#bc for some reason my mind was like. u can't just write the same thing for both sites pages

[dilf-docs]

Misery Reigns My Lonely Neon Nights

old man!logan x younger fem!reader

summary: logan should've said no. should've just drove the pretty waitress home. that's his job. hers is to serve his cup of coffee to the brim. so why is he riding you to his house?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (cause we have a small daddy kink going on here.. hence the blog name BUT I DO HAVE A GOOD DAD), smut, this reeks of corruption kink for no reason other than me being a virgin whore, like he gets stalker-ish for a second but its logan howlett so we forgive him<3 ya está viejito, brief mention of suicide, sub logan edging on praising kink (if u squint), no protection but u gotta put the hat on the cowboy to ride the horse alr, riding, breeding kink??? angst (the depressing vibes are there cause they follow my writing like a shadow ijbol)

word count: 6,102 words (at the v crack of dawn.. i think i've gone insane FR it's 02:07 am and my brain its eating itself like im gonna start seeing logan in the corner of my room)

side note: newbie here after reading so many fanfics on tumblr but never publishing my own!! its hugh's birthday (well, its past midnight so no more but still!!! it was a couple hours ago) so i figured i should give it a try today cause that man does things to me ESPECIALLY as old man logan i can't lie and say the thought of him fucking me good and slow hasn't crossed my mind too many times 😩 we love sad hot old people in here so naturally my inaguration fic had to be done by him. also, i'm tired of scrapping for votes, comments, and interactions on wattpad so please treat me well during our first:// it's me moving to tumblr it's me hi i'm the problem it's me. i'm a feedback whore so pls leave tons of those!! also, english isn't my first language so if i make a grammar mistake pls do not tell me bc i have no respect for this language ―it just makes me cringe less to write smut on a language that isn't mine lol<3 but if there's any other mistake yes pls do tell me thank u OKAY BYE i needa quit yapping ENJOY dilf town<3

So it started something like this.

It was another simple nightshift for Logan. The weather humid, uncomfortably sticking the fabric of his white button shirt onto his skin. Even with the windows down. Those nights that the driving dragged on for long, like those cigarettes that now made him cough more than relax. The roads felt too long; his eyes too heavy.

Nothing new. Just about what to expect: money short, clients and traffic equally annoying. But that was the problem; nothing was new anymore.

He'd just finish dropping a customer close by, and since the tiring feeling didn't seem to leave his body just yet, a coffee wouldn't hurt. As a matter of fact, the need for a boost to make it home makes him get out of the car and limp his way into the first place his tired vision sees.

The rim of his recently adquired reading glasses slips as he climbs the stairs into the decades old diner, the decoration outdated. He understands; he feels the same way.

Neon lights flash his face when he enters the place and sits in the farthest booth he can find. The air is impregnated in grease and cheap coffee, but he waits at least fifty minutes to order, giving his body some time to rest. In the meanwhile, he tries to distract himself with the newspaper resting on the table, but God knows his eyes are too tired and his mind drifts every two words.

He hopes he doesn't get kicked out, judging from the attentive look he's receiving by a waitress resting on the bar. She looks as bored and tired as he does.

Maybe that's why he chooses her, raising his hand with order in mind. A black coffee. The waitress slides from her position and takes some steps to where he sits.

Her voice is sweet when she introduces herself, and Logan finds himself asking her again what her name is, pretending he's half deaf just to listen to it again.

"It's y/n" you repeat, oh so sickeningly sweet, he might have to skip on asking for sugar.

"Y/n" he savours the name on his lips, trying the tender sound, his eyes darting to the name tag, like he's confirming it. Testing to see if the young woman in front of him is real. Maybe his eyes linger a little too long, and the tip of your ears start to heat. Its the way he examines every feature on your face, like memorizing it in a sense, that makes you squirm. But maybe, just maybe, it's the small―brief, peak he gives to your exposed cleavage, pushing itself against the tight fabric of your uniform what truly gets your heart beating fast.

He looks like what your parents would warn you to stay away and your friends would talk behind your back. Rugged in a way that screams heartbreak, rough around edges your kind nature wishes to soften. It's unresonable to feel this way about a client you just met, but his aloof demeanor peaks your interest, so different from your usual costumers and familiar faces that pop up at the diner.

"Can I order you, darling?" his voice comes out deep, almost passing as a grunt. Just what you imagined it to sound. Why he's acting as his past self so effortlessly, after closing himself off to the point of going by entire days without talking more than three words, is concerning. Why the cute waitress who looks at him with doe eyes, expectant to take his order, is making him break the promise he made to himself not to get attached again―just live by enough to make it to the sea and put a bullet in his head.

"Well, that's just about my job" you joke, feeling confident for no reason. "But you can't order me".

"A damn shame" he chuckles, the sound deep, rumbling on his chest. It's been so long since he's laughed like that: carefree, without that pressing weight on his chest, that despite the sinking notion, sometimes feels more like a hole carved where his heart is supposed to be.

"So..." you trail off, unsure where to proceed after that sound that jolted your entire system awake, "what will you take?"

The banter dies, and Logan is dissapointed when she scribbles the dark coffee on her pretty round letter and walks away. He doesn't miss the sway of her hips, and almost calls her back just to hear her voice again. But he stops himself, because it's getting pathetic.

When she returns with her order, he almost regrets the comeback of his enhaced senses, her honeyed perfume mixed with the bitter smell of the freshly brewed coffee, creating an intoxicating mix.

His lips burn when he sips it, but that doesn't stop him from emptying the cup. Again. And again. All in the name for asking for more coffee, a magnetic force pulling him to the ground, making him forget he's a 200 and something year old man begging like a starved man for at least a fraction of her attention. He feels unworthy of your warmth.

He feigns interest on the newspaper when you return again (he's been stuck on the same paragraph ever since he sat down), the pot in your hands. If you've noticed he's emptied the cups faster than a normal person, you don't ask questions. He's thankful, but can see the amusement and confusion laced across your pretty face.

"More?" you ask, but it's unnecesary. He only nods, and you miss the chatter.

The closeness it's a challenge itself, the uniform's neckline practically shoved down his nose while she fills the cup to the brim. He hears his own heartbeat, the sound averting his attention from another "brief" glance at the cleavage. Is it intentional? Is your goodwill and act? Are you this cruel, playing with an old touch starved man like that?

God knows it's been long since he's had a helping hand during his relief hours.

He can't help it; he's a man, after all. So he seizes the moment and steals a glance. But his eyes meet yours, the wary green clashing with the cozy chocolate. There's warmth on your eyes, and he's looking at your tits like an animal. He pulls away, ashamed. The shirt feels a bit suffocating, and there's sweat on his forehead again. Great, you'll think he's a perv.

"Excuse me" you say, leaving his table. Logan is afraid of having fucked it up for thinking with this dick and not with his head. You were messing too much with his head, and now he'll pay the price. Fair, he thinks, for a perverted old man trying to woo a girl younger and far more innocent than him.

There's benevolance on her smile and blood on his hands.

The whole situation is stupid.

But then he's thinking of excuses (like saying it's his failing eyesight's fault) and something close to an apology, as if he cares a little too much about what you think. And then you come back.

"I forgot to bring you a napkin" she lies, leaving the piece of paper in the middle of the table. You laugh, and Logan let's you because 1. He deserves it, and 2. It's a sound as saccharine as the smell the freshly heated pies emit on the table across him.

You leave before he can even open his mouth, so all he's left with is the napkin that seems to have something written on it. Pervert, he reads, on the same calligraphy you scribbled on your bloc. He can't help but laugh, even with your watchful look on him.

That's how it continued.

Even if he had other rides and more energy to drive, he kept coming to the decaying diner just to see you. Almost as if he was forgetting his desperate need for the money, the boat goal further and further.

"You've forgotten about me" complained Charles, although his tone lacked of bite. "But I'm not mad that you've had".

He'd go on, rambling about living life but Logan just laughed. Yet, maybe he was right. Didn't even need his powers to know it.

Now, you? you simply couldn't get enough of your favorite costumer. Of his late stays until you closed, sometimes not muttering more than necessary, yet his company, even if curt, proved to be what you needed to make it through work, giving you a legitimate reason to yearn the before tedious night shifts.

Despite this two month weird relationship, Logan is as a stranger to you as he was the first day, no matter how many times you've tried to get him to talk. In the end, all your conversation efforts feel more of a monologue than a chat.

He knows about your mom and your dad, one strict the other dead. He knows most of your friends names, what you're studying and what you wanted to. Your dreams and your hopes, your aspirations, failures, and some other things you'd never say to anyone else out loud. All and nothing. And he listens, sometimes asking questions, but never about himself. He never takes the lead.

So frustration from the Logan enigma pours into you, the puzzle pieces layed out over your mind, consuming your thoughts. So now you're stubbornly cleaning the same grease spot on a table you've already wipped before, and that, coincidentally, it's the booth in front of Logan, the permanent resident of your head during these past weeks. You might as well make him start paying rent by now, his power and hold over you ridiculous.

"It's not going anywhere. Take it easy" he mocks you.

There's a bit of annoyance when you reply back, although it's mostly superficial. "Don't know what you're talking about" comes out your dry response, earning a low chuckle from him.

"How about you sit for a moment?" he offers, ignoring your apathy. "You're almost done cleaning up".

If his ever changing attitude isn't enough, closing this night's shift is as tiring.

Logan doesn't expect you to obey, but now you're sitting across from him, and a voice in his head says you maybe feel sorry for this lunatic old man.

You're so close, he can see the eye bags and sorrow you are far tired to try to hide.

"I have to finish cleaning" you explain, "we're about to close".

He doesn't know why he says it, or what takes over him when he says:

"I could wait for you"

He surprises himself and surprises you too.

"No need" you assure, and why does he feel so dissapointed. It's stupid. "My friend picks me up".

Ah, yes. The friend with the perfect stupid smile that picks you up every night. Not like he parks his car until you leave and sees the scene unfold each time, his white knuckle grip on the wheel a bit too much when the young boy opens up your door. Makes him see red, knowing he's your age and maybe the breathe of fresh air you need. Not a man far older, who bears too many sins and scars in and out.

"I see" he says after some minutes in silence, retracting his impulsiveness. "I'm sorry if I made you-"

"No!" you clarify hastily, "it doesn't bother me".

He smiles unconsciously in relief.

"Well, me neither. I insist. If you change your mind" he's practically begging, despite his monotone tone.

But you don't.

The place closes and Logan is forced to get in the car. He lights a cigarette, in no hurry to return home. The lighter lights up while the diner's light goes off. You and your boss come out, biding each other goodbye. She leaves and you're is left alone, hugging your body in the early morning cold. 

He sees you wearing particular clothes, for the first time. He takes a slow drag on his cigarette, eyes running up and down your bare legs, the fragile fabric of the skirt fluttering in the wind. He exhales, watching as you dials your phone several times, getting no response, obviously frustrated.

He mutters something under his breath, and maybe there is a God after all. He starts the car, approaching her, who has already noticed it, probably because of the noise of the engine.

She looks scared, but Logan rolls down the window so she can see it's him.

"Need'a ride?"

Just by his reverberant sound you could accept. But you try to play cool for a while, despite your aching bones and need to get home.

"He doesn't answer" he was right, "my friend".

I know, he wishes to say, but he's the same hot headed asshole who walked through the doors of the X mansion for the first time, so his tone will be laced with irony. He doesn't want you to see him as an intense hot blooded mouth.

I could take you. His head pounds but he shuts the emotions down.

He shoves the knot on his throat down and asks as casually as possible, "do you live close?"

"Just around the corner" you answer. A beat, your frame bending so he can see your face from the driver's sit, the cleavage saying hello again. How considerate of you. "Do you really want to do this?"

Do you really want to do this?

The question rings on his ears. It holds more than just the favor. Logan knows they have a certain tension between them that he no longer wants to ignore. For the first time it seems to be reciprocated; palpable, and he is surprised to hear his heart beating loudly, so accustomed to hearing others' with his sharp senses, constantly forgetting what his own sounds like. Yours also beats erratically, despite your calm composure.

You arch an eyebrow, amused. "I can't believe you waited for me. Your family must be worried."

Logan realizes you're trying to test waters. So he raises his hand discreetly and places it on the door, so you can see the lack of a ring. As expected, your eyes travel to his free finger, and he can swear he sees you breathe with relief, which is funny, because in case you hadn't picked up until now, Logan is very much fucking alone.

"In case you changed your mind," he answers. "I have nowhere else to be."

That is enough of an invitation for you to get in the car.

"I was going to open that door for you" he protests.

You only laugh as you buckle the seatbelt. "It's not that big of a deal, really. You've already done enough for me by doing me the favor".

"It's not that big of a deal" he repeats your words, "as long as I'm of help, that's enough for me".

He smiles wistfully, remembering better times. A part of him still aspires to be that hero everyone loved and remembered, something that clearly doesn't happen anymore (or if it does, it's rare), given the lack of recognition of his former identity in El Paso. He shakes his head, focusing back on the street in front of him. It's too late to get fucking sentimental.

"I like to help too…" you confess, meekly. Logan sighs, how could he not know? "My father used to say that I had the kindest heart he'd ever met. I hope it stays that way, and that when he looks down on me, he's proud".

It hurts Logan to see you be so hard on yourself, as if he didn't do the same.

"I bet all the customers in the place would say you're the sweetest thing they've met", he sees you smile from the corner of his eye, and can't help but emulate it. "Believe me, you're their favorite".

"Thank you, Logan" you say sincerely. However, the affliction that he hates to see crosses your face. So gloomy that you don't even seem the same person.

You wipe away an unexpected tear, but Howlett is faster and notices. You turn around, looking towards the window. Then, you catch a glimpse of his license.

"So… you're a driver" you try to break the silence that Logan has put without knowing why. Maybe to give you some space after being sentimental and opening up again to this closed off wall name Logan, but he knows it's a lie. He's scared. After wanting so much to be closer to you, he cowers, not trusting himself and what he would do trapped in a small space with such an attractive woman. Besides, the tension from the previous conversation was still there.

"You judging me now, honey?" the pet name rolls off his tongue before he catches it. He tries to play it cool, continuing the banter, carrying the same tone. "The only thing necessary to make you trust me was to give you a free ride?

"I'm in your car, Logan. I got in without thinking" you laugh. "I believe that's enough trust"

"Then, I'll keep doing you favors. Maybe if I do…" he trails off.

Your voice drops an octave, provocative. "Maybe what?"

His knuckles grip the steering wheel until they turn white.

"Maybe…" he hesitates, "maybe…"

"It's here" you point out. Shit, Logan curses, braking abruptly without meaning to.

"See you tomorrow" you bid as a goodbye, getting out of the car. Logan misses your smell.

So he sticks his head out the window, like a begging dog.

"How about now?" he says a bit forcefully.

Your face shows surprise and something else.

"You're getting attached" you reply, and he doesn't know why there seems to be sadness in your voice.

"I just keep coming back for the coffee" he defends himself.

You laugh, shaking your head "Now, then. For the coffee, clearly."

"I can leave" he says. Yet, makes no move to leave.

You sigh, giving him one last look. Surrender, he reads.

"You're a driver, right?" he nods, taking in every word coming of your pink plush lips. "Then let's drive off. Anywhere" your voice trails off, and you're just so tired of everything, you'll just let go yourself with the flow. "I'll go wherever you go..."

And this is how it ends.

When you wake up, it's almost dawn.

Logan had suggested you to sleep, claming the road where he was taking you to be long. He had covered you with his jacket, even if your body was burning from nerves.

Why had you agreed? Your mom would probably smack your head in search for some sense, and your reckless friends would encourage you to do it for the sake of a story. But something about Logan makes you feel safe, despite not knowing anything from him. It's sort of a sense of protection―like he would never hurt you, that envelops him. Everyone else would call you crazy; only you can understand that.

When your eyes adjust to the light, you realize you're in a line of cars.

"Did you bring me to the border?" you exclaim groggily, still in a sleepy voice.

"Good morning" he answers instead.

You rub yoou eyes, settling into the passenger seat.

"You're not going to kidnap me, right?" you question, half joking half serious.

Logan laughs, "Not only that. I'm also going to throw your body in a mass grave"

"It's not funny," you pout, although you're laughing too.

Once you've crossed the border, Logan drives a few more minutes, until he reaches a restricted area.

“I live here” he answers before you can ask, “saves rent and questions”

After opening the locks, you can better appreciate the place. Well, appreciate may not be the right word.

“It's an abandoned smelting plant” you voice out loud.

Logan just nods. You realize that he didn't like the comment, so you try not to talk about it anymore.

“Come” he gets out of the car, going to open your door. He offers you a hand, and you fail to hide your smile.

“You didn't miss this time, huh? Quite a gentleman” you praise. Then, add jokingly, “if you choose to kill me, at least I'll die taken care of".

“Stop talking nonsense and go inside” he scolds but smiles.

Inside, the abandoned plant is exactly what you expected.

"We're alone" Logan says, after leaving to check. He opens the door to his room, letting you in. There's not much inside, just a bed and scattered things. A yellowish light begins to filter through the broken glass. "I'mma change. Be right back".

You begin to explore your surroundings, to avoid thinking about the impact of the situation. Two things could happen: leave or stay. Maybe everything was going too fast, but you prided yourself on your spontaneity, often confused with impulsiveness. Others would say it was your naive nature: too innocent for your own good.

What had led you to accept without further ado? Was trust enough, that you had even fallen asleep in his car?

"S'rry for the wait"

You notice that Logan's gotten rid of his formal attire, leaving him in just slacks and an old white tank top. His muscles flex with every movement, making you swallow involuntarily. He still retains his extraordinary physique, despite his greying hair. She can't help but stare at the scars that cover his exposed skin, her fingers itching to trace them.

"Haven't they told ya' t's rude to stare?"

You look away, embarrassed. Logan walks over to the bed, bumping into you in the process, bodies barely touching. Still, an electric shock runs through you. You hug yourself, scared, aware of the effect he has on you.

"Logan" she dares to ask, "what are we doing?"

He finally looks at you. You feel naked under his intense gaze.

"What do you want us to do?"

His voice comes out low, like a growl. You stand in place stiff, unable to form a word.

"Come on, honey", the nickname comes out of his lips so easily, it hurts. "Are ya losing your voice now? Got into my car a while ago without thinkin', what's changed?"

You slowly approach Logan, each stride calculated. He watches you in silence, a silence as hostile as the wind hitting the broken windows, watching you remove your clothes, until all that's left is your bra and that skimpy skirt, as if you knew he liked it.

"Logan…" you whisper his name like a prayer, letting yourself fall on his legs. He holds you with his hard calloused fingers, like a promise.

"Use your words, sweet thing" the trepidation condenses between, "we're grown up now, aren't we? Use your words"

Don't let me fall. Don't let me go. Don't leave me.

If by words he meant feeling your lips against his, it's enough to have Logan following his impulses, using his strength to embrace your body until they feel like one, the scars on his hands feeling like your own. Your lips move in sync, and it's almost so casual, so learned, so meant to be, that fear appears in Logan, soon forgotten with the symphony of moans that come from your lips.

"Tell me" he pauses, breaking away from the kiss (something you don't like and express in the form of a pout), "what do you want?"

Logan tastes like cigars and whiskey, a combination you hate and the reason you quit your old job at the bar, but on his lips, it's an intoxicating taste.

"I want you, Logan" you whisper, hot breath against his skin, “you”.

He resumes the kiss, an electric shock of hunger and need between you: lips parted, colliding, teeth almost clashing against each other.

His fingers hesitate with a delicacy that belies his rough touch, the tips of his worn fingers lifting the fragile cloth of your skirt first, revealing soaking wet panties he goes crazy just at the sight of. The smell is sugary, sicklingly, so now he's hard and pulling at the clasp of your bra first, exposing your nipples, which he rolls and pinches mercilessly. A gasp escapes you—then another, and another as Logan pushes his thigh between your legs. The friction is delicious, almost painful against your pulsing center.

His hand firm up his position, securing itself onyour bare legs as you digs her nails into him. His labored moans turn into a guttural growl.

“You think I’m not capable?” he mocks, stealing another moan from her, “that I can’t keep up with you, you pretty young thing?”

You deny it, but Logan takes it upon himself to show you that he can take you like he's in heat, the ghost of his old self taking over in his almost animal way of fucking you, hips arched, muscles flexed and tense, his teeth appearing every time he opens his mouth, reminding you of fangs. They dig into your exposed skin, leaving bruises that will take time to disappear from your shoulders and neck, marking what belongs to him.

The hardness of his skin meets your soft when he grabs you by the waist.

"Look at you" it slips from his tongue, ecstatic. He's a goner, saliva dripping from the messy and sloppy kisses he leaves through your collarbone, "so good and so pure. I bet you're innocent, that you haven't seen what I've seen..."

His pupils darken, a strange mix between torment and desire in his gaze. Hungry and violent.

"Will you let me show you how's a real man s'ppossed to treat a woman?"

