ychhaae

[ychhaae]

LOVE ON A WIRE.　 30. DOCTOR SHE ESCAPED

❛ megan has never, ever wanted anything as bad in her life, until you—an underground singer and songwriter, is unemployed, and the textbook definition of a loser—stroll into her heart and her life. matter of fact, what happens when she accidentally replies to your thirst-traps that were a rebounding joke after a rough break-up, on twitter, and on the katseye account? ❜

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@sed7ction @1luvkarina @ychhaae @goofymickeyr @yeetaberry127 @urmom2314 @meganskiendielsbtc @fruityg0rl @fearnotfearmore @justtluvrr @meiyaes @sixflame438 @arihiu @vrtualstar @grahstumhurts @jaythegirlkisser @namojoon @saysirhc @gtfoiydlyj @catdonut657 @inybits @vivilvr @c-yerim @meizinisnumberone @blue-kye @linnnsworld @k31k0w @hazel-tanthamore22 @raviolisupremacy @cassiespoiler @weirdossclub @sunshinez4 @xochitlisbest @ratzeye @meiphobic @kristalag @beomniiz @itzkatflixs @spongebobtentacles @mirophobic @apersonwhowrites @bowforgodjihyo @mandydxndy @chuugetmesohigh @karli6

[ychhaae]

ׂ ִ 𓍯 ⠀ׂ starlight ׂ 𐫱 M.S

⎯⎯ 𖡎 become a star and be by my side

🖼️ ── God, she’s tired. And you’re unfairly pretty, lit up by those stupidly overpriced hallway lights. She smiles without meaning to, feeling something in her chest come undone, something she didn’t even know was stuck there.

𝐏airing. Megan Skiendiel x reader 𝐆enre. fluff… Kissing, Love Confessions, Getting Together, College 𝐰𝐜.2k+

Night has fallen onto your part of the globe and Megan lets your soft hand drag her into the elevator of your fancy apartment building that has more mirrors and bright lighting installed than both of the bathrooms in the house of Megan’s parents back in Hawaii combined. Her muscles ache from carrying around boxes of stage equipment and decorations all day. There’s a party for the new first semester students on the weekend, and she had volunteered to help with the setup in exchange for some coupons for the food stalls.

You run a hand through your silky, unfairly beautiful long hair and scoff at the way she leans against the elevator wall a little more dramatically than necessary. Megan likes to believe it’s a sound of fondness. Though maybe she’s just tired—or delusional. Drunk, no. She’s barely had one beer, the one Manon, head of the student association, handed out to each of the helpers at the end of the shift. She’s just being stupid about this, but her brain always shuts down whenever you breathe in her general direction, so there’s not much she can do to fix it.

The fact that your crush radar is perpetually broken is both a curse and a blessing. It’s always Lara who points out the obvious to her when another guy asks for your number in the cafeteria or someone messages you on insta with the worst pick-up line known to mankind.

Ding. Fourth floor. You place a hand on her shoulder as you playfully shove her out of the elevator.

The sudden image of you pressing her up against a wall flashes through Megan’s mind. She bites the inside of her cheeks, which are surely burning bright red, but you don’t notice—or just dismiss it as another sign of her tiredness.

She fiddles with the hem of her shirt, listening to the beeping sounds as you type in the code for your door. She’s usually not this awkward.

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Yeah,” you reply casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world to invite your best friend’s friend—someone you only ever talk to properly during lunch—over to stay the night, just because she complained on her Insta story about being dead tired and not wanting to take the forty-minute bus ride back to the student accommodations on the other campus. You pull the door open and gesture for her to step inside first, giving a slight nod of your head.

Most of the time, the two of you only talk over social media —sending cat memes back and forth, silly videos you found while doomscrolling late at night. You ask each other about Lara’s whereabouts, because if she’s not with you, there’s a ninety-five percent chance she’s with Megan, and vice versa. Since she’s a psychology major and you study art at the other college that shares the central campus with theirs, you don’t really have many reasons to cross paths—other than through your mutual friend.

Lara studies psychology too, but she’s been friends with you ever since she moved here from abroad, when you were both twelve. The two of you are like two sides of the same coin—one soul split apart at birth, now sworn to never leave each other’s side again.

you’re not together in any way that would give Megan a reason to be jealous, but admittedly, the thought of sunny-eyed Lara throwing her fists gives her yet another reason to believe that keeping quiet and swallowing down her feelings is the safest option this time.

But god, she’s tired, and you are so pretty under these stupidly expensive hallway lights, and her smile reaches into her throat and untangles something that she didn’t even know was stuck up there.

