#Song Prompts 2020 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

non-stop-imagines · 9 months

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Girl Almighty

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Black Driver!Reader

Summary: In which Oscar is his girlfriend's number one fan and advocate for getting onto the Formula 1 grid.

Word Count: ~3.3k words and a lot of smau

Warning: Twitter environment, mentions of food, crying, parents (it's happy though 😁), goofy friendship fun with various other drivers, Logan being an Oscar and reader stan lowkey

A/N: Like all the other requests, this one was just the best to make. I had to do such a deep dive into Oscar Piastri history because I wanted this idea to really work. This is actually the first of the "drabble" requests I have received so this is the first time you guys are seeing how I'm gonna approach those requests. So if you do ever just request a general "drabble", no specific prompt, I'm gonna put the story to a song that I think fits, unless you want to suggest a song. I do have an 83 hour playlist on Spotify, so if you don't have a song in mind that's fine by me 😁😁😁 Anyway, I hope you all enjoy, especially after Oscar's DNF today, I think this little bit of joy is needed. Love you all! 💖💛💖💛

A/N 2: All of the pictures used for the smau portions are all from pinterest and are not my own product.

Masterlist

__________________~♥★♥~_________________

2020; Start of the FIA Formula 3 Season

“Okay, breath, Oscar. You can do this.” The pep talk is whispered from Oscar’s mouth as he mentally encourages himself to walk over to you, chatting away with other drivers as you guys wait for the driver meeting to begin. He starts to take a step, watching his feet and taking another deep breath, but when he looks back up again he's stopped in his tracks. It was like a spotlight shone on just you, teeth visible and accompanying the exuberant laugh coming from you, smiling glossy lips and hair half up in 2 fluffy ponytails. Everything around you came back into view when he watched you reach a hand out to push the shoulder of your teammate, Theo, after something he said. Oscar could only watch, waiting until the audience you had around you tapered off one by one.

“That’s her, right?” Oscar jumps at Logan’s arm finding its way around his shoulders.

“Yeah, that’s her.” Oscar practically sighs, cursing Theo who seems to linger around you a little longer.

“She looks different. A really good different.” Logan keeps his attention on you as he speaks, so he’s caught off guard by the elbow Oscar throws into his side. “Alright, man. She’s yours.” He removes his arm from his friend so he could rub his hurting side.

"No, that's not-" Oscar's hands run through his hair to express the conflict in his mind. How, yes he wanted you to be his because he has had a crush on you since you both were 10, but also that he was trying real hard to not make a fool of himself because you've only met twice, once when you guys were 10 and once when you were 14. But both of your rises up the karting ranks, champions in your own rights, all the way up to your F3 debut has been public. So it wouldn't be crazy for him to tell you he remembers you, right?

"Well, whatever it is, now's your chance. She's alone." Logan briefly points your direction and sure enough, there you were, tapping and scrolling on your phone, beautiful face in a neutral position that made your lips pout.

"You know what? Maybe I don't-" Oscar starts to back track, stunned by you, but Logan turns him back around and starts to push him over there.

"No, you've been talking about this for a week straight. If you guys aren't sucking face by the end of the month, I'm writing a formal complaint." Once considered to be within earshot, Logan starts talking about something random, something that goes in one of Oscar's ears and out the other, his heartbeat pounding in his head as he gets close. "Oh hey, I'll be right back I, uh, there's something over there…" Logan gives Oscar one last pat on the back and walks off. For Oscar, the world went silent when you looked up at him, enticing brown eyes putting a shame to his own, lips starting to curl into a polite grin until you get a good look at him, and tilt your head as you visibly began thinking about where you've seen him before. Oscar clears his throat.

"Hi, uh, I don't- I'm, uh, I'm Oscar." He holds out his hand for you to shake. Your hand is nice in his, soft despite calluses that have developed from years of driving, but fit like a puzzle piece. He forced himself to keep his eyes on yours, though it was hard for him to look at you, an angel among men, without doing something drastic.

"Y/n." Your hands linger in each others for a moment after the greeting, but once you pull back your hand you cross your arms and bring an amused smile to your face.

"I don't know if you remember me. We've, um, raced each other a couple times before…" Oscar had no idea what to do with his hands. He wanted to touch you, so bad. Wrap his arms around your waist and push the bit of curly hair that escaped to your shoulder back to its place and wait for it to happen again just so he can be as close as possible to you. Instead he settles with rubbing the nape of neck with one hand and the other waving mildly as he spoke.

"Oh, I remember you. But a couple times…I only remember when we were 10. Karting in Australia. I remember because I lost badly to you." You smile and he melts, and your laugh almost makes him miss what you said.

"Wait, when we were 10, you finished second." He copies you and crosses his arms, that being his best bet of keeping his hands to himself.

"Okay, yeah. By like 4 seconds. That's quite the gap." You look down to pick at your nails, but then jerk your head back up as Oscar's words come back to you. "Okay, so 10, but when was the second time?"

"We were 14. Australia again." He uncrosses his arms and brings his hands to his hips when he sees the confusion on your face. "You won! You beat my ass, actually. By nearly 8 seconds. Logan got third." You thought about it for a moment, eyebrows scrunching as memories moved through your brain, but it was obvious the moment you remembered because a large grin that revealed a dimple in your left cheek spread across your face.

"Okay I remember that. I also remember you doing, like, everything you could for me after. I asked you why and you simply said 'Because you won.' and I asked no more questions after that." You chuckle, bringing a hand to your forehead. "It didn't help that I had a major crush on you, too. I was on cloud nine that entire weekend."

"Oh, you had a crush on me?" The snarkiness of his inquiry far from matched the speed of his heart and the drop in temperature of his hands.

"Don't make fun of me, okay? I was 14, and apparently had a thing for Australians with floofy hair." You motioned at his hair, then replaced your hand on your hip. "I've since gotten over it, but I guess you'll be delighted, and me thoroughly embarrassed, to hear that you and Ashton Irwin from 5 Seconds of Summer took turns being my hand when I used to practice kissing." Something got into you in that moment, where it was more important for you to let it be known to Oscar the intensity of your old crush on him, like it would have any influence on your current curiosity.

"Oh. Ha. Well, the feeling was mutual. But, I mean, what boy wouldn't have a crush on the girl who beat them at karting?" Oscar shrugs with his arms still crossed, head tilting toward his left shoulder with the movement.

"It's only natural." You both giggle at the interaction, the words and the timing.

"Well, I think Logan, Frederik and I are trying to figure out something to do tonight, you know after all of the media festivities. Would you want to come? And Theo, too. I don't know what you usually do pre-race weekend, but…" Oscar trails off as he uncrosses his arms and places them in his pocket, looking everywhere but you, subconsciously looking for Logan so he knows what direction to go if he needs to make a quick getaway.

"I think I can find some time to hang out with a couple of old fans." Your smile nearly knocks Oscar off his feet, literally, because after you accepted his invitation, he heard Logan calling for him, to which he automatically started moving in that direction making him stumble over his own feet, but luckily he catches himself.

"Okay, good-uh, cool. I'll, um…I'll text you the plans once we figure them out." He starts to jog away, confident in what had just taken place.

"You'll need my number for that." You stayed in place, arms crossed, smiling when Oscar turns around to jog back to you.

"You are correct." Oscar gives you a beaming smile as he reaches for your phone while pulling out his.

drivetimeyn

Liked by oscarpiastri and 34,012 others

drivetimeyn Seasons Greetings 😌🎄 (you know, cause it's the end of the season and it's also Christmas and-) Oh yeah, congrats, Oscar 😚

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oscarpiastri You took a lot of pictures of me eating > drivetimeyn It was the only time you were sitting still 🧍‍♂️ swisssauber Who else is gonna miss this group? 🥲 theopouchaire21 See you next year, teammate 😎 > drivetimeyn Hope everyone is prepared for more shenanigans 😼

> swisssauber HAHA JK premaprincess Yn is the best thing to come into these boys lives. Convince me otherwise > oscarpiastri We agree 🌞

2021; FIA Formula 2 Season

drivetimeyn

Liked by oscarpiastri and 39,279 others

drivetimeyn Happy Birthday to my Pretty Podium Pal ❤️ Hope you have a wonderful day, my love

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oscarpiastri I get to see you later, that alone makes this a great birthday 🥰 Love you, baby 😘 > drivetimeyn Love you too, honey cake ☺️ > oscarpiastri That's new robertshwartzman Thank you again for those cookies! Keep an eye out for a request around my birthday 🤩 f2freak ...my love? Who- when... lecooleclerc And everyone thought I was crazy 😔 prettypiastri These two are too freaking cute, I can't take it 😵‍💫😫

drivetimeyn

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drivetimeyn Thank you for inviting your biggest fan. So proud of you! Have fun up in the big leagues next year 💙🩷

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oscarpiastri My stunning forever +1 💗 😍 You should be moving up with me but at least now I can watch you be great 🤩 naomischiff I feel like I'm always instastalking you but you're always stunning and this is no different. LOVE! 💗🤎💗 oscarnyngoals The way these two can step out, EAT, and leave no crumbs is impeccable✨ > oscarpiastri It's all Yn, I'm just an accessory > drivetimeyn You're usually more than an accessory, but when you are an accessory, you're the best one😘 ferrariyn I don't know what I'll do with these two not on the same grid

2022; Your 2nd Formula 2 Season, Oscar's Alpine Reserve Season

"Hey, baby. Did you just get home?" You wave to one last person as you leave the Alfa Romeo facility in Zurich, harshly inhaling as you step out into the nippy mid-October Swiss air.

"Yes, after a long day in the sim. I see you're just leaving, too. It's, like, 7pm there, right?" Oscar props his phone on the bottle of cooking oil next to him at enough of a distance so you can see most of him while he's cooking his dinner.

"If it 6pm in Enstone, theennn…." You flash a bright cheeky smile at your sarcasm as you spot your car and head over to it.

"I am not afraid to hang up." Oscar chuckles, briefly looking at the phone while his hands are occupied sautéing vegetables.

"Yes you are, you love me too much." You unlock your car and quickly get in, recoiling from the slight relief that you got from the cold temperature outside. "You also know I could beat you in a fight." You start up your car and allow it to warm up, placing your phone in the holder on the dashboard and removing your coat to toss it in the seat next to you.

"Correct on both points." He pushes his phone back slightly to open up the counter so he had somewhere to place the package of sausages. "You had a couple of workouts today?"

"And a quick sim session and, uh, a meeting. With Fred." You put your car in drive and pull out of the parking spot that you had backed into.

"You were going to talk to him today weren't you? How did that go?" Oscar was fully invested in what you had to say, to the point where he turned off the burners on his stove and sat down on a stool at the counter.

"Well," You chuckle sarcastically thinking about the interaction, trying to bring yourself to talk about it. "It wasn't bad, just…disappointing." You sigh, looking left and right before leaving the Alfa Romeo campus and entering the main road.

"Oh no," One thing Oscar has always done was sympathize with you whenever you felt a strong emotion. You were happy, he was ecstatic. You were mad, he was furious. So when he heard the annoyance and sadness in your chuckle and sigh, he wished he could jump through the screen to comfort you and ring the neck of whoever made you feel that way, which seems to be Fred Vassuer at the moment.

"I asked about the possibility of being a reserve driver or something for Alfa next year. He wasn't rude or anything, I think he actually liked the idea, but in the end he just told me to keep my head down and focus on racing. He also said that while it is nice to be up with the F1 teams, it would be a waste of my driving talents to not be racing on a grid next year, so I think that was his way of telling me it's F2 again next season." You flick on your turn signal and move into a turn lane, slightly more irritated than usual at the slow driver that was in front of you.

"That's stupid." That was all Oscar could say as he set down the phone and ran his fingers through his hair.

"But it was weird because, the way Fred was talking, it was like he had no control over what happens once the season is done." When Oscar picks up his phone again he couldn't help but calm down slightly at your driving concentration face that occasionally turns towards him. "Also, he has never been so adamant about me doing something as much as he was about me staying in a position where I can drive, even if it is F2 again. So, I guess I'll go with it, but I'm not happy about it." You stop at a light and lean back into your seat. You both sat in tense silence, Oscar waiting to see if you had anything else, and you waiting to see if Oscar had any words of wisdom or mutual anger.

"Let's go to Paris." Oscar's words shocked you, even more than the honk behind you that signaled for you to go before anyone got too mad.

"What?" You were tempted to pull over so you could watch Oscar's face as he spoke, to see if he was just kidding you, but you kept on heading home.

"Next week. I'll be at the Viry HQ all week next week, but I'm off during the weekend, and I'm sure you are too. I'll fly you out there. You need to decompress from all of this." He stands up from the stool to head back to his stove, completely serious about his suggestion.

"Really? I love Paris." You start eyeing fast food restaurants the closer you got to home. Maybe it would be too bad to stop for food.

"I know, we'll go to that little café you like. Go to every park we can find. Go to the Louvre so you can look at the art and I can watch you look at the art." He smiles to himself as he cuts up a sausage to toss into another pan.

"Why not just look at the art?" Your stomach rumbles as the smell from a restaurant wafts into your car as you wait at another red light.

"Because, I think it's much more interesting to watch art look at art, and I think myself lucky to be able to do so." You knew this light was long, so you had enough time to stare at Oscar after his cheesy pick up line.

"That was terrible, but…I'll agree to the Paris weekend. As long as there are more jokes like that." You start to drive again as the light turns green.

"No promises. Bad jokes are my MO." Oscar pours the cooked vegetables onto a white plate. "On another note, I see your eyes looking that the restaurant while you drive. I was there when you were cooking your meal prep a couple of days ago. Get home and eat that so you can go to bed."

"Fine." You finally stop searching for a good restaurant and set your sights on home, which was your original plan, but you liked it when Oscar instructed you to take care of yourself. So, home you went, you and your boyfriend blabbing each other's ears off.

oscarpiastri

Liked by drivetimeyn and 45,720 others

oscarpiastri Had to help my baby ✨decompress ✨

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drivetimeyn Thank you, my love ❤️ Definitely recharged and ready to finish out the season 👊🏿 logansargeant Where was my invite? > theopouchaire21 Yeah me too? > drivetimeyn Please, children, mommy and daddy had to take some time to be alone 😚 > awaywego SEE IM NOT WEIRD FOR CALLING THEM MOM AND DAD theoandynbesties We all deserve someone that invests as much energy in us as Oscar does in Yn

2023; Your 3rd Formula 2 Season, Oscar's 1st Formula 1 Season ; Spa- Belgian GP

You park your car in front of the first place sign in parc ferme and quickly and somewhat clumsily remove the steering wheel, climb out your car and replace it, hands shaking from nerves and exhaustion after a hard fought race in the rain. You, first, place your hands on the halo, taking a few deep breaths and grounding yourself to the present, something necessary for you after each race because for you, racing is an out of body experience, something where you are a heightened version of yourself and at a certain point it feels like your watching from a third person view. Once back to the present, you go to get weighed and take note of the cheering. Loud cheering. Much louder than when you normally win. You turn and see your team excited for you and you’re startled when you feel Theo run up and hug you tight once he gets off the scale, yelling something that you didn’t quite catch because he still had his helmet on. You spot your boyfriend and head his direction, confused at the wide smile he had on his face.

“Do you know what you just did?” He had his hands on your shoulders, but you felt a third one touch your shoulder blade when Arthur, who got third in the Sprint, came up behind you.

“Congratulations. You deserve it after the drive you just had. P5 to P1.” You were looking at everyone wide eyed. Did you just do what you think you did? You knew you were ahead in the championship, only needing a few more points to be considered champion because no amount of points would allow anyone to surpass you.

“Did I do it? Drivers’ Championship?” Your voice was light and airy as your gaze switched between Oscar and Charles, who you just then realized was there.

“You did it baby! I knew you could!” You stood in shock, grateful Oscar’s hands were at your waist because you needed to stay steady. As soon as it sunk in you wrapped your arms around Oscar’s neck and started bawling. You worked so hard to get here, tiring yourself out mentally, physically and emotionally. You felt like you were going nowhere but now here you are, your name etched into the history books forever. Oscar consoled you, rubbing your back, and then sent you in the direction of your parents, to whom you continued to bawl on. Nearly every person you encountered received tears somewhere on their person, but luckily by podium time you had no more tears left, so you were able to enjoy your champagne celebration without the embarrassment of crying, Oscar watching happily below until he received a tap on his shoulder.

