This blog will be mostly fandom things, including some NSFW, so keep that in mind. But I am a Pagan, a witch, and asexual so that'll be here too. Feel free to ask anything you want. My name's Caoimhe, pronounced KEE-va, and I'm on the 'just turned too fast so now my neck hurts' side of 30. My avatar is a bunny of me drawn by the amazingly talented dorki-dorki-universe. Thank you so much! Also, the picture featured was taken by me, in Alaska, in August 2012.
About me: This blog will be mostly fandom things, including some NSFW, so keep that in mind. But I am a Pagan, a witch, and aroace so that'll be here too. Feel free to ask anything you want. My name's Caoimhe, pronounced KEE-va, and I'm on the 'just turned too fast so now my neck hurts' side of 30. My avatar is a bunny of me drawn by the amazingly talented dorki-dorki-universe. Thank you so much! Also, the picture featured was taken by me, in Alaska, in August 2012.
I decided to reorganize my masterlist because it was getting pretty long. So, once again, here’s the link to my Ao3 which does have more that I never cross posted here. My actual master lists are below.
I’m seeing a lot of people saying this post changed their brain chemistry, and as a neuroscientist I wanted to say yes!!! Yes it does!
Wanting something requires dopamine signaling, but liking something doesn’t.
If you have a mental illness/disorder that affects dopamine, you might feel that you don’t want to do the things that you like. You do still like them. You will appreciate having done them.
Let your likes guide you.
(If you want to read more, here’s one experimental paper about it. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC5171207/ This theory called the incentive-sensitization theory was originally created to explain behaviors in addiction but can be applied elsewhere as well)
Rewards are both ‘liked’ and ‘wanted’, and those two words seem almost interchangeable. However, the brain circuitry that mediates the psych
[Description: the video is captioned "Find the duck game", and we see several blindfolded women in hijabs groping around an enclosed ring while spectators look on, cheering and laughing . After a few seconds the camera pans so that you can see the duck, who is waddling around, casually yet resolutely resisting capture. Periodically the women collide with each other. They do not find the duck. End ID]
· established relationship | bf!chan x afab!reader
· wc - .6k (+fake texts)
· cw - nsfw themes (undertones of d/s dynamic)
· a/n - i have been wanting to write something, anything, to post for like,, a month. so fucking burnt out. i had this idea and just started typing. i feel chaotic rn so this is a reflection of that. i should start doing life updates but idk how to format that or if it matters or if anyone cares. also,, this may be edited in the future bc idk yet for sure, but thinking about making an OC series for Chan. this might be part of it, so there's that :)
“Be good while we're out.”
You send your text and look up, thinking you have a moment before he shows up. One look to the left proves you wrong. You know that look, like he's annoyed and plotting, but playing nice in public. You can see it in the way his eyes are sharp but he's composed otherwise, hands in his pockets as if he's relaxed until he gets closer. Then they slip out calmly, clench and unclench, and you know they're going to grab you like the leash he texted about.
You smirk and stand, sticky tanghulu fingers and all, squeezing your blind box under your arm and making a nonchalant, super chill speed-walking escape.
“Don't run.” Chan says, not even loud but you hear it and you know he's talking to you. You blow out a breath through puckered lips, fighting not to break out into a cheek burning smile.
“That just makes me wanna run more.” You mutter over your shoulder, the blind box slipping as you see how close he is now. If you weren't in the mall, you'd sprint. And if you sprint, he'll still catch you. You squeal instead, small and anticipatory, and turn around to face him.
“Wait, wait, wait,” You start, the apples of your cheeks aching the way you were trying to avoid.
He doesn't say anything, just lifts his brow at you like you're overreacting, even though he's the one hunting you down with his gaze like there's a red dot on your back. He slows down once he approaches you, sticks out a hand to take the tanghulu you bought him.
Your eyes squint in suspicion, but you hand it over slowly like he's an animal you're trying to tame.
Only once it's in his hand does he glance down at it, tongue in cheek like he's trying not to laugh now too. If you could see your expression, you'd get it.
“You good?” he asks, half genuine and half his way of asking if you're done doing whatever it is you're doing. He reaches up to wipe his nose with his thumb, a chuckle tickling the skin.
“Mhm.” you nod, a knowing smile on your lips and at least three shopping bags that are sticking to your fingers. Three new shopping bags you obtained on your own while getting distracted after leaving the bathroom. And only one thing in each, which annoys him even more.
You pull your blind box out from under your arm. “Look what I got, it's a sanrio blind bo– okay,”
Chan takes it from you mid-sentence, tucking it away into another small bag from an earlier stop, and ushering you closer with two fingers. “C'mere.”
You start to move before you even fully process the command, stepping forward until you're right in front of him. You look up, sugary fingers hooked neatly around several paper and plastic shopping bag handles, and a pleading glint in your eyes that might buy you some gentleness later on.
He lifts one brow this time, entertained by how cooperative you are now after just trying to make a run for it a second ago. He points to his side, the space right next to him, “Stay here.”
“Alright,” You nod in understanding, fighting between a straight face and a laugh. As you're moving to stand beside him, his hand grips around your wrist securely, palm immediately warm and knuckles flushed from how firm his grip is. Your temporary leash.
Chan rolls his shoulders a bit, side eyeing you but finally letting a bigger smirk through. “Be good while we're out.”
You love that, ‘while we're out.’
Before you can respond with protest or something else that would probably acutely annoy him, he starts to walk again and leads you to walk with him, setting the pace the way he always does.
You can't help but laugh under your breath, a literal “Hehehe.”
He glances down at you and you catch his gaze, pretending not to be cackling to yourself. Once he looks away, you stick your neck out in his direction and laugh silently again just to tease him.
He sighs, seeing you from his peripheral view and shaking his head. “Fucking brat.”
Summary: You meet a man at your own gallery opening and are delighted at the turn of events that follows.
Pairing: idol!Hyunjin x fem!reader
Warnings: Nothing really, just fluff and a first date. A little awkwardness at the beginning.
