. But she kept walking, oblivious, disappearing into the crowd.

I shook my head, trying to shake off the strange feeling that had settled in my stomach. Get a grip, I told myself. It’s just someone who looks like her. But no matter how many times I repeated that, it didn’t ease the discomfort I felt.

I kept my gaze ahead, trying to focus on the task at hand, but the tightness in my chest lingered. I hadn’t realized how much seeing something familiar here would throw me off.

As we made our way through the airport, Richard led us toward a small gathering by one of the gates. There was a woman standing by a sign with the production company logo, her posture professional but relaxed. She looked to be in her mid twenties, dressed in a smart black blazer, her dark hair pulled back neatly into a low ponytail.

“Everyone, this is Jihye,” Richard said, turning to us. “She’ll be the one facilitating our communication with the K-pop group during the shoot. She’s been handling a lot of the coordination behind the scenes, so if you have any questions, she’s your go-to person.”

Jihye gave us a warm smile, but there was a no-nonsense energy about her that immediately told me she wasn’t someone you’d want to mess with. She glanced around at the crew, making eye contact with each of us before resting her gaze on me.

“Nice to meet you all,” she said, her voice calm and collected, but there was a certain sharpness to it. “I’ll be helping you with anything you need, from scheduling to liaising with the group. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

I gave a small nod in her direction, staying quiet as usual. Richard was already in full-on talking mode, filling her in on the crew’s needs for the shoot. The last thing I wanted to do was add anything to the conversation. I was here to write, not to be the one giving orders or asking too many questions.

Jihye caught my eye again, her expression a little softer this time, like she knew I wasn’t one to jump into the conversation right away. There was something familiar about her, something that put me at ease despite my usual reticence. Maybe it was the way she didn’t pressure me to speak, letting Richard take the reins while I stood back.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure everything runs smoothly,” Jihye added, giving me an encouraging smile.

I felt a small flicker of relief. She seemed like someone who could handle the chaos that was bound to come with working alongside idols, but she also understood the balance between keeping things professional and respecting the quiet ones. For once, I didn’t feel like the odd man out.

After a few minutes of walking through the bustling terminal, Jihye led us outside to the parking lot where a sleek, black private van was waiting for us. The van’s tinted windows gleamed in the midday sun, its polished exterior almost too pristine for comfort. It looked like the kind of vehicle that belonged to someone important — and judging by the number of security guards milling around, it probably did.

I could feel the weight of Seoul pressing in around me. The city was alive with an energy I wasn’t used to. Every corner of the airport buzzed with movement — the rapid steps of travelers pulling their rolling suitcases, the low hum of electric buses making their way to different terminals, and the almost musical flow of rapid Korean voices, filling the space like a constant, fluid rhythm. It was the kind of chaotic beauty you only find in a place where everything moves faster than you can keep up.

The air was thick with a slight chill, the kind of cold that sneaks in without warning and makes you wrap your jacket tighter around yourself. It smelled faintly of the city’s infamous street food, a mix of grilled meats and something sweet, but there was an underlying clean scent of freshness too — something that told me this city knew how to keep moving but also took care of itself in its own way.

As we approached the van, I couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast between the old and new here. The glass-and-steel buildings towered overhead, some so tall they seemed to scrape the sky, while at ground level, the streets were lined with smaller, more traditional shops — bright neon signs advertising food, drinks, and clothing that I could only partially read. Cars and scooters darted between lanes, weaving in and out of traffic like a perfectly orchestrated symphony.

My eyes flickered to the faces around me — so many different people, all absorbed in their own world, and yet the city seemed to tie them all together, as if they were pieces of a larger puzzle. Some people rushed by, heads buried in their phones, while others strolled slowly, casually looking up at the tall buildings or chatting with friends. Despite the chaotic energy, there was a rhythm to the whole thing, an unspoken order that made the city feel like it was alive and breathing.

We reached the van, and Jihye quickly slid the door open. The interior was just as luxurious as the exterior, with leather seats and soft lighting that made it feel like we were stepping into a comfortable cocoon. The kind of place where you could relax, even though you were only a few steps away from a city that never seemed to stop.

As I slid into my seat, I glanced out the window once more, my thoughts lingering on the city. Seoul was nothing like where I was from. It felt big, overwhelming, and yet there was something welcoming about it too — like you were constantly part of something bigger than yourself, whether you liked it or not.

I let out a small breath and sank back into the plush seat, ready for whatever was next.

The van hummed quietly as it moved through the busy streets of Seoul, the rhythmic thrum of the tires on the asphalt providing a quiet backdrop to the conversation happening between Richard, Mrs. Henderson, and Jihye. I leaned back in my seat, eyes half-closed as the words floated around me, but I couldn’t help but catch snippets of the exchange.

“So, Jihye,” Richard began, breaking the silence, “what exactly are we going to be filming for this project? I know the studio gave us the general outline, but they’ve kept the specifics pretty vague. Is it a documentary or more of a behind-the-scenes kind of deal?”

Jihye glanced at him through the rearview mirror, her tone calm, but with an edge of professional coolness. “It’s a bit of both,” she said, her voice smooth. “The crew will be documenting some of the day-to-day activities, but it will also have a more cinematic approach. The idea is to provide an insider’s look at the idols’ lives—what it’s like to balance fame with personal struggles. Not just performances and interviews, but also the quieter, more intimate moments.”

Richard nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds like a tightrope walk. Too much of the personal and you’ll cross into invasion of privacy territory, but just enough to make it relatable without losing the glamour, right?”

“Exactly,” Jihye responded. “We want to show them as real people, but we also want to maintain that sense of celebrity. It’s about balancing both sides of the coin.”

Mrs. Henderson, who had been quiet up until then, spoke up with her usual stoic demeanor. “And who exactly are we focusing on for this project? The studio hasn’t exactly made that clear, either.”

Jihye hesitated for a fraction of a second, then leaned forward slightly. “I can’t say much about who yet. My boss is the one with the final say on that. But I can tell you that it’s one of the top girl groups in Korea, one with an incredibly strong international presence.”

Richard raised an eyebrow. “Top girl groups, huh? That narrows it down, but not by much.”

Jihye gave him a small, knowing smile. “I’m sure you can guess, but for now, let’s keep it under wraps. The announcement will come soon, and trust me, once you hear it, you’ll understand why this is such a big deal.” She paused, eyes briefly flickering over to me. “But you’ll be working with some very talented, very busy individuals. Expect long hours and tight schedules. The studio is banking on this to be a success.”

The van turned a corner sharply, the familiar skyscrapers of Seoul towering in the distance.

“So, let me get this straight,” Mrs. Henderson said, voice carrying the familiar no-nonsense edge that had become her signature. “We’re shadowing one of the biggest names in K-pop, and your boss expects us to create something meaningful without stepping on anyone’s toes. Got it. I’ll make sure the team is prepared for that.”

Richard chuckled and leaned back, his hand running over his stubble. “You know, Henderson, you make it sound a lot more stressful than it needs to be.”

She didn’t even flinch. “I’m just stating the facts. The rest of you can worry about the details.”

I caught a brief glimpse of Jihye’s expression in the rearview mirror. She had a slight, almost imperceptible smirk as if she’d heard this same back-and-forth a hundred times before. “Let’s just make sure we’re all ready to work hard,” she said smoothly. “There’s a lot riding on this project, and we don’t want any surprises when we get to the venue.”

Richard chuckled again, though there was an edge of seriousness in his voice this time. “No pressure, huh?”

Jihye looked out the window for a moment, her eyes narrowing as the city began to change before us — the tall buildings slowly transitioning into more intimate, city blocks as we moved closer to our destination. “None,” she said simply. “But you’ll all do fine. I’ll be there to guide you through it.”

I felt the weight of her words as she spoke. This wasn’t going to be a simple shoot. Working with top idols, even behind the scenes, meant handling everything with precision. There were no second chances in this world. You either got it right, or you didn’t.

The rest of the ride passed in silence, the anticipation hanging in the air as the van rolled toward our destination, and I couldn’t help but wonder: Who were we going to meet?

The van pulled into the hotel’s underground parking garage, and the low hum of the engine gradually slowed to a stop. The city lights filtered through the darkened windows as we made our way out of the vehicle. I had barely taken in the grandeur of the hotel when I noticed the crew starting to gather their bags and equipment.

“Let’s make sure everything is ready for the filming,” Mrs. Henderson said, her usual commanding tone cutting through the bustle of the crew. Richard nodded, already heading toward the lobby with a few others.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed toward the elevator. As I did, I saw Jihye step off to the side, phone pressed to her ear. Her calm demeanor struck me first—she wasn’t hurried or anxious, just standing there in the corner of the parking lot, speaking in soft tones that barely carried over the noise of the crew.

At first, I wasn’t paying much attention, focused more on my own thoughts. But then I caught the faintest trace of a name—something that made my stomach churn slightly, something that stopped my feet in their tracks.

“네, 엄마. 괜찮아요. 잘 지내고 있어요,” (“Yes, Mom. It's okay, I'm doing great,”) Jihye said, her voice soothing, almost affectionate. “오늘 은지 씨가 방문한다고요? 네, 공연 끝나고 꼭 보러 갈게요.” (“Eunji is visiting today? Yes, I'll definitely go see her after the show.”)

I froze. Eunji? Did she just—?

I blinked, shaking my head. I hadn’t polished my Korean in months, so it was entirely possible I’d misheard. Maybe it wasn’t Eunji. Maybe it was someone else with a similar name. But the way her voice softened at the mention of that name, the way it lingered—it didn’t feel like I was mistaken.

My gut twisted, and for a moment, I felt a surge of cold anxiety. I tried to brush it off. Maybe she was talking about someone else. It’s not like the name Eunji was unique.

I glanced over at Jihye, who was still standing with her back to me, finishing up her conversation with a reassuring, “그럼, 나중에 전화할게요...” before hanging up and sliding her phone back into her pocket. She didn’t look at me or acknowledge the brief pause I had made. ("Okay, I'll call you later...")

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but… Eunji. Her name. It sent a ripple through me.

I tried to push it out of my mind as I followed the others into the hotel, my footsteps heavier than before. I’m probably overthinking it. But deep down, I couldn’t deny the knot in my chest—the sudden, unsettling feeling that I had just overheard something important. Something that shouldn’t be ignored.

As the crew began checking in, I took a long, steadying breath, reminding myself to focus on the work ahead. I couldn’t afford distractions, not here, not now. I had to keep my head in the game.

The elevator dinged as it reached our floor, and I stepped out with Jonathan trailing behind me. We walked down the corridor to our rooms, the sound of our footsteps echoing in the silence. The door to my room was already unlocked, and as I pushed it open, I took a quick glance around—everything was clean and modern, just like you’d expect from a hotel that catered to high-profile clients.

