#Eyebrow Threading Studio

[eyebrowsrus001]

Expert Microblading in Las Vegas - Perfect Your Brows with Precision

Discover the best microblading Las Vegas has to offer with our expert services! At our studio, we specialize in microblading in Las Vegas, delivering precise and stunning results for perfectly sculpted brows. Our skilled technicians use advanced techniques to ensure natural-looking, long-lasting enhancements tailored to your unique features. Whether you’re looking to fill in sparse areas or completely reshape your brows, we provide meticulous attention to detail and superior artistry. Book your appointment today and experience the top microblading Las Vegas has to offer, leaving with brows that truly wow.

[formeryelpers]

Sita’s Eyebrow Threading, 2161 Colorado Blvd, Los Angeles (Eagle Rock), CA 90041

I decided to try Sita’s since it’s closer than my usual threading studio. I didn’t have an appointment and there wasn’t a wait (there’s usually a wait at the place I normally go to). I think Sita did my brows. She had a gentle touch which I appreciated and she worked quickly, trimming my brows and massaging them with aloe at the end. It was $15 for cash and $1 extra for credit card payments.

Sita’s is in a strip mall with its own parking. Walk-ins are welcome. It’s not a fancy place but it looked clean and had Indian-inspired décor.

Other services include threading for the entire face, arm pits, neck, etc. Tinting is also available.

The place I go to is a bit cheaper and also they have a rewards program. It’s pretty similar to Sita’s.

4 out of 5 stars.

By Lolia S.

[womenzonebeautyblog02]

Beauty Bliss: Navigating Makeup Studios Near Me and Nail Salons in Canada

For more information about makeup studio near me, nail salon in canada, facial beauty services, best beauty spa in oakville, beauty spa in oakville, eyebrow thread near me, hair salon near by me, please visit the - Womenzone.

[tatysfacialandbrow]

Get silky-easy pores and skin with experts of Waxing In American Fork UT

Waxing In American Fork UT : When it involves achieving perfectly smooth pores and skin, citizens of American Fork, UT, want an appearance not similar to the top-notch waxing services to be had within the area. From facial remedies to eyebrow threading, The Facial Studio American Fork is devoted to helping you locate the correct balance between splendor and confidence. Let's delve into the sector of waxing and learn how those professionals can remodel your pores and skin care routine. 

Unveiling the Art of Waxing In American Fork UT : 

1. Facial Treatments in American Fork, UT: 

Your face is your canvas, and splendor parlors in American Fork appreciate the significance of improving its herbal splendor. The tailor-made Facial In American Fork UT remedies provided right here cater to quite a few pores and skin types and concerns, whether or not you are combating dryness, acne, or the signs and symptoms of aging.

With our professional’s expertise, they offer you a revitalizing enjoyment that no longer only leaves your pores and skin sparkling but additionally relaxes your thoughts and soul. 

2. Eyebrow Threading American Fork, Utah: 

The home windows of your soul deserve nothing less than perfection. The experts at American Fork concentrate on Eyebrow Threading American Fork UT, an historical method that offers your brows an ideal and specific shape. Threading no longer only eliminates unwanted hairs but additionally offers a specific way of shaping your eyebrows and framing your face in the most flattering manner. 

3. Beauty Parlor American Fork: 

The Tatys Facial & Brow Studio is more than a beauty parlor. Because, we not only particularly focus on giving the parlor services to you but we are also dedicated to provide the best environment during your treatments.  

As quickly as you step inside, you're greeted by a serene environment that invites you to leave your concerns behind. Our skilled specialists at Beauty Parlour American Fork offer personalized attention, making sure you acquire remedies that meet your unique wishes and preferences. 

4. Facial Studio American Fork: 

Imagine getting into a serene oasis designed primarily for your splendor, pores, and skin care needs. A facial studio in American Fork isn't simply an area to acquire treatments; it's a place to revel in that pampers your senses and nourishes your pores and skin. Each remedy is done using excessively high-satisfactory merchandise and strategies designed to decorate your herbal splendor and promote healthy pores and skin. Each remedy is done using excessively high-satisfactory merchandise and strategies designed to decorate your herbal splendor and promote healthy pores and skin. 

Fusion of Tatys Facial & Brow Studio and self-care: 

In addition to aesthetic benefits, the Tatys Facial & Brow Studio in American Fork additionally offers an area for self-care. In the state-of-the-art, fast-paced world, taking time for yourself is critical to preserving your usual health. So, don’t wait to have a special appointment for your skin waxing at reliable costs. Book your first appointment today for having a brilliant experience of perfect waxing at Tatys Facial & Brow Studio.

Tatys Facial & Brow Studio 777 Grassland Dr Suite 124, American Fork, UT 84003, United States 801-691-6876

[rosachae]

idol | megan skiendiel x reader

⁍ song: radar - lil hero ⁍ requested: yes! thank you anon ⁍ genre: idol!megan x actor!reader. slowburn fluff, jealous megan, loser!megan ⁍ a/n: thank you for requesting this, anon! sorry for the delay in getting this out. i hope this is what you were looking for. ⁍ w.c: 17k ⁍ warnings: curt language, a little bit nsfw(?), more so just suggestive. ⁍ synopsis:

y/n, an up-and-coming actor in korea, casually let slip on a variety show that she might have the *tiniest* crush on a particular girl group member, megan skiendiel. lucky for her, she was already on megan's radar.

“it was only a matter of time before you did something to make your pr team cry,” yunjin said, her voice thick with amusement as she leaned forward in her chair. “but god, y/n. i didn’t think you had it in you to be that bold.”

you didn’t bother to look at her. instead, you kept your focus on the half-empty iced americano in your hands, the straw poking at the lid like it had something to say too. “yeah yeah,” you muttered, tone dry. “keep it coming. get it all out.”

yunjin’s laughter filled the small recording studio, bouncing off the walls like an echo that didn’t know when to quit.

the first time you met her, you were rushing to a meeting at the hybe building, five minutes late and in no mood to reschedule. the elevator was almost closed when a hand slipped between the panels, smooth and effortless, like it was something out of a k-drama. yunjin stepped in a moment later, casual as anything, earbuds in, hoodie half-zipped, eyes flicking toward you.

she didn’t register who you were right away. not until she caught the outline of your face in the elevator mirror and did the most obvious quadruple take known to man. she grinned like she’d just won a bet. you raised an eyebrow. the doors shut.

your name had been climbing headlines at the time, especially after that marvel debut. you were still adjusting to the spotlight, to the way people started speaking about you like you were a headline first and a human being second. they called you the face of the next generation, a once-in-a-decade talent. you still weren’t sure what to do with that.

to her credit, yunjin didn’t immediately spiral. she told you later she’d nearly recited your entire filmography then and there but had somehow restrained herself. instead, she said, “you’re taller than i thought,” with a sort of breezy charm that made you laugh before you could stop yourself.

the novelty wore off quickly. by your third hangout, she was yelling at her flat iron over facetime and blaming you for jinxing her hair before mcountdown. the pedestal had crumbled, and in its place was something much better.

you adored her, truly. but right now? right now you wanted to strangle her.

“you do realize the internet’s having a meltdown, right?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder while fiddling with the dials on the studio mixer. “megan’s stans are going full detective mode. they’re gonna find the exact thread count of your bedsheets if you’re not careful.”

of course you knew. how could you not?

‎ 

‎it had all started at weekly idol. you and your costar, eunwoo, were the guests that day. minhyuk and hyeongjun were hosting. bright-eyed, energetic, and way too charismatic for nine in the morning. the moment you stepped on set, they bowed with exaggerated reverence and gasped like they’d seen ghosts.

“wow… everyone, protect the cameras,” minhyuk said, turning to the staff with mock urgency. “no way this equipment survives the visuals of both our guests at once.”

you laughed, cheeks heating despite yourself. the nerves hadn’t gone away even after a hundred interviews. your knee had bounced nonstop in the makeup chair. your hands wouldn’t sit still in your lap. you didn’t know why you were this on edge. it wasn’t like this was your first time.

eunwoo had noticed. he always noticed. he didn’t say much, but before your cue to enter, he gave you a quiet nod, a calm smile. just enough to settle the buzz in your chest.

the shoot went smoothly. laughter came easy. there was a moment you and eunwoo broke into an absurd duet of the show’s theme song, something so horrifically off-key that it ended up trending for twelve hours. and yet, what really caught fire was that one particular question.

“…so, y/n,” hyeongjun had said, reading off a laminated card with all the flair of a seasoned variety host. “you’ve caught the eye of the entire country. but has anyone caught your eye?”

you paused. of course you did. your manager’s disapproving face flashed through your brain like a warning siren, but you could already feel the words rising. the answer had been sitting with you for months now, quiet and patient.

you thought of coachella. of watching a failed backflip send some poor guy crashing to the ground mid-performance, which made you laugh for far too long. and how somehow, down that spiral of linked videos and fuzzy 420p livestreams, you ended up watching three girls play roblox with him. that’s when you saw her. megan skiendiel. orange wig, infectious laugh, that strange but graceful way she moved that made you look twice.

she was stunning. but it wasn’t just that. it was the way she felt. vibrant. sincere. like she wasn’t trying to be anyone but herself.

you could still remember the way your cheeks felt warm when you finally answered.

“uh, well, i don’t usually think about stuff like that,” you said carefully, then smiled despite yourself. “but i think katseye’s megan is absolutely gorgeous. i mean, i’d love to meet her. she seems fun. like the kind of person you’d want to be friends with.”

innocent enough. 

‎ 

or so you thought.

now, here you were, spinning idly on a swivel chair in yunjin’s recording booth, trying not to meet her smug eyes.

“you should’ve said nothing,” she said, clearly enjoying herself. “or lied. something. anything. instead, you went full disney channel crush monologue.”

“i thought it was harmless,” you argued, voice climbing in pitch. “i didn’t think the entire internet would spiral into an fbi task force over a throwaway comment. seriously, doesn’t anyone have jobs?”

“you’re y/n,” yunjin shot back, twirling a pencil between her fingers. “you know people hang onto your words like they’re stock tips. you practically lit a flare above her name with that answer.”

“i didn’t even say anything that bad! i called her pretty and said she seemed fun. i said the same thing about you last week on dex’s fridge.”

“right, but you didn’t look like you were about to pass out from heart palpitations when you said it about me. you didn’t blush. you didn’t pause like you were imagining your wedding vows. babe, you looked like you were one blink away from writing her poetry.”

“you’re being so dramatic.”

“am i?” she raised an eyebrow. “because you may as well have held a ‘simp’ sign and worn a megan skiendiel stan shirt. even sungchan has more chill than that. sungchan, y/n.”

you groaned at the mention of your tall, hopelessly clumsy mutual. “low blow.”

“i’m just saying.” she shrugged, biting back a grin. “even you know i’m right.”

and unfortunately, you kind of did.

“okay, but for real,” yunjin said, dragging her chair over with a squeak that made you wince. she rested her elbows on her knees, chin in her hands, looking at you like she was about to stage an intervention. “what are you gonna do if she actually reaches out?”

you blinked, caught off guard by the shift in her tone. “what do you mean?”

“i mean, say she dms you. or tags you in some story. or, i don’t know, shows up at your next premiere with a bouquet of roses and a sign that says ‘hi crush.’ what then?” she asked. “you gonna freak out and melt into the floor? you gonna invite her to karaoke and try to play it cool while secretly dying inside?”

you turned away and took a long, pointed sip of your coffee.

“no, but seriously,” she pressed, clearly not letting it go. “you like her, don’t you?”

you snorted. “i’ve never even met her.”

“not what i asked.”

you sighed, letting your head fall back against the wall with a soft thud. “i don’t know. maybe.”

yunjin tilted her head. “that’s a yes.”

“it’s not a yes,” you said, but your voice was too quiet to sound convincing. “i just think she’s… interesting.”

“gorgeous, fun, interesting,” she ticked off on her fingers. “mmhmm. yeah. sounds like someone’s caught feelings off vibes and roblox streams alone. that’s powerful.”

you groaned again and rolled your eyes, but the sound that left your throat was somewhere between embarrassment and reluctant laughter. “you make it sound so unhinged.”

“it is unhinged,” she said without missing a beat. “but it’s also kind of cute. in a really stupid, romcom kind of way. you, falling for a girl you’ve never met because she made you laugh through a pixelated camera while dressed like a traffic cone.”

you narrowed your eyes. “it was a very good orange wig.”

“never said it wasn’t,” she said with a shrug. “you’re just proving my point.”

you exhaled slowly, running a hand down your face. “look, i didn’t mean for any of this to happen. i just answered the question honestly. i wasn’t trying to stir up some whole thing.”

“but you did,” she said gently. ”and maybe that’s not the worst thing in the world.”

you looked at her, unsure how to respond.

“she could be into it,” yunjin said, her voice lighter again. “she should be into it. if i was her, i’d be clearing my schedule and calling my stylist for a camera-ready fit. do you even know how many people would kill to be publicly flirted with by you?”

“i wasn’t flirting.”

“girl, you might as well have asked for her ring size.”

you groaned again and flopped forward, burying your face in your arms as yunjin broke into another fit of laughter. somewhere beneath the teasing and the noise, though, was something quieter. something you didn’t say out loud.

you kind of hoped she did reach out.

even just to say hi.

__

the dorm was quiet, save for the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of pipes behind the walls. manhua pages rustled faintly in the room next door, probably sophia flipping through her latest haul before bed, but otherwise the place had settled into a kind of hush that only came after midnight. the rest of the girls had turned in after rehearsals, legs sore, voices hoarse, the kind of tired that sank into the bones. megan had stayed behind in the living room, half-sprawled across the floor with a pillow hugged to her chest and a cold bottle of pocari pressed under her jaw.

she was still in her practice clothes, oversized hoodie and bike shorts, skin sticky with the last remnants of sweat she hadn’t bothered to wipe off properly. her hair was clipped up haphazardly, strands falling into her face as she stared down at her phone, blue light painting her features in a soft, ghostly glow.

she wasn’t really expecting anything when she opened twitter. just a quick scroll before bed, a way to shut her brain off after a day of hitting choreography until her ankles burned. but then she saw the video. saw her name. and froze.

“Y/N CONFIRMS SHE’S A FAN OF KATSEYE’S MEGAN 🫢🫢🫢”

she clicked it.

the clip wasn’t long. maybe thirty seconds, a little more. it was some variety show. she recognized eunwoo immediately, bright-eyed and relaxed in the way only he ever seemed to be on camera. y/n sat beside him, posture a little straighter than usual, nerves twitching under the surface despite the easy smile on her face.

megan watched the moment unfold. the way the question was asked. the pause. the sheepish smile. 

“i think katseye’s megan is absolutely gorgeous.”

the words shouldn’t have done anything. people said things like that all the time. fans. hosts. stylists brushing out her hair before a shoot. it wasn’t new. but the way y/n said it, quiet, thoughtful, almost like she was holding back something bigger… it sat heavy in megan’s chest as the clip ended and replayed itself automatically.

she watched it again. and then a third time.

her notifications were already a mess. katseye’s name trending alongside y/n’s, clips being reposted with fan captions and edits, screenshots of the moment paired with captions like “megan better WAKE UP” and “y/n join the line babe”. she should’ve laughed. part of her did. but underneath it, something shifted. something warm and unsure and a little bit dizzy.

y/n had been on her radar for a while, if she was being honest. megan wasn’t the type to crush easily, but there was something about her. it started with a film. some sci-fi action thing that megan only half paid attention to until y/n showed up on screen and suddenly everything was more interesting. after that, it was interviews. behind the scenes clips. a fan edit that popped up on her for you page one morning and made her miss a whole subway stop because she got too caught up in it.

and now this.

megan opened y/n’s instagram without really thinking. her thumb hovered over the follow button. she stared at it for a long second, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

she didn’t press it.

not yet.

instead, she set her phone down on the floor beside her and let her eyes drift to the ceiling. her heart was beating faster than it had any right to.

“gorgeous,” she murmured under her breath, voice barely audible. “fun. wants to be friends.”

maybe she could work with that.

‎ 

sleep didn’t come easy to her that night.  before she knew it, the night shifted to morning and she had to get up. the studio called her name, as it seemed to relentlessly the past month and some change. 

sophia, daniela, and yoonchae were already mid-run-through when megan walked into the practice room, the tail end of the “gnarly” chorus echoing faintly from the speakers. sophia’s voice cut clean through the track, daniela’s movements sharp and deliberate. yoonchae was quiet, as usual, but every step she made was crisp, clockwork precise.

megan had barely stepped into the center of the room when she heard it.

“so.” lara didn’t even look up from where she was sitting, stretching her legs out and leaning back on her palms. “anything you wanna share with the class?”

megan blinked. “what?”

manon turned her head slowly from where she was sitting several notches away, a teasing gleam in her eyes. she answers as if it’s obvious. honestly, it really was. “y/n.”

megan tensed immediately. “oh god.”

“yup,” lara said, like she had been waiting all morning for this. “you’ve been blowing up on stan twitter since seven a.m. and don’t think we didn’t notice how fast you saved that clip on the shared account”

“i didn’t save it,” megan muttered, grabbing her water bottle a little too fast. “i just… happened to see it. once.”

“megan,” manon said, eyes narrowing just slightly. “you’ve been quiet all morning. the last time you shut the fuck up was when you saw scarlett johanson do the splits in that one captain america movie. don’t lie to us.”

lara laughed under her breath. “she said you were gorgeous, wanted to be friends. oh, how romantic. i bet you probably watched it ten times over.”

“i did not,” megan said, practically choking on her water. “i just didn’t expect it, okay? i wasn’t mentally prepared.”

“mentally prepared for what?” manon said, raising a brow. “a compliment? you’ve been in magazines. people compliment you all the time.”

“not her,” megan said, before immediately realizing what she’d just admitted out loud. she froze. “i mean. not like. you know. never mind.”

lara clapped once, too loud. “that’s it. someone get her phone. we’re crafting a dm.”

“absolutely not,” megan said, panic already bubbling in her chest. “i’ll die.”

“what are you gonna do?” manon said. “wait until she magically appears in the dorms living room?”

megan buried her face in her hoodie. “maybe.”

“this is tragic,” lara said. “you have the golden opportunity of a lifetime and you’re out here acting like she’s a tax bill.”

“can we please change the subject,” megan mumbled, voice muffled in fabric.

“nope,” manon said, standing up and walking towards her. “group vote says you’re dming her.”

lara held out a hand. “seconded.”

from across the room, daniela raised a hand mid-step. “thirded.”

megan didn’t even look up. “yoonchae. please. save me.”

yoonchae just gave a small shrug, barely breaking from the choreo. megan groaned into her sleeve.

yep. she was on her own. not even sophia batted an eyelash, the filippinas glossy lips tilting up into a small grin where she was by the mirrors. 

megan sat down cross-legged on the floor with her phone clutched in both hands like it might explode. her back was hunched, eyes glued to the screen, and the expression on her face hovered somewhere between total focus and a full-blown identity crisis.

“you haven’t even opened instagram yet,” manon pointed out, sitting behind her and peering over her shoulder.

“i’m getting to it,” megan muttered.

lara flopped down next to her with a dramatic sigh. “this is painful to watch. if you go any slower, we’ll be here until yoonchae turns twenty-seven.”

megan unlocked her phone with a resigned swipe. “what do i even say? like. what do people say when they’re trying not to sound weird?”

lara took a breath. “okay. let’s start simple. ‘hi y/n, thanks for saying i’m pretty on tv—”

“i’m not saying that.”

“‘you have great taste in women’—”

“lara.”

“‘let’s be friends (or more if you’re free saturday night)’—”

megan covered her face with both hands. “why did i think listening to you was a good idea.”

manon leaned her chin on megan’s shoulder. “fine. try this. ‘hi, this is super random but i saw the clip from weekly idol and just wanted to say thank you. that was really sweet of you. hope we can meet someday!’ short, polite, friendly. not scary.”

megan peeked at her. “…that’s not terrible.”

lara squinted. “it’s boring.”

“it’s safe,” manon said, grabbing megan’s phone and typing it out with quick thumbs. “she’s not asking her to elope, she’s just acknowledging it.”

megan took the phone back and read it over like it was a contract. “…what if she doesn’t reply?”

“then you delete your account and we pretend this never happened,” lara said. “easy.”

“lara,” manon sighed.

megan stared at the message for a long moment. her thumb hovered. then tapped. then hovered again.

“just hit send,” daniela called from across the room, not even looking up from her stretching. “we can feel your hesitation from over here.”

“seriously,” sophia added, “you’re vibrating.”

megan sucked in a breath through her teeth. and then, with her eyes closed and her stomach in her shoes, she hit send.

silence.

lara let out the longest, slowest gasp. “it’s done.”

manon patted her back. “you’re very brave.”

megan immediately flopped backward onto the floor like she’d just run a marathon. “i need to lie here forever. let me perish in peace.”

lara just grinned and offered her a thumbs up. “she’s gonna love it.”

megan covered her eyes. “i hate everything.”

never in a million years would she have expected that one simple action to change everything. 

__

the cafe was warm in that familiar, lived-in kind of way. wood-paneled walls framed by climbing ivy, soft light filtering through dusty windows, and the scent of espresso baked into the air like it had nowhere else to go. outside, a quiet drizzle tapped at the glass, slow and steady, painting the sidewalk in watercolor streaks. inside, the soft clatter of dishes and hum of conversation made everything feel just far enough from the noise of your schedule to breathe.

you were at a small table near the back, the kind that rocked a little if you leaned on it wrong. yunjin sat across from you, one leg thrown over the other, straw bent at an aggressive angle in her lemonade. beside her, sungchan had his jacket slung over his chair and a look of mild betrayal on his face as he stared down at the salad yunjin had goaded him into ordering.

“i’m just saying,” she said, picking a piece of arugula off his plate like it belonged to her, “you can’t order a burger four days in a row and then complain about your skin breaking out.”

“it’s called balance,” sungchan muttered, dragging his fork through the greens with the resigned air of someone deeply offended by roughage. “i had a banana this morning.”

“oh wow,” she deadpanned. “one whole banana. call the olympic committee, this man is the pinnacle of health.”

he gave her a flat look. “didn’t you eat instant tteokbokki at two in the morning and then text me about your stomach cramps like it was my fault?”

“okay, first of all, you’re my emotional support contact when i make poor life choices. second of all, i still looked hot while doing it.”

you blinked slowly, chin in your hand, eyes fixed on the screen of your phone where the message sat.

hi, this is super random but i saw the clip from weekly idol and just wanted to say thank you. that was really sweet of you. hope we can meet someday!

megan had sent it two nights ago. you’d seen it the moment it came in, heart tripping over itself in the dark quiet of your bedroom. you didn’t answer. not right away. you told yourself you were busy, that you had scripts to review, meetings lined up. you told yourself it wasn’t ghosting if you intended to respond eventually.

but even now, hours and hours later, you were still here. still staring. still unsure what to say.

you had never been this nervous to talk to someone before.

“okay, this is depressing,” yunjin said, snapping her fingers in your direction. “hey. eyes up. you look like someone just broke up with you via powerPoint.”

sungchan leaned in a little, squinting at you. “are you sick? you’re weirdly quiet. usually you’d be insulting us by now.”

“i’m not sick,” you said quickly, locking your phone and setting it face down on the table. “just… thinking.”

“thinking about what?” yunjin asked, tone tilting toward nosy in that way only close friends could get away with.

you hesitated.

“oh my god,” she gasped. “you’re in love.”

“i’m not in love,” you said, too fast, which only made sungchan snort into his water.

“that’s what people say right before they confess they’re in love,” he said, dabbing at his chin with a napkin like he hadn’t just inhaled half a slice of garlic bread. “who is it?”

“nobody,” you said.

yunjin leaned forward with the exact expression of someone who knew they were right. “it’s megan, isn’t it?”

you didn’t answer. you didn’t have to. the look on your face gave you away.

sungchan let out a low whistle. “oh. that megan. the ‘gorgeous, fun, would love to be friends’ megan.”

you groaned, resting your forehead on your palm. “do you all memorize everything i say or are you just stalking my interviews for sport?”

“yes,” they said at the same time.

“okay but seriously,” yunjin said, nudging your phone with one perfectly manicured finger. “she messaged you, right?”

you nodded.

