⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀apreciada⠀⠀⸺⠀⠀a highly selective writing archive dedicated to exploring the narratives of multiple original characters, pressed between pages by soso. the writer is twenty - three, going by she / her pronouns⠀⠀&.⠀⠀observing the brt / gmt - 3 timezone. rules may be found under the read more.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀do not interact if you are under the age of twenty, write taboo / dead dove do not eat topics, classify as a smut - only / krp blog, or use ai. only procceed if you genuinely plan on writing with me. i softblock / hardblock freely. reading discretion is advised as excerpts found here may contain mature themes.
⠀⠀✦⠀⠀this blog may mention⠀⠀&.⠀⠀explore topics such as alcohol usage, drug usage, blood, family trauma, mild violence⠀⠀&.⠀⠀nsfw. i will only be writing smut / suggestive content with mutuals under a read more⠀⠀;⠀⠀the interaction may fade to black if preferred. topics such as detailed / graphic violence, age gaps wider than + 5 years⠀⠀&.⠀⠀pregnancy will only be written if discussed beforehand.
⠀⠀✦⠀⠀my formatting consists of medium gifs, double spacing, small text⠀⠀&.⠀⠀colorful accents. i am willing to switch formats to better accomodate my partner's wish / preference. please, use whichever format you prefer⠀⠀&.⠀⠀is best for you⠀⠀;⠀⠀but i do ask that you do not use spacing any bigger than four⠀⠀&.⠀⠀gif icons when interacting with me.
⠀⠀✦⠀⠀for a proper list containing faceclaims i am selective with⠀⠀&.⠀⠀strictly banned faces, please refer to this list. standard rule of no faceclaims under the age of twenty - one, faceclaims who wish to not be used⠀⠀&.⠀⠀deceased faceclaims also apply.
⠀⠀✦⠀⠀i am willing to write any dynamic, whether romantic, platonic or even familial⠀⠀;⠀⠀i am always open to plotting bonds, but i am also alright with just jumping directly into a thread / ask meme⠀⠀&.⠀⠀winging it as we go. bonds are a two - way street for me, so if i realize my partner is not putting equal effort into it, the bond⠀⠀&.⠀⠀all threads related to them will be dropped with no further notice.
⠀⠀✦⠀⠀open starters will always be considered open to new replies regardless of how old they are. i also love responding to ask memes as they give me lots of muse⠀⠀&.⠀⠀my inbox is always open for them. ask memes are always posted on a separte text post of their own in favor of giving room for my partners to turn them into proper threads if they wish to.
⠀⠀✦⠀⠀i am considerably new to indie rping⠀⠀&.⠀⠀this is a hobby to me, not a job. this blog was created with the intention to be a lighthearted⠀⠀&.⠀⠀fun writing space for me⠀⠀&.⠀⠀my writing partners. my first language is not english, therefore grammar mistakes are bound to happen. if you wish to address something, please message me privately. do not involve me in drama of any kind.
a weary sigh slips from leonardo’s lips when he finally manages to free himself from his mother’s grasp. her attention has already shifted elsewhere, forgetting all about the son she had been parading around like a trophy only moments before, now fully occupied with the dresses of a group of friends who had just arrived. events like this always unfolded the same way. the same people attended. the same conversations echoed through the ballroom. and the expectations placed upon the family’s only heir never changed. leonardo often felt like a dog tethered to a leash at its owners’ feet, expected to perform tricks on command: discussing business with partners, nodding politely at their wives, offering practiced smiles to daughters everyone hoped would catch his interest. before long, it all became exhausting, and he would find himself waiting for the perfect opportunity to slip away. like now.
the building had hosted enough family events over the years for leonardo to know every route by heart, every hallway and hidden turn. knew exactly which door would lead to the rooftop, a place that was probably not meant to be accessible to any of the guests currently sipping expensive champagne and discussing the most trivial matters imaginable. perhaps that was why he liked escaping there so much. it was one of the few places where he could simply exist without someone expecting something in return. cool night air rushes into his lungs the moment the door opens, drawing a satisfied breath from his chest, yet what truly eases the tension in his shoulders is the silhouette already waiting there. there is no need to see her face to know who it is. he had noticed the dress earlier that evening, had already committed to memory the way her hair fell down her back. and if there was one thing better than being alone, it was being in her company.