He feels shame settle in his belly, the hunger to possess her almost virgin body fueling his dark desire of errasing her sweet smile until she's an unintelligible mess of sobs. To show her what she would complain about, so she'll never slettle for less. So you can feel what it's to be taken care of―handled. And then he'll fill you up with his seed, so no other man will take what's his. His sweet little thing. Oh, he's so going to hell for this.

But maybe he likes pain.

"That's it, honey" he plays with the fabric of your wet panties, pulling at the loose threads in the delicate fabric. "Let me show you".

You take it off, and Logan lies back against the bed, spreading his legs and unbuttoning his belt and pants―a clear invitation to repeat the previous position, except this time, his hands are on top of your hips, squeezing the soft skin. He doesn't take his eyes off you, his gaze reserved only on you. If the adrenaline from before pushed you, now the confidence gained motions you to finish the task. It's just the push you need, remembering that this is what it feels like to be with a real man as you throw a leg over his hips, sitting your ass right on top of the bulge marked on his underwear.

“Right… there…” he barely manages to formulate a coherent train of words, the years of lack of help in attending to his needs leading to overstimulation, “good girl.”

The compliment makes you increase the pace of your hips, his labored breaths a sound so rich and so manly it makes you squirm.

You need it desperately, rubbing your increasingly wet clit against him, riding the fabric. His scruffy beard barely hides the smug smile that graces his lips.

“Like this?” she whispers, and Logan can no longer contain himself, staring at his sweaty, ripped body failing to please her completely. It feels so good it aches, and he can't believe this is how he's ended. But if that means having your pretty face on top of him, covered in his marks, dripping on your joint sweats, well maybe it isn't so bad.

“How can I repay you, honey?” he pleads. He'll try he's best. He just wants to give you a glimpse of the way his whole world has light up ever since he stumbled in that greasy diner.

“You said you were going to show me” it comes out almost as a purr, expectant, “and I’m waiting”.

Logan takes it as his cue, pulling down his underwear until his member is exposed, chuckling darkly when you swallow at the sight.

"Don't tell me you're scared already" he teases, "look how you have me… you can't leave me like this…"

You stifle a scream as you feel every inch of his thick cock enter your sensible walls, trying to fit his member inside of your needy body.

"So tight for me" he stammers, using his hands to keep you in place, on top of him. The only sound in the silence of that place that smells of death is that of their skin colliding―vulgar, the obscenity highlighted by being the only thing that can be heard in the small room.

Even though his stamina has dropped over the years, he thrusts into you relentlessly. Logan fucks you senseless, his balls buried deep in your dripping pussy, a constant rhythm of avid suction with each entry to your walls.

He takes a moment to see you as you take something from the nighstand he doesn't remember putting there.

"Look what I found" you whisper in the middle of your moans. Logan recognizes the shine of metal in front of his eyes, "so Wolverine?"

You say it so easily, like it's not the first time. With acceptance; it scares him.

Do you recognize him? Are you not scared? Why haven't your eyes go from curiosity and kindness to cold and rejection?

He should panic, rip off his dog tags from your hands and pretend he doesn't know who he used to be, but he's so deep inside you and so enraptured, he can only manage to gently take them from between your fingers and put them around your neck, the cold metal against your warm, bare skin creating an electric shock.

"I want to see them on you"

He likes to watch it hang over his face while you're on top, panting heavily as she repeats his name, slurring her words. It dangles with every thrust, the silver glistens in the seeping sun, just like the sweat that adorns her skin.

"Are you that needy of your old man? " he teases, caressing her. He smacks the curve of his ass, “You want more?”

His veiny length makes quick work of your needy hole, more moans escaping your lips.

“Shit,” you curse, wincing at the pain that begins to increase. “Yes, Logan. Just like that. Nobody ever treated me like that, nobody's made me feel like this-”

He moans, pleased with the praise, seeing he isn't as lacking as he thought. Making you feel good is his priority, but he won't lie and say he doesn't want to feel it too.

In an attempt to distract yourself, your eyes try to focus on him: searching his features, memorizing every scar, every wrinkle, every little grey hair.

“You’re perfect, Logan,” you mumble through a moan, the confession hiding more than you want to say and more than he cares to admit.

Before he can process it though, the fire in his stomach signals the arrival of his impending orgasm.

There's something delightful about the way you can barely speak, a mess of moans that sound like his name, eyes half-lidded and lips swollen alongside your messy hair.

He feels almost sick to be consuming something that doesn't and shouldn't belong to him. He doesn't deserve to have such a beautiful, young woman riding him while she clings to him like he's the last thing in this world, him: a worn, old man who can't keep up with her.

His member spasms, and it's got you feeling it all inside your walls, causing him to close his eyes in the process as well.

It's too soon, Logan thinks in shame, but it's been so long and you feels so good, he let's it go:

Thick whips of his cum shoot out of his member, drawing out more than you would've imagined. You don't have much time to think about it, for the orgasm hits you immediately, fingers curling and eyes rolling to the back of your skull.

Logan feels his tip getting wetter, and the extra lubrication is a nice finishing touch.

“God,” he gasps, “what a mess…”

You avoid looking at him, taking one of his hands in yours, kissing the red and violet painted knuckles. If you do, you'll give away what you feel, the same way her memory burns in Logan's chest, more now than ever, as his mouth tastes just like you.

Dependency.

Devotion. Absolute. Sick.

Maybe that was what he felt. This weird feeling. That abyss piercing his chest but never killing him (so much for regenerating...), pressing his heart with a crushing force whenever it threathened to beat again. Logan was content with rather nothing, always a man who didn't ask for much, and since the death of his family―the X-men, less.

"You should go" he mutters in defeat, the shame washing over. Even if he'll miss your warmth, even if he doesn't want you to leave at all. "It's for your own good, y/n. Pretend you don't know me and turn around. Go away" he insists yet gets stuck on his words, "you're not stupid. Then you'll know it's good for you and you'll never speak to me again"

He looks at the ground, cowardly, because he wants your lust filled warm look to be the last memory he remembers. Not whatever look you're giving him now.

So Logan closes his eyes and counts to ten. When he opens them, you'll be gone. It'll be a dream, something too good to be true. Short lived, like every good thing in his life.

"Logan..." you calls his name. So softly it seems like a breath.

You're still here.

"Logan" you call again, more firmly.

"Logan" you don't give up, cupping with one hand his face gently, "look at me".

When he looks up, he comes across a heartbreaking vision. You cry, tears falling like waterfalls down your cheeks. But that's not the most devastating thing, no: it's the look in your eyes, as if you've shared his pain. As if you've had suffered the same things he had suffered; a twisted reflection of him.

"Of course I understand you" you take his hands, and Logan feels that same strange warmth he felt the first time when your hands brushed his with the diner's menu. "I've also lost people… people I loved. Don't you think it hurts me to see the world go on as if nothing happened? Everyone forgets, Logan. But I can't; there's not a day that goes by when I don't think about them"

For a moment, you stop crying, and the hidden internal turmoil he tried so hard to decipher finally makes sense.

"I don't know what you've been through either, but I can promise you, that I understand you more than you think…" it seems like you'll say something else, but you stop and say instead. "Think, Lo: would these people want to see you like this?"

"It's what I deserve" he murmurs barely, his voice constipated but without shedding a single tear.

"It's not what we want, Logan. Please" you sniff, pained "stop being so hard on yourself".

"I'm not who you think I am" he insists. You're still naked on his bed, and he feels dirty for having you like this. For taking you to his home and fucking you raw out of your innocence. "I'm not a good person."

"No, Logan" you seem hurt by that statement. You trace one of his most recent scars with a touch so compassionate, that he feels your fingertips burn, "you are a hero".

Your words were so sweet, so comforting. He wanted to sink into your lap, which smelled like flowers and tasted like safety. A home; a life that had been taken from him. He wanted to believe everything you said―feel who you believed he was. Not this pathetic, tired and apathetic version of himself, but the old version: the version that inspired respect, that despite his tough exterior, had a family he loved. Because he had a heart. Now he feels like he has no soul: no purpose, nothing.

But maybe you are the answer.

Before he can change his mind, you blurt out “can I stay?”

That morning, in that old bed that creaks under his weight, Logan discovers that feeling alive again isn't so bad.

[urfavstargirl]

inner man challenge! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

hey babes!! okay, i know i said i was going on break but i got this sudden inspiration and yk i had to make a post!! so this challenge is called the inner man challenge, because it's all about fulfilling your inner man and staying in the wish fulfilled!!

WHAT IS THE GOAL FOR THIS CHALLENGE? ★

making the state of the wish fulfilled your dwelling state

fulfilling your inner man

falling in love with imagination

not caring about the 3d

FIRST STEP! ★

this is crucial! remove the intention of manifesting to be for getting in the 3d!!! "but girl.. the whole point of manifesting is to get it in the 3d" okay yes, if u want to believe that i can't change your mind. but to get it in the 3d we need to be fulfilled, and you can't be in the SOWF if you are still trying to get it! read this if ur still confused <3

me personally i feel like the reason why some people don't get results from methods, challenges etc is because they are doing the method to get it in the 3d, not to feel fulfilled. but thats just me 🤷🏾‍♀️

SECOND STEP! ★

now for the fun part, decide what you want!! df, db, sp, a billion bucks in ur account, being the smartest of ur class, moving out of your paren'ts home, getting into your dream college, literally go wild!!

THIRD STEP! ★

fulfill your inner man when your inner man needs fulfilling! if something bad arises in the 3d that shakes ur confidence, fulfill!

having the urge to look in ur bank account to see if you have a billion bucks? close your eyes, imagine your inner man looking at her bank account and seeing the numbers go up by the second!

one of your family members makes a comment about how ugly you are?? would your inner man care?? NO! bc she's fine asf!

if anything 'bad' happens in the 3d, imagine your inner man saying "uh.. thats cute but i'm living my dream life rn sooo.."

WAIT, IS THERE A SCHEDULE? ★

there's no schedule to this challenge!! no "in the morning say 1409834 affirmations, in the afternoon vaunt for 3 hours, in the night do starfish position and affirm for the void" NO!! literally just fulfill your inner man when ur inner man needs fulfilling!!

"don't force yourself to do a method you don't want to do! don't force yourself to visualize the same scene someone else even though it doesn't create any feeling of knowing inside of you and feels like a chore to you. don't repeat affirmations if you don't want to and don't repeat an aff you don't resonate with. do what you think is fun! and do what feels natural to you! by taking the pressure of being perfect off yourself, it's easier to imagine in order to experience, rather than to get it in your 3d." - @remcycl333

HOW DO I STAY IN THE STATE OF WISH FULFILLED THE ENTIRE DAY? ★

no need to stay in the SOWF the entire day, we are always changing states! for example, right now you're in the state of reading this post, and i am in the state of writing this post. it's all about making the SOWF your dwelling state! so if you accidentally stay in the state of lack 7 times but you are in the SOWF 8 times, then the SOWF is your dwelling state! (btw don't count the times you enter a state lmao)

ANYTHING ELSE? ★

get off tumblr, just delete the app.. like this place is literally just making you overconsume. you have better things to do!

if you have a negative thought don't spiral and think all your progress has gone to waste. breathe in and out, your inner man has it and that's all that matters.

have fun!! this challenge isn't like other challenges (soo quirky i know 😜), it's meant to fulfill you instead of making you stress about the 3d. make fun scenarios in your head, vaunt, just have a good time!!

WHEN you get successes (whatever you consider to be a success: feeling that your inner man is fulfilled, or getting it in the 3d) send it to me or make a post about it using #star's-inner-man-challenge!

if you have any questions let me know in my inbox, bye yall!! 💞

[1eoness]

hi! could i request something fluffy? maybe leon spoiling reader with some meal, or cuddles? thanks! ❤️

mentioning meals I AM THE REMINDER TO GO GET A SNACK AND REJUVENATE

and yes ofc i love writing fluffy fluffy hehehehe (im kind of uncreative rn so sorry). btw i'm writing this in the same format as the other one but if you want it to be more structured and narrative just uh tell me LOL

content : fluffy leon kennedy x gender neutral!reader (it's written in second person though). pet names lol

synopsis : leon wants to spoil you so he's feeding you and providing you with an army's ware of cuddles >:)

-food is fuel and leon is a fucking engine

-tbh i hc that leon has a big appetite for sweet stuff,,,, i'm sure a big collective of ppl agree bc he's so squishy squishy [what the fuck am i saying idk]

-anyway enough about me gushing on leon.

-YOU. when will you ever take the time to let him spoil you? are you trying to avoid him?:((

-leon is part kidding. he's not mad ofc but sometimes he can't help but get a tiny bit worried about you sometimes.

-see, leon is a firm believer that a person cannot come to their best senses unless their basic/psychological needs are fulfilled. that includes things like eating, or affection—because when your body senses that you're lacking in something, it will use your brain power to signal you that you need to eat or be smothered with affection! hence you can end up feeling burnt out if u dont pay attention to ur love vitals!! >:(

-leon's mindset will always be applied on you because you're his second heart, you're his tough rock and you need to be taken care of!!

-HE KNOWS WHAT YOU'RE THINKING "affection? that's absurd people can still learn attentively and work efficiently without having to be coddled >:(" while yes in a sense its true—but sometimes you just don't realize that what you need is some time to be vulnerable and intimate, which can explain why your emotions feel a lot more heightened recently than usual (which he notices by the way). you've been tense for a while, and leon reasons that you can't just 'move on' from being overwhelmed with work stress and whatnot—you have to relieve it! but enough about theory.

-your hunger for food or affection is like a 7th sense to leon to be honest. while it's not an accurate intuition everytime, he's bound to think of you once every like two minutes.

-leon actually has very clear and high critical thinking skills. this means he is able to remember a lot of things about you even if he only notices them or you mention it once: this includes your comfort drink, where you like to be touched, hell maybe even the MBTI of your favorite character. and he ESPECIALLY knows what food you like. pad thai, sushi, oxtail, jerk chicken, cake, boba, YOU NAME IT HE KNOWS IF YOU LOVE IT OR NOT

-so when it actually came to asking you what you wanted, he'd send a text saying he's downtown and asking you 'what would you like, baby?'. he's careful with his words and doesn't say "do you want me to get you something on the way?" because it means he's giving you a choice >:( when the whole point is to spoil you because you deserve it.

-and if you answer with something vague like 'anything' HE DOESN'T MAKE YOU SPEAK FURTHER he'll just buy what he knows u like and keep the rest in the fridge if you dont wanna eat it :3 well that's what they're for, right?

"oh, my sweet.." his voice was quaint at the sight of you. leon tried his best to be silent when he entered the room, not wanting to sound like he was pitying you, but seeing you half-covered with comforters, mildly upset and your mind in a frazzle has his heart dropping a bit. you were probably thinking about so many things: meeting some deadlines, picking up this and that from the store, computing this... but you just couldn't organize your thoughts. but that's why leon was here.

your head moved to swivel his direction. "leon.." you smile at him weakly.

it was cold in the city tonight. leon places a hefty white plastic bag of your favorite on the nearby surface before he sits down in front of you from the edge of your bed. he takes the brief second of studying his lover's face before he pulls you into a comforting and warm hug. he can't help but pat the back of his sweet baby's head down, and you feel his lips barely nuzzle onto your ear as he mutters. "y're so good to me, baby. you know that?" leon reminds you before kissing the side of your head shortly. you tried to reciprocate it by giving him a nimble kiss on his cheek, which he gratefully accepts with an eager beam on his lips.

his hands slide down your arms in a soft stroke as he lets go of you gently. the rustling of the bed's layers being heard as leon moves a bit to reach for the hefty boxes of food, which he opens for you once he gives you take your utensil/s. leon's happy seeing you eat. it's a form of reassurance to him personally witnessing you getting the fill you deserve after a whole few days of being so busy and rushing everywhere. it's a calming sense to him as you both soak in comfortable silence while he watches you eat. he was caring less that it's 2 in the morning and caring more about the way the color on your face slowly vibrates back onto your features. you seem less tired, just by a tad percentage. it makes him smile to himself knowing he was able to take care of you. " 'm finished." you mumbled with a hum, feeling a little full and having to lie down. fullness makes you sleepy (and leon knows that!) so he has a subtle, cheeky little grin as he leans over and collects your legs with one arm, pulling you to make you lie on your back. he crawls over to lie down next to you, once again pulling you close to him while he wraps his arms around you— one patting and planted gently on your back while the other cradles your head close to his heart. just where you belong... "you tired, baby?" leon asked shortly and your little nod sufficed. his cheek gently rests against the side of the crown of your head. his touch is soft, it's sweet as he rubs and scratches down your back gently. he gently scruffles at your scalp with his other hand's fingertips, and the motions will send you to a hopefully revitalizing sleep ♡. he places a kiss on the top of your head, like a ribbon keeping its gift from falling apart :( he knows at this moment maybe you're thinking you don't deserve him. but that's so far from the truth.

[starryjkoo]

https://www.tumblr.com/starryjkoo/764086905378881536/httpswwwtumblrcomstarryjkoo76407096882620006?source=share

I'm just reading this now since i was inactive (going again) so I'm replying now (not saying you were waiting for my reply but I'm the same anon who's ask this was 😅)

I don't really have anything to add other than I agree with everything you said there. i know all those accounts you're talking about, i even know the "random taekook" account you said there without u mentioning their @ because guess what? been there done that kinda..i saw that tkkr saying all those "Just because i follow TK biased doesn't mean I'm tkkr" this that bs when 99% tweets are about TK and them following all sort of tkkrs ones that drag jm too lol. and their little ot7 followers backing up them..idk who they're trying to fool as if we can't smell a trash from miles away 😭

being honest u don't need to be chronically online to see what is the shit that's going on in Fandom or How it's filled with Tkkrs. a newly entered fan can tell it's full of Tkkrs so idk what pleasure others get by Lying saying TK are most hated in Fandom (just Today i saw those tweets with thousands of likes).

What pisses me off tho is ot7 jkkrs acting like many of the armys don't hate jm deep down. saying "They're hating on jm so they're not army" is such a bs thing to say and literally big jkk blogs here say that but ask them why they generalize solos because there's good solos too who just support one member in peace without dragging anyone but nope for them "If you stan only one member then you're an anti" like who gets to decide that? You? and who are you? their logic is just as useless as kpopies to me. You're the only jkkr who even talked about all the things happening with jm others are too ot7s to even address those things. Them saying that Fandom majorly doesn't dislike jm because of TK as a ship is funny because the same Fandom was seen begging Tkkrs for help when taehyung and Jennie's video was leaked but sure.

Hope the deserved people gets their karma back is all i can hope for now because i know for a fact that things are going to get worse in future Especially with what's going on with hybe and tkkrs loser ass Linking all of that to "jm is company's fav and they force Jkk" shit.

hi anon! no I’m happy to hear from you again, it makes me feel more sane to see people with the same opinions on some of this lol 😭

Yeah, that one account who just makes corny tkk shipping jokes and is very clearly an actual tkkr but you had half of ARMYtwt coming to their defense because they were all part of the same clique and most of them are “tk-biased”. They were laughing saying that using a duo name doesn’t mean you’re a shipper but when people were pulling up screenshots of them literally reading AUs they would just deflect lmao 😭 It’s just embarrassing.

And yeah I saw that too, a big and popular account talking about tkk being the most hated 🥴 just the audacity to say that, as if we don’t all have eyes and see the absurd amount of followers and engagement tkk accounts have on EVERY platform. And I could write a thesis on the absolute obsession ARMYs have w/ a tk-subunit just proving how deeply enmeshed the tkk shipping bias is in this fandom. And talking about the fandom hating a duo, I could write another thesis on how ARMYs are insanely weird towards Jikook, like damn AYS just drove that home for me.

Yeah, the hardcore OT7 jkkrs who deny that the fandom treats Jimin weirdly are just bizarre to me. Literally right now there’s discourse going on about US streams and you can find multiple hit tweets where they are straight up shading and attacking Jikook up and down in the comments, especially JM (they’re for sure getting nastier towards JK about this but some of them can at least concede that he has GP/popularity, but for some reason the bulk of ARMYs think that w/ JM it must be favoritism bc in their minds they decided that tkk were miles ahead of him in popularity despite his solo music ALWAYS performing the best or second best in the group). Like throw a dart at a board and you can find a random reason that ARMYs resent JM, whether it be over associating him with his solos the most (literally HYBE saw and marked this as a problem??) to just the fact that ARMYs are literally full of tkkrs who ALWAYS resent him on some level. Bizarre for jkkrs of ALL people to try and deny this as hard as some of them do? (and like I said I’m not saying JM is the only member who gets weird treatment from ARMYs sometimes, but he for sure gets it the most by virtue of tkkrs being as big as they are if nothing else. There are still tons of ARMYs who love him tho obviously).

And 100% on some jkkrs/ARMYs trying to say that people who hate JM aren’t ARMY to wash their hands of the issue. It’s literally not true because half the people shading him consider themselves ARMYs, a lot of tkkrs consider themselves ARMYs, ARMYs literally make up the following and likes of toxic tkk accounts, so what are they even talking about? That attitude is literally why it got so bad and we are where we are. Like just say you don’t care about Jimin and go I guess.

