#this is also why im refering to kei with they them

[luv-beam]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

still, the lilacs have yet to bloom.

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

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

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

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

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

oh no....

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

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

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

i love this line and totally agree w this

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

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

the idol comment,,, the fourth wall is shaking

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

your tastebuds long for cheongju.

baaaaaanger line

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

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

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

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

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

love the blue stain over my view btw

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OH MY GOD

oh my god

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

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

LOVEBIRDS SKCNDKFNKFNXKDKKDKD

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

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

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

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

FINGER TRAP FINGER TRAP TITLE MENTIONED THIS IS NOT A DRILL

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

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

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

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

are you nothing but an array of achievements and failures?

aren't we all though? :(

NOW UR HOME IS CHANGMIN.

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

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

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

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

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

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

. oh my god

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

im

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

oh my god

i dont wanna read this interview im so upset

im so fucking upset.

finger trapped (ripped to its seams) ➵ ji changmin

ji changmin x reader

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

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

word count ➵ 15.7k words

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

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

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

present -> three weeks after the interview, 2024

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

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

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

“there’s a typo over there.”

“huh? where?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

seconds pass and not a single word has been said—

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

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

“where’d you grow up again?”

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

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

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

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

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

“do you miss it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“really? like lab coat and all?”

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

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

all you do is smile before getting off your seat.

spring of 2014

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

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

still, the lilacs have yet to bloom.

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

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

“ji changmin.” no response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what’s your schedule like?”

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

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

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

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

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

you only muster out a hum.

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

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

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

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

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

a beat passes.

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

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

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

“really? like, stories and poetry?”

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

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

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

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

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

“what if you interview me?”

your eyebrows shoot up. “you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“oh, that sounds cool!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

present -> a day before the interview, 2024

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

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

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

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

your tastebuds long for cheongju.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yeah, about that…”

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

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

“what? why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“y/n?”

and the plan failed.

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

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

a beat passes.

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

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

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

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

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

fate. that’s what brought us here.

“do you live here?”

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

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

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

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

“y—yeah.”

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

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

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

“oh, i’m paying—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“that’s amazing! i’m happy for you.”

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

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

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

“thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

summer of 2014

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what do you want?”

“the fuck? what’s wrong with you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“sign to what?”

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

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

“uh… no?”

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

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

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

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

changmin laughs before you drop the call.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“we can get a summer crush!”

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

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

“holy shit, it’s right there.”

“what?”

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

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

“dibs on grape.”

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

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

“okay, but—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“hey! it’s hard.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

your eyebrows shoot up. “oh?”

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

you hum. “i wasn’t expecting that.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

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

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

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

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

“why not?”

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

“but is it your dream?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i want to make you proud.”

that’s enough to answer it all.

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

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

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

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

“forgot what?”

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

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

“okay, open.”

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

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

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

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

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

present  -> two weeks before the interview, 2024

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yes?”

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

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

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

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

the moment he hits the ‘enter’ key is when he finally looks at you. “sorry about that. i was just replying to minho regarding your compensation for the article you worked with dokyeom. we both appreciate what you did. next time though, make sure to loop in minho or me before you two start working on beats not within your staffs.”

“sorry about that,” you start off. “dokyeom only asked for my help and i thought it would be fine since i’m familiar with dance, anyway.”

namjoon shakes his head with a small smile plastered on his face. “it is fine, just make sure to inform us.” you only nod.

“anyway, i’m sorry to have this meeting with you right now but i have to leave work early today, and i thought that you’d appreciate that i tell this to you now instead of tomorrow,” he says. you hum, curious about what he has to say. “i have a coverage for you, a very, very, long one.”

over the sight of your wide eyes, he can’t help but chuckle. “it’s 12 articles,” he says and your mouth gapes over the number. “well, one main article and 11 profiles with very brief introductory paragraphs.” his attempt to ease your shocked state does nothing.

“namjoon, that’s… a lot.”

“yes, i know. i would love to split the workload but everyone else is handling other articles, and i trust you. i know i’m asking for a lot but i’ll make sure to help you out with them. it’s just that we’re working on a time crunch and i don’t know anyone else i can ask but you.”

the faith that your editor seems to have in you is like no other.

“profiles, like, those q&a transcripts?” you ask.

he nods before saying, “yes, and just a brief introductory paragraph for each profile. i’m just expecting you to put more work into the article about the group. i’ll make sure to help out with the profiles.”

namjoon’s trust should be anxiety inducing, enough to send you complaining, but you find yourself relieved. your mentor became your second-in-command; the mountain of workload transformed into a hill.

“okay.”

a relaxed smile appears on his face at your acceptance. “thank god! i was going to stress about this the whole day if you refused. i’ll make sure to send you the details about this once i’m done with my appointments, and then we can see how we’ll divide the work later on.” he types something. “we’re covering a k-pop group which is why there’s one main article about the whole group and then 11 profiles.”

“yeah, i figured that out.” this isn’t anything out of your usual articles. “can i ask who we’re interviewing? maybe i can do some research on them while you attend your meetings.” you pull out your phone, ready to search up whoever your editor says.

“don’t know if you’re familiar with them but they’re called the boyz?” you still in your seat. “wait, let me check. yes, that’s their name.”

“the boyz?”

namjoon looks at you, now met with your features that have transformed from wide eyes to scrunched eyebrows.  “yeah. do you know them?” 

you shake your head without a second thought. “no, i don’t think i do,” you whisper the last sentence to yourself. his narrow eyes look over you, almost dissecting you.

the walls surrounding you are painted in solid colors of pearl, almost untouched. yet, under the paint are cracks that spread like cobwebs. every burst is a testament to the earthquakes they’ve faced; no one should be able to see a single line of black amid the white sea. now, they’re filled with paste, and it should be enough to cover them all.

but for the first time, the paint has chipped and the paste has deteriorated; the different colors of cheongju seep through the cracks.

you clear your throat as you straighten your back. “i’ll be sure to research them.” you wave your phone at him, hoping to divert his attention, but his gaze remains on you.

a sigh leaves him. “okay. expect to receive the documents later in the afternoon.”

he doesn’t push any further. for now, the walls remain intact. (or appear as so.)

it was never going to be easy.

“honestly, i gave up expecting to win as we practiced,” the youngest says through tears. as they huddle, they let out silent wishes for the upcoming years. before they blow the candle, they don’t forget to express their gratitude to the fandom who stuck with them through thick and thin.

a time of celebration turned into a moment to remember their struggles. these were pockets of their time that marked their spot in history.

“oh, everyone behind us is crying!” another member points out as the camera captures the team’s bittersweet cries.

and when you catch sight of the orange-haired boy who hides his tears behind his friend, the ache in your chest starts to spread through your veins. the video cuts to his low-hanging head as his members comfort him. they knew all of his hardships—you only know a fraction.

such a tender moment happened five years ago; it’s the same amount of time between this achievement and your departure. within those years, what did changmin undergo? did his trainings waver his passion or did the fire burn just as bright as it did since he first auditioned? was he confident in his skills or was he still critical about every performance he had?

but most of all, what did he face? what did he learn? to hate? to love?

what did he go through without you?

you don’t forget to take note of their first win on your document filled with bullet points of information. while you were going to continue watching, a recommended video caught your attention. it’s a changmin focus. you don’t hesitate to click it.

the video starts off with him checking up on the fans before the performance starts. as he mimes out eating, they answer his question with reassurance.

and there they come—his dimples appear.

it transitions to their group in their opening formation. as they await for the song to play out, changmin’s familiar smile shifts into a dominant gaze.

in the same way the first notes draw people to listen, your eyes never leave the boy. his movements are fluid, like water droplets sliding off leaves. he commands the stage regardless of where he’s positioned.

changmin is meant to be on the stage—no, every stage is made for him. every crowd is meant to cheer his name and remain captive to his talents, and every spotlight is meant to shine on him.

you rest your chin on crossed arms. long gone was the bowl cut and loose school uniform. he’s grown. matured, even. yet, the moments where his smile appears makes you realize one thing: the 16-year-old boy you knew still lives within him.

as their performance comes to an end, you don’t bother to move your cursor, letting the next recommended video play. and when his vlog plays out, you realize that a fragment of his identity is a whole of what you know.

what an honor it is to have known him for even a fraction of your lifetime.

his voice is a lullaby, the same one you used to fall asleep to, so you allow yourself to close your eyes. you let go of the responsibilities for just this moment, and allow yourself to be transported back into the warmth of his arms.

fall of 2014

out of all the seasons, autumn took its spot in being your favorite. clusters of green slowly morph  into shades of oranges and browns. it’s a symphony of chirps that fills the silence. while the breeze brings you comfort after the heat of summer, it also reminds you of the looming winter.

it’s a shame that autumn does live up to its other name: a season of fall.

“you’re always like this,” your mother comments. you stand in front of your parents, slumped shoulders and downcast eyes, as they hold a sheet of paper they believe dictates your future. “always so sensitive. we’re just asking you what went different. why did your grades drop?” to them, a shift from a to b+ is a threat to your future. 

while your feet stand on wooden floors, a flood starts to form. murky waves crash against your legs, but you do your best to keep your balance.

“answer us when you’re being talked to.” your father snaps you out of your thoughts. “what have you been doing for your grades to drop?” you want to answer but a single sound that leaves you may only lead to blubbers that your parents will scold you for. 

with your silence, your mother sneers. “i knew we shouldn’t have let you do your own things. i told you so.” she shifts her gaze to him. “what did i tell you about y/n? you know they’ll only slack off!”

“i thought we could trust them. clearly, i was wrong.” your father’s glare raises the water levels, reaching your chest. you don’t know how to swim in the foggy ocean.

“i know why.” she crosses her arms. “it’s because of that changmin boy, isn’t it?” she says his name laced with disgust.

you don’t think twice to defend him. “no, it isn’t!”

“don’t you dare talk back at me!”

“but i’m not! he’s done nothing.”

your father begins to raise his voice. “and that’s what’s wrong! that lazy boy does nothing for his studies. he clearly doesn’t care about his future.”

you always knew it would be a losing battle, but you’ll put up the fight to protect your best friend’s name. “that’s not true! he does care. he’s planning to do early childhood education for college, maybe become a teacher.”

“that job has no money. see, i can already see that you’re being influenced by him,” he argues back.

and as the murky waters rise, filling your lungs, your first instinct is to close your eyes and scream. “stop saying that about him!”

a beat passes.

“i don’t want you hanging out with him.”

“but—”

“shut up.” your mother’s words cause you to look up, meeting your parents’ faces filled with anger.  “go to your room. now.” you’re nothing but a puppet for them.

was it even a battle if you always knew you were going to lose?

despite the safety of your room, you don’t let the tears flow down. you do anything to distract yourself; maybe a book will convince you that your life is only a figment of your imagination.

waves continue to crash against your body. if you let them take your body, would they send you far away from cheongju? from your parents? from the weight you were entrusted to carry since birth?

but would you allow the waves to send you away from changmin?

your phone buzzes against the mattress. with tear-filled eyes, you see your best friend trying to reach you. you don’t think twice about declining his call and shutting off your phone.

as you curl in your bed, you hope the sea will swallow you whole—the slow, burning pain that comes with drowning won’t compare to the burns that haven’t healed. but you know that the blame rests on your shoulders. if only you had studied harder, cut off hours of rest for your work, then maybe you would be the perfect child your parents wanted.

were you wrong for allowing yourself to enjoy the small breaks between classes? was the time spent in the mart supposed to be for schoolwork? should you have found yourself a tutor? were you in the wrong for not working yourself to the bone? did you not work enough?

are you not enough?

then, a knock. your eyes snap open. like a stroke of light in the middle of the dark, changmin is by your window.

you get off your bed to open the window. as the glass barrier disappears, he enters your room. “are you okay?” he spots your glassy eyes and his hands find their spot on your shoulders. “what happened?”

you break eye contact. “what do you want, changmin?”

“you didn’t pick up your phone. and when i tried calling again, i couldn’t reach you,” he starts to explain.

you shrug off his grip on you before you take a seat on your bed. “i’m fine. my phone died.” as you feel the spot beside you dip, you look at your best friend. at the sight of his furrowed eyebrows, you know he doesn’t believe you. “i said i’m fine.”

“i didn’t say anything.” for you are an open book to him.

he opens his arms towards you—it’s your move to make. then, a tight-lipped smile shows on his face, his dimples appear, and you allow yourself to fall. with his arms wrapped around you, you shut your eyes as you nestle your face into his neck.

breathe in. breathe out.

his hand finds its spot on your back, rubbing it in circles.

breathe in. breathe out.

“it’s okay, i’m here,” he says, and you allow yourself to crumble in front of him for the first time.

the tears hit changmin’s neck like a light drizzle. your wails bring earthquakes into his world.

yet, his warmth is enough to dry up droplets, and his embrace protects you as you fall into the cracks of the earth and into the depths of the world. the flood starts to subside.

in your time knowing changmin, how much did he know about you after all? had he always known of your strained relationship with your parents? did he hear about it from others or was he able to connect the dots?

because you didn’t know yourself outside of your parents anymore. did you like science because of your kumon classes? was your interest in writing birthed from a desire for validation from your parents?

are you nothing but an array of achievements and failures?

but your parents will never be satisfied; a standard too high is practically nonexistent.

changmin moves so that you two can lie down. his arms remain wrapped around you as you hide in his neck. “i’m sorry if i wasn’t there for you when you needed it then.” his whispered apology causes you to shake your head.

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” you blubber out to his neck.

“and you didn’t, as well.” his hand finds its spot behind your head. with every stroke, a tear streams down. “and i want you to know that i’ll be here for you.”

in your house, your room was the only space you called home. solace built by you. 

now, your home is changmin.

present -> two weeks before the interview, 2024

something about the newsroom feels odd to you. there’s nothing out of the ordinary aside from it bustling with journalists. the familiar sounds of printers and chatter from your workmates fill your ears. it’s a typical occurrence for your peers to meet their deadlines on the day itself. the tug in your gut doesn’t resemble ones formed out of your anxiety. why does it feel like one of destiny?

“where is dokyeom? i swear, this guy never shows up to the office.”

you snap out of your thoughts, looking over at chaeyeon who browses through her phone. as you shove a bill into the vending machine, a chuckle leaves you. “when is he never?”

“maybe if he finishes his coverages on time then he’d be getting enough sleep. then, he won’t be late.”

you side-eye your friend before you click on a button. “you know that’s not true.”

she sighs at the same time your bottle of iced tea drops. “yeah. apparently, if you have free time, you’re not a good journalist or some shit which i find stupid.” you grab your drink before facing her. “am i not allowed to do something else that’s not related to my job? i swear, this is why i’m single.”

“then date another journalist.” your joke earns a scowl from her.

“i’m never dating anyone in my field. a journalist dating another journalist is like,” she looks up to the ceiling as she thinks, “a long distance relationship with how much they’ll never see or have time for each other.”

a laugh erupts from you, one that may be too loud for your liking. “true.”

as you walk out of the breakroom with chaeyeon, you notice something in the corner of your eye: a brunette by the restroom. while you can’t see his face, you spot what’s in his hand and you halt in your tracks—a finger trap.

“hey, is there someone there?” your eyes snap back to your friend who looks at you in confusion. when your eyes drift back to where the brunette once was, he’s already gone. you shake your head before walking back to your desk.

the same gut feeling lingers. with a frown, you open up your article only to be met with a few comments that namjoon left last night. maybe your gut knew that you weren’t done with your work. thankfully, it’s nothing too major, and you can have them done within the next few minutes.

“there you are!” chaeyeon exclaims, causing you to look up from your screen to a panting dokyeom. “were you working on your articles again?”

“actually, i went out last night.” while you shake your head at dokyeom’s reveal, chaeyeon gasps. “yeah, i did! i actually had fun for once!”

as he nods proudly at last night’s events, she complains, “are you serious?! how come you have time to go out? i was just talking to y/n that we never have time to ourselves.”

“i’m in sports,” he points out as he shrugs his shoulders. “you’re in news.” at this point, you’re expecting the two to spiral into an argument, so you redirect your focus back to your article.

“hey, did you hear though? there’s a k-pop group in the building.” you glance at chaeyeon.

your other friend leans on the cubicle. “really? who?”