“and you didn’t reply because…?”

you sighed. “i don’t know. because it’s her. because i don’t want to mess it up. because what if she’s just being nice and this whole thing is way more casual to her than it is to me?”

sungchan tilted his head. “you mean what if she’s cool and normal and not secretly writing fanfiction about you the way you’re doing about her?”

yunjin grinned. “do you want us to help you write back? or are you planning to keep having an existential crisis over a very cute dm?”

you glanced at the screen again. your reflection looked back at you in the black glass, soft and unsure.

“i’ll write back,” you said quietly.

“good,” yunjin said, leaning back in her chair with a pleased expression. “because if you didn’t, i was gonna pretend to be you and do it myself.”

“you’re terrifying,” sungchan said, which she accepted as a compliment.

you looked back at the message one more time. your heart was still beating a little too fast, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. maybe it meant you actually cared. that it mattered.

you took a breath. opened the keyboard.

and started to type.

your fingers hovered for a second too long over the keyboard. the blinking cursor stared back at you like it knew you were stalling. you could feel yunjin’s eyes on you, sharp and expectant, like she might actually snatch the phone from your hands if you hesitated any longer. sungchan, mercifully, had gone back to his salad, occasionally picking at it like it was an alien lifeform.

hi megan! sorry for the slow reply, things have been a little hectic lately. i saw your message and honestly it kind of made my whole week lol. thank you for reaching out :)

you paused. read it again. deleted the smiley. retyped it. added a second sentence.

i’d really love to meet too if you’re ever free.

then you stared at it some more.

“this is painful,” yunjin muttered. “just hit send. what’s the worst that could happen?”

“she leaves me on read and i spontaneously combust from shame,” you said flatly.

“dramatic,” sungchan mumbled, chewing like a cow. “but valid.”

“she won’t leave you on read,” yunjin said, more gently this time. “she messaged you first. that counts for something.”

you looked down at the screen one last time. your thumb hovered over the send button. your stomach turned a slow, clumsy flip. and then, before you could second guess yourself again, you pressed it.

message sent.

you didn’t breathe for a full five seconds.

“there,” yunjin said, smug now. “look at you. being brave.”

“i already regret this,” you mumbled, locking your phone again and pushing it away like it might explode.

“do you want a cookie?” sungchan asked, peering at the dessert menu. “i feel like this moment deserves a cookie.”

you blinked at him. “why do you always want to eat after stressful emotional events?”

“because i am a man of simple needs,” he said, deadpan. “and also because cookies are comforting.”

“he’s not wrong,” yunjin said, flagging down the waiter with the kind of unearned confidence that came from growing up with three older siblings and no shame. except, she didn’t. “three chocolate chip, please. and a round of iced americanos. she’s going to need the caffeine.”

you sank back into your seat, still feeling the rush of adrenaline buzzing under your skin. outside, the rain had picked up a little, streaking the windows like silver threads. inside, everything smelled like sugar and espresso and something warm baking in the oven.

you didn’t know if megan would reply. maybe she’d be busy. maybe she’d forget. but for now, you’d done the hardest part.

you’d answered, and that felt like enough for today.

that was, at least, until your phone chimed.

the sound sliced through the moment like a needle popping a balloon. all three of you froze. your eyes shot to the screen where the notification banner was still lingering like a ghost.

megan skiendiel: that sounds perfect :) when are you free?

yunjin let out an actual gasp, loud and dramatic enough to make the table behind you glance over. sungchan dropped his fork.

“no way,” yunjin hissed, already leaning across the table to see. “no actual way. she replied that fast? is she a robot?”

you didn’t say anything. you just stared. your heart had lodged itself somewhere in your throat, beating so hard it made your ears ring. megan had replied. not just replied but enthusiastically. and with a smiley. the exact one you had almost deleted from your own message.

“hello?” sungchan waved a hand in front of your face. “earth to y/n. what did she say? is it something scandalous? are we finally getting to live vicariously through your love life?”

you shoved your phone toward them without speaking.

yunjin read the message out loud like it was a line from a sacred text. “‘that sounds perfect. when are you free.’” then she looked up at you with her mouth already forming a wicked grin. “she wants to hang out. like, actually hang out. she’s asking you out.”

“not asking me out,” you said quickly, the heat creeping up the back of your neck. “just… asking when i’m free.”

“same thing,” sungchan said, picking his fork back up and pointing it at you like it was a weapon. “in celebrity speak that is basically a confession of love. i’ve seen the charts.”

“you made those charts,” you reminded him.

“and they’re scientifically sound.”

“okay but seriously,” yunjin cut in, phone still in hand, “when are you free? do you have a day off coming up?”

you blinked, trying to force your brain back into scheduling mode. “uh… friday afternoon? maybe?”

“perfect,” she said, already typing something. “tell her friday. tell her you’re free after lunch. keep it casual. breezy. like you’re not obsessively analyzing every possible outcome of this conversation.”

you shot her a look. “i am obsessively analyzing every possible outcome of this conversation.”

“which is why you need us,” sungchan said with his mouth full of cookie. “we’re here to keep you from imploding.”

your phone buzzed again.

megan skiendiel: i’m free friday after seven. wanna grab coffee? i can send you a spot i like

you didn’t even get a chance to reply before yunjin squealed.

sungchan raised both hands to the sky. “oh my god. it’s happening. it’s actually happening.”

you stared at the message, barely breathing, heart thudding like a drum inside your chest.

coffee. with megan.

you were either about to make a new friend or absolutely ruin your entire life trying.

weirdly… you couldn’t wait to find out which.

__

friday showed up before you were ready for it.

“i feel like a dad on prom night,” sungchan said, flopped across your couch like a man waiting for judgment day. he hugged a pillow to his stomach like it might shield him from the chaos. “except hotter. and younger. and not emotionally repressed.

“you’re eating chips with your shirt inside out,”chaewon deadpanned, looking sungchan up and down judgmentally.. “you look like a walking identity crisis.”  

then she turned, peering around the corner into your bedroom.

“y/n, i can’t believe you’re finally going on a date. talk about a breakthrough.”

yunjin sat cross legged on the floor, scrolling through her phone like she wasn’t the one who casually mentioned your date in front of everyone. the very second chaewon heard, she practically chomped at the bit, begging yunjin to bring her along to watch it all unfold. to say your love life was a spectacle among your friends would be an understatement.

“for the record,” you called from your room, still getting ready, “i said no to bringing chaewon.”

“for the record,” chaewon shouted back, “we overruled you. this is a democracy.”

“it’s so not.”

you stepped out, halfway dressed, holding up two completely different tops.

“black or white?”

“ooh,” yunjin said, squinting like she was inspecting a rare museum artifact. “black is hot. white is sweet. depends on the vibe you’re going for.”

“the vibe is ‘i want to look cute but not like i tried too hard because if i think about this too long i will throw myself into traffic’.”

“black,” chaewon and sungchan said in unison.

you sighed and nodded, disappearing back into the room. the air buzzed with the sound of sungchan crunching loudly and chaewon whispering to yunjin like they were spies on a mission.

“lets make a bet. ten dollars says she has a breakdown before she even leaves the house.” chaewon whispered.

“twenty says she embarrasses herself throwing up in megan’s car.” yunjin whispered back.

“guys,” you said, poking your head out again. “i can hear you.”

“we know,” they all said at the same time.

your phone dinged again.

megan skiendiel: on my way. i’ll be at your door in a minute. also, did you know your bellhop likes our music? he almost fainted when he let me up lol

you stared at the message for two full seconds before the others caught the change in your face like wolves spotting weakness. you barely had time to blink before the room exploded.

“oh my god,” sungchan shot up from the couch like someone yelled ‘fire!’. the chip bag in his hands crinkled louder than a car alarm. “was that her? is she outside? do we hide? do we have a code word if things go sideways?”

“wait, she’s coming up here?” chaewon gasped, already rising with a dramatic flair. “this place is a disaster zone!”

“i cleaned for you people,” you hissed, throwing a pointed look at the water bottles on the coffee table and the lone sock draped suspiciously over the lamp.

“yeah, and we immediately undid all of it,” yunjin said, waving a hand at the chaos like it was a museum exhibit. “you’re welcome.”

sungchan grabbed his phone, replacing the cushion he clutched. “this is it. our little baby’s first date.”

“shut up,” you muttered, cheeks heating like you’d just been called out in front of the world. “and put that damn phone down. if i see you take even one photo, i’ll beat your ass. besides, it’s not a date.”

three pairs of eyes locked onto you in unison.

“coffee with the girl you’ve been thinking about nonstop for two weeks,” chaewon said, crossing her arms with the confidence of a daytime talk show host.

“wearing the ‘hot top’, nervous enough to sweat through your socks,” yunjin added, giving you an appraising look.

“with three unpaid emotional support staff waiting at home,” sungchan finished, voice thick with mock solemnity.

your gaze snapped back and forth between the three of them, and you cringed inwardly. okay, they were right. this was definitely a date.

then, knock knock knock.

you froze for a second, heart thudding so loud you were sure they could hear it in the next room. you opened the door, and there she was.

megan stood on the other side like a vision in the hallway light, hair catching the glow just right, a smile that was equal parts warm and mischievous.

behind you, the trio froze mid-move like they’d just been caught doing something they definitely shouldn’t. they exchanged shiteating grins that barely hid how badly they were eavesdropping. yunjin quickly pulled out her phone like she was suddenly very interested in something, but her eyes kept darting toward the door. chaewon leaned against the wall, looking way too relaxed for someone who was clearly dying to say something, and sungchan sprawled on the couch with the kind of lazy cool that screamed i’m totally innocent. when megan’s eyes flicked over to them, they all waved with big, overly casual smiles like innocent bystanders who just happened to be hanging out, except no one was buying it.

but then megan’s eyes locked onto yours and suddenly everything else around you faded into the background. your breath hitched without warning and your brain scrambled like it was trying to process a beautiful glitch in reality.

you’d only ever seen her through a screen before. live streams where she smiled like the sun was just for her, short clips where she moved with effortless grace, and that one quick instagram deep dive you’d done when she messaged you. but now, here she was in real life, and she was something else entirely.

her skin caught the soft light of your penthouse, glowing like it had its own quiet radiance. her eyes were bigger and deeper than you expected, dark and shimmering like they held a secret you wanted to know. the way her hair fell in loose waves around her face softened her sharp cheekbones and made her look both fierce and kind at the same time.

she wasn’t just pretty. she was the kind of stunning that made you forget words and wish you could rewind the moment just to stare a little longer. standing there, frozen with your mouth slightly open, you realized this was the first time you were seeing her. not a filtered version, not a quick snapshot. but the real her. and it was breathtaking.

“hi,” megan said, and the word came out with a lopsided grin that cracked through the tension in your chest like sunlight through a fogged-up window. her voice was warm, lilting, a little too casual for someone who had just walked in looking like a daydream in denim baggy jeans and a bomber jacket. she rocked slightly on her heels and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, like she was fighting the urge to do a small nervous dance.

“hi,” you replied, except it sounded more like a squeak than anything human. your throat betrayed you. of course it did.

then her eyes flicked over your shoulder, and that grin stretched even wider.

“hey guys!” she waved, cheerful like she’d just walked into a party of old friends instead of three people very poorly pretending to mind their own business. “love the casual surveillance vibe you’ve got going on in here.”

“we’re chill,” sungchan said, lounging so awkwardly on the couch he almost slid off it. 

“so chill,” chaewon added, nodding solemnly from her place at the wall, where she’d become one with a houseplant.

“this is how we always sit,” yunjin said, phone upside down in her hand, gaze glued directly to megan’s face. “completely normal. zero eavesdropping. you can’t prove otherwise.”

megan let out a laugh, scrunching her nose as she looked back at you. “your friends are amazing.”

“they’re something,” you muttered, grabbing your bag before your legs could decide to walk without you.

“so,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck and bouncing slightly on her toes. “you ready? or do you need a few more minutes to, like, peel them off the furniture?”

you gave a quiet laugh, trying not to show that your hands were already clammy. “nope. ready.”

megan smiled again. softer this time. like she was seeing you for real. “cool. let’s go, then.”

and with that, you stepped out into whatever this was going to be, your heart doing cartwheels the entire way.

‎ 

truthfully, megan’s car wasn’t what you’d expected. some part of you, the part still convinced the universe had a twisted sense of humor, had pictured something absurd. maybe a crop duster or even the rusty tow truck from cars. something loud. chaotic. entirely un-date-like. instead, it was a sleek black suv. understated but sharp, just like her.

from the passenger seat, you couldn’t help sneaking glances. megan’s focus was fixed on the road, her jaw tense, her hands gripping the wheel like she was bracing for impact.

“you look nervous,” you said, a little too gently.

“o-oh, well. you know.” her voice cracked slightly as she coughed into her shoulder, eyes flicking toward you before immediately darting back to the windshield. she gave you a crooked grin, brief and almost sheepish. “i am. honestly, i feel like i’m going to vomit.”

you laughed before you could help it. light, surprised. “vomit? that’s dramatic.”

“i mean, maybe,” she said, her eyes narrowing playfully for half a second before softening again. “it’s just… i didn’t expect to actually be here. with you. not in a bad way. in a surreal way.”

you felt the flush creep across your cheeks before you even registered it, a warmth that pooled somewhere in your chest. still, you tilted your head toward her, teasing. “i can’t tell if you mean that as a compliment or not.”

megan practically panicked. “no! no, no no, not at all. god, please, that’s the silliest thing i’ve ever heard.” her words came out too fast, tripping over themselves. she shook her head like it would help untangle the knot in her thoughts. “i’m just nervous, okay? i keep overthinking it. like, what if i say something dumb, or do something weird, or—”

her voice dropped slightly, and she added, almost under her breath, “you’re so pretty i can’t think straight.”

then she froze, eyes widening as if realizing she’d said it out loud. her face goes red, a grimace pulling across her lips. she lifts a hand off the wheel to gently facepalm herself, pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers. “please ignore me. i’m begging,”

you could only watch. you don’t know when the fond grin crossed your lips. when your heart skipped a beat, when her endearing clumsiness had you relaxing in your seat. perhaps knowing that she was just as, if not more, nervous as you made you feel relieved. after a beat, you laughed. soft. her eyes lit up as she glanced at you from her peripheral, the short noise drawing her from her thoughts.

“you’re fine,” you said, quiet but real. “i’ve been looking forward to tonight too.”

“really?”

“yeah. do you think i’d let my friends invade my house all week just for fun? they’ve been insufferable, harassing me all week. i guess i maybe haven’t made it all that secret that i’ve been interested in you for a while.” then you shake your head. “interested in meeting, that is.”

this time it was megan’s turn to crack a stupid grin.

whatever nerves you felt immediately disappeared the longer you talked to each other. truth be told, you were worried whether you’d get along as well as you hoped you would. part of you worried that once you saw each other, it’d be awkward. quiet. instead megan somehow managed to fill the silence with conversation. she asked about your family, about your day, about your friends. in turn you asked about hers.

she laughed at something you said. not even something that funny, really, just a small comment about the gas station snacks you liked. but the way she laughed, like she meant it, like she wasn’t just being polite, made your chest feel lighter. her voice filled the car, soft but certain, and the road hummed under the tires like it was part of the conversation.

you glanced over at her. she was driving with one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gear shift. her thumb tapped along to the music playing low through the speakers. some indie band neither of you had heard before but had both agreed sounded “pretty good.” it was easy. easier than you expected.

you didn’t have to think too hard before speaking. there was no second guessing. no awkward pauses that made you reach for your phone or pretend to check the map. she asked about the book in your bag and you told her it was something you started three times but never finished. she admitted she did that too, more often than she’d like to admit. you both laughed again.

the sky outside started to shift, the blue softening into a hazy gold. you weren’t sure how long you’d been driving, only that time felt different in the car with her. stretched out. slowed down. kinder.

it didn’t take long for her to park outside a cafe, but neither of you moved to get out. instead, you agreed to order to go. that’s how you ended up here. still in her car, windows slightly cracked, the warm scent of coffee filling the space between you. your drink sat snug in the cupholder, hands curled around it for warmth, and a half-eaten bagel rested in your lap. just outside the windshield, the lights of seoul shimmered across the han river, soft and golden against the night.

she didn’t seem in any rush to leave, and neither were you.

after a long sip of coffee, the next question came out without much thought.

“how long are you in korea for this time?”

“another week, give or take,” she said, eyes flicking to the skyline, like she was already counting down.

“do you miss home?”

“i do. yeah. i miss my car, mostly. it’s my baby. a bmw m3.”

you looked at her, eyebrows raised. “whoever handed you the keys to a sports car must have had a serious lapse in judgment. you drive this suv like you’ve got a personal vendetta against the speed limit.”

she let out a laugh, head tipping back slightly. “what can i say? i like to go fast.”

“sure. until we’re airborne.”

“oh, come on,” she grinned. “you weren’t complaining when you were riding shotgun, all cozy and content, full-on passenger princess mode.”

you rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “i was holding onto the door for dear life.”

“you were vibing,” she said.

“i was surviving,” you shot back, but it was playful, light.

the silence that followed wasn’t awkward. it was the kind that settled easy between two people who’d already found a rhythm.

megan reached for her own cup, nearly knocking over the paper bag between you in the process. the bagel inside gave a sad little flop onto the console. she froze.

“whoops. that was... not smooth.”

you laughed, nudging the bag gently back toward her. “you’re a menace behind the wheel and a danger to pastries. noted.”

she gave you a sheepish smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “yeah, i’m really killing it tonight, huh?”

“actually,” you said, voice a little softer, “i’ve had a really nice time.”

she blinked at you, surprised. “yeah?”

you nodded, looking out toward the river before meeting her eyes again. “i was kinda nervous. not because of you, just... sometimes people are different in person. it doesn’t always click.”

megan was quiet for a second, then gave a small, crooked smile. “i was worried about that too. i overthink everything. i even tried to pick a good playlist just in case the conversation died and we needed... filler noise or something.”

you laughed. “is that why i’ve been listening to three hours of sad indie girls?”

“they’re emotionally articulate,” she said, pretending to be offended, but her grin gave her away. “besides, it worked, didn’t it?”

you leaned back against the seat, stretching your legs out a bit. “yeah. it really did.”

the city lights danced in her eyes when she looked at you, soft and a little uncertain, but there was warmth there too. the kind that made the car feel smaller, safer.

“you’re easy to talk to,” she said after a moment, quieter than before.

you smiled, heart tugging just slightly at her honesty. “so are you.”

a comfortable silence settled again, the kind where neither of you felt the need to fill it. the engine ticked softly as it cooled, and in the background, another melancholic song hummed through the speakers.

“i was gonna try and act all chill and collected,” megan said eventually, gaze fixed on the skyline. “but then i fumbled, almost crashed into that curb, and now my bagel is probably in pieces.”

“you’re doing great,” you said, trying not to smile too much. “like, truly elite first impression.”

she turned to face you, eyes bright despite the dim light. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

and just like that, the nerves that had once lingered in the corners of your chest felt like a distant memory.

__

after that night in the car, things shifted. not in a big, dramatic way. no sudden declarations, no fireworks. just small things. steadier things.

your conversations moved from instagram dms to real texts. it felt natural. seamless. one day she asked for your number like it wasn’t a big deal, like she hadn’t already been in your head more than you cared to admit. and you gave it without hesitation, like it wasn’t a risk. like you already knew she’d treat it right.

when she left korea, it was quiet. no big goodbye, no emotional scene. she texted you from the airport, a blurry photo of her and a coffee she swore was going to keep her awake through the flight. from there, the messages kept going. even with the time difference, she found time to talk. random updates. sleepy selfies. voice notes with a little static in the background because she always seemed to be walking somewhere, or in a van, or waiting backstage. sometimes she’d send a song with no context. sometimes just a “this reminded me of you” followed by a meme that made absolutely no sense.

you talked about everything and nothing. the shows she was doing. the tiny hotel rooms she was crashing in. how much she missed sophia’s dog, chanel. how lara had started sleep talking again. how yoonchae had near cried when she had to say goodbye to her parents again when they returned to california.

you told her about your week, the upcoming film you’re wrapping up shooting, your friends, the late-night ramen run that ended in rain and ruined shoes.

some nights, the conversations lasted until one of you fell asleep mid-text. other nights, it was just a good morning or goodnight, quick but never careless.

somehow, she made the space between you feel smaller.

it didn’t take long for others to start noticing your budding friendship, either. 

if there was one thing you should know about megan skiendiel, it’s that she’s stubborn. fiercely so. once she feels something, she clings to it with both hands. no disguises, no apologies. she doesn’t know how to be subtle and doesn’t try to be. her heart shows up before she even walks into the room.

and lately, her heart had a habit of mentioning you. probably more than it should have.

the first time was during a casual sit-down with a popular youtuber. the question had been harmless enough.  “did you meet anyone interesting in korea?” 

megan didn’t even blink before your name tumbled out of her mouth.

behind her, manon practically doubled over laughing while lara muttered something about “bad timing” and “inside jokes.” the clip went viral within the hour.

eyekons weren’t buying the act. they knew.

especially after that solo live.

‎ 

megan sank into the couch with a sigh, stretching her legs over the coffee table as she adjusted her phone. It’d been a long day. dance practice ran overtime, vocal lessons left her voice raw, and all she wanted was to collapse into bed. but she had promised her fans a live, and the guilt of leaving them waiting weighed heavily on her.

she brushed  her hair back as the screen flickered to life. a wave of comments flooded in immediately, the chat scrolling too fast to keep up.

she smiled, a familiar warmth settling into her voice. "hi, everyone. It's been a while, huh?"

the dorm was quieter than usual. yoonchae and daniela were still at the studio, finishing up some recording. lara, sophia and manon were off doing who knows what. 

megan answered questions between sips of water, laughing as fans teased her. she talked about her love for food, and her habit of getting lost in airports. the conversation was easy, natural. she talked about practice, her favorite songs lately, and the games she'd been playing. it felt comfortable, like a casual late night talk with friends.

then, suddenly, the energy shifted. the comments exploded into chaos. fans were spamming messages faster than she had ever seen before.

"wait, what's happening?" she mumbled, eyes flicking over the chat, trying to make sense of the flood of messages.

then she saw it. a single line of text that had a dumb grin permanently etching itself across her face. 

y/n:  have you ate today? you look so cute with those glasses on! 

her eyes scanned the screen again just to make sure she hadn’t imagined it. but no. it was still there. your name. your message.

she dropped her hands into her lap and beamed, full teeth, no restraint. her cheeks were already tinged pink, and now they burned. she didn’t care.

“hi, y/n,” she said, voice soft but electric. “you’re really here, huh?”

the chat lost its mind. it was like someone had thrown gasoline on a bonfire. hearts, exclamation marks. 

megan didn’t even try to hide it.

“i wasn’t expecting that,” she said, practically bouncing in place now. “like, i thought maybe you’d be busy or… i don’t know, being famous and cool and doing actor things.”

she laughed a short, nervous little burst,  then leaned closer to the screen, like it might bring her to you.

“i did eat, by the way. i wasn’t gonna wear the glasses, but my eyes were tired and they help with the light. but… i’m glad you think they look nice.”

it wasn’t subtle. none of it was subtle.

she was glowing. lit from the inside out with the kind of joy that couldn’t be faked. and even though thousands of fans were watching, even though the chat was an overwhelming blur of reactions and chaos.  for that brief moment, it was like no one else existed. no one but you. 

‎ 

the third, perhaps most notorious time, was two weeks later.

‎ 

it was meant to be a harmless segment. a fluff piece for some new cosmopolitan youtube show. the kind with silly games and awkward dares and an entire soundboard dedicated to exaggerated gasps. katseye had been invited to promote their upcoming showcase, and the host had them lined up in pairs, facing each other in a game of “who knows who better.”

megan had been paired with sophia, which was dangerous from the start. the two had a history of throwing each other under the bus for the sake of comedy, and neither had a filter to speak of.

“okay, last round,” the host grinned, holding up a cue card. “this one’s just for fun. megan, sophia — name one person your partner talks about way too much.”

“oh no,” sophia said instantly, already grinning like the cat who got the cream.

megan groaned, head falling back dramatically. “don’t do this to me.”