the door clicks shut behind him with a soft sound, and leonardo crosses the rooftop with calm, confident steps until reaching the railing beside her. “ looks like you had the same idea i did. ” the smile remains as he turns to face her. “ as always. ” leo liked those coincidences far more than he probably should have; the way every attempt to escape somehow led them both to the same place. “ the party looks beautiful, as always. the food is even better than it was at that dinner two weeks ago. but... ” a quiet laugh follows, gaze drifting briefly toward the glowing windows behind them. “ the guests are still the same, so eventually there’s a need to get out of there. ” another small sigh escapes. “ how are you? ”
⠀⠀⠀⊹ ࣪ ˖⠀⠀⠀the city stretches beneath hyeonju in ribbons of gold and white, mimicking the crystal chandeliers that cast their glow over perfectly arranged tables inside. every floral arrangement was sitting exactly where intended, all courses were leaving the kitchen on schedule, and every guest was remarking how effortless it all feels. effortless ... if only they knew. the night air slips beneath loose strands of hair she'd long surrendered to the cold breeze, cooling the warmth left behind by hours of robotic smiling, greeting and adjusting of details that no one else would really notice. should probably be inside, making one last run through the ballroom before the usual speeches of the night begin. knows someone will come look for her eventually.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it's the click of the rooftop door that pulls her from her train of thoughts, and body doesn't really have to turn in order to figure out of who does the new presence belongs to for his footsteps are all familiar now : unhurried, carrying none of the performance he normally wears. for two people whose lives are dictated by schedules and expectations, perhaps their rooftop meetings aren't really coincidences anymore. perhaps these rooftops have simply become the only places left where neither of them have to pretend to be anyone else. eyes finally shift sideways as leonardo settles beside her, one shoulder resting lightly against the cold metal of the railing. the way the tie he'd worn so impeccably earlier is loosened enough does not go by unnoticed and some quiet, selfish part is glad to see it, while the commentary about the party draws a soft laugh. ❛ we're really both professionals at surviving evenings like these, huh ? ❜ the words come after a thoughtful moment, lips curving almost apologetically now.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❛ wow, this is the first time tonight anyone's asked me that without needing something afterward, ❜ the admission slips out before she can hold it back or polish it, eyes remaining fixed on the skyline still instead of him. ❛ i'm alright. just exhausted in a way no more flutes of champagne can help. ❜ a light laugh, followed by a brief pause. head finally moves so she's eyeing him properly now as she nudges his figure gently with her elbow. hyeonju knows that look in the man's eyes, has seen several versions of it from across countless ballrooms before, long before either of them ever admitted these rooftop escapes had become routine — the expression of someone who has been applauded all evening, but wasn't actually really seen once. it all feels achingly familiar. ❛ they're proud of you tonight. i heard your mom introduce you to like ⸺ three different groups of people before dessert time. ❜ she lets out a quiet breath through her nose ; no judgement, just observation.
everything had happened far too fast. the flash of light, the violent jolt, the brief surge of panic that had frozen donghan completely in place. all that remained was the frantic pounding of his heart against his ribs, the loud ringing in his left ear, and the pain radiating mercilessly from his right arm, but there was no time to focus on any of it. through the haze of disorientation, he saw the other car beside his own, its front end still buried in the wreckage. blinking hard to clear the headache throbbing behind his eyes, shoved the driver's door open and stumbled out onto the pavement, clutching the injured arm against his chest with the help of the other hand. there was no need to search for the damage. it was right there for everyone to see. “ fuck’s sake... ” the curse slipped out under his breath. this was going to cause a massive problem and cost a ridiculous amount of money, and the thought alone was enough to make irritation flare beneath his skin. “ congratulations, idiot! look what you did! ” barked at the other driver, making his way toward the car.
