nonintegrity

[nonintegrity]

gps / feat. @badluxe a street near midas hq

daehyun's not sure when he got turned around. somewhere between the last staffer pointing vaguely down a hall and a stairwell that led nowhere, his sense of direction finally giving out.

not that he’d admit that aloud.

he moves like someone who knows where he’s going, even now—shoulders squared, pace steady, expression unreadable. it’s not about pretending. it’s just habit of someone who’s used to being watched.

he checks his phone again. no new messages. no updates. just a slowly draining battery and the creeping sense that he's been walking in circles for longer than he wants to admit.

he stops at a hallway junction, the kind that looks identical to the last three he passed through. inhales. exhales. smooths his coat.

then—footsteps. another figure approaching from the corner of his eye. vaguely familiar. another idol, probably.

daehyun lets his gaze flick up, head tilting slightly as he shifts just enough to make it seem intentional. not too forward. casual, but not unpracticed. open and pleasant.

“you look like you know where you're going,” he says, voice light, if not a bit strained. “which is fortunate for me.”

his tone doesn’t change as he adds, “i’m supposed to be meeting someone at dream cafe, just nearby. i took a shortcut.” his lips quirk, cold amusement dancing in his eyes. "though maybe that was optimistic."

he lifts a brow, faintly expectant. not begging for help—never that—but just inviting enough, an offer to see if the other man might be able to point him in the right direction.

[nonintegrity]

photogenic / feat. @randomantix at seokcheon lake cherry blossom festival

daehyun is here for one reason, and one reason only. it's not for the allergies that make him even crankier than usual. it's not for the food, which he already got sick of yesterday. it's not to support his de facto little sister heejin—no, girl code doesn't perform till tomorrow, so he doesn't technically have any reason to be here on day two.

rather, it's for the meowing little fur bundle he's got in his breast pocket.

his kitten, kiwi, is the runt of the litter. almost six months old, she barely fits completely in his hand. worse—he doesn't have a single photo with her out and about. so today, he plans to rectify that.

he's gotten some great photos so far: her, cranky, inside of the little food boat that had held his corn dog. her, belly-up, sunning on a bench. her, mid-meow, gripped in his hand as he holds her up against a backdrop of cherry blossoms. that one is his favorite, he thinks—it'll probably be his wallpaper once he gets it edited.

he thought it might be nice to situate her on a branch and take pictures. but what he hadn't considered was that she wasn't his little kid anymore—she could hop and climb as well as any cat could. get stuck in a tree, too—just as well as any cat could.

he's nonplussed, considering the situation, standing with his arms crossed and frowning up on her as she yowls. even with his generous height, she'd managed to get herself up where he couldn't reach her. he's above climbing up the tree like a fool—he'd rather call the police, if it came to that.

"kiwi-ah," he calls, tone as if he's talking to a damn human being. "it's getting late. we have to go home."

he wonders for a moment if he should go hunt down some food. that's never failed to get her where he's needed her to go. or maybe find someone to climb up for him. it's not like he's strapped for cash—he can pay a hitman to climb up and get her.

he scans around for any new ideas. his eyes fall on a fellow idol. even better. he won't hit headlines for his parasocial fans to swoon about how soft he is with kittens. and he realizes it's another male idol. the remedy leader, if he recalls—he hasn't spoken much with any remedy member, really. that's better, too. he's already in a bit of hot water for taking byeol out to dinner in manila and almost landing himself in a dating scandal with his own ex.

he puts on a smile, the best in the itinerary he has for his charming, idol self, and flags him down. he barely bothers with pleasantries—he wants kiwi down from there now, so he's a little rushed as he says,

"sunbae. i'm glad to see a fellow idol around here. how good are you with animals?"

[nonintegrity]

hi, all!! aire again uwu. i'm just getting started on those starters, but daehyun's new wanted connections page is up here! feel free to message me if you see something that interests you, or if you liked my starter call and you see something on there you'd like me to focus on, lmk!!

as an aside, i was having a super difficult time finding a wanted connections/relationships page that worked;; TT so i ended up coding my own, which is what i have up rn! if you think it would help you out, please feel free to message me and i'd be happy to give you the code and help you customize it ♥ i already went through and commented it just in case someone needs it!