“no clue.”

dokyeom lets out a groan. “what type of journalist are you if you can’t find out?”

“yah!” chaeyeon smacks his arm, causing him to wince in pain. “says you who can never submit on time.”

“hey, i’ll have you know that minho has been understanding!”

“whatever.” she rolls her eyes before looking at you. “that means you’ll probably be handling them. i hope they’re cute so that you can finally have something going on with your life outside of work.”

a chuckle leaves you as you get back to work. “i’m never dating an idol. i’d get hunted down by their fans.” 

“yeah, but can’t you dream a little? do you ever imagine what it would be like?”

the past plays in your mind. after school performances and interviews. broken-up popsicles. finger traps. a life you shared with changmin then—one you still cling onto.

yet, you shake your head as you edit your article. “not even.”

it’s a life you’ll keep to yourself.

“what’s the update?”

the three of you look away from each other, spotting namjoon who comes to you with a smile. long gone were the sweaters that failed to drown out his figure and the boxy glasses that would rest on the bridge of his nose. now, he wears a dress shirt and trousers with hair slicked to the side. there were no frames for him to hide behind.

“ah, namjoon! you’re dressed so nice today.”

with dokyeom’s compliment, he can’t hold back on his smile. “thank you. are you guys done with your articles?”

as your friends nod, you add the finishing touches to the document. “and done! i just finished addressing your comments.”

“great. thanks, y/n.”

“do you have something?” chaeyeon asks your editor, causing you to roll your eyes. one thing about journalists is that they love to know everything.

namjoon nods before saying, “i just had a meeting with some possible interviewees.”

“is this the one with the k-pop group?” as dokyeom asks the question, you can’t help but laugh as chaeyeon looks at him in disbelief for spilling confidential information.

your editor chuckles. “yes.”

“can we know—”

“no, you can’t know.”

chaeyeon pouts at namjoon. “not even a hint?”

namjoon ignores her question and begins to walk off. “good work, y/n!” he calls out before leaving you three alone.

“man, namjoon never tells us shit,” chaeyeon complains as she leans on the table.

“to you guys, at least,” you argue with a small shrug.

still, the gut feeling remains.

something about the newsroom feels odd to changmin. while he’s had his fair share of paranormal experiences, his gut tells him that there’s something in the office. yet, the tug isn’t one that speaks of danger. why does it feel like one of destiny?

“should we have a short break before we discuss the schedules for the photoshoots and interviews?” changmin is snapped out of his thoughts by namjoon’s suggestion.

his manager looks at the group. “do you guys need a break?”

sangyeon shoots namjoon a smile before looking at his members. “you guys can use the washroom if you need to.”

although everyone seemed fine with proceeding, changmin couldn’t shake off the feeling. maybe the leftover curry he had this morning went bad. “i’ll go,” he says as he gets off his seat.

namjoon slowly stands up. “okay, i can bring you there—”

“it’s okay! i saw the washroom on the way here,” changmin says before walking to the door. “you can discuss the details without me. i’m sure you guys will manage.”

with sangyeon’s and his manager’s nods, namjoon settles back into his seat. “okay then, here are some of the dates i have in mind...”

changmin exits the room. he bites on the inside of the cheek as he thinks of what his gut could be telling him. is it the nerves for the upcoming tour? is he worried about the next comeback they’ve been preparing? or is he scared about what the future has in store for his group?

with his mind on these questions, he doesn’t realize that he arrives in front of the bathroom door. a sigh of frustration leaves him. the worst thing about gut feelings is never knowing what they’re trying to say.

he grips the handle, ready to swing the door open, until a familiar laugh hits his ears. one of the past. one he hasn’t heard in years. his muscles freeze.

when was the last time he heard that chortle? when was the last time he became the cause of it?

his eyes dart around the area for the source but no one else is here. he can’t help but shake his head in disbelief.

it should be stupid for him to think you two would ever reunite. in what world would you be in the same place as he is? it’s been 10 years. you could be anywhere around the world. yet, he fishes for something out of his pocket; the same finger trap he linked you to him rests on the palm of his hand.

he sighs before entering the washroom and shoving it back into his pocket.

maybe he’ll hold out a little longer.

winter of 2014

out of all the seasons, changmin’s favorite is winter. snowflakes fall, filling the sky with stars that people can touch, and snow piles on sidewalks, letting him throw snowballs at his friends. despite the freezing temperatures, changmin prefers this over nearly-boiling ones.

he can’t wait to share this season with you.

yet, the familiar, chilly breeze of the season transforms into whispers, and word gets around like thrown snowballs. 

“is y/n really not going to school anymore?” changmin looks up from his desk to see cheng xiao standing in front of him. he tilts his head in confusion, causing her to roll her eyes. “are they not going here anymore?”

he frowns. “huh? what kind of rumor is that?”

“i don’t know. it’s what people have been saying,” she says as she crosses her arms. “i asked because i wanted to know if my competition’s gone, you know? and you’re the only one here who has an idea about their whereabouts.”

changmin laughs in disbelief. “no, i was with them last week.”

when changmin last saw you, you asked for space. with what’s been happening with your family, you needed time to process and cope with your issues, and he respected that. after all, he only knew a fraction of your relationship with your parents, and he didn’t want to intrude in anything you didn’t want him to be a part of. still, changmin reminded you that he’ll be there if you need him.

“damn, that sucks,” cheng xiao groans as her shoulders slump. “these stupid rumors.” as soon as she leaves changmin alone, he shakes his head.

the bell rings. students start rushing into classrooms and teachers scold those who aren’t on their seats. ms. jeon enters the room, walking to the desk in front and setting her things down. “cheng xiao, you’ll be in charge of attendance today.”

as changmin’s classmate gets off her seat, he can’t help but look at your desk that still remains empty.

“you have to message us when you land,” your mother says as she fixes the collar of your coat. despite your nod, she clicks her tongue. “answer me properly.”

“yes, i will.”

once your father finishes placing the last luggage in the trunk of the taxi, he stands beside your mother. “don’t forget why we’re sending you there. we expect you to do better with no distractions.”

your phone buzzes in your hand. as you look down, you see a message from changmin. as he asks about your whereabouts, the weight gets heavier—will you stand or crumble under it?

“who’s that?”

you stash your phone away as you look back at your parents. “nothing. it’s just an email from the school. they sent over the date for the orientation.” at the sight of their satisfied smile, you let out a small sigh of relief.

“well, go on.” your nod at your mother before getting in the car. with the windows still down, she adds, “don’t forget to get endorsement letters from the professors i sent over to you or else you won’t get to study abroad like we planned.” her choice of pronouns is funny; a plan that they crafted which never considered your input.

“okay.”

as your father commands the driver to go, your gaze remains on the two. it should be okay with you to leave cheongju; you’d be far away from your parents and experience an entirely different landscape to explore. it’s time you break away from the chains of this town. learn a life outside of what your parents forced you into.

yet, as the car takes its leave, the figure of your parents slowly shrinks. the distance from them should’ve given you the space to breathe, a relief you’ve longed for, but it only reminds you of your strained relationship. to them, it would be better that you’re out of their sight—and with your farewell, you never heard the three-word phrase.

the window rolls up. you try to hold back the tears, but the scenery of cheongju that you pass by births a storm within you. you didn’t want to say goodbye to home, regardless of how much you say you didn’t have a home in this town. every corner holds a piece of you in the same way you hold a piece of them.

the car approaches a safe haven you share. despite the snow that piles at the front, mr. kim’s convenience store is still open. you’ll never get to have his hotteok again or hear his favorite dramas play in the background. worst of all, you never got to say goodbye.

then, the familiar figure of your best friend exits the mart, and the storm transforms into a typhoon. the plastic bag he holds is filled with your favorite snacks, from the grape-flavored twin bar to a bottle of mr. kim’s homemade peach iced tea.

and in that moment that your car passes him, he pulls out his phone from his pocket, and you spot the familiar trap wrapped around his finger—the other end holds no one.

as quickly as you came into changmin’s life, he disappears from your view.

finger traps were fascinating. if you tug hard, the contraption won’t let your fingers go. yet, if you allow the two fingers to meet, allowing the toy to loosen, it’ll let you go with no harm.

but your finger trap with changmin was different. maybe it was already ripped to its seams.

interview

q: what made you decide on becoming an idol?

a: i’ve always loved dancing. growing up in cheongju, i always made time [for dance] whether it be [for] school competitions, talent shows, or even [choreographies] i wanted to try out. but i never considered becoming [an idol] until high school. a lot of my friends and family thought i was capable, and i’m glad they trusted me. it feels good to give back to them with every performance.

q: as the first trainee meant to debut in the boyz, you’ve spent more time training compared to your other members. what kept you going throughout your years of training?

a: my family’s support was one big thing that helped me [during my training.] every trip from my house to the company would last hours, and it drained me physically. so as the years went by, i started to question if all the time, money, [and] effort i was putting into an unpromised debut would be worth it, but my parents and sisters were always there to support and [take] care of me. but i’d also like to think my best friend was a major support in training years. i think they were the first one to [tell me that they saw me as an idol,] and at the time i brushed off the idea. but, look where i am now? so i think i owe a lot to them.

q: is there anything you’d like to say to those who’ve supported you as the boyz’s q?

a: mom and dad, thank you for believing in me. i know it wasn’t easy to wait until midnight for me to come home or take care of me whenever i got sick from training. thank you for always supporting me in every performance. to my sisters, thank you for helping mom and dad out at home. every day, i remind myself that you gave up so much just so i can pursue my dreams, and i want you know that i’m forever grateful for your sacrifices. to the rest of [the boyz], thank you for always allowing me to rely on you. i’m glad i can say i have brothers who i get to achieve my dreams with. deobi, thank you for your love and support over the years. i wouldn’t be the boyz’s q or ji changmin if it weren’t for you. and lastly, thank you to my best friend. i hope you’ll always be proud of me the same way i’ll forever be proud of you.

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

[vocalsynthbdays]

hi um i was wondering if you could but my favorite vipper/utauloid on your list 👉👈 their name is Mochizuki Kei and they are themed around and released on Halloween

oh sure !! and thank you for the ask !!!

i was going ot post them last year, and if you look at my last years halloween post under the cut youll see me discussing them there iirc, however i didnt post them as i wasnt sure of how to refer to them , and what their creator is presenting them as and stuff ?

the utau wikia says that kei is just called a transphobic slur by their creator

and shows they rather be refered to with feminine terms

also the fact that they are specifically being described as "becoming" a cool beauty, rather than like, dressing as one, makes me think this is more permanent, like transitioning, rather than crossdressing

ive also had people say that the most accurate translation of the word used to describe their gender is just "trap", which absolutely is transphobic

i think a better translation of "otokonoko" is more like "crossdresser" though ?? calling a character who says they want to be refered to in feminie ways a crossdresser instead is transphobis either way though

which makes it seem like this is like, a transfem character being presented in a transphobic way by their creator to me ??

as such, as a trans person myself, i didnt want to uncritically post about a character who is seemingly being refered to in such a transphobic way without knowing more about them and being sure that what im writing is true

kei reads a bit like grell from black butler to me ig ASDHKJASHDK like, a character who is being called male but says theyre a woman and wants to be refered ot with feminie terms ?? i have no idea what words are used to dscribe grell in japanese though, im only bringing this up as have another example to compare kei to

i could totally be all wrong about this though ???? i know that japanese words for gender do not easily translate to english, as they come from a different culture and society, so the words used specifically within that culture and society need to be viewed within that context to fully make sense, if you get what i mean,, and ik that my views and knowledge of gender as a person living in the uk and being on the (largely american) english-speaking internet are going to be different to those of people living on the other side of the world to me, so i get that my interpretation of kei could be completely wrong

to me in my knowledge though, the fact they want to be refered to with feminine terms and want to "become" a cool beauty seems to be pretty indicitative of them just being transfem, rather than a crossdresser like their creator says

i really cannot be certain though, and i am completely open to being corrected by anyone who knows better, or can give anything on this topic !!

so since i have such doubts about kei, their gender, what to call them, and how they translate from japanese to english, i decided not to post about them ahskjdhjkasdh

tldr: i didnt post kei because to me they seem to be a transfem character being presented in a transphobic way, but i dont know japanese and cannot be sure that is the case, so i chose againt posting them

[goatpaste]

Anyone else love to associate random orginal world jojo character traits and design aspects to the reset world characters

Like you look at them, they're their own guy but your like

Theirs a lil recipe of some other bitches in there, fell in the soup while god restarted the world

[seawing-vibes]

Decided to fill out a template from @/falling-skyzz I feel normal about . The dragons ! List of characters & design & dynamic thoughts under the cut <3

Also If anyone else fills out thus template feel free to send me the post,, I would love to see other people filling this out!!! I love templates !!

Secretkeeper & Moon • I understand theres a lot of reasonable hate for Secretkeeper but!!! I find her & moon to be a very fascinating pair! To make a long ass thought short, I think Secretkeeper is the embodiment of “product of her environment & deeply traumatize & projecting”. I think she genuinely really loves moon but obviously expresses that through being “”protective””. But I think shes genuinely a character with a capacity for change & realizing the autonomy Moon has over her own powers. Also from the perspective of Moon I think her arc around her relationship with her mom could be really interesting, especially as Secretkeepers authority becomes challenged in Moons life & she has to confront the bullshit her mother has put her through. Overall very very interesting pair I think about them a lot.

Design Note: Secretkeeper is duller in color than Moon & has less stars due to lack of moon light on the island! Also the scales around her mouth are almost completely black, making her mouth barely visible, giving her the name “Secretkeeper” as she “has no mouth to tell others secrets.”

Tsunami & Starflight • Just one of my fav siblings! This specific illustration is from the Arena Scene in Dragonet Prophesy! I really really love Tsu & Starflights dynamic of looking up to eachother & their development together just. So neat!

Design Note: Starflight has very few constellation marks in this illustration as he hasnt spent much time under moonlight quite yet!

Shark & Abalone • One of my more out-there ships! I based this on the thought that Shark was once close with Abalone (cough. Husbands.) and that relates to why he was willing to give Tortoise a lunch-break from watching the eggs. He already saw someone close to him die from being overworked to watch the clutch, he didn’t want to watch another dragon die from his sisters selfishness. I could write an essay on these two I swear

Deisgn Note: Shark is based on a tiger shark & abalone is based on real abalones! hes one of my fav designs here

Six-Claws & Ostrich • He’s just a sweet dad! the little we see of him he seems to really love her & vice-versa <3 they’re just neat

Design Note: Six-Claws is based on a king cobra & is a specific sub-“species” of hooded Sandwings ! Burn found his hood mutation & six-claws super interesting

Tamarin & Pike • My fav background friendship! They’re just fun. I like Pike just chillin out around Tamarin & describing flower colors to her to the best of his ability (she just likes to hear him ramble about a shared interest)

Design Notes: I updated how I draw Tamarins eyes to properly resemble a blind-born dragon ! Also Pike’s deisgn got some yellow in it and I really like it <3

Whiteout & Thoughtful • I just think they’re neat!! They just seem like a sweet pair love them

Design Note: none really! Just experimenting with a rando Thoughtful design that I tossed together for my “ships tier list”

Tsunami • Its just her :) my fav dragon <3!!! I definitely dont think she upholds the “princess” title once she gets older, her only link to the throne is by Coral insisting monthly visits but Tsu otherwise wouldn’t be any interesting in royal life I would imagine

Design Note: Shes caught a waaururrghh something im going bonkers I cant remember what fish that is and my reference photo seems to have dissipated into the cosmos

Anemone • I LOVE HER. SO MUCH ! Anemone haters BACK OFF!!!! Her relationship to her powers is so fucked man. Something you’d think would give her power & control is just a key by which others use to manipulate and abuse her like . Man :( shes literally never had any autonomy over her own identity & intermingled her powers into her identity So Much only for that aspect of herself to also be revealed to be a facade for someone else’s desires like. GUH I love her so much I hope shes having a good day I dont care what anyone says she deserves to be a brat and I support her for it

Design Note: none really! The stars in her talons are just metaphorical though

Snowflake & Snowfox • THE OGS!!!!!! MY FAVORITE PROBLEMATIC LESBIANS <3 Ahhh remember in the early days when they were considered the #1 most problematic ship because they were gay and also evil. I love the evil lesbians so much they’re so shitty sorry Darkstalker Snowfox should’ve been queen I would’ve loved to see that go down it’d be so silly

Design Notes: Snowfox is based on an arctic fox shedding into their summer coat!! I know its p . Away from canon descriptors of her but it was sm fun to illustrate so shhh <3 Snowflake is just grey & blueish per-canon but shes sooo fun. love her.

