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ki2rins · 1 day ago

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⟢ lowkey - nsr

pairings: badboy! riki x fem! reader || fluff, crack || wc: 5k

synopsis: news flash! nishimura riki is finally mature enough to acknowledge his feelings for you and he wants to let you know! but what would he do? A. try to feed you? B. walk you home? C. many more. or D. all of the above? warnings: hes not really a badboy...just more of a get into fights/suspensions boy, loosely based / integrated from the anime - my little monster, highschool! au, petnames, playful banter, teasing, confident ni-ki, shy reader, swearing, - lmk if i missed out anything! playlist: lowkey - niki, moonstruck - enhypen, your eyes only - enhypen, is this love - XG rin's yap: gawddd first try at writing an actual fic, big thanks to bby who sent in the ask, ily smm <3 do let me know what yall think about it!

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nishimura riki or ni-ki was too boisterous. too boisterous for your calm, simple minded nature. he was noisy, you were quiet. he was sporty, you were not. he had a reputation that followed him wherever he went, while you preferred to stay low and blend into the background. yet, despite these stark differences, he always seemed to gravitate towards you. shocking you by leaving random candies on your desk, doodles on your notebook and even occasionally gives you a smile or two whenever your eyes meet. you thought to yourself, countless times even, on the reasons why ni-ki would shower you with these subtle affections. little do you know that the man, the myth himself, has a major crush on you. ni-ki took note of every simple detail about you. from how you’ll do your hair - a simple ponytail on mondays to thursdays and a small tidy bun on fridays since there was gym class. he also noticed how you’ll forget to have your lunch when you are caught up on annotating your textbook, and today was the day he spoke up about it.

ni-ki’s footsteps echoed through the classroom as the door swung open. his usual confident stride was back after his suspension, as if nothing has changed, though the whispers around him had already started. he flashed his signature smirk to the few people who dared make contact, his reputation clearly preceding him. most of the students avoided him, but not you. you didnt really have time to keep your head into these dramas, and you certainly didnt understand why everyone cared so much about his return. yet, for some reason, there he was, standing at the entrance of your usual seat. “you mind if i sit here?” ni-ki asked, his voice laced with a lazy confidence, like it wasnt even a question.

you blinked, trying not to show the hesitation in your eyes. the desk next to yours was the only one left open. you nodded, but the words caught in your throat as he slid into the seat without waiting for your approval.

his eyes briefly scanned the open space on your desk - notes, pens, textbooks and the untouched lunch you had packed earlier.

“you busy?” ni-ki asked, as if making small talk with you was his second nature. his tone was nonchalant, like he was speaking to someone he had known for years, even though you had barely exchanged a couple of sentences before.

you glanced at him, then back at your notebook. “kind of.” ni-ki hummed, playing with the contents in your pencil case. “kind of? looks more like youre drowning in notes.”

you sighed, placing your pen down. “its lunch period, if youre not here to study, why are you sitting here and bothering me? shouldnt you be in the cafeteria or something?” he leaned forward slightly, elbow propped on the desk, resting his chin on his fist. “but you havent eaten.” ni-ki said lazily. his eyes stared at your lunch then back at you. “how do you-” “you do this a lot, get too caught up in work, forget the time then boom - lunch period passes and your lunch gets forgotten.” your mind went blank upon hearing the words that just escaped from ni-ki’s mouth. he described that usual routine so perfectly that for a second you wondered - do doppelgangers exist in this world? you were so lost in your thoughts that you didnt realised until you heard the presence beside you speak up again.

“eat.” ni-ki said as he nudged your lunchbox towards you.

you hesitated, scanning his face for any sign of teasing, but he looked…oddly serious. it was strange, having someone notice such a small habit of yours, much less some like ni-ki. at that moment, you found yourself staring at him - from his jaw to the countless moles on his face, to his lazy-looking eyes and the stray strands of hair resting on his nose. damn. he look…good.

“do you want me to feed you or something?” you blinked as you register his words. what in the world was he saying now? “come on yn, lunch period is ending in 10 minutes. chop chop.” ni-ki said as he took your lunchbox, opening it and passing you the sandwich you prepared for yourself earlier this morning, bringing it up to your lips.

“i-i can eat it myself.” you snatched the sandwich away and turned the opposite reaction. taking a bite as you feel blood rushing up to your cheeks.

upon seeing you shying away from him, ni-ki leaned back on his chair, arms crossed and a knowing smirk growing on his face. he admired the sight in front of him and it killed him to not take this chance to tease you even more, and what he says next really drove you insane.

“good girl”

then you choked. ➽──────────────❥➽──────────────❥

you were so caught up in your thoughts that you barely noticed the bell ringing, signaling the end of class. as you packed your thing into your bag, your mind drifted back to earlier - specifically, the moment when ni-ki pointed out that habit of yours.

“but you havent eaten”

“do you want me to feed you or something?”

“good girl”

your cheeks warmed again at the thought of his words. he was right, as much as it embarrassed you. it wasnt the first time you had forgotten to eat, but hearing him call you out on it felt different somehow - like there was a tinge of affection wrapped up in those sweet words.

as you were wrapping up your thoughts, you attempted to slip out of your seat, but you froze when ni-ki’s voice reached your ears.

“ready to go?”

you turned your head, confused. “ready to go where?”

his smirk remained as he gave you a nonchalant shrug. “home.” and that was how you suddenly found yourself walking side by side with ni-ki.

you cant lie, you dont have many friends. you chose to be part of a small, quiet circle that only hung out every once in awhile, mostly just to study or to catch up. your day to day was simple and predictable - go to school, proceed home, study then lastly, sleep. and so, it repeats again and again.

is he doing all these out of pity? is he…looking down on me?

it was unplanned, uncalled for even. you cant help but wonder if his actions covered up for any malicious intentions. but here you were, leaving the classroom and walking down the hallway, your footsteps in sync despite the silence hanging between you as you both made your way out of school. you glanced up at him, his hands shoved casually into his pockets, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

“so, whats your deal?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

ni-ki raised an eyebrow, glancing at you sideways. “my deal? you have been avoiding me.”

you stopped walking for a brief second. “i havent been-”

“yeah, you have.” he cut in smoothly. “you have been acting different lately, quieter. you dont usually keep to yourself.

fuck. why is he noticing every single thing?

but you could feel your heart skip a beat at his words. was it that obvious? you tried to brush it off, but his presence was so overwhelming, it was hard to hide anything. you forced a casual shrug. “its nothing.”

ni-ki raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “uh huh. sure. you have been way too quiet. no more random laughter with friends in class. not raising hands to answer questions anymore. you are usually…not this distant.”

you tried to think of a response but found yourself coming up short. was he always this perceptive? or were you just that readable?

“what about you?” putting up a more defensive front after being called out. “you dont exactly make it easy for people to talk to you.”

he just gave you a lazy grin. “i dont need people to talk to me. i have got everything i need.”

you blinked, unsure how to respond to that. his self-confidence, or maybe arrogance, was something that always threw you off. it was like he know he had the power to make anyone talk, but didnt care enough to do so.

“so, whats the plan after school?” ni-ki asked, his voice casual again, like the conversation had never left that easy, confident tone.

“im going to study.” you said quickly, almost instinctively, though your thoughts were drifting to the last few hours of class.

“of course you are. you always study, but you need a break.” he said as he turned, walking backwards now, his gaze never leaving you. “maybe i’ll join you someday, keep you company while youre at it. who knows, maybe i could even tutor you.”

your heart did a strange flip at his words, but you tried not to show it. “yeah, right. you spend more time being suspended than actually being at school, and you think you can tutor me?”

he shrugged, as if the idea didnt faze him at all. “well if you never try, you’ll never know.” he shot you a wink. “the invitation is always up, you could just give me a ring or drop me a text whenever.”

you hummed, trying to stay calm while still processing the casual ‘invitation’ ni-ki had offered to you. you wanted to snap something back, but the air between you was thick with something you didnt quite understand. was this the way he usually operated? you couldnt tell if he was serious or if he was just messing with you.

the walk home continued in silence, but your thoughts were racing. ni-ki was… unpredictable, and that made you nervous in a way you werent used to.

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and so, the weekend came along and not once did you leave ni-ki’s mind.

it wasnt like he didnt have other things to do. he had a routine - friends, his usual chaos - but somehow his thoughts kept drifting back to you. the way you blushed when he teased you about your lunch, the way you avoided meeting his gaze and the strange tension between you both that had been hanging ever since that walk home.

he didnt get it. you were different from the usual crowd he interacted with. quiet, reserved. he was used to people talking around him, trying to get his attention, but you…you didnt try at all.

maybe thats what made you so interesting. and alluring.

he found himself staring at his phone more than usual, waiting for a message from you. he had dropped the invitation, and part of him thought you had just ignored it. but another part of him wonder if maybe, just maybe you would reach out.

his fingers hovered over the keys, typing and deleting messages, not sure how to play this out. he wasnt used to feeling like this, like there was something worth waiting for.

with a frustrated breath, he tapped out a quick message, keeping it casual, trying to convince himself.

okay, you got this. just send the message. easy-peasy, no pressure.

he stared at the screen for a moment longer, then, with a sigh, he sent it.

ni-ki hey, its ni-ki just thought i'll remind you the offer is still open ;)

ni-ki stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity, waiting for a reply. his thumb hovered over the phone, already anticipating the silent rejection or the awkward radio silence that might follow. you see, ni-ki is a boy who dreams big, but he does not know how to achieve his dreams. he is not sure on the ways to approach or even to impress you. he is just placing his bets on the weird and awkward gestures he does to catch your attention, and something about his gut told him this time - that it he has a shot.

still, he tried not to get this hopes up too much.

the minutes dragged on, and his eyes flicked back to his phone again and again, even though he knew it was ridiculous.

finally, the screen lit up. his heart skipped a beat.

it was a reply.

yn thanks for the reminder i'll think abt it

his lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. it wasnt exactly a ‘yes’, but it wasnt a ‘no’ either. but he was determined to make you say ‘yes’.

ni-ki well if ure gonna think abt it u might as well take me up on the offer

he hit send, then tossed the phone to the side, trying to distract himself with anything else. but as always, his mind drifted back to you. was he coming off too strong? was he annoying you?

a ping sounded, and he instantly grabbed his phone.

yn youre serious about this huh?

ni-ki smirked, tapping a finger to his chin like he was trying to play it cool. he then replied quickly.

ni-ki i mean it wasnt a joke in the first place besides im pretty sure i could teach u a thing or two

yn im not so sure abt that im fine studying on my own

he grinned, sensing an opportunity.

ni-ki i know u'll say that but we both know ure not the greatest at keeping up w anyth and everyth remember what happened during that lunch period? classic example of u getting lost in your work dont think i didnt notice

there was a long pause, and ni-ki started to think he might have pushed it too far. but then, his phone buzzed again.

yn youre really observant huh? you sound very much like a stalker but abt ur offer im not sure abt it im not yk the best study buddy

ni-ki laughed to himself before replying almost instantly.

ni-ki ure prob right but thats why u need me and yk me irl so i cant be deemed as a stalker :) plus i promise i wont bite unless u want me to

ni-ki cringed at the last part but he didnt want to delete it. thinking to let you decide how to comprehend that.

yn :l fine i'll give it a shot but dont expect me to enjoy it

ni-ki's grin widened. he had won this round.

ni-ki deal see? that wasnt so hard

yn whatever i'll see u tmr then mr tutor

he laughed before typing out his last reply.

ni-ki cant wait to see u tmr promise it'll be fun :)

once done, he leaned back against his bed, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips. he wasnt sure what he had been expecting, but the fact that you agreed made it feel like progress. it wasnt much, but for ni-ki, it was a step forward and a win, is a win.