“i have no choice,” sophia replied solemnly. “i’m under oath.”

the buzzer sounded and both girls scribbled their answers down on whiteboards. megan wrote slowly, trying to be clever, trying to think of a joke that would dodge the obvious. but when the timer buzzed again, she sighed and held it up.

so did sophia.

your name. in big, bold letters. twice.

the studio burst into laughter, and the host clutched his chest like he’d just witnessed the reveal of the century.

“wow,” he said, eyes flicking between the two of them. “not even a hesitation.”

“because it’s true,” sophia said, smug. “she’s in her ‘y/n era.’ we’re just living in it.”

megan was pink from ear to ear, trying — and failing — to hide behind her board. “that’s not true. okay, maybe a little true.”

“a little?” manon called from off-camera. “girl, you made us watch one of her movies three nights in a row.”

“it was for the plot,” megan shot back.

“uh-huh,” daniela deadpanned. “plot named y/n.”

the clip made the rounds before the show even finished airing. fancams popped up with captions like “megan being the president of y/n’s fan club for six minutes straight” and the internet did what it does best. spiral.

‎ 

through it all, megan didn’t deny a thing.

she couldn’t. not when her whole face lit up like a summer skyline every time your name came up. not when her bandmates had stopped teasing and started treating your existence as something inevitable, like the rising sun or the way manon always stole everyone’s chargers.

 by then, you weren’t just someone she mentioned.

in an industry known for silence, for secrecy and statements about “valuing privacy,” hybe was practically rolling out a red carpet. in korea, relationships in the spotlight were often treated like scandals waiting to happen. but the western fans? they were eating it up. every clipped interview, every suspiciously timed instagram like, every passing mention of your name on a live. it was all free press, and hybe knew it.

so they leaned in. quietly, strategically. no denials. no damage control. just subtle nudges that said, yeah, keep watching.

and it was driving her crazy. 

__

you weren’t exactly sure when it happened. when the feeling settled in your chest and decided to stay. maybe it had been there all along, hiding underneath the comfort of familiarity and the ease of your friendship. or maybe it grew slowly, in the quiet moments you never thought to mark.

it could’ve been during the weeks she was gone, promoting outside of korea. the distance was supposed to make things simpler. safer. but instead, it just made her absence louder. knowing you were still the first person she messaged in the morning and the last one she talked to before sleep made your chest ache in a way you didn’t have a name for yet.

or maybe it was that one night, the one where you called her just to vent about a costar who had spent the entire day getting under your skin. you were halfway through a breathless rant when you noticed it. the way she was watching you through the screen. how she wasn’t just nodding politely or checking her phone or letting her attention drift. she was listening. really listening. her eyes softened when you got frustrated, lit up when you said something funny. when your voice cracked just a little from tiredness, she didn’t interrupt. she just stayed with you. present and still. like holding space for you was the most natural thing in the world.

and somewhere in all of that, it hit you.

you were in love with megan skiendiel. painfully. undeniably. fully.

at first, you were terrified. quietly, achingly scared. because what were you supposed to do with a feeling like this? loving megan had crept up on you, soft and slow, the way a sunset slips past the horizon before you even realize it’s gone. and now that it was here, fully formed and impossible to ignore, you didn’t know how to carry it.

megan had become a constant. someone who felt less like a friend and more like a fixture. someone you could turn to at any hour, knowing she’d listen without judgment, laugh at your bad jokes, sit in silence if that’s what you needed. she never made you feel like too much or not enough. she just saw you. and the last thing you wanted was to ruin something that good with feelings you didn’t know how to manage.

so you kept it quiet. buried it under casual texts and late-night calls. told yourself it wasn’t the right time. told yourself maybe it didn’t need to be said at all.

but then the girls were coming back to korea. six months had passed since their last visit, and the moment megan found out they’d be landing soon, she called you. not texted. not waited. called.

you’d picked up on the first ring.

and now, you were standing at your front door, fingers still curled around the handle, staring at the very girl who had been living rent-free in your head for months.

before you could even speak, megan threw her arms around you. the force of it almost knocked you back a step. her dark brown hair smelled like travel and lavender shampoo and something unmistakably her. she held you like she’d been counting down the days to this moment. like she’d been holding her breath all the way across oceans and could finally breathe again now that she was here.

her arms were warm and tight around you, her face tucked into the crook of your neck. for a few seconds, neither of you said anything. and for the first time in weeks, your heart didn’t feel so loud.

“you smell different,” megan mumbled, voice muffled against your shoulder.

you blinked, startled. “um. thanks?”

she pulled back just enough to look at you, her hands still resting on your waist. “not bad different. just… like laundry detergent and success.”

you snorted. “you’ve been on korean air for fifteen hours and that’s what you open with?”

“i missed you too,” she said, and there was no hesitation in it. no theatrics. just honesty, plain and easy, like it was the most natural thing in the world to say.

you felt the corners of your mouth twitch, trying hard not to smile like a complete idiot. “i figured. what with the fifteen missed calls.”

“okay, first of all,” she said, stepping fully into the apartment now, shrugging off her jacket, “ten of those were because i forgot the time difference and thought you were ghosting me.”

“you forgot the time difference?” you repeated, crossing your arms with a skeptical look.

megan turned around, eyes wide and unconvincing. “yes?”

you stared.

she caved. “no. i panicked. sue me.”

you closed the door behind her, shaking your head. “you’re ridiculous.”

“you like it,” she said without missing a beat, flopping dramatically onto your couch.

you didn’t deny it. instead, you walked over and stood behind the couch, arms draped loosely over the back as you looked down at her.

“so what’s the plan now that you’re back?” you asked.

megan grinned, tossing her head back to look up at you. “coffee. your favorite ramen place. a movie i’ll definitely talk through. and if you’re really lucky, maybe i’ll even let you win at mario kart.”

“bold of you to assume you’d be letting me win,” you said.

“bold of you to think you could beat me,” she fired back, eyes sparkling.

you met her gaze, heart stuttering, voice softer now. “i’m really glad you’re here.”

her grin faltered just a bit, and something gentler settled into her expression. “me too,” she said. “more than you know.”

for a moment you just stared at her, the moment truly settling in. you really did miss her. texting and phone calls were one thing, but seeing her in person was another. her goofy smile, the way she locked in like she didn’t just drop the funniest bomb known to mankind, the way she laughed as if she didn’t care who was watching. she was just one girl and yet, she consumed the space so beautifully without even knowing. 

you almost did it then. almost opened your mouth and let the words tumble out. but you didn’t. instead you settled on a small smile. 

you were about to ask megan if she wanted water when your phone buzzed against the counter. you didn’t need to look to know who it was. you’d spent the entire night before (and entire day honestly) lighting up your text chain with yunjin. sure enough, when you unlocked your screen and peered down, there she was. 

yunjin [7:13pm]: is she there yet or did she ghost you after all that build-up

yunjin [7:13pm]: respond right now or else i’ll think you confessed and blacked out from emotional overload. 

you rolled your eyes and typed back quickly with one hand while grabbing two glasses with the other.

you [7:14pm]: she’s here. no blackouts. yet.

yunjin [7:14pm]: yet???  i’m counting the minutes. btw u should ask her to come to the party tn. i think sungchan wanted to introduce u to someone too, so ur contractually obligated to show up. 

the idea of sungchan wanting to introduce you to someone made your blood run cold. the last time that happened, you ended up stuck in a corner with shindong rambling about crypto, diet tips, and the “glory days” of SM for thirty painfully long minutes.

still, you swallowed the groan bubbling up in your throat and slipped your phone into your pocket before yunjin could fire off something even more unhinged. when you turned back toward the living room, megan had curled herself sideways into the couch, one leg dangling off the edge, her head tilted back like she was trying to make sense of the ceiling tiles.

“was that yunjin?” she asked, grinning like she already knew the answer.

“unfortunately.”

“what’d she say? wait, don’t tell me. something dramatic, slightly invasive, and definitely teasing.”

you handed her a glass of water with a dry look. “spot on. she wants to know if you’re real or just a figment of my imagination.”

megan raised an eyebrow. “and what did you tell her?”

“that you’re here.” you smirked. “look at miss nosey over here.”

she raised both hands in mock surrender, barely hiding her smile. “hey, what can I say? i’m working on a phd for not being able to mind my own damn business.”

you laughed, shaking your head. the kind of laugh that came easily around her. and then, remembering the rest of yunjin’s message, you leaned your weight against the back of the couch, fingers tapping idly on the cushions.

“she’s throwing a party tonight,” you said. “something about celebrating a new album drop. you should come. bring the girls.”

megan sat up a little straighter, sipping her water with the kind of dramatic flair that made you snort. “a party? are there going to be snacks?”

“probably.”

“alright, i’m in. but only if there are snacks and minimal small talk. and maybe karaoke.”

“so you want snacks, bad lighting, and a mic. noted.”

“see, you get me.” she beamed, already reaching for her phone. “i’ll text the girls. we’ll make it a proper entrance.”

you rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. your heart was too full for your own good. “god help us all.”

__

the drive over was chaotic in the way only megan’s presence could make it. she’d managed to wrangle sophia and daniela into coming, predictably the two most likely to say yes to the word “party” before even hearing the rest of the sentence. manon and lara had tapped out almost immediately. yoonchae hadn’t even bothered pretending she was considering it.

megan drove, one hand lazily on the wheel, the other dancing over the radio dial every five seconds. you sat in the front passenger seat, watching her in the glow of passing streetlights.

sophia leaned forward from the back. “so, y/n,” she started, voice thick with mischief, “how’s it feel being megan’s favorite girl?”

“sophia,” megan warned without looking away from the road.

daniela snorted, flinging a gummy at the back of megan’s head. “what? it’s true. we’ve heard more about y/n in the last six months than we have about anyone else.” then she turned to you, leaning forward besides sophia. “i was starting to think she made you up.”

“my god, you guys are worse than lara and manon.” megan muttered, tightening her grip on the steering wheel. she glanced at you, caught the smile playing on your lips, and groaned. “you’re both so annoying.”

“say you love her and we’ll shut up,” daniela sang from the backseat.

“i will crash this car,” megan said flatly, but her ears were pink.

you turned in your seat, raising an eyebrow at the two girls behind you. “this what you do on every drive?”

“only when the company’s good,” sophia grinned.

by the time you walked up to the le sserafim dorm, the music could already be heard before you even reached the front door. the air outside buzzed with voices and laughter. 

you barely had time to step over the threshold before you heard it. 

“there she is!”

yunjin materialized out of the crowd like she owned the place. which, sure, she basically did. it was her party afterall.  she practically skipped the last few steps toward you. before you could get a word in, she grabbed your hand, pulled you into a hug that was half tackle, half dance spin, and leaned back to look you over. “hi, hello, love you, you look disgustingly hot—don’t even try to run, i’ve got plans for us tonight.”

you barely had time to laugh before she clocked the girls behind you. “megan!” she called, eyes lighting up as she pulled you into the house. “and you brought the fun ones! hi, sophia. hi, daniela.”

“you act like we don’t always show up,” sophia said with a grin, accepting the hug yunjin offered.

“it’s not a real party unless daniela’s threatening to outdrink everyone,” yunjin replied.

“not a threat if it’s true,” daniela said, winking.

megan held up her hands in mock surrender. “i told them to behave.”

“why would you do that?” yunjin laughed. “no, i want full chaos tonight. come find me later, i’m kidnapping y/n for a minute.”

you looked back at megan just as yunjin tugged you into the crowd, her hand firm in yours. megan simply grinned, the light catching her face just enough to make your heart skip.

and then the music swallowed you whole.

some part of you couldn’t help but feel a little bit annoyed. truth be told, you’d have rathered been home with megan. caught up on lost time and put on a movie. maybe stepbrothers, because you know it’s one of her favorites from one of your many late night conversations. 

instead, you were here. loud music, dim lights, and the kind of packed crowd that made it hard to think. it wasn’t awful. yunjin’s parties never were. her friends were warm and welcoming, even if chaewon had greeted you with a smug “so where’s megan?” the second you walked in. but still, your eyes kept drifting.

you caught sight of her across the room, laughing at something sophia said, a hand tucked into the pocket of her baggy jeans. daniela was already halfway into a dance battle with some guy in a bucket hat. megan wasn’t doing anything extraordinary. she was just… being. but somehow, that was enough to pull your gaze every time.

you tried to focus on the conversation happening around you. tried to lean into the easy rhythm of old friends and new music. but your mind had already wandered. back to the idea of megan beside you on the couch. back to her laugh. back to the quiet. back to her. always her.

eventually you took a step back when the cup yunjin shoved into your hands was getting empty. 

“gonna get a refill.” you shouted lamely over the music. you didn’t wait for her to respond before you were stalking your way to the kitchen. 

it was in that space you were able to truly look around. you didn’t miss the curious glances shot your way, no, that would’ve been impossible. it felt incredibly vain to acknowledge that you were an idols idol, but you knew. 

you were halfway refilling your cup with some kind of soju concoction when a voice cut through the air. 

“y/n!”

you looked up and immediately locked eyes with a familiar pair of browns. a tall, handsome figure weaved through the crowd toward you, his shaggy brown hair falling into his eyes just enough to make him look like he hadn’t planned a single part of his night. sungchan grinned, all coy charm and childish mischief. you groaned the second he pulled you into a rough side hug, the unmistakable scent of alcohol clinging to his clothes like cologne. still, your arms came up automatically, returning the hug without a second thought. for all his nonsense, sungchan had always been a good friend.

“i want to introduce you to someone.”

you turned just as sungchan stepped aside, and there she was. karina.

you had never met her in person before, but you might as well have. her face was everywhere. it lit up across high-rise billboards in gangnam, looping through luxury brand ads on the subway monitors, popping up on your explore page whenever you so much as breathed near the fashion or idol tag. you remembered the way jaewook had bragged about her back on set a year ago when the dispatch article dropped. he had shown his phone to his costar like it was breaking news, grinning like he had just won something. you had rolled your eyes, walked off to get coffee, and told yourself it wasn’t your business. it wasn’t, until now.

karina was even more stunning in person. her beauty wasn’t the kind that made a scene or demanded attention. it just existed, like it belonged there. her gaze met yours and stayed, unwavering.

it wasn’t rude, or even intense in a threatening way. just… focused. present. like she wasn’t just seeing you but actually registering you.

you were suddenly very aware of your posture, your hands, your everything.

“it’s so nice to meet you!” she called over the music, her voice warm and clear even with the bass thudding through the walls. she stepped just a little closer, enough that you could hear her without leaning in. “i love your stuff. seriously. i’ve been asking sungchan to introduce us for ages, but he’s always chickened out at the last second.”

sungchan made a wounded noise, hand over his chest like she’d just stabbed him, but before he could fire back, wonbin came stumbling past, arm slung around his neck with all the grace of a wrecking ball. they disappeared into the crowd in a tangle of laughter and chaos.

you rolled your eyes and turned back to karina, only to find that her gaze hadn’t left you once. her eyes held yours with that same calm, curious steadiness, like she wasn’t in a packed party but somewhere quieter. somewhere smaller.

you offered a small smile. “likewise. though to be fair, i think he just gets intimidated around pretty girls.”

her lips curved. “pretty, huh?”

you blinked, brain catching up three seconds too late. “oh god, sorry. i don’t know why i said that. yunjin handed me a cup earlier and i don’t even know what was in it. she could’ve poisoned me for all i know.”

karina laughed, the sound easy and low. “knowing her, it’s probably something criminal. you’ll wake up with a hangover and a new life philosophy.”

you laughed too, but it faltered slightly when she leaned in, just enough for her shoulder to brush against yours. it was nothing, a light touch, but it grounded you instantly.

“don’t worry,” she said, voice softer now, “i think you’re pretty too.”

your heart stuttered.

you opened your mouth, but whatever you meant to say vanished the second her smile deepened.

“not to be dramatic or anything,” karina said, lifting her cup for a slow, nonchalant sip, “but i think we’re being watched.”

you blinked. “watched?”

“mhm. i can feel her eyes burning holes into the back of my head. like a laser pointer. i’m actually a little afraid to turn around.”

you tilted your head, letting your eyes scan the room until you found her. megan, standing across the floor. at some point sophia had shoved her cup into megan’s hands and joined daniela on the dance floor. the chinese girl clutched the cup in both hands like it might leap out of them if she didn’t keep a death grip on it. her expression was neutral, but her stare? not subtle.

you cleared your throat. “who, megan? no, no, she’s—”

“look at the way she’s holding that cup,” karina cut in, a grin already pulling at her lips. “you’d think she just watched the most annoying man on earth walk in and ruin everyone’s mood.”

you huffed. “reminds me of a certain six-foot-something actor with a god complex.”

karina snorted, her eyes flashing with recognition before she laughed for real this time, head tipping back for just a second. she knew who you were talking about almost immediately. the one man you had in common besides sungchan happened to be her very tall (very annoying) ex. 

“right. i forgot you know jaewook.”

you raised an eyebrow. “unfortunately.”

“hey,” she said, still grinning. “he’s not that bad. underneath all the bravado he’s actually kind of sweet.”

“sure, you don’t need to convince me.”  you shrugged, completely deadpan. “if the dick’s bomb, it’s bomb.”

karina choked, hand flying to your shoulder as she doubled over in disbelief. she was laughing harder than before, and you felt a little thrill run down your spine at the sound of it.

when she straightened up again, she wiped at her eye and shook her head. “you’re going to wake up tomorrow and regret ever opening your mouth.”

“without a doubt,” you said, already sipping to forget.

“i think i want some of what you’re having,” karina said, eyes glittering with mischief as she swirled the liquid in her cup. “it’s my cue to go find the woman of the hour. but before i do…”

she leaned in, slower this time. you thought she was going to say something else right away, but then her mouth dipped lower, her breath warm as it ghosted the curve of your jaw. you stiffened in surprise, the proximity making your pulse stumble. her lips came dangerously close to your ear, just barely brushing your skin when she spoke.

“that girl. megan.” her voice dropped to something sly and sweet. “she wants you. it’s written all over her face. she hasn’t stopped staring since i walked over. so how about you use some of that liquid courage and do something about it?”

your breath caught, cheeks burning with the kind of heat no drink could explain. karina pulled away just as slowly, and her smile was soft but wicked. it said a hundred things at once. 

 i’m glad we met, good luck out there, don’t screw this up.

then she was gone, slipping into the crowd like she had always belonged to it. her red solo cup bobbed above the sea of people as she drifted toward the corner where yunjin and chaewon were doubled over in laughter.

you didn’t even have time to process it before someone else stepped into her place.

megan.

her arm brushed yours, then stayed there, her hand wrapping gently around the bend of your elbow. she was close. so close. close enough that you could smell the perfume on her skin,  something cool and soft, mint layered with warm vanilla. it hit you all at once that it was yours. a bottle that had disappeared from your vanity six months ago before katseye left korea. and now here it was, clinging to her in the most dizzying way.

your body flushed with heat that had nothing to do with the music or the alcohol. your eyes traveled up, taking in the sheen of sweat along her collarbones and the way her skin glowed under the lights. her crop top clung to her in all the right places, her stomach taut from dancing. you could still see the echo of her movement in the way her breath rose and fell, chest barely brushing yours.

you finally looked at her face again. she was already staring.

her eyes were darker than you remembered, shadowed and unreadable, fixed on you with something that felt like pressure and want and restraint all tangled up into one look. her lips were drawn in a line, neither smiling nor frowning, but firm with intent.

the air between you thinned.

you weren’t sure who would speak first. or if either of you had to. not with the way the tension folded in and around you like the bass from the speakers. not with the way her fingers curled just slightly against your arm, like she wasn’t ready to let go.

“oh. hey. you doing okay?” you asked, voice raised slightly over the music pulsing around you.

megan didn’t answer right away. her eyes stayed locked on yours for a beat too long, and just when you thought she might finally say something, her gaze dropped. slow and deliberate. it traced the line of your jaw and landed just beneath your ear. her expression shifted. something flickered across her face, subtle but sharp. a furrow of her brow that sent a wave of nerves crashing down your spine.

before you could speak again, she brought her thumb to her lips and wet it. then, without hesitation, she reached forward and pressed that same thumb to your neck. her touch was warm, careful. a soft swipe against your skin.

your breath caught.

“she left lipstick on you,” she murmured, quiet but clear enough to cut through the noise.

your hand shot up on instinct, palm flattening over the spot just beneath your ear. you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, blood rushing too fast under your skin.

“o-oh. yeah. was an accident,” you stammered, the words clumsy as they left your mouth.

megan didn’t respond right away. she just hummed.  low, unreadable. then her hand slid down from your elbow, fingers grazing your forearm like she couldn’t quite decide if she wanted to hold on or let go. eventually she settled, her grip tightening just enough that you felt the weight of it. like an anchor. like a warning. like something unspoken passing between the two of you that neither of you had the guts to name.

not yet, anyway.

for a long second, she just stood there, saying nothing. she didn’t blink, didn’t move. only stared.

you shifted on your feet. “did… did i do something wrong?”

her voice was steady, but low. “let me drive you home.”

you blinked. “oh. okay.” it came out softer than you meant, a whisper carried easily between you. she heard it all the same.

‎ 

you weren’t sure how much time passed between then and now. one moment you were alone in the kitchen of yunjin’s dorm, the next megan was muttering something to sophia and daniela under her breath,  a rushed string of syllables that made them blink once, twice, and nod. she grabbed your hand without waiting for an answer and pulled you toward the door. you felt the weight of every pair of eyes that followed you on your way out. yunjin’s brow arched with thinly veiled amusement. sungchan mouthed something that looked suspiciously like “what did you do.” and karina… she didn’t say a word. she just winked.

now you were in the passenger seat of megan’s car, the inside dim and quiet save for the faint hum of the engine and the soft patter of rain beginning to hit the windshield. your buzz had all but faded, replaced by something heavier, something laced with nerves. megan’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles had gone pale. the jaw that was so often relaxed with laughter and teasing was now set and stiff.

you turned to face her fully. “megan. what’s going on with you?”

she didn’t look at you. her gaze stayed fixed on the road ahead as if it held all the answers she couldn’t bring herself to say aloud.

“when did you and karina get so close?” she asked, too casual to be convincing.

you tilted your head, eyes narrowing. “are you jealous?”

there was a beat of silence. then she scoffed. 

“no!…. yes. fuck, y/n, i don’t know. i don’t know what i feel. all i know is that seeing her in your space like that just— it just drives me crazy.”

the car hummed beneath you, megan’s hands gripping the wheel like she was holding onto something more fragile than the leather beneath her fingers. she floored it the moment she pulled onto the main road. fast, reckless as always. the first time you rode passenger princess in her car, you practically grabbed onto the seat for dear life. except tonight, you didn’t even mind. you couldn’t look away. her jaw clenched tight, the faint pulse at her temple a rhythm you felt in your own chest.

the car sped down the dimly lit road of your penthouse’s underground parking, tires echoing against concrete walls. megan didn’t slow until she pulled into a quiet corner, the only sound the engine’s low hum. just the two of you now.

her jaw was tight, eyes sharp. “karina,” she spat, voice low and rough. “she was all in your space like she owns it.”

you met her glare, feeling the heat rising between you. “megan, i just met her.”

 her hand clenched the steering wheel so hard her knuckles went white.

“yeah, well, she sure didn’t act like it,” megan bit out. “in your ear, touching your arm like you’ve been hers for years. you think i didn’t see the way she looked at you?”

you blinked at her, pulse quickening. “why does it even matter?”

megan turned to you then, full body, her eyes blazing. “because it does. because you’re not just some friend i joke around with anymore, y/n.”

the silence that followed was thick, pressing. you stared at her, at the curve of her jaw clenched in frustration, at the way her chest rose and fell like she’d just run a sprint. her brows were furrowed, but beneath the frustration was something else. something that made your stomach twist and your fingers curl tight around your seatbelt.

“megan…”

she exhaled hard, dropping her head back against the headrest for a second like she was trying to force the words out. then her voice came, rough and low. “i can’t stand seeing someone else touch you like that. it makes me feel like i’m gonna lose my mind.”

you reached out, hand hovering before it found hers on the console between you. her fingers twitched under yours, like she was deciding whether to pull away or pull you closer.