“You’re so sweet, thank you.”

It’s not hard for anyone to compliment you. You’re just so easy to love—with your soft-spoken voice, your attentive eyes that catch any discomfort in the people around you, and the genuinely shy smile you try to twist into a cocky grin whenever someone calls your outfit gorgeous, because you’d rather not show just how much it means to you. Megan tries to do it whenever she can, to show you the appreciation you deserve. God knows their whole group of anxious students in their early twenties has about as much self-doubt as caffeine in their systems.

But even now, you still shy away from her gaze, only making a vague “mhm” noise.

She’s so cute. Megan thinks she could die like this, but she can’t make you deal with the paperwork, so she decides not to.

It’s already past ten pm, and Megan is starving, so you make dinner for both of you despite her complaints, forcing her to sit at your mahogany dinner table and eat. You don’t let her do the dishes afterward either, ushering her out onto the balcony so she’ll stop fretting over it. Afraid you’ll kick her out again if she annoys you too much, Megan has no choice but to comply.

your balcony is huge. At least triple the size of the one-by-three meter stripe of fresh oxygen the best college dorms offer. The two sun loungers barely fill up all the space you have. There are blankets and pillows spread out on them, and the coffee table in the corner with cute succulent pots gives the balcony an air of comfort and safety. Megan wonders if you fall asleep out here, sometimes.

She cuddles up on one of the sun loungers. You join her soon after, settling onto the other one, only an arm’s length away.

The night is breezy and kind. Black velvet and woven-in little diamond glitter sequins stretch above your heads, rivaling the sparkle in your eyes.

You fall into idle conversation—about both of your days, about memories of first-semester parties that ended in headaches, terrible hangovers, and the embarrassment of saying dumb things to friends who were still half-strangers back then. About the art portfolio you’re working on. About Megan’s internship search. About anything at all. It’s easy to talk to her—just as easy as it is to like her.

Your giggle, along with the endearingly silly dad jokes you throw in every so often, washes Megan’s exhaustion away like the tide lapping at her shore.

It falls silent after a while—you growing tired in your stead and running out of words. Your eyes go all soft and droopy, in a way that makes Megan want to scoop you up and cuddle into you, running her hand through your hair and pressing whispered goodnights into it.

"We should go to bed, huh," Megan muses instead, because she’s not out of her mind. Not yet.

You shrug. “We should. But do you want to?”

There’s an unspoken plea in your words—to catch on to what you’re too shy to say.

You’re so endearing, so lovely, so heart-wrenchingly beautiful—Megan thinks.

"You look like you're going to pass out as you speak though," Megan says in lieu of an answer that exposes just how terribly down bad she is. She feels clawed open under the sparkling night sky and your vulnerable gaze.

“Keep me awake then,” you insist. “Tell me stories. Talk to me. I’ll listen.” Your hand on the armrest inches closer—closer—closer, until it crosses the small gap between your armrests and your pinkies tangle together.

Megan’s breath hitches.

"Okay," she whispers.

And before she can overthink it too much, she starts pointing out the constellations you can see, retelling the myths behind their stories, and rambling about the wonders of both astronomy and astrology. She talks about black holes, galaxies and their distances, names of planetary systems, unanswered questions, and wild theories. Meanwhile, you trace lines between the stars with your free hand—you’re the artist between the two of you, after all. Megan wonders if you’ll ever paint this on a real canvas someday. Or have you already? Have you imagined this before—just the two of you on the balcony together?

Megan is so out of it that she only notices your hands have ended up tightly intertwined on her armrest when you give her hand a soft squeeze. “You’ve stopped talking.” You blink at her slowly, like a cat. “What’s wrong?”

You, Megan thinks.

You frown.

Panic shoots into Megan’s chest as she realizes she has said it out loud. "Shit, I didn't mean to— this wasn't supposed to sound like— ugh."

You merely nod and start pulling your hand away. A horrifying chill runs down Megan’s spine.

She grabs your hand again.

"No! Please don't go."

She shifts in her seat to face you directly, clasping your hand with both of hers. She must look desperate and a little pathetic, because your frown immediately softens, your eyes widening. Megan doesn’t care. “There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s me. I shouldn’t feel like this about you.”

Your mouth falls open. "Like... what?"

"Like— like—" Megan inhales. Her heart is trembling. It might burst if she doesn't set it free right now. "Like you painted all the stars into my sky with your fingertips."