WC: 3k
A/N: I am not a professional photographer, nor do I know any. I didn’t do much research, so there could be inaccuracies, but it doesn’t really matter for the plot.
Masterlist
You woke slowly, dimly aware that you weren’t in your own bed but comfortable where you were. Coming closer to awareness, your eyes flew open as you realized where you had to be. No one was beside you, which was surprising considering you were sleeping in another person’s bed. Then a dim, sleep-hazed memory surfaced of the man who’s bed you were in telling you he was going to sleep on the couch.
You stretched, arms above your head, and rolled out of bed. Taking the opportunity, you looked around his room, unsurprised by the cozy aesthetic and art supplies neatly arranged in one corner. You slipped out of his room before your curiosity could get the better of you.
Out in the living room, Hyunjin and Changbin were having some sort of hushed conversation that stopped the second Hyunjin saw you. “Y/N,” he smiled. “How’d you sleep?”
“Great, thanks,” you smiled back.
“Good. Um, this is my roommate, Changbin. Bin, this is the woman I was telling you about.” The two of you greeted each other politely before Changbin made an excuse to leave the room, shooting a pointed look at Hyunjin that you interpreted to mean ‘get rid of the possible saesang, you idiot’. With an awkward chuckle and while rubbing the back of his neck, Hyunjin said, “Listen, I’m sorry. But I’ve got to get in to work. Do you mind if I take you home now?”
“Of course. I completely understand.” There was a tense knot building in your belly the whole quiet ride to your apartment. You didn’t know why Hyunjin wasn’t speaking, but you were planning what you knew you had to say in your head, twisting your fingers in the hem of your shirt.
Parking outside your apartment building, Hyunjin turned to you with a small smile. “If it’s not too much, I, um, was wondering if I could get your number?”
“Absolutely,” you rattled the digits off for him before popping open the passenger side door. You figured it would be easier to tell him what you had to say with the clear indication that you were going to leave.
“Wait, let me give you mine as well.”
“No,” you shook your head. “You use that if you still want to after what I tell you.” You sighed, disappointed that this was the way your interaction with Hyunjin would end. But then, if you’d said something last night, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten to know him a little. You avoided looking at him, staring out the windshield, one foot already out of his car. “First off, I need you to know that I did genuinely have a really good time with you yesterday. But I lied. By omission, but still a lie. I know who you are, Hyunjin. I knew the second I saw you at the gallery. But I decided not to say anything because you looked like you were trying to keep a low profile, so I didn’t want to break that I guess. When I came up to you, I truly just wanted to hear your thoughts on the photographs.
“And then it felt… I dunno, weird and awkward to say anything after we’d been talking for an hour. And the longer we talked, the weirder it felt to say anything. But the longer we talked, the more I knew I couldn’t not say something. Anyway, I’m really sorry. I understand if you feel like I’ve taken advantage or something. I didn’t mean to and would never do that on purpose. I won’t say anything about where you guys live or anything like that. And I didn’t take any photos either. I just… I dunno,” you shook your head, tears unexpectedly starting to form.
“Thank you, for the long conversation last night. Thank you for being so sweet to me. I am so sorry for lying to you. Good-bye.” You hurried out of his car and up the stairs to your second floor apartment, not looking over the railing into the parking lot. You collapsed against your door once shut into your apartment, sliding down it to the floor, staring blankly into your living space as tears slowly fell. Maybe it was stupid, but it felt like you’d broken up with someone you didn’t actually want to break up with.
Down in the parking lot, Hyunjin just stared after you, frozen in place as he watched you close your door. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, gobsmacked and confused, when his phone started ringing. Chan, wanting to know why he was running late to the studio.
Life returned to as close to normal as you were going to get after that. You couldn’t quite shake the post-breakup feeling, the feeling that you’d lost something special before you’d even had it. But you tried to move on, tried not to dwell too much on the side of Hyunjin – the sweet, quiet artist – you’d gotten to know. You avoided the gallery for about a week until you got a call from your agent who worked with that gallery and who’d gotten you a small contract with a magazine as long as you could fly out to India the next morning. You set up everything with your neighbor Mrs. Namgung to get your mail and keep an eye out, packed up, and were gone for the next week.
***
It wasn’t unusual for Hyunjin to be easily distracted, and Changbin had filled the others in on the mysterious woman who’d slept at their place one night. But it was unusual for him to still be this distracted by someone he hadn’t even spoken to in more than a week. He’d told them what the woman had said when he dropped her off, told them the way she’d said it – that she’d been blunt, seemed honest, and hadn’t been able to look at him the whole time. Added to it, their security hadn’t seen her, hadn’t noticed any new stalkers, and there hadn’t been anything online from her.
He couldn’t get past the idea that they could’ve had something special. Maybe not a romantic relationship, even if that’s the way he felt it was going. He couldn’t shake the idea of still wanting to explore that connection with her. But the more days passed, the more awkward he felt about texting or calling her.
Then, encouraged by his members, he drove back to her apartment. Maybe a little pushy, a little invasive, but they all figured she’d understand.
He knocked on the door he watched her walk through and waited. Then knocked again. A few seconds later, an old woman stepped out of the apartment next door.
“Are you looking for Y/N?”
“I am. Is she not home?”
Her neighbor smiled a little. “She’s out of the country for work. India this time, I think she said. She’ll be back in two days if you want to come back then.”
“I don’t….” he shook his head a little, confused as to what work she was doing and then realizing work was the one topic they hadn’t touched on.
“Oh, are you the young man who dropped her off after her gallery opening last week?” When he nodded, the old woman smiled. “It was very sweet of you to bring her home. Did you enjoy her work?”
That statement made him realize that the photographs in the gallery that he’d been so invested in was her work and that they had talked about it. “I did, quite a lot. Um, you said she’ll be home in two days?” The old woman nodded. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll um, I’ll talk to her then, I guess.” He bowed respectfully, turned and headed back to his car.