the figure that emerged from the other vehicle was neither a stranger nor someone truly familiar. jieun’s presence had always been a constant one in donghan’s life whenever racing was involved, noticeable enough that she never escaped his attention, yet distant enough to leave no doubt that they were rivals and nothing more. even so, there was a strange attraction there that had always been difficult to classify, something caught between admiration and desire. at the moment, however, the last thing on his mind was how beautiful she looked, even if that thought stubbornly lingered somewhere in the background. the real concern was figuring out how he was going to deal with the disaster sitting between them. “ isn't knowing how to drive a prerequisite for racing? ” he asked. “ how exactly did you mistake my car for the road? care to explain that? ” a humorless scoff followed, gaze flicking toward the twisted metal before returning to her. “ i've seen reckless drivers before, but this is honestly impressive. ” the sarcasm sharpened the next words. “ something tells me you need to get your eyes checked, princess, because you're clearly not seeing straight. ”
⠀⠀⠀⊹ ࣪ ˖⠀⠀⠀the world stops with a crunch of twisting metal. the ringing in jieun's ears refuses to fade, and for a heartbeat, the woman refuses to move. hands remain locked around the steering wheel, knuckles gone pale beneath fingerless gloves and breathing shallow behind the suffocating smell of burned rubber. the engine has already died, with steam hissing somewhere beyond the crumpled hood of the car. ❛ … fuck. ❜ the curse barely leaves her lips through a mutter. everything aches — her shoulder, her ribs ... a dull pulse also blooms behind her eyes, but none of that compares to the sight waiting beyond the windshield. her car, or more so what's left of it. months of late - night repairs, every prize won, every bill she'd barely managed to pay reduced to twisted metal in the span of a second. gone, just like that. the driver's door groans against bent metal before finally giving way after she forces it open, figure climbing out with the help of unsteady boots on the asphalt. one hand instinctively presses against what she's certain is her now bruised side, and the world tilts for half a second. she blinks until it steadies, then a familiar voice cuts through the haze.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀of course. the universe just has to make the night worse, so of course it sends donghan.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀his figure stalks toward her, cradling his arm against his chest, already throwing accusations before he's even close enough for either of them to make the other's expression out. jieun watches him in silence as he talks, jaw tightening as the sarcasm keeps coming, sharp as the broken glass of their car windows, until finally ... princess. there it is. a slow breath leaves her nose at the term that is laced with everything except endearment. ❛ are you done with the whining ? ❜ the question comes out flat, almost bored, while gaze travels over him with deliberate slowness. his posture isn't right, his breathing is too measured, and he's favoring one arm far more than he'd probably like to admit ... she'd hate to admit that his state is one of the first things she notices, too. ❛ i don’t need your stupid self of all people giving me driving lessons. i know where my car was⸺ ❜ the response comes on auto - pilot, but shortly after the words catch. because she does know — her line into the corner had been clean, the speed wasn't reckless ( at least, not for her ), and she had taken that bend enough times to drive it blindfolded ... so why ? jieun doesn't just drive straight into another racer like that. and as she ponders over how she's built her reputation on control, precision and not missing corners and how ridiculous it all sounds now, the silence stretches between them. it only breaks when she realizes donghan is probably expecting another bite, another insult from her and she exhales sharply, head shaking to dismiss any thought before it settles too deeply.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❛ and i appreciate the worry over my eyesight, but i believe you should be concerned over your lack of balance and that⸺ ❜ a brief tilt of her chin towards his figure, pointing at the way he seems to be holding his arm tighter than mere minutes ago. the color seems to have also drained from his face beneath all the spectacle and the righteous indignation. idiot. ❛ you’re one good breeze away from hitting the pavement. ❜ a beat. before he can mistake it any further for sympathy, eyes roll nearly to the back of her head as she clicks her tongue and looks once more at the wreckage between them, then back at his face. something is wrong — not with her driving, but with the car, and the certainty settles low in her stomach, stubborn but quiet for now. ❛ it’d be humiliating having to explain to others that my biggest competitor lost because he broke his bones like some five year old kid, huh ? ❜
experience as a first - aid responder surely comes in handy in situations like this. he could easily list tending to mason's wounds as part of his professional experience and get hired anywhere. “ then make better decisions, ” he responds flatly. he isn't annoyed though there is a hint of it there. but he is definitely exhausted. not of mason, but of the trouble mason seems to love taking part in. he presses the antiseptic - infused cotton a little harder than necessary against the bruise, just to get back at him even a little. a subtle smile makes an appearance on his lips before it slowly dissolves, his focus shifting back to treating the other's injuries. his experienced hands are light and gentle to the touch now, careful not to press too hard so mason doesn't pull away again.