“I expected nothing less from Yn. She has been amazing since you guys were in F3.” Charles pats Oscar’s back as he turns his attention back to the podium where you and his brother were knocking champagne bottles before taking a swig.

“I know. I’m glad she got this chance but, I can’t help but be pissed because even with all of this,” Oscar waves his hand at the excitement. “She has yet to receive any offers. Even from her own driving academy.”

“Well, I’m sure they’ll start rolling in now. You’ve just got to be patient.” Charles takes off after that to get one more chance to see his brother before getting ready for the Qualifying day, leaving Oscar to stew.

“To hell with patience.” Oscar says under his breath before pulling out his phone and walking to go meet you with your parents, taping something angrily out on his phone.

“So, Oscar, before we let you go we wanted to ask about the tweet you sent out after Yn’s Sprint Race win that secured the driver’s championship for her. What was going on in that moment as you were tweeting that out?” Oscar looked slowly, wide eyed toward his PR manager who shot daggers through him with her eyes, urging him to not speak which for him wasn’t an option. He was finally given the platform to truly speak on this, but he had to be careful.

“Um, I’ll just answer this briefly because I do have to get going, but…Yn has proved herself time and time again how great of a driver she is. Today was the ultimate testament to that. So it’s up to the teams now, seeing who’s gonna take that leap. Thank you.” Oscar is quickly ushered away, quickly heading back to the McLaren motorhome to recoup before qualifying.

“You just had to, huh?” His PR manager taps her foot and she scrolls and types something out quickly.

“Yes. And it felt amazing.” Oscar lays his head on the tall counter next to him, smiling like a clown down toward the floor before turning to the woman next to him, who lets a satisfied grin flash briefly on her face.

“Fine. I guess it was for a good cause. But please, warn me next time.” The exhausted woman pleads with the smiling boy, twisting her phone in her hand as she waits for the greatly needed confirmation.

“Yes ma’am.” He wraps an arm around her and hugs her close, to which she pulls back since he was still sweaty from the third practice session.

“Now go to the debriefing meeting before you get in trouble for being late, too.” Oscar does as he is told, jogging off to the computer filled room to first be scolded before the important pre-qualifying meeting got underway.

drivetimeyn

Liked by oscarpiastri and 37,299 others

drivetimeyn I love my hot boyfriend. That's it. That's the post. ❤️

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oscarpiastri It's an honor to be called hot by someone as lovely as you, gorgeous 😉 > drivetimeyn Sorry, I'm taken by the loser in the crazy colored helmet ✋🏿💅🏿 landonorris We all have our own opinion 😐 > oscarpiastri It's okay, Lando. Everyone knows you have a thing for me 😗 > landonorris Yn, come get ur mans rn ynonthegrid They act like a middle aged couple that been married for years but still act like horny teenagers and I truly wouldn't have it any other way

Liked by alfaromeostake and 893,629 others

f1 Yn Yln, recently crowned FIA F2 Drivers' Champion, to drive alongside Zhou Guanyu at Alfa Romeo in 2024

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alfaromeostake Welcome to the team! > drivetimeyn Excited to keep rising with Sauber ❤️🖤 zhouguanyu24 Couldn't be more excited to have you as a teammate > drivetimeyn Next season, we're going feral 🤪 futurechampyn We all know Yn's driving got her here, but can we give an honorable mention to the leg work Oscar did? Boy put his rep on the line and would gladly do it again oscarpiastri See you on the grid, Love ♥️ > drivetimeyn Let me know how my rear wing looks, okay babe? > oscarpiastri Won't need to, it always looks great 🤩

#Spotify #black reader #request #f1 x black!reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x black!reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x black!reader #f1 fake text #f1 smau #f1 imagines

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1dficfests · 4 months

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No Deadlines:

🗓 Larried In Vegas Fic & Art Fest @larriedinvegasficfest (ao3)

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🗓 Harry Is Louis’ Baby Fic Fest @harryislouisbabyficfest (ao3)

🗓1D Handkerchief Fest @1dhankyfest (ao3)

Coming Soon:

🔔 Zayn's Albums Fic Fest @zaynsalbumsficfest (17th May)

Prompt Submissions:

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Writing:

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Last updated: 20th April 2024

Please let me know if I’m missing something!

#1dficfests #fic fest master list #1dficfests2024

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lampmeeting · 8 months

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IT'S ABOUT THAT TIME, Y'ALL!! 👀

What is Kloktober?: An incredibly zazzy event taking place in October where we celebrate all things Metalocalypse. There’s a prompt for every day of the month to interpret as you see fit! Draw, write, paint, cosplay, make memes - all forms of participation are welcome!

How do I participate?: Make your totally brutal creation inspired by the day’s prompt and post it using the tag #kloktober2023 - it’s just that simple! Post it here, post it to Instagram, post it to AO3, post it to Twitter, wherever, go nuts!

Am I allowed to–YUP, ANYTHING GOES! There are no wrong answers during Kloktober! :D Your interpretation of a prompt is VALID. If you only want to do a few days, that’s VALID. Don’t burn yourself out, this is for fun! (Even I won’t be doing all of them, so don’t stress!)

What if I haven't seen the movie yet? No worries! If there's a prompt that doesn't suit you, please feel free to reach back in time and choose a prompt from a previous year's Kloktober (2022, 2021, or 2020). And as always, if you have any questions about anything, hit me up!

(plain-text list of prompts below the cut)

1. favorite character or OTP

2. favorite AOTD scene

3. Mordhaus Costume Ball

4. your fave headcanon

5. Abigail Appreciation Day

6. comedy or tragedy

7. missing AOTD scene?

8. mermaids or monsters

9. inspired by Dethalbum IV

10. came back Different

11. horror movie crossover

12. your favorite villain

13. nightmares or visions

14. use a fall food or drink

15. Dethklok on vacation

16. In Memorium: honor the fallen

17. give someone a brand new look

18. inspired by a metal song

19. inspired by an UN-metal song

20. original character or self-insert

21. Dethstaff gets a day off

22. sea horror or cosmic horror

23. use a character new to you

24. novel or video game crossover

25. campfire or left in the cold

26. pick a tarot card for inspiration

27. old fears or new understandings

28. use Brendon Small in some way

29. so what happens after AOTD?

30. HALLOWEEN!!!

31. YOUR choice!

#metalocalypse #kloktober #kloktober2023 #i know i reuse the same basic instructions every year lol...#i'm EXCITED YOU GUUUYYYYSSS

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thomas-jefferson-miku-binder · 7 months

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Queer League of Legends Champions (with explanations) - Part II

Check out Part I

Confirmed Pansexuals – Twisted Fate

Twisted Fate was always speculated to be part of the LGBTQ+ community due to his, uh, flamboyancy. The sentiment that he felt something more for Graves was always there, portrayed in their stories through regret, friendship, and loyalty. The Boys and Bombolini color story officially confirmed him as queer, making TFGraves the faces of Pride 2022. This year, he was also seen with the pansexual flag in official pride art, with Riot finally labeling him. It's worth noticing a cute detail (that I doubt was intentional) where his card deck's colors form the colors of his flag!

Confirmed Queers – Ahri, Ekko, Evelynn, Ezreal, Kayn, Nidalee, Renata Glasc, Samira, Taric, Udyr

Ok, this is a long category. Here we have every champion we know for sure is queer, either through external confirmation (Ekko, Ezreal, Kayn, Renata Glasc, Taric), in-game dialogue (Nidalee, Samira, Udyr), or basic lore (Ahri, Evelynn). Let's start with the first group.

Throughout the first half of 2020, Riot released multiple chapters of a Pulsifire color story focused on Ezreal. It explored his relationships with numerous champions of the universe, but especially Ekko. The subtext was strong in this one, and the writer later took to Twitter to talk about how tough it was to have queer stories be censored when working for IPs, not so subtly mentioning Ezreal and Ekko after doing so. Even though Riot might not have agreed with making the Ezko relationship undeniably romantic, their love for one another is still an important part of the story, not to mention that it was the creator's intended vision to begin with.

Renata Glasc was confirmed as sapphic by one of her creators when sharing concept art of her design. Checking the link to the original post, they seem to have deleted the excerpt that mentions it, but people took screenshots before they edited it, most likely because of Riot. Taric, on the other hand, has been speculated to be queer since forever, although the motives are not that pure. Many people saw this hairless, beautiful man that likes jewels and was like, "Huh, that sounds kinda gay," which was the common dudebro mentality of the fandom at the time of his release that caused a lot of homophobia within the player base (more than usual). They weren't wrong, seeing as Riot did include Taric in official 2023 pride art, but he was not seen wearing or holding any flags. After all, it would make sense that he likes everything—and everyone—beautiful. But either way, both Taric and Renata are non-specified queers.

Shieda Kayn is a weirder case. I thought a lot about whether I should even include him in this category at all. There are many accounts of people affirming one of Kayn's writers pictured him as having fluid sexuality, but since then, wherever it was posted, it's gone now. I do believe it since we can still find Reddit threads on the subject, but the original source is nowhere to be found. I still decided to put him here, but take it with a grain of salt.

Moving on to our next category, we have Nidalee, Samira, and Udyr. Samira flirts more than once with Elegant Edge in Legends of Runeterra, and her attraction for her is not subtle. As far as I'm aware, she's never expressed interest in men, but we can't say for sure whether she's bi, pan, or gay. Nidalee and Udyr have had speculated romantic interests in other champions for a while now. Nidalee with Neeko, Udyr with Lee Sin. Nidalee and Neeko's story was first portrayed as one-sided, with Neeko rejected by her friend, prompting them to part ways. On the other hand, the addition of both champions to Legends of Runeterra explored their relationship once again, with the two reuniting and Nidalee finally realizing she did love Neeko and simply didn't know how to deal with it all those years ago. A love song, Shine On, even accompanied the update, which narrates their story beautifully. They have many romantic voice lines now, both in LoR and League.

With Udyr's rework, people started realizing he digs Lee Sin through voice lines expressing how he misses his "old friend" and that he's "loved twice, left twice" (which applies to his relationship with Lee Sin). Besides, his design includes memorabilia he exchanged with Lee Sin when they parted ways. It is also important to mention he's had a wife before, so he swings both ways. I think the context gives more than enough clues for us to safely say Udyr is queer.

Ahri and Evelynn are spirits/demons that prey on their victims (regardless of gender) through charm and seduction. Ahri is essentially a succubus, and Evelynn is the Demon of Agony, with desire and lust being important parts of their characters. It is also worth noting that Evelynn is genderfluid/agender, taking the form of anyone (or anything) that might lure her victims. So their lore essentially confirms them as not straight and not cis (on Evelynn's case, at least).

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charlewiss-writes · 1 year

Text

what took you so long? / mick schumacher

masterlist

day 5: reunion (part of one-word november prompts!)

pairing: mick schumacher x vettel!reader

word count: 1.8k

author's note: really likes how this turned out!!! took me a bit more time so sorry for the delay!! italics are spoken in german and bold words are song lyrics from the song below that slightly inspired this :) hope you enjoy

"y/n, is it you?"

it was your first time back at the track after all the years that passed between your dad's retirement and today, the day where he would make his comeback. you remembered how this used to be your natural habitat back when you were growing up, glued to your father's hip. born between the loud engines, the burnt rubber smell and the electrifying energy around, it felt like home and you noticed quite quickly that this was where you were meant to be all along.

still, thanks to your dad being the most supportive man on the planet, he understood when you said to him that you wanted to create your own name in the world. being known as vettel's daughter since you opened your eyes into this world, now you wanted to build your own name, away from the racing world.

you turned back at the sound of the familiar voice, who you recognised instantly that it belonged to the only man that could make your skin shiver with just saying your name.

mick schumacher had always been a constant in your life. even before you were born, you were meant to be connected since the beginning, thanks to both your fathers close friendship. mick's dad, michael, was almost part of your family, being like an uncle to you, and seb had fulfilled the same role for mick all these years. even better, when he entered the f1 world, your dad had been in charge of keeping him close, helping him during these first few years.

you also were there all along. when mick won f3 in 2018, and then when he won f2 in 2020. you couldn't possibly be more proud of the boy that poured his heart and soul fully into the track, and that made your own heart race since you could register how you felt when he was near you. and still, you always dismissed all the clues your body couldn't disguise when he was close. your dad had said countless of times that he was betting on you two ending together someday, but still, you were too little and too stubborn to accept that fathers always know best, and in this situation it was no different.

back when your father retired at the end of the 2022 season, you were left heartbroken and promised that you wouldn't put another foot on track. for sure, you were glad that you would get your dad back, having time to spend with him, after all these years he had to travel the world while you took your first steps, learned your firsts words and fell in love with the same sport he had loved all his life. that's why it seemed unfair to you that he went the way he did. the man that won four championships and wrote his name forever in history deserved a better farewell than the one he got. and it wasn't no one's fault in particular. but you knew that given the right car, given the chance to fight for podiums and wins more than mere points finishes, he would still be out in the race track, where he belonged, where he was in his element.

so when the offer from audi came, proposing him to come back and be the teammate of his favourite german driver (apart from michael, of course), he couldn't say no. and you were glad. 4 years being by his side had been everything you ever dreamed, but seeing your best friend and your dad in a team together was a close second.

"oh my god, mick, it's been so long!" you almost screamed at him, while approaching the boy to give him a hug. he had paused in the middle of the garage, shocked at your presence, and wasn't reciprocating the hug. you realized that maybe he didn't miss you quite as much as you missed him, and let go, feeling quite awkward after. but he didn't let you go too far, and wrapped his arms around your figure tightly, now aware that you were, in fact, there.

"I missed you so much, schatzi".

—

"oh, what a great surprise I found here, my two favourite kids finally reunited!" your dad came almost screaming with love into the hospitality. you just smiled and tried to hide your face, since your sudden pink cheeks would reveal everything your dad didn't need to know. mick noticed instantly, and put his hand on your knee under the table you were sat in, in a reassuring way. he was the one who answered to your dad's joke. "why did you kept her from me all these years? could have used her support on the race weekends" mick said, smiling so brightly and now facing you, with a spark in his eyes that wasn't there before.

"told her a million times that you would be delighted with her presence here, but she denied each time" seb said jokingly, while getting closer to mick to put a hand on his shoulder and stroking it gently. the younger german went red, but you didn't seem to notice. "i guess I'm as stubborn as you are" you cheekily aimed the answer to your dad, who glared at you and acted angry. the laugh that you let out made his acting fall off, and seb started laughing too. "i'll let you alone, kids, god knows that you don't need me here" he said, and disappeared quickly, leaving both of you confused. what did he mean by that?

the day went by slowly. being a thursday, mick had little to no obligations but still, he tried to postpone everything he could, like the challenge he had scheduled to film for haas' youtube channel. after spending so much time apart, he told you he wanted to have all the time needed so you two could catch up. even though you kept contact through the years, it clearly wasn't the same to talk behind the screen and now, being face to face. mick was particularly interested in whatever you had to say, whether it was about your studies, your job, your family. he took every tiny piece you decided to give him, trying to get to know the woman that was now in front of him, the one he knew since he was just a kid but who had grown so much in the years you two hadn't maintained close contact.

seb had proposed to go out with the two of you to get a drink at a bar he saw earlier, but bailed last minute saying that he had a meeting that had extended for a bit too long. you knew that it was probably an excuse for you to have the talk that had been postponed for far too long. at first, it stayed strictly to small talk, continuing the direction you had taken earlier, but now focused on his job, how demanding it was sometimes. how lonely, too.

"remember our first kiss?" he said, out of nowhere. you saw how his cheeks reddened, probably because he realized how blunt his question had been. but before he could excuse himself, ashamed, you answered. "of course. we were, like, five?" you laughed, now with pink cheeks too. you had a crush on mick since before you could even know what a crush was. it never was something serious, you thought. the possibility of you two getting together had almost disappeared after a small fling you two had one summer. but knowing how serious he was about his job, and how serious you were about your interests outside the f1 world, you realised it probably would be too difficult to maintain a relationship like this. you saw how hard it was with your parents', and even though they showed you what real love looks like, you didn't know if you two were strong or mature enough to handle what it meant to have a long distance relationship.