It's like we can be fandom critical and still care about/be a part of the fandom, this is the way it's been for me and literally any community I’ve ever been a part of? If you care about something you want to make it better which means looking inward and trying to identify and fix the problems. I get there’s a fine line between being critical and “victimizing” and “solo narratives” and “manti narratives” but c’mon, we can use critical thinking to differentiate, yeah? Because not every fandom/company complaint makes you a “solo” or “manti”. Just insane to me.

There’s so many issues with hardcore OT7 logic that we could get into tbh, but you’re right in that there’s nothing wrong with liking only one or two members as long as you’re not hating on the others. And tbh there’s nothing wrong with not liking and supporting all of them equally when isn’t it just normal to have preferences and to stream the music you enjoy the most? And just a note, the funny thing is that a good chunk of ARMYs who complain about this ARE pretty heavily biased, they just don’t want to admit it, even to themselves. And that’s one of the reasons diet-solos emerge and are so prevalent in the fandom right now.

I think the karma is definitely the fandom falling apart at the seams right now (even though sadly good people are getting punished for it). It’s toxic as hell in ARMY spaces, good ARMYs have left in droves, our charting is not great for non-Jikook (part of this I just blame on HYBE and their bad strategy of relying wholly on the fandom, or maybe it’s some of the members strategy tbf, but whoever decided, it wasn’t a good idea). I mean, I guess we’ll see what happens when BTS return, maybe more people will return and things will improve/stabilize somewhat but I also don’t think there’s really ever going back to how things were in the fandom either. Plus BTS are going to focus on group work for a minute, but it’s never going to be the same rate as pre-CH2, the solo careers are here to stay and we have no idea what the actual balance of solo/group/subunit work will be yet. I guess we’ll see but at least we know the karma is that JM antis and tkkrs are like the most miserable jobless people on the planet and JM is happy and healthy and wealthy and loved, so there’s that if nothing else. Stantwt in general just full of miserable losers.

Anyways sorry for yapping so much again lmao, I resonate with you on all these issues, I could go on forever about some of this lol so I’ll stop. And for sure, it would be nice for more jkkrs to talk about this kind of stuff tbh, at least the ones who are active in the fandom. And yeah the situation with the HYBE leaks and how they’re already doing the most to twist and start another smear campaign on JM and jkk, just insane 🫠 you know if solo fights were just name-calling it wouldn’t be as much of an issue, I don’t feel like some people understand the kind of damage these groups are doing and the lengths they go to. But we will just keep streaming and supporting and doing our best I guess 😭 same old same old, always something insane happening.

[thedeal-if]

The angst ask answer for Aliyah has me wondering 👀 how would the ROs react to & comfort a dying or severely injured mc? Sorry if this is spoilery or anything!!!

Loving ur writing so far u are so epic <3 /gen

Thank you anon😭💕

The angst ask!

Nearly all death scenes (no one is safe here) are already outlined and rely very heavily on the moment and the plot! I don't think this is spoilery at all without context so yay!

I chose the severely injured angst bc I got a very specific death scenario ask too and I didn't want to answer the same thing for the two of you/blend my answers into one ask ^^

Crushing stage btw

Dante doesn't think it's physically possible for him to keep his distance from you—as if simply holding your hand would give you enough leverage to slip away from him, as you lay bleeding out. No, Dante needs to hold you. He needs to be the one whose hands press against your bleeding stomach, the one whose chest attempts to chase your heartbeat from behind.

And there it is, Dante barely remembers that he too needs to breathe. He speaks, speaks, speaks, and then he realizes he's not speaking in English. Dante switches languages clumsily as the words weigh on his tongue:

“I know it hurts. I know, I know,” you wince in pain, Dante presses his lips together, his palms grow warmer and warmer against your wound “I’m gonna get you somewhere safe, okay? Hang on a second.”

Lilith thinks, rather irrationally, that the only reason they can smell your blood so vividly is because of her monstrous nature. They convince themselves that yours is a nick and theirs is a delusion fueled by overwhelming care and worry. But Lilith is often wrong, and the scent of blood grows so thick they can practically feel it down their throat.

“Oh, love,” Lilith frowns, they wrap an arm around your waist and help you sit down “Breathe with me, okay?”

You nod woozily and Lilith worries—they often do, they have plenty of reasons to be concerned about you. The Succubus removes their jacket and presses it against your wound.

“I’m here with you, love, everything will be okay.”

Your best friend proudly wears the badge of ‘Person Who Worries Most About [Name]’, and the mere idea of watching you getting hurt is more than enough for Josh to feel queasy—he has that good of an imagination. Josh can't fathom the thought of seeing you getting hurt, but control slips between his fingers like water, and that very thing is proven when he sees it unfold before his very eyes.

It's much worse than anything Josh could have imagined, but his mind isn't catching up with such a line of thought. He's too busy catching you before you fall, keeping you awake, trying to do something, anything. At all.

Josh's ears ring.

“Shit, fuck. Shit,” your best friend looks around. Josh needs to find some help, he keeps his hand tightly wrapped around your wrist, feeling your pulse against his fingers. Is he panicking? Josh feels like he is.

Villanelle thinks she's seeing things. Maybe it's some kind of prank, maybe it's a dream. Maybe she'll wake up on her cozy bed. But that doesn't happen.

The young witch then thinks this is a vision. Villanelle feels detached from her body as soon as you start bleeding, like her soul was flung out of her body and into a movie theatre: a horror movie starring you.

But Villanelle blinks and finds herself standing just as she was, battling denial.

“[Name]!” the witch calls, wide-eyed and terrified. She runs to your side frantically, hand trembling, “Stand— Stand still. I think I might be able to help. Everything will be okay—everything is okay.”

Leather rustles together as Victor takes off his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders—it doesn't warm you up, but it does make you feel ever so slightly safe. The Demon Hunter pulls you a little closer, checks your breathing and pulse, he checks you over carefully in case you're bleeding. He's so methodical you almost feel like you're at a doctor's appointment. Victor presses a hand against your bloodied side. He grumbles something, speaks up when you woozily tilt your head in his direction.

“I'll take care of this,” Victor assures you, his inflection betrays nothing, but his hands are steady as they support you “Focus on staying awake, [Name]. Can you do that for me?”

Victor drags you, but then he stops and hoists you up.

Aliyah grips your shoulder, keeps you standing straight as your head swims with the lightheadedness of the pain. Her demeanor is serious, her eyes are anchored on your wound—and how it bleeds, bleeds, bleeds—

“It’s not fatal,” Aliyah declares, so coldly and so surely, you don't know what to think “Not now.”

The Genie looks up at you, then down at your wound. She sighs, hesitates, presses a finger against your non-fatal injury. You see her smirk a little.

“Do you want to wish for me to heal you?”

The situation is so bizarre you nearly laugh.

“Are you going to stop if a say no?” you gasp.

Aliyah hums a little, your wound stings as she seals it shut, “I'll add it to your tab. Let's find your doctor friend.”

Panic seizes him like a constrictor around his stomach. There's an entire rave in Nathan's stomach.

“Shit that looks bad,” Nathan mumbles.

He makes no effort to touch it, or you, at first. His hands hang by his side for a few moments, then he lifts them and cups your cheeks, thumb stroking your cheekbone.

“You're not dying on me, okay? I'm sure it's not that bad. Breathe with me.”

Nathan helps you breathe, and he also tells you to close your eyes. There's a soft press of his forehead against yours, and a brief light that burns your eyelids. It disappears as quickly as it came, and Nathan takes a wobbly step back.

“There,” he grins “All healed up.”

Eden catches you before you fall—she nearly falls with you, manages to draw strength from some unknown place, and keeps the two of you from keeling over. She pushes every muscle in her body until you find yourself sitting, with Eden pulling your shirt up—taking her own jacket off—and pressing the fabric against your injury. Eden strokes your knee when she sees you wince.

“Bear with it,” her voice sounding so rough might be due to nerves and not lack of empathy.

“I’ll try,” you wince again, forcing a tiny smile so she doesn't worry too much.

Eden rolls her eyes—fondly—and looks your wound over, “It looks bad. But not too bad. Hang on, [Name].”

[sasukimimochi]

hey guys! had a nap so I'm back to update u guys properly. I'm going to try to summarize the post I made a bit better, as well as posting the picture I shared with the previews (as little as it is)

*TWPT extra image. Translation: ”Come back soon! - Lan Sizhui”

As always, check out my masterpost in order to get more content! ❤

So onto what I mentioned earlier today, I'm delaying Ch 27 of Ghost of Mine by at least one more week due to life continuing to throw shit my way. However I'm sharing some previews on ao3 (they will be removed when I upload 27, just like the aftercare ficlet). A longer explanation will be under the cut!

This is in addition to stuff that is still happening from my previous life update.

as you guys know the past tenants aren't really paying their dues, so I've been waiting on that & I got a large charge from an insurance company I wasn't expecting on top of that. Then I got a second charge from the same company, in the same month, for the usual amount. So we lost as much as 900+ dollars this month. As you can probably expect, that is a lot of money to lose at once unless you are reasonably wealthy and comfortable.

We only just today got our check for next month- early, which is great because we were worried that we would have to stretch things until the 3rd with no new groceries other than what my mom might be able to throw our way. Before we got the check as well my cats decided they absolutely did not like the food I got them- My cats aren't picky when they're hungry, so this was a bizarre and unexpected thing and I couldn't spare the money to buy a new bag of food (my mom helped us by buying a new bag of their previous food and essentially doing a trade with us, so she has the food they don't like) Just, in general a lot of stress is happening at the same time.

Onto GOM: I was writing recently (I can't remember the exact day, it was probably up to two weeks ago) as I did rewrite the entire beginning of Ch 27 and planned to cut out a lot more, which is why it's taking me much longer than expected to complete this chapter- it's my first show of proper investigation and intrigue that is a bit dangerous for the present time and not just, you know, only revealing information- I really want this chapter to be good and not rushed through like my initial first pass. It was a short-lived lapse in my stress when I wrote the first fourth of the rewrite, and I've hit a spot in the chapter that's difficult when my mind is so distracted by the stress.

SO, as to make up for this lack of update (again) I'm gonna give you guys three exclusive previews, one for the beginning of Ghost of Mine Ch 27 (just the first bit, not everything I've written so far bc its still prone to change and I want to give u guys the best version), the beginning of Rose Hips and Flushed Fingertips - The Story of Mo Xuanyu (GOM extra), and the beginning of The Wild Plum Tree (JC & LXC's story - GOM extra) so I hope you enjoy these exclusive previews, as they are all directly connected with the story and are canon to the GOM universe.

TLDR; struggling still, this is another delay. will check back in in about a week- I'm going to show you guys some exclusive previews for GOM related content that isn't yet released to make up for it right now! GOM CH 27, RH&FF (Ch.1/Part1), and TWPT (Ch.1).

PLEASE, KEEP IN MIND: the previews are still very prone to change. RH&FF/TWPT especially, since I am always struggling on how I write JC to make him feel canon to me (and he doesn't here, in my opinion, just bc I haven't described him well enough there) so just keep that in mind when you read!

So I hope you guys enjoy the previews and come back next Sunday!

[sugar-omi]

Incoming ramble I wanna hear you’re thoughts on this cause it’s been on my brain for a little bit and it’s got me in my feels

K so I forget if it’s in the step 3 prologue or in the Drive moment but either way when on the topic of Cove leaving for Nevada every now and again and choosing how your MC feels about it there’s the option to choose that it makes you sad and nervous specifically because the little 8 year old in you (who remember was probably HORRENDOUSLY lonely) was scared that Cove was gonna leave and never come back

Now that option alone already gets to me (cause I relate to it hard cough cough) but just imagine the MC actually confessing to Cove about that fear!! Obviously the MC doesn’t want to make Cove stop going cause yknow he’s literally going to see his own mom but MC also can’t deny that there’s that sad lonely little kid inside their head who just doesn’t want to be left alone again so they’re kinda just stuck in the dilemma. But soon enough after feeling well enough to admit it they finally tell Cove about it and get to actually work it out!!!

It just- AUGH ITS GOT ME EMOTIONAL MAN I CANT-

cove would actually feel so relieved omg bc it makes him sad too and he misses you, ofc ik he says that no matter what but I think he also worries abt leaving n nevering coming back

very traumatized from the move after his mom n dad divorced n he tried to run away bc he missed krya, yk 😟

reassures you that he'll always come back, and that if that did happen he'd prbly try to run away to see you LOL

would offer to take you with him!!! if you're dating ofc you need to work it out w his mom a bit more than necessary but she wouldn't mind if you stayed over or came to hang out w them

I imagine krya spends a Lotta time at work anyway since she can't be on leave the entire time he visits, so she'd be relieved that he has someone to keep him conpany

he talks abt you so much anyway, it's like you're basically there w them already

if you can't or don't want to go with him, he'd video call you sm more

sends lots of pictures n texts and voice messages

tells you basically everything abt his day and sends gm and gn texts

NO VOICE MESSAGES

omg...

coves sleepy, raspy voice saying "good morning" (

sounds like this, would even call you sunshine like sonny did!!!😭😭

I'm falling apart

mmm if he's gone a long time he'd prbly even come see you, or meet you half way

which is stressful bc he has a long drive but he would bc he's crazy abt you

omg gives you a shirt of his.

BUYS MATCHING SHIRTS

omg and asks you what you're wearing every day until you say that shirt n he wears it like "omg!!! what a coincidence!!!!" babe we know u did it on purpose PLEASE

sends you flowers

n by send you flowers I mean asks his dad to pick up some flowers and deliver them to you

sends his dad money too but cliff would prbly pay for them once or twice bc he thinks this is so chge n send the money back to cove so cove is like "dad!!!" n just makes an order on his card bc his dad is so stubborn😭😭

cliff is actually in love w your guys relationship he's so happy,,, pls

I should write some hc's on how cliff feels abt you guys dating bc my man's is so happy!!!! pls. OK anyway

OMG YOU VIDEO CALL N EAT TOGETHER

will ask what you're eating n have the same thing if he can

OMG HE PICKS UP ONE TIME AND HE'S RUNNING ACROSS THE STREET N HES LIKE "WAIT DONT EAT YET I GOTTA PICK UP THE FOOD"

n you can just see his chin, the sky and then it's like kinda black n then for some reason u can see the floor and then he's like "sorry" and he starts running back to his car AGAIN

and so he delicately places the phone down n is panting n just goes, "sorry. I'm ready now" *throws his head back* "omg gimme a minute... man. climbing thru your window really came in handy"

KISSES THE SCREEN

big "mmmmwaahhh!!!"

or tiny "mweh", no in between

falling asleep on the phone too

WOULD TUCK THE PHONE IN.. OMG STOP IT

he's totally normal abt you I swear

[readerforexiao]

I read your last article and it was really beautiful and funny (^○^)Unfortunately, after a bit of fluff, I need some angst material (with a happy ending, of course!).That's why I have a requestWhat will happen if Sylus moves away from us for business reasons, and at the same time his wife and child, who are dearer than his life, are the target of an assassination attempt by one of his rivals? And for a little more venom (sorry I can't control myself) his wife is on the phone with him the whole time but hearing Sylus get shot I think we got shot? I'm in a bit of pain, so the bullet hits the phone and we're disconnected.)You know, to Sylus, his wife and kids are the most precious things in the world, so I think he's going to be really crazy by the time he gets to us.I know it's a bit silly but I can't stop thinking about it😭🙏🏻

(I hope you don't mind my request, but I need a story of medium volume to put out the fire inside me, but of course you can write it any way you like💖🙏🏻🙏🏻)

I'm really happy u enjoyed it❤️‍🔥

And yes I hear you loud and clear about needing a little angst after some fluff. It's gotten worse seeing as there's been a somewhat decline in the angst department on tumblr, so I'll eat up any crumbs I can find.

Usually i don't take requests but when i read this, sparks literally went flying in my head. I absolutely love it ✨️ the idea + inspo + motivation just hit instantly which i believe means I'm probably meant to write this.

Consider ur reqs accepted ☑️ it'll go under construction ASAP. I do ask you not to have too high expectations bcs idk if I'll be able to fully do justice in capturing the angst I'll definitely try my best tho...

[rollercoasterwords]

your comments on cw warning are so true, and i’ve been thinking about the expectation for warnings in fan fictions after reading young mungo (an amazing published book containing really triggering material that, because it’s a published book, does not have any warnings).

I think on the harry potter fandom there’s this thing that happening where people feel entitled to having access to all fics, even if they contain triggering material. This expectation is then placed onto authors in the form of requesting detailed cw allowing readers to curate fics to avoid the most difficult to read scenes.

Or even if tags are completely correct, because people have latched onto specific characterizations of characters, some people get upset when the difficult tags apply to the characters in a way that doesn’t match their head canons (ie. remus cheating/ regulus having a negative perspective on sirius leaving/ any unhealthy relationship dynamics between wolfstar).

It’s interesting to see how this has shifted, even just by looking at the past year. Like the switch between how the CCNTUAW tag used to be used to people now assuming that it means the same as the no archive warnings apply tag is very shocking to me. Like it used to be that authors could just say “i’ve chosen not to warn, mind the tags” and that would be it. Now it seems, even if authors say that, some readers will still expect content warnings.

yup!! i agree w....everything u said i think lol.

i definitely agree that there seems to be this....weird way that a large portion of the fandom treats "accessibility" when it comes to fics. as in, some people seem to have this idea that fic writers should be trying to make their fics "accessible" (read: palatable) to the broadest possible audience. i see this in comments and questions from people who say things like "don't you think more people would read the fic if you wrote x?" "don't you think more people would enjoy it if u wrote the character x way?" "are you worried that fewer people will be interested in a fic about x?" all of which indicate that the person is assuming the primary goal/purpose of fic is to appeal to as many people as possible.

and to be fair, it's not like it's just readers thinking this way (bc there's no clear divide between readers + writers in fic spaces, etc etc.)! i've seen posts along the lines of "i really want to write x, but i'm worried people won't like it, and i want to make my fics accessible!" and it's just.....well.

i think even framing fanfiction in terms of "accessibility" is a little misleading. because people hear "accessible" and immediately associate it with disability advocacy and think oh, more accessibility = good; less accessibility = bad. but fanfiction is not a service that anyone is providing, nor is it a product, nor is it like....something that anyone needs access to. in fact, nobody is entitled to access to fanfiction in the first place. and by nature, not every fanfiction will be accessible to every person, because it isn't made for you. and if a fanfiction doesn't fit your specific tastes and isn't enjoyable for you to read, that isn't harming u, and it isn't taking anything away that ur entitled to!

but i think ur right that with the way fanfiction has sort of been turned into tiktok content, what happens is that a couple fics get really popular at a time, and a bunch of people want to read those fics so that they can participate in the hype and make their own tiktoks that get thousands of views about these popular fics. and then if they don't like the fic for whatever reason or can't read it, they feel as though they are being denied access to some sort of club that everyone else gets to be part of. and then they either decide that the way the fic is written is "problematic," because it was too dark/violent/sad and therefore inaccessible, OR they start posting "hot takes" going "everyone else loves this fic but i actually think it sucks!!" because those are the only ways they can now participate in this weird social-media fanfiction economy where people are posting about fic first and foremost because they want views on their own tiktok channel, and not necessarily because they actually want to appreciate the writers. fun!

