#But the art department in this show is <3

[zzoguri]

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

#works of moni #deoboyznet #kflixnet #k-labels #dbn: love letter #bjnet #the boyz #ji changmin #the boyz x reader #ji changmin x reader #ji changmin imagines #ji changmin angst #the boyz angst #the boyz imagines

[eloquentgifs]

#1670 #Ok I might be a little obsessed #But the art department in this show is <3 #I'm such a sl*t for different title cards in every episode

[devotedlystrangewizard]

if theres one teacher i have to remember from my high school years it would have to be the technology guy. he looked like a mad scientist at all times. one time before i joined his class he sat next to me on a bench and talked to me for a bit. the first day of his class in the 3rd year he basically told us if he caught us using the cloud instead of usb sticks he would kick us out. phones were forbidden. when i told him i didnt like being put in the girls group (there were only 4 girls (including me not knowing i was trans yet)) he put me in a group with some of the boys instead no questions asked. he was probably the strictest of all the teachers ive had while also one of the nicest. he scared me a little. i miss him

#ramblings #theres also the latin teacher who bullied everyone but in a funny way #or the history teachers. history teachers are always great #my french teacher in my last 2 years who not only did really well with my pronouns but deliberately picked me as an example #when discussing il/elle. which i almost cried over god bless #or the social studies teacher who let me skip major parts of the homework because it was triggering to me (are gay people allowed t-) #ive had some fantastic teachers its just that none of them live up to the guy who let us build robots and who taught me usb > cloud #like he was the designated technology guy of the school. we didnt have a tech department it was just the compsci teacher #so sometimes hed come into classrooms of completely different classes to help the other teachers with laptop problems #i think ultimately hes the one i can blame the most for the path ive chosen to go down in college #like yeah for years between then and now i thought id study art but the gap year really let me consider my options #my dad started my love for technology but it was the compsci guy who taught me for a year when i was like 15 who showed me the beauty #ive had 3 high schools so after my 4th year i switched schools and i havent seen him since #but yeah. he was fun

[batboyblog]

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #16

April 26-May 3 2024

President Biden announced $3 billion to help replace lead pipes in the drinking water system. Millions of Americans get their drinking water through lead pipes, which are toxic, no level of lead exposure is safe. This problem disproportionately affects people of color and low income communities. This first investment of a planned $15 billion will replace 1.7 million lead pipe lines. The Biden Administration plans to replace all lead pipes in the country by the end of the decade.

President Biden canceled the student debt of 317,000 former students of a fraudulent for-profit college system. The Art Institutes was a for-profit system of dozens of schools offering degrees in video-game design and other arts. After years of legal troubles around misleading students and falsifying data the last AI schools closed abruptly without warning in September last year. This adds to the $29 billion in debt for 1.7 borrowers who wee mislead and defrauded by their schools which the Biden Administration has done, and a total debt relief for 4.6 million borrowers so far under Biden.

President Biden expanded two California national monuments protecting thousands of acres of land. The two national monuments are the San Gabriel Mountains National Monument and the Berryessa Snow Mountain National Monument, which are being expanded by 120,000 acres. The new protections cover lands of cultural and religious importance to a number of California based native communities. This expansion was first proposed by then Senator Kamala Harris in 2018 as part of a wide ranging plan to expand and protect public land in California. This expansion is part of the Administration's goals to protect, conserve, and restore at least 30 percent of U.S. lands and waters by 2030.

The Department of Transportation announced new rules that will require car manufacturers to install automatic braking systems in new cars. Starting in 2029 all new cars will be required to have systems to detect pedestrians and automatically apply the breaks in an emergency. The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration projects this new rule will save 360 lives every year and prevent at least 24,000 injuries annually.

The IRS announced plans to ramp up audits on the wealthiest Americans. The IRS plans on increasing its audit rate on taxpayers who make over $10 million a year. After decades of Republicans in Congress cutting IRS funding to protect wealthy tax cheats the Biden Administration passed $80 billion for tougher enforcement on the wealthy. The IRS has been able to collect just in one year $500 Million in undisputed but unpaid back taxes from wealthy households, and shows a rise of $31 billion from audits in the 2023 tax year. The IRS also announced its free direct file pilot program was a smashing success. The program allowed tax payers across 12 states to file directly for free with the IRS over the internet. The IRS announced that 140,000 tax payers were able to use it over their target of 100,000, they estimated it saved $5.6 million in tax prep fees, over 90% of users were happy with the webpage and reported it quicker and easier than companies like H&R Block. the IRS plans to bring direct file nationwide next year.

The Department of Interior announced plans for new off shore wind power. The two new sites, off the coast of Oregon and in the Gulf of Maine, would together generate 18 gigawatts of totally clean energy, enough to power 6 million homes.

The Biden Administration announced new rules to finally allow DACA recipients to be covered by Obamacare. Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) is an Obama era policy that allows people brought to the United States as children without legal status to remain and to legally work. However for years DACA recipients have not been able to get health coverage through the Obamacare Health Care Marketplace. This rule change will bring health coverage to at least 100,000 uninsured people.

The Department of Health and Human Services finalized rules that require LGBTQ+ and Intersex minors in the foster care system be placed in supportive and affirming homes.

The Senate confirmed Georgia Alexakis to a life time federal judgeship in Illinois. This brings the total number of federal judges appointed by President Biden to 194. For the first time in history the majority of a President's nominees to the federal bench have not been white men.

#Thanks Biden #Joe Biden #student loans #loan forgiveness #lead poisoning #clean water #DACA #health care #LGBT rights #queer kids #taxes #tax the rich

[emeryleewho]

Saw a fun little conversation on Threads but I don't have a Threads account, so I couldn't reply directly, but I sure can talk about it here!

I've been wanting to get into this for awhile, so here we go! First and foremost, I wanna say that "Emmaskies" here is really hitting the nail on the head despite having "no insider info". I don't want this post to be read as me shitting on trad pub editors or authors because that is fundamentally not what's happening.

Second, I want to say that this reply from Aaron Aceves is also spot on:

There are a lot of reviewers who think "I didn't enjoy this" means "no one edited this because if someone edited it, they would have made it something I like". As I talk about nonstop on this account, that is not a legitimate critique. However, as Aaron also mentions, rushed books are a thing that also happens.

As an author with 2 trad pub novels and 2 trad pub anthologies (all with HarperCollins, the 2nd largest trad publisher in the country), let me tell you that if you think books seem less edited lately, you are not making that up! It's true! Obviously, there are still a sizeable number of books that are being edited well, but something I was talking about before is that you can't really know that from picking it up. Unlike where you can generally tell an indie book will be poorly edited if the cover art is unprofessional or there are typoes all over the cover copy, trad is broken up into different departments, so even if editorial was too overworked to get a decent edit letter churned out, that doesn't mean marketing will be weak.

One person said that some publishers put more money into marketing than editorial and that's why this is happening, but I fundamentally disagree because many of these books that are getting rushed out are not getting a whole lot by way of marketing either! And I will say that I think most authors are afraid to admit if their book was rushed out or poorly edited because they don't want to sabotage their books, but guess what? I'm fucking shameless. Café Con Lychee was a rush job! That book was poorly edited! And it shows! Where Meet Cute Diary got 3 drafts from me and my beta readers, another 2 drafts with me and my agent, and then another 2 drafts with me and my editor, Café Con Lychee got a *single* concrete edit round with my editor after I turned in what was essentially a first draft. I had *three weeks* to rewrite the book before we went to copy edits. And the thing is, this wasn't my fault. I knew the book needed more work, but I wasn't allowed more time with it. My editor was so overworked, she was emailing me my edit letter at 1am. The publisher didn't care if the book was good, and then they were upset that its sales weren't as high at MCD's, but bffr. A book that doesn't live up to its potential is not going to sell at the same rate as one that does!

And this may sound like a fluke, but it's not. I'm not naming names because this is a deeply personal thing to share, but I have heard from *many* authors who were not happy with their second books. Not because they didn't love the story but because they felt so rushed either with their initial drafts or their edits that they didn't feel like it lived up to their potential. I also know of authors who demanded extra time because they knew their books weren't there yet only to face big backlash from their publisher or agent.

I literally cannot stress to you enough that publisher's *do not give a fuck* about how good their products are. If they can trick you into buying a poorly edited book with an AI cover that they undercut the author for, that is *better* than wasting time and money paying authors and editors to put together a quality product. And that's before we get into the blatant abuse that happens at these publishers and why there have been mass exoduses from Big 5 publishers lately.

There's also a problem where publishers do not value their experienced staff. They're laying off so many skilled, dedicated, long-term committed editors like their work never meant anything. And as someone who did freelance sensitivity reading for the Big 5, I can tell you that the way they treat freelancers is *also* abysmal. I was almost always given half the time I asked for and paid at less than *half* of my general going rate. Authors publishing out of their own pockets could afford my rate, but apparently multi-billion dollar corporations couldn't. Copy edits and proofreads are often handled by freelancers, meaning these are people who aren't familiar with the author's voice and often give feedback that doesn't account for that, plus they're not people who are gonna be as invested in the book, even before the bad payment and ridiculous timelines.

So, anyway, 1. go easy on authors and editors when you can. Most of us have 0 say in being in this position and authors who are in breech of their contract by refusing to turn in a book on time can face major legal and financial ramifications. 2. Know that this isn't in your head. If you disagree with the choices a book makes, that's probably just a disagreement, but if you feel like it had so much potential but just *didn't reach it*, that's likely because the author didn't have time to revise it or the editor didn't have time to give the sort of thorough edits it needed. 3. READ INDIE!!! Find the indie authors putting in the work the Big 5's won't do and support them! Stop counting on exploitative mega-corporations to do work they have no intention of doing.

Finally, to all my readers who read Café Con Lychee and loved it, thank you. I love y'all, and I appreciate y'all, and I really wish I'd been given the chance to give y'all the book you deserved. I hope I can make it up to you in 2025.

#publishing #writing #author #trad pub #traditional publishing #café con lychee #books

[azsazz]

Midnight Muse (Part 16)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3,641

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Masterlist]

_________________________________________

When the scent of coffee hits your nose, you’re instantly invigorated.

You’d thought about canceling meeting up with Lucien this afternoon after your morning from hell. It had taken the fire department half an hour to arrive at your apartment building and another ten minutes to pry the doors of the elevator open.

By then, you and Azriel were no longer speaking, after agreeing to go to his exhibition with him, so you’d occupied yourself with reorganizing your papers, now half crumpled from their fall to the floor. You’d propped your sketchbook up on your knees and made sure you were careful enough not to flash Azriel any of the drawings.

When the doors had screeched open, there were three firefighters staring up at the two of you. Turns out, the elevator had halted halfway between two floors, and you’d had to nervously slide your body from the floor of the elevator to the landing below.

Even Azriel looked less that pleased, crouching close to you as if he was going to jump forward and snatch you should you slip. The firefighters helped you gain your footing before helping Azriel out, questioning you and asking if you needed to be looked at by an EMT.

The man asking was a handsome one. In fact, all three of them were, but there was something about this one’s deep, smooth skin, his dark braids pulled back from his face. His white teeth gleamed with the grin he sent your way, offering his help. You couldn’t help but smile back, and once the firemen had made sure that the area was safe and clear for the elevator maintenance and parted with cheerful goodbyes, did you realize that Azriel was gone.

You should’ve gone back upstairs to your apartment, but the incident left you too wired. Instead, you took a few calming breaths, shot a look and cursed at the devil elevator, and took the stairs the last two flights down.

You’d already missed your morning class, but you could still make it to your mid-morning one, Art History. The worst class you think you’ve ever signed up for in your college career thus far. But, it’s mandatory, and better to get it out of the way now instead of when you’re a semester away from graduating. The teacher is an older, knowledgeable man, but the entirety of your grade is made up of only three tests, and all of the art he’s showing you looks awfully similar to one another.

You might be fucked if you can’t figure out a way to discern one cathedral from the other.

“Hey,” Lucien greets, eyes roving the packed coffee house before settling on you. He’s dressed in a pair of loose, gray trousers, and instead of his usual sweater vest that makes him look like the most good looking TA around, he’s wearing a tight black t-shirt. It’s different, seeing him in a color darker than the gray that makes his copper hair pop. The deep black of his shirt looks painted on his skin, and you’re used to seeing him in looser fabrics.

It doesn’t stop you from brushing your gaze across the musculature of his body.

His hair is pulled back from his face this afternoon. A few long strands framing his face. He brushes them back with a strong hand as he grins down at you and his bicep flexes with the motion. Your mouth dries, and you’re suddenly thankful that you’re at the coffee house, needing something to wet your throat.

“Hey,” you stumble over the greeting, stomach flipping as his ying-yang eyes gleam down at you.

“Missed you this morning,” Lucien says, ushering you into the line. It’s longer than you’d expected it to be, but with all of the pre-weekend partying that seems to go on around your University, you suppose all of the hungover students like you need their pick-me-up to make it through the day so they’re once again ready to drink themselves stupid tonight.

“You probably won’t believe me, but I got stuck in my elevator this morning,” you huff, shuddering at the thought of being trapped in that metal container once more.

Lucien’s jaw drops and you nod, grimacing at the memory.

“Oh my Gods, are you okay?” He can’t help but to laugh and the smile you’re trying to keep tucked away breaks free. “You made it out, obviously, but holy hell, (Y/N), how are you even here right now? I’d have gone right back to sleep.”