I dropped my bag onto the bed, the weight of it almost as heavy as the thoughts swirling in my head. I could already feel the tension building up again, a tightness in my chest that hadn’t let go since the conversation with Jihye.

Jonathan, on the other hand, seemed to be a little too cheerful for my liking. He wandered into the room with a grin plastered across his face, still full of energy despite the long travel day. He started tossing his own bags onto the bed, glancing at me every so often.

“Dude, you alright?” Jonathan’s voice broke through my thoughts, and I looked up to find him watching me, his brow furrowed in concern.

I shrugged, trying to play it off. “Yeah, just a little jet-lagged. It’s been a long day.”

He didn’t buy it. Jonathan leaned against the edge of the desk, arms crossed, studying me carefully. “You sure? You’ve been tense ever since we landed. I get it, the whole travel thing can mess with you, but… something’s off.”

I let out a breath, trying not to make eye contact. He was right, though. I hadn’t been acting like myself. Eunji’s name kept echoing in my mind, and it was making it hard to focus. But there was no way I was about to open up to Jonathan about it. Not now, not when everything still felt so uncertain.

“I’m fine, really,” I said, grabbing a towel from the bathroom to distract myself. “Just need to get settled in. You know how it is.”

Jonathan didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press further. For a moment, there was just the sound of me unpacking and him shifting around in the room, though I could still feel his eyes on me, weighing me down.

Finally, after a few beats of silence, he threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. If you don’t wanna talk, that’s fine. But you’ve got that look—like you’re carrying a mountain on your shoulders.”

He shook his head with a half-smile. “Anyway, I’m gonna go explore the hotel a bit. We’ve still got some free time, right?”

“Yeah, I think so,” I muttered, still distracted as I set my things in the drawer. “Go ahead, check things out. I’ll catch up later.”

Jonathan nodded, obviously not fully convinced but choosing to let it go—for now. “Alright, well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me. Don’t spend all night staring at the walls, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” I said with a forced smile, not looking up from the suitcase.

With that, he left the room, the door clicking shut behind him. I was left standing there in the quiet, my chest tight and my mind swirling with thoughts I wasn’t ready to face. The last thing I wanted was to talk about it, but it was hard to escape the questions that had started creeping in.

What did Jihye mean when she mentioned Eunji? Was it just a coincidence? Or was something more going on that I wasn’t aware of?

I ran a hand through my hair and took a seat on the bed, trying to push the thoughts away. I didn’t need distractions right now. I had to focus on why I was here. The work.

I just hoped I could keep it together long enough to make it through the next few days.

It wasn’t long before there was a knock on the door. I hadn’t been expecting anyone, but I knew it had to be Jihye. She’d been checking on everyone since we arrived, a routine I figured she had mastered by now. I opened the door, and sure enough, there she was, standing in the hallway with a clipboard in hand, a soft yet business-like smile on her face.

“Hey, you’ve been settling in alright?” Jihye asked as she stepped inside without waiting for a response. Her tone was calm, but there was a sharpness to it, like she was always on top of things—always aware.

“Yeah, just unpacking,” I said, stepping aside to let her in. “I’m good, really.”

She nodded but didn’t respond right away. Instead, she took a quick glance around the room, probably making sure everything was in order. She didn’t look judgmental or overly observant, but she had a way of looking at everything without seeming to care, a trait that somehow felt more intimidating than any other.

“Jonathan mentioned you were more of a stay-in person. That’s fine; I know how these long days can hit you,” she said, standing by the desk and setting the clipboard down. “I wanted to go over what’s expected of you while we’re here. You’re going to be a part of the whole process—writing, coordinating with the crew, and of course, keeping in touch with the idols. You’ll need to be available when they need you, even if it’s just for notes or changes to the script. I can’t stress enough that clear communication is key. Got it?”

“Yeah, I understand,” I replied, my fingers brushing nervously against the edge of the desk. It wasn’t like I didn’t know the job—I’d been doing this for a while now—but the stakes felt higher here. Being in a completely different country, surrounded by people who weren’t my regular crew, it felt… different.

Jihye’s eyes shifted to mine, and she paused for a moment, her gaze steady. “You’re good with all that, right? I know you’re more of a quiet one, but you still need to make sure you’re vocal when something comes up. Don’t let things sit if something’s off. We’re not a ‘set it and forget it’ kind of team.”

I nodded, feeling the weight of her words more than I wanted to. She was right, of course. There was a lot at stake. But the quietness in me didn’t like the idea of causing a scene or being too vocal. I preferred the background, even when things were going wrong. It was easier that way.

“You’re more than capable, I can see that,” she added, giving me a brief smile before checking her clipboard again. “If anything comes up, don’t hesitate to let me know, alright? I’ll be around.”

There was a pause as Jihye flipped through the pages of her clipboard, as if she was about to leave. But then she stopped and looked at me again, this time with a more focused expression, almost like she was reading me.

“You’ve been quieter than usual,” Jihye remarked, her voice softer but still sharp. “Something on your mind?”

I immediately felt my heart drop a little. I didn’t think I had been that obvious, but of course, Jihye had a way of seeing through all that. I shifted awkwardly, trying to deflect.

“No, nothing really. Just… adjusting,” I mumbled, avoiding her gaze and hoping she wouldn’t press any further. I didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to explain why I felt like I was carrying a thousand pounds in my chest since hearing Eunji’s name earlier.

But Jihye wasn’t one to let things slide easily. She took a step closer, folding her arms across her chest. “You know, I can tell when something’s bothering someone. I’m not going to let you sit there, pretending everything’s fine if it’s not. I can tell when something’s off. So, let’s hear it.”

My stomach dropped. She was right. I couldn’t hide it. I opened my mouth, then quickly shut it again, unsure of how to even begin.

“I—” I started, but the words caught in my throat. I could feel my hands trembling slightly, my mind racing. “It’s nothing. Just… trying to get used to everything. It’s a lot, you know?”

Jihye studied me for a few moments, her expression unreadable, before she sighed softly, the air around us suddenly feeling heavier. “Listen, I know it’s not easy to adjust. But if something’s weighing on you, it’s better to talk about it now. You’re not going to get through this if you bottle it up. You’ve got a whole team here, and we’re all going to need each other.”

I knew she was right, but I still hesitated. I wasn’t ready to talk about Eunji, not yet. The whole situation still felt raw, and I wasn’t sure if this was the right time or place.

“I’ll be alright,” I said, my voice quieter now, more resigned than I intended. “It’s just… a little overwhelming right now. But I’ll manage.”

Jihye gave me a look, one that clearly said she didn’t buy it, but she didn’t push further. “Alright,” she said, her tone softening just a bit. “But don’t shut people out, alright? We’re a team, and I’m not going to let you slip through the cracks.”

I nodded, feeling the weight of her words settle in. She wasn’t going to let me get away with pretending everything was fine, but for now, she seemed willing to let me have my space.

With a final glance, Jihye turned to leave the room. “We’re meeting with the team in an hour. Get ready. I’ll see you downstairs.”

I watched her leave, the door clicking softly behind her. For a moment, I stood there, still trying to shake off the knot in my stomach. But Jihye’s words lingered. It was like she saw right through me. Maybe it was time to stop pretending I could handle everything alone.

After Jihye left, I sank onto the bed and glanced at the clock. The day was still young, and we had a little free time before meeting the rest of the crew downstairs. I didn’t feel like exploring the hotel just yet, so I decided to FaceTime my family. They were currently on vacation in Mexico, and I hadn’t been able to talk to them much since I left.

I grabbed my phone and hit the familiar icon, waiting for the call to connect. It didn’t take long before my mom’s face popped up on the screen, the familiar warmth in her eyes making me feel a little less alone.

“¡Hola, hijo!” my mom greeted cheerfully. “How are you? How’s Korea so far?”

“Hola, mamá,” I replied, forcing a smile as I sat up a little straighter. “I’m good, just getting used to everything. It’s a lot different than what I expected.”

She tilted her head, a concerned expression appearing on her face. “¿Estás bien? You sound a bit down. Are you adjusting okay?”

���I’m fine, really. Just… been a long day,” I said, trying to push any lingering unease aside. It wasn’t like I could tell her about Eunji and everything else.

“I hope you’re getting some rest,” my mom said, a light frown on her face. “Make sure you eat well. Don’t let yourself get too caught up in the work.”

Before I could reply, my dad’s voice suddenly came through, loud and clear. “¡Ándale, you’re talking to him again?” he joked in the background, his smile visible as he leaned into the frame. “We miss you, kid. Everything okay over there?”

“Yeah, dad,” I said, grinning at his familiar tone. “Just adjusting. It’s different from the L.A, but it’s good.”

He nodded, seeming satisfied. “Good to hear. We’re enjoying our time here in Mexico, but your mom’s been bugging me about not talking to you more. Relax, okay?”

“I will, don’t worry,” I said, feeling a little lighter just from hearing his voice.

Before I could say more, my younger sister, Camila, popped into the frame. She was grinning like she always did when she was excited about something.

“¡¡Korea!! What’s it like over there? Do you see all the K-POP idols already? Are they as pretty as they look on YouTube? What about the food? Have you tried the kimchi yet? I want to know EVERYTHING!” she blurted out, her words tumbling out so quickly that I barely had time to breathe.

I laughed softly, glad to hear her enthusiasm. “It’s… a lot quieter than you’d think. And yes, I’ve tried the kimchi—my stomach’s still recovering,” I joked, making her giggle. “But no, I haven’t met any idols yet. Just the crew, getting everything set up. I’ll tell you more once I know more.”

“Promise me you’ll bring back something cool? Like a Korean souvenir?” she asked eagerly, practically bouncing in her seat.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I said, smiling at her excitement. “How’s everything going there with you and mom and dad?”

“Oh, you know,” she said with a shrug, “just enjoying the beach. But I can’t wait to hear all the details when you come back!”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get too excited,” I replied with a chuckle, trying to keep the conversation light.

My mom, who had been listening in, gave me a warm smile. “We miss you, mijo. Take care of yourself, alright? You don’t have to be so serious all the time.”

“I’m trying, mom,” I said, my voice softening. “I’ll talk to you guys soon.”

The call ended, and I sat there for a moment, looking at the blank screen. It felt nice to hear their voices, to hear my sister’s excitement about my trip even though I didn’t feel like I had much to show for it yet. But there was something about hearing her talk so freely about the future that made me pause. Everything was so uncertain right now. The only thing I knew was that the trip, and everything about it, was going to be a lot more complicated than I had expected.