[nonintegrity]

hello hello everybody! i'm just hopping in here to let you know that things caught up to me after i got off hiatus; for now, i'm going to have to drop all of my threads and connections (unless i'm actively plotting with you rn and/or message you!!) since i'm gonna revamp daehyun's wanted connections page! i need to keep his connections straighter in my head, so i'm gonna go in and make separate pages for his connections with individual muses. in the meantime, for some lighthearted, first meeting/connection-free, jumping-off-point starters, please ♥ this post! capping at 5 for now ;)

[nonintegrity]

daehyun’s head snaps toward her the moment she opens her mouth, eyes widening—and sure enough, there it is. that impish betrayal, all wrapped up in a bow. his jaw drops slightly, an almost indignant what the hell?! forming before he can catch himself.

“wait—no, that’s not—” he starts. but it’s too late.

the ahjumma—young-suk, who's practically equal parts his grandmother and his prison guard—is already turning toward him, brows raised, expression unimpressed in a way that makes him flinch half a second before her light smack lands against the back of his head. not hard—but definitely not gentle either.

“yah, park daehyun!” she scolds, voice raising on the last syllable of his name, making him wince. she shakes her head at him. “trying to impress me by wasting food? you think i haven’t seen every kind of smooth-talker in my life? go work on the sweet potatoes. and do it right this time. aish, now i have to change the banchan for the week...”

“yes, ma’am,” he mutters obediently, rubbing the back of his head like that’ll restore some of his dignity. it won’t. young-suk snatches the peppers away from him with a glare that makes him duck his head.

he glances sideways at heejin, and his face is a mess—part stunned, part betrayed, almost a little embarrassed, but mostly grudgingly, deeply impressed.

“wow,” he says finally."pageant smile, and then a bullet to the back. i underestimated you. vicious.

he stares at her a second longer, like he’s re-evaluating everything he’s ever known. and then:

“…i can’t even be mad. that was master-level manipulation. textbook. terrifying. even i wouldn't have done that.”

he takes a step back toward the prep table but throws her one last look, still rubbing his head with a dramatic sigh.

“just so we’re clear, though,” he adds, pointing at her with the dull end of a knife, “this means war.”

“negligence?” heejin repeats, tilting her head with an expression that lands somewhere between mock innocence and barely contained laughter. “oh, wow. my mistake. here i was thinking you were a capable, independent adult who knew how to count peppers.”

she ducks easily when he flicks a seed in her direction, a quick grin flashing across her face before she straightens up, brushing imaginary dust from her apron like she’s above all of this.

“if i’m guilty of anything, it’s believing in you,” she sighs dramatically, shaking her head like she’s mourning some great disappointment. “tragic, really.”

but when he steps back, completely absolving himself of responsibility and throwing the mess squarely into her lap, she narrows her eyes slightly.

golden girl, always playing by the rules. he wants to play that card? fine. she’ll play right back.

heejin inhales lightly, shoulders straightening, her posture shifting just slightly—a subtle but practiced transformation. and then, just like that, she claps her hands together, a gentle, airy laugh leaving her lips.

“imo-nim~” she calls out in her best polite, favor-asking tone, turning slightly toward the kitchen’s ever-watchful matriarch. “we accidentally prepped too many peppers—daehyun got a little too eager to impress you.”

heejin barely glances at him, keeping her bright, polished, idol-perfect smile firmly in place as she presses on, voice smooth as honey.

“is there any way we can still use them for tomorrow? i’d hate for them to go to waste,” she continues, clasping her hands together like a sweet, well-mannered apprentice.

then, just for a second, she glances sideways at daehyun—just long enough to make sure he sees the mischief flickering beneath her pleasant expression.

"he just wanted everything to be perfect, you know?" she adds sweetly, voice so perfectly, flawlessly sincere that it’s nearly impossible to argue against. "he was just telling me how important it is to get everything right."

[nonintegrity]

daehyun hums, the sound low in his throat, more thoughtful than anything else. he lifts his americano to his lips, takes a slow sip, and lets the silence stretch between them just long enough to be rude. for once, he’s not even particularly trying—it just comes naturally.