Azriel’s uncommon niceties and disappearing act had kept you from doing just that.

You cross your arms over your chest, huffing playfully. “I couldn’t miss Art History. I have no idea what’s going on in the class and Professor Harvey sucks ass! I couldn’t tell you the difference from a Gothic or Romanesque cathedral if I’d built it myself.”

Lucien snickers. “I’m so glad I don’t have to take that. Instead, I get to enjoy History of Architecture and Urban Design. So, when you think about it, is pretty much the same thing you’re taking.”

“Sounds easier,” you grumble, glaring at the backpack of the person in front of you. “Plus, you’re naturally good at this stuff, Lu. I’m sure you’re killing it.”

The freckles on Lucien’s cheeks glow as his cheeks pinken with a blush. “I wouldn’t say all that,” he trails off, and it’s obvious that he’s being modest. 

You take a step forward with the line and count the number of customers that still have to order before it’s your turn. Behind the register is a guy who looks like he would rather be anywhere else, and when you catch sight of the letters stitched into his shirt across the chest, marking him a frat member, you understand why the line is so long.

Behind the frat bro are two girls scrambling to make drink after drink. Unlike the boy at the register, they seem like a well-oiled machine, dancing around each other as if making cappuccinos and lattes is a graceful dance. You feel a twang of empathy for them even though they seem like they’re thriving back there. You have no idea how they can memorize the different drink orders, making them as efficiently as they can and giving them out to the customers within a short amount of time.

This is the kind of pressure you would crack under.

You turn back to Lucien with a playful glare. “Oh, come on. You’re one of the smartest people I know,” you don’t miss the way the tips of his ears turn red with your slew of compliments. He looks up as if nervous, while you continue. “It’s one of your better traits.”

This gets his attention. He blinks down at you. “I have bad traits?”

You elbow him teasingly. “While your intelligence is admirable, your sketching could use some work,” you poke fun at him, referring to the last time you hung out to work on your drawing projects. Instead, you had spent the night watching a terrible reality show with the bottle of wine he’d brought. Lucien had followed you to your room where you were supposed to gather your drawing supplies. He had made a joke that had you laughing so hard you nearly cried. Your stomach had ached too much to get up after that, the wine making you boneless in your comfortable bed, so the both of you spent the rest of the night there, laughing and not working on your drawing projects.

Lucien quirks a brow. “Is that so? Are you offering to be my model?”

It’s your turn to blush now, cheeks hotter than the steaming milk screaming on the other end of the counter. Your mouth parts though your tongue is a twisted mess from his flirting, knotted and thick. You don’t know how to respond, but you’re saved by a very punctual throat clearing that comes from the frat boy behind the register.

“Are either of you planning on ordering?” He asks lazily, tapping a blunt nail against the cash wrap. He wears a backwards cap, white hair poking out from the sides. You don’t miss the way that his pine green eyes drag down your body and back up, ignoring Lucien completely. You shudder in response. “Or was it your intention to hold up the line?”

You shut your mouth, teeth clacking together. So eloquently put for a boy who probably has pre-workout and pron coursing through his veins.

Lucien ushers you to the counter, apologizing for the both of you. “Sorry about that, man.”

The boy behind the counter looks as bored as ever, though his green eyes brighten when they settle once more on you. He leans forward a little, mouth tugging up in the corner in a smirk that twists his face in an unsightly maneuver. “If I offered you the moon on a string, would you give me a kiss too, baby?”

You’re surprised with the composure it takes you not to bite back at the jock, but Lucien uncharacteristically leans forward to snarl in the boy's face. “Don’t speak to her like that.”

Frat Douche leans forward, flashing his teeth in a taunting grin. He’s slightly taller than Lucien, and wider. He’s probably on the football team or something. Not that you concern yourself with his extracurriculars.

One of the barista’s spins around on her heel, gauging the way the two boys are sizing each other up. Her blazing blue eyes glare daggers between them, as if the look alone can tear them apart. Her auburn hair is slicked back perfectly, and you wonder how it stays pinned so well when she’s running around slinging coffees all day.

A crash draws your attention away from the boys squaring up before you. The other barista behind the counter is frowning, staring down at the shaker she’s dropped to the floor with a clang. The entirety of the coffee house goes still for a fleeting moment, everyone wanting to see what’s going on, but within seconds voice’s carry throughout the space as the barista swoops down to scoop the shaker from the floor, dumping it into the sink.

“Ro, quit it,” she barks, a can of whipped cream still poised and ready to add to the Frappuccino in her hand. Those icy blues flit across yours and her mouth tightens sourly. “Excuse him, sir.” 

Lucien glances at her and seems to back down a little, shoulders strained as he rolls them. “(Y/N), what would you like to drink?”

“I’ll have a caramel latte,” you nearly spit in the frat boy's face. “Iced.”

With a soft nudge at your lower back, Lucien guides you away from the conceited frat rat at the cash wrap. You slide down the counter to pick up area while Lucien pays for both of your drinks. He joins you a moment later when you’ve managed to take a few deep breaths. You will not let him ruin your mood.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t,” you shake your head, cutting Lucien off. “Don’t apologize for him. Thank you for defending me.”

“It was the least I could do,” your friend replies, almost bashful at your thanks.

While you wait, you scour the shop for somewhere to sit. Booths are packed full with studying students, miss-matched chairs at tables stacked with people and their friends. It’s a frenzy if you’ve ever seen one, but the coffee house is a sanctuary for the university students, especially during the afternoon hours.

Tonight, the shop will be barren, with all of the patrons getting their caffeine fixes through vodka Red Bulls instead.

“You’re taller,” you comment, “Do you see any open spots that I can’t?” You ask, because there should be more seating behind the loitering line.

Lucien’s colorful eyes scan the coffee house as one of the baristas brings your drinks over to the counter. It’s the one with piercing blue eyes and copper hair. She’s staring you down, a hard look on her face that you can’t discern is concentration or annoyance. You can’t blame her if she’s either, concentrating on the tasks at hand, making coffees left and right. She has every right to be annoyed with the customers who ask for thirteen extra shots of syrup or her coworker who apparently doesn’t know how to speak to women. You wouldn’t be surprised if he’s made comments to the two girls he’s working alongside, but you think that the one who slams your cups onto the counter with a little too much force can hold her own. And so can the one with white as bone hair and goldenrod eyes. Those sharp, long nails dipped in metallic are enough for you to know that she doesn’t fuck around nor let anyone fuck with her. You make a face but the barista is already turning away, beginning to work on the next order.

“There’s a table open by the window,” Lucien points to the corner of the room to a table in front of the large windows. You lead the way, a bounce in your step as you move quickly so the table doesn’t get snatched.

“What a day,” you sigh, finally relaxing into the cushy seat. You place your coffee on the low table between you, and while it’s not the best seat to get work done, you’re happy to be relaxing and chatting with your friend right now.

Lucien snorts at you, taking a sip of his drink. You watch his throat bob with the swallow, and you avert your gaze, looking outside of the window. 

There are students walking by in a flurry, a third of them trying to stuff themselves through the coffee shop doors, needing a shot of the drink to make it through the afternoon.

“So, what are your plans this weekend?” you start with, mentally reprimanding yourself for staring at his bobbing throat. You play with the straw in your drink, swirling the ice around to give yourself something to do.

Lucien lets out a long suffering sigh that has you looking up once more.

“I’m supposed to be having family dinner this weekend, but I’m dreading riding back with my father and brother.” 

“I’m sorry,” you offer sympathetically that Lucien shrugs off. It’s not a topic he favors talking about, but you’re curious. “A brother? Does he go here?”

Lucien sets his cup down on the table between you, wiping his palms down his trousers as he clears his throat. He looks like he’s preparing himself for war, with the way that he’s acting, and you almost feel even worse for asking.

“I have six brothers, actually,” he says, and you nearly spit out your drink. Six brothers? Holy crap, that’s a lot. “And half of them go or have gone here,” he trails off, and you can’t do anything but stare at him in shock.

“Wow, your family really likes this place,” you mutter.

“Yeah, well. My father is the Head of Civil Engineering.”

“Oh, so you’re like Vulcan University royalty,” you tease and he rolls his eyes, shooting you a playful glare. 

“If I went into engineering, I would’ve been,” Lucien answers, glaring down at his cup. His shoulders are rigid, and you’re sensing that he doesn’t care to talk about this, but he continues nonetheless. “Eris, my eldest brother, is getting his Masters in Civil Engineering, following in my father’s footsteps, and I’m going into architecture, which, and I quote, ‘is for those people who can’t solve a differential equation.’”

You don’t say that you have no idea what that is, but Lucien must see it on your face because he cracks a smile. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

“So, you’re telling me that all of your brothers are engineers?” you ask, because the odds of that happening must be some crazy statistic. Almost as crazy as having seven sons and no daughters.

Across the shop, the bell chimes again, signaling the arrival of more students. It’s as if you can feel the air shifting, becoming more electrified. The feeling draws your attention to the door, where Azriel and Mor have just walked in.

Like a magnet, Azriel’s gaze meets yours, bright and gold.

It makes you want to shrink back in your seat a little, with the way that they flick over to see who you’re with. Your stomach flips with nerves but you’re not even a little ashamed of who you’re with, so why is that happening? The gold splinters, and you can see the way his shoulders tighten from across the room. Mor senses the shift in Azriel’s mood and scans the shop, caramel brows pinched together in a threatening way, as if she’ll verbally spar with anyone who makes Azriel feel this way. 

When her eyes snag on yours, her red lips part in a genuine, red smile.

All you can muster is a soft smile and a lame wave, stomach flipping like you’ve been caught having public sex with Lucien under that harsh gold gaze. 

Dragging your eyes from the sight of them, you focus on Lucien with all of your might as you feel him watching you, reading you.

“Not entirely,” Lucien shrugs, scooting his chair closer to yours now that the coffee shop has gone up in decibels with all of the post lunch time rush. “Eris is studying for his masters. Pyrolas is on scholarship at St. Bryaxis’ University for wrestling, but on paper he’s a communications major, which is funny because everytime he talks to someone in the family they’re always arguing,” he rolls his eyes, but the smile that accompanies it tells you that he’s close with Pyrolas. “He’s never cared about what anyone thinks about him anyway, which is a trait I wish I had,” Lucien admits, and you’re agreeing with him. 

“Me too,” you sigh, placing a hand on his knee empathetically. “Are you close to him?”

“Used to be,” he shrugs a little. “Oak is the smartest, he’s a senior, getting a physics degree, which my father couldn’t complain about. Conleth is in the Netherlands, taking the semester to study bridge structure. Boring, I know,” he laughs at the face you’re making. “And the twins are juniors here, Foxe is studying Mechanical Engineering and Finch is studying Chemical Engineering. Always sucking up to dad, those two.”

“Damn,” you curse low, shocked. “I’m not sure if I’m more shocked by the fact that your entire family is a bunch of geniuses or that two of your brothers are named after animals.”

Your joke seems to crack the heaviness of the conversation. It’s clear that whatever kind of relationships he has with his father and brothers is strained, but Lucien allows the feeling to fall off of his shoulders as the two of you burst into fits of giggles.

“See, this is why I like you, (Y/N). You’re very easy to talk to.”

“Don’t forget funny,” you chuckle, grinning wide.

“Right, how could I forget. Funniest person I’ve ever met,” he jokes, nudging you with his shoulder.

“Hey,” you whine, shoving right back, “It’s true! I would never lie about something like that!”

Lucien smiles broadly, taking another sip of his drink. “You’re right, I’ll give you that one. What about you? Any plans this weekend?” 

Your stomach bottoms out at the thought of your plans for the weekend. You’re going to Azriel’s exhibition tomorrow, someone who you’ve been beefing with since the start of the year. Why had you said yes? You really want to spend your Saturday night with someone you’re not even sure you can make it through the night without arguing with? 

Parting your mouth to answer Lucien, you’re cut off by a looming figure. Looking up, you notice Azriel. His jaw is set in a firm line, golden eyes blazing like a thousand fires. There’s a steaming hot coffee in his hand and you find yourself wondering what he’s drinking, but you assume that it’s plain black coffee like the attire he’s dressed in. Mor stands a step behind, a sly smirk she’s clearly trying to hide on her lips.

“I’ll pick you up at 7:30 tomorrow night.” Azriel’s voice is cold as shadows, and you frown in response. Lucien looks confused, staring up at your neighbor as if he recognizes him somehow.

You nod shallowly, cheeks hot at the look on Azriel’s face. You don’t know why you feel like you’ve been caught in the act, but him interrupting you like this is none of his business. He could have asked Cassian for your number or told you this morning if he thought you needed the reminder. “Okay.”

Azriel stares at you for a moment longer, then twists on his heel and stalks away, completely ignoring the hard look on Lucien’s face and forgetting Mor.

You follow him, the way he moves with such grace. The crowd parts for him, more sets of hungry eyes trailing after him like yours. It makes something hot twist your gut, and you’re tearing your gaze away to Mor, who beams brightly.

“So nice to meet you last night, (Y/N),” she winks, looking like she knows something that you don’t. “I hope to see you again soon.” With a flourish of her blonde hair being tossed over her shoulder, Mor trails Azriel out of the coffee shop, just as many eyes following her as there were following Azriel.

“I thought you didn’t like that guy,” Lucien says, slumping back in his chair a little. You’d complained when he had come over to your apartment to study, when he’d told you that he ran into Cassian and his moody roommate in the hall. 

