#but I never had reason to write it until now

[littlelamy]

Could you write a Rafe x reader fic where reader says she wants to spend more time with Rafe, but he gets upsets and says something mean in the heat of the moment. Reader is upset and stops "bothering" him and initially Rafe doesn't realise it, but he figures out you're ignoring him

Maybe with a fluffy HEA ending, but if you want to keep it angsty I'm also all for it (:

hope you like it! ⭐️ it was a quiet friday night when you finally found the courage to bring it up. things with rafe hadn’t been the same for a while. he was always out with friends or buried in work, his phone practically glued to his hand. you could see him drifting further and further away, and it left you feeling like an afterthought. you missed him, missed the little moments when he’d look at you like you were the only person in the world.

so, you decided to say something—softly, carefully—as the two of you sat on the couch with takeout boxes scattered around you.

“hey…baby,” you started, keeping your voice light. “i was thinking… it’d be nice if we could spend a little more time together, you know? just us.”

rafe barely looked up, shoveling food into his mouth. “what’re you talking about?” he mumbled through a bite. “we’re together now, aren’t we?”

you forced a smile. “yeah, but… i mean like actually spending time together. like doing something fun. or even just… talking.”

he let out an irritated sigh, setting his food down with a clatter. “are you serious right now? i’ve got so much shit to deal with, and you’re really gonna start whining about ‘spending time together’? Jesus, can you just not be so goddamn needy for once?”

the words hit you like a punch. you froze, staring at him, trying to process the fact that he’d actually said that. rafe’s face was already turned away, clearly oblivious to the way his words had cut through you.

you felt your throat tighten, but you managed to swallow back the hurt, forcing yourself not to react. the last thing you wanted was to give him more reason to see you as a burden. so, you nodded, blinking down at your food, even though you suddenly couldn’t eat a bite.

“sorry,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. but rafe didn’t hear, or maybe he just didn’t care enough to ask you to repeat it. he’d already gone back to his phone, acting like the conversation had never even happened.

that night, you made a decision. if rafe wanted space, you’d give him space. you stopped asking him to go out with you, to spend time together, to do any of the little things you used to enjoy. when he came home late, you didn’t wait up. when he sat down on the couch, you found something else to do. if he wanted room, you’d make sure he had more than enough of it.

at first, rafe didn’t seem to notice the change. he thought you were just busy with work or hanging out with friends, maybe that you’d taken his words to heart. it wasn’t until a few days had passed that he started to feel the shift, the strange, nagging quiet in the air whenever you were around.

you were no longer the warm, lively presence you used to be, filling the silence with laughter, stories, and little gestures of affection. instead, you felt distant, almost guarded, your movements careful, like you were tiptoeing around him. you didn’t smile at him the way you used to; you didn’t light up when he came home. you’d become polite, restrained, keeping just enough distance that he felt it even when he didn’t want to.

one night, rafe came home late, expecting to see you in the living room with a book or a show. but the lights were dim, the place eerily silent, and when he checked the bedroom, you were already asleep. he stood there for a moment, feeling an odd pang of emptiness. he brushed it off, but as the days went by, the feeling gnawed at him more and more, leaving him with an ache he couldn’t ignore.

finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. one night, he found you alone in the kitchen, stirring a cup of tea with your gaze far away. he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched you, his expression unreadable.

“are you avoiding me or something?” he asked, his tone sharper than he’d intended.

you looked up, a flicker of surprise in your eyes before you masked it with a tight smile. “no, i’m not avoiding you, rafe. i just… didn’t want to bother you.”

that word—bother—hit him hard, dredging up the memory of his own callous words. he felt something twist in his chest as he realized what he’d done, how his careless anger had made you feel so small, like you didn’t even deserve to be there.

“fuck,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “look, i’m sorry, alright? i was a complete asshole, princess. i was stressed, and i took it out on you, and i shouldn’t have done that.”

you shrugged, your face guarded, unreadable. “it’s fine. i get it. you’re busy, and i didn’t want to get in your way.”

“Jesus, stop saying that,” he mumbled, stepping closer, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “you’re not in my way. you’re the only person who… who makes all this shit bearable. i just didn’t see it until you started pulling away.”

for a long moment, you said nothing, just staring at him, weighing his words. finally, he took a tentative step forward, reaching for your hand. when you didn’t pull away, he felt a flicker of hope.

“let me make it up to you,” he whispered, his voice rough. “i’ll cancel my plans this weekend. we’ll do whatever you want, i swear. just… give me another chance.”

your gaze softened, and a small, hesitant smile crept onto your lips. “alright. one chance.”

he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you up in a tight embrace, his relief flooding through him. you relaxed into him, and for the first time in days, you felt the warmth return, that aching void in your chest slowly filling up again.

“i’m sorry, baby,” he murmured, his voice low, genuine. “i swear, i’ll never take you for granted again. you mean too fucking much to me.”

you let your head rest on his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath you, his arms strong and comforting. and as he held you there, you felt the hurt start to fade, replaced by a quiet, growing hope that maybe, just maybe, things would be different this time.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole

[lnfours]

close to you | l.n

summary: chemical override, ultraviolet, you could be mine tonight ; or having a crush is mind boggling, soul crushing and confusing, but also so exciting at the same time.

warnings: inspired by close to you by gracie abrams, friends to lovers (bc it’s my brand), pining, all the feels, reader is childhood best friends with pietra, fluff, and some language here and there

jordans notes: hi everyone! long time no see (😅) i’m slowly getting back into writing, school has been kicking my ass. i don’t think this is my best work, but i really wanted to get something out for you guys since ive been gone so long! i promise there’s more to come than just this! i hope you all are well!! sending you all my love 🤍

masterlist | listen to the playlist

before you met him, you didn’t think about the color green too often. it was one of those colors you didn’t necessarily love or hate, it was just kind of… there.

to you, it was just one of those colors where shades of it were prettier than the actual color itself. or a color you only really liked during the fall. like how, typically, people only liked the color blue during the summer.

that was until you met him.

the boy with those big, beautiful, slightly blue but slightly green, water-colored eyes. now you love the color green. obsessed over it. thought about it every second of every day. it was crazy how a simple opinion could change in a matter of seconds, all because of those stupidly pretty eyes.

You lie awake on your back, staring at the ceiling. surely it wasn’t normal to obsess over someone this much, right? especially over someone you weren’t even sure would ever feel the same.

sure, you had crushes before, and had your fair share of falling quickly and all at once. it wasn’t an unusual feeling to you, no stranger to catching feelings rather quickly.

but this time around, everything was different. everything felt more intense, more mind-boggling and confusing and pulse rising. the feeling so foreign that sometimes you wish you had never met him so you wouldn’t have fallen so hard so sudden, but deep down you were so glad that you had.

it was the little things that made you wonder what it was like to be loved by him. the subtle glances in your direction, the gentle but lingering touches. you had thought you were going crazy, reading too much into things in the beginning. over-analyzing every little thing that made your body light up with excitement.

until pietra confirmed your suspicions.

“he’s totally into you,” she said, leaning closer to your ear as you watched him from across the room, his head tilted back, nose scrunched and eyes half shut as he laughed about something max had said, which was likely something stupid, “like, one hundred percent, down bad, into you.”

you tilted your head at the blonde, “you think so?”

she scoffed, “more like know so,”

“who told you?”

“no one has to tell me anything,” she said, “i can just tell.”

you rolled your eyes at her, “p, i’ve told you a million times, he’s not into me.”

but she was right. he was one hundred percent, undoubtedly, down. fucking. bad.

ever since the moment he met you at that stupid pub with max and his group of friends, all he wanted to do was get to know you. he didn’t want it to seem obvious when he asked max about you, but he knew no matter what he did it was going to seem obvious. just from the way he looked at you like you hung the stars in the night sky, he was no where near subtle.

he hated to admit it, but he had even done some lowkey instagram stalking through one of his private accounts. he had seen all the pictures of you and pietra, a life long friendship explained to him in front of his own eyes.

and every time his fingers would swipe through your account, all he could think about was how beautiful you were. how your eyes sparkled every time you smiled for the camera, how happy you looked when you genuinely laughed, and how he wished to be the reason behind the gorgeous sound forever.

he wasn’t trying to make it obvious tonight, not wanting to make it well known that he had his eyes on you for a while. but he had lost track at the amount of times you had caught him looking at you, and he swore he had even caught you looking at him first a handful of times.

so when everyone in the house decided that it was the end of the night and started filing through the door, he took it upon himself to make his way over to you. you were talking with pietra, a smile on your face as you giggled about something she had said. the brazilian woman’s eyes landed on him, to which she looked back at you and said something before you turned to look in his direction.

he smiled when your eyes met his, “hey, did you need a ride home?”

your heart threatened to leap out of your chest, “uhm, i was just gonna call an uber, you don’t have to-“

“no, no,” he said, shaking his head, “i insist, really. it’s not a big deal.”

how could you argue with him? those pretty green eyes, that smile, the face. you simply couldn’t. it was impossible. you couldn’t see the look pietra was giving you, but knowing her, you knew it was a look that said ‘go with him’.

and do you did, the cool, crisp autumn air in london suddenly making you wish you had brought a jacket. you had wished you planned for the nightly breeze, wishing you had opted for a long-sleeved shirt for the night instead of the spaghetti strap tank top you had chosen.

as you walked to the car that was parked down the street, he noticed you shivering. he saw the way you hugged yourself, your hair moving with the breeze. his curls danced in the wind and he knew if he was slightly cold, you were definitely freezing.

he tugged off the hoodie before passing it to you, the sound of the doors to the mclaren echoing before he turned to you.

“here,” he said, “it’s a little windy out, i know you’re probably freezing.”

your stomach did backflips as you took the soft black material from his hands, “oh, are you sure? aren’t you cold?”

he sent you a shrug, “i’ll live,”

there was no use arguing with him, so instead you sent him another smile in appreciation before tugging the sweatshirt over your head. it was already warm from hugging his body, and you couldn't help the way the smell of his cologne lingered in the soft material. you had to keep yourself from burying yourself in it, the feeling of being close to him without actually being close to him sending butterflies to your stomach.

the car ride was filled with comfortable silence, music softly playing in the background. he stole occasional looks over at your figure as you looked out the window, the neck of his hoodie pulled up to your face as you watched the street lights pass by. you looked beautiful in the dim light, he couldn’t help himself.

he thought about taking the long way to your house. a simple but effective way to be able to spend more time with you. however, the thought of you being confused and questioning his actions was enough for him to stay straight at the stop light instead of taking a right for the longer way.

he tried not to look disappointed when he reached your house, parking in front of it. he wondered if your roommates were home, if you’d tell them about the fact that he drove you home.

he turned the engine off, unclicking his seatbelt, “i’ll walk you up.”

you nodded, the both of you getting out of the car and walking through the dewy grass up to the wooden door. you fished for your keys in your purse, putting them into the lock before turning to look at him, “thanks for the ride,”

“anytime,” he smiled. he meant it. and you knew he meant it. he’d come get you at anytime of the day, wether it was early in the morning or late at night, he was always going to show up.

you stood there, eyes searching his face. he was so pretty to you, the brown curls that were slowly growing into a mullet to the sparkling eyes that you loved so much. the dimples in his cheeks that appeared whenever he smiled, the slight facial hair he had managed to grow, but your favorite part was the moles and freckles that covered his skin. the ones he had once complained about, but you loved the way they scattered his skin.

you dreamt of kissing each and every single one of them.

“hey, lando! long time no see!”

you both averted your attention, neither of you hearing the door open behind you. in the doorway stood your dark haired roommate, faith.

“hey,” he smiled softly, trying once again to not look disappointed from the way your moment was interrupted.

“we’re having drinks and watching movies if you wanted to join,” she smiled, ignoring the look you were sending her way.

“oh, uhm,” he started, not sure how to answer, “it’s getting kinda late, i dunno-“

“you can crash in y/n’s room, im sure she wouldn’t mind.”

what was that supposed to mean?

you looked over at him, “you don’t have to stay-“

“he’s been gone for weeks, he’s legally obligated,” she said, reaching from the doorway and grabbing both of your arms, “c’mon, liv is making martinis.”

you sighed heavily and he laughed softly at your protest that went unnoticed by her. your other roommate, olivia, stood in the kitchen.

“look who i found!” faith exclaimed excitedly.

“oh, hey guys! just in time,” she smiled, “it’s martini and movie friday!”

lando leaned over to you as the other two talked, “they do this every friday?”

you sighed again, nodding, “unfortunately,” you turned to your roommates, “we’re gonna head up to my room, actually,”

you led lando to the stairs, ignoring the playful teasing from the girls in the kitchen, “oooh!!”

“up to your room, huh?”

you shook your head, opening your bedroom door and letting him in before closing it, “‘m sorry for them, they’re… how do i put this?”

“a lot?” he asked, a smile playing at his lips.

“yeah, we can put it that way.”

he chuckled, sitting down on the bed as you put your things down. he looked around your bedroom, not much had changed since the last time he had been in it. the fairy lights dimly lit up the room, photos littered the walls. the desk that sat in the corner of the room kept your makeup bag and brushes, a mirror sitting in the middle.

he looked at your nightstand, a picture of you, him, max and pietra sitting on the wooden surface. it was a picture from miami, smiles on all of your faces. you stood in the middle, arm wrapped around his middle as you smiled for the camera, his trophy in the hand that wasn’t wrapped around your middle.

“i’m gonna change,” you said, “i might have a pair of your sweatpants somewhere if you wanted to change.”

he nodded, “yeah, that’d be great.”

you turned back to the dresser, opening drawers in search for the pair of sweatpants he leant you one day. the same day he picked you up from the failed date. the one that left you crying outside, swearing up and down that you’d never find love. despite it being in front of you this entire time.

finally finding the black material, you handed them to him, “i meant to give them back, but i just haven’t seen you,”

he shook his head. you could’ve kept them forever and he wouldn’t have minded one bit, “it’s alright,”

you grabbed your pajama bottoms from the foot of the bed, “be right back.”

he changed into the sweatpants while you were gone, still looking around your room. he smiled at the picture of you and your roommates, clearly taken at a party. you wore the prettiest smile he had ever seen, dressed in a black off the shoulder top. it was from the same night he realized he liked you in more than just a friendly way.

the door opening brought him back to reality, his eyes landing on your figure and how you were still wearing the black hoodie he had given you earlier. it brought a small smile to his face.

you noticed his eyes on you, looking down at the black hoodie, “i swear i’ll give it back once i wash it.”

he laughed softly, shaking his head, “it’s okay. it looks better on you anyways.”

you smiled, fighting the heat that was rising your cheeks but it was no use. he joined you on the bed, watching as you flipped through different things on netflix.

“you don’t have to stay, y’know,” you said, looking over at him, “if you have better things to do..”

“i don’t,” he said, turning his head to look your way, “in all honesty, there’s no where else i’d rather be.”

you sucked in a breath, your eyes dancing across his face once again. it was hard for you not to stare, not when he looked so pretty like this. back pressed against your headboard, hair slightly messy, and he looked so cozy. it made you want to wrap yourself around him, lay your head on his chest.

he did the same, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to memorize every single feature, every single imperfection that he thought was still perfect. the same ones you’d argue about, but he still always found adorable.

his voice broke the comfortable silence that had fallen between the two of you, “do you ever have something to say but can’t find the words to say it?”

your furrowed your eyebrows, “like?”

he licked his lips, his attention now fixed on his hands as he fiddled with the ring on his middle finger. you never thought he’d be the type to get shy, almost embarrassed as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“like, i dunno,” he mumbled, “i just.. i don’t know how to put it, but ever since the moment we met, i’ve found myself just.. thinking about you. thinking about what it’d be like to cross this weird, thin, little line we’ve drawn. if we both just said ‘fuck it’ and dove head first into whatever uncharted territory we’re tiptoeing around.”

his eyes met yours again as he let out a nervous breath. you hadn’t realized you had been holding yours, shock clearly written on your face which made him shake his head.

“never mind, it’s dumb-“

“lando,”

“- i knew i shouldn’t have listened to what max was going on about-“

you rolled your eyes as he kept blabbering away, talking nonsense. your body moving before your brain could comprehend what you were about to do, only catching up when your hands met his jaw and you were suddenly catching yourself a mere few inches from his face.

it was too late now, no going back.

you pulled his face closer to yours, his blabbering coming to a halt when you pressed your lips to his. his brain short circuited, you pulling away before he had the chance to kiss you back.

“‘m sorry,” you immediately apologized, “i don’t know why i did-“

it was his turn to cut you off now, grabbing your chin and pulling you back to his lips. his thumb traced along your jaw, his pointer finger sitting underneath your chin.

you kissed him back after a second of surprise, letting his free hand reach down to grab your hip, pulling you on top of his lap. your hands threaded through his curls, nails scratching his scalp.

when you both finally pulled away, all you could do was smile. giggles and chuckles echoing through the room as you both sat breathless, his nose bumping yours as he tucked a piece of stray hair away from your face.

“so we’re in agreement then, huh?” he asked.