“you’re not gonna lose your mind,” you said quietly. “you’re just finally saying what we’ve both been thinking.”

she didn’t reply. didn’t need to. you swallowed, heart hammering. this wasn’t the easy conversation you’d expected. it was raw, jagged, real. her eyes locked onto yours, wild and fierce. for a moment, you could almost feel the weight of everything she hadn’t said hanging between you.

without warning, she leaned in, closing the space with a fierce urgency. her lips crashed against yours, rough and demanding, like she needed to prove something. your breath hitched, caught off guard but all in.

it was messy, desperate, the kind of kiss that didn’t ask for permission. your hands found her hair, pulling her closer. she growled low, the tension snapping as the lines between friends and something more shattered.

it was a blur after that. megan barely killed the engine before the two of you were out of the car, walking fast and too close as you made your way through the quiet underground garage. her hand hovered at your back, not quite touching, but you could feel the heat of it through your shirt. the elevator ride was silent, charged, her reflection burning holes into yours through the metal walls.

the second your door swung open, you were on her again. the lock clicked behind you as you pressed her up against the door, mouths crashing together like you’d both run out of time. your hands slipped under the hem of her shirt, greedy for skin. she kissed you like she needed you to breathe.

“y/n,” she breathed out, but whatever she was going to say got lost in the next kiss, your name drowned out by the low thud of her back hitting the hallway wall.

you didn’t even think, just grabbed her wrist and tugged her toward the bedroom, feet stumbling, laughter breaking through the tension for a split second. she followed without hesitation, eyes locked on you like she was trying to memorize the way you looked at her now. 

as soon as you hit the threshold of the room, your mouths found each other again. she kicked the door shut behind her without looking, hands already tugging at the hem of your shirt like she’d waited too long for this. 

she pulled away after a moment to simply stare. 

megan looked at you. the kind of stare that could melt ice. her gaze traces the lines of your body like she was hungry, yet still she said nothing. she swallowed, her lips pursing together as she weighed her own thoughts in her mind. her eyes trailed up and down before finally they settle themselves again on yours. it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what she was thinking in this very moment. you could practically read her through her silence. the way she practically itched to say something funny, to break the tension with a lighthearted joke in true megan fashion. but she couldn’t. her body was reacting as much as yours was. she trembled slightly, her chest rising up and down as if she was struggling to take in air. but it was pure anticipation. when she talks her voice is careful, hesitant, like she was afraid that one wrong word would break the quiet you slipped into. 

“how do i tell you that i want you without making a fool of myself?”

your breath hitched when suddenly she moved. she took a step closer, and instinctively you take a step back. the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you’re falling back. the only thing you can do is sit stupidly and stare up at her as she stares down. she was already tall, but now she loomed over you. 

she was so unlike herself. just ten minutes ago she was fumbling over her own feet, giggling between kisses as her fingers clumsily trailed up and down the warm skin on your back. now, she was confident. like she was looking at you through the lens of someone who realized in the span of a quick ten minutes that they were standing before something holy. 

you hum. “you say it. tell me, megan.”

she doesn’t hesitate. she nudges your legs apart so she’s standing between them now, your legs trapping her in. her hands instinctively raise to the back of your head, one idly playing with the baby hairs on the nape of your neck while the other gently grabbed your chin. she didn’t ask, just simply gripped your chin between her thumb and index finger and tugged. she leaned down slightly , so close that you could feel her hot breath hitting you. when she talks, her voice is quiet. 

“i want you, y/n.”

she moved one inch closer, and her lips brush yours. it was faint. a feather light touch, but it sent shivers down your spine all the same. her eyes dropped back and forth between your eyes and your lips, the grip she had on your chin tightening momentarily before she let go. her hand lazily drifted down from your face and to your chest, fingertips just lightly grazing your skin. and then, she moved the other hand. the hand that once played with the hairs on the back of your neck now moved to the front, fingertips dancing along your throat. she hums. her voice dripped like venom, tantalizing and dangerous all in the same breath. 

“you have no idea how bad.”

you swallow, and megan feels it against the hand she held to your neck when her fingers gently reach out and clasp. nothing tight. but she doesn’t say anything. she simply stares. her eyes dark, her face unreadable save for only the pure want clear in her words. through the grip on your throat, you reply. your voice fell to a whisper, though just as confident as her own. 

“then show me.”

she didn’t need to be told twice. the grip she held on your neck tightened just slightly before she relented. her lips which once grazed yours finally surged the small distance. she kissed you, every emotion she pushed to the back of her mind finally coming out in full force. she tilted her head, a soft sigh of relief escaping her when you met her kiss with equal fervor. 

this was it. the moment where finally, she’d let herself cave. the moment where megan would lose her inhibitions and finally be true to both herself, and to you. being so close to you in this moment made her full body vibrate. you were intoxicating, and she was addicted.

 megan deepened the kiss, her tongue gently swiping across your bottom lip. when you don’t open your mouth, she bites your lip. taking advantage of the gasp you let out, her tongue darts in. without words, her intentions were clearer than daylight. 

she wanted you, and she wanted bad. 

the grip on your neck only tightened until eventually you needed to pull back for air. a string of saliva coated your lips when she pulled back, her grip on your throat relaxing. but she doesn’t mind. she lets you breathe, feels your chest rise and fall beneath her full hand as she trails open mouthed kisses down from your swollen lips to your jaw, and then your neck. she littered kisses around the area her hand clasped around only moments ago, soothing the dull feeling of a phantom grip. 

through your haze and a short gasp, you couldn’t help but tease her. 

“who knew you had that in you, huh, skiendiel?”

megan answered with a simple bite to your neck. a nibble, soothed over with a faint swipe of her tongue immediately after. it was enough to shut you up, if even for a moment. she hummed. 

“can’t help myself. you’ve no idea how long i’ve been waiting for this.”

this time it was your turn to raise a hand and gently play with her hair, her mouth still working at your jaw and throat. you sigh, your fingers clasping around a clump of her dark hair. you shake your head. 

“what, are you trying to tell me this is the only reason you asked for my number all those months ago?”

she knew you were joking, that you were being facetious. still she couldn’t help but frown. she dropped fully to her knees now between your legs, still fully trapped by your legs on either side of her. from this angle as she pulled away from your neck, she looked up at you through her sleepy eyes and pink bangs. 

“maybe this part was wishful thinking. but no, not the only reason.” her hands trailed down again, finding your skin beneath your shirt. her hands were so numbingly cold despite the warmth in her gaze. her hand pressed against your lower stomach, feeling the way your abdomen clenched slightly against her cold palm. she looked at you with her half lidded eyes and all you saw was sincerity. she continues. 

“you’ve no idea how hard it is to keep my hands to myself when you’re you. but fuck, look at you now.” her other hand reaches for the hem of your shirt and now she tugs, her touch gentle despite the bite in her words when she says her next words. “you’re mine, baby.”

the words set something off in you. something that lit a fire in the deepest pits of your stomach, begging to be addressed. and megan knew it. 

and so, she did. 

__

you weren’t sure at what point you fell asleep. all you knew was that when you woke up, you were in your own bed. the blankets were pulled up beneath your chin but it wasn’t their warmth that clung to you like it was moulded for your body, and yours only. 

your eyes trailed over to the sleeping girl besides you. megan’s arm wrapped around your torso, holding you close. her bare body pressed against yours had a chill running down your spine. you could already feel the hickeys forming on your neck, the bruises on your thighs. you could feel the phantom feeling of her nails scratching down your back and her coaxing whispers lingering in your ears. 

megan had practically transformed into a completely different person. the memory of her eyes, dark and dangerous, had you inadvertently shifting closer to her. the slight movement was enough to wake her. a deep, sleepy groan pulled from her lips as she subconsciously nuzzled herself closer into you. when her eyes fluttered open and they landed on you, the difference was night and day. 

she was nervous. shy. she practically hid her face in your neck only to turn red in embarrassment when she was met face to face with the marks she left on your throat. when she speaks her voice is low, awkward. 

“i-i, uh, you know. i’m so sorry. too much? probably. oops.”

despite the situation, you couldn’t help but laugh. the sound alone made her groan, her head digging even deeper into you as if the action alone would hide her from your teasing. a classic ‘if i can’t see you, you can’t see me’ kind of thing. 

“it’s okay, megan.”

she looked up at that, her cheeks still flushed red. but there was no mistaking the way her shoulders relaxed. she looked back at you and it’s then the events from the night before seemed to finally settle in. it’s in this lighting that you realized, again, just how gorgeous she is. the way her hair framed her face even when she was ridden with bedhead. the way her soft lips pouted involuntarily, the way her sleepy eyes looked up at you through her lashes. she was so, unbelievably beautiful without even needing to try. you couldn't help but wonder if she knew this as well as you could see it. 

with a newfound sense of confidence, she suddenly leaned forward. her lips found yours and unlike the fit of messy kisses she gave you the night before, now she takes her time.  when she pulls away, pink dusts her cheeks. 

“i can’t believe we did… that.”

you raise a brow. “oh? pray tell why you’re so surprised.”

megan’s eyes practically blow wide. “seriously? you’re not even the slightest bit shocked and overwhelmed and- a-and, i don’t know, lowkey kinda freaking the fuck out? i mean jeez. you’re you!”

before you can reply she’s already continuing. her arm around your torso tightens, a look of pure shock and elation cemented across her face. 

“do you have any idea how scared it makes me knowing that you’re practically in a league of your own? i mean, shit, you walk into a room and everyone stares. i walk in and everyone waits for me to break my own leg! you’re you. and i’m me. and this just doesn’t make any sense, a-and-“

you turn slightly so you’re facing her fully, her arm around you not slipping but loosening just enough. you shake your head, a hand reaching up gently to swipe her hair from her vision. her pink bangs covered her eyes just slightly, hiding the state of pure frazzle in their depths. you can’t help but chuckle softly. 

when your lips tilt up at the corners, a small grin gracing your face, megan stopped rambling. she was so, completely, irrevocably enamored by you in a way that it hurt her brain. 

when you leaned forward just enough to seal her lips with your own, her breath catches in her throat, silenced. for a moment you both lay there. her arm around your torso now moving to lightly grip your waist, her fingers digging in just barely as if she was grounding herself in the moment. your hand cupped her jaw, the kiss deepening just a second longer. when you pull away, her eyes are blown wide. she stares back at you in equal parts awe, and fear. she was completely undone by you. 

“relax.”

the simple word was all she needed. she nodded her head stupidly and obediently, her lips pursing so tight together as if you’d given her a command she’d follow til her last breath. 

your grin softens into a small smile. “you’re such a loser, megan.”

megan grimaced. the kind of look that was half part an awkward smile, and half part an embarrassment pout.  she burrows her head into your chest with a drawn out groan. she feels the way your body vibrates when you chuckle, hears the way your heart skipped a beat with her ear pressed to your bare chest. and in that moment, she decided. 

no amount of embarrassment would ever outweigh the pride she felt in knowing that it was her you were holding that very morning. 

__

a month passed. 

megan hadn’t planned on going live. it was one of those quiet nights that felt heavier than it should have. the dorm was calm. daniela had vanished into her room with a face mask and a bowl of cereal. sophia had crashed early. the silence made everything feel louder.

so she pulled on an oversized hoodie (your hoodie) and went live from her bed. nothing fancy. just her and her phone, legs tucked under her, the soft yellow light from her nightstand casting a warm glow across the screen.

“hi,” she said, voice soft with that slight rasp it always had when she was winding down. “i couldn’t sleep.”

the chat exploded immediately. hearts, greetings, inside jokes, fans asking about everything from what she had for dinner to her favorite stage outfit from the last comeback. she answered a few, laughed quietly when someone asked if lara still sleep-talked. her fingers toyed absentmindedly with the sleeve of her hoodie as she scrolled.

“what’s the weirdest dream you’ve had recently?” she read aloud, smiling. “okay, so i had this one where i was back in high school, but for some reason all the desks were made of jello, and sophia was my teacher? yeah, no idea. my brain is a strange place.”

another wave of hearts. more laughing emojis. the mood stayed easy, casual, soft around the edges.

then came the question. fast, buried in a sea of others, but megan’s eyes caught it and held.

“who’s that in the background?”

she blinked.

then turned, just slightly, to glance behind her.

there, on the edge of the bed, barely in frame, was you. hoodie half-zipped, face makeup-free, curled against a pillow and blinking slow from the comfort of just having woken up from a nap you hadn’t even meant to take.

megan looked back at the camera, lips tugging into a smile that was both shy and completely unbothered.

“guess the secret’s out,” she said, voice low but steady.

the chat exploded again, this time in full-blown chaos. some fans caught on immediately. others were in denial. a few begged her to clarify, but she didn’t.

instead, she leaned back against the headboard, reached over, and laced her fingers with yours. you blinked blearily, took a second to realize what was happening, then gave a soft laugh.

“hi,” you murmured, just loud enough to be heard. “sorry, i kind of knocked out.”

“it’s okay,” megan said, thumb brushing against the back of your hand. “you’re cute when you sleep.”

the live didn’t last much longer after that. she answered one or two more questions, gave the usual love you guys and get some rest, then signed off.

but the clip stayed. it spread fast, faster than either of you expected. screen recordings, gifs, screenshots, fan theories shifting into confirmed realities. by morning, your names were trending side by side.

and just like that, it wasn’t speculation anymore.

it was real. it was official.

it was you and her. finally.

[valeisaslut]

You don’t understand how badly I need collide!ellie and reader fucking in the studio and ellie putting the noises in the background of one of her songs or something … 🤌

OH BABYYYYYY YOU GOT ME COOKING WITH THIS ONE. because YES. you’re absolutely fucking right. reader did it first—in chapter 3. yeah. that one. yall remember. ellie remembers. it haunts her brain every night.

but ellie??? ellie is a vindictive little shit. of course she had to double it up. of course she had to do it back.

AND I HAVE THE PERFECT SONG: 2:13—Rocket Queen by Guns N’ Roses. even the lyrics fit ellie, the fireflies and collide. i’m going literally INSANE.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

it’s stupid how it starts.

one second you’re both supposed to be recording some backtrack vocals for a new fireflies track. you’re perched on ellie’s lap, scrolling through lyrics on your phone while she strums random chords, all casual, her calloused fingers brushing the inside of your thigh like she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing.

then her hand slips higher. you look at her. she raises an eyebrow. you don’t say no.

you don’t ever say no to her.

the mic is still on.

you’re trying so hard to be quiet at first. biting your lip, digging your nails into her shoulders, trying not to make a sound while she pulls your panties to the side and slides two fingers in, slow and deep, thumb pressing just enough against your clit to make you twitch.

ellie is grinning against your neck, whispering absolute filth in your ear:

“so fuckin’ pretty when you try to be good for me. think you can stay quiet, baby?”

spoiler: you can’t. you whimper. a sharp, breathy little noise that gets picked up perfectly by the mic.

ellie stills for a second. smirks. records it on purpose.

you’re too fucked out to even notice she taps a few buttons, loops it into the beat she was working on.

your moans. mixed into the track. layered like an instrument.

she fucks you right there, slow and relentless, hips snapping against yours, guitar still slung around her neck. you cum shaking, whimpering her name into the mic. she kisses you through it. lets the sound soak into the booth.

later, when Louder Than Fate Deluxe Album drops, everyone loses their goddamn minds over Rocket Queen.

the internet catches fire. even worse than when your track dropped.

reddit threads. tik toks. breakdown videos. the song climbs the charts and everyone agrees it’s the hottest track the fireflies have ever released.

and you?

you just scroll through all the theories, sip your coffee, and text ellie:

you: why are people so obsessed with my moans lmao

els <3: because you have the most perfect moans in world history.

you almost throw your phone across the room.

and she knows it.

because the next text is:

you: come over. let’s make the remix.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

[sweetmisery]

first kiss with piwon | hyung line

pairing: theo | keeho | jiung x female!reader

genre: fluff

a/n: just a little drabble of sharing your first kiss with piwon, hope you like it :) pt 2 with maknae line will follow soon!

part 2 - maknae line

THEO - Between the Strings

The recording studio was dimly lit, as Theo sat there alone, his fingers fumbling on the guitar strings. His brow furrowed in frustration as he plucked and strummed the same chords over and over again. His lips moved silently as he worked through the song under his breath, his fingers slipping once more on the neck of the guitar.

“Come on,” he muttered to himself. He let out a frustrated sigh, slumping over the guitar.

It had been weeks since Theo had felt like himself. The pressure to finish the new album, the late-night recording sessions, and - most of all - the tension between the two of you were getting to him.

He didn’t know why things had become so awkward. At first, everything had been easy - your quick wit and creative eye as the groups stylist had made every interaction exciting, even fun. But lately, something had shifted. Theo found himself tripping over words around you, and he couldn’t ignore the way his heart raced every time you walked into the room.

You hadn’t seemed unaffected either. Your usual sharp comebacks had softened, replaced by a hesitance he couldn’t quite read. Every time you brushed past him backstage or adjusted something on his outfit, he’d catch you looking away a little too quickly.

Theo strummed the wrong chord again, his frustration bubbling over. He cursed under his breath, shaking his head.

Then the door flew open with a bang.

You froze in the doorway, wide-eyed. “Oh god, Theo, I’m so sorry! I thought this room was empty!”

Theo startled, nearly dropping his guitar as he turned to face you. His pulse quickened, the sight of you making it impossible to find his voice for a moment.

“No, it’s fine!” he said quickly, standing up so fast he almost knocked over the stool. “You’re fine. Really.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you said, already backing toward the door. “I’ll just-”

“No!” The word came out louder than Theo intended, and he winced at himself. Clearing his throat, he added more quietly, “I mean, don’t go. I could, uh… use your help.”

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “My help?”

Theo set the guitar down, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Yeah. I’ve been working on this song, but I’m stuck. I just need someone to listen, and everyone else is… busy.” He left out the part where he didn't even ask anyone else.

For a moment, you hesitated, your hand still on the doorframe. Then you nodded. “Okay. Sure. I can do that.”

You stepped into the room, closing the door behind you. Theo swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were as you leaned against the wall.

“I’m still figuring out the melody,” he said, his voice quieter now.

Then he started to play.

The first notes were soft, tentative, but as his fingers found their rhythm, his voice followed. The melody unfurled like a thread in the air, and when Theo sang the first line, you froze.

His voice was rich and haunting, a perfect match for the bittersweet lyrics. The emotion in his tone was palpable, like he was pouring pieces of himself into every word. You couldn’t look away.

Leaning against the wall, you let yourself get lost in the sound. It wasn’t just that his voice was beautiful, though it was. It was the way he sang with such vulnerability, as if baring his soul.

When he finished, the silence in the room felt almost holy.

“That was…” you began, but the words wouldn’t come.

Theo set the guitar aside, shaking his head. “Terrible, right?” He gave a self-conscious laugh, breaking the spell.

“No!” you said quickly, your voice firm. “Theo, that was… incredible. Your voice- it’s-” You stopped, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I mean, it’s beautiful. The whole thing is.”

Theo’s gaze met yours, and for a moment, something passed between you, an unspoken connection that made your heart race. But as quickly as it had disappeared, the tension returned, settling heavily between you.

“I, uh, should probably go,” you said, pushing off the wall.

Theo’s heart sank, but he nodded. “Yeah. Thanks for… listening.”

You smiled faintly, your fingers lingering on the doorknob for just a moment before you slipped out, leaving Theo alone with his unfinished song - and the sound of your voice still echoing in his mind.

-the next day-

The next day, Theo couldn’t get you out of his head. The way you’d looked at him during the song, the way your voice had softened - it played on repeat in his mind like an earworm he couldn’t shake.

He told himself he was imagining things, that he’d misread the moment. But when you walked into the studio again that afternoon, this time deliberately, he felt hope flicker to life.

“Hey,” you said softly, lingering by the door.

Theo straightened up on the stool, setting the guitar down as if unsure what to do. “Hey.”

“I was thinking about your song,” you said, stepping inside. “And I realized… I need to hear it again.”

“You do?” Theo's surprise melted into a small smile.

You nodded, your expression a mix of nerves and determination. “Yeah. I think… I wasn’t really listening yesterday. Not the way I should’ve been.”

Theo’s throat felt dry, but he nodded. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll play it for you.”

He started the song, his fingers moving more confidently this time. But as the melody filled the room, his gaze drifted to you. You weren’t leaning against the wall like before - you were standing closer, watching him with an intensity that made his heart race.

His voice was mesmerizing - angelic, even. The emotion in it was undeniable, raw and achingly real. It made your chest tighten, your breath catching as you took a step closer to him.

By the time he finished, you were standing just a few feet away, your heart pounding.

“That was…” you began, but your voice broke. You took another step forward. “Theo, that was incredible.”

His eyes met yours, his expression soft but searching. “Thanks,” he murmured. Theo set the guitar aside, standing up so that you were just a foot apart.

The tension between you was thick now, impossible to ignore. For weeks, you’d both danced around whatever this was, but now there was no escaping it.

”You know…,” Theo said softly, taking a step closer. ”Things have been kinda weird between us lately.”

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah, they have.”

“I don’t know why, but…” Theo said, his voice low. ”I don’t want it to be like that anymore.”

You looked up at him, your eyes wide. “Me neither.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air felt electric as Theo suddenly took a tentative step closer, his gaze flickering to your lips.

“Can I…?” he began, his voice trailing off.

You didn’t let him finish. Instead, you closed the distance, your lips brushing his.

Theo froze for a split second, then melted into the kiss, his hands coming up to cradle your face. His lips were soft, warm, and impossibly gentle, and the sound of his breathing mixed with yours, creating a music of its own.

When you finally pulled away, Theo’s forehead rested against yours, both of you smiling through the nervous energy still buzzing between you.

“So,” you teased, your voice still breathless, “guess I should storm into recording sessions more often.”

Theo laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “You’d be my favorite distraction.”

You grinned, your fingers brushing against his as the two of you stayed close. The guitar still sat on the stool behind him, but the song felt complete now, even without another note being played.

KEEHO - Drenched in Love

The rain began as a soft drizzle, cool against your skin as you walked beside Keeho. The two of you had just left the café, where your usual flow of chatter had been replaced by long, quiet stretches. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it felt different - charged, somehow.

“Guess we didn’t check the weather again, huh?” Keeho said, his laugh cutting through the sound of raindrops hitting pavement. His dark hair was already damp, strands clinging to his forehead in a way that made your stomach do an unwelcome little flip.

You pulled your jacket tighter, though it did little to keep the rain, or your emotion, at bay. Being with him had always been easy, effortless. But lately, you’d felt something else creeping in, something that made you hyper-aware of how close he was or how his smile lingered when he looked at you.

By the time the rain picked up, the two of you had ducked under the awning of a closed bookstore. It was familiar ground, a place you’d stopped at countless times to joke about bad book titles or dream up absurd stories. This time, though, neither of you seemed to know what to say.

Keeho leaned against the wall, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “Hey,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

“Yeah?” You tried to sound casual, but it came out more uncertain than you’d hoped.

“You’ve been…” He paused, his gaze flicking to yours before darting away again. “I don’t know. You’ve been kind of different lately.”

Your heart skipped. Was he guessing at the feelings you’d been struggling to keep hidden? The ones that made your chest ache whenever he smiled at you like you were the only person who mattered?

“What do you mean?” you asked, hoping you sounded more composed than you felt.

Keeho hesitated, one hand lifting to rub the back of his neck, a habit you knew well. “I mean, not in a bad way. Just… I don’t know how to explain it.”

The rain filled the silence that followed, the steady rhythm matching the nervous thrum of your heartbeat. You wanted to say something, to push him to clarify, but fear rooted you in place.

“It’s probably stupid,” Keeho added with a quiet laugh, his eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment before looking away again.

“It’s not stupid,” you said quickly, your voice firmer than you expected. “Just tell me.”

He turned to face you fully then, and the intensity in his expression made you forget the chill of the rain. “I don’t want to mess this up,” he said, his voice barely audible over the downpour.

Your throat tightened. “Mess what up?”

Keeho opened his mouth as if to answer, but a sudden crack of thunder made you both jump, the sound splitting the air and breaking the tension. You laughed nervously, the momentary distraction easing the tightness in your chest. Keeho’s laughter followed, warm and familiar, and for a second, things felt normal again.