Okay thats all here are the individual illustrations now !!!!! Because why not !!! If these aren’t transparent its all over

[viir-tanadhal]

no no listen i see the vision

what were the other ones then

[otaku553]

I think we all wanna know about the process for the last two pages

HAHA IM GLAD. THESE TWO PAGES TOOK FOREVER

I was really proud of them when I sketched them out and you can definitely see a lot of details ended up staying the same between the sketch and the final! These were the pages that I probably had the clearest ideas on because I wanted especially Ace drowning and Tage saving him to be impactful and pretty memorable, hence all of the different viewpoints and poses. Getting the head angle on that final page was really annoying but there are some excellent references on referenceangle.com for heads turned upwards, like the following:

What probably took the longest this time around was the lineart, actually, because I got Really Into It and couldn’t stop adding more detail.

This becomes! A trend! Because that one panel of Ace’s hair made me feel like I had to keep that consistent quality of lineart for the rest of the chapter even after that. So that’s why I had to split the chapter lmao

Extra notes on coloring:

Doing underwater pieces is actually a really good exercise for color theory, since warm colors in cool lighting and in a blue environment are often quite different than you’d expect them to be. You can definitely do a shortcut by using hard light blending mode on full opacity, as I’ve shown here, but when you use hard light blending mode, sometimes some specific colors may turn out muddled or brown-ish, like the orange, so I find picking your own colors also gives you some nice freedom over like. Cohesion in your palette.

The other thing that really makes the underwater scenes is the bubbles which are honestly a lot of fun to do! After you realize that bubbles are fundamentally just weird little glass/ mirror balls that take even less effort because the shapes will get distorted anyways you can sorta just do whatever. The key is mostly getting sharp contrast between the darker blues and the bright highlights I think?. If you want a tutorial on bubbles let me know :)

[monarcascension]

wicked games | c.s

summary: He led you on for years. The one man you saw yourself with, could never give you what you so desperately craved. Love. After the devastation, you finally mustered up the courage to cut all ties with him for good and move on. At least… you tried to, until he manages to pull you right back in again.

pairings : choi san x fem!reader

tags: SMUT WARNING , MINORS DNI — vulgar language, infidelity, angst, some fluff, teasing, sensual language, unprotected sex, situationship, asphyxiation +♡

♬ — ACT A FOOL x LYRICA ANDERSON

word count: 11.3K

(Too damn long + im so sorry yall, but i hope you enjoy the story still hopefully ! lmaoooo 🩶 )

—

November 24th, 2019

San usually doesn’t ignore your calls like this.

Your worry was starting to grow with each flight of stairs that you ascended to reach his apartment. You sent message after message with no response, giving leeway to the most irrational part of you to think of the worst possible case. You stopped for a moment and opened your chat rooms again, finding Yunho, his roommate in your contacts and shooting him a quick text asking if either of them were home.

Of course San would do something like this after just asking you the night before to go on a date with him and standing you up.

Asshole. You asked yourself countless times why you still put up with him, but you fell short of an educated answer. You just loved him and that was enough of a reason for you. However, you were frustrated and freeing and had half a mind to turn around and leave, but your phone suddenly rang with a new notification.

Yunho had answered you. He said that he wasn’t home, but San was. He had talked to him just an hour ago before you arrived in the area. He said it was possible that he could be playing video games with his headset on and doesn’t hear his phone going off. He told you not to worry about him too much.

Easy for you to say..

The nagging feeling in your chest slowly began to subside at his response. Yunho knew you long enough to know that you loved to worry about San even if unwarranted. He also knew that you were in love with him before you did. Yunho was always present and knowing of everything without actually witnessing it himself. Sometimes his assuring and know-it-all behavior pissed you off; mainly because you wish you had that much confidence in everything around you. You envied him in more ways than one.

정윤호

81024# is the code for the key lock, you can let yourself in. If he is playing video games he probably cant hear you ringing the doorbell either. Dont steal anything ;)))

You laughed a little harder at that than you intended to. Why was he always so unserious about everything? You would question him on his behavioral tactics later, all you wanted to do was get out of the petrifying cold and be with San. So, you moved quickly– scared that if you stayed in one place for too long your boots would freeze to the concrete beneath your feet. You quickly shot Yunho another text, thanking him for his help.

Shuffling up the last flight of stairs, you grounded yourself on the platform and rounded the corner that led to the first set of apartments on the floor. You continued forward until you came to the eighth door. Your ears perked at the sound of movement inside.

And then a voice. And another.

Unfortunately, it was too muffled for you to pick up anything else, and you assumed that he had company over. More than likely Wooyoung. Maybe Yunho didn’t know he was coming?

Referring to the code that he had granted you, you slid up on the keypad and punched in the digits. A short and kind of cute chime sounded from the mechanism telling you that you put in the right code and the door buzzed, undoing whatever security measurements that came with the system and clicked open. You made your way inside, being welcomed to the familiar, manly, but still good scent of their home. The warmth from the heater hit you and you never accounted for how much you desired to be hot for once.

You pulled your boots off along with your coat before wandering into the rest of the apartment. Peeking your head into the living area just around the corner from the entrance where you knew their joint gaming console was. The television was still on and playing a show loudly rather than a game, which explains the voices you heard from outside, but he was nowhere in sight. Neither was Wooyoung like you expected.

He must be in his room. You thought.

As many times as you have been to his place and even spent nights here, you still felt like you were intruding– that eerie feeling telling you that you shouldn’t be here was looming over your gut, but you continued anyway.

“San?” You called out instinctively as you neared his bedroom. The door was closed, so you placed your hand on the door knob and pushed it open. The worst possible case was that he was naked, which you didn’t mind as you’ve seen many parts of each other anyway. “I’ve been trying to call you, but you didn’t-”

You weren’t sure what look you had on your face, but you were more than sure that it resembled exactly what you were feeling on the inside. Heartbreak. Your eyes went wide and your lips parted in shock at the sight of Choi San, the man you loved more than anything, scrambling from underneath a naked girl. A girl that wasn’t you. But it wasn’t some random girl. No. That dark hair, that disintegrating butterfly tattoo on the back of her shoulder. You knew her.

Your skin glossed over with a chill. And your heart broke into a million pieces.

It was Veronica. Your best friend. At least that’s what you thought until now.

“Jesus… What the hell?! What are you doing here?” Panic was obvious in San’s voice as he sat up in the bed, looking just as frightened and bewildered as you were. He climbed out of the bed and quickly pulled on his boxers.

“You…Are you serious?” There was nothing in you that tried to maintain composure as everything you were feeling began to bubble to the surface and you let it come out. “What the fuck are you doing here, V??”

“How the hell did she even get in here??” She barely even acknowledged you. Just looked to him like a savior of some sort. And that pissed you off even more.

San took a step towards you and you took two steps back. “Look, I can explain.”

You put your hand up to him to stop him from speaking. “Don’t…talk to me. You don't get to speak to me right now.”

“San, can you just make her leave? She’s being a nuisance.”

“Hey, stop. Just let me handle this.” San corrected her and she shifted in place, gripping the covers that were keeping her breasts from spilling out into the open.

Meanwhile, you shot daggers towards Veronica at her words. Your brows furrowed across your forehead, possibly leaving a mark from the tension that you could feel between the bridge of your nose. Your lip twitched with the want to say so many things, but no words were strong enough to show what you were really feeling. Rage.

You looked eagerly around the room for something. All you needed was something. Anything. That’s when your eyes locked onto it. A medium sized glass cup sat dormant on his computer desk, and with the quickness of a quality athletic star as well as the strength of one, you grabbed the glass and hurled it in Veronica’s direction before San could grab and stop you. She let out an ear-jerking screech and covered her head with her hands before the harsh sound of the glass shattering filled the room and silenced everyone in it. You couldn’t control yourself at that moment. You missed her by a few inches as the glass impacted with the wall just above the headboard, sending shards falling on the sheets and her. Part of you wanted it to hit her. You wanted her to hurt like you were hurting, but it still wasn’t enough to quell your anger.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! You’re mental.” Veronica snapped.

“Seriously?!” San grabbed your arms, trying to push you back to get you out of the vicinity of Veronica. “You need to calm down.”

You pressed your hands to his bare chest and pushed him back off of you. “Don’t fucking touch me! Calm down?” You focused your gaze back on her. “You knew. You knew about us the whole time! And you do this?”

“Obviously, there wasn’t an “us” between you if he’s fucking me and not you. Right?” She spoke with such a venom lining her words and they were aimed directly at your heart. “Me and Jamie warned you. You didn’t listen.”

“I should have known from the beginning that you were a grimey bitch. You’d open your legs for anybody that so much as blinks at you.” You snapped back.

“How do you think that I got in his bed then?”

You were going to kill her. You felt like crying right there, but your blood was already boiling in a crimson pot. It not only pained you to hear those words from someone you once considered a friend, but from someone who also knew every single thing that happened between you and San. Every tear you cried was on her shoulder, every message of happiness and celebration you sent her, she sent you her congratulations. She was there for it all.

And she betrayed you. He betrayed you.

“I can’t fucking believe you…both of you.” You scoffed, backing away from San with weak and rigid steps. “You two deserve each other.”

You attempted to turn and walk out, but he grabbed your arm to stop you. “God, don’t be like that.” San coaxed. “This didn’t mean anything.”

He always tries explaining everything away, making everything seem smaller than what it was. Acting as if none of this was a big deal, but he just couldn’t see the pain in your eyes that was hiding behind the blind rage. You glanced down at his hand for a second and then back up to him, yanking your hand away without another thought.

“I don’t give a fuck what it meant. Whatever it is…that I thought we had? It’s over. Keep her for all I care, just don’t talk to me ever again. In fact, forget I exist–forget that we ever existed.” Those were possibly the coldest words that you have ever said to him. It hurt you to even say them, and you could see the sly grin that was on his face soon falter.

“You’re not serious. Come on, we can fix this. She doesn’t mean anything to me. You do.”

“Godd! You’re so full of shit, San! She meant something if it was enough to risk-.” Your eyes burned through him like you had laser vision. You wanted him to hurt. You wanted to tear him down just like he did you over the years. “Forget it.” He just couldn’t know that your heart was breaking into pieces. “And if I really meant something to you, you wouldn’t have fucked my best friend behind my back. I’m done. We’re done.”

He had heard you say that many times before, but now he realized you were serious.

You stomped out of the room, making a b-line for the front door. Quickly stuffing your feet back into your boots and grabbing your coat from the rack, you placed your hand on the door knob and was just about to crank it to leave when you heard San’s voice crowing and breaking from the same spot where you had just left him.

“Please, let’s just talk about this. I- I don’t want you to go. I-” He paused. “I love you.”

You thought when you heard those words from him for the first time, that it would light a fire in your stomach. You would smile like an idiot and throw yourself into his arms like a love sick puppy. It was everything you ever wanted to hear him say, but hearing them now? Like this, when you were on the verge of breaking down? All it did was burn a hole through your heart, severing the last bit of forgiveness you could ever give him– along with whatever love that remained.

A singular tear fell from your eyes but was absorbed by the thick fur of your coat. You didn’t even bother to look at him. If he saw you cry, it would give him the satisfaction of your sadness. It would tell him that you still cared. That you still could possibly love him despite what he had just done to you. That there was still a chance at redemption. And you didn’t want to care about him anymore. So from this moment, you decided to hate him. For good.

You took a deep breath. Letting that numbness wash over your heart. And with the last inkling of strength in your voice, you spoke to him one final time and meant it.

“Fuck you, San.”

계속하다

Present Day

Those were the last words you ever uttered to him since your relationship ended.

Calling it a “relationship” is a bit of a stretch though, it could better be compared to Hell on Earth. An excruciatingly ugly, painful, heartbreaking, love story that went up in flames once the final straw had been broken. The thought of it filled you with agony and it felt as if the pain would be eternal, which is why you stopped thinking about it completely. But for some reason it resurfaced.

For whatever grudge the universe had against you for whatever reason, the thought of what you once had, had oddly brought you… comfort. If that was the right term to use. It felt familiar even with the blight it left on your heart. That’s how he was, Choi San— albeit possibly your worst decision in a man at the time— he had a way of conflicting every emotion and thought you had just by saying a few simple words. He was a smooth talker, you see. Blessed and born with a silver tongue and a kindness that made his every transgression against you seem minute (my-nute).

He always had a knack of luring you right back into his trap whenever you attempted to free yourself. His smile brought you to the closest feeling of love that he would permit you to have, and his kisses made you fall even harder. If he cut you by his bastard-like actions, he would heal you with his words, or by fucking you so good that you completely forgot why you were angry in the first place. Until he does it again and the cycle continues.

It was all a part of his little game and you were too in deep not to play.

Each night with him that you did not spend yelling and throwing tantrums, you would lay in his arms and let the calm sweep you into a deep slumber. When you shut your eyes all you could see were the same blaring red lights that flashed constantly behind your eyelids. They were your warning. A wailing and urgent siren that was almost deafening to your ears, screaming for you to get away while you were ahead. Every neuron in your brain fired off in an attempt to make you aware of the damage that was set to ensue if you continued this way with him.

You never listened.

That was probably the most justifiable reason behind all of your sleepless nights. Maybe if you had heeded those warnings, and listened to your first mind back then to leave him before you gave him a piece of yourself , you could have been saved from the intense heartbreak later and the aftermath of pain that followed in his wake.

You hated him, but for some reason unbeknownst to you, you still mourned your separation.

He was your first love after all.

You built a fantasy world around your heart to protect it from the truth of who he really was. It was the only solace and peace that you could maintain by giving yourself a place to hide when false hope seeped in. The hope that he would love you back. It kept you content with your situation and never allowed you to think any deeper about a future with him until you stopped hoping completely.

You tried your hardest to forget every moment he made you smile, the softness of his fingers when he touched your most delicate places, the way his lips felt on your flesh, and every warm feeling that resembled even an ounce of love or admiration that you had for him. You tried to forget it all. You wanted to. You needed to. And now the only memories that remained were all filled with regret, anger, sadness, and hate.

Although it has been four years since you have felt that way, those feelings still linger even now, trickling into your present no matter how hard you tried to keep them in the past.

“Soooooo…the company dinner-” Yunho tried the topic again, but you quickly shut him down.

“Hell no.” You didn’t even have to look at him when you said it, just continued to work on the stove, stirring around the ramyeon that would be your lunch.

Yunho let out an egregiously loud, and seemingly frustrated groan. “Dude, you promised.”

You set down your cooking utensil next to the pot and cranked down the heat before turning to face him at the kitchen island where he sat across from you. “Yeah, I did! That was before you so graciously informed me that that evil bitch would be there.”

“I didn’t know that she was the event coordinator this time. The other one got booted off at the last minute, Jamie was the one that told me, and told me to tell you as soon as possible.” He explained, mentioning your— mentionably more loyal— other best friend of almost ten years, Jamie, moving his hands around so wildly while he spoke that it was hard for you to focus on him.

“Look, I’m grateful that you gave me a heads up!”

“Thank you for some recognition! Jamie and I work hard for you.” He said.

There he goes being unserious again. You sighed softly. “But that’s where it stops. I think if I get within ten feet of her I may actually kill her.”

“You tried that once, remember? Didn’t really work out.” Yunho grabbed the glass of wine sitting in front of him and took a sip of it.

Low blow. You flicked him off for his comment, visibly irritated at what he said, but all he did was laugh.

Yunho cocked his head to the side, leaned forward on the marble surface of the kitchen island and stared up at you with the most aggravatingly cute smile. “Did you know that you look even prettier when you’re pissed off at me?”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the stove. “You’re annoying..”

“You love me for it.” He cooed.

“Debatable topic at best.” You said flatly, moving over to the counter to chop up the rest of the meat slices to mix into the broth.