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you found yourself in the strangest places at the oddest times.

and here you are, standing outside ni-ki’s doorstep on a bright and sunny, sunday afternoon.

honestly you didnt expected yourself to agree to his offer at all, but something about his persistent messages and the way he would playfully pushed you to study with him had gotten to you. so here you were - standing in front of a you never thought you would be near, at a time you definitely never saw coming, door.

you took a deep breath and rang the doorbell, wincing at how loud it sounded against the silence of the street. your thoughts were scattered, your mind racing through the worst-case scenarios. what if he gave you the wrong address? what if hes not home? you swallowed hard, trying to shake off the wave of nervousness crashing over you.

just then, the door opened with a soft creek, there he was - ni-ki, standing in the doorway, donning just a simple tank top with sweats, greeting you with that familiar cocky smile on his face.

“hey” he said, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. “you actually showed up.”

you couldnt tell if his smirk was a teasing one or was he genuinely impressed at the fact that you were standing right infront of his doorstep. either way, it did little to calm your nerves.

“well” you cleared your throat. “i said i would, didnt i?”

he grinned wider, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “i’ll believe it when i see it.”

you rolled your eyes, trying to hide the flush creeping up your neck. “so uh. where are we studying?” you asked, doing your best to sound casual.

he stepped aside, gesturing you to come in. “follow me. i have a study spot all set up.”

as you entered, the tension in your chest started to ease slightly. it was just studying right, right? you could handle this. but still, you couldnt shake the feeling that something had shifted between the two of you ever since that walk home.

the study session wasnt anything out of the ordinary - at least, thats what you tried to tell yourself. you and ni-ki were seated side by side, books scattered across the desk, his room quiet except for the occasional rustling of papers and the soft tapping of your pens.

you tried to focus on your notes, but it wasnt easy when he kept glancing at you. his gaze was so intense, and it made your stomach do these weird flips you couldnt explain. every time you looked to your side, he’ll be looking at you with that half-smirk of his.

“need help with that equation?” ni-ki asked casually, leaning over to look at your paper, your shoulders making contact, making you tensed.

“i-i got it.” you stuttered, quickly writing down the the answer and shifting your body aside, slightly tucking yourself inwards.

he chuckled softly, clearly amused by your reaction. “relax cutie, im just making sure youre not stressing too much.”

your heart beat faster at his words, especially by the petname he just called you. it wasnt the first time he had said something to put you at ease, but somehow it felt different today. you couldnt help but notice how gentle his tone was, how patient he was with you.

there was a brief silence before you felt him brush his fingers against your cheek as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. his touch was light, but it sent an unexpected shiver down your spine.

“youre too close.” you muttered, trying to distract yourself by scribbling down more notes, but it was hard when his hand lingered in the air, still so close.

ni-ki didnt seem to mind the tension. instead, he leaned back in his chair, eyes never leaving yours. “youre cute when youre flustered, you know that?”

you tried not to blush, but the heat creeping up your neck was unavoidable. “stop messing around.”

“im not messing around.” he replied softly, his voice suddenly more serious. he leaned towards you, resting his elbows on the desk, his gaze softening. “you know, i have been thinking about something.”

your eyes met his, and for a second, it felt like the whole world stopped. you felt nervous, your chest thumped in anticipation. you didnt know what he was about to say, but something told you it was important.

“wh-what?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

he hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking to your lips before returning to your eyes.

“i like you. a lot. like, more than just a study buddy. im not sure if you could tell, but i have been trying to get closer to you and i was praying all my gestures wouldnt shoo you away instead.”

your breath caught in your throat. you had not expect this moment, your heart raced, and you could feel the color rising in your cheeks, “ni-ki…”

he reached out, his thumb brushing the back of your hand gently. “i know this might sound sudden, but i like the way you are. quiet, thoughtful. you dont make a big deal out of anything. and…i think youre a lot more than you give yourself credit for.”

there was an awkward pause, and you werent sure what to say. you had been so focused on the fact that he was always the cool, aloof guy, that you had not noticed how serious he had been about this whole thing.

you did reciprocate his feelings back, but there was just one thing that was stopping you from doing so - his reputation. he was the headstrong boy who gets into fights and treats the world as his playground. you, on the other hand, were just an average girl exploring life one step at the time. both of you were polar opposites, and that scared you.

people had warned you about him before - teachers who sighed at the look of his bruised and battered sight, classmates who gossiped about his flights, the way he always seemed to get himself into troubles and brush it off like it was nothing. ‘he doesnt care about anything’ they said. ‘hes just looking for fun.’ but sitting here now, with the way he was looking at you, speaking so softly, so genuinely…you werent sure if that was true anymore.

before you could summarised your thoughts, ni-ki broke the silence, his voice playful again but with that soft edge of sincerity. “dont worry. im not expecting anything, not from you anyway. but i thought you should know.”

those four words that he slipped in hurt you in ways you couldnt explain. you wanted to admit your feelings for him but the fear still stays. however, something inside of you just wanted to give it a shot, not caring if you would get hurt in the process. life is full of growth anyways right?

“ni-ki” you said, still unsure of how to phrase your words.

he hummed, leaning close to you. “yeah?”

“im scared, but i want to try…wanna make this work. make this work with…you.”

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you and ni-ki did not settle on any label of your current in-between-friendship-situationship-relationship-state. instead, you both agreed to take this one step at the time, keeping things lowkey.

so when he texted you on a saturday night with a simple “wanna go out?”, you werent sure if he meant a date or just another random meet-up. but then again, did it matter?

the waves crashed gently against the shore as the two of you walked side by side, your footsteps sinking into the sand. the beach was quiet, save for the distant laughter of a few night strollers and the occasional rustling of the breeze. it wasnt planned, wasnt fancy - just the two of you, sneakers in hand, the salty air clinging to your skin.

“didnt think you would actually show up.” ni-ki mused, kicking a stray shell along the sand. his tone was light, but you caught a small smile tugging at his lips.

you scoffed, hugging your arms. “you do realise you texted me at, like, ten, right?”

“yeah, but youre here anyways.” he nudged you with his elbow. “you just cant resist me huh?”

you rolled your eyes, but your heart betrayed you, skipping a beat at the way he said it - so effortlessly, so naturally, like this thing between you had always been there.

the night stretched on as you walked, exchanging quiet conversation and playful remarks, but beneath it all, there was something else - something unspoken, lingering between your words - until ni-ki finally brought it up.

“you still scared?” he stopped to face you, his voice soft and you could tell he was serious, no teasing, no laughter. he didnt elaborate, but you knew exactly what he meant.

you hesitated, staring out at the dark horizon, “a little.”

ni-ki hummed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “good. means you actually care.”

he said it so simply, yet it made your chest tighten. you glanced at him, searching his face, and for once, he wasnt smirking. and in that moment you could tell - the facade was gone, he wasnt ni-ki but riki, just a boy looking at you like you were the only person on the stretch of sand.

you both now settled to sit on the sand, hearing the waves clash against each other as you both kept quiet. you studied his face once again, ni-ki hugged his knees, toes playing with the sand, the usual smirk on his face replaced with a faint frown. you could tell that he was distracted and for the first time, you felt his confidence falter and it was worrying you. his eyes didnt hold their playful spark, they were distant, thoughtful. you couldnt but ask.

“is everything okay?” your voice was soft, careful, unsure if you were stepping into something you shoudnt.

ni-ki looked at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. then, he sighed. “you ever wonder if people only see what they want to see?”

“what do you mean?” you blinked, processing his words, unsure of the hidden meaning behind his question.

he ran a hand through his hair, letting out another frustrated sigh. “i mean…im this ‘bad boy’ that everyone perceives me to be. i get into fights, i skip classes, i dont care about anything or anyone. people see that, and they think the know who i am. hell, even i have convinced myself that its easier to just be this…persona. its just easier to let people think im this heartless guy than to show them that…im more than that.”

his words tugged at your heartstrings. you knew the troubles, but you never understood it, not until this moment. the playful, cocky ni-ki you knew, that chased you, was suddenly nowhere to be found. instead, you saw someone who was burdened by an image that never felt like it fit.

“youre not heartless.” you said, your voice steady but filled with sincerity. without thinking, you reached out and gently placed your hand on his, the warmth of your touch grounding him in the quiet stillness of the night. “you never were.”

ni-ki looked down at your hand, gaze softening. “you dont get it. you dont know what its like to always be the guy everyone expects to mess up. i even made you second-guess this whole situation didnt i?” he turned to face you, eyes locked on yours.

you tried to search for the usual playful spark in his eyes, but it was gone. there was only vulnerability. he was no longer the confident, untouchable ni-ki, but just a boy who had learned to hide behind walls. his gaze searched yours, and for a moment, you felt the wright of his insecurities pressing down on you.

you couldnt help but feel guilty. you couldnt help but blame the world for putting so much on his shoulders. for making him self-doubt himself, for making you doubt him.

“you dont have to be that guy for anyone.” you said, your voice soft but firm. “youre more than what people think. i see you. the real you.”

ni-ki looked at you, his lips parted as if he wanted to say something but didnt know how. his usual confidence seemed like a distant memory now, replaced by a quiet, raw sincerity that made your heart ache for him.

but to ni-ki, that was all he needed to hear from you, that was all he wanted from you.

acceptance.

ni-ki remained still for a moment, his eyes fixed on yours, as if searching for a hint of insecurity in your words. when he found none, a flicker of something softer passed through his expression. the tightness in his shoulders eased, but he still didnt smile - not in the way he usually did.

instead, he simple nodded, his voice barely across a whisper. “i guess…i have been waiting for someone to see me like that.”

the words were simple, but they carried a weight that you werent sure you were reading for. it was as if, for the first time, ni-ki was letting down the walls he had carefully built around himself, trusting you to catch him if he fell.

you didnt hesitate, you reached out, gently brushing your fingers against his cheek. “i see you, riki. just you. no one else.”

his eyes softened, the guarded look that had been there moments ago replaced with something much more vulnerable. the usual cocky grin was nowhere to be found, but there was something more meaningful in its place - a raw, unspoken gratitude.

slowly, ni-ki leaned forward, his breath warm against your face as he closed the distance between you. it wasnt fast, and it wasnt rushed. it was a quiet, tender movement, as though he was giving you the choice, the space to decide.

and for once, you didnt need time to think. you leaned into him, the kiss gentle at first, as if both of you were testing the waters - treading carefully. but as the kiss deepened, the walls between you both seemed to crumble further, and in that moment, you realised that despite everything - the doubts, the insecurities, the fear - you werent as different as you thought. you were both just two people trying to figure things out, finding solace in each other’s presence.

the world around you faded. the waves, the sand, the night - it all disappeared as ni-ki’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, as if he, too, had been waiting for something to finally feel real.

when the kiss ended, you both lingered in the stillness for a moment, breathing in the night air. ni-ki pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, a playful spark finally flickering back to life in his eyes.

“so…are we, like…boyfriend and girlfriend now?” he asked, his voice light but with a hopeful smile.

you blinked, surprised by the directness, but then you smiled, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “youre asking me?”

ni-ki raised an eyebrow, teasing. “well, im pretty sure i have earned it.”

you rolled your eyes but couldnt stop yourself from smiling, the warmth between you undeniable. “i guess so.”

he grinned and pulled you closer, the playful glint in his eyes still there, but there was something more sincere behind it now, “good, because im not going anyhwere.”

you leaned into him again, realising that whatever this was between you, it was real. no labels, no expectations - just the two of you, finally figuring things out together.

#enhypen #enhypen x y/n #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #nishimura riki #niki nishimura #ni ki #ni ki enhypen #ni ki x reader #enhypen riki #riki x reader #rin's works

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jungkoode · 20 hours ago

Text

OFF-LABELS | O8

→ PAIRING : Med Student!Hoseok x F!Reader (Brother’s Best Friend AU)

→ RATING: Mature, 18+, suggestive tones.

→ DATE POSTED: March 3rd, 2025.

→ SUMMARY: You’ve spent four years convincing yourself that your brother’s best friend is just being nice when he remembers your coffee order, quizzes you on neuroanatomy, or lets his touch linger a second too long. Because there’s no way that the golden boy of Seoul National’s medical program might actually be flirting with you. Especially when he keeps saying things that could be perfectly innocent… if only he didn’t say them in that voice.