***
Travel always wore you out, even if the destination was gorgeous. You trudged up your apartment building’s steps, deciding you would speak to Mrs. Namgung after a nap. You stopped, surprise instantly waking you up, when you saw a deliveryman taking a photo of the flower delivery he’d obviously just set in front of your apartment door. Who on earth would be sending you flowers?
You waited a second, until the deliveryman started toward you, before heading the rest of the way to your door. You stared down at the mixed bouquet – roses, lilies, daisies, and tulips in every color – wondering who would send it and why. Setting your suitcases just inside your door, you scooped up the flowers, noticing the card tapped to the vase for the first time. Thankfully, you sat down to read it, because the surprise of it would’ve knocked you to your butt if you hadn’t been.
Hello Y/N. Your neighbor said you’d be back today, so I hope there were no travel delays or anything. It felt awkward to text or call you after so long so I decided to try this.
Thank you for the night at the gallery. For not saying you knew who I was. It made it easier I think to get to know you. I didn’t feel like I had to “be on” I guess. I could just be myself instead of being what I think people expect me to be all the time. And thank you for telling me the truth later, even though it was awkward.
I’m going to be at SeMA tomorrow around 12 pm for the Impressionism exhibition. If you want. I mean, you don’t have to or anything. Just, if you want to.
You stared at his name for a while, no longer remotely tired. As it had so many times since that night, your mind raced back over the details of the night of your gallery opening. Seeing him admiring your photos, the bubble of excitement when you recognized him, the way that bubble hadn’t really popped but had quietly shrunk down to a manageable level as you talked to him. The late night walk and stop for food after the gallery closed, the animated way he talked about things he enjoyed or excited him. His realization that you were close to his apartment building and his offer to continue the conversation in his living room. Sitting across from him on his couch, eyes getting droopy until he led you to his bed and told you he’d sleep on the couch. The awkwardness of your confession the next morning.
And now, he wanted to see you again. He hadn’t said it in those exact words, but that was clearly what he meant by telling you where he’d be and when.
The loud rap on your door brought you back to the present. You hurried over to see Mrs. Namgung with a stack of your mail in her hands and her ever-present smile. After a little small talk and catching up on your trip, she spotted the flowers on your table.
“Are those from your young man?”
“He’s not my man, Mrs. Namgung,” you said with a little smile that was sadder than you realized.
“Oh darling girl,” she shook her head with a patronizing smile. “I’d wager he would be happy to be. He looked so sad when I told him you weren’t home the other day. And now he sends you roses?” she clicked her tongue, a knowing look in her eyes.
“Mrs. Namgung,” you tried to deflect but didn’t quite know what to say. Before you could come up with something, she reached out and patted your arm.
“Take it slow if you must, but don’t shut anything down before you know what it could be. Now, my Eun-ji should be calling soon so I’ll be on my way back in.” You smiled and thanked her again before she turned back to her apartment.
Back in your apartment, you fretted over Hyunjin’s note and flowers. He wanted to see you again. But was Mrs. Namgung right? Did he want more from you? Had he also felt those moments in the gallery, on your walk, on his couch when it felt like more than just new friends? When it felt like the perfect movie moment to lean in for a kiss, even though neither of you had. Had he felt the same butterflies when the backs of your hands brushed each other? Had he been fighting sleep on his couch just to spend more time together like you had?
In the midst of your fretting, the travel exhaustion caught up with you and you dropped off to sleep, sitting up on your couch and clutching the note Hyunjin had written.
You were woken at far-too-early in the morning by your phone ringing. Stiff from the way you’d slept, it took a few minutes to find and answer it, long enough for whoever it was to go to voicemail and call back again. After putting out the metaphorical fire that was the magazine editor complaining about the size of the files you’d sent the day before, you slumped back against the couch, eyes starting to drift closed again until you caught sight of the bouquet and jolted back up.
Checking your phone, you saw it really wasn’t early – it was 9 am. You scrambled up off the couch, wincing because of the way you’d slept. After a very hot shower to relax couch-sleep muscles, you stared into your closet. What exactly did one wear to meet with Hwang Hyunjin at an art museum? Shaking your head, you approached the issue a little differently. What would one wear on a date with the quiet painter you’d gotten to know, not the idol?
You dressed comfortably, though a little more dressed up from your day-to-day style, with flat-soled shoes that would be comfortable to stand and walk in all day. You styled your hair, did your makeup, and were out the door with time to spare.
You arrived at the Seoul Museum of Art at about 11:30. Earlier than Hyunjin said, but it was better than pacing nervously at home while you waited. You stepped into the hall where the special exhibition Impressionism collection was being shown. Your fingers twisted together with nerves as you stared at what the placard next to it told you was a painting by Claude Monet. You weren’t really seeing it, too nervous as you waited.
Then there was a gentle touch on your low back and you turned to see Hyunjin standing slightly behind you with a red rose in hand. “I wasn’t sure you would come,” he said with a soft smile.
You accepted the rose and returned his smile. “I figured you weren’t going to reach out at all, so I guess we’re both surprised.”
“Pleasantly, I hope?”
“Definitely,” your smile widened to a full grin.
“Your neighbor said that was your gallery opening?”
“Mm-hm,” you nodded. “I freelance, and mostly nature photography like landscapes and weather systems, not wildlife. Or, not intentionally wildlife anyway,” you grinned again, thinking of one of the photographs in your opening that centered on Atlantic puffins. “Sometimes the animals decide that’s where my focus should be, not on the aurora I was meant to be capturing.”
Hyunjin nodded his understanding. “You do beautiful work.”
“Thank you. I’ve seen some of your art, so do you.” You did your best to hide your excitement at the blush creeping over his cheeks, before he shyly dipped his head.
Instead of responding, he offered you his hand. You laced your fingers with his and let him lead you around the exhibit, sharing some of his favorite pieces and why they were. The pair of you stayed in the museum for the rest of the day, and you at least were surprised when the announcement came that the museum was closing.
You walked to the parking garage together, then to your car, fingers still laced. Hyunjin’s thumb rubbed against the back of your hand and you could tell he was as reluctant for the day to end as you were.