he is accustomed to the lack of proximity when treating the wounds of strangers, but here, he finds his heart stammering against his chest. “ oh, ” he leans back a little, an amused chuckle easily escaping his lips as he eyes the other's bruises. “ wow, that's winning ? i wouldn't want to see what losing looks like,” he teases before returning to clean up the wounds, applying ointment to make sure they don't get infected. “ take your shirt off, ” he says as he casts aside the used bandages. then he looks at him, flicking his nose. “ i am being a professional here. i just need to check if anything is broken. ”
⠀⠀⠀⊹ ࣪ ˖⠀⠀⠀mason lets out a soft, breathy sound that rings halfway between a laugh and a scoff because yeah, then make better decisions is fair, unfortunately. his body is already a riot of dull aches and sharp little reminders, but there's something prickling about the way minsu casually says it, as if his life wasn't built out of those exact bad decisions and stupid luck and all the kind of trouble that always seems to find him first. his mouth twitches, ❛ i could … but then where would you get your weekend night entertainment if i did ? ❜ the words come out like he isn't sitting there with antiseptic burning through half his dignity. ❛ hey ⸺ the money pays the rent, and the other guy is currently occupying a very expensive bed in the emergency room. a win is a win regardless ❜ he mutters, trying for smug. but it comes out a little hoarse around the edges still, dragged thin by exhaustion.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❛ wow, bossy … is buying a drink first too old - fashioned for you ? ❜ eyes narrow with exaggerated suspicion solely to feed onto the theatrics, a quiet laugh that’s crooked around his sore ribs following right after. slowly, deliberately, his fingers hook into the hem of his t - shirt and the action of lifting his arms alone is a grueling reminder of the punishment he took this night alone. mason winces, a low groan catching in his throat as the fabric is pulled over his head to expose a torso mapped out in fresh purple welts mixed with a scattering of older scars and tossed carelessly onto the floor right after. ❛ all yours, doc⸺ ❜ figure leans back slightly, hands bracing harder on the edge of his seat before the ache in his side turns into something louder. he tips his chin up on instinct, as if he can hide behind the teasing and pretend he isn't one breath away from crumpling like a useless piece of paper. ❛ if you find something broken, try not to sound too pleased about it. please. ❜
for the frivolities in life. add +reverse to reverse the roles.
✧ sender paints receiver's nails.
✧ sender lets receiver choose their nail color.
✧ sender accidentally smudges receiver's fresh polish.
✧ sender dyes receiver's hair at home.
✧ sender styles receiver's hair for fun.
✧ sender lets receiver experiment on their hair.
✧ sender does receiver's makeup.
✧ sender swatches makeup on receiver's arm.
✧ sender practices eyeliner on receiver.
✧ sender gives receiver a makeover.
✧ sender and receiver scrapbook together.
✧ sender and receiver go thrifting together.
✧ sender holds up clothes against receiver to see how they'd look.
✧ sender customizes a garment for receiver.
✧ sender helps receiver alter an outfit.
✧ sender and receiver stay up late finishing a DIY together.
✧ sender and receiver go shopping together.
✧ sender buys matching accessories for them and receiver.
✧ sender insists on visiting the arcade with receiver.
✧ sender wins a stuffed animal for receiver.
✧ sender gives receiver a prize they won.
✧ sender and receiver bake together.
✧ sender feeds receiver a taste from the spoon.
✧ sender makes friendship bracelets with receiver.
✧ sender picks out beads that remind them of receiver.
✧ sender and receiver make matching bracelets.
✧ sender and receiver take turns painting each other.
✧ sender helps receiver pick new perfume/cologne.
✧ sender has a sleepover with receiver.
✧ sender watches fireworks with receiver.
✧ sender has a movie night with receiver.
✧ sender and receiver sit on the roof together, watching the sunset.
✧ sender tie-dyes a garment with receiver.
✧ sender and receiver have a bonfire.
✧ sender goes to an amusement park with receiver.