"mm," he finally muses, tilting his head, as if he's considering her words with real weight. "just so i understand. you could just walk around me, take another exit, or—god forbid—pretend i don't exist, but instead, you’re standing here, glaring at me like i personally orchestrated—" he waves his hand vaguely, gesturing to the beautiful, sunny day, and the cloud that she's seemed to carry into it. "—this?"

he exhales a quiet laugh, a half-smirk curling at the edge of his mouth. "feels like you’re making this my problem, not yours."

his gaze flicks over her face, reading the irritation she’s barely keeping in check, the way her fingers drum against her arm like she’s counting the seconds he’s wasting. he should just move. step aside, let her go, and carry on with his day.

but he doesn’t. and now he's pissed off, too. what does he have to do to be a good person around here? even his existence holds the same weight as his maliciousness.

so he leans a little heavier against the threshold, expression almost lazy, and lifts a brow at her expectant stare. "tell you what," he drawls, raising his cup to her "that's not quite specific enough for me to make anything of. since i’m clearly ruining your day just by existing, why don’t you do me a favor and tell me exactly why it is you need to leave so bad? make it interesting, at least. i could use the entertainment."

he watches her, eyes sharp beneath the pretense of amusement. there's something else, too. something almost—upset. she's hit home, hit a nerve he's tried so, so damn hard to soothe. but his face remains impassive—aside from distant, diverted frigidity.

hayoon could practically feel the relief of leaving everything and everyone inside behind. today had been nothing short of relentless, and she had spent every second of it teetering on the edge of irritation, barely keeping herself in check. every interaction, every minor inconvenience, and every forced smile had chipped away at her patience, little by little, until there was barely anything left. she had spent the entire day swallowing down her annoyance, controlling her temper, holding back from saying something she really wanted to say for the sake of her relatively positive reputation.

so being this close to leaving with a human obstacle she wasn't particularly fond of was obviously her breaking point.

her scoff was immediate. "oh, don't flatter yourself," she said dryly. "i'd barely call this me giving you attention. not like i would give you any if you weren't inconveniencing me." she could've left it at that. but he had asked for specifics as if she needed to explain why his presence alone irritated her.

hayoon exhaled, pressing her tongue against the inside of her cheek. really, she knows her irritation pretty much unjustified because daehyun truly did nothing today but that didn't matter. she had already rationalized her behavior toward him in her head. "you know," she said, tilting her head slightly, "you make it sound like there has to be a reason. maybe it's because even when you're doing absolutely nothing, you still manage to annoy me." her fingers tapped once against her arm, a single beat of impatience before she sighed.

"but if you want specifics," she continued. "my problem is that you always seem to appear at the worst times. and right now? you are the one thing standing between me and leaving this building. so if you just move, the problem would be solved. simple as that." her gaze flicked to the door behind him before settling back on his face, unimpressed.

except, if she really wanted to leave that badly, there were other ways out. she could've turned on her heel and taken a different exit. she could've sidestepped him, brushed past without a word, made it clear he wasn't even worth the breath.

but she didn't. because this wasn't just about leaving.

it was about her pride. he was there standing in her way, and if she walked around him, that meant she was the one who surrendered. and maybe that was what really bothered her. if she moved, she'd have to be the one to step aside while he just stood there unbothered. kind of similar to another scenario in her life.

and she wasn't about to let that happen.

her eyes locked on his with an expectant stare. "so? are you waiting for something, or are you just going to stand there and waste my time?"

[nonintegrity]

for a second—just a second—daehyun considers walking the other way.

but he doesn’t. because he’s antagonistic, or maybe it’s just that stubborn streak of his, or maybe something else inside him that still feels like he should be here, even if he can’t figure out exactly why.

instead, he stands there in front of jaeyoon, watching the flicker of irritation cross his face before the words even leave his mouth.

yeah, that tracks.

daehyun exhales, slow, dragging his tongue over his teeth as he tilts his head. he takes his time, letting the bite of jaeyoon’s words settle before he sighs through his nose, keeping his voice low.

“mm.” he swirls his drink in his hand, taking a lazy sip like he’s thinking it through. “nah. i’ll go with option four—stick around just long enough to piss you off.”

his tone is light, but there’s something underneath it. it’s careful.

he doesn’t know how to be good. he’s trying—really, he is—but there’s always something in him that pulls too sharp, speaks before thinking, turns every attempt at sincerity into something a little too bitter at the edges.

so he softens the words before they can sound like an excuse.

