#but like the teenage album ones are so much more expensive??

[eunhos]

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[elizaleclerc]

Hello, I love your writing, can I request Charles Leclerc x singer!reader where they already knew each other back when they were teenagers but the reader moves to LA to pursue her career so they kinda feel off cuz of the long distance, so years later Charles decides to surprise her at one of her concerts and tries to shoot his shoot after all those years they end up together and it's all fluffy and cute.

Sorry if this doesn't make sense english is not my first language, thank you <3

love this!!! tysm <3

birds of a feather ✿

charles leclerc x reader

summary: fem singer!reader reignites an old teenage love with famous driver charles leclerc

songs: birds of a feather by b.eilish, the 1 by t.swift

author’s note: mostly cute and fluffy but had to add a bit of angst oops! inspo from billie’s new album obv bc that’s all i’m listening to rn. also some google translate involved so oops again if it’s wrong :)

word count: 4k

In the luxurious city of Monaco, you and Charles were cruising along the winding roads late at night, a favored pastime for the two of you. The cool breeze tousled your hair as the windows were rolled down, filling the car with the scent of saltwater and adventure. You stole a glance at Charles in the driver's seat, his face adorned with that familiar boyish grin, his eyes sparkling just as they did on the day you met him.

The car zoomed down the winding road, its expensive engine purring like a contented cat. Despite its luxurious interior, Charles had no qualms about letting you put your feet up on the dash. The scarlet sky painted with streaks of orange and pink was the perfect backdrop for this drive at sunset.

One thing different about this drive at sunset was that one of your own songs was playing on the radio. At only 19 years old, your song “Birds of a Feather” was reaching the top of the charts worldwide. At any chance he got, Charles would blast it at full volume whenever the two of you were together. It only made sense considering the song was about him.

You and Charles had been inseparable since childhood, a bond that felt unbreakable and essential to your very existence. Over the years, you both had your fair share of romantic partners, but it seemed like none of them could compare to the connection you shared. Despite any ups and downs in your own love lives, you and Charles always found your way back to each other, like two ships anchored together in the stormy sea of life.

Of course, there were fleeting moments when you wondered if there could be something more between you and Charles. The thought would cross your mind as his hand brushed yours or when he made you laugh until your sides ached. But those thoughts remained just that - fleeting and unspoken. You both cherished your friendship too much to risk changing its dynamic.

But deep down, underneath layers of familiarity and comfort, there was a quiet longing that neither of you acknowledged. A shared understanding that there was something more between you than just being best friends. And although it was left unsaid, it was an unspoken truth that added a layer of depth to your friendship.

The bass of the song throbbed through the car, drowning out Charles' words as he spoke to you. You strained to hear him over the music, but all you could see were his lips moving in time with the beat. "What?!" you shouted comically with a grin, and he reached for the volume knob to turn it down.

"I said, it's only a matter of time before you're touring worldwide," he repeated with a small smile. You shook your head in amusement. Charles always had grand visions for your music career, dreaming of reaching the stars and achieving the highest goals even when you couldn't imagine them yourself.

“You’re only saying that to be nice,” you playfully bantered with him, knowing deep down he truly believed in your talent.

A wistful smile crossed his face as he replied, “I’m serious. Before you know it, you’ll be in L.A., living your dream and making music for the world.” His words had a bittersweet edge to them, causing your own smile to falter. There was truth in his statement - Charles had just signed with Ferrari and would soon be the busiest he's ever been in his career as a Formula One driver. You were endlessly proud of him and all that he had accomplished. It feels like just yesterday when you both were just kids with big dreams, but now here you are, actually making strides towards achieving those dreams. Even with a hit song on the radio and promising opportunities ahead, you still felt like you were ages behind in becoming someone big in the music industry. And the thought of possibly leaving your best friend behind as you pursued your dreams weighed heavily on your heart.

He noticed the solemn expression on your face, his eyes full of understanding and affection. "Ah, come on," he said gently, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You know I mean that in a good way." His voice was warm and sincere."L.A. is a hotbed for the music industry right now," he continued, his excitement palpable. "And haven't you always talked about wanting to go to the States?"

You nodded slowly, unable to contain a small smile at the thought. "Yeah, but...I can't even imagine us being apart for so long," you admitted with a hint of sadness. "We've never been separated for more than a week. And even then, you were blowing up my phone every day." You couldn't help but laugh at the memory.

His own laughter rang out, contagious and genuine. "So now you know that when you're in the U.S., you won't have to worry about us not talking," he reassured you. "Clearly, I can't get enough of you." His words made your heart swell with love and comfort. Despite any ridiculous or anxious thoughts that may cross your mind, you were always reminded that the bond between you two could stretch thousands of miles.

About a week later, you had hired a manager with the help of your parents and were looking at record labels to sign with. Your social media pages were blowing up with new fans anticipating and begging for new music. It was a rightful step for a singer who had just had a song blow up, to make more music.

After many phone calls and contracts, you decided on the best deal to sign with the record label you had always wanted. With a location in Los Angeles, Sony Music Entertainment was your new employer. 

As the days passed, the familiar childhood bedroom in Monaco slowly transformed into a maze of boxes and packing materials. The bittersweet scent of nostalgia clung to the air as you said goodbye to the people and places that had shaped you. It was early February, just before the newest Formula One season started, but Charles seemed to be swallowed up by his work, juggling the responsibilities of being their rookie driver. In those fleeting moments between racing events, he squeezed in time for you, knowing that soon you would both be consumed by your separate paths. On the last night together, you took a nostalgic drive around town, savoring every street corner and landmark. As the sun dipped below the horizon, you returned to your house - now empty and cold without all of your belongings. The silence hung heavy in the air as you sat side by side, cherishing these final moments together.

You both sat on your bed as you rested your head on his shoulder and asked, “How did this even happen?” 

“Your talent will always drive you towards success, how could it not happen?” He replied and it made your eyes water. You weren’t sure how you were going to adjust with your time apart. You’ll miss his advice and little jokes. You’ll miss your late night drives around Monaco with him, taking in the cool air.

As he turned to face you, his piercing eyes caught the glistening trails of tears streaming down your cheeks. His own expression shifted from concern to sadness as he took in the sight of your heartbroken state. With a heavy sigh, he reached out to gently wipe away a stray tear from your cheek and murmured, "Please don't cry." Your eyes met his with a solemn understanding, but your bottom lip began to quiver despite your efforts.

You couldn't help but notice the glimmer of tears in his own eyes, which only made your own tears flow even more freely. Together, you both sat on the edge of your bed, gripping each other's hands tightly as you cried until it became almost comical at just how much emotion was pouring out of both of you. In between sobs, he managed to let out a small laugh and said, "It's not even an actual goodbye, I'll see you again soon.”

You couldn't help but laugh along with him through your tears. "I know," you replied with a watery smile. "I'll see you before I know it.”

But as the night wore on and the hour grew late, the reality of tomorrow morning's early flight to L.A. began to sink in. Despite wanting to hold onto this moment for as long as possible, you both knew it was time to say goodbye. You stood up and shared one final embrace, his arms enveloping you in a tight hug while yours rested around his neck. The warmth of his body and the familiar scent of his cologne brought a sense of comfort amidst the pain of parting ways.

“Tu vas me manquer mon amour,” he whispered by your ear, which made you squeeze him tighter. 

“Tu vas me manquer davantage, Char.” You replied with a raspy voice, your cheeks still wet with tears. He blew you a kiss before walking out the door.

~ 5 years later ~

The electric energy of Los Angeles, California pulsed through the air as you walked towards the venue on the opening night of your highly anticipated second tour. Fresh off the massive success of your second album, fans from all over the world were eagerly awaiting your performance tonight. You could already hear their screams and see their signs, some bearing your name since the very beginning of your career. Your first tour had been small, just a few cities in the U.S., but now with your skyrocketing fame, this tour would take you to stages across the globe. The thought of performing for thousands of people in different countries sent a thrill through your veins. As you approached the entrance, excitement and nerves intertwined within you, ready to take on this new chapter in your music career.

As you nervously waited backstage, dressed in a stunning white gown for your highly anticipated opening night in Los Angeles, your mind couldn't help but wander to a familiar name: Charles. The two of you had been inseparable during your first year in L.A., constantly talking and supporting each other's dreams. But as time went on, his calls and texts became less frequent until they eventually stopped altogether. You found yourself relying on social media to keep up with him and were happy to see that he had found success with Ferrari, but also couldn't shake the feeling of hurt and confusion as to why he had suddenly disappeared from your life. You debated reaching out to congratulate him on his wins, but deep down, you knew it wouldn't make a difference.

The next years after that became hard, and you struggled to make genuine connections with anyone in the industry. You found that often other artists wanted to use you for their fame or publicity. But you had found one genuine person, your boyfriend. The two of you dated for two years, but two weeks before the opening night of your world tour, he broke things off. You were devastated, as he had become someone you loved dearly and could trust with your whole being. His reason was that he realized he couldn’t handle your level of fame and that it was becoming too much for him to handle. 

So here you were, backstage, reminiscing on your career up until this point. Your mind ran over the setlist a thousand times. “Birds of a Feather” hadn’t made the cut for this tour, and you stopped performing it all together once Charles had stopped communicating with you. You weren’t sure why he was on your mind so much for your opening night. 

As you stepped out onto the stage, a wave of excited nerves washed over you. But with each step and movement, your confidence grew until it radiated off of you like a second skin. The bright lights illuminated your white dress, making it glow against the dark backdrop. You knew this dress well, having spent hours upon hours rehearsing in it, mastering every twirl and flick of the sleeves. And now, as you sang and danced flawlessly, you felt like a true star. Every note was hit perfectly, every movement graceful and deliberate. It was as if you were born to be on that stage, commanding the attention of everyone in the audience. The familiar click of a metronome and the muffled directions from backstage played in your in-ears, guiding you through the performance like a well-oiled machine. You had become a masterful performer, honing your craft to perfection.

You wished you could remember every moment of this night as you went through the setlist. You performed “the 1”, a song from your most recent album. Fans speculated it was about the recent split with your boyfriend, but really in your mind you knew it was about Charles. Your fans mostly were unaware of Charles and the old friendship the two of you had. He rarely talked about you in the media, and you were never asked about him, even though the two of you were individually growing more famous by the day.

As the final song ended, you returned backstage, the sweat dripping down your face and your body heaving with exhaustion. This tour was more physically demanding than your last one, with intricate dance routines and high-energy performances. But it was all worth it as you heard the crowd's roar of approval after each song and saw their hands in the air, singing along to every lyric. The adrenaline rush and satisfaction of a flawless opening night kept you going despite the fatigue setting in.

You got a flood of compliments from your team and the crew backstage as you felt the dewy feeling of sweat on your forehead cool down. Your manager came up to and wrapped you in a big hug, congratulating you and updating you on the next steps for the tour.

“I know you don’t typically meet people after shows, but there’s actually a visitor here for you. He was pretty persistent.” She told you as you stood outside your dressing room. 

“Who is it?” You asked tiredly, not wishing for long interactions with people after the show. You were worn out, and typically napped or slept through the night after a long show. 

“He said his name is Charles Leclerc. Went on about how you guys were childhood friends. He showed his ID and credentials so we allowed it.” Your manager explained everything and as she was speaking your face became flushed. Charles was here, in L.A? And your management had allowed him to meet with you. You were partly in shock and partly frustrated with how easily he was able to persuade your team.

“Well…where is he?” You asked, and your manager pointed to your dressing room door. “He’s in my dressing room?” You questioned in a surprised voice, lowering your voice in case he could hear you.  

“We weren’t sure where else he could’ve waited. He made it seem like he needed to have a serious talk with you.” She explained further and you put your head in your hands. You couldn’t believe the words that had come out of her mouth, and thought that maybe she was joking. You thought that you’d open up your dressing room door and it would be empty, earning a loud laugh from her and a “Got you!”

As you slowly opened your door, still clad in your flowing white dress, your heart caught in your throat as you saw Charles sitting on the plush brown leather couch. The air was thick with surprise and a tinge of nervousness, evidenced by Charles' fidgeting hands rubbing against his pants. You could barely breathe as you managed to utter a breathless greeting, "Hi."

He stood up abruptly, his body language tense and unsure. “Hi,” he replied.

The silence hung between you like a heavy curtain as you asked, "What...um...what are you doing here?" Your fingers instinctively ran through your slightly tangled hair as you waited for his response, feeling both overwhelmed and curious about this unexpected visit.

As he stood before you, he seemed to struggle with his words, his voice catching and pausing as if trying to contain an overwhelming emotion. You gazed at him in awe, taking in every detail of his changed appearance. The dimple in his cheek still deepened when he spoke, the same crystal eyes sparkled with unreadable emotions. But now his shoulders were broader, defined muscles rippling beneath his shirt, and his neck had thickened with strength. It was clear that time had passed, but it had only enhanced his features instead of diminishing them. "I," he finally managed to say, his gaze never leaving yours, "I came here to apologize." You couldn't believe he was standing in front of you after so long. And in this moment, all you could think about was how much you missed him and how different things could have been if he had stayed.

“Apologize?” You repeated, awaiting further clarification. 

“I’ve missed you terribly.” He began to pour out, finally getting a grip on his words, “Every day we haven’t been together has haunted me. You’ve plagued my dreams, my every waking thought.” He took a swallow, “I see you online, doing amazing things, and I just feel this guilt that I’m not there with you.”

You could hardly believe the words he was saying. You felt the same, you missed him every morning you woke and every night you went to sleep. Yet you felt a tinge of resentment. He could have been there, he could have responded to your dozens of calls and texts. 

“I’m sorry, mon chérie.” He finished his speech.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and your eyes watered with emotion, your face contorted with hurt. Your voice came out breathless as you spoke, "Char, why didn't you call?" Your heart ached with longing and you couldn't understand why he hadn't taken action to bridge the distance between you. The unspoken desire between you was almost tangible, making the current situation even more painful for both of you.

“My ex-girlfriend, once we got together she saw how often we communicated and told me that I couldn’t talk to you anymore. And I thought I loved her so much that I was willing to do whatever it took. But…it turns out…” He paused, looking you in the eyes. 

“What?” You questioned, waiting for him to spit it out. 

“It turns out as the years went on, that I just loved you.” He said as he stepped closer. 

“You don’t mean that,” You denied shaking your head, a single tear running down your cheek. 

“But I do,” he grabbed your hand, “I think I’ve always loved you.”

You broke out into a grin while tears still fell, and wrapped your arms around him, burying your head into his chest. “What took you so long?” 

“I’m sorry mon amour, I guess I was just too stupid to actually do anything. But I love you, I love you so much.” His arms wrapped around your waist, kissing the top of your head. 

You pulled back and placed your hands on his face, admiring his mature features. He took his thumbs to wipe off the tears on your face. “I love you too,” You told him and he grinned. “Will you finally kiss me?” 

His lips met yours in a gentle, yet passionate, kiss. As your heart raced and butterflies fluttered in your stomach, you couldn't help but smile as his lips moved against yours. It was your first kiss with the love of your life, a moment that you would never forget.

You had always known deep down that he was the one for you, but you had spent so long convincing yourself that a friendship was all it could ever be. But now, as you felt the warmth of his embrace and the intensity of his kiss, you realized that the love of your life could also be your best friend - the person who knows and understands you better than anyone else in the world. And in that moment, you were grateful for every step that had led you to this perfect moment with him.

Charles had to return to his Formula One season, but the two of you called every day. He made it to shows on your tour when he could, and when you traveled to France to play your home show, he was there for every minute of it. 

The crowd knew that this show was special, and fans had picked up on the new romance between you and Charles. Everyone was loving it, and older fans finally put the pieces together on the connection the two of you had. So for your home show, you played “Birds of a Feather” for everyone as a surprise, with Charles in attendance. The song had only changed meaning slightly, as you sang it with more love towards him than you’ve ever had before. Headlines were soon filled with your name along with his.

As the next year rolled around and January came, the two of you were inseparable at award shows, him proudly by your side for every one of your achievements. His smile lit up the room and his hand always found yours in the sea of people. Even when you won your first Grammy, he was there in all of your acceptance speeches, his eyes sparkling with pride.

As the year went on and you took a break from touring, you joined him on the road during his racing season. The roar of engines and smell of burning rubber filled your senses as you watched him race with skill and determination. The paddock quickly became like a second home to you, with fans flocking to meet the both of you. The Ferrari team welcomed you with open arms, treating you like family. It was a dream come true to be able to share this passion with him, and you couldn't imagine a better way to spend your time off.