But then his hand brushed against yours - whether by accident or not, you couldn’t tell - and the warmth of his touch sent a jolt through you. He didn’t pull away, and neither did you.

“We should probably find better shelter,” he said, though he made no move to leave.

You nodded, but your feet stayed rooted to the ground. His gaze found yours again, and this time, it didn’t waver. The rain fell harder now, soaking through your jacket and chilling you to the bone, but you hardly noticed.

“Keeho,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?” he asked, stepping closer.

The distance between you seemed to vanish in an instant. You could see the rain clinging to his lashes, the way his lips parted as if he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how.

“I-” Your words faltered, caught somewhere between your head and your heart.

Before you could gather the courage to continue, a gust of wind whipped around you, scattering rain in chaotic waves. Keeho laughed, reaching out instinctively to steady you as the storm raged on. His hand wrapped around your arm, and the touch was electric, sending heat coursing through you despite the cold.

For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you standing there, soaked and shivering but unmoving. The words you wanted to say hovered on the tip of your tongue, but you didn’t need to speak them to know they were written all over your face.

So were his.

The rain was relentless now, soaking through every layer of clothing. You and Keeho were still standing there, frozen in a moment that felt like it had been years in the making. His hand lingered on your arm, his warmth a stark contrast to the chill seeping into your skin.

He didn’t let go.

The world around you seemed to blur, the pounding rain and rumbling thunder fading into the background. All you could focus on was him, the way his dark eyes searched yours, like he was trying to find the courage to take the leap you both knew was coming.

“Keeho,” you whispered, not trusting yourself to speak any louder.

His name on your lips seemed to break something in him. He took a small step closer, his fingers tightening slightly against your arm. “I… I’ve been wanting to say something,” he began, his voice low but steady. “But I didn’t know if-”

“Me too,” you interrupted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

His eyes widened slightly, his breath catching in his chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, and suddenly the words came easier. “I didn’t want to mess things up either. But… I can’t keep pretending that I don’t feel this.”

Keeho let out a shaky laugh, a sound of relief and disbelief. “You have no idea how long I’ve been trying to figure out if you felt the same way.”

The vulnerability in his voice made your chest ache. How could you not have seen it? The way he looked at you, the way his hand would linger when he touched your shoulder or brushed against your fingers. It had always been there, just below the surface, waiting for one of you to acknowledge it.

And now there was no going back.

“I guess we’re both pretty bad at this,” you said, trying to lighten the mood.

Keeho grinned, his usual confidence creeping back in. “Maybe. But we’re figuring it out, right?’’

His words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The rain poured down, soaking you both to the bone, but the cold didn’t matter anymore.

Keeho’s hand slid down your arm, his fingers brushing yours before settling on your hand. The touch was tentative, like he was waiting for you to pull away. But you didn’t.

Instead, you took a step closer, your free hand lifting almost instinctively to push the wet strands of hair out of his face. His breath hitched at the contact, and for a heartbeat, the only thing you could hear was the sound of your own pounding pulse.

And then he leaned in.

It was slow at first, as if he was giving you every chance to stop him. But you didn’t. You tilted your head up to meet him halfway, your heart racing as his lips brushed against yours.

The kiss was soft, almost hesitant, but it was enough to set your world spinning. Keeho’s hand tightened around yours, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The rain continued to fall, cold and unrelenting, but all you could feel was the heat of his touch, the warmth of his lips moving against yours.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your rain-chilled skin. “Was that okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You laughed, the sound breaking through the storm. “More than okay.”

Keeho smiled then, the kind of smile that made you feel like nothing else in the world mattered. “Good,” he said. “Because I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

You didn’t know what would happen next, but in that moment, you didn’t care. The storm could rage on around you, but all that mattered was that you were here, together, no longer hiding what you both felt.

And as Keeho pulled you back into another kiss, you realized you didn’t want to be anywhere else.

JIUNG - Before You Go

The styling room was unusually quiet, the hum of activity that normally filled the space replaced by the soft rustle of make-up supplies being packed into your suitcase. You moved systematic, putting the powder brushes into a small etui and tucking it into the case. The air carried a bittersweet tension; it was strange to think that tonight would be the last time you’d close this door behind you.

Working as P1Harmony’s stylist had been more than just a job. You had shared laughter during fittings, offered comfort during stressful shoots, and your heart ached, not just for the job you loved but for the unspoken feelings you had buried deep inside for Jiung.

You couldn’t pinpoint when your feelings for him started to grow, but over time, his subtle smiles and quiet moments with you had become the highlight of your day. Of course, those feelings could never be acted upon. Being a stylist for an idol group meant following unspoken rules, and dating an idol was taboo.

It wasn’t easy to walk away, but this job could no longer sustain the financial pressures you faced. The offer from another music label was too good to pass up, even if it meant leaving behind the people you had grown to care for deeply.

You sighed, brushing aside the wave of emotion that threatened to consume you. “Just a few more things,” you whispered to yourself, trying to keep the ache in your chest at bay.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. Startled, you turned to see Jiung standing in the doorway, his dark eyes scanning the room before locking onto you. He was dressed casually, a black hoodie pulled over his head, but the way he stood there made your heart race.

“I thought I might find you here,” he said softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

“Jiung,” you said, your voice catching slightly. “I didn’t expect-”

“I.. I wanted to see you one last time,” he interrupted, his gaze never wavering. “Before you leave.” His words hung in the air.

You swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. The intensity of his presence in the quiet room made it hard to breathe.

You forced a smile. “You’ll be fine without me. You’ve got a great team-”

“Don’t say that,” Jiung interrupted, his voice trembling slightly. He took a step closer, his eyes searching yours. “Do you really have to go?”

His question caught you off guard. “Jiung, it’s not that I want to leave,” you admitted, avoiding his gaze. “I just… need something different. I need to pay off some debts, and-”

“I know,” he interrupted. “But… if it's about the money, I will talk to our boss. I'm sure they are willing to match your new offer. You don't have to leave."

You shook your head, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "It's not just the money. I thought maybe it was time for something new, even if it hurts to leave."

Jiung frowned, his brows knitting together. "But you love working with us, right?"

"Of course, I do," you said, your chest tightening. "It's not an easy decision."

“Please don’t go,” Jiung said, his voice breaking slightly. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to handle not seeing you anymore.

His words struck a chord deep inside you. The thought of leaving P1Harmony, of leaving Jiung, had been tearing you apart. But you had convinced yourself there was no other option. Now, standing here in the intimate stillness of the styling room, his plea cracked the walls you had built around your emotions.

"Jiung, what are you saying?" You whispered, barely trusting your voice.

He took another step closer, reaching out hesitantly, his fingers brushing against yours before wrapping around your hand. His touch was warm and grounding, sending a jolt through your body.

Jiung took a deep breath, his gaze locking with yours. "I should've said this sooner, but l didn't know how. I was scared. Scared of what it could mean for me... for us. But now, with you leaving, I can't keep it in anymore."

Your heart was beating fast in your chest as he hesitated, searching for the right words.

"I like you," he confessed, his voice trembling slightly. "No, I- I think I've fallen for you. I don't know when it started, but every time I see you, I feel... I feel something I can't ignore. And now, knowing you won't be here anymore, it's killing me. I had to tell you, even if it's too late."

The world seemed to stop. Jiung’s words hung in the air, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, stunned. Jiung - the person you had been secretly pining for - felt the same way about you?

“Say something,” he urged, his voice cracking.

"Jiung," you said, your voice barely audible. "I... l feel the same way."

His eyes widened, a flicker of hope replacing the nervousness on his face. "You do?"

You nodded, a smile breaking through despite the tears threatening to spill. "I've liked you for so long, but I thought it was impossible. I thought you'd never feel the same."

He let out a shaky laugh, relief washing over him. "I should've told you sooner."

Before you could reply, he closed the distance between the both of you, his free hand gently cupping your cheek. Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was soft, tentative, and full of emotions you had both kept buried for far too long.

The kiss deepened, and you felt a thousand butterflies take flight in your chest. Jiung’s hands gently cupped your face, and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours. You were both breathing hard, your emotions tangled in a beautiful mess.

“Please stay,” Jiung said, his voice barely above a whisper. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

You hesitated. “Jiung… this is risky. What if someone finds out?”

“I don’t care,” he said firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. “I care about you. And I can’t let you leave without trying.”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “I didn’t want to leave in the first place. But I thought it was better this way. I thought… I thought you didn’t feel the same.”

Jiung smiled softly, brushing a tear from your cheek. “I’ve felt this way for so long. I just didn’t know how to tell you. But now that I have, I can’t let you go without a fight.”

His words melted the last of your doubts. “Okay,” you whispered.

“Okay?” Jiung asked, his eyes lighting up with hope.

You nodded. “I’ll stay. But we have to be careful.”

A relieved laugh escaped his lips, and he pulled you into a tight hug. “Thank you. Thank you for staying.”

As he held you close, you couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in a long time, the future felt bright, even if it was uncertain. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you’d face them together.

© sweetmisery - please do not repost my works! ♡

[afireintheflame]

POV Missing Your LaDs Guy

I was inspired by another creator’s writing about scents and wearing items of clothing that belong to your LI. I will tag the creator when I find the original post!

I’m gonna try and do a multi-fic post but my fics tend to be on the longer side about these men (^_^; I can’t stop myself from wanting to say more!

TW: Smut light, scent based triggers

Pairings: Rafayel X Reader and Sylus X Reader

If you guys like them I’ll definitely try and write ones for Caleb, Zayne, and Xavier

Reblogs appreciated ❤️

Rafayel 🐟🔥🎨🛁

Rafayel was never too busy for his favorite cutie—but every now and then, even you couldn’t pull him away from his work. This time, Thomas had made it crystal clear: Rafayel had to be at his next gallery showing, no excuses. It was outside of Linkon, and unfortunately, you couldn’t take the time off to go with him. So, in classic dramatic fashion, the two of you parted ways with Rafayel pouting like a child, insisting he should just kidnap you for the next two weeks. And honestly? The idea was tempting. But after the last gala—where you both got a little too drunk and made a bit too much of a scene—you couldn’t risk him getting on Thomas’s bad side again.

Still, that didn’t stop him from sulking all the way to the airport, one hand in yours, the other gripping his sketchpad like it was an emotional support canvas.

“I should just cancel the whole thing,” he muttered as you reached his terminal. “Tell Thomas I had a spiritual awakening and need to stay home for artistic reasons. Maybe something involving paint fumes and divine visions.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And how would that explain the flight and hotel already booked in your name?”

“I’ll tell him I was possessed. By a muse. You.” He shot you a grin, though it was soft around the edges.

The first boarding call echoed, and his fingers curled a little tighter around yours before he pressed something into your palm.

You looked down. His keys.

“The studio’s yours while I’m gone,” he said. “Sleep in the bed, paint on the walls, eat the cookies I definitely didn’t burn. Just don’t fall in love with anyone else while I’m away.”

You stared at the keys, your throat catching a little. “You said your studio was sacred.”

He smiled, cupping your cheek. “Exactly.”

A final boarding call cut through the moment, and you rose up to kiss him—slow and steady, like it might be the last quiet moment for a while.

“Go,” you whispered. “Before I let you kidnap me.”

He groaned, dramatic as ever, but he turned and walked away—backward for the first few steps just to keep you in sight. One last blown kiss. One last wink. And then he disappeared into the crowd.

The next day, you let yourself into his studio by the sea.

The place was exactly as he’d left it, warm with sunlight and bursting with Rafayel’s strange, vibrant energy. The smell hit you first—not just the ocean, which lived in the air like a heartbeat, but him. Salt and fire. Burnt matches and shells ground into paint. Every pigment he mixed carried something of the beach outside—chalky whites from crushed sand dollars, deep blues born from tide-worn glass, and the faint tang of salt in everything he touched.

You slipped off your shoes and padded across the cool floorboards, letting the space wrap around you. The walls were cluttered with art—some chaotic and bold, some so intimate it almost felt wrong to look. His easel stood in the center of the room like an altar, canvas still wet with whatever he’d been working on last.

The cookies were there too. On the counter. Slightly overbaked and left beneath a note that read: If they taste weird, blame love. Or the fact I was thinking about your thighs again.

You laughed quietly, then wandered toward the stack of canvases leaning against the far wall, drawn by some invisible thread. One by one, you sifted through them. Landscapes. Abstract bursts of emotion. A few commissions.

And then—you.

Moments you hadn’t even realized he’d been capturing. You curled up in his favorite cardigan, the soft wool bunched around your wrists. You leaning on the balcony rail, lost in thought. You, laughing, hair a mess, eyes squinted from too much sun.

And one… unfinished. Just your face. Quiet. Real. No dramatics. No posing.

You traced the edge of the frame with your fingertips, heart full and aching all at once.

Rafayel may have been halfway across the country—but somehow, he’d left a thousand pieces of himself behind.

You moved through the studio like a quiet tide, your fingers brushing over tabletops, paint jars, the curve of an empty teacup beside a half-sketched landscape. The silence wasn’t lonely—it was heavy with him, as if Rafayel had only just stepped out to grab something from the beach and would be back any second, cardigan flaring behind him, curls tousled by the wind.

You wandered deeper into the space, passing his neatly folded scarves on a chair, the faint scent of sandalwood and sea lingering in the air. Then you stepped into the bathroom—and stopped.

His bathtub.

If the studio was sacred, the bathtub was its hidden chapel. You’d teased him about how seriously he treated it—how he called it “a portal to another plane” after long painting sessions. But standing there now, you understood.

The soft light through the frosted windows. The mosaic tile around the edges, each tiny piece hand-placed, many painted by Rafayel himself. And nestled all along the side of the tub—your favorite bath bombs, oils, and soaps. Sea-salt lavender. Rose quartz shimmer. The one that smelled like warm citrus and driftwood. He’d remembered them all.

A note sat propped against a jar of soaking salts, written in his looping, dramatic script:

“In case you miss me too much—these all smell like me. Or at least, like the version of me who wants you to relax, feel adored, and remember that even if I’m away, I’m still absolutely obsessed with you. Use them. Soak. Pretend I’m sitting beside the tub reading you weird poetry. (I probably am, spiritually speaking.)”

You laughed softly, brushing a thumb over the edge of the paper. Trust Rafayel to turn a simple bath into something holy. You could already imagine it—his voice echoing off the tiles, reciting Lemurian poems or something ridiculous he made up on the spot, one hand swirling the water lazily as he watched you with those knowing, stormy eyes.

Maybe tonight, you’d light the candles.

Maybe tonight, you’d let yourself miss him just a little more.

You sank into the bath with a sigh, the water turning silky as your favorite bath bomb fizzed and dissolved, releasing soft floral notes and a shimmer of warmth that clung to your skin. The scent reminded you of him—salt and citrus, something wild and thoughtful all at once. You closed your eyes and leaned back, letting the water hold you the way his arms used to.

For a while, you just breathed. Let the quiet hum of the sea outside wrap around you like a lullaby. You could almost hear him reading beside you, voice low, words floating somewhere between poetry and seduction.

Time blurred.

Eventually, the water cooled, and you stepped out, skin flushed and wrapped in the oversized towel he always called your “personal cloud.” You padded barefoot through the studio, glowing from warmth and the kind of peace only Rafayel could conjure—even from miles away.

You made your way to his bed—round, queen-sized, draped in soft linen sheets that always smelled faintly of cedar and the sea. The windows stretched around it in a half-moon curve, offering a perfect view of the ocean below. The sun had begun its slow descent, casting streaks of gold and blush across the waves. You curled onto the bed, damp hair trailing across his pillow, watching the tide shimmer under the setting sun.

It was impossible not to think of him here.

He’d said it once, half-asleep with your legs tangled in his and his hand resting over your heartbeat: “You were always meant for the ocean. The way you move, the way you feel. That saltwater kind of beauty. Untamed, but gentle. Just like the tide.”

At the time, you’d rolled your eyes, teased him for being dramatic. But now, with the sea glowing outside and his scent still on the sheets—you finally understood what he meant.

Maybe you were meant for the ocean.

And maybe, in some strange, beautiful way… you’d been meant for him too.

The sky outside melted into shades of lavender and honey, the waves rolling in a steady rhythm like the breath of the world itself. You sank deeper into the bed, letting the ocean soothe the ache in your chest—but it wasn’t quite enough. Not without him.

The sheets were still warm from the sun, but you missed his warmth. His weight. His presence. You sat up slowly, eyes drifting toward the worn armchair near the window where he always draped his cardigans.

One was still there.

You rose and crossed the room, fingers brushing over the soft knit fabric before pulling it into your arms. It was his favorite—cream with a blue and red argile pattern woven through it, smelling faintly of his cologne and sea salt. You slipped it on, sleeves too long, shoulders wide and comforting, like being wrapped in him.

As you settled back into bed, something crinkled beneath the pillow.

Frowning, you reached underneath and pulled out a small audio recorder. Simple. Classic Rafayel.

There was a little sticker on the front. A doodle of a seashell and a tiny note scrawled beneath it in his loopy, artistic handwriting:

“Play when the sea isn’t enough.”

Your heart jumped.

You clicked it on.

There was a moment of static, then his voice—low, warm, a little teasing, like he was speaking from just over your shoulder.

"Hey, my cutie. If you're hearing this, it means I’m not beside you—which, frankly, is a crime against romance and art and probably international law, but we’ll let that slide for now."

You smiled, heart clenching.

"I know you’re probably curled up in my bed right now, wearing one of my cardigans, looking like some soft ocean spirit that wandered in from the tide. I hope you took a bath. If not—pause this and go. Seriously. I left you the good stuff."

A pause. A soft breath.

"I just… I didn’t want you to feel alone in the silence. Not here. Not in a space that knows you almost as well as I do."

"Every brushstroke, every color I mix—there’s you in all of it. You’re not just my muse. You’re the whole damn palette."

Another pause. Softer now.

"So rest. Watch the sea. Wear my cardigan till it smells like you. And when I get back, I’ll paint the sunset exactly how you looked tonight."

Static again. Then silence.

You held the recorder to your chest, eyes burning, Rafayel’s voice echoing in your mind like a lullaby pulled from the tide.

He wasn’t here—but he was everywhere. In the scent on your skin, in the rhythm of the waves, in the cardigan curled around your frame.

And in that moment, wrapped in him, you didn’t feel alone at all.

The room had gone dusky, shadows stretching long across the bed as the last light of day dipped below the horizon. You were still curled beneath his blankets, his cardigan wrapped around you like a second skin. The audio recorder sat beside you on the pillow, still warm from your grip, Rafayel’s voice lingering in your ears like an echo.

You reached for your phone on the nightstand, thumb hovering for a moment before switching to the front camera. The soft golden light of the setting sun kissed your features. His cardigan hung off your frame, oversized and familiar, the sleeves bunched at your wrists. You looked like you belonged here—like you’d been painted into the moment.

You snapped the photo. No filter. No caption.

Then you opened your messages and typed slowly:

me:

goodnight, my fishie prince. the sea isn’t enough. come home soon.

You added the photo and hit send before you could overthink it.

Almost immediately, the little “typing…” bubble popped up.

Then:

rafayel:

cutie.

you’re lucky i didn’t see this before boarding or i would’ve turned around and let thomas sue me.

i’ll paint that look the second i’m back.

sleep in my spot tonight. dream of me. i’ll dream of you.

Your heart fluttered.

You tucked the phone to your chest, smiling as the waves outside rolled softly against the shore, steady and endless.

Maybe the sea wasn’t enough.

But the love he left behind in every corner of this place?

That was more than enough to hold you through the night.

The room had grown quiet, the hush of the sea outside the only sound as the last of the sun slipped beneath the horizon. You nestled deeper into his bed, tugging the cardigan tighter around your body. Your phone rested beside your pillow, his message still glowing faintly on the screen.

You turned it face-down.

Then let your eyes close.

Sleep didn’t come all at once—it arrived in slow waves, gentle and warm, like fingers combing through your hair.

And then, you were there again.

Back in the park, that first chilly autumn morning when he showed up with two cups of coffee and paint on his cheek, his hair wind swept in the breeze like some romantic mess of a man. He’d handed you the coffee with both hands and said, “I didn’t know what you liked, so I brought six sugar packets. I can be trained, though. Like a well-kept dog. Or a mildly feral raccoon.”

You laughed in your sleep.

Another memory bloomed—his studio, months later, when he let you smear paint across a fresh canvas just because you said you were curious. You’d made a mess. He’d kissed you anyway, paint in your hair, his hands on your waist, whispering, “There’s nothing more beautiful than watching you become part of my chaos.”

And then the beach.

The night you watched the stars together, wrapped in a blanket, his voice low and dreamy beside your ear as he told you stories about gods made of salt and women who controlled tides with their laughter. He said you were one of them—obviously.

Memory folded into memory like watercolor seeping into wet paper.

All of them vivid.

All of them soft.

And in every single one—Rafayel, smiling at you like you were the masterpiece he’d never be able to finish.

A week passed.

The studio had started to feel like a second skin. You knew where Rafayel kept his half-finished sketches, which mugs he favored for tea, which corner of the windowsill he always left cracked open for the salt breeze. You’d fallen asleep each night wrapped in his cardigan, surrounded by his scent and voice, lulled to sleep by waves and the low hum of his love lingering in every room.

But today—the silence buzzed with something new.

Anticipation.

The airport buzzed with the usual chaos—luggage wheels clattering, voices echoing off high glass ceilings, the dull murmur of announcements overhead. But none of it mattered. Your heartbeat had claimed your focus, drumming fast in your ears as you stood near the arrivals gate, scanning every passing figure with a quiet desperation you tried not to show.

Your phone buzzed.

rafayel:

Landing in 20. I expect dramatic eye contact across the arrivals gate. Maybe even a slow-motion run. Optional kiss. Mandatory swoon.

You laughed out loud, biting your bottom lip to keep from smiling too hard as you texted back:

you:

I’ll bring the swoon if you bring that paint-smudged artist look. Deal?

rafayel:

I’ve missed you so badly I’m considering doing the whole proposal-in-the-airport thing. But I’ll settle for holding your face and not letting go for ten full minutes.

The sun was just starting to dip by the time you reached the terminal, casting the glass walls in amber light. People bustled in every direction, voices echoing across tiled floors. But your eyes were only searching for one thing.

Then you saw him.

Moving through the crowd like he belonged on another plane of existence entirely.

The top buttons of his white shirt were undone, collar loose in that casually undone way that only he could pull off. His violet hair was tousled from the flight, a few strands falling into his blue-pink eyes—eyes that found you instantly, lighting up like a canvas catching first light.

You didn’t run.

But you moved.

And so did he.

He dropped his bag before he even reached you, closing the distance in a few quick strides. His hands found your face the second you were close enough, thumbs brushing over your cheeks, and he let out the breath he’d clearly been holding for days.

"Hi, cutie," he said, voice a little rough from travel, but still so unmistakably him. "God, I missed this face. No painting, no dream, no color came close."

You leaned into his touch, smiling so hard it almost hurt.

"You’re real," you whispered, and that was all it took—he pulled you in, wrapping his arms around you with that same warmth you'd been craving every night in his bed.

His cheek pressed against your hair, and you felt him smile.

"You kept my cardigan warm, didn’t you?"

"Every night."

"Good. Because now I need it to smell like you."

The arrivals gate faded away. The noise. The movement. Everything. It was just him, you, and the warmth between your bodies—finally closing the distance.

You didn’t head straight home.

Rafayel slipped his fingers between yours the second you stepped out of the airport, tugging you gently toward the coastal road. His bag was slung over one shoulder, shirt half-untucked, violet hair catching the fading light like brushstrokes in motion.

The car ride was quiet, peaceful.

He didn’t let go of your hand.

And when the beach came into view—the same stretch of sand you could see from his studio window—you pulled off onto the side, kicking off your shoes as he did the same.

The tide was low, the breeze soft and cool. Sunset spilled across the ocean in melted gold and dusky pinks, casting a glow over everything. Rafayel breathed in deep and closed his eyes for a moment, like he was letting the sea wash away the weight of time spent apart.

Then he looked at you.

Really looked.