The chair scraped across the tile. Heavy footfalls began to round the corner of the kitchen island, leaving your mind to the imagination of where Yunho was going as you focused on your task in the kitchen. The muscles in your back tensed when you felt a sudden weight pressed against it. Long, strong arms stretched out beside you; his hands found purchase on the counter and trapped you against it as your breath hitched at his closeness. Yunho cleared you in height alone, standing at a whopping 6’3 compared to you. You weren’t short yourself, but anybody that stood next to him would look like an ant. His presence alone was dominating and commanding and suddenly you felt much less brave than you did 3 seconds prior.

You stopped cutting and slightly turned your head towards him. His lips were pursed against your ear and you were scared about what would follow after.

His breath was cool and it made the hairs on your neck stand on end when he whispered, “I don’t think it’s that debatable..”

He placed a kiss on your earlobe. Another on your jaw. Your neck, canvassing the beautiful tone of your skin. He pressed his pillowy pair against your shoulder and it caused you to shiver. You could feel the smile pulling at his lips at your reaction.

“Yunho..you know we can’t. Jamie will be home soon.” You said almost breathlessly. The warmth radiating from his body also made you hot. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

“You even say my name pretty. How am I supposed to resist you if you talk like that?” His voice was deep and sultry, housing a slight grumble at the end of every word.

“What if Jamie-“

“I don’t care about Jamie. I care about you.” Yunho snaked his arms around your waist and spins you around to face him.

Jamie would probably kill you if she found out since Yunho was just as much her best friend as he was yours. Besides, I doubt she would want to know that the two of you ever had sex in the first place or how you even got there to begin with.

When you ended things with San, you also tried to cut every piece of him out of your life entirely. Including Yunho. Even though the two of you were close, he was even closer with San than you were. You didn’t need to have that constant reminder of the man that broke your heart, so you stopped talking to Yunho as well as his friend group entirely—etching that part of your life out of your head for good. However, Yunho didn’t take that too lightly.

A little bit after the incident one night, while you were crying your eyes out on the couch in the very apartment that you stood in, there was a resounding knock at the door. Thinking it was Jamie, your roommate, who left her key again, you wiped your tears and quickly shuffled to let her in. To your surprise as well as your dismay, it wasn’t the olive toned ginger you had come to spend your teenage years with, but instead Jeong Yunho in all of his terrible timing glory.

You tried to close the door on him and tell him to leave, but he stopped you. Insisted that he wanted to merely check on you since it had been so long since you spoke. He then spilled that Jamie knew you needed a friend and she wouldn’t be home for another two days, so she asked him to come see you. As much as you wanted to yell at her, you knew her heart was in the right place.

You weren’t sure how things got to where they did, but you remembered that he apologized over and over again for letting him hurt you and that he had no idea about him and Veronica. He said they even got into a fight about it and hadn’t seen San since that night. Him telling you that opened the floodgates and you found yourself pouring everything you kept inside out onto his shoulder. He held you with his fingers hooked into your hair and pressing you even deeper into his shoulder for you to cry. He said it was okay and he understood. He pulled you off of his shoulder and cupped your face with his hands, wiping away the neverending flow of your burning tears with his thumbs. Yunho called you beautiful. He hated to see you cry so he smiled and the sight alone unthawed the iceberg that you had locked around it. One thing led to another… and well.

He kissed you. You didn’t stop him. Nor did you want to. You needed him more in that moment than you ever had since you met.

You tried many times to end whatever it was between you countless because of your guilt, but Yunho never wanted to.

“Let’s be guilty together.” Is what he would say to you.

That’s how all of this mess started. Ever since then, it’s been an unspoken thing. There was no commitment there, but rather a comfort. Something only the two of you understood. You felt horrible, but at the same time it was just nice having someone. He was not yours and you weren’t his, but when you were together it was just you two. No expectations. Maybe it made you a hypocrite, but you stopped caring a long time ago.

For the first time you looked into his eyes and saw the hunger lying in his hues. He scoured every inch of your face, but danced around the lining of your lips as if he could taste them just by looking at them.

Throwing your arms around his shoulders, you pulled yourself in closer to him and smiled, lowering your voice to speak as if it weren’t only the two of you in here. “If I knew you were going to be this much trouble, I would have left you outside that night.”

Yunho moved in even closer, so that you could feel his breath brushing across your lips. “Well, since you didn’t, now I can do this.”

His lips collided against yours tenderly. They tasted just as sweet as they were the last time you kissed him, hinting at a slight berry flavor from the chapstick he frequently wore. They felt smooth and delicate against your own. Yunho guided you through the kiss and you followed. The kiss was gentle but firm, like he was trying to let you know that he meant every single word he has ever said to you.

His arms tightened around your waist more, tugging you closer to him so that your bodies were pressed against the other. The two of you were perfectly in sync as you explored each other’s mouths. Your fingers tangled into his thick blonde hair before dropping to his chest, fisting the white shirt he had on. With soft exasperated sighs in between each motion of your lips, Yunho dipped his hands down from your waist and around to your ass, grabbing almost all of you with both of his massive palms. You chuckled softly against him and he did the same.

Then you heard a clunking sound. Something similar to a chime. The door. A Lock. Keys. Oh God. Jamie. She’s home. The cute moment was ruined by the two of you scrambling to look as unsuspecting as possible.

“I’m baaaaaaaack!” Jamie sang out in an awful tune, sending goosebumps across your arms. Eerie.

You cleared your throat and continued cooking your lunch. Yunho acted as if he was rummaging the cabinets for snacks as your best friend came galloping into the kitchen.

“Oh, you’re here. Why?” Her words were laced with disappointment and you knew she was referring to Yunho.

“Ouch. Why did you say it like that? Am I not welcome?”

“You are! It’s just.. you’re a still man. I’m just shocked at your presence.” Jamie said. “Anyway! I come bearing giftsss!”

“What’d you get me?” Yunho asked, suggestively.

“Hopefully out of my house soon.” Jamie bit back.

You chortled, but tried to hide it when you felt Yunho staring daggers into the back of your head. You quickly finished cutting up the meat and added it to the broth to simmer, placing the lid overtop and turning to Jamie finally.

“You went shopping?” You asked her curious about what she brought.

“Of course I went shopping! You know what tonight is.” She sounded more ecstatic about it then you thought she would.

“Ohhh about that.” Yunho scratches the back of his head nervously. “I don’t think she’s going.”

“WHAT?” Jamie exclaims, looking expectantly between the two of you for an answer. “Why isn’t she going? Why aren’t you going? Are you sick? Pregnant?”

“Pregnant??” You questioned.

“Pregnant?!” Yunho also questioned, seemingly more shocked that it could even be an option. The two of you nervously looked at each other.

“I’m asking you!”

You waved her off. “No! God no. Veronica.”

“Oh.” Jamie untensed and set down the bags she brought in down onto the chairs in front of her. “That bitch. I forgot about her.”

“Exactly my point. I can’t be trusted around her.” You tried to plead to Jamie, hoping that she would understand.

“Good, you won't be around her. You’ll be around us. You’re going. I’m not letting that skank control your life anymore.”

“She doesn’t!”

“If you wont go somewhere because of someone they control your life. Look, I know you hate her. Hell, I hate her too for what she did to you but I can’t let you stay cooped up in the house all the time just because there’s a possibility that you might run into her again. Tonight will be fine, I promise.”

You appreciated Jamie for trying to be such an assuring force in your life amongst all the uncertainty surrounding you. She had a knack for pushing you out of your comfort level, and then it may appear to be forceful to some. Jamie never did anything unless it was with love.

“Hey, we won’t let anything happen tonight. I’ll even stay on Veronica watch if it’ll make you more comfortable.” Yunho piped up, leaning against the counter as he delved into whatever odd snack he actually managed to find in the cabinets.

“We’ll take care of you. It’ll be fine. Plus, I also spent $100 on buying a dress for you and it’s really freaking cute so if you don’t put it on, I will. But I’d rather see you in it.” Jamie picked up one of the fancy looking shopping bags, with a designer brand you had never heard of, and held it out to you expectantly.

You looked between Yunho and Jamie and their happy and hopeful stares caused you to cave instantly. “Fine… I’ll go.”

계속하다

This was the worst decision you ever made. Why were you here? The fabric from your dress was tightening around you with every movement you made, making the long leg slit that was cut into it ride a little further up your thigh than you were hoping it would. The heels you wore were comfortable, but you only wore these things on occasion and still weren’t the best at walking in them especially for long periods of time. And these company dinners are always long.

Yunho was the first to get out of the car, and in a gentlemanly manner he walked around to your side and opened the door.

“My lady.” He bowed before you and offered you his hand to help you out. The gesture brightened your smile and you accepted, feeling much like a princess on the way to a ball.

He assisted Jamie out as well and tossed the keys to the valet who dutifully took his car for him.

The place was flooded with people. Rich people mainly, stepping out of luxury cars and limousines. Almost all of them had a partner that they would ascend the stairs with— some were older men in their sixties with women possibly in their early thirties . Gross. You thought to yourself, but who were you to judge? Although, you were.

You looked to Jamie who was just more excited to go in as anybody else. Her dress was black, strapless and shimmery compared to your steel gray silk. Her hair was curled like a supermodel from the 1950’s, falling over the bareness of her shoulder more on one side than the other. Your hair was in coils, falling down the length of your back. Yunho wore a black tuxedo as well, complimenting the both of you, but his collar was slightly undone without a tie and opened up a V down to his chest where the only thing you could see was a gold chain that he wore fitted around his collarbone. He stepped in between the both you and Jamie and extended his winged arm on both sides for the two of you to take, which you did.

“How does it feel being my dates for tonight?” He chimed, sounding just as much of a man as he had always been. You rolled your eyes, and Jamie physically hurled.

“Is it too late to ask the valet to bring the car back?” Jamie mused.

“Considering that I’m your ride for the night. I would have left the sly comments at the apartment.” Jamie laughed at Yunho’s words and you did too, feeling more loose and less anxious than you did moments before when you stepped out of the car.

The three of you walked up the stairs together, arm in arm, following the rest of the crowd into the party. You felt a tug on your arm and suddenly a Yunho parked right beside your ear. You stiffened immediately.

“You look beautiful, by the way.” He whispered.

His compliment made you hot under the collar, if you had one to get hot under, sending a spark up your spine. You cleared your throat and smiled up at the giant figure beside you. “You look handsome yourself. You clean up nice.”

“I try my best. If I would have known you would be looking like this tonight, I would have tried harder.”

Yunho chooses the worst times to flirt with you. Around all of these people and Jamie being right there, you grew more and more flustered as the conversation went on. He escorted you successfully into the party— giving you a full view of the large dining hall. Not only was it the biggest hall you had ever seen, it was also a ballroom. Tables surrounded the extremely glossy floor that was covered with a sea of people engaged in conversation. Chatter and obtuse laughter filled your ears, but it was so hard to focus on one conversation with how many people it was. Servers walked through the crowd with refreshments and offered the three of you one upon entry. You all took it and thanked him.

“I’m going to go mingle a bit and see if I can find the guys. Don’t have too much fun without me.” Yunho said, pulling himself free from the two of you, he slipped into the crowd but not without rubbing the back of his hand across your backside.

Yunho would be the death of you.

You and Jamie were left to your own devices now and there was no way you were going anywhere without her. You didn’t know anybody here except her and Yunho, so you latched yourself to her side.

“Oh! Oh, that’s the chairman I was talking to you about right there. Come on.” She motioned off to a group of people standing in a circle, laughing about something amongst each other. She pointed to an older guy, stout, but still kind of handsome? His hair was going gray, but still had streaks of black in it and he was dressed to the nines in a bright white suit. Bold.

Jamie clasped her arm around yours and dragged you over to his direction. She called out to the chairman who recognized his name, and Jamie bowed politely to greet him. He seemingly knew her very well because he greeted her by name, welcoming the two of you into the conversation. Jamie introduced you to him and you bowed as well, bowing to the others who you were amongst since they also looked like important people but you only stood there awkwardly. You had no idea what they were discussing, so you were there as moral support for Jamie.

Instead you looked out at the rest of the crowd and all of the different people in it. It was fascinating how many rich people were all in one room— hell you didn’t know this many of them existed. The ballroom itself was currently the most powerful place on earth. There were old men, young men, young women, old women. So many different types of people dressed in their best. You wondered where Yunho was and wanted to see if you could find him, but he was nowhere to be seen. He must have found his friends. Your curiosity got the best of you so you stared for a little longer to see if you saw them by chance. And you did, knowing that they were the only people in here with those hair colors. Most of them had their backs to you, so you could only tell based on that alone, who was who. Seonghwa with his black hair was standing beside Wooyoung and Maddox, who you had only met once or twice, Yeosang with his dark hair on the other side of him, and Hongjoong with his light brown was next to Jongho who stood in the middle of Mingi and…

Silence fell over you. You couldn’t take your eyes off of them. Off of him. No Yunho in sightz Only San. Veronica. Together. You didn’t realize how long you had to be looking at him because by some miracle he noticed that someone was staring straight into the side of his head. He suddenly turned and looked directly at you. His shock was just as apparent as yours, and you lost your footing for a second, stumbling into Jamie who was beside you. The chairman and the others turned to you with concern.

“Whoa, Are you okay?” Jamie asked, gripping your arms to hold you upright. “What happened?”

“I-I” You stammered.

Jamie cleared her throat and bowed to the Chairman. “Excuse us for a moment.”

She took you out of the circle and placed a hand on your shoulder. “What’s going on? Are your shoes hurting you? Are you hungry? Thirsty? You feel cold.”

“He’s here.” You said softly to her.

“Who?”

“San.” You said through gritted teeth, looking around, hoping not to conjure him up around you.

“WHAT?” Her voice elevated among the crowd and a few people turned to look. “What? He’s here. Why the fuck is he here?”

“He’s with Veronica and the others.”

“Oh that son of a bitch. He’s got some nerve. Where is Yunho? Is he with him?”

“I didn’t see him. I think I need a drink.”

“You need more than that. Come on.” Jamie grabbed your hand and weaved through the crowd that was gathering.

You followed her, not knowing where you were going in the slightest. Once you made it through the wave of bodies, you were pulled up to the large bar top.

“What can I get you ladies tonight?” The bartender asked, whilst cleaning out a glass with a rag.

“The strongest thing you have.” You said with no resistance.

“Coming right up.” The bartender immediately got to work, fishing out a few bottles from the shelves behind him and started pouring and mixing, taking orders from the other customers who walked up as well.

In a matter of minutes, he placed two orange colored glasses down to you and Jamie , sticking a lime in each slit of the glass. You thanked him and immediately drank it.

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea he would be here. I even looked at the guest list. That's how I knew Veronica would be here.” Jamie explained. “This is my fault. I should have let you stay home.”

You separated from the glass and leaned against the counter, putting all of your weight on your hands. “It’s not your fault Jamie. I just- I just need a second.”

“Okay. Okay…um. Do you want to leave?” She asked, placing a calming hand on your arm. “I don’t want to risk you two running into each other.”

Downing what remained of your drink, you let the liquor burn a stream of worry down your throat. You grimaced from the pain, but took it, sucking in a vat of fresh air to cool your lungs again.

“Yeah. I think I should go. I’ll go find Yunho.” you insisted, waving off Jamie from taking on anymore hassle.

“Alright, I’ll be waiting here and we can leave. Just scream if you need me. Well- don’t actually, but just call me.” She nodded to you half-heartedly. You had a feeling she was itching to follow you, but you didn’t need her to babysit you.

Seeing San was not what you had expected to happen tonight, but who were you kidding? Of course he would be wherever his friends were, they were inseparable. You just assumed that you would not have been there to even know it in the first place.

You slammed your drink back down on the bar top and gathered your clutch purse and your phone. Returning a reassuring nod to a very visibly anxious Jamie and wandered off into the thicket of the dinner crowd. You maneuvered through countless bodies, searching for a remnant of your friend. There was nothing really differentiating him from the other patrons despite his long blonde mullet in a sea of pepper-gray hairs so you looked out for that. You peeked through conversations, from behind the backs of stockholders and possible CEOs in the hopes that one of them would be Yunho who magically disappeared.

You wandering about so curiously earned you some concerned glares from the partygoers, but you gave them a soft smile in the hopes to ease their tension from seeing you so confused and distraught.