Charles never dulled your shine; in fact, he basked in its radiance. He was not intimidated by your fame, but rather, he reveled in it. As you both shared stories about past relationships, Charles' understanding became apparent. He may have been known for different reasons, but he knew the highs and lows that came with celebrity status. Together, you formed an unbreakable bond of understanding and support. Life had become akin to heaven with Charles by your side, a constant source of love and grounding amidst the chaos of fame.

Together, you moved into a luxurious apartment in the heart of Monaco. The spacious living room had been transformed into your personal music studio, with instruments and recording equipment scattered about in organized chaos. The walls were adorned with posters from your past tours and handwritten lyrics. Charles stood by the window, looking out at the stunning view of the city below, while you strummed your guitar on the plush couch. The sense of security and stability he brought to your life was palpable - his presence assuring you that he would always be there, no matter where your music took you. As you played him your latest compositions, his fingers effortlessly danced across the keys of the piano, adding depth and richness to the melodies. Together, you created magic in that space - harmonizing not just in music but also in life.

As you laid in bed one night, your head rested on the pillow turned towards him, you caught him staring at you. You grinned, “What?” 

“Nothing, I’ve just never seen someone more beautiful before in my life.” He told you in a low voice, smirking at you. You rolled your eyes playfully, knowing you should’ve expected him to shower you with compliments. 

You placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, “Je t’aime chéri.” 

You both settled into bed, cuddled up next to each other. He kissed your temple, “Je t’aimerai toujours plus.”     

[insertcoolusernamehereee]

The inheriting games (What do the batfamily inherit)

Duke:-

-*Now, who gets Wayne Enterprises? Well the most common (and boring) answer is Tim, which? I understand, it even said in a comic book that his name is on the paper, but if Tim wants to run a company, he can take Drake enterprises!

-*And Duke is so smart! He was solving Riddlers riddles in 7th GRADE! And, he just feels like the type of guy to be able to run a business nicely! He’d be able to separate enough funds for the Justice League easily!

-*At first, the idea of running a company (With Luscious Fox obviously) is daunting, but after a few months, Duke realises how much he loves it. The routine, the ability to help people even without the mask on? It was exhilarating.

Jason:-

-*Jason inherits the Mansion.

-*I hear you! Why in the world would JASON inherit the mansion? Well, Jason was raised in the streets. He knows best what it’s like not to have a proper place to sleep. I feel like, Jason would make the mansion a place for wandering heroes/people to stop by.

-*Like all his friends would come over sometimes, or any hero who needs a break/place to rest. Or it’s just a place for family to hang out. If the family instead hangs out at the Penthouse, then it can also be a place where people who don’t have a place to stay/who need some energy can stay. It’s still there home though. It holds too many memories.

Cassandra:-

-*Obviously shes Batman. Must I even explain?

-*She inherits the BatCave and everything, and it means the world to her that Bruce trusted her with so much.

-*Cass is the one who could have become the evilest, and most dangerous villain of them all, but instead chose to be a hero. One with the most firm no kill rule. The one, who in Bruce’s eyes, could become an even better Batman than himself.

Tim:-

-*So, Tim doesn’t inherit the Business. Dang. Y’know what he does inherit? Bruce’s CAR collection.

-*If you want to tell me Brucie Wayne, one of the richest and dramatic people alive, who built the most iconic car ever, DOESNT have the most EXTRAORDINARY AND EXPENSIVE Car collection known to mankind, argue with the WALL.

-*I don’t know how to explain it, it fits Tim so WELL. He’d love the car collection, he’d pull up to his siblings and friends house everyday in a new car, and it annoys his friends and family SO MUCH. Classic Nepo-Baby behaviour tbh.

-*I feel like Bruce giving him the car collection, instead of anything serious is a sign. Tim was slowly BECOMING more like Batman (whereas Damian was the one who came defaultly as Batman, and his arc was to find his own person), and since at times Bruce didn’t let Tim have fun, it’s a sign from him now to let his teenage, rebellious side kick in. Have some fun.

Dick:-

-*Dick, our favourite Diva, what does he inherit? He inherits all of Bruce’s Jewellery/accessories!

-*Dick, Bruce’s first ward, the one with the most similar past, who became the hope the people needed instead of the fear.

-*Also, Dicks extra and fashion loving self would LOVE the accessories. More ways to somehow make the most fashionable stuff look terrible on anyone else but me!

-*The jewellery and accessories would be a very layered way of Bruce telling Dick to sometimes take some nights off. It’s okay to be human, and do normal things, like taking too much time choosing which watch matches his outfit, or what belt to match with his shoes.

Damian:-

-*ooh~ What does Damian inherit? Damian, the one who used to, in a faraway past, boast about the fact that he was the blood-son to hide his insecurities of never fitting in, or disappointing his father in some way? He’d inherit the albums, and the family heirlooms. Special objects that held not much value financially, but so much sentimental value.

-*The albums with photos of when Bruce was a baby, to pictures when Damian finally outgrew Duke and Tim. The pearl necklace that Martha wore, and the watch that Jason fixed.

-*Damian wouldn’t need money, I feel like he’d either get a very well paying job, or steal money from the league of assassins (‘It’s not stealing Drake, it’s MY inheritance anyways, so stop sticking your nose in other families business-‘)

-*He’d treasure the stuff so much 😭 He’d keep looking at photos of Bruce when he dies :)))

!!!EXTRA!!!

Stephanie:-

-*Yes, Stephanie gets something. Because while Bruce might not be her father, she’s still part of the family. Somehow.

-*She gets all the….BATMOBILES

-*Yup, you heard me. Cass is Batman, Tim has the cars, but somehow it’s STEPHANIE who ends up with the BatMobile.

-*So, mostly the reason was because of how funny it would be, but it’s also how much Stephanie would LOVE it. And of coarse it’s a layered message here as well.

-*Bruce seemed to have trusted Stephanie the least. He was the worst to her as Robin, and she ended up dead, and after THAT, they’re relationship was far from ‘good’

-*Now, because of the strained relationship, Bruce would NEVER let Steph ride the Batmobile, right? He doesn’t trust her, and, I mean, he doesn’t let DAMIAN ride it with consent- But him giving her the Batmobile is basically him saying ‘I was wrong to not trust you’, and it’s a sort of apology if you will.

-*(Tims ecstatic when he finds out he gets all the cars, but when he finds out Steph got the BATMOBILE?

‘SHE GETS THE BATMOBILE?’ ‘IM ON THE WILL?!’)

Barbara:-

-*Barbara gets all the contingency plans for the Justice league. Cass didn’t. This was Bruce’s way of telling babs how much he trusts her, and how mature she really is now.

-*He didn’t give Cass the contingency plans, not because he doesn’t trust her, but because…He thinks Babs would appreciate it more.

I know what ur thinking; Cass is Batman, Steph has the Batmobile, and Barbara gets the contingency plans? How does that work? Well, it’s basically Bruce encouraging Cass to let people help her, something he struggled with, and one of his biggest flaws.

Selina:-

-*if for some reason (They’re idiots I SWEAR TO GOD), they still weren’t married after he died, she gets the most beautiful diamond, pearl ring known to MANKIND, and a very heartfelt note.

-*If they were engaged/Married, Selina gets all the safe houses that Bruce owns around the world. He would want Selina to travel, and move on.

Commissioner Gordon:-

-*Commisioner gets to know Batmans identity (what it was before), and even if he already knew it, it’s the thought that counts.

-*He also gets a gun…wrapped in a sheet, with a note stuck on it. It had nothing to do with how Joker died, found in an alleyway, shot in the gut. At least, that’s what Barbara claims.

Bruce’s Money in his Bank account:-

-*His kids don’t need the money so.

-*20% goes to Clark (he begrudgingly accepts it, remembering the time Bruce gave him cash on his bday. Bruce always had strange ways of showing love.)

-*Another 20% goes to Dick, another 20% to the Justice League, and the remaining 40% to charity.

[kolbietheaggrievedwriter]

luke is losing so hard for someone who was the main protagonist, therefore i'm electing "do you have a picture?" with ian because no one else is playing wingman for him!

Could be canon ;)

-

"Do you have a picture?" Luke smiles at him hopefully and nudges him gently with an elbow, like some big dog knocking against his hand for a treat. He hates how endearing it is.

Ian holds out for as long as he can, but he eventually breaks, as he always does. He's never been able to truly say no to Luke. He hasn't suddenly inexplicably gained the strength to do so now.

He sighs and pulls out his phone. He quickly finds his mom's profile on Scrapbook, which is privy only to friends and family by necessity, scrolls until he finds the album dedicated to him alone, and then opens the picture in question. 

Luke had watched the entire process from over his shoulder, and he makes a soft, awed sound as he gets a good look. "You're so cute!" He declares in a hushed, reverent voice, like he's appreciating a timeless work of art in the museum and not an old, kind of blurry photo of six year old Ian in a suit and tie. "You look so serious! It's adorable."

Ian can admit he was a cute kid, but all kids are cute. He doesn't think it's as novel as Luke is making it seem. "That's the only time I've ever worn a suit," he says again instead of addressing the compliments.

"Have you never been to a wedding? Or a funeral? Some kind of fancy party?" Luke asks. "My mom stuffs me in formal clothes any chance she can get, even now that I'm an adult."

Ian snorts. "Mine knows better." Formal clothes are too restrictive. He can't help balking at anything that restrains him more than he already is. Besides, he gets into far too many fights to risk wearing anything expensive. 

And anyway, his mom never forces him to go to her work galas or especially public events because she knows it makes him uncomfortable. Ian draws attention wherever he goes, both good and bad. He went to a wedding once as a teenager and ended up breaking up no less than five couples, including the bride and groom, and that led to a massive brawl during the reception. He hasn't gone to one since.

Luke looks like he wants to ask why, but he knows by now that Ian won't reveal any more than he has already. "Do you think your mom would accept my friend request?" He asks instead.

Ian locks his phone, dimming the screen to prevent Luke from trying to memorize his mom's username. "No."

Luke pouts at him, but he holds firm. He's never introduced his family to any of his friends or little brothers, and he's not about to start now. He draws a hard line between those aspects of his life.

"Let's go," he says, beginning to walk away. Luke falls into step beside him like he knew he would. "You promised me lunch."

Distracted from his sulking, Luke brightens like a little sunflower. "I didn't forget! I found a place I think you're really gonna like! It's not too much farther." He grabs Ian's wrist and walks even faster, tugging him along like a puppy on a leash as he ostensibly leads the way, and doesn't let go.

Ian looks down at his hand and then up at Luke's red ears. He feels a burst of fondness, then, sudden and undeniable, and doesn't pull away.

[planetkiimchi]

people watching | b.c

no. 4 of my song collection

featuring: producer!chan x ceo!reader, and the rest of stray kids in varying positions in the music industry

word count: 12352

warnings: pg13, quite a bit of swearing, vomit, alcohol, rooftops (?), crying if you don't like that, angst

summary — you’re a hurricane, and chan knows this all too well. you’re the one who crashed into his life on a regular afternoon, bringing him into the middle of an industry he’s always been at the edges of. he would never like to fall in love with his boss, but you’re a lovable tornado, and for all your chaos, both of you still love to sit down and take a break. those who know, call it “people watching”.

playlist. people watching by conan gray ; 18 by one direction ; wolfgang by stray kids ; omg by newjeans ; coping by rosie darling ; dna by lany

a/n: there’s a little bit of … smau hints here. i guess. i’m not really sure what to call it. also, 12.5K words ? that’s so crazy. i wanna thank my beloved @blue-jisungs for beta reading this. i know you had a headache n everything but thank you so so much for your comments n feedback, it def feels so much more polished w your help <3 and as always i hope y'all enjoy!

if you liked it, REBLOG it.

prologue.

Y/N’S MOTHER WAS A MUSICIAN. A few years back, she started up her own business producing records, but after a while the company still wasn't doing that great. As her child, Y/n took an interest in the company and began to start promoting it better.

You found several producers that you enjoyed listening to music from, and with some promotion (and help from your brother Jisung), everything went swimmingly.

By some miracle or other, the company, SFX labels, accidentally went viral on TikTok. You had Jisung to thank for that, because he was the one who had found Seungmin to manage the online presence of the company. People started taking an interest in your company, and you built up your brand on finding indie music makers and making them big.

Jisung also helped to find amateur musicians or producers with potential, and trained them, teaching them how to become better at their craft.

However, over time and as the company grew, you found your position growing more and more mundane. Your work was boring at best, soul-sucking at times, and you found yourself wondering how you went from passionately enjoying your work to the place you were at.

Your mother suggested you take a break, and you decided to wander around "Lonely St.". It was a little alleyway near your old residence, and was so fondly called because it was a narrow street where many beginner indie musicians frequented. Shops that sold music albums and instruments lined the street. Often shaded, the street was safe from crowds and human traffic was low.

When you were younger, you had often gone there with your mum on visits to see the producers and musicians there. While she tried to strike a deal with them, you would busy yourself with the gadgets and music paraphernalia. Some were expensive, but that was just how music was.

Everyone there was friendly and as you grew into your early twenties, you used to go there for inspiration, bringing home your ideas and channeling them into music. Sometimes your mother would help you develop it, leading to the songs stored on your laptop for nostalgia.

Seeking to rekindle your passion for music, you headed over to Lonely St. and went into the second shop, one with posters tacked up on the wall.

The store was silent, but not eerily so. Instead of cobwebs and dust covering the room, it was all colourful band posters and stickers, all the records neatly stacked up in piles. You barely had enough space to walk, but it only felt cozy, and not too crowded at all.

The decor reminded you of a gothy teenager's room, instruments hidden in the corners and the soft humming of a song playing through the speakers, lyrics indiscernible. Among the magazines and albums you found a man hidden deep inside his work, frowning in concentration.

You cleared your throat and he looked up; you recognised him vaguely but didn't dare to ask. It had been years since you had come to the store, surely he wouldn't remember you from his time working there.

He didn't recognise you, nor did he know that you were now the CEO of a music producing company.

He greeted you in a friendly manner, but looked clearly agitated as he wanted to get back to his work. You dismissed him with a wave, telling him to concentrate on his music while you browsed through old records of musicians you had grown up listening to.

Time passed differently in places like that. Secluded, detached from the outer world, it was so easy to get lost in the dusty archives of history. Songs told tales people didn't understand, like a language with familiar sounds, yet indiscernible the more one tried to listen to it.

In liberal spaces like that, with light filtering through the cluttered windows, you barely realised that two hours had passed. The labyrinth of songs had you hooked, and you would have stayed there all day if you could. You picked up an old CD of an album you vividly remembered playing at your eighteenth birthday party, and picked it up to ask if the man could put it on for a bit.

However, he looked engrossed in his work and you didn't want to disturb him. He worried his lip and tilted his head, groaning softly in frustration. Clearly what he was doing wasn't working for him. You didn't want to disturb him; you knew he would be annoyed, but you needed to go home soon.

You carefully placed the CD case in your hand back down; startled by the sound he glanced up suddenly, realising how silent the store was without the rustling sound of you browsing through the endless albums.

"How may I help you?"

You were tempted to ask him to play you his song, but that might be like intruding on a private part of his soul. You would know how it felt.

You fumbled in your purse for a business card. Would that be too odd? To go, "Hey, I run a company, I think your music would be great even if I haven't heard it yet"? Because you somehow had the gut feeling that he would be perfect, and you knew your instincts never failed you.

You shook your head and dismissed those thoughts. You didn’t want to make him feel awkward. Instead, you decided to buy the record, and the man proudly showed you that it had been signed by the singer.

“It’s a little more expensive, though, because of that. That’s why it hasn’t been bought yet,” he told you sheepishly.

“Oh, that’s fine. I don’t mind spending a bit more.”

He clearly expected you to change your mind when he showed you the price, although you knew from experience that signed records tended to sell for much more, so you were already prepared.

It was, after all, a small price to pay for the discovery of the man himself.

HE FREQUENTED YOUR THOUGHTS for the next week. Even buried in work, with papers piling up for you to sign, projects waiting to be approved, people looking to sign with your label, and managers looking to clear the policies on dating for the singers under them, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

The mysterious song producer who made music on the side while he ran a music store along Lonely St. had caught your eye, and was not likely to leave your mind anytime soon.

You really wanted to get to know him better, but you had no time. Besides, people didn’t often go to stores with strangers to buy expensive items. Usually, they would go once they’d established a rapport with the people there. Lonely St. was there for the community, not just the things they sold and the treasure trove of advice and ideas the people harboured.

You tapped your fingers against the table impatiently as someone knocked on your door. You glanced at the clock and sighed. If you could, you would have liked to get off work early, but it was still two hours before your official working hours ended.

“Come in,” you called.

Your assistant, Seungmin, entered the room. Looking around at the mess of papers that lay on your table, he sighed loudly and obviously.

“What?” you asked defensively. 