→ TAGS: second person perspective, female reader, medical school au, brother’s best friend trope, age gap (4 years), pining, touch starved, overthinking reader, confident hoseok, gentle dom hoseok, medical terminology as flirting (lmao), study sessions, domestic moments, innocent (but not really), plausible deniability king hoseok, anxiety, internal monologue, guilty crushes, subtle teasing, emotional edging, gentle manipulation, praise kink undertones, intellectual attraction, competency kink, hand fixation, voice kink, medical intern hoseok, first year med student reader, home setting, casual intimacy, unresolved sexual tension (for now), secret attraction, nervous rambling, self-doubt, intrusive thoughts, anatomy lessons with ulterior motives, competent hoseok, flustered reader, close proximity, accidental touches that aren’t accidents, virgin!reader.

→ CONTENT in this chapter: Failed attempts at normal Friday nights, tequila-fueled bad decisions, drunk texting that definitely crosses lines, deliberately provoking reactions, pink sets making reappearances, and countdown timers that feel like threats (or promises). | drunk texting, emotional provocation, jealousy, possessive behavior, failed rebounds, tequila courage, late night messages, countdown tension, deliberate misbehavior, text conversations, bar settings, alcohol consumption, purposeful disobedience, revenge flirting, provoked responses.

→ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQ | WORDCOUNT: 3,6k

→ MINI SERIES: PREVIOUS | NEXT

→ A/N: Sometimes it takes tequila and spite to say what you really mean. This chapter is dedicated to everyone who's ever sent that one text they absolutely shouldn't have (but definitely meant). Also to anyone who's ever tried to move on and realized they're ruined for normal flirting. Special thanks to my friends who had to watch me spiral while writing this - your emotional support and drink recommendations were crucial to this mess.

PLAYLIST

The screen blurs as you stare at his contact—a blank gray circle where his photo used to be. The one of him and Caleb at graduation, both grinning, arms slung around each other's shoulders.

Gone.

Your thumb hovers over the message thread. The last thing he sent stares back at you, clinical and cold:

Hoseok: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢.

Three words.

That's all it took to unravel everything—all the heated glances, the lingering touches, the way he'd made you feel seen and wanted and his.

(Stupid. You were so stupid.)

The phone hits the wall with a satisfying crack. You don't check if the screen's broken. Don't care. Let it shatter like everything else.

Because that's what this is, isn't it? He'd played you perfectly—drawing you in with gentle words and meaningless touches, making you question your own sanity until you were desperate for confirmation. Until you were willing to do anything just to prove you weren't imagining it all.

And now?

Now he's gone.

Like it meant nothing. Like you meant nothing. Just another conquest, another game won, another—

A soft knock interrupts your spiral.

"Y/N?" Caleb's voice filters through the door, concerned but not pushing. "You okay?"

You swallow hard, swiping at your eyes. "Fine."

The door creaks open anyway.

Your brother takes one look at you—curled up in your desk chair, eyes red-rimmed, phone face-down on the floor—and something in his expression shifts.

He doesn't ask. Doesn't pry. Just disappears briefly and returns with two mugs of chamomile tea, the kind mom always makes when either of you is upset.

"Scoot." He nudges you over, settling on the floor beside your chair. "Found that terrible rom-com you like. The one with the talking cats."

A wet laugh escapes before you can stop it. "It's not terrible."

"It's horrific." But he's already pulling up Netflix on his phone, patting the space next to him until you slide down to join him.

The tea is too hot and slightly too sweet—he always adds an extra spoonful of honey—but it warms something frozen in your chest. You lean against his shoulder as the movie starts, breathing in the familiar scent of mom’s laundry detergent and that stupid cologne your aunt always gifts him for Christmas.

He doesn't mention how your shoulders shake slightly. Doesn't comment on the damp spot growing on his sleeve. Just wraps an arm around you and lets you hide your face when the tears come faster.

It's going to be okay.

(It has to be okay.)

Your phone buzzes weakly from its place on the floor. You don't check it.

Some things are better left broken.

You stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying to convince yourself this is a good idea.

Kiara had been insistent—persistent—about dragging you out tonight. "You need this," she'd declared, rifling through your closet with terrifying efficiency. "Fresh air. Good music. Hot strangers who aren't emotionally constipated medical residents."

(You hadn't told her about Hoseok. Hadn't told anyone. But somehow she knew—the way best friends always do.)

The dress she picked is shorter than you'd usually wear, black fabric clinging to curves you normally hide under oversized sweaters. Your legs look longer in the heels she forced on you, and the smokey eye makeup makes you look... different. Older.

Less like the nervous med student who stammers through anatomy presentations.

Less like his Chip.

Your throat tightens. You reach for your phone automatically—to check if he's unblocked you, to see if he's noticed your absence, to—

"Don't you dare." Kiara appears in the doorway, looking unfairly gorgeous in a red dress. She snatches your phone, dropping it into her clutch. "No drunk texting allowed."

"I wasn't going to—"

"Sure." She starts fixing your lipstick. "And I'm not planning to get absolutely destroyed on tequila shots."

You manage a weak laugh. "You're buying."

"Obviously." She steps back, examining her work with critical eyes. "There. Now you look properly devastating." Her grin turns wicked. "Let's go make some bad decisions."

And that’s how you somehow end up in one of those trendy pubs near campus.

Which is, by the way, absolutely packed when you arrive—music thrumming through the floorboards and lighting making everyone look airbrushed.

The bass line manages to drown out the voice in your head that sounds suspiciously like him.

Kiara orders shots immediately. The tequila burns going down, but it's better than the ache that's been living in your sternum for days.

"To terrible men," she declares, raising another glass.

"To terrible decisions," you counter, and the lime tastes like freedom when you bite down.

And three shots later, the edges of everything finally start to blur pleasantly.

The music feels like it's flowing through your veins, making your hips sway without conscious thought. Kiara drags you to the dance floor, her laugh bright and infectious as she spins you around.

"See?" She has to shout over the bass. "This is what Friday nights are supposed to feel like!"

And maybe she's right. Maybe this is better than sitting in your room, staring at your phone, waiting for a message that's never going to come. Maybe this—the plethora of bodies moving around you, the asphyxiating burn of tequila, the way your dress slides against your skin when you dance—is exactly what you need.

You close your eyes, letting the music take over. Let yourself forget about gentle voices and surgical hands and the way he'd looked at you like you were something precious right before he—

No.

Not tonight.

Tonight is for dancing and drinking and pretending your heart isn't still beating in morse code: Ho-seok, Ho-seok, Ho-seok.

(But god, even the bass line sounds like his laugh.)

The tequila makes your phone screen swim as you glare at his contactless profile. The gray circle mocks you—empty and cold like his stupid perfect soul.

"Look at you," you slur at the blank icon. "Not even a picture anymore. Too good for pictures now? Too busy being tall and successful and making people question their sanity?"

Kiara—who apparently managed to grab a mojito at some point—now snorts into her glass. "Honey..."

"And your hands." You jab accusingly at the screen. "Why are they so big? Who gave you permission? Stupid... stupid surgeon hands with their stupid... precision."

"Okay, that's enough." Kiara tries to grab your phone, but you clutch it to your chest.

"No wait, I'm not done insulting his perfect face. Which isn't even here anymore because he's too important for profile pictures apparently." You hiccup. "Probably busy being gentle and professional somewhere else. With his stupid rolled-up sleeves and his stupid honey voice and his stupid—"

"Perfect bone structure?" Kiara supplies helpfully.

"Yes!" You slump against the bar. "It's offensive. His whole... everything is offensive. Criminal, even. We should report him to the medical board for being unreasonably attractive while also being a complete—"

"Asshole?"

"I was gonna say bastard but yes." You squint at the screen again. "Look at him. Not looking at us. With his not-picture. Rude."

Kiara pats your head sympathetically. "Come on, disaster. Let's find you someone who actually shows up in photos."

As if summoned by her words, two guys materialize beside your table. The taller one—dark hair, nice smile, definitely not wearing a white coat or speaking in medical terminology—leans against the bar.

"Can we buy you ladies a drink?"

You open your mouth to decline, but Kiara kicks you under the table.

"We'd love that," she says smoothly. "I'm Kiara, this is Y/N."

"James," the tall one offers. "This is Mike."

Mike waves, sliding onto the stool next to you. He's cute, in a slightly tired way—the kind that comes from hospital rotations and too little sleep.

"Med student?" he asks, noticing your distracted glance at your phone.

"How'd you guess?" you ask.

"The thousand-yard stare," he laughs. "I'm doing my internship at SNU. Just started the emergency rotation last week."

You manage a small smile. Med student, intern—at least he's not a certain first-year resident with surgical hands and a talent for making you question your sanity.

"So," Mike asks, "what brings you here tonight?"

"Emotional devastation," you announce before Kiara can stop you. "Also tequila."

He laughs—a normal laugh, not a honey-dripped chuckle designed to make your knees weak. "Sounds like there's a story there."

"Oh, there's a story." You straighten up, warming to your topic. "See, there's this guy—"

Kiara slaps her hand over your mouth. "Who we are not talking about tonight!" She smiles brilliantly at James and Mike. "How about those drinks?"

You lick her palm until she releases you with a yelp.

"Fine," you concede, accepting the fresh margarita Mike slides your way. "No talking about He Who Must Not Be Named."

"Voldemort?" James jokes.

You snort into your drink. "Worse. He's a doctor."

Mike winces sympathetically. "Ah. One of those."

"Exactly!" You point at him triumphantly. "One of those. With their... their competence and their steady hands and their stupid ability to make everything sound like a medical procedure—"

Kiara kicks you again. "Drinks," she reminds you firmly. "We're drinking and dancing and not thinking about certain medical professionals who shall remain nameless."

"Right." You take a long sip of margarita. "No thinking about names. Or nicknames. Or the way certain people say certain nicknames like they're tasting them—"

"Dance floor!" Kiara announces loudly, grabbing your arm. "We're going to the dance floor now!"

As she drags you away, you hear Mike ask James: "Should we be concerned?"

"Probably," James replies, but he's following anyway.

You let Kiara pull you into the crowd, the bass drowning out your thoughts. It's fine. You're fine.

And if you check your phone one more time—just to glare at the blank profile picture and maybe compose a strongly worded text about the audacity of certain medical residents—well.

That's between you and the tequila.

Definitely not between your bones and Mike as hemoves closer, hand settling tentatively on your waist.

You know he’s being polite about it—know he’s asking permission with his eyes, keeping a respectful distance.

It's nice.

Normal.

Boring.

(No. Not boring. Safe. This is what normal flirting feels like. Not... whatever psychological warfare Hoseok had been waging.)

"You're a good dancer," Mike says, and his voice is perfectly pleasant. No syrupy-thick manipulation. No clinical observations about your hip mobility.

"Thanks." You manage a smile that only feels slightly forced. "You too."

He grins—an uncomplicated expression that doesn't hide any surgical precision behind it. "Want to get some air? Maybe..." He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. "Take a smoke break?"

You don't smoke. Have never smoked. Would normally launch into a lecture about pulmonary health risks and carcinogenic compounds because you're that kind of med student.

But.

But tonight you're wearing a dress that makes you feel dangerous, and your lips still taste like tequila, and somewhere across the city he's probably being perfect and untouchable and—

"Yes." The word tumbles out before you can stop it. "Air sounds good."

Kiara catches your eye across the dance floor, raising an eyebrow in silent question. You wave her off, letting Mike guide you through the crowd toward the exit.

The night air hits your bare shoulders like a slap, sobering and sharp. Mike leans against the brick wall, offering you the pack with another easy smile.

You take a cigarette because you're drunk and stupid and maybe trying to prove something to yourself. Or to him.

(Everything feels like it's about him lately.)

"Here." Mike cups his hands around the flame, shielding it from the breeze as you lean in.

The first inhale burns—acrid and harsh and nothing like the way his mouth had burned against yours. You manage not to cough, but it's a near thing.

"Not a regular smoker?" Mike asks, amused.

You shake your head, watching the ember glow in the darkness. "First time, actually."

His eyebrows lift. "Shit, really? Should've told me. We could've started you with something lighter."

The concern in his voice makes something in your chest twist. Because it's nice. He's being nice. And you're standing here thinking about someone else's mouth and someone else's hands and—

"Sorry," you blurt out. "I'm kind of a mess right now."