Where is he? The ballroom was large and there were so many people, you could be searching for him forever, but time was of the essence and you needed to find him so you could get out of dodge as soon as possible. The last thing you needed was to run into San or, equally, Veronica again tonight. You’ve had your fill of both of them for a lifetime even if it was for five seconds. A few minutes went by and you had searched a good sum of the ballroom floor, but there was still no sign of Yunho anywhere.

He wasn’t answering your texts or your phone calls, which was weird because he always answered no matter what. Where could he be that has him caught up? You looked around and thought for a moment and then it hit you. Standing on the tips of your heels, you looked around at the looming walls above the party hoping to find some kind of sign that pointed to the direction of the nearest bathrooms. Your eyes latched onto a black sign pointed towards a dark hallway that would lead you exactly where you wanted to go.

Quickly, you dashed that way, calling your pardons and excuses to the people you plowed through and or pushed by. There were people coming out of the darkness of the hallway, some men, some women who had just seemingly handled their business. None of who were yunho who you were hoping for. So you tread further. The hall was dimly lit by a few candelabras attached to the wall, giving it a soft yellow glow. Thanks to the light, you finally managed to locate the restrooms decorated with their set signs to let you know which was which.

Then, the door to the men’s bathroom flew open with a screech. Happiness filled your features. You waited for the moments that the striking, tall blonde would appear in front of you and crack a joke about how he drank too much and didn’t realize it.

“Yunh-“ You called out, hopeful.

But your hope was misplaced because as soon as the door opened and the man stepped out into view, you were met with black. Not blonde like Yunho was.

Your happy appearance fell. You locked eyes and both stood there awkwardly yet again. San. Of course it was San. Why wouldn’t it be San? You cursed the gods at the moment in your head.

All you could think about at that moment was escape. You needed to get away from him, you could turn around and get lost in the crowd, return to Jamie and tell her that you both lost your ride and couldn’t find him anywhere, but San was fast enough that he could catch you before you even managed to think about leaving.

So you had only one other option to make it look less suspicious. Your eyes left his and flickered over to the women’s restroom.

San called out your name, but his voice was lost to you as you charged through the door and let it shut him out.

There was no way he was going to come in here, anybody could walk in or walk out in a moment’s notice. He’ll have to leave or wait for you to come out and there was no way that you were doing that with him still here. Due to the lack of movement in any of the stalls, you assumed you were alone, so you walked over to the sinks and set down your purse, going back to your recent call logs and ringing Yunho again. You put the phone to your ear and paced against the polished tile floor.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up.” You repeated, wishing it was the magic words to make him reappear.

The phone rang and rang and rang. No answer.

“God dammit, Yunho.” You cursed and hung up the phone.

The bathroom door suddenly pushed open. You thought nothing of it, but silenced yourself to not disturb whatever woman was coming to do her business.

“So, you and Yunho are a thing now?”

Your heart slid from its position in your chest and down into the pits of your stomach. You quickly glanced up to see Choi San standing before you with his back perched against the door. In the women’s bathroom. He seriously came in here? Is he fucking insane?

He was simultaneously blocking you in and keeping whatever potential savior there was for you outside.

“What the fuck- you need to leave.” You commanded.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t have to answer you. The door is right there. Leave.” You pointed towards the exit again, but he didn’t budge.

“Are you together? Fucking? What is it?” He asked again, this time moving off of the door and taking a few steps towards you. He was working the last nerve you were willing to give him right now.

“Why does it matter to you anyway?!” You bit back, your voice echoing through the emptiness of the restroom. “You know what? Fuck this, I’ll leave.”

You grabbed your things and tucked them under your arm, heading right for him. You put your hand on the door handle and pulled it open slightly, but San slammed his palm against it and closed it on you again.

“It matters because he’s my best friend. And he wouldn’t give me an answer, so I’m asking you.”

You laughed. You didn’t mean to, but you found the irony in his statement too funny to pass up the opportunity. “I’m sorry, that’s just really rich coming from you, San, considering you fucked my friend behind my back.”

“And you fucked mine. So, that makes us even.”

“Not even close. Yes, I had sex with Yunho, but I didn’t fuck him behind your back. You lost all my loyalty, when you chose Veronica over me. That’s on you.”

He huffed, staring down at you with those piercing brown eyes. Now that you could see him up close, his once baby-faced features were replaced with a stoic disposition. His brows were thicker and sharp making them more prone to furrow. His jawline was sharp and tense from how he was gritting his teeth, seemingly trying to hold back whatever words were about to come out of his mouth.

“Look..” San spoke your name so gently that it threw you off guard. His eyes softened and he looked upon you with no awkwardness or fear. He looked.. genuine. For the first time in forever.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to hear whatever it is he had to say to you. “Save it, San. Please.. save it. I don’t want to hear whatever excuse you cooked up in the last four years, or rehearsed to say to me whenever we saw each other again. I don’t.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry? That’s… not what you expected. You didn’t have a snarky comeback for that one, it completely threw you for a loop. He doesn’t apologize for anything. Why is he apologizing to you now?

“I fucked up. I know and I realize that, even if it was too late when I did. I had already lost you at that point, I just didn’t know how to fix it. I hurt you. What I did with Veronica was stupid and it was on me. It was no one’s fault but mine. I’m sorry for everything that I put you through. You can keep hating me forever if you want, that’s your choice, but I couldn’t keep going on knowing that you were the only person who ever loved me and I ruined it and never apologized.”

Each word was like a shot to your stomach. Every ounce of resolve that you had was slowly beginning to crumble before him. You turned your head away from him, staring down at the ground for a moment, folding your arms across your slightly exposed chest.

“Why did you do it?” You asked firmly, still keeping your guard up with him. “Did you like her?”

There was a push on the door that startled you both and then a knock. You looked at one another in a panic and motioned to San to handle it since he was the one blocking the door.

San didn’t say a word and neither did you. He just kept a steady pressure on the door as they tried to get it open, until they only assumed that the door was jammed. There were a few disgruntled noises outside the door and then they walked off, leaving the two of you alone again.

“To answer your question. No, I didn’t like her. I didn’t love her—I didn’t feel anything for her that was remotely close to what I felt for you. I don’t know why I did it…it just happened. We were with friends and we were hanging out, we talked a bit, I guess a bit too much. Next thing I know, we kissed and well.. the rest was history.”

“And tonight? Did you come with her?”

He scoffed. “No. I’m not stupid.”

“Well?” You sang.

San glared at you.

“Sorry, it was too easy.” You shrugged. “Go on.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, I did come with her, but I didn’t technically come with her. She just needed a ride, Seonghwa and I gave her one. I cut it off with her a few weeks after we…” He motioned between the two of you. “You know. She was already on to the next by then and we haven’t seen each other much since, until now.”

You nodded your head, feeling somewhat lighter now that he told you. “I see. Well, uhm. About Yunho and I..”

San stopped you before you could start. “You don’t have to explain to me. Let’s just say that it just happened.”

You nodded. “Yeah, it just happened.”

There was a mutual understanding in those words. Though you and Yunho had a deeper connection than what San and Veronica had, it was merely an understanding of position. You didn’t forgive him for what he did and San was probably livid deep down and probably couldn’t forgive you either, but the anger that was there from before was subsiding.

The two of you stood in silence for a moment before you spoke. “I- thank you for that, San. It was nice of you to apologize, but I have to go.”

You tried to open the door again, but instead of slamming it shut on you like he did last time, he grabbed you by your hand and held it in his. You whipped around to look at him and were met with the most heartfelt look you had ever seen him wear.

“Did you know that I’ve thought about you everyday for the last four years? I couldn’t get you out of my head for the life of me.”

“San-“

“No. It’s always been you. Everything has always been you. I can’t go to sleep at night without seeing your face. When I laugh, I think about yours. When someone smiles at me, I think about how yours was always brighter.”

“San stop.” You begged. You wanted to pull your hand from his, but for some reason you just couldn’t move. You had to get to Yunho. You needed to find him— you needed to leave. Why can’t you leave?

“Do you know what that feels like?” His hand tightened around yours. “It’s agony.”

“Why are you telling me this?” His grip only tightened.

“I meant what I said back then. I just should have said it sooner. I love you. I never stopped loving you and seeing you tonight only confirmed it. And if you don’t feel anything for me at all, we can free each other from this fucked up game right now. I’ll get out of your life for good.”

You stood there like an inanimate object. Not knowing what to say or what to do. You had felt everything that he was feeling ten times over and then some. Of course you thought about him in the past. You had thought about him living a life without you more than once. You thought about him every second of the day. The two of you were tethered by a string of damnation—you two were messy and you knew it, but you always thought that there was a possibility that you could work. Maybe he could love you the way you loved him. Maybe you could love him again. Maybe.. You wished maybe was a guarantee.

You wiggled your hand free from his grasp. San looked at you obviously distraught by the way the light in his eyes suddenly faded. You dropped everything that you were carrying in your arms as your phone and purse went clattering to the bathroom floor. Your hands moved faster than your brain ever could. You reached out to San, clasping both of your hands against his face and pulled him into you, lips crashing into a fiery slope of passion as he wrapped his arms around your backside like it was second nature to him. His build was much wider now and you felt incredibly small in his grasp, but San held you with every intent not to let go of you again.

As the kiss grew deeper, San careened his hands across your body, feeling the very places that he had been missing for the last few years. He worked your frame like he was trying to remember what spots connected to what, which ones were your favorites to be touched nowadays— he was trying to figure what kind of person you were now in just a matter of seconds.

Removing your hands from his chiseled features, you found new purchase on his suit jacket, which you tore off immediately, pulling the expensive fabric over his muscles. San pressed you against the door, letting your back meet the cool, polished wood; a single hand wrapped around your neck while an extended tongue flicked across your bottom lip, nonverbally asking for entrance, which you granted him with no hesitation. He slid his tongue between your parted lips and into your mouth, swirling his own instrument around yours. The kiss turned frantic, more hungry and needy. You moaned into his mouth, fingering the strands of his slightly long black hair while he simultaneously shifted the leg slit on your dress to the side, gripped the back of your thigh and pulled it to wrap around his slim waist.

This somehow brought the two of you even closer than you were already. He fell into you perfectly like a missing puzzle piece. You could feel his growing erection between your thighs each time he ground into you. The two of you were a bumbling mess of hormones and unsatiated emotions. San broke the kiss, using the same hand that was wrapped around your throat to tilt your head to the side. He attacked your neck like a predator, and you let him. His mouth was warm and wet and your body reacted almost instantly. You could feel the temperature rise inside your body. San continues his performance, lapping up the skin on your neck like it was refreshing to him, his kisses led down to your collarbone, your breasts. Unfortunately with the minimal time you had as well as the fabric of your dress covering the rest of you, San was limited in the love he wanted to show to your body, but that did not deter him.

Falling to his knees before you, he took the very thigh that he had wrapped around him and began to pepper it with kisses as well. Your hand was caught in his hair as you guided him, your mouth agape at the sight. You watch San with intention, as he kisses further and further up your thigh, inching the silver silk out of his way. You stuck your teeth into your bottom lip and smiled naughtily. San pulled his sharp gaze to you, and you could feel a gush between your legs. Why did he have to look at you like that? Your immediate reaction to this excited him and he continued onward in a devilish manner. Using both of his hands, he caressed your legs admiring you in all of your glory and fiddled underneath your dress, finding a latch on your panties and tugging them downwards to your ankles leaving you completely exposed.

San repositions himself as well as you. He places your leg just over his shoulder now, giving him a full view of your womanhood that was now glistening with your moisture. San licks his lips, practically salivating and grumbles with satisfaction even when he didn’t have a taste of you yet.

“God, I miss the way you taste. I think I need to remind myself again.” He said sweetly before moving forward against you.

Your breath caught in your throat once his lips connected with the sensitive hood of your clit. It was a small kiss to it, but it had so much power as well. You closed your eyes and rested your head against the doorframe, moaning softly into the air while San worked his magic. You still played with his hair offering some encouragement to continue even though you could not speak very clearly without a moan following soon after. San flushed his mouth against your pussy, you could see the lust swimming in his eyes as he stared at you the entire time.

“You’re already dripping for me. Good.”

He widened the part in your lips to give him enough room to slither his tongue inside, invading you, but of course you did not mind. It felt good already, you almost couldn’t believe it.

“Fuck..” you groaned to yourself, putting your eyes back on the beautiful man that was between your thighs.

His tongue prodded at your insides, slurping and sloshing about your velvety walls and sipping on the honey-like thickness of your juices. Every lick sent you further into the depths, you couldn’t control your moans. You almost felt too loud, but you couldn’t stop. And by the look in his eye, you almost felt like that was what he wanted. San continued to suck and kiss along the flaps of your portions , savoring every ounce of your flavor.

San separated from you for a split moment, leaving a string of his saliva as well as your wetness which his mouth was completely drenched in, and smiled at you deviously. “Damn, you taste so good.”

You could feel the rope that was holding your senses together slowly begin to unwind itself. You were too sensitive for your own liking sometimes and San knew that much about you. It didn’t take much for you to cave and now was no different. The way he was eating you out was almost too much to bear, but you didn’t want him to stop. You were just getting started.

San followed a figure eight movement on your clit, but moved his tongue like an expert inside of you, never leaving a single part of your pussy untouched. Your moans got louder and louder, you grabbed a handful of his hair and pressed him deeper into your temple. Your hips worked against his mouth and he invited it, digging his nails into your hips and pulling you closer to him. You whimpered, sounding more desperate than you had hoped to. With the way you were grinding on him, you were practically riding his nose at this point— each buck getting more uncontrollable than the last. San’s satisfied groans vibrated against your clit and you were even closer to losing it now. And he knew it.

San put more pressure on your clit using his free hand, massaging it in light circles with his thumb while he ate you out. You were getting attacked from all angles and you couldn’t handle it anymore. You let out a blood curdling yelp, followed by sharp moans and heavy breathing — releasing all of your pent up aggression onto his mouth. You twitched in place and tried to find some grip on the wall beside you to right yourself but there was nothing to hold you other than him. San lapped up your climax, and planted a kiss on your pussy before coming to meet you again. He didn’t give you a second to think as he kissed you. This time more direct and with intent. You could taste yourself on his lips. It was sweet and sticky.

“How bad do you want me to fuck you?” He asked lowly between kisses.

You were in a state of delirium, but you responded coherently. “Really fucking bad. I just want to feel you right now.”

“Good. Take it out.” He commanded.

You didn’t hesitate much to do so. You lurched forward, hooking one finger inside of his dress pants and pulled him closer to you. You undid his belt without issue, and his button followed, giving you free access to what you wanted the most. Your eyes were locked on San as you did this and he watched you with joy evident on his features. You swiftly pulled down his pants along with his boxers in the same fashion he did your panties, the belt hit the ground with a clanging noise leaving San exposed to you. He was just as big as you remembered him being if not bigger. It frightened you almost the way it stood massively at attention, twitching with eagerness. A smirk found his features, his tongue ran smoothly across his K-9’s and you had a feeling that you were in for a treat.

San pressed you flat against the door again, closing the space between you with his body. He kissed your lips again, and then your cheek and hummed lightly against your skin. “I can’t wait to see how pretty you look while I make you cum.”

San wrapped his hand around his hard-on, glancing down as he rubbed himself against your warmth, letting out a low rumble in his throat from the sensation. You soft groans mixed with his as the adrenaline pumped through your veins, filling the next few moments with anticipation. He pressed his tip against your opening, and slowly pushed himself inside of you— filling that space that he left empty. Your mouth fell agape at the shock of his size, it felt like he was stretching you out completely just to adjust to his size.

He started moving inside of you slowly at first, helping you to get used to him. “I got you baby just keep taking it, you’re doing so good.”

“You’re so fucking big..” you huffed out, holding onto San’s wide shoulders as he dug you out.

His pace quickened slightly, he wrapped your leg around him again, angling himself to hit you in just the right spot while he bounced you on his dick. His thrusts were powerful, but cohesive. His hips had a flow to them that made it feel like he was fucking you in waves.

“Yeah, you feel good wrapped around my dick. You take me so well.” He complimented, lurching into you at a speed that you were trying to keep up with. His hand was still wrapped around your neck, squeezing the air from your lungs. The pressure was comfortable, but just enough to heighten every sensation. You held onto his arm, scratching at his skin.