“I sent the papers in neatly, organising them by manager and then group or singer in order of importance and urgency. I even had different stacks of folders for projects, people looking to sign with us, and policy issues. And you just leave them strewn around? You really don’t appreciate my effort, do you?”

You scrunched up your nose. “Sorry, Seungmin. Promise I'll get to filing them away later. I'm just not in the mood right now.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is this because you have too much work? I heard you went to Lonely St. last week. Was the break too short?”

You nod unhappily. “I really want to go back, I think I stumbled across a real gem there. I saw someone making music and I'd love to hear it, he sounds like he’d be great for our label and I want to know what kind of concept he would fit.”

“But?”

“But he’s a stranger! I daren’t ask, you know how I get about these sorts of things.”

“Hm.” Seungmin looked through his phone, then smiled at you. “Well, I think you’re in luck. Jisung just texted me about going to Lonely St. to ‘run some errands’. He said he’d go with Minho-hyung, but he’s busy with work too. I could fit it in your schedule if you get all of this organised for me to return to everyone who’s waiting for it.”

You nod. “That sounds good. So, is tomorrow too soon?”

“No,” Seungmin said, taking it down. “Enjoy yourself, Y/n-ssi.”

“Thanks, Seungminie.”

SOMETIMES YOU WONDERED where Jisung got his upbeat personality from. Personally, you were a very chill person, and both you and Jisung were introverts, like your mother. Your father was more outgoing, but none of you were particularly high in energy besides Jisung.

It was quite intriguing, you mused to yourself, humming quietly as you waited for Jisung to arrive. You were early, but you couldn’t disguise your excitement. You’d finally get to meet the man again! Hopefully, he would be there and not somewhere else. Many of the shop owners took turns hiring different part-timers looking for a side job to make a bit of money while they sought an agent or company willing to take them.

Fortunately for you, Jisung was a lucky charm. You went with him to pick up a few magazines for him to decorate his room. Ever since he was a teenager, he’d been a collector of photos, and whenever a magazine cover featured his favourite artists, he couldn’t help but to buy it to add it to his collection.

His room was filled with posters and magazines, but somehow it hadn’t turned away any of his friends or lovers.

Once you’d picked up what Jisung wanted, you dragged him by his wrist to the store named ‘St(r)ay Away’. You loved the play on words, and that was what had drawn your mother in as well when you first went there.

Behind the counter was the man you’d been looking for. He was tapping away at his computer, mouth pursed in concentration. He glanced up when the ringing bell sound signalled your entrance, and smiled at both of you, eyes lighting up when he caught sight of Jisung.

“Ah, Jisung, hello! Good to see you again. I see you’ve got new magazine covers?”

Jisung grinned proudly. “Yep! Look, Twice-sunbaenim even did an interview inside! I can’t wait to read it when I get back.”

The man nodded. “And this is…?”

“My sibling, Y/n! they brought me here, actually. Y/n, are you looking for something?”

“You,” you blurted out, staring incredulously at the man. Seriously, what was it with Jisung and his charm? You could never have made friends with someone the way Jisung did.

“Chan?” Jisung asked you, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Ah, nothing. I was just surprised to see him again. I came here last week, and spoke with him when getting my album. I was particularly interested in what song he was arranging.”

“Oh, that. I was just working on a few songs for myself. I'm looking to release them, but I haven’t found anyone to help me with that yet,” Chan explained.

“You know you can always sign with us, hyung.”

“I don’t know if I'd fit your concept. And your label is so big! I might be overshadowed and I wouldn’t like that.”

“Jisung’s right,” you interject. “You’re welcome to sign with us, if you’d like. here’s my business card, in case you’d like to speak with me instead of—” you looked Jisung up and down— “this fool.”

Chan stifled a laugh, taking the card from your hands with a slight bow of his head. “I'll consider it.”

“And send me a song or two! I'd love to listen to what concept you have going on so I can match you with someone who understands your creative vision.”

Chan bowed his head again. “Nice meeting you, Y/n. And thanks for dropping by, Jisung. See y’all next time!”

SEUNGMIN RAPPED IMPATIENTLY on the door. He didn’t even wait for you to invite him in, which was odd because on normal days Seungmin did at least have the manners and the dignity to wait for your reply before barging in. He might have had a tongue that was quick to lash out and a well-hidden sailor’s mouth, but he wasn’t often rude in terms of entering.

“It’s Minho-hyung,” he managed breathlessly. “I had to run up because the lift wasn’t working, but that’s the message I got downstairs. Minho-hyung’s back in town.”

You swiveled around in your chair and raised an eyebrow skeptically, gesturing for Seungmin to sit and catch his breath, all the while humming as you thought about what this could mean.

Minho was your and Jisung’s childhood best friend. You grew up together, and your fathers played music together on the weekends, while you kids got together for a marshmallow-roasting by the fire. You knew everything about Minho that there was to know about him, and one thing about him was that he simply could not settle down.

He had spent five or six years as a dance teacher by now, having started out young. He was always restless, and it had been you who had suggested he go to a dance lesson with you. Ballet had left a terrible impression on him but a couple years later he did pick up contemporary in school.

He later expanded his repertoire to street jazz and hip hop, and more specific skills like popping and waacking. Two years back, Jisung had invited him to join SFX labels as a choreographer, and each one of his dances had outdone the previous one.

But the thing was… Minho never grew out of his restlessness. Even as a young adult, he itched to move about – not just in a physical manner like dancing but on a larger scale, like travelling around. It was lucky for him that he was tall enough and looked good, so you could sign a contract with him as a model under SFX labels. He then had the opportunities to fly around the world and sightsee, all the while earning money and enjoying himself.

It was a really good deal, if you could say so yourself. Perhaps not something that would suit your taste, but to each their own.

Since he had signed on as a model and you stayed in Korea to manage SFX labels, you hadn’t been able to meet up with Minho at all. So him coming back to Korea? That was quite the news.

Besides, Minho knew how to make an entrance. He wasn’t one for blitzy and glammed up spectacles, but he knew how to do just enough to make heads turn and subtly draw the attention of everyone in the room to himself. He brought his own spotlight wherever he went, and this instance was no exception.

It was interesting that Minho had chosen now to come back, because in two weeks’ time, your company was having a party to celebrate its 5-year anniversary. Your entire family would be there, of course, and even your father, who liked to keep a low profile, would probably have to clean up and make appearances. Just to keep up the reputation.

You hummed away, lost in your thoughts. Seungmin’s breathing eased and you turned to him. “Is he free?”

Seungmin shook his head regretfully. “I’ve already asked Minho when he arrived. He said he was busy, but he would definitely meet you at the company event. Specifically, Minho wanted to be your plus-one.”

You tilted your head to the side. Minho as your plus-one? That was funny. Usually that would imply that you had some sort of higher rank than him, and although you technically did, he was still older than you by a year and had held that over you throughout your entire life. Besides, Minho had his own invitation. In fact, he should be bringing someone you hadn’t met before as his plus-one.

You and Jisung usually went as each other’s plus-ones, that way you couldn’t get into any dating rumours but you also wouldn’t look like lonely old people with no friends. You were each other’s best friends… or at least that’s what you thought.

If Minho wanted to change things up, you weren’t going to object. It was time Jisung got an official date, anyway. Wasn’t he sick of only ever having lovers for a month? This would be a good change for everyone.

You nodded at Seungmin, right before a notification flashed on your screen. Seungmin excused himself while you clicked on the notification curiously.

You immediately clicked on the files, regretting it only a little. Sure, you had more work to do, but they wouldn’t be as interesting as what Chan had sent you.

As expected, Chan’s demo-style sample got you engaged and hooked right from the start. He was very intentional in his use of unconventional sounds (did you just hear someone growl? You hoped not), and it was something refreshingly new from the constant lull of K-pop producers chasing trends.

It was raw, and clearly written just for him. It wasn’t really polished the way one cleaned up their works when they wanted to send them to someone. It felt like a first draft, something that definitely had potential but was still in the works.

You couldn’t tell if the lyrics were meant to be changed later on but you didn’t want him to tweak it much. You enjoyed the use of both English and Korean (though you had to admit, your English wasn’t very good, so you had to search up some of the words he used) and the style of the rhyming. His vocals were good, but not polished-strong. It sounded a bit husky, but he could definitely carry a tune and hit the notes he wanted to.

And the rapping definitely caught your attention. Of course you had heard good rappers before, but Chan just stood out somehow. Maybe it was the tone of his voice or his flow, but something was just… different. And you liked that.

You didn’t know if you had anyone available who could match his style, though, and you told Chan that.

You immediately dialed Seungmin to let him know how things had turned out, and asked him to send your apologies to Minho, and ask him to go with Jisung instead. It was definitely going to be an eventful party.

YOU NEEDED SEUNGMIN. Or Jisung. Or even Minho. Just someone to keep you grounded. The party was too busy and too noisy and you were finally starting to understand why your father preferred to stay at home and chill, because it was absolutely suffocating.

Conversations were happening everywhere, and polite greetings streamed out of your mouth without a second thought. You had to bow to many people but you could barely remember their names, even though you had seen them plenty of times before.

You breathed heavily in and out and your eyes scanned the crowd for Jisung. Where was he? How was he? Would he be able to take over for you while you found somewhere to rest for a bit?

A hand tapped your shoulder and you whirled around, catching sight of a familiar face. Chan. A wave of relief washed over you, and you grabbed his extended hand for support and shook it.

“Glad you could make it.”

“Me too,” he replied. “Are you alright? You look flushed.”

You shook your head. “No, I need to get away from here. But first, I need to find Jisung.”

Good things must come in series, because you finally spotted Jisung in the crowd, chatting happily away. Your social energy was drained but considering Jisung’s wasn’t, you should be okay to leave the scene for a bit.

“Ji,” you told him softly in his ear. “I need some fresh air, I’ll pop out for a bit.” He nodded absently and you caught sight of his jacket on a chair. “And if you’re not using this, can I borrow it? I’ll return it to you later.” He nodded and waved you off, his conversation never pausing for even a second.

You slid your hands in the jacket, grateful that you and Jisung were of about the same size. It fit like a glove, and was warm enough for you to head outside with Chan, onto the balcony.

The balcony was empty save for one person, gazing out across the wide expanse of Seoul onto the streets, brightly lit by streetlights. A whoosh of cool air hit your face, a breeze whistling past your ears. You quickly shut the door behind Chan, and he hovered behind you, unsure what to do.

The person in question turned, and your eyes met Minho’s. He was as tall as you remembered, gaze as clear and sharp as it was in your memories. He held his arms out and you collapsed into his embrace, warm and inviting around you. “I missed you,” you murmured.

“Me too.” He got down from the ledge and pulled out a chair for you to sit, finally seeming to notice Chan’s presence.

“Oh. Minho, meet Chan. Chan, meet Minho.” You stretched your lips in a nervous smile as Minho gave Chan a once over. You had seen Minho do that before, and it was the most nerve-wracking thing ever. He would slowly trail his eyes down your figure, analysing every piece of clothing you owned, your jewellery, your makeup if you had any, your smile, your eyes, your hands, even the shoes you were wearing.

And, if he deemed you worthy, he would nod. You would sigh in relief, of course. That was only polite.

Chan, however, didn’t seem to get the memo. He cocked his head as Minho swept his gaze over him and smiled when Minho nodded, proffering his hand for Minho to shake. Minho took it, and you—of all people—sighed in relief.

You gestured for Chan to sit opposite you, and Minho drew himself a chair next to you, crossing one ankle over his knee and leaning back languidly. It almost looked like a challenge to you, but Chan didn’t take the bait.

“Soo…”

You quickly became engrossed in your discussion with Chan, who, to his credit, ignored Minho for the most part and stayed completely focussed on what you were saying. You managed to discuss a price he was willing to work for, and agreed that he would release a mini album by the end of four months, with the help of one of the agents whom you’d convinced to clear her schedule.

Chan was very agreeable, only offering a different opinion when it came to his work style. He said he preferred to work in “St(r)ay Away” rather than in the studios you had, claiming that the “people watching” was good for inspiration.

You always wanted to give your artists creative freedom and control over their work environment as far as possible, so you promised to make the necessary arrangements.

Tapping on the glass interrupted you, and you turned your head at the same time as Minho to see an eager Jisung waving excitedly at both of you. Minho got up, engulfing you in another hug.

“Don’t drink too much,” he murmured. “Try not to do stupid shit. Yes, you’re a consenting adult, and no, that doesn’t make you immune to the influence of alcohol.” You nodded obediently and patted him on the back before he hurried off, anxious to catch Jisung before he got lost among the crowd again.

You sat back down and watched Chan out of the corner of your eye. As you talked with Minho, he had watched you carefully as well, noting the soft, protective tone that Minho spoke with and the ease with which you agreed. He had pulled his phone out of his pocket and began furiously typing away, humming to himself as he did so.

Curious, you thought. That was what you did when you got inspiration as well.

The lights inside seemed to get brighter as the night sky darkened, the stark contrast drawing your attention to it. You noticed Changbin, your ex, who was dancing with Jeongin, Hyunjin and Felix on the dance floor. They were having the time of their lives, finally having some freedom under your label after transferring.

The freedom in question was demonstrated when the first thing Changbin had done was to ask you to be his significant other. You probably shouldn’t have agreed but you were young, stupid and in love.

He was handsome and a good rapper but most importantly, he was kind and respectful towards women. He was also funny when he wanted to be, and all in all it had really sealed the deal for you. Only after the rumours and scandals started to threaten both of your careers, had you given in to the pressure and broken up. There were no hard feelings, but residual attraction remained.

You bid goodbye to Chan, who was already engrossed in his own thing again. He followed you back into the warmth of the building, only to settle down in one of the comfortable chairs and busy himself with his own things.

Hesitantly, you made your way towards Changbin. Although it was a company event, it wasn’t very uptight and controlled, so there were drinks being served and music being played. It was almost midnight and the mood had clearly shifted towards a more energetic, crazy mood, and Changbin was very much at home.

When he finally saw you, the world fell silent. Your breath hitched in your throat as you waited nervously for his response. Everything else had fallen away, and for a moment it was just the two of you existing in the continuum of time.

“Y/n!” He called, hugging you tightly. “It’s so good to see you again.” You greeted each of the members politely, and Hyunjin stared at you, mouth agape.

“And here I was thinking the Biny/n crumbs twitter account was the only way I could see the two of you interact again.” You rolled your eyes at Hyunjin’s sassy remark, inwardly comforted by his (however backhanded) welcoming words.

“Let’s get some drinks and talk,” Changbin suggested, and you followed mindlessly as he ordered drinks for both of you—a margarita on the rocks for you—and you sat down, amazed that he still remembered what you liked after all that time.

It was so easy to fall back into step with Changbin, it almost felt like no time had passed at all. He was still the same cheerful, positive person who had so much going on in his life. You, on the other hand, were still the one who lent a listening ear, shaking your head exasperatedly when he told you of the shenanigans he had been up to.

Of course, the two of you drank, and drank, and drank. He told you a funny story, and you drank out of a need for your hands to be occupied. You told him of your troubles, and you drank to drown your negative thoughts, he drank out of solidarity. He told you of the injuries he had sustained, you told him to be more careful. He laughed. “Yolo!” Both of you drank.

Drunk minds speak sober thoughts. That’s what they said, wasn’t it? It must have been true because you would not have been able to catch up with Changbin for so long if you had been sober. The conversation would have dwindled when it came to a sensitive topic, and the atmosphere would have grown awkward.

But it was easier when you were drunk. Everything seemed to spill out of you like the liquid courage you were consuming, and no barriers remained to hold anything back. It flowed and it flowed, words that you would never had uttered if you still possessed any form of sobriety.

Changbin must not have noticed, because he did not comment. You were both too flushed and too drunk to form any kind of coherent thought, and the only thing you wanted when the world started spinning was to get away from everything. You excused yourself to go to the bathroom and Changbin stumbled after you.

However, he was too drunk to walk straight, and was quickly taken away by Hyunjin with an apologetic smile towards you. You didn’t see it, consumed only by the bile in your throat and the swimming of your vision.

You went to the bathroom, only making it as far as the one meant for wheelchair-bound persons when you collapsed over the toilet bowl, unvoluntarily regurgitating your previous meal.

The taste of mushed up food remained in your mouth, the acid burning your throat. You looked at yourself in the mirror and you sighed, rinsing whatever was left out of your mouth and washing your face. You also removed any of the minimal makeup you had applied to make yourself look presentable.

Your eyes looked smaller, and you could now see the imperfections on your face, but at least you were authentic. Right?

You pushed the door open (it had closed by itself) and almost slammed it in Chan’s face.

There he stood, arms hanging awkwardly by his side, watching you with concern. You wobbled, and his arms subconsciously stretched out to catch you. You leaned onto him for support and he tried to help you walk away from the toilet.