“isn’t that obvious?” you smiled and he shook his head, letting out another boyish laugh.

“how long have you.. y’know, had feelings for me, i guess?”

“since the minute i saw you,” he confessed, “you were the most beautiful girl in the room, a smile that would make everyone stop and stare. it’s always been you, i’ve just been too scared to tell you.”

you smiled again, heart fluttering in your chest. all the dreams and wishes you spent with him on your mind, it was all finally paying off, “it’s always been you for me, too. i thought i had been way too obvious, but clearly i wasn’t obvious enough.”

“we were both too oblivious,” he said, moving more hair from your face, “but it’s okay, we’re here now.”

you were convinced your smile was never going to be wiped off your face, “kiss me again,”

“with pleasure,” he mumbled, lips finding yours once more as you melted into him.

[sweetfwr]

SKOOL LUV AFFAIR ˒˒ yjw

it’s your junior year, and all you want is to survive the rest of your high school life away from the prying eyes of others. however it seems the universe has other, more absurd plans, like a secret love affair with the student council president.

genre) FLUFF, high school au, secret relationship, kinda based off a true story..

pairing) student council president!jungwon x newspaper club president!reader

wc) 1.3k

now playing) intro (end of the world) - ariana grande

“she seems sadder, doesn’t she?” a girl you hardly know outside of being a classmate and (barely) an acquaintance murmurs pitifully, and a second, taller girl nods vigorously.

“i would be too if i lost lee heeseung.”

you? sadder? you frown in deep thought. you had forgotten to put on concealer after pulling off an all-nighter and practically flew out of the house once you realized you slept through your alarm, but that was about it.

after all, what reason did you have to be sad? in your humble opinion ranking number 5 out of 452 students and recently being named the head of the school newspaper were hardly mundane things. besides, there’s also j—

“there’s no way they’re getting back together, right?? he’s with someone new, for god’s sake!”

“aren’t you updated?” the taller one gasps, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards when her friend shakes her head no. “they just broke up! heeseung told one of the guys on the football team and the news spread everywhere.”

now that’s something you didn’t know.

“oh my god, he’s single now?”

“he’s been single. my friend’s boyfriend’s cousin is in his class. want me to set you up?”

you think you’d rather go down a waterslide lined with razor blades and land into a pool of alcohol than continue on listening to this nonsense, so you pack up your books, turn up the music in your earbuds, and quietly leave the writing club’s room completely undetected by the other two occupants. you dive into the warm, crowded halls adorned with sunspots and ethereal views of the after-school sunset.

needless gossip is something you can definitely tolerate. when your ex is the school’s poster boy for popular kids, you’ve accepted the irrelevant whispers that have surrounded you since your sudden breakup one full year ago, because kids your age make mistakes, and a little positivity goes a long way!

but as you walk through the halls and slowly come to a stop at the sight of a chattering crowd and lee heeseung making his way through it, frantic gaze looking left and right as if he were looking for someone as he holds a absurdly large bouquet of flowers in his right hand, a pit forms in your stomach for what’s to come.

you take one huge step back in preparation to sprint away, but it’s too late when heeseung’s eyes land on you and he goes completely still.

the crowd-goers around him follow suit in an almost comedic fashion, and some even cock their heads and murmur to each other in confusion when they collectively realise who the bouquet is for.

your ex-boyfriend grips the bouquet a little harder and gulps visibly, before making his way to you in slow steps. his friends, a few of which you can name from the back of your head as jay, sunghoon, and jake follow suit and arrange themselves in a line behind him with illustration board signs that bear horribly written lettering. to your absolute horror, it says:

WILL U B MY GF? (again) in bold with a winky ;) face at the end.

needless gossip, you can handle. public confessions from your ex on the other hand, is something that was completely unfathomable to you only 30 minutes ago. who even does public confessions anymore? especially in school. it’s hot, sweaty, and just so… public. you never know who’s watching, either! including… fuck.

in an internal frenzy, your eyes start darting between the numerous people in the crowd until they land on the yang jungwon’s, student council president, eyebrows furrowed and a hand in his pocket while the other was situated in a deadly grip on one of his backpack straps at the commotion.

“hey,” one guy whispers to his friend, eyes nervously shifting between heeseung and jungwon. “he shouldn’t be doing this infront of the student council president, man. he hates racket in the halls.”

slowly, all the color drains from your face and you’re prompted to leave, immediately, even when heeseung gets on one knee and begins loudly proclaiming his love for you. to his and everyone else’s shock, you rush past him and push through the crowds until you’re out of the building gates and into the open air.

at this point the orange swirls in the skies fade to a dark blue and thunder clouds begin to form above, but you’re too irritated to care. who cares about positivity?! your ex has just started weeks worth of rumours about the two of you when you’ve been trying to fight them off for a full 12 months! you think your uniform might be getting soaked, but a fog clouds your mind and you can’t think straight despite the fact that you’re getting poured on by heaps and heaps of heavy rain.

that is, until an umbrella is quietly held over your head, and you know in your heart exactly who the owner is.

you continue walking, albeit at a slower pace, and he follows behind you wordlessly.

“i can’t believe him, won.” you let yourself complain, for the first time in a long while. “he cheats on me, then he lets everyone and their mom in the halls know hes wants me again? talk about guts, right?” you scoff.

“totally.” despite not being able to see him, you hear his smile, and you know it’s not because he finds your complaining silly. rather, he’s just happy to be around you outside of the constraints of prying eyes at school, even if it is while he trails behind you, holding an umbrella over your head under the pouring rain as you curse and release your frustrations to your heart’s content.

in fact, he genuinely can’t think of a better way to think of your six month anniversary, in what in his eyes, is a romantic moment under the rain in the middle of an empty street with his girlfriend.

“he was so cheesy about it too!” you groan, hands reaching up to comically pull at your hair in frustration. at this point, you’ve come down from your hysteria enough that you allow yourself to briefly glance back at jungwon every once in a while. “the signs, seriously? you should’ve seen what they said hon, they—“ you stop in your tracks and take a good look at your boyfriend.

at your abrupt pause and gaping stare, he only cocks his head curiously. “what? keep going.”

“won, you’re soaked.” you murmur sadly, only having realized now that your boyfriend, your real boyfriend wordlessly held an umbrella over your head to let you shout profanities in peace despite getting soaked himself.

he scoffs playfully at your sensitivity. “i can change when i get home, don’t be dramatic.”

completely going against his words, a wide, genuine smile graces your features, all of your previous anger fading away at the sight of your man. “jungwon, you big softy! did that go on for long? how have you been? did you have a good day at school?”

“would’ve been better if i got to see you,” he hummed, playing it cool despite the fact he was soaked in rain water from head to toe. “even if it was just from afar.”

“you were jealous, weren’t you?”

“…i wasn’t.”

you coo at him fondly, and at this he only smiles and looks away bashfully. your boyfriend, the student council president and the one who ranked number 1 out of that 452. the boy who decided to convey his feelings to you over a handwritten letter 6 months to this day and the one who called the shots to keep your relationship secret, for your sake, because he knew that that was what you wanted.

you started off as only co-workers as the editor-in-chief of the school paper and the student council president, but you can’t thank the universe enough for letting you know the beautiful human being that is your boyfriend anyway. at this thought, you grab the umbrella from his hands and toss it away before entrapping him in a bone-crushing hug.

“let’s go home.” you murmur quietly into his neck, “i can lend you clothes.”

he hums in response, more focused on the way your arms wrap around him and give him warmth as he returns the gesture. “that sounds nice.”

“happy monthsary?” “happy monthsary.”

[bokutosbabe]

It Always Leads To You

( bllk boys as situationships )

a/n — girl whose never had a situationship writing about them? what could go wrong? (they progressively get longer lol)

content — some nsfw but not explicit, pining, GN! reader, some characters repeated, all characters are 18 or 18+

synopsis — what kind of situationship the bllk boys would be

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' and the heart i'm breaking is my own ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' but you're best friends! '

you'd rather spend money on a hotel than stay at home 24/7 for the next week. how could you walk into your house when you knew he'd be there, chatting with you family as if nothing had changed?

maybe you should've pretended you had to work.

that would have saved you the grief of having to see, who was supposed to be, your best friend. how could you face him when the last thing you two talked about was being a couple and that...not going as planned.

well, maybe that wasn't the last thing you two talked about with each other. however, does defiling your families bathroom really count as 'talking'? ( most awkward easter ever afterwards ) you didn't really think so.

whatever, he was a pro-soccer player now, he may not even be at home this christmas. you'd just have to put up with his family, who you'd always loved, and then you could go home and avoid the situation until the next big holiday.

but of course, when you stepped into your childhood home you realized that you'd never get that lucky. there he was, just as handsome as ever, sitting on your families couch.

in your eyes, he looked like he belonged with your family more than you, but you supposed he earned that. he came home every holiday, unlike you who continuously came up with different reasons to stay as far away as possible.

if you left now, maybe no one would know you'd even shown up-

" woah, y/n! it's you! " or...maybe not. " i haven't seen you in forever, what have you been up to? " the voice that plagued your every waking thought crashed its way into your ears.

your best friend ( could you even call him that anymore? were you still his best friend? ) got up from his spot on the couch to come wrap his arms around you in a hug that felt more like home than home did.

" i've missed you, ya know? " he whispered in your ear, hands caressing your back in what felt like much more than what a 'friends' hug would be.

just a week. you could survive and coexist with him for a week. your resolve to never sleep with him set in stone now.

you just wished your resolve wouldn't have crumbled only two days later while your family was downstairs watching christmas movies.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ REO MIKAGE, isagi yoichi, AIKU OLIVER, rensuke kunigami, TOBITO KARASU

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the ' you cannot date them '

you’re a good person... or at least, you want to believe that. But how can you when your best friend sits in front of you now, talking about their ex?

she’s raving about how much she misses him, how everything fell apart at the worst time, how she’s still holding onto the hope that maybe they can fix things.

you try to smile and nod, pretending that you’re not dying inside. how can you even look her in the eye when he’s blowing up your phone right now? when you know exactly how he feels about you?

“it’s just so messed up, right?” she laughs nervously, like this is all just a bad breakup, nothing that can’t be smoothed over. “i’m not even sure what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

she doesn’t know that you already did something. You already did the one thing that could ruin everything. the one thing that she told you you could never do.

your phone continuously buzzing while she's talking, hoping she wouldn't notice you reach for it to silence it while she takes a sip of her drink.

your phone vibrates again, and you try not to look at it. you’re not sure if you’re worried that she’ll see, or that you’ll see what he’s saying. you’re scared of both.

him <3 ; are we still on for tonight? can’t wait to see you.

that familiar ache forms in your chest, and you can feel the betrayal to your friend, the confusion about your own feelings, but worse—there’s nothing you can do about it. you keep smiling, even though it feels like your heart’s sinking with every word your friend says.

" god, if you don't want to listen to me, just say so. " your friend says coldly. " i would have turned off my phone if it was you crying right now. "

" sorry, it's just my mom...talking about some new present she wants to get my brother. " you apologized. "oh, okay. is your brother a cutie?" you didn't even have a brother, showed how much she knew about you.

“whatever, what should i do?" your friend asks, her eyes bright with hope (or maybe delusion). "do you think I should text him? do you think we could still fix things?”

you want so badly to tell her the truth.

you want to be honest, to say what she needs to hear so that she doesn’t get her hopes up.

you want to tell her that he is already texting you, that maybe you are the reason he won’t talk to her.

but instead, you bite your lip and offer a shrug. "i don't know, honestly. maybe he needs time to figure out what he wants too."

"he doesn't need time. he needs me." she mused, staring at you like your answer was just the stupidest thing she'd heard all day. "no wonder you've never dated anyone, who'd like a ditz like you?"

The whole time, your phone is buzzing, buzzing, buzzing, like a constant reminder of your lie.

you; see you tonight :)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ OTOYA EITA, ikki niko, RANZE KURONA, reo mikage, RYUSEI SHIDO

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧the... ' you'll never be first '

he's leaving soon, and you feel like you're dying.

you’d known for a long time that ‘casually’ seeing a pro soccer player would only lead to being left alone, especially someone like him—someone whose work always came first, and whose heart was as unreachable as the trophies he collected.

he’d said it more times than you could count: “love doesn’t come before soccer. It never will.” and you’d laughed, maybe even agreed at some point, understanding it was just the way things were.

so why does it feel like you’re drowning now, with him leaving just around the corner.

it doesn’t make sense. you’d known the deal from the start.

still, here you are—sitting in his bed, in the quiet of his room, the familiar hum of the city outside reminding you of how little time you really have left with him.

his suitcase is by the door, already half-packed, his jersey draped over the chair where he’d left it, as if he couldn't get out of here fast enough.

you’re almost sick to your stomach at the thought of him walking out that door in just a few days, never looking back.

you’ve spent enough time with him to know that when he leaves, he doesn’t look back. he doesn't look back at stadiums once he walks out, and he wouldn't look back at you either.

"it’s only a few months," he’d said, trying to make you feel better when the topic of him leaving first got brought up. “i’ll be back before you know it.”

but that’s not the point.

it’s never been the point.

you know he’ll be busy with games, traveling, sponsors,...women, all the things that make him too far to reach.

and yet, here you are, sitting in his bed, heart pounding, overwhelmed with the thought of it all ending. you thought you could handle this.

you thought you could be just another notch in his belt. but the truth is, you’ve been fooling yourself. you care too much. you’ve fallen for him, hard, and the worst part is—he doesn’t even realize it.

or maybe he does. maybe he’s known all along, and you were too scared to admit it.

the sound of his voice pulls you from your thoughts.

"hey, you okay?"

you glance over at him, watching him fiddle with his phone, one hand propped up on the headboard. his eyes meet yours, something in them that almost makes you believe he could stay. maybe, you're enough of a reason for him to stay where he is now.

but he won’t. you know that. his life is bigger than you. bigger than this city, this bed, and every memory you’ve shared together.

you nod, forcing a smile, trying to keep the strange bitterness from slipping into your voice.

"yeah, just thinking."

"don’t think too much." his lips curl up into that calming grin that’s made you feel better on several occasions. how could something that used to calm you make you feel like your heart was in your throat? “you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

it’s easy for him to say that. he’s used to moving on. he’s used to leaving. you? you're used to him being here.

his fingers tap absently against the screen of his phone. you can see the notifications lighting up—his agent, a few teammates, probably his parents, all reminding you of the inevitable: he’s leaving soon.

you want to scream. you want to ask him why he doesn’t care. why it’s so easy for him to slip away from everyone who loves him.

but instead, you pull your knees to your chest and keep your eyes fixed on him, as if the longer you look, you could magically gain telepathy to make him want to stay with you.

"how’s your flight looking?" you ask, hoping his answer would be that he cancelled it.

"all set."

and you can't breathe.

the casualness in his voice is what stings the most. the way he talks about leaving as if it’s just another day at the office, another game to be played.

he doesn’t get how you feel. maybe he can’t. maybe he’s just too busy not feeling anything.

The silence is deafening.

"do you... do you ever wish you could just stay?"

It’s a question you didn’t mean to ask, but it escapes before you can stop it.

You wish you could take it back the second it leaves your lips.

he looks up at you, and for the briefest moment, his eyes soften. for one second, he looks like he is completely and utterly yours.

he sets his phone down, sliding it onto the bedside table, then turns his full attention to you.

"i told you, didn’t i? love doesn’t come before soccer."

The words hit you like a train, but it’s not the truth that hurts—it’s the way he says it, like it’s not up for debate. as if it’s always been this way, and it always will be.

why can't he just try? just try to come home every so often...to you.

you feel like a fool. as if you've put your heart on display for him just to not even glance your way.

you know where you stand, even if it’s tearing you apart.

he doesn’t lie to you, doesn’t promise you things he can’t give, and maybe that's why you fell for him in the first place—he was the first person who didn’t play games with you.

"i’m gonna miss you," you say quietly, knowing that admitting it aloud makes it even worse.

his eyes flicker with something, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. he shifts, pulling his knees up to match yours, as if to say he’s close, but still so far. he rests his head back against the headboard.

and for a moment, you almost forget he’s leaving. you forget about the suitcase by the door. you forget about the plane ticket he has. you forget that in just a few days he wont be yours anymore.

"i’ll miss you too," he says softly.

but that’s it. that’s all he says. it’s not a promise, not a declaration. just another passing remark to fill the silence.

he doesn't mean it. it's more of a kindness thing for him to say it back.

you can feel the weight of everything unsaid.

you realize—he doesn’t know how much you care. He can’t understand you.

he’s never been asked to stay.

you’re not even sure you’d want him to. you can’t ask him to change his life for you. and you couldn't keep up with the lifestyle he lives.

the idea of him walking away—of losing him to something bigger, to something you’ll never be able to keep—feels like it will break you.

so you just lie down on his bed, for the last time, you tell yourself.

'after tonight, he'll be free of me'

after tonight, you'd walk out that door and not look back.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ITOSHI RIN, nagi seishiro, SAE ITOSHI, isagi yoichi, RENSUKE KUNIGAMI

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' to leave the warmest bed i've ever known ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

[ + your faves ! ]

again, i've never experienced this, so i hope the research i've done (looking up different types of situationships) has done it justice!

likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated!