"seb always said we would end up together" he said, rather shyly, hiding behind the non-alcoholic beer he was drinking. "yeah, I thought that too a few years ago" you admitted, saying something that you maybe wouldn't have said if it wasn't for the liquid courage that was flowing through your bloodstream. "not anymore?"

you huffed and ran your hands through your hair, trying to keep you grounded "we tried before, mick, it didn't work". the small relationship you had left you completely shattered. you had managed to get back to being close friends, not wanting to make it awkward for both of your families but also, knowing that you two couldn't get too far away from eachother. your dad, bless him, had stayed out of it, and you thought that he didn't even know it happened in the first place, because otherwise the blonde boy wouldn't be seated at your side. "yeah, I know, but don't you think that we've grown since then? that we could find a way to connect in new forms and better ways?" his blue eyes were calm like the ocean, hopeful but still as deadly as you remembered them. what would ensure that if you gave in, you wouldn't drown?

"it's still difficult, mick. I'm focusing on the last year of my studies and your focus is clearly here" you said, matter-of-factly. it wasn't meant to come as a protest. you supported him fully and respected that he had chose to follow the same path his dad had taken before him. you could never even think about going against it. "I know, but we could make it work, schatzi, don't you think?" mick smiled, now looking at your intertwined hands above the table. "if that's so, what are you waiting for?"

and just like that july situationship you had years ago, that included multiple nights of kissing and touching and feeling eachother, his lips found his way to meet yours. it had been so long since you last felt eachother this close, but still, it was like no time had passed. your hands found their way into the nape of his neck, caressing his hair, almost as second nature. the kiss was soft, almost shy, like the times you had sneaked out of your house, in the middle of the night, to meet him at your tree house back when you were twelve. after a few seconds, you broke the kiss, being desperate to get air into your lungs. still, your eyes remained closed, but you could feel his slightly agitated breath and how he smiled against your touch.

but suddenly, you heard a cough and opened your eyes, taken aback with the sudden interference. you were quickly brought back to reality by your dad's voice. "I'm sorry to interrupt, kids. but god, what took you so long?" he laughed, clearly enjoying both of your flushed red faces, while you tried to hide in mick's neck. he continued, not caring about how embarrassed you were, but rather enjoying it. "i was betting on this since before you two were even born".

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charlewiss writing challenge #one word november prompts #user charlewiss #f1 x y/n #f1 x yn #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher x y/n #mick schumacher fluff #mick schumacher angst #formula 1 imagine

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ahundredtimesover · 1 year

Text

Untitled | KNJ

Pairing: Namjoon x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: idolverse (no explicit mentions of BTS), strangers au; angst, smut

Warnings: foul language, inexplicit smut (making out, non-descriptive penetrative sex) (18+)

Word count: 16k

Summary: For years as a sculptor, you felt detached from your own work - unable to title them, describe them, name the most basic emotions that artists should be in tune with. A chance encounter with a man one winter night finds you in a journey of finding your own meaning. And as you slowly discover what it means to create and to feel, you find out that this might also be what pulls both of you far apart.

A/N1: It’s been tough being on a writing slump and not being able to come up with something new, but then Indigo happened. I’ve been so into Closer and been wanting to write something that would encapsulate the song’s emotions, but the more I listened to NJ talk about his album (especially Yun), the more I got to reflect on so many other things. So here we are. This was a quick write (and an experiment, too!) filled with my own ramblings and questions that only one Kim Namjoon would prompt me to have. Please enjoy.

A/N2: I’m not an artist, but I’m fascinated by them and what they create (Van Gogh’s Digital Art Exhibition in the LUME, Melbourne from last September just blew my away). In another life, I probably would’ve been a collector. But the essence of humanity in my professional work links to my own appreciation of art in that sense. All the things that I wonder about life and the essence of being human are reflected here. I’ve taken from Namjoon’s reflections and insights as well, and once again, I was reminded of his brilliance and his heart.

2020, early winter

A little boy with a bucket painting stars in the sky.

That’s what this season’s artwork on the side of the building is. Just this fall, it was a girl raising a paper airplane on this exact spot; in the summer, it was another kid on a swing, and in spring, it was a child with an opened suitcase, their toys falling out and drifting into a stream.

Lost childhood, perhaps. That’s what happens when the world stands still, Namjoon thinks. He’d written a song about it - the things we lost during the time when time froze, and maybe just like these paintings, life continued to go on. The yearning remains, though, and he can see it on the piece that he’s been looking at for minutes now.

Maybe the artist is young, mourning their own youth that slipped from their fingers. Maybe it’s someone a little older, mourning it for others. Maybe it’s just a person who’s trying to understand the situation through a child’s eyes - with innocence, confusion, trust. Maybe it’s—

The sound of footsteps disrupts Namjoon’s thoughts. It’s 2AM and he’s a little surprised that someone is in the area at this time. It’s a busy street during the day and the crowd falls away early. It’s completely deserted by this hour; it’s why he likes taking this route from the office to his apartment. He’s always liked walking home regardless of the distance, but it’s at night when he feels most free, and it’s become something he looks forward to everyday.

He’s about to turn away when he notices a figure run up to the small building where the painting he was just admiring is. The individual lays their bag on the floor and retrieves a paintbrush and a pail, seemingly about to continue their work that Namjoon didn’t even realize was still unfinished.

“Fuck,” the voice curses out. “Fuck fuck fucking shit. Why do I always forget my hot packs!”

The person removes their mask and blows into their cupped hands, rubbing them after in hopes of sustaining the heat from the friction.

“Just a bit more,” they continue, gloved hand now pointing ripples by the boy’s legs as he stands in a body of water. “Just a bit more.”

As chattering teeth and the blowing of air on hands continue, Namjoon decides to make himself known. The stranger is clearly trying to finish their work - and he’s curious to see this all unfold, finding amusement in watching an artist in action - but the cold air is quite uncomfortable.

“Hey,” he says, as the figure stops their movements. “I’m not a creep, I promise. I was just looking at your work but you’re freezing and I… I’ve got some extra hot packs with me.”

You slowly turn around with furrowed brows. This is the first time you’ve come across another person during the early mornings you paint on this specific building. You’ve gotten used to the emptiness of this street at this time, but somehow, hearing this man’s deep, rough voice is giving you comfort. Especially since he’s offering something you need.

“Sure, that would be great,” you say, blowing into your hands again.

He slowly walks forward - clad in a thick hoodie and beanie, his mask covering half of his face. He looks familiar, but you don’t have much time to place where you know him from. You take the hot packs he offers, squeeze one with your free hand while the other continues on with the piece that you want to finish tonight.

“Will it take much longer?” He asks, his voice kind. “I didn’t know it was unfinished and it’s quite interesting to see an artist complete their work. So, uh, can I watch?”

You turn towards him. On a normal day, you’d turn him away. You’re not too keen on anyone on your ass while you finish something, but he doesn’t seem like a creep and he was kind enough to give you hot packs at a time like this, so you nod.

It doesn’t take long. It’s just some ripples and a few strokes left anyway; you were freezing too much last night so you put off the final details for tonight. And then the last bit. You sign your name on the bottom corner, and a gasp leaves the stranger’s mouth.

“Wait, you’re Blue…” he says, the realization dawning on him. “

“Surprise,” you reply, standing up from your squatting position.

“I mean, I figured since you’ve been painting children and their lost youth this past year but… the man in the rain, the distorted face on the mirror, the hand on the neck… those were you, too.”

Namjoon can’t believe he’s finally face-to-face with the artist whose work has been haunting him since he first came across one on an electric post 3 years ago.

They were in other parts of the city. He remembers seeing them on walls and buildings during his walks home or when he was in the car, and then some weeks later, they were gone, either replaced with a new piece of work or just painted over, as if it never existed. He’d seen the signature a few times, and seeing it again reminded him that it was you, too. The one who’d created those masterpieces that got him thinking, feeling, wondering.

“You have a good memory,” you simply smile at him, realizing at this point that you’ve left your mask off. You put it back on and take in his domineering form. “Those were years ago; I’ve almost forgotten about them.”

“I haven’t. I mean, sort of.”

“Good. That was the point,” you reply. “I mean, sort of.”

“The point being? That I find something that speaks to me and then the next minute, they’re gone?” He says, quite defensive. It bothered him for a time that he never got to see those pieces again.

“What did they make you feel?”

“Desolate? Alone? Confused? Desperate?”

“Then you forgot about them, didn’t you?”

“The paintings, sort of. Not the feeling, though,” he frowns. “I still think about them but… I think I’ve forgotten exactly what they look like. Is that what you wanted?”

“Pretty much,” you hum, starting to pack your things. “The stuff I leave on for a few weeks are mostly sad, and I paint over them because I don’t want people to dwell on them. I want people… to forget, to move on.”

“But they don’t, not really. I’m sure they’ve taken photos if it spoke to them so much. At least I did, but then I deleted them because…”

“Because you got over the sadness,” you smirk, knowing that somehow, he proved your point, and he lets out a chuckle at the realization. “It may be on their phones but it’s not the real thing. The image may be distorted, the colors different, the strokes a lot smoother. It’s not the same.”

“They should be preserved,” he voices out. “It’s art. Those things are meant to be immortalized, no matter how they make people feel.”

“Not always,” you counter. “At least for me, I make those to forget. The feelings fade once the art does. I created them that way.”

“Hmm,” Namjoon hums, taking this time to observe you, as you’d rendered him speechless.

There’s this softness in your eyes that contrasts the words you say. He doesn’t want to imagine what you might’ve gone through to create hauntingly beautiful pieces inspired by feelings you want to forget.

Whatever those are, he truly does wish you’ve let those go. He knows he has. But he still disagrees - he doesn’t think art ever fades. Perhaps feelings do, but he’s come to learn that visual art is eternal.

“So how long will you keep this up?” He asks, wondering when he’d see you again; the allure and intrigue from your words makes him want to know more.

“Until the next season,” you say, picking up your bag now. “It’s been a tough year and I hope the spring brings more hope.”

“But you also don’t want them to dwell on this… the loss of childhood, of youth,” he continues. “You want them to move on from this, focus on what’s to be gained after losing something important.”

“You’re a fast learner,” you wink, and Namjoon surprises himself by the way his heart jumps at the sight. “You must be a genius or something. Or an artist yourself.”

“Neither,” he lies. “I mean, I’m barely anything, really.”

“I doubt it. A guy like you being affected by all this means you’re something, whatever it is.”

There’s something validating about your words, and he smiles behind his mask, something you see, as you smile back.

It’s odd, feeling a sense of connection with a stranger like this, something he’s never really experienced, most times because he’s always wary of who he meets, especially at this time of the night. But you don’t seem to know who he is. And if you do, you don’t seem to mind or want to make a deal out of it, something that he appreciates.

There’s comfort in your smile, and he wants to discover what other things cause it. There’s a dearth of experience in your words, and he wants to know more. There’s a tenderness in your eyes that he wants to mirror; he wishes he can give comfort to someone just by looking at them.

Maybe it’s the cold breeze. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s the end of the year and he’s spending it alone again. Maybe it’s spending an entire day cooped up in his studio only to go home to an empty apartment. Maybe it’s knowing what a year it was and what’s about to come. He didn’t think that a stranger in a yellow puff jacket who cursed so crisply would be the one to make his walk back home not feel so lonely. That the woman who’d casually painted some ripples and splashes on the wall was the one who’d make him feel a little less alone.

“So, uh, do you usually paint at the start or end of the season?” He wonders.

“Are you trying to ask when you’re gonna see me again?” You look at him with an arched brow.

“Maybe,” Namjoon chuckles. He’s also just trying to delay your departure, seeing as you seem to be ready to leave.

He doesn’t want to ask your name, not ready himself to share who he is. But perhaps the next meeting won’t be as serendipitous as this.

“It depends,” you tease. “But maybe I’ll see you again, either here, or elsewhere.”

“I hope it’s soon,” he confesses. He’s being bold, but his eyes light up when you reply.

“I hope so, too.”

Namjoon walks the opposite direction of where you are headed, turning back once to look at you, and catching your eyes when he does.

Winter passes. His busy schedule doesn’t permit him to take this route for a while, and it’s mid-spring when he sees a new painting that’s been completed - a young girl looking through a glass window to a world outside, her fingers holding onto the latch as she readies to open it. A small smile forms on his face; he at least sees something of you, even if it isn’t you.

The next time he’s able to pass by, it’s the end of summer, and all he sees is a gray wall - empty, undisturbed, as if there was nothing there to begin with.

2021, autumn

The bell rings as Namjoon enters the building, an art gallery that he’s been frequenting the past few months. There are new pieces, he’s been told, and one of the curators that he’s become friends with informed him that some of the artists are in town.

He nods in greeting at familiar faces - employees, artists, casual visitors. He walks around, taking in the new paintings and sculptures displayed. As he turns towards one of the smaller rooms, a piece catches his eye.

It’s something he’d seen before, a piece of ceramic sculpted in such a way that it looks like a flower in one angle, a seashell in another. And, dare he say, a vulva from a little farther away.

He reads the label. Untitled 56, Samantha Lee.

Namjoon goes through the photos on his phone, knowing it was a trip to LA over 2 years ago where he’d encountered something similar.

And there it is. Untitled 48, Samantha Lee.

He took the photo from an angle that looked like flowers, thinking about the simplicity and beauty, the choice of colors, and how they hung on the wall as part of the installation. It was one of many pieces he documented, but was the only one he didn’t get much story from. There was no description, no background. He wasn’t quite sure what to feel.

“Find something that interests you?”

Mr. Hong is one of the founders of this gallery, and he spends much of his time getting to know the regular visitors and the artists. He’s definitely someone who knows when something strikes Namjoon, like right now.

“Samantha Lee,” Namjoon responds. “Are they a local artist? I think I saw their work in LA some time ago.”

“Ah, yes Ms., uh, Ms. Lee. She’s a local and has her pieces displayed in several galleries. She’s here, actually,” Mr. Hong excitedly shares, noting how important it is for the Kim Namjoon to meet one of the artists. “She was supposed to come yesterday but decided to drop by today instead. Would you like to meet her?”

“Ah, that would be great,” Namjoon smiles back. “If she is fine with that, of course.”

Mr. Hong is never sure if the said artist is, but Namjoon is a special guest, he thinks, so the older man nods. “I’ll lead you to her.”

Namjoon is led up a small flight of stairs and out to a patio with more installations displayed. He spots several people outside, and he tries to determine which one of them is the artist he wants to meet, perhaps ask why she’d untitled all her pieces, and why there’s nothing of her at all that she chooses to share.

He stops in front of two women as instructed by Mr. Hong.

“He’s a fucking asshole, that’s what he is,” a familiar voice spits out. “The next time he harasses you, I’m going to impale his dick with my heels and—”

“Ehem,” Mr. Hong clears his throat, prompting both women to look at him. “Ms. Lee, one of our patrons would like to meet you.”

He shares a look with the woman before she nods and smiles. She turns to Namjoon where he’s met with familiar tender eyes, eyes he’s been yearning to see since that cold winter night.

“Blue?” He asks, surprised.

“My favorite color, yes. How did you know?”

You look at the man in front of you, tall and broad with caramel skin and a smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts. You’ve seen this smile before. Even behind a mask, you could tell it’s him, the man who’d saved your ass that one cold winter night with his extra hot packs and his calming voice.

You thought you’d see him again, seeing as he seemed to want to, but he never came that spring. You even left a small, ridiculous note at the corner where your signature usually is, asking when he’d come, thinking he’d communicate with you there. But the response never came.

The universe is tricky sometimes. You passed up on coming to the gallery yesterday because you felt dizzy when you woke up. And of all days that your winter night man visits, it’s the one where you’re here.

“I just figured,” Namjoon smiles, picking up your hints. “It’s one of mine, too.”

“Perhaps we should talk about the complexities of the color, then,” you smile back, nodding towards one of the sections in the large patio.

You lead him there, leaving Mr. Hong and his warning gaze and your assistant, whose smirk and teasing laughter makes you glare at her.

“I’m guessing they don’t know about you being Blue?” Namjoon asks, feeling a little jittery standing next to you again and being able to see your face much more clearly, your hair tied loosely in a bun and your clothes a nice fit for the cool weather.

“Minji does. She helps me find materials,” you respond. “Mr. Hong doesn’t. He’s not much of a fan of street art.”

“That’s a bummer, especially since one of the artists creates amazing pieces on buildings and posts and then signs them, then abandons them, and leaves spectators like me to wonder where they’d gone,” Namjoon replies, hoping you don’t find offense with his tiny jab.