⤷

The moment I step onto the stage, I’m hit with the overwhelming energy of it all. I’m at one of the most iconic places in Korea for large-scale performances and award shows, stands before me. The huge space is filled with a buzz of activity, from the sound engineers checking equipment to the stagehands running back and forth, adjusting lights and making sure everything is in perfect working order. The walls echo with the faint hum of excitement, and it feels like the entire place is alive, preparing for something huge.

I look around and see staff members—some in black uniforms, others in casual outfits—rushing past me with clipboards and headsets. There’s an urgency in the air, a sense that everyone knows exactly what they’re doing and where they need to be. It’s all so chaotic, yet orderly, like a well-oiled machine. The massive stage looms ahead, and I can already imagine the performance that’ll take place here. I can almost hear the cheers of the audience, the faint music, and the excitement that’ll fill this cavernous space when the idols take the stage.

I take a slow step forward, my mind distracted as I try to remember the instructions from Jihye. I’m supposed to meet the rest of the crew in the meeting room, but with the crowd and the maze of hallways, I feel completely lost. Jonathan had texted me earlier saying he was pulled by Henderson, leaving me to find my way around on my own.

I walk down a narrow hallway, passing a few staff members who don’t even look up as they rush to their tasks. The overhead lights flicker slightly, casting sharp shadows against the walls, giving everything an even more hectic feel. My footsteps echo as I try to stay calm, but my anxiety is creeping in. I glance down at my phone, wishing I could just text someone to help me, but I feel a little out of place. I know my Korean isn’t great—hell, it’s barely functional—and I’m hesitant to ask anyone, afraid I might hold them up or, worse, embarrass myself.

I stop in front of a door, unsure if it’s the right one. The hallway seems endless, and the more I look around, the more I feel like I’m just walking in circles. The people moving past me are all in such a hurry, and I can’t help but feel like I’m in the way. I glance around once more, but no one looks like they have time to help me. My stomach tightens, and I take another hesitant step forward. I’m just about to turn back when I hear footsteps behind me.

Turning slightly, I notice a woman walking toward me. She’s wearing a casual black jacket, her hair styled simply but neatly, and she’s moving with purpose. For a moment, I think she might just be another staff member, like everyone else here. But as she gets closer, she notices me standing there, looking slightly lost.

“Are you looking for something?” she asks, in perfect English, her voice calm and friendly.

I’m caught off guard, and for a moment, I’m frozen, unsure of how to respond. “Uh, yeah, I’m trying to find the meeting room for the crew,” I say, my voice a little hesitant. “I’m… I’m kind of lost, actually.”

She smiles, a genuine, understanding smile that immediately puts me at ease. “It’s easy to get lost here,” she says, nodding toward the winding hallways. “This place is huge. I can help you find it.”

I nod gratefully, glad to have found someone who can help, even if I didn’t expect her to speak English so fluently. “Thank you so much,” I say, feeling a small sense of relief. “I’m… I’m just a little out of place, to be honest. The setup here is… a lot.”

She laughs softly, the sound friendly and warm. “I can imagine. It’s my first time here, too, actually. But I’ve been around enough to know my way around,” she says with a shrug, as if it’s no big deal. “I’m happy to help.”

As she walks me down the hallway, I feel my nerves start to ease, even if just a little. The gentle pace at which she speaks and the way she seems comfortable in this hectic environment make me wonder if she’s part of the production team. I’m sure she must be, but I don’t want to be too nosy, especially not when I don’t even know if she’s a staff member or part of the crew. She doesn’t seem like someone who’d be tied down to this many details—she moves with such ease.

I glance at her as we continue walking, trying to read her, but she keeps her focus ahead, guiding me through the bustling halls. For a moment, I almost feel like I’m just following someone who’s in charge—someone who knows exactly what they’re doing. But the thought fades when she turns her attention back to me, noticing the anxious tension that’s still clinging to me.

“By the way,” she says, her voice light, “Don’t worry about getting lost again. You’ll be fine here. I’m sure everything will go smoothly.”

I nod, feeling even more grateful for her kindness. “Thanks again,” I say, my words genuine.

As we continue walking, she glances at me, noticing that I’ve calmed down a little, and asks, “So, what brings you around here, if you don’t mind me asking? Are you from around here?”

I hesitate for a second before responding. “No, I’m actually part of a crew from America,” I say, keeping it vague, just like we were told. “We’re here for some behind-the-scenes filming. The crew’s been working on a documentary of sorts. We’re just here to capture the experience—behind the glitz, you know?” It’s not the full story, but it’s enough to keep things simple. We don’t want to attract too much attention or stir any rumors, especially when the idols we’re filming could have their own fans or curious bystanders.

She nods thoughtfully, seeming to take my explanation at face value. “Ah, I see,” she says, and there’s a light smile on her face. “Must be exciting to be here in Seoul for something like that. It’s a busy place, that’s for sure.” She turns her attention back to leading me through the hallways, and for a moment, the noise and rush of the staff around us fades into the background.

Just then, I hear a familiar voice, one that makes me snap out of my brief respite. “There you are!” Jihye’s voice is unmistakable, and I turn to find her walking toward us with a purposeful stride. She quickly scans me up and down before giving me a small nod.

And then, her gaze flicked to the woman who was helping me.

“Ah, Jennie,” Jihye says, her tone changing slightly, more professional but still warm, as though there’s an understanding between the two. “You’re here to help him find the room? Thank you.”

Jennie doesn’t break stride, giving a polite nod. “No problem, 언니. I was just helping him get around. He looked a little lost.”

Jihye nods again, offering a brief smile. “I appreciate it. He’s still getting used to everything here.” Then, she turns her focus back to me. “Everyone else is waiting in the meeting room. You can go in with Jennie.”

I blink, a little surprised by the sudden shift. “With Jennie?” I ask before I can stop myself, but I immediately feel a little foolish for asking such a question out loud.

Jennie’s presence felt so casual, so unassuming, and now I realize she must have more of a connection to all of this than I initially thought.

She looks over at me, her smile widening. “Yeah, I’m heading that way too,” she says, her voice light. “Might as well accompany you.”

She pauses for a beat before introducing herself. “I’m Kim Jennie,” she says, her smile still soft. “I’m one of the people you’ll be filming behind the scenes for.”

I stare at her for a moment, the realization dawning on me that she’s not just some random staff member like I assumed earlier. She’s an actual idol—one of the people we’re supposed to be filming. It takes me a second to recover from my surprise, but I nod quickly, trying to hide my surprise.

“Ah, Kim Jennie,” I repeat, a little awkwardly. “Nice to meet you. I didn’t realize… I mean, I didn’t know you were part of the filming. Sorry about that.”

Jennie gives me a knowing look, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she waves off my awkwardness. “It’s okay. I’m just here to help. Let’s get to the meeting room, yeah?”

I nod, following her as we walk toward the room. Jihye stays behind, perhaps with other things to do, but I can tell that she and Jennie are already familiar with each other. The way they interact seems more natural than I initially expected, as if they’ve worked together before.

As we walk, I can’t help but feel a little out of place in all of this. Jennie seems so comfortable, so poised, even in this rushed atmosphere, and I’m just trying to keep up. Despite my awkwardness, I can’t help but feel a small wave of gratitude for her help.

Jennie’s smile lingers as she leads the way, and I follow her, still a little surprised by the situation, but also more intrigued than before.

As we enter the meeting room, I can feel the weight of the situation settling in. The room is relatively large, filled with a mixture of sleek modern furniture and tech equipment. There’s a large screen at the front, and a long table where the Korean production crew is seated, along with a few other important figures that I assume are part of the event’s organization.

The first thing that catches my eye, though, is the group of women standing off to the side and I watch Jennie walk towards them. They’re all standing in a row, their poised expressions not giving away much. The atmosphere suddenly feels heavy with anticipation.

Jihye gestures toward the group, signaling me to follow her lead. “This is the Korean production crew,” she says, her voice calm but authoritative. “They’ll be working closely with your team for this documentary. The idols you’ll be filming with are right here.”

I nod, absorbing the information, but I’m more focused on Jennie and the women she was with. Despite knowing that the idol group would be here, I hadn’t really processed that they’d be in the same room with me, not until now.

Jennie steps forward with a soft smile on her face, the kind that makes the entire room feel warmer. She exchanges a few words with her group in Korean, and I catch a glimpse of the other girls giving me small waves and smiles as they stand next to each other. Then, they turn toward our crew and perform a formal greeting, the kind of greeting I’ve seen in K-POP variety shows—sharp and full of respect.

“안녕하세요, 우리는 블랙핑크입니다!” “Hello, we are Blackpink!”

They introduce themselves one by one, starting with the oldest member.

“저는 지수입니다.” “I’m Jisoo.”

“안녕하세요, 로제입니다.” “Hello, I’m Rosé.”

“반갑습니다, 리사입니다.” “Nice to meet you, I’m Lisa.”

And then it’s Jennie’s turn. She steps forward with her usual calm and confident demeanor, but there’s a gentleness in her gaze that catches me off guard. She speaks directly to our crew, and although she’s addressing everyone, I can’t help but feel like her words are aimed at me.

“안녕하세요, 저는 제니입니다.” “Hello, I’m Jennie.”

As the group finishes their introductions, I realize I’ve been holding my breath. My heart is pounding for some reason, and I try to keep my cool, but the realization hits me all at once: I’ve been talking to Jennie, a member of Blackpink, this entire time. My face flushes with embarrassment, and I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks. All I can think is, How could I have not realized it sooner?

She’d just been so… normal. So approachable. It felt like I was just talking to another crew member, someone helping me get my bearings. And now, here she is, standing in front of me like an international star, and I feel like an absolute idiot.

Jennie catches my eye as I try my best not to visibly panic. Her smile is still as easygoing as ever, as if she hadn’t just blown my mind. But I can’t look away from her. I talked to her like she was just some regular person, and I’m pretty sure I embarrassed myself in the process…

I look away quickly, trying to compose myself. Get it together, you’re here for a job, I remind myself, but it’s hard to focus when I can feel the weight of their gazes on me now that the introductions are over. Everyone knows who they are—Blackpink, one of the most successful K-POP groups in the world—and I’m here… just a random scriptwriter trying not to make a fool of myself.

Jihye, after the women introduced themselves, steps in. She nods toward Blackpink. “As I mentioned before, your role will be to document the behind-the-scenes aspects of this production. The Korean production team here will be helping us coordinate everything with the girl’s schedules. We’ll also be working on getting interviews with the girls at certain points. As usual, we’ll keep things flexible, but we expect full cooperation from everyone.”

Lisa, Rosé, Jisoo, and Jennie listen intently, nodding in agreement. Jennie gives me a reassuring smile, which only adds to the conflict I’m feeling inside—how can she be this calm when I’m over here about to lose it?