[w3ath3r-0f-sw34t3rz]

as many ttpd thoughts as i can coherently write down

first of all grateful for the folklore x midnights x 1989/rep sound we have going on here. i hate comparing artists but seriously the best way i can explain it is phoebe bridgers this album sounds like phoebe bridgers. not like it's a bad thing it's phoebe fucking bridgers!!!

i feel like it's so easy to call music "intimate," whether because of lyrics that feel personal or just a certain raw sound, or whatever else, but this album truly is the most intimate thing i think taylor's ever given us. i don't know what sets it apart, cuz at this point she's written plenty of deeply personal lyrics, but the way i best know how to describe it is that it truly feels like she trusts us.

anyway i'm willing to admit that this album isn't a spectacle or a revolution or game changer, and i know it won't satisfy everyone (ngl i'm scared to see what everyone else is saying bc they'll never understand Like I Do) but damn it sometimes that much is more than enough. without further adieu

fortnight a solid vibe. i'd literally love any song with the lyric "i love you it's ruining my life"

ttpd love that lucy and jack cameo that's about it. but really who else is gonna hold you

mbobhft AUGGGHHH THAT HOOK. you'd think you'd be able to tell which tracks are entirely self-written but you'd never guess some of the best tracks would you? jokes on me. love the metaphor (as i tend to do), big fan of infantilizing men (no like actually)

down bad this song was not clicking at first but it won me over with the alien abduction theme

so long london aw fuck yeah i knew i was right to claim this one. that hook is delectable. every verse is like a juicy kiss on the mouth i love this song yOU SWORE THAT YOU LOVED ME BUT WHERE WERE THE CLU

but daddy i love him this was the point where i thought to myself "wow this album is a lot more romantic than i would've thought" which, in hindsight, idk if that can be the consensus but still--this is such a feel good happy lovely time

fresh out the slammer evermore would love this one. yee haw

florida i mean there was really no way for this song to be bad and damn. twas not. this is a screamer fs. how on earth they managed to make a song about fucking florida feel like this mysterious shady world that we the people are not apart of is astounding to me

guilty as sin yas girl let your freak flag fly!!! successor to false god fr

who's afraid of little old me oh. o,h my god. taylor. taylor r u good honey. this song is fucking batshit wild oh my god YES GIRL TELL EM i will never be the same i could end the california drought with these tear ducks holy shit im gonna go set something on fire

i can fix him i love this bc this is literally my best friend and now they're gonna know how they look. that "woah maybe i can't" both absolutely slaps and is hilarious. also love how horny that bridge was yas girl let your freak flag fly!!

loml oh god. lmao my ass rlly thought this album wasn't gonna be too depressing. they had me in the first half ngl. i'm not crying you're crying nahhh we're both crying and you know it. the lyrics here really popped off, like more than the rest of the album and that's saying something. bonus i remember seeing someone theorize that it was actually gonna be "loss of my life" instead of love, and while i was listening i had that in the back of my mind, but then i was like "ok no it's actually love" but then THEY WERE RIGHT and i felt so accomplished for no good reason. so if ur that person who called it, good job brother

i can do it with a broken heart this one shocks me so good oml why is this making me wanna throw it back. with all do respect if you didn't want us to enjoy your suffering why did you make your suffering such a bop. /j that "i'm miserable and nobody knows!! :D" gives me chills but like in a good way. "try and come for my job" literally get it queen i love you

smallest man who ever lived it's quite funny to me that literally nobody was claiming this track and then it permanently altered my brain chemistry. back at it with the hooks damn. wow this one really. this one is really sticking with me guys

the alchemy yay the vibes are back!!!! sweet simple romance you gotta love it

clara bow you had me at that intro. shove that guitar down my throat if u will. this is the better version of the lucky one (im not sorry.) damn "you look like Taylor Swift in this light" gets me every time i'm sorry that will never not hit

the black dog OLD HABITS DIE SCREAAAAAMMMIIINNNNNGGGGGGGGGG GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG i did not expect to like this one as much as i do but i can't stop thinking about it

imgonnagetyouback i had really mixed feelings but i literally can't dislike this song it's straight up good (also this song is so gorgeous-coded its wild)

the albatross idk i just love this one it is so sweet to me. in the way molasses is sweet but still

chloe or sam or sophia or marcus this melody has wriggled its way into the few folds of my brain and i don't see it leaving soon. i love me some good whimsy. fr as i'm listening to it again rn i'm realizing how good this production is. anyways bi rights

how did it end? you know................... i was really trying to not tie her real life into any of these songs, since i really don't know that much lore + i'm not a big fan of obsessing over celebrities personal lives--relationships most of all (especially when it comes to taylor)--in general, but damn i immediately did just that with this song and.. wow. but aside from all of that oh my god welcome back to Songs On This Album That Absolutely Haunt Me

so high school this one's kinda crazy bc damn it's such a taylor swift song but the sound is so new to her and it kind of makes me cry. but anyhow "touch me while your bros play grand theft auto" is the funniest fucking line i have ever heard in my life

i hate it here oh wow hahhahahhahahahha taylor what the fuck :3 imagine relating to this song on an cosmic level lmfaooooo

thank you aimee removing from irl context, putting this song next to mean genuinely makes me want to cry. like the maturity and growth both happy and sad is so evident it's like watching my child graduate

i look in people's windows another stellar string hook thank you and goodbye. ok but fr the visual here is inherently funny

the prophecy claiming this one for the neurodivergents

cassandra yeah yeah drama i know but damnnnn greek mythology BANGER

peter *taking notes* never... trust.. a man.. named..... peter.........

the bolter she's a runner she's a track star (can you tell i've run out of things to say it's just a good fucking album)

robin ohohoho i am an absolute SLUT for a good ode to childhood

the manuscript now that's a story

and at last--my current rankings:

who's afraid of little old me?

so long, london

how did it end?

chloe or sam or sophia or marcus

the smallest man who ever lived

florida!!!

clara bow

the alchemy

loml

i can do it with a broken heart

the albatross

my boy only breaks his favorite toys

i look in people's windows

cassandra

fortnight

i hate it here

the black dog

but daddy i love him

thanK you aIMee

the bolter

guilty as sin?

robin

i can fix him (no really i can)

the prophecy

peter

the manuscript

so high school

fresh out the slammer

the tortured poets department

imgonnagetyouback

down bad

now i know being critical is not one of my specialties but seriously it's a solid album ok. midnights is literally my baby and it has a skip for me so

now naturally my enthusiasm for each song will potentially decrease and most certainly increase over time cuz that's how i process albums buttttttt yuh 👍

almost any other artist building an entire persona about being an emo poet would make me roll my eyes but damn it she's so right

[crimeboys]

hiya i feel like ive seen you mention the sweeney todd au but. sitting here kicking my feet. if u would like an opportunity to rant abt it please take this as one -kai

oh hi!! yes i've mentioned it a few times mostly bc i was desperately trying not to make wilbur a barber LMAO. i'll be so fr, im probably never writing this thing forrealsies, especially bc there are so many details and storylines i do not feel like figuring out, so i can just tell you like. everything under the cut. it'll probably be a little jumpy bc i don't have any of this info actually written anywhere it's all in my mind lul.

WARNINGS: cannibalism, murder, abuse, suicide

it's basically just like. wilbur is sweeney. quackity is mrs. lovett. 13 years prior, wilbur was sent to prison by schlatt for "treason" and a bunch of bullshit political stuff bc well they had beef. a little bit before this, sally disappeared and wilbur claimed she left him, but he actually murdered her (do not know the reason yet, and if i did i forgot) and the only one who knows is quackity, but wilbur does not know that quackity knows. also wilbur definitely ate sally in some way bc well i always liked the idea the wilbur ate sally in canon. she's just a human instead of a salmon.

so it's 13 years later, and wilbur is getting off a boat with this guy tommy who has been helping him (which btw wilbur and tommy are MUCH closer than sweeney and anthony, they're besties instead of like. awkward mentor and semi-student), and wilbur plans to go back to his old home to see what remains while tommy goes to do some fucking thang idk. and wilbur ends up finding quackity, who has opened a burger shop, and tommy accidentally runs into schlatt, fundy, and tubbo and almost gets in a fist-fight with fundy. also in this au schlatt semi-raises fundy but is kind of a shit semi-dad and everyone around him is just miserable. ignoring like 90% of the johanna plot Except the simple fact that wilbur has a kid who was given to someone he fucking hates and now he wants to get him back.

tubbo is basically toby but if toby was schlatt's right-hand man instead of random fake italian guy. also wilbur's first kill is eret, who actually came to him trying to make amends/help, but wilbur thought was trying to out him to schlatt, so wilbur like. panic-murders eret. and has a bit of a freak out about it bc he's murdered someone before (his wife lul) but it haunts him and now this does too. but quackity's just like Bro. Free meat. This goes crazy. bc it's basically the same plot of like, meat prices are crazy, quackity can't afford it, and this is the perfect solution to his meat problem and wilbur's killed someone and has a body problem. also quackity used to be part of the manberg cabinet but when he finally broke things off with schlatt for being constantly disrespected both as a partner in politics and fiance, he was basically defamed and kicked to the curb and had everything taken from him so he had to figure shit out which is how he ended up in the position of burger shop owner in wilbur soot's old place.

also wilbur and quackity obvious tension but it's like that "im probably nonbinary but ive got a job so i don't really worry about that" but wilbur's like "im probably attracted to quackity but i've got a lot of people to murder to get my son back so i don't really worry about that" and quackity's malding about that a little bc he is definitely in love with wilbur but it's fine he gets one thing he wants and that's a functional fucking business, he can figure out the wilbur shit later when wilbur gets his stupid son back.

but yeah. wilbur murders eret, which starts a spiral spurred on by quackity being like "objectively you should keep killing people so i can run my business thanks man", and the rage he carries from his life being taken away for nothing, and the violence he has always carried since he murdered sally. idk if tommy's gonna know? i haven't thought about tommy enough in this au tbh and that's bc he is Completely different than anthony so i have to fucking think about it a lot. bc he's not going after fundy like anthony was johanna, he's trying to help fundy bc that's wilbur's son and wilbur's his best friend so he wants to help him save his fucking son. but fundy is also conflicted bc he genuinely cares about schlatt, as they've all genuinely cared about schlatt, and he's like a father to him.

also tubbo does NOT trust wilbur's ass. he's very fond of quackity, from memories of his childhood and quackity at schlatt's side, trying to protect tubbo, and the way quackity welcomes him with open arms when he gets the fuck out of there after tubbo hits his breaking point with schlatt, but tubbo thinks wilbur is kind of like the worst. bc he doesn't realize until it's too late that quackity is also kind of like the worst.

i haven't thought a lot about the middle, just bits and bobs, mostly the beginning and the end. i have the ending planned beat for beat pretty much.

the ending, basically, is that wilbur has tossed schlatt down the murder chute or what-fucking-ever, and quackity watches him die. he sort of just like stands there and watches schlatt choke on his own blood, not even trying to help or kill him faster, just watches it happen. as schlatt takes his last breath, wilbur storms down to the basement to make sure schlatt is dead. and he is! so wilbur's like this is my perfect victory, everything is fine now, except shit, tubbo knows about the murders bc frankly they are not very good at cleaning up their murders. this means they either need to kill tubbo or convince him to keep his mouth shut. they both know the second isn't really an option.

one of them vouches to keep tubbo alive despite this, probably quackity, and it sparks an argument that has quackity finally confess that he knows wilbur killed sally. wilbur is paranoid and angry and quackity is paranoid and angry and their argument devolves until they're trying to fucking kill each other. wilbur barely escapes the room with his life intact, though he doesn't manage to quite kill quackity.

he tries to find fundy and tommy, but they are both still trying to get to the shop after escaping the prison? or some shit again, not fully sure, their part of the story needs some fucking work, but wilbur is frustrated because he hoped to find them before tubbo did, lying and saying tubbo and quackity were killed by schlatt and wilbur killed schlatt in retaliation, and fleeing with both of them into the night. when he can't find them, wilbur decides he needs to go back after tubbo and goes through the side door of the house and back down the basement stairs.

while wilbur was looking for tommy and fundy, quackity had gathered himself back up from their fight and planned to go after wilbur and finish the fucking job, but he trips on schlatt's body and in a moment of just complete and utter anger and frustration and, unfortunately, love for both the dead man and the man who killed him, quackity grabs a bone or knife or something and cuts open schlatt's chest, pulls out his heart, and starts to eat it. as quackity eats schlatt's heart, tubbo comes up behind him and stabs him through his heart. he drops the knife and runs, finding tommy and fundy running up to the front door, looking for wilbur.

wilbur finds himself downstairs. he looks at the carnage, the oven still running, quackity and schlatt's dead bodies, meat and bones everywhere from he and quackity's work together. he wonders how the hell he's going to face fundy, face tommy, after everything he has done. he hsan't seen his son in 13 years, he hardly knows what fundy fucking looks like, he hardly remembers what sally looked like. it's all in a haze of blood, the awful life he made with quackity and tubbo overwriting it. he decides to kill himself and explodes the shop with the oven. somehow. i guess.

fundy, tommy, and tubbo get out alive, bc i always liked that johanna, anthony, and toby manage to get out it was very nice to me. tommy and fundy are heartbroken that wilbur died (still not sure how much they, specifically tommy, know about wilbur and quackity's business), and tubbo is admittedly very sad that he had to kill quackity, but he knows what they don't, that wilbur and quackity were dangerous men playing a dangerous game and bringing unsuspecting players into it, and he is the luckiest person in the fucking world to get out of their orbit alive. so he celebrates the fact that he won their game, and the three of them try to make a life. it is certainly happier than whatever they would have found in wilbur and quackity's.

also here is the only written (unedited) scene i have you can have it bc well i love to share thangs

Killing people outright is something Wilbur will admit he’s not fond of. He doesn’t like to watch the light leave peoples eyes. He doesn’t like his hand being the one to fell someone. He sits at the counter, staring at his hands. They were covered in blood just minutes ago. Before Quackity walked him over to the sink, talking in a low, steady voice about how it was understandable, it’s hardly as bad when it’s in self-defense, what was he supposed to do? Just let Eret tell Schlatt Wilbur’s back in town? Wilbur did the right thing. Whether that was Quackity’s voice or Wilbur’s own telling him, he still doesn’t know. But Quackity meets his eyes across the counter and does not look afraid, does not look worried. Just thoughtful. 

“So,” Quackity starts, tapping his fingers atop the counter. “What do we do with her?” 

“Take her somewhere far, far away,” Wilbur says, in a voice that sounds just as far. “Bury Eret where they’ll never find him.”

Quackity nods, looking somewhat disappointed. “Right. Right. I mean, burying Eret would make the most sense, right?” 

“Right,” Wilbur echoes, hardly listening. 

“But…” He sighs, looking up at the ceiling, all that separates them from Eret’s body. “Seems like a waste, right?” Wilbur is brought a little closer to Earth in his confusion.

“A waste?”

“Business has been bad,” Quackity continues, thoughtfully, conversationally, like this is all very normal and Wilbur isn’t still rubbing at his hands to get the blood off. “Debts we can’t pay off. What would it hurt, when he’s already dead?” Wilbur isn’t connecting whatever dots Quackity lays out. Eret is dead and the shop is doing poorly. The thoughts don’t intersect. “I mean, it’d be wrong just to dump them somewhere to rot, when there’s a use? When the price of meat raises every fucking week?” Rot. Meat. The connection is made. A little laugh tumbles out of Wilbur, amusement or shock he’s unsure, and Quackity smiles. “Plenty of meat, plenty of business.” It’s completely despicable. It turns Wilbur’s stomach inside out. It’s almost enough to make a Godless man pray for forgiveness… It’s absolutely fucking brilliant.

[phantom-does-a-thing]

PHANTOM hey hi im being normal about ashe winters do you have any thoughts about her . (if not u can leave this ask no worries)

I keep forgetting you send me this ask Oli hold on ok I don't really have that many thoughts, but I will just give you the general way I characterize Ashe:

She/He swag.

I recently watched Yakko's beating every 3d sonic game in a week video and that for some reason has greatly shaped my view of Ashe Winters. Interpret that as you will??????? I have no idea how to explain it.

He and Vyncent stay back a lot whenever Will n Dakota go out bc they both have issues with being out in public (and neither of them like being alone)

she's the perfect balance actually to the triad bc it always means they're able to duo off and no one is left alone. Her n Vyn bond over not liking to be in public n also not being really human. With William bc they are both emo and with Dakota bc he is an extrovert that adopts introverts and is so charming.

whatever way I write Ashe, he will never be fully human in my mind, sorry can't write him normally.

If I give Ashe Wings: they're like silver wings the same color as her hair and she has feathers all the way up her back and behind her ears. She is super fluffy and there are even feathers in her hair. She also has VERY big wings like they are proportionate to her body, if she were not frail and vitamin deficient she would be able to fly with them.

But he also never takes care of his wings because he doesn't know HOW. No one ever tried to show him and he is too uncomfortable in his body to try and look up. It also doesn't help that his wings are MASSIVE. He can only reach like an itty bit on the inside of his wings, so preening is useless.

She can chirp and click and chitter and absolutely HATES that she can and that she does it unintentionally a lot. She hates it so much because she knows it's not normal and that that's not how to be human. So he tries to hold it back as much as possible.

I think it's silly bc Vyncent also chirps but they chirp in wildly different tones so it's always a jumpscare for both of them. But like a good jumpscare. Bc Vyncent hasn't heard similar tones in a long time and yet Ashe can also chirp and woah. We aren't that different actually.

The fact that Vyncent isn't human either is a big reassurance to Ashe. Like they bond fr!

if I give her scales!!! ohohohooo so silly. Idk what color scales she would have but they are iridescent and don't work very well to be scales, they are fragile and very weak. Her scales will break easily and constantly peel off bc gene issues and humans are not supposed to have scales.

She has scales on her cheeks (like freckles), down her neck, her shoulders/collar bone, at her hands and wrists, down her back and on her legs. They're a lot less noticeable than Mark's so she doesn't necessarily have to hide them as much bc if you don't look close they're hard to see. But they are very itchy and uncomfortable.

He wears a scarf and fingerless gloves both to hide the scales and to make them easier to deal with. Compression = doesn't itch as bad so it helps.

Mark gave him literally NO information on the scales thing. Like what the hell do you do when the only other person in the entire world that might know what to do or understand the situation is your FATHER who is never there and you would never go to for personal questions like this? Ashe had to learn everything himself.

He does not know how to deal with shedding. It is a very painful process bc he doesn't know how to do it. He could just soak in a nice warm bath for a bit and it would be so much easier but it's Ashe, she doesn't do that.

She has been alone for so long that now she actually has some friends, he gets so nervous when left alone. Him :handshake: Vyncent.

I keep comparing him to Vyncent but they are both creatures, ok last comparison tho. They both have probably the worst people to ever base how to be normal off of, especially for Ashe.

Like Vyncent is not human, Ashe cannot use him as a basis on how to act normal. William is... well he's william, he's one end of the extreme spectrum. Dakota is at the complete opposite end.

They are the worst influences on Ashe, sorry. They are.

Ashe is very quiet during conversations and doesn't contribute much, he just watches and observes. He listens and remembers and does who knows what with that information.

He has curly hair, sorry I hit all of them with the curly hairification beam I can't describe any other hair type. Very long, frizzy curly hair, not as bad as Dakota but he also doesn't take care of it much.

He is a GAMER this is CANON but I think it's SILLY and I need to reiterate it.

He is probably the best at video games out of the four but that isn't like a big achievement. It's like Jay being the most sensible of the riptide pirates again. But he is actually really good at video games.

William forces him to play horror games and he shrieks anytime something scary happens (he HATES Horror).

Back on the fact that he is a very quiet person, however... there are a few things that he will go on HOUR rants about (video game plots, movies, tv shows, stupid internet facts. He knows so much internet lore) and it's like finding cheat codes to get him to talk about something. bc without being prompted, he won't contribute to a conversation at all.

She is a tumblr girlie sorry. William is a reddit mf.

Parallel play is her love language fr, but like he literally doesn't know anything else because no one ever spends time with her lol

There's probably more I could say but I don't feel like thinking of more things. Have this list, I didn't mean to go on a tangent.

[enanan-writes]

same anon as last time))) hello again. for me, while i adore both, i prefer kaohika more. for me, it's a matter of hating people who feminize kao— it's a homo ship for fucks sake. and people act as if one character out of the two just has to be girly. fucking garish (and believe me when i say I've read every hikakao fic online. On non English websites, on AO3, adult fanfiction.org, and yes, every fic on fanfiction.net, and oh, it's fucking disgusting). hika can be cute too, if not more so. like the roles assigned to them in their act is just an act. hika is no more of a top than kao is— if anything, as said in the manga (by Hani-senpai) "

i like to think hika is the more dependant twin. i feel like he just can't live with the thought of being away from kao. and that scene in karuizawa where he acts as if it was nearly the end if the world when kao was only grazed lightly on the cheek. kao is hika's pillar.

but hikakao fics are just written by stereotypical authors nowadays, who reduce kao's character to nothing more than the seductive/uke/cute/coy baby brother (who, for some reason, has all the worst, inhumane things happening to him, like r/pe, pr/stitution, being abused by hika, which is fucking bullshit, being lusted over by creeps, shitty love triangles, crossdressing crap, bc let's be real, if kao ever crossdresss, hika would too) and said authors write some filthy, mindless smut and that's it. some even misusing gender dysphoria or transgender identities, just wanting excuse to treat kao all delicate and super duper uke (and this will lead to awfully written, ooc fics by authors who mischaracterize hikaru and kaoru and soon, the newer authors would follow in their footsteps and spread the disease.

long story short. i now hate top hikaru fanfics with a passion, and only read either top kaoru fics, or just non-smut where it doesn't feminize kao or write stereotypical shit based on their FAKE act (assigned roles). And you might think I'm deluded and completely out of my mind, but yes, this affects me greatly. I love Hikaru and Kaoru. they're my comfort characters, and i've been in the fandom for so long… and seeing the gradual descent to abomination.

thank you for listening to my ted talk, even if you didn't ask :')

YOU. ARE SO. REAL FOR THIS.

The fic im writing rn is switch hkk/khk :)

I have also read every single hitachiinx2 fic on the internet. you name it, ive read it. i 100% agree w u.

ugh like PLEAE LET THEM JUST BE IN LOVE. CAN WE HAVE A FLUFFY HITACHIINx2 FIC??? PLEASE???

its almost like half the writers out there only read and watched up to The Twins Fight (ep 5 in the anime, I dont remember the manga chapter).