Still sopping wet from the last climax you had, the sounds of skin on skin contact along with the constant sloshing of your insides, was the perfect storm for the both of you. San gripped your thigh tightly, hiding his face in the thick of your neck as he roared loudly from the pressure building up against you.

“Oh San, Right there!” You coached, holding him close to you as he fucked you. Your nails clawed at the fabric on his shirt so harshly you thought that you would pierce it. The remnants of your sexual encounter were running down between your legs and you were almost at your limit. “Oh fuck, I’m going to cum.”

“Cum for me.” He stammered. “God, you’re so wet.”

His dick pumps into you at a pace no man should reach, making you cry out for him in pleasure. You grip tightly onto his backside, struggling to keep yourself upright while he fucked you senseless to the point you lost your balance. If it weren’t for his strength, there was no way you were standing up on your own.

San was committed to making you cum first, but he becomes sloppy the closer he gets, but he doesn’t stop. “Cum for me babygirl,” he demands, “Cum for me..!”

And like a dog with a whistle, you obeyed his command and came. Your orgasm smacked you like a ton of bricks, and everything came rushing out of you all at once with no forgiveness. San followed suit with your flow, hearing the beauty of your moans and bursted inside of you. His pants were ragged, and his grunts were deep and gravely. The two of you tried to catch your breath, but the air escaped you. The two of you stood sweaty and stuck together with your juices intermingling inside of you. You were high off of all the sensations. It took you more than a second to come down off it. San collapsed into you and you did the same.

“That felt good..” He said into your skin.

You stared blankly up at the ceiling, admiring the intricate designs of old Renaissance paintings that you had never noticed until now. Your vision began to come back to you, and you were welcomed to reality once more. And the realization hit you.

“Yeah..” You responded shortly.

San pulled out of you and collided with the door beside you. sweat beading off his brow.

“About what you said earlier. About me feeling something for you?” You turned your head to look at him.

He glanced back at you with a wandering look, but still curious as to what you were going to say. “Yeah?”

“I still feel something for you, San. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t, but…” You paced yourself, swallowing your own spit to lubricate your throat as you said the words. “After everything we've been through, I don’t think I can love you..”

“Why not? You said you felt something right?”

“I do,” You paused for a moment trying your best to find the words to say it, but you took a deep breath and finally let it out.

“I…I think I fell in love with Yunho.”

TO BE CONTINUED IN

‘LOUDER THAN BOMBS’

(OUT NOW)

[epiicaricacy-arts]

without the sour the sweet wouldn’t taste

why are you as a man eating another man’s ear after you failed to make him eat his ex girlfriend. 🤨🏳️‍🌈⁉️

im allowed a bit of toxic yaoi. as a treat

process discussion utc ⬇️

for those familiar with my work you’ll know that i like trying a lot of new styles and experimenting in order to achieve a certain vibe. usually those are heavy painterly styles such as the sunday art inspired by Yuming Li, which is what i’m familiar and comfortable with, both traditionally and digitally

what im NOT familiar with is watercolour. i’ve never had a good time with it 🥲 i just cant seem to wrap my head around the process since its requires me to work backwards (light to dark vs dark to light)

for this piece i just couldn’t imagine myself rendering it in my usual style. i needed to do something new so that i’d stay invested enough in the piece considering that it has two people, meaning double the work. for some reason i thought it’d be fun to do double the work with a style i am completely uncomfortable with but oh well!! i managed to do it 🤷‍♀️ i was specifically looking at the works of Ko Byung Jun, an artist i’ve seen all over my pinterest feed

while i didn’t end up really following the style super closely i still learned quite a lot just by looking at it while i drew. i tried my best to stick to watercolour brushes and an ink pen but as i was nearing the end i needed to make some alterations that i wasn’t bothered to try fixing with the watercolour brushes so i just went over it with my digital ones 🫡 i did my best that’s what matters!!!

i had to repaint rody a few times cause i just couldn’t get it right and the colours never ended up matching vincent. i painted them separately and i think i got possessed while painting vincent cause it happened in like. 40 minutes. and i couldn’t get it to happen again 😔 it didn’t really matter cause i ended up going ham with the curves tool as always but you know 🤷‍♀️

here’s the image without all the effects:

i find lately it’s been more and more common for me to be sketching several iterations of a concept for days, even weeks before i land on something i like. i have an entire separate canvas that i’ve spent 5 hours just doing thumbnails trying to figure out how i wanted to pose these two in a way that would showcase the characteristics that mattered in the story of this piece.

that’s my process for coming up with drawings: i find inspiration somewhere, i figure out the key concepts/characteristics/symbols etc i want highlighted, and i work around those. sometimes i have a composition in mind or just a general vibe i want to portray. for this one i wanted to make sure the towel, rody’s injured finger and vincent’s face could all be clearly seen, while also portraying the fight scene and the vibe i get from the reference song. almost all of my work revolves around a specific lyric from the song which drives the story of the piece. here i interpreted the line “without the sour the sweet wouldn’t taste” as a connection to all the little actions vince takes with rody that can be seen as “sweet.” drying rody’s hair, bandaging rody’s cut. i then asked myself how i could take those actions and make them “sour” or show them in a different light, in which vince is biting the finger he bandaged and pulling rody closer, preventing his escape with the towel he used to dry his hair. what im trying to communicate in this illustration is the idea of “if it weren’t for how i’m treating you now, you wouldn’t understand how kind i was to you then” in an attempt to illustrate the complexities of the way vincent acts towards rody.

i’m truly in love with the story telling of this game. it’s hard to really say anything about how the characters acted during the story because it’s so complex in how it’s done. it’s very hard to summarize their relationship because there’s so much about it i can’t explain without just quoting the game directly. i think it’s such a beautiful portrayal of obsession and just being fucking weird about someone. i wanted to ensure the elements i mentioned in the above paragraph because i didn’t want to be portraying vincent as solely a villain and rody as a victim. i wanted the storytelling of this one illustration to live up to my impression of this beautiful game and i hope i did it justice.

thank you for reading this if you’ve made it this far. i love rambling on all my art posts cause i think it’s so valuable for artists to expand on their work outside of the result alone. i hope what im saying is at most helpful to someone and at the very least a good read. i’m probably gonna take a bit of an art break after this since it took a lot out of me, plus im on the last days of my trip. thank you again for reading!

here’s my dog

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for wearing a flimsy shirt and flashing my husband's friends?

Ok. So the key players here are. Me (25F), my husband (27M) and our friends who are all around our ages.

I run a D&D game on sunday evenings for my husband and 4 of our shared friends. 2 of them are big dudes and 2 are women, but we live in a basement suite and having 6 people in it makes it heat up fast. This is on an average day.

Recently, our landlord got our heating fixed. We didn't realize it was broken and blamed the cold in the suite on it being a basement. When it's just us it got pretty chilly in there pre-fixing. After the furnace was fixed, our landlord (who lives in the upstairs suite) absolutely cranked the heat to compensate for a recent week-long cold snap in our area.

As a result, it's been sweltering hot in our suite (like, i've been wearing a tank top and underwear as my at home loungewear because anything more is torture). I anticipated the high heat being a problem before the gang came over this past Sunday, but I knew I had to wear pants bc obvs. I decided i'd wear a loose flowy tank top though, just so i didnt absolutely die from the heat.

Here comes the problem. We play DND on our admittedly low to the ground coffee table. As i bent over to set up a map, my shirt fell a little too far and revealed too much. I didnt notice when it was happening until my husband pointed it out by making a joke about it. I was like "oops" and took greater care to crouch instead of bend over for the rest of the session, so as not to accidentally flash anybody again. I didnt think anything else of it and nobody said anything.

The next day, my husband was quiet and not really engaging with me, and I thought he was just tired because he gets like that when he's tired. I went to work. About 5 hours into the work day, i get a text from him saying "Just so you know, and I know I have voiced how I feel about this before, but you flashing my friends is a MAJOR turn off for me"

I was confused at first, but then realized he was referring to the accidental flashing on Sunday night. But it wasnt just his friends, it was mine too, and it wasn't on purpose. Like i wasnt doing it for kink or anything. I also am bothered by him implying i've done this before, as I dont remember ever doing something like that. Before anyone asks, I have body dysmorphia and deeply hate my appearance so it doesnt make sense to me that I would have flashed people before and just forgotten.

But im autistic so i sometimes dont know limits for appropriate behaviour. Which is why im asking AITA for wearing a flowy tank top in our very warm house and accidentally flashing people when i bent over?

What are these acronyms?

[seaadc]

hello!!! if you’re up for this, can i request any genshin men with a reader who feels like a horrible person because of things they’ve done in the past? i have a guilt complex lmaoooooo (i say lmao but it’s agony) (PEOPLE IN THE CROWD WITH A GUILT COMPLEX PUT YOUR HANDS UPPPP)

also this is a complete side note but i think this concept would be especially interesting with wrio since he’s always in the fortress or meropide, seeing people who have done wrong everyday in the fairly normal system (by jail standards) they have down there

guilt | wriothesley x reader

OH GOD THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY ASKS FOR A WHILE NOW IM SO SORRY MY NOTIFS ARE ALWAYS FILLED UP AND I DONT SEE ASKS ANYMOREEE T-T

angst w fluff at the end, soft!wrio, he’s comforting youu, gets a bit suggestive at the end, no pronouns used but reader is referred to as ‘my love’ and ‘princess’

it’s nothing to be concerned about really, if you were a criminal and probably rotting in the fortress of meropide for— archons knows how long, you would’ve just let your conscience be the death of you.

but you aren’t! your not sitting around and laying in the fortress of doom meropide, thank the archons.

though you can’t help but think if the seven are laughing at you, quite literally. your state isn’t so stable as it seems..

wriothesley, your partner, had called sigewinne ages ago to check on your health status. although it was all negative, the tests, the results, the examinations, all negative.

there wasn’t anything wrong with you, so why is there an aching pain in your stomach whenever your brain just relapses back to the past, the time where you had done such unforgiving sins, you couldn’t even do a whole statement word for word on what you had done to those poor victims.

one of them, someone special to you. someone special that you had lost because of your own carelessness, someone you had lost because you were being selfish, someone who you wished to cherish for a lifetime— though fate is mocking you unfortunately.

and the pain, the inkling pain deep inside that you cant ignore, it’s annoying. it’s frustrating. it’s … sad.

it’s a pity to see someone like you, a nice person who only wished to improve themselves and hope for a better future. yet it seems celestia didn’t approve.

your longtime partner, wriothesley, had been worried for you. ever since you met, you were always dozing off, not focusing, you looked uncomfortable yet he couldn’t pinpoint what was actually wrong.

it was starting to piss him off, really. the way you doze off when he talks to you, when you two spend time together and your too busy in your own little world to pay attention to him.

wriothesley had decided to sit you down, like what any partner would do when they encounter a misunderstanding or a mishap. communication is key after all.

he couldn’t ever forget the look on your face, the day where you looked at him with such pitiful eyes and regretful ones while he just stared back at you with a stern look.

he feels pity, wriothesley feels pity. someone like him shouldn’t, so what is this he feels?

“tell me what’s been bugging you for months, [name].” wriothesley takes a deep breath, then exhales as you sat there, fidgeting with your fingers. “i didnt get the chance to ask you back then, since it was your privacy after all, hm?” he spoke firmly, his voice laced with curiosity and the tone where he just wants to know the truth.

just tell him, it wouldn’t be so hard. he’s your partner after all, you have every right to tell him so. “[name], i’m doing this to help you. you’re someone extremely precious to me and i can’t help myself just seeing you look so lost.” wriothesley explains, sighing deeply as he waits for your response.

how would he react? he’s the all mighty scary wriothesley after all. he’s known to have less mercy and sympathy on others. why tell? you’ll just embarrass yourself, you thought to yourself.

but you couldn’t. you couldn’t keep a secret, especially towards him. if he was any other people, a stranger, you would’ve kept it till the end of your life. but he’s not just a stranger.

he’s your partner, your loved one, your everything. wriothesley is someone you can trust, someone you care for. is it really worth keeping a secret from him?

you took a deep breath, letting the air get past your nostrils. “i have.. committed alot of unforgettable things in the past, someone like you wouldn’t like. someone like you wouldn’t appreciate.” you confessed, looking down and avoiding your beloved’s longing stare.

wriothesley looks at you, tilting his head in confusion. you? doing things that he couldn’t possibly imagine? “ever since i’ve started to open up a new path to walk on, the guilt in my chest still pains me. it’s almost eating me whole.” you continue.

he smiles at you, not a happy smile, a faint sad smile. he’s quite joyful about how you were guilty, and not like any other person who wouldnt even feel the slightest bit of empathy to what they’ve done wrong in the past.

this is the [name] he fell inlove with. the honest, confident, firm, one. there was no denying that wriothesley was hopelessly inlove with you. and he finds it lovingly amusing.

“if you regret it, then it’s okay. you don’t have to be in debt of a thing you regret on doing. if you truly feel guilt, then it just means your improving and want to be a better person my love.” he smiles, standing up and walking over to your seat, crouching before you as you were forced to look at him.

wriothesley holds your chin, going up to caress your cheeks coated with a red flush. “it may be your fault or not, but there will always be a way to fight back the sins of the past. you can get through it, i know you can.”

“your the strong and confident lady i love after all, hm?” he says with a grin, which makes your already flustered enough face go even more red.

you smile tenderly as he continues to caress your cheek, you leaned into his touch as you hear him chuckle lowly. wriothesley stands up straight, his hand now on your head as he ruffles your soft and silky hair.

wriothesley smirks, a teasing one. which means he’s probably going to say something just to tease you and to lighten up the mood a bit. “besides, i’m the only one who’s allowed to eat you whole, princess.”

made by @seaadc and @seaadc only !!

laughinf bc i made this at exactly 1am LMFAOO (i’m mentally unstable)

[maxrowave]

GENDERBEND RAHHHHHH

i love drarry and i love women so put it together and you get this, i present to you: Harphine

Harry is consequently now named Harley; Draco is also now named Delphine (Full name Delphinus Lucius Malfoy, however asks to be referred to as Delphine because it's pretty). I decided to keep everyone else the same because the world centres around them. Delphine is the ultimate coquette girl, lana del rey wishes she could be as coquette as her. Mega popular girl and a trendsetter, one day she wears a headband to school, the next day, half the female students are as well. Extreme closet gay, internalised homophobia...

Harley on the other hand is a major tom-boy, as a toddler and young childhood she probably had a buzzcut or short hair because her hair was too much maintenance for the Dursley's. She also wore Dudley's old clothes so she was mistaken for a boy for most of her young life, she only began to grow it out when she started attending Hogwarts and got a major glow-up in third year. and now the multitude of headcanons: 1) Delphine resorts to flirting to get her way with male students, however it is only by accident does Harley discover Delphine is prudent when she flirts with her. Delphine immediately goes red, sputtering incoherently:

"MY FATHER WILL HEAR OF THIS!!!" "good, I'm glad he knows about me so it won’t be as awkward to meet him when I'm over for dinner"

Harley uses this to her advantage and begins to spread rumours about Delphine to finally get back at her for all these years 'Pure Blood Delphine Malfoy, sole heir, is a homosexual?!' It gets out of hand and Delphine's rep gets ruined or somethin

2) Harley is a bit of an artist, she likes drawing/doodling. One day she's sitting in potions class, not listening because fuck that, idly drawing on her parchment without much thought, only for her to realise that hey... this kind of looks like Delphine, and then realising she's just been drawing Delphine in various sitting poses for the past half an hour.

3) Even though Harley really hates Delphine, she has to admit, she's really fucking gorgeous, and in an odd way Harley kind of admires how put together she is. Harley does try to imitate her makeup one day because she wants to know how it feels to be pretty/put together, it turns out shite, Ron laughs at her, Harley beats him up; Delphine also laughs at her. But when they do become good friends, like fifth year or so, Delphine does do her makeup (imagine that one img of the girl on top of the other doing her eyeshadow, that's them).

3.5) Slight extension from the previous one, I mentioned this on my xwitter awhile back -- Harry purposely messes up his tie so Draco can fix it, because Draco's love language is to clean up people, i.e brushing lint off their shoulder, adjusting their collar, kind of like a cat. In this genderbent au, Harley messes up her lipstick everytime so Delphine can redo it.