“Where do you want to go?” Chan asked you worriedly. “You really don’t look good, Y/n-ssi. I think you should go home.”

“Mm… Can’t. Need to find… Jisung. He’ll know what to do,” was all you managed before you passed out, slumped in Chan’s arms.

Fuck. Chan stared at you, completely flabbergasted. What should he do? He had never had to deal with drunk bosses before. Sure, he had dealt with his fair share of drunk friends, but never someone who was superior to him in rank, much less a stranger whom he had just met a few weeks ago. 

He decided to bring you back to Jisung, when Minho spotted him.

Minho’s eyes hardened and his smile disappeared into a thin line when he spotted Chan holding your body, leading you away from the gender-neutral bathroom meant for wheelchair-bound people.

He had been talking to Jisung and catching up with Jeongin and Felix, finally loosening up as the evening progressed, and Chan just happened to be in his line of sight.

And, of course, you. Of course you had ignored what he had told you and gotten drunk and blacked out. Of course you ended up in the arms of a man he didn’t know, whom you had been talking to when the night was still young. And best of all, of course you had to be dragged out, unconscious, from a bathroom. Who knew what could have happened to you inside the bathroom?

“Ji,” he called once, loud enough for Jisung to hear, before he made his way over to you, all but snatching you from Chan’s arms.

He shifted you in his arms so he could comfortably carry you, bridal style, glaring at Chan. “I don’t really know who you are, but if I find out you’ve done anything to Y/n, you’re a dead man.”

Jisung rushed over to his side, his smile falling off his face when he saw what was happening. “Chan-hyung? Minho-hyung? Anyone would like to fill me in?”

“I saw him with Y/n, dragging their unconscious ass out of a toilet. Who knows what he’s done to them,” Minho replied viciously before Chan had a chance to answer.

“Chan-hyung… seriously? I thought you and them were just friends,” Jisung said disappointedly. Chan tried to defend himself, but both Minho and Jisung turned their backs on him, Minho pressing his forehead to yours as he carried you out to Jisung’s car.

THE NEXT MORNING, you woke up to natural light streaming in through the windows, and the delicious smell of pancakes wafting in from the kitchen. You hurriedly dressed and got out of the room, spotting Minho and Jisung whispering to each other urgently as they sat at the table, clearly waiting for you to make an appearance.

“Morning.”

“Morning. I tried to tell Minho-hyung you were old enough to deal with a hangover yourself, but he just wouldn’t listen.” You looked carefully at Minho: at his disheveled hair, his bloodshot eyes, and the messy creases in his suit from the night before. He looked like he hadn’t slept a wink.

As if reading your mind, Jisung explained, “He sat by your bed all night, afraid you would wake up and have some horror story to tell about last night. He didn’t sleep at all.”

Poor Minho. He definitely needed his beauty sleep, but it was alright because he was pretty either way. You checked your phone; luckily Jisung had had the presence of mind to help you charge it and you had received several messages. A couple were from your parents, telling you to sleep well and let them know if anything had happened, and from Seungmin, Hyunjin and Changbin, in that order, asking if you were okay. Seungmin also asked if you were coming for work or calling in sick. The last one was from Chan. He asked if you were okay, if Minho was mad at him, and if you were going to reconsider the deal. He’d understand if things had changed, he said.

You told him it was still on and Seungmin would deal with the logistics. You replied to everyone, explaining that you were fine and thanking them for their worry. You told Seungmin you’d be late but not to any meetings. You’d be there in an hour, you said.

You told Jisung that you needed a lift. He told you to take your things and he’d meet you in the car once he took his keys.

Minho watched you blankly, too tired to function. You tilted his chin up to get a good look at him, sighed when you saw the bags under his eyes, pressed a kiss to his forehead and thanked him for bringing you home; for noticing you passed out even when there were so many other people there blocking you from his sight.

He returned your smile tiredly. “I’ll always be there for you. We agreed, remember?”

You did.

WORK WAS SO DRAINING, all you wanted to do was go home and sleep. You would give anything to leave the room and the discussion, and the meeting being about the most mundane things ever was not helping. Obviously you understood the importance of market share and dealing with your competitors, but you were not in the mood to listen to the board’s insistence on rebranding or some other form of expanding your target audience.

Was this what corporate life was like? Because you definitely weren’t cut out for it. Your eyelids were drooping and you were dangerously close to collapsing on the table if it weren’t for the caffeine running through your veins.

Seungmin had greeted you with coffee that morning, “under Minho’s orders” to make sure you weren’t too hungover and also to keep you awake. It helped keep the headache at bay, and you thanked Minho.

He hadn’t replied yet, so you assumed that he had finally gone to get his beauty sleep, glad that you hadn’t asked him to drive you that morning.

One of the board directors was talking your ear off, and you had almost forgotten about Chan. At least, until he clocked in for work, claiming to have “reached his studio”. It was accompanied with a goofy selfie of him at St(r)ay Away.

You were confused by how comfortable he seemed to be with texting you and also his excitement to get to know you, which showed through his messages. But it was cute, and you were starting to warm up to him.

Chan was insane. He sent you a picture of the progress he had made and you were glad you could be there to keep him accountable. You ran a company and you couldn’t do that for everyone. But then again, you didn’t personally recruit everyone, and not everybody helped get you out of a creative slump. So you supposed you could make exceptions when it came to Chan.

He shot you a quick text, saying “going home now! you should too 🥱” and the corners of your lips lifted in the smallest of smiles. It was only something small, but the gentle reminder to take a break and not to overwork yourself made your day.

Still grinning like a fool, you dialed Seungmin’s desk and told him to go home as well, a skip in your step as you made your way to Minho’s car. Since the company event, he said he wanted to drop you off at work and pick you up to keep you safe. (How crazy that he cared for you more than Jisung did; Jisung didn’t give enough fucks to give you a lift to and from work.) In return, you offered for him to stay at your and Jisung’s place, and he took up residence in the guest room.

He opened the door for you, asking you about your day. You told him of all the boring administrative things, keeping to yourself the texts that Chan had sent you. They were just a one-time thing, you thought to yourself. Sooner or later, the novelty of texting you would be lost, and Chan would not check in with you anymore.

You couldn’t be more wrong.

Chan continued to text you about your day every day for the time period leading up to the release date for his album, for which a name was pending. He didn’t seem to send you any more songs after that, which you sorely missed.

He probably didn’t dare to overstep his boundaries, which you understood. But you didn’t want him walking on eggshells every time he interacted with you. So one day, you impulsively told Chan that you could be a beta listener for his songs if he wanted to send them to you. You didn’t do that for everyone, because you’d be a very busy person, but Chan’s music style appealed to you. Plus, you were constantly intrigued by what was going on in that head of his.

When Chan sent you four songs that he was planning to put in his album, you were pleasantly shocked by how he seemed to be outdoing himself. Having a purpose and a cohesive theme across several songs allowed him to express himself better, and when giving him feedback, you found that you were genuinely excited for his release.

You checked your email for any updates from his agent or his manager, and entered the release date on your calendar. You wanted to be free on that day so you could congratulate him in person.

You were thinking about this as you exited your car from the passenger side, Minho coming out from the driver’s side. For the month that he had been in town so far, he had consistently driven you to work every single day. You joked that not only was that the longest amount of time he’d ever spent in one place, it was also the commitment that he’d stuck to for the longest time.

Sleepily, you laid your head on Minho’s shoulder and sighed tiredly. You really wanted to go home. The real reason that you were hanging on through all those boring meetings was that you were looking forward to Chan’s release, and you had to keep the company going for that to happen.

It was funny. Ever since you had visited “St(r)ay Away”, you felt like something was missing. It had been a brief but much-needed reprieve and without that feeling of “wow, this is what music is supposed to sound like”, you felt a sense of emptiness.

The sense of emptiness continued throughout the entire day, only intensifying when you were in the presence of Jisung’s “partners” (whom you greatly disagreed with). Their creative vision of the company was going to absolutely destroy all your morals and everything you stood for as a CEO. You wanted to promote small groups, give artists freedom in their music and emphasise on uniqueness, not follow the same concepts that were “trending”.

You didn’t care if it wasn’t as financially beneficial as the marketing gimmicks the partners had thought up, you wanted to stay true to your family and your own ideas. Besides, in the long run, were they really going to priorities their monetary gains over the mental health and the passion of the artists?

Clearly, they had no qualms about squashing the creative ideas that their artists had. “They’re i-doll-s for a reason,” one of them even joked. Jisung looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t speak out.

Annoyed with your brother and everyone in the room, you looked down at your watch and found that it was time to go home. Telling Jisung to deal with it but not make any decisions yet, you took your leave.

The door swung open and somebody stumbled back. You quickly stepped out and shut the door, coming face to face with Minho and Chan.

“Oh. Hi,” you said, forcing a smile onto your face as you looked at Chan. You hadn’t gotten your daily selfie that day, and you’d texted Chan about it, but he hadn’t read your text for the whole day.

When you turned to Minho, you saw a muscle in his jaw twitch ever so slightly. His tell. “Minho? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said, trying to casually brush it off. But you knew him better than that, and you weren’t just going to let it slide. Recalling the way he had been looking at Chan when you first turned to him, you deduced that it must have been related to Chan.

Speaking of which, why was Chan in the building? You and he had already agreed to let him work in his store, why had he specially come down to SFX Labels, and why today of all days?

As if reading your mind, Chan rushed to explain, “For some reason, my agent disagrees with your idea for me to release a solo album. He wanted me to produce music for I.O.U. because he and the manager are friends. I had to set up a meeting with the managers and producers, which wasn’t great. The members were friendly, but the producers were terrible. They couldn’t agree on whether they liked the music or not and constantly bickered the whole time I was there. The concept, style, and even the lyrics of their previous songs were completely different from mine, so I really wonder whose idea it was to invite me.”

You shrugged. “Stupid people are everywhere. Contrary to popular belief, I can’t be responsible for the actions of every individual under the label.”

The muscle in Minho’s jaw loosened, and he let out a snort. “You’re pretty stupid sometimes, too.”

“Not as stupid as Jisung, hopefully.”

Minho grinned. “Not as stupid as Jisung.”

CHAN KEPT HIS DISTANCE from you and Minho, close enough to keep you in his sight but far enough not to hear your conversations. Leaning tiredly on a wall, he looked up at the ceiling and sighed.

He hadn’t told you, but he thought Jisung had driven you to work in the morning when he spotted you getting out of the car. He was just about to go over and say hi to his favourite Han siblings, but got cold feet when he saw you resting your head on Minho’s shoulder. He was half thrown off by Minho’s constant affection towards you, half thrown off by how cold Minho was towards him.

Remembering Minho’s glare and his hug to you and how upset he had been finding Chan carrying your drunk self away from a public restroom, Chan had hesitated, finally deciding to just go in and not greet the two of you.

When he left the studio that evening, he was both exasperated and frustrated. He had wanted a creative, collaborative experience, not an argument he felt the need to mediate. That was why he preferred to work alone in a (mostly) quiet place and he regretted listening to his agent instead of consulting you.

He had been engrossed in his unhappiness, not watching where he was going. He hadn’t texted you that morning because of the Minho incident, and you had asked him about it. Chan had just been about to reply with two selfies (one to make up for it and one for the end of work) when he crashed into Minho. Minho and Chan both immediately apologised, Chan bowing in greeting to his senior, when Minho recognised him.

It was difficult to ignore the daggers Minho was sending his way, especially when Chan got the idea Minho didn’t have the best impression of him.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“Yeah,” Chan grimaced. “It’s me.” Minho didn’t look too happy. He would probably have given Chan a piece of his mind. Chan was readying himself for a “stay away from Y/n, you don’t deserve her” kind of spiel when, luckily for Chan, you walked out of the door, almost crashing into him. Again.

He kept quiet while you laughed with Minho, pressing his lips together and trying not to think about how it would feel if you were to have that kind of banter with him. Would he even be able to say something funny like that to you or would he turn into a stammering, blushing mess?

It was hard to tell.

But one thing was for sure. You and Minho had a dynamic that was hard to replicate, and he didn’t want to cross any boundaries. Even if they weren’t set in stone or clearly spelt out, he didn’t want to ruin whatever you had going on with Minho. He decided to remain civil with you, continuing to text you but never making a move.

After all, he didn’t stand a chance against Minho.

IT HAD BEEN THREE MONTHS. Three months since Minho’s arrival in Seoul and he was still there. You couldn’t believe it.

Every morning, you awoke from your bed (trying not to wake Jisung up on his side of the room, he had moved in to make space for Minho), and you tiptoed over to Minho’s room, fully expecting it to be empty.

You would have been less surprised to see an empty, cleaned out room with no evidence that Minho had ever been there, with maybe a short note that said “Goodbye. Don’t miss me too much” than what was happening.

It was early in the morning and Minho was still fast asleep, but still very much there. Physically present. It was such a shock to you and it was probably the longest time that Minho had ever been in one place, besides when he was too young to travel.

He must have had a sixth sense, because after about a minute or so of you staring at him to confirm that he wasn’t going to disappear magically, he sleepily blinked his eyes open and caught sight of you.

“Morning,” he mumbled, the corners of his lips lifting up into a smile.

“Good morning. Do you want me to make ramyeon or are you content with just the bread from yesterday?”

“Ramyeon sounds good,” he replied.

As Minho changed his clothes, you headed to the kitchen to make ramyeon. You were still half asleep, barely going through the actions, and when you set the bowl of noodles onto the dining table, you were caught off guard by Minho’s excited smile.

“What is it?” You asked suspiciously. Knowing Minho, he only smiled like that before he was about to play a prank on you, or when he was up to something sneaky.

“I think we should go to an open class,” Minho said, face impassive. He fought to keep his composure as he watched the struggle of emotions flashing across your face.

“What, like learn a dance? Together with a bunch of strangers?”

“Basically, yeah. I found this place and I’ve already booked it a while back. It’s pretty crowded sometimes so I decided to ask you later and just cancel if you didn’t want to go. I’d pay and everything.”

You would probably have said no, but you felt bad after all that Minho had done. Anyway, it wouldn’t be a complete disaster, right? You could only make so much of a fool out of yourself. Surely it would be fine.

It was not fine. Minho was not lying when he said that it would be crowded and if the morning hadn’t made your day, you would never have gone for another open class in your life.

The two of you had left a note for Jisung, telling him that you’d be gone for the day, and headed to a coffee shop to get a cup of coffee. The weather was lovely, a breeze gusting past as you sat outside the shop, precariously balanced on the metal stools, blowing on your coffee to cool it down. As you sipped your drink gingerly, Minho told you all about his adventures.

He told you about Italy and their delicious pizza, how there everyone’s mother was a cook and he was always invited for a meal at a different person’s house after each dance session. He had even bought a piece of art from one of the painters there and proudly kept it in one of his luggages to bring on future trips.

He told you about Taiwan and their night markets, how he’d made new friends with the dancers there and gone to get bubble tea and scallion pancakes together. He told you about the competition he won there, even speaking a few words of their language to convince you.

He told you about America and Turkey and Spain, and how every country’s culture and way of life was different.

He was a time chaser, if you thought about it. He wanted to experience everything that the world could offer him in the shortest time possible. When you were younger, he had come so close to dropping out of school that his parents said they would stop paying for his dance classes and competition fees if he didn’t buckle down and study.

You couldn’t understand him at the time. Why would anyone want to sacrifice the security of an education paid for by your parents to go jump into the great unknown that was the world?

But now, looking back, you understood why he was that way. Hearing his tales of his travels made you wonder if you were living life as vicariously as you could, or if you were living through the other people you saw.

And if you weren’t living, when would you start?

9.54pm

YOU PUT YOUR PHONE DOWN. Minho was spread out on the couch, facing you but not paying attention to you. You looked back down at your screen and the messages Chan had sent you and tapped Minho’s ankle with your knee.

“Yah, Lee Minho.”

“Yes, Han Y/n?”

“Chan asked me out.” This sentence caught Minho’s attention and he stiffened, head lifting up to look at you. His brows furrowed slightly and the muscle in his jaw twitched. He set his phone down, looked at you properly and gestured for you to go on.

“Do you want to go?”

“I’m not sure. I mean, he probably likes me, right? So I shouldn’t break his heart, right?”

Softer, until you almost didn’t catch it, Minho mumbled, “But the real question is, do you like him back?”

Then it was your turn to knit your eyebrows together in confusion. Did you? You had never been very good with feelings. When you were fifteen, Jisung had a crush on a girl and so did you. Naturally, Jisung acted like himself and you just hyped him up as best as he could to get him to ask her out. When she rejected him, you had been sad for Jisung but also slightly relieved. You had never told Jisung about the incident, because even when you were in your twenties, you couldn’t for the life of you think of what to say.