I love top kao so so so so much <3 I also love top hika so so so much <3 so long as they treat the twins differently based on personality, not just their stage roles. kaoru is sarcastic, witty, but also level headed. he may get flustered somewhat easily, but he plays it up for his role. hikaru is more quiet, and only fully comfortable with himself when he's just with his brother. he is more emotional as well, but bottles it up.

these things are so easy to see if you just pay attention.

like literally. they are so damn different. the fic im writing rn literally has their povs showing that they enjoy their act, but also find the roles constraining, especially when they just want to be themselves.

also, ofc! im happy to listen to ur opinions (which r very based)

[davishater]

I'm glad you liked my thoughts on soft winter 😌 for my next trick I propose winter & physical touch/quality time. This thought has been living in my mind rent free! I can totally imagine winter just loving spending time with someone she likes. I also think she would like just like being close to someone. I saw u mention the idea that winter re-braided Alice's hair after she got egg on it bc it looked much neater in the first flashback and i couldn't get it out of my head since. This got me thinking that she would just casually fix someone's hair/help style it etc so imagine "sitting in winter's lap while she brushes ur hair". Like the casual intimacy of it all is sending me!!! Ooooo also also!!! Baking with her? Yes! (please expand on this thought for me bc my single braincell can't go into detail.) Also this is more of a british thing but if you know the show "great british bake off" I can just totally see myself dragging her to watch it with me. It just fits this scenario so well lol. Bonus points for watching it while cuddling, wrapped in blankets in front of the tv and eating the cookies we made! (Conclusion: I am soft AND whipped).

Pffft, yup, I am now a giggling mess!!!! 😆 "For my next trick..." Lolol, I just adore you! 😂 So I know this is the longest it's taken me to respond, BUT you had me thinking and then it started raining and I immediately went to, Winter and lover (me.... It's me.... I'm admitting it..... 😳) playing in the rain and then it turned into a café trip to get warm/dried off and then it just kept going and OH BOY DO I HAVE A STORY FOR YOU!!!!!! ✍️ Not right now though, I'm still writing it and I'm hoping for it to be pretty long (not as long as my 2,000 word story of Hutter and Chelsea but still pretty long. We'll see where it leads.).

Bruh, when do I NOT think about quality snuggle time with Winter????? For 7 weeks, when I'm not working, I'm laying in bed/on the couch with a horrid concussion! What else am I gonna do????? If someone hangs onto me for too long, then I get claustrophobic, so I'm also the kind of person who enjoys being in the presence of the person they like. I feel like Winter would also have a time limit on snuggles, cause she wouldn't want to feel tied down for too long. I've also been sleeping a lot, but head canon that Winter sleeps for a hobby, soooooo we just chillin' in dream land together, my dude! 😂😂😂😂😂😂

Oh yeah! I got the idea of Winter redoing Alice's hair, cause I picture Winter helping me style my hair, so she'd touch it a lot. I've also thought about Winter washing my hair for me (but at the same time, I accidentally imagine Winter being taller than me, but she's most likely shorter, so washing my hair for me ain't gonna actually work.... 😭 The only reason I'm hating being tall.....) And just her fingers lingering in my hair longer than normal, and just being super gentle, cause my scalp is very sensitive, and just enjoying the softness of my hair as she's washing it. Uhhhhggg!!!! Definitely thought about this many times before you said anything! 🙈 (Actually, I've written a story about Winter bathing with someone she likes, but it was before I had a grasp on her personality, so it's meh.... 🫤"

I've ALSO thought about baking and cooking with Winter. 👀 Whenever I have the strength to make something, I either imagine Winter helping me, or yelling at me to go and sit down..... 😃 See? I'm not the very best at taking care of myself...... 😬 I can expand on Winter and lover baking together, but then my mind is going to go there and I'll be less likely to finish my current story, so at some point I definitely will let my brain go there for you.

I told myself I wasn't going to get into that show, BUT GUESS I GOTTA NOW! HAHAHAHAHA!!!! Imagine Winter and lover doing their own version of the show???? Or trying to bake what they bake in the show (oh no, crap! My mind is just automatically going there! Stop! Go back! Turn around! I said rain and cafe story, not baking together!!!! Ahhhhh)???

[luv-beam]

i am so fucking upset I AM SO FUCKING UPSET . i cannot convey how absolutely devastated i am like im sitting here in the dark unable to fully convey KANFKDNFKFJFJFNFN AHHHSHFJRJGKKGKGKFKFKFKFKGKFK

okok im sorry i do have some things to say as general statements abt my experience and ur skills before we get into some of the nitty gritty 😭 but first off, moni, i am ashamed to say i somehow missed that u dedicated this to me. i am so so sorry for not seeing it for some awful reason, but pls know that i am so honored—like beyond honored and appreciative. u r crazy good at ur craft and i am so happy ur posting ur fiction for us to read :'))

also, i def mentioned it in my notes below, but i loooove the film quality of your writing. like the i could see the color shifts. OH MY GOD I ALSO DIDNT TALK ABT THE RELATION OF WINTER TO THE SENEFNKRNFJT TO THE END IM UPSET AGAIN i literally cannot. u have a talent for coaxing me to hand over my heart and then watching u squeeze it :')))) im upset :')))) ur really too good and i... im biting my knuckles and struggling to type bc i wanna cry

thank u for this. i know u say this fic is something ur most proud of, and that is incredibly well merited. like oh my god. i can't right now i kind of just want to cry

also, before i put my notes below, i wanted to include the songs i listened to during this and i think i def picked an appropriate playlist skfnekfn: they see me dream (tbz), future me (hailey knox), dream launch (wayv), wings (tbz), smiling thru. (slchld), square one (tbz), someday faraway (labit), empty box (atz), same dream, same mind, same night (svt), 111 (thuy), the race (chris james), heaven - acoustic (onerepublic), raise y_our glass (huh yunjin)

omg i do have to comment on the presence of two of my like,, "older brother" figure idols uji and namjoon ekfnkrnf i always imagine them in that kind of way so the vibe just feels all the more warm haha (despite the hazy sleep-deprived solidarity going on dkgnjrnf)

WAIT.... THE CONVENIENCE STORE FROM THE TEASER... OH NO.

IT RESEMBLES UR BED AFTER A LONG DAY OF WORK BUT IT DOESNT LIVE UP TO HIM?? im devastated in two sentences

the picking your fingers until blood spills is such a great humanizing detail

still, the lilacs have yet to bloom.

omg im such a sucker for flower symbolism,, this feels like a low-key reference to feelings between u and changmin? OH I SEE THEY DINT EVEN KNOW EACH OTHER YET SKFNDKFN THIS CHANGES THINGS

PLS THE "im sure they wouldn't mind working w u" ASSIGNED PAIRINGS IS SOOOOOO im getting ptsd from middle school 😭😭 that feeling of everyone knowing someone and ur just kind of alone, knowing no one will likely come to u themselves,,, but changmin... tsk tsk i have a feeling abt you....... IM ONTO U SIR

you look back at changmin; he’s still looking at you. ; (you’re still thinking about the dips in his cheeks.)

IM ONTO U JI CHANGMIN (also so real tho... his dimples are like... meant to be the centerpiece of an art gallery)

KUMON. (i mercifully never had to face that, but maybe that's why i fkn suck at math today 💀)

oh no....

i swear this is related, but im listening to wayv's dream launch and reading this part in particular w the song is so... i feel so emo rn like its okay yn-bear... you'll be okay i swear, i know it sucks now but one day ur dreams will come true even if its hard to detach ourselves from our parents' expectations and influences

also the imagery here is so visceral and vivid... like i can see it in my mind, the way you're so used to the feeling, but u still shake them off anyway bc u dont want them to linger; u can't breathe w them there, so /present/

don’t you think that some of the stories that we read hold fragments of someone?

i love this line and totally agree w this

also wanted to add that changmin trying to coax this info out of them is so :(( i love him

AWH WAIT PAPERCUT ART AND FORMING IMAGES OUT OF THEM SUCH A COOL IDEA its like the deletion(?) poetry where u take a piece of text and blot out all words except for certain ones to form poetry?

the idol comment,,, the fourth wall is shaking

OMG THE PIC???? SO GOOD WHAT I LOVE THIS AND AS A VISUAL AID/SUPPLEMENT TOO?? omg and ending this section w the single lilac having bloomed TT ugh i love callbacks to symbols

your tastebuds long for cheongju.

baaaaaanger line

jongseobs characterization >>> I LOOOVE IMPISH YOUNGER SIBLING CODED CHARACTERS

still, you stand in the middle of the mart and your heart longs for home.

and this one too ^ i feel this. the exhaustion and yearning that settles in your bones until ur convinced emotion really does carry tangible weight i love longing-for-homeisms

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

I CHOKED. also i would like to comment on the delicious pacing of this past scene from when u realize who's standing right next to u and how the world seems to rush back toward the present from the past and ur frantic and slapping money into jongseobs palms and then—"yn?"—world stop. IIIIINHALES .. SCREAMS SO GOOD

love the blue stain over my view btw

idk how to feel abt the grape flavor being yns favorite 🧍🏻‍♀️ u do u tho

THIS???????? THIS!!!!!!! what did u deserve to know just feels so right in this situation,, when you've fallen out of touch who used to be ur world—when u r no longer their world or in their world, how much should you reveal? do they still care? where is the line drawn now?

if you miss home, why is your first instinct to run away from it?

im tearing at the walls. i am unfortunately devastated by this question. home is such a... its a complicated thing for so many people.

the black limbs slowly ate away at your heart; the void was born.

THEYRE BACK but now, instead of simply curling arounf ur heart, they're digging their nails into it and ripping chunks of it away

the lingering feelings of envy and resentment of changmins home life versus yns is so... like i think it adds such an important layer of nuance to their relationship

because you still wanted more for him than you did for yourself.

OH MY GOD

oh my god

AND THE DISTANCE FEELS GREATER NOW.. oh my god... the silence and the negative space r so loud... oh my god.....

the contrast to the next segment in summer is so staggering dkgndjnfnf also congrats to them for levelling up in friendship to calling each other fuckers!! LMFAO i adore their little back n forth here haha their arguing over the phone, to arguing over popsicle flavors

LOVEBIRDS SKCNDKFNKFNXKDKKDKD

astrophysics is cool when someone on yt is explaining it in layman's terms or ur in the space.com website, but not when ur looking at all those nightmarish equations... *shudders violently*

from that day on, you’ve learned to keep his name out of conversations. you’ll enjoy what you have with changmin, even if it has to be kept under the wraps.

in a way, this is like a form of protection, not only protecting ur own freedom and agency but akso protecting the person who has wormed his way into ur life and is determined to stay,, someone who seems to be the one good thing happening to u at that moment

im so... i wish i could sit yn down and give them a hug and a pep talk. they do know how to persevere. they're literally pushing thru right now

FINGER TRAP FINGER TRAP TITLE MENTIONED THIS IS NOT A DRILL

omg THE PROFILES SJCBDJFN THEYRE GONNA BE INTERVIEWING OUR BOYZ DJFBKDNCKDNF i am Howling at the moon

THIS??? IS FUCKING EVERYTHING???????? the different colors of cheongju seep thru gaaaaaaawd the careful wall you've built to rpetend ur past is behind u has now returned to remind u that it does, in fact, still exist. it will not hesitate to break ur bubble of present reality

i have a violent urge to throttle a couple who are poor excuses for parents

also just bringing in the murky waters rising and drowning u and filling ur lungs is just as compelling and visceral through this section. like u described it perfectly well, how when ur starting to lose oxygen, your chest burns and its slow but throbbing

are you nothing but an array of achievements and failures?

aren't we all though? :(

NOW UR HOME IS CHANGMIN.

i love just imagining ur writing like a movie, like this part in particular u can just kind of envision these things flicking across the screen chuchuchuchu—back to the present. finger traps.... clinging onto those fragments of the past... when u try to rip your fingers out of a finger trap, it grips onto u tighter; a slow withdrawal is the only way to escape... oh god

WHY DOES IT FEEL LIKE ONE OF DESTINY x2 I SEE U MONI I SEE YOU.

HE WAS THE ONE OUTSIDE THE BATHROOM IM GONNA GNAW MY FINGERS OFF

im very slow today but the incorporation of all four szns into the sections of this fic is like mwah MWAHMWAHMWAH and hE CANT WAIT TO SHARE THIS SZN W U?? IM YELLING??? ugh i think im too single.

dude my heart dropped into my ass . what r these fuckass parents doing

WHAT NINONOENFOFNFJFJ NO WHAT MONI STOP NO U CANT JUST LET THE CAR GO NO HE'S RIGHT THERE NO NONONOSNFJDNFJFJ im having a crisis no WHAT

. oh my god

Oh my god that hurts. Oh my god i cant im so

im

oh im so upset they never got closure they never got to say goodbye ur right the only way to get out of a finger trap is thru a slow withdrawal—unless the connections is severed so forcefully, it just breaks .

oh my god

i dont wanna read this interview im so upset

im so fucking upset.

finger trapped (ripped to its seams) ➵ ji changmin

ji changmin x reader

with an unexpected reunion, you and changmin relive the memories of cheongju—and confront what could’ve been between you two.

general genre/warnings ➵ friends to almost lovers, angst, fluff, gender neutral reader, some depressive and insecure thoughts, hurt/comfort, the last five years story-telling method (aka present will be told going backwards while past will be told moving forward... i hope that makes sense), brief mention of blood from picking on your skin, tiger parents so... parental issues, unexpected reunion, keeping secrets & lying, jealousy remains but love triumphs, journalist reader (u kno i had to do it), reader is a nerd and changmin is a student-athlete, kms jokes from jongseob (all /lh), finger traps aren’t efficient after all

word count ➵ 15.7k words

playlist ➵ end of beginning by djo // high school in jakarta by niki // i know it won't work by gracie abrams // no big deal (i love you) by dodie // keeping tabs by niki // no one knows by stephen sanchez & laufey // so what now by reneé rapp // i wish i hated you by ariana grande // the 1 by taylor swift // seasons by wave to earth

a/n ➵ it's finally out! this is my submission for @deoboyznet's the love letter collective event! this work is so so personal to me on so many levels so i hope you all love and treat this fic with care :')) for the bitches who struggle with parents and dreams.... this one's for you (i am in the same boat) i appreciate everyone who's been so patient and looking forward to this fic's release. i'd like to thank @hcuyk for being a betareader for this fic! i also want to dedicate this one to @sungbeam and @wavesmp3 <3 your works inspire me so much and i think this fic is a product of how much they've influence me. hanbin's version is now available! please don't forget to reblog and leave feedback!!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

present -> three weeks after the interview, 2024

the newsroom never sleeps. the rings of landlines and clacks of keyboards bounce off the four walls. through light bulbs or sunshine, light continues to remain. and at every corner, a journalist stands—ready to enter the depths of slumber but remain on their toes as they await for an update on their unraveling story.

but the newsroom is rarely busy unless there’s a major nationwide event, election season or the super bowl to name a few, for most journalists are out to discover what the world has to offer.

knowledge doesn’t only come from the chitchat of your coworkers. it’s only on the field that you’ll hear of hearsay and testimonies. after all, the choice to probe rests on your shoulders.

“there’s a typo over there.”

“huh? where?”

“over here,” you mumble as your finger darts to point at a section on the screen. “it’s supposed to say “in their climactic performance on road to kingdom,” not climatic.”

“ah, i see it now. sorry about that,” lee jihoon of digital development says as he corrects the error. his hair is disheveled from the hood that once perched on his head during the night he spent in the newsroom. you would’ve scolded the guy—go home and take a shower before you stink up the place—but you are no better, grouped with the other journalists who stayed up in the office.

“there we go. should be all good. now, are you ready to go through the profiles?”

an exhausted chuckle departs from your lips. “yeah, let’s go—”

“what’s the update?” life and arts editor kim namjoon—your editor—comes to you with a smile.

the grey hoodie he wears paired with comfortable jeans shows that he’s a little relaxed. for once, you don’t see him on his phone, battling the deadlines or getting pitched stories by the other editors. it’s a nice sight but one that won’t last for long.  

“we just finished going through the article about the group, so we still have yet to go through the profiles.” jihoon then looks at you. “i can’t believe you basically wrote 12 articles. like, 11 profiles and one main article is a lot. you didn’t want to work on it with anyone else?”

once namjoon stands beside you, you bump your shoulder against his figure. “i didn’t have a choice, did i?” it’s a rhetorical question but one your editor still chooses to answer.

“unfortunately, we’re understaffed, but it seemed like you got the hang of it. i wouldn’t have trusted anyone else to do it.” namjoon shoots you a smile before redirecting his attention back to jihoon. “and as much as i’d love to tell y/n more, we have to pick up the pace.” without any further questions, the three of you resume with work. 

there’s no time to waste in the journalism industry. still, his praise doesn’t go unnoticed. 

one article turned into eight done in a matter of 30 minutes, all with the help of three pairs of eyes to go through them. (namjoon seemed to carry the heavy lifting. after all, the guy was trained to be quick in reading and spotting errors.)

it should’ve been easy to keep up with your editor for all the other articles; you know each profile like the back of your hand.

then, the face of a boy who you once knew sits on the screen.

his gaze seems to pierce through your soul, almost in the same way you last talked to him. the loose ends of composure slip through your fingers; your breath’s stuck in your throat as the hammering of your heart fills your ears. yet, he stands still on the monitor.

as your eyes drift through the passages you’ve written, every sound is drowned out. the voice of your editor fades like the everchanging seasons and the clicks of the keyboard resemble the sobs you let out in the comfort of your childhood room.

and suddenly, the hands of the clock have turned all the way back to 2014. the cubicles transformed into aisles of chips and instant ramen, and you hear mr. kim’s voice in the distance—i have some hotteok! fresh from the pan! but amidst it all, you hear the giggles of the boy, your best friend, as he rushes towards you—i’ll go audition and make you proud. as your arm is wrapped with the heat of his fingers, you almost believe that your life as a journalist is nothing but a dream—

“i knew him.” the illusion disappears within a blink of an eye. namjoon’s eyes snap towards you and jihoon stops scrolling through the website. “we went to the same high school.”

you aren’t sure why you revealed that to your coworkers, let alone your boss. it’s an old memory—your weight to carry. before you can apologize for disrupting their work, namjoon’s hand rests on your shoulder, his thumb drawing shapes into it. when you look over at him, you’re greeted by his smile. it resembles your bed after a long day of work or a slow day at the newsroom.

but it never lives up to him, whose giggles resemble nature’s symphonies. the two shots of espresso you need at the start of the day once came in the form of his warm embrace. most of all, his smile is enough to illuminate the world even through the strongest storms and times when power went out.

for the remaining articles, not a single word leaves you. before you know it, all 12 articles were ready to go up on the web.

“that’s all of it. should i still schedule them to go up around 12 p.m.?” jihoon notes as he saves the drafts.

“yeah, 12 p.m. still sounds good. thanks a lot.” namjoon nudges his shoulder before looking over to you. “let’s talk in my office.”

you don’t question his orders. once namjoon takes off, you follow him all the way to his office. as he swings the door open, you are met with the familiar sight of his workspace. hues of green and brown mix, where nature and art meet within the space of corporate.

once namjoon takes a seat on his chair, you find your spot across from him. his eyes stare off to the window. for a moment, you’re not sure what to expect from this impromptu meeting.

seconds pass and not a single word has been said—

“this place’s always alive,” your editor breaks the silence. “don’t you think so?”

you follow his line of sight. busy seoul never changes; the skyscrapers pollute the sky and the people never sleep, off to work or off to party.

“where’d you grow up again?”

you look back at namjoon whose eyes still remain locked on the city. “cheongju.”

he hums. “i haven’t been there. nice place?”

“yeah, but i haven’t gone back in a while.”

“when was the last time?” his eyes finally meet yours.

your teeth grasp the inside of your cheek. “2014, since i first left,” you admit. 

“do you miss it?”

you’re not sure how to answer. the pavements you’ve scraped your knees against and the walls your laughs bounced off of—do you miss them all? or is the reason behind your laughter and scabs the one you long for?

“is that why you were hesitant about interviewing them?” namjoon’s thumbs fiddle with each other. “because of your history with him?”

now, you stare at your linked hands. maybe the silence from you is enough to answer his question but you know namjoon would never settle for a soundless answer.

“i—i’m not a good person. and even if i didn’t make the choice to leave, i—” you hold yourself back. your fingers start to pick on the skin around your thumbs, peeling it so blood can spill. 

“it’s okay, i understand. you don’t have to share it with me.” your eyes drift back to namjoon, spotting a small smile that rests on his face. “it must’ve been hard to relive it all.”

the bond you have with namjoon is one that you hold close to your heart. through his mentorship, you got to learn about what it means to be a writer. the fears of being a journalist would loom over you, where questions of salary and demanding work hours would occupy your mind, but namjoon became someone who would absolve them all. he became a pillar in your life, one that provides you hope and comfort within the industry.

“so, don’t feel pressured to talk about it. but if you ever want to open up about it, then i’ll be here.”

namjoon’s giving you an exit. are you willing to take it?

you cross your arms as you lean back into the chair. “you know how i was a science major then?”

“yeah, i remember looking over your resume. and then i saw that you were part of your university’s publication.”

your tongue pushes against the inside of your cheek. “i would’ve gotten some job in that field, like, i had it lined up for me.”