“actually…yeah, maybe i did figure i'd say hi,” he adds, quieter now, as he shifts his grip on his drink. his fingers drum against the glass, calculating. “but if you really want me to fuck off, i will.”

it’s not a challenge. not really. it’s the closest thing to an olive branch daehyun knows how to give.

old broken record / starter for @nonintegrity midas after party

the lights ablaze, and his eyes already hurt by the first hour. the sound echoes past any words of hello and long time no see — not that it matters when it's all laced in sheer formalities. and amongst the haze of the laden escapade of some nightclub as the cherry on top for a concert, everything seems rehearsed. first hour, he's already said hellos to some acquaintance he saw in passing of years past — ruined that with a "tell me your name, i don't remember you." minutes after, he's added another layer of false pretenses and a mask of oblivion passing by, avoiding eye contact with a self-proclaimed fan. by this point, joo jaeyoon tells himself, any longer and he'll be damned if his new dries van noten pants get soiled in some shitty gangnam night club.

he hates this facet of the city — from chungdam becoming a place of overpriced hair cuts, wannabe rodeo drive pearly buildings, inundated with tourists; gangnam becoming a mecca of 20s night life flooded with wannabe influencers clad in their fake chanel all the way to garosugil becoming a dead-beat ghost town of empty buildings.

joo jaeyoon prides himself on substance. none of which he finds in the corner of a gangnam nightclub, glass in hand.

in his hand, he imagines himself elsewhere. maybe fukuoka, maybe some hidden dive bar in the nook of hannam. (but still, fuck itaewon). at least the imagination proves something, tugging at a begrudging corner of his mouth — he finds himself half-smirking at the thought of slipping away.

but back to reality when his eyes peel to see a shadow of his past. the attempt at formalities here is futile, and he has no more graces to provide for a meager shadow. "what? did you come to say hi long time no see? or did you come here to say you liked my new music?" the animosity etched inside his tone cuts past through his words despite his face showing no different. no emotion, just flat, deadpan stare and another reason to get the fuck out. "or wait" his eyes peer larger. "how about you just fuck off, yeah?"

[nonintegrity]

daehyun exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head as he flicks a stray pepper seed in her direction. his expression lands somewhere between amusement and disbelief, like he’s trying to decide whether to be offended by her audacity or impressed by her nerve.

“innocent bystander?” he echoes, slow and deliberate, his lips curling like the words taste ridiculous in his mouth. “that’s real generous. you were standing right there, watching me make a mistake in real time, and did nothing to stop it. i’d argue that makes you just as guilty. maybe even more guilty, since you had the power to prevent it and chose not to. negligence, heejin. look it up.” it's his typical daehyun evasiveness—but he's settled, it seems, on amusement.

he casts a glance toward the ahjumma in question, careful and calculating, as if measuring the odds of his escaping this without consequences. slim to none, if the sharp look she’s already sent their way means anything. he sighs, long-suffering, before lowering his voice to something more conspiratorial.

“but fine. if i go down, i’m taking you with me. that’s just fair.”

and yet—he makes no effort to actually fix the problem. instead, he steps back, brushing his hands off against his apron like he’s washing himself clean of the entire ordeal. his weight settles against the counter, arms crossing in front of his chest, entirely at ease.

“but since you’re so concerned,” he continues, tilting his head toward her with exaggerated thoughtfulness, “maybe you should be the one to fix it. i mean, you’re good at the whole ‘perfect image’ thing, right? golden girl, always playing by the rules, always winning people over? if anyone can talk their way out of this, it’s you.”

his smirk deepens, sharp and slow, eyes flicking over her face like he’s waiting to see how she’ll react. whether she’ll take the bait or throw it right back at him.

“go on, heejin,” he drawls, nodding toward the mess they’ve made. “make me proud.”

heejin thinks she’s adjusted well to a lot of things in life. moving across the world as a teenager, surviving the trainee system, debuting into an industry that already had its mind made up about her. she’s used to adapting, learning the rules of a space and how to fit into it. and today, in this tiny kitchen where daehyun looks entirely at home despite the scowl on his face, she’s doing her best to do the same.

she’s been mirroring him for the better part of an hour, carefully slicing through peppers the way he does, keeping her motions even and precise. the work is repetitive, but she doesn’t mind—there’s something steadying about it. the rhythm of chopping, the quiet hum of conversation in the background, the occasional playful scolding from the ahjummas when daehyun gets too sharp-tongued.

so when he curses, her hands still instinctively. she blinks over at him, tilting her head slightly as he grimaces at their shared mistake. “so what i’m hearing is, you weren’t paying attention either.” she muses, carefully setting her knife down.