The room fills with brief chatter, and I take a small step back, my eyes darting around the room. It’s hard to focus on anything else when Jennie keeps crossing my mind. She’s famous. This is a big deal. And I’ve just been having casual conversations with her like she’s another crew member. I try to shake off the feeling, but it lingers.

After the meeting wraps up, Blackpink stands up and begins to make their way out of the room, their team quickly following behind them. The atmosphere shifts from formal introductions to a focused and high-energy buzz as they prepare for their upcoming performance. I watch them go, noticing how they move with such precision, as though they’ve done this thousands of times. It’s impressive, really.

“Alright, time for the girls to get ready,” Jihye announces to the group. “You all can stay and watch the performance, but we need to stay out of their way. Don’t bother them unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Our crew begins to shuffle out of the room, heading toward various areas where they can catch a glimpse of the performance or set up for the next phase of filming. Jonathan waves at me as he walks past. “Come on, man! It’s a killer show, you should check it out!” he calls out, his usual upbeat energy making it hard to refuse.

But instead of joining the others, I hesitate. I’m still a bit rattled from the whole introduction and the whole ‘I’m working with Blackpink’ realization. Plus, I don’t really feel like I belong in the midst of it all. So I make my way over to a seat in the corner of the room where there’s a small TV screen set up, showing the live feed from the main stage.

I sit down, placing my notebook and pen on the table in front of me, but as I stare at the screen, I realize just how out of place I feel. The stage is lit up with flashy lights, the music blasting through the speakers, and I’m just… sitting here, trying to piece together what I’m supposed to be doing.

I’ve worked on scripts before, but never anything like this. A documentary about K-POP idols? I know next to nothing about K-POP. All I know is the basics—the big names, the trends. But writing a documentary? Writing about them? I don’t even know where to start. It’s not like I can just make up some narrative about their lives—this is real. These are real people, and they’ve worked hard for what they’ve got. I can’t just churn out some generic script about ‘fame and glory.’ That feels disrespectful.

I sigh and flip through my notebook, scanning the empty pages. The pressure is mounting. I can hear the crew talking outside the door, prepping for their shots, but I feel distant from it all. I don’t belong here. I’m not even sure how to approach the documentary aspect. What do I write about? The training? The pressure? The sacrifices? I haven’t even spoken to Blackpink much, aside from a few words during the introductions. What could I possibly write when I’m just an observer?

I glance at the TV again, watching as different groups perform until eventually Blackpink takes the stage. The crowd cheers loudly, their faces glowing with excitement. The girls step into position, their synchronization flawless. The music starts, and their performance begins.

The cameras zoom in on each of them—Jisoo, Rosé, Lisa, and Jennie. They’re confident, they’re talented, and they’ve worked their asses off to get here. I can feel the energy in the room, even from this distance, and a part of me feels… inspired. Still, the words aren’t coming to me. What do I even say about them? What’s the story here?

The TV screen shows close-ups of Jennie, her movements sharp and graceful, and for a brief moment, I forget about everything else. She looks like she’s in her element, and despite all the fame, she’s focused on the performance. It’s… mesmerizing.

As the song continues, I feel a little less like an outsider. Maybe that’s what this documentary needs. Not some grand narrative about fame and fortune, but the journey. The hard work. The dedication. The personal sacrifices.

I scribble down a few notes—nothing major yet, just fragments of ideas. But it’s a start. I’ll figure it out. I have to.

Jonathan pops his head back in after a while, catching me scribbling down notes in the corner. “You good, man?” he asks, a grin on his face. “You missed the best part of the performance! I swear, Blackpink’s energy is unmatched.”

I look up and force a smile. “Yeah, I’m good,” I reply, trying to act like I’m not just completely lost. “Just… working through some ideas. Trying to figure out what angle we’re taking for this documentary.”

Jonathan raises an eyebrow. “No worries, dude. It’ll come to you. You’re a scriptwriter, right? Just think about it like any other project. They’re real people with real stories. All you gotta do is capture that.”

I nod slowly, grateful for his reassurance. “Yeah, you’re right. I just… I feel kind of out of my depth here, you know?”

He laughs, not unkindly. “You’re fine, man. Just remember what you’re here to do. Get the story. Whatever that is, you’ll find it.”

I watch as he walks off to join the rest of the crew. I look back at the TV, watching as Blackpink finishes their performance. They’re so polished, so professional. It’s hard to believe that they were once just trainees, struggling to make it.

The awarding ceremony concludes in a grand finale—flashing lights, deafening cheers, and a sea of idols and staff flooding backstage. The energy is still electric, the excitement lingering even as everyone begins to move back into their respective spaces. It’s a world I still don’t feel like I fully belong in, so I take the opportunity to slip away unnoticed.

With my notebook tucked under my arm, I weave through the crowd, my mind already drifting back to my empty hotel room. I need to process everything, figure out how to piece this documentary together. Maybe if I just—

And then, I see her.

My feet stop moving. My breathing halts. The entire world narrows to a single point in front of me.

Jihye walks past the crowd, her head slightly tilted towards the person beside her as they talk animatedly. And that person—her—is a ghost I thought I’d never see again.

Eunji. In all her glory.

Her hair is different, slightly shorter than I remember, but everything else is exactly the same. The way she gestures when she speaks, the subtle tilt of her head when she listens, the quiet grace in her posture. Even in a crowd of celebrities, producers, and staff, she stands out like she always did to me.

I don’t think she’s noticed me yet. My heart is pounding so loudly I can barely hear anything else. I should leave. I should turn around and leave.

And then, her eyes meet mine.

It happens so fast, yet it feels like everything slows down in that moment.

Her steps falter. Her voice dies mid-sentence.

Jihye, oblivious to the sudden shift in atmosphere, continues walking for another step or two before she realizes Eunji has stopped.

I don’t know what expression I have right now. Shock? Pain? Confusion? But I know what I see on her face.

Surprise. Hesitation. And beneath it all, something deeper. Something unreadable.

She doesn’t move. Neither do I.

For a second, it’s just us in this entire building, in this entire city, in this entire world. The last time we looked at each other like this… it was when we said goodbye. And now, here we are. Face to face again.

Jihye follows Eunji’s gaze, her brows knitting together in mild confusion at first. But then, her eyes shift back and forth between us, and I can practically see the gears turning in her head as she starts piecing things together.

Eunji reacts quickly, grabbing Jihye’s arm in an attempt to pull her away, as if this encounter could simply be avoided by walking in the opposite direction. But Jihye is faster. With a firm tug, she pulls Eunji towards me.

I barely have time to react before they’re standing right in front of me, closer than I ever expected to be to Eunji again.

My breath catches. My pulse is erratic.

Jihye stares at me, her expression shifting from confusion to realization in mere seconds. And then, it clicks.

I see it in her face—the way her lips part slightly, her shoulders tensing as if the final puzzle piece has just snapped into place.

I know exactly what she’s thinking.

I’m him.

I’m the guy.

The ex-boyfriend of her little sister.

She remembers. The stories, the late-night talks, the heartbreak Eunji went through two years ago. And now, here I am.

I try to say something—anything—but my voice fails me. My throat locks up. My thoughts are an absolute mess.

Jihye, however, wastes no time.

“Wait,” she starts, pointing a finger at me, “is this why you’ve been acting weird?”

I blink. “What?”

“This. Right here,” she gestures between me and Eunji, her tone laced with something between incredulity and frustration. “Is this why you’ve been acting off ever since we landed? Because you knew she was here?”

My body goes rigid. No, that’s not—

“I—no,” I immediately deny, shaking my head. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know she was here.”

Jihye narrows her eyes. “Then what? You expect me to believe this is just some huge coincidence?”

“I overheard you say her name,” I admit, exhaling sharply. “Back at the hotel. On the phone. But I wasn’t sure. I haven’t kept up with—”

My voice falters.

I steal a glance at Eunji.

She hasn’t said a word. She’s just staring at me.

I can’t read her expression. Is she angry? Shocked? Conflicted? I don’t know. But right now, standing this close to her, I’m remembering everything. The sound of her laughter. The way she’d rest her head on my shoulder after a long day. The way she’d whisper my name when she thought I was asleep.

And suddenly, it feels like no time has passed at all.

Eunji lets out a quiet sigh and places a hand on Jihye’s arm. “언니,” she says softly, her voice steady yet firm. “You’re stressing yourself out.”

Jihye blinks, snapping her attention back to her sister.

And then—she laughs.

It’s not a joyful laugh, nor is it a bitter one. It’s that kind of laugh you let out when you realize just how absurd a situation is.

“God,” Jihye exhales, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is insane.”

Neither I nor Eunji deny it. Because she’s right.

What are the chances? Of all the people, of all the projects, of all the circumstances that could’ve led us anywhere else—we ended up here. Face to face again, two years later, in a country neither of us thought we would see each other in.

Jihye looks between us, hesitating. Then she sighs, reluctantly stepping back.

“I’ll… give you guys a minute,” she mutters, pointing at me with a warning look. “But don’t think for a second we won’t be talking about this later.”

And with that, she leaves.

Then, silence.

Awkward. Heavy. Unbearable.

Eunji shifts, crossing her arms loosely, avoiding my gaze. I rub the back of my neck, suddenly hyperaware of the loud chatter in the background, the distant sounds of staff and idols bustling around backstage.

“So…” she starts hesitantly. “How have you been?”

I exhale. “Good. You?”

She nods. “Good.”

Another pause.

I clear my throat. “You… cut your hair.”

She blinks, then lifts a hand to brush a few strands behind her ear. “Yeah. I did.”

A beat.

“Oh. You dyed yours?”

I let out a short chuckle, glancing at the dark brown locks that had once been jet black. “Yeah.”

Another pause.

Neither of us really knows what to say.

We’re just dancing around the obvious, sticking to meaningless small talk because we don’t know how to address the fact that two years ago, we were each other’s everything.

And then—I see it.

Hanging just above the neckline of her blouse, resting lightly against her collarbone, was something I never thought I’d see again.

The necklace.

The very same silver pendant necklace I had given her for her birthday two years ago.

My breath catches for a moment. I should think before I speak. I should just keep it to myself, ignore it, pretend I didn’t see it—

But I don’t.

“You still wear that?” I ask without thinking.

Eunji stiffens.

Her fingers immediately go to the pendant, clutching it as if just now realizing it was still there.

For the first time in this entire conversation, she looks flustered.

Eunji’s fingers remain curled around the pendant, as if its presence suddenly weighed heavier against her skin.

I exhale sharply, rubbing the back of my neck. There’s too much to say. Too much to address. Two years of unspoken words hanging between us like an invisible thread stretched so thin that one wrong move could snap it completely.