Your chuckle tells him you don’t. “You never came.”

“I didn’t know when to,” he defends. “Well, more like, I stopped having the time. That place is so far from where I live and I only walk from my office because I like that time alone and I haven’t had that, but then I came back in the summer but you—”

“You don’t have to explain,” you assure him. “That was a chance meeting and I didn’t really expect I’d see you again in the same spot weeks later.”

“Did you expect to see me this time?”

“Oh, not at all,” you shake your head. “Why are you even here?”

“Why are people ever in art galleries?” He counters. “To check out the art. Maybe chance upon the artists if they’re here.”

“I guess,” you shrug, turning a corner to a small maze of an installation. “You wouldn’t have known it was me, though.”

“I didn’t. I was staring at Untitled 56 and realized I took a photo of Untitled 48,” he reveals, earning him a shocked look from you. “It was in LACMA. I saw it a while back. The name rang a bell because I don’t know anything about you. You leave so much to the imagination, Ms. Lee. There’s nothing about y—”

“It’s Han,” you correct him, feeling comfortable now. “I mean, Han ___. Samantha Lee is another pseudonym. Or like a stage name. You know, like you?”

You bite your lip at the slip-up, not wanting him to be uncomfortable at the thought that you clearly know who he is. But he just nods, affirming that he now knows that you know who he is, but he smiles right after, his eyes turning into the smallest, prettiest crescents and his dimples framing his strong-featured face that makes him even more handsome.

“I suppose you’re right,” he hums. “But why blue? And why Samantha Lee?”

“It’s the simpler version of my favorite color. Aegean blue is too complicated to sign every time,” you chuckle. “And Samantha Lee… Well, she was my roommate back in college and she once told me she wanted to be famous and the only way that could happen is if I used her name as a pseudonym. I had a crush on her so I agreed.”

There’s a long pause before Namjoon realizes that you’re not joking, and he comments that it’s interesting but he doesn’t ask again.

“I’m Kim Namjoon, by the way,” he reaches out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” you say, internally melting at the feel of his warm and large hand. “So why did you take a photo of Untitled 48?”

“It looked like a clam.”

At this, you burst into laughter.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way, just to be clear!” He insists. “It was beautifully made. It was of a neutral color but it somehow stood out the most to me in that section. And it was the 48th; I wondered why they didn't have titles. And your 56th, which looks like—”

“A vulva,” you snort.

“Yes,” he chuckles, “and a flower, yeah - something I’ve been into lately. And well, it was interesting. And seeing your piece here reminded me of that,” he goes on. “And I just wanted to know… why.”

“Why what?” You furrow your brows at him.

“Why those pieces? Why are they untitled? What prompted you to create them that way?”

“We’d probably have to tour the gallery 4 more times if you want to know,” you chuckle.

“I have time.”

“Do you?” You ask, eyeing the phone in his pocket that's been vibrating for the last 5 minutes.

He smiles shyly and excuses himself. When he returns, he has a disappointed look on his face. “Turns out, I don’t have time. But I want to. I… uh, will you be here again anytime this week?”

“I will. I’m just not sure when.”

There’s something alluring with these coincidental meetups. Somehow you want more of those, perhaps to let the universe tell you that you’re meant to constantly meet this man whose time you know you’ll never have enough of, even if he makes it for you.

“Let me see you again?”

“You will.”

You catch his eyes when he turns back as he walks away. There’s a sparkle in them, and you’re afraid to want to see it once more.

The walk to the site of the lost youth is a long one, but not knowing when you’d see the tall man with the prettiest smile again, you head there.

Your last piece was of a child at the brink of freedom, about to take the step outside the cage she’d been in for the past year and a half. You painted over it once autumn started; maybe the next time you’d paint over a building, you’re no longer yearning for lost things. Maybe you’d paint something about finding something new.

“I’m gonna start believing in a higher power if we continue meeting like this.”

The raspy voice is familiar, and you turn around to see Namjoon, clad in a hoodie and a baseball cap, leaning against one of the streetlights across the empty wall of the building you’d been staring at. It’s been 2 days since you saw him at the gallery, about 7 months since the first time you’d encountered him here. You’re unsure what this all means.

“Maybe you should,” you head towards him. “I missed the last bus so I decided to walk home. I’m still far away but this is on the way. Why are you here?”

“Stayed up at the studio,” he replies. “I’m incredibly exhausted but I don’t know, I got the energy for the long walk. Then there you were.”

“There I was, appearing so suddenly again, yeah?” You chuckle, leaning on the opposite side of the pole.

Namjoon merely hums before he nods towards the direction of his apartment. “I’m heading there.”

“Me, too.”

With his hands in his hoodie pockets and yours crossed against your chest, you try to match his long strides.

“Painting came first,” you say, as if answering the question that he’s been thinking of asking. “Painting was everything. We had so many pieces in our home, and it’s as if they spoke to me. I mean, in a not creepy way, it felt like all of my parents’ own pieces spoke to me. And they always told me I wasn’t good enough.”

Namjoon turns to look at you with empathy in his eyes. He lets you speak, and he finds out that both your parents are the artists he’d been researching lately. Your father is a classical painter, and your mother does contemporary. He can’t imagine living in gigantic shadows like that.

“When I was 15, my parents pulled strings to get some of my pieces displayed with theirs,” you sigh, recalling the mixed emotions then. “It was exciting at first, but the patrons wouldn’t mention my name unless they mentioned my parents’. And then one of my favorite pieces that I made was sold to a man who wanted it as a decoration in his summer home’s living room.”

Namjoon slows his walk and you match his pace. You meet his comforting eyes, and there’s that warmth you feel from, technically, a stranger that you didn’t expect.

“I made that piece at a time when I was frustrated living in my parents’ shadows,” you continue. “Someone once told me that art is meant to be shared, that there’s humanity in the community we create when it’s shared, that the meaning deepens when others make their own. That piece had so much of me in there; I felt like the meaning of that piece was stripped away from me the moment that stranger took home that canvas for a select few to look at. It wasn’t mine anymore, it was his; it was theirs. I stopped painting after that.”

There’s a certain kind of pain in giving up something that matters deeply to you, in losing meaning in the thing that’s given your life meaning for most of your life. Namjoon knows a bit about that pain. Many times, he’d found himself questioning all that he does, what he stands for, and what the world expects him to be.

He sees that pain in your eyes, of losing a part of you as the art stopped meaning what you wanted it to. But he doesn’t think that all is lost.

“But your street art,” he reminds you. “That’s still you. That still has meaning. And that’s something that you share.”

“That’s Blue, though,” you manage a smile. “She’s just a part of me.”

“She’s still you,” he insists. “Can you tell me about her?”

And so you tell him - how you argued with your parents about quitting painting, how you were going to turn down the scholarship in a prestigious art university to take up sociology instead, so they shipped you to a foreign country to fend for yourself, and that’s when you learned what loneliness felt like. But that’s also when you learned about people in their rawest sense, what it meant to struggle to survive, what it meant to lose something that mattered, because you studied them - you studied how humans grieved and how they persisted. You studied how they lived and how they died.

“Blue wants meaning, and she still struggles in finding it,” you explain.

“Does she?” Namjoon questions. “I’m in my late 20s but your lost youth series resonated with me. All those paintings of the man in the rain, the distorted face… they’ve inspired me in ways I can’t explain. That’s meaning, ___. That matters.”

No one outside of Minji knows all these versions of you. Except Namjoon, the brightest star you never thought you’d ever meet. Hearing him speak about your work this way makes you feel something - a first in a long time.

“Thanks, I guess,” you say shyly.

“It’s a shame they’re not displayed in galleries and museums, though.”

“I don’t want them to,” you say, surprising him. “People intend to go to museums, but they pass these streets out of necessity. I want them to stop and look, to feel, to think for a few seconds before they go back to their routinary walk. And then I remove them, so they can forget what pain and sadness feel like.”

“Looks like you found your meaning, then,” Namjoon smiles, comforted by the fact that someone as talented as you had found purpose again, something he relates with at a deeper level than he imagined.

“The painter in me did,” you reply. “The sculptor, not so much. “

“Untitled,” he hums.

“Yeah. I don’t think I can name something I understand, or at least, feel,” you say.

“That’s a lot of untitled works for you to not understand what you do,” he chuckles.

“I’m prolific because there’s not much of me I lose when I create them,” you explain. “I just sit in my stool, craft something, then call it a day. Not to brag or anything, but it comes easy. They’re shallow pieces, Namjoon. They don’t even deserve to be in galleries but Mr. Hong insists they do for some reason. I wish this version of me, Samantha Lee, understood why it matters, why someone like him would believe in my pieces, why a Kim Namjoon would think that 48 stood out to him enough to keep a photo.”

Namjoon processes your words. As an artist himself, he believes in the meaning of the pieces that he creates, whether it’s a song or a poem or an album or a concert. There’s effort put into them even if it’s something created in 30 minutes. Your pieces are beautiful, and he wants to explore more - you and your meaning, you and your value.

“Then why do you keep making them? What about it makes you keep sculpting?”

“The feel of the clay on my skin, the way my fingers get to mold and create the details,” you explain. “I get to touch it. I don’t get to do that with painting, you know? It’s the paintbrush and the canvas I feel but with sculpting, I get to mix the materials, I get to shape it, hold it.”

“There’s that intimacy,” he offers.

“Yeah. And it’s addictive because it’s closeness I’ve never felt before.” You turn to him before speaking the next words. “It's an intimacy I’ve never experienced before with anyone or anything.”

“Isn’t that your meaning, then?” He questions. “The piece itself might not have a story on its own but all these untitled works, the process of creating, of it being easy because you can’t get enough of the intimacy you get from creating… that’s meaning. That desire for closeness, for meaning… that’s meaning.”

No one’s ever put it that way for you, probably because you’ve never let yourself be this honest with someone about your art. All your friends aren’t artists because you wanted that world separate, you didn’t want to have to talk about it feeling as insecure and lost as you are.

But Namjoon - he’s one of your generation’s greatest artists. He weaves words and sounds so beautifully to create masterpieces that people consume and hold so closely. He understands.

“I’ve made songs that took me 30 minutes,” he shares. “But I’ve also made songs that took me to dark places, that broke me as I wrote them. But once they came out, once I’ve shared them to others who’ve shared what it meant to them… slowly, I started becoming whole again. Isn’t that an artist’s burden? To break to create, to feel whole after that, and then to break all over again?”

“You are truly one of a kind, Kim Namjoon,” you tell him. “I’ve lived with artists my whole life and they never let me understand art in that way.”

“I’m still figuring it all out,” he shrugs. “I still feel lost sometimes, but I think it’s natural to feel that way, to be unsure or confused. I guess what matters is that we’re still walking on some road to somewhere, even if we don’t know where we’re heading.”

“Is that where you are right now?” You wonder. “On a road to somewhere you don’t quite know yet?”

More than you know, he wants to say. He’s in this period of experimentation, of figuring out his signature style, of figuring out who he is and what he means to his teammates, to the industry, to the world.

“Sort of,” he shrugs. “It’s hard sometimes. Walks like this give me a reprieve. Consuming other people’s art lets me understand things a bit more.”

“Yeah, I get it. I mean, conversing with strangers gives me time to breathe, too.”

“Ooh, so I’m still a stranger, huh?” He chuckles, shyly looking at you. “Our third unplanned meeting, an hour of walking home… and I’m still a stranger.”

“What would you want to be, then?” You turn to him, a little teasing smile on your face.

“A friend, for starters.”

“My nighttime friend?”

“Not just,” he shakes his head. “I would like to see you again, actually. And I don’t want to put this up to chance this time. Like, something planned or—”

“And how exactly would that work?”

“I, uh…” he thinks. “I’d invite you to my apartment. And you can invite me to yours?”

“Why?”

“Because I want to get to know you more, if that’s okay.”

“Are you always this bold?” You giggle, not missing the way your cheeks start to feel warm at the mention of visiting each other’s homes and him wanting to get to know you.

He’s obviously handsome - you’ve known of him since his band made it to your TV screens, being young men who were around your age, singing songs that resonate so deeply with you. But he’s more than that, as you’re learning. There’s this passion for creating that's refreshing, something you seem to lack.

“Not always,” he looks away, the dips in his cheeks something you’re sure you won’t get enough of.

“You should be. It makes a girl flustered but it makes it so difficult for her to say no,” you smirk. Sometimes, you also don’t know where your own boldness comes from.

“You? Flustered? That’s quite hard to believe,” he teases.

“That’s true. But it happens, believe it or not, when a gorgeous, brilliant man asks me over.”

Your heart stops for what feels like a minute, but his sweet, child-like laughter melts away your worry.

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” You ask.

“Surprisingly, no,” he replies. “I appreciate your honesty. About everything. I hope we can give that to each other.”

“Okay then, your turn,” you challenge.

“Hearing you curse was kinda hot.”

You try to hold off your laughter, your defense to your true reaction, which is to smile like an idiot and feel like floating.

“That’s interesting. I would’ve thought it’s something to do with my looks or my talent, you know?” You arch an eyebrow teasingly.

“It is. I think you’re beautiful. And I’m usually a forgetful person but I haven’t forgotten your sweet smile since I first saw it last winter,” he says, catching you off guard. “And your talent… there’s a reason why I have 48 saved on my phone, and why I sought out your street art these past years. I want to know what intimacy in art is like for you. I guess I’ve sort of lost that in creating my own.”

“Intimacy,” you repeat. “I think we both lack it in certain ways.”

“Maybe we’ll find it,” he says more confidently now, holding your gaze as your eyes trace his face.

“Maybe we will,” you respond, feeling your whole body warm with embers of fire.

He insists on taking you home, another 20-minute walk away from his. But you claim to enjoy that time on your own, assuring him that you do this all the time and the streets are safe.

“Let me know when you get home safely?” He asks, and you give him your phone for him to input his number.

“I will.”

It’s 30 minutes later when you do. It’s 1AM, but you and Namjoon spend the next 2 hours talking some more - about his songs and your pieces, about his plants and your collection of wind chimes.

You didn’t expect to make him laugh as much as you did, and he said he didn’t expect you to think his ramblings are adorable and amusing. You most definitely didn’t expect your heart to beat as fast as it did when he told you, in his deep, raspy voice, that he’s glad he took that long walk that winter, that he visited the art gallery when he did, that the hopeless romantic in him pushed him to go to the place you first met.

“I think I’m crazy but somehow I feel like I’ve known you for so long,” he muses.

“I feel the same way,” you assure him, as you hug your pillow and slowly surrender to sleep.

“Good,” he hums. “That’s all I wanted to know. Good night, ___. And I’ll see you soon.”

2021, winter

There’s a warmth in Namjoon’s home that’s hard to replicate. Filled with his favorite art pieces of all forms, he said he curated it to reflect his emotions just as much as his tastes. It’s clean and well-organized, with books on shelves and stacks on the floor, and an entire area full of liquor - his new interest, he’d said.

He’s had you over several times already; the first one, barely a week after that long walk home. You both spent hours that day talking about his favorite artists, and it wasn’t enough, as he asked you back the next day.

You often talk about your childhood, one that you weren’t always comfortable sharing, but being with him makes it easy.

It’s easy when he looks into your eyes when you speak, as if he’s telling you that he knows you say more than words. It’s easy when he’s got his own stories to share - stories of vulnerability and honesty, of fear and confusion. It’s easy when he still stutters over words sometimes and then gets lost in his own ramblings, then he chuckles when he realizes he’s talked so much, and you tell him that it’s okay because his voice is calming and his thoughts are a breath of fresh air.

It’s easy when his presence is comforting, when his anecdotes about his friends and family make you laugh until your insides hurt. It’s easy when he makes you feel like you can question everything about your art and your purpose and your abilities but he never makes you feel like a failure. It’s easy when he smiles and laughs nervously, when he’s funny without meaning to, and when he makes sure you’re comfortable by always having your preferred tea and biscuits next to the wine you once said is your favorite.

The only time it gets hard is when he stands a little too close as you look up at a painting or a book on a shelf. You could feel the heat from his body; a slight movement and you’d be touching, mere cloths in between you. It’s hard when his arm brushes the slightest bit against yours. It’s hard when he gazes at you when there’s silence, and it’s like he’s studying your face before you call him out and he apologizes because he “can’t stop looking at pretty things.”