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 4

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3

TW: one instance of homophobic language (internally), fear of violence due to homophobia (which doesn't occur).

Chrissy would have never expected Steve Harrington to be full of such soft, gooey feelings, but with every letter she helps him right, he only gets sappier. The latest is so sticky with sap she’s afraid it’ll stick to her fingers.

Part of her, the smallest, niggling part, wishes Steve really was her boyfriend, and all those little niceties could be for her. But, that wouldn’t be fair to Steve, anyway. There’s nothing there; he’s just Steve—the platonic ideal of a best friend.

So, she wears his last name on her back, helps him write his little notes, and hopes ardently that she’ll find someone she cares that much about for herself.

“What are you doing?”

Chrissy’s fingers stumble at the unexpected voice, Steve’s latest letter fluttering to the dirty ground. Someone else beats her to picking it up. She watches, mouth in her throat, as one of Eddie’s friends unfolds the note. He squints down at it, eyebrows raising higher and higher until they’re almost meeting his hairline by the time he reaches the sign-off.

He folds it up carefully before handing it back to her. She clutches it to her chest, but the damage has already been done.

“Aren’t you dating Harrington?” Jeff asks.

Chrissy stumbles over her words, only getting out an, “it’s not like—” and a “I wouldn’t do—” before sputtering into silence.

They stand there, staring at each other for an endless moment, neither speaking, before Chrissy finally spins around, shoves the note into Eddie’s locker, and flees as fast as her tired legs can carry her.

He doesn’t follow.

Practice had run long, and she’d just wanted to leave the note and get home. Now, home is less of a relief and more somewhere that she can stew in the repercussions of what she’s done. Jeff’s Eddie’s friend, he’ll tell him without hesitation, and where will that leave her and Steve?

With that in mind, she goes looking for Jeff bright and early the next day, hoping boys’ propensity for not talking on the phone means that they’ve yet to speak.

“Did you tell him?” she asks when she finds Jeff spinning the dial on what must be his own locker.

Seeming entirely unbothered even as everyone around them stares, Jeff continues unlocking his locker at a leisurely pace. Only once he’s pulled the lock down and swung his locker open does he turn to meet her eyes.

“You mean, did I tell my best friend that Chrissy Cunningham has been writing him love notes?” Jeff asks. Chrissy shifts her eyes around, relieved that no one’s close enough to hear Jeff’s quiet voice.

Chrissy nods, something weighty sinking into her stomach the longer he goes without responding.

He turns back to his locker with a huff to dig around on the top shelf. “No,” he says, but before the relief can hit her, he continues, “I don’t want you to hurt him, and I think you will.”

“It’s not—I don’t—“ she stumbles in an embarrassing reenactment of last night. When he turns back to her with that same judgmental look, she shores herself up, clears her throat, and finally eeks out a full sentence. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Jeff’s expression doesn’t change as he asks, “so, what? You’re going to leave Harrington for him?”

Her silence must speak volumes because he slams his locker shut, and turns to walk away, calling, “that’s what I thought” over his shoulder.

She stands, transfixed, as he walks away.

His dismissal niggles at her, until she finds herself seeking him out again before the end of the day. He’s walking out of the bathroom, still shaking his hands dry as she rushes up to him, matching his stride down the hallway step for step.

“I’m not dating Steve,” she says.

It’s the first time she’s said it aloud, none of her friends close enough to confide in. But, here she is, telling the best friend of one half of the reason her and Steve are even doing this, entirely unprompted.

Jeff looks at her sidelong. “Did you tell the rest of the school that?”

Chrissy sweeps her ponytail over her shoulder as she rolls her eyes. She’d never told anyone her and Steve were dating. All it’d taken was her wearing his letterman, and that confrontation with Jason, and everyone had been convinced, no lying necessary.

“It doesn’t matter to me what they all think.”

It does, but she’s been spending too much time with Steve, and his aloof indifference to his image has been rubbing off. She’s glad.

“But you’re telling me, because what?” he asks, still skeptical. “You have a big crush on my best friend?”

He throws finger quotations around the word crush that would be insulting if he wasn’t right. She does like Eddie. He’s weird, but nice unless provoked. But the thought of kissing his dry lips makes her nose wrinkle.

“It’s not like that,” she says again.

Jeff rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

He walks into his next class without another word. Chrissy continues down the hall, barely making it in time for her own.

It doesn’t get better.

Jeff’s dislike, visible in his eyes anytime they cross paths, cuts at her. She finds herself seeking him out, explaining again and again, or trying to without saying anything at all.

“It’s really not like that!” she says, finally frustrated enough to raise her voice. “Steve’s handwriting is atrocious so I was just—”

She cuts herself off, hands slamming over her mouth as she realizes what she’s said. It’s just, Jeff was making that face she hates again, that one with the raised brows and judgmental smirk, and she’d gotten mad.

“Steve’s handwriting…” Jeff murmurs quietly, eyebrows now lowered and furrowed in thought.

She might’ve been able to play it off. But the silence has lingered too long, and Chrissy’s never had much of a poker face. She knows the guilt and panic in her expression is damning; she still can’t seem to wipe it off her face.

“The notes…” Jeff starts, trailing off like he can’t bear to say it, “are from Steve?”

Chrissy clenches her hand tighter across her mouth like she can somehow retroactively shove her words back into her throat, stop Jeff from having the realization that might get Steve–who’s quickly becoming her best friend–killed. But, he keeps just looking at her. So, she nods, movements jerky and scared.

“Shit,” Jeff says, finally breaking eye contact to bend over and squeeze the bridge of his nose. “That explains so much.”

Unable to stop herself, Chrissy bursts into tears.

***

Eddie heads to his locker first thing in the morning. He’s been buzzing since he dropped off the last letter, hoping against hope that she’d check there again. And there, like an answer to his prayers, is an envelope resting atop his neglected Biology textbook.

Eddie’s ready to become a believer if all his hopes and dreams keep coming true. He’ll drop down on his knees and repent for all his sins if it means these letters keep coming. In fact, he’ll do it here and now, envelope clutched between sweaty palms as his knees smack into the unforgiving floor of the hallway. All the peons around him give him a wide berth as he smacks his palms together and sends up a prayer like he’s seen people do on TV.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jeff asks, squinting down at him like this is the weirdest thing he’s ever caught Eddie doing.

“Nothing!” Eddie replies, resisting the urge to shove the letter into his mouth. He hasn’t even got to read it yet, no way is he squandering this opportunity just because Jeff’s butting his nosy little nose into his business.

But when Eddie meets Jeff’s eyes, he looks so squinty and weird, and un-Jeff-like, that Eddie’s almost worried. He stands, bruised knees aching as he shoves the envelope—gently!—into the deep pocket of his jeans. Jeff watches the paper until it’s entirely out of sight.

“You okay?” Eddie asks, hand reaching out to cup Jeff’s shoulder.

Jeff shakes his head like a dog after a bath, finally looking away from the ass of Eddie’s jeans. “What?” he asks, before shaking his head again, and it must help shake a thought loose because the next thing he says is, “I’m fine.”

Eddie keeps his eyes fixed on Jeff, wondering if it’ll be enough to break him, but all Jeff does is clench his jaw and straighten his shoulders, a warrior ready for battle.

“All right,” Eddie says, reaching his finger out to boop Jeff’s nose in that way he hates. “Keep your secrets.”

Then, he turns and walks away. He smiles as Jeff sputters behind him, calling out, “I don’t have any secrets!” just as Eddie pushes into the bathroom.

There’s a few freshmen in there, but they scatter as Eddie enters. Even still, Eddie rushes into one of the stalls and locks it behind himself. This is about as far as a lit candle and mood lighting as one can get—Eddie smells the hints of the shit the last guy in here must have taken and the fluorescents are bright enough to drill a headache into his skull—but Eddie can’t wait any longer.

He tears into the envelope, as gently as he can with impatient, shaking fingers.

  Eddie —

  I know you don’t like them, but I like sports. There’s something about depending on your body to get you through a hard work-out, you know? But, I don’t know if it’s my thing, like Dungeons and Dragons and music are yours. Maybe I don’t have a thing. Is that weird?

  My favorite color is yellow, like the sun, and sunflowers, and all those happy, bright colors. I’d love to see you in such a bright color one day, even if I do love all the black and red. It suits you.

  I’ve never dreamt much, but when they’re good, they’re usually about you, so your hopes just might come true.

  I know your handwriting, and what you yell about for the world to hear, but I don’t know as much as I’d like. I want to know everything about you. What’s your favorite color? Do you have happy dreams?

  Yours, Always

  Your Secret Admirer

  P.S. Maybe put it in Romeo and Juliet this time, the edition with the tear in the cover.

Here, tucked away in this shitty bathroom in this shitty school, Eddie Munson smiles. He’s got another note to write, and another book in the library to find.

*** 

“I have some bad news.”

Steve’s barely stepped out of his car before Chrissy’s ambushing him. He takes a startled step back into the beemer, as he meets her gaze.

Chrissy’s wringing her hands together, anxiety wafting off her. Just behind her shoulder, a guy Steve only recognizes as one of Eddie’s friends is stoutly avoiding his eyes. Whatever this is, it’s got Steve’s gut sinking into his socks.

“What happened?” Steve asks hesitantly.

His mind’s ticking away, and coming up with all the worst case scenarios. Eddie’s in trouble, or hurt, or worse. What else could bring these two together?

“Jeff knows about the letters!” Chrissy cries, words all jumbled together in her rush to get them out.

Steve takes a step back, pressing his spine uncomfortably into the metal roof of his car, instinct against an unknown threat.  No one steps after him. It’s hard to take his eyes off Jeff and Chrissy, but he does. The parking lot’s crowded with warm bodies pushing between cars, desperate to make it to class on time.

Just moments ago, Steve was one of them.

“You told him?” Steve asks, eyes locked on Chrissy.

For her part, Chrissy’s eyes look big and shiny as she nods. She takes a step forward, and it takes everything in him not to step back. It’s just—he’d thought they were friends.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out, tears finally pouring out of her eyes.

Steve watches, stagnant, as the person he was starting to consider his best friend, cries. He wants to hug her, wants to scream at her, wants to run the hell out of here to lick his wounds in peace. But, Jeff takes a step forward, scowl on his face, and Steve takes two hasty steps back, tumbling painfully through his open driver’s side door and sprawling uncomfortably on his stick shift.

The few students nearby turn to look at him, saying snide comments to one another, barely polite enough to talk in whispers. He hardly notices, eyes locked on the main threat. Jeff’s face softens as he stops his forward momentum, foot still raised in the air for a step he doesn’t take. No one moves until everyone stops watching the spectacle and begins walking away.

Jeff’s the one who breaks the stand-off, voice quieter and gentler than he’d expected. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this here.”

Steve stares him down, still sprawled uncomfortably in his car. He’s right, but a small voice in the back of Steve’s head is wondering if they should do this at all. He wants to cut his losses and run. But, Chrissy’s still crying, and if his secret is going to be spread around the school, he’d rather have a head start out of town.

He crawls out of his seat, limbs feeling more ungainly and awkward than they have since he was prepubescent. It feels like every eye in town turns toward him as the sound of his closing car door echoes through the rapidly emptying parking lot.

“Follow me,” he says.

Turning his back on them feels like a show of trust he can’t afford, but he’s not following either of them off school grounds. The football field will be empty at this time on a Friday, especially with the rain coming down.

None of them are wearing coats, so he leads them beneath the bleachers. The rain still drips between the rafters, but there are a few dry spots big enough to stand in.

“Make-out spot, Harrington?” Jeff asks, mouth quirked up as he leans against one of the metal support beams despite it being wet and cold.

Steve’s intestines squirm around in his stomach at the way Jeff and Chrissy stay standing next to each other, a united front against Steve.

“It’s not like it’s Skull Rock,” Steve says, proud that his voice doesn’t shake. “Now, say what you want to say so I can go home.”

“There’s still school,” Chrissy hiccups out, as if he cares at all about that right now.

Jeff straightens, small smile dropping off his face as he eyes Steve. Chrissy’s face is wet. Steve’s just glad he can no longer tell what’s raindrops and what’s tears.

“I was being a dick to her,” Jeff says.

“No, you were—” Chrissy starts before Jeff talks right over her.

“All she said was that your handwriting was bad, and I put the rest together.”

A small part of Steve is soothed that Chrissy hadn’t told him on purpose. Accidents happen, he can understand that. But—

“Eddie told you about the letters?” Steve asks. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised, Jeff and Eddie are always occupying the same spaces. They must be close.

Jeff shakes his head, but it’s Chrissy that speaks first, “he saw me putting one in Eddie’s locker.”

“Oh,” Steve says, slumping into himself.

They’re both staring at him now.

Steve’s never been good with silences. When his parents are gone, he leaves the TV on in the living room all hours of the day. At school, he surrounds himself with warm bodies, all making noise. In his car, there’s always a tape playing in his deck.

“So, should I start fleeing town?” Steve asks, trying for a joking tone, but his voice cracks tellingly on the last word.

“No!” Chrissy cries.

She rushes forward, wrapping the entirety of her small body around his like she can shelter him from any harms that might come for him. Steve stumbles back, barely stabilizing before they both go tumbling into the dirt.

He wraps his arms hesitantly around her, patting her back awkwardly as she undoubtedly cries into his shoulder. She’s short enough that he can put his chin on her head, so he does. She feels right in his arms—good and warm.

Why couldn’t he like her instead?

“It’s okay, Chris,” he says, but she’s too short to hide in, and he’s got a perfect view of Jeff, still in his original spot. “It’ll be okay.”

It feels like a lie when it comes out of his mouth. He meets Jeff’s eyes, surprised when he finds them warm.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Jeff says.

It’s only then that Steve realizes how haggard his breathing had become, like he’d been running suicide’s in the gym, not standing stationary fighting the fears of his own mind.

He sucks in an unencumbered breath, the stone constricting his lungs ground down to almost nothing. Steve nods, arms still wrapped around Chrissy like she might be ripped away from him. He couldn’t have expected anything better, not in Hawkins. Except, what’s the likelihood he gets this lucky again?

He’s two for two with good reactions, what’s the likelihood the third won’t play a nice game of smear the queer?

Except, this is one of Eddie’s best friends, and does “anyone” even include him?

“Even Eddie?” Steve asks, that same damning quiver back in his voice.

Jeff shakes his head, and before Steve can begin to panic, Jeff speaks, “I think you should tell him, but it’s your secret man.”

Steve tries to find any sign of a lie on Jeff’s face. The other boy just looks placidly back, waiting his scrutiny out.

“Thank you,” Chrissy and Steve say at the same time.

They collapse into each other, giggling like fools as the adrenaline leaves them both. Behind them, Jeff’s smiling like he finds this whole thing charming.

Three might be a crowd, but Steve’s never liked being alone. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

PART 5

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 29

Din Djarin + Excessive Cum

Hey yall, super late to finish kinktober, hows everyone doing? Changing my major has been a lot more work than I imagined besides usual classwork, so its only now ive had any free time to write. But I still want to finish kinktober, even if its late.

On the shorter side, since I just wanted to finish kinktober.

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

Din Djarin let out a shaky whine, soft and quiet enough that the vocoder of his helmet almost didn’t pick it up. He was never one to make much noise, even when you guys had been apart for long when bounties were drawn out, or when you were busy in return.

The only way you could truly tell it had been too long, was the way Din couldn’t control his hips, and how they jolted and twitched into your hands or mouth. Hed jump and jolt like a rabbit, giving short and fast thrusts of his hips as if he couldn’t control himself or his reactions.

He was always so full after you two had been apart. Din never saw a reason to get off on his own. There hadn’t been much need for it before you two got together, when all that mattered to him was bringing credits back to the clan. And after you two became an item, Din only felt it made sense to allow you to be the one to bring him that pleasure.

Hed never known what he was missing as your hands twisted and pulled at his weeping sensitive cock for the first time, his balls so full you almost cooed at him in pity. It must have been so uncomfortable to be so backed up, to be so incredibly full and heavy, ready to blow from the smallest of touches.

The lack of skin on skin contact Din experienced only added onto it, making him even more sensitive as he oozed and dripped in your hands. It seemed as if his body was trying to catch up to the many years of neglect he had given it, now that it knew you were there to empty his balls when they got too full.

It left Din desperate and panting whenever you got your hands on his dick, after you would remove as little armor as possible to get to his crotch or ass. Sometimes he felt like an animal, his jaw hanging open as his eyes glazed over under his helmet. The Mandalorian felt as if you knew the exact expression on his face, even if you couldn’t see it, making him pulse even more.

You were always shocked at just how much Din could cum, no matter how many times you tried to empty him out or milk him like some kind of cattle. It only ever resulted in Dins noises getting so loud that his vocoder crackled at the volume and pitch, his legs shaking as he tried his damnest to fuck into your grip, no matter how sensitive he was.