But I have to ask.

“Did you?” I finally manage to say, my voice quieter than I intended.

Eunji blinks, confused. “Did I what?”

I swallow, feeling my throat dry up. But I force the words out anyway.

“Did you move on?”

She parts her lips slightly, but nothing comes out at first. And that alone is enough of an answer.

My heart clenches. I shouldn’t be feeling this way. It’s been two years. We’ve had two years to move on. She should have.

I should have.

But I realize now—I never truly did.

I didn’t move on. I just kept moving. Moving forward, moving past, moving away from anything that reminded me of the pain. I let my work consume me because if I kept my hands busy enough, if I filled my mind with new projects, new places, new people, maybe—just maybe—I wouldn’t feel the empty space she left behind.

Eunji shifts, her fingers now fidgeting with the chain of her necklace.

She looks like she wants to say something.

I know that look.

I know it because she’s never been the type to hesitate. She’s always been straightforward. Always the one to say exactly what she means, never holding back, never second-guessing herself.

But right now? Right now, she looks like she’s struggling.

Like whatever words she wants to say are lodged deep in her throat, unable to escape.

And I realize—this is just how it’s going to be now.

A past that we can’t rewrite. A conversation filled with words left unsaid. A distance that two years carved between us, leaving behind a canyon too wide to cross.

Before either of us can break the silence again, Jihye’s voice cuts through.

“은지....” (“Eunji…”)

I turn to see Jihye approaching, her sharp eyes flickering between us, immediately sensing the tension that lingered in the air.

“Mom just called,” she tells Eunji, arms crossed. “She wants you to go home, you have that meeting with one of the company managers at eight o’ clock.”

Eunji hesitates. Just for a second.

She glances at me—just briefly—and I see it.

She doesn’t want to leave.

But she nods. “Okay.”

She turns back to me, lips pressing together. There’s so much more that could be said. So much more that should be said.

But all she gives me is a soft, “Goodbye.”

I try to say it back. I really do.

But my throat closes up, and the words never make it past my lips. I watch her walk away, feeling the same hollowness in my chest that I did two years ago.

And then—I feel it.

The weight of Jihye’s stare.

I don’t even have to look at her to know exactly what kind of expression she’s wearing. This was a bandaid that had to be ripped off.

Jihye exhales through her nose, clearly trying to keep her emotions in check. She looks at me, arms crossed, eyes sharp but not unkind. Assessing.

“We’ll talk later,” she states, leaving no room for debate. “Once I’m done with what I need to do.”

I don’t respond immediately. I’m still trying to process everything—Eunji, the necklace, the fact that she hesitated.

Jihye tilts her head, eyes narrowing slightly. “I mean it. I expect you in your hotel room later. And I expect you to be actually ready to talk.”

I nod stiffly, my throat too tight to form words.

Satisfied, Jihye doesn’t linger. She turns swiftly and walks off, her pace quick, efficient, leaving me behind like a storm that just passed—but one I know will circle back soon.

And that’s when it really hits me.

The tightness in my chest expands. The pressure in my head grows unbearable. My breathing feels shallow, uneven, like I can’t quite get enough air. Everything feels too loud, too sharp, too much.

And then—

The sound of retching fills the bathroom of my hotel room.

The force of it sends sharp pains through my ribs, my stomach twisting as I retch again. My hands grip the sides of the bowl, knuckles white. I can’t breathe.

I reach out blindly, fumbling for my phone that had fallen onto the bathroom floor. The screen is still lit, the call timer running.

A voice crackles through the speaker.

“Jesus, at least mute the phone if you’re gonna throw up.”

A groan leaves my throat as I drop my forehead against my arm. “Not now, Valeria.”

Valeria—one of my oldest friends. Someone who has seen me at my worst more times than I can count. And yet, this might just take the cake.

Her voice, though teasing, is gentle. “I get it, dude. It’s a lot.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. She doesn’t even know the half of it.

There’s a rustling sound on her end, like she’s shifting positions. “So. You saw her?”

A harsh, humorless laugh escapes me. “Yeah.”

She exhales. “And?”

I drag a hand down my face, feeling the lingering sting of bile in my throat.

And?

And I feel like I just reopened a wound that I convinced myself had already healed. Like two years of pretending to be fine just shattered within a single second.

Like I’m nineteen again, standing in the middle of an airport, watching the love of my life walk away from me.

I don’t say any of that.

Instead, I whisper, “I think I’m gonna be sick again.”

Valeria sighs into the speaker, the sound crackling through my phone. “Alright, let’s break this down.”

I rub my forehead, leaning my back against the cool bathroom wall. Here we go.

“It’s been two years,” she starts. “Two. Whole. Years.” She lets that sit for a second. “And neither of you reached out to each other in that time. That should already tell you something.”

I clench my jaw. I know.

“I mean, if either of you really wanted to fix things, don’t you think something would’ve happened already?”

I don’t answer.

She exhales again, softer this time. “Look, I’m not saying that to be an ass, alright? I just think… if she really wanted to find you, she would have. And if you really wanted to find her, you would have.”

I shut my eyes. “I wasn’t—I’m not ready.”

“Yeah?” Valeria challenges. “And what if she wasn’t ready either?”

That makes my stomach twist.

Silence hangs between us for a moment before she speaks again. “But, here’s the thing,” she continues. “She was still wearing that damn necklace, wasn’t she?”

My fingers instinctively brush against my collarbone—a phantom feeling.

Valeria clicks her tongue. “So maybe she’s on the same footing as you. Just… handling it better. Then again, Eunji was always the better half in your relationship when it came to dealing with shit.”

I let out a flat, unamused laugh. “Thanks for the reassurance.”

She chuckles. “Anytime.”

I tilt my head back, staring up at the ceiling. I hate how much sense she makes. Then, Valeria’s voice dips into something more serious.

“But let’s get real here,” she says, pausing. “What do you want to do?”

I stiffen.

She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Do you still want to reach out to her? If you do, what would you even say? What’s left to talk about?”

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

She keeps going. “Is this really what you want? Or is this just something to fill that void you refuse to acknowledge?”

I swallow hard.

Valeria doesn’t pull punches. She never has. But this? This is a direct hit.

The problem is, I don’t know the answer.

I press the heel of my palm against my temple, trying to will away the pressure building inside my skull. My stomach is still in knots, my body still tense from the conversation. Valeria’s words echo over and over, but I can’t grasp onto them long enough to process them fully.

Because all I can see is her.

Eunji.

The way the light hit her hair just right, revealing subtle strands of color I didn’t remember being there before. The way her lips parted in the slightest when she saw me, eyes widening in an expression I couldn’t quite place—regret? confusion?

She still looked like her. And yet, she also looked… different. More refined, more mature, like time had shaped her into someone new. But at the same time, all I could see was the girl I used to hold in my arms, the one who would scrunch her nose when she laughed too hard, the one who used to steal my hoodies because she swore they were softer than hers.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t help. I still see her standing there. Still wearing the necklace I gave her.

My chest tightens. That necklace—it was supposed to be a promise. A piece of me she could keep even when we were apart. And yet, after all this time, after everything… she still wears it?

Does it mean anything? Or is it just a habit?

I shake my head, exhaling shakily. God, I missed her. I missed seeing her face. Hearing her voice. But now that I’ve seen her again, it only makes everything worse. Because I know, deep down, I never really let her go.

Knock. Knock.

I blink out of my daze, reality crashing back in like a slap to the face.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, lifting my phone back up to my ear. “Hey, Val—someone’s at the door. I gotta go.”

“Ah, is this your big talk with the sister-in-law?” Valeria teases, but her voice remains laced with concern.

“Most likely, I just hope she isn’t too mad about this…” I sigh, running a hand through my hair.

Valeria hums knowingly. “Listen, don’t freak out. This is going to set the tone for how you handle the next few weeks. You need to figure out what you want to do. Avoidance isn’t gonna work forever.”

Her words sink into me like dead weight. She’s right, but it does nothing to ease the tension sitting heavy in my chest.

“…Yeah. Thanks,” I mutter, knowing she can hear the exhaustion in my voice.

“Anytime. Now go. And don’t throw up again.”

I scoff at that, shaking my head before hanging up. With a deep breath, I straighten up and glance at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My face is still a little pale, but at least I don’t look like complete shit anymore. Good enough.

I step out into the hotel room, my pulse quickening as I make my way to the door. I hesitate for a brief moment before finally gripping the handle and pulling it open.

And just as expected—Jihye stands on the other side, looking more pissed off than usual.

Which is never a good sign.

Her sharp gaze lands on me immediately, eyes scanning my face like she’s searching for something. I barely have a chance to react before she exhales sharply, her expression shifting as if she’s trying to rein herself in. “Can I come in?”

I nod stiffly, stepping aside to let her through. My body feels stiff—awkward—as I close the door behind her.

Jihye takes a few steps inside, hands tucked into her coat pockets as she sweeps her gaze across the room. But then, her eyes settle on me again, and I feel myself tense under her scrutiny.

“You’ve changed,” she finally says, tilting her head slightly. “Didn’t have dyed hair two years ago.”

I resist the urge to touch my head.

“And the beard,” she continues, crossing her arms. “That’s new, too. Not to mention how you dress now…” She looks me up and down, and I suddenly feel uncomfortably exposed.

“You’re not the same kid my little sister fell in love with two years ago. The photos she showed me displayed a kid who seem to be confident.”

Her words hit like a gut punch. A reminder. A truth I’ve been avoiding. Because the thing is—I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.

I let Jihye’s words settle in the air, feeling the weight of them pressing down on my chest. I’m not the same guy Eunji fell in love with. I don’t know if I’m supposed to be.

But before I can dwell on that thought any longer, something else gnaws at me—something I should’ve realized sooner.

“I never knew you were Eunji’s sister,” I admit, frowning slightly. “I mean, I never saw you at family dinners or in any of the pictures she showed me.”

Jihye exhales sharply, like she expected this. “That’s because I’m her step-sister.”

I blink.

“She didn’t know either,” she adds before I can even open my mouth to ask. “Not until the year she was getting ready to leave America.”

I stare at her, stunned. “She never mentioned having a step-sister.”

Jihye lets out a humorless chuckle, finally moving to sit down on the small couch in my hotel room. She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, hands clasped together. “Not surprising. I wasn’t exactly welcomed into the family for the first twenty-five years of my life.”

She says it so matter-of-factly, but there’s something bitter—something tired—underneath it.

“She found out more about it when she came home. I practically forced myself into her life because I figured it was my last chance to amend whatever relationship we could have left.”

I don’t know what to say.