✧ sender holds receiver's hand on a rollercoaster.
✧ sender has a picnic with receiver.
✧ sender and receiver build a pillow fort together.
✧ sender and receiver ride a ferris wheel together.
✧ sender forces receiver to take a self-care day.
✧ sender and receiver go bowling together.
contracts defining how them dating should've never been a thing to start with, but it's been there since day one, that immense attraction whenever he'd cast a gaze on her. “ it's a song, with lyrics —- ” hands always big in motion when explaining, showcasing that those two things went hand-in-hand. couldn't really have an actual song without a written manuscript fitting it. reasoning behind their break-up was still clouded to him, sure the company strictly forbid it but, no public peers had been the ones reporting it. no photo of proof, no slip-up of them blatantly flirting or looking at each other at events both groups attended. “ because it's just inspirational lyrics, and well, you and i dated so obliviously there's some similarities. ” the past-tense of their status underlined a little too audibly, gaze switching over to look at seoyeon and his breath is so easily swept away. because despite everything, his feelings had never wavered and he hadn't been in favor for it to end as it did. the line of ‘ the fingerprints we left, still glowing under the midnight moon. ’ describing specifically a moment they shared. the very top of the company building, a rooftop with a view over the busy streets and neon paint glowing in the dark in the shape of a heart ; their fingers. “ why does it matter, seoyeon ? ” questioning back, a soft glimpse of hurt in his eyes.
⠀⠀⠀⊹ ࣪ ˖⠀⠀⠀you and i dated. past tense, neat and clean. dropped into the conversation like it didn't still catch against her ribs and crawled under her skin every time she thought about it. seoyeon exhales through her nose, and gaze that lingered on him drifts away once again — to a random spot on the wall behind him, toward the floor, anywhere else — for a brief second, just enough time to steady herself before she looks back up ; even though looking at him now is only making things harder. it always does. ❛ inspirational lyrics, ❜ a quiet breath slips out of her as it's repeated lowly — controlled, almost careful, because she's aware if she allows for it to turn into something sharper, she won't be able to take it back. ❛ you're putting the ghost of our relationship out there for your fans to sing along to and pick through the pieces. that's why it matters. ❜ a small voice crack is what betrays the cool exterior she has spent months trying to maintain, having to anchor herself by pressing her nails into the palms of her hands. hearing eunho talk about the lyrics as if they are just ink on paper and as if those exact words won't become the perfect roadmap for every eagle - eyed fan to dissect makes something ugly tighten on her chest. ❛ was it all nothing but just reference material for some chart - topping spectacle to you ? does it really not matter ? ❜
fingertips move careful to apply textbook attention: cleanse the wound, stitch the cut, cleanse again. a tedious clockwork that has grown past the boundaries of her job and sank its weight into something borderline personal. ❝ i'm not giving you a look. ❞ pointedly averts her gaze after delivering the line, dabbing cotton against the minor wound sites. aoi's lips purse as she considers how much blood there is; it doesn't help that no matter how much she stitches him up now, he'll be in similar straits in a week or so.
problem resides in that: the redundancy of it all.