Mike's laugh is gentle. "Yeah, I got that impression." He takes a drag, smoke curling between you. "Want to talk about it?"

"God no." You attempt another inhale, managing not to choke this time. "I want to forget about it."

His eyes flick to your mouth, then back to yours. "I could help with that."

The invitation is clear. Simple. Uncomplicated.

You could do it. Could let this nice, normal boy kiss you against the brick wall. Could replace the memory of bergamot with something softer. Safer.

Could prove that you're not still thinking about gentle poison and cloying praise and the way his fingers had—

"I can't." The words taste like ash. "I'm sorry, I just—"

"Hey." Mike straightens, hands lifting in surrender. "No pressure. We can just talk. Or not talk." He grins. "Or you can keep pretending to enjoy that cigarette while plotting revenge against whatever doctor broke your heart."

A laugh bubbles up—slightly hysterical but real. "That obvious?"

"Little bit." He takes the cigarette from your trembling fingers, stubbing it out. "Come on. Let's get you some water before your friend murders me for letting you smoke."

You let him lead you back inside, grateful for the simple kindness of it. For the way he doesn't push or pry or try to take advantage of your obvious vulnerability.

It's nice.

Normal.

Right.

(So why does it feel so wrong?)

Your phone buzzes in your clutch.

You ignore it.

Some habits are harder to break than others.

The rest of the night blurs into a mess of well-meaning moments that all feel slightly wrong. Mike gets you water, makes sure you're steady on your feet, laughs at your increasingly unfiltered commentary about medical school.

He's perfect.

And that's the problem.

Because your drunk brain keeps cataloging all the ways he's not perfect enough. His hands are normal-sized. His smile doesn't hide anything. When he touches your elbow to steady you, it's just... a touch. No clinical observations about proprioception or balance compensation.

"You doing okay?" he asks for the third time, and his concern is so genuine it makes your teeth hurt.

"I'm fine," you lie, but what you mean is: you're not him.

You're not fine. You're drunk and touch-starved and maybe a little broken, because apparently regular flirting feels empty now. Like eating sugar-free candy when you know exactly how the real thing tastes.

"Want to dance again?" Mike offers, and you almost say yes because that's what you're supposed to want.

Normal girl, normal boy, normal Friday night.

But.

But your skin feels too tight and your head is spinning and all you can think about is how he would handle this—how he'd steady you with those surgeon's hands and murmur something about vestibular dysfunction while his thumb pressed against your pulse.

"I need air," you announce, pushing away from the bar.

Your heel catches on nothing, sending you stumbling.

Mike reaches for you, but you're already righting yourself, muscle memory kicking in as you adjust your center of gravity.

"Excellent compensatory response," you mutter in his voice, then laugh because you're definitely losing it.

"What?"

"Nothing." You wave off Mike's concerned look. "Just... medical student things."

"I get it," he says with a knowing smile. "The terminology gets stuck in your head after a while. My attending at SNU is always going on about proprioception and vestibular function."

Your stomach drops at the mention of SNU. "Which department?"

"Emergency, but we rotate through different services. This week I've been with the surgical team." He shrugs. "It's intense, but the residents are mostly cool."

You nod, wondering if he's ever supervised Mike, if they've worked side by side while you were sitting at home staring at your phone.

He smiles like he understands, but he doesn't. Can't. Because he's never had someone turn basic anatomy into psychological warfare. Never had someone make him question his own sanity with plausible deniability and careful touches and—

"Text me?" Mike's voice cuts through your spiral.

Your eyes flicker down to his hand. He's holding out his phone, expression hopeful.

You stare at it. At his normal, nice, completely uncomplicated contact page with its normal, nice, completely visible profile picture.

"I can't," you say finally, and you mean: I'm ruined for normal now.

His smile is understanding. Kind. "The doctor?"

"The doctor," you confirm, and you hate how your voice catches on the word.

Kiara immediately appears at your elbow—your guardian angel in four-inch heels. "Let’s get some air." She waves to Mike. "Thanks for keeping an eye on her."

"Anytime." He means it too, which makes it worse somehow.

You both make it outside. The night air feels like clarity. Kiara tucks you against her shoulder as you let out a soft sigh.

"He’s nice," she says finally.

"Yeah." You close your eyes, remembering gentle smiles and normal hands and complete lack of medical terminology. "Too nice."

"Oh honey." She strokes your hair. "You're so fucked."

You laugh until you cry, because she has no idea how right she is. How thoroughly, completely, deliberately fucked you've been by someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

Your phone buzzes.

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢. 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛.

Your heart stops.

“Y/N.” Kiara mutters, glancing down at your screen.

“Give me a second.” You reply, voice slightly slurred.

Because you know that clinical concern. Know that detached tone that sounds like medical advice but feels like ownership.

Your fingers slip on the keyboard as you type:

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜??? 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚘𝚎𝚔 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚕 # 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝙲𝙾𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙳

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚖𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚢?? 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚂𝙼𝙰𝚁𝚃

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙶𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙, 𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚙.

The nickname makes you see red. You practically stab the screen with your thumbs:

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝙳𝙾𝙽𝚃. 𝙲𝙷𝙸𝙿. 𝙼𝙴. 𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚞 𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺𝙳 𝙼𝙴

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚛 𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚑𝚐 𝚖𝚢 𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚝????? 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑????? 𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 “𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢” 𝚑𝚞𝚑?????

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝙾 𝚞𝚛 𝚊 𝙲𝙾𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙳. 𝚌𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝙾𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙳

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚔.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝙽𝙾 𝚂𝙷𝙸𝚃 𝚂𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙲𝙾𝙲𝙺.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚛𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎. 𝙼𝚛 𝙱𝚒𝚐 𝙱𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚂𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚘𝚗 𝙼𝚊𝚗

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕?????? 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚍

Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again. Your heart hammers against your ribs as you wait.

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚄 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚢

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚈/𝙽.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚑 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎. 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚢. 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚞 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚍𝚘??? 𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺 𝙼𝙴 𝙰𝙶𝙰𝙸𝙽???

The dots return, lingering longer this time.

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙸’𝚖 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝙽𝙾. 𝚞𝚛 ��𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚍. 𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒 𝙷𝙰𝚃𝙴 𝚄

𝐘𝐨𝐮: …𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚝𝚠. 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚕 𝚜𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍. 𝙱𝙾𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶.

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚆𝚑𝚘’𝚜 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎?

You grin viciously at the sharp edge in those two words.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚄 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚠𝚘

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙻𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙽𝚘𝚠.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚝????? 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚣 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚟 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜????? 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚎?????

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚙.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝙽𝙾𝙿𝙴. 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛????? 𝚒𝚖 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚢/𝚗 𝚗𝚘𝚠. 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚞𝚕𝚛 𝚢/𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚐𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚞𝚕𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚞𝚕𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺 𝙷𝙴𝚁

You jab at the send button, chest rising too fast, too unsteady, because fuck him.

Fuck him for watching you from a distance. Fuck him for pretending he wasn’t. Fuck him for texting you when he’s the one who left—for acting like he still has a say in what you do, who you see, how much you drink.

Fuck him for making you like this.

Your fingers curl tighter around your phone, the alcohol thick in your bloodstream, pulse scalding under your skin.

You squeeze your eyes shut, but all you can see is him. That fucking look on his face, like you’d somehow made him the victim.

Like he was the one suffering.

You shove your phone back into your bag, stomach twisting, vision tilting—

And then you pull it right back out.

Because you can’t escape inevitability, even as much as you wish you could.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚒 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚞 𝚒𝚖 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚛𝚗

The dots appear instantly, then vanish. Your heart pounds as you push further:

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚒 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚞 𝚒 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚙.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚒 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚞 𝚒 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚍

A long pause. Then:

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙿𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝.

Your lips curve, knowing you’ve got him. Even through the alcohol haze, you can feel the shift in his tone—the way the period instead of a question mark betrays his tension. Curiosity. Intrigue.

Attraction.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚞 𝚝𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚖𝚎. 𝚊𝚋𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚐𝚊𝚐 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚡

Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again. You press on:

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜. 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚘. 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑.

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚈/𝙽.

Full name. You’re getting to him.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚞 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒 𝚐𝚘𝚝??? 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚞 𝚗𝚘𝚠???

The response is immediate:

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚒𝚝.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝???? 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚙𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚖𝚎??? 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚖𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚗????

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙻𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗??? 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚎𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚘𝚗????

Another pause. Then:

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚃𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚢??? 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚌𝚔 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗???

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙵𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

Your thighs clench at the curse. Because this—this is what you wanted. What you want. Him cursing. Him losing it, like you’ve lost it—medical terminology abandoned.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚎 𝚍𝚛 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐. 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚞𝚗𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚊𝚕

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙶𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚝𝚊𝚡𝚒. 𝙽𝚘𝚠.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚖 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚞𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎. 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚢 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔

The response is lightning fast:

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙸𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚐𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚙𝚊𝚕.

The threat has your knees wobbling.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚓𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜???

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙷𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚕.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚝

Three dots appear. Linger. Disappear. Your phone buzzes with a location pin instead.

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝟸𝟶 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜. 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

You stare at the address, feeling slightly bold. Slightly reckless. Because that’s his apartment. Where he’d almost—where you’d nearly—

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙸 𝚊𝚖.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚍𝚘𝚜𝚗𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚙.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚎𝚜?

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝟷𝟿 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚒 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎

His reply makes you, indeed, not want to behave at all.

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛. 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚕𝚢. 𝚁𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍𝚕𝚢. 𝚄𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎????

Three dots appear one last time:

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝟷𝟾 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜, 𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚙. 𝚃𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘𝚌𝚔.

You send him a middle finger emoji and watch the dots appear, disappear, appear again.

Let him stew.

You’ve got 17 minutes to decide just how badly you want to misbehave.

(Very badly, as it turns out.)

→ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @just-reading-dany @sanarin @billy-jeans23 @stuti2904 @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7 @mar-lo-pap @hobis-sprite0218

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maskedcrawford · 14 hours ago

Text

Hidden Secrets

G-Dragon x Reader

Summary: Fate has a funny way of working things out.

Warnings: Angst, panic attack, fluffy fluff

A/N: To make this a little easier on myself I'm posting both chapters 6 and 7 tonight. I really hope you enjoy and I appreciate everyone who has ridden this insane rollercoaster so far. I also thank you for the love and support for my work, I put my all into it <3

Chapter 5

Chapter 6- Fate

It was a month and a half after your blow up with Jiyong and he still hadn’t gotten over it. He’d seen your calls, gotten your voicemails and he even would read your texts, letting you see that he read it, but he wouldn’t respond. He couldn’t, not when he made the promise to you that he was done. Not when he promised himself, he wouldn’t let you destroy him anymore.

Jiyong stares at the envelope he receivedfrom the mail man that morning on the counter. It had his name in your hand writing on it. He took a shot before deciding to open it.

“Ji, I know I’m the last person you want to hear from right now, but this wasn’t something I could put in a text. I miss you, a lot. I know you said you’re done, and I don’t blame you. I just really really miss you. I don’t deserve it, after what I did, and I don’t blame you for shutting me out, I deserve that. But I would really like the chance to talk. I’ve had a lot of time to think, alone in my apartment, and I’ve realized some things. Please at least consider it.

Xoxo

Y/n, FKA Your Girl.”

He sighs and sets the note down, noting the small tear marks on the page. He wanted to see you, he wanted to believe you’d changed or at least that you’d want to. Not having you beside him these last 6 weeks has been crazy, the sudden transition of seeing you everyday for years to now not talking has been extremely difficult and in all honesty, he had time to think too. Time to think about his own mistakes, time to question if he really did everything he could, but he wasn’t sure of the answer.

Despite his brain screaming at him, telling him its a mistake, he picks up the phone and presses your name. It rings a few times before he hears your hesitant and soft voice pick up.

“H-hello?”

“Hey,” is all he can mutter.

“I um,” he clears his throat, “I got the letter,” he squeezes his eyes tight, unsure of whether or not this is the right choice.

“I’m open to talking,” he says lowly. Your breath hitches and he waits to hear you respond.

“You still there?” he asks when he doesn’t hear anything.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here, um what about today?” you ask still unsure. He pinches the bridge of his nose in stress.

“Yeah, I can be there in 45 minutes,” he sighs.