It’s hard when he hugs you goodbye and he wishes you a safe ride home. It’s hard when he sends you a message right after, saying he wishes you both had more time.

Being attracted to Namjoon is hard; being attached to him is torture.

“You’re looking for him again,” Minji states the obvious as you walk around the gallery, your eyes darting to the door every time the bell rings.

“No I’m not,” you deny. “He just got back from his trip abroad and he’s tired. He won’t be coming here.”

“Doesn’t mean you wish he would,” she smirks. “But why rendezvous here? You guys go to each other’s houses. And no one goes to your house… aside from me.”

“We can’t exactly see each other in public, you know?” You glare at her. “But… I don’t know, it’s nice to see him look around and talk about what he sees. I feel like I learn more from him. And that’s weird, isn’t it? This is my field. The arts have been my entire life, but I’m learning more about it from him.”

“What is it about him?” She wonders.

She doesn’t say that she’s noticed more life in your eyes since he came into your life. She doesn’t say that she’s noted that you take more time creating pieces, seemingly savoring the process unlike the way you used to. She doesn’t mention the smile that she hasn’t seen in all the years that she’s known you.

“Passion is sexy, you know?” You giggle. “He has so much of it, it’s inspiring.”

“Is that all?” Minji smirks.

“He’s also fucking gorgeous. I try not to ogle him but I think he’s noticed. Fuck me.”

“Maybe he wants to.”

“Shut up. Don’t make me hope.”

“You do that to yourself,” she laughs. “Keep denying that you don’t want to see him or want anything more with him and let’s see how you do.”

The truth is, you know. You know that you’d fall hard if you let yourself go like that, but it’s human to know danger and then still want it, isn’t it?

The vibration from your phone ringing surprises you.

“Hey,” Namjoon’s voice booms on the other end.

“Hey,” you reply. “How was your trip?”

“Good. I just got home. We had to stop by the office for a bit. My place is a mess and we have something again in the afternoon,” he huffs, sounding incredibly tired. “Can I come over tonight?”

You almost drop the flute of champagne you’re holding. He’s been to your house twice, but this is the first time he’s specifically asked to come over, especially considering that he just arrived from a trip abroad.

“Of course,” you hum. “Any dinner preferences?”

“Your cooking,” he says simply. “But wait for me, okay? I’ll let you know when I’m on the way.”

“Okay,” you say, before dropping the call, unable to hide the wide smile that forms on your face, to your assistant’s amusement.

“Why don’t you try to let go this time?” She advises. “Maybe you’ll find the intimacy you’ve been longing for.”

Namjoon overestimates your cooking abilities. Truly, all you know to do is prepare ramyun and fry anything. But, compared to him, he’s said you’re chef level. “The guys” don’t even want him near the kitchen, he tells you all the time.

But instant noodles and pork belly seem enough for him, as he eats with his mouth closed and hums in satisfaction. You take the time to savor the way he looks. A few weeks without him has started to feel like months.

“It was overwhelming,” he finally says.

He knew the moment he landed that he wanted to see you. There’s comfort in your presence that he’s begun to accept, and being with you allows him to be honest, to feel real, to feel human.

“It was great to be able to perform again, to hear the cheers and the sounds and everything. It was also terrifying,” he continues. “I was nervous and excited, I was scared and elated. I felt so fulfilled and satisfied but I also felt like it wasn’t enough.”

“That’s a lot of conflicting emotions,” you hum.

“Are they? Conflicting, I mean.”

“It depends, I guess. They seem up and down to me. Does it bother you?”

“That I felt all that, all at once?”

You nod in response.

“It used to,” he admits. “At the start of all this, I thought, I can’t be scared. Six other guys and an entire company are looking to me to succeed. I have to be strong and confident. And then, an industry is waiting for me to fail. And then, my own country is letting me - us - represent an entire generation, it’s asking me to carry on this cultural wave. It never ends. And I used to think I couldn’t be scared, that not wanting all this anymore means I’m ungrateful.”

“But you aren’t,” you try to assure him. You can’t imagine the burden he feels, leading a group that feels all kinds of pressure. “I’ve heard you talk about your art and your poetry and your brothers and your fans. You’re easily the most passionate, hardworking, and appreciative person I know. I don’t think you’ll ever run out of things to give.”

“It’s tiring,” he sighs.

“I’m sure. But you’re honest about it. You’ve always been. Doesn’t honesty unburden you, even just a little bit? Doesn’t it leave you space to feel more, to be more?”

Namjoon hums. For someone who claims to not know much about feeling, you seem to know what to say to make him stop and think, to remind him of why he does what he does. And why ultimately, he’s always going to love it.

“It does,” he finally says, sitting up straight to take a better look at you in your linen pants and soft sweater. “Do you do that, then? Unburden yourself by being honest?”

“I’m not good at doing that,” you chuckle. “If you don’t know by now, I say a lot of seemingly profound things that I don’t necessarily live by.”

“Why not?”

“Honesty scares me. Being vulnerable scares me. I don’t know how to return it.”

“Has anybody ever been all that to you?” He wonders, feeling the tension build a little.

“Once” you say, standing from the dining table and heading to the large window that overlooks your garden. “And I ran away.”

“Is that why you sculpt, then?” Namjoon asks, walking towards you. “Because you don’t know what to do with intimacy so you do it with your art? You want to hold and touch what you walk away from? You don’t give it a name because you don’t want to define it? Because you’re scared that if you do, you’ll realize that you actually want it - the closeness, the warm body, the rawness that you can only get from being with someone else.”

You look up at him, towering over you. He came from a short filming, donned in a white, buttoned polo with his long sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You can see the darkness of his hazelnut eyes and the stubble on his chin. You spot the beauty mark on his neck and the smoothness of his skin, especially on his chest, as he leaves 2 buttons undone.

“Reading me now, Kim Namjoon?” You cock an eyebrow, trying to break the tension that’s built up in the last few minutes.

“I’m trying, because I want to get to know you more, find out what you’re afraid of and ease it somehow,” he admits. “Because I feel the same way. I’m honest but I’m scared, yet with you, I’m honest but I’m brave. I feel like I’m brave. I don’t know what it is, but ever since I met you, I just wanted…” he glances at your lips then meets your eyes again. “I just wanted to know more, to feel more. To understand what it’s like to be intimate with someone who doesn’t know much about it like me. I want to figure it out. With you.”

“How?”

One word is all you get to verbalize, as you feel him come closer, the heat of his body intensifying with every second. You’re backed up against the window, the distance between you and him decreasing and decreasing.

His eyes are boring into you, and you bravely gaze at him back. You mirror his desire, as you lick your lips when he glances at them again. Your chest is heaving as is his, and your heart races even more when he breathes out your name.

You palm his chest, and for a brief moment of uncertainty in his eyes at the thought of you stopping him, you instead grip the cloth that covers him, and you slowly pull him in.

His lips are soft. And the way he gently presses against you is tender, comforting, like he wants to savor it and go slow. He angles his head the same time his hand reaches for your waist, and you feel the slightest wetness from his tongue.

You grant him entrance, and the second you do, he takes control, tightening his hold on your body as he cages you, his one arm now propped up against the window. You moan into each other as tongues and teeth clash, and you can’t help your hand that travels to pull on the ends of his hair, brushing your fingers against the nape of his neck right after.

It’s a little sloppy, needy, but there’s still gentleness in there. It’s in the way he cups your cheek, caressing it with his large fingers and letting it slide down your chest, back to your waist. It’s in the way he smiles into the kiss when you moan your pleasure; you can almost feel his dimples as he does. It’s in the way that he asks for more, not with dominance but with care, with understanding, with caution.

You both pull away to catch some air, lips swollen and wet, but your smiles say you enjoyed it. The way your bodies haven’t completely detached from each other shows that.

“Would you let me stay the night?” He asks softly, as if it’s a request he’s afraid to ask.

“Yes,” you breathe out. “Be with me tonight.”

Underneath the covers of your bed, you lay in his arm while your fingers trace patterns on his taut chest. You can hear his heartbeat still drumming, and you can feel the care in the way he caresses your cheek, your arm, your waist.

“I don’t know what I can give you, Namjoon,” you admit. “I don’t know how to be as honest and vulnerable as you. I don’t know how to share parts of me that I don’t understand. I don’t know what I can do to ease all your worries and concerns. I—”

“Just give me moments,” he interjects. “Nights like this, days at our homes, afternoons at the galleries, hours on the phone… I just want to feel something that I can actually touch, that I can savor. And I want it to be you, the one I get to hold and taste and kiss.”

He leans forward again, and you capture his mouth in yours. There’s no need to do more - much as you’re wet and he’s definitely hard, but neither one of you is rushing, neither one wants to scare the other.

He’s hot, the kind that burns. That’s how it is with people as passionate as he is - their touch can light a fire on your skin, and you won’t be able to stop it.

“I can give you moments,” you whisper. “Just tell me.”

2022, spring

You can count the moments with 2 hands.

Namjoon stayed with his parents over the holidays but he videocalled you everyday. You both went to a few galleries outside the capital but did so separately, spending hours after that talking about the pieces over the phone.

You’ve come to appreciate your world much more deeply with his commentaries and reflections, and with you, he said he’d gotten to breathe a little longer, laugh a little louder, and feel a little more human.

He stayed over your place 4 more times; you stayed over at his thrice. You debated over movies and recommended each other books. It was common to spend the day wrapped up in each other on the couch while you both read separately. He made you listen to a few songs he’s been working on - some of which were inspired by your many conversations and your own musings, and you’d showed him sketches of your upcoming planned series on sculpted landscapes.

It’s freeing, being able to share about your world with someone else like this, and being part of someone else’s, too. Whatever it is you both have is freeing - kisses included, which never went beyond what you first did. Despite the obvious desire to do more, neither of you ever tried, perhaps knowing what it would entail. There’s distance between you and him but there also isn’t. There’s enough comfort and intimacy that you’ve only scratched the surface of, but this seems to be just enough.

“I have the weekend off,” he pants over the phone. It’s 11PM and they’ve just finished rehearsals for an upcoming series of concerts abroad. “Do you want to do something?”

“A trip to my parents’ summer home?” You wonder out loud. The spring air has come and you love going to the lake at this time. “It’s by the mountains and it’s really private. The estate is like their personal art museum with their works and others’. I visit every year. But if—”

“Yes, a hundred times yes,” he huffs. “That’s fucking amazing.”

“I know I got you at the art museum bit,” you laugh.

“You got me at the really private bit, actually,” he says seriously, causing your heart to race. “And the art of course. And you. Always you.”

“Alright, Casanova,” you tease. “Just make sure I don’t get in trouble for taking you somewhere weeks before you leave.”

“We’re alright,” he responds. “I can’t wait.”

It’s a 3-hour drive to the estate by the mountains. In the far future, your parents want to open it up for private viewing, and so you want to make sure that your art lover more-than-but-not-really-friend gets a first peek.

You spend the entire ride talking about a hundred topics, going off tangent when he rambles again, and you’re the one who circles him back to the original discussion. You hum tunes while he sings songs, and when you find private spots, you take the risk and take photos.

You make it to the estate in the late morning, and as you expected, Namjoon’s jaw drops.

The fountain at the front is an art piece itself. The front door was shipped from Indonesia, and the furniture are a beautiful curation of pieces from all over the world that were gifted to or bought by your parents.

You watch him gently trace the carvings and the details. You’re in awe as he absorbs the sculptures and paintings as you tour him around. And you melt every time he turns to you with the biggest smile on his face, like he’s discovering a secret that only both of you know. It’s breathtaking and absolutely precious.

“Keep looking at me like that,” he says, as he catches you marvel at him. “I like it when you look at me like you want me.”

“Don’t fluster me,” you say, turning away.

“You’re not denying it,” he counters, walking closer to you.

“I would be a liar if I did.”

“That’s good to know,” he hums, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I know I only asked for moments but can this weekend be filled with that?”

He looks nervous, like you’d turn him down.

“I… it’s been tough, dealing with a lot of things,” he continues. He’s mentioned some difficulties lately, and you know there’s not much you can do about it. Except, maybe this. “I just want something to hold onto, like being here with you, experiencing all these art pieces, being close…”

He cups your cheek and gives you that look that you’ve become familiar with, his request for intimacy that you both continue to explore.

“Okay,” you respond, taking his hand and kissing it. “Okay.”

You eat lunch, explore the east wing of the property, and at mid-afternoon, you convince him to swim on the lake with you.

“Isn’t it freezing?” He asks worriedly.

“That’s the fun part of it,” you insist. “There’s a hot tub we can stay at after.”

Namjoon gives in. It’s easy to, with a smile like yours that makes his heart race every time. Especially when you come out in your blue swimsuit, shaping your curves and all other parts of your body that makes his own react. He can’t help but marvel at you, even as you tease.

“Hey, big guy, eyes up,” you smirk.

He blushes when you giggle, but he does tease back, removing his shirt to reveal his body that he’s been working so hard on. He does flex a little to give you a taste of your own medicine, and it works.

“Hey, eyes up,” he chuckles.

You feel a shiver when his finger tilts your chin up, and you do the childish thing and bite it before you run to the lake and dive in. Namjoon follows, canonballing and then swimming over to chase you.

You haven’t swam here in years. You merely used to watch the sun rise and then gaze at the sky and imagined doing all this with someone else. You didn’t really think you’d end up here with Kim Namjoon, but here you are.

Namjoon pulls you to him as you swim close, and you both float in the water with your arms around his chest and his arms around your waist. You’re obviously both drenched, and that just leaves so little to the imagination, especially with the cold water a little more overwhelming than you expected.

His hair is swept back, with beads of water lining his face and sliding down his neck and his chest. He’s broad and incredibly built. It’s unfair that his body looks as amazing as his face.

“Does Minji know you’re here with me?” He asks.

“Yes, teased me nonstop until I picked you up. What about the guys?”

“They do. They insist we are a couple.”

“And?”

“And I said that we aren’t,” he says cautiously. “We’re friends who spend a lot of time together and cuddle, and uh, sometimes do a little more.”

“What a complicated way to say we’re friends with benefits,” you laugh.

“I don’t see it that way, though,” he furrows his brows. “I don’t want to reduce what we are to each other to just benefits or something sexual or shallow. Do you see it that way?”

“No,” you say. “I… I’ve come to understand art a lot more because of you. I’ve come to appreciate what I do. That’s not just some benefit.”

“And I… can’t even explain all that you do for me,” he says. “We’re more than that. Less than lovers, but more than friends. And our moments shape this, whatever name we call it.”

“Untitled,” you wonder out loud. “Sometimes artists name their pieces as such when they can’t find a better descriptor.”

“So 58 sculptures in, and you still can’t find a better descriptor?” He teases.

“Shut up,” you smack his hard chest. “I titled them that way because I didn’t have a meaning for them. I just created them. But then I met this man, tall and built with a sexy brain, and he made me realize that the meaning is in the creation, too. So 58 works, 58 times I experienced intimacy, the only times I do.”

“Ah, so what about us?” He nudges you with his nose. “Aren’t we intimate?”

“It’s a different kind, I guess,” you say. You’re not my creation and you’re not mine, you choose not to say. “You don’t break. You’re the one that breaks other things.”

You pass it off as a joke, and he buys it. You don’t want to think much about what you and Namjoon aren’t; you just want to think about what you both are - something that may or may not be fleeting, but something beautiful nonetheless.

The sun shines a little too bright, and you take the chance to get out of the water and into the dock to soak up its heat. Namjoon follows and you both lay that way, just next to each other, catching your breaths.

“Are you feeling a little better?” You ask, wondering if he still carried over all his concerns here.

“Yes. It’s exhilarating,” he responds. “It’s nice to feel this way for a change.”

“I’m sure you’ve felt this way before, too.”

“Not this way,” he turns to you. “It’s different, I guess. It makes me think of all the other emotions I have yet to feel, the ones I’ve felt only briefly before, and the ones that I’ll never feel. I think life’s too short for a person to experience all kinds of emotions. I was it wasn’t.”

“Are humans built for that?” You question. “To feel every possible thing out there? To feel every variation of pain and sadness and joy and elation and pleasure and desire?”

Namjoon thinks. Surely, being able to have emotions and to truly feel is what makes us humans and what makes us different from animals. It’s what marks our humanity, regardless of what emotion that may be. But are humans really capable of feeling everything without breaking? Without it being too much?