“really? like lab coat and all?”

as namjoon attempts to hold back his laugh over the image, you chuckle along. “yeah, lab coat and all! it’s crazy how my life was all set for that field, but i’m here now.” you look down at your arms. “i think just facing him in a completely different field that i once used to imagine with him was just strange. but i think hearing his answers really did it for me.”

namjoon nods at your words. “care to have lunch with me?” your eyes snap back to your editor. “i’m guessing you want to talk about it, after all.”

all you do is smile before getting off your seat.

spring of 2014

the season of spring has graced cheongju; the sun gleams in the expanse of blue and birds perched on tree branches sing their songs. it’s the perfect season to embrace the wonders of the town.

while it would be a delight to bask under the returning warmth, you’re stuck within the walls of the classroom, head resting on crossed arms. 

still, the lilacs have yet to bloom.

“y/n.” you quickly sit up before your eyes settle on your adviser, ms. jeon, who stands in front of the classroom. “let’s take attendance.”

with that, you’re beside her as you call out each name on the class list. it’s a quick process of saying your classmates’ names for them to respond in variations of “present,” until you reach the section of last names that start with a ‘j’.

“ji changmin.” no response.

you rip your eyes off the piece of paper, only met with your classmates who either look at each other in confusion or spaced out in their own worlds.

“ji changmin?” when you’re met with the same reaction, you’re ready to mark the student absent—

“sorry!” the doors slam open. a boy clad in a white polo and jogging pants is panting by the entrance, covered in sweat as he rests on the edge of it. “sorry, i’m late.”

“oh, it’s okay! you arrived just in time.” ms. jeon smiles at the tardy student. as you watch him take a seat, his eyes lock with yours, but your adviser nudges you before saying, “y/n, proceed.”  

ji changmin made his name a few years back at a competition. the applause and roars from the crowd marked his spot in the school. others describe his movement as of cranes, standing in the middle of a pond as they do their best to minimize forming any ripples, or of elephants, swaying their trunks with control like no other.

but he’s a versatile dancer; nothing can truly capture him.

once you’ve finished marking the attendance, you go back to your seat. you’re ready to start the day with no bother but you can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

“now, you can see in these,” your art teacher, ms. park, points to the screen showcasing works from her favorite contemporary artists like kwon yongju and félix gonzález-torres, “that there are no borders to what constitutes art. and that’s not wrong because we have to recognize that art comes in different forms as we progress, from traditional painting and sculptures to digital ones.”

this field isn't your strong suit. with a greater understanding of the sciences, you struggle to create anything that could be on par with the works of any artist. yet, you enjoyed learning about every piece that your teacher shared, like unfolding and admiring something you know you can never replicate or create. still, the universe decides that they have other plans for you.

“as i mentioned before, i’ll be giving you time to work on your final assessment, which is to create an artwork for the class exhibit. for this deliverable, i’m asking that your work will be a collaborative one, meaning you aren’t working alone.” in a sea of chatter, some groans exit your classmates. “remember, inspiration doesn’t come from your own bubble! take this as your opportunity to create something that you’ve never imagined.”

within a split second, students are off their seats as they attempt to find a partner to work with. you, however, were struggling to think of who you could team up with. admittedly, you have a very different work style compared to others—even cheng xiao, aspiring valedictorian, didn’t enjoy working with you. she turned every activity into a competition against you. (you didn’t enjoy her, either.) while you’re considering shamefully going up to your classmates like a stray dog looking for anyone willing to care for them—

“hi!” in front of you stands the tardy student of today, all smiles as his hands find comfort in the pockets of his jogging pants. “do you have a partner already?”

with furrowed eyebrows, you can’t help but look him up and down. “no, why?”

“well,” changmin looks around the classroom, “everyone seems to have paired up except for us.” as his eyes drift back to you, he flashes you a smile, one that shows the dips engraved into his cheeks. “which leaves me to ask if you would like to work with me for this.”

you don’t have a choice. ms. park would never bend the rules for you. if anything, she would find a way to pair you with another student who would dread the idea of working with you. (“i’m sure they won’t mind being partners with you, right?” is what she would ask the poor student, only to be met with their retreat.)

“unless we accept a failing mark, which i’m sure we both don’t want.” it’s not like changmin had a choice as well.

“okay.” with one word, light fills his eyes, enough to resemble the starlight that grazes your skin every night. “we can meet and discuss our schedules, especially because i’ve got ap stat, and you have, uhm,” a cough leaves you, “training, i’m assuming, or rehearsals. i don’t really know what you call them.”

his eyebrows shoot up as his mouth parts open. “o—oh, yeah. i usually have training after class until 8 p.m. on tuesdays, thursdays, and saturdays.”

“same. my classes are until 7 p.m. on tuesdays and thursdays, so maybe we can use the other days to work together?”

with one nod from him, his dimples reappear. “great! i’ll see you tomorrow.”

before you know it, everyone finds their way back to their seats for ms. park’s final reminders. you do your best to pay attention to every announcement, jotting down every word on your planner and planning out your agenda for the upcoming weeks. yet, your eyes seem to have a mind of their own as they drift back to the boy who discreetly passes notes to kim donghan, another dancer on the team, all while listening to the teacher.

you don’t notice how long you spend staring at changmin until he turns to meet your gaze. in that split second, you look at each other—then, embarrassment washes over you. you shift your attention back to ms. park. as you drum your fingers against the desk, mentally kicking yourself over the interaction, you still can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

you look back at changmin; he’s still looking at you.

his dimples make their reappearance before he looks back at ms. park. you do the same as you attempt to listen to her ramble about banksy’s works. 

(you’re still thinking about the dips in his cheeks.)

the first time you get to meet with changmin for the project happens the following week. you two had different commitments to attend to, whether it be other projects or training. and while you would usually settle to meet in the school library or a cafe nearby, you find yourself inside the empty gymnasium, sitting on bleachers while your partner stands in front of mirrors.

“don’t you think it would be nice to combine our hobbies together?”

your pencil taps against the notebook. “like, your dancing? with what?”

“whatever you like to do!” once he makes his way to you, he leans on the row in front of you with crossed arms. “i mean, do you have anything you like to do during your free time?”

a scoff leaves you. “funny of you to assume that i have free time.”

“what’s your schedule like?”

“well, i have our classes and ap ones, then kumon at night.”

changmin reels at the thought of your schedule. “that’s brutal. the last time i had kumon was back in grade 4.”

“yeah, but i’m sure yours is busy as well. the amount of time that you put into training is…” his eyes are wide, hanging on your words. it’s the hope they hold that has you say, “admirable.”

a shy smile takes over his features. “yeah, but it’s only because my family is supportive of what i do.”

then, limbs whose color resembles the void slither their way to your heart, wrapping around it while the organ struggles to beat; it’s a slow process but an unending hole that will birth from it. yet, you do your best to fight off these limbs, unraveling them one by one in hopes it will give up—until you settle for shaking them off.

you only muster out a hum.

“do you have anything you like to do during those short breaks?”

your lips trill. “i don’t know. watch something on youtube?”

his cheeks puff up, stuck in his thoughts as he tries to navigate this project—and you—until his eyes glint. “what do you do when you want to vent?”

“you sure have a lot of questions,” you comment, trying to hold back a chuckle at his curiosity. “i can just adjust to you. maybe attempt to draw, picture, or even film you.”

his eyebrows furrow. “but that wouldn’t make it collaborative. i want us to work on something that aligns with what we do.”

a beat passes.

he holds your gaze. “i want us to create something that shows us.”

inside you, a gong is struck; its sound reverberates throughout your body, from the crown of your forehead to the tips of your toes. then, silence seeps in—a moment only for you and him.

“i, uh, write,” you whisper as your eyes shift to the notebook resting on your lap.

“really? like, stories and poetry?”

you nod. “i like writing people’s stories more, but i do like making ones.” when you look back at changmin, his eyes are still filled with curiosity. “i would, like, find interviews online and try to make my own, sort of, uhm—god this is embarrassing. forget about it.”

“huh? no, it isn’t!” he attempts to reassure your shrunken figure. “i mean, you don’t have to share more if you really don’t want to, but i’d like to hear more about it.” and when his dimples appear, you almost can’t help but feel your face warm up.

“i’d make articles, i guess?” he nods along with your words. “i don’t know, it’s just interesting to hear about people’s lives and kind of create something out of it, and i like thinking about all the possibilities of who would love to hear them. like, don’t you think that some of the stories that we read hold fragments of someone?”

“that’s an interesting way to look at it.”

as you doodle on your notebook, you say, “yeah, it’s just fun to hear these stories and maybe create something out of it. or even think of stories that i could never live out, you know?” you expect yourself to be met with the bored face of changmin but his eyes remain on you.

“what if you interview me?”

your eyebrows shoot up. “you?”

“yeah,” he stands up before walking up to your row, finding a spot beside you. “think of me as your first interviewee if you want.”

the sudden suggestion has you stumbling over your words. “huh? b—but, i don’t have questions prepared. and how does this help our project?” 

when his arms brush against yours, you start to become aware of the distance between your shoulders—and his face from yours. warmth spreads throughout your body, almost like you’re about to have a fever. once his open hand rests near yours, you don’t know what he’s asking.

“let me draw it out for you.” you hand him your pencil and notebook, allowing him to see your doodles. (you don’t miss his grin.) “you know, with that article you make, we can cut it up and create something out of it.” a roughly drawn sketch of a boy posed in the middle of a dance move now rests on the page. “i don’t know if a collage would be okay.”

as you think about what can be done, you perch your chin on your palm. “we can do papercut art? basically, it’s cutting up the article in a way to form an image.”

“oh, that sounds cool!”

“yeah, but the only challenge is that we can only use one piece of paper.” a sigh leaves you. “it would be impossible for me to even do that.”

“that’s why you have me.” his small smile causes wind chimes to ring. (you’re positive you heard them, even if there were no such things in the gymnasium.)

he continues to sketch out the layout of your joint artwork. “how do we feel about this?” on the paper, there are two boxes beside the figure, where one is labeled as “photo of me” while the other is labeled “an article by y/n.” your head tilts. “it’ll be a three-set piece. so, it’ll be a photo of me and your article, and in between is the papercut art that we’ll make.”

you hum. “you know, you’re very creative.” you look at him only to see that he’s been staring at you. “like, you’re inclined to the arts. i wouldn’t have been able to think of something like this.”

“you’re just as creative,” he argues back as he writes down something.

you shake your head before retorting, “changmin, you’re very talented. i’ve seen the way you dance,” his movements halt, “and you’re like no other dancer i’ve seen. if you ever try out to be an idol, i’m sure you’d do great, maybe end up on the list of the best dancers in the industry.”

but he shakes his head, going back to writing on your notebook and shutting down your compliments. you decide to not push.

“i can get the photo sometime during my training,” he says as he hands you your notebook.

“then i can have the questions sometime this week. for the article, i can have it done maybe four days after the interview. how does wednesday, after school, sound for the interview?”

he shoots you a smile before standing up from his seat. “that’s perfect! i’m looking forward to meeting journalist y/n.” you can’t help but scoff at what he calls you. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you shake your head. “it’s just a silly name.” because the reality is that you had your future planned out—and it definitely didn’t involve that field.

he shrugs. “i don’t know, i think it would fit you.”

“but you haven’t read any of my works.”

“but i want to root for you in the same way you do for me. i don’t want you to feel ashamed of your works.” a fire ignites in your heart; it’s a fireplace.

you’re baffled that changmin, out of all people, now holds your secret, but you’re even astounded over the idea of him supporting you. you almost can’t remember the last time you heard such words of support. is it genuine or nothing but a facade?

“anyway, i’ve got to go. i need to catch up on some homework.” while you shoot him a nod, his dimples make their appearance once more. “i’ll see you tomorrow!” as he takes off, you’re left in the gymnasium with your opened notebook and unlocked heart. you look back down at his sketch surrounded by your doodles, but you don’t miss his little note—cute doodles btw <3

the season of spring has unfolded in cheongju; a single lilac has bloomed.

present -> a day before the interview, 2024

it’s a late night on a tuesday, about to be a midnight wednesday, and you’re in a convenience store as you scout for your dinner. all hauled up in the newsroom, the idea of ordering food during a time where restaurants would still be open slipped your mind. now, you’re left to scan through the same options you’ve eaten for the past years since you started living in seoul.

the convenience clerks are familiar with you, both kim jongseob and kim jiwoo. with your constant late-night meals at the store, you’d talk to whichever one had a shift. jongseob is saving up to upgrade his setup at home to record more music. with all the stories he shares about his time in underground rap battles along with the short verses he’s performed for you, you’re positive that he’ll get signed to a label soon. as for jiwoo, this is one of the many jobs she has in order to save enough money for fashion school. you’ve seen her sketches and outfits she’s put together and you’re hoping that she’ll get accepted.

a sigh leaves you. you didn’t have a problem with eating the food here but you were craving for something new in your life in seoul. the perpetual cycle of eating takeout food and unconsciously skipping meals for work needed to be disrupted just for a moment. but you weren’t seeking michelin-star food—all you wanted was something home cooked. something from home.

the spice of tteokbokki, the burn of freshly fried hotteok, and the sweetness of homemade peach iced tea—mr. kim’s convenience store had it all.

your tastebuds long for cheongju.

“planning to beat your record of spending 23 minutes on deciding what to get?”

you roll your eyes before looking to your right, seeing jongseob stock up the drinks in the fridge. “i hate you.”

“what? i’m just saying, you’re taking a lot longer to decide today.” he chuckles before placing the last bottle of sweetened probiotic milk in the fridge. “none of the options look good to you?”

“sort of,” you hum before you scan through the aisle of packaged meals. “i think i’m craving for something different.”

“i get it. the food here can get boring, which is why i’m planning to order pizza if you want to split the costs.”

your eyebrows shoot up at jongseob’s suggestion. “really? you’d share pizza with me?”

“yeah, as long as you pay for your share.” he shoots you a smile before grabbing on a trolley carrying empty boxes. “unless… you want to pay for the whole thing.”

you bite back a smile as you shake your head. you should’ve known the guy would ask you to buy him food, but you knew that he needed the money and you at least had a stable income to keep you comfortable. “fine,” jongseob’s smile grows as you fish out your wallet from your pocket and pull out a couple of bills. “just order enough for us two.” 

“of course,” he says as soon as you hand him some money. “i’ll make sure to order the most expensive thing on the menu.”

you scoff at his joke. “just make sure to treat me to something.”

the bell by the door chimes. “sorry, can’t hear you over that! need to attend to a customer!” jongseob dashes away from you while dragging the trolley. that little shit just knew how to press your buttons, but you love the kid, anyway.

still, you stand in the middle of the mart and your heart longs for home.

then, you shut your eyes, and you’re transported back in front of the familiar aisle filled with bags of potato chips and sweet corn. the noisy fan along with the soft sounds of mr. kim’s korean drama fills your ears. a mix of yellow and orange hues paint every corner of the mart, including you—and you’re not alone.

your best friend stands on your right, wearing the unbuttoned school uniform polo over a tank top along with jogging pants. he’s lost in thought as he scans through the options of snacks you two can have for today’s afternoon. he starts to giggle to himself, probably from a silly thought he’ll share with you in the next second or a memory involving you, and the dips in his cheeks appear—your heart thumps in your ears.

and just like how quickly you were transported back to cheongju, your surroundings transformed into the cool-lit convenience store found in seoul. all you have left is the image of him bathed in the sunlight.

but he fades away like the ink on old receipts, never gone, because the glowing image of him warps into a different version who stands next to you in the cold mart. he’s grown a few inches taller and his hair doesn’t get in the way of his line of sight. while he wears a green sweater, you notice that he’s gained some muscles. his eyes scan through the aisle behind you filled with different brands of instant ramen.

but he bites the inside of his cheek and his dimples appear.

it’s a tornado that brews within you, enough to uproot trees and displace buildings, all because of an unexpected reunion with changmin. why did the universe decide to bring two ex-best friends on a random tuesday night? what brings him to the convenience store at the same time you’re there? and why did it have to happen a day before the interview?

you weren’t going to commit the same mistake; keep your eyes off of him and make your way out of the store. it didn’t matter if you had an empty, growling stomach, or gave free money to jongseob. you need to leave without the distant, familiar face noticing.

your feet act fast, and you're almost certain that might’ve caught his attention, but it didn’t matter as you see jongseob standing behind the cashier with his phone out. “i just ordered the pizza. it should arrive in about… 20 to 30 minutes.”

“yeah, about that…”

“don’t tell me you’re taking your money back.”

at the sight of jongseob’s pout, you roll your eyes. “no, keep it. i just—i need to go.”

“what? why?”

you peek behind you. it seems like he didn’t recognize you, after all. “i’ve got… work!”

“but don’t you only have your interview with the bo—”

“hey!” your fingers snap at him. “you cannot—i mean, you just… just take the goddamn money.”

“but we’re supposed to share the pizza. you haven’t eaten.”

an exasperated sigh leaves you. “jongseob, just treat me next time. i can eat at home.”

and you’re ready to leave the convenience store, bid farewell to jongseob and a delicious pizza made for two, and never greet or say goodbye to the living fragment of what you last know of cheongju—

“y/n?”

and the plan failed.

when you meet his gaze, you’re able to take in the different version of him. he’s grown so much—it’s such a pain that you weren’t there to witness it. his eyes are a pool of emotions; you can’t identify them.

all it takes is one breath from you. “changmin.”

a beat passes.

“i’m just gonna… go through the storage,” jongseob points his thumb at the back of the mart, “and maybe kill myself afterwards. i don’t know.” before you can protest, he’s already gone. (and he still has your money. that fucker.)

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

changmin’s fingers tense up, almost as if he was hesitating—debating—on how to approach you. his body would waver, but he never took a step towards you. “i… i wasn’t expecting to meet you here.” 

“same here.” you lean your back against the checkout counter. “d—do you stay around this part of the city?”

he shakes his head. “i live around 15, maybe 20, minutes away from here. i’m only here because…” your breath gets caught in your throat. “i don’t know.”

fate. that’s what brought us here.

“do you live here?”

you nod. “yeah, ever since—” the sentence never gets completed; you and him already know.

for a moment, sorrow flashes in his eyes, but a smile shows up. the dimples don’t appear. “i, uh, i was going to get something from here but it seems like your friend is busy.”

“sorry about jongseob.” you whip out your phone and scold him through text. “he should be with us in a bit.”

changmin hums before walking to the freezer filled with different ice cream. as he looks through the selection, he asks, “do you still like twin bar?”

“y—yeah.”

“still the grape flavor?” you don’t know what to say, but when his gaze meets yours, you settle for a nod. with your favorite ice cream in one hand and a sandwich in the other, he finally walks towards you. you don’t miss the slight stagger in his steps.

changmin finds his spot beside you. there’s still distance between you two—two tiles worth, enough space for one person—but it’s enough for your muscles to freeze. thankfully, jongseob comes just in time to manage the cashier (with an awkward smile plastered on).

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

“oh, i’m paying—”

“no, let me,” changmin insists. “you can always treat me another time.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, thinking over the second half of his sentence. jongseob holds back from scanning the item, until you shoot him a nod. changmin pays for the food before jongseob hands them to you.

“i’ll just let you know when the pizza gets here.” his small smile is enough for your shoulders to ease and a quiet exhale to leave. a small nod is all you give him.

you follow changmin outside to the tables in front of the mart. once he’s settled on a spot, you sit across from him. he tears away the plastic wrapping of his food while you play with the ends of yours. 

while he swallows what you assume to be his dinner of the day, you’re left to swallow your own pride.

“i’ve seen your performances.” his chews halt. “you’re—” captivating. “you’ve improved a lot.”  

with one gulp, a shy smile takes over his face. “i still have a long way to go.”

“you always say that, even back then.” a half bitten sandwich now rests on the wrapper. “but i admire your drive.” always have.

while a different version of changmin sits across you, the one you knew back in cheongju still lives. in the busy, unfamiliar expanse of seoul, meeting 10 years later, he’ll never be stranger. you could never treat him as such, even if you wanted to.

“there’s always room for improvement,” he says.

you hum along with his sentiment. “did you stick with early childhood education?” you’re met with his orbs that hold a thousand of emotions, some you can name as shock, confusion. a question hangs in the air—what did you deserve to know?

“sorry, i’m assuming you still went to college, which is totally fine if you did or didn’t, by the way. and it’s also okay if you didn’t stick to your major. i mean, you always talked about pursuing a performing arts degree before—”

“y/n,” he giggles, “you’re okay. i still went to college but i took media & communication.” your eyebrows shoot up at the revelation. “i thought it made sense to study something related to what i do, just the more technical and theoretical side of it, i guess. and the online classes were easy to squeeze into my schedule.” he lifts up the sandwich. “what about you?”

“uh, i ended up in the same course as well.” a hum of shock leaves changmin. “yeah,” you chuckle, “i managed to shift courses.”