“Yeah,” you answer weakly, reaching for your coffee again. The words taste funny on your tongue as they come out. “I don’t.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Midnight Muse Taglist: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @homeslices @quinzzelx @carlandonorri-s @juniper-july19

#acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #midnight muse #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #tattoo artist!azriel #artist!azriel #art school au #modern acotar

[jouxlskaard]

I like to think that Elias is boring on purpose. he spends his time and effort when he should be working on boring his employees instead. he's perfected it to an art. every day, he visits each department and tries to find the time to talk about spreadsheets whenever there's the most people in one room at a time. then he tallies up how many of them visibly and/or audibly react with some form of disgust, and compares it with other days. he'd have realised how sad that really is if he hadn't been found out, but at least now he gets to be as deranged as humanly possible. you go, Elias. I love you you stinky rat whore, can't wait for you to show up in the new protocol episode <3

#the magnus protocol #tmagp #elias bouchard #elias tma #jonah magnus #tma spoilers #art #character design #character art #whoever said elias is creepy from the beginning is dead wrong #because i didn't think he was a bad guy until he bashed a sad hobo's brains in with a metal pipe #and i literally SAW the wiki that said he was an antagonist #i just thought he'd be a little antagonistic #because of how he refused to believe his employees when they said they were being targeted by a worm woman #and by how utterly boring he was #the magnus archives #magnus archives #magnus archive fanart #tma fanart

[genshin-impact-unofficial]

Naughty Little Secret Pt.2

Reactions of Genshin men finding your spicy literature.

Ft. Childe, Albedo, and Alhaitham  (Aka blue eyed boy edition)

(PART 1) Ft. Diluc, Cyno, and Thoma  (PART 3) Ft. Scaramouche, Itto, and Xiao

Tags: PG-13, Sexual Themes, GN!Reader, Technically SFW, Crushes, TW!Blood (Albedo) but it’s very mild, LOTS OF TEASING Notes: I swear my first time writing a character always turns out so long. I so appreciate everyone cheering me on tho! Feel free to send suggestions to my inbox! 💘(Repost!)

Childe

Spicy romance novels were your guilty pleasure. After a rough week at work, you deserved to sit back at Yanshang Teahouse and let the flow of words on the pages guide your imagination. You held your newest purchase in your hand and pondered if the cover art was a coincidence. Perhaps deep down, you subconsciously picked the book with a pretty ginger boy on the cover.

Tartagalia hadn’t visited Liyue in a while... and maybe there was a part of you that missed the tall handsome Snezhnayan boy just a tiny bit. You were a tad totally heartbroken when your friend departed from the harbor. He would come by your work quite often just to chat and whenever he had time to kill. Eventually, his company and charming words just became a part of your routine. It was impossible not to be dazzled by the boy’s abundant attention. But as time passed and you felt confident that you were completely over your little crush. You shook your head of those thoughts, it wasn’t important why you chose the book you did. You were here to enjoy yourself and you were hell bound to do just that.

The orange haired protagonist finds himself swept up in trouble much bigger than himself. To protect what’s dearest to him, he becomes a spy to an organization he holds no loyalty to. While behind enemy lines, he meets a girl who sees right through the mask he puts on. She not only figures out he’s a spy, but also sees his bleeding heart that has the ability to turn for the better. Your heart ached for the boy. The way he was stuck between his duties and who he loved made you feel endless sympathy for the protag. He had to betray one in the end to accomplish the other. 

His mission was going to be completed in the morning. After that, he would never see the girl again. The handsome ginger spilled his feeling, laying himself out bare to the girl he loved. She knows, she always did, and she wanted to show him now on their last night. Emotions flood forward as their bodies tangle with one another. He wants her to feel his earnest passion.  He wants to bring her joy, to bring her the happiness she deserved, to bring her pleasure...  A low familiar whistle pulled your mind from the scene. No way...

“Huh, so this is what you do while I’m away...” A cheeky voice teased. You whipped your head to look at the widest shit eating grin that you’ve ever seen since.... well since he left.  

“Tartagalia? What- When did you?” You were reeling and sputtered in surprise and embarrassment. You attempted redirect his attention and tuck the novel behind you as a last ditch effort to save your pride. But alas, Ajax was not known to be a merciful guy.  

“Ah ah ah Y/N, I hadn’t got a good look at that last page. I just have to know about those ‘rippling abs’ mentioned.” Childe playfully reached behind you and snagged the book from your grip. You tried to swipe it back but his reflexes were too fast. “You don’t mind sharing right?”

“I’m serious give it back Childe!”  You threatened, but it only spurred him further. He had a whole head up on you, and was talking full advantage of it. Childe held the book open above you and dramatically cleared his throat before reciting naughty lines from the passages. Your felt your face burn red in both embarrassment and now absolute fury. 

This kid was so dead!

Albedo

There was urgency in your steps while you trekked through the snowy path. You visited Dragonspine enough times to know the beaten trail even when covered in fresh snow, but it was still your least favorite part of coming to the lab. If you had to list your favorite part, well...... your friend Albedo wasn’t exactly terrible to look at. You were glad to see him again so soon. Typically, you purposely spaced out your visits up the mountain, but when you received a letter asking for your assistance in a research matter you really couldn’t say no. 

As junior librarian of the knights, you were tasked with dropping off books and other study material to Albedo’s lab. It’s a grueling task but the two of you got along very well so you were always happy to do it. That being said, you weren’t exactly a person of science and opted reading into history and arts most times. Through years of knowing Albedo, you had to set a clear cut boundary on being a test rat for the alchemist. So far he has respected your wishes, so you didn’t assume it was why he’d call you out here. The curiosity was almost as bad as the blistering cold hitting your nose. As soon as the light illuminating from the lab was in view, you rushed forward desperate for warmth. 

“Y/N, I’ve been awaiting you.” Albedo greeted you kindly. 

“Hey Albe-” The words died in your throat when you caught sight of your friend. The blond’s hair was free from its usual up-do, messy locks framed the boys handsome features and flowed over his shoulders. Albedo’s neat attire was now lax, his knightly accessories nowhere to be seen. What could be seen was the expanse of the alchemist’s collarbone since two additional buttons were undone on his dress shirt. Somehow even while fully clothed, it felt indecent to witness him like this. “Is... everything alright Albedo?” You asked, averting your eyes to keep from ogling your friend. 

“Of course.” Albedo answered easily, his voice was low and sultry. “Please take a seat Y/N. I have something urgent that needs your eyes.” He directed you, cocking his head towards the small table. Your brain was short circuiting and all you could think to do was obediently sit. You had never seen the serious and calculated man like this but you weren’t exactly complaining either. Albedo served you a cup of hot tea and opted to lean against the table instead of sitting. 

“So... um what did you need me to look at.” You asked awkwardly, unsure what to do with yourself. 

“Well obviously I want you to look at me Y/N” A light smirk formed across Albedo’s lips and he smoothly leaned over your chair. Your eyes followed every single movement while your face quickly began to heat up. Where was all of this coming from? Should you be concerned? 

“W- what do you mean by that?” You blurted out, mind racing a mile a minute.

“I want you to-” Everything came to a screeching halt when your chair, that Albedo had been leaning on, began to tilt backwards. Both you and blond were sent crashing to the ground, ruining any kind of mood that was building. Your head ached from where you bumped it but Albedo intentionally took the brunt of it, completely face-planting into the hard floor. 

“Albedo are you alright??” You hovered over him. The boy simply turned to you and blinked. His stoic expression was more akin to what you typically were used to. 

“I apologize Y/N. It seems I didn’t fully grasp the concepts in the experiment before executing it. Are you hurt?” He stood up and carefully helped you to your feet. He examined you for any signs of injury, regardless of his obviously bleeding nose. 

“Im good, the chair broke most of my fall. You on the other hand...” You grabbed a handkerchief and try to assist him. “Wait... experiment? Is that what this is all about?” You accused, slightly irked. 

“Yes, I saw a fascinating book among the study material you left behind recently. I assumed that it was a new subject you had recommended for me.” Albedo stated simply. “Its contents was um... quite intimate at times, but I thought it was a interesting perspective on forming human connections.” You felt froze, but this time not from the blistering cold. 

“Did the book have um.... did it have a pair of cuffs on the front?” You asked, praying to the archons that you were mistaken.

“Yes, I studied it extensively.” Albedo replied without a hint of shame on his features.  You replayed his interactions and what had just transpired in your head and looked back over to your friend.

“Okay two things. One, don’t you dare breathe a word to anyone about that book or else I’ll be very upset with you. And two, that was fucking hilarious.” You bursted out in laughter at the absurdity of the whole happenstance. Albedo gazed back at you confused, but your amusement was undeniably infectious. He smiled fondly back at you. Although the experiment couldn’t be labeled a success, the outcome was still one he found pleasing.  

Alhaitham

It was grueling working in the Akademiya recently. The overthrow of power left everyone with plenty to do. You would go mad from attending meeting after meeting if you didn’t have some sort of stress outlet. Writing was a way you liked to ease your mind, like an escape of sorts. You loved writing loose plots for light novels and dreamed to one day send an entry to the “Wow This Novel is Amazing!” contest in Inazuma. You were far from a finished manuscript, but it’s days like these that gave you inspiration. After working through piles of paperwork, you earned yourself a moment of indulgence. Especially when stress was eating you alive, your scenes tended to take a turn for the... suggestive. 

The scene opened to the main character pondering why their mentor kept themselves at arms length. She respected him immensely and strives to uphold his reputation by improving her skill. He was young and handsome, skilled far beyond his years. They held a close bond, closer than either of them have ever experienced. Now it was unclear why he was giving her such a cold shoulder. She confronts her mentor about the reasons behind his actions. He expresses his pride in her, how she has come far in the their time together. But for her to achieve new highs, she must leave him behind. His feelings for her would only be a hindrance now. 

She felt the tension between them for some time now. It was lingered in soft bushes between fingers, meaningful glances over meals, and caring gestures done without thinking. She’s fallen for the beautiful man, to a point that it wasn’t logical. No words need to be exchanged, only body heat. Arms hold onto the other in yearning desperation. Lips hungrily meet, as if they’ll never to be sated. Her want clouds all her senses and she could feel his willingness to give her everything, all of him. Hot needy breaths trail down her body, discarding any clothes that stood barrier, until he finally put his mouth directly on- 

“Busy Y/N?” The amused man asked from the doorway. You jump in response, quickly pushing aside the parchment that you were writing on. 

“Alhaitham! What are you doing here?” You pipe up, surprised to see your friend for more than one reason. Alhaitham had been promoted to acting grand sage while the rest was still settling, he had to be incredibly busy. 

“I see you’re not very excited to see me,” Alhaitham teased, strolling casually into your office anyway. “Even after I went through the trouble of coming to grab the data reports myself and pay you a visit.” He tsked. 

“You came to see me? Ah, so you need a favor.” You playfully jabbed back, easily finding comfort in the other’s company. It really had been quite a while. If it weren’t for the man’s inflated ego, you might have told him that you’ve missed him. 

“You wound me. It’s not an oddity for colleagues reconnect reminisce while also carrying out an errand for the acting great sage.” Alhaitham replied smoothly, not bothering to go through the motions and pretend to act hurt.

“Yikes, already pulling the ‘acting great sage’ card.” You chuckle. Alhaitham and you have worked closely together for years, so you didn’t mind going out of your way to do him a favor. But maybe one day he would learn that all he had to do was ask nicely. 

“It would be foolish to not use the assets as they are presented to me.” The former scribe shrugged. He opened his mouth as if to continue the witty banter, but a beep from on his person alerted him of something. “I’ll have to brief you later. I’ll just take the data reports and be on my way.”

“Right, here it goes.” You handed him the prepared stack of papers on your desk and just like that Alhaitham was gone, off to his next endeavor. Wow he really is swamped now a days. You thought, ready to get back into your writing. Ideas kept flowing through you as you looked for the parchment you just had.... Wait it was just right here. Oh no.

-

“ALHAITHAM! I NEED THE DATA REPOR-” You barged into acting grand sage’s office, which was no easy feat. You were stopped again and again by all the matra crawling about. Your mouth ran dry when spotted the parchment in the smirking man’s hands. You wished the floor would just open up and swallow you whole so that you wouldn’t have to look at that cocky handsome face. 

“The data report? Certainly, it’s right over there on the desk.” Alhaitham stated, not bothering to take his eyes off your handwriting. “I’m still going over some of it now and I have to say, it’s quite in depth.” He went on.

“You are such a jerk! Give it!” You resorted to trying to snatch it, but the former scribe easily turned away without sparing you even a single glance. You knew what he wanted and damn did it feel like making a deal with the devil. “I’ll owe you a favor, no questions asked. Just hand it over and keep your mouth shut.” 

“Two favors.” He bargained without batting an eye.

“You’re pushing it-”

“One is for my silence and the other for the safe return of your... passion project.” Alhaitham interjected, finally tearing his eyes from your writing to shoot you a glance above the paper. You willed a stern expression onto your face, even while a furious blush bloomed cross your cheeks. A curt nod sealed the agreement and the man casually returned the parchment to you as promised. You snatched the paper from him and averted your gaze.

“Y/N you have quite the knack for imagery.” Alhaitham added slyly. You expected he would tease you a little longer, so you braced yourself for the worst. What you did’t expect was the tall man to lean over you with his hand braced on the desk. Your eyes shot up to his in surprise. “If you’re ever in need for another peer review, I’d be happy to offer my services.” He winked. 