“Maybe not,” he finally responds.

You think, too. You’ve often wondered why you were so scared to be vulnerable, to take risks, to love. You thought once that feeling things is overwhelming - what do you do with them? How do you handle them when they get too much? When you become too happy or too sad or too scared or too excited?

You think maybe because like all things in this world, you can never have emotions. You feel them, but you can’t own them, they can’t be yours. Like your art. You can create them but they stop being yours once you share them. Like music, as Namjoon has told you, it stops being his the moment he releases it for others to consume. And it’s scary to not have that permanence; it’s scary to not have that assurance that you’ll always have that joy or that excitement or that elation. And in some way, it’s also scary to know that you won’t always have that pain or that sadness.

“Maybe humans are only built to try to feel everything,” Namjoon states, having thought about your question and his years-long quest of figuring himself out. “But we aren’t meant to achieve it. Maybe our life is about just feeling bits and pieces of it, sometimes longer than others, but we can’t feel it all, and definitely not all at once. It’s like truth; we spend our life seeking and trying to live it, but we might never be able to. Still, we have to keep trying.”

“Hmm,” is all you manage to say. “Do couples have deep conversations like this?” You laugh this time, needing his thoughts to linger a little longer.

“They should,” he laughs. “But it’s enough for me that I have someone like you to make me question things. It reminds me that I have more to discover, to feel.”

To feel.

Sometimes Namjoon makes it seem so easy to just do that. He’s able to name what he feels, unlike you. You wish it was easy, like saying that the cold water on your skin is refreshing, like the sun’s heat is comforting, like the clouds in the sky are soft.

You don’t notice your hand reaching up, wanting to just touch them because you want something concrete, something more real than what your imagination says that clouds feel like. But instead, you feel rough, warm fingers interlocking with yours.

“If you want to feel something concrete, I’m here, you know?” Namjoon says, thumbing your hand to let him know he’s right next to you. Somehow he just knew what you were doing, what you were wishing for.

“But this is what couples do,” you tease, yet tightening your hold nonetheless.

“Friends hold hands,” he smirks.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. They kiss, too,” he hums, lifting himself up only to hover over you, catching you by surprise, but your desire trumps that, as the view of him - damp and natural-looking - makes your insides twist in circles.

“Hmm, like this?” You peck his lips, then his nose, teasing him.

“Sometimes. Other times it’s deeper. You know, like this.”

He dives in, and you welcome him immediately, your mouth already slightly open for your tongue to entangle with his. It’s long and deep, as how your kisses always are, and you feel him shift above you, fixing his position with his arms caging your head for support. He angles his mouth so he can have more of you and control how far he goes, how hard, and how fast.

Your fingers, whose spaces were filled by his just minutes ago, ghost over his neck. They trail down to his chest, gingerly passing by his pecs and his abs, the tips now resting on his hips.

“Fuck,” he moans in your mouth, and you immediately know why he does, feeling his length getting harder by the second.

It prompts him to grind on you, and you meet him halfway.

“Fuck, Joon,” you whine once his lips detach from yours, only to meet your neck when he sucks then licks over the sting. “Fuck.”

He hums in satisfaction at the sounds you make, going south now as he teases by giving tender kisses on the exposed part of your breasts before biting your nipple over your suit.The obscene sound you make turns him on, especially when you pull his hips harder against yours.

“Oh fuck, baby, yeah,” he groans in your ear now, and you might as well have just come from the way he said those words.

And then you remember where you are - in the outdoors, in your parents’ summer home. Private as it may be, you’re still exposed, and you remind him of the fact before he slows down and agrees that you can’t be doing this out here.

“I’m sorry I got carried away,” he says shyly now, as if he didn’t just devour you with his skillful mouth.

“Yeah, this is totally your fault,” you tease.

He chases you back to the house where you both spend another hour in the hot tub, just talking like normal friends, as if you didn’t almost just cross a line. But it’s like that with Namjoon, you’ve come to realize. Everything is easy, everything is natural, like you can just forget that he isn’t him and you aren’t you.

You spend the rest of the day looking at all the pieces on the first floor, with you sharing as much about them that you can remember. You both sleep that night with his head on your chest and his arms around you.

He sleeps soundly, snoring even. And as you comb his hair, you think of how close you were to wanting so much more in the lake earlier. You think of how much you wanted his lips on your mouth, all over your body, and you wanted it everyday. With the way he held you close and breathed desperately on your skin, you had a feeling that so did he.

Living in this dream-like state with him feels surreal, several months in. Because that’s what he is - a dream. Here’s a man grounded by his principles despite the fame that seems to shackle him, yet constantly propels him to new heights; a man whose search for truth and humanity shows you that he just wants to be a good person, and a person who does good.

Beyond his unmatched talent and gift with words, beyond his strikingly stunning looks, is a man who cares deeply, who feels deeply, who submits himself to what he commits to, whether it’s his music, his brothers, his plants, or his interest in art and nature and even whiskey. You have a feeling he’d do the same to whoever he plans to be with. You don’t know if it’s you, and the more you find yourself wanting him, the more you wish it isn’t you.

Namjoon is a dream, and you know at one point, you’re going to have to wake up.

The gallery is buzzing, as it always is when there’s a new exhibition. You’re excited for this, too, as the featured artist is one you admire.

Namjoon admires her as well, which is why he’s here, dressed in a black long-sleeved buttoned top, looking immaculate as per usual. He has a busy schedule but he made time, knowing how special this event is.

The room holds its breath when he enters; as a well-known lover of art, everyone has come to expect him to be a guest in exhibitions and various art shows. He bows at the other patrons and artists present, and they fawn over him, being the famous man that he is.

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to this side of him. You’re used to him rambling, making jokes he doesn’t realize are funny, and being lost in his own thoughts. You’re used to him in his natural environment - in his home full of books and paintings, and in his studio, which you’ve seen dozens of times through your phone screen. He fits right in here, though - he can easily follow on with the conversations, whether it’s about business or culture or literature. He can charm anyone with his smile and his good looks, and too many times, guests awe at his presence, finding out that he’s much more commanding and handsome off the screen.

You hide a smile as he glances in your direction. You’ve agreed not to talk much today; there are too many people around and any kind of interaction might be grounds for rumors that neither of you are ready to face, at least that’s what you think. You and Namjoon don’t really discuss those things. You always see him in your periphery, though, and perhaps just like you, he just wants to be where you are, even if no pleasantries or conversations are shared.

But Mr. Hong pulls him aside to introduce to Ms. Suh, and you can see from afar how Namjoon is fanboying over the artist whose work he’s very interested in.

It’s nice to see him in his element like this, too. Here, though still a celebrity in the eyes of everyone else, he’s a spectator. He’s told you several times how his trips to these places have made him think about the kind of legacy he wants to leave with his music, with his poetry. And how pieces in museums and galleries are timeless, permanent; they live on regardless, and each person is free to make their own meanings. You know he wanted to comfort you then.

You become involved in your own conversations until someone barrels inside the gallery and makes a scene, of all days. The slightly inebriated man is familiar; perhaps a patron you’ve seen before, but he comes in and starts yelling at the staff, going on about something you can’t understand.

Not wanting to be part of the scene and be involved in something you don’t know how to handle, you slowly step away, that is, until you see him storm towards the room where your art pieces are. He seems to be targeting someone as he looks around, but the security gets to him first and he flails his arms around, eventually knocking over Untitled 56, and the cracking sound rings in the entire building.

“You knocked over a precious piece, you bastard!” You hear Mr. Hong yelling.

You start walking slowly to where you see the shards of ceramic have fallen on the floor, and you’re unsure what you feel. Is it loss? It doesn’t seem like it. Is it anger? Perhaps not.

“It’s just some useless flower anyway,” the raucous man answers.

Shame. You think that’s it, maybe that’s the feeling. Insecurity, sadness. It’s all of that yet nothing at all.

You stand there over your broken piece, the one you created while the rain was pouring and you’d just finished a bottle of wine by yourself because you could. Everyone seems to be as shocked as you, especially with the man finally contained and led out the building. You look up to take your eyes away from the scene, but you see Namjoon’s instead - anger filling his, sympathy, care, all at once.

You shake your head once, instructing him not to say or do anything. And he follows, loosening his clenched fist and stepping away to the back of the crowd. You instruct the staff to sweep the broken piece away, not wanting to see how fragile and temporary your creation is. All that had been reduced to shards and pitiful looks of the crowd.

You don’t really want to be here.

You’re filled with emotions you can’t name. You’re afraid to feel them all, so you cower on your couch and cry to yourself.

It’s just a piece of useless flower. It’s the 56th of untitled works that you couldn’t name yourself because you didn’t know what they meant, what they symbolized, yet it hurts you this much that it’s gone. Hurt. Is that it? You’re still not sure.

The banging of your front door startles you. It’s 9PM and it’s been 4 hours since the incident. Minji offered to tell you the whole story but you didn’t really mind. You wonder if it’s her this time, wanting to know how you’re doing.

But it’s Namjoon, panting on your doorway when you open it. And the first thing you think to do is bury yourself in his arms.

It’s immediate, the catharsis of being in his hold. It’s like you’re enveloped in a warm, protective blanket that you don’t want to get out of. He embraces you tightly, letting you cry on his chest as you try to make sense of what you’re feeling.

“I’ve got you,” he says in your ear so that the words don’t get lost in the sound of your sobs. “I’ve got you. Don’t tear yourself. I’m here with you.”

You don’t know for how long you both stand there, but it’s long enough for the tears to stop falling. When you’ve calmed down, Namjoon tilts your chin up to face him.

“Hey,” he greets with a soft smile. “I’m sorry I couldn’t follow you right away. I wanted so badly to punch that man.”

The shift of emotions is immediate, as you see his furrowed brows.

“He didn’t have a right to be there and to ruin what you worked hard for. I asked Mr. Hong to look into him and I’m so sorry, ___. That piece… that piece is–”

“A useless flower,” you shake your head.

“Please don’t listen to him. Listen to me,” Namjoon insists. “You know what I feel about it. That piece led me to you.”

“And now it’s gone.”

The thought hits you hard. That piece led you to each other, and temporary as it is, it’s now broken. Maybe art isn’t timeless, you think. It can burn, it can break, just like all things. Just like emotions. Just like what you and Namjoon have.

“It may be but look what it did for us,” he challenges your thoughts. “A broken piece won’t change us, it won’t erase us.”

Tonight, this is what you want to hear. And with his fingers tracing your cheek, you think that tonight, he is what you want to feel.

You pull him close and crash your mouth onto his. It’s fervent, desperate, wanting. There’s this need in you, this animalistic desire that has you wanting him to prove you wrong again - that some things can be touched and felt and that they’ll stay and won't break, that emotions can be just as real and tangible, that they matter and that it’s worth it. You want him to prove it to you with his mouth, his words, his touch, his body.

He answers back, inhaling you completely, his tongue working on yours right away, doing that dance you’ve both memorized by now. Your moans are loud and needy. You want all of him, all over you, and with the way he groans your name and curses as you grind against him, you think he feels the same.

You’re in a haze, falling into hypnosis as you feel his hands all over you. You guide them to your clothed breasts, down your waist where he sneaks underneath. His touch burns so deliciously, and it’s what prompts you to unbutton his clothes, to feel him bare and naked, his skin against yours - raw, vulnerable, honest.

Things you don’t know how to be.

You pull away, feeling as if you’ve been snapped out of the spell.

And then you’re crying, as you look at Namjoon with his top undone, looking at you curiously before he’s walking towards you in concern.

“No,” you almost scream. “I’m sorry, I– I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t supposed to. We’re not supposed to do this. We’re just… we’re just something that’s temporary and–”

“No,” he replies, surprising you. “Don’t be sorry, please. I wanted it, I still do. I want you. Fuck what we said about being just friends. I want more. I–”

“You don’t mean that,” you insist, not wanting to hear his words.

It should comfort you, shouldn’t it? You’ve known long ago that you’ve fallen for him, but you made yourself believe that all things are temporary, and this one time you wanted something permanent with him, you got scared out of your mind.

“I do,” he counters. “Fuck it, all I wanted to do earlier was hold you in my arms. Fuck the other people around who’d see. I just wanted to be with you. Is that what friends do? Is that what they feel? I have to be honest, right? We said we’d be that to each other. I want you, ___. I want to be with you.”

“I can’t, Joon. I can’t,” you sob.

“Be honest with me this once. Do you want me?”

“Yes, so fucking much.”

“Then why can’t you be with me? Why are you making it so hard for yourself, for us?” He yells.

“I–” you start, but you don’t know how to continue. You cover your face with your hands and fall onto the floor.

You don’t think you’ve ever cried this hard, and you’re unsure exactly what you’re crying over.

“Hey,” Namjoon softens, leaning down next to you as he tries to free your face. “I’m not mad, I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I can’t even… I can’t even say what I want to say because I don’t know. I don’t–” you sniff. “I don’t know what I feel, what I want. I–”

“It’s okay,” he says, taking you in his arms again. “It’s okay. We can talk about it tomorrow. Just get some rest.”

He calms you down again and leads you to your room. He waits as you wash up and then he tucks you in bed.

“I’ll come over in the morning, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper. You watch him eye your lips, and then he looks away.

Namjoon comes over the next day with a basket of pastries and coffee. He knows enough that you won’t have energy to prepare anything to eat.

You can’t imagine losing all this, but that’s what’s about to happen.

You’d been so close to giving in to him, so close to letting yourself be vulnerable to him, but doing so in flesh isn’t all there is to it. You can make love to him, bare your body to him that way but you wouldn’t be able to do it with your soul or your heart.

What does being raw and honest mean? You don’t know. He deserves someone who knows.

“I still don’t know what I can give you,” you tell him as you both sit across from each other in the seating area in your garden. “Months later, I should know but I don’t. Even just moments, I… can’t. They make me want you more and I can’t. I don’t know exactly what I want - with myself, with my art, with you. I don’t know what to give.”

“You act like you’re the only one unsure,” he says softly. “I don’t know if what I can give you is enough. I mean, with what I do? It’s tough, and I don’t know if it would be fair. But I want you. I don’t know how the arrangements would be but I want you.”

“At least you know what you can give, even as you shine as bright as you do, you know yourself and what you can give me, what you can give us. I don’t.”

“But what if we try?”

“That’s unfair to you, Joon,” you insist. “You put your all into everything, and this - us - won’t be any different. But that just means that falling short would break you, and I can’t have that. And then there’s me who can’t give much of herself to anything - not my craft, not my friends, not myself. And you matter too much to only get the barest parts of me. I don’t want to be with you that way.”

Namjoon sighs. It’s not an easy thing to accept. It’s something he understands - all he’s ever known to do was to give his all to everything he wants to keep. If that’s not something you’re ready to do yourself, he can’t fault you for it.

It hurts so fucking much, though. He’s learned in the course of these months of knowing you that you’re another one of those he wants to keep, that he wants more of, that he wants to learn inside and out - you’re also the first person to ever be that for him. For you to slip away like this is a kind of pain that he doesn’t know how to get over.

“Continue to be raw and honest in everything that you do, okay? Live,” you say, and he nods in reply. “Don’t stop yourself from seeing other people, from finding someone else,” you add.

You can’t even be honest with this. You hope he’ll always want you, but you don’t let yourself be selfish with him, not this time.

“I won't” is what he answers.

It breaks your heart all over again and you let it. You deserve it. Who walks away from someone they want, especially when they want you back? Someone afraid like you, someone who doesn’t trust herself enough like you, someone who wants permanence so bad that she lets slip away the one person who’s made her feel it.

You give a half smile and he smiles back.

Namjoon gets up from his seat. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Okay.”

It’s a month later when one of the museums you frequent launches a new installation. A tall man catches your attention. He looks at you and smiles, his hazelnut eyes gazing at you the way they used to.

He nods in acknowledgement and so do you.

And that’s the last time you see him in a long time.

2022, winter

You stare at the package in your hands - white, with words of comfort. He’s finally completed it, you think. A piece of himself he’s been working the last 4 years on, and it looks just like how he described it to you all those months ago.

You don’t know if you’ll listen to it. You haven’t heard his voice in so long. You’re afraid you’ll break if you do.

Perhaps just one time, to get it off your system. That might be enough.