There was so much to catch, so much to swallow, there had even been a few times where the sudden gush of spend had made some of it shoot out your nose, only making Din moan even louder when he saw it.

it shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone that someone who never got down and dirty with another being, had a lot of fantasies, and luckily for Din, you were willing to try out most of them, even if that meant allowing Din to stand or kneel above you and spill his seed all over you until he was drained dry.

It was attractive, sure, but also made a real mess. Lucky for the both of you the ship you spent most of your time on had the ability to air out, or else the entire thing would reek of your intimacy. And the closet full of cleaning supplies was restocked regularly. In the end you just liked making Din feel good, and you couldn’t blame him for shooting like a firehose. At least it was hot.

[seneon]

INTERTWINED GAZES ──── katsuki bakugo

about. in which, everybody's watching her, but she only has eyes for him. romantic fluff. wc of 700+

notes. inspired by "this is what you came for" by calvin & rihanna. okay maybe katsuki is interesting to write too... forrr @seumyo aka katsuki's girl and @angeliicheartt my pooki

you took a trip down to a memory lane ingrained and portrayed with the best moments in your life back in UA. it all started with the very first step you took into hero class 1A, and it all travels to your final year in 3A.

it has been a journey. to grow in your quirk and to grow in your friendship with your classmates. for whatever reason, your love for katsuki seems to grow as it has with the other aspects that bring your whole life up.

now you're standing amongst all the other future heroes who danced and reveled in the pool of their sweet graduation. the bass of the party song finds a funny comfort at the back of your ears as the colourful lights run around in every direction, painting your skin whatever hue the light shines.

the emcee announces for a time where the next song will be the momentary dopamine boost for the students, a dance with a partner. by now, most of the students have their own partner. you can tell, they've grown on each other. they've fallen in love. they've locked their fates together.

not that you aren't a fan of romance, but the eyes of every other student that darts to you right after the implication of a partner dance has your eyes locked onto one boy, and only him.

every soul is watching you, but you're looking at katsuki. dear sweet katsuki who stands at one corner with a fruit punch in one hand, and his other hand stuffed into his pockets. he takes a sip of his drink before his scarlet eyes shoot to your direction and he freezes.

katsuki freezes because the girl he's always admiring from afar is looking at him. she's on the dance floor with so many other boys, but her sights are set on katsuki.

your heart starts to speed up as your hands are gently pushed against your chest to stop the rapid beating. even under the blaring colourful lights and the music that is almost ending, you looked like the ultimate beauty to katsuki. even though your eyes are taken off from him, his gaze is still fixed onto yours.

“dance with her,” midoriya breaks katsuki out of his trance and glances at his friend who shot him a smile. “you’ll never have this chance again, kacchan.”

midoriya’s words seemed to puncture some sort of idea in his mind. katsuki walks towards you, pushing his way through the crowd while setting his drinks aside so he could tap on your shoulders to get your attention.

when you looked at him, he lost all his confidence. it's all because in this moment, he feels so vulnerable under your gaze. your eyes that hold some kind of beauty in them and they see through all the imperfections of katsuki.

and though there are many people special to him, you are the only soul who can touch his cool heart with your warm smile that surfaces.

“i want to dance with you,” the blond blurts out with a murmur, the colour of roses painting his cheeks and you couldn't help but feel your blush own deepening. “i’ll dance with you, katsuki.”

everything was so sweet. the way his hands held yours so gently, a monstrous contrast to how aggressive he usually is. his touch is so warm and it has you falling in love all over again with this boy. you had your first dance with the first boy you liked.

and when you look back at it, you've always wondered why it took three years for you to confess your love to katsuki. you still wonder until now, years after the graduation party where you're now a pro hero, just a few ranks under katsuki.

“are you looking at our graduation picture again?” the voice of your husband asks as you pull your gaze off from the photo album and nod at katsuki who takes off his costume gears.

“it was on this date where you asked me to dance with you, and we ended up confessing to each other,” you said as he walked over to you sitting on the couch and gave your cheek a peck.

“of course. i still remember."

katsuki will never forget about it. because if a genie grants him a wish, it will be for him to ask you to dance with him over and over again.

© SENEON 2024 ♰ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[bookuce]

Change My Mind

SUMMARY: Josh and Alina are great friends most days. Other days, they want to tear each other apart. Some days, they’re in love with each other, but neither of them will admit it. 

*DISCLAIMER: This is a multi-part series. I do not own any of the characters in the writing except for the OC. The book uses actual names of wrestlers. Josh is Jey, Jon is Jimmy, Trinity is Naomi, and Alina is Alina. The book is not realistic and does not take place during real events, but some actual events (matches, storylines) could pop up in the story eventually. I DO NOT GIVE ANYONE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REPOST MY WRITINGS ANYWHERE. THAAAAAANKS. *

PAIRING: Jey Uso x Black OC

TROPE: Friends to Lovers

WARNINGS: Language

WORD COUNT: 10K

PART TEN

PART ELEVEN

Meeting parents was never fun. It was nerve-wracking, stressful, anxiety-inducing––any word you can think of that falls under that category, really. The time was winding down quickly for Alina to meet Josh's family, and she was frantically moving around the bathroom. Her hair decided not to cooperate with her, forcing her to put it up in a tight ponytail. It wasn’t what she envisioned, but it will do. 

Josh sat on the tub's edge, scrolling on his phone while he waited for his girlfriend to finish getting dressed. Just like Alina, he was full of anxiety about his family. Their reasons were different, though. While she was worried about his family's approval, he was concerned with how they would take the news of him relocating. It had been an active plan for several weeks, but he couldn't figure out how to bring it to their attention––until now. They'll take it fine, he thinks. He hopes. 

When Jon told them he and Trinity were moving to Orlando, they didn't put up much of a fuss. Then again, the twins spent plenty of time around that area during their FCW days. There were plenty of family and friends around there that could help them in their times of need. Atlanta, on the other hand, not so much. That didn't matter, though. Josh is a grown-ass man. He can handle himself.

Alina leans over the sink, her face near the mirror. She's lining her lips with her favorite brown lip liner, making sure her lips look full and even. There was a slight tremble in her hand as she traced along the natural lining of her lips. Nerves. "Lina," Josh says, looking up from his phone. "we gotta go." He informs her. They were supposed to have left about thirty minutes ago, but she kept backpedaling on what she should wear.

"I know." She says, finishing her makeup. She glances around the mess of makeup on the counter, looking for her gloss. "I just want to make sure..." 

"Lina." He calls again.

"I look good." she finishes, snatching up the lipgloss tube from the pile of lipsticks. She unscrews the cap and quickly slathers the product across her lips. Josh stands to his feet, slowly approaching the stress-filled woman before him. She stared at herself in the mirror, smoothing out her shirt and allowing her hands to travel over the front of her pants. He wraps his hands around her forearms, giving them a gentle squeeze. Her eyes would flicker to his dark ones, and they'd watch each other in the mirror. 

"You look good," He assures her. "Perfect, to be real." He corrects himself. Josh steps back, allowing his hands to skim her arms to her shoulders. He gives them three gentle squeezes before turning towards the bathroom door. "Let's go before you get me in trouble with my Mama." He informs her, making her turn around to look at him.

"Josh," She groans, nerves setting in for her again.

"Come on, honey." He says louder, ignoring her pleas. "We ain't got all night." She quickly follows after him, soft huffs of frustration leaving her lips. 

Was she ever this nervous about meeting Theo's parents? She tried to recall if she ever felt this amount of anxiety when she met them. Meeting them went relatively well. Then again, she knew enough information on them beforehand to prepare herself. Unfortunately, this was not the case with Josh. He didn't speak enough about them for her to learn who she was meeting, and because of that, she was terrified. Even when she would ask multiple times throughout the morning, he would answer shortly with little information. They're great people, he says. You have nothing to worry about, he tells her. 

Perhaps they were just like Jon and Josh: loud, goofy, and loving. Trinity never had any complaints, either. If she did, she never brought them to her attention. Then again, why would she? Alina and Josh were not in a relationship––their family issues were none of her business until now.

The drive to his parents' home was roughly thirty minutes. They made it two minutes before six, cutting close to dinner time. Alina stares up at the large house from the passenger seat. Her legs now felt like jelly, and she knew they wouldn't hold her up if she got out of this car. Was she being dramatic? Possibly. Whatever happens, tonight would set the tone for her relationship with him and his family forever. 

What if they don't like her? She's heard she can come off uppity at times, and she's been working on that. "Hey," Josh says, pulling her attention from the window. He searches her eyes for a moment before grabbing her hand. "They're going to love you; you know that, right?" He tells her. She watches him for a moment, a soft smile on her lips.

"Get out of my head." She whispers at him.

"You first." He replies. Josh presses a kiss to her hand before dropping it suddenly. "Now, come on, girl, I'm hungry. I ain’t had my Mama's cooking in months." He says, slapping the top of her left thigh. Alina would whine at the playful strike. He climbs out of the car, lightly jogging around to her side to open the door for her. She steps out of the vehicle, taking another deep breath as the realization of her meeting his parents settles in once more. She was now a couple of feet away from them, seconds away from saying, 'Hello, nice to meet you.'. There were multiple cars in the driveway, four Alina counted. 

They're going to love you, she tells herself. Just be yourself, and they'll love you. The passenger door closed behind her, and a warm hand slid into her own. Together, they approach the front door. Josh's left hand grabs the doorknob, twisting and pushing the door open. Warm white light and the aroma of food poured out of the opening. With one last glance at his girlfriend, Josh steps into the house. "Yo, yo, yo," Josh calls.

"Oh, I think that's Josh." A female voice says. "Joshua!" She calls, getting closer. 

"It's me," he replies. A small woman runs around the corner, her arms wide open for her son. Josh drops Alina's hand to fully embrace his mother, giving her the tightest hug possible. "Hey, Mama." He says against her shoulder. Alina takes a step back, clasping her hands tight in front of her while she waits for her turn to introduce herself. 

"My baby is home!" She exclaims, patting his back as she pulls back. Talisua instantly spots the eye injury, her hand going up to examine it. She knew not to question it. She would assume that her son was recovering from someone hitting him too hard in a match or segment Friday night. 

"Damn, she ain't say that to me," Jon says, walking by the hall. "She ain't even hug me." 

"That's because I'm her favorite." Josh jokes, earning a lip smack from his brother and a swat to the chest from his mother. Talisua turns her attention to Alina, glancing over the gorgeous woman standing behind her son. Alina gives a faint smile, unsure whether or not she should say hi or quietly wave. 

Josh notices that his mother has taken sight of Alina and looks over his right shoulder at her, a crooked smile on his lips. He reaches over to grab her hand, pulling her to his side. "Mama, this is my girlfriend, Alina," Josh says. 

Talisua's hands go to her hips as she takes in the woman standing behind her son. There was a hint of a smile on her lips as she peered down at her shoes and back up to her face. "So you're why I haven't seen my son in months?" She asks. The question was a playful opening, not to be mistaken as an attack. Alina glances over at Josh briefly before returning her gaze to Talisua.

"If I knew he hadn't been home, I would have sent him on his way," Alina replies, returning the smile she received. Both women turn their attention towards Josh, whose brows furrowed at the interaction. "He's been acting like he doesn't have his own house," Alina adds.

"He's always been clingy." His mother says, earning a laugh out of Alina. Josh would smack his lips at the two of them, watching as they talked about him. "He used to throw a fit when he couldn't be in my face." She tells her.

"Glad to know some things never change," Alina replies. Talisua links her arm with Alina's, pulling her away from Josh and down the hall to the dining room.

"Bruh, what?" Josh watches after the pair in confusion as they leave him in the foyer alone. He was happy his mother and girl clicked almost instantly––but like this? Oh, the deception.

"Go help the boys in the kitchen," Talisua calls out behind her. "You too, Jon!" She shouts towards the living room. Jon, whose feet were on the coffee table, a remote in hand, turns his attention towards his mom, catching a glimpse of her passing by the room. He'd suck his teeth at her command, shaking his head slightly as he stood to his feet. 

Josh steps into the living room's archway, his eyes finding those of his twin's. Jon rolls his shoulders back, tilting his head up at him. "Your drunk ass..." He says, laughing at his brother as he recalls last night's events. "Have I told you I loved you...!" He sings as he passes Josh, his cackles filling the house. "Boy, your freaky ass better not ever look at another tequila sunrise. You were trying to tear Lina up in the Uber home." He says, causing Josh to shove him forward into the dining room. 

Trinity, Talisua, and Alina peer over their shoulders at the commotion from the twins as they walk through the living room to the kitchen. "Y'all, don't start," Trinity exclaims.

"If you didn't know already, it takes a village to keep these Fatu men in check," Talisua says. Trinity sighs softly at the statement, shaking her head as she does so. "God thought I was well-equipped to handle all boys and make them like their daddy." Talisua looks over at Alina. "Do you have kids?" She asks.

Alina is quick to shake her head at the question. "Two younger brothers, though, so I do understand." She explains. She is the eldest of her siblings. Dealing with the antics of her brothers well-prepared her for this. "I don't pay them no mind anymore." She says, referring to Jon and Josh. 

In the kitchen, the Fatu men prepped dinner––er, somewhat. Sefa was seated at the kitchen island, quietly doom-scrolling on social media. Jeremiah was coming in from outside, a pan of meat in hand. Tonight's dinner was barbeque, something they tended to do often when their entire family was in the same house for once. It was a rare occurrence now that Sefa, Josh, and Jon were all on the road with the WWE. 

At the stove stood their father, Rikishi. He was checking on the mac and cheese, stirring so it wouldn't burn to the bottom of the pot. "Hey, Pops," Josh says, moving past his dad. He pats his back in passing, prompting his dad to look over his shoulder only briefly.

"Hey, son." He replies. "How are you?"

"Never better," Josh replies, leaning up against the counter. "What do you want me to do?" He asks, waiting for orders.

"Get out nine plates, silverware, and cups. Go set the table." He answers. Josh walks around his dad to the cabinets near the sink. He opens them, grabbing out eight plates. 

"Nine? Who else is coming?" Jon asks, prompting Josh to stop at the question. Who else was coming to dinner? Josh begins to count on his fingers everyone that is there right now. Yeah, he counted eight people. "Joe in town too and ain't tell no one?" Jon asks.

Rikishi is quiet for a little bit longer, turning off the stove. "I invited Málí." Josh slowly put his hands down, now watching the side of his father's head. 

"Málí, who?" He asks.

"You know, Málí. Tagaloa, Lílí?" 

"Lílí? She back in town?" Jon asks, glancing over at Josh. 

Málí Tagaloa was a name Josh hadn't heard in years, seventeen years to be exact. Málí and the Tagaloas were old family friends of the Fatus, neighbors in the first neighborhood they grew up in when they first moved to Pensacola. Málí and Josh had instantly clicked when they met as kids, attached at the hip from first grade through high school. Wherever Josh was, Málí was not far behind, and vice versa. People around them were confident they would end up together after high school. They were too––but things happened. Málí received a full-ride scholarship to her dream college, and any chances of them exploring the what-ifs and maybes of their almost relationship went up in smoke.

They lost contact when she went to college. Everything after that was history. Hearing that name after so many years, knowing he would be seeing an old friend any minute now while his girlfriend was in the other room, had scared Josh silent. 

"Yeah, she moved back home from Seattle last week. We ran into each other at the grocery store yesterday. I told her Josh was in town and asked if she wanted to come by for dinner tonight." Rikishi informs them. Josh turns to look at his twin brother. For once, Jon had nothing funny to say to his twin. They both had the same look of concern on their faces. "Perhaps the two of you can go out while you're here. You two always really liked each other––." Rikishi adds.

"That won't be happening," Josh says, shaking his head. 

"Why not?" Rikishi asks, turning to his son. "Good Samoan woman like that––." 

"My woman is in the other room," Josh explains. "You know that." Josh knew his mother updated his father about Alina yesterday. She was too excited about the potential of meeting someone Josh loved enough to bring home. Rikishi was doing what he knew best: how to insert himself in his sons' lives without their permission. Each time they caught on, he would pretend he had no clue what they were talking about––much like he is right now. 

Rikishi furrows his brows at the assumption; the thick black frame of his glasses lifts on his nose with the scrunch of it. "When did you get a girlfriend?" He asks. A look of irritation would flash across Josh’s face as he glanced at Jon briefly. 

"You so—." Josh stops himself from saying anything more, shaking his head. "Man, I can’t believe you’d try that with me." He lifts the plates he gathered from the counter. "You finna get me in trouble over some shit you said to this woman." He mutters angrily to himself as he exits the room. Rikishi turns to his other sons, his mouth agape in shock at Josh. Jon lifts his hands, shaking his head at the man. 

"No comment, bruh." He says, turning to make his way out of the kitchen behind his twin. Jon knew how his father got about them dating women. He had done the same thing to him and Trinity when they first got together. 

Josh's eyes focused on the dishware he held, not looking up once as he entered the dining room. "Josh, look who stopped by for dinner!" Oh, hell, he thought. He halts, his gaze lifting at the sight of the woman standing before him. 