4) Delphine is a massive closeted lesbian, and is pining for Harley in her own odd way. When they begin to get close, Delphine instictually reels back, because she's used to playing hard-to-get with other guys as a flirting method. She doesn't quite register that it doesn't work with girls, which leaves Harley wondering what she did wrong and why Delphine isn't as interested.

5) When they do finally get into a relationship, most likely like sixth/seventh year, it's very low-key and secretive because Delphine still has internalised homophobia/closeted. But Lucius ends up arranging her marriage because she's an only child and a female to the Malfoy name. What happens next is idk

6) Lucius either dotes on Delphine like a child who is in constant need of being helped and cannot be independent, or never speaks to her ever because he's disappointed he has a daughter.

OKAY THATS IT, I HAVE MORE HEADCANONS THAT I WILL POUR IF ENOUGH ASK FOR IT LOL... i wanna see if I can make Harphine their genderbend ship name, it's cute

also boobs bc im gay and so are they

[cookie-crumblr]

Hype Train!

F! Streamer Reader x M!Yandere Streamer OC

Part 1~

His Info: 📹✨

Part: 1 2

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: lots of boring tech talk(sorry i nerd out sometimes and i wanted to show his thought process for his intro) yandere, f!reader, use of she/her when referring to reader, reader has a vagina, stalking, internet stalking, lewd comments not from ML, edit: sorry! i forgot to tag NONCON EXHIBITION!!! omg that’s probably huge. i am so sorry!!!

He is always looking for smaller streamers to raid, to bring in his moderately sized and very active audience to someone who may often only get about 5-10 people.

Today, he picked you. Your cute little VTuber model already having captivated him. He looks up your sinsta first, and sees your selfies. You somehow look just like your tuber!

You’re so cute.

He clicks “raid now”, and says to shower you in love!

As soon as the alert goes off for the raid, so does a long line of follower alerts. “Wh-what?! OMG! Thank you so much!!! Welcome to my stream! how was yours? if you have to raid and run, go eat and sleep pleasantly!”

Oh goodness, you sound cute. You even cared about him without knowing him, sure he knows it’s just polite for streamers to say those things. But coming to him in your adorably sugary voice, he instantly believes you really care.

While he’s watching the swaying of your adorable little avatar on screen, he’s imagining the movements in your actual face behind the camera.

“Oh my! im so sorry, uh-” Your mic picks up your ferocious typing, and your sudden shock snap him back to the moment,“I forgot to shout you out, Jasper!”

His name rolling off your tongue sounds so perfect, as if he’s been waiting to hear it that way his entire life.

He springs into action, realizing you have no mods, lithe fingers dancing across keys swiftly and with new purpose, “No worries! Tysm for the SO!! also, i can mod for you, if you want!😊”

You beam behind your screen, “Oh! i could never ask that of you! maybe if you’re here again next time!”

Of course he will be. You don’t know that though.

“O-m-gee! Thank you all soooo much for the hype train!!! level 5?! i’ve never even had a level three!! this is crazy!”

God you’re cute when you’re so excited.

He has your selfies from sinsta pulled up in front of him as he listens deeply to you speak.

You’re so thankful, and so, so sweet…

You must be so innocent.

You’re at the very least naive, and he’d hate to just leave you to be eaten up by this cruel, cruel world…

He must get to you first.

Your stream ends a few hours later, his followers stayed the whole time to shower you in love.

He knows he’s got a lot of simps… They’d do anything he tells them to.

You though, you’ve had the most fun streaming that you’ve ever had so far! And that payout this month is really gonna help, they gave so much!

On your dipcord you see a new friend request, it’s him! You add him without a second thought, always looking for more streamer friends.

within seconds you receive a dm from him, “Want to VC?”

“Sure!” you respond, full of excitement. Something in your gut roils, you feel so nervous but your excitement overrules your body’s initial warning.

When you shouted him out you saw his own Vtuber, and heard his melodic voice, your face warms at the thought.

He calls and you answer after long seconds that feel like minutes of deep breathing, and hyping yourself up.

“How are you feeling, Y/Username, you had a pretty productive stream,” Jasper’s voice is even softer than in his clip, your stomach turns to a fluttering tangle of knots.

“Oh! haha,” you giggle, “only thanks to you!”

His heart melts in response.

“You were why the viewers stayed, don’t sell yourself short,” as he speaks he’s sifting through your public scocials.

He has noticed one older woman with her real name as her username that follows you on every single account. He continues down this path through the web. She has pictures with you, confirming that she’s your mother in the descriptions. she has her state tagged on flapbook.

That narrows it down as long as you didn’t move too far.

On your own socials you often have pictures of flowering trees near red bricks. And in one Selfie a street sign is reflected in your dark shades…

He floogle maps it, then goes into street veiw, there’s a couple red brick houses, but there’s also a red brick apartment complex right around the corner with magnolia trees…

He smiles as his fingers find his lips idly zoning out slightly.

You’re only a few hours flight away from him there…

“Jasper?” Your timid voice pulls him back.

“Yes, pretty,” He says in a low groan, “Can I follow your private?”

You blush fiercely, “Ye-Yeah! o-of course,” you’re so glad he can’t see you right now, your face completely buried in your hands.

You open your phone and go to sinstagram, he sent you a follow request and already followed your public streaming account.

You smile to yourself bashfully, tucking stray strands behind your warming ears.

He sees there are a few live cameras connected in the apartment buildings.

“Hey, this is a random question, but do you have a cat cam? i do, and i saw you have a cat on your public…” He asks, hoping to sound inconspicuous.

“Y-yeah! i do, wanna exchange kitten pics?” you laugh feeling more comfortable, he’s got a cat too! You can’t help but love cat dads…

“Always! and do you have protection on it?” he can already see that only a couple of the cameras don’t have any sort of blocker on them in these buildings. He’s almost disappointed.

There… “How cute…” He finds the one with live footage of your cat just as pictured sleeping on it’s giant plant shaped cat tree across the room.

“You mean like the warranty? Y-yeah! I paid for the 2 year…” You try to keep calm…

He sees a few creeps are already connected to your cam.

He easily follows their trail, typing away on his loud mechanical keyboard. The sound of it soothes you, you end up closing your eyes for a second.

“Oh no- You paid?” he sighs in frustration, not at you though. At whatever store took advantage of you. “This brand comes with a free two year when you buy it…” Shit. he misspoke. He isn’t supposed to know the brand.

You don’t consciously notice.

“For real?! I had no idea!!” You’re almost as frustrated. That was like thirty bucks you didn’t even have to spend.

He can’t help the small enamored smile that creeps across his face.

“Next time you want to buy something techy lemme know. I’ll make sure you get the most for what ya pay an all that… But, back to my question- I meant what kind of firewalls do you have on your router, do you use two-factor authentication on the camera?” He knows you don’t have either, but he’ll tell you what to do to start protecting yourself from these animals.

One of the connected IPs is a live cam website that nobody signs up to be on…

The comments on you from just walking in front of it sometimes are lewd and disgust him.

“I hope she walks by today, sigh…”

“She’s so hot… I wish she’d take those panties off more often though…”

“I saw the side of her ass again yesterday. looks so good, god i want to taste her…”

“I’d fuck her so good, better than whoever that ugly fucker is that comes over sometimes…”

“That guy’s so lucky…”

His face is twists in a deeper and deeper disgusted scowl the more he reads, he almost ignored the comments about a guy visiting you.

Almost.

His blood boils.

“I-I didn’t know you need stuff like that… I mean it just faces my cat’s tree anyway! hah…” You giggle more nervously again, feeling a little creeped out by the thought of someone accessing it. Do you walk by sometimes? You realize you do…

“Lemme help you.” He says almost too eagerly. Save it, he thinks quickly. “I-, I like to make sure the people around me are safe at least.”

“That’s so nice of you!! but, I don’t want to ask too much of you, I’m sure i could floogle how to myself!” You sound determined, it’s adorable, and his face softens immediately.

“Nah, it’s seriously no problem, we’re already talkin’ righ’now, an it’ll just take one sec. Promise.” You can hear the smile in his soft voice and feel more at ease again.

“Okay! if you say so, thanks so much, Jasper!”

“Mm,” He can’t help the quiet groan from hearing his name exit your lips, “‘course” He begins the process with you, and makes sure you check the “log out of all other locations” box. of course his doesn’t disconnect though.“I’ll keep you safe from now on.” His words carry a weight that you can feel. Your heart pounds.

“Thank you. I feel better already knowing my cat’s safe!”

You’re more worried about your cat than yourself.

You’re so pure

“Like i said, ‘s no problem. Come to me for whatever you need technologically.” God he hopes you do. He continues typing, working on sending his homemade virus to all these sickos that have gotten to see more of you than they deserve. “I’ll protect you from now on…”

“You-uh- S-sound like you work a lot!” You try and change the topic, your heart flipping over inside you.

“Hmm?” His rumbling voice keeps sending chills throughout your body.

“Oh! sorry, I can hear you typing on your keyboard, what are those? lubed yellows? They sound so nice…” Your face warms, a little embarrassed.

“Mhmm,” He practically moans again, you shiver, “glad you know your switches. They’re my favorite.”

“Could you show me how to lube mine sometime?”

Now it’s his turn with a warm, reddening face, hearing your voice say lube is making him think of anything but keyboards. He idly plays with his lip again, tugging it up with his teeth.

“how ‘bought I do it with you,” You shudder, not knowing, but directly feeling his hidden implications.

You sigh through your nose hoping he doesn’t hear.

He does.

He smiles, ecstatic with the knowledge that you got what he meant.

“Hey, Y/username, I have a little bit of work to do righ’now, can I call you t’morrow?”

“Of course! and it’s Y/N”

He beams, “have a nice evening, Y/N” His voice smooths even more than it already was. He’s barelyy above a whisper speaking into his mic, and straight into your ears.

The effect it has is… A little bit maddening.

“You too,” you speak up with a soft and shaky voice, “see ya later, Jasper” he can tell you’re at least a little aroused by him.

He bites his lip, feeling the tug on his snake bites.

After you hang up, he doesn’t have to wait even a second before the next call is answered:

“Sup Jazzy,” he’s used to hearing his own voice, but it’s always weird coming from another “person”.

“Sup Devvy, how’re you an Issac?”

[cozymochi]

Mild vent. Idk. I promise it’s not as bad as last nights utter mental shattering.

I don’t know what it is.

Maybe it’s a U.S centric Gen X mindset, or a remnant Boomer one from that “pull up your bootstraps” individualism thing, and no shade to any of the ones who follow me, my only point of reference are my parents and other older adults in my immediately family, and some friends families who tend to echo the same stuff—

Maybe it’s because a lot of my older family members never got to fulfill any particular ambition of theirs and had no choice but to work in fields they hate, maybe they overestimate how things work these days, and maybe it’s just me being an outlier…

But it’s so hard to discuss jobs especially creative ones of any kind when I’m the kind of person who is just… content working beneath somebody else. Or at least within a group professionally.

I don’t really have the ambition to start any individual practice or “be my own boss” so to speak. I don’t even feel comfortable in positions where I’m in charge of myself.

I don’t disagree that if that were to happen I’d probably be competent. I just feel more at ease and in my element when I’m able to just be given a task or assignment in a group setting and just doing it. Then going home and not think about it.

And if I outwardly say that I’m just… fine in that position I’m looked at weird and getting lectured about it. It’s not like I don’t get it… and I’m sure they just want better out of me or have a positive outlook that I could “be my own boss” in a hypothetical and have my own little business and be successful. As much as I do doubt myself in most cases, I just don’t feel any connection to those proposals at all.

I legitimately do not that any desire to do those things. At least, not now nor ever in the last few years. It just doesn’t really appeal to me.

I’ve never even got my foot in the door in a normal way yet to even know if a leap like that would work or is something I want.

I just know I’m genuinely more content just being given a task, doing it well (regardless if it ever surfaces, most don’t), and moving onto the next thing. I’m usually at my best there.

It’s a weird spot when I’m told that I can allegedly do “anything”, but when I say I just want to remain low key and I’m fine working under someone else, that suddenly isn’t a viable thing to be okay with.

“Oh you don’t wanna do THAT-“ “why dont you do this instead??” “im sure you could do this that and third and have your own —“ meanwhile I know every single one of them wanted that self sufficient whatever for themselves but never got it.

And it’s not like I’m not blind enough to see how hard, insular, exploitative and under-appreciated creative fields can be (and downright abusive, even).

I just… don’t have an urge nor want to do the most “ideal” and individualistic thing ever. I know what they’re saying is out of this idealized positivity, I get it. It’s not like I was the happiest person on earth with my old non-creative 9-5 job, yeah I would rather have been putting my skills to use, but I also don’t have much interest in being some kind of independent art business owner. Whatever that would entail. (the homies were even talking con booths and junk, like, sure hypothetically it sounds neat and shoutout to those who do it, but it’s not for me…)

I’m just… fine not shooting that high, nor being that notable. But I also didn’t hate my old job setup either. I wasn’t always excited to go in (who even is), but I didn’t hate it. I was pretty fine just …working.

Not that it matters. I don’t have a foot in that door anyway.

I don’t know. I don’t remember my point at all.

I’ll be rid of this later.

[bubuslutty]

Day 2: I 💜 DILFS

All Parts

pairing: angel/demon fem!reader x 141

word count: 2.2k

tags: semi-canon compliant, no use of y/n, reader is referred to as 'Angel', 3rd person pov, minimal description of appearance, proofread by me so sorry for any mistakes

warning: none

summary: This is day 2 of meeting 141 and Angel starts her assignment, officially.

a/n: can u tell im British when reading? sometimes I accidentally spell words in the American way cuz English is my third language but I swear I live in the UK 😀

It was Saturday, and Angel didn't have to be anywhere. After getting settled in her new home, she woke up excited to start her assignment officially. She stared at her huge wardrobe and at the ridiculous amount of accessories. Hands on her naked hips and hair sticking to her face and neck, she was humming while her cat, Kuromi, was making biscuits on the unmade bed.

“What should I wear today?” She mused out loud, the sunlight coming from her bedroom window warming her semi-wet skin pleasantly. She grabbed a very short jean skirt and held it in front of Kuromi, “What about this?” She asked, laughing.

“You’re right, this is not very grocery shopping friendly.” She nodded, putting the skirt away and grabbed a pair of baggy jeans, underwear and stopped herself before reaching for a bra. Her eyes landed on a cropped t-shirt that fit her like a glove. She grinned while holding the garment in front of her, “Oh, yeah, I’m wearing you today, and no bra.”

Angel giggled, while Kuromi was busy playing with a loose thread she found on the floor.

.

.

.

“Alright, lads, who wants to go to Tesco with me?” Price asked while wearing his wristwatch, already dressed to go out.

“Me!” Gaz exclaimed, looking up from his phone on the couch and running upstairs to get his hoodie and a jacket.

“Ghost, are you going?” Soap asked the man, who was watching a random show on the TV.

“No, are you?” Ghost said, looking over at the man.

“Yeah, I want some snacks. They provided us with old people food before sending us here, no offence, Captain, I want some chocolate and biscuits.” Soap complained, slipping on his jacket, making Ghost chuckle.

“Fuck off, Johnny.” Price said, without looking up from checking his wallet.

“D’you need anything, Simon?” Gaz asked when he walked back down, fixing his hood over his head and checking he had his phone on him.

“No, thanks, Gaz.” Ghost shook his head and shifted his attention back to the TV.

“Alright, if you need anything, call us. Let’s go.” Price said to Ghost who hummed in acknowledgement and the three walked out of the house, closing the door behind them.

“I call dibs on the passenger seat!” Soap quickly said, making Gaz laugh, the two walked towards the car in their driveway before Price’s voice made them look back.

“You’re alright, there?”

Price was standing with the car keys in his hands, looking at his very attractive neighbour, who was frowning down at her phone, standing in front of her door dressed so much more casually than the first time they met.

When Angel heard him, she lifted her head and immediately smiled, “Oh, hi! I’m just trying to get myself an Uber but the app’s acting up.”

“Where are you going? Maybe we can drop you off if it’s on our way...” Price suggested, and completely missed how both Gaz and Soap glanced at each other, smirking.

“Aw, that’s so sweet. But I’m just going to Tesco’s, I need to buy a few things so don’t bother yourself with that, I can try again on the app.” Angel said, sheepishly laughing.