So you said, “I figure I owe you for letting me sleep at your house. So, what do you say you come to mine and I’ll make us dinner?”
He grinned wide. “That sounds perfect. I’ll meet you there?” At your nod, he lifted your hand and gently kissed your knuckles before finally letting go and turning to walk to his car. You watched him for a minute before getting into your car.
Once he was what you deemed far enough away, and with you shut into your car, you let loose the loud squeal of joy that had been building in your chest all afternoon, fists beating against your steering wheel and all.
You made it to your apartment at about the same time, waving at the knowing look from Mrs. Namgung as she left her apartment.
You expected the rest of the night to be just as easy as the afternoon and the first day you’d met had been. What you didn’t expect was for Hyunjin to gently tug your hand to get you to face him, and kiss you. Once you were facing him, he stepped into your space, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. His eyes flicked down to your lips, thumb brushing over your cheek when his gaze came back up to search yours. Slowly, giving you more than enough time to back away, he leaned in and gently pressed his lips to yours.
Your hand tightened around his, the other coming up to grip his shirt at his waist, as he deepened the kiss just a little. Just enough to leave you wanting more when he did pull back.
“I’ve been dying to do that all day,” he said with a soft smile.
“You feel free to do that whenever you want,” you said without thinking, immediately flushing when your words registered with your brain.
Summary: You meet a man at your own gallery opening and are delighted at the turn of events that follows.
Pairing: idol!Hyunjin x fem!reader
Warnings: Nothing really, just fluff and a first date. A little awkwardness at the beginning.
WC: 3k
A/N: I am not a professional photographer, nor do I know any. I didn’t do much research, so there could be inaccuracies, but it doesn’t really matter for the plot.
Masterlist
You woke slowly, dimly aware that you weren’t in your own bed but comfortable where you were. Coming closer to awareness, your eyes flew open as you realized where you had to be. No one was beside you, which was surprising considering you were sleeping in another person’s bed. Then a dim, sleep-hazed memory surfaced of the man who’s bed you were in telling you he was going to sleep on the couch.
You stretched, arms above your head, and rolled out of bed. Taking the opportunity, you looked around his room, unsurprised by the cozy aesthetic and art supplies neatly arranged in one corner. You slipped out of his room before your curiosity could get the better of you.
Out in the living room, Hyunjin and Changbin were having some sort of hushed conversation that stopped the second Hyunjin saw you. “Y/N,” he smiled. “How’d you sleep?”
“Great, thanks,” you smiled back.
“Good. Um, this is my roommate, Changbin. Bin, this is the woman I was telling you about.” The two of you greeted each other politely before Changbin made an excuse to leave the room, shooting a pointed look at Hyunjin that you interpreted to mean ‘get rid of the possible saesang, you idiot’. With an awkward chuckle and while rubbing the back of his neck, Hyunjin said, “Listen, I’m sorry. But I’ve got to get in to work. Do you mind if I take you home now?”
“Of course. I completely understand.” There was a tense knot building in your belly the whole quiet ride to your apartment. You didn’t know why Hyunjin wasn’t speaking, but you were planning what you knew you had to say in your head, twisting your fingers in the hem of your shirt.
Parking outside your apartment building, Hyunjin turned to you with a small smile. “If it’s not too much, I, um, was wondering if I could get your number?”
“Absolutely,” you rattled the digits off for him before popping open the passenger side door. You figured it would be easier to tell him what you had to say with the clear indication that you were going to leave.
“Wait, let me give you mine as well.”
“No,” you shook your head. “You use that if you still want to after what I tell you.” You sighed, disappointed that this was the way your interaction with Hyunjin would end. But then, if you’d said something last night, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten to know him a little. You avoided looking at him, staring out the windshield, one foot already out of his car. “First off, I need you to know that I did genuinely have a really good time with you yesterday. But I lied. By omission, but still a lie. I know who you are, Hyunjin. I knew the second I saw you at the gallery. But I decided not to say anything because you looked like you were trying to keep a low profile, so I didn’t want to break that I guess. When I came up to you, I truly just wanted to hear your thoughts on the photographs.
“And then it felt… I dunno, weird and awkward to say anything after we’d been talking for an hour. And the longer we talked, the weirder it felt to say anything. But the longer we talked, the more I knew I couldn’t not say something. Anyway, I’m really sorry. I understand if you feel like I’ve taken advantage or something. I didn’t mean to and would never do that on purpose. I won’t say anything about where you guys live or anything like that. And I didn’t take any photos either. I just… I dunno,” you shook your head, tears unexpectedly starting to form.
“Thank you, for the long conversation last night. Thank you for being so sweet to me. I am so sorry for lying to you. Good-bye.” You hurried out of his car and up the stairs to your second floor apartment, not looking over the railing into the parking lot. You collapsed against your door once shut into your apartment, sliding down it to the floor, staring blankly into your living space as tears slowly fell. Maybe it was stupid, but it felt like you’d broken up with someone you didn’t actually want to break up with.
Down in the parking lot, Hyunjin just stared after you, frozen in place as he watched you close your door. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, gobsmacked and confused, when his phone started ringing. Chan, wanting to know why he was running late to the studio.
Life returned to as close to normal as you were going to get after that. You couldn’t quite shake the post-breakup feeling, the feeling that you’d lost something special before you’d even had it. But you tried to move on, tried not to dwell too much on the side of Hyunjin – the sweet, quiet artist – you’d gotten to know. You avoided the gallery for about a week until you got a call from your agent who worked with that gallery and who’d gotten you a small contract with a magazine as long as you could fly out to India the next morning. You set up everything with your neighbor Mrs. Namgung to get your mail and keep an eye out, packed up, and were gone for the next week.