“that’s amazing! i’m happy for you.”

you smile at him. “thanks. now, i’m just—” you should tell him what you do. what would be a better time to reveal that you ended up in the path he dreamed for you to be than now? “—figuring things out.”

with your vagueness, changmin only nods before munching away. if there’s anything about you that still remains, it’s that you shouldn’t be pushed to share something you didn’t want to talk about. he still knew that.

as he finishes his sandwich, you tear off the plastic wrapping of your ice cream. with the twin bar in your hands, you snap it into two before you hand him a piece. confusion paints his features, wide eyes glossing over the popsicle in your hand, but he takes it before you can say anything.

“thanks.”

you shake your head. “don’t even worry about it. it’s only tradition.”

silence settles between you two. as you eat away on your share of the twin bar, you look up to the sky. from where you sit, you can’t see a single star; the lights of seoul seemed to outshine them. and during those moments, you almost can’t help but miss the view of the starry night from your childhood room.

you glance at changmin who looks up to the sky as well. yet, one hand remains in his pocket, almost as if he’s fiddling with something. 

as if he feels your eyes on him, he asks, “did you ever think about coming back?”

you halt your movements. if there’s one thing you were expecting your old friend to ask, it would be related to your sudden departure. but you’re hit with an entirely different question, one you didn’t get to rehearse the answer to in case you ever cross paths with him. 

because after all this talk about your yearning for cheongju, why didn’t you choose to visit? despite how much you long mr. kim’s home cooked meals, skies filled with stars, or the presence of your best friend, why didn’t you ever come back?

if you miss home, why is your first instinct to run away from it?

and the reality is that you do think about it all the time. since you left cheongju, you drafted out how many plans to go back. you were homesick, missing the familiar landscape you spent your entire childhood growing up in. but most of all, you missed changmin. as long as you had him, you would survive anywhere, whether in seoul or cheongju.

despite how much you yearned for him during your years away, you learned that your relationship wasn’t always filled with the warmth that would grace you two every afternoon. for so long, you’ve sat with jealousy. while his family was his pillar of strength, you were met with a home that offered nothing but criticism.

the black limbs slowly ate away at your heart; the void was born.

it became easier to remain resentful. with the distance, you weren’t faced with changmin’s genuineness. yet, with time, you discovered that you still cared for him—regardless of your jealousy—because you still wanted more for him than you did for yourself.

for a long time, you resented. now, it’s only guilt that held you back from going back to him.

so when you remain silent, changmin takes it as your answer.

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

summer of 2014

it’s the peak of summer. amidst the expanse of verdant fields, bees seek solace in the fully-bloomed sunflowers and kaleidoscope wings illuminate as they soar.

but summer is where mouths go dry and clothes cling to skin. as days blend with each other, the comfort of your bed is all you have until the season passes.

the fan rumbles against the wooden floor, doing its best to cool you, but the heat prickles against the back of your neck. the wind has turned into nothing but hot waves. with your elbows perched on the desk, a sigh leaves you as you attempt to make sense of the worksheet filled with math equations.

your room is your favorite place in cheongju. within these four walls are scattered fragments of you, from your favorite books and mangas that rest on the bookshelf to the stuffed toys that rest on your bed. book tabs stick out of your workbooks lined up on your desk and your cork board is filled with crossed out to-do lists.

and every once in a while, you would look out through your window, admiring the neighboring houses and all their greenery. as people walk on pavements, you cannot help but think about where they’re off to—are they on their way to work? did they leave an important document back home? or are they coming back to a meal and home filled with warmth?

despite the halo soundtrack filling your ears, the cogs in your brain seem to drown them out. the numbers on your paper have jumbled up. it should’ve been easy. after all, you’ve become friends with the letters who’ve squeezed their way into math. once you’ve wrapped up on this assignment, you know you’ll wake up to another set of work to do. it didn’t help that you’re stuck watching kids your age enjoy their break.

with a tired mind, you consider making yourself another cup of iced coffee. maybe another dose of caffeine will make sense of the numbers—

your phone buzzes against your table. as your eyes rip from the unfinished worksheet, you spot the familiar name flashing on the screen. with one glance at your door, you bring your headphones to rest around your neck. it takes three rings for you to answer.

“what do you want?”

“the fuck? what’s wrong with you?”

you roll your eyes as you fiddle with your pen. “i’m studying, you fucker.”

“on a sunday?” changmin’s question has you only groan. “what happened to resting?”

“i wish,” you murmur as you scratch the back of your head. “i’ve been stuck on this stupid worksheet for the past hours. it’s annoying too. i mean, i already know this topic, so i don’t know why it’s so hard.”

“awe, is my best friend suffering over kumon?”

your forehead rests on crossed arms. “yes. i think i’m going to die.”

“okay, then. i’ll take that as my sign.”

“sign to what?”

he chuckles as if it were obvious. “to save you! let’s go to mr. kim’s.”

a groan leaves you as your back meets the chair. “no, i can’t. do you know what would happen if i don’t finish my kumon?”

“uh… no?”

“me, neither. i’m not taking my chances.”

“but, you’re not even doing anything!” changmin pointing out the obvious has you rolling your eyes. “wouldn’t it be better to take a break with your best friend? i can even help out.”

as you bite the inside of your cheek, you glance once more at your closed door. you weigh it out; would you rather take a break with your best friend or would you save yourself from the consequences brought by home?

but the answer was already clear. “give me 10 minutes.”

changmin laughs before you drop the call.

it’s the smell of fresh hotteok that greets you. the quiet buzzing of the fan accompanied by mr. kim’s favorite trot music fills your ears. while the owner seems to be away from the cashier, a white, stray cat takes over, body flopped on the counter as it snores away the heat. as the sun pours through windows, coating every corner of the mart with a glow of fireflies, you know this will be a place of its own.

“y/n, over here!” a familiar voice calls out. as you whip your head to the source, you see your best friend by the chest freezer, eyes crinkled and all dimples.

now, you’re certain that nothing could ever replicate this.

you walk towards changmin, finding your spot beside him as you two look through the collection of frozen treats. “so, what do you want from here?” you ask.

“uh… i’ll be honest, i just realized i’m short on money.”

you glance through the price tags, only for a groan to leave you. “i’m short too. when did mr. kim raise the prices?”

“no clue. i thought i’d have enough to get a summer crush,” changmin complains as his eyes are glued to the coffee sorbet. “i hate inflation.”

“come on.” you fish out for the coins in your pocket. “let’s see how much we have together.” changmin does the same. with palms out, you two count through your shared funds.

“we can get a summer crush!”

“you can get one. i’ll be left with barely anything.” you look through the selection once more. “man, i really want samanco. the red bean sounds so good right now.”

defeat casts over changmin’s features. for a moment, you almost consider giving up on having a frozen treat and settling for a glass bottle of orange soda, until you spot a familiar popsicle brand.

“holy shit, it’s right there.”

“what?”

“there!” your finger points at the stack of twin bars. “we can probably get that and split it.”

changmin’s expression morphs into realization. “okay, let’s get—”

“dibs on grape.”

“dibs?” he furrows his eyebrows at you. “you can’t just call dibs. you’re doing it wrong. clearly, we should discuss—”

“nope,” you retort. a chuckle laced with disbelief leaves your best friend. to him, it seemed like you were joking around. “i made the suggestion and contributed a lot more to our shared funds.”

“okay, but—”

“don’t tell me you want the peach flavor more than the grape.” as you continue to shut him down, he knows there’s no way around you.

(plus, he wasn’t a fan of peach-flavored things, anyway. how unfortunate that mr. kim only has those two flavors right now.)

“next time, we’re choosing a flavor that i want,” he gives in. you let out a cheer before grabbing the frozen treat.

you two make your way back to the cashier and spot mr. kim slouched in front of the television, hand stroking the sleepy feline. he’s still wearing an old, red plaid apron on top of a pair of basketball shorts and a loose graphic tee which had the name of a band you’re unfamiliar with. with how he sits, you’re afraid that his back problems will get even worse. (still, you don’t say anything. he’ll only play it off and say he’s still one of the “youngins”... whatever that means.)

once his eyes land on you two, a grin takes over. “ah, my favorite kids! it’s nice to see you both.”

“yeah, it’s been a while,” changmin starts off. “y/n’s always busy with kumon.”

you narrow your eyes at the boy. “hey! you’re busy, too! you’ve been practicing at the studio almost every day!” the wrapped popsicle now rests on the counter. “every time i’m free, you’re not.”

“hey! whenever you’re free, i’m tired from training!”

“okay, let’s settle down,” mr. kim breaks up the banter. he then takes note of the ice cream on the cashier, the price showing up on the cashier. “isn’t the heat hard enough for you two to be studying or practicing?”

“yes, very much.” you count the coins once more before dropping the exact amount on the counter. “but,” you glance at changmin and his disheartened expression is enough for mountains to move, “i don’t think we have a choice.”

in reality, these were the circumstances you two had to work and live with. during the days changmin ended practice early, you were drowning in summer school assessments. whenever you managed to finish your homework, it would be during the hours your best friend was off at the studio or passed out at home from exhaustion.

“choice, no choice, people always say that.” mr. kim counts your payment before putting it into the cashier. as he takes note of what you’ve bought, he says, “everyone has a choice. i’m sure you two can figure it out.”

the only difference is that one chose this path; the other had to suffer from the decision forced onto them.

“don’t worry, mr. kim,” changmin nudges your shoulder. “i’m sure we’ll figure it out.” and when the dips in his cheeks appear, you find yourself smiling back.

maybe you were okay with the life you had to live, just maybe.

“anyway, we’ll go ahead,” changmin bids farewell to mr. kim.

you giggle. “he means we’re just going to eat our ice cream at the front.”

as you two slowly make your way out of the mart, mr. kim shakes his head. “you lovebirds go ahead. i’ll see you next time!”

“mr. kim!” you and changmin shout in unison before glancing at each other.

“what?!”

your best friend groans. “you know we aren’t together.”

“yeah! like, i can’t imagine it,” you join in.

still, the owner laughs at your reactions. “you two are so funny. just go and enjoy your ice cream.”

you roll your eyes at his words. “bye, mr. kim!”

with that, you and changmin were out of the mart and took a seat on the benches. you hand your best friend the wrapped frozen treat before letting out a sigh. “i still can’t believe this is one of the few times we got to meet up during the break.”

“i know.” he tears the plastic wrapping off. “you would think that summer break would mean we get to hang out nonstop, but i’m starting to think we saw each other more whenever we had school.”

you hum. “i know. and i had ap stat while you had training.” your eyes dart at changmin who grips onto the popsicle sticks, struggling to split it into two. “oh my god, don’t tell me you can’t split it.”

“hey! it’s hard.”

as you giggle, you reach your hand out. “let me do it.” once changmin hands you the twin bar, you attempt to split the two. for a moment, you almost think about agreeing with him. yet, the frozen treat splits into two perfectly, and a satisfied smile rests on your lips.

you hand him one popsicle, only to be met with his glare. “i know, i’m just better.”

“just shut up.” to that, another laugh leaves you.

under the sun, you enjoy the coolness of the twin bar. while you would’ve stared off to nowhere, you and changmin were here at the right time to catch civilians bustling away. some were on dates, where one would go on about their interest while the other would smile at their rambling. there were kids whose chatter could be heard all the way from the end of the block, and blue-collar men who were off to enjoy their break.

you can’t help but imagine what people saw—thought—of you and changmin. did they think of you as unexpected friends? has it ever crossed their minds that you two were only classmates who seemed to always be paired together? or did they ever think the same as mr. kim?

“you know,” changmin starts off, causing you to look at him, “i was going through college courses the other day.”

your eyebrows shoot up. “oh?”

with your reaction, changmin giggles. “i was just curious, you know? not that i’m giving up on dance or anything, but,” he licks the popsicle, “early childhood education sounds cool.”

you hum. “i wasn’t expecting that.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“no, it’s not a bad thing!” you reassure the boy. “it’s just,” you rip your gaze off of changmin and look at the playground, “i always thought of you as a dancer, you know? kind of like you were meant for the stage.” the laughter of the kids who passed by you two bounces all over the block and you can’t help but smile. “but i don’t doubt it.”

the breeze graces your sweat-covered skin. “what about you?” you look back at him. “would you ever consider journalism? maybe communication as your major?”

you’re quick to laugh at his suggestion, but when confusion paints his features, you realize it’s a serious question from him.

“no.” it’s a straightforward answer from you, but changmin could never settle with that

“why not?”

a sigh leaves you. “i just don’t consider it. i mean, i think about it,” all the time, “but not enough to consider it. plus, astrophysics is cool.”

“but is it your dream?”

changmin’s question is an easy one to answer—not at all. you’ve had enough learning about theories and making sense of the numbers. if your future is going to only complicate that further, then maybe astrophysics isn’t made for you. 

but who’s to say that you’ll even enjoy journalism?

“we’ll see.” you leave it at that and changmin didn’t push for more.

because the reality is that if you ever did consider it, transform those dreams into action plans, you were terrified to be met with your parents’ disappointment—it wouldn’t only be from your lousy desires but from changmin’s role in your life.

the first time you mentioned changmin to your parents happened over dinner, letting them know you would be staying later at school to work on the final project for art class with him. they didn’t bat an eye at his name as they continued to talk about what happened during work and pester you about your progress in other classes. (art class didn’t matter to them, only the sciences and math were ones they seemed to track. still, they would criticize you if you didn’t place first honors.)

with your parents’ oversight, something blossomed between you and changmin. from there, there were more days you would get home later than usual. while you were still on top of your work, they took your late arrivals as a form of negligence.

all it took was one night for them to demand an explanation. the reappearance of him in the conversation had only caused them to reprimand you—changmin’s not like you. he’ll only hold you back. 

from that day on, you’ve learned to keep his name out of conversations. you’ll enjoy what you have with changmin, even if it has to be kept under the wraps.

“how’s training?” you change the subject, trying to keep the attention off of your failed dreams to changmin’s flourishing ones.

“well, it’s a lot,” he chuckles as he munches a piece. “you already know that it takes how many hours to get to the company, and the hours i spend in the practice room are unlike the trainings i have at school.”

as his eyes meet yours, you only shoot him an apologetic smile. it was never going to be easy; you two knew that before changmin entered the doors of the company. yet, he still held on.

“you know, i never considered it before, but i like where i’m going,” he admits. “even if i’ve always had dreams to pursue dance, i want to make my family proud if i ever get to debut.” 

changmin knows how to persevere. regardless of all the bruises he gets from performing complex dance routines or the hours of sleep he longs for, he knows how to hold on. you wish you could say the same for yourself.

“and you will,” you reassure the boy, wrapping your arm around his shoulders. “who wouldn’t be proud of you?”

he holds your stare and your smile falters. for a moment, you don’t know if you touched on a sensitive topic. would he shrug your arm off? do you think he’ll shut you off, maybe cut your time together short? will changmin get mad at you for something you didn’t know was wrong? would he be just like them?

“i want to make you proud.”

that’s enough to answer it all.

you shake your head. “don’t even doubt that for a second.” your arm finds it spot back to your side, and changmin’s loops his with yours.

although he knows how to persevere, he never knows when to shut his ears from the shadows. 

“i am proud of you,” you tell him. “always have, always will.” he can’t help but smile. all you can hope is that he’ll listen closely to your voice.

“i almost forgot,” he says out of nowhere.

“forgot what?”

as he tugs his arm away, his hand fishes for something in his pocket. “close your eyes.” you furrow your eyebrows. “just do it!” you follow his orders. “and keep them closed, okay?” you let out a hum.

before you know it, something wraps around your index finger. you would’ve opened your eyes, confused over the foreign yet familiar material, but they remain shut. 

“okay, open.”

your gaze rests on your finger wrapped in yellow and blue. it’s a finger trap—and the other end is connected to changmin. despite your tug, it still holds you two together.

it’s the warmth that fills your cheeks, the heartbeat in your ears, and your starstruck eyes that has him smile. “no matter what happens, we’ll stick together, okay? regardless of what paths we end up pursuing. all that matters is that we have each other.”

he’s filled with hope. hope for his dreams. hope for your relationship. hope for what the future holds for you two. you can’t help but hope as well.

all it takes is a nod from you to solidify the promise to the universe.

you two sit in silence, finishing up the popsicles as people continue to pass by. at one point, you heard mr. kim let out a curse over the drama he’s watching. the sun is about to set, wrapping you two in a golden blanket, and all that matters is the finger trap.

present  -> two weeks before the interview, 2024

it’s no surprise to you that the newsroom is quiet. while your peers are off to gather more information, you’re with lee chaeyeon of news as she tries to meet the deadline for her article’s first close.

“do you think dokyeom will be late?” you ask as you watch her rephrase sentences.

she laughs. “when is he never? minho’s always assigning him coverages.”

“that’s true.” your eyes drift to the hallway. “i’m just hungry. he still owes me food, you know?”

“over another bet? or you saving his ass?”

“over helping him with an article,” you reveal, earning a shocked look from her. “for some odd reason, he needed another writer to help out with a live coverage, and all the sports writers and sports editor were busy handling the other events.”

“holy shit.” chaeyeon continues with her work. “i didn’t expect you to work on anything sports-related.”

“yeah, but it helped that it was a dance competition. at least i know something about dance.” you only know who to thank. “i’m going to make sure i get compensated for that. i’m planning to raise it to minho and namjoon, anyway. that’s if dokyeom would fucking come and help in explaining the situation.”

with the mention of the tardy writer’s name, he’s scrambling through the halls with his backpack in one hand and a paper bag in the other. the moment he sees you, he shoots you an apologetic smile.

“speak of the devil,” you say as you stand up straight. “why do you always show up late? i helped you with the article.”

dokyeom finds his spot beside you as he sets down the bag on your desk. “i’ll have you know that wasn’t the only article i had yesterday. i was catching up on other ones that minho assigned me.” before he can plop down on his seat, he spots chaeyeon working. “damn, tough life at news.”

“no need to point out the obvious, doofus.”

“wow, harsh,” he replies to her insult. “just so you know, i bought food for us.”

“thank god,” you exclaim as you open the paper bag filled with takeout containers and sealed cups. as you pull them out one by one, you spot your usual order from the vietnamese restaurant around the corner. “oh my god, thank you for getting me this.” you take a seat before you pass dokyeom his food and utensils.

“yeah, i know. i’m just the best.” his shower of compliments for himself only has you rolling your eyes. “but thank you, by the way, for helping me out with the article. i needed an extra pair of hands and my own editor couldn’t stand in to help out.”

“it’s fine. just make sure you help me get compensated for that article,” you say before you open the container. as the smell of bun bo nam bo fills your nose, you can’t help but let out a quiet moan. “holy fuck, i’ve been craving this.”

“i made sure to get you some vietnamese coffee also.”

“yeah, i saw. thank you.” you split the chopsticks with one hand. you’re about to mix the bowl of your favorite food—

“is y/n here?” your editor calls out, causing you to let out a sigh before you stand up from your seat.

“yes?”

namjoon’s gaze lands on you. “can i talk to you for a bit?”

despite your grumbling stomach, you give him a nod and set your food down. as he retreats to his office, you glare at dokyeom who munches away on goi cuon. “i hate you.”

“hey, what did i do?!” you ignore his attempts to defend himself as you make your way to your editor’s office.

once you swing the door open, you spot namjoon whose eyes are stuck to the screen. “you can take a seat,” he says with no attempt to look at you. you sit across from him, hands folded on your lap, while he types away on his keyboard.

the moment he hits the ‘enter’ key is when he finally looks at you. “sorry about that. i was just replying to minho regarding your compensation for the article you worked with dokyeom. we both appreciate what you did. next time though, make sure to loop in minho or me before you two start working on beats not within your staffs.”

“sorry about that,” you start off. “dokyeom only asked for my help and i thought it would be fine since i’m familiar with dance, anyway.”

namjoon shakes his head with a small smile plastered on his face. “it is fine, just make sure to inform us.” you only nod.

“anyway, i’m sorry to have this meeting with you right now but i have to leave work early today, and i thought that you’d appreciate that i tell this to you now instead of tomorrow,” he says. you hum, curious about what he has to say. “i have a coverage for you, a very, very, long one.”

over the sight of your wide eyes, he can’t help but chuckle. “it’s 12 articles,” he says and your mouth gapes over the number. “well, one main article and 11 profiles with very brief introductory paragraphs.” his attempt to ease your shocked state does nothing.

“namjoon, that’s… a lot.”

“yes, i know. i would love to split the workload but everyone else is handling other articles, and i trust you. i know i’m asking for a lot but i’ll make sure to help you out with them. it’s just that we’re working on a time crunch and i don’t know anyone else i can ask but you.”

the faith that your editor seems to have in you is like no other.

“profiles, like, those q&a transcripts?” you ask.

he nods before saying, “yes, and just a brief introductory paragraph for each profile. i’m just expecting you to put more work into the article about the group. i’ll make sure to help out with the profiles.”

namjoon’s trust should be anxiety inducing, enough to send you complaining, but you find yourself relieved. your mentor became your second-in-command; the mountain of workload transformed into a hill.

“okay.”

a relaxed smile appears on his face at your acceptance. “thank god! i was going to stress about this the whole day if you refused. i’ll make sure to send you the details about this once i’m done with my appointments, and then we can see how we’ll divide the work later on.” he types something. “we’re covering a k-pop group which is why there’s one main article about the whole group and then 11 profiles.”