“Ok, I’ll leave the door open.” He hangs up the phone and gets in the shower, allowing the hot water to beat his skin, trying to clear his mind. He constantly wondered if he was making the right choice, he wasn’t sure if he could trust you. He gets himself dressed and gets into his car.

Stopped at a red light, he sends you a text saying he’s 5 minutes out. When the light turns green all Jiyong can process is that its his turn to go. Then there's a loud crash and suddenly his body is lodged between the driver side door of his car and his console.

You pace your apartment; it’s been 15 minutes since he sent that text. You didn’t want to bug him, but you were concerned too. Jiyong was nothing if not punctual. After another 5 minutes you pick up your phone. You just want to know he’s safe. He’d understand that, right?

Before you can press the call button, his name comes up on your phone.

“Ji, I was just about to call you,”

“Uh,” you hear a random man’s voice begin to speak.

“I’m sorry who is this?”

“I’m officer Park, your friend here has been in an accident, you’re the Emergency Contact in his phone so we wanted you to know he’s going to ASAN Medical Center if you would like to see him.”

“Oh, wait, what, ok,” is all you can stammer out as your heart drops into your stomach.

“Is he alive?” your voice is filled with fear.

“Barely, your friend here got lucky. An inch closer to his door he would’ve been dead on impact,” your body shakes slightly with the anxiety coursing through it.

“I’ll be at the hospital in 10 minutes. Do I go to the ER side or,” you can’t think your mind is so jumbled.

“We’ll give the front desk your name at the hospital and they’ll bring you to him.” The man is sympathetic. You mumble a thank you and speed down the hospital.

You walk in, give the front desk woman your name she doesn’t have it.

“But, the guy, officer-officer Park said he’d give it to you, please I need to see him,” you plead with her.

“I don’t even see him in the system,” she looks at you helplessly.

“What,” you breathe out and hunch over some before you pass out or start hyperventilating. Your body feels like its shaking from the inside out. Just then you hear a man giving the woman your name and you stand straight up.

“I’m y/n, where is he?” the fear and worry in your eyes can’t be hidden. He gives you as solemn look and the woman opens the doors that lead back to the ER area. You go down the halls like a rat in a maze, growing more anxious by the minute. When you finally get to his room, the officer stops you before you open the door.

“He’s not going to look like you remember. It was bad, really bad,” you search his eyes. They’re sympathetic towards your plight.

“Thank you for taking care of him,” you nod your head and purse your lips in a tight line. You take a deep breath before you gently open the door and walk in.

You gasp at what you see, his hair is sticking up, bruises and cuts to his face, he’s unconscious with a tube down his throat. Your eyes water at the sight of his body. You slowly walk over to his beside and sit down in the chair beside the bed.

“Oh, baby I’m so sorry,” you sob quietly.

“If I hadn’t asked you to talk, you never would’ve left, and you wouldn’t be here,” you grab his hand gently. It’s warm, but lifeless. You look at him with blurry vision.

“Hi, I’m his nurse for the evening. You must be his wife,” she smiles. That’s a shot to the chest.

“Actually, I’m his ex,” you utter.

“Oh,” she offers you a smile that you aren’t sure is genuine.

“Well, he’s going into surgery, we need to get him prepped.” Your eyes grow wide.

“Sur-surgery? What does he need surgery for?” your vison once again starts to get blurry.

“He’s got multiple broken bones and some internal bleeding and a punctured lung.” She lowers the railing to his bed. The tears continue to fall to the cold floor beneath you.

“Oh, aein, I’m so sorry,” you whisper as you kiss his forehead and rest yours on his for a brief moment.

“I love you, my sweet boy,” you whisper to him, “So so much,” with one last kiss to the forehead you tear yourself away.

“Please take care of him,” you say with a weak voice and she nods.

“We’ll do our very best.” You give him one last look and walk out of the room. There are nurses and doctors rushing by you and you watch as they go into the room. They wheel him out and the nurse informs you that you can stay put in the room if you’d like. You nod your head and decide to call Taeyang to let him know what’s going on.

“I’ll be there in 15 minutes,” is his response. You go out to the lobby to wait for him and when you see him, all you can do is embrace one another.

“How is he?” Taeyang was always like a brother to you, he cups your face looking into your eyes.

“I don’t have an update yet,” you say solemnly. You both walk back his room.

“What the hell, y/n,” he mumbles.

“What?” you ask caught off guard.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong you guys had your share of issues,” he trails off.

“Yeah, and?”

“I just never thought I’d see the day you guys didn’t talk. That you weren’t apart of each other somehow someway,” your guilt pings in your chest.

“Yeah, well, here are now. So can we please focus on that until its settled,” you can’t meet his gaze. You both sit silent for a minute before he speaks up again.

“I let the guys know, they asked me to let them know when he’s out of surgery.” You nod your head.

“It’s been over an hour; you want anything to eat or drink?” you shake your head no. You couldn’t think of eating anything when your worry and guilt was eating away at you.

“I’m going to grab something, call me if there’s a change.” He leaves you alone with your thoughts. You can’t control the sobs that burst out of you when the door closes behind him. You start hyperventilating and luckily a nurse comes by the room and she notices you gasping for air. She opens the door and brings you a brown paper bag to help you breathe.

“In and out, there ya go.” She stands at a distance, giving you space to calm down. You slowly start breathing normally again, the bag helping and she offers you a small smile before stepping out.

“Wait,” you call and she turns on her heel.

“Is there any update on my boy- ex boyfriend,” your voice is hopeful but she nods her head no. Your shoulders sink and you nod. You close the door to the room and try to take your mind off the current situation.

Another few minutes later the doctor walks in.

“So, we were able to stop the bleeding, but he’s going to need help, a lot of it, he’s got some compressed nerves that are limiting the function of his hands and legs. Due to the extent of the compression it’s going to take at least 6-8 weeks to get some of his feeling back, if not a little longer. His body is in a lot of pain and its pretty broken even with our efforts. He won’t be able to do much on his own. Are you able to stay with him?” the doctor says and you raise your brows.

“I, uh, I’m not sure, I mean I will if no one else can, but I’m not sure he would want me there,” you glance at the floor.

“If he wants to live and have any quality of life again, he’ll take what he can get.” The doctor says.

“We’ll bring him down in about an hour. He’s waking up now,” you nod and thank the doctor.

Taeyang comes back in the room just as you’re about to call him and you explain what the doctor said.

“Can you stay with him?” you know it’s a long shot with his family.

“Not constantly.”

“It was worth a shot.” You shrug your shoulders.

“Can you, can you call his mom and sister?” You ask hopeful.

“Ji would kill me,” he jokes but seeing your face confused he explains, “He never wants them to worry, even when they would have a reason to,” you nod. He never really did like when people fussed over him too much.

“Listen, it might be awkward, but you’re the only one with the time on your hands,” he gently explains.

“I don’t know, Youngbae,” you sigh.

“We were supposed to talk but then this happened,” you trail off looking into the distance.

“Then that must mean he was at least willing to hear you out,” he reasons.

“Yeah, but this would require me to literally live there again.”

“So, do that. As friends and only friends,” he scolds as he wags a finger at you. You direct your gaze to the floor. You guys wait for the next hour and when the door opens and his bed rolls in you can see a groggy Jiyong with his eyes half open looking and smiling at Taeyang. You stay seated as he walks over to see his best friend.

“You look rough,” Taeyang jokes and Jiyong tries to laugh, but he lets out a groan.

“We’ll give him something for the pain,” the nurse says gently and you both nod at her and Taeyang makes eye contact with you. Jiyong notices and follows his gaze to see you sitting there sheepishly. His eyes open a little more.

“I’m going to call the guys and let them know you’re out of surgery and they can come up tomorrow to see you,” he puts a hand on Jiyong’s shoulder and exists the room. It’s silent, an awkward silence but you decide to stand up anyway. He watches you tiptoe to him, holding your arms over your frame, as if that makes this less intimidating. You instinctively reach out and touch his cheek, but he pulls his face away.

“You can go,” his tone is angry, harsh, and the words, they sting.

“What if I don’t want to,” you ask sitting on the edge of his bed. He looks at you, and for the first time you get to see the damage done in detail. A black eye, bruised cheek, a cut the lip and small bruises on his forehead. You exhale when he just stares at you, cold and unfeeling.

“What if I want you to?” he glances up from the blanket he was looking at when he spoke.

“If that’s what you want, tell me to leave and I’ll go.” You stand up, bracing yourself for the words. He parts his lips for a moment, but he can’t make himself tell you to leave. He closes his mouth and purses his lips with closed eyes. You exhale a small breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You relax your shoulders and sit down on the bed again.

“Doc says you’ll need help once you get out of here,” you mumble after a moment of silence.

“I’ll figure something out,”

“I don’t mind helping, Jiyong. That is, if you want it,” you can’t look at him, but instead the floor of the emergency room.

The nurse comes in before he can even try to protest.

“We need to get you moved to a room. You’ll be here for a few days so we can monitor you.” The nurse takes the bed and you update everyone on what’s happening.

In the room you sit beside him in one of those reclining chairs beside the bed. He dozes off from the pain medication and you start sketching something in a book you brought in your purse. A nurse brings his dinner in and she politely brings something for you as well.

“Ji,” you touch him as gentle as dove, trying not to hurt him. He stirs and opens his eyes to look at you.

“Hmm,” he mutters.

“Your dinner is here,” you point at the table sitting above his bed. He looks at it and tries to pick up the fork but his hand won’t grasp it.

“Shit,” he says under his breath and for a moment you watch him, unsure if you should step in. After a couple of failed attempts he turns his head to the side.

“I’m not hungry,” his voice is quiet but frustrated. You lower the railing to his bed and he looks at you surprised. Quietly you get some food on his fork and hold it to his mouth. He looks in your eyes with a frustrated look.

“If you’re gonna survive this, you gotta eat. Plain and simple,” he slowly opens his mouth with furrowed brows, looking like a small child.

“You don’t have to feed me,” he says with food in his mouth.

“No, I don’t,” you get another bite for him.

“But I’m going to.” You grab a napkin and dab his mouth. You both stare at each other. You clear your throat and turn your attention to his tray. You pick up a drink for him and he takes a sip. Once he’s finishes you sit down and eat the small snack the nurse brought for you.

“Go get something to actually eat, I’ll be fine.” He says.

“I’m not leaving.”

“Y/N,” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Ji, I’m not leaving you.” Your stubbornness evident.

“Not again,” you mumble to yourself.

“Then at least order some real food,” he stares at the TV.

“Will that make you happy,” you ask and he glances at you.

“Wouldn’t make me angry,” he slightly shrugged before wincing in pain.

“Being a sarcastic smart ass is gonna cost for a little while,” you smirk and he rolls his eyes. You order something to eat and as you go to put your card info in, he protests.

“Just use mine, I know it’s stored,” he says his eyes not looking away from the TV on the wall.

“I have my own money, I don’t need,”

“Just like I don’t need you here helping me, but you’re doing it anyway.” He look at you with a small smirk, using your own logic against you.

“Ji, really,” you try to protest.

“It’s fine, just use my card. You relent just using his money get something to eat. It arrives and you go to the nurses station to pick it up. Walking back in he watches you closely.

“Here, don’t tell the nurse,” you wink as you set the vanilla shake down on the tray. He quirks a brow up at you.

“I didn’t ask for-”

“No, but you also didn’t ask for this,” you motion around the room, “and I’m trying to be nice.”

He sighs in defeat, once again wincing in pain. You check the clock.

“I’ll grab the nurse, it’s time for your medication.” Before he can even protest you’re out the door looking for one.

She comes in a dispenses the necessary pain meds and leaves once he takes them. The room is awkwardly silent again.

“Thank you,” he mumbles when you come over to put the cup up to his lips.

“For what?” you ask confused.

“For being here, staying, here.” His voice is quiet and you offer him a sweet smile.

“There’s no where else I’d rather be.”

That night the two of you get little to no sleep, the chair there is completely uncomfortable and the nurses keep waking him up to get his vitals. You hold on to his left arm anytime they need to get his blood pressure because of how bad it hurts and you’re trying to offer him some comfort.