You open it, unsure when you’ll unpack this obviously beautifully curated work of art. But the note at the top leaves you no room to ignore it.

Nothing’s changed for me. Let’s find ourselves. And then let’s find each other. I’ll just be here. But please, stay where you are.

Namjoon

You let one tear fall and then leave the package on the top shelf of your closet.

Your bedroom door opens.

“Are you all packed?” Minji asks.

“Yes, I’m all good,” you smile.

She helps you with your luggage, down the stairs and into the van waiting for you.

“That’s a lot of stuff,” she hums, holding back her tears. “How long will you be away for?”

“Until I find myself.”

“That might be a long time.”

“It will.”

2025, winter

Namjoon has been to several galleries in New York, but this particular one is a place he’s never been to. It overlooks Central Park, towering at the 30th floor like the other buildings in the city. But it’s 3 floors and he thinks it’s stunning. It’s not overly grand, but it’s also not as simple and natural like the others he’s been to.

He may say it’s not entirely his vibe, but there’s a reason why he’s here.

Some patrons recognize him and greet him. He bows in response, engaging in small talk when he needs to, but stepping away to get to the exhibition he flew here to see.

It’s nothing like what he expected, although years later, he doesn’t know what to expect anymore.

The first thing is, well, it’s titled. There’s a year and a description, too.

2023, swing in the summer home

The piece is beautiful, made in clay and metal. It’s familiar, too. He’s seen this on a lake house by the mountains, over 3 years ago.

2023, the piece that lost its meaning

It’s a painting, but one placed atop a sculpted frame hanging on a wall in what seems like a living room. This scene feels familiar as well.

2024, lost youth

A group of children look up at a plane, with opened suitcases and toys on the floor. The nostalgia hits him.

The rest of the sculptures are new to him. There’s one about a lady in red, one of a neighbor, one of a woman with an umbrella and clouds, aptly titled, what am i hiding from? Further down the room, the emotions become more pointed, straightforward, and a lot more focused.

2023, coward

2024, i truly was sorry

2025, is this what regret feels like?

2025, i hope you knew i lied

2025, maybe someday

Someone from the outside who knows nothing about the artist might think that the pieces are a little over the place, although one can tell from the titles that they tell a story. The sculptures are made from the same materials - clay and metal, all free standing and in similar sizes. Each caption holds a narration, and all Namjoon can read are words describing emotions, of states of being - innocence, anger, confusion, fear, loss, regret, loneliness, pain, hope, and few more.

There’s not much about joy or intimacy, though, and the thought saddens him. He had hoped that by this time, you already knew how those felt.

“So, what do you think?”

Namjoon didn’t think he’d ever hear that voice again. He’d cry if he could, especially as he turns to his side and finds you, dressed in a classy, aegean blue satin dress. Your smile is one he’s missed so much, and he wishes he could frame this moment, just so he doesn’t forget. He almost did, and he hated himself when he took so long to remember how you sounded like, how you looked like.

“Nothing like I imagined,” Namjoon replies. “In a good way.”

“I scrapped previous works and experimented with these ones. It took me years to complete,” you explain. “I almost stopped at one point, wondering if anybody would ever get it but then I figured, it didn’t matter. It’s a good thing that lifestyle magazine reached out for a feature. I think that was Mr. Hong pulling some strings. At least I got to say that for years, I didn’t know what I was doing, who I was, but now I do.”

“That’s how I knew about it, actually,” Namjoon hums. “It was in the art gallery because he was giving it away for free. It said your exhibition was here, so I flew in.”

“Oh,” you say, surprised. “I thought you had a show or filming.”

“Nah,” Namjoon sighs. “I came here for you. Otherwise I wouldn’t know where to find you, or how else to see you. You stopped… you stopped showing up. You just disappeared.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.”

It’s all you can say, really. You didn’t expect to see him here, but when you saw a familiar face enter through the doors, your heart stopped. You had a feeling Mr. Hong had told Namjoon about your exhibition - your first in 4 years. But nothing would have prepared you for this - seeing him again after you walked away from the one good thing you found in your life. You watched him from afar as he went through each of your pieces, perhaps savoring them, remembering them.

“Have you been well?” He asks, the concern still overpowering everything.

“I have.”

“You seem to have lost someone,” he says, nodding towards one of the pieces. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“She was my neighbor when I spent 8 months in Sweden,” you share. “She took care of me but then she passed away due to an accident. It was hard for a while.”

“I–” Namjoon reaches out his hand - for comfort, perhaps - but he brings it down. “I wish I knew.”

“It’s okay. And I’m okay. It’s been a year, but I wouldn’t have finished all this without her.”

You’d forgotten how silence sounded like with Namjoon, and you want to remember what it was like. You remember a lot of things, actually, like his laughter, his voice, his smile, the feel of his lips on yours, and many others.

“How long are you here for?” You finally ask, as you both walk side-by-side past the rest of the artworks inside, with a bit of distance between you.

“I’m here for 3 more days.”

“I stay at the hotel next to the building,” you say, being bold. “I leave here in 2 hours.”

You fumble for your room key and discreetly hand it over to him. “3802, if you want to. I have more to say, and I– uh, shit. If you’re seeing someone, forget what I said.”

“I’m not,” he answers. “I’ll be there.”

Namjoon watches the city from your full-wall window, wondering when you’d decide to finally speak beyond a greeting. It’s been 10 minutes since he arrived at your suite with the key you gave him, and you haven’t said anything since then.

“The buildings aren’t the same here,” you finally say. “I’ve been here for 3 months and the sounds of the cars are too loud, there’s too much smoke, people don’t smile… I don’t have anyone here.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I decided to finish some of my pieces in the city. I’ve been staying at one of my parents’ apartments not far from here.”

“And where were you before that?”

“Puerto Rico, Greece, Sweden,” you answer.

“When I said to find ourselves, I didn’t think you’d actually leave, and then not tell me about it,” he laments. “I knew it was stupid to wish you’d stay close. You weren’t in any of the places where I used to see you, where we used to go. I… I asked around but they said you haven’t visited in so long.”

“I couldn’t stay,” you try to explain. “I couldn’t because it just meant waiting for you to come even if I was the one who walked away. And I knew I wouldn’t be able to find myself in a place where I’d always be looking for you, and so I had to go. I’m so sorry, Joon. I–”

You drop the hand that reaches out to him, unsure if your touch would still be welcome. You clench your fist to stop yourself from doing it again, but he notices. He notices and takes your hand, uncurls it so he can hold it properly.

“How was it being away?”

“It was good. Hard. Terrifying,” you share. “I experienced a lot of new, fun things. I learned a lot. Made a lot of mistakes, too. I met so many people. I–”

“Were you with anyone?” he asks, turning away briefly.

“No, I… I couldn’t bring myself to,” you answer nervously. “And you?”

“No one since you. There was a reason why I asked you to stay right there, so that I knew where to find you.”

“You still found me, 3 years later, on the other side of the world.”

“I had to know if anything’s changed for you. I had to know if you made it, if you found what you were looking for. I had to know if you were happy. But you didn’t create it. There was no piece for it.”

“I found what I was looking for,” you say, looking into his eyes, glancing at his fingers that are softly exploring yours. “I realized that I could only gain whatever permanence I was looking for if I learned to let them go. Because if they come back, they stay. I walked away from you then, and I had to lose myself to all the emotions that I was so scared to feel. And I felt a lot of them, Joon. I felt a lot of things. I was going to go back home after this. But you came to me first. You’re the one always finding me. That hasn’t changed.”

“I suppose it hasn’t,” he cracks a smile. “Did I take too long?”

“You were right on time,” you say. “I would’ve come for you in a few days though. But I’m glad you’re here so that I can tell you that I can finally have this. I can finally give you everything without being scared, without it breaking me, without it ruining the ones I love.”

“Is that what you feel for me?”

“Yes. I guess I did then. I still do now.”’

There’s uncertainty in your voice, perhaps due to the fear of him no longer returning what you feel.

“I found myself, too,” he says. “I figured out what I wanted to do for myself, what more I can give, what more I desired. And I guess you’re right. That permanence can come from losing something and then having them back. And then having them stay. So many times then I regretted that I wasn’t more honest. That I was denying what I felt for you because I was scared of losing what little of a normal life I was afforded. I wished I told you much earlier, but I guess things happen when they do, right?”

“Right, but you can also say them again now.”

“That I want you close, holding my hand, tracing my skin, kissing me? That I want all that everyday?” He smiles, as he pulls you towards him and places your hand on his chest. “That I want everything from you? That I haven’t stopped thinking of you, wishing for you?”

“Yes,” you say, sighing into the kiss you’ve missed too much.

There’s that tenderness you expected, but the desire is unlike the times before. There’s more confidence now, more security in the way his mouth moves against yours. It’s as if he knows that he’ll always have this. That this time, he’s loving you in more than words, and that you’ve come back, and that you’ll stay.

Namjoon presses you against the wall, lets his lips trace down your neck and your chest. He undresses you, remarks that he’s starting to believe in a higher being who created a body like yours, and then proceeds to mouth more praises down your thighs and in between them.

He takes you slowly, amorously. He watches your face contort in pure pleasure, and you mention needing to add a piece for this, too. The way he goes in and out of you is out of this world, and you never want it to end.

You’d think it’s the intimacy you didn’t know how to feel. But it’s more than that. In fact, you find that in being with Namjoon, the intimacy is in everything - the way he holds your hand, the way he wraps his arm around you, the way he lets you bite his arm and tickle him just for fun. It’s in the way he kisses your forehead before he kisses your lips.

It’s in your bike rides together and watching the river whenever you catch a glimpse of it. It’s in your moments of calm - reading books, writing songs, sketching.

It’s in the deep, tender way that he says he loves you.

You don’t have a piece for this yet. Perhaps it’s another series altogether. Perhaps it’ll require an installation.

Or maybe, this is the one emotion you don’t need to put into art, the one that you’ll keep for yourself to hold onto because no clay and metal mixture, no tangible piece, could ever describe what this love and intimacy feels like.

Permanent Taglist: @sherlynxx @di0rgguk @thequeen-kat @fan-ati–c @cravingforhotchocolate @adoraminie @helenazbmrskai @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @preciouschimine @gukssunshine @nch327 @kookxin @petuliii @yoursthv @libra04 @fancycollectormoon @twixxxpie @ignoretheskies @ohmydarlin-g @bids97 @minyoongiboongi @main-bangtansmauyeondan @bora-bae7 @investedreader @petalsofink

#namjoon fic #namjoon angst #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #idol au #idol namjoon #namjoon fanfic #jim namjoon #namjoon x you #namjoon fanfiction #namjoon oneshot #untitled

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goldenslumbersketchbook · 6 months

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Sketchbook Log: this version of tooth couldn’t just stop at teeth. She now collects the bones! The memories they contain are far more rich and put together then just the scraps she would get from teeth. Oh the stories they tell! She especially loves seeing all the fun trinkets they were buried with.

Event by @rotg-halloween prompt of the day is “Bones”

Song while drawing ✍🏼

#rotghalloween2023 #rotghalloween #rise of the guardians #rotg #my art #toothiana #tooth fairy #Spotify

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footprintsinthesxnd · 3 months

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Wayfaring Stranger

So after seeing quite a few people talking about 1917 recently I decided to rewatch it again as I haven’t seen it since 2020 when I saw it at the cinema and oh my days it’s so good. Completely obsessed with it all over again. So here is a little edit with the beautiful song featured in the movie.

Tags: @executethyself35 @georgieluz @malarkgirlypop @l13bg0tt @samwinchesterslostshoe @sharkboyandlavalieb @prompted-wordsmith @theflyingfin @xxluckystrike @bucky32557038ww2 @fxxiva @whollyjoly

#1917 #1917 movie #poor wayfaring stranger #william schofield #thomas blake #ww1 films #1917 edit #1917 moodboard

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laurenairay · 8 months

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taking on the world together - J. Oettinger

Summary: Gracelyn didn't realise how much of Boston she associated with Jake Oettinger until he was gone.

Warnings; light angst, fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn, ignoring the existence of COVID-19 to fudge the timelines, college years, one incident of mild harassment, some bad language.

Words: 11.4k

A/N: jumping in as a pinch hitter for @wyattjohnston’s summer fic exchange 2023! Writing for @jarmorie - I really hope you like this and I really hope I hit all your prompts! Spreading the Otter love as he deserves 💛 I was listening to this song and immediately got so inspired.

Tagging some fellow Otter fans: @senditcolton @extratragic @texanstarslove

Inspiration (and title) from Mine, by Taylor Swift

~~~

I was a flight risk, with a fear of falling, Wondering why we bother with love, if it never lasts.

~~~

September 2016.

Gracelyn Davis had never left Fayetteville, West Virginia before. At least, not before her father drove her across the country to Boston University like he had done over the past two days. Her mother had decided being in the car for that long with them ‘wasn’t for her’, and considering her father was a man of very few words, the 12 hours, spread over two days with a sleep stop in the middle, had been spent split between rereading one of her favourite books and watching the world go by out the window.

It was a quiet ride. Gracelyn was used to it.

Butterflies filled her stomach as they pulled into campus parking, the crowds of people almost overwhelming. They weren’t even in the heart of the city and already this was the busiest place she’d ever seen. Gracelyn matched her father’s silence as they unloaded the car, using the offered hand trolley to help with her boxes, her father pushing those with her duvet and pillows piled on top while Gracelyn pulled two suitcases and a large duffel bag. It didn’t take long to get herself all signed in, and once they’d piled all her belongings in the empty dorm room, she knew it was time.

With a brief hug and a ‘do your best’, her father left. She hadn’t really expected much more. Even the fact that she’d finally left her small town was more than she could ever have dreamed of.

“Whoo! Go Terriers!”

Gracelyn watched out the third storey window as small parade of energetic people dressed in red, white, and black jogged past her building, smiling to herself at the cheerful chaos. This was nothing like Fayetteville. She loved it already.

“Hey roomie!”

Gracelyn turned around sharply, hand to heart in surprise at the voice in the doorway. The campus had assigned housing to all freshman who’d applied, and she’d been put in contact with a ‘Madison’ to get to know each other. All she really knew was that Madison had blonde hair, came from Queens, New York, and was going to be studying Digital Marketing. That, and she had very strong opinions on everything from Taylor Swift to correct recycling methods to sheet thread count. Blonde, tanned, perfect white smile, and all the confidence of a city-kid that Gracelyn didn’t have.

“Oops, didn’t mean to startle you. It’s nice to meet you, Gracelyn,” she grinned.

At least she was friendly too.

“Nice to meet you too, Madison. I prefer Gracie,” Gracelyn said, smiling shyly.

“Gracie it is! And please, call me Maddie. We’re going to be the best of friends. I can already tell,” she grinned, throwing her blonde hair up in a bun. “Do you mind if I put on some music while we unpack?”

~~~

May 2020.

How time had flown by. As Gracelyn pulled out the first of her cardboard boxes to at least attempt to start packing up her half of the dorm room, memories flooded in. Maddie hadn’t been wrong – they really had become the best of friends over the past four years, forming a wider group of six of them in total. Herself, Maddie, Luisa, Jenny, Chanel, and Daisy, all girls scattered across their original freshman dorm building floor, all of them forming bonds that stuck with them over the past four years.

Each of their had majored in a different subject, each other them came from different states, but each of them had been the loyal, sweet, kind friends that Gracelyn had always hoped for, so she knew that even though their time at college together had officially come to an end, she wouldn’t be losing these friendships any time soon.

Late night study sessions, movie nights, sleepovers, makeovers, campus concerts, dinners out – all of these memories scattered across polaroid photos, Instagram accounts and genuine memories. All of the things that Gracelyn was going to miss so terribly.

She was even going to miss the parties, the wild nights out that were so often accompanied by singing at the top of their lungs, dancing until their feet ached, and nasty mornings after.

Speaking of parties, Maddie wasn’t the only person who Gracelyn met in her first week in Boston who turned her life upside down.

~~~

September 2016.

“Are you sure I look okay?”

Maddie gave her an incredulous look. “Gracie baby, you have the best ass in our group, of course you look okay. You look stunning, own it.”

Gracelyn blushed heavily, shaking her head with a laugh. The two of them had made quick friends with a few girls down the hallway, and somehow they’d all persuaded Gracelyn to go out to a party tonight. Her first proper college party. Her first proper party in general, if she was being honest.