I never once considered that Eunji had family drama—she never talked about it. Whenever she mentioned home, she always spoke about her mother, about traditions, about how much she missed it. But not this.

Not Jihye.

“…I had no idea,” I murmur, rubbing the back of my neck.

“It’s not exactly dinner table conversation,” Jihye says with a sigh. She leans back against the couch, her sharp eyes locking onto mine. “But that’s not what we’re here to talk about, are we?”

My throat goes dry.

She tilts her head slightly. “You looked like you were about to pass out when you saw her. Are you going to do something about it?” she asks, her voice steady, unwavering. “Because I need to know.”

I open my mouth but nothing comes out.

The silence between us feels suffocating, like an invisible rope tightening around my throat. Jihye’s question lingers in the air, heavy and unmoving.

Are you going to do something about it?

I try to speak, but my throat locks up. My fingers twitch against my jeans, and I clench my jaw to keep from fidgeting too much. It’s a bad habit I’ve had since I was a kid—whenever I’m cornered, whenever I feel exposed, my body betrays me in little ways. A clenched fist. A twitch in my jaw. A breath held too long.

Jihye doesn’t look away. She’s dissecting me, pulling me apart with just her eyes.

“I…” I clear my throat, forcing myself to sit up straighter. “I don’t know.”

Her expression doesn’t change, but I see the way her fingers tap against her knee impatiently. “That’s not good enough.”

I press my palms against my thighs, grounding myself. “I didn’t even know she was here. I didn’t think—” My voice falters, and I exhale sharply through my nose. “I didn’t think I’d ever see her again.”

Jihye exhales slowly, as if she’s trying to hold onto whatever patience she has left. “So, what now? You’re just going to pretend she’s not here?”

I drag a hand through my hair, gripping the strands at the back of my head. “What the hell do you want me to say?” I snap, though there’s no real heat behind it. Just exhaustion. Frustration. “That I’ve been miserable for two years? That I never stopped thinking about her? That seeing her just now made me feel like I got punched in the goddamn chest?”

Jihye raises a brow. “Well, at least you’re honest.”

I let out a bitter laugh and shake my head. “What does it even matter?” I mutter. “She—she looks good. She looks happy. What the hell am I supposed to do about that?”

Jihye crosses her arms. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

I glance away, staring at the floor. My leg starts bouncing, and I immediately force it to stop. “It’s been two years,” I say quietly. “She never reached out. I never reached out. Maybe that’s all the answer I need.”

For the first time, Jihye’s sharp expression softens. Just slightly. “You really believe that?”

I hesitate. Do I?

The memory of her still wearing that damn necklace flashes in my mind. The one thing I thought she would’ve thrown away the second she moved on.

I exhale through my nose and shake my head. “I don’t know,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

Jihye studies me for a long moment before sighing. “Look,” she says, her tone less intense now. “I don’t know what happened between you two, and frankly, I don’t really care.” She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees again. “But I care about Eunji.”

Something about the way she says that makes my stomach twist.

“If you’re going to do something—if you’re going to talk to her, bring up the past, whatever—” Jihye levels me with a stare. “Don’t half-ass it.”

I blink. “What?”

She straightens up. “If you’re going to open that door again, make damn sure you’re ready for whatever’s on the other side,” she says firmly. “Because I’m not going to stand by and watch you screw with her emotions.”

My jaw tightens. “I would never do that.”

Jihye doesn’t back down. “Then figure out what you want. Soon.” She stands up, brushing invisible lint off her blazer. “Because whether you like it or not, you’re going to be in the same damn space as her for the next few weeks.”

That thought alone makes my pulse spike.

Before I can say anything else, Jihye heads for the door, stopping just before she opens it. She glances over her shoulder, eyes sharp once more.

“I’ll be expecting an answer,” she says. Then, without another word, she leaves.

As soon as the door shuts behind her, I let out a shaky breath and rub my hands down my face. My heart is still racing. I don’t have an answer. And I don’t know if I ever will.

⤷

The night air is crisp, cool against my skin as I shove my hands deeper into the pockets of my jacket. Sleep never came, not with my mind running in circles, replaying everything—Jihye’s words, Eunji’s face, the weight of the past suddenly slamming into me like a freight train.

So I left.

I don’t even remember deciding to go for a walk. My feet just moved on their own, taking me further and further away from the hotel until I found myself here—some small park tucked away in a quieter part of the city.

The dim glow of streetlights casts long shadows over the pavement, and the air smells faintly of damp earth and leaves. It’s empty, unsurprisingly. Too late for kids, too cold for late-night joggers. The only sound is the occasional rustle of wind through the trees and the distant hum of passing cars.

I sit down on one of the swings, letting my legs dangle as I lean forward, elbows resting on my knees. The metal chains creak softly under my weight.

My thoughts swirl, tangled and suffocating.

What the hell am I supposed to do?

I press my fingers against my temples, squeezing my eyes shut. Maybe I should just—

A voice cuts through the silence.

“You look like you’re about to pass out.”

I jolt upright, my head snapping toward the sound.

Standing a few feet away, illuminated by the pale glow of a streetlamp, is Jennie.

She’s dressed casually—an oversized hoodie, leggings, sneakers—but even like this, she looks effortlessly put together. Her dark hair is pulled into a loose ponytail, and in the faint light, her eyes gleam with quiet amusement.

I blink, caught completely off guard. “Uh—”

Jennie tilts her head. “You okay?”

I exhale, rubbing the back of my neck. “I—yeah. Just… couldn’t sleep.”

She hums knowingly, stepping closer until she’s standing just beside the swing set. “Same.”

I glance up at her, raising a brow. “You also take late-night walks to random parks?”

A small smirk tugs at the corner of her lips. “Only when my brain won’t shut up.”

I huff out a laugh, though there’s no real humor in it. “Yeah. I get that.”

For a moment, neither of us says anything. The silence is surprisingly comfortable, broken only by the occasional creak of the swing as I shift my weight.

Then, Jennie nods toward the empty swing beside me. “Mind if I sit?”

I shake my head. “Go ahead.”

She settles onto the swing, wrapping her hands around the cold metal chains. She leans back slightly, pushing off just enough for the swing to move faintly.

“So,” she says after a beat, tilting her head toward me. “What’s keeping you up?”

I hesitate, my fingers tightening around the edge of the swing.

For some reason, with Jennie sitting here—someone I barely know, someone who has no real ties to my past—it feels… easier. Easier to talk, even if I don’t know what to say yet.

I let out a slow breath.

“Just… old memories,” I murmur. “Ones I thought I wouldn’t have to deal with again.”

Jennie doesn’t push. She just nods, her expression thoughtful.

“I get that,” she says softly. “More than you think.”

And somehow, I believe her.

Jennie kicks at the ground lightly, making the swing sway ever so slightly. The cold air nips at my skin, but it doesn’t feel as suffocating as it did earlier.

I clear my throat, trying to shift the conversation to something less… emotionally taxing. “You, uh—your performance earlier was great. The whole show, really.”

Jennie turns her head toward me, an amused glint in her eyes. “Yeah?”

I nod, rubbing the back of my neck. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t know much about K-pop or how these performances usually go, but you guys had the crowd wrapped around your finger.”

She chuckles. “That’s kind of the goal.”

I huff out a laugh. “Well, mission accomplished. It was insane watching it all come together.”

Jennie tilts her head slightly, watching me. “You’re part of the documentary crew, right? So, does that mean you’ll be working with us closely?”

“Uh, yeah. Kind of,” I admit. “I’m the scriptwriter, so I’ll mostly be working behind the scenes. Trying to piece together something good for the documentary.”

She hums, rocking back and forth on the swing. “That sounds tough.”

“You have no idea,” I mutter.

Jennie grins. “So, do you think you’ll be able to write something nice about us?”

I let out a small laugh, though I can’t help but be honest. “I hope so. I still don’t really know what angle to go with yet.”

Jennie nods in understanding, then nudges my shoulder lightly. “Well, if you need any inspiration, you should just watch us more. See how we work, how we interact. It might give you something to work with.”

“That’s… actually not a bad idea,” I admit.

She smirks. “I know. I’m full of good ideas.”

I shake my head, but I can’t help the small smile that creeps onto my face.

For someone as famous as she is, Jennie is surprisingly easy to talk to. She doesn’t carry that untouchable aura that celebrities tend to have. She feels… real. Approachable.

For a moment, the conversation lulls, and I find myself just… looking at her.

The way the dim park lights cast a soft glow on her skin, the way the night breeze gently tousles her hair. Even dressed casually, without the glitz and glamour of the stage, Jennie has this effortless beauty to her. But beyond that, there’s a warmth—something about the way she carries herself, the way she speaks so easily, makes her feel more real than the larger-than-life figure I saw on stage just hours ago.

Before I can stop myself, my gaze lingers a little too long, and that’s when she catches me.

Her eyes flick toward me, and a slow smirk tugs at the corner of her lips. “Are you staring at me?”

Shit.

I immediately look away, clearing my throat. “What? No. Just… thinking.”

“Thinking?” Jennie echoes, tilting her head playfully. “About what, exactly?”

I hesitate. “Uh… about how I’m going to structure the documentary.”

She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh. Sure. Because that definitely explains why you were looking at me like that.”

I groan, rubbing the back of my neck. “Alright, fine. You caught me. You’re just—uh—you’re really pretty.”

Jennie blinks, momentarily surprised, before her smirk returns—this time with a playful glint in her eyes. “Oh? Really pretty, huh?”

I roll my eyes, feeling the heat creep up my neck. “Don’t make this weird.”

She lets out a soft laugh, nudging me with her shoulder. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.” Then, with a teasing tilt of her head, she adds, “But I’ll take the compliment. Thanks.”

I shake my head, exhaling a small chuckle. “Yeah, yeah.”

Jennie grins, clearly enjoying herself, and somehow, despite my embarrassment, I find that I don’t really mind. For the first time in what feels like forever, I’m not drowning in my own thoughts.

She swings her legs slightly, her sneakers scuffing against the dirt beneath the swing set. “You know,” she starts, her voice softer than before, “people always assume that being famous is this perfect, glamorous thing. That it’s all just money, lights, and screaming fans.”

I listen, watching as she tilts her head back to look at the sky. “And is it?” I ask.

She lets out a small, thoughtful hum. “It can be,” she admits. “But no one really talks about the other side of it. The pressure, the expectations, the way people start seeing you as an image rather than a person.” She exhales, a faint cloud forming in the cold night air. “Sometimes, it feels like you have to be perfect all the time. And if you’re not, the world won’t let you forget it.”

I let her words sink in. The way she speaks about it—it’s not bitter, but it carries a weight that most people probably never think about. “I guess that’s the difference between fame and success,” I say after a moment.