***
It wasn’t unusual for Hyunjin to be easily distracted, and Changbin had filled the others in on the mysterious woman who’d slept at their place one night. But it was unusual for him to still be this distracted by someone he hadn’t even spoken to in more than a week. He’d told them what the woman had said when he dropped her off, told them the way she’d said it – that she’d been blunt, seemed honest, and hadn’t been able to look at him the whole time. Added to it, their security hadn’t seen her, hadn’t noticed any new stalkers, and there hadn’t been anything online from her.
He couldn’t get past the idea that they could’ve had something special. Maybe not a romantic relationship, even if that’s the way he felt it was going. He couldn’t shake the idea of still wanting to explore that connection with her. But the more days passed, the more awkward he felt about texting or calling her.
Then, encouraged by his members, he drove back to her apartment. Maybe a little pushy, a little invasive, but they all figured she’d understand.
He knocked on the door he watched her walk through and waited. Then knocked again. A few seconds later, an old woman stepped out of the apartment next door.
“Are you looking for Y/N?”
“I am. Is she not home?”
Her neighbor smiled a little. “She’s out of the country for work. India this time, I think she said. She’ll be back in two days if you want to come back then.”
“I don’t….” he shook his head a little, confused as to what work she was doing and then realizing work was the one topic they hadn’t touched on.
“Oh, are you the young man who dropped her off after her gallery opening last week?” When he nodded, the old woman smiled. “It was very sweet of you to bring her home. Did you enjoy her work?”
That statement made him realize that the photographs in the gallery that he’d been so invested in was her work and that they had talked about it. “I did, quite a lot. Um, you said she’ll be home in two days?” The old woman nodded. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll um, I’ll talk to her then, I guess.” He bowed respectfully, turned and headed back to his car.
***
Travel always wore you out, even if the destination was gorgeous. You trudged up your apartment building’s steps, deciding you would speak to Mrs. Namgung after a nap. You stopped, surprise instantly waking you up, when you saw a deliveryman taking a photo of the flower delivery he’d obviously just set in front of your apartment door. Who on earth would be sending you flowers?
You waited a second, until the deliveryman started toward you, before heading the rest of the way to your door. You stared down at the mixed bouquet – roses, lilies, daisies, and tulips in every color – wondering who would send it and why. Setting your suitcases just inside your door, you scooped up the flowers, noticing the card tapped to the vase for the first time. Thankfully, you sat down to read it, because the surprise of it would’ve knocked you to your butt if you hadn’t been.
Hello Y/N. Your neighbor said you’d be back today, so I hope there were no travel delays or anything. It felt awkward to text or call you after so long so I decided to try this.
Thank you for the night at the gallery. For not saying you knew who I was. It made it easier I think to get to know you. I didn’t feel like I had to “be on” I guess. I could just be myself instead of being what I think people expect me to be all the time. And thank you for telling me the truth later, even though it was awkward.
I’m going to be at SeMA tomorrow around 12 pm for the Impressionism exhibition. If you want. I mean, you don’t have to or anything. Just, if you want to.
You stared at his name for a while, no longer remotely tired. As it had so many times since that night, your mind raced back over the details of the night of your gallery opening. Seeing him admiring your photos, the bubble of excitement when you recognized him, the way that bubble hadn’t really popped but had quietly shrunk down to a manageable level as you talked to him. The late night walk and stop for food after the gallery closed, the animated way he talked about things he enjoyed or excited him. His realization that you were close to his apartment building and his offer to continue the conversation in his living room. Sitting across from him on his couch, eyes getting droopy until he led you to his bed and told you he’d sleep on the couch. The awkwardness of your confession the next morning.
And now, he wanted to see you again. He hadn’t said it in those exact words, but that was clearly what he meant by telling you where he’d be and when.
The loud rap on your door brought you back to the present. You hurried over to see Mrs. Namgung with a stack of your mail in her hands and her ever-present smile. After a little small talk and catching up on your trip, she spotted the flowers on your table.
“Are those from your young man?”
“He’s not my man, Mrs. Namgung,” you said with a little smile that was sadder than you realized.
“Oh darling girl,” she shook her head with a patronizing smile. “I’d wager he would be happy to be. He looked so sad when I told him you weren’t home the other day. And now he sends you roses?” she clicked her tongue, a knowing look in her eyes.
“Mrs. Namgung,” you tried to deflect but didn’t quite know what to say. Before you could come up with something, she reached out and patted your arm.
“Take it slow if you must, but don’t shut anything down before you know what it could be. Now, my Eun-ji should be calling soon so I’ll be on my way back in.” You smiled and thanked her again before she turned back to her apartment.
Back in your apartment, you fretted over Hyunjin’s note and flowers. He wanted to see you again. But was Mrs. Namgung right? Did he want more from you? Had he also felt those moments in the gallery, on your walk, on his couch when it felt like more than just new friends? When it felt like the perfect movie moment to lean in for a kiss, even though neither of you had. Had he felt the same butterflies when the backs of your hands brushed each other? Had he been fighting sleep on his couch just to spend more time together like you had?
In the midst of your fretting, the travel exhaustion caught up with you and you dropped off to sleep, sitting up on your couch and clutching the note Hyunjin had written.
You were woken at far-too-early in the morning by your phone ringing. Stiff from the way you’d slept, it took a few minutes to find and answer it, long enough for whoever it was to go to voicemail and call back again. After putting out the metaphorical fire that was the magazine editor complaining about the size of the files you’d sent the day before, you slumped back against the couch, eyes starting to drift closed again until you caught sight of the bouquet and jolted back up.
Checking your phone, you saw it really wasn’t early – it was 9 am. You scrambled up off the couch, wincing because of the way you’d slept. After a very hot shower to relax couch-sleep muscles, you stared into your closet. What exactly did one wear to meet with Hwang Hyunjin at an art museum? Shaking your head, you approached the issue a little differently. What would one wear on a date with the quiet painter you’d gotten to know, not the idol?
You dressed comfortably, though a little more dressed up from your day-to-day style, with flat-soled shoes that would be comfortable to stand and walk in all day. You styled your hair, did your makeup, and were out the door with time to spare.