“You’re glowing,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Did the sea take care of you while I was gone?”

You laughed softly. “It tried. But it wasn’t the same without you.”

He grinned, blue-pink eyes reflecting the sky. “You know,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a tiny, spiral shell, “I saw this and thought of you. Kept it with me the whole trip. It’s not much. But it was the only thing that reminded me of home.”

You took it gently, fingers brushing his. “I am home,” you whispered.

That made him pause—just long enough for emotion to flicker in his expression. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close, resting his forehead to yours.

“You know you were always a part of the ocean” he said softly. “But I think… I was meant for you.”

You stood there like that, the waves lapping at your feet, your bodies pressed together, hearts syncing in the salt-kissed silence. And as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, you let the moment settle between you—unspoken but understood.

Love didn’t always need grand gestures or fireworks.

Sometimes, it was as simple as a quiet return.

A cardigan left behind.

A beach at sunset.

And two people who chose each other, again and again.

—————————————————————————

Sylus 🐦‍⬛🐉🌹💥

It was rare that Sylus ever made you wait, especially on a date night. He’d hurriedly finish his business deals so he could relax into your embrace, but tonight this deal was different and unfortunately was bleeding into date night.

“I promise, kitten, I’ll make it up to you.”

You read the text, you knew he would but it still sucked waiting for him. You hadn’t seen each other in several weeks. The Association kept you busy with overseas missions, and Sylus was dealing with more unrest in the N109 zone as one of the crime heads had been taken into custody. Now, there were turf wars and shady dealings to see who would take over. Sylus naturally was targeted, being the leader of Onichynus, was anything but peaceful.

You missed him, his warmth, the smell of his cologne with a hint of gunpowder, your thoughts drifted as you wandered your shared bedroom. Before you realized it, you were standing in front of the walk-in closet. You opened the double doors and instantly gravitated to his jackets. You tenderly ran your fingers against the sleeves, the material soft and silky. He always had impeccable fashion sense, everything was either designer or professionally tailored, one of a kind for him. You grabbed your favorite jacket he would wear lazily over his broad shoulders. The black fabric embroidered with crimson feathers smelled of his cologne, gunpowder, and rain. You couldn’t help yourself and slipped your arms through the sleeves. The jacket wore you rather than you wearing it, but it didn’t matter. It felt like being held by him, the weight of the material mimicking his gentle embrace. You pressed the sleeves to your cheeks, taking in the warmth like he was cradling you with his hands. You were tearing up, trembling, and slowly lowered yourself to the plush carpet of the closet.

You missed him. The way he made you feel safe, the look in his ruby eyes saying, “As long as you’re with him, any place is home.” You catch yourself looking at all the clothes, each sparking a memory of your time together: his riding jacket, the freedom of speeding down the N109 zone, the leather trench coat, and tussling his silver hair pretending to get the snow out.

You grabbed some of his clothes, donning them like makeshift armor. You know it’s only a temporary fix, but for now, you feel a bit more at ease waiting for him to come home. The business deals normally ended messily these days, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

A soft chime pulled you from your thoughts—a message, but not from Sylus this time.

Unknown Sender: “Your man’s making moves. Might not walk away clean tonight.”

Your stomach twisted. It was vague, unsigned, and all-too-familiar with the kind of cryptic language used in the underworld. You stared at the message, your fingers tightening on the cuffs of his jacket.

You shouldn’t worry. You knew Sylus. No one navigated the criminal underbelly of the N109 Zone better than he did. But still, this deal was different. Bigger. Riskier.

You rose from the floor slowly, the heavy fabric of his jacket still wrapped around you like a shield. You crossed the room and tapped into the secure comm line he’d given you, not for check-ins or sweet nothings, but emergencies. You hesitated, thumb hovering over the button. Was this one?

Just as your finger grazed it, your screen blinked to life. A video call. From him.

You answered immediately, breath catching when Sylus’s face came into view. He looked exhausted—silver hair mussed, the collar of his shirt undone, crimson eyes shadowed and sharp. But he was alive. Whole.

And when he saw you wearing his jacket, something in his expression shifted. Softened.

“You waiting for me like that, Sweetie?” he said, voice low and warm despite the tension you could sense in him. “You’re gonna make me speed through this meeting and blow someone’s car up just to get back faster.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, a watery laugh escaping you. “You’re late.”

He sighed, leaning back against the wall of wherever he was—dim lights, a flicker of movement behind him. “I know. Things got complicated. I’ll be home in one hour. Two, max. I swear it.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you murmured, trying to smile.

His eyes held yours through the screen. “Kitten. I always keep my promises to you.”

The call ended before you could say anything else—likely someone had pulled him back into the fray. You were left with the echo of his voice and the lingering tension in your chest.

Still… something about his face had told you he meant it. That he’d crawl through hell to keep it.

You stood there for a long moment, wrapped in the comfort of his scent, his presence lingering in every thread. And even though the night stretched long and uncertain, you felt a little steadier, knowing that somewhere out there, Sylus was fighting his way back to you.

The rain had started not long after the call ended—fat droplets smacking against the windows in chaotic rhythm. Lightning flashed in the distance, followed by the low, slow rumble of thunder that seemed to crawl across the sky. You stayed curled on the couch, still in his jacket, eyes flicking to the door with every creak and shadow.

Then came the sound you’d been waiting for: the lock sliding open.

You were on your feet before the door had even finished opening.

Sylus stepped inside, head bowed, silver hair soaked and plastered to his forehead. Water dripped from the hem of his coat, running in rivulets down his neck and into the dark fabric clinging to his frame. He kicked the door closed with the back of his boot and looked up at you.

That tired smirk pulled at his lips, even as the storm clung to him. “Told you I’d make it back, didn’t I?”

You didn’t respond right away. You just crossed the room in a few quick strides and threw your arms around him. His jacket soaked yours instantly, but you didn’t care. You buried your face in his shoulder, inhaling the scent of rain and gunpowder and him, now fresh and raw.

His arms came around you slowly, as if taking a moment to process that he was really home, that you were really there waiting for him. He leaned his cheek against the top of your head, exhaling deeply.

“I missed you,” you whispered.

“I know,” he murmured back. “I missed you too, Sweetie. Every damn second.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes, though rimmed with exhaustion, held that flicker of warmth that only ever appeared for you. You brushed wet strands of hair from his forehead.

“You’re soaked,” you said.

“Storm caught me on the way out. Didn’t want to stop.” He looked you over, registering the jacket still draped over your shoulders. “That mine?”

You nodded. “My armor.”

A real smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Then let me trade you for something warmer. I’ll get cleaned up—won’t take long.”

But you held onto him a second longer, not quite ready to let go yet.

“You’re here now,” you said softly. “That’s all I needed.”

Sylus pressed a kiss to your temple, then your cheek. Gentle. Reassuring. “And I’m not going anywhere tonight. That’s a promise I can keep.”

The storm had softened to a steady drizzle by the time Sylus emerged from the shower, dressed in a dark fitted shirt with the sleeves casually rolled to his elbows and a pair of soft lounge pants that were definitely not designer. His damp silver hair curled slightly at the ends, the clean scent of his soap replacing the smoke and rain.

You had set the table in the meantime—nothing extravagant, just a warm meal for two and the comfort of being in the same room again.

He padded barefoot into the dining area, eyes locking onto you immediately. That quiet look passed between you again—the one that said we made it through another night—and then his gaze dropped slightly as he walked closer.

You noticed the cuts when he sat down. Small, angry red lines along his knuckles and a shallow graze at the sharp edge of his jaw. Faint, but fresh. Evidence of how “complicated” the meeting had really gotten.

“Sylus,” you murmured, reaching over before he could deflect.

“It looks worse than it is,” he said, not pulling away when your fingers brushed over the skin near his jaw. He winced slightly. “Okay, maybe just a little worse.”

You turned his hand over gently in yours, examining the bruised knuckles. “And this?”

He shrugged, almost sheepish. “Some people don’t like losing leverage.”

You didn’t press. You knew how these deals went—how easily a dinner table could turn into a battlefield.

Instead, you got up quietly, grabbed the small medkit from the drawer, and returned to your seat beside him. He let you clean the cuts in silence, his gaze soft and steady on you the entire time.

“I can’t stop you from getting hurt,” you said quietly, wrapping a thin bandage around his hand. “But I still hate seeing it.”

“I know.” His voice was low. “But I’d rather come home to you a little bloodied than not at all.”

You blinked, your hands stilling. His honesty always caught you off guard when it came unannounced like that—raw and real, without the silk of his usual charm.

Dinner was quieter than usual, but not uncomfortable. He watched you between bites, eyes lingering not with possessiveness but with something steadier. Devotion. As if reminding himself that no matter what storms he walked through out there, this—you—was what he came back for.

“Thanks for waiting for me,” he said softly, near the end of the meal.

You smiled faintly, leaning your chin on your hand. “I always will.”

You’d just finished clearing the dishes when Sylus leaned back in his chair, watching you with that unmistakable gleam in his eye—the kind that usually came right before he got exactly what he wanted.

“You know,” he said, his voice dropping a note lower, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since I walked in.”

You turned, curious. “What?”

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes roaming over you, still wrapped in his tailored black jacket, the sleeves rolled to fit, the hem hanging loose just past your thighs. “That. Seeing you in my clothes.”

A slow smirk curved his lips as he stood, crossing the room in a few unhurried strides. He stopped in front of you, one hand lifting to brush a thumb over your collarbone, just beneath the open lapel. His touch was light, but his gaze was anything but.

“It’s dangerous,” he murmured, “how good you look in this.”

You arched a brow, trying to stay coy. “Dangerous how?”

Sylus leaned in, his nose brushing the side of your jaw as he whispered, “Makes me want to keep you like this. Just mine. Wearing only what I give you.”

Your breath caught as his fingers traced down your side, slow and deliberate, stopping just at your waist. His lips hovered near your skin, not quite touching, sending goosebumps across your chest and arms.

“You walk around like this,” he said against your throat, “and I forget how tired I am. I forget how messy the world gets. All I can think about… is how soft you’d feel underneath me.”

His hand slid behind you, resting on the small of your back as he pulled you flush against him. His heat bled through the layers, even through the jacket you’d borrowed. “You wore this like armor earlier,” he murmured. “But now it feels like a gift you left waiting for me.”

You leaned into him, lips brushing his ear. “Maybe I did.”

He exhaled, a low sound deep in his chest, as if your words untied something inside him.

“Bedroom. Now.” His voice was husky but restrained, barely leashed hunger laced with reverence.

And when he kissed you—slow, deep, possessive in the way only a man in love can be—it felt like all the waiting, the longing, the storm, had led to this one inevitable moment.

He didn’t need to say it twice.

The moment you reached the bedroom, Sylus was already behind you, one hand at your waist, the other slipping under the hem of his jacket as he pressed you up against the wall. His mouth found yours again—hungrier now, no longer restrained. He kissed like a man who had been starving for weeks, and finally had his first taste of warmth.

You gasped against his lips when his hand slipped beneath the fabric, tracing along your bare thigh. “Still wearing this for me?” he murmured, dragging his mouth down your neck.

“Wasn’t planning to take it off,” you whispered.

“Good,” he growled. “Because I want to unwrap you slowly.”

He turned you around with a fluid motion, letting your back press against his chest as he tugged the jacket open, exposing the softness beneath. His fingers skimmed over your stomach, trailing up under the thin shirt you wore beneath—his shirt.

“You even wore this,” he said, almost reverently, as his hands slipped beneath the fabric. “You really missed me, didn’t you, Kitten?”

You nodded, already breathless, hips arching back into him instinctively.

He guided you to the bed, laying you down as if you were something precious and breakable—though the hunger in his eyes promised anything but gentleness. The room was quiet except for the sound of rain against the window, and your shared breaths as he peeled his shirt off you, inch by inch.

His mouth followed, kissing every new patch of skin he uncovered. “You wear me so well,” he whispered. “But I want to feel all of you.”

When you reached for his shirt in return, he let you strip it away, revealing the fresh cuts you’d tended to earlier—his battle scars, earned and endured just to make it back here, to you.

You sat up enough to press your lips to the bandage on his jaw, then his collarbone, then lower—until Sylus gave a low, shaky laugh and gently pushed you back down.

“Sweetheart, if you keep that up, I’m not going to last.”

“Then don’t,” you murmured, pulling him back to you. “Just take me.”

And he did.

He was slow as he worked his way inside you, watching your expression for any signs of pain, but you looked in pure bliss, and he continued.

When down to the hilt, he started to move the fullness inside of you, making you gasp and cry out. “Keep up with those sounds, kitten, and I won’t be able to hold back,” he growled. You wanted him to ravage you as a way to make up for the time lost.

With every breathless moan, every tangled sheet, and whispered promise, Sylus made good on his word. He worshipped every inch of you like he’d been waiting years. The world outside, the chaos of his empire, the dangers that clung to his name—none of it mattered in this room.

Here, it was just you and Sylus.

And by the time your name was falling from his lips in a hoarse whisper, bodies slick with sweat and hearts pounding in sync.

The storm outside had softened to a gentle hum, raindrops tapping rhythmically against the windowpane. The kind of sound that made you want to stay wrapped in blankets for hours, limbs tangled and hearts steady.

Sylus didn’t move right away. He lay beside you, breathing hard, one arm draped over your waist, the other buried beneath you, holding you close as if letting go wasn’t an option. His skin was still warm from the heat you’d both shared, his silver hair damp with sweat.

You turned your face into the crook of his neck, pressing a soft kiss just beneath his jaw. He exhaled slowly, his hand brushing lazy circles across your spine.

"You okay?" he murmured against your temple.

You nodded, your voice still a little hoarse. “Better than okay.”

His hand paused for a second—just long enough for you to feel the weight behind it. “I didn’t hurt you?” he asked, quieter now.

You looked up, touched by the concern in his ruby eyes. “No, Sylus. You were perfect.”

That seemed to ease something in him. He pressed his lips to your forehead and lingered there, breathing you in. “You scare the hell out of me, sometimes,” he whispered. “The way I feel about you…”

You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. “I know. Same here.”

For a while, you lay there in silence, your breath syncing with his, the only sounds in the room the storm’s fading echo and the occasional thrum of city life far below the Onychinus base. Sylus eventually shifted, gently rolling you into his chest before grabbing a soft towel from the nightstand drawer.

“Stay still, sweetie,” he murmured, carefully wiping at the slickness on your thighs, taking his time like he was tending to something sacred.

You flushed from the tenderness of it all—how this man, feared across the N109 zone, now handled you with such reverence. When he finished, he tossed the towel aside and helped you pull on one of his oversized shirts.

He threw on a pair of loose black pants, then padded barefoot into the kitchen. A few minutes later, he returned with a glass of water and a warm cloth to clean your face. You drank, not realizing how parched you were, and he pressed a kiss to your cheek when you finished.

“You always take care of me,” you said softly, watching him as he climbed back into bed and pulled the blanket over both of you.

“Of course I do,” he said, brushing your hair back from your face. “Because you’re the one thing in this whole damn world I can’t afford to lose.”

You snuggled closer, letting your hand rest over the steady beat of his heart. “Then you better keep making it back to me.”

His laugh was low and tired. “Always, Kitten.”

And in the warmth of his arms, with the storm now nothing but a lullaby, you finally let yourself drift to sleep—safe, loved, and held like a treasure in the arms of the most dangerous man in the zone.

_________________________________________

I really enjoy writing these and I hope you all enjoy it too! I love Sylus so much he stole my heart and has really been a comfort character as a lot of his mannerisms match my irl partners. Rafayel is so sassy and fun to write for! Truly my favorite fishie

[peekofhistory]

Compilation of all my Hanfu and Guqin posts 😊

(Part 1)

Hanfu Posts

Warring States/Qin/Han Dynasties - Straight-edged robe (直裾) - Wrap around robe (曲裾) - Layering + undergarment pants - Straight sleeved straight-edged robe (直袖直裾) - Fish-tail straight-edged robe (鱼尾直裾) - Mesh straight-edged and wrap-around robes (素纱直裾/曲裾) - Men's hanfu in Han dynasty (两汉男汉服)

Weijin + North/South Dynasties - Ruqun (襦裙) - Ruqun (襦裙) pt. 2 - Liangdang (裲裆) - Ru vs. Xiyi (襦 vs 褶衣) - Slim-arm wide sleeve Ru and Xiyi (窄臂大袖 - 襦和褶衣) - Quling inner garment (曲领中衣) - Half sleeve + knee covering (半袖+蔽膝) - North Wei (Xianbei tribe) large collared long robe (北魏（鲜卑族）大襟长袍)

Sui/Tang/Five Dynasties - Sui + early Tang dynasty hanfu - Early Tang hanfu layers - Men's round-collared robes - Men's half-sleeve (半臂/半袖) - Golden era Tang shirt + skirt (盛唐衣衫+褶裙) - Vest, shawl, outer jacket (背子，帔子，披袄) - Golden era Tang hanfu layers - Wide-sleeved ruqun in Tang (唐朝大袖襦) - Mid-Tang shirt + long robe (中唐衫+长袍) - Late-Tang/FIver dynasties hanfu - Buddhist donors hanfu/Dunhuang Mogao Caves (供养人/敦煌)

Song Dynasty - Popular style for Song; shan, ao, moxiong tops (衫，袄，抹胸) - Long shan/ao (beizi) (长衫/袄 (褙子)) - Half-sleeve shan/ao (半袖衫/袄) - Men's criss-cross collared shan/ao (交领衫/袄) - Men's outer robe (beizi/褙子) - Pleated skirts (褶裙) (1/2) - Pleated skirts (2/2) - Non-pleated skirts (掩裙 and 旋裙) - Pants (裈, 袴) (1/2) - Pants (裆) (2/2)

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘༓∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Hanfu videos

Tang dynasty hanfu

Weijin/North-South dynasties hanfu

Eyebrow changes through the dynasties

Men's hanfu through the dynasties

Curvy Tang ladies :D

Grandpa giving out flowers

Tang woman visiting museum

Men's Ming dynasty hanfu layers

Tang dynasty hanfu + modern dancing

Ming court advisors "friendly" debate

Ming dynasty grandma with granddaughter

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘༓∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Guqin Posts

Guqin introduction

Workshop/Studio Tour

Lacquer allergy experience - Part 1 (scroll down) / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Summary - Second allergy

Baby Guqin + giveaway - Baby Guqin update - Baby Guqin update 2 - Baby Guqin update 3

Making Guqin silk strings

Making Guqin - Full list of all steps to make Guqin (updated as needed) - Step 0 - preparing lumber - Step 1 - scroll to bottom for video - Various steps of making Guqin - Steps 2-5 - Step 6

Playing Guqin - Part 1 (Gou and Tiao) - Part 2 (Gou and Tiao pt 2)

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘༓∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Asks

Pattern for undergarment pants

Qing dynasty clothing

Iconic hanfu of each dynasty

Historical mourning clothes + costumes in Chinese period dramas

Costumes in wuxia/xianxia (ex. Untamed and Word of Honor)

Tang Hezi undergarment

Love Game in Eastern Fantasy drama: Esther Yu hairstyles

Favourite historical dramas

Maid outfits

Tang hanfu patterns

Korean traditional outfit

Guqin introduction (English book)

Foot binding

Flourished Peony hanfu (国色芳华汉服)

Hanfu overlap from one dynasty to another

Chinese muji (geta) (木屐)

Guqin strings

Shang and Zhou dynasty Hanfu

Upside-down heart collars/chicken heart collars (鸡心领)

Yuan Dynasty clothing

Cloud collars (云肩/yunjian)

Guqin in pop culture

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘༓∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Other

Romance of the Three Kingdoms etiquette MV (三国演义礼仪 MV)

Hanfu revival movement overview

Tang Ming Huang TV series rec + MV (唐明皇推荐+MV)

Hanfu books recommendation: "汉晋风流" (Romance/Elegance of Han and Jin ) "唐之雍容" (Grace of Tang)

Hanfu book recommendation 2: 华夏衣橱 (Huaxia Wardrobe)

Giveaway 1 （completed)

Silk thread wrapping flower (缠花)

[dragoneyelashart]

ᯓ★ the summer we lost • chapter 1

summary: it was supposed to be the perfect summer—just before college, you and your online friend "william" had planned out meeting this summer, but everything came to a screeching halt when your parents dropped the bomb that you had to get a job at a family friend’s dance studio. so instead of having fun, you’re stuck teaching kids who can barely stay on their feet, alongside a girl you can’t stand. now, while your friends are living their summer, you’re tangled up in a mess of pirouettes, bratty 7-year-olds, and a summer you’ll never get back. warnings: angst | mature language | sexual content |

authors note: first chapter yay! anyways hope you like it 🤓 wc: 2.4k the summer we lost masterlist

the faint sound of pink + white by frank ocean played in the background, barely audible over the hum of the fan in the corner. summer had finally started, and you'd never been more relieved. the thought of school was now a distant blur—replaced with warm air, late nights, beach days, laughter-soaked parties, sunburnt cheeks, and most importantly... finally meeting william.

you met william online when you were both thirteen. it started with a random comment thread on some the office fan page—though, ironically, you never liked the show. she loved it. you found that kind of funny. she made it clear early on that her name wasn’t actually william—apparently it was a name her parents had considered for her before she was born. you told her wilma sounded cooler, but eventually you gave up and just called her “w.”

you'd been talking for years—through awkward middle school phases, heartbreaks, friend drama, late-night vents, shared playlists, and too many inside jokes to count. you’d planned to meet so many times, but something always got in the way. deep down, you were scared. it felt too surreal, too risky—like what if she wasn’t who she said she was? what if she was a sixty-year-old man behind a screen? you'd asked once, out of anxiety more than suspicion, and her answer was always something ridiculous like, “i have titty pics” or “check my onlyfans.” it didn’t help, but it made you laugh—and eventually, you stopped questioning it.

you were lying across your bed, freshly manicured nails tapping fast against your screen as you texted her.

4:32pm

w: so, i was thinking we could stay at a beach house???

you: you know how many murders have happened in a beach house...

w: why do you know that off the top of your head? i'm not gonna murder you jeez... not yet at least

you giggled, shaking your head as the two of you slipped into your usual rhythm—half banter, half confession. the conversation floated effortlessly until a knock broke the moment. soft at first, then louder, followed by the faint sound of scratching against wood.

before you could say anything, the door creaked open. your mom stepped in, wearing that look—the one that meant she’d already made a decision and was now trying to sell it to you gently. eyebrows slightly drawn together, lips pressed in thought.

you sighed, already bracing yourself.

“your father and i were talking,” she began, “and we thought maybe this summer, you could get a job—”

you groaned out loud, flopping back dramatically.

“mom, please. i have the whole summer for that. it literally just started.”

“it’s better to start now,” she continued, her voice laced with too much enthusiasm. “plus, i talked to maggie—you remember her, her kids did that song at the talent show? well, she’s on the cake committee and she mentioned her daughter’s managing a dance studio and they just lost an instructor.”

you raised an eyebrow, only half-listening.

“she said they’re looking for someone to fill in for the summer. it’s perfect! you’d only be there for a couple of months, and they’re paying $50 an hour.”

you sat up straighter at that part, but it didn’t change the sinking feeling in your stomach.

“she wants you there tomorrow morning. 8:30 sharp. i’ll text you the details,” she said with finality, already halfway out the door.

you opened your mouth, ready to protest, but nothing came out. instead, you just stared at the door as it clicked shut, and all the plans you’d been dreaming about for years—the beach house, the sunrises, the first time you’d finally hear her laugh in real life—started to dissolve.

you picked up your phone.