then he’s looking at her, that smirk twisting his lips, and she already knows whatever he says next is going to be a problem for her. she lets out a quiet, amused breath through her nose at the ridiculousness of it all. “sacrificing me won’t make her any less mad, you know,” she points out, resting her elbow on the counter as she turns to face him properly. “if anything, you’ll just get scolded twice as hard for throwing a poor, innocent bystander under the bus.”

she doesn’t even bother trying to match his smirk; she knows better. but she does tilt her head slightly, eyes narrowing in a way that suggests she’s already thinking of her counterattack. “but if you really need a distraction, i hear ahjumma loves a man who cleans up after himself. maybe if you volunteer to scrub every single dish, she’ll go easy on you.”

[nonintegrity]

daehyun didn't have much reason to be standing around—in truth, he was probably missed wherever he was, shirking his work to take a brief reprieve from idoldom. it had been a long enough day of schedules and scrambling, smiling and agreeing with whatever nonsense the company had cooked up for him next.

in truth, he'd found himself lost in thought, enjoying the unseasonable afternoon sunshine, iced americano in hand. he'd managed to shake all the photographers a few blocks ago and found his way to his favorite side entrance to the building—barely any foot traffic, but not so far away from the studios that he made himself cranky by the time he got to work.

he decides to loiter in the door for a moment, watching the trees outside ruffle. he's in a good mood today, and he hasn't even had to ruin anyone else's to do it. he's feeling quite proud of himself. he leans against the threshold and decides it wouldn't hurt to admire the city for a little while longer.

his americano sloshes in the flimsy plastic cup as he turns to the force stomping toward him. he blinks once, twice—

"oh, hayoon," he says aside, a casual greeting. he starts, voice almost pleasant and friendly as he stares outside, "i love this side entr—" but she's talking again, and he stares at her owlishly.

he runs through the morning in his head. did he do something to hayoon? he usually assumes that, regardless of who's snapping at him, it's probably his fault. he can't recall doing anything to hayoon today, or in the last week or even month, that could provoke this kind of reaction.

he takes another careful, long sip of his coffee, brow furrowed as he thinks of his response.

"well," he says slowly. "if i wanted attention, it's obviously working." he quirks a brow and says, icily, "not that i'm not usually the problem—but what's your problem? if you're pissed off at me, you'll have to name specifics. i don't exactly have few enemies."

never the bigger person with @nonintegrity

hayoon didn’t hate a lot of people.

or rather, she didn’t care enough about most people to hate them. she could count on one hand the number of people who had done enough for her to actually feel something as strong as hatred toward them. even then, it wasn’t usually worth the effort. people came and went. some annoyed her, most disappointed her, but at the end of the day, they all faded into the background.

but daehyun?

hayoon would say he was teetering on the edge of joining that very short list.

she barely had time to register the annoyance building before it was right in front of her. one second, she was focused on leaving, on getting as far away from this building as possible before someone could rope her into another hour of wasted time. the next, she was staring at him, blocking the way out.

her footsteps came to an abrupt stop, her lips already curling in distaste. irritation rose before she could even think about stopping it. she should’ve ignored him, should’ve just taken another way out of the building. but ignoring him felt like a waste. she was already in a foul mood—why not let it out on someone who, in her opinion, deserved it? her lips curled, the beginning of a scoff catching in her throat before she let it loose.

"move. you’re in my way." her voice was flat as she tilted her head ever so slightly, eyes flicking up to meet his with nothing but disinterest. it wasn’t a request. it was a statement that expected compliance, but even as the words left her mouth, she already knew he wouldn’t move. at least, not as easily as she hoped. the thought of spending even another minute in his presence made irritation simmer hotter in her chest. and before she could stop herself, her mouth moved ahead of her better judgment.

"what, is standing around doing nothing part of your job now? you must be bored." her head tilted further, her expression blank save for the slight quirk of her lips. "or are you just hoping someone’ll give you some attention?" she didn’t move. didn’t step back, didn’t sidestep. it didn’t even matter how petty this was anymore, but maybe that was the point. maybe this was who she was at her core: spiteful, mean, someone who held onto things far longer than she should, just waiting for an excuse to sink her claws in.

[nonintegrity]

hiii crew! i'm so happy to be back and off my hiatus <3 i'm gonna be going through my drafts and then working through some old messages! if i miss you please feel free to <3 this post!