You couldn’t identify feelings very well and were too socially anxious to have the guts to confess. Luckily for you, Chan did. The confession had you thinking that you might have something with him. You probably liked him. And at the very least, you would have liked to start something with him.

You told Minho that, but all he had to say was, “Hmm.” What was that tone supposed to mean?

“Is there something you need to tell me, Lee Minho?”

Minho was quiet, which was not unusual. He wasn’t smiling, which was a bit unusual but not completely weird. His jaw was twitching, which was not unusual but definitely meant that there was something going on.

“I need to tell you something.”

Patiently, you waited in silence as you watched him struggle inwardly with his thoughts. His mouth opened and shut as he fought to find the right words to express himself.

“Han Y/n, I have loved you for all the time I've known you. I really, really like you and that realisation was probably what grounded me and led me to come back to this place I hate. I want to travel the world but only with you by my side and I've been searching for so long and I think I've found what i’m looking for. You.”

You must have been so stupid for not realising because of course you were the reason that Minho had stayed in Korea for so long. You remembered that morning when you had just been thinking of the very same thing. You were such a fool not to have noticed that the common factor in all of Minho’s happy stories was always you.

Didn’t you see the framed picture of you, Jisung and Minho as kids that Minho propped up at his bedside table when he first unpacked?

Didn’t you realise that Minho couldn’t—or shouldn’t—be able to drop you off because he had other commitments, but he did it anyway because his feelings for you ran deeper than just your friendship?

Didn’t you see the way his jaw twitched when he saw you speaking to Chan?

There were so many telltale signs but you were blind. He gave you signal after signal after signal but you chose to drown instead, swerving off the bridge into the deeper waters of denial.

“Then why’d you just sit there and tell me and Jisung to go for our crush when we were fifteen? You never told me you liked me your whole life. I couldn’t possibly have known.”

Minho smiled sadly. “I thought you knew when I told you I loved you that I meant it as more than friends. When I said I’d be there for you, always, I didn’t mean it lightly. You just never read into it and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. But I had to get it off my chest before I left you, again. I don’t know if I’ll ever come back after this, Y/n.”

You tripped over yourself trying to hug Minho, but when you did, he held you so tightly that you could barely breathe. It felt as if he was trying to make up for lost time, tears streaming down his eyes.

“Oh, Minho.”

It was just like the first hug you had given him when he was in Korea again, when you saw him at the company event. His embrace was still just as warm, only that he was shaking, and you didn’t think it was from the cold.

You hugged him back just as tightly, squeezing as much comfort into your hug as you could, trying to hold him in your arms like he used to do to you.

“Please don’t leave me,” you whispered hoarsely. “I don’t think- I don’t think I could live without you.”

Minho only responded by hugging you tighter before he finally let you go, laughing as he wiped the tears from his eyes. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay. For both of us. I hope- I hope you enjoy your date. And I’ll stay a while longer. From there, we’ll see where the wind takes me, yeah? And maybe one day, you’ll come to visit me instead.”

Although Minho was playing it off and acting all nonchalant about it, you knew Minho liked to bottle up his feelings and never talk about it. In fact, he probably had a ton of bottled-up trauma he needed to talk about at some point in time.

However, for that moment, you were content not to speak about it. You would simply keep an eye out for your best friend, whom you still loved regardless.

The tension swells up Are you listening? Paddling and clambering onto your surfboards In anticipation of a wave You’re ready to ride

And all of a sudden there is quiet The peace before a storm

The raging sound of the winds And the moving ocean are lost Has no one told you to never try to tame the seas?

You must not have been a very good listener The rules try to cage a roaring beast The restrictions, limitations are pressing in.

The darkness is imminent All that is on the surface Is inconsequential The water hugs me tightly It drags me down

The silence in my ears is deafening My lungs scream for oxygen And everything goes dark

Has no one told you to never try to tame the seas? You must not have been a very good listener

I won’t be tamed Won’t be broken Won’t fall to your stupidity Try to cage me, hold me back You don’t know what I’m capable of

(Grr wolfgang)

Dark blue overshadows, You think you can stop me? You might be the king of the jungle But here, I am the leader of the pack

(SCREECH-)

YOU COULDN’T TELL IF the last screech was from the song or from the abrupt stop that Jisung had come to. Next time, you weren’t going to let him drive. You didn’t want to lose your life going on a date.

Chan’s album had just been released and though it was unconventional to release it early on in the morning, you had requested that it be so. You wanted to listen to it on the way to the pottery-making class that Chan had booked, but you also knew that it would attract more people to listen to it if they were actually awake when it was released.

The mall wasn’t far from your apartment, but Minho and Jisung had insisted on coming with you, obviously. They just couldn’t leave you alone. Minho had been hyping you up the entire ride over, telling you not to be anxious and that he and Jisung had your back if you decided to bail at any one point in time. Jisung was just there to chaperone, or so he claimed. You personally thought that he just wanted to poke his nose in your business because he didn’t have a love life of his own.

They flanked you like bodyguards, and Minho was dressed in black from head to toe, which really sealed the deal. Jisung pulled Minho away to the other side of the pottery studio, both of them sneaking glances at you every once in a while in between making fun of each other’s creations.

You, on the other hand, were feeling rather jittery. You rushed to congratulate Chan’s release and compliment him on his work. “It was stunning,” you told him. “I’m always impressed by your arrangements of beats.”

He smiled back shyly at you, blushing furiously. He had to look away for a second to compose himself before thanking you for the compliment.

With all the nerves and anxious energy in the air, it took a while for both of you to calm down. Then, you could finally start enjoying each other’s company without being overly conscious of your own breathing and your hair and everything else.

Chan turned out to have a natural affinity for pottery. Even the lady teaching the class asked if he had made anything out of clay before, because he seemed so experienced and talented at it.

You, however, couldn’t say the same. Your cup was looking a little wonky halfway through the process of making it and it was precariously lopsided. Chan reached out to help you straighten it, but not before snapping a photo of your stunned face with the mug.

“Hey!”

“I’m making that my contact picture for you,” he grinned mischievously. Oh, right. He was referring to that one time that you told him to use one of the corporate pictures on the internet for your contact picture. You’d almost forgotten it until he brought it up.

You could hardly believe how long it had been since that day. Your and Chan’s relationship had grown so much since then and you’d grown less uptight and stiff around him, additionally his sense of humour had started to show more.

You were so happy to have Chan in your life.

Especially when he handed you a mini flower bouquet after you had cleaned up and sent your pottery creations off for baking and glazing. You took it, slightly confused, until Chan excitedly asked you to untie the ribbon. The bouquet unfolded into a little coaster and it was the most adorable thing you had ever seen. 

Chan even brought you window shopping at the IKEA opposite the mall, nodding with you as you criticised the room decor and agreed when you liked the aesthetic. If you didn’t know any better, it might have felt like shopping for an apartment.

Afterwards you went to get ice cream together, passing by a couple of plushies hanging on a rack. Unable to resist, you grabbed the wolf plushie keychain and waved it at Chan. “Grr, wolfgang.”

You couldn’t help yourself, collapsing into a heap of giggles. 

Chan sighed like an old man, looking between the keychain in your hands and your face. The glee on your face must have been enough to convince him, because he took it into his hand, and reaching out with his free hand, he took a quokka off.

“That’s you,” he grinned.

You cocked your head. “Really?” You’d always told Jisung he looked like a quokka, and obviously the two of you looked alike since you were siblings, but you had never had anyone attribute your looks to that of a quokka’s before.

But Chan was looking at you so tenderly and you didn’t want to ruin the moment, so you took it from your hands and smiled at him.

“Let’s go get these, then.”

YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN dreams never lasted before you woke up in cold sweat, clammy palms gripping your blanket. You had had an awful nightmare about Minho leaving, a manifestation of your fears since he had arrived. It wasn’t a recurring nightmare but it still hit you hard.

Still in shock, you got up to go to the bathroom to splash your face and calm yourself down. It was dark outside, but the room that Minho had been sleeping in seemed eerily empty to you.

When you walked past it again, you did a double take. Minho had been packing his bags for a while and you had been anticipating his departure during that time. However, he had never actually told you when he was leaving Korea, and if he really meant it when he said he might never come back.

Full of questions, you went over to Jisung’s bed to wake him up. You were concerned but mostly confused, and you wanted assurance that Minho was safe.

Little did you expect that Minho had already informed Jisung in advance that he was leaving. The two had even booked Minho’s tickets together, strategically arranging it at night so that you wouldn’t have time to cry and make a big fuss of it all.

“The real reason he had to wake up in the middle of the night to get to the airport for a flight at the most inconvenient hours of the day is so that you wouldn’t make a big fuss out of it,” Jisung hissed. “Yet, even after all that planning, it still seems to backfire. All because you’re so fucking emotionally attached to Minho-hyung.”

You sucked in your breath sharply, but Jisung was relentless. “Have you ever considered my feelings? In our little trio, it’s always felt like Miny/n and Jisung who third-wheeled everywhere you two went. You’re always so caring towards Minho-hyung but never to me. You prioritise him at every stage of life. You idolise him. Maybe you’ve never stopped to think that he doesn’t want you next to him all the fucking time and that’s why he left.”

“I don’t prioritise Minho over you, Ji. I pay so much attention to him whenever he’s here because I never know when he might up and leave. I don’t know when I’ll see him again. And maybe you know, so you’re not worried, but sometimes he ghosts me for days on end and I don’t know whether to be anxious or to attribute it to his busy schedule. You don’t know what that’s like, do you?” You scoffed bitterly, biting your lip to hold back your tears.

“No,” he sneered. “You’re right, I don’t. Because I don’t stick to him like glue and he’s okay with telling me things he knows you can’t handle. You’re acting so damn immature right now and that’s probably why he never talks to you about important things.”

You couldn’t help yourself. The tears rolled silently down your cheeks at Jisung’s words. You knew that he was just cranky and upset, and that he said these types of things completely unprovoked when he was tired or mad, but you still hadn’t expected him to say something like that.

It was true, although you were older than Jisung, Minho always treated Jisung like the older one. He was more protective of you, and always delegated work and details to Jisung when you were planning anything together. When you were still in highschool, you remembered Minho had had a project he desperately needed to finish. You had leaped at the opportunity to be useful to him, but he’d rejected you and gone straight to Jisung instead.

Thoughts were spinning in your head as you remembered all the conversations where Minho had dismissed your thoughts because you were not “ready to talk about those sorts of things” or so he claimed.

Even now, when you were already an adult, Minho and Jisung still treated you like a child.

Frustrated, you changed out of your clothes and grabbed a coat to keep you warm as you left the house. Sitting at the doorstep of your apartment, you gave Chan a call, fully aware that Jisung was extremely close to kicking you out of the house if you didn’t leave him alone.

To your surprise, Chan picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Hey. Can I, um, crash at your place? I kind of got into an argument with my brother.”

There was the slightest of pauses. “Sure. Send me your address, I’ll come pick you up. I don’t want you to catch a cold trying to get to my place.”

You rattled off the address, and you could almost feel Chan’s nod over the phone. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

Chan held true to his word, reaching your apartment in exactly fifteen minutes, even coming up to your apartment door and gazing down at you as you sulked at the door, lips pouted and eyebrows scrunched together.

“Chan,” was all you managed out before he was hugging you, and you felt like melting right there and dissolving into a puddle of tears. “Jisung would have kicked me out if I didn’t shut up but I really needed someone to talk to because—hic—I miss him already,” you hiccuped, tears interspersing your words.

“It’s okay,” Chan whispered, stroking your back comfortingly. “It’s okay to let it out.”

You nodded and wiped your tears, hiccuping and leaning on Chan as he led you down to his car, driving you back to his house.

His house wasn’t much but when he brought you up to his roof, you were amazed by the view. You could almost ignore the city lights from up there, the only thing separating you from the stars being the vast expanse of the night sky between you and the constellations.

Chan brought out two bottles of champagne and glasses, while you snuggled under the blankets he had prepared. For a dirty rooftop in the middle of the city, it certainly was awfully comfortable.

It was also terribly romantic.

Chan wasn’t even settled in by the time you burst into tears, outright sobbing as you told him about how much you missed Minho. The softness of the air mattress under you didn’t make your heart ache any less, and the tears flowed from an endless reservoir, never seeming to run dry.

Chan wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly, giving you just enough space to feel sad but not lonely.

He listened to you while you told him of Minho’s tendencies to up and leave, your struggles with your friendship and how vulnerability looked different on Minho with you and Jisung and you didn’t understand why humans were so complicated.

He listened as you told him Minho’s life story and your history with him, why you would miss him so much and how much of your heart he happily occupied, wrenching it away from you each time he left. As your heart slowly grew smaller and scarred, you were sure it was becoming more closed off to others.

You? Emotional? Of course not.

But even your impressive gaslighting skills couldn’t convince you that you weren’t emotional, especially after all you had told Chan.

“Y/n?” was the first thing out of Chan’s mouth after a good minute of silence on your part. The void of noise was punctuated only by your hiccups every once in a while as you fought back a fresh wave of tears.

“I think you need to let some of him go,” he said hesitantly. “It’s okay for him to live his life, and you yours. It’s okay that you’re set on two different paths that only cross once in a blue moon. I promise you, you won’t drift apart just because he likes to wander. You will still be okay and whole without one person and you can still be really good friends.”

Smiling, he pointed to the sky. “Do you see Orion’s belt? Similar to you mourning Minho’s departure, it’s a huge waist of time.”

You laughed involuntarily, eyes shimmering but no longer crying. “Thanks. I think… I needed that.” You gazed at the stars, in awe of their beauty and how vast the universe was. So many things were there for you to be grateful for, you couldn’t afford to squander the gift of time longing for the past. After all, you had the present to be grateful for.

Sensing that you didn’t want to talk anymore, Chan guided your hand out from under the blanket and pointed your finger at the stars. “Do you see that constellation right there? It’s one of my favourites. Sirius.”

“Three guesses why,” you said sarcastically.

“Okay, maybe I’m a little cliché and like the dog constellation because it’s the closest to a wolf. What’re you going to do about it, huh?”

You only responded by pressing a kiss to Chan’s cheek.

“While you’re in a good mood… I also wanted to tell you that it’s okay to be emotionally attached to people and need a while to get over things.”

“And to get into fights with our loved ones?”

“That. Human relations are complicated. You should know that, you people-watcher. I see how your eyes dart in public from one couple to another, scouring the world for any form of humanity to include in your music.”

You felt called out but Chan had a point. “You do it too. Is it my fault that living vicariously through others hurts less than doing it ourselves?”

Chan smiles fondly. “You know everything will work out, right? Hurting out of love is better than not feeling love at all.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you reply, tears blurring your vision. Your hand in Chan’s tightened its grip on him, your rib cage aching as if your heart was really and truly broken.

Chan tilted your chin so you were looking at him, eyes meeting yours as you nodded, just the slightest of motions before his lips were on yours, kissing the pain and the tears away, brushing his thumb over your cheeks to wipe away the traces of your hurt.

“Hey, Y/n. It’s really going to work itself out.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then crying is alright. It’s not a sign of weakness and you’ll let it all out. And from there, I’ll hold you through it all while you mend your broken heart.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

FIN.

if you liked it, REBLOG it.

[singlesablog]

The Studio

“Hey Nineteen” (1980) Steely Dan MCA Records (Written by Walter Becker and Donald Fagen) Highest U.S. Billboard Chart Position – No. 10

"From noon till six we'd play the tune over and over and over again, nailing each part. We'd go to dinner and come back and start recording. They made everybody play like their life depended on it. But they weren't gonna keep anything anyone else played that night, no matter how tight it was. All they were going for was the drum track.”                                        - Jeff Porcaro, Musician

Like a python wrapping itself around the beating heart of Rock and roll more and more tightly, this was the last charting single for the last album in Steely Dan’s classic period (it would be 20 years until they would release another album, Two Against Nature, in 2000).  The stories of their recording methods reinforce this metaphor: what was once a real touring band of musicians had whittled itself down to just Becker and Fagen rehearsing the best artists in the world over and over and over again to achieve an exactness and fidelity that has never really been matched.  I remember “Hey Nineteen” charting in 1980; it was right there on the radio beside Blondie’s “Call Me” and Olivia Newton-John’s “Magic”, playing nice but certainly not fitting in.  They played it over and over again, a kind of spiritless meditation on something my teenage brain could never parse (The Cuervo Gold?  The Fine Columbian?).  Even today it is the kind of song one can never get to the center of, the smoothest track in the middle of the road: slick, perfect, and eternal. Like all of their hits it stuck around to sell a lot of copies but never really went to the top of the charts (one of the most successful bands ever to have never achieved a No. 1 anything).