Megan squeezes her eyes shut. She can’t do this. She can’t watch as the frown settles onto your face again, deeper and darker with every second. She’s ruined everything. You’ll pity her, kick her out, erase her from your life, and—

"Oh."

Something drapes itself over Megan’s cheek. It’s warm. Hesitant.

It’s the palm of a hand—warm, steadying. She hears you laugh softly, not unkindly.

“You’re one to talk.” Your voice sounds strangely breathless, almost fond. “Megan, it’s all you. You’re my night sky.”

And then your hand moves, dropping to hold her jaw oh so tenderly.

A thumb brushes over Megan’s lower lip. She has to muster all her self-control not to lean in, chasing after the tingle it leaves on her lips. But maybe she doesn’t have to hold back anymore. Your voice is so close to her, barely a breath away when you say—

"I'm going to kiss you, if that's okay."

Megan blindly surges forward, and somehow your lips meet as if pulled together by gravity.

Your kiss is like how you draw—taking your time, placing the right touches onto your canvas with all the patience in the world. You nip at Megan’s bottom lip, drawing a breathy moan from her that she unsuccessfully tries to stifle for the sake of her dignity.

Warmth flares up along her neck, and you let out a soft giggle before pulling away.

“I’ve always thought you were cute,” you confess. “Can we kiss again?”

Megan scrambles for her words but her mind goes completely blank. She nods helplessly, sweetly defeated, and the tension leaves her shoulders with a silent sigh as you lean back in.

She slings her arms around your neck, holding you closer. You nip at her lip again, tentatively scraping your teeth over it—not biting down to hurt, but creating a sensation overwhelming enough to make Megan whimper in the back of her throat. Part of her still can’t grasp if this is a dream or not. She might have crashed out a while ago. Maybe she’ll wake up tomorrow wondering what the fuck is wrong with her.

But you run your thumb over her cheek like you, too, need reassurance that this is real, that she is real. Perhaps you can be star-crossed dreamers together.

You kiss again and again, until you move on from her lips to litter small pecks all over her face, each contact with her skin leaving a pleasant burn.

“I’ve been wanting to…, you’re just… unfairly beautiful, and sweet, and kind.” Megan can barely catch her breath.

You huff, laugh, flustered. “You’re killing me. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this.”

Megan heart trips over itself. “You have no idea how long I had to stop myself from staring at you all the time, like an idiot.”

“Don’t do that anymore,” you say, meeting her eyes with a gentle smile and a slow blink. “I liked every moment you looked at me.”

Megan groans. She’s dizzy. Her heart and the place where you’re holding her feel like they’re fizzling and bursting into golden fireworks, filling every nook and cranny of her with warmth.

She kisses you again, just because she can.

The night goes on, and Megan’s canvas blooms brilliantly under your fingertips, like a new universe coming to life.

[ychhaae]

extra huge sigh…😓😓😓💔

[ychhaae]

that thing ticking beside your bed isn’t a clock btw

# MAMMA MIA — chapter fifty-four!

there’s always been one rule in the group: don’t bring up y/n. no one really knows why, but it’s clear sophia would rather leave her ex-best friend in the past. once inseparable, their friendship dissolved after a summer camp that no one talks about, and y/n vanished, moving god-knows-where without so much as a goodbye. some say it was a fight. others say it was something more. only sophia knows the truth—or maybe not even she does. now, as the third year at dream academy begins, sophia is blindsided by y/n's unexpected return. gone is the familiar, easygoing childhood bestfriend she remembers. in her place is someone sharper, colder, and—unfortunately for sophia—hotter than ever. (who gave her the permission to look so fine?)

wc: 1571

WAIT FOR IT

“HEY, SO, WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING HERE?”

you glared as yunjin tugged you down the narrow backstage hallway, her steps quick and annoyingly determined for someone running on four hours of sleep. she didn’t even bother answering right away, just jiggled a set of keys and strode to the theatre stockroom door.

“y’know how you practically didn’t do shit the day valentina tagged along?” she said, voice low and casual, like she wasn’t clearly plotting something. “yeah. you’re making up for it now. come help me carry these heavy-ass boxes. we’re changing the curtains.”

you squinted. “changing curtains? aren’t there, like, tech crew people for that?”

“well, congratulations. you’re tech crew now.”

she flicked the light on from the outside, then gestured towards a box nearly exploding with tangled stage curtains.

“this is so—” you started, but yunjin was already walking backwards, that suspiciously fake smile tugging at her lips, most definitely amused. 

you stepped into the room, muttering under your breath as you bent down to lift the box, freezing when the light flicked off and the door slammed shut behind you, the unmistakable click of the lock following right after.