You arrived at the Seoul Museum of Art at about 11:30. Earlier than Hyunjin said, but it was better than pacing nervously at home while you waited. You stepped into the hall where the special exhibition Impressionism collection was being shown. Your fingers twisted together with nerves as you stared at what the placard next to it told you was a painting by Claude Monet. You weren’t really seeing it, too nervous as you waited.
Then there was a gentle touch on your low back and you turned to see Hyunjin standing slightly behind you with a red rose in hand. “I wasn’t sure you would come,” he said with a soft smile.
You accepted the rose and returned his smile. “I figured you weren’t going to reach out at all, so I guess we’re both surprised.”
“Pleasantly, I hope?”
“Definitely,” your smile widened to a full grin.
“Your neighbor said that was your gallery opening?”
“Mm-hm,” you nodded. “I freelance, and mostly nature photography like landscapes and weather systems, not wildlife. Or, not intentionally wildlife anyway,” you grinned again, thinking of one of the photographs in your opening that centered on Atlantic puffins. “Sometimes the animals decide that’s where my focus should be, not on the aurora I was meant to be capturing.”
Hyunjin nodded his understanding. “You do beautiful work.”
“Thank you. I’ve seen some of your art, so do you.” You did your best to hide your excitement at the blush creeping over his cheeks, before he shyly dipped his head.
Instead of responding, he offered you his hand. You laced your fingers with his and let him lead you around the exhibit, sharing some of his favorite pieces and why they were. The pair of you stayed in the museum for the rest of the day, and you at least were surprised when the announcement came that the museum was closing.
You walked to the parking garage together, then to your car, fingers still laced. Hyunjin’s thumb rubbed against the back of your hand and you could tell he was as reluctant for the day to end as you were.
So you said, “I figure I owe you for letting me sleep at your house. So, what do you say you come to mine and I’ll make us dinner?”
He grinned wide. “That sounds perfect. I’ll meet you there?” At your nod, he lifted your hand and gently kissed your knuckles before finally letting go and turning to walk to his car. You watched him for a minute before getting into your car.
Once he was what you deemed far enough away, and with you shut into your car, you let loose the loud squeal of joy that had been building in your chest all afternoon, fists beating against your steering wheel and all.
You made it to your apartment at about the same time, waving at the knowing look from Mrs. Namgung as she left her apartment.
You expected the rest of the night to be just as easy as the afternoon and the first day you’d met had been. What you didn’t expect was for Hyunjin to gently tug your hand to get you to face him, and kiss you. Once you were facing him, he stepped into your space, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. His eyes flicked down to your lips, thumb brushing over your cheek when his gaze came back up to search yours. Slowly, giving you more than enough time to back away, he leaned in and gently pressed his lips to yours.
Your hand tightened around his, the other coming up to grip his shirt at his waist, as he deepened the kiss just a little. Just enough to leave you wanting more when he did pull back.
“I’ve been dying to do that all day,” he said with a soft smile.
“You feel free to do that whenever you want,” you said without thinking, immediately flushing when your words registered with your brain.
This is the Veil Nebula, which Hubble saw on July 1, 2020.
Have you ever looked up what our Hubble Space Telescope saw on your birthday? (Or your anniversary, or your pet's adoption day, or...)
We've given our popular interactive page a new look — and, just as importantly, it now shows you five different cosmic sights Hubble was checking out on the day that you picked.
Summary: You meet a man at your own gallery opening and are delighted at the turn of events that follows.
Pairing: idol!Hyunjin x fem!reader
Warnings: Nothing really, just fluff and a first date. A little awkwardness at the beginning.
WC: 3k
A/N: I am not a professional photographer, nor do I know any. I didn’t do much research, so there could be inaccuracies, but it doesn’t really matter for the plot.
Masterlist
You woke slowly, dimly aware that you weren’t in your own bed but comfortable where you were. Coming closer to awareness, your eyes flew open as you realized where you had to be. No one was beside you, which was surprising considering you were sleeping in another person’s bed. Then a dim, sleep-hazed memory surfaced of the man who’s bed you were in telling you he was going to sleep on the couch.
You stretched, arms above your head, and rolled out of bed. Taking the opportunity, you looked around his room, unsurprised by the cozy aesthetic and art supplies neatly arranged in one corner. You slipped out of his room before your curiosity could get the better of you.
Out in the living room, Hyunjin and Changbin were having some sort of hushed conversation that stopped the second Hyunjin saw you. “Y/N,” he smiled. “How’d you sleep?”
“Great, thanks,” you smiled back.
“Good. Um, this is my roommate, Changbin. Bin, this is the woman I was telling you about.” The two of you greeted each other politely before Changbin made an excuse to leave the room, shooting a pointed look at Hyunjin that you interpreted to mean ‘get rid of the possible saesang, you idiot’. With an awkward chuckle and while rubbing the back of his neck, Hyunjin said, “Listen, I’m sorry. But I’ve got to get in to work. Do you mind if I take you home now?”
“Of course. I completely understand.” There was a tense knot building in your belly the whole quiet ride to your apartment. You didn’t know why Hyunjin wasn’t speaking, but you were planning what you knew you had to say in your head, twisting your fingers in the hem of your shirt.
Parking outside your apartment building, Hyunjin turned to you with a small smile. “If it’s not too much, I, um, was wondering if I could get your number?”
“Absolutely,” you rattled the digits off for him before popping open the passenger side door. You figured it would be easier to tell him what you had to say with the clear indication that you were going to leave.
“Wait, let me give you mine as well.”
“No,” you shook your head. “You use that if you still want to after what I tell you.” You sighed, disappointed that this was the way your interaction with Hyunjin would end. But then, if you’d said something last night, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten to know him a little. You avoided looking at him, staring out the windshield, one foot already out of his car. “First off, I need you to know that I did genuinely have a really good time with you yesterday. But I lied. By omission, but still a lie. I know who you are, Hyunjin. I knew the second I saw you at the gallery. But I decided not to say anything because you looked like you were trying to keep a low profile, so I didn’t want to break that I guess. When I came up to you, I truly just wanted to hear your thoughts on the photographs.