4:45pm

you: hey slight issue...

w: is the beach house too small? i can find another?

you: no uh, my mom wants me to get a summer job

w: oh thank god i thought you were about to cancel

you: yeah um. about that. the job’s for the whole summer.

you stared at the blinking cursor, waiting for a reply. nothing.

you watched the time jump—4:46, then 4:47. still nothing.

you imagined her face. not that you really knew what she looked like outside of selfies and blurry facetime screenshots—but you pictured her anyway. she’d probably read the message, tossed her phone across the bed, then laid there with her hands over her face dramatically. it was kind of her thing.

finally, your screen lit up.

w: ...damn.

w: i don’t even know what to say lol i mean i get it but also w: this was supposed to be the summer

you exhaled slowly, thumb hovering over your screen. typing. deleting. typing again. you didn’t know what to say either. it was supposed to be the summer. everything had aligned—your schedules, her flight, the place you’d picked out by the water. it wasn’t anything crazy, just a two-bedroom spot with seafoam green walls and patio lights that looked like they’d been there since the 90s. you could already picture the way the air would smell—salt, sunscreen, maybe a hint of freshly cut flowers that lay idle amongst the beach.

and now? now it was morning alarms and bratty kids in ballet shoes.

you: i know. i’m sorry. i didn’t even know this was happening you: she just walked in and assigned me the whole damn summer you: i’m still trying to process it

a minute passed. then another. yet there was no reply.

the next morning you throw your bag into the backseat of your car, the slam echoing louder than expected in the quiet morning air. it’s 8:30 on a saturday. school ended yesterday. everyone else is probably still asleep, or maybe already texting the group chat about some spontaneous beach plan. meanwhile, you’re dragging yourself to a summer job you didn’t even ask for. you still didn't even have a response from william.

you’ve worked before. café, library, record store, even a brief stint at a radio station. every single time, your bosses sucked. like, truly. and now, here you are, hoping this one won’t suck as bad as the rest.

you park in front of the studio. it’s tucked into a line of quiet storefronts, with soft yellow letters on the glass spelling out luna dance collective. despite everything, a small flicker of curiosity sparks in you. the place doesn’t look terrible. maybe it won’t be.

plus, if you're being honest with yourself, there’s a part of you that's mildly excited. maybe teaching at a dance studio could be fun. and if you’re lucky... maybe someone cute will sign up for a class. or already works here.

you walk inside and spot a girl with soft curls hunched over a laptop at the front desk. she looks up immediately and gives you a bright, too-wide smile.

“hey! you must be... y/n?”

you nod. “yep. that’s me.”

“cute name,” she says, practically glowing. “i’m luna.”

luna types something quickly, then glances back at you. “okay so, we’ve got two spots that need filling. you can either take the little kids’ class... or, wait for it—senior citizens’ zumba.”

you blink. she tries to hold back a laugh.

“i’ll take the kids,” you say immediately. “please.”

she nods approvingly. “smart choice. you’ve got the 1 pm on saturdays for the 5–8 year olds, same group again on mondays at 3, and the older kids—like 10 to 11—on tuesday through thursday at 5. easy enough.”

she shows you around, explaining where you can keep your stuff, the wifi password, and how to use the bluetooth speaker in the studio rooms. you’re half-listening until she gestures toward a door near the back.

“and that’s the private studio. b’s in there right now. if you ever want to practice or just chill between classes, that’s the place.”

“b?” you ask.

“billie,” she says casually, already moving toward the hallway. “she owns the place, or well her parents do. maggie comes around here sometimes,” okay so billie is maggie's daughter, she sounds familiar.

you follow her, trying not to trip over your own feet as you peek into the room.

inside, there’s a girl dancing—small, athletic, with dark hair that moves like silk. she glides across the hardwood like she’s part of the music, her movements sharp but graceful, every beat hitting like instinct. you’re frozen. completely mesmerized. she’s stunning.

as if sensing you, she glances your way. her gaze lands on yours—steady, unreadable. then, just as quickly, she turns back to her routine like you were never there at all.

“who’s that?” you manage to whisper.

“i told you. that’s billie,” luna says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “she’s intense. but she’s good.”

intense is an understatement. you can’t stop watching her.

luna grabs your arm suddenly. “c’mon. let’s go say hi!”

“uh—no, it’s fine, she looks busy—” you start, but it’s too late. luna’s dragging you into the room like you don’t have functioning legs of your own.

“bil! this is y/n—the one teaching the kids’ classes,” luna calls out.

billie pauses mid-spin and walks over slowly, not quite acknowledging you yet. she grabs a water bottle from the bench and takes a sip, looking you over like she’s reading your entire life story just from your shoes.

she’s even prettier up close, and that realization is like a punch to the chest.

luna keeps talking like none of this is awkward. “y/n, this is billie. our dance boss. literally.”

billie raises an eyebrow. “does the girl talk or did you hire a mute?”

your face flushes. you open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

“actually you hired her,” luna fires back, grinning.

billie narrows her eyes slightly and then, with the cockiest smirk you’ve ever seen, says, “pretty sure i wouldn’t hire someone who can’t talk. you can speak, right, baby?”

baby. your brain short-circuits.

you stutter, completely mortified. “i—uh, i—yeah, i...”

billie scoffs, clearly unimpressed. she grabs a towel off the wall. “seriously, lu? this is who you brought in?”

and just like that, she walks into the changing room, door swinging shut behind her.

you’re left there, stunned, replaying her voice—low, smooth, teasing. it messes with your heartbeat.

“she’s nicer once you get to know her,” luna says like it’s nothing. “don’t take it personally.”

you don’t reply. you’re too busy mentally spiraling.

then, as if on cue, luna shoves her phone in your face. “oh, by the way, give me your insta!”

you enter your username on autopilot.

@/lunaf wants to follow you! [accept] | decline ___________________ taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @jayjaywetforbils @billieeilishismywifey @iamnicoke @st0nerlesb0 | send me an ask if you want to be added!

[trippiexlove]

Care

Author Note: Based on the song Care by Sonder. Thank you @reigns-devotee for the song choice! If you would like to leave a request go comment on this post. Check out my master list for other one shots and my other stories.

Warning: A bit of Fluff & Smut mixed together. P in V. Oral (F receiving). Profanity, Praise.

Pairing: Jey Uso x Black OC

Word Count: 2,492

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Face Claim - SZA

You know I care...

'Bout everything you do...

The ambient red lighting in the recording booth set the mood for Solana. She nodded her head to the tempo of the beat flowing through her headphones. Once she got her cue from Ken her producer. She began singing in her soft voice. Once they were done she stopped, walking out into the main area so she could hear the song. 

"Maybe for that part you could drop your voice a little bit" Solana nodded, practicing the line again. "Yes just like that" 

"Alright let's run it back" she got up going back into the booth. She threw the headphones on waiting for cue before singing the line over again. "That was good?" she looked out the window to Ken who gave her a thumbs up. 

They spent another hour in the studio, cutting and mixing up the song. Her album was coming out soon and she felt the stress of not having enough time. She wanted this to be her best album yet, adding more pressure to herself. 

Ken yawned and looked at the time on his watch. Sitting up quickly "oh shit it's almost midnight," he started grabbing his things before taking a look at Solana "you leaving?"

Solana shook her head "nah Ima stay here and work on things you can go ahead"

Ken lifted his eyebrow, looking for reassurance "You sure?"

Solana waved him off with a smile "Yes now go, I'll see you tomorrow" Ken hesitantly nodded before saying bye, leaving out the door locking it behind him. 

Solana played a different song she had recorded earlier in the week. She was making edits to it before her phone dinged. When she read the name she instantly started smiling. She opened the thread reading over the message. 

Josh 🤍: Come home mama 

Lana 💍 : omw baby 

Solana made sure to save any edits she was making and grabbed all her things. She quickly made it out the recording studio hopping into her car. No sooner than she got into the car she pulled out the parking lot. 

The drive home was peaceful with nearly empty streets. It didn't take her long before she reached the home she shared with her husband and their two young kids. She pulled into the garage, shutting it before entering the house. 

As she walked pass the laundry room she immediately stopped in her tracks. She peered around the living room and kitchen that were dimly lit by candles. Her eyes focused on the large bouquet of roses that sat on the kitchen counter. 

Her attention was pulled away when she noticed Josh come into her view. Dressed in nothing but his 49ers pajama bottoms she got him last Christmas. 

Her eyes drifted down his exposed chest, taking in his tribal tattoos. She continued looking down til she stopped at the hem of his pajama pants, where his v-line was showing. She quickly looked up as he stood close in front of her. 

"Baby what is this" she took another scan of the room before looking back at him. 

"I just wanted to do somethin' for you. You've been workin' so hard lately" he grabbed one of her hands, leading her into the kitchen. He brought them over to the dining table where he had dinner plated. Solana smiled when she realized it was her favorite. 

She sat down at the table scanning over everything. "You really out did yourself"

"Well you know how I do" Solana laughed at the cocky grin he had on his face. 

She wasted no time, immediately taking the first bite. She closed her eyes letting out a soft hum of satisfaction. "You know I love it when you make this" 

Josh shrugged his shoulder a bit, taking a bite of his food as well. "We haven't been able to chill in a while, just the two of us."

Solana nodded in agreement, placing her fork down "I know baby," she sighed, starting to feel the slight guilt creep up on her. "it's just that- this album is really important to me. I just want it to be great" 

"And it will be," he stated with confidence as the both continued eating. "everything you set your heart to no doubt comes out fire"

Solana smiled. Thankful for the supportive husband she had. "Thank you baby. Your support means everything to me"

"You ain't got to thank me ma, that's what I'm supposed to do" they both finished their food, Josh taking their plates to the sink. "But enough about that." He walked over to her, pulling her up out the chair. "Tonight is about you. There's a bath with your name on it. Your mom got the kids for the night so we're kid free. Go relax and I'll meet you up there"

Solana smiled before nodding her head. She made her way upstairs to their bedroom. Solana let out a gasp as she looked around the bathroom. Rose pedals lead the way to the large jacuzzi tub. 

She stripped out of her clothes, throwing them in the nearby laundry basket. She slowly dipped her body in the water, the warmth instantly relaxing. 

She laid there, soaking for a while. The stress seeming to just melt away by the minute. After a while she washed up before getting out. She put on lotion, throwing on her silk robe before walking out into their bedroom at the same time as Josh.

They both stared at each other before he sauntered over to her. He pulled her close to him, his hands immediately finding their place along her backside. "I know you been working late, but tonight I want you here with me." He slowly caressed her side, each moment Solana melted into him more. "Can you do that for me ma?"

Solana nodded head. Josh smiled slightly, one of his hands found the tie of her robe, quickly unraveling it. The silk material fell to the floor, leaving Solana completely bare. His hand ran up her sides before slightly wrapping around the base of her neck. He pulled her into a kiss that quickly deepened. 

He slowly backed her into the bed, Solana fell backwards as the back of her knees hit the bed. Josh leaned over her, laying some of his body weight on top. Josh lips detached from hers, kissing along her jawline and neck. Solana hands caressed down Josh's back, as he continued leaving tender kisses down her shoulders til he stopped at her chest. 

He took one of her breasts into his mouth, his tongue circling around the sensitive peaks. Solana let out a low whimper. Once he felt satisfied, he continued moving down til he was positioned in-between her legs. He kissed down her inner thigh, each one sending flutters through her lower abdomen. 

He continued to kiss down her inner thigh til he reached her glistening intimacy. He didn't bother with the teasing, diving straight in, taking a long swipe of his tongue in-between her folds. Solana's breath hitched at the contact, her hands immediately finding their place within his curly hair. 

He entered two fingers into her, causing her gasp at the new sensation. Solana back arched as the strong wave of pleasure washed over her "J-josh" she let out a shaky moan. 

Josh knew exactly what she wanted and he was more than happy to give it to her. His lips wrapped around the sensitive bundle of nerves, slightly sucking on it harder. Solana felt the knot in her stomach come undone, letting out a long moan.

Josh didn't stop the strokes of his fingers, kissing up her stomach til he reached the side of her neck. Kissing the sensitive spot right by her ear. He could feel her clench around his fingers as she began to squirm. "W-wait baby it's too much" she moaned out "I c-can't-"

"Yes you can" Josh cut her off, speeding up the strokes of his fingers, Solana hand immediately latching on his wrist. "Give me another one, you can do it baby" Solana breathe caught in her throat as the second orgasm hit harder than the first one, letting out a loud moan. "That's my girl" he smirked, pulling his fingers out. 

Solana bit her bottom lip as she watched him licked her essence off his fingers, before he leaned down to kiss her. She moaned into kiss as she tasted herself on his tongue. 

During the kiss, Josh swiftly took off his pajama bottoms lining himself up with her entrance. He thrust his hips forward, earning a gasp from Solana. He stilled his hips to allow her time to adjust. Solana let out a low whimper. 

"What you need baby?" Solana shifted her hips, Josh immediately took one of his hands to keep her still. "Tell me what you need princess" 

"I need you" she let out almost whisper-like. Wrapping her legs around him tighter to pull him closer. 

"I gotchu' baby," He leaned down, beginning to kiss and suck on the sensitive spot along her neck. He quickly found a steady thrust, gripping her hips for support. It wasn't long before Solana's body began to shudder and that familiar knot began to form in her lower abdomen. 

"Josh" she whimpered out a moan. Josh groan as he felt her clench around him. He angled his hips slightly, hitting a new spot that made Solana wrap her legs tighter around his waist. "Baby I'm cumming"

Josh let out a deep groan "Hold it" he stated with authority. He turned them over, Solana now straddling his waist. This new angle allowing him to go deeper. Solana moaned at the new position, her nails leaving their mark along his fully tatted back and shoulders. 

"Baby I can't hold it" she moaned out throwing her head back. 

"Look at me," he commanded. When she didn't he placed underneath the base of her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Who takes better care of you than me?" Solana couldn't come up with any words to say, her mind clouded by the feeling of Josh repeatedly hitting her spot. 

He sent a smack to her backside, she moaned out at the stinging sensation. "I won't ask again Solana" his voice dropping an octave. 

"N-nobody takes better care of me than you" she let out a shaky moan. Feeling the knot in her stomach grow stronger. 

"That's right and don't you forget that" he pulled her into a searing kiss. The hand on her neck fell down to her waist. He moaned out as he felt his own release nearing. He felt her start to slow down her movements. He gripped her waist, repeatedly slamming her down onto his lap. 

Solana pulled away from the kiss "Baby I can't hold it any longer" she whined, desperate for a release.

"Let it out ma" They both came together, letting out long drawn out moans. Josh pulling her into a bear hug position. Breathing heavy as the came down from their climax. 

Josh kept her wrapped in his arms, laying back onto the pillows. Once they caught their breath, he felt Solana's labored breathing. Signaling she was knocked out. He slightly chuckled before slowly pulling out of her, going into the bathroom to get a warm rag. He leaned over Solana, careful to not wake her as he cleaned her off. He discarded the rag before getting back in bed, pulling her into his arms drifting off to sleep soon afterwards.

Solana walked around the packed out venue greeting and having conversations with different label executives and other music artists. Tonight was the party for her album, that was finally releasing tomorrow.

She was extremely happy to be able to put out this project that she been working on for so long. All those late nights in the studio was paying off. 

Though she was happy and excited for the release, she couldn't help but to feel a bit a sadness. Josh wasn't able to make it since he had to travel. Which she understood just how demanding his career was, just like hers. 

Solana ended her conversation with her label's president, going back up to the private section she had. She grabbed a drink before walking over to the balcony area looking over the sea of people, vibing out to one of her old songs. 

She was deep in thought until a familiar deep voice pulled her out her head. "There's the woman of the hour" Solana quickly turned around, her eyes widen at the sight of Josh. She nearly ran into his arms, hugging him tightly.

"Baby what are you doing here? I thought you had a show?" Solana smiled pulling back just a little, arms still wrapped around him. "I thought you had a title match?"

"You thought I was going to miss the most important night of my woman's career?" he raised his eyebrow playfully. "Title matches will come around, but I want to be here with you"

Solana slightly blushed "Thank you for coming. It really means a lot too me" 

Josh wrapped his arms tighter around her waist, "You know I care bout everything you do" he leaned in pecking her lips a few times. "Why don't we go enjoy your night" 

Solana nodded her head. She grabbed his hand leading him deeper into the private section. For the rest of the night her and Josh stayed near each other, occasionally dancing to the beats of her songs. 

Once the beat slowed down, Josh wrapped his arms Solana from behind. They swayed slowly to song, Solana resting her head on his chest. 

She was pulled out her trance when she heard someone calling her name. She looked over seeing her manager Angela. "Hey Solana you want to say a few words, it's almost midnight"

Solana nodded her head, taking Josh hands as she walked towards the stage. The DJ phased out the music before she began talking. 

"Hey everyone," she smiled as she sent a small wave. "I just want to take the time to thank each and everyone of you for coming out tonight. This album means so much to me and I am so excited for the world to hear it. I couldn't have done this without the support of my team, Ken for working late nights with me, and the support of my husband and family" she looked at Josh as he sent a wink towards her "Again thank you for coming out to support me. Y'all enjoy Lana"

Every cheered for her as she walked off the stage and the DJ began playing one of the new songs off the album. Solana walked right into Josh's awaiting arms, giving her a kiss on her forehead. 

"I'm proud of you" Josh peered down at her, giving her a slight smile. 

She leaned up giving him a kiss, savoring this little small moment "Thank you baby". Solana felt extremely grateful in this moment. For the rest of the night the couple enjoyed themselves, celebrating the success of her newest album. 

Instagram

Liked by uceyjucey, latto, and 987k others

Lanaofficial_ thank you to my supporters and the team that’s behind me. I am so excited for y’all to hear this album. Enjoy 🤍

If you would like to leave a request go comment on this post. Check out my master list for other one shots and my other stories.

[inlovewithfionaapple]

Hi! May I please request Miko showing her gf the short hair for the first time on set for Wassup?

wassup with the hair?

warnings: none

wc: 1.2k

an: i love young mikooo!!!!!

the hum of the city was quieter than usual in the early afternoon. golden light streamed in through the high windows of the apartments, filling long slats of warmth onto the hardwood floor. y/n sat cross-legged on the couch, rifling through a magazine, but their gaze returned repeatedly to the clock on their phone.

miko was late. not in the usual, lost-in-the-studio way. no—she’d been cryptic, almost mischievous in her texts that morning.

be home in 20. don’t look at my ig. promise?

y/n had responded with a string of eye emojis and a dramatic fine, but their curiosity had only grown since. miko had been working nonstop on her new music video for "wassup," dropping little hints here and there—a new vibe, a new look. y/n was used to their girlfriend’s spontaneous spirit. miko had always been a bit of a loose cannon, on the brink of edgy and untidy, but there was something going on here. the energy in her voice, the little tremble of expectation when she called last night—it was electric.

and y/n couldn’t help but wonder.

when the door finally swung open with a soft click, y/n's head shot up.

miko came in slowly, a black hoodie pulled low over her forehead, sunglasses perched on her nose despite the fact that they were indoors. her very presence hummed with electricity. she closed the door behind herself with her heel, then stood there, grinning like a kid about to perform a magic trick.

“close your eyes.”

y/n raised an eyebrow. “seriously?”

“come onnnnn.” miko bounced on her toes. “i want a dramatic reveal. full drama. give it to me.”

y/n set the book aside, their lips twitching. “fine. i’m trusting you.”

they closed their eyes.

miko’s steps padded closer across the wood floor, the faint scent of her shampoo—bergamot and something floral—filling the space. y/n could hear her breathing quicken.

“you ready?”

y/n nodded, smiling. “ready.”

“okay. one, two… three.”

y/n opened their eyes.

and promptly let out a soft gasp.

miko stood there with her hoodie pulled down, sunglasses now hanging from the collar of her oversized graphic tee. her hair—previously waist-length—was gone.

well, not gone.

now it was a sleek, razor-sharp bob that barely grazed her jawline, the ends curled ever so slightly inward. there were subtle streaks of ginger threaded through the brown, catching the sunlight like veins of moonlight.

it was bold and sharp, yet polished. and it made miko look older, cooler—like someone who’d stepped straight out of a edgy magazine and into y/n's living room.

y/n blinked.

“holy shit,” they whispered.

miko tilted her head, a little self-conscious now. “you like it?”

y/n stood, shuffling over slowly as if in awe that miko existed. they reached out, gently brushing a hand through the freshly cut hair, marveling at the silky texture and how perfectly it suited her.

“i love it,” they said, eyes shining. “you look like a pop assassin.”

miko burst out laughing. “a what?”

“like—like you just walked off the set of a spy movie where you kill people with killer vocals.”

miko did a dramatic spin, letting the bob swish around her jaw. “exactly the vibe. it’s for ‘wassup.’” y/n's eyes sparkled. “well, mission accomplished. you look dangerously hot.”

miko’s grin turned slightly crooked, pleased. “i was so nervous, though. like, what if you hated it? it’s such a big change…”

y/n gently cupped miko’s face, thumbs grazing her cheeks. “miko, you could shave your head bald and i’d still be obsessed with you.”

“even if i dyed it neon green and put spikes in it?”

“i’d buy a matching mohawk wig and we’d be the coolest couple at any club.”

miko leaned in, forehead resting against y/n's. “god, you’re perfect.”

y/n smiled. “only because you’re insane.”

they kissed—slow, warm, and familiar, like home—but with a fresh spark, something electric humming beneath the surface. miko’s new look gave the moment a strange, almost surreal edge. like kissing a new version of someone they already loved. reinvention wrapped in the same heartbeat.

when they finally pulled apart, miko pulled y/n over to the couch and flopped down beside them.

“so,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows. “wanna see the teaser?”

y/n's eyebrows shot up. “wait, you brought it with you?”

miko grabbed her phone from her back pocket. “it’s not out yet, obviously. but i got the near-final cut today. just a sneak peek. director’s being super protective, but i told him you were worth breaking the rules for.”

y/n mock-swooned. “flattery and contraband content? be still my heart.”

miko hit play and turned the screen toward her.

the screen filled with flashes of deep neon purples and blues. rain-slicked alleyways. motorcycle tires screeching across glistening asphalt. then—miko, center frame, hair whipping as she stepped into a spotlight, lips curled in a smirk, the bassline of "wassup" kicking in heavy and dirty.

y/n watched in awe.

miko didn’t just look different. she moved different. fiercer. tighter. every move was precise. her voice floated above the beat like smoke—confident, teasing, untouchable.

by the time the teaser ended with a close-up of miko smirking into the camera, whispering, “wassup?” before the screen went black, y/n was speechless.

miko looked at them. “well?”

y/n blinked. “i don’t even have words. you’re amazing, miko.”

“i was hoping it’d punch.”

“it slaps. it headbutts. it roundhouse kicks.”

miko giggled and leaned back, visibly relieved. “thank god. i was losing sleep over whether i’d pulled it off.”

“you did more than pull it off. you reinvented yourself without losing an ounce of what makes you you. that doesn't happen often, you know.”

miko glanced at them, eyes softer now. “that’s the thing. every time i try something new, i think about what you’ll say. you see me clearer than anyone.”

y/n reached over, threading their fingers through miko’s. “that’s ‘cause i love all your versions. the hoodie miko who makes weird late-night demos. the glam miko who kills on stage. even bob-cut neon assassin miko. they’re all you.”

miko leaned her head on y/n's shoulder, exhaling deeply. “this album’s a big leap. i’m experimenting with sounds i’ve never touched before. people might not like it.”

“people are going to love it. and if they don’t, screw them.”

miko looked up, lips twitching. “damn. can you come on tour and say that into the mic every night before i go onstage?”

“only if i get a glittery headset and a dressing room.”

“deal.”

they sat in silence for a bit, the warmth between them pulsing steady like a bassline.

after a while, miko spoke again, softer this time. “you know, i got the cut for the video, but… i also think i needed a change. i was stuck in my own head. this”—she gestured to the sleek bob—“it’s like shedding old skin. making space for something new.”

y/n turned, brushing a strand of hair behind miko’s ear. “you didn’t need to change for anyone. but i get it. and i think you look like the future.”

miko smiled. “you’re gonna make me cry.”

“if you do, it’ll mess up your eyeliner.”

they both laughed again, easy and light. the kind of laughter that filled cracks and stitched things together.

outside, the sun dipped lower, casting everything in amber. the world kept moving. but here, in their quiet corner of it, two girls held each other and marveled at how love could anchor and launch you all at once.

[littlejoyss]

𝓯𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 6

“One single thread of gold tied me to you.”

Stray Kids - Felix x Reader

Red (golden) string of fate trope

Word count (so far): 19k

𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 ← 𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 → 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽

Redesigning an entire collection and creating it in three weeks was ambitious, but it felt right.