Today some folks call this Yacht Rock (a term I mildly dislike as generic) which is ironic considering it is hard to imagine these two city slickers anywhere near a boat, or even in the wild.  I can only ever see them in the studio playing mad scientist with the idea of fidelity.  This much I know: I have a decent turntable setup and nothing touches Gaucho for sound quality—1979 is at the top of the top for the old idea of a great studio record.  The only vinyl record that may top it is Fleetwood Mac’s Tusk or Dan’s own Gaucho.  This is the result of all that squeezing: what starting out at a very high level with Can’t Buy a Thrill (their debut in 1972) only got more and more refined with every album.  By the time one gets to Gaucho (after the lush but boozy hangover and strung-out feeling of Aja) there is a kind of plateau-ing, a linear quality, to all of the rehearsing and perfecting and playing every note until it almost fails to exist.  Don’t get me wrong, this is a record I love—but at a distance, because it was constructed to keep you there.

There are so many legends surrounding the LP: that it was (up to that point) the most expensive ever made (over a million 1979 dollars); that it was heavily delayed by the band’s perfectionism (it took well over a year to record); that is was surrounded by tragedy and drug use (a terrible car accident for Becker, 6 months of hospitalization, his heroin addiction, and the death of his girlfriend).  The hyper focus of Fagen and Becker, rehearsing musicians to exhaustion to get every note perfect, included their famous engineer Roger Nichols (formerly a nuclear physicist!) who was given $150,000 of the budget to create a computer that could process the live drum sounds for them to manipulate exactingly (he named it Wendel and the RIAA bestowed the machine its own framed, platinum copy of Gaucho in acknowledgement).  There was the three-way legal battle between MCA, Warner Brothers and Steely Dan to actually release the thing (their original label, ABC Records, had been acquired by MCA).  Lastly there was the sign of the times in the new “Premium Pricing” by MCA, a hike in album prices from $8.98 to $9.98 for the more expensively-produced records (I guess) which included Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers Hard Promises and the soundtrack for Xanadu, although I am not sure it ever went into effect after a lot of bad press.  One legend that seems plainly true is that this year was one of the last for huge, expensive, lavishly-produced studio records.  Like the old Hollywood system, it simply could not hold any more, and something leaner was right around the corner; if not inevitable, then necessary to move the art form forward.

Maybe this is the reason that “Hey Nineteen” sounded so anachronistic that year: it was by then a hologram from that ever-distant land of the 70s long player, richly produced, genre-defying, Empyrean, graceful.  Go on to an internet message board or read any history of Steely Dan and you will find there the endless jabber about their relative goodness or badness in the great cause of Rock Music, by jazzing it up, or slimming it down, or mellowing it out, or squeezing it too hard in rehearsals (Gaucho is deliciously given one star by Dave Marsh in The Rolling Stone Record Guide, 1983) but trust me: pay them no mind.  Just drop the needle, rejoice in the cleanest sound in stereo ever attempted by anyone anywhere, and spend time with some of the best musicians who have ever lived. 

-

Roger Nichols, after being with the band as a peerless sound engineer for over 30 years (and on all of their 7 classic-period albums), was unceremoniously let go during the middle of recording of Everything Must Go, right after the disaster of 9-11.  His wife Connie described it as an “emotional dagger to his heart and soul” and him as heartbroken.  No definitive reason seems to be well known. Nichols sadly passed away in 2011 of pancreatic cancer at the age of 66.

Right before the pandemic Connie found a clear cassette in Nichols’ things marked “The Second Arr” in black Sharpie pen (she had never had the heart to throw away anything with his handwriting on it).  This turned out to be a copy of a very famous lost master track from Gaucho, “The Second Arrangement”, which after months of recording and $80,000 invested, and complete, was accidentally taped over by a second engineer (whew - poor guy).  This tape was from the night before that event.  Fagen and Becker considered re-recording it, but being absolute perfectionists, they realized it was hopeless and moved on. 

Connie Nichols waited out the pandemic to have the tape professionally converted, fearing it would fall apart.  Later, another (even better) copy, a DAT tape, was discovered by her.  It can be heard here (most clearly in the second post, clocking in at 5:46) from the substack Expanding Dan.  It is rather wonderful.

[zot3-flopped]

Dogs is actually so funny because I truly think she believes her own hype and the nonsense she says.

Back in the 1D days I was still a Larrie and I followed a lot of big Larry blogs. I really thought Dogs discourse was intelligent because I was a teenager, and then she had a huge fight with a big Larry, I think it was Emmie, who at the time could barely contain the fact that she hated Louis and the Louie narrative that dominated larryland 😂

Anyway whoever it was pointed out how Johannah had attended Leeds University when Daisy and Phoebe were babies and how a low income family would never be able to splurge on that, plus maintain four children on only Mark’s salary, and that midwifery in and of itself was expensive, that Louis owned a car and brand name clothes and gaming stations and their house looked big in pictures

And Dogs went berserk and started saying that she didn’t believe Johannah had gone to Leeds and that this person was making it up and that Louis owning a car didn’t mean anything, that Harry’s family was much much more well off

And this other blog was like “actually that’s not true dogs” 😂 and explained that Harry’s mom didn’t have wealth of her own and that the one who was wealthy was Robin

They went back and forth for a while but the whole thing was the other blogger saying things that were backed up by facts and made sense and Dogs was just trying her damnest to prove that Louis was actually working class and had grown up a lot “less fortunate” than Harry, and that Harry was a privileged rich boy. She had literally nothing to back it up other than the words 1D’s marketing team had made Louis repeat. Harry was marketed as posh because it was what worked with other pop bands in the past, but his family was working class and probably faced as much if not more difficulties than Louis’, they just never played the victim card and never tried to use it as a marketing tool

Dogs was just the other day trying to act outraged that Harry had said that if he could be on that stage then we, fans, could do anything. Like, she was UPSET. And I’m like… ma’am, the boy grew up in a working class home with zero access to musical education and no contacts in the industry whatsoever. He didn’t get vocal lessons or instrument lessons or acting lessons at all until he was in 1D (and he had no time to actually learn because of 1D’s insane schedule). He learned to play guitar and piano proficiently to perform live in front of an audience and record it for posterity on his albums as an adult. Does she know how hard that shit is??? He expanded his vocal range from 2 octaves in 1D to almost four octaves as a solo artist. He also learned to play other instruments and worked himself ragged to be able to endure 2 hour long performances running across a huge stage and covering all that space

He did that, he worked on that. He got in 1D through sheer luck (right place and right time plus his raw talent) and worked his ASS OFF in it, not only performing but also networking and making the right moves and being kind to people, which took him a long ass way and it can be extremely hard at times.

Harry being on that stage in front of 100,000 people does mean we can do anything. She’s so stuck on the stan twitter mentality of “white man” when the only white men who get to that level of success are extremely hardworking ones (Ed Sheeran for instance).

White men have it easiER than women or people of color and nobody denies that but that doesn’t mean that accomplishing what he accomplished is EASY. Especially because the odds were stacked against him! In Britain 9/10 celebrities come from generational wealth and she knows it. She’s just acting brand new because she refuses to give him his flowers

She’s so salty that he became a megastar and her precious Louis is struggling to sell 4,000 seater venues. I can’t believe I used to look up to her when I was 15

👏👏👏👏👏 Well said!

Jay was also the only 1d parent who had connections in showbusiness, something else Dogs ignores. She had the twins and Louis signed to a theatrical agency and knew James Corden.

Another major nepo baby Dogs finds fascinating is Matty Healey. His father is an actor and his mother a famous TV presenter.

[torchickentacos]

i love seeing your long tags they make me so happy. and YOU SHOULD DO THE ALBUMS THING. IF NOBODY ELSE GOT YOU I GOT YOU. GIVE DREW HIS REPUTATION ERA

THANK YOU SOSOSO MUCH!!! I'm so glad people like my tags, sometimes I worry I'm too long-winded, or that I get too off-topic, so it's nice hearing that people like my train of thoughts! ALSO THE ALBUM THING!!!!! I WILL!!! IN FACT I SHALL DO IT RIGHT HERE! under the cut! talking abt taylor swift songs and lyrics and blorbos, if that's not your vibe feel free to scroll <3 /genuine, not sarcastic or shady or anything!!! I'll just see you around later, blondie isn't for everyone! So, pokeani specific characters as taylor swift eras/albums! Long. Like, really long even for me, this is just a pure infodump. Reblogs/comments with further discussion ENCOURAGED!!!!! I love talking to you guys lol, feel free to open this to your own favorite artists too. Kind of a random selection of characters.

OKAY LET'S GO!!! First off, I think that Dawn has always had a 1989 vibe to me. 1989 is sonically one of my lesser favorites honestly, but I think it's intriguing because it's this super poppy, mainstream hit after hit album but it's also just so deeply... unsure, in some ways. You've got shake it off and blank space, pop hits but also hits that are very acutely self-deprecating in the way that they try to come off as unbothered. It's parody but at her own expense, making fun of her own image and portrayal. Dawn is very bright and cheery but is also this very self-unsure, nervous individual in my interpretation of her and I think that parallels nicely. We open with welcome to new york, which makes me think of Dawn's contest debut! Dawn was very intentional in becoming a coordinator, rather than May who kind of stumbled into it. "Everybody here wanted something more" just makes me think of her ambition. So: Dawn, 1989. Big debut into her profession (pop debut, contests), very self-aware but tries to brush it off, but still a very bright and fun person.

Gary: does monologue song count LMAO. Joking, I think Red. Upbeat and loud and self-assured at first (22, I knew you were trouble), but you dive down deep and see that the seemingly shallow pool is actually a huge ocean of a character/album that will stand long beyond its time and cement itself as a fan favorite. I think Holy Ground really fits him, though I cannot for the life of me explain why. However, the cockiness /affectionate of I Bet You Think About Me fits him SO WELL!!! Also. "I'll be summer sun for you, forever".

Misty: Debut. Classic, the OG, might burn your house down, unhinged teenage girl energy. Hates that STUPID OLD PICKUP TRUCK YOU NEVER LET HER DRIVE. She's energetic, loud, and a trailblazer for all the albums and pokegirls to come. Starting off with a BANG and a banjo. Not much else to say, just pure iconic energy (but with a soft side!!! secretly a HUGE romantic).

Drew: Okay, a weird one. I almost went Evermore (introspective to almost a fault, way too in his own head, a dreamer in his own way and a timeless romantic) but ultimately I think my interpretation of Drew is just SO reputation. Cold on the outside, but the most romantic, soft interior once you get to know him. Drew also is a famous coordinator and has his own fan club (in canon, consisting of moms who have merch of him for... some reason, which. shoutout to the discord friends that have dubbed it the milf club- or was that my fault???? that might have been a taylorism [me taylor lol, not swift taylor]) BUT ANYWAYS Rep explores themes of finding love in crowed places which I tend to lean into in contestshipping fics and ideas, themes of avoiding fame and finding that balance of letting people in versus shutting them out. Also, you either love him or hate him, I've noticed, much like reputation. He comes off a bit offputting at first and people tend to write him off as annoying before they get to know him (cough, first tracks of rep are not at all indicative of rep as a whole BUT FUCKING SLAP ONCE YOU GET THE VIBES!) Also because I will defend both of them until death.

May: I was stuck between a LOT for my favorite girlie. I know you have her as lover which is SO PERFECT but i think anime may specifically feels very fearless/speak now. I went with Fearless, but it could go either way with a brief shoutout to Red who almost made it. Fearless is kind of in her own little world, lost in thought, a dreamer who is still figuring it all out. But like May, Fearless has some spunk, too! I think specifically Tell Me Why reminds me a LOT of May and Harley's rivalry. "You took a swing, I took it hard, and down here from the ground I see who you are". Minus the romantic part of it, it reminds me SO SO SO much of Harley's supportive act and then turning on her, back and forth. Fearless is naive, and so is May. "And I know that you see what you're doing to me- tell me why!" I think ultimately though, Fearless is finding her way. Fearless is in new territory, making her own path as a dreamer and an optimist. Also, just entirely nostalgic. I saw Fearless in concert as a kid and May has always been my favorite, just very nostalgic for me for both of them.

Iris: Speak Now! Spunky. A little outta pocket. Would probably call you out for marrying a shitty person in the middle of your own damn wedding. Purple. I still don't have an amazing grasp on Iris, but Speak Now is THAT BITCH who SPEAKS HER MIND whether it's THE TIME FOR IT OR NOT and I think that feels very Iris to me in the best way. Iris is not afraid, she's here to be heard, but she's also just. soft. baby. friend.

Paul: Okay, weird one here. Paul has... issues. Problems. I think that in an ideal world we get a paul redemption and he was written a bit differently, and I think that Paul could have his Midnights era, very retrospective and kind of looking at things that went wrong in the past and figuring out how to move on from that. Not an album or Taylor, technically, but Renegade by Big Red Machine ft. TS fits, I think. "Are you really gonna talk about timing in times like these? Let all your damage damage me? Carry your baggage up my street?" The ultimate song of 'hey, maybe deal with your issues please so I can make you the blorbo I want you to be'. /joking but also not really. Quite literally, "is it insensitive of me to say, get your shit together so I can love you?"

Tracey: Folklore. Soft, gentle, would comfort me while I'm crying at 2 am, would bake cookies with me. Simple as that. "When I felt like I was an old cardigan under someone's bed, you put me on and said I was your favorite". I stand by Folklore and Evermore being the albums for people who think they don't like Taylor Swift btw, random side note. I think also, Tracey has this bright imagery with his art, and so does Folklore. Folklore is a very imagery-driven album in its lyrics. It's evocative- I think the biggest examples of this are Invisible String, Illicit Affairs, and Hoax. I'll just close my eyes to those songs and let my mind wander off... which, admittedly, also happens during some orange islands/johto episodes and most of the diancie movie, but you know what I mean lol. They're still a GREAT vibe.

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Finally, the long awaited Jimin Vinyl is here. Or it will be for me sometimes in the first few months of 2024, depending when it arrives. But I've lived without it until now, I can do it for longer. Anyway, it will look pretty in my growing vinyl collection and it comes with extra goodies. Which I love. It also feels so good when it's a surprise. I got Prince's Purple Rain and it came with a poster which I had no idea of!

I also pre-ordered one version of the GQ magazine because I'm slowly adding more to my magazine collection. I don't think I'll ever forget the day I threw out my entire collection of Elle that I gathered throughout high school in a moment of late teenage rebellion. Anyway, I'm eyeing some Vogue numbers now, but that's for November or December.

When I know I have the option to pay when I receive the package, it's so much easier to add stuff to the cart. I make it a problem for future me and at least I have options. So I got Taemin's album as well which I'm so excited for. It will be my first. I'm really not a K-Pop album collector, but it's nice to have some of the releases on my shelf. I didn't get the bug of getting everything from everyone.

I've also thought if I should get Jungkook's album now. I was looking at the Substance version, but I think I'll wait until after the release. It's no rush for me. I actually did the same with Face. I got one version in late April and the other one some time in the summer (for other reasons).

Now, onto some more practical stuff for which I hope any of the people following me/reading this might have an answer. It's about the documentary on Weverse. I'll admit, I never bought anything from that platform. I watched ITS 1&2 thanks to people adding links on twitter. I looked up Suga and J-Hope's documentaries just to get an idea on a price and it said 100 Jelly, which I'm supposed to buy. (Do people get jellies when they order stuff from weverse shop and all that?). So, there's either 80 or 120 Jelly options, but the point is, to be able to unlock the documentary, I basically need to pay 30 euros. Which in my opinion, sounds a bit absurd. It's the equivalent of 5 movie tickets at the cinema. Or some expensive screening session at a festival. But this is a 60 minute documentary. I don't need to own a digital copy or to have access permanently to it. It's also unfair given that with the other two, people had the option of watching it on Disney+ for which the subscription is the equivalent of small change compared to this.

I'm also not able to watch in on the 23rd when it's released because I'll be on a train with bad wifi and getting home after a long journey. I'll have to stay away from social media, but I don't know for how long. If anyone is kind enough to give me a heads up if there are people streaming it on twitter or it gets uploaded on some platform/website, I would appreciate it very much.

Anyway, after a few days in which I've been complaining about lots of stuff and in particular weverse, Jimin day is almost here! It feels like a holiday 😄

[bbboar]

@boogerwookiesugarcookie asked me to answer ALL of the end of year asks so here we go! Thanks Naja!