The next morning comes and the guys all show up to the hospital with gifts from the gift shop and Taeyang brings a bag over to you.

"Some snacks and a word search to help pass the time." He shrugs.

“Thank you,” you hug his neck and for a moment you feel like everything might somehow wind up being ok. The guys stay for a while and you decide to take a minute to get some fresh air. Seunghyun follows you out.

“Hey,” he calls as you get on the elevator. You offer him a smile.

“Thanks for taking such good care of him, if we could,” he offers you a sincere look.

“I know,” you nod and sigh.

“I just didn’t expect this to be, what it is.” You can’t really describe it because you don’t really know what it is. Is it awkward, is it easy, is it stressful? All of the above.

“It’s not easy,” he puts a hand on your shoulder. You rub your forehead.

“And I feel like it’s my fault he’s even here. You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“If I hadn’t asked him to talk,”

“Hey,” Seunghyun’s arm goes around your shoulder pulling you into his side.

“He offered to come over, this isn’t your fault and this isn’t his fault. It’s the dumbass driver who hit him. He ran a red light.” He tries to reason with you, to ease some of the guilt.

“You really should go home, even if it’s just for a little while. Take a nap, get some actual rest. I can stay today until you can come back.” He offers.

“What if something happens? No, I need to be here.”

“IF something happens, I’ll call you myself.”

“I just don’t want to be away from him,” you mumble as you step outside into the cool spring air.

“Trust me, you’ll thank me later. Rest while you can, because he’s likely to be a handful at home.” You nod your head knowing he’s right.

“Call me in an hour,” you point at him. He nods as he walks you to your car. You go back to your apartment for a quick nap, or at least that’s what you tried to do. You kept tossing and turning your mind slowly starting to process the craziness of the day. You stare at the ceiling before deciding you can’t sleep. You pick up your phone and see a text from Seunghyun.

Doctor came in, said Jiyong looks good and he can go home tomorrow morning. Ji wants me to help you move some of your stuff back to his place so you have what you need.

You get up immediately and call him.

“Hey, I’m on my way to your place now.”

“Is someone with him?”

“Daesung is staying, calm down.” He chuckles.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you grumble.

“Relax, I wouldn’t leave him by himself, knowing him, he’d try to get up and walk out now.” You both chuckle at his stubbornness. Seunghyun gets to your place and you guys start boxing stuff up.

“From now on, I’m living out of boxes,” you joke and he smiles nodding his head.

“You know,” he starts as he packs some of your clothes in a box, “He really hasn’t been the same since you left.” You freeze and look at him through the vanity mirror where you were gathering up your makeup.

“Seunghyun, I,”

“Just listen,” he asks but in a way that’s telling you to do so.

“Don’t get me wrong you two are no where near perfect, but when things were good, it was obvious and he thrived.” You smile fondly on the memories.

“But when things were bad,” you dared to ask.

“It was obvious in his countenance. But he still talked about you like you were the love of his life. Even after he told us about your big blow up.” You nod sadly.

“At the hospital,” he beings as he tapes a box up for you as he lets out a breathy laugh.

“He was talking about how you were there and he didn’t necessarily need you, and we all jumped his ass for it because he knows he does.” Seunghyun shakes his head.

“And he admitted something that you can’t tell him, not yet at least.” You turn around and put your full attention on him.

“Despite everything, he admitted he misses you and that it’s going be nice to have you, and I quote, ‘home’.” Your heart skips a beat and for a moment your breath hitches and you can’t breathe.

“But, don’t tell him you know. He isn’t ready for that conversation yet. The doctors also said he needs to stay as calm as possible. So no teasing,” he scolds playfully. You give him a genuine hug.

“Thank you, for everything.”

“Come on, let’s get this stuff back to his place, so you can unpack and get settled before he gets home.” You drive in your car to familiar house that sits back off the road. Opening the door it smells like home, it smells like what you remember. Princess Zoa even comes to greet you at the door.

“Hi, baby,” you coo as you set the box down and scratch behind her ears. She purrs and meows at you endlessly as she goes in between your legs. After a moment you make sure to put her up so she can’t get out while you unload your things for a second time in this house.

As you spread a blanket out in the living room, you do a double take. You notice a familiar painting in a beautiful gold frame.

“He-he framed it?” you ask yourself.

“Oh, yeah, you know when he first saw that, he went on and on about it. He even took a picture of it and sent it to us.” Your eyes water and you blink it back.

“I can’t believe he kept it,” you mumble. And you can feel Seunghyun’s gaze on you, carefully. He smiles feeling a sense nostalgia.

“We should get this finished,” he mumbles tapping the box in his hands with his fingertips.

“Yeah,” you sniffle slightly. You hadn’t expected the gesture to hit you so hard.

“He really did love me,” you say to yourself with a deprecating laugh, your voice is sorrowful.

“Yeah.” Seunghyun agrees.

“And I was horrible to him,” you whimper as you cover your face. He looks at you for a moment before wrapping his arms around you.

“It’s not too late to start fresh,” he reminds you.

“He said he was done forever, Seung,”

“I know what he said.” He strokes your hair trying to help you calm down.

“Look, just do what you’ve been doing. Show him the love you really have for him. And when the time comes, after he’s healed and feeling better, talk to him. Explain it all.” You nod and pull away from him. He smiles at you and after a few hours everything is unpacked, even your art supplies and canvases.

Back at the hospital that night, Jiyong and Daesung are chatting.

“Man, if you miss her just tell her that,” Jiyong cuts his eyes at his bandmember.

“Ok, or don’t,” he trails off and darts his gaze elsewhere.

“You know why I can’t tell her that. I told her I was done, that we were done forever. So regardless of whether or not I miss her, I need to keep my word,” his voice is serious.

“Dude, respectfully, shut the fuck up,” Jiyong shoots his brows up and his eyes are big as saucers.

“What the,” he’s interrupted by his friend once more.

“You're going crazy without her,”

“I went crazy with her!”

“Yeah, fair point, but you still love her and you know it,” he points at his friend. Jiyong looks at his hands in his lap. He doesn’t protest. He knows he does. Part of him can’t wait to have you back at home, but part of him is scared too. He just got used to how quiet the house was without you. Now you’re coming back and he had no idea what was going to happen.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Daesung calls out. You and Seunghyun walk in and you have on a large jacket with a bump under it. Jiyong eyes you suspiciously as a soft meow comes from it. Before you know it, Zoa has popped her little head out and meows looking around.

Jiyong can’t help the genuine smile that grows from ear to ear, causing his eyes to squint slightly with a soft laugh. You put the cat in his lap gently and she purrs.

“I can’t let her stay long, but I figured she missed you and you missed her,” he looks at his fur-child with all the love in the world and for the first time since this morning, things felt somewhat calm and under control.

There’s a knock on the door and you scramble to grab Zoa who hisses when you try to pick her up. The nurse comes in and spots the cat, eyeing you guys suspiciously. You give her an awkward smile, one that’s trying to apologize for sneaking in a cat.

“Just get her out of here by the time shift change happens. Which is in,” she looks at her watch, “An hour,” she says and you nod.

“Thank you,” you wave her off and Jiyong, while he can’t pick much of anything up due to numbness in his hands, pets his cat the best he can. The room is silent for a minute other than the sound of the purring from Zoa.

“Thank you, he says suddenly, “For bringing her.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem," you gently smile.

“Were you able to get everything moved in?” He doesn’t look at you, only at his furbaby as the guys stand there feeling like they are watching an awkward movie.

“Yeah, Seunghyun was a big help and I got everything squared away.” You rock on your heels looking at the guys who look just as unsure as you do.

“As much as I want to keep her here, take her home. I’ll see her tomorrow,” he gives the cat a few kisses and snuggles before handing her to Seunghyun.

“You don’t want me to take her back?” you ask with a quirked brow.

“No, I want you to stay." Your breath hitches in your throat.

If you enjoyed please consider buying me a coffee

I'm working on Chapter 7 now and I'll tag you guys when it's out later today.

Tags: @loveesiren @natalicss @mashtatosworld @multifanxtvshows @kjydrgnnnn

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lelianazine · 3 days ago

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☀️ Contrib Apps Extended Until March 7th!

Contributor Applications for Faith, a physical, for charity fanzine all about Leliana have been extended until March 7th! We are looking for cover artists, page artists, merch artists, writers, poets, modders, musicians, and all other creatives types! And a big thank you to everyone who has applied so far! 🧡🧡🧡 For more information check out our doc or send us an ask if you have any questions! And if you want important updates sent directly to your inbox sign up for our "nugs-letter" (newsletter) here!

Contrib Apps

#dragon age #leliwarden #leliana #da2 #dai #dao #sister nightingale #fanzine #zine #fan zines #fan zine #zines #contributor apps #zine contrib apps

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neroli9 · 2 years ago

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APJFM Truth Or Dare!

I meant to post this at New Year’s. Alas, I didn’t finish it until now! So pretend we’re still in that happy time when Reader and Sans are still together...

Sans looks around at the assembled group: Reader, Sasha, Asriel, Frisk and Jerren. Then he looks back at Sasha. “i thought you said you were gonna be, and i quote, ‘as far away from you two horndogs as i can possibly get.’”

“We just got four questions that my sister said we couldn’t use if I was around,” she says, shrugging. “So my eyes are safe.”

“what, seriously?” Sans turns towards the fourth wall, rapping it with his knuckles. “i was counting on you people for some sexy fun! instead you send in shit like —“ He takes one of the four discarded questions, written out on a slip of paper, and presses it up to the wall. It reads ‘turn your junk into a magical teacup.’ He jabs his finger at it angrily, then flips off the wall.

“You and I already had a hot game of Truth or Dare," Reader reminds him. “You'll survive a PG-13 one.” She takes one of the slips of paper. “Sasha, truth or dare?”

“Dare!” she says, grinning.

Reader unfolds the paper. “Uh. You’re supposed to rob a bank."

“Heck yeah! Stepstool Man, take us to a bank,” she orders, gesturing to Asriel and Frisk.

Sans glances at Reader, who shrugs. “what else am i doing with my life,” he mutters. Then he and the three teenagers disappear.

“Are we getting the sexy ones done now?” Jerren asks.

“They were all for Sans,” says Reader with a shrug.

“No one wanted to see my drag act?"

“No one knew you had a drag act until chapter 85.”

Sans, Reader, Frisk and Asriel return with six bags of money. Sasha opens up one of the two that she’s carrying and starts dumping the money out on the floor. “It’s pretty nice to have a lackey that can take us right to the bank vault!”

“And create light for us,” Frisk adds.

“And get us out before we run out of oxygen,” Asriel chimes in.

Reader raises an eyebrow at her sister. “So it sounds like you didn’t really do anything.”

“I used my powers of persuasion and excellent people skills,” Sasha says with wounded dignity. “Who’s next?”

Reader picks out another piece of paper. “Sans, truth or dare?"

“dare.”

She unfolds the paper. “Show off the socks you’re wearing.”

Sans shrugs and kicks off his shoes. He’s wearing plain black suit socks, but he poses his feet as if he’s modeling. “gorgeous, right?”

Everyone stares at his feet. “Isn’t that scandalous or something?” Sasha asks. “For monsters, I mean.”

“Not exactly,” Asriel says. “It depends on the context.”

“I don’t think anyone’s getting turned on by those,” Frisk notes dispassionately. “Now, if they were leopard print or something, that’d be scandalous.”

“You hear that? Stop going all gooey over his boring black socks,” Sasha says to her sister, elbowing her.

“I am not going all gooey," Reader says with a failed attempt at dignity. Sans grins as he swings his feet over to her lap. She gives them an affectionate pat. “Well, maybe a little gooey.”

“Did anyone dare one of us to jab out their own eyeballs with a hatpin? Because I’ll take that one,” Sasha says, reaching for the slips of paper.

“You already went,” Asriel reminds her. “My turn! Give me truth.”

Reader pulls out one of the slips of paper. “What is your most mortifying memory?”

Asriel and Frisk glance at each other. “Uhhh. Can I switch to dare?”

“That bad?” Reader asks. “I don’t mind if you switch, but…”

“Definitely switch,” Asriel says.