Jennie looks at me, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

I shrug, glancing down at my hands. “Fame is just… attention. People looking at you, talking about you. But success? That’s something you can actually hold onto. It’s the work you put in, the things you create, the people you affect. One lasts. The other fades.”

She studies me, her expression unreadable at first. Then, a slow smile tugs at her lips. “That’s… a really interesting way to look at it,” she says, and for some reason, that makes my chest feel a little lighter.

There’s a pause, not awkward but contemplative, before I glance at her again. “For the documentary,” I start, shifting the subject slightly, “what would you want to be included?”

Jennie blinks at me, caught off guard. “What I’d want?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “If this is supposed to be a behind-the-scenes look at you and the group, what do you want people to actually see?”

She falls quiet, truly thinking about it. It’s a rare sight—seeing someone who always seems to have an answer for everything suddenly deep in thought. Finally, after a long moment, she speaks.

“I guess… I’d want them to see us as real people,” she says, her voice softer now. “Not just idols, not just performers on a stage, but who we are when the cameras aren’t on. The things we laugh about, the stupid inside jokes, the moments when we’re just… normal.”

I nod slowly, taking in her words. “That sounds like something worth showing.”

She smiles at me then, something genuine and warm. “Yeah. I think so too.”

Jennie leans back slightly on the swing, her fingers gripping the chains as she thinks. “Since I know our schedule, I can probably suggest a few things that might work for the documentary,” she says. “Obviously, you’ll be seeing a lot of our rehearsals and performances, but I feel like that’s only half of who we are.”

I nod, listening intently. “Yeah, I imagine a lot of people already see that side of you in public. What else do you think would be worth showing?”

She tilts her head, considering. “Well… you could visit our dorm.” She glances at me, gauging my reaction. “I mean, you’d have to get it cleared with management and all that, but it might be good for the documentary. Show people how we live, what we do when we’re not on stage.”

I raise an eyebrow, surprised by the suggestion. “You’d really be okay with that? Letting cameras into your personal space?”

Jennie shrugs with a small smile. “I think so. As long as it’s not invasive. I mean, people see us all the time when we’re dressed up, performing, doing interviews. But they never really get to see the in-between moments. Like when we’re just hanging out in pajamas, arguing over what to order for dinner, or making fun of each other for dumb things.”

A small chuckle escapes me at that last part. “That actually sounds… kind of nice.”

“It is,” she says, her eyes flickering with a certain fondness. “I think that’s what a lot of fans love to see, too. The human side of us. And honestly, I’d rather be seen that way than as some untouchable figure.”

I take a moment to absorb what she’s saying. It’s refreshing, really—hearing someone like Jennie, someone who’s constantly in the spotlight, want to be seen as just… normal. “I’ll bring it up with my team,” I say. “I don’t know how flexible your management will be, but if it works out, I think it would be a great addition.”

Jennie beams at that, and for a second, I catch myself just looking at her. The way the soft glow of the streetlights makes her features stand out, the way her eyes seem brighter when she’s talking about something she cares about.

She notices once again. “You’re staring,” she teases, tilting her head.

I blink, immediately looking away. “I was just—” I clear my throat. “I was just thinking about what you said.”

She giggles, clearly amused by my reaction. “Right. Sure.”

I shake my head, a small, embarrassed smile forming despite myself. “You know, I’m really not used to this kind of thing.”

Jennie leans forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees. “What? Talking to idols?”

“Talking to people,” I admit.

She laughs softly, but it’s not mocking. “Well, you’re doing just fine.”

For some reason, that makes me feel at ease. Like, even with everything weighing me down, I can at least breathe a little easier in this moment.

The air between us shifts as Jennie’s tone softens, her eyes studying me more intently now. “Hey,” she says, her voice quiet, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but… is everything alright? I mean, I don’t know if it’s okay to ask, but I can’t help but feel like something’s been bothering you.”

I hesitate, feeling the weight of her gaze and the genuine concern in her words. It’s unexpected, really, and for a moment, I think about just brushing it off. But something about this quiet, open space—this park at night, just the two of us—feels like it’s inviting me to talk.

“Honestly,” I start, letting out a quiet breath, “I’ve just been dealing with some stuff. It’s… been hard, but nothing I really want to get into right now.”

Jennie nods, but there’s still that hint of concern on her face. She tilts her head slightly, giving me a thoughtful look. “I get it,” she says softly. “Sometimes it helps to just talk about it, though. You know, instead of holding it in.”

I give her a small, awkward smile, not sure how to go deeper without really unloading everything I’ve been carrying. “It’s not exactly easy for me to talk about stuff like this. I don’t usually… I don’t know, let people in.”

Her expression softens even more. “I get it. It’s not always easy to open up. But… you’re doing well so far.”

I chuckle nervously, feeling my chest tighten. “Well, it’s just that… I ran into my ex-girlfriend today.” I pause, watching Jennie’s reaction. Her eyes widen slightly, surprise flickering in them.

“Your ex-girlfriend?” she repeats, her voice filled with curiosity. “Wait—was she someone important to you?”

I glance down at my shoes, the memories threatening to rush back. “Yeah, she was. She still is, in a way. But… she’s also Jihye’s little sister. And that’s… complicated.”

Jennie’s expression shifts, her brow furrowing as the connection clicks. “Oh,” she says, her voice softer now. “You’re talking about Eunji, aren’t you?”

I blink, surprised. “You know her?”

She nods, her gaze thoughtful. “Not well, but I’ve met her a few times. She used to come visit Jihye, and I’d always greet her whenever I ran into her. She seemed nice. But, um… I didn’t realize you two had history.”

I swallow, the lump in my throat growing. “Yeah, well… we do. A lot of it. And seeing her again today, after everything that happened… it stirred up a lot of things I thought I’d buried.”

Jennie looks at me for a moment, her expression soft and understanding. “That sounds rough. I can imagine it must be hard, especially after so much time apart.”

I nod, feeling a strange sense of relief in her understanding, though it doesn’t erase the weight in my chest. “I didn’t expect it, honestly. I mean, I never thought I’d see her again, not after everything.”

Jennie looks away for a second, her gaze distant as she thinks. “It must feel like everything is up in the air now, right?”

I exhale slowly, nodding. “Exactly. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to feel. It just feels like I’m stuck in this moment that I can’t escape from, and it’s… not easy to deal with.”

Jennie gives me a quiet, almost knowing smile, as if she understands what it’s like to feel stuck in something that’s out of your control. “Yeah, I get that. It’s like you want to move on, but the past keeps pulling you back.”

I glance at her, feeling an unexpected sense of connection with her. “That’s it exactly.”

She looks back at me, her expression still warm but now with a hint of something deeper. “So, what are you going to do about it?” she asks softly.

I hesitate, feeling the weight of her question. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I think I’m just… waiting for something to give me an answer. But I’m afraid of what that answer might be.”

Jennie nods slowly, understanding the weight of what I’m saying. “I get it. It’s not easy to figure things out, especially when emotions are involved. But maybe… maybe you’ll get the clarity you need when the time is right.”

I nod, though I don’t fully believe it yet. But there’s something about Jennie’s calm presence, her quiet understanding, that makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, things will make sense again one day.

But then, as I look around, I suddenly realize how late it’s gotten. The park is nearly empty now, the only sound being the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. I glance at my watch, startled by how much time has passed. “I should probably head back,” I say, the sudden realization that I’ve lost track of time hitting me all at once.

Jennie nods, standing up from the swing she had been sitting on. “Yeah, I should too. We both have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.”

As we start walking toward the exit of the park, she glances over at me, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Hey, before you go,” she says, hesitating for a moment, “maybe we can exchange numbers?”

I blink in surprise. “Oh, yeah, of course.”

She smiles, her eyes bright. “I know it’s for the documentary stuff, but also… I think it’d be nice for us to keep in touch. I mean, it looks like you’ll need some friends while you’re here. Things can get pretty overwhelming sometimes.”

I smile back, feeling the warmth of her offer. “Yeah, that sounds good. I appreciate it.”

She pulls out her phone and I do the same, entering my number into her contacts. As she hands me my phone back, she gives me a little grin. “See? We’re already starting to make this whole documentary thing work.”

I chuckle, feeling a little lighter than before. “I guess so. Thanks, Jennie. I’ll keep in touch.”

Jennie flashes me one last smile before giving a small wave, “Goodnight,” she says, her voice soft but warm.

“Goodnight,” I reply, watching as she turns and begins walking away. The way she walks, with her head held high and her confident, graceful strides, makes her seem almost untouchable. Yet, there’s a familiarity in her movements now that I can’t ignore.

I stand there for a moment, just watching her walk away into the distance, the faint echo of her steps gradually fading. I glance down at my phone and see her contact info saved in my list, the number still feeling new and strange. My thumb hovers over it, and for a brief moment, a fluttering sensation fills my chest—something I haven’t felt in a while. But I quickly shake it off, telling myself it’s nothing.

The chill in the air starts to bite at my skin, and I realize just how cold it’s gotten. I shove my phone into my pocket and decide to head back to the hotel. The weight in my chest feels heavier now, but at least I have some clarity. Or at least, I think I do. The cold wind makes me pull my jacket tighter around me as I start walking back, my mind still lingering on everything from tonight.

⤷

Jennie steps into the dorm, the door closing softly behind her. The quiet hum of the place feels oddly comforting after the evening’s excitement. As she removes her shoes and slips off her jacket, she’s greeted by Rosé, who’s still awake in the kitchen, humming as she sips on some tea.

“Oh, hey, Jennie! How was your walk?” Rosé asks, her voice light but warm.

“It was nice. Needed some air,” Jennie replies with a soft smile, though there’s a hint of weariness in her tone. She nods to Rosé before making her way to her room.

Once inside, Jennie locks the door behind her, letting out a deep breath. The weight of the day seems to hit her all at once as she collapses onto her bed, letting the cool sheets soothe the tension in her muscles. She stares up at the ceiling for a moment, letting the quiet settle in around her.

Reaching over, she grabs her phone on her nightstand. As she unlocks it, her thumb instinctively opens her contacts, and her gaze falls on the name that stands out in her list: His name. His phone number, fresh and new, right there in her screen.

A soft smile curls on her lips as she reads his name, thinking back to their conversation. There was something about him that felt… different. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she was glad they exchanged numbers. Despite everything—her busy life, the spotlight, the constant pressure—she’s glad she can still make connections. Still find new friends.

It’s been a strange few years, and she knows it’s only going to get harder with everything changing, but maybe this was a step in the right direction.

Jennie taps her thumb on her phone screen before slowly typing out a message, but after a second of contemplation, she deletes it. Maybe not tonight. Instead, she locks her phone and sets it back down beside her. For now, she lets the stillness of her room wrap around her, a small sense of peace settling in her chest.