“yeah, i figured that out.” this isn’t anything out of your usual articles. “can i ask who we’re interviewing? maybe i can do some research on them while you attend your meetings.” you pull out your phone, ready to search up whoever your editor says.

“don’t know if you’re familiar with them but they’re called the boyz?” you still in your seat. “wait, let me check. yes, that’s their name.”

“the boyz?”

namjoon looks at you, now met with your features that have transformed from wide eyes to scrunched eyebrows.  “yeah. do you know them?” 

you shake your head without a second thought. “no, i don’t think i do,” you whisper the last sentence to yourself. his narrow eyes look over you, almost dissecting you.

the walls surrounding you are painted in solid colors of pearl, almost untouched. yet, under the paint are cracks that spread like cobwebs. every burst is a testament to the earthquakes they’ve faced; no one should be able to see a single line of black amid the white sea. now, they’re filled with paste, and it should be enough to cover them all.

but for the first time, the paint has chipped and the paste has deteriorated; the different colors of cheongju seep through the cracks.

you clear your throat as you straighten your back. “i’ll be sure to research them.” you wave your phone at him, hoping to divert his attention, but his gaze remains on you.

a sigh leaves him. “okay. expect to receive the documents later in the afternoon.”

he doesn’t push any further. for now, the walls remain intact. (or appear as so.)

it was never going to be easy.

“honestly, i gave up expecting to win as we practiced,” the youngest says through tears. as they huddle, they let out silent wishes for the upcoming years. before they blow the candle, they don’t forget to express their gratitude to the fandom who stuck with them through thick and thin.

a time of celebration turned into a moment to remember their struggles. these were pockets of their time that marked their spot in history.

“oh, everyone behind us is crying!” another member points out as the camera captures the team’s bittersweet cries.

and when you catch sight of the orange-haired boy who hides his tears behind his friend, the ache in your chest starts to spread through your veins. the video cuts to his low-hanging head as his members comfort him. they knew all of his hardships—you only know a fraction.

such a tender moment happened five years ago; it’s the same amount of time between this achievement and your departure. within those years, what did changmin undergo? did his trainings waver his passion or did the fire burn just as bright as it did since he first auditioned? was he confident in his skills or was he still critical about every performance he had?

but most of all, what did he face? what did he learn? to hate? to love?

what did he go through without you?

you don’t forget to take note of their first win on your document filled with bullet points of information. while you were going to continue watching, a recommended video caught your attention. it’s a changmin focus. you don’t hesitate to click it.

the video starts off with him checking up on the fans before the performance starts. as he mimes out eating, they answer his question with reassurance.

and there they come—his dimples appear.

it transitions to their group in their opening formation. as they await for the song to play out, changmin’s familiar smile shifts into a dominant gaze.

in the same way the first notes draw people to listen, your eyes never leave the boy. his movements are fluid, like water droplets sliding off leaves. he commands the stage regardless of where he’s positioned.

changmin is meant to be on the stage—no, every stage is made for him. every crowd is meant to cheer his name and remain captive to his talents, and every spotlight is meant to shine on him.

you rest your chin on crossed arms. long gone was the bowl cut and loose school uniform. he’s grown. matured, even. yet, the moments where his smile appears makes you realize one thing: the 16-year-old boy you knew still lives within him.

as their performance comes to an end, you don’t bother to move your cursor, letting the next recommended video play. and when his vlog plays out, you realize that a fragment of his identity is a whole of what you know.

what an honor it is to have known him for even a fraction of your lifetime.

his voice is a lullaby, the same one you used to fall asleep to, so you allow yourself to close your eyes. you let go of the responsibilities for just this moment, and allow yourself to be transported back into the warmth of his arms.

fall of 2014

out of all the seasons, autumn took its spot in being your favorite. clusters of green slowly morph  into shades of oranges and browns. it’s a symphony of chirps that fills the silence. while the breeze brings you comfort after the heat of summer, it also reminds you of the looming winter.

it’s a shame that autumn does live up to its other name: a season of fall.

“you’re always like this,” your mother comments. you stand in front of your parents, slumped shoulders and downcast eyes, as they hold a sheet of paper they believe dictates your future. “always so sensitive. we’re just asking you what went different. why did your grades drop?” to them, a shift from a to b+ is a threat to your future. 

while your feet stand on wooden floors, a flood starts to form. murky waves crash against your legs, but you do your best to keep your balance.

“answer us when you’re being talked to.” your father snaps you out of your thoughts. “what have you been doing for your grades to drop?” you want to answer but a single sound that leaves you may only lead to blubbers that your parents will scold you for. 

with your silence, your mother sneers. “i knew we shouldn’t have let you do your own things. i told you so.” she shifts her gaze to him. “what did i tell you about y/n? you know they’ll only slack off!”

“i thought we could trust them. clearly, i was wrong.” your father’s glare raises the water levels, reaching your chest. you don’t know how to swim in the foggy ocean.

“i know why.” she crosses her arms. “it’s because of that changmin boy, isn’t it?” she says his name laced with disgust.

you don’t think twice to defend him. “no, it isn’t!”

“don’t you dare talk back at me!”

“but i’m not! he’s done nothing.”

your father begins to raise his voice. “and that’s what’s wrong! that lazy boy does nothing for his studies. he clearly doesn’t care about his future.”

you always knew it would be a losing battle, but you’ll put up the fight to protect your best friend’s name. “that’s not true! he does care. he’s planning to do early childhood education for college, maybe become a teacher.”

“that job has no money. see, i can already see that you’re being influenced by him,” he argues back.

and as the murky waters rise, filling your lungs, your first instinct is to close your eyes and scream. “stop saying that about him!”

a beat passes.

“i don’t want you hanging out with him.”

“but—”

“shut up.” your mother’s words cause you to look up, meeting your parents’ faces filled with anger.  “go to your room. now.” you’re nothing but a puppet for them.

was it even a battle if you always knew you were going to lose?

despite the safety of your room, you don’t let the tears flow down. you do anything to distract yourself; maybe a book will convince you that your life is only a figment of your imagination.

waves continue to crash against your body. if you let them take your body, would they send you far away from cheongju? from your parents? from the weight you were entrusted to carry since birth?

but would you allow the waves to send you away from changmin?

your phone buzzes against the mattress. with tear-filled eyes, you see your best friend trying to reach you. you don’t think twice about declining his call and shutting off your phone.

as you curl in your bed, you hope the sea will swallow you whole—the slow, burning pain that comes with drowning won’t compare to the burns that haven’t healed. but you know that the blame rests on your shoulders. if only you had studied harder, cut off hours of rest for your work, then maybe you would be the perfect child your parents wanted.

were you wrong for allowing yourself to enjoy the small breaks between classes? was the time spent in the mart supposed to be for schoolwork? should you have found yourself a tutor? were you in the wrong for not working yourself to the bone? did you not work enough?

are you not enough?

then, a knock. your eyes snap open. like a stroke of light in the middle of the dark, changmin is by your window.

you get off your bed to open the window. as the glass barrier disappears, he enters your room. “are you okay?” he spots your glassy eyes and his hands find their spot on your shoulders. “what happened?”

you break eye contact. “what do you want, changmin?”

“you didn’t pick up your phone. and when i tried calling again, i couldn’t reach you,” he starts to explain.

you shrug off his grip on you before you take a seat on your bed. “i’m fine. my phone died.” as you feel the spot beside you dip, you look at your best friend. at the sight of his furrowed eyebrows, you know he doesn’t believe you. “i said i’m fine.”

“i didn’t say anything.” for you are an open book to him.

he opens his arms towards you—it’s your move to make. then, a tight-lipped smile shows on his face, his dimples appear, and you allow yourself to fall. with his arms wrapped around you, you shut your eyes as you nestle your face into his neck.

breathe in. breathe out.

his hand finds its spot on your back, rubbing it in circles.

breathe in. breathe out.

“it’s okay, i’m here,” he says, and you allow yourself to crumble in front of him for the first time.

the tears hit changmin’s neck like a light drizzle. your wails bring earthquakes into his world.

yet, his warmth is enough to dry up droplets, and his embrace protects you as you fall into the cracks of the earth and into the depths of the world. the flood starts to subside.

in your time knowing changmin, how much did he know about you after all? had he always known of your strained relationship with your parents? did he hear about it from others or was he able to connect the dots?

because you didn’t know yourself outside of your parents anymore. did you like science because of your kumon classes? was your interest in writing birthed from a desire for validation from your parents?

are you nothing but an array of achievements and failures?

but your parents will never be satisfied; a standard too high is practically nonexistent.

changmin moves so that you two can lie down. his arms remain wrapped around you as you hide in his neck. “i’m sorry if i wasn’t there for you when you needed it then.” his whispered apology causes you to shake your head.

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” you blubber out to his neck.

“and you didn’t, as well.” his hand finds its spot behind your head. with every stroke, a tear streams down. “and i want you to know that i’ll be here for you.”

in your house, your room was the only space you called home. solace built by you. 

now, your home is changmin.

present -> two weeks before the interview, 2024

something about the newsroom feels odd to you. there’s nothing out of the ordinary aside from it bustling with journalists. the familiar sounds of printers and chatter from your workmates fill your ears. it’s a typical occurrence for your peers to meet their deadlines on the day itself. the tug in your gut doesn’t resemble ones formed out of your anxiety. why does it feel like one of destiny?

“where is dokyeom? i swear, this guy never shows up to the office.”

you snap out of your thoughts, looking over at chaeyeon who browses through her phone. as you shove a bill into the vending machine, a chuckle leaves you. “when is he never?”

“maybe if he finishes his coverages on time then he’d be getting enough sleep. then, he won’t be late.”

you side-eye your friend before you click on a button. “you know that’s not true.”

she sighs at the same time your bottle of iced tea drops. “yeah. apparently, if you have free time, you’re not a good journalist or some shit which i find stupid.” you grab your drink before facing her. “am i not allowed to do something else that’s not related to my job? i swear, this is why i’m single.”

“then date another journalist.” your joke earns a scowl from her.

“i’m never dating anyone in my field. a journalist dating another journalist is like,” she looks up to the ceiling as she thinks, “a long distance relationship with how much they’ll never see or have time for each other.”

a laugh erupts from you, one that may be too loud for your liking. “true.”

as you walk out of the breakroom with chaeyeon, you notice something in the corner of your eye: a brunette by the restroom. while you can’t see his face, you spot what’s in his hand and you halt in your tracks—a finger trap.

“hey, is there someone there?” your eyes snap back to your friend who looks at you in confusion. when your eyes drift back to where the brunette once was, he’s already gone. you shake your head before walking back to your desk.

the same gut feeling lingers. with a frown, you open up your article only to be met with a few comments that namjoon left last night. maybe your gut knew that you weren’t done with your work. thankfully, it’s nothing too major, and you can have them done within the next few minutes.

“there you are!” chaeyeon exclaims, causing you to look up from your screen to a panting dokyeom. “were you working on your articles again?”

“actually, i went out last night.” while you shake your head at dokyeom’s reveal, chaeyeon gasps. “yeah, i did! i actually had fun for once!”

as he nods proudly at last night’s events, she complains, “are you serious?! how come you have time to go out? i was just talking to y/n that we never have time to ourselves.”

“i’m in sports,” he points out as he shrugs his shoulders. “you’re in news.” at this point, you’re expecting the two to spiral into an argument, so you redirect your focus back to your article.

“hey, did you hear though? there’s a k-pop group in the building.” you glance at chaeyeon.

your other friend leans on the cubicle. “really? who?”

“no clue.”

dokyeom lets out a groan. “what type of journalist are you if you can’t find out?”

“yah!” chaeyeon smacks his arm, causing him to wince in pain. “says you who can never submit on time.”

“hey, i’ll have you know that minho has been understanding!”

“whatever.” she rolls her eyes before looking at you. “that means you’ll probably be handling them. i hope they’re cute so that you can finally have something going on with your life outside of work.”

a chuckle leaves you as you get back to work. “i’m never dating an idol. i’d get hunted down by their fans.” 

“yeah, but can’t you dream a little? do you ever imagine what it would be like?”

the past plays in your mind. after school performances and interviews. broken-up popsicles. finger traps. a life you shared with changmin then—one you still cling onto.

yet, you shake your head as you edit your article. “not even.”

it’s a life you’ll keep to yourself.

“what’s the update?”

the three of you look away from each other, spotting namjoon who comes to you with a smile. long gone were the sweaters that failed to drown out his figure and the boxy glasses that would rest on the bridge of his nose. now, he wears a dress shirt and trousers with hair slicked to the side. there were no frames for him to hide behind.

“ah, namjoon! you’re dressed so nice today.”

with dokyeom’s compliment, he can’t hold back on his smile. “thank you. are you guys done with your articles?”

as your friends nod, you add the finishing touches to the document. “and done! i just finished addressing your comments.”

“great. thanks, y/n.”

“do you have something?” chaeyeon asks your editor, causing you to roll your eyes. one thing about journalists is that they love to know everything.

namjoon nods before saying, “i just had a meeting with some possible interviewees.”

“is this the one with the k-pop group?” as dokyeom asks the question, you can’t help but laugh as chaeyeon looks at him in disbelief for spilling confidential information.

your editor chuckles. “yes.”

“can we know—”

“no, you can’t know.”

chaeyeon pouts at namjoon. “not even a hint?”

namjoon ignores her question and begins to walk off. “good work, y/n!” he calls out before leaving you three alone.

“man, namjoon never tells us shit,” chaeyeon complains as she leans on the table.

“to you guys, at least,” you argue with a small shrug.

still, the gut feeling remains.

something about the newsroom feels odd to changmin. while he’s had his fair share of paranormal experiences, his gut tells him that there’s something in the office. yet, the tug isn’t one that speaks of danger. why does it feel like one of destiny?

“should we have a short break before we discuss the schedules for the photoshoots and interviews?” changmin is snapped out of his thoughts by namjoon’s suggestion.

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

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

although everyone seemed fine with proceeding, changmin couldn’t shake off the feeling. maybe the leftover curry he had this morning went bad. “i’ll go,” he says as he gets off his seat.

namjoon slowly stands up. “okay, i can bring you there—”

“it’s okay! i saw the washroom on the way here,” changmin says before walking to the door. “you can discuss the details without me. i’m sure you guys will manage.”

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

changmin exits the room. he bites on the inside of the cheek as he thinks of what his gut could be telling him. is it the nerves for the upcoming tour? is he worried about the next comeback they’ve been preparing? or is he scared about what the future has in store for his group?

with his mind on these questions, he doesn’t realize that he arrives in front of the bathroom door. a sigh of frustration leaves him. the worst thing about gut feelings is never knowing what they’re trying to say.

he grips the handle, ready to swing the door open, until a familiar laugh hits his ears. one of the past. one he hasn’t heard in years. his muscles freeze.

when was the last time he heard that chortle? when was the last time he became the cause of it?

his eyes dart around the area for the source but no one else is here. he can’t help but shake his head in disbelief.

it should be stupid for him to think you two would ever reunite. in what world would you be in the same place as he is? it’s been 10 years. you could be anywhere around the world. yet, he fishes for something out of his pocket; the same finger trap he linked you to him rests on the palm of his hand.

he sighs before entering the washroom and shoving it back into his pocket.

maybe he’ll hold out a little longer.

winter of 2014

out of all the seasons, changmin’s favorite is winter. snowflakes fall, filling the sky with stars that people can touch, and snow piles on sidewalks, letting him throw snowballs at his friends. despite the freezing temperatures, changmin prefers this over nearly-boiling ones.

he can’t wait to share this season with you.

yet, the familiar, chilly breeze of the season transforms into whispers, and word gets around like thrown snowballs. 

“is y/n really not going to school anymore?” changmin looks up from his desk to see cheng xiao standing in front of him. he tilts his head in confusion, causing her to roll her eyes. “are they not going here anymore?”

he frowns. “huh? what kind of rumor is that?”

“i don’t know. it’s what people have been saying,” she says as she crosses her arms. “i asked because i wanted to know if my competition’s gone, you know? and you’re the only one here who has an idea about their whereabouts.”

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

when changmin last saw you, you asked for space. with what’s been happening with your family, you needed time to process and cope with your issues, and he respected that. after all, he only knew a fraction of your relationship with your parents, and he didn’t want to intrude in anything you didn’t want him to be a part of. still, changmin reminded you that he’ll be there if you need him.

“damn, that sucks,” cheng xiao groans as her shoulders slump. “these stupid rumors.” as soon as she leaves changmin alone, he shakes his head.

the bell rings. students start rushing into classrooms and teachers scold those who aren’t on their seats. ms. jeon enters the room, walking to the desk in front and setting her things down. “cheng xiao, you’ll be in charge of attendance today.”

as changmin’s classmate gets off her seat, he can’t help but look at your desk that still remains empty.

“you have to message us when you land,” your mother says as she fixes the collar of your coat. despite your nod, she clicks her tongue. “answer me properly.”

“yes, i will.”

once your father finishes placing the last luggage in the trunk of the taxi, he stands beside your mother. “don’t forget why we’re sending you there. we expect you to do better with no distractions.”

your phone buzzes in your hand. as you look down, you see a message from changmin. as he asks about your whereabouts, the weight gets heavier—will you stand or crumble under it?

“who’s that?”

you stash your phone away as you look back at your parents. “nothing. it’s just an email from the school. they sent over the date for the orientation.” at the sight of their satisfied smile, you let out a small sigh of relief.

“well, go on.” your nod at your mother before getting in the car. with the windows still down, she adds, “don’t forget to get endorsement letters from the professors i sent over to you or else you won’t get to study abroad like we planned.” her choice of pronouns is funny; a plan that they crafted which never considered your input.

“okay.”

as your father commands the driver to go, your gaze remains on the two. it should be okay with you to leave cheongju; you’d be far away from your parents and experience an entirely different landscape to explore. it’s time you break away from the chains of this town. learn a life outside of what your parents forced you into.

yet, as the car takes its leave, the figure of your parents slowly shrinks. the distance from them should’ve given you the space to breathe, a relief you’ve longed for, but it only reminds you of your strained relationship. to them, it would be better that you’re out of their sight—and with your farewell, you never heard the three-word phrase.

the window rolls up. you try to hold back the tears, but the scenery of cheongju that you pass by births a storm within you. you didn’t want to say goodbye to home, regardless of how much you say you didn’t have a home in this town. every corner holds a piece of you in the same way you hold a piece of them.

the car approaches a safe haven you share. despite the snow that piles at the front, mr. kim’s convenience store is still open. you’ll never get to have his hotteok again or hear his favorite dramas play in the background. worst of all, you never got to say goodbye.

then, the familiar figure of your best friend exits the mart, and the storm transforms into a typhoon. the plastic bag he holds is filled with your favorite snacks, from the grape-flavored twin bar to a bottle of mr. kim’s homemade peach iced tea.

and in that moment that your car passes him, he pulls out his phone from his pocket, and you spot the familiar trap wrapped around his finger—the other end holds no one.

as quickly as you came into changmin’s life, he disappears from your view.

finger traps were fascinating. if you tug hard, the contraption won’t let your fingers go. yet, if you allow the two fingers to meet, allowing the toy to loosen, it’ll let you go with no harm.

but your finger trap with changmin was different. maybe it was already ripped to its seams.

interview

q: what made you decide on becoming an idol?

a: i’ve always loved dancing. growing up in cheongju, i always made time [for dance] whether it be [for] school competitions, talent shows, or even [choreographies] i wanted to try out. but i never considered becoming [an idol] until high school. a lot of my friends and family thought i was capable, and i’m glad they trusted me. it feels good to give back to them with every performance.

q: as the first trainee meant to debut in the boyz, you’ve spent more time training compared to your other members. what kept you going throughout your years of training?

a: my family’s support was one big thing that helped me [during my training.] every trip from my house to the company would last hours, and it drained me physically. so as the years went by, i started to question if all the time, money, [and] effort i was putting into an unpromised debut would be worth it, but my parents and sisters were always there to support and [take] care of me. but i’d also like to think my best friend was a major support in training years. i think they were the first one to [tell me that they saw me as an idol,] and at the time i brushed off the idea. but, look where i am now? so i think i owe a lot to them.

q: is there anything you’d like to say to those who’ve supported you as the boyz’s q?

a: mom and dad, thank you for believing in me. i know it wasn’t easy to wait until midnight for me to come home or take care of me whenever i got sick from training. thank you for always supporting me in every performance. to my sisters, thank you for helping mom and dad out at home. every day, i remind myself that you gave up so much just so i can pursue my dreams, and i want you know that i’m forever grateful for your sacrifices. to the rest of [the boyz], thank you for always allowing me to rely on you. i’m glad i can say i have brothers who i get to achieve my dreams with. deobi, thank you for your love and support over the years. i wouldn’t be the boyz’s q or ji changmin if it weren’t for you. and lastly, thank you to my best friend. i hope you’ll always be proud of me the same way i’ll forever be proud of you.

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[risaonda]

saw a character named james charles so i am no longer browsing th’s newest