“And then it felt… I dunno, weird and awkward to say anything after we’d been talking for an hour. And the longer we talked, the weirder it felt to say anything. But the longer we talked, the more I knew I couldn’t not say something. Anyway, I’m really sorry. I understand if you feel like I’ve taken advantage or something. I didn’t mean to and would never do that on purpose. I won’t say anything about where you guys live or anything like that. And I didn’t take any photos either. I just… I dunno,” you shook your head, tears unexpectedly starting to form.
“Thank you, for the long conversation last night. Thank you for being so sweet to me. I am so sorry for lying to you. Good-bye.” You hurried out of his car and up the stairs to your second floor apartment, not looking over the railing into the parking lot. You collapsed against your door once shut into your apartment, sliding down it to the floor, staring blankly into your living space as tears slowly fell. Maybe it was stupid, but it felt like you’d broken up with someone you didn’t actually want to break up with.
Down in the parking lot, Hyunjin just stared after you, frozen in place as he watched you close your door. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, gobsmacked and confused, when his phone started ringing. Chan, wanting to know why he was running late to the studio.
Life returned to as close to normal as you were going to get after that. You couldn’t quite shake the post-breakup feeling, the feeling that you’d lost something special before you’d even had it. But you tried to move on, tried not to dwell too much on the side of Hyunjin – the sweet, quiet artist – you’d gotten to know. You avoided the gallery for about a week until you got a call from your agent who worked with that gallery and who’d gotten you a small contract with a magazine as long as you could fly out to India the next morning. You set up everything with your neighbor Mrs. Namgung to get your mail and keep an eye out, packed up, and were gone for the next week.
***
It wasn’t unusual for Hyunjin to be easily distracted, and Changbin had filled the others in on the mysterious woman who’d slept at their place one night. But it was unusual for him to still be this distracted by someone he hadn’t even spoken to in more than a week. He’d told them what the woman had said when he dropped her off, told them the way she’d said it – that she’d been blunt, seemed honest, and hadn’t been able to look at him the whole time. Added to it, their security hadn’t seen her, hadn’t noticed any new stalkers, and there hadn’t been anything online from her.
He couldn’t get past the idea that they could’ve had something special. Maybe not a romantic relationship, even if that’s the way he felt it was going. He couldn’t shake the idea of still wanting to explore that connection with her. But the more days passed, the more awkward he felt about texting or calling her.
Then, encouraged by his members, he drove back to her apartment. Maybe a little pushy, a little invasive, but they all figured she’d understand.
He knocked on the door he watched her walk through and waited. Then knocked again. A few seconds later, an old woman stepped out of the apartment next door.
“Are you looking for Y/N?”
“I am. Is she not home?”
Her neighbor smiled a little. “She’s out of the country for work. India this time, I think she said. She’ll be back in two days if you want to come back then.”
“I don’t….” he shook his head a little, confused as to what work she was doing and then realizing work was the one topic they hadn’t touched on.
“Oh, are you the young man who dropped her off after her gallery opening last week?” When he nodded, the old woman smiled. “It was very sweet of you to bring her home. Did you enjoy her work?”
That statement made him realize that the photographs in the gallery that he’d been so invested in was her work and that they had talked about it. “I did, quite a lot. Um, you said she’ll be home in two days?” The old woman nodded. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll um, I’ll talk to her then, I guess.” He bowed respectfully, turned and headed back to his car.
***
Travel always wore you out, even if the destination was gorgeous. You trudged up your apartment building’s steps, deciding you would speak to Mrs. Namgung after a nap. You stopped, surprise instantly waking you up, when you saw a deliveryman taking a photo of the flower delivery he’d obviously just set in front of your apartment door. Who on earth would be sending you flowers?
You waited a second, until the deliveryman started toward you, before heading the rest of the way to your door. You stared down at the mixed bouquet – roses, lilies, daisies, and tulips in every color – wondering who would send it and why. Setting your suitcases just inside your door, you scooped up the flowers, noticing the card tapped to the vase for the first time. Thankfully, you sat down to read it, because the surprise of it would’ve knocked you to your butt if you hadn’t been.
Hello Y/N. Your neighbor said you’d be back today, so I hope there were no travel delays or anything. It felt awkward to text or call you after so long so I decided to try this.
Thank you for the night at the gallery. For not saying you knew who I was. It made it easier I think to get to know you. I didn’t feel like I had to “be on” I guess. I could just be myself instead of being what I think people expect me to be all the time. And thank you for telling me the truth later, even though it was awkward.
I’m going to be at SeMA tomorrow around 12 pm for the Impressionism exhibition. If you want. I mean, you don’t have to or anything. Just, if you want to.
You stared at his name for a while, no longer remotely tired. As it had so many times since that night, your mind raced back over the details of the night of your gallery opening. Seeing him admiring your photos, the bubble of excitement when you recognized him, the way that bubble hadn’t really popped but had quietly shrunk down to a manageable level as you talked to him. The late night walk and stop for food after the gallery closed, the animated way he talked about things he enjoyed or excited him. His realization that you were close to his apartment building and his offer to continue the conversation in his living room. Sitting across from him on his couch, eyes getting droopy until he led you to his bed and told you he’d sleep on the couch. The awkwardness of your confession the next morning.
And now, he wanted to see you again. He hadn’t said it in those exact words, but that was clearly what he meant by telling you where he’d be and when.
The loud rap on your door brought you back to the present. You hurried over to see Mrs. Namgung with a stack of your mail in her hands and her ever-present smile. After a little small talk and catching up on your trip, she spotted the flowers on your table.
“Are those from your young man?”
“He’s not my man, Mrs. Namgung,” you said with a little smile that was sadder than you realized.
“Oh darling girl,” she shook her head with a patronizing smile. “I’d wager he would be happy to be. He looked so sad when I told him you weren’t home the other day. And now he sends you roses?” she clicked her tongue, a knowing look in her eyes.