“yunjin? what the fuck?! let me out!”

ohhhh the little cunt.

“no can do, sister!” her voice was muffled through the door, but she sounded far too proud of herself. “just trust me on this!”

“trust you? are you psychotic? at least turn the lights back on!”

“nah, you’ll live. and shut up! unless you want to miss your chance to talk to sophia.”

that shut you up fast.

—

you dont know how long it’s been. you’d foolishly left your phone on the table backstage along with the multiple cups of coffees and scripts sprawled along the white, worn out desk of the theatre, and to say that you’re dying out of boredom is an understatement.

then, just when you’d started debating whether to scream yunjin’s name again, you heard the clatter of keys once more. footsteps. the door opening.

“hey, can you help me grab something from the stockroom?” yunjin’s voice, overly sweet and casual, like she hadn’t already locked one person in there.

“uh. sure?” it was sophia’s voice, hesitant and a little suspicious, the same way yours had been.

you felt your breath catch.

uh oh. 

then, footsteps. light ones. and before you could even prepare yourself, the door creaked open, light flooding in, and sophia stepped inside.

“what am i—?”

the rest of her sentence was cut off by the sound of the door slamming shut behind her.

and then the lock clicking.

and yunjin, the traitor, cheerfully announcing, “okay, bye! just talk, okay? please. don’t make me do this again!”

“yunjin?” sophia called, confused, turning to the door. “yunjin!”

sophia stood there unsure, she knew there wasn’t anything worth scaring her in the stockroom. she’d been in here way too many times to count on her fingers. however, what she didn’t expect coming, was to see you sitting cross legged in the corner of the room uneasily, when she turned on the flashlight on her phone.

“oh, fuck!” was her initial reaction.

you’d flinched. “uh, sorry. yunjin locked me in here too.”

sophia’d clutched her pearls like a grandmother, before sighing. “of course, she did.”

she hesitated for a second, just stood there in the faint beam of her flashlight, the dust catching in the light like snow, but eventually she shook her head and crossed the room. she sat beside you, a little closer than expected, knees brushing as she turned off the flashlight, leaning her head on the wall.

silence and darkness blanketed the two of you. 

you could still hear the outside world—a muffled thump of someone moving something onstage, the faint hum of hallway lights. but in here, it was just the two of you. like the theatre had swallowed you whole.

for a long second, neither of you spoke.

then, you exhaled slowly. “are you dating alex?”

the question dropped into the dark and hung like the stars.

sophia didn’t answer at first. the air shifted. you couldn’t see her face, couldn’t tell what expression she was wearing, only that you heard the soft inhale, the pause in the dark.

“…why would you ask that?”

“i saw the tweets. heard what people are talking about.”

sophia wasn’t sure what came over her for the response that slipped out of her tongue, but she sure as hell knew that it came from a place of wanting to hurt you, tumbling out so carelessly that you felt the words cut your skin.

she laughed. hollow and cold. “i don’t know why you care.”

you’d inhaled deeply, resting your head on the wall as well with a soft thump. 

“well, you’re my friend.”

her laugh this time wasn’t hollow. it was bitter. tired. full of all the things she hadn’t said for years.

“oh, am i?” she asked, voice rising just slightly. “i wasn’t your friend when you suddenly left without a word. no explanation. no goodbye. and i sure as hell wasn’t your friend when you sat across from me at dinner pretending like you didn’t even know me.”

you were speechless. part of you thought she’d never confront you with the past, but then again, a foolish part of you thought that she’d always wait for you. you knew she wanted it to hurt. and god, did it hurt like a bitch.

“god, we even lived under the same roof for a month and you barely even said a word to me.” she spat, yet she didn’t do anything to move away from you. “and now, you say you’re my friend?”

you shuffle back instinctively, trying to create space between you, but she notices it—of course she does. her hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist blindly.

“don’t,” she hisses. “don’t do that. you always fucking do this. every single time i get close, you pull away like i’m some kind of mistake. why is that, huh?”

her voice shakes, but not from sadness anymore—from fury. pent up, years old fury.

“i fucking liked you, you know that? do you have any idea how hard it was for me to build up the nerve to tell you? to put my heart out there like a goddamn idiot? and what did you do? nothing. you didn’t even look me in the eye. you ran. you never answered, never even had the decency to talk about it!”

your voice breaks as you yell back, raw and desperate. “i liked you too! but i was fucking scared! i didn’t know what the hell i was feeling, and you were my best friend! i didn’t know it was okay to like girls like that—all we ever did was talk about boys like it was a goddamn religion! i didn’t want to lose you!”

you swallow thickly, fists clenched at your sides. “but i loved you. i loved you then, and i still love you now, and watching you with alex—fuck, sophia. it hurts. because you deserve more. you deserve better than—”

she cuts you off, full of fire, scoffing so sharply it practically cracks through the air.