“Fine, then. ‘Impersonate someone in this room for 20 seconds.’”

Asriel looks at Sans, and Sans smacks his forehead. Asriel smacks his forehead, too. “don’t try to impersonate me, kiddo,” he says in a gruff voice. “ya really gotta BELIEVE nothing matters to get me right. you’re not jaded enough yet.” He shrugs, his hands out to the sides in a comically helpless pose.

“cripes,” Sans grumbles, wincing. But everyone else is laughing uproariously, even Reader.

“frisk, truth or dare? not that it matters,” Asriel continues.

“Dare,” Frisk answers, laughing.

Reader fishes out a piece of paper and reads it. “Perform the most advanced dance and/or gymnastic move you know.”

“Easy,” Frisk says. They launch themselves into a perfect cartwheel, hopping back to their feet and taking a bow to applause from the group.

“That was great!” Reader says, beaming. “Jerren, you’re up."

“Truth,” he says with a superior grin. “I seem to be the only one willing to tell it.”

Reader picks out another slip of paper and unfolds it. “Jerren, why are you a bitch?”

His grin turns to a scowl as the rest of the room laughs at him. “That’s not even a proper question,” he protests. “That’s just someone being a little troll.”

“So you’re not going to answer?"

“I’ll answer a real question,” he says with wounded dignity.

“All right, all right.” Reader picks out another one. “What’s the cringiest thing you’ve done in any timeline? I --“

But Jerren interrupts her before she can finish the question. “You would have loved the timeline where I was a fashion designer,” he says with relish. “I took it in my head that I needed to do something truly avant garde! I needed to shake up the world of New Ebott fashion and show them something no one had ever seen before! I was going to hang out with all the fashionistas and trendsetters, and they would all be amazed by me!” He sighs. “They fawned over my designs so much that I started to feel disdainful of them. I kept pushing the envelope, wondering how far I could go. I kept hoping someone would realize it was all a big joke on them, that all I was doing was shitting out ugly designs and they were acting like I was a genius. Finally, I recreated the Emperor’s New Clothes, just to see if I could really get away with it. I made a big show of tailoring a whole collection with this special new material I’d designed. The rarest, most refined fabric that only the most elite names in fashion could possibly appreciate properly. I sent out model after model on the runway, stark naked, as the biggest names in fashion oohed and aahed. Finally, I strode out onto the runway myself, clad in what I deemed my finest creation. I struck a pose as they applauded.” He jumps to his feet and mimics a model’s pose. "Then I mooned them and called them a pack of bloody idiots. It was hilarious.”

There’s silence.

“That does sound hilarious,” Reader says tentatively. “But that wasn’t the end of the question. ‘I give Chara use of a felt puppet to speak on Jerrens behalf because I know for a fact that he has no honesty left in his soul.’”

“No, no, we’re done, I answered the question," Jerren says irritably. "It's your turn.”

He tries to sit back down, but Chara's already there, looking smug. “Definitely when Ceridwen died,” they say.

Jerren’s expression is murderous. “Don’t you dare —"

“Not the first time. I think it was the sixth time, when you’d tried a bunch of different ways to save her. Do you remember that?”

Jerren tries to put his hand over Chara’s mouth, but it goes right through their face. Chara continues, unfazed. “He ran all through the hospital yelling, ‘I wish you all were dead! I’d kill you all myself if it’d save her! I’d kill you all with my bare hands!’”

“Enough!” Jerren yells. “Shut your goddamn mouth!”

“I realized he was running towards the maternity ward, and I was like, wow, you’re not really gonna do this, are you? But he opens the door and shouts “None of you little pieces of shit are EVER gonna be HALF the person she was! None of you PUT TOGETHER!”

Everyone in the room is cringing now, except Sans who’s grinning from ear hole to ear hole. “you were grieving so hard you cussed out a room full of babies?”

Jerren picks up the chair and slams it against the wall. The back and one of the legs cracks off, and it falls to the ground in a heap. Chara is still standing there, grinning insolently —

Reader picks out another slip of paper and unfolds it. “Jerren, why are you a bitch?”

His jaw seems tense, but he smooths it out into a smile. “Because I dare to do what most would never consider,” he answers with a faint air of superiority. “It’s no surprise I’m resented for that. But the best most people can do is fling pathetic, anonymous insults at me.”

“that’s seriously your answer?” Sans says sourly.

“Take it or leave it,” Jerren answers, still wearing that supercilious smile. “Your turn, my dear.”

“I’ll do truth, too,” Reader says, picking out a slip of paper. “’What’s the most intriguing thing about Sans? Body, personality, whatever.’ Hmmm…” She looks at Sans, putting her hand to her lips. “I’m always trying to figure him out. The scary, intense Sans is no more the true Sans than the laid-back, fun-loving Sans. Same for the Sans who knows everything, and the Sans who’s a complete mess. He’s changed a lot since I first knew him, and… I wonder how he’s going to end up.”

“He’s going to fail,” Jerren says shortly, getting to his feet. “It’s going to be embarrassing and painful, and in the end none of it will matter anyway. If you’ll excuse me…” He nods to the group, then makes a quick exit.

“I’ve got to get to work,” Frisk mumbles.

“Undyne’s probably looking for me,” Asriel says, just as unconvincingly.

“I said I’d help Myrdi do some filing,” Reader adds.

The three of them follow Jerren out the door, leaving Sans and Sasha.

Sasha turns to Sans with a gleam in her eye. “Boy, do I have some intel for you.”

#APJFM Truth or Dare 2022 #thanks to everyone who sent in questions!#wish I could have used them all but I'm happy with how it turned out

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hymn-to-mercury · 1 year ago

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✨🪐Astrology observations🪐✨

These observations are all based off my own personal experience and are mostly generic - don't take it to heart if you disagree <3

🪐 No one seems to fully understand how Aquarius Moons work, including Aquarius Moons themselves.

🪐 I love how heavy Mars influence shows up in people's physical appearance! I’ve always noticed that people with a lot of mars dominance in their chart have a big forehead and/or a widows peak, as well as rosy cheeks or a naturally reddish/pinkish undertone to their skin.

🪐 Undeveloped Virgo and Sagittarius placements absolutely do not give a fuck about your feelings. They can be extremely self centred I've noticed to almost a dangerous detriment.

🪐 A lot of people give Scorpio women the Mean Girl rep, but honestly I think that title should be lent to Virgo women too 😭 They tend to have this hangup about perfection, and I think when undeveloped it shows more as an aversion to anything 'weird' or against the status quo.

🪐 Cardinal Mars signs (that's Aries, Cancer, Libra, Capricorn) reallyyyyy can't hide their dislike for things 😅 people, food, celebrities, whatever. If they don't announce it verbally then you can at least tell by their face lmao.

(I once had to put on my ~emergency socks~ when I was wearing heels on a night out, and every time someone came up to me to tell me how nice my outfit looked I would say thanks and then just not stop yapping about how the socks were not originally apart of the outfit 😭 I couldn't let people think I approved of socks and sandals alksjdgfsjdh)

🪐 Scorpio placements can dish it but can't take it. Cancer placements will sneakily dish it under the guise of a joke and then start crying if you try to dish it back.

🪐 People with Leo Moon tend to 'perform' their activism a lot. That's not to say that they don't practice what they preach, but I think when they do speak up their image has something to do with it

🪐 If you were born under a Mercury Retrograde it might feel like you were destined to be misunderstood no matter how well articulated you are 🙃 I don't think it's a problem with yourself as much as it is with the people you encounter through your life though. Your biggest 'ops' might be people who are very particular and specific about word choice - think Gemini and Virgo Placements (if you are a Gemini/Virgo yourself, this may manifest for you as harbouring some self-hatred or significant self-consciousness).

🪐 Pisces want very badly to be carefree, but a lot of the time they severely struggle getting over their need for outside validation. Being carefree is also a trait they might find attractive in other people.

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chocodile · 6 months ago

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Initially came because I saw the hot shark man ridge. Stayed for the masterful story you’re making. I love

Thank you! Here's a bonus doodle of Ridge, as a treat.

#also thank you in general to everyone who has sent me nice asks and questions!#I am working on putting together answers for several of them but they come in faster than I can draw and script #I'm not ignoring them on purpose though just super busy and with finite drawing time #working on a bunch of projects at the moment including 2 comics scripted a few asks maybe convention stuff etc #plus some life stuff like trying to get my new deck railing installed before the weather turns #and getting the new Wishbone beta released #so if I've been scarce lately that's why :P #my ocs #ridge #verse: amaranthine #furry #ask

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souperluminal · 11 months ago

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Hello!! I'm a huge fan of your art and I thought I would ask about your colorwork, because it's genuinely super impressive to me how all your pieces have amazing palettes and they add so so so much to the general atmosphere. Do you have any process to pick colors for pieces? Like using picture references, gradient maps, etc or do you genuinely just eyeball them? I'm super curious :]

But yea I really love what you do and love seeing every new piece!! Have a nice day! Ty for reading <3

Thanks! I very much use references, though I don't use the color picker on them, gotta train the eye. I have an ever-expanding reference folder of photos and paintings with colors that I like so that when I start a new painting and I have an idea of the color scheme I want in mind, I'll already have some reference on hand. Good reference really makes a world of difference!

I also like to bias colors a little bit away from their standard versions:

The more blue green and the more yellow green are both more interesting to me than the "just green" green. Nothing wrong with that average green though, sometimes that's exactly what you need. It's always situational.

Lastly, a fantastic color tip for digital art specifically that I got from Mike Hernandez: Use the RGB sliders instead of the HSB color selection!

By default, Photoshop gives you the HSB (Hue, Saturation, Brightness) color picking setup which looks like this:

It's perfectly functional and has its uses, but it doesn't really feel like mixing color. On the other hand, if you use the RGB sliders:

Now you can add a little more blue if you think that's what the color needs, or you can take away red, add some green, etc. It gets you actually mixing color and thinking more about how the colors relate to each other. It can take some getting used to if you've only used the HSB setup before, but it's worth it!

#and thank you for your patience!#I know this and other questions have been sitting in my inbox for a while #these past months have been the type where there was always something (or several somethings) just a little more urgent on the to-do list #and once again thank you so so much to everyone who has sent in kind messages about my work!!#it would flood this blog if I were to respond to every one but know that I do immensely appreciate every one #they absolutely make my day

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the-phiwi · 1 month ago

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Thank you everyone for 100 followers!!! I love you all so much and am so glad I snuck away to Phil's 13" ipad to make this account. Forhead kissies to the lot of ya.

The golden pig and I might make a cake to celebrate this occasion. I have never had cake before. So many new experiences still to be had!

💛🥝x

#To the gorgeous people who left me asks whilst I was asleep I will get to them soon.#Thanks to everyone who has sent in questions so far #I am having so much fun!#the phiwi #phiwi #dan and phil #phan

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asktheritochampion · 1 month ago

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Ok, what are some things you like about yourself—that have nothing to do with your fighting prowess or your gale?

Huh... well I mean- is there any value in aspects of ones self beyond ones skill and hard work? Everything else is just left up to chance. I like those things about myself because they are things I can control. There's little point being proud of something you have no control over.

...I supose I like my plumage?

...Yes. I am rather fond of my rich navy coat with striking vibrant yellow accents. My crest too - it is far taller than most Rito and gives me an intimidating height.

I like that I still have some of my youthful markings, and I like my eligant and beautiful voice, and my sleek yet muscular physique. My ability to braid the back of my head without need of a mirror. The way I look quite stunning in all manor of outfits. I think I own rather a phenominal singing voice, and I like that I keep my beak razor sharp and scrubbed spotless.

...Actually, grab some parchment and quill, I have a longer list to share.