<A/N: These men need to be stopped>

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham genshin #alhaitham #genshin imagines #genshin #genshin headcanons #genshin impact #genshin x reader #albedo #albedo x reader #albedo kreideprinz #albedo genshin impact #childe #tartaglia #childe tartaglia ajax #genshin tartagalia #childe x reader #childe genshin impact #suggestive

[tinselxoxo26]

𝓐𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓸 𝓞𝓫𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓿𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝓥𝓘𝓘 ○◦˚.

[Note: Hello my lovelies 💕 I'm not present as this is one of my scheduled post from my 1 year hiatus. This post is about tropical astrology. Happy reading!]

Part 6

◌ 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬 born between 𝟐𝟒 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝟏𝟖 𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟔 have a nice handwriting or voice due to having 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐆𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢

◌ 𝐒𝐮𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟏𝟎𝐇 tends to aim being an "𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫". Art department? ✓ Music department? ✓ Academic department? ✓ Sports department? ✓ From my experience being with them they're most likely pick a department & try to hone their skills to perfection.

(For example: Art department. Learns how to master watercolour, charcoal drawings, acrylics, oil paintings etc.)

◌ 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 - 𝐍𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 🤝 hopeless romatics

◌ 𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 - 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬🤝 realists

◌ 𝐓𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐧 with a 𝐥𝐞𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 might get compliments from being mature/responsible or being a good parent one day. They're the type of people that takes care of others especially their loved ones like cooking/cleaning up for them.

◌ I've noticed that 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬 (𝐓𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐬, 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐨, 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧) in the chart especially in the 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝟑 (𝐒𝐮𝐧, 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧, 𝐑𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠) usually don't post/share anything on their social media like Instagram. If you see them post it's like once in a blue moon. They're usually reserved in their private lives.

(Unless they have a lot of fire & air signs in the chart)

◌ I've also noticed that 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬 in the 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝟑 might go through phases like deleting social media, distancing themselves from social media etc.

◌ 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐝 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐚 (𝟑𝟎𝟏𝟖) 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝟏𝟐𝐇 could indicate that the Godiva person glances at the 12H person while they're not focused, not aware, hidden/subtle glances.

◌ If you're interested in 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐭/𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲/𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐲 check for 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧 (𝟐𝟓𝟗𝟖) in your chart. I've noticed that ppl who are interested in tarot tends to have Merlin in the 3H & 6H or Merlin aspected to AC/MC or personal planets especially Sun & Moon.

◌ Check for 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞 (𝟓𝟔) in your natal chart if you have 𝐚𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲/𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬/𝐚𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(You have it prominent when it's conjuncting personal planets/ASC/DC/MC/IC.)

𝒪𝒷𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓋𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

Melete in Leo tends to have anxiety in their younger years/childhood/kindergarten/primary. Melete conjunct ascendant could mean that other people could see that the native have anxiety. Melete conjunct/square MC could mean that their anxiety triggers in public spaces. Melete conjunct/square Mercury could indicate that the native have anxiety in speaking. They tend to overthink every single wording that they choose & due to that they could take a long time to text. Melete conjunct mars could indicate that the native tends to have anxiety around men.

◌ Look for 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 (𝟑𝟕𝟒𝟐) in your natal chart, it shows how to 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬/𝐚𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲

𝒪𝒷𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓋𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

Sunshine in 5H is through healing your inner child by watching kids shows/movies. Sunshine in sagittarius is through travelling learning about astrology/tarot. Sunshine - Neptune aspects especially conjunction means that the native uses meditation to heal or uses fantasy as an escapism to 'heal' like reading novels/fiction/fanfiction etc.

[I do not own any of these pics]

Thank you for reading this far <3 Make sure to stay tune for my next posts!!

~ 𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑥𝑜𝑥𝑜26 🌸✨ ll masterlist

all rights reserved © tinselxoxo26

#astrology #tinselxoxo26 #astro community #astrology community #tropical astrology #astro notes #astrology observations #astro observations #asteroid post #leo moon #cancer sun #earth placements

[boreal-sea]

So something I realized watching a few videos and reading a few articles is that most of us aren’t angry at the idea of AI in general. Many of us are excited to learn about AI systems that can identify cancer better than doctors, for instance.

What we’re angry about is generative AI being used to destroy the jobs of artists (and I mean all creatives here), who have already been dealing with their work being devalued by modern society.

And I’m not sure how to deal with it. I do remember learning that when photography became a thing, many painters were horrified and terrified of would erase the art of painting. It didn’t obviously, and in fact photography because a whole new art form.

I grew up during the birth of digital art. I distinctly remember the phase digital art went through where many people declared it to not be “real art” and that it was “cheating” etc. I’m sure other millennial artists also remember this transition. But graphic designers pretty quickly adopted digital tools, and websites like DeviantArt popped up, and I don’t think there are too many people nowadays who would say a digital painting isn’t “art”. Still, I do imagine there is a gulf between how some people would view the “artistic merit” of a 3 ft tall oil painting hanging next to a 3 ft tall print of a digital painting, even if the subject and styles were similar. So the worries that digital art would erase physical painting was also proven false. And for the record, I think digital art is 100% art. The merit of digital art is equal to that of physical art.

On the other hand, I can’t say these changes didn’t affect older forms of art. Like, photography did affect the world of painting. I don’t have statistics, but it seems like it probably affected the world of portraiture the most. And I wonder if many of the 20th century art movements were influenced by photography. None of my art history classes touched on that and it’s kinda weird to me. There is definitely something about a Dada or cubism or surrealist painting that transcends beyond what a traditional photo of a landscape or a portrait can do. There is no location in the real world with actual melting clocks or people whose faces show multiple angles at once.

And then there was the digital photograph that changed everything again! Film has become a niche art form.

There were specific kinds of jobs lost due to the digital transition, too. I’m thinking of things like murals being replaced by printed banners, or book covers often being done in photoshop. Oh, and that’s another tool that was faced with fear: Photoshop! There was a fear it would destroy the need for professional photographers because everyone could just fix their own photos. Turns out nope, and in fact people skilled in photography and photo editing are still in demand. And of course there’s the loss of 2D animation in favor of 3D animation, the loss of practical effects for digital, etc.

And you might argue that in some of those cases people can tell corners are being cut and that they won’t stand for it, but Marvel movies still make billions of dollars so…

So I don’t know what’s going to happen with AI art. I am NOT saying “all current artists are stupid and wrong, in the future history students will laugh at how stubborn they were to resist this idea”. AI art is not comparable to photography or digital painting.

With a photograph, you still need to compose the image in the frame, you need to position yourself in the real world, you need to know your equipment, whether you’re using film or digital. You also need to know how to process that photo either in the dark room or in Photoshop. These are skills the average person does not have. You cannot tell an AI “that shot was good but can you increase the contrast?” It’ll just produce a completely new image.

I read an article about an art director who was encountering difficulties as the department tried to incorporate AI. They got back first drafts of art ideas from the people employed to work with the AI, gave critique, and the second round was just completely new images that didn’t include the suggestions… because they couldn’t. AI does not understand color theory. It does not have the ability to take critique. It can’t slightly alter the layout of a design.

And all of that applies to painting too. AI (currently) can’t do what a trained art student can do. It doesn’t know that to create a sense of atmosphere you should make distant objects bluer. It doesn’t know how to use human physiology and psychology to draw a viewer’s eyes across a large painting to reveal a story.

AI also can’t replicate INTENTION - and intentionality is a HUGE part of art. WHY an artist chose those colors, that medium, that composition, those tools, why they chose to display it a certain way, why the composition is like this instead of that - all of that adds meaning to the painting that you can’t get with AI.

(Yes, there is an absolutely valid field of art critique that evaluates a piece of art on its standalone value and the message it conveys without the context of the artist’s intent, but that should be compared to the analysis that DOES include the artist’s intent! That comparison can bring about so much understanding!)

Anyway I’m going to end this post now because it has gotten WAY too long. I focused mostly on painting and photography in this post because those are my particular fields of speciality, but this applies to ALL ART. It applies to music and writing and scripting and acting and composing music and just. Everything. All art.

I don’t think there are any forms of art AI doesn’t threaten. Now granted, AI can’t currently pick up a paint brush. It can’t use a crochet needle. It can’t hold a camera. And maybe there will be some sort of return to physical media in response to AI produced digital art. Or maybe there will be a response in digital art to stylistically distinguish it from AI in a way AI can’t reproduce. I’m not sure what will happen. Maybe some proof the image was digitally painted by a real person, somehow. Or that it’s a real photo, or a real article. I saw someone mention there may end up being labels like “100% human made” like we do for organic food lol. Maybe work in progress videos or photo metadata will become more commonplace as evidence of authenticity.

Anyway, NOW I’m ending this post. Whew.

#ai art discussion

[fl0atingtherians]

Therian products!!

I've gathered all the therian/alterhuman symbols I've made and thrown them into RedBubble, so now YOU can get them for yourself and show off your own theriotypes!

https://www.redbubble.com/people/f10atingbubbles/shop?artistUserName=F10atingBubbles&collections=3795926&iaCode=all-departments&sortOrder=relevant

Any amount of support would mean the world to me and help me continue making other free art for you here as well! <3

✨ Reblogs/Reposts greatly appreciated ✨

#art #wolf therian #wolf things #therianthropy #therian #alterhuman community #alterhumanity #otherkin community #otherkin #otherhearted

[staridust]

★ DO NOT USE/REPOST WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. NO MINORS.

Jack in my Pouring Rain AU vs Jack in my Sunnyverse AU

Gonna ramble a bit here about the two portrayals, there’s a lot more typing space here so I will also be using my posts as a bit of infodump sometimes! ↓

For starters, I really adore Jack as a design and character, there’s not much I wanted to alter about him in the design department, so all changes are subtle!

✦ Starting with Pouring Rain!Jack!

This guy’s probably the closest to how he’s presented in game honestly— still manipulative, still colorful, probably a bit more deranged because his sunshine keeps forgetting shit.

Art wise, I wanted to really keep the colors on him vibrant, but also give him sort of a dim vibe as well. His hair is a bit more reflective of turquoise highlights with a gradient of a muted darker blue at the tips.

I like to imagine Jack uses colorful knives (if he most certainly has to use one). I have colorful knives in my house, it just seemed right as I was doing the dishes one day. He also changed his paints ever so slightly, because stars are very important to him.

He’s also rather glitchy when upset, but not that of a computer glitch when it happens.. more of like… something that’s being rewinded and re-written over numerous times, no?

Or, maybe I have no idea what I’m talking about!

And finally, the colorful paint on him!

Rain!Jack’s original sunshine way back nowhere was actually a graffiti artist, so does Jack know how to paint? It’s not like he would say, but it is a bit easier to play off a mysterious red stain if you’re covered in all the other colors.

——

✦ Ending with Sunnyverse!Jack!

Sunnyverse, is quite frankly a bit of a community like idea. The premise being quite similar to the same notion of Spiderverse, where multiple of the characters can exist and vibe but may look different, while still following a canon of sorts. It’s basically like showing off your characters and AUs in your style!

(Honestly, with a name like that, maybe I should draw Spider-Jack… *Sunrise Spider?*)

This Jack is a divergent of the idea where the fictional world of CloudyTown is real. ← This information also is a slight spin-off of an unofficial AU called “Sunny Time Town” by artist Sauce! I will also be using “Sunnyverse” for the official name of my AU that includes my ocs that switch up the story in a non-yandere manner!

SV!Jack here rocks a bowtie and suspenders with the design paying a full tribute to a sketch I did in March! I’ve seen a few comments relating it to his teaching profession… and now I can’t I see it, haha!

To contrast Rain!Jack, SV!Jack’s hair is a nice pure blue gradient that dips into indigo/purple at the tips!

I added his belt as a tie in both of them (don’t ask why the belt is doing a :3), but now I hear the belt is sentient… that’s a cool idea I seen around, I gotta learn about that!

That’s about all the information I had on this piece though, til next time!

#Sunny Day Jack #Sunny Day Jack AU #SWWSDJ #I just really wanted to draw jack twice #types way too much for a simple infodump #I have a lot of time to develop shit #should probably be sleeping rn #SDJPouringRain #SDJSunnyverse

[strongheartneteyam]

Realize where you belong.

Pairing: neteyam sully x female!dreamwalker!reader/female!human!reader

Chapter 4

CW: jealous neteyam, angst, restless neteyam, obsessive and toxic behavior, mentions of violence, neteyam's current mental health is not the best out there (let's put it that way), the word "bloody" being mentioned in someone's thoughts, TRIGGER WARNING for dubious consent and slight NON CON, angry thoughts, melancholic reader, hints of depression on reader, anxious reader, mentions of breeding kink, reader thinking a lot about neteyam, reader finds out she's crushing on neteyam, reader is afraid of neteyam + attracted to him, neteyam stepping over reader's boundaries, creepy yandere vibes, slight nudity, sexual tension, neteyam almost trying to have sex with reader (if you squint)

Not proofread… as always 😂 I'm so sorry PLS don't give up on me, my babies! My readers are my lil rays of sunshine! No false praising here, I'm way too much of an honest, and sometimes blunt bih to do that! Ahaha you guys have changed my life. Having you guys reading my stories, appreciating my art… I'm still speechless. I love y'all until the end! 🥲🥺🫀💕 when I'm sad, you guys cheer me up with your comments, reblogs, asks, likes… I'm forever thankful ✨ I'm sending A BIG KITH to everyone that commented on the other chapters! I didn't have enough time and mental/physical health to answer everyone bc I've been going through some tough things in my personal life lately. Like, REAL tough. But I always do my best to try and show my gratitude to all of you <3 hope you enjoy this chapter. Leave comments below if u wanna I LOOOOVE READING YOUR COMMENTS 🥰💕💕💕

Chapter 3

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Watching me, wanting me

I can feel you pull me down

Fearing you, loving you

I won't let you pull me down

Haunted (Evanescence)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Hours had passed since Neteyam Suli had appeared to you in the window of the kitchen you worked in.