“who the fuck are you to decide what’s ‘better’ for me? who the fuck gave you that right? you don’t get to swoop back in and shit on someone who actually shows up for me. someone who isn’t afraid to stand beside me in public. someone who didn’t need years to figure out if i was worth it.”

her voice is shaking now, but not from anger anymore. but from the weight of everything left unsaid between you, from everything you were too scared to say.

“at least he’s not scared to fucking admit that he wants me.”

silence stretches again. the two of you still sat next to each other.

you don’t know what came over you to say, “i’m flying back to new york for a couple of weeks.” but sophia doesn’t comment on it. she merely even acknowledges the fact.

“then go. i don’t know why you’re telling me this.”

the harsh fluorescent light flicks on without warning, blinding your already frazzled eyes.

“okay, lovebirds,” yunjin’s voice sings out from the doorway, chipper and unaware. “did you two talk it out or do i need to lock you in here for another ten minutes?”

she’s grinning, proud of her plan that she put together hastily at 3am, until she sees the scene before her.

sophia’s already pushing past her, storming out without a single word. she doesn’t look at you. doesn’t have to. the tears running down her cheeks say more than anything she could’ve said.

“wait—sophia—” you start, but she’s already outside.

and that’s when you see him.

alex.

standing just behind yunjin, looking like he’s been waiting. like he followed her in the moment he heard raised voices.

he doesn’t hesitate. the second sophia stumbles into the hallway, he opens his arms and she falls right into them, burying her face in his chest like she belongs there.

you freeze, watching as he rubs her back gently, murmuring something you can’t hear. her shoulders shake, and he holds her tighter.

yunjin’s smile slowly fades as she looks between you and the door, confused, her brows furrowing.

“what the fuck happened?” she asks, voice finally losing its pep.

but you don’t answer. you just stare at the doorway, empty now, because sophia didn’t look back.

she didn’t need to. you’d already said enough.

masterlist ✮⋆���˚📽️ next

how are we feeling? sorry for taking so long yall😛

@gablmk @goofymickeyr @saysirhc @kathleenmikaelson @iisayfa @magixpracticality @sed7ction @1luvkarina @linnnsworld @hotluvlet @bauzer @saranglasses @kkoga @chaesitonmyface @arihiu @peanutbutterlover05 @kristalag @meiyaes @solentient @yuzeemin @reey0w @vrtualstar @fruityg0rl @cyberbonesworld @haerinkisser @lafortezalover @cassiespoiler @skz-xii @ninguitar @kimminjswife @yeetaberry127 @p1hbrook @hazel-tanthamore22 @caitlynglazer @minjvers @tormaa1 @nwjnsloona @itzkatflixs @namojoon @falling-intoo-deep @waitsobs @blushmimi @cindergorge @nightshadelover12 @justluvrr TAGLIST CLOSED (my taglist is fmu why is it deleting ppl omf)

[ychhaae]

── ychhaae 𝐰𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑠． ♡

── 𝗞atseye.

♥︎ .. manon bannerman

♥︎ .. sophia laforteza

♥︎ .. daniela avanzini

♥︎ .. lara raj

♥︎ .. megan skiendiel

starlight . one shot

♥︎ .. jeong yoonchae

── Le sserafim.

♥︎ .. miyawaki sakura

♥︎ .. kim chaewon

♥︎ .. huh yunjin

♥︎ .. nakamura kazuha

♥︎ .. hong eunchae

── 𝗔espa.

♥︎ .. yu jimin

♥︎ .. kim minjeong

♥︎ .. ning yizhou

♥︎ .. uchinaga aeri

── 𝗡ewjeans.

♥︎ .. kim minji

♥︎ .. pham hanni

♥︎ .. danielle marsh

♥︎ .. kang haerin

♥︎ .. lee hyein

[ychhaae]

❝ 𝗶𝘀𝗮 ❞⠀⠀─⠀⠀ 𝘀𝗵𝗲/her⠀ ✧ ───𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑜𝑟

ℳasterlist. .. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝑑𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑚？❞

🕷️ ❝ 𝙄 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥， 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥.. ❞ ——

❝ 𝙏ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔. ❞ ─── 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇．