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canarymemories · 9 months

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lasciare suonare

chapter summary: the first song he writes after those months of silence is something he shows no one.

content warning: he beginning of this chapter delves a little into leo's downward spiral post-checkmate. there is one line where there's referenced self harm, but it's very much blink and you miss it.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 symphony masterpost

here on ao3

for the longest time, music followed leo wherever he went.

a symphony played in his head, the different sections melding flawlessly with each other to create a perfect harmony he’d hurry to scribble down before it left him. whatever he was writing with — pen, marker, pencil — would end up smudged along the side of his hand, a reminder of all that he was creating. the rhythm would rise and fall with the staccato of his heart or syncopated tapping of his feet or hands, whichever moved to keep the beat first.

his life was full of music and leo loved every second of it, whether it was shared with others or stayed a concert for only himself in his head or on paper. steady for as many years as he could remember, a tune would greet him as he woke and he could just as surely rely on another to send him off to sleep as a lullaby.

it was a constant, and a welcome one at that.

or it had been until leo woke one day only to feel like a soloist abandoned by the group, horribly out of tune with no one left to synchronize with. he was left alone with no one to catch him if he fell off beat, missing notes the longer he stood on center stage.

rather than a reliable thrum of a song in his head, a staff of notes behind his eyelids, leo’s world becomes silent for the first time in his life.

he isn’t sure what to do about it. there’s an uncomfortable quiet that grows the longer he skips school, the longer he stays in his room. so he tries to fix it the only way he knows how: by writing music, the one thing that’d never failed him before.

yet it doesn’t help. he can’t even get more than a few measures out after the first few tries.

leo loses count of how many hours he sits in front of blank pages, the clef symbols staring at him. mocking him. he tries to write, he really does, but every time his pen touches the paper, in the midst of writing a measure, whatever inspiration he’d had, if any at all, would float away, leaving him there again.

it leaves him feeling empty, as if a piece of him is missing. and maybe a piece of him really did get lost somewhere along the way, between the broken pieces of chess, backgammon, othello. knights.

he pulls his legs closer to his chest, hands faintly aching and bandaged, as he tries to ignore the crumpled papers around him, ignore the hollow in his chest and the ink smeared on the pages from tears of frustration. who knew something that had been as easy as breathing for him could turn into something that made him feel so hopeless.

there’s times when it feels as if this is where he’ll be stuck for the rest of time, locked in his room with the blinds drawn. he isn’t even sure what day it is anymore, but it’s not like that matters when he’d resigned himself to a life like this, no use to anyone if he couldn’t do the one thing he was good at.

leo buries his face in his knees. a pitiful little noise falling from his lips breaks the silence. he wishes things could go back to how they were once, back when he thought people loved him and his music, not just the latter.

when music chased him just as eagerly as how he chased it in return.

his music had brought people together once, hadn’t it? now it only feels as if it’s destroyed everything he ever cared about.

leo desired to be on stage once.

he wonders if that’ll every come back to him. after he’d gotten the first taste of performing for more than just ruka or their parents, leo had yearned to return to the stage, to stand under the spotlight and receive applause and praise for a live well done.

he wonders if he’ll ever return to those he left behind and hurt so badly before they could turn their backs on him first.

yet no matter how much he dreams to be free from these dragging, neverending days where nothing gets written and he feels further and further away from ever writing again, leo feels helpless.

so, his world remains quiet.

it takes time and a lot of it for the first tendrils of a song make their way through his mind, whispered and incredibly muted. those notes surprise leo so bad that they disappear once he focuses too hard on them.

he’s spent so long now, months maybe — he truthfully isn’t sure — being stuck in this rut, unable to form anything meaningful. the thought of this block that’s haunted him for all this time going away feels odd. the thought of being able to write a song again feels the same if he’s being honest, but leo misses that part of himself. the part that could love somebody so purely and write a song about that feeling without even a second thought.

while he remains the soloist left behind, he’s no longer so out of tune, no longer fighting his way through the measures on his own. it doesn’t feel so hard remembering a song that had been on the tip of his tongue but would never come out right.

the first song he writes after those months of silence is something he shows no one.

compared to his normal work — can he even call it that anymore when he hasn’t composed in so long? — it’s clumsy. for a self proclaimed genius, the song feels more like a beginner wrote it. of course, leo wouldn’t call it bad. it’s just… a bit messy is all.

when he puts his pen down after writing a finishing fermata over the last half note, leo stares at the music in front of him. it’s almost as if he doesn’t recognize it despite having been working on it for, at the very least, a few hours by now. his curtains no longer cover the windows and the sun had long set, though he hadn’t noticed at the time.

without warning and without trying, he begins to cry.

the past few days have been a bit of a whirlwind to say the least, from running into eichi and keito by pure chance to stepping back onto the stage for the first time in far too long thanks to madara’s gentle insistence.

he’d missed it.

he’d missed it so much .

not just performing or the applause or the wide smiles from those in the audience. he’d missed it all so bad that he’d forgotten at some point that he’d ever enjoyed that kind of thing in the first place.

leo’s hands cover his face though he’s alone in his room. the door’s cracked open, but it’s late enough that no one but him would be awake. “i did it,” he whispers.

he sniffles, wiping away the tears that seem to just keep falling with the heels of his palms. leo peers out from behind his hands as if the song would’ve disappeared in the brief moment he’d taken his eyes off of it.

unsurprisingly, the papers remain on his desk where he left them. there’s a few wet marks at the bottom from his tears, thankfully happy this time.

leo carefully grabs the song and holds it up in front of him. the notes remain just as he’d written them, meaning that as much as this moment felt like a dream, it’s not.

his lips pull up into a smile without him noticing at first. spinning in his chair, another tear rolls down leo’s cheek. what a sight he must be, smiling so wide while crying, but leo doesn’t care.

he’d written a song again. finally, finally written one again and it’s real and in his hands.

“i did it!”

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leo knows that the other knights have been planning a surprise for him.

he isn’t exactly sure what, but between hushed whispers and quickly hidden somethings whenever he happens to walk into one of their conversations, he knows there’s definitely something going on.

so, when he wakes up to nazuna’s bunny shifting in the bedding left out for him, leo springs up with maybe a little too much enthusiasm for someone who’s only slept for a few hours. if the papers scattered around his bed and now on the floor mean anything, he’d fallen asleep in the middle of writing a song.

of course, his sudden jolt up startles the rabbit, the poor little thing scampering around.

“oh, sorry,” he says, careful as he gets out of bed to crouch in front of where the rabbit’s hidden himself. “i didn’t mean to scare you, i’m just excited! it’s my birthday, y’know?”

all he gets in response is a little nose wiggle.

“hm, you’re right. i guess you wouldn’t know that.” leo hums, reaching his hand out to the bunny, stopping in front of his nose, which once again wiggles slightly as he stays tucked within his little hutch. just as nazuna showed him, leo gives the bunny a few light pets to the top of his head then stands.

the other two beds in the dorm are empty. leo thinks he’d registered that it was just him and the rabbit to some extent, but that at least explains why it’s so quiet in the room. still, it’s a little odd that neither of them are there seeing as it’s still golden week, but then again, natsume doesn’t even return to the dorm some days and leo’s pretty sure nazuna said something the other day about spending time with ra*bits.

or he thinks he remembers nazuna saying that. either way, he decides, it doesn’t matter much.

the only thing is that without either of his dormmates, he has no real way to gauge what time it is. the sunlight coming in through the windows also helps him none, so he stars to search for his phone. luckily it doesn’t take long to spot it as he moves his blanket around.

grabbing it from where it sits poking out from under his bed, leo finds that it’s a bit later than he thought it was. that meant he’d slept longer than he thought he had, though it’s still the middle of the morning.

his notifications are filled with birthday messages and well wishes which only make him laugh a little, pleased at them all.

now that he’s seen the time, leo’s sure he has plenty to finish the song he’d been working on last night; the agency party anzu planned wouldn’t be until later and per knights tradition, their own small gathering is still a couple hours out.

looking forward to finding out what they’ve been hiding helps his inspiration return, so he hastily hops back onto his bed in search of his pencil, which he finds a lot easier than his phone. despite this, he doesn’t get very far back into the song when there’s a knock at the door.

leo ignores it at first, at least aware of it, but he makes no move to answer as he’s in the middle of a crescendoed section and he wants to get the build up perfect before he’s interrupted.

the knock returns, this time with a voice accompanying it. “leo-san, are you here?”

that catches his attention.

reluctantly, leo leaves the piece on his bed and opens his door. “suo, what’re you doing here?”

“did you not see my messages ?”

leo simply blinks at him. “no.”

tsukasa sighs. “i don’t know why i expected anything different,” he says. “well, i’ve come to escort you to your party .”

“wait, i thought that wasn’t ‘till later.”

“i’ve been sent to retrieve you early.”

leo doesn’t quite buy it, narrowing his eyes. tsukasa has never been a good liar, but he sees no reason to continue questioning him. he’d been looking forward to his birthday to see whatever this surprise is and if they’ve sent tsukasa to bring him, then it has to be something big, right?

“okay! lemme get ready first though,” he says. leo only catches it out of the corner of his eye as he turns back into his room, but he’s pretty sure tsukasa’s shoulders lose some of the tension in them. he motions for tsukasa to follow him. “here, you can look at this, it’s not done yet.”

tsukasa takes the song offered to him, placing himself awkwardly on the edge of leo’s unmade bed. “is it a new knights song?”

leo shrugs as he looks through his clothes. “could be, i think it’ll fit.”

tsukasa doesn’t reply, most likely looking it over as leo continues looking.

ever the stickler when it came to fashion, izumi had taken him shopping when they were in florence, saying that if the two of them happened to be out together, it would be best for their outfits not to clash.

leo doesn’t really see the issue, but he went along with it anyway even though he knows any shopping trip with izumi is him picking out far too many things to send leo off to a dressing room to try them all on. in the end, they — more izumi than leo, but he did at least take leo’s opinion into account — managed to narrow down their choices to one outfit that izumi said to consider as a birthday gift.

and if that’s the case, then there’s no better time to wear it than now, right?

speaking of izumi, he’d most definitely nag leo if he shows up with unbrushed hair, so leo makes sure to do that next. he’s been lectured about his unkempt hair plenty of times, but still, it’s really not his fault when he gets inspired and sucked into his next composition to remember do those kinds of things.

the flipping of pages fills the air.

“i think so too. we can discuss it more later,” tsukasa agrees once he’s finished looking through the unfinished composition. “are you ready to go, leo-san?”

just having finished retying his hair, leo says, “mmhm! ready, suo.”

tsukasa returns the song neatly stacked back to the bed as he stands. “then, let’s set off. i don’t wish to leave the others waiting for long.”

leo nods in agreement, more than eager to see whatever they had planned for him. he sets his hands on tsukasa’s shoulders and pushes him towards the door. ignoring tsukasa’s protests at being handled in such a way, leo says, “bye, bunny,” glancing back at the play area where the rabbit lay sleeping as he shuts the door behind them.

leo waits until they step out of the dorm building to ask, “what’s the surprise?”

tsukasa splutters slightly. “what surprise ?”

knowing that tsukasa has more likely than not been sworn to secrecy, leo figures he won’t give anything up. he’ll try his luck a little more anyway. “y’know, the thing you guys would hide whenever i showed up.”

tsukasa very clearly is avoiding his gaze when leo looks over at him. “i’m afraid i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

leo can’t help but laugh at that. “you really are bad at lying, suo!”

that earns him an offended gasp. “the point of a surprise , leo-san, is that it stays a secret ,” he defends.

“so, does that mean there is one?” leo presses.

“i’m not answering that.”

leo gives an amused hum to that.

tsukasa levels him with a tired stare. “please, no more questions . you’ll find out soon enough.”

content enough with that, leo nods and stays quiet even once they reach the building and step into the elevator to go up to newdi’s floor. while on the elevator, tsukasa takes out his phone and types out something that leo can’t make out from the corner of his eyes, trying to make it not obvious that he’s trying to cheat his way into knowing early.

the elevator dings once it reaches the correct floor and leo asks, “is it the same room as normal?” likely thanks to tsumugi doing the boring administrative work in the agency and taking into account leo’s multiple complaints about getting lost in the building, most knights meetings between the five of them tend to be in the same conference room.

“yes,” tsukasa replies, his phone dinging in his hand. “but we’ll have to wait a moment .”

the elevator doors open and leo considers his options. he could do as tsukasa said and wait, but he’d been waiting for way too long now. he wanted to see what they’d been keeping from him, so as they step out onto the floor, leo runs off down the hall in the direction of their conference room.

“leo-san!” tsukasa yells after him.

leo, of course, doesn’t stop. he instead bursts into the room and says, “hi, guys!”

rather than getting an equally enthusiastic greeting, he finds three pairs of eyes on him as tsukasa catches up.

“kasa-kun, i thought you said you could distract him,” izumi says.

tsukasa purses his lips. “i thought i could,” he objects. “but he knew we were planning something, so he ran ahead of me.”

“don’t blame our darling child, secchan,” ritsu cuts in from where he’s setting up what looks like a cake at the end of the table. per usual fashion, the decorations on it are a bit grotesque, but in a fun way. “we all know how free spirited tsukipi is.”

“is that what we’re calling it?” izumi mutters.

arashi waves her hand dismissively, ignoring izumi as she says, “well, it doesn’t matter now, does it? we’re pretty much done setting things up, so it doesn’t hurt to start things a little early.”

leo, though he doesn’t really get what they’re setting up for in the first place since the birthdays they spend together are hardly planned things, nods eagerly. “exactly, naru gets it!”

that gets him an eye roll from izumi.

ritsu, apparently pleased with the placement of his cake, joins izumi and arashi. “i’m all done, so we can start now. i think tsukipi might jump at us if we don’t get to it soon.”

leo bounces on the balls of his feet. “see, i knew you guys were planning something!”

ritsu smiles at that. “you could put it like that.” his gaze shifts to tsukasa and gives him a brief nod.

tsukasa leaves leo’s side and pulls a chair out from the table, turning it so the back is now to the table. “sit, leo-san,” tsukasa says.

leo eyes him curiously but does so anyway. whatever it is they’d been planning has been going on for at least two weeks since that’s when he started noticing them hiding things, so to say he’s excited to be only moments away from seeing what they’d been up to is a bit of an understatement.

tsukasa joins the others as they move to stand in front of leo. arashi looks over ritsu’s shoulder as he searches on his phone for something.

izumi’s eyes catch his. “we spent a long time on this, so you better like it, leo-kun.”

“i’ll love anything you guys give me,” he replies easily.

arashi giggles, glancing up at him. “izumi-chan’s just prickly ‘cause he’s the one who suggested we do this in the first place.”

at that, izumi conveniently looks over to ritsu when leo’s gaze falls on him once more. “can you just start it already?”

ritsu looks up from his phone, an amused little smile pulling at his lips. though rather than the teasing the normally accompanies that look, he simply says, “yeah, yeah, secchan. i just wanted to make sure it was the finished version.”

“then are we ready to begin ?” tsukasa asks on arashi’s other side.

“mmhm.” ritsu nods. he presses something on his phone then hands it to leo. “here, hold this for me.”

leo accepts the phone as the four of them align themselves in front of him. it takes a few seconds, but notes played on piano make their way from ritsu’s phone. the song doesn’t sound familiar, though leo can recognize the playing style as ritsu’s. he taps the screen only for the track remain untitled.

it’s not until the begin singing that he realizes that they’ve written him a song.

for a brief couple of seconds, all he can think of is that they wrote him a song for his birthday. the joy he feels at that is something he could never hope to put into words. a wide smile makes its way across his face as the performance continues.

while the song itself seems finished when it comes to the score and the lyrics — he very easily recognizes the latter as being written by izumi, though he can’t tell if he’s imagining ruka’s influence in certain lines or not — the choreography seems like it was thrown together last minute. it’s nowhere near as polished as their normal dancing, but leo figures it would be hard to schedule practice for this without him noticing around their normal practice.

still, he isn’t about to complain; he’d never complain when someone would give him a gift as nice and thoughtful as a song.

the tune itself is charming, pleasant to the ears, but it’s not like he expected anything less from them. after all, he likes to believe the time spent together rubbed off some of his musical genius onto them, but that would be severely discounting the talent each of them has.

leo finds himself swaying along with the beat, trying to capture and absorb as much of this moment as he can, though it’s hard to pay attention to the chords and the lyrics and the choreo all at once in this first listen.

before he knows it, the song is over. it continues on in his head once the recording ends, the four of them coming together and holding their final pose briefly.

“leo-san?” tsukasa says, falling out of order first. there’s a certain edge of worry in his voice that leo doesn’t quite understand until he blinks and his vision goes watery. he doesn’t even know when he started crying; leo just feels so happy. more tears fall.

leo swipes at his eyes, ducking his head down slightly to do so. “how embarrassing,” he mumbles.

“it wasn’t that bad, right?” izumi asks, a tinge of concern leaking in.

he laughs then sniffles. “no, it was perfect,” he says. “i loved it.”

as he looks back up at them, leo sees the concern on arashi’s face fall mostly away as she quietly sighs. “are you sure you’re okay?” she asks.

he nods. “i’m sure,” leo says, though he’s not sure how reassuring that is when more tears fall even as he wills them to stop. “i just wasn’t expecting that. i’m just so happy.” he rubs a few more tears away.

tsukasa, despite the worry clear on his face, looks a bit proud at that. “see, i told you that he wouldn’t expect a song .”

needing to show his appreciation, leo stands, sleeves coming away damp as he wipes at his eyes. the four of them say nothing, simply watch as he nears just for him to hug whoever happens to be the closest, which happens to be arashi. she lets out a quiet noise of surprise, but her arms fall around him easily to return it.

it doesn’t take long for the other three to join in the hug, even if there’s some quiet bickering about it.

leo feels so warm there in the hold of four of his closest friends, protected and comforted by them all at once.

they’d written him a song . he still couldn’t believe it.

“thank you,” he says. a hand brushes over his hair. he can’t tell whose it is, but it doesn’t really matter.

“of course, tsukipi,” ritsu says by his left ear.

leo wants to say so many things, wants to write so many songs now that he’s received one of his own. it’s such a new experience that he isn’t sure what to make of it all yet. he wants to ask what writing it was like, how each step of it went. he’s almost a little upset they didn’t ask him for any advice, but that would’ve ruined the surprise before it even began.

he wants to ask them for an encore and then another and another until he memorizes it all by heart.

even so, leo knows that he’ll have plenty of time to ask all the questions bouncing around in his head and then some, so he settles for saying, “i love you guys so much,” and hopes that’s enough to get the message across.

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end notes: i was between two different titles but decided to go with this one in the end. lasciare suonare means allowing a sound to continue (to "let ring") without dampening it. in the past, leo's sound was dampened, but he was able to move through that into where he is now where his music is allowed to continue on, ringing loud and clear. symphony, the title of this fic, refers to a piece that is typically in four movements.

happy leo day!! being done with posting this feels so weird. leo means a lot to me and i'm glad to have been able to put all of that into words for these past five chapters. thank u for sticking around until the end <33 i was already sappy about this ending on twt so i'll spare you all from that but i hope you liked it.

#my fics #symphony #leo tsukinaga #arashi narukami #izumi sena #ritsu sakuma #tsukasa suou #i really am so attached to this fic it's not even funny #and i am really proud of it #i had these couple of months where i really didn't feel like i would write anything again #everything i wrote i hated and that was if i could get myself to write anything #so to end up writing this nearly a year after that really does make me so 🥹#plus i have a horrible track record with long pieces and chaptered things so to finish this really is such a feat #fr an anything for you leo kind of moment laskhdg #and posting it like this is making me feel all of that i felt when i was originally posting it all over again #happy leo debut day everyone 🎉

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bristolvinylguy · 1 year

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Ain't It A Little Strange?-In Times New Roman… By Queens Of The Stone Age: Album Review, By Joe Guatieri

Introduction

6 years is a very long time.. I’ll just go out on a limb and say it, ‘Villains’ is a decent record but it was a big disappointment. That was the first Queens album that came out where I was a massive fan of theirs and I came out of it feeling indecisive and confused like something was missing. There were a few fantastic songs on that album but it wasn’t without its misfires too. It made the record in-turn spotty and the production didn’t help either. Things felt so controlled under the guidance of Mark Ronson, sure beats are great but what matters truly is feeling.

When least expected, suddenly the barn doors burst open wide and standing there are the members of Queens Of The Stone Age. Josh, Mikey, Jon, Dean and Troy are all battered and bruised but have another point to prove.

Song Mentions

Obscenery

‘In Times New Roman…’ opens up with weird guitar panning and sporadic bass. A strutting, blues-esque number that feels like it's at battle with life itself. The de-tuned choir sounds like the world around you is falling apart and you can’t help to think that maybe this was always going to happen anyway.

Paper Machete

This I think is the most conventional that Queens get on this record but they subvert it in their own special way which is wholly unique to them. Slabbering it with weirdness in terms of the production methods and instrumental moments. The guitar riff in this song sounds so driving and never lets up for a second, the key to this song is the little upstroke break. It makes for a lovely addition and keeps things from going stale. Last but by no means least, the best solo on a Queens song in years takes place here, bringing back that drunken stumble that I love so much. It feels like Little Sister’s ugly cousin who’s locked downstairs in the basement.

Carnavoyeur

I can’t believe what I’m going to say here but this song is an absolute epic in every sense of the word. At first it brings the atmosphere and puts you into a word of darkness with what seems like a sense of lost hope. Then all of a sudden from 0:56 to 1:10 I hear a beautiful vocal motif paired with these gorgeous lyrics from Josh, they sound so elegant in an almost heavenly type of way. Directly afterwards I hear the lyrics “Accept, enjoy the view. When there’s nothing I can do, I smile” this leads into a victorious solo of paired guitars that just soar in the sky. This is like the hopeful Son compared to A Song For The Deaf's god-fearing Dad. These moments of pure elegance and bliss happen again once more towards the end of the song. It is followed by an outro featuring both a furious drum roll and a bass over modulating to the point where everything in the track distorts at the climax. It feels like the rattling of chains before being set free and running towards the sunset. This song is not only its own world, it’s its own movie too. I have no other words than, this song is a masterpiece.

Emotion Sickness

The song that made me feel ecstatic about this album coming out. The introduction has Josh walking into a room whilst singing a vocal mantra, (maybe something to keep him going throughout after all the shit he’s been through). It sticks with me and I find it to be a very endearing moment before the song strikes at you like a viper. This song shows Queens at their catchiest on this record and only in a way that they can, subverting expectations throughout. Using these off-kilter syncopated sections, guitars sounding like horns and Josh showing that he has no fucks to spear as the band go into a beautiful chorus. I love this song so much, it’s just kickass.

Straight Jacket Fitting

Another heavy bluesy number that brings a lot of light to its name. The groove on this is impeccable as Josh sings about trying to help a partner that he’s losing hope with at a rapid rate. I think that this song ends metaphorically, with both of these people falling apart and being put into their own straight jackets and as they are pulled away, the band play them off. Then it ends with this fitting lovely little acoustic section. Again like I said previously about another song, this song is also like a play or a movie to me showing what it’s like when two people go crazy in different directions.

Other Positives To Note:

-The Rhythm Section (Bass/Mikey and Drums/Jon): Mikey and Jon have both got standout performances on this record. They are both at their absolute peak of talent and creativity. Always playing something that catches my ear and makes me think “what the fuck was that”. Mikey has some killer bass lines and grooves going on here, a particular highlight to me on the album for him is Time & Place. The song to me is like the Queens take on a Talking Heads song and he serves the song very well with his funky rhythm.

-The production: Masterful work here, very reminiscent of when Chris Goss was at the helm of it all with Josh. It’s clear and has a lot of snarl and bite. It’s all over the place in the best possible way. Always finding something intriguing that catches my ears. So many different styles come together here but no matter how much they change are always a benefit to the heart of the songs, bringing them forwards.

-The Vocals: Some of the performances here are right up there with the best in their catalogue. Josh’s vocals have only gotten better with age and feel so fitting here with the topics at hand. He gets right to the heart of the emotions that he’s been holding onto for so long. Again like with many other things on this album, there are a variety of different styles at play here and they all mesh well together to wrap a nice bow on top of the album.

Negatives:

-What the Peephole Say is good but has a very weird track placement I think, when it comes off the heels of Carnavoyeur. Just feels like an unnecessary change of pace, I feel like it would have better placement earlier on in the record at something like at tracks 4 or 5 and replaced with Made to Parade.

-Some of the lyrics don’t connect with me as much as others do. There are some misses here but I think that overall it’s a great package.

Conclusion

‘In Times New Roman…’ takes a little piece from every Queens record that came before it and marries that with a sense of vulnerability. To create a puzzle of progression altogether that values the old but comes out with the new, constructing a bridge that leads to an undiscovered forest full of ideas. Overall, this is one of the best return to forms that I think a band can have. There’s not a bad song on here and they are pushing the boundaries of their craft to its absolute limit. This album is a concise listen which bears its soul for everyone to see. I give it a very strong 8.5 out of 10.

R.I.P Mark Lanegan

#album review #qotsa #queens of the stone age #josh homme #michael shuman #dean fertita #troy van leeuwen #desert rock #stoner rock

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hypnawave · 1 year

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In the year 2020, Pashang 爬上 a.k.a Brandon Pearson took a decision that would bless a lot of ears in the years to come. Restarting music production and entering the synthwave scene with his own uniquely developed sound which he unapologetically describes as"dark" synthwave. Drawing influences from the likes of heavy hitters such as Volkor X, Dynatron, Dav Dralleon among many others, he currently fancies collaborating on a "shredwave" project!

2023 could be a year full of surprises from this talented artist as he is involved in "Four Producers One Sample" project working side by side iwth the likes of Synthwave Pro and Voyager and also has an LP in the works which he described as simply "spacey". It's a true wonder how his creative boundaries are inexistent and goes from dark, heavy synthwave to spacey, chilled out vibes as is evident in the track featured today - "Agoraphobia".

About the track: Made in FL Studio using Diva (Software Synth) and Blackhole (Reverb) among other gear. The artist intends to create the feeling of emerging into an open space after being suffocated inside.

What makes it great?

We have all been there, we were all in it together. We have all seen it, faced it and are still fighting to keep up with the aftermath. What started as a pandemic has now become a part of history that nobody will be able to mentally erase. With it, came the lockdowns and with the lockdowns came an inevitable feeling of being trapped, gasping for a sight of bright sunshine, aching for open air and interaction with the world around us. Amidst this, the artist creates an open space for himself and his listeners. Such is the power of art, it can truly deliver whatever you ask of it.

Everytime i hear the track, I am invited into an ambience that is truly tough to describe in any other way except "comforting". It starts with a minor chord that informs us of the melancholic nature of the track. Then there is a shift to a major chord in the next bar followed by a minor chord and this back and forth exchange of emotions between chords has the listener hanging by a thread, until the lead comes in. The open, ambient and soft lead guides us from the intro to an ascension where the drums join in. A syncopated beat so well suited to the track can add a new dimension to the song and that is precisely what happens here. Once the break arrives, we are once again left out in the open, feeling refreshed and ready for the next part of the track. The lead arrives again, bring the drums in, building up the intensity to a climax with the soft lead coming out of all it's filters. showing it's true colours. Right when we feel like we have read the fine print, the song fades away making it impossible to not hit replay.

What a gift! Listen to it here -

youtube

Cheers!

#chillwave #synthwave #music blog #audiovisual #chill vibes #aesthetic #trippy visuals #great song #Youtube

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13thoracle · 2 years

Text

Name: Wyatt Saxon

When he was a child, he hated being referred to as "Thirteen." He latched onto fictional characters for comfort. His name derives from his favorite characters growing up.

Number: 13

Alias: The Wiseman

Gender: Male

Sex: AMAB

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Occupation: Veterinarian, Author

Hobbies: Hiking, Singing, Writing, Bodybuilding

Religion: Aethiest

Marital Status: Divorced

Children: Conner Heart (deceased), Darlene Heart.

Health: Vasovagal Syncope, Migraines, Seizures, Depression, knee replacement (he sometimes walks with a cane when his knee acts up.)

History:

Born in New Orleans, Wyatt's mother was only 15 when she became pregnant. He was a complicated delivery; having to have an emergency C-section and put on life support until he could breathe on his own. Reginald however, didn't wait and instead took the child and performed the care needed to keep the infant alive.

He was raised like the other children, experimented on and made to be a soldier like the others. Reginald wasn't happy his abilities were passive. While talented in his own right, as a member of the academy, Reginald wanted the boy to be able to fight like the rest. He tried to find ways to make his gifts a weapon and in doing so, changed the course of Wyatt's young life forever.

He was sent to a facility outside of Germany where he learned how to not just see a person's linear timeline, but to tap into that individual's alternate timelines. Through this he could project what he saw into the subject, thus, giving them false memories of certain events. At first they were small insignificant points in their timeline. But by adulthood, this ability expanded into manipulating larger memories and their perception of events.

During these years, he developed severe epilepsy and would have daily episodes. The scientists pushed him to his breaking point, so much so that Reginald had to intervene on the experiments fearing his "asset" would be harmed. Reginald took Wyatt back to his estate where he'd send his 13th weapon on a mission.

His first and only mission involved intercepting a Hydra agent formerly named Liberty and extract a particular moment in her timeline; the whereabouts of the Conduit.

The mission lasted several years, having gone undercover in the trenches of the Winter Soldier program. His memory of these years of his life are sparse due to his neurological condition.

Abilities:

Primary: He can pierce the veil of time. Seeing and hearing the past present and future. If he touches another person he can see their timeline from past present and how they will die (he can determine when a person will die with roughly 45% accuracy.) His ability can only be triggered by touching a living subject.

Secondary:

Lifeforce extraction.

Through touch, Wyatt can absorb the person's time stream and very life force from them. This ability is his most dangerous, one he learned through Reginald in his early adulthood. Unlike other extractors such as Rogue, Wyatt cannot extract their powers; only their life force and seeing their timeline. Absorbing their life force can heal minor wounds but generally, this ability doesn't benefit him. He used this ability once on a Hydra doctor who threatened Reginald. Wyatt killed the doctor with this ability but in doing so sent him into a series of seizures. His conditioned worsened and he was put on life support for several weeks. It took an additional three months for him to make a full recovery. While he is aware of that incident, he has little memory of its events. Reginald's lack of concern for his well being after that incident drove Wyatt out of the home. He since went on to be a Veterinarian.

Weaknesses: Vasovagal Syncope, Migraines, Knee replacement, while he can see into others timestreams, he cannot see his own.

Every time he uses his power, he risks having a seizure, the severity and type of seizure he experiences depends on the vision and its intensity. This ability isn't the solely the trigger for his seizures, this is just one of them.

He frequently gets Migraines that can leave him out of commission for days.

Wyatt's knee surgery makes it difficult for him to fight. Weather changes can cause his knee pain and even hinder his mobility.

While he has the power of sight and timeline projection (via telepathic link to the target,) he cannot change the true timestream, only what the person perceives. He cannot travel in time and he cannot see his own. He can only use his power on one individual at a time. When using his powers, the level of exertion will directly correlate to whether he will have a seizure and it's severity. Typically, these seizures are severe in nature, though low threshold seizures can occur.

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write-orflight · 3 years

Text

Settle Down: Chapter 11

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev - Next

Pairings: SpencerXReader (kinda enemies to lovers)

Rating: M

Words: 1.9K

Warnings: Child birth, language, tooth aching fluff

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Y/N and Spencer don’t get along but turn to each other for the one thing you need someone else for… A baby. You can plantonically start a family, right?

AN: Two updates in a row! (Unedited) Now the taglist is officially closed now that we only have the Epilogue left. Thank you to everyone who took this journey with me, let me know what you think! much love, Cia

Chapter 11: A PowerPoint, really?

Morgan called outside the door for more nurses as soon as he heard what you said. Soon 3 women are rushing into the room, one of them clad with a wheelchair. You look at Morgan as they begin to load you in the chair.

“Derek, call Garcia and tell her to come with my emergency birth bag, then call Dr. Lizzie and tell her the baby is coming-AHHHHH!” You screamed as you were being wheeled out. Contractions, as they turn out, are the worst feeling ever.

Garcia is barging into your hospital room not long after that baby bag in tow. You kept an extra one at her place just in case you went into labor when the team was out on a case. “I drove just about 90 mph to get here. How are you feeling, mama bear?”

“Like Satan himself is putting me on a spit roast.” You grunt through clenched teeth.

“Think of the bright side you’re about to give birth to the cutest, most intelligent baby.” Garcia says. “Plus Dr. Liz told me I need to keep you calm so let’s do your breathing exercises.” Garcia starts huffing in syncopated time in order to get you to follow. You scream in her face. “Ok, so maybe not.”

“Who’s ready to have a baby?” Dr. Liz says, in a joyous tone as she sweeps into the room. “Let’s take a look at you.”

“Thank god! Lizzie, I need epidural. Shoot me up, Doc.” You groan from the pain.

“So someone is a little more eager to meet the world than we thought. It’s too late to safely administer epidural. You’re going to have to go natural, kid.”

You look at her wide eyed. “WHAT?!” You shake your head. “I-I can’t.”

“You can, Y/N.” Penelope says. “You can squeeze me as hard as you can.”

Tears start to fall from your eyes from the combination of pain and loneliness you felt. “I can’t do this, I need-I need Spencer.”

You hear the door opening. Spencer walked in pushing an IV still attached to his arm, other one draped around Derek’s shoulder as he helped him walk in. Once Spencer was next to you and leaned against the wall, Derek and Penelope stepped back to give you and Spencer privacy in your moment.

“Alright, you’re crowning. It’s time to push so next time you have a contraction, I need you to push as hard as you can.” Dr. Liz says, you nod. Spencer is pushing some of your sweat matted hair out of your forehead.

“What are you doing? You’re supposed to be in bed.”

“I told you I’d be here for you, for this.” He says, grabbing your hand letting you squeeze around his palm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Spencer, I--AHHHHH!” You say, pushing. Your hand tightly squeezes around Spencer’s who despite how rough you must look right now is looking at you with the utmost awe and admiration. Dr. Liz gives you some words of encouragement as you breathe waiting for the next contraction.

“You don’t have to say it, I know, Y/N. I know.” He says, hand running through your hair.

“No, I need to say it. Spencer, I’m so in love with you. I love you so much, I’m sorry I kept hurting you but I need you. I love you--AHHHH!! I take it back, I hate you! I fucking hate you for doing this to me!”

Spencer kisses the hand you’re squeezing. “I love you too, Y/N/N. And I know you don’t mean that. It’s actually fairly common for all mammals giving birth to feel disdain towards their partne--”

“SHUT UP!” You yell as you push. “I usually love your facts but right now, shut the fuck up!”

“You’re doing great, mom. Just one more.” You hear Dr. Liz shout over your screams.

They don’t tell you this in any book, Doctor’s appointment, or mommy and me class but for a moment even though it is a fleeting moment. There is a stillness in the air where everything is silent and you are only snapped out of it at the sound of your baby’s first cry. Everything else from the cheers to Spencer cutting the cord is drowned by the sound of your baby loudly entering the word.

Your baby.

They place her on your bare chest and your arms instinctively wrap around your most precious being. You coo as the baby continues to cry the fluid out of her lungs. She’s covered in blood and goop but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Suddenly the thing you’ve wanted for so long was finally here and she was everything and more than what you thought, the perfect manifestation of you and Spencer’s love for each other.

Genevieve Rosalind Reid was born early November 10th. Given the name Genevieve after the song, Lady Genevieve, you and Spencer loved so much and Rosalind after famous female scientist Rosalind Franklin.

Not more than a couple of hours after the rest of the team is slinking into the room to get a peak at the baby, bearing gifts and congratulations to you both. Spencer managed to negotiate with the doctor to at least have a bed moved into your room so if they were going to make him lay and rest at least he could be near you and the baby. Soon, one by one the team starts leaving the last being Penelope who Derek had to haul away with him. You turn to Spencer once they’re gone.

“I love you, Spencer. I’m sorry I didn’t say it. I was scared.”

“I know, Y/N. I love you, why were you scared?”

“I didn’t want to lose you with my selfishness. Genevieve needs you more than I do, I didn’t want to sacrifice her having both parents because I couldn’t control myself.”

He reaches across the aisle between your beds for your hand which you stretch to him as well. “I’m not going anywhere.” He says looking you in your eyes. “I would never abandon either of you. I love you, but no matter what happens between us, we’ll make it work. For Genevieve.”

“For Genevieve.” You repeat back.

------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s been about 9 months since you had Genevieve and you and Spencer we’re still going strong. Though the first couple of months were difficult with Spencer being injured and having an actual newborn to care for. You were still better than before, Spencer made things better. Genevieve was perfect and looking more and more like Spencer with each passing day. In fact, it seemed the only trait she did take from you was a wild stubbornness and love for Disney movies.

You were out walking Genevieve in her stroller when you got a call.

“Hey Spence. What’s up?”

“Hey, where are you?” You hear over the line.

“I’m walking with Gen in the park.” You say.

“Do you want to meet at the coffee shop on the corner?”

You shrug even though he can’t see it. “Sure, get me a cold brew.”

You push the stroller into the coffee shop ten minutes later and walk over to the corner table you and Spencer have deemed yours. Your daughter is already fussy and making grabby hands for Spencer, who smiles and scoops her out the stoller.

“Hey, Bug.” He says, sweetly as your daughter smiles brightly at him.

“God, she’s such a traitor. Instantly forgets I exist as soon as she sees you.” You say, as he hands her back so you can put in the high chair for lunch. You’re opening her banana and pears baby food when you notice it. “Why do you have my laptop?” You ask.

“Well, open it.”

You give Spencer a weird look before handing him the food to feed Genevieve so you can open the laptop. Your heart stops for a second as you read what’s on the screen.

“A PowerPoint, really?” You chuckle. “Spencer, what is this?”

“This is Reasons Why You Should Marry Me.” He says, looking up to look you in the eyes.

“Yea, I got that from the title, Spence.” You chuckle, wetly. “And you thought a PowerPoint was the best way to ask?”

“Well, I felt you’d be more inclined to consider it if you knew I spent time on a presentation.”

“That’s true.” You say, chuckling at the memory of your first friendly encounter. You take the food back from him. “Well, show me what you got.”

“Okay, Reason #1, You love me.” You laugh, nodding as he goes to the next slide. “And I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Spencer…” You said, swooning slightly.

“#2, I’d be a great husband.”

“That’s a debatable fact.” You say, chuckling.

“Have I given you any indication that I wouldn’t be?”

You smile and shake your head no.

“#3, I have a ring, a very pretty one that Garcia helped me pick out and it’s yours if you say yes.” Spencer says, that makes you laugh loudly because of course she did, no wonder she’d been acting weird at work for the past couple of weeks. “In all seriousness… Y/N, I love you and I feel like I’ve loved since you brought me to this coffee shop more than a year ago and asked me to make the best decision of my life. You are my best friend, the mother of my child… I can’t think of anyone else I’d want to share my life with. So..” Spencer takes that moment to stand to kneel down on one knee. “Will you marry me, Please.”

The tears that had been threatening to fall since he started were coming in full swing now. You nodded fast. “Yes! 1000% yes!” You exclaim. Spencer takes that moment to slide the ring on to your finger as you hear the faint applause from the bored baristas in the empty coffee shop who have gotten to know you both over the years. Spencer sweeps you into a deep kiss, that you can barely stop smiling for. You pull apart when you hear Genevieve start to babble in her highchair, reaching for the two of you.

“Oh, come here, Bug.” You say, going to pick her up, kissing the top of her head. “Can’t stand not being the center of attention, huh?”

“Well, she is her mother’s daughter.” Spencer chuckles when you level a bored expression at him. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” He says, starting to pack Genevieve’s stuff back into her stroller. “What movie are we watching tonight?” He asks.

You think for a second. “How’s Wall-E sound?”

Spencer smiles when he hears you say the first movie you watched together. That was the night he knew for sure that he was going to marry you someday. You didn’t know it yet, but Spencer did, and he was rarely wrong.

“Sounds wonderful, baby.” He smiles, as the three of you walk out of the coffee shop, a newly cemented family.

Taglist: @moonshinerbynight @crimeshowtrash @no-honey-no @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel @chenlemure @sizzlingclamturtlesludge @tclaerh @k-k0129 @takeyourleap-of-faith @trashyhipsterfangirl @haylaansmi @spencerreidlivesrentfreeinmyhead @waspyyy @itsametaphorbriansblog @octaviaxanadu @whxt-to-write @meowiemari @b99andsoc @boba-king-iroh @punkndisorderrly @richardrosejpeg @underratedmisfit @gredvb @criminalminds4days @fanfictionislifetho @justpeachykeeeen @kopfkinomind @moonchildkei @appleblossoms-posts @urguardiandevil @cm-imagines-07 @ajeff855 @reidsconverse @isknowplaces @ashwarren32

@cielo1984 @rainsong01 @dracoxmgg @m0rce1ddd @daviddobrikandyn @mcntsee @debiwolf-t @jellokangaroo @honeyboysteezy @sadassflatass @itsametaphorbriansblog @itsdars @themanwiththreephds @amidafternoonthoughts @poisondragon @ncsls0515 @spencerhotchner @myescapefromthislife @kasaikawa @fakin-it-til-i-make-it @lieswithoutfairytales @rosesonmyheart @wickedscorpio22 @little-blue-fishie @itsdars @adorereid @crookedsuitcasekidbanana @67impalagirl13 @goobsnbents @username2002 @william-shookespeare @mickeycd @whoreforthebau @saspencereid @studentville-struggles @worryd0ll @electric-ukulele @muffin-cup @jill-mars @shamelessfangirl-3 @nazifa94 @barne-twin @deputydylinski @kylab @cbow04 @saspencereid @ateez-star

#criminal minds #bau x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer x you #spencer reid x you #spencer x reader smut #spencer reid x reader smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid smut #bau x y/n #bau #spencer x y/n #spencer reid

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gasolineghuleh · 3 years

Text

Sunrise

Commission for the lovely @nirianvigora for a lovely morning with Mountain.

No cw below, just NSFW. No minors please.

The warm rays of sun come through the window and wake you gently, leaving you yawning and stretching as you press back against the Ghoul behind you- Mountain. True to his name he was laying comfortably behind you like a rock, the hard planes of his body pressing against you perfectly and making you feel like he's truly your home away from home. You smile to yourself as you feel his arm press you closer to him from its place around your waist, his hand splayed across your stomach possessively. It isn’t often that the two of you are able to luxuriate in bed, but the sun seems to have woken you early enough that some laying around is warranted before morning chores begin around the Abbey.

“Good morning, handsome.” Mountain nuzzles his face into your neck and you shy back from the cold touch of his nose, laughing when he just follows you with a low growl, pinning you against him. His teeth sneak out to lightly graze against the pulse point in your neck, and you can’t help the soft press of your hips back against his.

“Good?” he asks, his voice still thick with sleep and gravelly. You stretch against him, pressing yourself even closer to his body as you reach your arms over your head to encircle his broad shoulders. He responds by pressing another kiss to the top of your head and holding you tighter against him as you wriggle to get comfortable.

“Yeah, I slept good. Did you? You didn’t snore or anything.” Mountain shrugs behind you, jostling you slightly as his arm slides farther across your front, pressing you closer to you as his lips become more insistent along your neck. Conversations with Mountain are often short and filled with your own words instead of his, but you’ve gotten used to it over the years of being together. The others often said your hearts beat together and it’s only now, ensconced in the quiet of his room, that you fully believe them.

“Want you,” he mutters against the crook of your neck and shoulder, his hand starting to trail a path across your chest towards your breast. You can practically hear the question in the tilt of his head, his hair ruffling on the pillows as he moves. Smiling to yourself you roll over slightly, just enough to see his large glowing amber eyes blinking owlishly at you from deep set sockets— his pallid grey skin is scored with bags of sleep loss beneath his eyes, but they’re filled with a silent type of love that you only see this early in the morning.

“Want me? That’s nothing new,” you reply with a smile, giggling when he growls and buries his face playfully into your neck, his hand finally moving up to cup your breast gently. You can feel the callouses on his fingers from his drum sticks and the roughness of his skin compared to the tenderness of his touch pulls at something in your heart— it always does. Your giant treats you like a fragile toy that’s prone to breaking, and it never fails to make you feel protected.

“Mm, yeah,” he agrees finally, with a laugh of his own rumbling from deep in his chest. His fingers find your nipple soon enough, pinching it delicately between his thumb and forefinger as his hips rock forward slightly against his own volition. Even after all these years he’s still as attracted to your naked form as ever, if his rapidly swelling erection is anything to judge by. You let out a soft sigh of pleasure as he pinches the pebbled nipple lightly, rolling it between his fingers as your eyes slip closed.

“I want you, now. That’s not fair,” you tease, rocking your hips backwards against his until the two of you find a syncopated rhythm. Mountain says nothing, but smiles against your neck before biting down lightly on your pulse point. He pinches your nipple, hard, one more time before moving his hand down your body. You sigh and push back against him, running his hardened cock along the cleft of your ass until you can feel him throb in response.

Mountain’s fingers find your cunt quickly enough and his hand moves instead to your inner thigh, tugging you gently until you move in answer to his unspoken command. It takes just a second of rearranging under the bed sheets until your leg is slung back and up, fitting over his waist with ease. Mountain’s chin rests against your shoulder as he looks down over you, his hand already diving between your legs as his fingers slip and slide across your already slick folds. His motions, so sure and sensual, never fail to get you to the brink of pleasure within moments.

You tilt your head back and manage to capture his lips with yours as the tip of his index finger finally slips inside of you, moving to press quickly against the spot inside of you that he’s found thousands of times by now. Mountain smiles against your lips as you keen in pleasure, your hand flying up to grasp at his strong forearm as he flexes and pumps his finger in and out of you at a controlled pace— never enough to tip you over the edge, but just enough to keep your pleasure soaring.Just when you’re at the point of begging for release his palm presses against your clit and a second finger slides into you, the combination becoming the perfect mixture of “just enough” and “too much” to send you falling headfirst into your climax.

When you manage to come to and shake off the dredges of your orgasm, Mountain is still behind you, propping up your limp body with his own as he shakes with silent laughter. Finally you join him, laughing a little self consciously as your face flushes and your nails dislodge from the dents you created in his bicep. He smiles as he nudges your face back towards him, pressing a deep kiss to your lips through the smile. Mountain pulls his arm away from you, sliding his fingers out of you slowly and allowing you to lower your leg back to a more comfortable position. You groan slightly as your muscle aches with the movement, rocking back against his cock once more.

“Your turn, I suppose?” you ask, yawning and rolling forward slightly until you’re fully on your side.

“Don’t make it sound like such a chore.” You bark out a sharp, surprised laugh at his response and prop yourself up on your elbow, turning to look back at him. His eyes are twinkling with mirth even as his now free hand moves beneath the covers, obviously tugging at his own cock as his eyes fall back to your breasts.

“You’re chatty this morning, I see.” Mountain clicks his teeth together in response, moving closer to you until his bare chest is pressed against your back. He grins wide, bringing his teeth close to your face and snapping them playfully.

“I talk when I see skin,” he comments, waggling his eyebrows at you. It isn’t often that you’re able to see him without his mask, and you take a moment to relish the opportunity, committing his fair looks to memory once more. You bring your free hand up and cup his cheek, reveling in the feeling of skin rather than metal.

“My skin, or any skin?” you ask, pressing your luck with his sudden bout of conversationalism. He smiles, the skin around his eyes crinkling slightly as he does so, and turns his head to press a kiss to the palm of your hand. You watch his eyes for a moment, so rare to see them unshrouded by some sort of quiet emotion he can’t or won’t place.

"Only you." Words seemingly dried up for now, Mountain returns his full attention to you and the chasing of his own pleasure. His lips find yours again as his other hand, still below the sheets, manages to find the small slick space between your thighs. Before you know it he's replaced his hand with his cock, rolling his hips against you and thrusting his cock between your thighs. Every so often the girth of his cock rubs against your pussy and you gasp, grinding back down onto him in reflex.

"You feel so good, baby. Can you cum for me?" you whisper against his lips, his jaw going slightly slack as he focuses on his movements. He nods, pressing his forehead against yours as his breaths come sharper and closer together. You can tell that he’s close now, and you redirect your attention to making him cum.

When you squeeze your thighs together tighter he gasps a little in the back of his throat, his eyes pinching shut tightly as he huffs against you. Mountain’s thrusts get sharper and shorter, his hips moving faster now as he gets closer to his own orgasm. You love seeing him like this— mouth dropped open slightly, eyes shut and forehead furrowed in concentration. It isn’t long before he groans, thrusting twice sharply against your ass and stilling as his cums. His cock pulses between your thighs and you can feel it with every heartbeat, warm cum already starting to drip from your legs.

“Fuck,” he mutters, pulling back from you and rolling onto his back with a groan of satisfaction. You follow suit, rolling onto your stomach and putting your arms under your head as you watch him. He breathes steadily for a moment before he turns to look at you, flushing when he sees your gaze already firmly fixed onto him.

“Any other sage words for me this morning before you lose your voice again?�� You’re back to teasing him in good faith and he knows it, grimacing at you before reaching out and tapping you sharply on the nose. You snort and rear back, already dissolving into laughter with him.

“Watch your tone,” he chides. You roll your eyes exaggeratedly at him and scoot over, throwing an arm over his bare chest and laying your head over his heart.

“Watch yours,” you say through a wide yawn, already content to fall back to sleep. Perhaps when you wake up, you’ll go for round two.

#lorraine writes #fic #ghost #the band ghost #ghost bc #fanfic #Nameless Ghouls #era 4 ghouls #mountain

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adorethedistance · 3 years

Text

Doomsayers - Owen Joyner x Artist!Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, existential dread, pretty mild content overall.

Words: 1110

Summary: Owen had to practically harass you to get you to relax on your mutual day off, but the quality time together takes an unexpected turn when you exhibit a small sense of self-doubt.

A/N: I’m sorry I’ve sort of disappeared but I’ll offer an explanation in the footnote. Other than that, requests are still being filled right now. Let this self-indulgent piece hold you over in the meantime. I wanted to get something out and due to how the process went with finishing this one, I think I’m slowly easing back into a writing spell after such a long period of writer’s block.

“Y/N!” Owen yells, dragging out my name despite being a mere ten feet away.

“Oweennnnn,” I whine back in an insincerely mocking tone. My almost too loving boyfriend is lying in the unmade sheets of my bed, groaning at me from a supine position. I’m switching in between sitting and standing as I work on a new painting for a client. It’s a magical realist take on an Italian cobblestone street view, and I’ve spent so much time on the painting this week that I’m way ahead of schedule. Owen knows this and is consequently moaning at me from his spot where he’s nestled on my bed.

A lazy Saturday is exactly what we both needed, but when I decided I had a little time the morning before he showed up, I’d gotten so invested in my workflow that I didn’t even break to answer the door. This isn’t the first time Owen’s had to let himself into my place with the key I gave him for our one-year anniversary. Essentially: when I have a warm drink in one hand and a paintbrush in the other, there’s no telling when I’ll break next.

“We’re supposed to be relaxing. Why are you working on our lazy Saturday?”

“I’m not working.” I brush a loose strand of hair out of my face, careful not to dab a glob of yellow oil paint across my cheek.

“You are painting a commission. It’s literally work, babe.”

“Hush. I’ve got a good workflow going.”

“If you don’t put that brush down in the next 10 seconds… I’ll… I’ll break up with you!”

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I won’t,” he sighs defeatedly. “But I will start crying.”

“Owen-” I stand up straight after being hunched over the canvas for so long.

“Please?” When I look at my boyfriend he’s giving me the most pitiful pout in the world and I can’t help but smile. His pout morphs into a full grin when I set my paintbrush into a plastic cup of water and oil solution.

“I hate you, you know that?”

“I love you!”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“You think I’m cute?”

“Hush.”

I crawl up the length of my bed to join Owen who awaits my arrival with open arms. He’s resting on all my different pillows which are strewn about the bed via his nesting tendency. Once I’m laying down, Owen wraps both arms around my waist and rests his face on the nape of my neck. He presses a kiss to the bottom-most cervical vertebrae and inhales my scent delightedly.

“You enjoying yourself back there?”

“You smell good,” he mumbles shyly. Hugging his arms around me tighter, he traces soothing circles on my hip bone with his right index finger. His head comes to a static position as he’s finally comfortable, and slings his left leg over the side of my left thigh. I can’t help but laugh at the assumed position, and pull out my phone to entertain myself, knowing damn well that Owen will be asleep in a matter of minutes.

When I open instagram my face falters a little bit. The most recent post is from my coworker Kelly, and it’s a video of her 6 month old baby. In the video, her husband is holding the baby, making funny faces at her to get her to laugh. The sight is adorable and kind of saddening all at once. They seem like such a happy family and I’m sharply reminded by a thump in my chest of how Kelly got the promotion we were both up for last week. Her life seems magnificent, and mine feels like it hasn’t started yet. I know she’s three years older than me, but still. Three years isn’t that much. I still feel like I have no idea what I’m doing, or going to do.

“Owen?” I don’t trust my voice to lift over a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“Are you happy?”

“I am now that you’re finally relaxing with me-”

“No,” I cut off his pointed comment with a breathy laugh, “I mean with life in general.” Owen’s finger stops tracing circles, and there’s no more movement of him making small adjustments. The only proof I have of him being alive is the faint tickle of his breath across the exposed skin of my neck.

“I mean, not everything is fantastic per se, but I’m content with the balance of good and bad.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… I still get in my own head with auditions a bit, but I have acting and a new pad and you,” Owen emphasizes his statement by hugging onto my waist a bit tighter. “Why? What’s up?”

“I don’t know. I just get consumed by the thought that--yes, everyone wants to be happy--but it just doesn’t happen for some people. Everyone has dreams and goals and aspirations, but how many people can actually say that they have their dream career or dream life?” I let out an involuntary sigh from subconsciously holding my breath. “What if I’m not one of the people who gets to be happy?”

“Woah… where is this coming from?” Owen holds onto me tighter at the lack of a response. He presses a lingering kiss to my back and doesn’t move away until he feels my shoulders physically relax in his grasp.

“You deserve to be happy. And you will be even if you aren’t right now. Even if the bad outweighs the good right now, you have me. I’m here for you… I love you, Y/n.”

“I know. I love you.”

“Besides, aren’t you a little young to be having so much existential dread?”

“Oh, that is so rich coming from you.”

“And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Owen scoffs in defense of his honor.

“You are the biggest doomsayer I have ever met.”

“It could be worse. I could be this existential and look like you.” It’s my turn to play up defensive with an exaggerated gasp.

“You can cuddle with yourself then while I-”

“No! I’m sorry, please don’t leave!” His hold on my body grows impossibly tighter as he pulls me into his broad chest. I give in and stop struggling against him. Owen peppers the bare skin of my neck in staccato kisses to restore my tranquility. It’s not long until the two of us settle into a comfortable silence, simply desiring to be enveloped in one another’s presence. The syncopation of our breathing is the only sign of life in the room, and I’m consumed by a moment's clarity: as long as I have Owen, the good will always outweigh the bad.

***

A/n: Okay so for you nosy fuckers who care to read this: the reason I kinda disappeared... is so fuckin dumb. Idk how I got here but atm I’m #obsessed with Mat Barzal. Yeah. The hockey player. I don’t want to become a hockey blog tho so I figured I’d just go through this on my own and then resurface once I’m back on my JATP headassery. Slowly but surely, I can get through it. I go through periods of time where I exclusively read fics and then exclusively write fics. This has been a time of reading recently as I’ve purged the majority of Barzal content on here.

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @kaitlyn2907 @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul @celestialmolina @lilyjoyner

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mintyminyoongi · 3 years

Text

Idiots

Pairing: Min Yoongi x ReaderRating: T

Word Count: 7.8k

Trigger warnings: None

Summary: Imagine you love Yoongi and Yoongi loves you but you’re both idiots and can’t say it. Or better yet, read about it.

Normally, when your phone starts ringing at 2:00 AM, you would curse the living daylights out of the person on the other end of the line. Maybe ask them if they were raised by barbarians or looking to get fully throttled.

But when you finish grumbling curses under your breath and crack an eye open to look at your screen, you can’t help the way your heart flops over a little. Yoongi. You swipe your thumb across the screen to answer before it goes to voicemail.

“You better be dead or dying,” you groan into the receiver.

You hear him curse under his breath and some fumbling around. “I, um, am not dying. Coincidentally. I forgot to check the time again.”

His low, drawling voice sends a shiver down your spine, as always. “Yeah, you did.” You find yourself chuckling, despite your initial anger.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “You were sleeping?”

You laugh fully this time. “Yeah Yoongi, I was sleeping. Like most people do at two in the morning on a Wednesday.”

“Ugh, sorry Y/N.” He sighs into the phone.

You frown and roll in your sheets, sitting up fully. “Hey, you okay? It’s been a while since you’ve spaced on time like this.”

About three years ago, you met Yoongi. You’d just graduated from university and had been able to get an internship at a tech start up in Seoul. It was shit pay and crazy hours but you loved the work.

You had met Yoongi in a cafe, late one night. Officially, you were off the clock but you had taken your laptop with you to try and catch up on some of your assignments. The cafe was close to your apartment, open late and had cheap, strong coffee.

Yoongi had been set up at one of the far tables, feline eyes droopy despite the numerous coffee cups littering his table. He had a fancy set of headphones on and his bleached blonde hair had dark roots growing in.

The cafe was busy, even during this time of night so you took one of the last empty tables near him. You tried to get work done, honestly. But between your sleep deprivation, over caffeination and this gorgeous boy sitting a table away, it was difficult.

So he naturally caught you staring at him. And your best way to save face was to point dumbly at your own ear. His brow furrowed but he pushed one headphone off his ear anyway.

“Sorry, just... I could hear your music through the headphones. It’s a little distracting.” It wasn’t, you could barely hear it over the other cafe noises. “Also, it’s bad for your hearing. To play music that loud.”

You wanted to disappear. Like wholly, from this plane of existence and any others that were out there.

But he just looks at you with an amused, crooked smile.

You didn’t know at the time that Yoongi was a successful rapper. He went by the name Agust D, and had just gotten back from his first tour after the release of his mixtape.

And the formation of your friendship went just like that. He needed a friend that didn’t care about his fame or his reputation. And you just needed a friend.

So what if you thought he was incredibly hot and talented and funny… Yoongi had never shown you any interest, romantically. And that was fine with you. His friendship meant the world to you.

Anyway, Yoongi wasn’t the best at taking care of himself. So when he calls you in the middle of the night, it’s almost always because he’s been locked in his studio all day and has lost all sense of time.

He sighs, not answering you right away. “I’m okay. Just- stuck on a song.”

You furrow your brow. “When did you eat last?”

A beat of silence. “Um.”

“Yoongi.” You bite your tongue to hold back the full lecture. “How about sleep?”

An even longer pause. “I took a nap this afternoon,” he says. “Or wait. What day is it?”

“Alright, that’s enough. Go home. Take a shower, sleep in an actual bed. You’re not doing yourself any favors running on fumes.”

“I know.”

“Nope, not buying it. I wanna hear you leave the studio.”

“Woman,” he sighs under his breath. “Fine.”

You can hear him shutting down the programs on his computer, almost feeling the way he’s making mental notes of where to pick up in the morning.

“So, which song is giving you trouble?”

Yoongi starts to describe the track, how he wants a syncopated rhythm but it’s not hitting right. He muses all the way during his walk home about different things he can try.

You curl back up into bed, just listening to him and giving what little insight you could. It kind of pained you to admit how much just the sound of his voice affected you.

Before long, you hear his front chime open. “Okay, I’m home.” You hope you were imagining just how exhausted he was. Even though you know you weren’t.

“Good. Please take care of yourself, Yoongi. You’re starting to give me gray hairs.”

Yoongi just huffs into the phone. “Thank you, Y/N. I am sorry for waking you up. Tomorrow’s your big presentation right?”

“It’s okay,” you say. “Yeah, it's at nine. So like,” you wince as you look at your screen. “Six hours.”

“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath. “I really am sorry.”

“It’s fine, Yoongi. Honestly. I’m used to running on no energy and all coffee.”

You could tell he didn’t feel better with that answer. “We're still on for movie night on Friday?”

“Yes please. I’ve been killing myself trying to avoid spoiler alerts.”

“Okay, great. I’ll bring snacks to make it up to you.”

You thought about protesting but knew it would be pointless. “That sounds like a fabulous idea. Now go get some sleep! And when you eat in the morning, it needs to be something that doesn’t come out of a plastic package, you hear me?”

“Aish, woman, let me live,” he gripes but you know him well enough that you can practically picture the smile on his face. “See you Friday. Good luck with the presentation, you’re gonna kill it.”

“Thanks, Yoongi.” You hang up and have to force yourself back to sleep, always getting a bit of a high from talking to him.

On Friday night, you were running around your apartment like a mad woman, trying to get it clean before Yoongi shows up. Even though he was terrible with the concept of time, he was never late to your movie nights.

You had stayed late at work talking to your boss about your presentation from the day before. So when Yoongi showed up at your door right on time you were still in your work clothes, hair a mess.

“Hi, come in. What the-” Your eyes practically bulge out of your head when you see how many bags he’s carrying.

“I said I would bring snacks,” he says sheepishly, cheeks tinted a dusty pink.

“Yoongi, this is like a whole store.”

He sets the bags down on your kitchen counter. “I felt bad about waking you up.”

You shove his arm, eyes widening further as he starts unbagging everything. “I told you it was fine, you dope! This is way too much food.”

Just as he opens his mouth your doorbell rings. Yoongi looks at you guiltily, a bag of your favorite chips in his hand.

“I may have also ordered pizza from that place you like.”

You wanted to smack him and kiss him in the same instant. That pizza was the perfect way to end a long, stressful week. “Well, you answer the door. I’m going to change clothes.”

In your room, you quickly change into sweats and a t-shirt. You fix your hair into a normal, less insane ponytail and make your way back into the kitchen.

You find Yoongi staring at you as you drop your hands from your hair. “What?”

He coughs, looking down. “Nothing. The food’s all ready.”

You frown a little but leave it. Then you see the three pizza boxes sitting on the counter. “Min Yoongi you did not order three pizzas and buy all these snacks.”

He squawks a little, unable to form words for a second. “Will you just take my apology already?”

Your heart seizes a little at his sincerity and you try not to read into it. “Fine. Apology accepted.” You cross your way into the kitchen, grabbing some plates out of the cabinet.

“How did your presentation go, by the way?”

“Oh my god it went great, Yoongi! My boss loved the idea of an integrated software, and he gave me the lead on it.” You turn to see him watching you attentively, a proud smile on his face.

“And this is the first time you’ve been the lead, right?”

“Yeah, at least one of this size. It’s gonna be a lot of work but I’m really excited.”

Once again, Yoongi gives you this unreadable look. His gaze makes you feel squirmy so you hand him a plate. “Well I’m proud of you, Y/N. You’ve really made a name for yourself at that company.”

“Thanks, Yoongi.” You cracked open the first pizza box and could’ve started drooling. “Oh my god, this smells amazing.”

When you’re thoroughly surrounded on the couch with more pizza, snacks and wine than any two people could need, you start the movie.

You and Yoongi had started making movie nights a habit about a year ago. Every month you both find time to make it work. It was kind of your favorite thing but you wouldn’t tell him that.

You really were trying to reign in your feelings for him. It didn’t seem fair, when Yoongi was only looking for platonic companionship. So you keep respectable inches between the two of you as you queued up the movie.

Yoongi gave you a judgy look at the moan you let out around your first bite of pizza but a swift elbow to the ribs made him look away.

The movie was pretty good, it was a slasher movie that came out earlier in the year. You watched with your mouth hung open in disbelief as the killer rose from the dead for the third time and snuck up on the lead actress.

“Oh, come on, they can’t be serious.” You lean forward on the couch cushion, thoroughly enveloped in the plotline. As the killer brandishes a kitchen knife and raises it above his head, your reflex is to smack Yoongi in the arm.

“Why doesn’t she just turn around?” you demand. “The house is like 800 years old the floorboards are creaking louder than your snoring.”

You can feel Yoongi look at you in offense. “First you hit me then you insult me?”

The girl on the screen eventually turns around and a chase ensues. You turn to Yoongi. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you. I just get so wound up at these movies.”

“Oh, but you meant to insult me?” He says, an eyebrow raised.

Damn, he looks good sprawled out on your couch. The thought comes unbidden. You bring yourself back to the present, to the sound of screaming and shrill horror music in the background. The present with Yoongi sitting on your couch.

“Yeah, I mean have you heard your snoring?”

“When have you heard me snore?” he demands.

You turn to face him on the couch, the movie forgotten for the moment. “Like three months ago, when you showed up at my door, completely wasted. You stumbled around my apartment for twenty minutes and then you passed out on the couch. You snored. All night.”

Yoongi looks at you with his mouth hung open, speechless. He shakes his head, seeming to snap out of it. “I completely forgot about that night.”

“Yeah, it was after some event at your label. You showed up smelling like cheap perfume and whiskey, barely able to stand up straight. I gave Namjoon an earful the next day for letting you get that drunk.”

Yoongi scoffs, suddenly finding the hole in the knee of his jeans very interesting. “He didn’t let me do anything. I can be pretty stubborn when it comes to that stuff.”

You nod, not understanding where the uneasy mood came from. “That’s pretty much what he told me. He said that you showed up to the event pissed off, that you were an asshole the whole night and he couldn’t keep you in check.”

“Yeah I wasn’t myself that night.”

He still wouldn’t look at you.

“I remember,” you say. “I’d never seen you that far gone before. Namjoon said he hadn’t either.”

Yoongi stays silent. For long enough that you started to turn back to the TV screen, not wanting to push him.

Truthfully, that night had kind of scared you. He had been almost incoherent when you let him in. Yoongi was a fan of a good whiskey but he usually didn’t get that drunk, let alone wasted like that. You hadn’t known what to do so you kind of just stood back as Yoongi mumbled to himself, shucking his jacket and boots before falling onto the couch and passing out.

He says something under his breath and even though you were right next to him you didn’t catch it. You wince as a bloodcurdling scream comes from the TV screen. He doesn’t even seem to notice it.

“What did you say?” You ask him, scooting a little closer.

Again, he stays quiet. At which point you’re starting to get annoyed, so you let out a huff and flop back against the couch cushion.

“You had a date that night.”

You stare uncomprehendingly at the gory scene on the TV before looking at him. “What?”

He had turned his gaze to you, but not in your eyes. He’s looking somewhere around your shoulder, you think.

Yoongi runs his tongue over his teeth before answering you. “That night, you had a date with some guy from your office.”

You think back, remember that you’d had a date with Minho. He was in the advertising department of your company. He had a really cute smile and loved cats so you thought you’d give him a chance.

You thought if you just actively started dating that you would get over your stupid crush on Yoongi faster.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work.

Even though Minho was attractive, and he had really funny stories you only found yourself thinking about Yoongi all night. The date had ended when he walked you to your door, and kissed your cheek. You told him it had been a nice night but you didn’t think you saw him as more than a friend. Things had been awkward around the office for a few days but he took it graciously and you two are friends now.

Yoongi had shown up not long after you’d gotten back. You were still in your dress, heels kicked off by the door. You remember now, he had given you a once over and scoffed before stepping past you into the apartment. Before you’d gone on the date, you’d told Yoongi about it. You thought maybe if he hyped you up it would help you be more excited for it.

Instead, he just said “have fun” and didn’t speak to you for the rest of the night. Until he showed up at your door, so drunk he couldn’t stand straight.

He never asked about the date, you didn’t think he even remembered it. He certainly didn’t seem like he cared about it at the time.

Belatedly, you realize the end credits are rolling on the screen.

And Yoongi is staring at you. Not at your shoulder or somewhere in the vicinity. Right at you.

“Yoongi…” You say, because you didn’t know what else to say.

He gulps down the rest of his wine and turns to face you fully. “I-I didn’t have the right to be jealous but I was. Of him. So I went to that stupid fundraising event and focused on the free drinks and the easy women. And ended up here anyway.”

You swallowed thickly, trying not to overthink what he was saying. “You were jealous?” The words are strained as you say them. Your hands curled into fists because the bite of your nails in your palms helps to ground you.

Yoongi leans in a little, sucks in a quick breath. He opens his mouth to speak just as the movie kicks back to the main menu, the title music blaring through the speakers.

You jump reflexively. You didn’t realize how close you’d gotten to him, your face barely a few inches from his. So close you can see his pupils dilate, can smell the sweet red wine on his breath.

And just like that, Yoongi seems to snap out of something. He stands from the couch and picks up your dirty plates and wine glasses. He’s already in the kitchen, loading the dishes in the washer when you feel yourself snap back into reality.

What the hell was that?

You were pretty sure you weren’t misreading things. He was jealous that you were dating other people. Well, had dated other people. Honestly you were tired of the whole song and dance. You hadn’t been on a date since Minho. When the right guy came along, you would try again. But you hadn’t found anyone that could hold a candle to Yoongi. And you didn’t want to waste anyone’s time.

But… why was Yoongi jealous? He was famous, had tons of beautiful idols and models and actresses he could pick from. Maybe he was just jealous of having a normal dating life.

Either way when you shuffle into the kitchen with the bowls of snacks, you couldn’t ignore the tension in Yoongi’s shoulders. The dishes were all loaded but he stood at the sink, clutching the edge of the counter.

“Yoongi.” This was new for you. You’d never felt uncertain around him before. Maybe shy, when you caught yourself thinking about his adorable smile or strong hands. But never uncertain.

He cleared his throat and turned abruptly. “I forgot I have an early morning tomorrow. I should get going.”

You frown, not wanting to leave things in this weird state. You follow him to the door where he’s pulling on his coat. “Yoongi,” you try again.

He falters, head hanging low.

“Will you just tell me what’s bothering you?” You finally demand.

Yoongi turns swiftly, pulling you close to him by your waist. He leans his forehead against yours and you suck in a breath, gasping it out at his proximity. Usually you’re the one initiating the contact, little side hugs or poking his cheeks when he’s grumpy. You always tease him about his fear of intimacy.

He huffs out a breath and closes his eyes. His hands tighten their grip on your waist.

You let him hold you. Part of you can tell he somehow needs this. You wonder if he can feel how heavily your heart is beating inside your chest. It feels thunderous to you.

Yoongi shifts, turning his face into your neck. You feel yourself relax a bit. This feels more familiar, closer to the hugs you’ve shared before. You allow yourself to wrap your arms around him, hoping to bring him some comfort.

“Don’t date anyone else.”

The words are soft, spoken against the skin of your neck. But you hear them perfectly. And your heart skips a beat all the same. “Yoongi-”

He moves, pulling his face from the crook of your neck. It takes him a minute to bring his eyes up to meet yours. And it almost seems to pain him when he croaks out “Please, Y/N.”

One of your hands seems to have its own mind as it combs through the hair at the back of his neck. His eyes close a little as he waits for your answer. “Okay,” you whisper.

His sharp gaze snaps up to yours and it takes you aback. Your hormone addled brain thinks that he’s going to kiss you. And it really seems like he’s going to. He moves one of his hands from your waist to cradle your face in his palm.

You lick your lips subconsciously and Yoongi’s eyes dart down to watch the action. And then something happens in his brain because he’s letting you go and backing away. “I should go,” he mutters as he pulls a mask from his coat.

Something about his tone is final. You don’t want to push it or question him. He turns back to you when he’s out in the hallway. “I’ll call you later.”

You nod, thoroughly overwhelmed and incapable of forming a response. And then he’s gone. And you close the door and have to ask yourself if you didn’t just dream the whole thing.

You were slammed at work the next week, trying to get the initial details of your new project hammered out. And maybe the lack of communication from Yoongi encouraged you to throw yourself headfirst into the work. Because you really didn’t want to stop and think about what your conversation that night had meant.

‘Don’t date anyone else’? That could really only mean one thing, right? If he didn’t want you dating anyone else it was so you could be with him. Right?

Or maybe he just meant he didn’t want you dating the wrong guys, to protect you or whatever. As if he could know that Minho or any of the other guys you’d dated were “wrong”.

And this whirling blackhole of a thought process is exactly why you’d been staying late every night this week.

The sun had been down for hours when you finally left your office building. You’re on the subway home when Yoongi calls you. Your eyes widen and you feel your heart stutter a bit when you see his name on the screen.

When you answer the phone you immediately hold the receiver away from your ear, the speaker blasting music and overlapping chatter from a crowd. “Yoongi?”

You think you can hear him saying something in the background. After a few moments you hang up. He must’ve called accidentally. And you have to kick yourself for getting so excited.

He’s out at a club or a concert, judging by the noise. It could be for work or for pleasure. Either way, he’s out with people and probably other girls-

You have to stop yourself. He’s not yours.

You get through the train ride and the walk home with a set jaw. This was exhausting. This weird, in-between thing was way worse than just suppressing your feelings altogether.

It was a little after 10:00 when he started texting you. You’d just finished eating a bowl of instant noodles over the sink when you see it. And from the first text you could tell he was drunk.

10:11 Yoongi: I MISs you

10:15 Yoongi: Y/N

10:15 Yoongi: This palace sucks

10:19 Yoongi: wis

10:19 Yoongi: I wish

10:20 Yoongi: Wish yu were hr

10:23 Y/N: Yoongi, you’re drunk. Text me when you’re sober.

Not long after your message he tries calling again. It pains you to do it but you let it go to voicemail. Nothing he says right now is going to keep you from combusting.

So you try to occupy yourself with a few episodes of trashy reality TV until you think you’re tired enough to go to bed. Yoongi hadn’t texted or called again. You hoped it was because he went home. Your brain strayed to some other girl catching his attention at whatever club he was at. Imagined her taking his mind off of you and his phone.

You bite your lip to stem off the ridiculous tears that spring into your eyes at the thought. He’s not yours, you remind yourself again.

The incredibly overwhelming sense of deja vu hits you when your ringing phone wakes you in the early hours of the morning. Yoongi’s face is on your screen. Maybe it’s because your brain is more than half asleep or because part of you is desperate to know if he went home alone that you answer the call.

You were grateful that you didn’t immediately hear the noise of pounding bass and drunk people in the background. But you do hear traffic noise, lots of it.

“Yoongi?”

“Y/N, what time is it?” His voice is still heavy with alcohol and you wince.

“It’s like one in the morning, Yoongi. Where are you?”

“Fuck. I told you I wouldn’t call you like this again.” He mumbles and you can imagine his lips forming that adorable pout. You have to shake your head out of that thought process when you hear a car horn too close for comfort.

“Yoongi, listen to me. Where are you? Are you safe?”

There’s a moment of silence as you imagine him looking around. “I’m- near the um, that corner store where you spilled soda all over me that one time. ‘member?”

“Yeah, I remember. Yoongi, can you get yourself a ride? You should go home and sleep this off.”

He continues talking, as if he didn’t hear you. And maybe he didn’t. He sounded just like that night, months ago. Who knows how much he’s had to drink. “You were so… so flustered and I-I remember you asking me how much my shirt cost because you were worried you wouldn’t be able to pay me back. And I told you it was just a regular t-shirt but really it cost $300 and I never told you that. And you were so cute. You were stuttering, and your cheeks were so red.”

“You- you kept trying to clean me up and everyone in the store was staring. I kind of realized then that you were maybe the cutest girl I had ever seen. Like, the cutest. But I didn’t… I didn’t know how to say that. Because I don’t like people and there are very few that I choose to spend time around.”

While (a very large) part of you loved this confession, you know it didn’t count. He was so incredibly drunk and would probably not remember any of this in the morning. And since you couldn’t see him, all your brain can imagine is that he’s about to stumble into traffic at any moment.

“Yoongi please. I need you to put me on speaker while you get yourself a taxi. I need to know you’re safe.”

He cuts himself off. All of a sudden the traffic noise is much louder so he must’ve put you on speaker. He grumbles as he’s tapping through the app. “Y/N thank you for taking such good care of me.”

“You’re welcome, Yoongi.” Your voice comes out whisper-soft and he might not have heard you over the rushing cars,

He must take you off speaker because he’s easier to hear again. “Says it should be here in ten minutes.”

You exhale, not even realizing how worried you had been. “Okay, good.”

“You interrupted me, you know.” Again, you can picture the pout on his face so clearly.

You chuckle a little, leaning back against your headboard. “You’re right I did.”

“Where was I?” You notice his Daegu accent is slipping in the more he talks. You wish it didn’t affect you as much as it did. “Oh, that people suck. Not you though, Y/N. You don’t suck and I’ve been scared to tell you that because I love our friendship. I don’t want to fuck it up.”

Your heart flutters. You try to keep reminding yourself not to read too much into this. He’s drunk and has never said anything along these lines when he’s sober. He’s had all the opportunity. But maybe you’re a masochist because you ask. “Fuck what up, Yoongi?”

He sighs. “I hate that I’ve never had the guts to say any of this to you sober. I’m such a coward, Y/N.”

As if you somehow know what he’s going to say, you try to stop him. “Yoongi, wait.”

“I love you, Y/N. I’m fucking stupid because I love you and I can’t even say it to your face.”

Tears sting into your eyes because this feels so surreal and it almost physically pains you to hear the words you’ve been dreaming about for so long.

You think you hear him getting into the cab when a car door slams shut and the traffic noise is much more muffled. “I fucking love you, Y/N,” he sighs happily, like he’s glad to have it off his chest.

You have to steel yourself because you can feel your brain slipping into La La Land. “Yoongi, you are drunk. Hang up and call me when you’re sober.”

He chuckles a little. “So bossy. Just because I’m hanging up, doesn’t mean I’ll forget that I love you,” he croons.

“Christ,” you mutter under your breath and hang up.

You flop against your pillows and try to calm your racing heart. What. The. Fuck.

In all of your fantasies about Yoongi you had never let yourself imagine he would say those words to you. It was too painful.

It was painful even now. Until you could talk to Yoongi face to face, you couldn’t know what he meant, if he meant any of it at all. So you were reminding yourself of this, to keep yourself sane as you lay spread eagle on your bed. Wondering what you did in your past life to deserve this kind of emotional turmoil.

When there’s a knock on your door. And a very drunk Yoongi calling your name through the cheap wood.

You run to the door to let him in before he wakes up any of your nosy neighbors. When you open the door, Yoongi almost falls across the threshold. You reach out on instinct to steady him and close the door promptly behind him.

“Would you shut up?” you hiss.

As he straightens and sees you, he gets this lazy smile on his face.

You decide to speak first and cut off whatever thought process he had. “What are you doing here?”

Yoongi pouts and rubs a thumb across your cheek. “I missed you.”

“You were supposed to go home Yoongi.”

“Didn’t want to,” he shrugs.

You sigh, knowing you didn’t have the heart to kick him out when he was like this. “Fine. Will you at least take a shower before you crash? You stink.”

“You just want me naked,” he says, waggling his eyebrows at you.

Instead of answering him, you turn to your room to get him a change of clothes. If he were anyone else, if he hadn’t just told he loved you- this would be hilarious. You would never let Yoongi live this down.

But it wasn’t someone else. It was Yoongi. And not only had he told you he loved you, it seems like he already forgot about it. He was so unaware of the spiral you were in it was painful.

He was struggling with his boots when you made your way back into the living room. You swallow back the lump in your throat as you kneel in front of him.

You nudge his hands away and make quick work of the laces.

“Y/N.” When you look up, you’re struck with the clarity in his gaze. You’re not sure what changed in the time it took you to get him some clothes but the flirty Yoongi was gone.

His eyes were still dropping and he was a little sideways on your couch but he seemed more like Yoongi again.

“What?” you ask and wince when your voice cracks.

“I meant it.”

Your eyes close and you sit back on your heels to give yourself some distance. “Yoongi, please.”

He doesn’t say anything more and when you finally open your eyes again, he’s running a hand over his face. “Okay,” he sighs. Then he grabs the clothes from off the floor and disappears into the bathroom.

How did things get so complicated so quickly?

This was exactly the kind of situation you were hoping to avoid all these years. You roughly wipe your eyes to stop any tears from falling before getting to your feet.

You hear the shower turn on as you make up the couch, tucking sheets into the cushion and bringing out extra pillows. And then you don’t know what to do with yourself. Your first instinct is to go close yourself in your room and not come out until he’s gone in the morning.

You knew you could never do that though. You’d never been good at ignoring Yoongi. It was unclear if other people experienced this kind of magnetism towards him, but you were hopeless.

Because of the war going on in your brain, you were still sitting on the couch when Yoongi walked back down the hallway. And - in a word - oof.

The clothes were his, some you’d stolen a long time ago but he’d put on a muscle since then so the shirt was a little tight. His damp hair hung a little longer, hanging into his eyes a little bit.

The shower seemed to do him some good, he looked a little more alert. More himself.

You watch him warily and tuck your knees into your chest. He takes a seat opposite you on the coffee table. Then you two sit there, not looking at and not talking to each other.

Then Yoongi heaves a heavy sigh and you dare to look at him. “Y/N…” He doesn’t seem to have more to say than that.

You turn to look at him. “Yoongi, I’m exhausted. Can we talk in the morning?”

He nods, shoulders sagging. “Yeah. That’s a good idea.”

You shoot up from the couch, ready to get out of this tense atmosphere. “I brought out sheets and blankets. And there’s a stack of pillows there. If you need anything else, you know where everything is.”

“Y/N.” Yoongi’s hand reaches out, maybe to stop you or grab you. You just dart a few paces away. You had no resolve left and you were pretty sure if he touched you at this point that would just crumble.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Yoongi.”

His sighs and it ruffles your hair, sends a shiver down your back. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

The next morning, as the sun shone brightly through your curtains, you were praying for a sinkhole to open underneath your apartment building and swallow you whole. Or maybe like a stray asteroid could come in through your window. Less casualties that way. Anything to get you out of this conversation with Yoongi.

You hadn’t slept all night, trying to decode Yoongi’s words and your own feelings. You’d been squashing them down for so long, trying to make them as small and inconsequential as possible.

It was sometime after the sky started to turn pink that you truly allowed yourself to accept how much you love Min Yoongi. How much you always have.

For as long as you can remember, you have cherished every moment with him. Your movie nights. When you could bring your laptop to his studio and listen to him produce music while you worked. Getting late night coffees at the same cafe you first met.

The list goes on.

Now it was just a matter of figuring out if Yoongi really did… love you. You know that saying “drunk words are sober thoughts.” And maybe it was true in this case. But what if he just meant he loved you as a friend?

Really, it wasn’t that far fetched. You have never met a more emotionally guarded person than Yoongi. He didn’t even want to admit to being friends until after you threatened to send a video of him dressed up as his female counterpart “Yoonji” to Dispatch.

In short, you were getting nowhere fast. Which is why you finally kicked yourself out from under your sheets to make some coffee. Coffee always helps right?

A quick peek into the living room and you can see Yoongi curled up on the couch, still out.

You tiptoe past him and into the kitchen. You start to brew a pot of coffee and let the comforting smell wash over you. It seemed to rouse Yoongi as well. Over the back of the couch you see him stretch his arms, groaning as he does it.

You pour two mugs of coffee and give him time to fully wake up.

He shuffles into the kitchen, one eye cracked open and trying to smooth his hair down with his hands. “Morning,” he mumbles.

You wordlessly hand him a mug of plain black coffee. He hums gratefully and takes a large gulp.

Not for the first time you internally coo at his early-morning grumpiness. His eyes are puffy and his hair is sticking up in multiple directions despite his efforts. You sip your own coffee and try to figure out how to start this conversation.

Yoongi leans against the opposite of the island counter and looks at you over the rim of his mug. “So.”

“So,” you agree. And then leap into it. “You remember everything you said last night?”

He takes another large gulp of his coffee before setting the mug down. “I do.”

You lean your elbows down on the counter and grip onto your mug with both hands to have something to ground you. “Okay.”

Yoongi looks at you, eyes wary. You can’t look at him, can’t be the one that says something that ruins this friendship.

“Y/N… can we just forget it?”

Your eyes fall closed. You wonder at the same time if it’s possible for your heart to fall out of place in your chest because it no longer feels like it’s there. “Yeah,” you force out of your vocal chords. “Let’s forget it.”

“I just- it was wrong for me to say those things. To you. While I was so… out of it.” Yoongi sighs. “Will you look at me? Please?”

He’s staring at you, fully awake now. His gaze is imploring, like his words are saying one thing but his eyes are trying to tell you something else.

“Y/N, your friendship is one of the most important things in my life. You found me when I was in a shitty place and couldn’t find any real people to be around. Everyone wanted to know Agust D, they didn’t give a fuck about me. I can’t lose that, I can’t lose you-”

You take another drink from your mug to distract you and to hopefully hide the tears building in your eyes. This was the most likely scenario, you knew that. But you had still allowed yourself to hope for the best.

“I get it Yoongi. You love me, as a friend.”

He makes this noise in the back of his throat and comes around the island towards you.

On instinct you back away, trying to keep the distance. You throw your hands up when your back hits the counter behind you. “Yoongi, please don’t-”

He immediately stops a few feet away from you. “This is exactly what I didn’t want,” he says, voice breaking a little on the last words. “I didn’t want to upset you.”

You realize that the tears in your eyes have fallen so you wipe them away hastily. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Yoongi frowns, “You’re crying so it’s not fine.” He looks at you with such concern that it hurts. Like he would do anything to fix it if he could.

“Please don’t look at me like that,” you say weakly.

“Like what?”

You are exhausted, mentally and physically. So your filter is gone. And you blurt, “If we’re going to be just friends, I can live with that but that means you can’t look at me like that. Like you love me more than that.”

Yoongi just looks at you, jaw slack. “Let me be perfectly clear, Y/N. If we’re going to be just friends I am going to be the one living with it. Because…” he sighs and closes his eyes, as if to collect himself. “Because I do love you more than that.”

If your heart hadn’t fallen out of place earlier it certainly did in that moment. “What?” you squeak.

He takes a cautious step towards you. “Last night, I meant everything I said. I’ve never been brave enough to say it to your face, but I have been in love with you for the better part of three years. It wasn’t fair of me to say all of that to you or to show up here and have you take care of me. And I mean it, we can be friends. Because I’d rather be friends than nothing at all. But since we’re here I might as well get it all off my chest, even if it means I never mention it again. At least that way I can finally breathe again.”

Your chest heaves with panicked breaths as you absorb everything he just said. This time there wasn’t any way to misconstrue his words. No doubt about the meaning. Yoongi had just laid himself bare in front of you.

“Idiots,” you mutter.

Yoongi’s eyebrows shoot up past his hairline. “What?”

“We are idiots,” you say and a somewhat manic laugh slips its way past your lips. When you see the hurt cross his face, you step closer and clap a hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you, Yoongi.”

He pulls back a step and the action sobers you immediately. “We are both complete idiots, Yoongi. Because I’ve never been brave enough either. Brave enough to tell you that you are what kept me sane during my intern year. That getting to see you is the best part of my day. And I’ve never told you I love you because I was terrified of you not feeling the same way.”

“Idiots,” he muses. Yoongi looks at you, eyes darting everywhere as if looking for the lie. His lips slowly curl into a smile when he doesn’t seem to find one. He closes the gap between you, cradling your face in his hands.

When he presses his lips to yours, it’s gentle. The tenderness makes your eyes slip shut, makes every time you’ve ever dreamt about this in the past pale in comparison. You could never have imagined how perfect it would feel when his hands roam the planes of your body, wrap around your waist and pull you flush against him.

The closeness has you overwhelmed, whimpering into his mouth. You find yourself craving even more contact, pull yourself infinitesimally closer by wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.

Yoongi pushes against you, making you stumble back a few steps until you hit the counter. Without missing a beat, his hands move from your waist down to your thighs. He grips the flesh there and hoists you up onto the countertop.

You gasp at the lift, legs wrapping around his hips for anchorage. Yoongi takes advantage and licks his way into your open mouth. You let him take the lead, feeling wholly overwhelmed by the way he kisses you. Your fingers thread in his hair, tugging on the roots when the sensations become too much.

Yoongi groans, pressing his lips harder to yours for another second before pulling away. He immediately presses another chaste kiss to your lips before leaning his forehead on yours.

You don’t open your eyes right away, almost afraid he won’t be there when you open them.

“Y/N,” he whispers. Your heart flops over, probably somewhere down near your appendix at this point. “We really are idiots.”

You smile, finally looking back at him. You tighten your legs around him, your body’s way of telling him he wasn’t allowed to go anywhere. Yoongi’s eyes slip shut as he lets out a hiss. “Woman, you’ve gotta stop doing that.”

“Why?” you smirk.

“Because all I’ve thought about for years is being able to love you like I want to. I want to love you in every way you deserve to be loved. But I also haven’t slept in days. I haven’t slept a full night since I was here last, for movie night. If you keep doing that I’m going to take you right here and it won’t be my A game.” He kisses you slowly, making your toes curl in. “I want to give you my A game.”

You smile fondly at the rant but relent, dropping your legs to either side of his hips. Your fingertips trace the shadows under his eyes “I haven’t slept well either. Since that night.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi whispers, slumping into you.

“Don’t be,” you say as you comb your fingers through his hair. “How about a nap? Because I too want nothing less than your A game.”

Yoongi straightens and glares at you. You put a hand on his chest and push lightly. He backs up enough for you to hop down from the counter. You take one of his hands in yours, taking a second to appreciate how easily they fit together.

“What, you’re not going to make me sleep on the couch again?” Yoongi says as you lead him to your room.

“I’m still not fully convinced this is all real.” You turn and pull him close again. “Until I am I need you to stay close to me. So no more couch.”

Yoongi smiles softly. “I can do that.” He kisses your forehead sweetly.

He audibly groans as he climbs into your bed beside you. You roll your eyes at him. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“You try sleeping on that couch. Whoever talked you into that couch is a nutjob.”

You smack his chest. “You convinced me to buy that couch!”

Yoongi shrugs, grinning softly. You smack him once more for good measure. Then you give into the instinct your body has been screaming for, which is to snuggle into him. You get comfortable with your head resting on his chest and one of your legs tangled between his. Your fingers fist into the material of his shirt on their own volition.

He pulls you closer with the arm that’s under you, not seeming to be satisfied until every gap between the two of you is gone.

“From now on, let’s be idiots together, okay?”

Yoongi chuckles and drops a lingering kiss on the top of your head. “Deal.”

#min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #suga x reader #min yoongi x y/n #suga x y/n #min yoongi #suga #bts x reader #bts #bts imagines #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi angst #min yoongi domestic #agust d #angst with fluff #angst with a happy ending

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official-wonho · 3 years

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[INTERVIEW] Wonho Talks “Love Synonym Pt. 2” and How Instagram Shows Another Side of Him

“My fans are the definite source that I can always get energy and inspiration for my music from.”

In the seven months since Wonho officially struck out on his own after departing Monsta X, the man has been busy. He made his solo debut with Love Synonym Pt. 1: Right for Me, a chart- topping EP that introduced him to the industry once more. He’s done live streaming concerts. He’s graced the covers of magazines. He’s posted many gym selfies.

His ventures over the last year have kept fans on their toes for what was to come, and now he’s officially back with more. It’s around midnight in Seoul when I meet Wonho over video call. He looks laid back and comfortable, wearing a white t-shirt layered with a black sweater, makeup removed for the night along with his idol stage persona. What’s left is Wonho’s warm and slightly bashful personality, accompanied by frequent smiles and laughs. He’s just released his second album during the pandemic, Love Synonym Pt. 2: Right for Us, and his fans have been on his mind. The new EP is a continuation of his story that dives deeper into new genres and styles and shows us a new side of what he can do. While talking to Wonho, his current comeback comes into focus; it’s his love letter to fans, endearingly named “Wenee,” short for We Are New Ending. After all, there’s a reason he’s shifted from “Me” to “Us.”

“During the first solo debut, a lot of people were really showing me love, sending a lot of love and great messages,” he tells Teen Vogue through a translator. “I really wanted to repay that love with this album.”

Pt. 2 brings Wonho to the global stage in a new way, through a collaboration with multi-platinum American singer-songwriter Kiiara for the track “Ain't About You.” The pair’s voices blend flawlessly, and the track’s funky beat would feel right at home on U.S. pop radio. “This song reflected the new colors that I wanted to show my fans, so I’m very grateful to have this collaboration with Kiiara,” he says. Wonho explains further that the style of music he uncovered in this track could impact the path that he would like to step into in the future, in terms of the sound he’s hoping to achieve. That path is clear on other tracks like “Best Shot,” which features syncopated guitar riffs and snare drums (not often heard in K-pop) perfectly matching up to his falsetto vocals. Pt. 2 allows Wonho to play with rhythm, instrumentals, and vocals in a fresh way, with “Ain't About You” and “Best Shot” showcasing what’s possible.

As Wonho makes strides towards defining his solo sound, his social media presence has equally skyrocketed. After a 6-second clip went viral on TikTok last year, Wonho’s online persona took its final form via Instagram, where his penchant for gym selfies and shirtless fitness highlights frequently gain the attention of both fans and locals alike. When I ask if he’s seen the reaction to his posts, he grins, laughs, and nods. “I absolutely saw all the reactions from the fans,” he says. “I am really grateful to share all the natural parts of my personality, not as an artist or as a performer … on Instagram or social media I can post just what I really want to share with the world.”

Read full article on teenvogue.com

#wonho #210304 #t: interview #teen vogue #era: part 2 right for us

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cristalconnors · 3 years

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TOP 20 SONGS OF 2020

20. “BELOW THE CLAVICLE”- EARTHEATER

“The meaning hasn’t come up yet. It’s still under the surface below the clavicle.”

It isn’t just Alexandra Drewchin’s ear splitting soprano when she hits that impossibly high B, practically shrieking out the “cle” syllable of clavicle, though that’s undoubtedly when I first knew that Eartheater’s avant folk was for me- it’s also the cinematic, lush strings, both bowed and plucked (is that acoustic guitar or harp? I genuinely can’t tell), deepening and complicating the sonic texture of Drewchin’s study of parsing through emotions you aren’t ready to make sense of yet.

19. “PUSSY TALK”- CITY GIRLS, FT. DOJA CAT

“This pussy so ghetto, this pussy speak ebonics”

“WAP”’s funnier, classless Irish twin, though it’s important to note “Pussy Talk” came first. Yung Miami and JT enlist Doja Cat to expound on everything their pussies deserve and will absolutely settle for nothing less than. And why should they when they’re spitting out verses this inspiredly hilarious with such confidence and flow?

18. “LICK IN HEAVEN”- JESSY LANZA

“Once I’m spinning, I can’t stop spinning...”

Jessy Lanza is talking about losing your cool, letting your emotions get the best of you and lashing out instead of letting cooler heads prevail, but when that earworm of a chorus hits- “once I’m spinning, I can’t stop spinning” - I can’t stop spinning. I’m that woman on the single art, a wine mom lost in the delirium of the dance floor and in Lanza’s hypnotic, fragmented rhythms.

17. “GASLIGHTER”- THE CHICKS

“Boy, you know exactly what you did on my boat!”

“Gaslighter” finds Natalie Ames and her Chicks at their most simultaneously ruthless and ebullient, ripping Ames’s ex-husband Adrian Pasdar a new asshole and ratcheting up the righteous anger of “Goodbye Earl” tenfold, channeling it into a glorious wall of sound in what might be their most rousing, emotionally resonant chorus in their storied career.

16. “HANNAH SUN”- LOMELDA

“Hannah do no harm...”

While “Hannah Sun” begins as an exquisitely observed rumination on grappling with long-distance, pining for someone who’s a continent away, it gradually becomes clear that Hannah Read blames herself for putting the distance between her and the subject of her longing, and that the distance isn’t strictly literal. Skittering synths (or is that distorted flute?) complicate and enrich the texture of the song, allowing it to build organically and stunningly towards a heartbreaking plea to herself- “Hannah, do no harm.”

15. “FIRE”- WAXAHATCHEE

“And when I turn back around will you drain me back out? Will you let me believe that I broke through?”

When I’d drive back and forth between Dallas and Austin over and over again when I was in college, I’d often get off I-35 past Waco and take the back roads through towns I’d never heard of, the sun setting spectacularly behind the titular hills of Hill Country that were beginning to roll out in earnest. I think about that a lot when listening to “Fire,” a song dripping in rural Americana that was, unsurprisingly, inspired by a road trip. We’ve probably all been Katie Crutchfield as she crossed the bridge into West Memphis- alone in the car, awed by the simple beauty of the American countryside, making speeches to ourselves about our past mistakes and figuring out a way forward.

14. “3AM”- HAIM

“On the screen and in my jeans, just make me feel good.”

On an album full of genre departures and decidedly darker themes than we’ve typically heard from Haim in their near decade of syncopated bubblegum pop rock, “3AM” stands out not only as their most effective stab at pastiche, slipping into the trappings of contemporary R&B with shocking ease and gusto, but also as their most unabashedly fun track in their entire oeuvre. “I think you can hear the amount of joy and laughs we had making this song” Alana Haim tells Apple Music, and you absolutely can.

13. “QADIR”- NICK HAKIM

“We’re sinking down a hole without thinking about our loved ones who might be shrinking...”

I often wonder if I’m putting enough effort into maintaining my relationships with friends I don’t see regularly, who live several time zones away, living their own lives while I live mine. When the thought of sustaining simple correspondence becomes overwhelming, it’s easy for months to go by before you realize you haven’t spoken to one of your closest friends. “QADIR” plays less like a eulogy for a friend gone too soon (though of course it is that) than a plea to the listener to put in the work. It’s worth it. You never know when it’ll be too late.

12. “LEVITATING”- DUA LIPA

“Glitter in the sky, glitter in our eyes shining just the way we are.”

Just a few bars of that delightfully bouncy, extra-terrestrial beat is enough to launch me into space. It’s so refreshing to hear a song that remembers that pop is supposed to be joyful and is best when it’s a bit silly. When discussing this track with Apple Music, Dua Lipa cites Austin Powers as inspiration, elaborating that “if I do a video for this, Mike Meyers has to be in it.” Can’t you just see them together, performing a farcical pas de deux of seduction like the spiritual successor to “Beautiful Stranger?”

11. “RIQUIQUI”- ARCA

“Love in the face of fear! Fear in the face of God!”

Arca’s made a career of harnessing chaos and somehow making sense of it. On an album that finds her embracing more traditional, accessible song structures, “Riquiqui” is a reminder that even when working within an AB structure, she’s still breaking rules left and right and having a blast doing it. She’s also never sounded so ferociously empowered in either her femininity or in her Venezuelan identity, rattling off local colloquialisms with affection and verve without a second thought as to who’s going to understand it.

10. “FANTASY”- AGAINST ALL LOGIC

“I think about you all the time...”

Or, the musical embodiment of this gif:

When Nicolas Jaar’s tormented synths and crunching beats give way to Beyoncé’s unmistakable alto, it is indeed quite the shock. But should it be? Even if 2017-2019 finds him ditching the dancefloor in favor of more severe, unforgiving soundscapes, his already varied career has shown us nothing’s off limits to him. So why not reinvent Beyoncé’s iconic “Baby Boy” into an industrial, vaguely sinister certified bop that arguably surpasses the original?

9. “PEOPLE, I’VE BEEN SAD”- CHRISTINE AND THE QUEENS

“If you disappear, then I’m disappearing, too.”

“People, I’ve been sad” plays out with the vulnerability and intimacy of a tumblr text post you put out in the middle of the night, only to hastily delete later when it gets no notes. It forgoes flowery language in favor of just getting to the point. “I’ve been sad.” Héloïse Adelaïde Letissier blows up this deceptively simple sentiment with richly layered textures and a big screen gloss not to offer any remedies but instead to offer solidarity. We’re all in this hell together.

8. “DESCRIBE”- PERFUME GENIUS

“Can you just find him for me?”

Mike Hadreas has never sounded so hopeless. Utilizing harsh, rattling guitar that would make Kevin Shields swoon, he conveys the experience of being so estranged from happiness and joy that you need to rely on others to describe the sensation to you. But how, when exploring darker textures than he ever has before, does he make despondency sound so divine?

7. “4 AMERICAN DOLLARS”- U.S. GIRLS

“No matter how much you get to have, you will still die and that’s the only thing.”

Meg Remy picks up where she left off on “4 American Dollars,” reviving the subversive pastiche she mastered on In a Poem Unlimited, this time harnessing the power of funk to dismantle the fallacies we’re taught about the virtues of capitalism. Heavy stuff, but Remy makes it less didactic than joyous, ensuring the listener will be singing “I don’t believe in pennies and nickels and dimes and dollars and pesos and pounds and rupees and yen and rubles” until they start to wonder if maybe they shouldn’t, either.

6. “STUPID LOVE”- LADY GAGA

“I freak out, I freak out, I freak out, I freak out!”

Due to a healthy spirit of contrarianism mixed with a touch of internalized homophobia and genuine bafflement at her universal appeal and praise, I was a proud Lady Gaga hater for as long as she’d been a cultural entity. I just didn’t get her at all and loved that about myself. Annoying, I know. 2020 was the year I was finally ready to let that all go. Just before the world fell apart in March, I was out at Flaming Saddles (RIP) with friends the night this song came out and by the sixteenth time it played, I understood why it was inducing such hysteria. This was a cultural shift. After a frustrating near-decade of Gaga subverting expectations so thoroughly that she was actively working against her strengths and sabotaging her cultural ubiquity in the process, coupled with the most frightening era of political upheaval in our lifetimes, she was finally ready to save us and be Lady Gaga again. Booming synth, drag sensibilities, absurd thematic conceits- all was right in the world. For the first time in a long time, people had something to be hopeful about, and as I danced that night, I felt that hope, too.

5. “SHELLFISH MADEMOISELLE”- RÓISÍN MURPHY

“How dare you sentence me to a lifetime without dancing?”

As soon as that bass starts (the funkiest bassline in the history of music?) it’s like Róisín Murphy’s snake charming oboe, coaxing even the most stalwart curmudgeon onto the dancefloor and keeping them there, dancing frantically and involuntarily like the citizens of Strasbourg in 1518, trying their best to keep up with Murphy who isn’t even breaking a sweat, commanding the masses with a sultry remove, beckoning you closer, pulling you inexorably deeper into the mass of gyrating bodies and whispering in your ear “come and have a dance with yer mum.”

4. “PARTY 4 U”- CHARLI XCX

“I only threw this party for you...”

As PC Music / Bubblegum Bass / whatever you want to call it enters its second decade, Charli XCX proves not only that there’s still new textures to explore within it, but also that no one can exploit its artifice to get down to emotional truths like she can. How can she make something this slick sound so vulnerable? “I only threw this party for you” she croons over and over again over glorious syncopated synths that build exquisitely, reaching their climax only to immediately fall away, until it’s just her and her trusty autotune, pleading with the subject of the song to just come to the damn party. But they won’t, of course. They never do, do they?

3. “WAP”- CARDI B, FT. MEGAN THEE STALLION

“I want you to touch that lil’ dangly thing that swing in the back of my throat!”

Sometimes you just immediately know you’re living through a significant cultural moment. No, not COVID. I’m talking about the experience of hearing Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion’s instant classic “WAP” for the first time, a titanic meeting of the minds that finds both of them at the apex of their cultural influence and at their most undeniable. Can the argument be made that these two aren’t the two best rappers in the game right now? How could you hear this inspiredly filthy sex positive juggernaut, where Cardi and Megan are trading the sickest verses of their careers, and not think these two deserve the world?

2. “KEROSENE!”- YVES TUMOR

“I can be your baby in real life, sugar. I can live in your dreams.”

If the 2010′s were all about the pop-ification of all music, trading in live instrumentation in favor of polished synths, 2020 forcefully announced the return of the electric guitar when Yves Tumor and Diana Gordon’s back and forth lustfully submissive declarations of desire suddenly gave way to that nasty guitar rip lifted from Uriah Heep’s “Weep in Silence” to announce yet another cultural shift in a year chock full of them- rock and roll was, indeed, here to stay.

1. “I WANT YOU TO LOVE ME”- FIONA APPLE

“I move with the trees in the breeze, I know that time is elastic.”

We live and we learn. Years spent soul searching and on self-discovery shape us into better, smarter people, progressively knowing and understanding ourselves and the world around us more and more clearly, but Fiona Apple knows that none of that can quell the ferocious desire to be loved by someone. By anyone. By you, whoever that is. We can know that time is elastic and that when we’re gone all our particles will disband and disperse and then we’ll be back in the pulse, and we can know that none of this stuff actually matters, but still- we want, we want, we want.

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pradaksj · 4 years

Text

7 Rings | 01

♛ pairing: taehyung/reader

♛ rating: mature

♛ word count: 12,000+

♛ warnings for this chapter : explicit language, terminal illness, this chapter basically just sets the foundation of this story up so sorry if it’s a little boring

♛ summary: In need of money for your mom’s medical bills, you and your best friend come up with a plan to infiltrate one of Seoul’s richest families, the Kim family. The plan was simple, blackmail, get your money, and disappear, but of course things don’t always go as planned. Especially not with someone like Kim Taehyung.

━ ❝ Whoever said money can't solve your problems, must not have had enough money to solve 'em. ❞

♛ chapter index/masterlist || series masterlist || next chapter

Chapters⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08

“Why Y/N?” his voice cracks, the look of betrayal evidently on his face.

"I never—" you sobbed. Your throat felt swollen and you stuttered, pitifully trying to speak the words in your head. "I never meant for it to go this far," you said at last.

How did you end up here? Where did everything go wrong? When had the rabbit hole simply become too deep? The sounds of several voices echoed in your head.

You could hear him calling your name, begging no demanding an answer, but all you could do was stare off into space, thinking of everything that led up this exact moment.

If only you could turn back time.

3 Months Ago.

Friday Morning.

“In today’s news, the Kim family’s multibillion dollar deal has been officially confirmed. Their partnership with Hyundai is estimated to bring in at least seven billion in revenue to Korea’s economy over the next 5 years. Both parties have agreed to terms that will lift…”

Oh the irony.

Sighing, you turned off the radio of your run-down 2006 grey Hyundai, which every morning you had to cross your fingers and hope that the engine wouldn't burn out on you. The rumbling sounds of the engine starting up never failing to catch the attention of pedestrians walking by.

After several frustrating minutes of struggling to parallel park, you sat in your car and allowed yourself to sulk for a moment. Another day, another dollar to make. Even if it meant having to deal with rude and entitled customers all day, your school loans plus your bills just weren’t going to pay themselves off anytime soon.

“One day at a time Y/N, just one day at a time,” you reassured yourself, placing on your mandatory logoed hat, and mentally preparing yourself for another day. If only you were rich.

Friday Night.

Despite being tired from work, visiting your mom was something you always felt like you needed to do every so often, plus her homemade meals were quite often a bonus considering how lazy you’d often get to cook food for yourself. In fact, the pizza shop near your apartment not only having your order, but voice completely memorized for whenever you called. The young employee quickly interrupting your greeting with a, “Pepperoni pizza, half sausage, half Hawaiian, and a pink lemonade?” surprisingly no longer offended you as much as it would back in the beginning.

Your mom certainly didn’t mind the company as it inevitably got quite lonely living by herself, but she knew she couldn’t smother you forever as much as she would love to. College was a necessity for you in her eyes, a ticket to a better life that wouldn’t require you to scrub the floors of the rich as she did.

And maybe it was because you were more mature nowadays, but conversations with her had now also seemed to be much more meaningful. Well that and the two of you didn’t butt heads as much as you used to compared to when you were nothing but a temperamental teenager whose biggest life crisis was whether your crush glanced at you in the hallway or not.

Of course the boundary and respect of a mother-daughter relationship was always there, some of your jokes sometimes garnering a “I’m not your friend, I’m your mother” speech from her, but nonetheless your relationship with her in a way was very much like a friendship. It seemed as if with every visit you learned new things about her, the different stories she shared with you from her youth always having an underlying lesson that you could apply to your own life.

“I really needed this,” you said while chewing on a mouthful of bulgogi. Small stains of sauce at the corners of your mouth, as your mom’s cooking never failed to make you feel like a little kid. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her now twenty one year old daughter who in her heart was always going to be just a little girl.

She got up from the small wooden dining chair, picking up any leftover dinnerware as she prepared to start washing dishes, all while at the same time listening to you as you babbled on about work.

“I mean really, how hard is it to say thank you,” you rolled your eyes, dramatically sticking your chopstick into your bowl, as you were recalling one of today’s customers who kept snapping their fingers at you as if you were their very own personal servant.

“Well it’s a good thing it’s summer, you don’t have to worry about college so mu—” The sound of glass shattering on the floor abruptly caught your attention. You looked up at your mom who was now dead silent, her face which was now extremely pale, and her breathing which had suddenly became erratic. What you didn't know was that your mom had suddenly felt as if the world spinning, the feeling of disorientation becoming too overwhelming.

“Mom? Are you okay?” you quickly got up, grabbing your mom by the forearm in a means of trying to redirect her from the kitchen to the couch at an attempt to get her to relax. You unlocked your phone, fingers slightly trembling as you called the ambulance.

“Just breathe okay. You’re gonna be okay,” you kept trying to reassure your mom as you waited for them to pick up which at the moment felt like an eternity. Your leg was bouncing up and down in anticipation as you kept glancing at your mom who was trying to keep her breathing in control and her eyes open. “Do not close your eyes on me, you hear me?” your voice began to feel shaky, eyelids brimming with tears, the pulsating feeling of panic flowing through your veins.

“Hello, what’s your emergency?”

You hated hospitals. Who didn’t? The smell, the yellow-toned ugly lighting, and the feeling of anxiousness the whole place gave people. For you though, the hospital was a reminder of tragedy, a reminder that whatever comes in here never walks out the same whether you’re a patient or not. Fifteen years ago, it made your mom a widow left having to pay remaining hospital bills all while having to raise her six year old daughter.

So here you were now, fifteen years later sitting at her bedside waiting for her to wake up, stuck in the same position she once was. You stared up at the ceiling counting each time the overhead lights flickered as you tried not to get so lost into your thoughts. Everything had happened in what felt like was the blink of an eye, guilt was beginning to seep in. Why hadn’t noticed anything earlier? Maybe in some miraculous way you could’ve prevented this, you thought to yourself.

You turned on the small TV that the hospital provided in every room, flipping through several channels hoping you'd find something that would be able to distract you.

“Shut up and kis—” K-drama. Next.

“Watch ou—” Action movie. Next.

“Kim Taehyung gets physical with paparazzi, the heir to Kim Enterprises spotted —” but before you could place your full attention to the entertainment newscast you turned your attention to your mother who was now beginning to shift in her sleep, her eyes now slowly opening, clearly in a daze as to where she was and how she got there.

“Hey ma,” you softly whispered, giving her a warm smile as you held her hand tighter, beginning to rub small circles on her palm.

“W-what happened Y/N?”

“You fain-”

“Ah you’re finally up,” you turned towards the door, seeing who you assumed was the doctor in charge now walking in.

For a doctor she appeared quite young, her petite figure and wrinkle free skin a defining factor in her appearance. You formally greeted her, a wave of anxiousness now overcoming you. “Dr. Whitney Han'' is what her name tag read, but it was what was in small font beneath her name that made your heart feel as if it feel down to the pit of your stomach. “Oncologist,” meaning doctors who specialize in the study and treatment for cancer.

Faintly clearing her throat, “Hello, I’m Dr. Han,” she introduced herself, reaching her hand out for you to shake. She smiled at your mom who was still in a slightly groggy state, but aware nonetheless. “So Ms. Y/L/N, you seemed to have suffered from what we call a syncope, meaning an episode of passing out, it’s usually caused by insufficient blood flow to the brain, a result of hypotension,” you nodded following along with what she was saying,

“When episodes such as these occur, it tends to mean that there’s an underlying cause and so we decided to run some tests on your mother to cross out any possibilities, and well there’s never an easy way to tell anybody this...” her gaze lowered for just a slight moment until she quickly regained her composure, but it was just enough for you to just know. She continued with what you assumed she’s told hundred’s if not thousand’s of patients in her career. For her it’d be just another day of work, but for you it felt as if the world stopped.

Whatever she had said after couldn’t be heard because the only thing you could hear was the sound of your blood pounding in your ears, and an intense beating against your chest. You could see her mouth moving, but nothing seemed to be coming out, everything suddenly becoming a ringing noise to your ears.

Fight or flight is what they call it. When a stressful situation triggers you to either run or stay, and at this moment you just wanted to run, but you knew you couldn’t. You knew that at this exact moment, everything was going to change because whether you liked it or not, the carousel never stops turning.

You slowly glanced at your mom who seemed to be in the same paralyzed state as you, her face stoic of any possible emotion.

“With treatment chances of survival are of course immensely improved, the treatments are harsh, but taking your mom’s age and clean medical history I think she can definitely handle it,” Dr. Han tried to give you a small smile, but even she knew situations like these were always tough. No matter how many years of experience she had, the countless tragedies and rare miracles she’d witnessed in her career, every case was different. Her job as a doctor was to make people like you and your mother feel more comfortable with their situation, but never make any promises.

“Now treatments are done in intervals, and will probably have to be done starting from now until about three to six months which is when we usually see improvement, meaning you will have to permanently stay here for that time. From what I’ve seen with past patients is that treatment can be very costly without insurance, and well I know a lot of physicians don’t like to talk about expenses with patients, but—”

“My mom doesn’t have health insurance. I know,” you harshly broke the deafening silence, interrupting her before she could continue, not wanting to hear anymore of her pity. You had no reason to give her attitude, no reason to direct your anger towards her, it wasn’t like she caused any of this to happen, but you just couldn’t help it. The atmosphere in the air was stiff, any next word out of her mouth and you’d probably go ballistic. “C-can we just have a moment alone? So we could just um process everything,” you stammered, lacking to make any eye contact with her.

“I’ll be right outside in the hallway, let me know if you have any questions,” she gave you and your mom one last tiny sad smile before making her way out.

Once the door closed, you thought that you’d be able to breathe properly again, but the same heavy feeling on your chest remained. It wasn’t until you felt a grab at your hand that you were brought back to reality.

“Hey we are going to be just fine Y/N,” your mom whispered to you as it was now she who was rubbing your hand in an effort to comfort you. A weak smile appearing on your face, of course your mom would be comforting you despite it being her who's sick. “Come on lay down with me,” she then began to scoot to the side in her already tiny hospital bed, trying to make space for you.

And for a small everlasting moment you felt like a little girl again as you hugged your mom, tears silently falling from the corner of your eyes, the soft sound of her humming comforting you. You let your head relax onto her shoulder, your breathing somehow finally under control. The question of “What are we going to do?” slowly disappearing from your mind, letting yourself drift off to sleep in the arms of your mom.

Sunday Morning.

In the following days after, you had helped your mom move her necessities into the hospital room that she’d be staying in until her treatment was over and she could be discharged. You had contacted your landlord informing him that you’d be cancelling your lease as you now had plans to move back home. The only reason you had your own small apartment in the first place was because your mom thought it’d be better to live near campus and not waste so much money on gas going from campus to your job and then back to your moms place. Despite her protests on the cancellation of your lease, you had done it anyway.

“Ma someone has to live there, or else it’d just be useless to continue paying rent. We can’t just leave it empty for the whole year, someone could break in or even try to live there for the while that you’re not there. I mean imagine walking in on some strang—”

“Exactly, which is why I don’t want you living there, and move the decoration a little more to your right,” she says while making a motion with her hand as a way to guide you. For the past hour you had been putting up flimsy removable decorations all across the beige hospital walls at an attempt to make her room look less depressing than it already was.

“I already told you, I’ll be just fine. I already asked Yuna to help me get my stuff, and you’re acting like everyone in the neighborhood doesn’t know who I am, and it’s a lot faster to get here from home. I just need to start looking for a second job in the meant—”

“Ah about that,” your moms sudden interruption causing you to stop what you were doing , now tilting your head in confusion, “I called Mr. Choi and told him about me no longer being able to work for the meantime that I'm here and well that’s when he mentioned something about going on vacation, and needing a temporary assistant… and that he needed someone to run some business like errands for him and well I may have mentioned you and that you’re majoring in business and how you’d love to work for him…” she tried zooming through the last part but you had heard it all.

“Wait what!”

Mr. Choi was your mom’s boss, having been his housekeeper for as long as you could remember. Endless long nights of making sure whatever multimillion dollar penthouse he or his other snobby friends owned looked squeaky clean, just to be paid like any other minimum-wage worker minus the tip.

You could still vividly remember the nights when you were younger being babysat by your neighbor, anxiously waiting for your mom's knock on the door signifying that she was back home, and just how exhausted she’d look as she took off her housekeeping shoes, too tired to even look at the pile of sealed letters on the sturdy coffee table. A constant reminder that she was going to be working for that man for a very long time.

For a long time you had wondered how she was able to do it all. Were there nights where she felt like just giving up and simply letting everything she’d work so hard for to collapse?

Your mind flashing back to the night before you moved out for college. It was about 3 in the morning and anxiety had been keeping you up the whole night, the fear of moving somewhere you were unfamiliar with creeping into your mind. The sound of muffled tears coming from the living room snapping you back into reality. Slowly you had gotten up from bed, opening your door wide enough to leave a crack that you could visibly see through, desperately trying to avoid having the door loudly creak.

And so there she was with a wax stick candle in her hand, quietly whispering to herself a small recital, the sound of several wailed “thank you’s” coming out of her mouth, grateful that she had made it this far. The old framed picture of your dad on the coffee table making it hard for you to fight back your own tears.

Nights where she was sure your landlord would knock at any moment to kick you guys out because the rent was going to be late, nights where she’d silently cry herself to sleep because it killed her to say no to something you desperately wanted from the store, and nights where she merely missed the love of her life. Doubting herself as to whether she was doing a good job in raising you, simply wishing she could have someone give her some reassurance. And having to hide those feelings because she didn’t want her daughter to find out that the person she had once given a “Happy Mother’s Day to the Strongest Mommy in the World” card with a colorful doodle of herself in a cape was in fact not strong at all, but acted like she was because she simply loved her daughter too much.

And so that night instead of going back to sleep, you slowly made your way into the living room, silently enveloping her in a hug, no words having to be spoken. Promising yourself that you were going to work hard in college, and get each other out of the small cramped apartment to which you guys called home. Life of course had different plans, which brings you back to one of the causes of your stress and worries: Mr. Choi.

Oh how you despised that man. One would think a rich man like him would’ve offered by now to pay for all of your mom’s expenses considering the years of servitude, but no. He only fed into the stereotype you already had of the rich, the only people they cared for were themselves.

“So you’re basically telling me I have to quit my job by tonight, and do something I have absolutely no experience with?”

“Yes! You need to start getting all the experience you can get in the world of business, and him being on vacation is perfect. Less stress, and I assume it’ll be better pay than that restaurant you’re working in.” Oh how you hated how naive your mom could be sometimes, it always led to Choi taking advantage of her and her kindness.

“Mr. Choi lives—”

“In the city which is not at all far from here, the only reason you work at that lousy restaurant is because it’s near campus, yes or yes?”

“And when school starts?”

“Mr. Choi should be back by then and he can find someone new to replace you,” you dramatically groaned, the fact that she had reasonable answers to your questions bugged you.

“But-”

“But nothing! You’re a hard worker Y/N, who knows you may even meet someone who could change your life around in that area. You’re young, about to be a college graduate, you need to start printing out resumes and Mr. Choi is a big name in the indust—”

“I get it, I get it,” you said chuckling at your mom’s enthusiasm, “and who's going to keep you company then?”

“Ah well the nurse was telling me last night about the events they throw here every week for people like me who are staying here for a while and trust me I’ll be just fine,” she winked at you which raised a laugh out of you. Who knew your mom could be so… social. “Just try and visit hmm... at least once a week.”

“Once?”

“I’m telling you Y/N, we will be just fine. Stop acting like I’m dying anytime soon.” she said, “now what do you say? It’s just until the end of summer.” You began to consider your options, money was definitely the weighing factor here.

Sighing once you had made your decision, “When do I start?”, a giant grin now appearing on her face.

Sunday Night

“Well that’s the last of it,” you sighed in relief as you finally were able to close the trunk of your car after several minutes of struggling to compress your things in order for everything to fit in your small car and not make any double trips back.

“Finally! You know for someone who claims they need to save money, you sure do like spending it on such small useless things,” your best friend, Yuna, complained.

“Oh because you were so much help,” you huffed, she had no right to complain considering all she did was loudly munch on her chips, watching the pitiful sight of you nearly fighting your trunk after several failed attempts of it not closing. She raised her hand in defense.

You and Yuna had met in the 8th grade after the two of you were assigned as partners for your geometry class, casual conversation about latest idol debuts and fashion trends had blossomed a beautiful friendship. For a while you thought that college was going to cause the two of you to grow apart, but in fact you two became even closer. It had become a friendship where you didn’t need to see each other everyday, nor talk about absolutely everything all in one moment. Everything was always at its own pace between you two, the boundaries having been silently set.

You had told Yuna of your situation and rather than try to get you to cry about your feelings and awkwardly comfort you, she instead agreed to help you move out, letting her actions speaking louder than words. Of course Yuna’s definition of help differed from yours. but it was the thought that counted. She knew that when you were ready you’d talk to her about everything.

“Well apartment D2 you’ve been... “ you paused, recalling the amount of times you’ve nearly burned something, now scratching your neck, “...decent to me, but it’s time for a new chapter,” you whispered to yourself, anxious for the weeks to come.

The drive home like almost all of them had the two of you singing to both current and childhood songs without a care in the world even though you two weren’t exactly what people would consider “good” singers. Occasional voice cracks seeping through the bass of the speakers, garnering a laugh from the two of you.

By the time you got home and finished unpacking, you were not only exhausted but extremely hungry.

“I’m gonna go get us take out,” Yuna announced, getting up from the couch and grabbing your car keys from the rack, almost as if she read your mind.

And so while she went to get that, you laid on your small childhood bed, staring at the ceiling. You laughed at the multiple glow in the dark stickers you had crookedly placed onto it several years ago, and cringe at the posters of second generation idols you had sloppily posted up on your walls when you were fifteen, now unaware that you were subconsciously grinning.

It surprised you that your mom for the most part hadn’t moved anything around from your room, for the most part it looked almost exactly as how you left it years ago. The same old baby blue duvet covered your metal twin-sized bed frame, decorated with grey fluffy throw pillows which at the time you thought made you a professional interior designer. Your fingers grazed over the framed pictures you had on your small desk (minus the ones you took to college) of past memories including a photo of your dad piggy back carrying a five year old you who had the biggest smile on her face. A small reminder of what life once was.

You could feel your eyes getting watery as you continued to stare at the photo, and so you quickly snapped yourself out of it, deciding that you already had enough emotional turmoil on your plate. Instead you plopped back onto bed, unlocked your phone and began to scroll through Twitter occasionally laughing at some memes.

A certain retweet had caught your eye causing you to let out a scoff, “Kim Taehyung NASTY fight with girlfriend Sunhi. Click here for more.” The Kim family were almost insufferable, their names practically plastered everywhere across Korea. Especially Mr. Kim’s son Taehyung who somehow always managed to get his name across the headlines whether it be on TV, magazines, or social media.

“Famous for being a brat,” you muttered to yourself, but ironically before you could click on the link you had heard the door open and close, resulting in you locking your phone and immediately getting up from bed, your stomach desperately ready to stop growling.

“Im baaaack!” Yuna dramatically squealed, placing the foam takeout containers on your small kitchen table. The scent of the warm food making your mouth water. “I know it’s chilly right now, but the stars are out tonight, so I say we go eat at the top,” she then gave you the puppy dog eyes.

“You don’t need to make such… disturbing...faces for me to agree, you do know that right?” you teased, trying to hide your smirk.

“Fuck you,” she responded to you while playfully hitting your shoulder.

Despite it being summer, when you had walked outside you immediately felt the crispy cold weather, but it was something you and Yuna had grown accustomed to. The countless number of late nights climbing up your metal ladder to get to the rooftop and watching the small tiny stars had made you two somewhat immune to the nightly cold. Your mom sometimes would even climb up herself to bring hot cocoa, rightfully worried that the two of you would freeze yourselves to death.

You see your apartment, like the rest of your complex, wasn’t in the greatest condition. The infrastructure of it mostly relying on a mix of cement and brick, rust engulfing most things along with metal bars on each complex’s windows in order to prevent break ins. Crime was not something uncommon in your area, but something that you were used to hearing about as you got older.

What made the whole situation more ironic was that the rich were separated by a simple six way motorway, acting almost as a bridge between two completely different worlds with their skyscrapers and condos looking down upon you guys. It was only at night when the stars were out and you looked up at the navy blue sky that you felt like for a small moment none of it mattered. The warm milky glow of the moon never failing to soothe you, reminding you that even in the dark there was light. Reminding you that even now which felt as if was one of the darkest hours in your life, there was going to be light. At least that’s what you hoped.

“This view just never gets old,” you whispered, amazed at the moonlight’s reflection, the speckle of stars only adding to its beauty. Your eyes had once again become watery, a sudden state of reflection washing over you, but you quickly composed yourself before Yuna could notice.

“What time do you even go in tomorrow?” Yuna asked, her eyes still primarily focused on the view above.

“Well their flight is at 1PM so my mom told me I should get there by at least 11AM so he can explain everything to me, show me around, and all that other stuff.”

“I don’t see why you have an attitude about it, you’re acting like it’s the worst job in the world!” she scolded you.

“I know I know, I’ve heard it all already,” you rolled your eyes recalling your mom's lecture and that she expected your attitude to be fixed come Monday morning.

“Well you gotta do what you gotta do,” Yuna mumbled while shrugging her shoulders and continuing to eat her food.

“You can say that again.... ” you acknowledged her remark, secretly scared for tomorrow, silently hoping that all went well, “and I thought I was a slob,” you snorted, watching how sloppily Yuna was slurping her noodles. She raised her hand, smacking you on the shoulder.

“Hey, watch—”

Monday Morning.

“Where you’re going, you asshole!” you shouted over your window, your irritation fixated at the man who cut you off without signaling. God how you hated driving in the city. All the one way signs, the assholes who called themselves drivers, and the narrow streets which were hard to maneuver in. It all caused unnecessary stress, but here you were nonetheless.

“Turn right in 1.2 miles,” you let out a snide scoff as you entered the parking lot, there was nothing but car of the year models ranging from Mercedes Benz’s, BMW’s, Range Rover’s, and more. All making your car look worse than it already did.

Making your way into the lobby, you were in complete utter awe of the place. From the giant diamond chandelier hanging from above to the sparkly interior design which screamed Hollywood glam. The ivory colored double staircase reminded you of Titanic, the color scheme of the whole place was overwhelmingly beautiful. You could only imagine what Mr. Choi’s condo could look like as you made your way to the front desk.

Ding.

To your surprise a boy, a very handsome one to say the least, appeared from what you assumed was his office. He looked no older than you, his hair dyed a crimson-red color giving him a youthful appearance accompanied with a face that had both sharp and soft features. Before you could ponder on why such a good looking person was working and not living at a place like this, your thoughts were interrupted.

“Hello, welcome to The Oaks condos, how can I help you?” he asked, sounding eerily similar to a robot. It reminded you of yourself at your old job, something you certainly would not miss.

“Um I’m Mr. Choi’s new assistant,” you looked for his name tag which coincidentally he didn’t have on, but you could immediately see his shoulders relax once he had heard the words “new assistant”.

“Ah yes! You’re Ms. Y/L/N’s daughter right? Y/N right?” you nodded in agreement, a smile now appearing on his face, causing the corner of your lips to turn upward. Wow was this guy handsome, you only hoped that the heat you felt on your cheeks wasn’t visible to the eye.

“Your mom called me to give me a heads up. I’m Hoseok, I’m what you can consider the receptionist around here,” he said, reaching his hand out for you to shake.

Hoseok. The name sounded so familiar, you could’ve sworn you'd heard your mom mention the name a couple times.

A light bulb then went off in your head, as you remembered the countless number of times she had tried setting you up on a date with him, but wow did she fail to mention that Hoseok had the literal face of a GQ model.

An awkward cough brought you back to reality as you had realized that Hoseok’s hand had been stuck out for quite some time, you were now certain that your face must’ve resembled a ripe tomato. You quickly returned the handshake, internally scolding yourself for making yourself look like an idiot. Here you were, a grown woman, acting like a teenager again.

“So um, you seem um ... pretty young to be working here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he teased, “I replaced my aunt after she retired and the owner of this place trusted her to teach me well, and well I guess I’ve been doing a pretty good job if I’m still employed,” he explained, playfully winking at you, confirming that he knew the effect he had on people. You stood there in silence, deciding that it was just best to say nothing, look pretty, and nod. Thus causing him throw his head back and laugh, making small claps with his hands. With the way you were acting, you couldn’t blame him. He must’ve thought you were some kind of walking circus act.

“You’ll get used to it, you know...” you now had a look a look of confusion on your face which only made him laugh harder, but before you could ask him any questions, he changed the topic.

“Well I assume your mom gave you Mr. Choi’s key pass, correct?” you shyly nodded no in response. “Ah I see, let’s go ahead and get that set up for you then,” you watched him as he began to type some things onto the computer in front of him. Compared to how fast his fingers were moving across the keyboard, he made you like a complete newb on the keyboard. The boy was clearly now in his own zone.

“First name, Y/N?”

“Yes.”

“Last name, Y/L/N?”

“Yes.”

“You see where that X mark is on your left?” he pointed at the microscopic mark on the floor to which you followed, “Okay now look at where that pretty gold flower is on the wall, and say cheese!” Before you could even properly prepare yourself you heard the sound of the shutter go off, immediately causing Hoseok to begin cracking up.

He turned the desktop computer to face towards you, showing the horrendous picture the camera took of you. One eye had come out mid-blink, your mouth slightly agape from fixing your hair in the moment. “Hey that’s not—!” Before you could start complaining, Hoseok had quickly interrupted.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry! It’s only for the program’s database which only Rachel and I see? Ain’t that right Rachel?” Rachel? Who the hell was that?

Glancing around to see who this Rachel person was, you were surprised to see a very old woman seated behind the front desk seemingly caring less about what he had said, a permanent scowl on her face along with a small groan coming out of her mouth as a response. “That’s my girl,” Hoseok jested, “Now you,” he dramatically pointed at you, “come back over here.”

You muttered a quiet “Whatever,” peeved by his little antics. Maybe it was because Rachel was old but you could slowly see why she had that look on her face.

“Place your index finger on the small machine when it lights up,” he pointed to the small biometric scanning machine, similar to the ones used at the DMV. Following the simple instructions you allowed the machine to scan your finger, assuming it was going to be used for something important around here.

All you could do was observe him as he finished typing who knows what. You observed how his eyebrows quirked as he continued to type, a satisfied smile gracing his lips once he was done.

Too caught up in his appearance, the sudden tug at your hand had caught you by surprise, yanking you from where you were standing. “I’ll be back Rachel! I’m going to show little Ms. Y/N here around,” Rachel as before. only grunted in response.

“So here of course we have the lobby, this is where all the..” he glanced around making sure no one was around before whispering, “snobby folks come in and out of every day. Them and their visitors of course, so hopefully you don’t have to interact with any of them.”

“I don’t think all of this will be neces—” before you could continue he pulled your hand again now guiding you towards another area. You glanced at the time on your phone, hoping this so called tour wasn’t going to take too long.

“Right here is the entrance to the patio and pool area, which is what you’ll use your fingerprint for as well as entering Mr. Choi’s condo and any other amenities we have around here,” he reached into his pocket pulling out a laminated card, “but if for any reason our system’s down then this right here should do the trick for amenities only, you’ll have to come up to the front desk if the finger pad in the elevator isn’t working. For precautionary reasons of course,” he explained, most of it pretty self explanatory, except the elevator part but you assumed he’d get to that soon.

“So the entrance to every apartment is through the elevator which is right there on your left,” You followed him as he began to walk towards it, placing his finger on the elevator’s finger scanning pad, “The stairs are really only here for decoration considering no one uses them, I mean unless of course you want to climb up 7 flights of stairs everyday,” You quickly nodded your head no, “Only resident’s and employee fingerprints allow the elevator to open but,” the two of you stepped into the elevator, “the fingerpad inside the elevator only allows certain people to access certain floors. Since Mr. Choi’s going to be out on vacation with his vacation, you are currently the only person with access to his floor,” you raised your finger, slightly confused.

“Don’t you technically—”

“I do, but let’s say I were to enter a resident’s condo without their explicit permission, they’d immediately be notified through their phone as I’m also under strict contract.” Your mouth made an “O” shape, impressed by how everything was ran around here. Another question then popped up in your mind as he clicked the elevator’s 7th button.

“Well what if there’s more than one person in the elevator? What then?”

“Ah good question! Since you don’t know any of the residents here yet, I suggest you always try to go into the elevator by yourself, and if the situation arises where you feel uncomfortable or paranoid about who's in the elevator with you then just go back down to the lobby of course and wait it out, but we’ve never had any cases of break ins or anything like that. Especially not in an area like this. Things around here are ran very smoothly,” he shrugged, “I mean around here the burglars don’t wear black ski mask and carry scary weapons. In fact the real criminals live on these same floors,” he deadpanned, slightly catching you by surprise.

“I know what you’re probably thinking, who the hell makes an elevator an entrance to their home? I thought the same thing when I first started, but for some reason they see it as some kind of luxury feature around here...”

“Mm it’s expected if I’m being honest,” you chuckled, slowly finding the confidence to make small talk with Hoseok without getting so flustered. A pregnant silence had made it’s way into the elevator.

“I’m sorry about your mom by the way...” though he had said it out the blue, you could feel the sincerity behind his words. All you could do was give him a small smile of acknowledgment, feeling as if it was too early to feel someone’s pity. “She talks about you a lot...” he said, causing you to smile.

“My Y/N is going to one of the top schools in all of Korea! My Y/N is going to become a successful businesswoman! My Y/N is so pretty Hobi, a boy like you should take her out some time!” he mimicked your mom’s voice, now causing you to genuinely laugh.

“That definitely sounds like her,” you giggled, your cheeks now becoming a tinging shade of pink at the mention of her trying to playing matchmaker.

“You should’ve seen her face when I told her I was gay,” your eyes immediately felt as if they had bulged out of your eye sockets, your face now completely red at his previous words. He on the other hand was now laughing as hard as ever, his hand clutching onto his stomach from laughing so hard.

“I told you you’d get used to me,” he said in-between laughs, tears now welting out of his eyes from his laughing fit. Things definitely started to make sense, especially now that you were inconveniently remembering how your mom had completely stopped mentioning Hoseok in any romantic way to you. You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment because here you were already fantasizing about the dude.

“You're also probably wondering why I’m working at a place like this, that’s what most people ask me when they visit round here, but...”

“I’ll have to answer your questions some other time Ms. Y/N because well here we are! I’ll have your parking pass ready by the time leave but for now just place your finger on the scanner and off you go,” you followed his instructions, opening the doors of the elevator, stepping out, and waving a small goodbye watching him return the wave as the doors slowly closed. In all honesty you were genuinely happy at the fact that you had made a friend around here even though you were still slightly embarrassed about the moment that had played out only minutes ago.

But before you could dwell on it any longer, you heard a voice call out your name, “Ah Y/N, good you’re here right on time!” You formally greeted who you presumed was Mrs. Choi, slightly surprised at the fact that she even knew your name.

“You don’t have to be so formal. Muah. Muah,” she pulled you in for a hug and giving you a kiss on each cheek like the French do. “I’m so sorry to hear about your mother, tell her I send my condolences.” You returned her fake smile, not expecting yourself to despise her this early on. Oh were you glad she wasn’t going to be around.

Mrs. Choi in a way reminded you of Regina George’s mom despite not having any kids. Needles and plastic were definitely her best friends, and her attempt to try and act younger than her actual age was quite cringe to watch.

Soon after greeting each other, two pomeranians began to circle around you barking. You bent down trying to pet them, but you guess they picked up the snob’s attitude because all they did was continue barking and one even tried to bite you.

“If it isn’t Y/N, I feel like I haven’t seen you in years!” you snapped your attention to the man himself, Mr. Choi, who was coming down his stairs with a thick black luggage case in his hand. The last time you saw him was around 9 years ago when he had lived on the other side of the city. Your mom had to take you to work with her that day because your neighbor was unavailable to watch after you and you were still too young to be home alone.

Mr. Choi had definitely changed in appearance, his once full head of black hair was now clearly balding, he had gained some weight, and overall looked like a man who had long been worn out. You couldn’t help but think that this vacation was probably needed, especially with a wife like his.

“I’ll wait for you in the car my love. It was nice seeing you Y/N, I’ll see you in a couple of weeks!” she squealed, waving goodbye as she stepped into the elevator, the dogs following right behind her.

You could hear Mr. Choi sigh, probably already mentally preparing himself for the next 10 weeks. So this is what a pretentious marriage looks like, you thought to yourself. You theorized that Mr. Choi must’ve only married her for her looks and she for his money, and well no wonder there were no kids in the picture. It’d be the ultimate death of both of them. You actually felt pity for the man, but it wasn’t like he didn’t have a choice in marrying her.

You brought your attention back to Mr. Choi who must have been rambling on for some time now, “My most recent assistant just quit on me for no reason,” a genuine puzzled look on his face, “something about me being too overwhelming for her, as if I'm supposed to know what that means,” he scoffed. “So when your mom mentioned you well I knew I could trust her!”

Your mom truly never failed at mentioning you to whoever and whenever she possibly could, it was both a blessing and a curse.

“So… what exactly am I going to be in charge of?” You blurted out, the question had been lingering in your mind since the night prior.

“Good question, I’d show you around, but time is on the essence. I basically just need you to organize my office, file paperwork, organize Amelia’s closet, go run errands for me, pick up documents, but most importantly I’m going to need you to attend certain events in place for me, but of course just introduce yourself as my assistant, apologize as to why I couldn’t be there, and most importantly keep your eyes and ears open. In my world we like to keep… tabs… on one another,” your eyebrow quirked in curiosity, “and since I won’t have any signal I expect to have a report ready for me when I come back so I’m caught up with everything of course,” he grabbed something from the coffee table, “I made a planner for you with everything that needs to be done on a day to day basis,” he then proceeded in handing you the bulk gray planner, “It includes passwords, data sheets, and all that good stuff.”

You were amazed at how his demeanor had changed from clumsy-like to serious businessman in the blink of an eye. It was actually quite intimidating.

“Finances need to be kept in check, investors need to be accommodated, and well I just want to come back to everything being normal,” he began to gather the remainder of his stuff, “also your money is going to be wired to your bank account on a weekly basis and well that’s really it. I’ll see you in 10 weeks Ms. L/N! Good luck!”

“Good luck..” you quietly repeated his final parting words back to yourself, watching as the elevator doors closed. You could see why his last assistant quit, you didn’t even know where to start. You took a deep breath deciding to make your way up to his office, your day was just getting started.

The condo may have looked like it came out of a show from HGTV, but Mr. Choi’s office looked like it came out of an episode of Hoarders Buried Alive. There were scattered papers everywhere, his desk was practically hidden by all the stacks of papers. Food wrappers and aluminum soda cans thrown around like the slob he was, the stench making you want to throw up.

“Oh my God…” you said to yourself, this man was just a mess.

You skimmed through some of the papers all of them having to do with different things ranging from firm performance, finances, legal forms, and much more. You could already feel a headache coming, but at the end of the day this was your job. You grabbed some storage boxes and began to label them with a black marker.

Your plan was to separate the papers into two sections: Important and Unimportant. Once you finished separating, you’d then shred what you deemed unimportant, and further organize what was important by date and then transfer them to his filing cabinets. It would take time, but it was the only method you could possibly think of. Your goal was to stop by 3 and then start working on Mrs. Choi’s closet.

You put on your earphones and began to play some music so that you wouldn’t be so stressed while organizing everything.

“Breakfast at Tiffany’s and bottles of bubbles…” you hummed to yourself and before you knew it, it was already 3. You had thrown out all of the trash in his office, and for the majority part most of his papers were organized.

You sighed, now to get started with her damn closet.