the jostle of one knee against the other draws her attention back up to him; to the easy gaze he sets on her, as if latex gloves aren't discolored with his bloodloss . blinks dryly at him. ❝ tell me if i look impressed by your win. ❞ in another life, maybe. if this were super smash bros and not actual human bodies at risk ⸺ maybe. ❝ glad to know that it doesn't bother you, though. ❞ sarcasm comes blatant and perfectly intentional. ditches one bloodied cotton ball, grabs a sizable piece of gauze for the bigger wounds. they'll be here a while. ❝ ... winning ? does that mean the fight got broken up or you lost ? ❞
⠀⠀⠀⊹ ࣪ ˖⠀⠀⠀eyes watch her for a second too long after she speaks, like he's weighing whether the sarcasm still counts as concern regardless of it all ... would like to think it probably does. the cotton presses again and the quiet sound of a breath being sucked through his teeth echoes between them, jaw tightening more on instinct than pain. ❛ you're radiating awe, honestly ... pratically overwhelmed. ❜ lands flatter than intended, though softened by the meek grin adorning his lips and the way he watches her hands more than her face now — gaze drifting when her attention does, catching the crimson smear on latex before it's being moved out of it. mason shifts slightly on his seat, only to immediately regret it when something in his side answers back with a dull complaint.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❛ well ... define lost ? ❜ bold to assume there was a proper referee, to begin with. gauze replaces cotton, the way aoi moves with controlled precision like she's trying to stitch something far more stubborn than just skin back into place still not going by unnoticed by him. ❛ i walked out of there on my own volition, as opposed to being carried out on a stretcher. does that not count as a win ? ❜ there's a part of mason that wants to continue joking, to keep it light, keep it from turning into whatever it is — seriousness, disappointment, something he's unable to pinpoint right now — shifting in her expression currently ; but the words don't really come as easily this time around. ❛ have you gotten tired of it yet ? ❜ his gaze flicks up for a second, then away again, like he can't quite hold it there long enough to risk what one might see. no joke left in his voice now, just something quietly raw trying not to sound like it. ❛ of me showing up like this and you having to patch me up like it's just ... routine ? ❜ though it practically already is, at this point.
she makes no mistake to be subtle — art of it all far too lost on her and leaving something that borders on obsessive in its wake. her date becomes an afterthought, contractual obligation she'd already shooed off to get her another drink. in the same way her eyes found santichai's form, she knew well enough her eyes were piercing through heidi throughout the night. "you think?" her head tilts away to the direction of the bar, quiet smirk passing over her face in between a laugh. "what? am i not allowed to be interested anymore?" she asks, raising a singular brow. @apreciada
⠀⠀⠀⊹ ࣪ ˖⠀⠀❛ interested is a funny way to put it, but sure, ❜ a slow, more knowing smirk slowly paints the model's lips now as she swirls the ice in her glass, attempting to appear unfazed by the familiar and intense gravity pulling at the space between them. ❛ you're allowed to do whatever ⸺ interest doesn't usually involve staring daggers at a stranger's back like you're planning their demise, though. ❜ she casts a brief glance toward the place heidi had shooed her own poor companion to, then brings her eyes back, locking onto the woman's raised eyebrow with a firm stare of her own. ❛ you know ... you've never been particularly good at hiding your thoughts. i see that still hasn't changed. ❜
✢⠀𓈒⠀ ֹ⠀⠀⠀open to⠀⠀m / f / nb
⠀⠀+⠀⠀appreciating⠀⠀kang mason, mid twenties, barista &. underground fighter. just your usual fighter x person tending to their wounds cliche
⠀⠀⠀⊹ ࣪ ˖⠀⠀⠀sat exactly where he'd been told, perched on the edge of the kitchen counter while the opposite rummages through irst - aid kit with the determination of someone preparing for surgery — mason has long stopped keeping track of how many times he's been told to stay still in the past hour or so ... maybe four, five times. and it's not that the man is trying to be difficult, not really ; it's all just a result of the adrenaline finally beginning to wear off, giving way to the dull ache blooming in every place a fist had landed early in the night. ❛ don't give me that look. ❜ the one that makes it known that they're on the verge of saying he is an idiot, that is. eyes roll to the far back of throbbing head, only for him to regret it when they regard playful expression with the intentional, rough pressing of cotton against the bruised skin of his eyebrow.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀and mason finds himself watching the familiar concentration adorning their features close enough now — knee bumping lighting against theirs whenever they step between his legs to reach for the supplies scattered behind, enough proximity for him to be able to notice the slight crease appearing between their brows ... for him to notice they look genuinely worried while he's just regarding this as yet another night. guilt has been simmering inside his stomach for quite a while now, yet there's still an attempt to lighten things because he doesn't know what else to do. ❛ just so we're clear and to ease your concerns ⸺ i was winning, by the way. ❜
open to : f / m / nb
storyline : choi eunho is a twenty-three year old rapper in an idol group, where he contributes to the songs of what they release. a specific line stands out to your muse, it's so obviously about them. trope can be exes, close friends where he crushes on y/m.
a phone call later the two of them had met up in a spot, where his identity wasn't easily spotted for the public eye. eunho's back was leaning against the wall almost too relaxed, ignoring the way his palms felt sweaty with nerves inside the constraints of the pockets ; he had been figured out. “ why're you so upset about it ? it's just lyrics... ” nonchalant shrug being made, feet kicking at a none-existent stone on the ground. “ why are you assuming it's about you anyway ? ” dares to look over the other, a more challenging glint in both his eyes —- fake it till you make it type thing.