Málí turns at the sound of Josh’s name, her smile faltering slightly at the sight of her old friend. Time has done them both well, but for her, Josh aged handsomely. Though his face had changed, his eyes had not. They seemed to hold the same youthfulness and innocence they had when they were younger. The grey in his beard accented his appearance perfectly, much like a garnish on a dish. She wouldn’t get into the rest of him, though––she had focused on his face and that blank stare he was giving her. After all these years, was he not happy to see her?

Málí had not aged a bit to Josh. She was like a blast from the past, a ghost of his younger days. From what he could tell, all those years away from Pensacola did the woman well. She surprisingly looks the same as she did when she left this place––not a single gray or wrinkle in sight. On the other hand, Josh showed signs of aging well with gray hairs and soft wrinkles. She looked great. That was all he would say on the subject of her. He had to remind himself that she was not brought here as his friend––but as a potential prospect for marriage by his father.

Jon stops behind him, his eyes wide at the sight of Málí. "Shit." He mutters to himself. Alina glances between the pair before her. Strange. "Lílí, what's up, girl!" Jon exclaims, trying to break up the noticeable tension in the room now. He moves by Josh, wrapping the old friend in a tight embrace. Behind Málí, Jon looked at Trinity, who silently asked about the woman her husband was hugging. He widened his eyes at her in response, hoping she'd understand what that meant. They’ll gossip about it like two old church ladies later.

"Long time no see, Jon! How have you been?" Málí asks, pulling back to look up at the tall man. He smiles down at her, his arms still loosely wrapped around her.

"I'm blessed, Uce. I can never complain." He turns the woman to face the two women seated at the dining table. Only one of them was paying attention to Jon and the woman. The other watched her boyfriend, who was paling by the second at the sight of the woman he had yet to take his eyes off. "Lílí, this is my wife Trinity. Trin, this is Lílí, an old family friend of ours." Trinity stands up––her hand extended to shake Lílí's. 

"Nice to meet you!" They exchange with each other with bright smiles.

Jon then turns to Alina, who is still watching Josh. "And this is Alina, Josh's girlfriend." Josh's gaze shifts from Málí's and to Alina at the introduction. They only watched each other briefly before Josh moved towards the table. He places the plates on the table, slowly putting them in their designated spots—Alina peers up at the woman, a forced smile on her lips. 

"Pleasure," Alina says with a nod. She doesn't offer her hand to the woman or stand to introduce herself. She turns her attention back to Josh, who now has his back to everyone.

"Joshua," Talisua calls out. Josh releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding, his eyes shut as he does so. Lord, give me the strength to get through this dinner. Forty minutes in, he was already ready to grab Alina and leave. He should do that anyway. He owed no one any explanation as to why he would head out, but if Josh had to, he would point fingers at the man who was in the room over. But for his mother, he will stay––no one else. Talisua hadn't seen him in a while, and Josh had yet to tell everyone his plans to move to Georgia. 

"Yes, ma'am?" Josh answers lowly.

"Are you not going to say hey to Málí?" She asks. He didn't want to. He really didn't want to. He could feel Alina staring at the back of his head, waiting for him to make the wrong move. She is still trying to figure out who this woman is to him. Jon mentioned that she was an old family friend, but what was with the stares? Josh looked like he had seen a ghost, and Jon also was behaving strangely. 

He wasn't trying to be rude––he didn't want to do this. His eyes pan to the wall as he slowly pivots to face Málí. He avoids Alina's intense gaze, his eyes locking with Jon's before the woman standing by him. A lump began to form in his throat, and no matter how hard he swallowed, it wouldn't go away. "What's up, Málí?" He croaks, tilting his head up slightly. Josh would sway from left to right, his hands slowly rubbing at his hips. 

The two old friends stare at each other for several moments before Lílí finally speaks up. "Hey, Josh." She says softly. "It's been a while." She adds with a slight smile. 

“Yeah,” He says, lowering his head slightly. “How have you been?” He asks, clasping his hands together in front of him. Málí takes a breath, nodding her head at the question.

“I’ve been better.” She chuckles. “What about you? You look good––healthy. You look healthy.” She corrects herself. Alina turns her attention to Jon, her brows gradually furrowing as she does so. He’d catch her gaze before dropping his head in embarrassment. He lifts his right hand to rub at the back of his neck. This dinner was already gearing up to be a mess of a situation, and they had no one but Rikishi to blame.

"Food's ready!" Rikishi exclaims, walking in with a bowl of mac and cheese. Behind him are Sefa and Jeremiah, both carrying food. One by one, they line the center of the table with dishes. 

Thank God, Josh thought, thankful for the interruption. Any much longer of that conversation, and he would have dug himself a hole with Alina. 

Little does he know. 

He looks off towards the table before grabbing his seat next to Alina. He pulls it out, dropping into the chair. Alina turns in her chair to face forward, her hands clasped tight in her lap. "Lílí, I hope you brought your appetite." He says gleefully. "Take that seat next to Joshua." 

Rikishi doesn't acknowledge the woman sitting to Josh's left as he takes his seat at the head of the table. "Trin," Jon says, still standing behind Josh. He points at the chair near his brother for his wife to sit in. Rikishi looks to Jon, catching a glare from the eldest twin. Jon doesn't say anything to cause a disturbance but shakes his head in disappointment. Whatever his father had going on was not about to disrupt this dinner. With no questions asked, Trinity stands to her feet, moving to sit in the empty chair next to Josh. Jon takes his seat by Alina, separating Málí, Josh, and her.

Josh turns to his girlfriend, who is intently staring at the table. Alina was never good at hiding her emotions––giving herself away with facial expressions or tones of voice. At that moment, Alina felt conflicted. Was she angry or sad? She wasn’t sure, but she was holding in tears. 

Alina wasn't trying to read into what was happening here, but with how everyone was acting suddenly and how Josh was staring at this Málí person, Alina could only assume this woman was an ex. The seating arrangement, her boyfriend avoiding eye contact with her––context clues. It is only a matter of time before she's searching for an exit from this dinner. 

"Lina, can you pass me the salt?" Sefa asks, forcing Alina to look up from the table. She would give him a tight grin and nod, reaching in front of her for the salt. She lifts it into the air, allowing Sefa to take it from her. "Thanks." 

"Welcome," She says quietly, her eyes scanning the table. She could feel Josh's large brown eyes on her, pleading with her to look at him, but she couldn't. The interaction between Sefa and Alina would prompt Rikishi to finally acknowledge someone other than their other guest for the evening. He looks at the woman seated near his son––his lips slightly parted as he thinks of something to say. 

"So, you're Joshua's girlfriend," Rikishi says, earning the couple's attention. "What is your name, sweetheart?" He asks. Josh leans forward slightly, his head tilted down at his father. He has one time to disrespect her, he thought. One snide remark and this dinner was over.

"Alina." She answers with a grin. "It's nice to meet you, Rikishi." The slump of her shoulders would vanish as she sat up straight for the conversation.

A grin matching Alina's would curl onto his lips at her. "Likewise." He answers with a single nod. "Alright, everyone, dig in." He says, looking around the table. Alina would relax into her seat again, the light in her eyes dimming once more now that she was not being spoken to again. He had moved on from talking to her and was now conducting the food traffic. "Pass me the chicken, please." He says to Jeremiah. 

"So, Alina, you work with the boys and Trin?" Talisua asks from the opposite end of the table than Rikishi. Alina looks at her with a smile, nodding her head. 

"I do! Coming up on three years here soon." She informs her.

"We celebrating?" Jon asks, nudging Alina in her side. She looks back at Jon, shaking her head. He smacks his lips at her answer, muttering words of persuasion to her, hoping Alina would change her mind. She knew he didn't want to celebrate the milestone––He just wanted a reason to party.

"Do you wrestle?" Rikishi asks.

"No, sir, I'm on the broadcast team." She answers, getting only a singular hum from the man. He says nothing else, returning to the meal in front of him. Slowly, Alina's eyes began to shift back to her plate. Was she reading into this too much, or did it seem like Rikishi didn't like her? Perhaps she was reading into it too much and still reeling from the nerves of meeting Josh's family, but then again, she was always good at reading people. He was coming off cold and disinterested in her, the opposite of how you should be with your son’s new girlfriend.

Alina wasn’t the only one who noticed his behavior. Silence fell upon the dining room––glances exchanged between siblings. "So, Lílí, how's your parents?" He asks, seguing back into Málí. He seemed more interested in what Málí had going on rather than the fact his son finally brought home a woman––and Josh didn’t like that.

"Yo, are you good?" Josh asks suddenly.

"Josh," Alina says, shaking her head.

"Nah." He dismisses her. "You've said no more than ten words to her all night. You've known she was coming since yesterday." He says. Rikishi looks up at his son, his brows furrowed in faux confusion. 

"Josh," Jon says now. 

"You know what you're doing, bruh––." He says, ignoring his brother. He points his finger at his father.

"Joshua," Talisua calls out now. His mother's stern tone was enough to silence the angry twin. "It's enough." The room became silent again, but no one resumed eating. The tension in the room was enough to steal the appetites of everyone present. Alina clasps her hands in her lap, her eyes falling to her plate again. 

What a weekend, she thought. Was there a full moon, mercury in retrograde, or something? Was she cursed? Is that what this was? A curse? She attempts to think of who she could have wronged in the past, but no one comes to mind. Well, unless karma works quickly in Tasha's favor for her,––wait, that could be it. "I apologize, son," Rikishi says, throwing his hands up.

"You apologizing to the wrong person." He says. "We can try this,” He motions a circle with his index finger. “again in a minute." He informs him, cueing his apology.

"That's not necessary––," Alina says, shaking her head.

"Like hell, it ain't," Josh almost shouts.

Alina twists her mouth to the side, becoming quiet again. For the second time in a span of three days, she was at the center of a fight. “I said it’s enough, Joshua.” His Mother says. She looks between her husband and son. “Both of you.” She points her index finger between the two men. Josh turns his glare towards the table. 

“So what’s new?” Jon says, trying to break up the tension in the room. “Anyone got anything they want to share with the class?” He asks, glancing around the table with a big smile. “Sefa?” He asks. Sefa stifles a laugh at Jon, pushing his food around his plate. What was happening wasn’t funny, but it was.

Trinity reaches around Alina and Josh and strikes Jon’s shoulder, startling the twin. He leans back, making eye contact with his wife. “Not the time.” She whispers at him. 

Under these circumstances, in this mood that he was in, Josh did not want to announce his departure from the state of Florida, but because Rikishi was with the shit, right now was the perfect time to do so. Josh peers up from the table, taking in the faces surrounding him. Beneath the table, Josh’s hands rubbed against each other slowly, a self-soothing mechanism of his. “I’m selling my house.” He announces, gaining everyone’s attention at the table. 

“You’re moving?” Talisua asks. Josh nods slightly, licking his lips. “Where?” Alina gazed at the side of Josh’s head, waiting for his words. She wasn’t aware that his family didn’t know about the move. This conversation should’ve been a private family matter that didn’t involve her.

“Atlanta.” He answers.

“Atlanta? What’s in Atlanta?” Rikishi asks. Josh hangs his head at the question, pressing his lips together in a thin line. Here he goes, he thought. Rikishi points his hand at Alina. “Her?” He adds. A chill would rush Alina’s body at his tone. Oh, she never stood a chance with this man.

“Me for the last year,” Josh answers, looking up at his father. Rikishi wanted to hear Josh say Alina was the reason for his relocation, which she was, but Josh was not going to give him that. “I’ve been in Atlanta more than I have been here. That’s home now. All the back and forth adds up––.” 

“Let me get this straight. The two of you have lived together for a year, but this is the first time we’ve heard of this girl?” Rikishi questions. “Does anyone not find that a bit strange?” He continued, lifting his hands as he spoke. Rikishi looked around the table at everyone, not receiving a response or reaction from a soul. Alina didn’t expect Josh to talk about her to anyone while they were still friends.

“Look at how you’re acting, bruh. You’re doing my girl like you did Trin when she first came around. You did this up until they got married.” He points out. Trin and Jon would smack their lips simultaneously at being brought up in the argument. “You ought to be lucky they even let bygones be bygones with your––.”

“Enough!” Talisua shouts the moment Josh starts to raise his voice again. “Solofa, I don’t know what has gotten into you, but it stops now. It’s the first time we see our son in months, and he is happy. Why are you trying to take that joy from him?” She asks. It was a question that Rikishi knew not to answer unless he wanted to sleep in one of the guest rooms tonight. “And Joshua,” She calls, requesting his attention. Slowly, he looks up at her. “I’m disappointed in you.”

Josh knew he shouldn’t have said most of what he did or behaved how he did, but Rikishi crossed boundaries. The things he said were consequences of his father’s actions, and he could not bother to be sorry about it—at least to him, he couldn’t be. Only for Talisua, Josh was apologetic. She did not deserve to see them act like this, and how he acted was not how she raised him. “Sorry, mama.” He says quietly. She doesn’t answer him, her glare shifting from her son to her food. Josh looks away from her, his eyes finding his plate as well.

The room was quiet for the third time tonight, thanks to Rikishi and Josh. This dinner wasn’t supposed to go this way, but it did because Josh came strolling in with Alina. Rikishi would have been happy if Josh wouldn’t have brought her home. His plans of having his son’s long-lost best friend and almost lover come back into the fray instantly diminished because of this random girl his son brought home, whom he had no idea existed until yesterday. If Rikishi were happy, Josh would have been happy. If the two of them had been happy, Talisua would have been happy. All of this is because he brought Alina McLemore home. 

It was all her fault.

Alina was at the root of each issue, from Tasha and the wedding to this dinner. She spent the last twenty-four hours panicking about her boyfriend’s family’s approval and the prior twelve panicking about her appearance. All this meant so much to her, these last few days being the most important, only for her to be disliked and disregarded. 

Slowly, Alina stands to her feet, drawing attention to herself. “I’m sorry, excuse me.” She apologizes, stepping away from the table.

“Alina,” Josh calls, turning in his seat as she moves towards the dining room entryway. He turns in his seat to watch her walk, his eyes full of silent pleas for her not to be upset. It was only a matter of time before she went running, and Josh knew it was coming. The last few days hadn’t been kind to her, and just when she thought she was escaping it in Atlanta, issues seemed to have followed them here into his parents’ home in Pensacola. His plan had failed to take her mind off what happened this past weekend. 

“I’m just going to the bathroom. It’s fine.” She promises, vanishing down the hall before he can say anything else. Josh stares after her for a moment longer before turning his attention towards Jon. Their eyes locked with each other before the eldest twin started shaking his head at him.

“Just give her some space, Uce.” He tells Josh. As much as he didn’t want to, he knew Jon was right; Alina needed some space. He turns to face forward in his seat, a huff leaving his lips. This is some bullshit, he thought.

Alina enters the guest bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her. She moves over to the sink, placing her hands on the marble countertop. She leans her weight onto her arms, her eyes closing as she does so. “You’re not going to cry. You’re not going to cry.” She whispers, shaking her head at the sting that fills her eyes. “Think about your makeup.” She reminds herself, opening her eyes to look at herself in the mirror. “See, you look so pretty. You’re going to ruin that if you cry.” She says, encouraging herself with tears forming in her eyes. If only those words were helping.

A knock at the door disrupts her emotional mini-pep rally, causing her to go still at the sound. “Lina, you good, girl?” Trin says from the other side. “Josh sent me to check on you.”

“I’m fine.” She croaks, fighting against the lump forming in her throat. On the other side of the door, Trinity furrows her brows at the sound of her voice. Was she crying? It sounded like it. Trinity grabs the doorknob, attempting to twist it.

“Can I come in?” She asks.

“No,” She sniffs. “I’ll be out in a minute, I promise.” She tells her. “You can go back to dinner. Tell Josh I’m fine.” No sound would come from the other side of the door, but Alina knew Trinity was still there. “Please?” She pleads. 

“Okay.” She replies after several moments of silence. “Love you, girl.” She adds.

 Alina smiles at her words, a few tears escaping her eyes. “Love you too.” She replies. Yeah, she wasn’t going back out there––not like this. 

Trinity stepped away from the bathroom door, a sigh coming from her lips as she did so. She’d shake her head, bringing her index finger to her left temple. “Child…” She says to herself. Tonight was enough drama for the week for her––hell, maybe even for the month. Jon comes dashing around the corner, colliding with his wife. He was on his way to check on Alina because his brother was starting to get antsy. “Hey,” she breathes. 

Jon looks past her and down the hall towards the bathroom. “Y’all good?” He asks with a lifted eyebrow. “Where’s Lina?” He asks.

“She’s finishing up in the bathroom. She’s fine.” She says loud enough for Josh to hear in the other room. “Come here, though,” Trinity says, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the living room. Once in the room, she releases his arm, looking back to ensure no one is coming. “Who the fuck is that lady, and don’t lie to me.”

In all the years that she and Jon had been together, this Málí character has never been mentioned. “We grew up together,” Jon explains. “We lived next door to her family when we first moved here.” 