Going to put it under a readmore bcs long

1.Song of the year? Dream Girl Evil by Florence and the Machine So nice of Miss Florence to make a song thats not only a bop but also specifically the theme song for my oc Hydrangea

2.Album of the year? I don't listen to many full albums but for me it would have to be a tie between Give me the Future by Bastille and Impera by Ghost 3.Favorite musical artist / group you started listening to this year? Ghost 4.Movie of the year? Everything Everywhere All At Once! Like i don't even need to think about it. Unlike anything ive ever seen, so interesting and heartwearming. Excellent performances and costuming 5.TV show of the year? Oh man this one is touh bcs i had 3 shows ive been obsessed with this year…. Our Flag Means Death, Severance or Interview with the Vampire 6.Episode of tv or webisode that defined the year for you? Not defined the year but the best ep of anything ive seen this year was the the season finale ep of Severance. It was so excellent at keeping up the tension for the entirety of the ep. I was pacing and yelling and restless for the full length of it. Just amazing storytelling of everything coming to a head and the editing...my god!!!

7.Favorite actor of the year? I don't care that much about actors to have a fave of the year 8.Game of the year? I was a teenage exocolonist. Just finished my 4rth playthrough and i think i may have 2 more in me bc i want to see different outcomes/choices 9.Best month for you this year? Idk they sorta all blend into one? But December is when i have 2 weeks off work and also the weather is beautiful and sunny so im going to say that and not think about it too much.

10.Something that made you cry this year? A friend was never available to see me despite my multiple attempts to meet up and even though i didnt mind for a lot of it, eventually it started hurting my feelings. 11.Something you want to do again next year? Go on a mini vacation. I took a week off work to visit friends in Tasmania and i think i would be nice to visit some other place next year as well. 12.Talk about a new friend you made this year? I think we'd chatted a little on twitter and also possibly met irl once? But anyway yeah i formally met and befiended the partner of a friend and we rly got along! 13.How was your birthday this year? I went to this super expensive viking themed restaurant ive wanted to go to since 2019! Food, drinks, service, all excellent. I was dressed to the nines in my sequin dress and after i went for a little night walk around the city. It was gr8! 14.Favorite book you read this year? A nobleman's guide to scandals and shipwrecks by Mackenzi Lee. The Montague siblings series is such easy reading for me so i had a fun time! 15.What’s a bad habit you picked up this year? Forgetting to take my acne medication but i also took steps to prevent that so were good now 16.Post a picture from the beginning of the year Actually the first pic i took in 2022

17.Post a picture from the end of the year

Food from yesterday (27/12/22)

18.A memorable meal this year? Oh i already mentioned my birthday dinner so instead ill mention the brunch i made for my friends when i visited them in Tasmania.I was going to make eggs, bacon, homemade flatbread and some other stuff but my time management was off and it took me sooo long to make everything.In the end it was more like a lunch than brunch^^; But everyone was so patient with me and in the end the food was yummy and everyone liked it and we played dnd and had a great time :) 19.What’re you excited about for next year? Going to be getting a new phone and also....idk i havent made any big plans but i look forward to the little moments of joy and indulgence that will come. 20.What’s something you learned this year? Im sure theres life stuff i learned but what im psyched about is learning how to make scones. Its so freakin easy!!! 21.What’s something new about your place of residence (room, home, or general location) now vs the start of the year? After living here for about a year,i decided to finally put shit up on the walls of my room.Paintings and fairy lights and i plan on having a little colection of magpie prints too.It rly lifted my mood and brightened up the space. 22.Favorite place you visited this year? Oh man i was just stoked to visit Tasmania and see friends! I need to travel more bcs i love seeing new places. 23.If you could send a message to yourself back on the first day of the year, what would it be? Do not catastrophise when someone upsets you. Just sleep on it and then act. People sometimes are stupid and thoughtless,not secretly malicious. 24.Did you keep any New Year’s Resolutions? I usually have a few and some years i end up completing them, other years i dont. This year my only resolution is to comment on people's art more. Thats fucken it. 25.Did you create any characters (in games, art, or writing) this year? Describe one. Many actually bcs aside from various ocs, i run some trp games where i make 10+ npcs for. I guess one would be Winnie an npc i made for a game who i put so little thought in. Like i needed a character to fullfill a certain role so i recycled an old oc design and gave her like 2 personalty traits. Then though as we played, we all ended up liking her way more than id planned so anyway now she's in the queue to be an upcoming pc for a dnd campaign (with a slight redesign)

[tatsumi-rin]

Oh shit Guero by Beck... I never processed the fact that I was kind of obsessed with that album as a teenager. Totally should have held onto my copy for shits and giggles instead of donating it back to whence it came, but it's not irreplaceable if I want it back. Scouring the shelves for it and other albums in charity shops when a Spotify subscription wasn't viable and I wanted something tangible I could hold was pretty fun though.

I can't remember a lot of my more music tastes at the time being all that cool in 2012-2014. Some were popular, sure - just not something I would share too much of lest I open myself to more criticism from family and friends (still got some banger gorillaz merch for my 18th though). I was going through my "anything not immediately playing on music channels or the radio is infinitely more cool" phase, but also kind-of-an-emo-but-not-really phase along with my "I like the idea of 90s music but Nirvana is too mainstream" phase (💀💀💀💀), and most importantly what I like to term my Napstablook phase - aka; finding the most obscure music possible on random websites for indie releases and such in a manner not unlike the Undertale character. I like to think Toby Fox somehow had a vision of me at that time whilst I was listening to his contributions to the Homestuck soundtrack and made that character and Alphys based on me specifically (kidding).

Just a little weirdo teenager in an Adventure Time hoodie sat in the corner; talking to no one and either vent doodling or trying my best to cram A-level biology in its entirety into my foggy head whilst wrapped in often taped-up pound shop headsets. Ironically with how many I went through, there was no way I could convince my family to let me get anything more expensive when these things broke so much.

I honestly look and realize that this is uhhh probably when my music tastes solidified lmao...All of that music was weirdly important in that ways these things can be when you're 16.

[gideonsuggestions]

more

Gideon is pretentious about music but he doesn't actually listen to that much of it. he reads album reviews and revolves all of his opinions around critical and commercial response, then uses big words to make it sound like he listened to the music. he didn't. he still talks about it like patrick bateman though. his "favorite bands" change depending on who's asking. hot alternative chick at the bar? oh, yeah, he loves joy division. been a fan since day one. colleague? of course he understands the genius of classic rock, kids these days just don't get it. investor? interviewer? his favorite artists are the ones on his label, of course. his persona is so meticulously crafted that he actually knows nothing about himself. probably listens to white noise when he's alone.

back in the days of yore, Gideon Graves would have been called a metrosexual. his concept art is greasy but the final product? that guy obsesses over his looks. the vaguely alternative, vaguely hipster look is intentional; he's got an image he needs to sell to young people. hip with the kids. the edgy haircut? the graphic tees? those glasses are not prescription. it's all a facade, of course. he gets his hair done at a high-end salon in Tribeca.

it's his version of teenage rebellion. an illusion of control over his strict upbringing. he thinks of it as alternative, rebellious, bold, but it's really just lots and lots of money with a new coat of paint. he sells the indie aesthetic as a product, and people just eaaaat that shit up. likewise, his taste in women is a part of his brand, of his image. there's nothing beneath the surface.

he's a fucking dick. sorry. and not even a fun one, he's the kind of guy to humiliate his partner in front of other people for a laugh. a part of that hipster persona is never having anything nice to say, and, boy, is he good at it. he's extremely critical of everything, but says it all in a light-hearted, joking tone, so if someone gets upset he can quickly turn it on them for being a mood killer. lots of insults, lots of jokes at other people's expense. y'know that scene from mean girls, where cady sees that regina will compliment someone and then insult them to her friends the second they leave? THAT'S gideon. cynical, passive-aggressive. eye-rolling and scoffing and condescension.

he never really grew out of being a teenager.

gideon graves is like if a character sucked

[myewten]

Enha x photo card collector s/o

: Fluff , crack

A/N : send requests (smut/fluff/angst) huhu I'm still working on hoe phase 'cause I procrastinated it 🥲

Heeseung

Before you guys were even together you were already collecting photocards of Seventeen

He was low-key jealous cause you were collecting pics of his seniors so he decided to confront you about it when you guys were on a date

"how come you don't collect my photocards?" + With matching Bambi eyes hevwkwvwgwjwjs */froths at the mouth

You found it cute how he was jealous over your DK photocards so you lightly pinched his cheeks

(I have this urge to bite his cheeks)

"baby why would I need your photocards when I have so many exclusive pictures of you?"

*/hinimlay heeseung nyo

Jay

Jay knew you collected photocards of various girl groups and he was low-key jealous but supportive

He buys you multiple copies of albums just so you have more chances of getting your bias 🤧

"I heard itzy has a comeback, have you pre-ordered yet?"

Will make you collect his photocards whether you like it or not 😐

Will legit buy a whole set of PC's for you just cause he was late to one of your dates

Jake

You started collecting his photocards after you guys got together since you already completed your soobin prios

You started collecting them 'cause you saw how giddy it got your beloved boyfriend

"babe can you sneak me your Japanese pcs?"

"now would that be fair to other engnes? You already have me everyday sweetheart."

He's too flirty for his own good but on the inside he's kicking his feet like a giddy teenage girl

Sunghoon

You collect Stray kids Lee know photocards and you obviously have a type when it comes to men cause look at what you pulled

Anyways he's the most petty about it and constantly staring at your collection with disdain

"at least my photocards are worth more tsk"

"yeah, you even look like an altar boy in it"

He gives you all his photocards that he can acquire as a 'gift'

He got into an attitude controversy for not bowing and rolling his eyes at Lee know when skz was getting interviewed on music bank 😐

'i'm taller than him, a former figure skater, and hotter than him anyways'

Wonyoung somehow got dragged into it so you had to apologize to her on behalf of your beloved boyfriend

Sunoo

You were already a fan since I-land and had been secretly collecting his PCs as you do with your other biases

When you got together he accidentally found your collection when he was looking through your binders

He was pleasantly surprised and slightly flustered by the discovery

I mean he knew you collected photocards of other idols but he didn't expect to have a binder of just him and some decorated toploaders that were themed around his favorites things

"I didn't know you liked me this much y/nie~"

Continues to tease you about it for the rest of the day but is ultimately touched to have someone he cares so much about appreciate him in such a cute manner

Jungwon

You were a big fan of Wonyoung since her PD48 days and continued to support her since her days in iz*one to ive

Your boyfriend however was a little salty about this whole ordeal since you sometimes streamed their MV's and fancams more than his own group's

"ACK I JUST GOT WONYOUNG CAROUSEL FOR 400 WONIE!"

"nice 🙂"

Man's be crying in the shower in the dorms

When he mc'd with wonyoung for music bank he was expecting you to be jealous

Well you were but....

"WHAT WAS SHE LIKE WONIE? UGH YOU AND SUNGHOON ARE SO LUCKY ITS UNFAIR"

🙂

"it's ok though you're still the only Wonie in my heart"

Ni-ki

One of those "why are those so expensive anyways? It's just a piece of paper"

Purposely gets on your nerves but gets you albums if your ult group is his labelmate

"they're basically for me anyways"

Gets you thei album but you notice it's unsealed and it turns out he purposefully put all his photocards in there

"5K?! FOR MY HYUNGS SELFIE?!"

will never understand why you spend so much money on photocards and various accesories but what can he do besides love you and your unhealthy spending habits

[spaceman-earthgirl]

Supercorptober Day 11: Wild

This fic is a follow up to the Super prompt from a couple of days ago because they're too cute and I wanted to write more. This one is set right after the last one.

Fic link. Series link.

Eliza’s smile is all too knowing when they get back from their walk, but Kara’s not sure if it’s just the normal knowing smile, the smile that says she knows they have feelings for each other and it’s only a matter of time before they get together, or if it’s a smile that says she knows what happened while they were out on their walk.

Her cheek still burns from where Lena had pressed her lips not long ago, it makes her wonder what it’ll feel like if Lena kissed her mouth instead.

All through dinner, Lena keeps sending her shy smiles, eyes finding hers across the table. It’s doing things to Kara’s heart, making her feel so stupidly happy and warm and so very loved.

Kara’s having trouble keeping her own eyes off Lena.

“Are you ready for dessert?” Eliza asks once they’re finished dinner, the question obviously directed at Lena because Kara has never said no to that question in her life.

“Yes, I’m dying to try this famous pie,” Lena smiles, standing up. “Let me help.”

Kara can see Eliza has to fight herself to accept the help, used to waving off any help that’s offered, which is why Kara didn’t offer herself. But she can tell Eliza is really trying to include her, make her feel welcome. Kara makes a mental note to thank Eliza, not just for opening her home to Lena, but also for giving them the little push they’d needed.

Kara literally moans around the first bite of pie, and she’d be embarrassed, seeing the amused tilt of Lena’s eyebrow, but the pie is too good for her to care.

“This is amazing,” Kara says around her mouthful. “Thank you.”

“Lena did most of the work,” Eliza smiles, a hand falling to rest on Lena’s forearm. “Thank her, I only helped, she’s a natural.”

Lena’s cheeks go pink under the praise, and for just a moment, Kara wishes they were alone, so she could lean over and place her own kiss to Lena’s cheek, feel the heat of her skin.

“Thank you. I’ll have to try and make it again once we’re back in National City, see if I can replicate it.”

Eliza laughs, and Kara knows it’s mostly because of her own excited grin. “I’m sure both of my daughters would appreciate that.”

After dessert, Kara manages to convince both Eliza and Lena to let her do the dishes, and maybe she uses a bit of her speed, but she sort of doesn’t trust Eliza alone with Lena anymore, not that there’s much else Eliza can say now, since she already got them to admit their feelings to each other.

She regrets her decision though when she walks into the living room and finds them both flipping through a photo album.

“Hey! I said no photo albums,” Kara pouts.

“I agreed to no such thing,” Lena smiles. She points to a photo. “I knew you’d be cute.”

Kara rolls her eyes, even as she blushes.

It’s not as painful as she expected, and by the end of the first photo album, she actually gets up to get a second, likes sharing a bit of her teenage years with Lena. Sure, Lena teases her and they Lena and Eliza laugh more than once at her expense, but Lena’s the only person she’s every felt comfortable sharing all of herself with. She wants to share it all with her, she wants Lena to know all of her, knows she won’t judge whatever she finds out.

She wants to know all of Lena too.

---

Kara blinks her eyes open, knows it’s still early but it’s light enough that it’s morning. She looks over to Alex’s childhood bed, sees brown hair tangled across the pillow, Lena’s face relaxed in sleep. She listens for a moment, lets the sound of Lena’s quiet breathing and her steady heartbeat wash over her.

She still can’t believe yesterday happened, still can’t believe that she’s lucky enough that Lena wants her too.

Kara sneaks out of bed, an idea popping into her head. It’s a little cheesy but she hopes Lena will find it romantic. She wants to show Lena how much she cares, wants to show her the love she deserves.

She heads outside, through the back garden and out into the trees beyond. She finds a patch of flowers, gathers a few, makes a small bouquet before she heads back to the house.

She plans to sneak back in, leave the flowers beside Lena’s bed for when she wakes, but when she walks into the kitchen, she finds the woman herself already sitting at the dining table.

“Lena!” Kara exclaims. Maybe she should’ve checked that Lena was still asleep, but it’s too late now, as she hastily hides the flowers behind her back.

“Kara,” Lena says, lips pressed together, trying not to smile. She clearly hasn’t been up long, hair pulled back in a messy pony tail, one of Kara’s sweatshirts pulled over her pyjamas. It’s an unfairly cute look and it’s a little distracting. “What’s that behind your back?” she asks, though Kara’s pretty sure she saw.

“Nothing,” Kara says anyway, but when Lena tilts her eyebrow, Kara knows she’s not going to get out of it that easily. “I wanted to surprise you,” Kara says, bringing the flowers back into view. “I was trying to be romantic.”

Lena’s smile softens instantly as she stands, makes her way across the small space to meet Kara. “You shouldn’t have but thank you, they’re beautiful.”

“I definitely should have,” Kara counters. “Pretty flowers for a pretty woman.”

The compliment makes Lena blush and Kara wonders yet again what it would be like to kiss her.

“Thank you,” Lena says, smile shy as she takes the flowers. “I have a question for you.”

“Oh?” Kara says, getting more distracted by the minute with Lena’s close proximity. Last time Lena was this close, she’d kissed her cheek.

“Yes,” Lena nods. “You agree that flowers are a romantic gesture?”

Kara frowns. “Yes. Should I have gotten you something else instead? I can,” Kara says, gesturing towards the door. “I can go and get you anything you want.”

“No,” Lena says, catching Kara’s hand to stop her from leaving. “That’s not what I meant. I was just wondering if you knew, since I filled your office with flowers and you didn’t realise my intent.”

Kara’s mouth drops open. “You filled my office with flowers because you liked me?”