It was late at night already and you should be sleeping but, you just could not stop thinking about what had happened. How weird it had been to see a real na'vi - not an Avatar - real close. How odd he looked in your eyes, massive in size and so, so blue...

You laughed alone in your small room in the back of the laboratory after taking a quarter of a second to realize that the thought you just had was actually really funny.

Neteyam looked like a huge and thick brushstroke of sky blue paint. Still, he was… incredibly beautiful. He was eerie, weird looking compared to the human guys you're used to, but… something about him made his face linger on your mind.

You did not know how it was possible that you were finally having to admit to yourself that you felt attracted to Neteyam Suli, even after he appeared to you only once and, let's not forget, he appeared completely unanticipated, saying he had seen you before, multiple times.

You knew that raised like a billion red flags. Yet still, even though you did not feel safe enough to trust him or let your hair down when he was around, he intrigued you immensely.

༊⁀➷

You woke up the next morning feeling anxious. You did not know what it was exactly, but, lately, you had not only been depressed, but anxious too. You knew you probably would be diagnosed with clinical depression and anxiety if you cared to go to the mental health department of the laboratory, but the thing was… you did not care to. You did not want to. The real reason for your lingering sadness was already so familiar to you: you did not like the life you were living.

You looked to be free like the na'vi. To not have deadly boring obligations everyday, to not have to care so much about so many strict rules of what was socially acceptable and what was not. You thought your own race to be too complicated. Humans don't really say what they mean just so many times. Humans care too much about money and power when, in reality, deep down, we all know that's not what's gonna make us happy, what's gonna keep us warm in a cold night.

But you were never really like that.

Not to pretend you were a golden, precious jewel, so incredibly hard to find, so utterly different from everybody else but, in all honesty, as much as you did care about money and having a comfortable life - to some extent - you were never a greedy for riches kind of person. You had always felt perfectly happy and content to just have a few things to keep you cozy, like your earbuds, a good book, your favorite sweet treat… You liked it simple. Calm. Balanced.

You believed that everything needs to be balanced to work well.

Chaos and light. Pain and happiness.

People need all of it to learn, grow and live a good life, that doesn't get painfully boring and unbearable with time.

But humans lacked balance.

Too much greed, too little contentment. Too much hate, too little compassion. Too much selfishness, too little altruism. That's why your kind was, as unfortunate as it was, doomed to misery. The human race dug their own grave. God, they couldn't even respect and take care of their own planet, their own home, the place that kept them literally safe and steady in the middle of the immense galaxy, let alone being able to take care of each other, to consider other's feelings before their own because, sometimes, we all need to do it.

And that's one of the reasons why you admired the na'vi so much. They were so much more wise than your own race.

How many times you had wished, talking to yourself in the dark of the night, that you could have been born na'vi. Why was fate so cruel to you? You did not even believe in fate. But it is only an expression, anyway.

༊⁀➷

Neteyam was tossing around on his mat since he went back home from training.

Yesterday he was way too busy to try and go see you or at least watch you from afar.

Sometimes he truly felt exhausted from his hectic routine and just wished he could be like Lo'ak and the other Omatikaya young men and just be able to relax more, to have more free time to engage in hobbies or, Eywa... to have more time to sleep... Sometimes he went back home all sore. He was as athletic as one can be but it did not mean he could not feel jaded after pushing himself too hard.

But Neteyam tried to always keep in mind the noble, sacred reason why he did all that. He was going to be the next leader of his clan, a privileged position, blessed by the Great Mother. A position that so many wished to have and he was lucky enough to be waiting to take on.

He was the current Olo'eyktan's son. It was a gift, he should not be ungrateful. He felt bad for thinking that was exactly what he was being... His father, Jake, was Toruk Makto. He was brave enough to earn that title. Neteyam felt it was his duty to be as brave and fearless as his father, to honor him and all his efforts to defend their tribe from any danger, specially from the Sky People.

Everything was going as usual, if it was not for only one thing: Lo'ak seemed to be suspicious of the fact that Neteyam was out for so many hours, almost everyday (meaning, every time he was free to just do whatever he wanted and not training to become the next Olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya) and nobody had a clue of where he was.

His parents seemed to be too busy being the Olo'eyktan and the Tsahìk to notice something seemed off about Neteyam's behavior lately. And it is understandable. It was anything but easy to be the clan leader and the clan healer and spiritual leader. Mo'at was getting old and had passed the position of Tsahìk to Neytiri a while ago. So, Jake and Neytiri already were making such a huge effort to be able to live up to their duties, be parents of a little girl, Tuktirey, three teenagers and still keep their sanity. It was a lot, indeed. But they tried as hard as they could to still be good enough for their clan, their family and for each other, as a mated couple.

Neteyam decided he was way too restless to be able to sleep that night. He could not stop thinking about the way that human male talked to you, looked at you... He wondered if he really was your mate. He was not sure but if what he thought when he saw you two together was true, he knew it would not be a problem. He hated to get violent, his natural self was calm and composed. But he was going to fight for you, and, if it needed to get bloody, then so be it.

He decided to go outside his and his family's home, to breathe some cold, fresh eclipse air. It helped him to calm down a bit but it was not enough. He missed you. Like crazy. Deeply. He craved your scent… your delicious human scent. He did not even believe he was saying that about the way a human smelled. But he would always insist in saying you were different. You had a na'vi heart. Just like his father, back when he was still all pink and small.

He decided he wanted… no, he needed to see you. And it could not wait. It had to be now. He craved you and that craving would not go away like that. It was stronger than his rational brain. You woke up his animal side more than anything else did. He wanted to mate with you as soon as possible. He dreamt about the day he would be able to breed you, have you carrying his offspring on your womb. He would make you so happy, give you everything you've ever wanted, everything you need. And while you were still not permanently living inside your Avatar body, he still wanted to have you, even if it meant having you in your demon form. You were a pretty, lovely demon. His cute, sweet demon girl. His yawntutsyìp. (little loved one)

༊⁀➷

You just could not believe it was really happening, how the hell you got into those circumstances.

Right before that moment, you were almost sleeping peacefully, finally (you know that state when you're not awake nor asleep?), after having been awake, tossing around on your bed for hours for the most ridiculous reason you could ever think of: you were undeniably crushing on that weird alien boy. Neteyam Suli.

Yes, he acted like a creep when he tapped on your window. You knew it was pathetic but… he just would not leave your mind. He was shamefully living rent free in your brain. All cozy there.

But the worst and craziest part was: you were still afraid of him.

Ok, the na'vi were a peaceful, highly intelligent (arguably much more smart, interesting and wiser than humans) alien race but he was still almost 10 feet tall and was so freaking intimidating. You shivered at the thought that he could ever hurt you, even by accident, one day.

Still, you were now here with him. Outside the laboratory. Because he put his goddamn eerie but cute (the guy is a complete paradox) looking ocean colored fingers through the tiny gap you left open in your bedroom window - a passage you left for air to come in when it was really hot and dry, like it was that night - and that made a strange noise, enough to put you in alert mode.

Damn, what a bad habit… Leaving the window open, even slightly, was not even permitted by the people who took care of the lab's security norms. That could be dangerous. But you had always been a stubborn little thing.

You were now regretting your decisions, though. 

Neteyam approached your window being what he could be like a pro: a crazy stalker.

How you were still attracted to him… even though you were fearful of his na'vi build and strength… that was a question that maybe a mental health professional could answer. It was weird and problematic and you knew it. But you never imagined you would feel like this about Neteyam Suli. You really did not. When you first saw him, he seemed cute and handsome in your eyes, but he was still an alien. You had never considered being attracted to one. But now… nothing made sense anymore, things were getting weird.

Stupidity took over you when you were so sleepy and groggy and you saw it was his huge hand on the wooden window, so, you wanted to ask him why he ran away the last time you two spoke. You know when you're so sleepy, you make the most unimaginably silly mistakes? So… there you go. You dragged your heavy with slumber body out of your bed, grabbed your oxygen mask that was kept inside your closet and opened the window.

But why, though?

In the beginning, you two were having a trivial talk about mundane stuff, like how he learned the English language (his father, of course), he started to ask how and why you got an Avatar etc 

He acted suspicious but still normal-ish, for a na'vi. They always looked mysterious when interacting with humans. But then, when he was telling you about his little sister, Tuktirey, and your eyes were slowly falling shut, your body begging for some hours of sleep… you felt a change in the atmosphere around you.

Your eyes had closed for a while, on their own, and suddenly, you knew Neteyam was really close to you, now. He had been keeping a respectful distance in the beginning. But now… now he was inches away from your body. He had moved closer, his fleshy but toned blue thigh almost rubbing against your leg, as you were sitting sideways on the window frame, your legs hanging in the air, making you feel a bit cold because of the nighttime Pandoran air.

You woke up from your 5 seconds long involuntary nap really startled.

"Hey! Why are you… so close?" You looked at him, dazed and nervous, visibly shaken

"Sorry… Is it too much? You're just… so pretty…" Neteyam says, looking at you like he's looking at a graceful, otherworldly being.

"Yeah. It is." You warn him "Can you… step away a bit, please?" You said, looking into his eyes. Your gaze serious but amiable.

Neteyam respected your request and did what was decent. But you did not expect that he would soon change his demeanor, just like something was taking over him.

You were so distracted with your chat with Neteyam but so utterly sleepy too that you did not notice when your nightgown's thin strap slipped through your right shoulder, leaving your breast exposed, your nipple out for Neteyam to see.

It was like a beast had replaced that nice-but-weird-vibes guy you were previously talking to.

Neteyam had just lifted you off of the window with amazing ease, your feet now touching the ground and he got closer to you again. He had you with your back against the lab's outer wall, keeping you there just by being in front of you, looking at you.

His size was enough to keep you still. You did not want him to maybe get mad at you if you tried to run away. That could become terrifying in a heartbeat. You were brave since a child, but you were also realistic. Your height and body strength was nothing compared to Neteyam's.

He looked at your exposed breast with such desire, you felt like his amber gaze was scorching your sensitive skin.

"Neteyam! What-?"

"You're so… perfect." His breath was labored while he stared down at your nipple, hardened by the cold temperature of the eclipse air "Sevin…" (pretty)

"I'm so afraid of you, Neteyam... You're too big and honestly...scary. I'm so sorry. I'm always trying to pick up signals that may indicate you're gonna hurt me. I don't feel comfortable at all right now. Please, let me go" You said as your cold, anxious hands took your nightgown strap back to where it belonged, covering your boob again, feeling ashamed of the vulnerable way you had just been seen by Neteyam, ashamed of the fact that he, a boy you barely knew, had just seen your naked breast, even if it was only for a brief period of time

"My cute little 'emyu…" (cook, cooker) "You don't need to be afraid of me." He smiles at you in such a sincere way, trying to show you he means no harm whatsoever. 

Though Neteyam felt his heart tightening way too much inside his chest, hurting so much it was like you had crushed it when you said you're afraid of him, he was carefully trying to make you see he would never in a billion years harm you, his precious little yawne (loved one).

He wished so hard, even prayed to Eywa, in a millisecond, inside his mind, that you would soon realize he loved you so much he would kill anyone who ever hurt your precious, frail human body. He could not understand how you could think he himself would do such a horrible thing towards you.

When Neteyam saw you did not show any sign that you were beginning to trust him more, he said:

"Hì'i," (little, small in size) "please... I need you... I love your scent so much. I miss it everytime I'm away from you. I love the way your human skin smells. I do. I dream about you at night... " He gets closer to you slowly and carefully, caging you between the wall and his broad, crazily tall blue body, leaving no way for you to get away from him "C-can I touch you? Touch your skin?" Neteyam breathes, begging for you with his wide eyed gaze "Just for a little while, please..." He kneels down at the ground to be as close as he possibly can to your height "See? I'm not so tall anymore. Am I a little less scary now?" He smiles faintly, trying to cover his pain with a fake demonstration of joy.

Neteyam feels so insecure, without any guarantee that you will eventually let him in. But he will never give up on trying to be worthy of your love.

"You're always gonna be scary to me. Even when I'm in my Avatar, I think." Using a sharp na'vi knife to stab Neteyam's heart repeatedly would have hurt him less than that statement "I'm not as skilled as you are or experienced as you are when it comes to using a bow or anything like that. God, I can't even work a bow right. If you'd ever hurt me, even by accident I-"

"I can teach you." He interrupted "I will teach you everything I know about archery. I'm a great archer, you know? I like to call myself "Mighty Warrior". " He smiles, frowning a bit, trying to make a joke to make the situation a little lighter.

You seemed so afraid he was starting to not know what to do anymore to try to make you see you were safe with him. That he would defend you from any danger without any hesitation and not be the danger himself.