Jon planned to leave it at that, not wanting to explain the rest of the story. He pushes his hands into his pockets, looking beyond his short wife towards the hall. “And what else?” She asks, lowering her eyes at him. Her husband had a bad habit of avoiding eye contact when he was lying about something, a reason why he just chose not to lie, but this was his brother. Jon would remain silent for a few seconds longer, hoping she would just let it go. He knew she would not. “Babe.” She says sternly.

He would sigh softly, his shoulder slumping in defeat as he met his wife’s demanding gaze. “Her and Josh liked each other back in the day.” He confesses. “It didn’t go anywhere because Málí moved off for college, but everyone knew.” He finishes. In the same fashion that Jon’s shoulders dropped, Trinity’s would too. She lifts her hand to her nose, pinching the bridge of it. Málí was the original Alina. 

“Are you serious?” She asks, looking up at him. Jon confirms with a nod. “This is a hot ass mess.” She says.

Jon scoffs at her words. “Shit, you can say that again.”

In the dining room, Josh and Málí were alone. Jeremiah and Sefa clear the table of all the food while Talisua and Rikishi are outdoors, squabbling about what had transpired tonight. The family dinner was over now, thanks to their father and him. Josh’s leg bounced anxiously beneath the table as he impatiently waited for Alina to return. She had been gone for five minutes, and his brother and sister hadn’t returned yet. “She’s pretty,” Málí speaks, initiating the conversation between the two friends. Josh’s leg would stop bouncing at the sound of Màlí’s voice. He briefly glances at her from the corner of his eyes before returning his focus to the wall.

“Thank you.” He says.

“You’re welcome.” She says, turning to look at him. Lílí’s tongue danced behind her lips as she contemplated her following words. “You think she’s the one?” She asks, prompting Josh to look at her now. 

“I know it.” He replies.

“Good. A big-hearted man like you deserves only the best kind of love.” She says. Josh would scoff softly at her words, shaking his head. Málí smiles softly. “What?” She asks.

“You know why you were brought here, right? Man, that man was trying to set you up with me.” He says, pointing to the outdoors with a grin. It was now Málí’s turn to laugh, her eyes following his point out the window. 

“I know.” She admits, wiping the little grin off his face. Josh would turn his attention to his old friend again, now watching her with the same blank face as earlier. She would watch him back, her smile shrinking in size. “Honestly, part of me really thought that when your dad said you were coming to town and that you weren’t seeing someone, this was the Universe giving us a second chance.” She confesses. “But now that I’m here and see Joshua Fatu all grown-up and in love, I know that that is not true, and this was much-needed closure.” The more Málí spoke, the quieter Josh got. It wasn’t that he had nothing to say to her, but because he didn’t know what to say. Knowing her love for him never faltered despite spending several years apart with no contact racked his brain in a way Josh hadn’t felt in years. Suddenly, he was an eighteen-year-old boy looking at an eighteen-year-old woman again. First loves, first everything. But none of that mattered. Who he was then is not who he is now. 

“I probably could’ve reached out years ago.” She says.

“I could’ve too,” He says, not allowing her to take the blame for their time apart. “I’ve been in Seattle plenty of times throughout the years, and not once did I think to look you up.” He confesses. “My bad, Uce.”

Málí giggles at his apology. “It’s all good.” She assures him. “We cool now, though, right?” She asks. With a grin, Josh leans across the chair between them, his hand extended for their old handshake. With a grin just as big as his, Málí would effortlessly perform the handshake. To know neither of them forgot the greeting made them laugh. 

“Yeah, we’re cool.” 

“Damn, Alina still ain’t back?” Jon says, looking around the room. The pair, still united at the hand, would look up the couple that had entered the room. Trinity’s eyes would focus on joined hands before looking between the pair they belonged to. Josh’s smile would diminish at the mention of his girlfriend. For fifteen minutes, he’s forgotten all about her. Josh’s gaze shifted from his brother to his sister, who glared at him with crossed arms. 

“I thought you said she was good.” He says, dropping Málí’s hand finally. 

“Boy, that didn’t mean you can carry on!” Trinity shouts at him. Josh stands to his feet, moving past the couple. Trinity turns to her man, flexing her hands at him. “Ooh, I want to ring his neck.” She says to Jon. 

Josh makes his way down the hall towards the guest bathroom. “Lina.” He calls out, hoping she’ll answer him before he gets to it. No response would come from the other side of the door, but he could tell the light was on beneath it. “Baby.” He knocks at the door, his ear now pressed to it. When he hears nothing on the other side, he moves his hand down to the doorknob. He twists the handle, cracking the door just a little. “Alina, you good?” He asks. No response prompts him to open the door further, revealing an empty bathroom. He steps in, looking around the bathroom for her. “The fuck…” He whispers to himself. 

Josh comes out of the bathroom, looking up and down the hall. “Ay!” He calls out to his brother and sister. He would see their shadows before they came around the corners. “I thought y’all said she was in the bathroom.” He says, pointing down the hall.

“She was,” Trinity answers.

“She ain’t in there now,” Josh says, opening the door on the wall across from him. His hand skims the wall, hitting the light switch to see if she is inside. “Help me find her.” He tells them, fishing his phone from his back pocket. In three swipes, his thumb unlocks the phone, opens his contacts, and calls Alina’s phone. His phone would hover near his ear as he exited the room and marched down the hall to the next closed door. He was listening for the ring of her phone but heard nothing.

“I’m sorry, but the person you called––.” He ends the call and redials. 

“Lina.” He calls out once more. Still no answer.

“I’m sorry, but the person you––.” Josh ends the call abruptly, slipping his phone back into his pants pocket. He swears under his breath, pivoting in the room he stood in. 

“Uce, she’s not outside,” Jon says, stopping at the door. Josh furrows his brows, his face contorting in anger. He’d suck his teeth in response to him.

“Man––.” Josh starts, charging forward out of the room. He was about to give his old man a piece of his mind. Jon had other plans, though. He pushes his hand into his twin’s chest, slightly shoving him back. “Bruh, watch out.” He says, pushing his brother’s hand away.

“Hollering at that man ain’t going to do shit but make Mama mad. Just go and find Lina. I’ll tell Mama you got an emergency.” He tells him. Josh stands there for a moment, grimace still prominent on his features. “Go!” He exclaims at him, stepping to the side to let him exit. Josh would squeeze past his brother in the door frame, marching angrily towards the front of the house. 

                                          —––––––––––––

Alina was curled into a ball on the couch, her arms wound tight around her frame. The light from the television bounced off the walls and danced along her face, her eyes catching the light stunningly. She returned to Josh’s house about fifteen minutes ago via an Uber she ordered and has since turned her phone off. It didn’t take long for Josh to notice her absence, maybe about fifteen minutes down the road if she had to estimate––at least that’s when his calls started coming in. 

Between his father and this Málí woman, tonight was a lot. It was more than what she could handle at this time. She had spent the earlier hours of the day panicking about his family’s approval, trying to make sure she looked presentable, only for his father not to give her the time of day. At least his mother liked her, or it seemed like she did. Talisua probably thinks the poor girl is a drama queen because of the way she left the dinner. 

The front door opens and closes, followed by heavy footsteps, drawing Alina’s eyes towards the living room entryway. Josh was home. He comes around the corner, stopping in the archway at the sight of her. Josh spent twenty minutes driving around his parent’s neighborhood looking for her before eventually checking her location. When he discovered she was home, he raced all the way here. The couple exchanged brief stares at each other before Alina looked away, turning her attention back to the TV. Josh walks into the room, approaching the couch she is lying on. He leans down, snatching the remote off the table and turning off the TV. 

Silence replaces the ambient sounds of the television, prompting Alina to rise on the couch. Josh sits down next to her, laying his elbows against his knees. His head was low. His shoulders rise and fall with the heavy sigh he releases. “Why’d you leave?” He asks, his voice husky.

Alina watches him for a moment, pondering over her response to him. “I wasn’t wanted––.”

“I wanted you there.” He cuts her off. “I wanted you there.” Alina becomes quiet again, her eyes unblinking as she watches Josh’s back. “You’re always thinking about yourself, putting yourself first, and shit.” He says after several seconds of quietness. Alina’s eyes would venture off to the left while her brows furrowed in confusion at his words. Was he calling her selfish?

“Is that not what I’m supposed to do?” She asks, fixing her gaze on him again. He scoffs at her question, lifting his hands to push his fingers through dark coils upon his head.

“Are we not a team?” He asks, turning to look at her. “Teams communicate, right? So, if something is bothering you, we talk about it, right?” His leg angrily bounced while he watched her. “You abandon the team, and the team falls apart, right?” He says, his tone gradually growing. He was angry with her––rightfully so. She knew he would be when he found her and mentally prepared herself for all the shouting he’d do.

“Josh, I wasn’t going to stay where I wasn’t wanted––.”

“I did for you!” He exclaims, turning to look at her. “You had me off in that damn room with an ex I knew nothing about. He’s sitting here pressing me day into the night, and you couldn’t sit through a family dinner? You had me out there fighting over you, but my pops being an asshole was the line?”

Slowly, Alina began to shake her head, lifting her left hand as she did so. “I didn’t ask you to do that.” She says, earning a laugh out of him. “I told you to leave.” He shakes his head, shifting to turn his whole body towards her.

“Man, you don’t get it, do you?” He asks her. “I stayed because I love you. Despite what you wanted, I stayed for you.” He points. “That is what you do for those you love, right? That was a sacrifice I was willing to make for the sake of our relationship because I want this,” He motions between the two of them. “to work. Love requires sacrifice, Lina. It requires effort.” He explains.

“I understand that––.” She begins.

“Shit, do you? Cause it doesn’t feel like it.” He admits, cutting her off for the third time tonight. Alina would furrow her brows at his question, his doubt baffling her. 

“Are you serious right now?” She asks. “Your father made it extremely clear where I stood with him!”

“Don’t nobody give a damn what he is talking about!” He says, raising his voice. Rikishi is known to be a bit controversial in his interactions with people. Josh was foolish to think he wouldn’t do that with him over Alina. He had hoped that his father would learn from his mistakes with Trinity and Jon, but that was not the case tonight. Same person, same old mistakes. 

“I do!” She says back in the same loud tone. “I care about your family’s approval! If they have to see me for holidays and birthdays, I don’t want to feel like I’m not supposed to be there!” Alina elaborates. It might’ve not meant anything to Josh, but it meant everything to her to have his family’s approval. Josh had already met her family; there was no avoiding it with how often he lingered around her home. The McLemores welcomed him into their family without any issues, objections, or shade. She was not expecting what she got today.

“Then why did you leave? That only made things worse!”

“I’m not staying where I’m not wanted!” She shouts back. “What’s not fucking clicking, Joshua?” Alina snaps her fingers in his face, making him lean back slightly. “You wanted me to sit there and watch him brush me off all night? Make me feel insecure?” She asks. “You wanted me to hear you shouting at him and upsetting your mother? Give them more reason to dislike me? They haven’t seen their son in months because he’s playing house with someone he wasn’t dating six months ago! ” Josh becomes silent, turning away from the woman next to him. He lifts his left hand to the bridge of his nose, gently pinching it. 

Alina would watch him for a moment longer, her eyes unblinking. “You wanted me to watch you stare at your ex the entire night?” Josh’s head snaps at that question, his brows furrowed in confusion. He sucks his teeth at the woman.

“Bruh, what?”

“The girl at dinner. She’s your ex, right? That’s why Trin and Jon had to switch up their seating arrangement. No one would say what was going on, but I was able to catch on.” Between how Josh and Jon were acting and the speed round questions Rikishi was asking her, it only made sense to Alina to assume she was an ex. You don’t move around people like that if they weren’t their ex. Alina gave Theo not even a second at the wedding despite his multiple attempts to talk to her. For the majority of the day, they were apart. The exes were two ships passing at night until he started floating too close to her. 

“She ain’t nothing to me.” He dismisses the assumption after several seconds of quiet.

“I’ve heard that before––,” Alina shrugs.

Oh, how the tables have turned in two days. What Josh was saying to her about Theo, she was now saying about him. Both accusations were untrue, but only one had a higher chance of being true. Where Alina had no contact with Theo, Josh did with Lílí––but he knew who he wanted, and the fact that she said those words infuriated him. He was not him. “Ay, ay, Lina? Don’t fucking compare me to that man. I mean that shit.” He says. “I ain’t nothing like him.” His name and Theo’s should never be in the same sentence, but it was thrown in there, all because of something out of his control. He wasn’t about to plead his case with her over Málí either. He has never given Alina a reason not to trust him––why would he now?

“You know what,” She breathes, “I don’t want to argue anymore, Josh,” She states, standing to her feet. “I’m going to bed.” She wasn’t about to listen to this. 

And there she goes, running away from her issues instead of facing them head-on. It was one of her greatest flaws and the thing about Alina that pissed Josh off the most. “Who said we’re done talking?” Josh asks, standing up to block her path.

“You don’t have to be done with shit, Josh, but I am.” She says, moving to the side. He would take another step to block her. Her eyes would find his chest––her lips twisted as she bit back acidic words. “Can you move?” She requests.

“Nope, we’re talking.” He says. No, you’re yelling, she thought. “I’ve spent two years chasing your selfish ass––.” Now, it was her turn to cut him off. Her hands go up in disbelief.  

“Selfish!? Really? Really?” She shouts. 

“Yeah, really!” He nods. “You got me embarrassing myself for you, trying to prove to you that I am worthy of your time––and you’re going to sit up here and compare me to a bitch that didn’t have the balls to tell you he wasn’t feeling you anymore? Huh?” She sidesteps him, only for him to block her way again. “All because your stupid ass Ex fucked around on your ass don’t mean I will.”

Alina takes a step back at his words, slightly tilting her head at him. “Mm,” She hums, taking a few more steps back. His last words cut through her like a blade. She didn’t like that. Well, damn. Tell me how you really feel, she thought. “Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this.” She voices. She averts her eyes from the man, looking from left to right. “Things were a helluva lot peaceful when we were just friends.” She confesses.

Those words felt weird coming from her mouth, probably because she did not believe a single word she was saying. She loves this man who stands in front of her, loves him with every fiber of her being, but these last few days were too much for her to handle. They’d only had one day of peace in the three days they’d been home together, and she was exhausted. She was tired of crying. She was tired of feeling like she did something to deserve any energy she got from people. She’s done nothing. 

Josh’s shoulders would slump at her words––any anger that he had previously was now gone. He smacks his lips at her words, shaking his head. “Lina––.” He says, reaching to grab her hand. Alina slips out of his grasp, pulling her hand from his. She didn’t want him touching her.

“No,” She says, shaking her head. “I’m cool. We’re cool.” She assures him, stepping around him. He allowed her by this time. “I’m going to sleep in the guest room tonight, get my stuff from your room in the morning, and I’m going to head out after. Save you from embarrassing yourself anymore.” 

Before Josh could say anything else, Alina had rushed from the living room, leaving the regret-filled man standing in the center of the room. Josh brings his hand to his mouth, clasping it tight over his mouth.

He needed to sit down. 

–––––––––––––––––––

A/N: Yay, new chapter! Who cheered! 🤭

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[itachiiwrites]

𖹭 𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝕯𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖞

𖹭 Synopsis— A random act of kindness was all it took for you to be infatuated with Gojo Satoru, what about him?

𖹭 Dear Diary Archives.

A/N: this is my first time writing a long fic idk what this is but it's something? Let's see how it goes. Divider by @/cafekitsune

𖹭 CW. This story will content dark elements, hence it's 18+. It includes: Murder, Gore, obsessive themes, stalking, suuuuperrr unhealthy behaviours, everyone is insane, the reader is not a healthy person, or exactly a good person for that matter. There are other warnings too but i forgot, gojo satoru is his own warning

𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝟎𝟏. 𝑾𝒉𝒚?

All your life, there was an absurd kind of thirst present in your body. You could never pinpoint what exactly it was, what drove you menselessly crazy, made you deranged.

It was hard to put the pieces of the puzzle together, blaming your moldable brain areas for not being able to figure out what was wrong with you. What was wrong with you that the girls in kindergarten wouldn't want to play house, inclusive of you? The question of why was so predominantly present in your vocabulary that it presented itself in your mind even as no curiosity to seek answers to was present. The answer was always the same anyway.

'We don't like you because you're a freak.'

Creep. Freak. Oddball. Psycho.

If you didn't know you had an actual name, you'd be convinced that these were your real names with how often you were labelled that. It wasn't like you didn't have any friends, there were friends present but their presence felt as if it existed only because there was some pity.

Not for Gojo Satoru, however.

The first time you talked to him it was near a cheap, a little worn, worm eaten walled—candy shop. The purpose of going there was to pass time, having nothing better to do when all people would do in your class was draw vile things on your desk, how childish. If they had the balls they should tell you those seemingly outrageous incentives on your face, but it didn't matter because you had found your reason for being.

Was he fucking stupid? Offering you one of his sickly sweet candies? Couldn't he tell what you were already?

"Your eyes are gonna fall off if you keep looking at me like that, miss girl" What an infectious laugh. How cute.