“Mrs. Namgung,” you tried to deflect but didn’t quite know what to say. Before you could come up with something, she reached out and patted your arm.
“Take it slow if you must, but don’t shut anything down before you know what it could be. Now, my Eun-ji should be calling soon so I’ll be on my way back in.” You smiled and thanked her again before she turned back to her apartment.
Back in your apartment, you fretted over Hyunjin’s note and flowers. He wanted to see you again. But was Mrs. Namgung right? Did he want more from you? Had he also felt those moments in the gallery, on your walk, on his couch when it felt like more than just new friends? When it felt like the perfect movie moment to lean in for a kiss, even though neither of you had. Had he felt the same butterflies when the backs of your hands brushed each other? Had he been fighting sleep on his couch just to spend more time together like you had?
In the midst of your fretting, the travel exhaustion caught up with you and you dropped off to sleep, sitting up on your couch and clutching the note Hyunjin had written.
You were woken at far-too-early in the morning by your phone ringing. Stiff from the way you’d slept, it took a few minutes to find and answer it, long enough for whoever it was to go to voicemail and call back again. After putting out the metaphorical fire that was the magazine editor complaining about the size of the files you’d sent the day before, you slumped back against the couch, eyes starting to drift closed again until you caught sight of the bouquet and jolted back up.
Checking your phone, you saw it really wasn’t early – it was 9 am. You scrambled up off the couch, wincing because of the way you’d slept. After a very hot shower to relax couch-sleep muscles, you stared into your closet. What exactly did one wear to meet with Hwang Hyunjin at an art museum? Shaking your head, you approached the issue a little differently. What would one wear on a date with the quiet painter you’d gotten to know, not the idol?
You dressed comfortably, though a little more dressed up from your day-to-day style, with flat-soled shoes that would be comfortable to stand and walk in all day. You styled your hair, did your makeup, and were out the door with time to spare.
You arrived at the Seoul Museum of Art at about 11:30. Earlier than Hyunjin said, but it was better than pacing nervously at home while you waited. You stepped into the hall where the special exhibition Impressionism collection was being shown. Your fingers twisted together with nerves as you stared at what the placard next to it told you was a painting by Claude Monet. You weren’t really seeing it, too nervous as you waited.
Then there was a gentle touch on your low back and you turned to see Hyunjin standing slightly behind you with a red rose in hand. “I wasn’t sure you would come,” he said with a soft smile.
You accepted the rose and returned his smile. “I figured you weren’t going to reach out at all, so I guess we’re both surprised.”
“Pleasantly, I hope?”
“Definitely,” your smile widened to a full grin.
“Your neighbor said that was your gallery opening?”
“Mm-hm,” you nodded. “I freelance, and mostly nature photography like landscapes and weather systems, not wildlife. Or, not intentionally wildlife anyway,” you grinned again, thinking of one of the photographs in your opening that centered on Atlantic puffins. “Sometimes the animals decide that’s where my focus should be, not on the aurora I was meant to be capturing.”
Hyunjin nodded his understanding. “You do beautiful work.”
“Thank you. I’ve seen some of your art, so do you.” You did your best to hide your excitement at the blush creeping over his cheeks, before he shyly dipped his head.
Instead of responding, he offered you his hand. You laced your fingers with his and let him lead you around the exhibit, sharing some of his favorite pieces and why they were. The pair of you stayed in the museum for the rest of the day, and you at least were surprised when the announcement came that the museum was closing.
You walked to the parking garage together, then to your car, fingers still laced. Hyunjin’s thumb rubbed against the back of your hand and you could tell he was as reluctant for the day to end as you were.
So you said, “I figure I owe you for letting me sleep at your house. So, what do you say you come to mine and I’ll make us dinner?”
He grinned wide. “That sounds perfect. I’ll meet you there?” At your nod, he lifted your hand and gently kissed your knuckles before finally letting go and turning to walk to his car. You watched him for a minute before getting into your car.
Once he was what you deemed far enough away, and with you shut into your car, you let loose the loud squeal of joy that had been building in your chest all afternoon, fists beating against your steering wheel and all.
You made it to your apartment at about the same time, waving at the knowing look from Mrs. Namgung as she left her apartment.
You expected the rest of the night to be just as easy as the afternoon and the first day you’d met had been. What you didn’t expect was for Hyunjin to gently tug your hand to get you to face him, and kiss you. Once you were facing him, he stepped into your space, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. His eyes flicked down to your lips, thumb brushing over your cheek when his gaze came back up to search yours. Slowly, giving you more than enough time to back away, he leaned in and gently pressed his lips to yours.
Your hand tightened around his, the other coming up to grip his shirt at his waist, as he deepened the kiss just a little. Just enough to leave you wanting more when he did pull back.
“I’ve been dying to do that all day,” he said with a soft smile.
“You feel free to do that whenever you want,” you said without thinking, immediately flushing when your words registered with your brain.
Well, we should certainly make sure that everyone knows about this image, or how will they know not to post it? It's not like "That image of Musk looking like a Nazi" would narrow it down.
so i made a potpourri with cinnamon and nutmeg and ginger and cloves and orange peel and anise and i have boiled it all day and it smelled so nice i took a sip and the sip was actually wonderful so now i have drunk four cups of potpourri juice and i am only now going to the internet to ask if i am going to Experience The Torments. or if i may have a fifth.
(i cannot quite explain it, but it’s like my entire low i have had a low grade stomachache, and normally i just deal but This Juice helps a little. i am unreasonably fond of it.)
This is probably so good for her body, too! Imagine her muscles getting moved in ways they don’t normally and she is upright and hopefully not having any pressure spots! This is lovely in so many ways!
This is a wonderful invention, but the man in the picture is one of the testers. He is not the inventor. The inventor was an Israeli woman named Debby Elnatan who developed this with an Irish company for her son.
Apparently, a Redditor cropped the original image that displayed two women prominently to only focus on this guy on the side and rewrote the story to make it seem like a man’s generous innovation. This is not some kind of wacky telephone game error; this is deliberate misogyny.