“Oh, we’re going there too!” Soap loudly said, making Gaz grin when Price took a deep breath.

“Yeah, we also need to buy a few things, come with us!” Gaz said, grinning and looking at his Captain then his hot neighbour.

“That would be amazing! if you don’t mind of course.” Angel said, looking at Price and his eyes widened, "Why would I mind? Come on, get in."

When Price unlocked the car, Soap opened the passenger's seat door wide and spread one of his arms, "Please, allow me." He said in an overly posh accent which made Angel laugh.

"Thank you, Johnny." She smiled and got in, buckling herself in.

When everyone buckled in, Price started the car and drove out of the driveway. "Which Tesco's are we going to, by the way?"

"We're going to take the M25 and go to the one outside the area. Is that alright?" Price said, stealing a quick glance at the woman seated next to him.

"Wait, isn't that far? Aren't we in inner London?" Angel frowned, confused.

"No, love. We live in the outer circles, it's only going to take us 20 minutes to get there if there's no traffic." Price said.

"Sorry, first time living here." Angel apologised, feeling sheepish.

"It's alright, you don't have to apologise." Price said, making her smile.

"Sorry to interrupt, but am I dreaming or does your t-shirt say 'I heart DILFS'?" Soap asked, leaning forward from his seat at the back.

Both Gaz and Price seemed to be taken back by the question and also very surprised. Angel glanced down at her t-shirt and smirked, "Yeah, it does."

Right as the words left her mouth, Gaz started laughing and Soap had a stupid grin on his face. "That's an interesting choice of clothing, don't ya think?"

"I bought it as a joke.." Angel said, glancing at Price.

"But do you actually love dilfs? That's the most important question, don't ya think so, Captain?" Soap asked, radiating mirth and mischief.

Price glanced at the rear-view mirror and glared at Soap, who didn't seem to be intimated one bit.

"I don't know, maybe?" Angel shrugged while wearing a grin.

Then Angel felt a little evil all of a sudden, and cleared her throat, "Do you know what a dilf is, John?"

In reality, she wore that t-shirt because it reminded her of John. She knows he doesn't have children, he's not even married, never was for that matter. But in the mortal realm, young humans are fascinating on the Internet. Angel when she's bored, she opens up her laptop and accesses the servers on the planet, and sees what they're up to.

Imagine her surprise when she witnessed young mortals calling older celebrities, both men and women, dilfs and milfs just because they were older and attractive. They often claim the label doesn't necessarily mean the said person is a father or mother. Most of the time, it's just pure vibes, and it's honestly just for shits and giggles.

She bought the t-shirt a while back, before even getting her task force 141 wish assignment, and was surprised to find that John Price, could be in fact, considered a dilf.

John isn't even old, he's 37 and would look so much younger than he actually was if he didn't go through so much stress and difficult work for so many years. Either way, Angel isn't even bothered by his age because at the end of the day, she was older than all of the men, ages combined. But obviously didn't look like it, due to her immortal nature. Her files say she's 25 this time, so there's that.

"How can I not? You learn all sorts of new things when you're around someone like Johnny." He said and heard Soap gasp at the back, offended and demanding what did that mean.

Angel grinned at that and remembered to ask them something. "I have a question; Why did Johnny call you captain?"

"We work together." Price answered while Gaz and Soap were watching them in silence.

"Can I guess what work you do?" Angel grinned. She already knew their occupation, but she had to ask, had to play her cards right, use everything to get closer to them and build a mutual trust between them.

"Alright, guess." Price shrugged.

"Okay, uhm, are you….. Rugby players?!"

All three men seemed surprised at her guess, "Rugby players? Haven't heard that one before." Gaz said.

"I mean Rugby teams have a captain, right?" Angel mused.

"Aye, they do." Soap confirmed.

"And you're all very big and strong, so it's very likely you're part of a rugby team." Angel said proudly, with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Ah, makes sense." Gaz nodded, grinning. He imagined his team and himself in the field, wearing tight jerseys and shorts, knees muddy and sweating. It would be fun, playing all together in the base against the rookies to encourage teamwork and healthy competitiveness.

"We'd make a killer team, no?" Soap looked at Gaz who nodded.

"We're not a Rugby team." Price chuckled, making Angel's smile drop.

"You're not? What a shame. Well, I only had two guesses, so that only leaves me with one." Angel pouted.

"What is it?" Gaz asked, looking at her cute frown and shiny pink lips.

"Pirates.." She mumbled, glancing at Price who started laughing.

"Pirates? Why?" Soap laughed.

"First of all, you call him captain, and your said captain has a beautiful beard, not to be stereotypical or anything.." Angel explained making Gaz grin.

"My beard?" Price said, running a hand through it.

"You laughed, so I'm going to assume I was wrong." She said, acting slightly frustrated at guessing wrong.

"You do have a beautiful beard, Captain." Soap smirked, reaching at the front to squeeze the man's shoulder.

"If you said, marines, you would still be wrong but still close." Gaz said, making her eyes widen.

"Really?"

"We're in the army, special forces." Price finally said, glancing at the civilian woman next to him.

"Okay, yeah, my guesses were very wrong." Angel blushed, embarrassed.

Now that they revealed their occupation by themselves, she can get to reveal her occupation and make them share their nicknames. She knows that they're only living next to her for work, for random short breaks, away from their families. And she knows they would prefer for her to use their field names, to protect their privacy but also her, as a civilian, to some extent. The only reason they haven't given them to her yet is to not weird her out. But they'll get to it, Angel will make sure of it.

"Are all of you special forces? Even Simon? Speaking of which, is he alright?" Angel asked and watched them tense up a bit and internally smirked, they're protective.

"What do you mean is he alright?" Soap asked, raising a brow. He thinks she's talking about his mask, maybe thinks she sees Simon as weird. Even though that's ridiculous, he was wearing a surgical mask when she first saw him, and normal people would probably assume he had a cold and didn't want to pass it on. But she knows Ghost's team is used to him wearing his skull mask more often than not, and probably forgot he wasn't wearing one that day.

How adorable are they?

"All of you are out except him." Angel said, voice brimming with innocence and genuine concern.

She noticed how the tension left their bodies and looked at Price for explanation.

"He's alright, just wanted to rest at home. And to answer your question, yes we're all in special forces, we're just here for work." Price said, making her nod.

"What do you do for a living?" Gaz asked, changing the subject.

"I'm a sex therapist and PhD student." She said.

"That's amazing! What's your field of research?" Price asked, glancing at her and back at the road.

"Psychology." Angel revealed, smiling proudly.

The funny thing about realising wishes, is that lying becomes so easy. You get given a scenario to follow, a character to study and become. And then manage to slowly become that character to the point where your reactions are genuine while your mind is fully aware that you're not who you say you are. It's an act, and a really good one at that.

You're even incapable of feeling guilty over lying to humans. Because Wish angels are gifted with powers that allow them to achieve almost anything and everything. I lied about knowing the Royal family? The Wish Office will temporarily tamper with history, memory and fate and manage to make you exist in the mind of the royals, as if they always knew you. It's an incredible power, completely able to create and destroy anything and everything.

But luckily, Wish angels have no interest to mess up with the humans beyond realising their wishes. They can tamper with time and memory, but after their assignment is completed, everything will return to normal, with the exception of the realised wish.

And so far, Angel hasn't felt the need to use any of her powers on the men. And she doesn't think she will any time soon.

"That's very impressive, the dedication you have is admirable." Gaz said and Johnny agreed, nodding.

Angel flushed at the compliment, "I'm just trying my best, but thank you either way."

The car was enveloped in comfortable silence, the big superstore now in view when Soap spoke.

"Why do you prefer Angel instead of Angela?"

Angel smiled, "There was a girl who had the same name as me back in primary school, and since then, I was always called Angel to differentiate us. It feels natural to be called Angel, instead of Angela. That's what I prefer at least."

"Well, in that case call me Soap." Johnny said, grinning.

"Soap.. It's nice, you have to tell me the story behind it one day." She smiled.

"Maybe." Soap winked.

"Call me Gaz instead of Kyle, please." Gaz added.

"Of course, Gaz is a pretty name." Angel turned to look at the man who flushed.

"What about you, Captain?" Angel turned to Price as he parked the car in the huge parking lot in front of Tesco.

"You can just call me John." He said, smiling at her.

"And Simon?"

"Simon will tell you his own nickname."

tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @obiwankenobis-lap @goapgrim @smalldemonlover @loveyhoneydovey @cutiecusp @pinkwigonmytv @mandythemint @itsberrydreemurstuff @tapioca-marzipan @fruitymoonbeams-blog @poohkie90 @chaoticevilbakugo @anubis-reed @thefairybird @skytacvia @marytvirgin @cynicalmnm @maechanexe @t0jis-worm @1800imgay

[stellar-jasper]

I woke up and the more i think about it the more "don quixote" and dr. Jekyll have the same kind of mindset, spoilers under the cut

Okay so i know they are totally different books but hear this silly literary student out, obviously don quixote is going to have don quixote as *her* literary reference. However even just in the base novels both of the main characters try to create an alternate persona to cope with the world, for same-same but different reasons, with one of these key differences being shame

Dr Jekyll created hyde out of typical victorian shame for himself, don quixote is doing it out of his desire to also escape society but is far more off his fucking rocker about it. Don Quixote is going on adventures to spice up life rather than feeling much shame about it- shame takes a backseat when compared to jekyll's "lost in the sauce of victorian society" type shit.

So that's why i find it interesting so many people in the fandom are talking about how don's real form is, by what we have seen of bloodfiends, totally different from her own ideals, and that the bloodfiend's shame of their nature and desire to be seen as someone great like the fixers is probably why they adopted the don quixote persona we know and love. What incident made them feel so ashamed or sad of herself will be interesting to see, but i cant help but think man, adopting a persona out of shame sounds very familiar

Unlike jekyll and hyde tho don seems to retain no memories from the bloodfiend, because while jekyll wanted to live through hyde so he could do whatever he wanted, the bloodfiend seems to *really* want to dissociate from the fact they are a bloodfiend, and a high ranking one at that

Can i just say tho that the fact she has to keep her shoes on to keep the bloodfiend at bay is the funniest, most clever shit and simultaneously being so stupid it fits don perfectly???? Like don in the book is also insane of course if he had a vampire he had to keep under wraps he would do something like this, and just like in the book where don becomes more like sancho after thinking "okay maybe i have gone a bit too silly" and vise versa where sancho becomes more adventerous maybe we'll get to see a sillier side of the bloodfiend that explains why don is so off her marbles herself.

Cause i think the only thing that im thinking at the moment is for a bloodfiend that is lacking the silly, they sure did choose a very silly method of becoming their alter ego, but im pretty confident we'll get the answer in the next canto

Okay that was some insane ramblings holy shit im going to go have breakfast

[reactionimagesdaily]

(TuT) ok so i got a few but my most thought about are these silly characters who are based on the arthurian legends but mixed with final fantasy and their trying to fight the queen because she doesn't like magic (even though her children are half elf and therefore have plenty of magic) im still struggling to find designs i fully like but this is like the current designs. (Idk if you wanted me to pm u about my ocs or ask??)

Tell me about your ocs too!!!

LESGOOOO okay I do know some things about Arthurian legend but I know fuckall about final fantasy so you're gonna have to bare with me. I love this art, first of all! I'm presuming you drew it but either way massive kudos to the artist, I'm really liking these designs :D (also the style in general but that's more subjective :P)

Headcanons,,, hmm,,, ok I'm gonna go from left to right (and I'm also gonna refer to these charas as their hair colours bc I don't know their names, lo siento xD) (also I am kinda presuming genders based on appearance here so sorry if I get any pronouns wrong xS)

Pink:

There are chains on most of these characters' outfits but the majority are on hers so I like the idea that maybe she made, or at least fashioned, them and then gave them out to the rest of the group?

(by that logic there must be some reason that brunette doesn't have a chain... hmm... maybe pink doesn't like him, or maybe the chains represent some specific thing that brunette isn't/hasn't done)

She's self-conscious about the mole on her cheek :( (if I'm presuming correctly and pink is one of the queen's half-elf children, her self-consciousness could be compounded by the fact that this mole is also an identifying feature that people could use to find her)

I like the idea that Pink is one of those people who just doesn't feel the cold. Not sure why. Maybe it's the fit :P

Ginger:

I know her ears are probably hidden bc of her hairstyle but low-key when I noticed that detail I thought it might be that she's hiding her ears for plot reasons. Is she pretending to be a half-elf and have magic when she actually doesn't? Is she ACTUALLY a half-elf and hiding that fact bc of the queen's grudge against magic? Who knows? Not me! :P

She's actually ambidexterous and only wears arm guards on one arm to throw off anyone she's swordfighting with

The only thing sharper than Ginger's blade is her tongue; her insults are lethal and she is very liberal with their usage

Funny idea: this character has a very low pain tolerance. Like, in the heat of battle she can obviously power through life-threatening injuries, same as any self-respecting protagonist can - but outside of adrenaline-fuelled action? Hoo boy. If this woman stubs her toe on a rock, you're gonna be hearing about it for hours

Blond:

I get the sense that blond has 100% tried to use magic to cook a chicken at least once (and that it hasn't gone well)

Maybe the shared colours are just convenience for the sake of faster colouring but I like to think that blond got ginger a corset the same shade of red as his shirt and boots because he wanted them to match :)

He's actually very good at dexterous skills relating to string and ropes - braiding, embroidery, knotwork, and so on (this inspired by the little braid in his hair (ignore the fact that I've ignored the fact that pink's hair ALSO has a braid in it))

Blond strikes me as the team confidante. I like to think that if anyone has problems, or needs someone they can trust with sensitive information, they know they can go to him :D

Brunette:

I think brunette's cloak is cool as hell so I like to think that HE thinks it's cool as hell too. Like, he wears it all the time, and everyone else is just like 'ugh it's brunette being edgy and mysterious again' but his interior monologue is something more along the lines of 'man... I look so good in this cloak... I've got that shit ON'

He'd actually really like to grow a proper beard, but he just can't for whatever reason so all he's got is stubble 😔

Something about him tells me that he enjoys tripping people up with that staff he's carrying

He can sleep standing up (and it freaks the hell out of anyone when they see it lmao)

-

And,,, that's it off the top of my head! (In a manner of speaking. This was not ALL off the top of my head xDD) I hope you crack that character design conundrum you're wrestling with! Thank you sm for sharing your charas, this was honestly fun as hell :D (Either PMing or ask'ing would've been fine with me :3) Keep loving them and making content for them and you will find your audience, I promise! <33

ALSO 'tell me about your ocs too!!!' OKAY YOUR ENTHUSIASIM HAS TWISTED MY ARM but this post is already pretty long so I'll put it under a cut :)

Broski I have WAY too many OCs to fit into one post that isn't as long as my bionicle lore summary so I'm gonna pick out 3!

First we have DANTE

I love this guy. He started off as a self-insert back when I first started writing (12-ish years ago?) and now he's his own fully developed character. I'm so proud of him T_T

Anyways! My guy got evil superpowers from a magic rock - long story, sorry - and decided he was going to become a superhero anyway. He's a paragon and a charismatic protagonist and he tries his best, but he's also a stubborn, chaotic man with no off switch. Maybe not the best person to hold the fate of the world in his hands, but oh well, it's too late now! :P

(aah, I love putting characters in situations)

Next up we have: RAELYN

Remember that magic rock? Yeah, turns out that rock has a consciousness. That's Raelyn. She doesn't like Dante, and especially doesn't like the fact that she's now stuck in his brain - but she likes the main villain of this story even LESS, so she's sticking with him for now. She's an unrepentent fucker and I really enjoy writing her >:3

And finally, we have IVY

Ivy is a cyborg that spends, like, a year fused into a suit of armour (another, slightly grim long story) before the good guys rescue her. The good thing about the longform story I'm telling is that we get plenty of time to watch her blossom from a haunted, emaciated cyborg into someone who's happy and healthy :)

(not pictured: me, valiantly resisiting the urge to call my own OC an absolute smokeshow)

Aaaaand there we go! Hope that fulfilled your curiosity about my own OCs - thank you so much for asking! <3 Have a good one, you absolute champion! :D