⠀⠀⠀⊹ ࣪ ˖⠀⠀a short, incredulous laugh slips past her mouth before it can be properly contained — not because the opposite had said anything particularly funny, but because of course he'd act like she was the one making something out of nothing. arms fold across seoyeon's chest as head shakes slightly, gaze drifting away momentarily before she can commit the mistake of staring at eunho for a beat too long. ❛ every time you say it's just lyrics it sounds more like you're trying to convince yourself than me. ❜ a small tilt of her head follows the words that land sharper than intended. ❛ you don't get to stand here and act like i'm imagining things just because it's convenient for you, eunho. ❜ there's a beat, and something in her expression shifts — not quite anger, not quite hurt, but the space between them where both these things live too comfortably still. eyes finally meet his, and she raises an eyebrow at the look displaying across his features. ❛ but fine ⸺ why do you seem so defensive if it's not about me, then ? ❜
⠀⠀⠀⊹ ࣪ ˖⠀⠀it starts like this : one day, nevaeh is simpy somebody kumiko shares occasional classes with. the next day, without any discussion taking place and a few study sessions and book recommendations later, she's suddenly sitting cross - legged on the singer's couch at one in the morning wearing borrowed pajamas and criticizing the ending of a novel they'd both just finished. the transition is seamless, one she doesn't even think much about. eyes drift from the notebook balanced in her lap toward the opposite end of the couch — predictably, her friend is reading. again. and there's something almost comforting about it : the sight of a familiar person doing something familiar. somewhere between classes, rehearsals, assignments and everything else, the habit has become strangely ... grounding.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀a page turns, another, and then another. brows narrow at the sound that quietly fills the silence that had settled between four walls. ❛ ... you're not actually reading that, are you ? you've been on the same page for like — ten minutes. ❜ the tone of her voice isn't accusatory at all, corner of her mouth threatening to twitch upward as she speaks, even. it's small, barely there as a beat passes. silence settles again briefly, comfortable, easy ; the kind that doesn't really require filling. for a moment, gaze drops to the book sitting in nevaeh's lap and the expression accompanying it. it's familiar too, thoughtful — the same one she'd worn while staring at their workshop brochure earlier in the week. the same one she wears whenever she's trying to convince herself to take a step forward. kumiko doesn't mention she notices any of these moments, rarely does. eyes lift again so they're settled on the opposite, encouragingly poking at her thigh with her feet. ❛ whatever is happening in your head seems to be more interesting, huh ? ❜
⠀⠀⠀⊹ ࣪ ˖⠀⠀nobody accidentally stumbles into an abandoned warehouse on a saturday night, especially not when the location isn't exactly advertised. getting to this place requires intention, effort ... and at least one questionable decision. and yet, there they are — somewhere between the second row and a few people loudly losing money, watching ; mason spends the entirety of the fight pretending not to notice, even though he most certainly does. by the time it all ends — a fist catching him across the jaw later just to serve him right — adrenaline has settled comfortably beneath his skin. blood is drying near the corner of his mouth, while one shoulder already aches in a way that will become significantly more annoying tomorrow morning. a towel hangs around the back of his neck, knuckles stinging as calloused fingers work tape loose from one hand — normally, this is where he disappears before someone convinces to stay. instead, he finds himself looking up, finding them again in a nearby corner : still here, still watching, and the realization settles somewhere uncomfortable. avoiding the situation has clearly stopped being an option, and the realization dawns in as a hand drags across the back of his neck and his chest heaves with a sigh. ❛ so ... how bad is it ? ❜ voice arrives slightly roughter than usual, and there's still no attempt from his side to close the distance. the most the man allows himself to do is glance briefly at them — assessing, searching. for disappointment, maybe. not entirely sure yet. ❛ the opinion of me, i mean ⸺ not the face. i already know that's bad. ❜