"Come on, take it, I'm doing this only 'cause I have an extra" The boy with the white hair sighed and groaned at how stupidly frozen you were in your spot—making the effort to wrap the chocolate bar in your fist, his cold, clammy hands made you wince. He walked away before you could even get out a spur of a word— away with a casual wave of his abnormally large hand.

At first all you could do was stare at the chocolate bar that he handed you, taking a soft sniff to make out a tiny hint of his scent. There was nothing, all blank, as if he didn't exist, as if he was a figment of your imagination.

That chocolate was placed onto your table, tucked between your trinkets like a souvenir. Because it was, it was a reminder that someone made an effort to give you this diabetically sweet chocolate, just because he could. You didn't even dare to open it.

Frequent visits around the same crippling shop lead you to the information that his name was Gojo Satoru, an 18 year old student at Jujutsu Tech, a religious school.

And with a name in your hand, everything was in reach with internet at disposal.

Checking his myspace became a ritual. Satoru was a social person because.. Ofcourse he was. This was your only gateway to him for now but the desperation to know more was catching up.

He was beautiful.

You found him absolutely captivating, a sight that made your heart race with an intense langour.

The more you looked at him the more his beauty became ethereal, a vision that awakened something so grotesque within, it scared you.

Each feature of his face, every move he made no matter how ridiculous it was to others, fueled your obsession further until it was all-consuming. In his very presence that you never came too close to, you felt an overwhelming need to possess him completely, to have him all to yourself. His beauty was like gasoline to your raging flame of yearning, making your desire grow exponentially. For him.

This love of yours made you question yourself, it was idiotic to be in love with someone so unreachable, someone so beautiful. But an idiot is never complete without their mindless optimism for the better.

And you, were truly an idiot.

The way your heart dropped to your guts and your body manoeuvred nausea as if it was the only thing it knew. Seeing an equally beautiful man holding his hand, looking at him with the same longing in his eyes, the one that leveled yours. The pain was shrill, piercing, tinnitus and unbearable.

He wasn't yours.

The walls of your room that were plastered with his face all over felt smaller, it was getting hard to breath. Something simple like air came so difficult, with emotions risen like a tempest making your chest incredibly tight.

He had to be yours. He was yours.

The question of 'why' was up yet again, but this time with burn in your throat so harsh that it felt lacerated and while a thousand knvies gauched into your heart.

Why. Why. Why.

Only one of all the why's you've had in your existence, this was the one you could answer.

A knife like that from him felt bearable enough.

He had to be yours.

Taglist (Open :D) @rinachains

All rights reserved to ©itachiiwrites, 2024. Plagiarism not authorised. Do not copy, distribute my work on other platforms. Reblogs and feeback appreciated!

[mimikittysblog]

♡18:53♡

Pairing: Poly! Ateez x Fem! Reader

Genre: Fluff, suggestive towards the end

Warnings: MxM, pet names, uh reader teases them at the end so ⚠️MNDI⚠️, this one I did not proofread. That’s it I think :/

A/N: Surpriiiseee! I really made this on a whim. The inspiration came out of nowhere and I just had to write it. This is much shorter than the previous one but I do hope you guys like this too hehe! Also this is VERY MUCH a self insert lol 😭 and lastly I know jackshit about league so if I get anything wrong sorry 🙏

Tagging: @faeprincess777 @starygw3n @bee-gremlin @pinkpearlstar @sweetinsaniiity (if you wanna be tagged in my next poly ateez story, texts or not then please let me know!)

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

Being the only girl in this big relationship had its downsides and its perks. One of the downsides is that sometimes there are just things that the boys like that unfortunately you’re just not interested in.

One of them being gaming.

Quite cliche but it’s true.

Now it’s not like you never play any video games with the boys. You’ve guys play some Among Us, Gmod, Dead by Daylight and countless Nintendo games like Smash Bros, Mario Party and Mario Kart just to name some.

Though you don’t play Mario Party that often as you and Wooyoung always end up strangling each other by the end of it, and not the good kind.

Besides that, the list of games you and your amazing boyfriends play doesn’t even end there.

However there will be some games you just don’t care for.

One of them being League of Legends.

Just couldn’t get into it, so you just let that be their thing.

Tonight after a long week of work. The boys thought it’d be fun to treat themselves by renting a room at a nice nearby PC Bang.

Now most times you’d sit this one out and just have some alone time at home. However to their surprise you decided to join.

“I just wanna be around you guys! Your presence is enough. Plus watching you guys play is still fun, even if I don’t join!” You reasoned.

“Hmmm alright.. though if you want our attention or wanna do something else just say so!” Seonghwa said.

“Or just sit in one of our laps princess.” Mingi said teasingly.

Now usually when they are having nights like this, after a while you would eventually take up on Mingi’s offer and sit in one of their laps.

However you decided to entertain yourself another way.

After seeing some girlfriends on TikTok do this with their boyfriends while they’re gaming or watching a sports game. You decided to follow in their footsteps.

So here you are sitting in one of the comfy gaming chairs near Yeosang and Mingi, ipad on your lap with the notes app opened with a grid filled with prompts and the words “BINGO” at the top.

Yes! You decided to play Boyfriend Bingo tonight!

Throughout the night you’ve been crossing off things whenever the boys did something you predicted.

Oh! Yunho’s team won! Thats a check.

“…Guys seriously do you even know how to play?! Come on get it together! San cover me! Oh what seriously??? Guys I’m dying here!…”

Wooyoung yapping for a straight minute. Check.

“…….Yes!”

Yeosang staying silent until the end of the round. Another check.

Huh I’m good at this.

“Sweetheart you sure you’re not bored??”

“I’m sure Hwa.” You say with a suspiciously big smile.

“..okay..”

Seonghwa checking up on me. And a check!

Though somethings you had to wait a bit longer for. But you were sure you’d get them eventually. Hopefully you’d get at least 3 bingos by the end of the night.

However looking at your grid and how you have 2 bingos already, you’re positive you can cross out this entire grid.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

After a good hour you finally got Jongho becoming whiney.

Adorable. And also a check!

“Ah! …Woah!! ..Boom!!!! …Ugh!”

San only making noises for the first 5 minutes. Cheeeeck!

Oh and San suddenly grabbing someone else’s thigh? Jealous. But check!

Hmm I need to fill out this box. You thought to yourself.

“Joooongiieee? When is the food coming?” You suddenly asked.

“Huh?? Oh uh.. any minute now baby!” He replied.

“Oh darling you’re hungry?” Yeosang asked.

“Mhm! Its okay I can wait a bit- oh here it is!” You said about to get up and get the food from the worker.

“No no I got it!!” Hongjoong said as he quickly left his desk.

“WAIT NO HYUNG WE NEED YOU!” Jongho yelled.

“Just a sec!”

Subtly you checked the Hongjoong getting up in the middle of the round box. Before taking your food from him.

“Thank you my love!” You said as you kissed his cheek.

“Of course princess. You sure you’re not bored?” He asked.

“Noooope!”

“Okay the-“

“HYUNG HURRY UP WE’RE LOSING!!”

“The more you yell Jung Wooyoung the more I rather sit here with princess!” He said before going back to his seat.

Ah damn I should’ve put in ‘Wooyoung yelling when he’s losing.’ Oh wait I did! Checkity check check.

You happily continue playing as you eat your yummy food.

Also since you’re a good girlfriend, you go around giving the boys a taste of your food. Just cause you know they’re curious.

Still accepting my food while playing. Check!

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

Finally they decided to play one more round and you only need one more box!!

You’re confident you’re gonna get it though. Cause you know them that well.

And soon enough half of the room at the end of the match screams out in victory while the other half whines and groans in loss.

Aaaaannndd…

“Aaaww Mingles is all pouty cause he lost!” Yunho said in fake sympathy.

“Hmph.”

“Come here Mingi is okay! You’ll win next time! MMMMUAAHH!”

“BINGO!!”

Suddenly they all whip their heads to look at you.

“Bingo?” Jongho asked with a tilt of his head.

“You’ve just been playing Bingo this whole time???” San asked as well.

“Yup! Boyfriend bingo!” You said with a big smile and flipped your ipad around.

“Boyfriend bingo?” Seonghwa asked.

Yeosang then took the ipad.

“HAHA Wooyoung yapping for a straight minute!”

“WHAT?! I DID NOT?”

“I timed it.”

Wooyoung then snatched the ipad.

“Hongjoong constantly going ‘Huh?’! HAHA BABE OMG” Wooyoung then the other started laughing the more they read out your grid.

“DID I REALLY??”

“Yes love you did.” Seonghwa said with a laugh.

“Oh my, you know us scarily well love.” Yunho said.

“I’m your girlfriend!!! I’m supposed to!”

“You really are the cutest thing we could’ve ever asked for!” Yeosang said as he walked over and gave you a kiss.

“What was the last thing you crossed off baby?” Mingi asked.

“Oh! It was you getting a kiss after you lost!”

“YOU KNEW I’D LOSE??? Hmph!! Wooyoung you shouldn’t have kissed me! She would’ve lost!” He whined with a bigger pout.

“…well.. i mean.. statistically speaking you couldn’t ALWAYS win…”

Mingi then turned around in another huff.

“Princessaaaaa!!! I’m sorryyy!! Heheheh” you said as you got up, ran to him and hugged him from behind.

“Will a kiss make it better?” You asked.

“..maybe.”

“He just wants kisses!” Jongho yelled.

“EVERYONE GIVE MINGLES KISSESSS!” Wooyoung then yelled.

With that everyone quickly gathered around Mingi to give him a fat smooch. As he pretended to groan in protest.

And with that you guys all cleaned up and headed home.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

“We should all play girlfriend Bingo next time!” San said as you guys made it back home.

“Ohohooo you think you can beat me? Think you know me so well Sannie??” You said teasingly.

“Oh princess we do know you so well.” Yunho chirped in.

“We’re your boyfriends! We’re supposed to!” Yeosang said mirroring your words.

“Hmmmm! Okay then! Go and each of you make your own grid! Whoever this week can get a full grid like me will get a prize!” you announced as you skipped to the bathroom to freshen up.

“A prize you say?” Hongjoong asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Hmmm whoever wins gets to see me in my newest lingerie first~”

With that you took off your shirt and bra and threw it at them as you lock the bathroom door.

Groans, whines and banging at the bathroom door can be heard as you simply turned up your music.

Let’s see who knows me best!

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

© mimikittysblog 2024

[briar-ffxiv]

Hate to do this, but if anyone can help

TL: DR - Due to a lot of financial strain this year and moving before we planned to with little notice, my cats and my family don't have money for groceries for the next few months. We just need to make it to January and we've been trying hard, eating as cheap as possible, not going out, no extra services, etc. Heck, I only have FFXIV because a friend was nice enough to help.

But now, we're out of money and next paycheck once we cover rent and bills, we'll have less than $30. And unfortunately, we need to eat.

So if anyone can help, I'd appreciate it. Anything. Thank you. <3

Below the read-more are the longer details. If anyone doesn't mind boosting or something, I'd be grateful.

More Details:

Basically, due to having to move at least a year sooner than expected with less than 60 days' notice, we've used up every bit of savings and resources we have. Plus, due to some other financial nonsense, including the past roommates being terrible and my spouse's work using loopholes to avoid paying him overtime, we're finally having a really rough time.

We can just cover rent and the minimal bills. Several months ago, we turned off anything we didn't completely need. That includes streaming services, games, and what have you. Heck, we wouldn't have kept on the internet if my spouse didn't need it for work.

We were just trying to hold on until New Year. The New Year means a mandatory raise for my spouse and his boss has promised it's a good one (due to several years of him getting the minimum under his previous boss who was fired for several reasons). So we've been just trying to make it and just have a few months left.

Unfortunately, with just a few months to go, we've basically maxed out all we can. The next step is trying to rehome my cats to remove the cost of maintaining them, although I hate to do it. I really don't want to. Pretty much every cat I have, I either rescued and/or raised from birth. But I'm certainly not going to let them starve or suffer.

I have been trying for months to get a job, but due to personal things and limited options (only one car with limited gas, etc.), I haven't been able to find anything. I keep sending out forms and not hearing much. Due to gas prices and such, I can't even do UberEats or Doordash or something. I'm at a loss and I feel completely useless in trying to help my spouse at the moment.

I really hate asking. My little Tumblr is just cute stuff with my character, aesthetics, and trying to be positive. I'm just really desperate because I don't know what else to do.

We've looked into state help, but I live in Texas and their "poverty line" is absolutely ridiculous. My spouse makes "too much" for us to get the benefits of any kind of help, even temporarily. Due to the crappy roommates, our credit isn't great and we're already struggling to pay off things so getting a loan is pretty much impossible.

I don't really have any skills that people would pay for commissions for. I'd be happy to do writing commissions or something, but I've never had much luck with that.

So, yeah, I just...I really need some help getting through the next 60 days or so. So if you've read all this, thank you. If you reblog, thank you. If you feel like giving anything, thank you. Even if it's just kind thoughts, I appreciate it so much.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart,

Bard

[sonotcopingatall]

stay with me

momo x fem!reader

synopsis: you and momo share a silent, charged moment, both uncertain yet drawn to what’s unfolding between you.

wc: 1.2k

author’s note: happy MOMO day! i wanted to write something that shows that sometimes silence is the best way to communicate. inspired by blackpink’s “stay”. also NOT proofread, dont make fun of me pls :( (i also know i posted something yesterday for momo but what’s the harm in posting something again?)

the night had settled quietly over the city, a blanket of soft silence that felt strangely heavy. momo sat on the couch, her legs curled underneath her, staring out of the window at the rain that was now falling in sheets. it wasn’t a storm, but it felt relentless, like the sky was trying to wash away something.

she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be washed away or if she just wanted the rain to drown out the noise inside her head. It had been building for weeks — the way her thoughts kept drifting to you when they shouldn’t, the way her chest tightened every time you brushed against her, even the way her pulse picked up when you laughed, when your hand accidentally grazed hers.

the friendship had always been easy, simple. but recently, everything felt… different. she hadn’t asked for it, hadn’t planned it. she had never meant for her feelings to grow the way they had. but there was no turning back now.

momo sighed, her fingers tapping restlessly against her phone, scrolling without really looking at anything. Her mind kept circling back to you. it was frustrating. it wasn’t like she didn’t know you were important to her. you were her best friend; someone she trusted completely. but this… this was new, and it felt like she was teetering on the edge of something she wasn’t sure she was ready for.

the quiet in the room deepened, and momo glanced at the clock. you should have been back from your errands by now. it was late, the kind of late where everything seemed to slow down, where emotions felt more intense than they usually did during the day. she didn’t realize how much she had been waiting for you until she heard the door creak open.

you stepped inside, damp from the rain. the familiar scent of your perfume filled the room — soft, floral, and grounding, and for some reason, it made her heart skip a beat. you didn’t immediately notice her, your eyes still on the ground as you shook the rain off your coat. but when you finally looked up, your gaze met hers, and momo felt like she was being pulled into it, like the whole world had disappeared and all that was left was you.

you didn’t say anything, just stood there for a moment, the space between you two thick with something unspoken. momo could feel it — the shift that had started weeks ago, the quiet tension that had been slowly building. it wasn’t just her. she could tell you felt it too. but neither of you had acknowledged it yet.

she bit her lip, unsure of what to say or if saying anything at all would only make everything harder. she wanted to say something, but words felt too heavy right now. so instead, she just gestured to the space beside her on the couch.

you hesitated for a moment before moving toward her, the sound of your footsteps soft on the wooden floor. when you sat down beside her, the space between you was small, but it felt like an entire world. you didn’t look at her immediately. instead, you pulled your coat off, draping it over the arm of the couch. your body was close enough that momo could feel the heat radiating off you, but neither of you said anything.

the rain outside continued its steady rhythm, the soft hum of it filling the space between you, drowning out everything else. you were both just there. not talking, just being.

momo couldn’t help but glance at you out of the corner of her eye. you were so close, and yet it felt like there was a distance between you that neither of you knew how to close. her heart was thudding in her chest, loud enough that she was sure you could hear it. every time you shifted, every time your arm brushed against hers, it felt like a spark.

she took a breath, trying to steady herself. she wanted to reach out to you, to ask if you were feeling the same way, to do something to break the tension, but she didn’t. instead, she kept her hands folded in her lap, her fingers pressing into the fabric of her jeans to keep them from trembling.

but then, without thinking, you moved closer. just a small shift in your seat, but it was enough. your knee brushed against hers, and momo froze, her breath catching in her throat. the touch was so small, so subtle, and yet it felt like everything had just shifted.

it wasn’t the first time this had happened — this quiet brush of skin, this unspoken connection — but tonight, everything felt magnified. momo could feel the heat of your body next to hers, the warmth of your presence pressing against her. it made her feel alive in a way she wasn’t ready to admit, a way that scared her.

she didn’t know how much time passed, but she found herself leaning a little closer, drawn to you like a magnet. it was almost like the air had changed, thickened with something neither of you had said out loud, but both of you understood all too well.

finally, you shifted again, your hand subtly moving toward hers. momo’s heart skipped, the simple motion so small, yet so full of meaning. for a moment, she was still, unsure of what to do, but when your fingers gently brushed against hers, everything inside her seemed to click into place.

the touch was soft, almost like a question. you weren’t rushing. you were waiting. and momo felt that. she felt the patience in the way your hand lingered, offering her space to decide.

slowly, without thinking, she let her hand fall into yours, the warmth of your skin sending a wave of relief through her. it wasn’t an answer, not yet, but it was a beginning.

you didn’t look at her, not yet. instead, you let your fingers curl around hers, the simple act of holding hands saying more than either of you could have in a thousand words. it was like everything had led to this moment — this quiet, unspoken understanding between the two of you.

momo closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the quiet. the city lights outside, the steady rhythm of the rain, the warmth of your hand in hers — it all felt so still, so perfect, as if time had paused just for the two of you.

without realizing it, momo shifted slightly, moving a little closer, her shoulder gently brushing against yours. she didn’t know what this was, where it was leading, but in that moment, all she wanted was to be here with you.

you didn’t say anything. there was no need to. the space between you had been filled with something soft, something quiet, and the air between you had shifted — just enough to change everything.

momoleaned her head against your shoulder, closing her eyes and letting herself relax into the moment. she felt safe here. she felt seen.

and for the first time in a long while, momo realized that whatever came next, she wasn’t afraid. not anymore.

she could stay like this forever.

echoes of silence, featuring sana | ^.^ | back to masterlist | ^.^ | for you, featuring momo

[puck-luck]

Ooh omg congrats on the 1K!!