[10/10 🧪✨]

#Last of the truth syrum questions! Thanks to everyone who sent them in #and sorry if your question didnt get answered! There were so many!#revali #tears of the kingdom #breath of the wild #age of calamity #legends of zelda #rito #rito village

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basketobread · 1 year ago

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Happy birthday! Mine was on Monday

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! ❤❤❤❤❤❤ And happy belated birthday to you!!! I hope you had a good one!! :) 🙏❤❤❤

#HAHAHA I have so many asks that I need to get to I am SO sorry everyone #I'm over the 100+ mark so I'm having a hard time figuring out how to go about this DSIFHFUIFDSHSDIU #BUT TO EVERYONE WHO'S SENT SUCH NICE MESSAGES AND FUN QUESTIONS: THANK YOU SO MUCH #I LOVE YOU ALL RAHHGHGHGH #I just suck at responding on time again it's a me problem im so sorry #SORRY I KNOW I RAMBLED OFF TOPIC WITH THIS ASK IN THE TAGS BUT THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE BIRTHDAY WISH AGAIN #<333333333333333333 #ask bob

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entriprises · 9 months ago

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Romeo Dixon on becoming an American rock sensation: ‘I spend a lot of time in my room’

He’s 25, calls his mom every Monday, and is the drummer and manager to one of the hottest bands out there, Heart Attack.

It’s a Saturday morning, the sun’s been out no more than an hour, and Romeo Dixon holds out to me his backpack to hold while he tries his hardest to unlock the back doors of Heart Attack’s recording studio. It’s not actually theirs, he’s sure to make known. It’s just the space they’re using, thanks to the the band’s current recording label that found it for them. They get to keep their gear there sometimes, like now, when they’re working on a lot of music and need the collaborative space. He asked permission for access to the studio today he tells me. He wanted to be able to share where so much of the work is done. The studio is open 24 hours a day, usually, and Dixon is lucky that it is. The key’s not working. He apologizes twice before stepping off to make a phone call for someone to open the doors for us. When the doors open, he greets Joe, a recording engineer who looks like he’s been awake longer than either of us and is ready to go home. Dixon introduces Joe as “the guy who makes a lot of stuff happen around the studio” and then talks about how they had met when Heart Attack first moved in to work on recording there. Joe doesn’t stick around, he can’t, he tells us before rushing back to where he’d been working and disappearing from the halls of the recording studio. Even though he’s gone, Dixon has nothing but praise for Joe and the skills he brings to mixing and producing, continuing on about him. Joe hasn’t worked on any Heart Attack songs directly, but it’s less about what he’s done for Heart Attack at the sound stations and more so about how “it’s been an incredible learning opportunity to just be able to sit down with him and listen to him talk about what he does and the magic of it.”

Just walking through the halls, en route to Heart Attack’s dedicated space, it’s clear that the studio has an effect on Dixon. He’s more awake, energetic, and constantly trying to point out something on the walls that are covered from floor to ceiling in photographs, news clippings, and poster. His nervousness has been left behind at the doors and now he is full of endearment and gratitude towards everyone and everything around him. It’s almost surprising when he starts telling me about how he doesn’t often do interviews, and even more rarely individual profiles like this one. But he’s right. Most media coverage for Heart Attack has focused on the band as a whole or its stage dominating members. He doesn’t mind that he says, the others are better at it according to him.

Today is new for him, and he’s agreed to it for a reason that is all but clear from the way he lights up at each and every thing he shows me. Heart Attack is everything to Dixon, and while it’s a profile on him, he is intent on making sure I don’t miss a word that he has to share about the band, its members, and it’s growth over the years through his jumpy and somewhat frantic monologues. Just when he’s about to tell me about a photo on the wall of a smaller indie band, he’s distracted by the sight of a recording session in progress. He then follows it up by asking me questions, and lots of them, and as time goes on it’s not entirely certain who is interviewing who. Through all of his frenzy, I get a genuine look into who he is unobstructed by flashing lights and the cheering of fans. Romeo Dixon is just a guy that cares.

Dixon has been a musician since as long as he can remember, although he says he wouldn’t call himself that when he first started playing the piano at age four. In his own words, he thinks he “was much more of a noise maker than anything else. There wasn’t talent there, just a whole lot of key smashing.” He comes from an art inclined family, with his parents running their own theatre company for Shakespeare plays and more recently original works. He denies acting much, although not out of any stage fright that one might assume. The stage itself was never something frightening to him. It still isn’t, Dixon says, although he thinks it’s because he tends to be further back than front man Jesse ‘Mac’ McCoy or bassist Jessie Wilson. There’s some comfort in where he’s located. It allows him the best view of every show, and to continue experiencing the atmosphere of a live performance and the way people are brought together in the process. It’s a love that began when he was working alongside his parents as a kid.

By now we’ve moved on from the hallway, and are situated in the center Heart Attack’s space. In every direction there is so much character and life to the waiting and still instruments. It’s clear everything is well loved, and although it’s missing the rest of its band, the room is no less full of character. Dixon shows me all the instruments they have in the studio. Each piece is more coated in stickers than the last, and he can’t resist playing a few keys or strumming a small tune on each one.

I ask him if there’s any instrument that he doesn’t play, a favorite that has perhaps evaded his skill set.

He’s surprised at first by the question, a little lost how to answer, explaining first that, “you sort of pick up a ton of stuff when you’re making bands and producing your own stuff and that all sort of feeds into our sound too.” When it comes to favorites, “If I’ve got one it’s probably in the band. I’m no guitarist like the others but I play,” he says, modestly, as if he hadn’t just played the intro to one of their songs for me moments ago.

“I guess… I guess sax?” Dixon goes on to say. “I’ve never tried those types on instruments, the horns and the woodwinds and… I’ve never tried those. I’d like to for sure. We had a sax player join us for a bit when we were working on our recent stuff which was incredible. It was a whole new sound and… I don’t think I’m supposed to be talking about that actually. Forget that I said that. Or… no you can include it. We have a sax on a couple songs in this album. You can write that, just promise you’ll go listen to the album when it actually comes out. That’s all I’ll say. You gotta listen to it. It’s really awesome.” I promise him that I will.

Arriving at his drum set, he has an overflowing basket of drumsticks by its side. There’s so many, and they all vary in color, size, and age. When he sees me staring, he’s already ready to jump into an explaination about all of them. The brand he has the most is Vic Firth, a very popular brand amongst drummers of all levels, and they’re also the sticks he tends to prefer.

Amongst the pile, there’s a standout pair: custom Heart Attack sticks.

“They’re a gift,” Dixon explains. “Most of my sticks are, but these are probably the best gift I’ve ever gotten, and they were from Jessie. They got me these right around when they joined the band too so it was just an incredibly thoughtful gift from her.”

“So are sticks the perfect birthday gift for you?” I ask. He laughs at that, shrugging.

“I don’t know. I feel like I have enough sticks.” Looking at his basket, I’d have to agree. “I feel like birthday gifts are always a from the heart, from the other person sort of thing. it’s not something you ask for does that make sense? so picking a perfect gift is… What I need is a better car, but I’d never ask anyone for that. That’s a crazy expensive birthday gift.”

We finally finish up the tour of the space, although tour is a generous word. They may as well constantly be performing a tiny desk concert with the incredibly limited size of the space. They make the most of it, according to Dixon, and they have no complaints for now. In this city, and on their budget, they’ll take anything they can get.

I join him as he sits on the floor, although he offers me a chair and just about everything else first. The floor is a comfier than expected seat, and sitting at his level I can get a peak into what long hours must be like in this exact spot. Staring up at the ceiling, I start to ask him about the band, and what the process tends to be for all their music making.

“I don’t know what it’s like for everyone else on their own, we’ve talked about it over the years but the process has changed a lot for me at least that I imagine it has a bit for the others,” Dixon begins to tell me. “That and songwriting on our own is just so private, y’know? It’s something we all have a very specific ritual for and then when we feel like something could go somewhere, that’s when we come together.”

“I think when some of us were first getting into it we relied a lot on the word and advice of artists we liked, which is cool and worked to some extent, but as Heart Attack it’s something we had to figure out as a band.”

Most of Heart Attack’s members, current and past, lack a formal background in music, and they’ve previously credited a lot of their growth to each other, online resources, and trial and error.

“Sometimes we all just sit around a room, mostly this room, with our gear and it’s just about working in the same space as each other. We do that a fair bit because we like to bounce stuff off of each other. When we’re together, one of us sort of throws something out there and we sorta build on it, play around a lot with it and see where we can take it and then the song probably goes through fifty different changes in that process. It’s not even really a song yet, just something we’re all messing with.”

He asks me then what I like to listen to, or if I’ve gotten into any new music lately. I tell him about a couple artists, and he takes all the suggestions quite seriously, writing them down in his phone.

“A big part of making music is also discovering music. We do a lot of listening to other artists and genres and we’ll share a lot of recommendations and playlists with one another. It’s how we grow and figure out what we like and don’t like and also what we could be doing.”

On the subject of learning and advice, we start getting into Heart Attack’s influences. While Dixon has a lot of personal heroes, when it comes to music and the band, he says it’s mostly rock and roll.

“Mac and I are big fans of The Who, The Kinks, Ramones, U2. Crash likes a lot of stuff, they’re pretty all over the place. Jessie brings a lot more alt to it and I mean she’s really contributed the most to our sound lately. The influence list is sort of endless now.”

As to how it’s changed them, Dixon says, “the indie rock scene has been becoming a bigger and bigger thing in the last decade and it’s taken on a somewhat new meaning. you hear the words indie rock and there’s a certain idea or sound that comes to mind. That has taken a big toll on all of us as musicians. In a good way. The indie genre is changing, we’re changing. We’re going to keep changing and that’s okay.”

“Is your songwriting process different from what you do as a group?”

“That’s different. Yeah. That’s pretty different. On my own is hard to explain, like I said before, it’s really personal and specific. I record everything, all the time. That’s a very big part of it and it’s a little slow sometimes too.” He’s comfortable writing anywhere, especially in the studio, but what he needs most is silence. “Is that weird?”

“I think it makes sense.”

“And it’s still fun, it’s just not the same kind of fun as when we do it together. It’s a more individual personal fun when I write alone. I’m never miserable when I write. I don’t really write from that place, it’s not what our music is about usually.”

In the last year, anticipation has grown for the soon to be released Heart Attack album, and its fanbase has tripled. With the quick rise on the eve of the band’s album, I ask him how the fame specifically has changed things for the band, and for himself.

“We’re busier. I’m busier. It’s all very busy,” he admits.

“Touring and playing live is great. It’s really unlike any other experience, and I’m incredibly thankful that we have been doing it so much. It sort of changes the songs to do them live, it gives them a lot more depth and meaning and getting to see the love people have for them has us all pretty breathless by the end of the night.” There’s an obvious but coming despite his enthusiasm. He doesn’t want me to misinterpret the love and dedication he has to the fans. I assure him it’s certainly not lost on me, and only then does he nod and give me what’s clearly the second half of his answer.

“But there’s a lot of recovery we all have to do. The people are great, we all get along great, but we do all need our time after the shows and the recording sessions to just get back to ourselves and our lives. Jessie has some of their own stuff going on and Crash too, some of us are still working other jobs and there’s always family stuff going on and any number of personal things. So there’s that part of it.” He sighs, settling in. It’s off his chest now.

“I spend a lot of time in my room. I like to call my mom pretty frequently, we just talk all that stuff through. She gets it, cause she’s been there a little bit with the theater stuff and touring.” Since the band came together, Dixon’s spearheaded all their managerial responsibilities. It’s clear from the way he talks about the band and their future that although it’s taken a toll, he’s far from burning out. He just needs his alone time like anybody else. “It helps that I have good people, I have really good people in my life who listen, and also they don’t let me stay in my room forever. They drag me out to be a real person.”

“That’s important,” I tell him.

Dixon agrees.

Heart Attack’s third album comes out in August.

#thank you to everyone who sent me questions for romeo that made this incredibly long writing piece possible #this was a lot of fun to write but i am also horrified at how long it turned out… my goal was short little fun pieces and this is… not that #its still fun. its just not short #anyways enjoy a little look into romeo and the band and his thoughts on music and stuff!!#im gonna be doing these for other muses on this blog but probably not as long #this was inspired heavily by a couple of different articles with actors & musicians #can we tell ive been in journalism for like a decade #headcanons ⋆˙ romeo dixon #dyn : heart attack ⋆˙ i know I’ll be a ok

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