༊⁀➷

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#neteyam x you #neteyam sully x human reader #neteyam x female reader #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam sully x y/n #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam sully #avatar neteyam #neteyam atwow #neteyam angst #avatar fanfic #na'vi x human reader #neteyam x human #neteyam sully x you #neteyam x female human reader #kxamtxomaw writes ♡

[starrysharks]

alright, here it is: ZENO'S COLOR GUIDE 3.0 !

here, i'll have three "chapters" regarding color:

CH1: how i color in illustrations

CH2: color and character design (in zeno's case)

CH3: how zeno makes his colors cooler

CH1: HOW I COLOR IN ILLUSTRATIONS

it must be noted that, as of lately, i heavily use halftones in my art and the way i use them for gradients effects my color choices. of course you don't need to use halftones if you don't want to, as it's just my personal choice, but anything regarding halftones here could (probably) also apply to regular gradients!

when choosing colors in an illustration, i usually have three things in mind: mood, character, and contrast. we'll be using "gloomy bunny naptime" as an example here.

MOOD: what's the vibe of the piece? for example, here in "gloomy bunny naptime", wanted a mellow, sleepy vibe, so purples and pinks seemed like the best choice. these colors also have a dreamy effect due to being common in real-life early mornings/summer nights - basically, i tend to use associative colors in illustrations.

i usually only use a pallete of 3-7 colors, though of course more characters calls for more colors. for multi-character pieces, i would actually make a "rainbow" of colors based on the mood of the piece - essentially, a bank of colors to use for your colorful casts based on the actual rainbow. you can alter this based on the saturation levels you want! hope that makes sense. i'm not the best at this though, so i would heavily recommend looking for guides from artists who are more skilled in that department.

CHARACTER: velvet is the focus of the piece, and as a character her palette is made up of many purples and pinks. of course, it's easier because she and ribbon both have similar designs, but i would still recommend using colors based on/complementary to the focus character's pallete, though this is a rule that can and should be broken if needed. gradients can be used to provide a smooth transition from color-to-color and add depth to the piece, as well as showcase velvet's pallete. when making any gradient, you probably want to have a vibrant middle color. this is difficult to achieve in most art programs, so i'd do it like this:

you can use gradients in lots of cool ways to make stuff pop! (i think this collage shows i use too much purple and pink though.)

CONTRAST: the context of the piece also aids the color through contrast. (that's a lot of Cs!)- we see that velvet is just waking up, and the light from her switch is glowing brightly. i wanted to convey something like her switch suddenly turning on in the middle of the night, waking her up - so the console emits "light" in the form of illuminating the contrasting color of pink against the purples. it might seem specific to this piece, but what i'm trying to say is that contrasting colors can lead the eye to the focal point of the piece, that being velvet herself. because a great deal of the rest of the piece is dark, we look at the contrasting switch screen - the brightest thing in frame - and our eyes move around and up to take in the focal point character. at least that's how i wanted it to be ;w; i guess you could convey it as something like this?

CH2: COLOR AND CHARACTER DESIGN (IN ZENO'S CASE)

this is where i start to get annoying, so stand back! when deciding on colors for a cast of characters, there are many factors: time period, variety, personality, and more that i can't think of.

TIME PERIOD: this one is simple. for example, a futuristic time period (such as that in x-calibur) calls for colder colors, such as greens and blues. for characters involved in futuristic professions such as space exploration, this works incredibly well. for modern time periods, less focus can be on colors and more on the shapes of the clothes, but this is not a shapes tutorial! i don't have any ancient times oc stories, but i'd probably use earthy and warm tones.

VARIETY: this is also rather simple. i try to be aware of the palletes that i used, and the similarities they might have with other characters. i try to use similar colors for characters who belong to certain organisations or have a uniform, but of course, it's not like catholic school students adhere their entire look to their uniform, so this is a rule that can be broken yet again. art is all about learning things and breaking them, remember that!!!

color can also be used for symbolism. my absolute fav example for this is vivica and octavia - the amount of red in their designs is supposed to represent the amount of freedom/passion/anger/confidence they have or are allowed to express under their different circumstances. as vivica belongs to a strict organisation, she has far less red in her design, showing her emotions are stifled - meanwhile octavia has it as her main complementary color because of her freedom to express her emotions, though those emotions may be destructive because of her circumstances.

PERSONALITY: what colors are associated with your character's personality? i actually usually refer to magical girl groups to see what's commonly associated with different colors. here's the main trend:

red: hot-headed, passionate, firey

orange/yellow: bright, happy-go-lucky, sunshine personality

green: wise, mellow, kind

blue: serene, graceful, elegant

purple: magical, regal, fancy

pink: usually the main character (though this because magical girl anime tends to be marketed towards young girls), sweet, relatable, determined

of course these are only stereotypes from one genre of anime, and different colors have tons of different meanings. color theory is the best way to learn this! these colors can also express different moods, which ties into ch1. i myself constantly ignore these rules - v-con, a bombastic hyper DJ, is purple (though he does have yellow accents) for example. basically, i just take them as a general rule and try to have them in mind while drawing.

CH3: HOW ZENO MAKES HIS COLORS COOLER

this might be the most important part of this guide. once again, there are a few things to consider here: filters, hue, overlays, and more!

FILTERS: for ibispaint, you can use an adjustment layer on your whole piece to use a filter. i usually only use brightness/contrast here - upping the brightness (or darkening it based on the mood of the piece) and upping the contrast. this helps to better express values and intensify the colors if that's what you want. i often use it in all my pieces to some extent.

hue/saturation/lightness is also helpful in moderation. you can alter the hue - though it usually only helps if you bring it back or forward by just a few points, or the entire pallete will change. saturation is what it sounds like, and slightly over/desaturating the piece can help with atmosphere. lightness is what it sounds like - lightens the colors in the piece. i don't use it at all.

posterize and sharpen mask are some that i've used recently. posterize can add some crazy effects to your art, but i'd probably need to edit it slightly after using it because it can mess with certain colors.

HUE: it's a layer type that can change the overall hue of the piece. i usually use it at a low percentage for atmosphere. kind of like a gradient map but nothing like it? idk

and OVERLAYS: i just use a very saturated blue/purple color over the entire piece at a very low percentage, around 5-10%. it can wash out the piece at too high a percentage.

and that's basically it! sorry it kind of derailed at the end i spent like 2 hours on this and got super tired. goodnight i'm going to sleep please also look at other artists etc etc. bye.

#zeno's art #long post #color tutorial #liar by korn is actually a really catchy song yea the lyrics are weird but its so good tbh #peak drums and bass and guitar and vocals and then the lyrics are hot booty. this is what nu metal's all about people #ask questions if you want #about nu metal or art i dont care

[xenizaation]

project: star x

Warning! Sexual content ahead! Minors pleas dni!

pairing: jeon jungkook x fem! reader

genre: rockstar! jungkook, smut, friends to lovers kinda?? idk man

word count: 6k

warnings: jealousy, pet names, exhibitionism, mutual masturbation, oral sex(f receiving), protected (rough) sex.

a/n: this was a request! hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii <3 ! haven't written a jk fic in such a long time, hope you guys would like this as much as you liked my previous one, and hopefully, the lovely person who requested this would like it too. hope i used your idea well! enjoy and as always, stay safe! xoxo

you'd be lying if you said you aren't a fan of your own friend.

you'd be lying if you said you don't know his every song word by word, if you said you don't try to go to his every concert and admire his legendary art that's expressed in flashy lights and embellished in high notes and guitar solos. you'd be lying, also, if you said that you don't have a crush on him.

and you're a good liar.

jungkook was born to be a rockstar, and most of the time, you dare think he was born to be your friend as well. only your friend, sadly. the theory that he was made for the stage was proven to you once again tonight, after he made a whole stadium scream all the words to his songs in a show that was nothing short of magical.

as you walk backstage, it's like the fiery buzz inside your body still lingers from earlier. your ears stuffed from the loud music, your throat raspy from singing, legs soft from jumping around a little too much. the adrenaline doesn't want to leave, holding on to every cell of your body like it would never depart.

it's stupid, you think. how after the years have passed, you never managed to confess to him, that you thought your little dumb crush would pass- even though it never did. you grew accustomed to every time that the butterflies in your stomach replaced the tired feeling after a concert when you went to see him backstage. tonight was no different. especially as his voice was starting to be heard from a room.

"tonight was fucking amazing, guys!" he exclaims happily just as you gaze inside the room.

"it sure was," you say excitedly, awaiting for his reaction. he turns around, his face lighting up even more when he sees you, legs already carrying him quickly towards your figure as he hugs you tightly with a wide smile on his face. "it's good to see you too!" you add out of breath as you wrap your own hands around him.

six years. that's how long you've been friends. you started out as nothing more than coworkers, back when he was at the beginning of his musical career and you were only an assistant to his old producer. things evolved fast, you had a passion for writing and producing, he was the only one interested in it, and that was one of the many things that brought the two of you together. the passion you both had for music.

you left the label just a year after you met, hand in hand, ready to take on the challenges that the industry was ready to throw at the both of you.

you wrote and wrote and wrote. jungkook sang even more. and in your little home improvised studio, you managed to write, record and produce what is remembered, even to this day, as his best album.

his career boomed after that. tv appearances, fully-booked concerts in big-ass stadiums, a lot of awards (he even took you as a date to the grammys that one time), and even movie castings. no one could get enough of him. not even you.

you both became a lot more busy after that, success was taking over your lives and so, you didn't have much time to see each other. but you still did once every couple of months at his concerts, or at your birthdays, or random dinners you would plan.

he writes his own songs now, what a pity. but he still asks your opinion for each and every one of them.

"you're here!" he says, leaning out of the hug. "you made it!"

"of course i made it!" you answer with equal excitement that you find in his tone while looking into his eyes.

"oh, don't you dare say that," the man scolds as he breaks physical contact with you. "i know how busy you always are."

you smile. it's true, but never too busy to make time for him.

sometimes you asked yourself if jungkook actually knew how you felt about him. if deep in his heart he knew one of his best friends had feelings for him, but didn't want to accept it. once in a while you caught yourself staring at him for too long, or answering him in a sweeter tone than you usually do, even trying to look your best every time you saw him. maybe he knew and didn't feel the same, so he chose to ignore it.

you liked to fantasize about how it would turn out if you ever confessed to him- if it would play out like in those romance movies and he will say that all this time, he felt the same about you. you'd go ahead and move in together, you would be with him during the tours, seeing his every concert, and he would be in your studio every time you finished a song so he can hear it first.

but jungkook was a precious friend. you could never ruin that with your stupid crush.

you greet the members of his band, which you already know too well. jungkook took great pride in being your friend, so he made sure you got to meet them even before he played his first show. you congratulate them for the amazing show, and then go back to catch up with jungkook.

"so there's this after party," he says, looking at you with a demanding look on his face. it makes your heart skip a few beats. "you coming, right?"

his hair is a lot different than the last time you saw him. he used to have this beautiful medium-long black hair that went just below his pretty eyes but now he shaved his sides, bleaching it on top and dyeing it in a beautiful minty color. he sent you a picture right after he got the new haircut a few days ago, saying that he needed "a pop of color in his life now that he got to see you so rarely.". you thought about that message for days. he had a new piercing in his brow, and a few more tattoos on his hand.

"so you can ditch me again for some girl?" you huff, rolling your eyes at him jokingly.

although fame took over his life, jungkook never abused his power, but still, he was a man with needs who knew how to take advantage of his looks to take any girl into his bed. it was of no surprise when he looked way above hot even before he was a star. it never really bothered you, seeing him with all those pretty girls. it's not like you ever confessed to him.

"i never did that!" he says, hand over his heart, taking fake offense to your words. you raise a brow and he laughs. "okay, fine, I'm all yours tonight."

it makes you laugh too, knowing that at the end of the night, this will be proved as a lie and it will be just another thing you can shove in his face the next time.

"c'mon it's a good opportunity for us to catch up with each other," he pleads as he places a hand on top of yours, making your skin burn right underneath his touch.

"all right then, playboy," you say while slapping his firm shoulder. "you're lucky I'm in the mood to get wasted."

in no more than half an hour, you already arrive at the club where jungkook's party takes place. the place is crowded, filled with pretty models, different artists that you recognize from tv, and even artists you collaborated with. you see a few fellow producers that you greet with the wave of a hand and a bright smile. as you look around, you realize that the place is filled with celebrities and you might just be the most mundane of all.

you follow your friend who aims straight for the bar, greeting the bartender with a cozy handshake. he says something close to his ear, making sure he is heard even with the loud music playing in the background. the other man nods and places two shot glasses on the bar, filling them right after with clear liquid.

"cheers!" he shouts as he hands you a shot, while he takes the other one. you click the small glass to his and throw your head backward as you let the vodka pour down your throat, burning its way to your stomach.

"i'm just gonna go and say hi to some people around, that ok?" he asks as he gets closer to your ear. you remain petrified for a second, getting a whiff of his perfume as all your attention goes to how his shoulder leans into yours, the simple gesture making your heart beat faster.

you manage to nod, and with a smile on his face, jungkook makes his way through the crowd, greeting people left and right, as he makes it known that the real star of the night has arrived.

time passes by and you're left with no other choice than to drink some more, or to hold conversations with a few familiar faces that recognize you as well. you're about six shots and two cocktails down and everything starts to feel more familiar. the dance floor filled with people having fun, the bright colorful lights that shine on you every now and then as you sway your body left and right to the rhythm of the song playing...what feels the most familiar though, is how jungkook has ditched you yet again. when you see him in the corner talking to a beautiful red-haired girl, flirting his ass off as she can't stop smiling at his words, you just scoff, realizing you need another drink.

you make your way to the bar, pushing past the sweaty bodies until you reach your destination and ask for a drink.