End of part I

⤷

Oh, boy!

We got ourselves a multi-parter story boys!

I’ve realized with how long I’ve been writing this story that it was going to be cut apart into multiple parts. This story, same as Road Trip, has been in my drafts for the past few years now.

This one being the longest by three years and a half.

This story went through multiple revisions. It was originally going to be a “Famous streamer meets academic college queen AU.” But, I decided that I wanted something simpler.

I wish I can show you guys just how many times I had to re-write the whole time skip because there were so many road blocks I kept facing. After some time, I finally got what I wanted and now here we are!

Nonetheless, I hope you guys enjoy this story and I also hope you guys stay tune for what happens next with our characters.

Thank you for reading and I’ll see you guys in the next story! Bye bye!

[kittenfangirl20]

*Lucifer watched as Adam’s band practiced, Adam was the lead singer and lead guitarist, Lucifer was amazed by the talent the first man had, Eve was even part of the band playing the bass guitar and she would sing along with Adam, the band comprised of different angels, but it was the first man and second woman who were the stars of the show*

Adam: Luci, come up here, remember I told you that I wrote a song for you to sing in too, I want to try it out.

Lucifer: I can’t, what if I am not good enough.

Adam: That is bullshit, you are the Archangel of Light, your voice has always left me entranced. Sing with us.

*Lucifer knew he meant more for Lucifer to sing along with Adam and Eve with the rest of the band just happening to be there, he pulled off his hat and coat before rolling up his sleeves and getting on the stage*

Lucifer: Forgive me if fail and make everyone look bad.

Adam: You are the Demon Prince of Pride and absolutely gorgeous, don’t let insecurity control you.

*Adam handed Lucifer a microphone and the band struck up the opening notes and Lucifer sang the lyrics that Adam wrote for the song, Adam and Eve soon joined in singing, Lucifer thought of Eden when he would sing with Adam and thought of how it would have been like if he had been there when Eve arrived instead of being on the run with Lilith, their voices went well with each other and Lucifer such a warm feeling inside at singing with the two people he loved, he was so lost in the singing that he didn’t realize that residents of the hotel gathered to hear them sing, when the song was done he saw the little audience and blushed*

Charlie: That was so amazing dad, I love it when you sing. In fact I missed it.

Angel Dust: You rocked.

Alastor: It was acceptable, but then again nothing can beat jazz.

*the whole group knew for Alastor that was him giving high praise, later Lucifer was sitting with Adam and Eve*

Lucifer: It has been a long time since I had so much fun.

Eve: Adam always went on about how amazing your voice was and I can say that he wasn’t exaggerating.

Lucifer: Thank you, in fact you sounded amazing yourself Eve. Adam, I always loved your voice, I am so happy that others can hear it.

Adam: Singing was always my passion and it helps me connect with others. I know that is silly.

Eve: It isn’t, I think it is sweet.

Lucifer: She is right, you have a rare gift that needs to be shared.

*Adam just smiled as they continued talking*

[georgiapeach30513]

Mrs pasta here checking in on you peach 🍑

Glad to see you doing well and as always, keeping positive and away from the drama.

I also see operation manufacturing an internet bf has some people in a tiff. 😂

I myself don’t mind the carbon copy, I think he’s cute and somewhat charming, but what I don’t love is seeing the sudden bandwagon jump as always.

I have always side eyed fair weathered fans. Jumping to whoever is “hot” at the moment and then piling on someone else when they are “down.” I have no issues with carbon copy having his own fans - I just resent a comparison being used to put one down over the other. There’s no need for that. Especially when some are doing it on purpose to get a rise out of others.

I also have a feeling some people will be crawling back in the near future. I’ve always thought Ramen wasn’t meant to go the commercial route of big blockbuster movies and beefcake persona. I think his innate nature (at least publicly) has shown he tends to thrive when he follows his guns and picks a risky or unique project with a director that has a specific vision. I think this is where he will continue to find inspiration and return on investment.

If money isn’t an issue for him anymore, I think these smaller but more original/different projects may carve him a future in character acting that I think he still has a chance to succeed in.

He doesn’t need to be a top shelf A lister or even awards darling to do it. He is talented and he will find an audience somehow, I am sure of this.

Remember - art is subjective. And what makes a good movie isn’t necessarily how many awards it gets or how big the box office numbers are. If you are someone’s favorite actor in a movie they watch religiously and they can quote every line, or you are an actor whose opened a person up to a new genre or franchise simply because they enjoyed you on screen - then in my books, you’ve succeeded. I think Ramen has done that for many people in this world and I don’t think he needs to prove anything to anyone. I myself have seen multiple men wearing cap America tshirts this month alone (it’s 2024!) - white, Asian, Black, Latinx, older, middle aged, teenaged, child. Both Ramen and his friend Buldak (three guesses who I’m referring to 😉 AM) have created a legacy that won’t be going away anytime soon. Ten years ago, I used to mainly see batman and superman t shirts. I don't think all these new fans are just people who like comic books.

Be well, peach. Until next time!

Mrs. Pasta!! I welcome you back, it’s been awhile, but glad to see you around these neck of the woods again.

I actually think Chris’ career was heading out of the internet boyfriend for a while, and now here we are. I’ve tried to remain out of this discourse because I never want to yuck on someone else’s yum, but of course people want to push him and his projects on me, or want to talk about him, and eventually I do, and they don’t like it. When I’ve stated multiple times that the man does absolutely nothing for me in looks and I don’t enjoy his movies, and that’s being generous given his list of projects. Everyone has their time to come up, but his has been quick, since working on Top Gun. Almost like he has someone who wanted to invest in his career. Good for him. Now go away and create a new identity 😂

As you talk about the fair weathered fans, it just proves it was more about the looks and persona than about the talent. Which is fine, but we don’t have to kick him when he’s down to lift another up. I have been a fan of his since 2001. I became a fan for his looks, yes, and stayed because I enjoyed him. I enjoyed his body of work, meaning projects. I enjoyed his public persona, etc. You don’t stay a fan for over 20 years on looks alone. Although his looks to me are a bonus.

Chris’ career is fine, despite what some people believe. It is not of the height as it was when he was in Marvel, but neither is RDJ’s, Scarlett’s, or anyone’s. Marvel is a wheelhouse, and is in a league all of its own, so it’s silly to compare the two. However, Chris has had movies since Not Another Teen movie where he was the lead, and had a character name. It was a slow, but steady climb to his peak in 2018/2019. But he has officially announced three projects for this year alone. People don’t even know what he could be planning for 2025. He is an attractive white man that has a reputation for an excellent work ethic. He’ll be okay.

And you’re right. I would wager most actors aren’t A-List anymore. I seriously get tired of this conversation because it goes around in circles. But this age of celebrities are not the ones from the past. And that’s okay. Things change. As long as he is happy with his career and the way it’s going, and he’s being fulfilled it shouldn’t matter if he’s in huge box office successes.

Buldak! I love this!! I think the spicy ramen suits Mackie 😉 And you’re right. Superman was the superhero of the past. Now, it’s Captain America. Nobody can ever take Steve Rogers from Chris, or the fact that he was the face of Marvel for years. But I don’t even consider Steve to be one of my favorite characters. However, he was perfect for it, and nobody could have done it better.

As always, Mrs. Pasta, thanks for dropping in!

[ratkingssillyboy]

So I’ve been wanting to read the rest of the royal ranger series and figured I’d reread the main series first as it’s been around six years since I first found them, after reading the first book I’m just so glad that it holds up to how fantastic it was the first time and I have ALOT to say.

-The way that Will and Horace grow so much in just the first book, I mean we have Will whose main defence is running and finding a hiding spot but is still witty and a fast thinker to a brave resourceful determined young man. The training my boy is put through is ROUGH but he doesn’t even think of trying to get out of it or wishing he wasn’t a rangers apprentice, we get to see as he matures and simply grows into himself just…the steadiness he has in him by the end of the book, he has a long way to go but we get a glimpse at the man he’ll become.

Horace has an even greater arc, we see him as a simple minded bully (which he absolutely is in those early chapters) but then we see that he’s a natural swordsman who has his own insecurities. We then watch as he’s confronted with the trio of bullies and still unsure of the traditions and usual ways of battle school we see as he soldiers through taking their shit and STILL managing to keep up to a degree, the way that it still affects his school work and social life was perfectly depicted like on harvest day where he lashed out at those he cares about was brilliant but also him not keeping up with school work which when the issue is taken care of becomes much easier for him. But through it all we get to see as he matures, now he isn’t that bully we saw at the start he is a talented loyal friend who is willing to try and take down a boar to keep someone he’s been awful to safe and then witnessing Will do the same for him, making a promise that he soon fulfils regardless of his own injuries

Just watching Will and Horace, these two boys going from school yard enemies to the mature young men who would absolutely die for the other by the end of the book was fantastic, there was no force behind it like it felt so natural and easy once they were able to actually see the other and how far they both had come since the choosing, and it isn’t perfect there’s still tension but they’re friends

- speaking of the boar attack, when Will shoved his face into halts chest and cried? I sobbed as well, absolute puddle of a mess because of course Will would cling to halt after such a terrifying ordeal, and halt just?? Comforting him??? Like the heart attack this man must of had watching his son apprentice facing down a massive boar with a bow and two knives, that hug absolutely healed something in halt John told me so himself.

- I remember originally reading the books at age 12-14 and not comprehending why Will asking so many questions annoyed halt but now at the age of 20? I get it, I finally understand this poor tired middle aged man. Though the absolute dead pan wit this Halt gives Will with each interaction made me wheeze.

- Can I just say, Will meeting Tug? Like he has no idea that he's just met one of his most loyal dedicated companions, just them meeting and growing such a strong bond so quickly I mean the way Will was TERRIFIED when Tug came to his defence during the boat attack and Will could only think of the injuries Tug could get, Tug would not have been Wills horse for long at that point maybe a few months at most and already Will is so attached.

- Gilan, it's wild to think about the fact I'm now around his age? Like he's actually so young????? I just love his dynamic with halt, the respect he shows him while also being the little shit he is is perfect, and the big brotherly way he is around will I just know he's so proud and impressed by this little 15 year old, he absolutely has asked himself if he was ever that silly as halts apprentice (the answer is yes)

-Old bob is a national treasure, I know that man has hit halt on the upside of his head at least once, feel it in my bones

- JUST WILL CHOOSING HALT OVER HIS LIFELONG DREAM I know Halt was holdin tears l just know it, like everyone knew just how much Will wanted to be a knight and yet when offered HE DECLINED because he loves his dad

Thank you for coming to my ted talk