[nonintegrity]

hi, everyone! for personal reasons i'm going to have to take a hiatus until march 4th, so i'm going to stay off tumblr while i focus on irl stuff. if you need me, please feel free to reach out on discord!

[nonintegrity]

the tension doesn't drain from his body despite the familiar voice, the svelte figure draped across his counter like a length of velvet. instead. a thread of curiosity coils him up as he slips into the room. shuts the door. leaves the light off.

comes closer.

chaea is...something else. she always has been. a kindred spirit daehyun recognizes, a candle for him to curl up beside—or, perhaps to set his life aflame. and like a candle, he could watch her burn and burn and burn herself away, and be content to do nothing about it.

their friendship is a frenetic one, one that excites and delights him with its volatility. it's not often he can be so bare to another person and be met not only with acceptance—but reciprocity. in the games of cat and mouse he finds himself so enamored with, chaea is the only person he's ever found wondering—with her, would he be the cat? or the mouse?

daehyun treasures the chaos he sows in his own life, as dearly and devotedly as one might treasure a lover. and she—she might be the only person more chaotic than him.

and there's something different about her tonight, her silken outline blurred by the city lights behind her. his steps are soft and intentional as a great cat's—almost intimate, almost tender. but, like all intimate or tender things are with daehyun—they aren't quite so.

he fixes his attention only on her.

his eyes, to anyone else, might appear heartbreakingly soft, his smile adoring. but there are some that know him well enough to see the devilish curiosity alight there. he has a sense for this sort of chaos, and it dances across his skin in a familiar caress, as if to call to him—i'm here. don't look away. she wouldn't use his penthouse key for no reason—he didn't even think she'd ever use it at all. she's up to something—something wild, and vicious, and destructive. 

he can't wait to find out what it is.

he leans in, close enough to breathe her air, and reaches past her to where the open bottle of wine sits. it was one of his favorites, one he'd been saving for a special occasion—but even that, he ignores as he takes a long drain right from the bottle, not once breaking her stare. he doesn't know quite what—but there's a more fun game waiting for him than stolen wine.

"what," he coaxes, voice low and gentle, "do you think you're doing on my kitchen counter?"

she doesn’t remember how she got here. all chaea remembers is finding the spare key in the bottom of her bag and, as if they had a mind of their own, her feet leading her into the complex’s pristine lobby, sauntering confidently past a group of tenants as if she were one of them. 

it’s not like she’s a stranger to this building, though. she’s been here many times before. chaea and daehyun were friends—good friends, even. the word ‘friend’ still feels like a foreign concept to her. chaea doesn’t have many friends. she never really has—she prefers solitude; prefers keeping others at a controlled distance. it’s easier keeping people at a distance—distance means staying in control. distance means having nothing to lose. somehow, daehyun became her friend. she doesn’t remember how it happened, but she feels a strange sense of comfort around him—a comfort she hasn’t felt in a very long time. comfortable enough to let herself into his sprawling penthouse with the spare key she’s sure he never imagined her using. chaea knows it wasn’t a genuine offer—daehyun has a habit of offering things he doesn’t mean, and chaea has a habit of testing his sincerity. there’s something amusing about the look that briefly interrupts his carefully-constructed mask when chaea tests him like this; testing just how far his “sincerity” will go. 

she slots the key into the lock, kicks off her stilettos, and heads straight to his kitchen. she ignores her reflection in the mirror situated in the foyer—she’s not interested in knowing what she looks like right now. an hour ago, chaea was with junpyo. she wears their brief encounter like a fitted garment—traces of a smoky eye smudged beneath her waterline, lips are stained red and swollen, and the thin cardigan hanging off her shoulders exposes the black chemise that hides underneath. red lovebites decorate the length of her neck—until they abruptly stop.

she doesn’t even remember how the fight started. things were fine—until they weren’t. the lovebites stopped; sounds of pleasure replaced with raised voices and the sharp sound of champagne flutes hitting the floor. she can still hear junpyo’s irate voice ringing in her ears—and there’s a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach that tells her she should go back; tells her that being here at daehyun’s will only make things worse—but the little devil anchored to her shoulder tells her to stay right where she is. chaea finds herself giving into that little devil a lot lately. she pushes those thoughts aside as she reaches into his wine cabinet, pouring herself a glass from his finest bottle. if chaea was a better person, she might ask herself if what she was doing was right—but chaea’s not a better person, and she can’t bring herself to care about the boundaries she’s crossing right now. she shifts onto his counter and takes a sip from the glass; scarlet lip print staining the rim. 

the knob suddenly turns, but chaea doesn’t move—choosing to wait until daehyun enters to make her presence known. an impish smile tugs at painted lips as she leans her body forward, listening to the threat that falls from his gritted teeth; amused by the irritation that drips from each syllable. her silhouette is illuminated only by the glow of the city that leaks through the penthouse’s expansive glass windows—one leg crossed over the other as she sits perched on his marbled countertop. she takes a drink from her glass and leans back; relaxed.