"haven't seen you around," you hear a husky unfamiliar voice from next to you.

you turn your head to find the source and you're met with a pleasing sight. a tall man sitting straight on the stool next to you as he drinks from a glass of whiskey. his hair is dark brown, swiped away from his beautiful face, making his sharp jawline more prominent than it might be in reality. in your drunken-daze you realize that you've never seen him before- he would be a recognizable sight for you have rarely seen men as handsome as he is.

"i could say the same," you say as you raise your glass in front of him. it takes a few seconds before he touches it with his glass and drinks some more of the brown liquid.

"i'm kai." he says, beautiful smile adorning his features as he offers you his hand.

"y/n." you reply, shaking his big hand shyly. he has a soft hold on you, not making it last longer than a few seconds so you don't become uncomfortable.

"what brings you around here, y/n?" he asks curiously, and fuck, your name sounds so delicious rolling out his pretty mouth.

"ah," you begin while pulling a stool closer to him before plopping down onto it. "he is what brings me here." you complete, pointing to jungkook who seems to have a business yet to be finished with the redhead.

the more you look at him the more your heart sinks down your chest. how could he abandon you again? he could be such an asshole sometimes.

"didn't know the man of the hour had such a beautiful girlfriend," kai purrs the compliment as he leans closer.

"oh, no, no, no," you quickly blurt out with a chuckle. "i'm not his girlfriend."

he raises his brows, intrigued by your answer. you take the time to scan his features more, wide eyes framed by long eyelashes, rounded chin, and plump lips- very kissable at that.

"what?" he asks, amused by your own involuntary giggle that came out of you at the sound of your thoughts. the room spins around a little as you look into his eyes, he is definitely a charmer.

"i was just thinking," you blurt with a stupid grin on your face. alcohol in combination with a very hot man that seems to be interested in you might not make such a good combination.

"do tell," he urges as he suddenly moves one strand of hair from your face, tucking it safely behind your ear. your heart skips a bit, forcing your eyes to widen as you look at him.

"your lips," you say shyly, drifting your attention back to the meaty element plastered on his face.

"what about them?" he asks as his face comes closer to yours. he intimidates you, not in a bad way but in a "you're really drunk and you don't think you can resist him" kind of way. but then again, his attractiveness might be something you could not resist even if you were the most sober woman on earth.

you dare say nothing more as you place a hand on his muscly bicep, not knowing if you should push him away or pull him closer. time seems to be frozen in place as he awaits for your answer, and you have none other to give.

things are quite different on the other side of the room. jungkook's attention has been fully on you since the moment you sat on the bar stool, ending any conversation he had right then. his eyes were fully fixed on you, and of course, the stranger at the bar who was so obviously flirting with you. you seemed to be flirting back as well, fluttering your eyelashes at him any chance you got, and a certain unidentified feeling started to burn in the pit of his chest, making him rush to you when he saw you getting closer and closer to him. there was no way in hell you would hook up with that man in the state you're in.

jungkook often mistook jealousy for worry, but now was not the time to debate on that, not while you were almost kissing the man in front of you.

he came out of nowhere, grabbing you by your arm as he excused himself in front of kai and dragged you to a quieter hallway. a darker one that most probably led to the bathrooms, which no one was even interested in.

"what are you doing?" he growls into your ear, and if you didn't know him better you would say he sounds jealous.

"what?" you ask confused as you piece things together. "the guy at the bar?"

"yes. what was that?" he demands to know, his chest pressed against yours as he traps you between the cold wall and his sturdy body.

you start laughing, trying to push him away, but he doesn't move an inch. you look up to him in the dim lighting of the club, his cold features traced by the shadows, his wet lips that you'd wish to kiss instead of that one guy who now sits alone at the bar, you notice as you turn away from jungkook.

"can you answer me?" he asks again, this time in a softer tone as his hands cup each side of your face.

there's nowhere else to look than into his eyes. you feel mad knowing that he suddenly feels betrayed by the one thing he always does to you.

"what? i was just blowing some steam off for fuck's sake! am i not allowed? are you the only one who gets to ditch me?" you spit, feeling frustration take over your body. the audacity he has, to account you for his action when he is reckless with his own.

"just go hook up with some girl around here and leave me alone," you add as you slap his hands off your face, pushing him away as you try to maintain your balance enough to walk away from him.

"you're drunk." he remarks.

"so?" you ask.

"so you're gonna fuck some guy you just met in this state?"

maybe. maybe not. what's his deal anyway? you're a fully grown adult who can make decisions for yourself.

"i don't see how that's your problem." you reply, turning your back on him.

you take two, maybe three steps before you feel his hand pulling you back, pinning you in the same spot against the wall, trapping you again with his muscular body.

for a second you think you are dreaming. that he is not there, and neither are you. that his lips on top of yours are just a figment of your imagination, and the smell- no, his smell, is just a ghost of all the times you were close enough to him to smell it.

your nails dig into your palm just to make sure you're not imagining, and this is really happening.

his hand brushes your cheek, soft lips searching your own for some kind of resistance- which they are not met with. you melt into it, it's something you craved for such a long time, isn't it? jungkook's body presses further on yours, leaving you breathless when his other hand hugs your waist, and his tongue pushes past your lips to play with your own wet muscle.

he tastes sweet, you realize, not like alcohol the way you do, but sweet nectar that gathers on his tongue every time he slides it on your own. your body feels hot, jungkook's might be even hotter as your hands place themselves on his torso only to feel his hard abs.

no. this can't be right.

"no, no, no," you say quickly, snapping back to reality, causing jungkook to quickly stop his actions. "what are you doing?" you ask, searching his eyes filled with confusion to find an answer.

"didn't you say you wanted to blow some steam off?" he asks innocently, waiting until you roll your eyes to show you one of his smug smiles.

true. but is this the answer? you keep thinking that this must come at a price. that you will give in to temptation and end up regretting every decision you've ever made.

his face gets close to yours again. you close your eyes, preparing for another kiss, but it doesn't come. jungkook's nose brushes your own softly, then your cheek, then it grazes against your eyelashes sweetly. it tickles in a pleasant way so you giggle quietly, but he is so close that you bet he can hear your heartbeats, even over the loud music.

"come home with me," he says after a low chuckle. "please." the man adds, whispering close to your ear just so that his hot breath fans over your sensitive skin.

his voice is trembling as he pleads for you to grant his wish, and you barely manage to keep your knees from shaking as you think about his proposal. it would not be the first time you go to his home, of course, but it was the first time when it actually implied something more than just staying over.

"what for?" you tease, placing your hands on his wide chest.

you get to feel more of him as he chuckles in response to your words. you feel his muscular chest, his irregular breaths, his warmth, and even the way his heart beats.

"to blow that steam off," he answers smugly as his hands take a hold of you again, finding comfort on your hips.

"you mean you want to fuck me?" you ask bluntly. maybe the alcohol was starting to affect you a bit now.

"you don't?" he pushes, pulling you closer by your hips until there's not even an inch in between your bodies.

you do. it's like a wish come true, in reality, and in the magic of the moment, you don't even bother yourself with overcomplicated existential questions like "does he even like me, or does he just want to fuck me?" or "what is going to happen if you do it? will you still be friends? will you even talk tomorrow?". you decide to handle these questions another time, right now you aren't going to say no to something you want to do anymore.

"let's go then," you say as you lace your fingers with his, leading him out of the club. he follows closely in your footsteps, holding your hand tightly as his body comes in contact with yours once every few people decide to not make space for both of you.

you find a cab as soon as you're out of the noisy club. the driver- a middle-aged man that was polite enough to turn on the radio loudly as soon as you and jungkook started kissing, seemed to have no idea who the man accompanying you is. the exact same man who was now touchier than ever, sliding his smooth palm all over your body.

"we're in a cab." you remind him quietly when his ear comes in the proximity of your mouth.

he only chuckles darkly, scooting closer to you as he makes sure the driver doesn't see any part of your body in the mirror. his hands slide slowly up your thighs as he makes eye contact with you, lips adorning a wide smile.

"i'm sure he's seen worse, baby," he assures you as his palm climbs up your leg, until it reaches the zipper of your jeans. he pulls it down slowly while kissing your neck, his hand sneakily toying around with the elastic band on your panties.

you bite your lower lip in disbelief, trying to contain shaky breaths as jungkook's mouth becomes more insistent on your neck, leaving wet kisses and red marks blooming on your skin as he sinks his teeth into it. his smell is driving you insane, expensive cologne scented like musk and bergamont that invades all your senses, leaving no room for anything other than him.

fuck, you think as soon as his hand slides past your panties and finds a hold of your aching clit quickly, way too quickly. he smiles when your hips rise to meet his touch, craving for more as his fingers start rubbing smooth circles on your bud, igniting a certain heat in the whole entirety of your body. he kisses you again, drowning your silent moans with his mouth, his lips, his tongue, his teeth. you can't get enough.

your hand trembles as it reaches out for him, going straight to the erection in his slacks, rubbing it in the same rhythm he rubs you. you're surprised by the length and the girth of it, making your mouth water instantly as you think how it would be to have him inside you. your pussy craves it, and aches for it as jungkook's hand shows no mercy in rubbing your clit with immense hunger to see his purpose fulfilled.

you start zoning out, already feeling your body sensing everything at once when your orgasm is just near the corner, only a few more strokes and- the car stops. you jump alerted as you look out the window.

jungkook removes his hand rapidly, letting you zip your pants as he does the same with his and inches away from you. mere seconds away from him let you feel empty, unfulfilled.

"we've arrived." the driver dares to say shyly as he lowers the volume of the music.

jungkook mutters an awkward thanks as he hands him the money for the ride- way more than it could've ever cost to bring you home, but that should make up for what the driver witnessed on the way home.

you both get out quickly, and your friend is quick to come by your side and hold your waist, pulling you closer to his body, as you both start laughing.

he opens the door to his home and you enter, immediately feeling his touch as you step inside. jungkook pulls you up by the back of your thighs, and you hug his waist with your legs in your time. his palms hold you in place by your ass, stroking it sinfully as he latches his lips onto yours once again, carrying you through his empty rooms until you reach his bedroom. where he places you gently on the mattress.

he sits at the corner of the bed, removing his shirt with a single move as he looks down at you. his body is slightly illuminated by the moon shining outside his big windows and you do nothing but glare at his toned abs as you struggle to remove your shirt as well. he giggles at your clumsy attempt to do so and quickly comes to your aid, pulling it from your body. he unbuckles his belt, stepping out of his pants as his body is left only adorning his boxers. you admire him once more, taking more than a few seconds to look at his thick thighs and the half erection he has while he stands looking at you in his full naked glory. fuck, he's so hot.

the next article of clothing tossed away is your own pants, which he so masterfully gets you out of as he kneels on the ground, between your legs which he now spreads. you support your weight on your elbows as you look into his eyes, not able to mutter even a single word as he pulls your panties down with a swift movement. he pulls you closer to him, starting to place wet kisses on your thighs as he gets closer and closer to your core.

"you're so wet," he says as he slides a finger down your folds, parting them while he gathers all your wetness on his digit. "seems like you've been wanting to do this just as long as i have." he growls lowly just before latching his lips to your clit, stroking it with his tongue.

you're too busy being overwhelmed with pleasure to analyze his words for more than a second, your mind goes entirely blank as all you can focus on are the movements of his muscle. he sucks it gently, licking his way down your hole, and then back to your sensitive bud again sucking it more forcefully every time.

two fingers slide in easily, massaging your velvety walls as they make your core throb, tightening around his slender digits as you feel the pressure to let go in your whole body. he curls them inside you, brushing them against a sensitive spot you believe no one has reached ever before. his mouth shows you no mercy, he uses it to lick, and kiss, and even nibble on your clit, making your whole body spasm under his touch.

"cum for me, baby," jungkook murmurs, fastening the pace that his fingers drive into you effortlessly. "i wanna lick it all up." he adds, and his wicked words aid you in coming closer to your release. like a desperate slut, you grab his hair in a fist, while moaning awfully loud as you feel your whole body tremble. just like that, stars explode in your whole body, the electrical feeling making you feel like you're ascending to heaven as your walls pulsate around his masterful fingers. you've never had such a godly orgasm.

a man of his word, he indeed licks all of your sweet release, not letting even a drop go to waste. he rises slowly, bed shifting under his weight as he picks you up by your waist and plops you on the center of the bed. his chin is glistening, thanks to the mix of his saliva and the juices he squeezed out of you. taking your bra off, jungkook stops for a few seconds, admiring your naked body as his hands travel from your neck, to circling your nipples and then back to your thighs as he pulls you closer to his form.

"you're so fucking beautiful," he says as he smashes his lips into yours, kissing you with the same hunger that he used just a few moments earlier to devour you. his compliment make your insides twirl, heart beating faster than ever before as you swirl your tongue around his, tasting yourself on it.

your hands scratch his wide back slowly as they travel south, moving downwards just until they meet his fully erected cock. you slide them inside his boxer, finally stroking his veiny shaft. jungkook groans into your mouth, and you take pride in the fact that he acknowledges your touch and deems it pleasurable. his hips start moving as they create friction between your soft hands and his twitching member. fuck, he wants this just as bad as you do.

not being able to resist your touch any longer, jungkook gets rid of his boxers immediately, throwing them somewhere on the floor before he reaches for the drawer of his nightstand. he opens the red foiled package and slides the condom on his cock skillfully. he positions himself between your legs as he gives himself a few starting pumps.