I would like to request 5 of clubs with Jack Hughes please. (Maybe with an exhibition kink 🙈)

This isn't quite as clubs-like or exhibitionist, but I've been feeling slightly out of the mood today (I think because I had to make a lesson about the American relationship with Native Americans during colonization... not the most uplifting topic). Hoping for something better tomorrow!

Also I'm watching a 2.5 hour video essay about One Direction's history right now. I love that people can make whatever content they want, and they usually give it their all :)

after typing that i'm realizing that statement is really meta since i'm writing nhl fanfic. sigh. ok fine i guess i enjoy my own content whatever

Warnings: fingering, exhibition, Paul Mescal in Gladiator II WC: 592

You’ve never been one to keep trivial secrets from Jack. He’s your boyfriend and you are thoroughly against miscommunication. Your openness has resulted in plenty of fun jokes for Jack, the latest of which has landed you in your current predicament. You’re in the bougie movie theater that Jack always splurges on, sitting in a plush recliner and watching Gladiator II. Jack thought this would be a fun date night, because– well– you love Paul Mescal. 

It’s something about his nose. It’s very Roman, which you find sexy. Jack knows this, and knows that you’ve particularly enjoyed the costume design of the film, even joking with you about dressing up like a gladiator for Halloween. 

He hadn’t mentioned it again until this morning, which is when he told you that he’d bought some tickets for the film. It had actually been out for a while now, so the theater is relatively empty, but you’d never had the time to see the movie. Jack, after all, had wanted to see it with you… probably because he wanted to pull something like this.

He knows that Paul Mescal is your celebrity crush. You’ve been repeating that to yourself since you realized that it’s the motivation behind Jack’s movements. His touch had been casual at first, just tapping his fingers against your thigh. He’d convinced you to wear a skirt by claiming you’d be going to dinner afterward. You expect that his real reason is that he wanted easy access.

His fingers are inside of you now, petting over your walls. He’s teasing you, moving slowly when Paul Mescal isn’t on screen and thrusting into you at a quicker pace when your crush graces your vision with his presence. Jack also particularly likes drawing circles over your clit as he moves inside you, constantly keeping you on the edge.

“Jack,” you hiss, ready to try and convince him to stop, even though you only half-want his movements to cease. You’re flushing a bit, eyes darting around the theater to make sure no one is watching you. There are only a few other groups in the theater: another couple two rows ahead, a group of university-aged girls near the middle of the theater, two middle aged women in the front row. All in all, there are less than fifteen people in this theater. 

“Be quiet, baby. I can’t have everyone hearing you,” Jack murmurs. He shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth, continuing his movements. He’s acting completely normal, even as your cunt squeezes him tight. 

You bring your hand down and clutch his wrist, trying to halt his movements. 

Jack turns to you. “Do you really want me to stop?” He asks quietly. Paul Mescal starts speaking on the screen and Jack’s eyes flicker away from you to check the screen. His thumb increases its pace against your clit and his fingers flex rapidly inside of you. 

You whimper a bit, clenching down involuntarily. Your knuckles turn white while your fingers grip his arm. Your hips jolt.

Jack quirks an eyebrow. 

“No,” you admit, loosening your grip and allowing him to continue. 

“Just pay attention to Paul,” Jack encourages, smirking at you and brushing a kiss against your cheek. “I’m just here to help you along, baby.”

You scoff quietly, cringing a bit at his words. 

Jack clocks your reaction, his face breaking out in a tiny smile. He giggles to himself, tracing the line of your jaw before mouthing against your throat. “Don’t laugh. We’re having fun. You, me, and your other boyfriend.”

[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.

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

[local-lamppost]

Initial thoughts cause it's 4am

Spoilers

First off, wow... it's really good. I've been saying that if season 2 is as good as season 1 Arcane would be my new favorite show and we are on track. Anyway, just gonna list stuff until I can process/rewatch a billion times

Mel lived! I was so certain that they would just kill her off, make that Ambessa's motive (give Jayce a reason to keep fighting the Undercity) but it's much more interesting keeping her involved in the narrative. Love her trying to bother understand and undermine her mother. Those Black Rose guys best not have hurt a hair on her perfect head.

Speaking of. What in the Utena are these Black Rose magic people? I love the look of their magic. I wonder how they can corrupt people. Is it a spell? Do they slip them something?

Love how the divide of Jayce and Viktor was done. Jayce betrayed Viktor's wishes of destroying the Hexcore. Last season, Viktor wanted to forget about using the core to save himself after Sky and begged Jayce to destroy it when the core wouldn't allow Viktor himself to do it. In Jayce's mind though, the core is the solution to Viktor's problems. He didn't know it killed Sky or that it can influence Viktor, but all Viktor can comprehend is that Jayce didn't trust him. Didn't keep his promise. And this is fresh off of Jayce's season 1 antics against the Undercity, so Viktor's faith in his partner was already shaken. Viktor's also comfortable in his mortality/death, even though he wants to prolong it like every other human, but Jayce can't fathom loosing Viktor-the man who saved his life and made his dreams reality.

(Side note: Am I a JayVik shipper? I never considered myself one, but after writing this...)

JINX HAS A KID! I love this choice. Give Jinx a kid so she is able to learn what Silco and Vi had to go through with her, that no matter how big or dangerous a scheme to take this child into account. The confrontation in ep 3 really showed what Jinx will have to consider now that this kid's decided to adopt her as an older sister or something. Especially nice detail of how Vi-who has always had to consider the kids in her life-immediately stops fighting and starts looking for ways to keep the kid safe.

I was wondering how Jinx would loose a finger and Caitlyn shooting it off to save Vi is just- The fact that the only way these two can show they care about Vi when it comes to each other is by hurting the other.

Sevika's new arm is fantastic. It's a peace offering from Jinx, but also a way for Jinx to feel better (it was something she could fix). The mechanics of it are really fun. It reminds me of Kite's weapon from HxH with how it didn't always work/give her what she wanted in the fight. I especially love the victory rockets and built in theme song.

Ambessa is so interesting. Between her character song to the introduction of just what she is fighting against, I am very intrigued. She reminds me of Cersei Lannister, except she loves her kids as more than just extensions of herself (as of what we've seen, but I think that'll stick). Her using Salo to establish herself-which also keeps Mel safe by distancing her-but also dropping him in order to prop up Cait at her first opportunity is such a clever move. She truly is the fox and the wolf, but she is above all a mama bear.

Not much to say about Heimerdinger or Ekko yet, but I am definitely curious to see what they do about the wild runes with Jayce. The three of them have a fun dynamic, what with Heimerdinger still being peeved about magic/being ousted, Ekko hating topside and having a new reason to do so with them poisoning his tree, and Jayce being recently seperated and divorced from both his partners.

Vi is an enforcer. I didn't know how they were gonna handle this, but they did it so well. Of course she wants to fix things for the people her sister hurt. She feels responsible. She can say she doesn't blame herself, but how true is that? Why else would she be wearing a badge if not for her guilt? She is desperate to do something right and being an enforcer seemed to be a way to make Cait happy, get her gauntlets (what she believes is necessary to make any kind of change), and be first in line in the hunt for Jinx. She says that her sister is dead, that Jinx is a desecration to Powder's memory, that they are not sisters but isn't it supposed to be 'nothing is going to change that'? How much of all this is just something Vi is telling herself to keep going? Cait is her motive right now, but after ep 3 I definitely see why she starts spiraling.

(2 Side note: Her new best friend/drinking buddy is such a real one. They have a bender in the gutter together and now he's following her into and out of the enforcers. I wonder if he knew Vander? In any case, he is a delight.)

Cait and Vi kissed... CAIT AND VI KISSED! Then NOTHING HAPPENED AFTER! NOTHING! No immediate break up, nope.

So Cait. I love Cait and I am hyped for her arc this season. I am ready to fight tooth and nail for her. I am a Caitlyn defender. So what she's being manipulated into leading a military state due to her grief/unresolved anger/guilt/Ambessa being better at this than her, she looks amazing in her cape. It balances.

Seriously though, the writing for Cait especially is so solid. She is desperate to hold herself and her family together, to protect her city. She still wants to protect the innocent, to heal the Undercity, but her anger at a select few of those she wants to help is clouding the greater image for her. Vi seems to be acting as her better half, the side that cares for the innocent-the protector. Ambessa is the agressor, encouraging Cait to take drastic military action against the Undercity as a whole. Vi's disillusionment with Cait is due to the fact that Cait desire to heal, not harm, is what caused her to fall for Cait to begin with. To see more than some privileged topside enforcer, but a woman who genuinely cared and was willing to abandon her peaceful naivety to learn for the greater good of strangers.

I'll also point out that they separate when Cait starts blaming Vi for them loosing Jinx. Before, everyone but Cait put responsibility on Vi, she was supposed to be the one to help lighten the load and absolve some of the guilt. Now Cait is becoming another one of those who slam the blame on Vi. She changed. Why does everyone around VI change?

Can't wait for the next batch of episodes.

[ivys-garden]

Life Series Session Recap and Alliance Analysis

Pearl opens her episode clarifying she and Impulse did nothing wrong. Finally I don't have to write “get over double life, tumblr” every week.

Yes, another Saturday means another instalment of the Life Series. This session was far more chill and slow paced than last weeks, ironic considering that this week's Wild Card was a perpetual speed increase! Going from a complete time freeze to full hyperspeed. Naturally, this led to about a 7.5 on the madness scale, so let's see what those teams were up to.

The Final Girls - (Scott, Cleo, Pearl, Impulse & Bigb (not anymore ;3 ))

On the topic of Pearl and Impulse, Cleo decides that they will fully enable all of they're future actions. Yes, she might sigh when they talk about all the evil stuff they're going to do, but she's fully on board.

Right about now Scott is probably regretting being team mum for three chaos gremlins as he's already had to instruct them not to give Gem any more reasons to kill them & had to break up the fight that was issued once they all went Matrix mode.

Speaking of Gem & Joel, a new development in the great drama sees Impulse explain himself and apologise to Gem. She doesn't buy it but it's the thought that counts. During this apology Pearl, the attack dog, is ordered by Gem and Impulse to slaughter grian. So while Cleo and Scott go off to make friends, Impulse and Pearl pop over to Rens for some very serious murder discussion, with an eventual “let's murder Grian” party forming consisting of Pearl, Impulse, Ren, Martyn, Bigb, Scar & Jimmy. If even a fraction of these people stick to this next session Grian is pretty firmly doomed.

In other news Scott manages to make allies with the Bamboozelers through several means, including staring at Jimmy's ass. Cleo & Impulse have a little caving adventure and Impy manages to make a working Creeper farm that they may or may not be sharing with Renwood. This leaves Pearl once again building the tower, which is good since she has arguably to much experience in that

While building the tower we get more Drama! Grian and Mumbo managed to get a quick kill on Scott early on the session by digging a big pit under the tower and spleefing him in. Mumbo and Skizz later come back to this trap only to be discovered by Pearl. The Suits try to get her to lure Scott over, but Pearl is far to loyal for that…. But not loyal enough to kick them out, reasoning that it would be really funny if it happened twice. On top of this she negotiated the ability to kill grian without them stepping in, very useful given her current plans & the second spleefing doesn't work anyways, so no harm no foul.

No one would actually agree to luring their team to their Death intentionally… right Bigb?

I'd say I'm surprised, but I'm not. He's worked again every team he's been in except Nosey Neighbours. I guess the “B” must stand for “Betrayal”

Bigb pulls the same thing Pearl did only not under the pretence of a joke, when Grian is around to actually make sure his team gets the kill, actually agreeing to lure Scott and doing it INFRONT OF CLEO. This being the second time this has helped to them, Cleo immediately goes off to find Scott to warn him about the traitor…Scott still falls into the trap anyway but that was a skill issue on his part. Bigb actually tries later to gaslight Scott into thinking that he didn't mean to betray the team, which almost worked until he started saying Cleo was the traitor, which obviously Scott would never buy. Oh he also did this in earshot of Cleo so she set her attack dog (Pearl) on him.

Bigb also later betrays the “Let's Kill Grian Gang” and warns Grian about the plan to murderficate him. I guess someone hasn't gotten over Double Life after all.

The Fast And The Furious - (Joel & Gem)

Actually, the fast and the paranoid might be more accurate as while Joel is just off having a grand old time prattling speed bridging, Gem is terrified that everyone is out to get her and doesn't seem to understand that putting your base on the main path means more people will come visit.

Aside from sending everyone they can to kill Grian and disregarding Impulses genuine apology, the team due doesn't really do much themselves

Gem was officially the last person to lose a life though, with no less than 4 people, including 2 greens, having to help kill her.

Also Joel added racing stripes to the car and… it actually made it a lot less hideous, well done Joel.

The Bamboozelers - (Jimmy, Scar & Lizzie)

Jimmy has regained the title as most confident member of this team…scarily confident in fact, just this session he was able to steal a potential kill from Skizz & kill his teammates, get another good kill on Joel using Lizzie as bait, managing to turn his relationship with Joel around to become allies and reaffirming his alliance with Renwood. Honesty 100 IQ plays from Tim all around.

He did die once this session, but that wasn't his fault and was also incredibly funny to watch Martyn bimbo his way through traps made for Bigb and accidentally kill Timmy. Great job everyone.

Speaking of failed traps… oh Scar… he started of strong, absolutely annihilating Etho in slow motion and living up to the villain he shares a name with by tossing him off a cliff, but after that every single attempt to trap someone fails miserably and he's forced into a cheap kill on Grian that results in him calling for vengeance… wouldn't be to worried about that tho considering Skizz and Mumbo's track record.

The Spanners - (Mumbo, Skizz & Grian)

How are these idiots not dead yet.

They get one (1) successful kill this session, spleefin’ Scott. A trap Mumbo tries his luck with several times after this despite knowing the Final Girls already knew about it.

Skizz gets no kills despite Grians efforts. An attempt to build a super TNT minecart launcher is made… on Scars mountain… and Grian spends several.minutes explaining to his worst enemies how the trap works… and then he and Mumbo stand directly under where they know the TNT will land. Yeah obviously Jimmy sneaks in and pulls the lever to kill them.

A second attempt to launch TNT is made, but this launcher is pathetic and ends up being turned into a party game. oh, and then Grian gets hotguyed by Scar. Grian immediately screams vengeance and blows up the reputation board, ranting about how little it meant since he was in good favour… which only proved he never read the damn thing but it's the thought that counts.

In their last hoorah for this session the team goes on a proper hunt The Bamboozelers as they hide in Joel's car. Mumbo sneaks up to pure lava on them… and burns himself to death. He then tries to hypersonic pvp Gem and you can guess how that went. He then joins in trapping Gwm in a big hole and burning her, only for the kill to go to Ren anyway.

These guys are Doomed. Especially because Final Girls & The Family are allied with Scar & The fact that Renwood actively wants to murder them.

Predictions: Grian goes Yellow next session, Mumbo goes out-out and Skizz is somehow still Red.

Renwood - (Ren & Martyn)

We actually covered everything these guys did already, The Grian Murder Crew, Martyn being a trap bimbo, Ren allying with Impulse to make up for beheading him, really the only thing we haven't discussed is Martyns strange choice to make the first 5 minutes of his episode unlistenable

The Tuff Guys - (Etho, Tango & Bdubs

Etho finally admits they're the comic relief. Like any good comic relief, these three stooges spend the entire session failing at everything. Tango fails on the same trap 3 times. Bdubs almost kills himself in said trap. There's more fights and bickerings than you could count on 15 hands and a toe

Oh also Tango also perma-died to Pearl after going invis and being pumped full of arrows.

Honestly it's not a question of if someone dies next session, it's a question of who.