“relax.” she says, tone blasé. there’s an indistinct glint in her eyes as she looks in his direction; a simper settling on ruby lips. “it’s just me.”

[nonintegrity]

daehyun wakes, rested and peaceful, with a content smile on his face and a bundle of fur on his chest. his back is going to kill him for sleeping all night on a beanbag with a hundred-pound dog lying on top of him, but it was worth it—he'd woken earlier this morning, half panicked he was late, before remembering his decision last night to sleep in his dressing room. so he'd pulled his dog closer and fallen promptly back asleep, maple making a discontent snore at his stirring.

he hadn't meant to sneak her in and then fall asleep with her there—they'd been out for a walk last night, and he'd gone to his dressing room to pick up his laptop, which he'd forgotten. when he'd turned around, maple was asleep on the beanbag, and he couldn't bring himself to wake her up. and he was tired himself. so he'd curled around her, and decided that they'd just leave early for him to drop her off.

early was early in dog time, it seemed, as she began kicking him awake with her massive paws. and so he'd groaned, checked his watch—maybe it would be better to head out now, anyway, before the rest of the idols got here.

so he'd dragged his ass up out of the beanbag, leashed her up. with about a half hour to spare, he'd probably run a little late coming back, if he had to drop maple off at the penthouse and make himself presentable enough for the stylists. would he have time to pick up breakfast? if not, maybe he could get some delivered—

a smaller figure running into his jolts him out of his day-planning. maple huffs, surprised as he is, her head making the same little shaking motion as his does, his idol-persona snapping to attention.

she could've tripped over maple if she'd been even a little unluckier. still, he smiles warmly at the girl, offering her a hand, though it doesn't at all reach his eyes.

"langage," he scolds, voice finely tuned to a playful tease, despite the annoyance simmering underneath his skin. "there are cameras everywhere. i'm probably already in trouble for having my dog here—we don't both need to be, hm?"

he throws her a conspiratorial wink. "and besides. i can't blame you for not seeing me. not most people do—at least, not until it's too late to do much about it."

his smile turns serpentine. "you're not hurt, are you?"

tomorrow, today with @nonintegrity the day of rehearsals for midas family concert

jules is in a rush to get to her changing room because she was running late. an unusual feat for her, but here she was, zig zagging around the empty corridors of the venue. they were only gathering for rehersals and while she still had a solid half an hour to get there, she knew she would be wanted earlier for god know what stupid thing midas music wanted her. it always went like that, something small would get blown out of proportion and the group would go through a shock. the usual. so jules wants to be there earlier than everyone if possible to be able to calmly observe the situation. however, as her thoughts are running with her, she turns the corner and bumps into someone, enough to cause her to stumble back, like a complete idiot and fall on her ass.

"fuck me.." jules hisses under her breath, wrist in a sudden wave of pain as she somehow managed to use her arm behind her so she doesn't completely topple over. who did she even bump into? she gathers enough courage to look up, the lights beaming down at her don't help much but she sees - daehyun. jules scrambles, lightly put pancked up on her feet, not bothered to dust herself off or check if she had dropped anything. "i'm so sorry-" she starts, already bowing bellow ninety degrees because she really was sorry about it "i didn't see you behind the corner, i am so sorry!" despite having been a trainee for seven years under midas music, she still knew how to respect her seniors and elders.

jules can only hope she can squeeze away soon, because this was not on her agenda. the halls are at least still practically empty, because which lunatic would actually come in way earlier than needed - well, apparently daehyun and her! she stays like that, bowing with her eyes glued to daehyun's shoes as she waits for a reaction, for anything even to be dismissed so she can run away to haute pinks changing room and wait to be called for rehersals.