Hyejin, however, was skeptical. She stopped by your worktable two mornings later, an eyebrow already raised. “You're not still trying to redo the entire lineup, are you?”

You didn’t look up from the muslin draft you were pinning. “I’m not trying. I am.”

She let out a low whistle. “That’s… a fashion career death wish.”

“Maybe,” you said, carefully marking a dart with chalk. “But the original collection’s dead. All I can do now is make something that feels alive again.”

Hyejin tilted her head. “You do realize the judges won’t care how you got there, right? All they see is the final product.”

You finally looked up, meeting her gaze head-on. “Then I’m going to make damn sure it’s something they can’t ignore.”

She studied you for a moment longer. Then, to your surprise, she gave a small nod. “Bold move,” she said. “We’ll see if it pays off.”

As she walked away, you weren’t sure if that was approval or a warning.

Seojin showed up earlier than usual that day, lugging a bag of snacks. “Emergency provisions,” she said, tossing it onto the nearest stool. “Also, I ran into Hyejin in the hallway. She said, and I quote, ‘Your designer is on a warpath.’”

You snorted. “Good. Let them know I’m not going down quietly.”

Seojin grinned. “Damn right you’re not.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The golden thread between you and Felix pulsed gently from your pinky, glowing brighter with every day that passed. He hadn’t missed a single night. He’d show up after practice, hair damp, sometimes dragging his guitar or a book to quietly keep himself busy while you worked.

Some nights, he helped you organize swatches and beads. Others, he just leaned against the doorframe and watched you with that small, crooked smile like you were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

Once, at 2 a.m., when you nearly broke down after ruining an entire sleeve, he simply pulled you into a hug and held you.

Tonight was no different, he was sorting thread in the corner while you worked. You turned to him, “You know…I should visit you at work one of these days. You always visit me.”

He chuckled. “I don’t know if you’d want to do that. The guys can be….much.”

“How so?”

“Well, they keep asking me questions about you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

Felix gave you a sheepish look, the corners of his mouth twitching. “You know… if you’re real, for one. Minho keeps calling you my ‘imaginary fashion soulmate.’”

You laughed. “Wow. I’m honored. I guess.”

He continued, pulling a spool of deep emerald thread from the pile. “Chan asked if you were the reason I started writing those softer lyrics lately. And Hyunjin wanted to know if you’ve ever designed for idols before because he’s ‘absolutely willing to be a muse.’”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “Tell Hyunjin he’s too tall and dramatic for my current collection.”

“Oh, I did. He said, and I quote, ‘Tragic. The world isn’t ready for this silhouette anyway.’”

You snorted, setting down your chalk. “Maybe I do need to meet them.”

Felix looked up, his smile softening into something more sincere. “They’d love that. But no pressure. I just… want you to know you’re not just in my world at this dimly lit studio. You’re allowed in the rest of it, too.”

“I’d like that,” you said quietly. “Soon.”

You continued sewing gold details on the pants you were currently working on.

“I think this is my favorite one,” Felix said suddenly.

You looked over your shoulder. “The pants?”

He nodded. “That gold detail on the side, it’s like armor. But delicate. Regal.”

You smiled faintly, returning your focus to the needle. “That’s kind of what I was going for. Gold has been an important color to me recently. 

Felix didn’t respond right away, but when you looked up again, he was watching you with that look again, like you were building stars from fabric and thread. Despite how fast it had all unfolded, barely a week and a half since you met, he felt familiar. Like you’d known him forever. Maybe that was just what a golden thread did. Or maybe it was just… him.

Then, he spoke, “I think I should hang out with you wherever you're staying, instead of meeting after hours in this studio.”

“Not because I don’t love being here,” he added quickly, gesturing around your cluttered, half-lit workspace. “This place is… kind of magical, honestly. But I think it’s time I show up in the daylight.”

You set the fabric down, your chest tightening with something warm. “You don’t have to do that. I know you have a busy schedule.” 

“I know,” he said. “But I want to. I want to know the version of you that isn’t always in fight mode. Not always racing against time, or sewing until your fingers cramp. I want to see what you’re like when you get to just… exist. Laugh. Sleep before 4 a.m.”

Your lips curved, quietly touched. “You really want to hang out in my dingy hotel while I stress-eat cereal and wear ugly slippers?”

“I would be honored,” Felix grinned. 

“That sounds… really nice,” you said finally. “I think I’d like that.”

Felix leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Then it’s a date.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The next day, Felix made time to come over to your hotel. “Holy shit. You weren’t wrong. This place looks like I’m about to get abducted…” He looked at the hotel you were staying at. 

You laughed as you unlocked the door, the rusted knob sticking for a moment before clicking open. “Well, if you vanish, at least it’ll be a very fashionable true crime documentary.”

Felix gave you a mock-wounded look as he stepped inside. “And here I thought you’d fight to the death for me.”

“Oh, I would,” you said over your shoulder. “But I’m also practical. I’d need a compelling outfit for the courtroom scenes.”

That made him laugh, the sound echoing warmly in the small room. He looked around, taking in the mismatched furniture, the half-empty sketchbooks stacked on the desk, and your makeshift sewing kit spread across the windowsill.

“It's kind of perfect, actually,” he said. “Very you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Messy and exhausted?”

“Creative. Determined. Chaotic in a charming way.” He walked over and plucked a safety pin from your tangled pin cushion. “And full of tiny weapons.” Then, he nudged your shoulder with his. “So. What’s the plan for tonight? Another seven-hour sewing sprint? Or can I convince you to take a break and watch something that doesn’t involve fabric or fashion?”

You groaned dramatically. “The guilt of not working might kill me.”

“Then let it,” he teased, voice low. “Just for one night. I feel the same way whenever I go to your prep studio at night. I should be writing lyrics or practicing choreo. But I don’t. Because you’re my soulmate.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. But I get to pick the movie.”

“Deal,” he said, already turning on his laptop. “But if it’s Project Runway, I swear-”

“Absolutely not,” you cut in. “We’re watching something with zero career relevance.”

You ended up curled beneath the blankets together, a ridiculous rom-com playing on your laptop, Felix's arm draped around your shoulders, his thumb absently tracing the curve of your arm.

You haven’t kissed since that night in your studio. Maybe you both were just sleep deprived and acted silly…but as Felix’s fingers lightly tapped a rhythm against your arm, you wondered if maybe it wasn’t silly at all. 

Halfway through the movie, your head had tipped against his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, just tilted his own slightly to rest against yours, the weight of it grounding you more than you expected. The golden thread still looped between you, shimmered faintly where it peeked from beneath the blanket.

“I like this,” you murmured, eyes on the screen but not really watching.

Felix turned his head just enough to glance at you. “The movie?”

You hummed. “This. You. The quiet. It doesn’t feel like I’m wasting time.”

He nodded. “I used to think time spent not working was time I had to earn. Like I had to check off every box on some invisible list before I was allowed to rest.” He shifted slightly so he could see your face better. “But then you happened. And I don’t feel like I have to earn anything with you. Just… be.”

You turned your head to meet his gaze, your breath catching at how open his expression was. Soft, maybe a little vulnerable. But sure.

“You make it really hard to keep my emotional walls up,” you said quietly.

“Good,” he said, just as quietly. “I’m not trying to knock them down, but I’d love it if you let me in.”

The space between you wasn’t very big. It never had been. The golden thread, now fully visible in the glow of the laptop screen, pulsed once, like it knew the moment was important.

You leaned in first again. It wasn’t a dramatic kiss this time, not some cinematic, sweeping gesture, it was smaller. Slower. More intentional. 

When you pulled back, Felix smiled that quiet, contented smile again. “You taste like cereal,” he whispered.

You laughed, face heating. “Wow, so romantic.”

“Captain Crunch? That tasted awesome,” he grinned. 

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “We’re having a Moment, Lix. Why do you have to go and say things like that?”

“Because you’re cute when you’re flustered,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Then, softer, “And I don’t want this to be too perfect. I like us messy. Real.”

You peeked at him through your fingers. “You think this is real?”

“I think it’s the most real thing I’ve had in a long time,” he said, not hesitating.

“…me too,” you whispered.

Felix let out a breath and leaned back into the pillows, tugging you gently with him until your head rested against his chest and you could hear the steady thump of his heart. You stayed like that for a while, the movie forgotten, your fingers tracing little loops on his hoodie.

Eventually, he spoke again. “So… if I brought my keyboard over sometime, would you help me write a song?”

You looked up at him. “I don’t really know how to write music.”

He smiled. “Doesn’t matter. I just want to write something with you. Something that sounds like us.”

Your chest ached in the best kind of way. “Okay. But only if we write it in this murder hotel. It’s part of the artistic process.”

“Oh, absolutely. Tragic love song. Barely-working plumbing. A ghost in the hallway. It’s the perfect vibe.”

You snorted. “We’ll call it Threadbare Hearts.”

Felix grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Stop, that’s actually good.”

“Of course it is. I’m the creative genius, remember?”

“Right,” he said, kissing your temple. “The exhausted, cereal-flavored genius who I’m completely in love with.”

You blinked.

He blinked.

Silence.

“…Was that?” you started.

“A confession?” he said quickly. “Yes. That was. Unless it freaked you out, and then it was totally a joke and I-”

“I love you, too.”

“You- wait, really?” he asked, voice barely more than a breath.

You nodded slowly, fingers still resting lightly on the fabric of his hoodie. “Yeah. I didn’t mean to say it yet. I thought I’d wait until after I survived the show, or the next time we kissed, or… I don’t know. Something more polished. But you said it, and I realized I didn’t want to wait.”

His face cracked into that stunned, radiant smile, the one that lit up his whole expression and made you feel like maybe the universe knew exactly what it was doing when it tangled your lives together, “If I kissed you, would you say it again though?”

“Maybe,” you whispered, “but only if you do it right.”

When his lips finally met yours, it was gentle, careful, like he was memorizing the feel of you. You leaned in, closing the small distance with a sigh, the world narrowing down to just the two of you and the quiet hum of the old hotel around you.

After a bit, you pulled back slightly, forehead resting against his. “I love you.”

taglist (comment to be added): @shinygubbins @lizzygd @btch8008s @under--space @monniemons @chimmyn0chu @wickedbutlovely @hyunjinsculpture @beal-o @valkirymin @moonlitcelestial @wolfhallows4m @beepybeesnuggets @eridanuswave @lynastrawberry @multiifanbigbang @yxna-bliss @chasinghxran @velvetmoonlght

[ssrstidio]

Best Makeup and Hair Artist in Colorado

SSR Studio is a premier makeup and hair artist in Colorado, offering top-notch beauty services for all occasions. With our skilled team of professionals, we create stunning looks tailored to each client's unique style and preferences. Whether it's for photoshoots or special events, we ensure an unforgettable experience, leaving you looking flawless and confident. Trust us to bring out your natural beauty and make every moment special.

[princessseeun]

"Something More"

pairings: niki x m!reader

genre: angst, fluff

a.n. : anon requested, pls req more 😞

They were a packaged deal.

Ni-ki and M/n.

One name rarely existed without the other.

They were a story that began before either of them had even considered the possibility of stardom. It started in a modest dance studio in Japan, both of them still children, with scabbed knees and hopeful hearts. They were rivals, they were friends, they were two forces that collided and never parted since.

They spent hours perfecting the same choreography, watching each other with silent determination, pushing each other forward. There were moments when they danced so in sync that their instructors paused to watch in quiet awe. Moments when they sat on the wooden floor of the studio, sweat clinging to their skin, panting but smiling, because they had each other.

When Ni-ki confessed that he wanted to chase his dream in Korea, M/n was right there, stubbornly filling out the same audition forms. Ni-ki had always been confident, but that day, he had looked unsure, his hands wringing nervously. M/n had simply smiled and nudged him.

"You’re not going alone."

When Ni-ki passed I-LAND, so did M/n. When Ni-ki became ENHYPEN, M/n was announced as the 8th member right after him.

They were inseparable.

People stopped asking if something was going on between them. They just assumed it. Because it wasn’t uncommon to see Ni-ki practically glued to M/n’s side, to see M/n’s hand resting on Ni-ki’s thigh, to find them asleep in each other’s beds after long nights of practice. It was in the way they leaned on each other, the way their eyes always searched for the other’s in crowded rooms. It was natural. It was normal.

To everyone else, it was obvious.

Except Ni-ki.

M/n had let himself live in the illusion for years.

He told himself he could handle it. That he could keep being Ni-ki’s safe place, his constant, his best friend. That he could keep holding Ni-ki’s hand without wanting to thread their fingers together like lovers. That he could fall asleep next to Ni-ki and not wish he could pull him closer, press his lips to his shoulder, confess everything.

But the illusion started to crack.

It became unbearable, knowing that he would always mean something different to Ni-ki than Ni-ki meant to him. The weight of unspoken feelings started to choke him. Every hug burned. Every night in the same bed felt like punishment. Every casual brush of Ni-ki’s fingers made him ache in places he couldn’t bandage.

It wasn’t that Ni-ki was careless. It was that he didn’t know. He didn’t understand the way M/n’s heart skipped when Ni-ki’s head found his shoulder, the way M/n’s breath caught when Ni-ki's fingers laced through his in the dark.

So he started to pull away.

First, he let go of Ni-ki’s hand quicker. Then, he stopped lingering after practices. He stopped crawling into Ni-ki’s bed at night. He started sleeping with his back turned in their shared hotel rooms. The distance between them grew, inch by inch, day by day.

Ni-ki noticed.

Of course he noticed.

He just didn’t know why.

It frustrated him, how M/n slipped away like sand through his fingers. How the boy who used to always be within arm’s reach now drifted farther and farther, building invisible walls Ni-ki didn’t know how to break down.

“Are you and your boyfriend fighting?” Heeseung asked one night, lounging on the couch, barely looking up from his phone.

Ni-ki nearly dropped his drink. “What—what are you talking about?”

Sunghoon looked over from the other side of the room, eyebrows lifting in mild surprise. “Yeah, you and M/n. You’ve been weird lately. Everyone’s noticed.”

“Weird how?” Ni-ki asked, frowning.

“You’re not stuck to each other anymore,” Sunghoon pointed out. “You don’t even sit together.”

“And M/n looks like someone kicked his puppy every time you walk into a room,” Heeseung added. “Don’t tell me you really didn’t notice.”

Ni-ki scowled. “He’s my best friend. It’s not like that.”

“You sure about that?” Heeseung challenged, setting his phone down.

Before Ni-ki could snap back, the front door clicked open.

M/n walked in, eyes flicking briefly to Ni-ki. His lips pressed into a tight line, his pace quickening as he disappeared down the hall without a word.

The silence was deafening.

Heeseung gave Ni-ki a long, pointed look. “Not like that, huh?”

The distance gnawed at Ni-ki.

It hurt. More than he wanted to admit.

The practice room felt colder without M/n’s laugh echoing beside him. His bed felt too big. His days felt emptier. He caught himself reaching for a hand that wasn’t there anymore, waiting for a presence that never came.

He missed M/n like he was missing a part of himself.

Ni-ki tried. He tried to brush against M/n’s arm in passing, to sit beside him like he used to, but M/n would stiffen, quietly inch away. He wouldn’t even meet Ni-ki’s gaze anymore.

Ni-ki stopped sleeping. He tossed and turned, replaying every memory, every moment, wondering when he had started needing M/n this much. Wondering why his chest ached so terribly now that M/n was gone.

“I miss him,” Ni-ki confessed one night, slumped in the living room, his voice small. “I miss my best friend.”

“Are you sure that’s all he is to you?” Heeseung asked softly.

Ni-ki opened his mouth. Closed it.

His mind spun back through years of memories—the hand-holding, the cuddling, the quiet nights tangled together in bed, the way his heartbeat always calmed when M/n was close, the way his world brightened when M/n smiled at him.

He thought it was just comfort. Just friendship.

But why did it feel like his chest was caving in without M/n?

Why did it feel like breathing hurt?

Realization hit him like a tidal wave.

“I’m in love with him,” Ni-ki whispered, wide-eyed. “I’ve been in love with him this whole time.”

Heeseung’s soft chuckle broke through his panic. “Finally caught up, huh?”

Ni-ki didn’t wait another day.

He barged into M/n’s room, his heart hammering in his chest.

M/n was pulling on a hoodie, his back turned. “Can we not do this right now?”

“No,” Ni-ki snapped, his voice shaking. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“Ni-ki, please…”

“Did I do something wrong? Just tell me. Please. I miss you. I miss us.”

M/n flinched. His hands trembled at his sides. “There is no us.”

“Don’t say that.”

“You don’t get it,” M/n breathed, finally turning, his eyes glassy. “You never did.”

“Then help me understand.”

“I never wanted to be an idol,” M/n confessed, his voice breaking. “I never dreamed of this. I only came because you did. Because I wanted to be with you.”

Ni-ki’s chest tightened.

“My whole life, my whole dream—it’s always been you.” Tears slipped down M/n’s cheeks. “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since we were fourteen.”

Ni-ki felt the air knock out of his lungs.

“And the skinship, the cuddling, all of it—it makes it worse because I know it doesn’t mean the same to you. It hurts because you’re so close, and I can’t have you the way I want to.”

Ni-ki crossed the room in two steps.

His hands cupped M/n’s face, his touch trembling.

He kissed him.

Soft. Hesitant. Real.

When they broke apart, Ni-ki rested their foreheads together, breathing hard. “You’re so stupid.”

M/n blinked through his tears. “What?”

“Of course I mean it the same way. I just didn’t know. I didn’t realize it was love because you’ve always been part of me.” Ni-ki smiled, his thumb brushing away M/n’s tears. “You’re my dream too. Not dancing. Not debuting. Just you.”

M/n laughed, choked and breathless, leaning into Ni-ki’s touch. “We’re idiots.”

“Yeah.” Ni-ki grinned. “But we’re idiots together now.”

And this time, neither of them let go.

[asraxfile]

♱⋰ 𝗆𝗂𝖽𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾

sypnosis comforting Yunjin after reading the recent hate comments. genre fluff, angst, comfort warnings yall's fucking hate comments to my baby SHE DOESN'T DESERVE THIS. kissing, crying wc 1.2k

a/n: idgaf if she drank starbucks yall are so stupid cause war isn't gonna stop if people suddenly stop drinking or promoting starbucks. Yall know damn well hybe silences their idols about speaking up anyway. Enjoy reading anywayy ^^

Though the night was one of the peaceful ones, Yunjin’s head rushes with stress and hateful thoughts about herself. Scrolling through the blue bird app, twitter, she was met by everyone sharing their thoughts on the group LE SSERAFIM and they were no good. 

Tears started forming in her brown eyes as she leaned into her chair. Yunjin placed the phone on her table and rubbed her face then her eyes. She puts on her light colored cap and her black glasses. Tears started forming in her brown eyes as she leaned into her chair, letting out a deep exhale. 

She knew the members didn’t do a great job on Coachella during spring, she knew she shouldn’t have drank Starbucks in public, she knew they had to work harder. Death threads were aimed right at her and her members and so did countless fans who stopped stanning them. It’s all her fault she would think. 

She felt worthless, like there was no escape to this reality. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as she lowered her hat down, hiding her face. Though it hurt like hell, the company silenced not only her but other idols speaking about certain themes, meaning she has to get over this. 

She needed comfort in this chaos, she needed reassurance, she needed you. 

Yunjin didn’t wanna bother you so she didn’t message you to come to her, you must’ve been too busy for her. Inhaling deeply, her nose was clogged with the feeling of sadness. Tears couldn’t stop flowing down her face. She leaned her head to her palms, letting the tears wet the tip of her fingers. 

Suddenly, she hears a knock on the door, afterwards, she hears a familiar voice.

“Yunjin, dear? Can I come in?” you called out on the other side of the door, clearly with a worried tone.

Yunjin’s heart dropped to the sudden noise, she didn’t want you to see her like this—so weak and worthless. Rubbing away the tears and clearing her throat she stands up to take a tissue. “J-just a second.” she spoke up, her shaky voice disclosed her current state making you furrow your eyebrows. You knew her like the other side of your palm, but you didn’t rush her to open the door. 

After a minute or two she lets you in, opening the door slowly. Her white mask and light beige cap covered almost her whole face—except her eyes who were kinda reddish.

You smiled reassuringly. With a steady move you open your arms to pull your girlfriend into a comforting hug. Noticing, she hugged you a bit tighter than usual—you knew she cried. You noticed her nose being filled with heavy breathing and her fidgeting her fingers. 

She let you inside the studio room, letting you close the door as Yunjin dragged the 2nd chair next to hers. “H-how come that you came?” Yunjin managed to mumble out with a little more courage this time, she really didn’t expect you right now. Turning to her, you held your phone in your left hand as you closed the door fully. You smiled once again, “I guess I just missed you.” as you huffed a chuckle. 

You sat down next to Yunjin who stayed quiet at your words, a sniff leaving her nose. “You surprised me, I couldn’t guess if you would–” she avoided your gaze, but you interrupted her. 

“Yunjin,” you start with a serious tone, startling Yunjin. Finally making her face you, you gaze at her until you grasp to take off her mask. “Don’t hide from me, I can see something’s bothering you dear.” you reassure her, holding her hands. “I’m always here for you.” 

Yunjin’s breath hitched as your words broke through the walls she’d been trying to hide in. Her lips trembled, and despite her best efforts, her emotions spilled out in waves. Tears welled up once more in her eyes as her hands clung to yours like a lifeline.

"I-I just..." she stammered, struggling to form her words. "I feel like... I’m not enough. Like I’m letting everyone down. The fans, the members... even you." Her head lowered as she avoided your gaze again, her vulnerability laid bare. “The hate we’re getting is all my fault..If only I,” she stops mid sentence, tears coming once again, that disgusting feeling wandering her mind once again. “If only I was more careful or-” Her voice cracked as well as your heart that ached upon her sadness. 

With no further hesitation you pulled her into a tight hug, not caring if she started bawling her eyes out again. Yunjin buried her head deep into your shoulder, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. “It’s okay, let it all out. I’m not leaving.” you whispered into her ears as she sobbed. 

You two stayed like that for a couple of minutes that felt like an eternity. But it didn’t matter–you just wanted to comfort her and make her sadness fade away. As Yunjin clung to you, her sobs eventually lightened. Gently, you rubbed her back in slow, soothing movements, whispering soft reassurances into her ear. “You don’t have to carry this weight alone, Yunjin. You’ve been so strong and know it’s not your fault.”

Her arms tightened around you, and her voice came in shaky whispers. “I know but...It’s just... so much. I don’t know how to stop feeling like this.” she slightly pulled away from the hug as you gently pulled her to sit on your lap. Staying as close as possible. 

You leaned back in your chair, just enough to look into her soft  teary eyes. With both hands, you cupped her cheeks, your thumbs gently brushing away the tears that still clung to her skin. Her watery eyes met your worried ones. “You really think it’s not my fault? Even with everything... drinking starbucks, lack in singing, the criticism...”

“It’s not your fault,” you said firmly, your tone leaving no space for doubt. “People can be cruel, but that’s on them, not you. You’re human, Yunjin. You make mistakes, but that doesn’t mean you can’t learn from them. You’re so much more than what anyone else says or thinks.”

Yunjin’s lips tightened, but a faint smile began to appear. It was small, but it was there—a spark of hope breaking through. You took her hands in yours again, holding them tightly. “You’re an incredible person, and you’ve achieved so much. Look at everything you’ve done, all the people you’ve inspired. None of that is erased by a bad day or by what others think.”

She nodded slowly, her voice soft but steadier. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you. You always know how to make me feel like... maybe I am enough.”

“You are enough,” you said, your voice unwavering. “To me, to your members, to so many people who love and admire you—you’re more than enough.” 

Yunjin let out a shaky breath, leaning her forehead against yours. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude. “Thank you for being here.”

“Always,” you replied softly, your fingers tracing through hers. “We’ll get through this together.” Once again your eyes met hers. It was a sudden movement but both of you accepted it. 

You pulled Yunjin into a short but comforting kiss, just a sweet little thing to make her smile again. She held your shoulders as your grip on her waist tightened—you’re not letting her go especially in a moment like this. 

“I love you.” Yunjin whispered out with a smile. Grinning back, you chuckled upon her confession. “I love you too, dear.” as you kissed her once again.