Lena laughs. “Of course, I did. I didn’t realise that the gesture could be seen as just friendly until you took it that way.”

Kara groans. “We could’ve been together all this time?”

“Maybe, but I like this way instead. We know each other now, I think we needed to go through the past few years together, all the good and the bad, before we could get to this.” Lena puts down the flowers on the counter beside them and drops Kara’s hand in favour of wrapping her arms around Kara’s neck instead.

Kara tilts her head down, letting it fall to rest against Lena’s forehead. Lena is so warm, all she wants to do is be closer. “I’m glad we made it here, together.”

They stay like that for a moment, breathing in each other’s space, but then Lena tilts her head and so does Kara and then a mouth is on hers, hot and perfect.

The kiss is hesitant and a little unsure but it’s everything.

Kara’s surprised she hears it, with how focused she is on Lena right now, on the weight of her arms around her neck, on the tiny sigh Lena breathes into the kiss, on the pounding of her heart and the material of Lena’s shirt that Kara’s fingers have curled in, but she does, she hears the creak of the stairs that means they’re about to not be alone in the kitchen anymore.

“Eliza’s coming,” Kara says, and Lena practically jumps out of her embrace, cheeks red. It’s cute, how she looks worried but also how her eyes dart back down to Kara’s mouth like she just wants to kiss her again.

“Morning dears,” Eliza smiles, not seeming to realise what she’d almost walked in on. Or maybe she does know, and she’s just being polite in ignoring it. “How did you both sl- Kara Danvers,” Eliza cuts herself off. “Those flowers better not be from my garden,” Eliza says, eyes on the bunch of flowers on the kitchen counter.

Kara’s eyes go wide. “They’re not, I promise! They’re wildflowers, from behind the house.”

Eliza is suddenly all smiles again. “Okay good, take a seat, I’ll make us all breakfast. How did you both sleep?” She asks, finishing her question from before. Kara can see the question on her mind though, can see her trying to figure out if something has happened between them.

Kara answers the question, Lena too, but she can tell Lena is distracted and she looks over and sees why, sees Lena watching her, a small smile on her face.

Kara reaches over, not caring that Eliza is in the room, to take Lena’s hand, tangling their fingers together.

Lena’s smile gets bigger.

Eliza notices, Kara catching the raised eyebrow sent her way in question and when Kara nods, Eliza’s smile grows too.

“I’m happy for you both,” Eliza says, not waiting for a response as she turns back to the pancakes she’s making.

Kara lifts their joined hands, similar to the way she had last night, presses a kiss to Lena’s hand again. “I’m happy too.”

[pingutats]

wake up in some promised land

despite his best efforts to keep their relationship out of the public eye, harry & y/n are photographed together as they leave a party one night —and harry has an interview the very next morning.

warnings: a little bit of angst about trying to navigate fame and a relationship. harry has a foul mouth. but there’s a happy ending!

word count: 2.2k

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

Harry was decidedly not in a good mood. 

It had been a late night. He’d had a few more drinks than he usually did. In his defence it was earned—he’d just released an album, it was soaring to great heights on iTunes charts all over the world and already receiving overwhelmingly positive reviews—so sue him if he indulged in some expensive champagne, a couple fancy cocktails, too many rounds of shots for him to remember clearly… It was a good night all around. 

The headache he has right now though, brought on by the sudden blare of his alarm (far earlier than he would have preferred), threatens to tarnish the memory. He even considers swearing off drinking forever so he’ll never suffer like this again. 

When he voices this intention to a dozing Y/N as he pulls a shirt on, his only feedback is a pillow-muffled, “You’re such an old man, H.”

He leans over the bed and kisses the small part of her forehead that’s exposed between the pillow and the blanket. “Come on, love. Time to get up.”

“You can get up. I don’t have a radio appearance to make.” She jerks the blanket up to cover her head entirely. “I’ll stay here, thank you very much.”

He manages to drag her downstairs with him anyway, with promises of making her coffee and a hot breakfast. In the kitchen she yawns and stretches, the over-sized sleep shirt opening like bat wings as she raises her arms above her head. He has to force his fond gaze away to concentrate on turning the coffee machine on and pulling eggs out of the fridge. 

“This is a really ungodly hour,” she comments, watching him rummage around in a cupboard for a frying pan. 

“No such thing as a good night’s sleep when you’re as successful as I am,” he tells her wisely. 

She doesn’t even indulge him with a laugh, which tells him exactly how tired she is. 

The coffee’s done quickly—Harry is so addicted to the stuff he could probably make it in his sleep with all the practise he’s had—and she grabs the cup from him with greedy fingers, closing her eyes and sipping as she’s perched up on the counter. 

Harry nearly lets out a moan when the caffeine hits his lips. It surely can’t work that quickly, but already he’s starting to feel alive again. He turns to the stovetop and cracks the eggs in the frypan with one hand, using his other hand to cling to his cup for dear life. 

His phone starts ringing and the sound pierces through his head. His manager’s name is displayed, which is a good thing because if it was anyone else calling right now Harry would probably be tempted to kill them, and even if no publicity is bad publicity, he’s not sure a murder charge would be good for his album sales. He slides his finger across the screen to answer it and tucks the phone between his cheek and shoulder while he adjusts the heat on the stove. 

“Hey, Jeff,” he says. 

Jeff laughs on the other end. “You sound fucked.”

“Big night,” Harry grumbles. “You don’t sound to pretty yourself.”

“All I’m saying is you better get yourself set in the next half hour, ‘cause a voice like that on the radio isn’t going to help you sell records.”

“I’m makin’ breakfast,” Harry retorts. “Got a coffee, I’ll be fine—oh, shit—fuck!” He’s mixed up his hands as he tried to flip the eggs, and poured coffee in the frypan. “Give me a second.”

He sets his coffee down on the counter and unsticks his phone from his cheek, turning it on speaker and placing it next to his cup. He stares at mess in the frypan and decides he’s going to have to try drain the liquid into the sink, without losing the eggs. He accepts this challenge with humility and grace, because he knows it’s his own stupid fault.

Y/N is cackling behind him. On any other day he might have been annoyed, but her laughter this morning just means that she’s in a better mood than earlier. He’d give anything to keep her happy, so if it takes fucking up their breakfast to have her smiling—so be it. 

“Okay,” Harry says to Jeff once he’s secured the situation. 

“Is everything okay over there?” Jeff’s voice is slightly tinny through the phone speaker, but his stress is evident in his tone. 

“Yeah, we’re just—“ he looks at the eggs, dyed brown by the coffee, and glances over his shoulder apologetically at Y/N. “We’re having caffeinated eggs. You’re on speaker. Y/N’s here too. Say hi, baby.”

“Hey, Jeff,” Y/N chirps. 

Jeff sighs. “Hi. Listen, it‘s probably good that you both hear this anyway. There are a couple of photos of the two of you from last night that are doing the rounds on Twitter this morning.”

Harry stiffens. “What?”

Here’s the thing: Harry and Y/N are definitely an item. It’s happened pretty quickly. They’ve been dating for a few months and now whenever they’re in the same city they’re practically living together. They’ve said “I love you” to each other often enough that its utterance isn’t a special occasion anymore. So, sure, they’re boyfriend-girlfriend, and if all goes to Harry’s plan, they’ll be more than that soon enough.

But in the meantime, she’s also his best-kept secret. There have been rumours, of course. They’ve been spotted having lunch together or going on walks. Anyone paying attention knows they’re good friends, but Harry has been careful not to let the other dimension of their relationship slip out into public yet. He conducts himself on public outings (secretly dates) like a Victorian gentleman, constantly vigilant that his affection never goes beyond what’s appropriate between friends. 

“They’re not bad,” Jeff says quickly. “It’s just pretty obvious what’s going on. I’ll send them to you, hang on.”

Y/N slides off the bench and comes to stand right behind Harry, leaning around him to stare at the phone. The minute of waiting for the photos to come through feels like forever. Y/N must sense his tension, because she puts her hands on his shoulders and squeezes. 

A notification pops up at the top of his screen: from Jeff, 8 images attached. He taps it quickly and frowns at the photos. 

They must have been taken as they were leaving the bar that the album release party was at. He notices Jeff and others also crowded on the pavement outside, lit by the orange glow of streetlights. The focus, however, is of course on Harry and Y/N, who were putting on something of a show for all their friends—and, apparently, the rest of the world. 

The first couple are okay. There Harry is, his arm slung around Y/N, clearly not sober as he bellows something up to the sky with a massive grin on his face and closed eyes. They were singing, he vaguely remembers, the karaoke they were doing inside the bar spilling over the rest of their night. Y/N is laughing at him, clapping her hands together.

Harry drags his finger up the screen to scroll to the next photos in Jeff’s chain. These ones start to reveal the two of them as much more than just friends. The arm around her dropped to her waist, pulling her into his body. And then he was bending his head down. And then he was kissing her. 

He scrolls down even further. 

In this one, he’s groping her ass in full view of the camera. 

“Harry, you lecher!” Y/N scolds, smacking his arm in good humour.

He just shakes his head, staring at the photo. “There’s no plausible deniability, is there?”

“There isn’t,” Jeff says over the phone. He laughs weakly. “You two put on a real show.” He must sense the panic that Harry’s feeling, because he adds, “Listen, Harry, I can blacklist questions about it if you want. Just tell me what you want to do.”

Harry looks at Y/N, chewing on his lip. He feels like a teenager again, out of control of his narrative and at the mercy of the media. He’s meticulously developed his skills of privacy for years, now, and one night of insobriety and bad luck undid it all. 

Jeff clears his throat. “The thing with blacklisting is that it might raise more questions. And even if you don’t talk about it, you’ve gotta remember that everyone else will be.”

“Yeah.” Harry runs a hand through his hair. “Look—“

Y/N puts her hand on his cheek, patting him. “Hey,” she says gently. “It’s okay.”

He sucks in a deep breath through gritted teeth and holds it in for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he says finally with a sigh. 

She scoffs. “You’re not the only one in these photos.”

He frowns. She doesn’t get that he’s apologising for more than just the photos. It’s the fact that they have to deal with this at all, that it’s such a big deal for them to simply act like a normal couple. It’s the fact that it’s him, and he is who he is. 

“H,” she presses further. “It’s up to you. Your decision. But I want you to know that I’m happy whichever way you choose.”

He searches her eyes for any hint of doubt. She didn’t manage to clean off all her make-up last night, and there’s a smear of glitter on her temple and dark smudges of mascara underneath her eyes. She looks tired, but she’s definitely serious about what she’s saying. 

“You get what it means to be public with me, though,” he says at last. He hesitates. “It’s… intense.”

She shrugs and gives him a cocky grin. “Nothing I can’t handle.” 

“I’m being serious.”

“I am too.” She’s holding his head in her hands, her fingers smoothing his unruly curls off his face. “It’s just a few photos. It isn’t everything.”

It isn’t everything. Harry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, then leans down to kiss her gently. It’s just an innocent peck, but the feel of her soft lips against his is enough to ground him.

Jeff clears his throat awkwardly. 

They break apart with embarrassed smiles. “Sorry,” Harry says, but he isn’t really.

“Yeah,” Jeff says, sounding uncomfortable. “You’re going to have to make a decision soon, because we’re really cutting it fine.”

Harry looks at Y/N, who nods. 

He turns back to the phone. “Don’t worry about it,” Harry says. “Let them ask the questions.”

“Yeah?” Jeff asks. “Okay then, that saves me a load of trouble. Good luck, man. Enjoy it.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, hanging up with a sharp tap on the screen. He turns around to Y/N with a grin on his face. “Where were we…”

Y/N giggles as he gathers her into his arms, pulling her in close for a kiss that no one else can see or hear, a kiss just for them. When she pulls back to breath, he peppers his lips all over her face until she’s squirming away—“Harry, that tickles!”

He lands one last kiss on her cheek before his gaze lands on the time display on the oven behind her, which tells him he has ten minutes before he needs to be on the Zoom call for the interview. 

She notices the sudden shift in his demeanour and glances behind her to see what caused it. She turns back around. “I’ll sit with you.”

He nods. “Yeah, okay, I’d like that.”

“It’s Harry Styles!” the presenter cries. 

“It’s me! Hello, hello,” he says, waving at the screen. The laptop is set on the coffee table and he’s sitting on the couch, elbows resting on his knees as he grins at the screen. “How are ya?”

“Oh, we’re wonderful,” the presenter replies. “More importantly, how are you? Looks like you had a big night last night, judging by these photos we’re seeing!”

He chuckles. “Yeah. Big night,” he echoes, dragging out the word. 

The presenter laughs. “Sounds like a great time. Well deserved after this masterpiece of an album. And, correct me if I’m wrong, but it looks like you’re quite close with somebody there. Would you explain what’s going on here, Harry?”

Harry peers at the photo displayed on his computer screen, even though he knows exactly what it will be. The one they chose is a sweet one, with Y/N’s arms wrapped around his neck and kiss that he seems to be melting into. He can’t suppress his smile at that. “Oh, well,” he says. “That’s my friend Y/N.”

The presenter raises his eyebrows at that. “Good friend, is she?”

Harry glances up over the laptop to look at Y/N, sitting on the other couch, her cheeks pink and round from her smile. Harry surreptitiously reaches his arm towards her, out of frame, and she leans forward to hold his hand. 

“She is. She’s a lovely girl.” He squeezes her hand. “Yeah, we’re very good friends.”

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

thank you so much for reading! this fic is based on a request from @kissmyaxe140 — i really intended this to be a shorter blurb of a few hundred words, but i’m incapable of brevity. apparently. this grew into a little monster but i rlly had fun writing it!! the title is a lyric from secret life by bleachers.

if you liked this fic, a reblog and/or any kind of feedback would be very much appreciated. my masterlist can be found here and you can send me messages here. have a gorgeous day!

[fruityyamenrunner]

The Mike Pilavachi affair is interesting because reading the reports superficially it seems like a standard "priest is a nonce" story but it's more interesting because there is a very significant "counter-initiatory" element:

It's possible, probable even, that he is guilty of real noncery and rape - certainly all the "if you have safeguarding concerns, please contact the church at this number" is an effort to bring any noncery into the light -- but mostly what he is guilty of is oil massaging and wrestling twinks of legal age, as well as the usual "overgrown child" occult politics of a middle aged man playing with cliques of excited religious youth, forming inner rings etc.

In an interview in The Sunday Times this week, David Gate, a former Soul Survivor worship leader (responsible for music) described his experience of working with Canon Pilavachi, whom he had first encountered as a 12-year-old attending the New Wine festival.

He was 16, he said, when Canon Pilavachi “singled me out and told me I was going to do amazing things for God”. He contributed two songs to a Soul Survivor album, and started to lead the singing at events. As other men have described, he wrestled with Canon Pilavachi, “but always fully clothed in the company of others”.

“There seemed to always be a favourite — usually athletic, always male teenagers or young men — no older than 23,” Mr Gate said. “If he’d win — and often he was a lot bigger than us — he might sit on top of you. Looking back, it must have appeared strange, a 45-year-old, well-built man wrestling on the floor with a 16-year-old boy.”

In 2012, Mr Gate moved to the United States. During a visit to Soul Survivor, Watford, in 2017, he recalled: “Mike preached that men couldn’t have relationships with other men because they have too much lust. He reasoned that women had lower sex drives, which moderated a man’s libido. It was misogynistic and homophobic.

“In the evening, we were instructed to break up into small groups of five or six to talk about sex: adults with teenagers. Most of us were strangers. There was absolutely no safeguarding. That was the final straw — I never went back.”

“There seemed to be no one who Mike was accountable to,” he said.

it's not ilegal, it's not even very immoral. Against the grubby background of charismatic evangelicalism, he is only slightly darker. He stands out because he grew so big and, for some fucking reason, decided to run his cult under the Church of England umbrella, conservative charismatic evangelical flavour.

The second part makes good initiatory sense -- this very simple kind of childish guru stuff works best in a context of repression and liminal ecstasy. Whatever you believe about the reality of "initiation" you might call even the charismatic evangelicals "counter-initiatory", but next to their fellow churchmen, largely happy to preside over an English Shinto or keeping up the lace-within-lace games of Anglo-Catholicism, they resemble the classic "initiatory" perverts.

All I can think is that as an initiatory guru, his perversions are so mild -- he seems to have scrupulously followed sex laws, looked for boys and men who were at least latently homosexual (and in that environment, there's not any unrepressed homosexuality, which colours the accounts of his detractors and victims) so mild that I don't think any other authority but the Church of England would even have cared enough to stop him.

That and the money of course - his concerts seem to have been expensive affairs.

magic man on this podcast calling Stephen Batchelor and Sam Harris "counter-initiatory" and "black brothers"