Mrs. Choi’s closet was its own giant room, marble shelves stacked with bags and shoes, racks full of clothes, jewelry sparkling under their display showcase. The sparkling glass chandelier on the ceiling adding an extra oomph to the room.

Hermes. Gucci. Chanel. Versace. Burberry. Balmain. Louis Vuitton. Saint Laurent. Fendi.

Any brand you could think of was in this closet, it was unbelievable. The closet had to be worth several thousands, no millions. So many questions were running through your head. How could someone just have so much? What do you even do with this amount of clothes? You were truly left speechless.

Shaking your head, you began to pick up all the clothes on the floor deciding that it was best to organize everything by color, your day almost done.

By the time your alarm went off it was already six which is the time that Mr. Choi had said you could leave, and it wasn’t like he was paying you extra for staying any longer and doing more work. For the most part, you had finished with both the office and closet and were just ready to go home, jump into bed, and watch some Netflix.

You went down the elevator, satisfied at your first day on the job. This was going to be easy, you thought to yourself.

Just as you were leaving the lobby you heard Hoseok, “Hey I had your parking permit printed out!” You stopped dead in your tracks, turned around and walked towards his desk. It wouldn’t hurt to make a little bit of conversation, right?

“Ah I had forgotten about that, thanks,” you chuckled.

“It’s no problem! The parking officer loves giving tickets.… so how was your first day?”

“Um not bad actually, a little boring to be honest,” you pondered at his question, for the most part you were being truthful, “Tomorrow I’m supposed to go and get Mr. Choi’s Mercedes Benz checked out, and then from there go and pick up some paperwork from some legal firm, transfer it onto his computer.”

“Well at least he’s not around to be over your shoulder, he practically had his last assistant going nuts,” he responded, laughing at the memory.

“Well I’ll see you tomorrow,” you yawned, giving him a small wave goodbye.

“Hey well let me know if you ever need anything, and I’m being serious,” and to that you nodded, taking note of what he said.

Monday Afternoon.

[Incoming Facetime from: Ma 💞💗💓💕]

Immediately you clicked “accept”, having just gotten home and tidying up a couple things around the apartment.

“So how was your first day?” your mom immediately questions you, clearly eager to know.

“It was pretty decent ma, nothing I can’t handle,” you chuckled, “but wow was that man’s office practically a pig pen,” you complained only causing your mom to start laughing.

“Oh I know,” she comments, only causing you to roll your eyes.

“I think these 10 weeks should go by quite smoothly if I say so myself,” you sounded genuinely optimistic, “I met Hoseok you know,” your embarrassment had long subsided, instead finding it hilarious.

“Ah my Hobi!” your mom sounding delighted at the mention of the young boy, “a hard worker that boy is I'm telling you.”

“He seems like it,” you had long concluded that he was when he had been explaining everything about the residency to you. He seemed like one of those people who even though they disliked their job, still put in their absolute everything into making sure they were the best at it. “You shoud’ve seen me giving him the googly eyes earlier,” you joked around.

“Hobi is—”

“Gay, yeah I know. I had to find that out the hard way,” you covered your face with your hands, playfully sulking.

“Why do you think I stopped trying to set the two of you up,” your mom laughed.

“Mm really ma? I would’ve never guessed,” sarcasm dripping from your words.

“Hey remember who you’re sp—”

“Anywayssss, how are you holding up out there?” you took a sip from the cup of juice you had served yourself earlier, your mom’s dismissive expression returning back to a smile.

“Well the food around here is horrible! I told my nurse that they should let me in the kitchen for a change, but all she did was laugh!” You grinned at the idea of your mom actually working at the cafeteria for the sake of it.

"Ah well I’lll make sure to bring you something on Wednesday.”

“Did anything arrive in the mail today about the invoice for everything?” your mom asked, a look of worry now on her face.

“No ma, and don’t even worry about anything like that okay? Focus on your treatment, and you let me handle the rest alright?” your voice now becoming stern, leave it to your mom to start worrying about finances.

“I know, I know, but I know some fees were coming up and well—”

“And I’m telling you to leave it to me, okay?”

“Ah okay then, well I'm going to sleep already,” she yawned, “they’ve been prodding needles in me all day,” she tried to say it as lighthearted as she could, but she quickly regretted it as she saw the sudden sad look on your face.

“Goodnight ma, I’ll see you Wednesday alright?”

“Okay then Y/N, I love you.”

“I love you too,” and with a small pressured smile, you clicked “end call”. An immediate sigh coming from your lips as you glanced at the several unsealed envelopes on your coffee table, many of the scattered papers stamped with a red “PAST DUE”.

School, rent, the water bill, the light bill, the gas bill, your phone bill, the old hospital bills, the new ones, all due in such small amounts of time with almost no room in-between dates to rest.

And so that night you laid in bed staring at your ceiling for what felt like hours unable to go to sleep. The only thing on your mind was how you were going to get the funds to pay for everything because well if you didn’t then you’d be left in hospital debt with an eviction notice right at your door and a whole bunch of other problems that you didn’t want to think about.

Deciding that it was best to get a breath of fresh air, you made your way to the rooftop, watching as the scattered stars glimmered in the sky. You sorta wished that life could be like those childhood TV shows where a shooting star would pass by and make your wish all come true, but the fact was, is that your life isn’t a movie or a tv show. This was your reality, and you were just going to have to suck it up.

You unlocked your phone and texted the only person you possibly could.

[To: Yuna 🤍]

[10:09] you up??

You tapped your foot, waited for her to reply.

[From: Yuna 🤍]

[10:10] i'm offended that that’s even a question tbh

[you]

[10:11] you think you can come over? pleaseeee 🥺

[10:12] ik it’s late and you’re probably tired and work tmrw but i just rlly need some company rn

[From: Yuna 🤍]

[10:13] i’ll be there in 10, don’t judge how i look

[you]

[10:14] when have i ever…

Soon enough you heard a knock on your door.

“I brought your favorite snacks,” Yuna had a giant grin plastered on her face to which you couldn’t help but smile at. Her makeup-free face and bright Hello Kitty pajamas told you that she was probably in bed when you texted her.

Once she slid off her shoes, she was quick to make herself feel at home by jumping onto your couch. Hell, this was basically her second home.

“Do you work tomorrow?” you asked her.

“I called off, I’ve already accumulated a lot of hours anyway and well I might as well start putting them to use,” she stated, as she munched on a freshly opened bag of barbeque chips.

Yuna was a retail clerk at the local mall, attending fashion school at night in hopes of landing herself a future internship, but like you was currently on summer vacation. Even in middle school, becoming a world renowned fashion designer had always been her dream, having gone to the the principal’s office a countless number of times because she added some kind of tailor to the plain old school uniform whether it be bedazzles or embellishing some kind of bizarre pattern onto it.

Yuna though was sadly a case of a prodigy without the resources, accepted to one of Seoul’s top fashion schools when the two of you had graduated high school. You were there the day she opened her letter of acceptance, the two of you along with her family celebrating by going to one of Seoul’s most expensive restaurants. But just as you were there the day she was accepted, you were also her shoulder to cry on the day she realized that the money she had saved up wouldn’t even cover a quarter of tuition costs, and her applications for scholarships had all fallen through.

What you admired most about Yuna was that disappointment didn't stop her from trying. Her designs were truly one of a kind, and you weren’t even saying that because she was your best friend and had a bias towards her. You could only hope that one day she’d be recognized for her talents.

You grabbed your blanket from your room and sat next to her on the couch. She stared at you while you flicked through different channels on the TV, sensing that something was wrong.

You could practically feel her burning a hole through your head and so you decided to answer the question you knew was looming in her head, “I’m not okay,” you mumbled, letting out a sardonic laugh. “I’m trying to act like I am, but I'm just not,” you stared off into the TV not wanting to make eye contact with her, “it’s just not fair,” you whispered, confused with yourself as to whether you were sad or angry.

Yuna could feel her heart wrench as she listened.

“My mom’s been nothing but a kind person, I’ve been nothing but a kind person, and so I can’t help but ask why? What did we do to end up in a situation like this?” you hadn’t even realized that tears were falling from your eyes until you felt the salty drops of water make their way onto your lips, dripping from your chin, “The whole time I was in Mr. Choi’s condo looking around at the million dollar paintings, and organizing his wife’s thousand dollar outfits I kept thinking to myself how can a man like Mr. Choi just not care? He didn’t even bother to ask how she was...” you seethed, the emptiness in your voice had now become anger.

Yuna scoffed, “The rich are always looking down on us like we’re just nothing but money makers to them, demanding their respect like they deserve it for free.”

“I just,” you paused for a second, “I just don’t know what to do, I think I might have to start looking for a second job or something, or maybe even take a gap year...” you breathed out, running a hand through your hair in distress.

And maybe one could call it fate with what you and Yuna had seen on your TV that night. Destiny perhaps. Whatever it was, it was going to open the doors to a brand new world. A world that you had only ever caught small glimpses of.

“Kim Taehyung is officially Seoul’s most eligible bachelor, our sources have confirmed that he and on and off again girlfriend Sunhi have called it quits permanently this time. The reason you may ask? Rumor has it that she was caught cheating on him,” the entertainment reporter had a giant grin on her face, “That’s right ladies, the heir to Kim Enterprises is back on the market.”

Pictures which you assumed were recent showed Taehyung partying, drinking, flashing expensive cars, and at red carpet events for major fashion brands. “Tweet us using hasht—” you changed the channel on the TV, bored of the topic at hand.

“I swear he’s the only person they talk about nowadays, I mean literally he’s everywhere!” you chuckled, turning your attention to Yuna who for some odd reason now had a look of disbelief on her face.

“Y/N… how did I— no how did we not think of this earlier?” Yuna got up from the couch like an excited toddler causing you to tilt your head to the side in honest confusion.

“What the hell are you talking about now,” you said, laughing at how childish she looked. She was now pacing herself back and forth across your living room, her adrenaline practically visible.

“You know I don’t normally believe in this stuff but holy shit this has got to be a sign!” At this point you were convinced she was talking to herself considering she wasn’t even making direct eye contact when she said that. She frantically ran her hands through her hair, “I mean you have the quote on quote resources, the clothes, my fashion expertise, the car, the events, and he’s single now. Oh my God how did we not think of this,” you carefully listened to what she said trying to piece everything together. Resources? Clothes? Was she talking about Kim Taehyung?

Your eyes immediately widened when you put two and two together and realized what she was so excited about, and it was now your turn to get up from the couch.

“You’re literally insane you understand that right!?” you stared at her, completely baffled. You thought stopping her from pacing around would bring her back to reality and get that grin off her face, but if anything it did the opposite.

“Y/N! What are the chances that as we’re talking about your finance issues and then something like that comes up! What are the chances that you literally work for a millionaire who's going to be gone for several weeks and expects you to attend his events! You can’t tell me that this isn’t hmm… I don’t know… Fate!” All you could do was stare at her in disbelief as she began to mumble something about this being something “straight out of a movie”. You were waiting for her to laugh and tell you this was all some kind of joke, but you soon realized she was being serious.

“The fact that you’re actually being serious about this is ridiculous!”

“And the fact that you think it’s ridiculous is what’s really crazy!” you shook your head refusing to accept what she was alluding to.

“Yuna! Let’s be rational he—”

“No, just listen to me Y/N. Please,” you looked at Yuna who had now calmed down, her face completely serious, “I know it seems out of the ballpark…” you nodded in agreement, “You have the opportunity to infiltrate the rich, and not just anyone but the Kim family! You know how many rumors there are about that family and their business!” she shouted while adding extra emphasis on the word infiltrate as if this was some kind of spy movie.

You sighed, “And how exactly would I do that? How could I not get caught up in lies? Why the Kim family? Why not not just steal some of Mr. Choi’s belongings and sell them on Ebay or something? Just what exactly are y—”

“You didn’t let me finish!” you grunted in annoyance. There were just so many questions running through your head, did she not realize the risk in what she was proposing? The consequences?

“You’re a stranger in their world, a brand new person … a brand new identity! You already have to go to these events as it is, and you can’t steal anything from Mr. Choi and sell it because I mean clearly he knows who you are. They, as in the rich, do not,” Yuna knew she had managed to grab your attention based on the look of skepticism on your face, “And technically you’re not going to be stealing Mrs. Choi’s clothes, you’ll be um ... borrowing them.” she flashed a giddy smile, “10 weeks Y/N, 10 weeks to get Kim Taehyung to fall in love with you, blackmail money out of that family, and then poof you disappear without a trace!”

“You have no idea how many questions are running through my head at this very moment.”

“And I think I can give you answers to them all, but please Y/N just think about it! It would solve all of your problems, financially at least,” you jokingly hit her shoulder as she teased you with the last part of her sentence, “you wouldn’t be doing it for yourself, you’d be doing it for your mom.”

“For my mom…” you mumbled to yourself. Yuna stared at your blank expression. She could only assume that you were letting everything sink in before making a decision. On one hand you’d be able to pay for all of your expenses while still getting your job done, but on the other you'd be using someone under a false pretense in order to blackmail money out of them. You’d literally be infiltrating the rich. You were scared. What if you got caught? Would you go to jail? What would happen to your mom?

You had made your decision.

“I trust you Yuna… I really do…” she now had a worrisome look on her face, “and so..” without even realizing it Yuna had been crossing her fingers, “I’m in.”

“Oh my God,” she let out a sigh of both relief and disbelief, a beaming smile on her face.

“But!” her smile quickly disappeared after hearing your tone, “we need to plan this thoroughly, like a solid proof plan by tonight on pen and paper, you got me?” she nodded in agreement, “and I think there’s someone we need involved in this... “

She tilted her head in confusion.

“Who?”

Tuesday Morning.

“Yuna this is Hoseok, Hoseok this is Yuna,” the two shook hands giving one another a warm smile.

Yuna began eyeing you in a way of saying “Are you sure about this?”. You understood why she was skeptical of Yuna whether or not she’d agree to everything, hell you had your own doubts. What if Hoseok said no? Worse, what if he completely snitched you out? Then you’d be stuck with no job, no money, and probably blacklisted from all major companies in Seoul by Mr. Choi himself with the label “thief” over your head. You had to reassure yourself that everything would be just fine, “So what brings you guys here?”

“Well I was hoping I could talk to you um…” you glanced around, “somewhere private,” you whispered giving him a shy smile, “maybe up in Mr. Choi’s condo,” you offered remembering that Rachel could possibly be hearing (though you highly doubted she’d care).

“Oh um… sure, let me just tell Rachel to cover for me,” he awkwardly dismissed himself to the back.

“I don’t know Y/N … he seems like the type of person to not want to risk his job..” Yuna whispered to you, she was clearly on high alert.

“He told me I could ask him for anything, and well I know I’ve only known her for about 24 hours, but I don’t know… something about him just seems reliable, I can't explain it. It’s just better to have him on our team than to be suspicious of us. I can’t do this whole infiltration thing being paranoid that the receptionist is going to snitch on me when he sees me walk out with clothes worth thousands of dollars,” you replied, “And if this really is playing out as a movie like you say, then we need someone whose tech savvy.”

“You have a point,” she chuckled, “wait how do you know he’s good at computers again?”

Your mind flashed back to the night before, while Yuna was asleep you had gone full stalker mode on Hoseok to get to the bottom of who he was. After hours of looking through different social media platforms you had ended up finding both his Twitter and Instagram @/junghsk, where he had pictures of his college graduation from 2 years ago. Major? Computer Science. It explained why he looked like he was in some Matrix movie the other day, and though of course it didn't mean automatically he was an expert, he definitely must’ve been better than both you and Yuna combined when it came to programming which is something (based on your plan) you were going to need for future endeavors.

You also came to find out that he was an avid animal lover, taught cardio dance classes on morning weekends, likes to live tweet show series such as Games of Thrones, and is in a committed relationship with someone named Min Yoongi. What could you say? You liked to do intensive research.

Once Hoseok returned the three of you went up to Mr. Choi’s condo, the elevator ride up was definitely awkward compared to the day before.

Yuna was in clear awe of the place. You could tell she wanted to give herself a personal tour, but you shot her a look dismissing the idea as she could easily do that later.

“We should sit,” you suggested pointing to the kitchen’s island, "Yuna can make us all some instant ramen,” she immediately shot you a look of annoyance, but didn’t argue with you making her way to the pantry.

“So...” he quietly mumbled at an attempt to break the ice, making small tapping noises on the island’s surface with his fingers.

Flashing him a pretentious smile, you awkwardly glanced around trying to think of something to make small talk with, “Um do you like Games of Thrones?”

Immediately he grinned, you expected a “yes” to come out of his mouth but instead he said, “Ah so that was you yesterday!”

The color drained out of your face , wait what? He began to laugh, making small claps as he threw his head back, “You were stalking me,” his face scrunched up as he began to tease you.

“What are you talking about?” your tone becoming defensive along with your eyebrows furrowing, only causing his fits of laughter to become louder. His index finger wiping the tears that began to form in his eyes.

“Don’t act like you didn't like and unlike my picture at like 3 in the morning!” He suddenly pulled out his phone, showing the notification which he hadn’t cleared from his phone, showing your username and the words “liked your photo” following right after. You had forgotten about that...

It was already 3AM and you were beginning to doze off, eyelids barely even open. You saw the white heart on Instagram appear on a 56 week old picture which you immediately unliked, also causing you to jolt out of your comfortable position in panic.

Damn you Instagram. “Whatever you need must be pretty important if you’re up at 3AM instastalking me.”

“Oh shut up—”

“Well since you were on there, what hair color do you prefer on me: red, brown, or black?” You scowled before muttering a quiet “brown”. “Really I’ve been told red looks best on me, hmm...” he pondered, pressing his index finger onto his bottom lip. "So are you going to tell me what this is all about anytime soon or ...” he said, his tone coming out more demanding than he intended, but Hoseok was the kind of person that didn’t like to beat around the bush, rather preferring to be told things straight up as they were.

“Okay..” You started, explaining to him of your situation starting from your mom, to the bills you needed to pay, why this job just wasn’t enough, why you needed to go ahead with your plan, why you needed him to be in on everything, and emphasizing that you weren’t doing this for yourself but your mom. By the time you finished explaining, Yuna was already done making the noodles.

Hoseok sat there in silence, you could hear your heart from your chest, your fingers getting slightly sweaty as you thought of the different possible outcomes. The deafening silence had made you feel like you guys were there for hours. Honestly, you could have heard a pin drop.

It wasn’t until you saw his signature smile beginning to form on his face that you could’ve sworn you felt bricks actually fall off your shoulders.

“Okay let’s do it,” he stated as he began to slurp on his noodles.

“You’re in?” Yuna asked in complete shock, eyes completely widened. He nodded in return clearly enjoying his food, “You don’t have any questions? No concerns?”

Hoseok shrugged, “Mm well of course I’m curious as to what exactly the plan is, which I’m sure you’ll be explaining to me soon, but nope. I’d probably say no if the cause wasn’t for something important,” he looked at you giving a warm compassionate smile, “and this has got to be the most interesting thing that’s happened on this job for the past 2 years so there’s that,” his brows knitting remembering past situations with residents, “and lastly these snobs deserve what’s coming to them,” he finished off causing all three of you to laugh.

“Well then cheers to mission… ummm... “ Yuna placed her finger on her chin, causing you to facepalm yourself as she was trying to think of a name for something so irrelevant.

“7 Rings,” Hoseok interjected , “like the Ariana Grande song. I want it, I got it!”

“You like my hair gee thanks just bought it!” you guys simultaneously sang at the top of your lungs, clinking each other’s drinks.

And so that was how mission “7 Rings” came into fruition, but of course like everything else in the world, nothing ever goes as planned. If only you had realized then that things were going to change, whether they were for the better or for the worse… well that was for you to find out on your own.

author’s note 🧚🏻 : SK has universal health care but for the sake of the plot we’re going to have to pretend they have a private healthcare system so please don’t attack me lmao. Also please like & repost as it keeps me motivated to write and update faster !! Thank you in advance if you do 💞

#btswritingcafe #bts fic #bts smut #bts angst #taehyung fic #taehyung/reader #taehyung fanfic #tae fic #tae fanfic #bangtan fanfic #bangtan smut #taehyung x reader #taehyung series #7 Rings #kim taehyung #kth #kth fanfic

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