[nonintegrity]

samgyetang / feat @rosesblve

hair net. soup ladle. a scowl on his face, because while he's a regular volunteer at house of broth, a soup kitchen a good hour away from seoul, he's never been at it with someone else. and heejin looks almost dumber than he does in the uniform, an enthusiastic little shadow by his side.

then again...he's been grudgingly quite impressed at how ready she's been to learn. prepping the ingredients, making the ginseng chicken soup and politely greeting the rest of the staff that daehyun's gotten so close to.

the old ladies here love him, though maybe that's not much to brag about. maybe it's because daehyun's attitude here—they don't take it quite so seriously, instead scoffing at him whenever he borders on the side of insolent. and they take his mask even less seriously, smacking him when he turns the charm on. and so it is that house of broth has become daehyun's favorite volunteer spot, a place he comes to at least once a month. here, there are no masks, there's no pretending. just focusing on whatever task is at hand, whether it's cooking, serving, or cleaning, and letting the ladies send him home with some honest-to-goodness delicious ahjumma cooking.

right now, he's cutting peppers for this evening's banchan. he doesn't even remember how girl code's dependable leader ended up finding out—or joining—him on his near-sacred volunteer work, and how they ended up slicing peppers across from each other on an old woman's back porch. it's nice not having to pretend to be anyone but himself here, and heejin—despite being someone in the idolsphere—isn't enough to make him give that up. so he's been content to leave her in icy silence, not bothering to keep the usually-pleasant look on his face.

they've been at it for nearly an hour when he jolts out of his focus. he curses under his breath. "dammit. we weren't supposed to cut all of these; we were supposed to save half for tomorrow's lunch." he grimaces. "imo-nim is going to skin me alive."

he smirks down at heejin then, playful wickedness twisting his lips. "hope you're alright with being tomorrow's main course. girl code can find another leader, no? because i might have to sacrifice you to save myself."

[nonintegrity]

mercury fulminate / feat. @rottensdoll c. july 2021

stupid. stupid. stupid. this whole fansign is so damn stupid. this idol life is stupid, this damn door—!

with a snarl, daehyun rips the complex's lobby door open at last. the pristine glass rattles in protest back at him. he pays nearly a hundred million won a month on this godforsaken place, just for his keycard to lock him out for nearly a half hour? it's probably that fucking doorman's fault—daehyun has said something about this at least four or five times before, and every time, he's promised to say something to the building owner before leaning back in his chair and tapping away at his computer.

daehyun stalks into the mailroom and wrestles with the lock on his box—even the mailboxes here are broken, too, it seems. with methodical calculation, he thumbs through the envelopes, face a stony mask of boredom. some select fanmail from his managers. a postcard from his parents. bills—those will do quite nicely. he won't let the man get fired—he's not that heartless—but he can at least teach him a lesson.

he pulls the bill out of the envelope and crumples it up in his hand, before sauntering out into the lobby and throwing the envelope—the evidence—in the trash behind the doorman's desk. a well-timed call about "missing mail" later. blaming it on the faulty door for letting riff-raff in. letting the doorman simmer for a while in trouble when the building managers find the envelope—and acting embarrassed and apologetic when daehyun himself shows up on the tapes, absentmindedly throwing his own mail away. he's a busy idol, after all. mistakes happen. hopefully everyone will be more careful from here on out—and hopefully that door will get fixed, and the doorman will pay better attention to how well the building's amenities are working. daehyun understands completely.

the lies are all second nature. he doesn't even have to think twice.

he's practically purring with satisfaction, bad mood all but dissolved as the elevator doors ding on the top floor. he does love to play.

with his keys jangling merrily in his hand, he reaches for the doorknob to his penthouse. but the door is slightly open—the pulsating glow of the city leaking into a stream in the hallway, not a light on behind.

his hand hovers over the knob as his jaw ticks. he's not in the mood to deal with this tonight.

he slowly pushes the door open, one hand relaxed in his pocket, a disgusted scowl twisting his features.

"you know, i'd just been thinking of how long it's been since i've had a sasaeng incident. come out. while i'm still in a good mood."

[nonintegrity]

hi, crew! i'm gonna be sliding into some dms over this next hour or so, so if i rise up from the dead, that's why. i've had some irl stuff coming up this past week but i'm back and ready to roll! ♥ this post if you'd like a quick little starter as well; i'll probably write only about three or so, but i'd love to get some more threads going!

[nonintegrity]

whatever (it's eating away at my soul)