"is this ok?" he asks all of a sudden as he stops abruptly.

"you think i'm going to stop this when you're about to fuck me?" you ask back, amused of the situation and the abrupt change in his attitude.

he chuckles, as he teases your entrance with his tip, leaning over you and taking one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before biting softly into it. it makes you shiver, moaning his name filled with pleasure and a burning desire to feel him take over you completely.

"do you want me to fuck you?" he asks, voice laced with sin as he looks up to you, focusing his attention to the other nipple.

"fuck- yes!" you moan as a reply just when he lets out your nipple with a loud pop.

"how?" he interrogates further, using kisses to climb up your chest.

no one has ever asked you this before, all the men you encountered in bed until now were always selfishly chasing after their own pleasure, so they never asked what were yours.

"rough," you manage to blurt out as you feel him up again, touching his biceps and feeling muscles contract due to him supporting his weight above you. "hard...i want you to ruin me," you say before his head shoots out in surprise and he looks at you, his expression morphing quickly into a satisfied one before he kisses your jaw softly.

"never took you for someone who would enjoy that," he whispers close to you as he pushes up, aligning himself once more with your entrance.

he thought about it before?

"just tell me to stop if it becomes too much," he says just before his hands hug your waist and turn you around, your face buried instantly into the pillows as he positions your ass up.

he pushes in slowly at first, letting you grow familiar with his cock as your breath hitches from the amazing stretch. he goes in and out lazily, brushing his palms over your ass cheeks as he does so. you're already out of breath when he starts bucking his hips faster into you, setting an incredible pace that makes you hold his sheets tighter in your fists. his cock slides against your walls smoothly, hitting the newly discovered sensitive spot over and over again.

there's not much room for talking, the room is filled with moans from both of you and pleads of each other's names- they sound just like desperate prayers. he grows impatient, violently smashing his hips against your ass just like you asked, making you feel close to cumming again with each and every drive inside of you. your body burns, jungkook's body does too, making beads of sweat fall down on his white and clean sheets like a reminder to both of you of what has happened when all of this will end. you don't want it to end.

but contrary to your wishes, the man's hand finds your sensitive clit for the third time tonight, urging you to release a high-pitched moan as he starts rubbing again, faster, rougher than before. it takes a few moments before you come again under his touch, and when you do, it downs you both, his own hot seed filling up the condom as he tries to regain his breath, collapsing over your drained body. you both crumble like sand, melting into each other like you are one single being.

you feel him soften inside of you just before he pulls out, leaving your hole feeling lonely and empty as you finally drop your ass into the mattress, sinking your body into it as you roll around, managing to see him.

he's removing his condom, tying it before he throws it on the ground. "gross!" you'd think in other circumstances, but not now. he lays back into the bed, next to you, as he looks at your body like a hunter looking at a beast he managed to finally tame. sparkles are dancing in his eyes when he finally looks into yours, cupping your cheek lovingly before kissing you. he pulls you closer, but doesn't say anything, so you don't either. you nestle comfortably into his side as he hugs you warmly, the surfaces of your bodies sticking together because of the sweat.

he strokes your hair gently and you let yourself be taken to sleep in his hold as you inhale his perfume again, this time filled with the pure smell of his sweat filled with pheromones.

morning comes like a punch in the face. your head hurts because of the alcohol, and your body feels sore because of the sex. jungkook still sleeps, a few inches away from you as his chest rises slowly with each breath he takes. he looks so different, so peaceful from his usual self that is on the stage, singing his heart out onto the mic while all the lights shine on him. now, the only light shining on him is the one of the morning sun, stroking his features gently.

you get up slowly, searching for your panties quietly and putting them on.

"are trying to sneak out?" you hear his raspy voice. your attention goes to him again, laid out on the bed as he stretches, legs fully spread out and his body only masked by a piece of the blanket that covers his manhood.

"not really," you smile, as you put your shirt on lazily. "i was cold."

you get back on the bed, wrapping your own body, as well as jungkook's with the blanket. you scoot closer to him, and he instinctively hugs you like it's all he's done his entire life. minutes of silence pass before he says something again.

"would it be weird to ask you on a date now?" he chuckles.

you do too, placing your head on his chest in order to hear his heartbeats. louder than you could ever imagine jeon jungkook's heart could beat for you.

"you ask all the girls to dates after you fuck them?" you ask amused, thinking about just how many women have been in the exact same place you are right now. how many of them got to experience the magical touch of your friend?

"not really," jungkook says as he hooks his finger under your chin, forcing you to look at him in hopes that you would be able to read the honesty in his eyes. "just you." he whispers as he kisses your forehead gently.

"careful, kook, if somebody hears you they might think you like me," you say with a grin on your face as you push your weight into your elbow.

"and they might be right." he replies, same cute smile on his face as he brushes your hair out of you eyes and tucks it behind your ear.

the same gesture offered by kai last night, only it does not make you feel the same way. last night it made you intimidated, maybe even fearful of what may come next, but now it feels loving, and calming, putting your heart at ease as it does with the rest of your body.

"i do like you." he states clearly, staring into your eyes and waiting for your reaction. he doesn't know where it's coming from, but he's sure he can't ignore the way his heart] gallops faster around you anymore, nor can he forget the jealousy he felt last night. you belong with him, not some random guy at the bar. not anyone else, for that matter.

it's such a cliche, you think as you remain petrified upon hearing his confession. you lived in fear of confessing only to realize that you lost years and years wondering what could be instead of what can be.

better late than never, right?

"i like you too." you say back, kissing him after what feels like an eternity.

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[baekhyunsbambii]

Forbidden Waltz | Kang Yeosang

SYNOPSIS. Your university is quite well renowned for its creative and abstract programs, so it was no surprise that the majority of the students were pursuing a profession in arts. There was a focus in art, film, dance, drama, music, you could go on. These departments, however, enforced an unspoken, exclusive clique social norm. You never understood it. Thus, the student body was quite split based on their major.

PAIRING. Dance Major! Yeosang x Art Major! Reader (afab)

GENRE. enemies to lovers, mutual pining, edgy Yeosang, smut, Dom! Yeosang

WARNINGS. Profanity, NSFW, bullying themes, unprotected sex (wrap ya willy!), penetrative sex, fingering, oral (giving) semi public sex (?)

if you wanna be added to my tag list lmk! :) <3

Reqs are open!

Ever since freshman orientation, you remembered that one man’s stupid fucking face

Kang Yeosang

He was one of the most talented dancers to enter the university's program, being consistently scouted and recruited from various labels and companies

Despite this, he never paid attention to any of the offers he received

He would always gloat about how he valued the college experience more than putting himself out there for fame

You couldn't stand him. He was so full of himself.

Sure, you would admit that he was good-looking. Maybe more like exceptionally good-looking, but you would never admit that aloud

He already had the entire student body whipped for him. Not only was he phenomenal at dance but he had a charismatic personality as well

He was a magnet for people, that was for sure

quickly climbing the social hierarchy at the school, and of course, being in a completely different field of study had the two of you barely seeing one another

which was a good thing, you thought

You didn't know what it was, but something about him really bothered you

He always presented himself as a model student, he wouldn’t take anything less than perfect

In addition, he seemed to have no qualms with anyone, including departments outside of dance

He was odd, that was for sure

You swore this kid was some sort of machine from what you heard about him, it seemed too good to be true

And you were right

You have to walk past the dance department to reach your section of the art building

A practice room door is cracked open and you hear someone… punching a wall?

You poked your head in and saw none other than Yeosang slumped against the mirror, head held in his hands

“I fucking hate this goddamn school I hate all these annoying ass dickheads I can’t wait to get the fuck out of here.”

Holy shit.

Mr. Perfect wasn't so perfect anymore

You were lost in your own wave of thoughts until you noticed Yeosang looking directly at you, eyes narrowed to points

“What the fuck do you want?”

He is not having it.

Who does this art nerd think they are? invading his practice room like it's some kind of open house.

“Get the fuck out,” he pulled himself upward and took a few steps toward the door where you stood

Your lips flatten into a tight line. “Sorry, sorry I’m going—,” You pulled yourself away from the door and slammed it shut

Fuck.

He was not happy.

You knew the power he held on campus too

Anxiety hit you like a bus.

What if he told people that you were a creep?? What if he got the art department to turn on you??

You vigorously shook your head, praying that nothing would come from that interaction

boy were you wrong

You swore you never saw this man on campus and now suddenly you see him everywhere??

Wherever you go— the library, dining hall, and in the unfortunately shared building between art and dance — he is always right behind you

It got to a point where you would purposefully show up early or late to places to avoid spotting the all-too-familiar brunette.

That was until he had you cornered in your art room.

“What are you doing here?” You spun around, dropping the brush in your hands and nearly kicking your easel over

“You don’t belong here—“

Yeosang slammed the studio door behind him, rattling your art supplies on the table.

You nearly jumped a foot into the air

“What the fuck!”

He simply folded his arms over his chest and leaned his body against the doorframe.

“I thought it’d do you well to have a taste of your own actions,” He yawned, his gaze followed your movements in an almost predatory manner.

“Are you serious— it was a mistake! I never meant to go into your dumbass dance studio,” you scoffed, returning your focus to the painting in front of you.

As you swiped your brush across the textured canvas, doing your best to avoid the pair of eyes burning into the back of your head, you failed to notice a shadow looming over your figure.

“Hmm, maybe you are talented after all.” Yeosang’s breath fanned across the nape of your neck, tickling your skin softly.

You leaped out of your seat, tripping and nearly knocking everything over in front of you had you not saved yourself on a nearby counter.

“Seriously Yeosang, get out.” You hissed with disdain. “I can’t focus on getting anything done when you’re—“

He advanced toward you, step by step.

You hadn’t realized how close he had gotten to you until your back hit the edge of the counter.

shit

His hands caged you against the table and you felt him tilt his head down toward you

"Hm?" His eyes raked down your body as his head leaned to the side

“Whats wrong artsy?” He wore a shit eating grin displayed across his lips.

“Yeosang Im not playing around right now I need to—!”

You were cut short as his lips crashed against yours. His hands moved from the counter to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

You found yourself frozen, before you melted into his touch.

What has gotten into you?

He pulled away for a split second to take a breath, his gaze resting on your lips.

“I didn’t take you as a rule breaker,” He chuckled lowly, his hand traveling to the side of your waist.

You hated to admit it, but something inside of you was actually enjoying this.

A dance and art student?? getting together?? never heard of.

Let alone in the middle of an art studio.

“Yeo—“

His hands gripped your sides and he lifted you onto the counter, boxing you in with his arms.

“Hmm?” He looked up at you, his eyes flashing with mischief.

“We’re in an art atudio,” you hesitated, shifting your weight around.

“And?” He leaned forward, causing you to lean backward on your hands.

“I— Isn’t this a little much?” Your eyes darted around the room, inspecting the entrances and windows.

“Not if we make this quick,” Yeosang grins up at you.

His hands make their way down to the waistband of your bottoms. His eyes meet yours, waiting for any hesitation or uncertainty.

“Y—You can.” You managed to sputter out, turning away from his gaze.

Despite looking away you could practically feel him smirking.

His fingers dipped up under your shirt, the tips of his fingers grazing over your waist before dipping down and hooking onto your waistband.

You lift yourself up slightly, allowing him to better remove the article of clothing.

“That’s my girl,” he cooed, slipping your bottoms off your ankles before tossing it aside.

“Yeo,” you whispered in a hushed tone, squeezing your fists beside you.

What a tease.

His fingers travel down your stomach to the innermost part of your thighs, tracing delicate patterns along your skin.

You whined in response, tensing your legs together as if to create some sort of friction.

His hands continue kneading your thighs until you feel a finger graze your slit.

You let out a soft moan in response, eliciting a pleased hum from Yeosang.

He teases your entrance, spreading your arousal around before plunging a finger inside of you.

You let out a soft moan, “Yeo—“

Your voice catches in your throat when he starts pumping in and out of you, curling his finger upward with his movements.

Your hands fly to grip the table beneath you and you stifled the sounds that threatened to escape past your lips.

He slips a second finger inside you, his movements quickening with each stroke.

He grins up toward you, a seemingly sweet face in contrast to what his hands were doing to you.

“You’re gonna have to be quiet if you don’t wanna get caught,” he leaned over you before sliding his fingers out of you and guiding you off the counter.

His hand caressed the side of your face before he began to lower the waist band of his pants.

You slowly sunk to your knees, your hands over taking his to lower his pants down beneath his hips.

All that was left was his boxers, and you could practically see the outline of his hard on

Your fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers before sliding them down his thighs

Holy fuck

You wrap your fingers around his length, stroking him a few times before you engulf him with your lips

He lets out a low groan of satisfaction, his hand traveling down to cup your cheek

You began bobbing your head down his length, and Yeosang’s head lulled back

“You’re doing so well for me,” he whispered, looking down at you to meet your gaze.

Your eyes met his as you kept up with your pace

Yeosang fisted your hair, guiding your head down his length when a sharp knock to the door alerted you both

You pulled away from him immediately, scrambling backward to put distance between the two of you

The door handle jiggled, and to your relief it had been locked

Yeosang chuckled silently, his gaze shifting from the door back to your form on the floor

“What, did you think I’d be so careless?”

“Now, let’s get back to where we left off.”

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