“You know what I mean. I’ve never…you know I’m not a party girl,” she sighed.

“I’m not a party party girl either. I’m a hang out with my friends kind of girl, with music, and drink we shouldn’t have access to, and we’re going to dance and sing and have fun, okay? If there happen to be cute boys there who stare at your incredible ass, then so be it,” Maddie grinned.

The confidence of this girl was incredible. No-one had ever boosted Gracelyn up like she did either.

“It’s not too much?”

Gracelyn looked back at herself in the full-length mirror that Maddie had brought with her, checking out the deep-red tight dress that clung to her every curve, borrowed from their friend Chanel. If her mother could see her now, she’d have a conniption. Then again…maybe that was a good thing. The Gracelyn Davis of Fayetteville would never have showed off her body like this – yeah, maybe she had a slight pouch on her belly, and maybe her thighs didn’t have a gap, and maybe ass was a bit more of a bubble than she would like…but maybe for the Gracelyn Davis of Boston that was a good thing.

“It’s definitely not too much. How about you throw a leather jacket over the top and wear those comfy black ankle boots, hm? That way it’s not over the top, but still dressy, hm?” Maddie suggested, unwinding her final blonde curl from her curling wand.

That…that was a good suggestion. Thank god for Maddie.

“That sounds good to me,” Gracelyn said shyly.

“Atta girl,” Maddie grinned, “Now help me pick which lipgloss says try anything and I’ll bite.”

Four lip gloss swatches later and the two of them had headed out of their dorm room, Maddie knocking on their friends’ doors until the six of them were on their way to the alleged party, wherever that was.

“Now remember, the hockey guys are all mostly a bit dumb and will probably get a little handsy after a few hours of drinking, so don’t feel like you can’t loudly tell them no. If you’re feeling uncomfortable, stay with a group of us girls, yeah? I’ve heard most of the team are harmless, but there’s bound to be a bad apple or two in the bunch,” Daisy said, rolling her eyes.

Brilliant. That didn’t settle Gracelyn’s nerves at all. Girl time it was.

“How did you find out about the Terriers party anyway Daisy-boo?” Maddie asked, looping her arm through Gracelyn’s.

She clung on with gratitude.

“Eh, this Sophomore was trying to impress the new freshman players – I said I’d think about turning up with a few friends,” Daisy said coolly, her smile sharp.

Again, the confidence. Incredible.

“Treat ‘em mean, I like it,” Jenny snickered.

“He was harmless enough. Sounded like a good excuse for a party anyway, and the upperclassmen are providing booze with the caveat that no-one underage gets super wasted, so I figured why not have our first party in style, right?” Daisy shrugged.

As the rest of the girls sounded their agreement, Gracelyn tried to relax. She knew that her friends wouldn’t let anything happen to her. They already had a game plan for if any of them felt uncomfortable. She didn’t have to drink anything more than what she actually wanted to. She could do this, right?

“Here we are!”

Daisy’s voice broke her out of her thoughts, turning her attention to a large house that already had red solo cups scattered across the lawn and loud music blasting. Maddie squeezed her arm, dropping it so their hands were linked, the other girls pairing off in twos too, making sure that none of them got separated while they wound their way through the crowd. Gracelyn tried not to get overwhelmed at the sheer number of people squeezed into the main living area, managing to smile as Daisy waved flirtatiously at a guy she could only imagine was the Unfortunate Sophomore.

“Let’s get some drinks!” Jenny said loudly, earning cheers from around them.

Gracelyn just stayed silent as beers were passed around, Maddie just winking at her. This was it. This was her first college party. This was her first college beer. She was finally here. She’d made it. So she took a big swig, letting the cool cheap alcohol run down her throat, Maddie just whooping before doing the same with her own drink.

Time seemed to blur together after that. Not in a drunk way, but in a way that everything was so new, so overwhelming, that Gracelyn just let it wash over her. She was trying to follow Maddie’s lead, going with the flow as her New York roommate would say, so by the time she’d finished her third beer, Gracelyn was more than ready for a glass of water and a breather.

Thankfully, Maddie and Daisy had been roped into playing beer pong, which was outside on the back porch, so while the other girls grabbed more beer, Gracelyn grabbed a bottle of water and hopped up on the porch railing to watch. Despite Maddie being eagle-eyed, Daisy was swaying a bit, so this would be interesting.

“Hey, is this space taken?”

Gracelyn turned her head to the sound of the voice, not sure if it was being directed at her or not, only to come face to face with the cutest guy she’d ever seen. Tall – at least 6ft 4, if not 6ft 5 – with broad shoulders, messy dark hair and a sweet smile. Pretty eyes too. He was talking to her?

“Uh, no, go for it. I’m just watching my friends about to play,” she said, jerking her head in the beer pong table’s direction.

“Ah, yeah some of my teammates are about to face them. The blonde girl looks dangerous,” he mused, leaning against the railing himself in the space to her left.

“Oh you have no idea,” Gracelyn grinned, making him laugh.

Actual natural human interaction with a cute guy. Wow.

“I’m Jake,” he said, holding out his hand.

He immediately looked embarrassed at himself for holding out his hand, but the fact that he didn’t backtrack made her smile.

“I’m Gracelyn. Or Gracie, to my friends,” she said, shaking his hand.

“Nice to meet you Gracie,” he said, smiling.

Bold. She liked it.

“Not much of a drinker?” he asked.

She frowned until he shook his own cup and looked down at her water bottle, and immediately her cheeks flushed. Was he making fun of her?

“Um, I…”

She trailed off, before clearing her throat. No damn it, she was Gracelyn Davis of Boston now.

“I already had three cups of beer and I didn’t party back home, so I’m trying to pace myself. A little lame maybe but it’s literally first week of freshman year so…” she said, shrugging.

“I feel that,” the guy…Jake nodded, smiling still, “And it’s not lame. It’s my first week of freshman year too and I know that the freshmen will be clearing up tomorrow morning, so I don’t want to be horrendous after my first team party.”

He was a freshman too? Built like that? And he was a hockey player? Damn, what was he doing talking to her?

“Ouch, I’m sorry you have to clean up,” she said, grimacing as right-on-cue someone threw up over the porch railing a little ways down from them.

Jake grimaced himself, before shaking his head. “It’ll be worth it to play on the team.”

“Go Terriers?” she offered.

Jake just laughed, throwing his head back. Damn. Damn he looked so good.

“Alright boys, you’re going down!” Maddie said loudly.

The crowd cheered and whooped, Gracelyn and Jake included. Daisy took her first throw, immediately sinking the ball into a cup, clearly more sober than she looked. What a hustler - this was going to be a messy one. The freshman hockey player groaned but laughed, drinking the beer in the targeted cup down in one go, earning more cheers for himself.

“I have a feeling we’re going to be seeing more of each other, Gracie,” Jake said, smiling wide.

For some reason, she had a feeling that he was right.

~~~

May 2020.

Yeah, Jake was…Jake was different. Right from that first night, that first meeting, the two of them had stayed in touch, slowly becoming friends through texting as well as more hockey team parties. Maddie and their friends always dragged her along to any party at the hockey house, especially when Daisy started hooking up with the Unfortunate Sophomore, and the more she went to, the more she actually looked forward to them, mainly because at some point in the evening Jake would find her and the rest was history.

He wasn’t a rowdy dumbass like the other college players he lived with. Sure, she was cautious, a little introverted, always hesitant, but Jake was sweet and kind and patient, and never pushed her more than she was socially capable of in the moment. Maybe it helped that he was a goaltender – which she’d found out the second time she met him because someone dared him to show off his box splits and he did so without hesitation – because he was so different to all his friends, but she liked it.

She liked him.

He was a little more focused, more responsible maybe for his age, but still encouraged her to come out of her shell. Over those first few months, she found herself slipping out of her old social binds of Gracelyn Davis from Fayetteville and into her new self of Gracelyn Davis of Boston, and so much of it was because of him.

That’s why it hurt so much still, when everything changed.

There were so many memories of their friendship over the years, entwined with those memories of Gracelyn and her girlfriends, more than she dared to think about while she attempted to make a start on packing up her college life. She still had over a week left on campus, until after commencement weekend, but that didn’t mean she could put everything off until last minute. That just wasn’t the way her brain worked.

She could at least make a start on closing this chapter of her life.

But in the first shoebox she moved off of one of her shelves, she found a couple dozen polaroids, all ones she’d taken off being pinned on her noticeboard in Junior year – all ones of her and Jake. All photos of memories that made her heart ache all over again, flashing across her mind as she continued to look through them one by one.

~~~

November 2016.

“Hey, do you want to take a walk?”

Gracelyn looked up from her notebook, seeing Jake standing in the doorway of her dorm room.

“How did you get up here?” she asked, placing her pen and paper to the side with a smile.

“I bumped into Chanel and Luisa on the way through,” he shrugged, “They said you’ve been studying in here since your last class ended, and, uh, encouraged me to do something to change that.”

Yeah that sounded like Chanel and Luisa. Meddlers. Her friends weren’t wrong though – she really had been studying in her room since her last class ended, knowing that Maddie was still out in a class of her own and there was a movie night on campus later, so she wanted to get ahead of herself. It was only month three of freshman year after all – she couldn’t afford to get behind yet.

Still…a small break couldn’t hurt right?

“You want to go for a walk?” she mused.

“Yeah, it’s not snowing out so I thought it might be nice?” he said, smiling shyly.

Oh what a sweetheart. In what world would she say no to that?

“And you’re asking little old me?” she grinned, kicking off her slippers.

“You’re one of my best friends Gracie, you know that. And you’re definitely the only sane one,” he said, shrugging with a smile.

Well that much was true.

“I’m in,” she laughed.

It didn’t take her long to slip into more appropriate boots for the weather, as well as a thick coat, knitted hat and gloves to help out with the cold, and soon enough the two of them were walking out of campus along the Charles River.

“So what’s really going on?” Gracelyn asked, when the crowds around them had thinned out to only a couple of people.

Jake opened his mouth to protest, before closing it again with a huffed laugh. “You can read me that easily, huh?”

“You’ve got a pretty expressive face,” she shrugged, although made sure to smile so he knew she didn’t mean it as a bad thing, “And you’ve never wanted to just go on a walk before. Not that I mind, obviously – it’s always good to get fresh air and you know I like hanging out with you – I just hope that nothing bad has happened?”

He quickly shook his head but then grimaced, wiggling his hand to indicate it was something so-so. Hm. This was going to take more than their usual casual talking, she could tell.

“Do you want to grab a coffee and find somewhere to sit?” she suggested.

“Sure.”

It didn’t take long to pick up a couple of lattes each, and even less time to find an isolated snow-free stone bench to sit on, not far from the Hatch Shell, and by that point Jake looked a little less tense.

“Thank you, Gracie,” he murmured.

“For what?” she asked, confused, “we haven’t even started talking properly yet.”

“You’re giving me the chance to get something off my chest that I haven’t been able to bring up to anyone else. Or that I feel I can bring up to anyone else. I appreciate it, that’s all,” Jake shrugged, taking a sip of his drink.

“Well now I’m worried,” she said, trying to make it a joke to hide her true concern.

What was wrong with him? Was he sick? He couldn’t be failing any classes, right?

She waited in silence for him to gather his thoughts, taking in the sight of the river slowly flowing by, until Jake finally cleared his throat.

“There’s been scouts coming to hockey games. NHL scouts, for me, following on from my time in the NTDP,” he said softly.

“Okay. Okay, that’s a good thing, right?” she said, frowning slightly.

She may not know much about ice hockey or the NHL or the NTDP, but she did know how important it all was to Jake. So what was the issue?

“I guess? But…it’s also so much pressure.”

Oh.

Oh bless his heart.

“I can understand that. That does sound like a lot of pressure. What exactly is worrying you about it?” she asked.

The more she understood, the more she could help, right?

Jake let out a shaky breath, looking down at his hands for a moment, before lifting his head to look out over the river in front of them.

“I’m nervous. Playing in the NHL…it’s all I’ve ever wanted. And it’s so hard to even be considered as a goaltender in the big leagues so the fact that they’re looking at me? Assessing me? It’s a lot,” he explained, voice quiet, “And it’s not like I can even talk to the rest of the team about how nervous it makes me either.”

Because so many of the guys won’t get a shot in the NHL like the scouts are considering for him.

Oh this sweet hearted boy.

What really made her sad though was the look of hesitance tainted with self-deprecation in his eyes. He didn’t deserve to look or feel like that, not ever.

“Hey, Jake, will you look at me?” Gracelyn asked.

It took a couple of seconds but he eventually did, emotion splashed all over his face.

“I know it’s scary. And I know it makes you nervous. This is your dream, and you’re pouring your whole self into it. But, Jake, these scouts wouldn’t be coming if you weren’t already proving how good you were, right?”

“I mean…”

He trailed off, wiggling his hand so-so again, making her shake her head.

“I mean it, Jake. If there wasn’t something in your gameplay that they liked, they wouldn’t be coming to see you. Just show them what you’ve got. You don’t have to be anyone other than yourself, okay? You’re Jake Oettinger, badass Terrier and incredible goaltender, and there’s nothing you can’t do,” she said firmly.

Jake choked out a laugh, hanging his head briefly before looking back at her. She chose to ignore the way his eyes were shining slightly.

“How do you always know exactly what to say?” he murmured.

Gracelyn just smiled, a light blush dusting her cheeks. “Well I don’t know about that…but I’m always here for you, whenever you need me.”

“So all I need to do to get your undivided attention is to text you, meet you at our spot?” he grinned.

Her blush deepened, traitorous butterflies filling her stomach.

“This is our spot?” she said, voice far breathier than she cared to admit.

“It is now,” he shrugged, “just you and me.”

Well damn, she liked the sound of that. Did he even know how that came across? What it implied?

“Alright, deal,” she nodded, trying to keep her cool.

“Besides, I can’t have you sharing your wisdom with everyone, right? Gotta keep some of that good magic all for myself. God knows I need all the help I can get. You don’t mind, right?” he grinned.

She couldn’t stop the laugh that burst from her chest, her head tilting back as it rang out loud and clear. His teasing request was more than a little shameless – with anyone else she would’ve been put off by the audacity, but with Jake? It was just charming, endearing her to him more than ever. When she’d finally composed herself, Jake had a slightly stunned look on his face – probably from the vivacity of her laughter – so she just smiled widely at him. How could she not?

“You truly are one of a kind, Jake Oettinger,” she giggled, finishing the last of her coffee.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” he said, giving a little shrug as he grinned.

Like she could ever insult him.

“We should take a photo,” Jake said suddenly, digging in his coat pocket.

“What?”

“To keep this memory, of finding ‘our’ place. Of you giving me the advice I needed. Of me making you laugh like that for the first time,” Jake explained, making her smile at his enthusiastic listing, “one of the guys bought a bunch of cheap polaroid cameras at the weekend and I still have one in my pocket.”

“Well in that case…” she teased.

Jake just laughed, throwing an arm around her shoulder, guiding her to lean into his body. Gracelyn just tilted her knitted hat-covered head to rest against his and threw up a peace sign, smiling widely as Jake raised the camera in his hand. FLASH. She blinked a couple of times, listening to the camera whirring, but smiled softly to herself as Jake kept his arm around her. She appreciated the warmth from his body, if nothing else. With his free hand, he dropped the camera in his lap and pulled free the developing polaroid, shaking it a few times until the picture started to become clearer.

“Oh yeah, that’s a good one,” Jake said happily, handing it over for her to see.

Gracelyn felt her breath hitch in her chest as she looked at their photo. Their matching wide smiles alone showed her exactly how happy he’d been in that moment, but the fact that it was with her? That was everything. She didn’t even know what to say.

“I love it,” she eventually managed to murmur.

“Then it’s all yours,” Jake said simply.

“What? No, it’s your camera,” she said, shaking her head.

But Jake just squeezed her shoulder, nudging her with his chest. “I insist. We’ll have years yet to take more photos together.”

She could only hope. Gracelyn just nodded silently, sliding the photo into her pocket with a grateful smile, leaning back into his chest as he put the camera back into his pocket without moving his arm from round her shoulders still. As her heart started beating all that little bit faster, she knew she was in trouble. She may not be particularly experienced in the nature of romance, but she knew from friends, old and new, what it was like to get a crush on someone.

How could she not start falling for him in this exact moment?

Gracelyn had always promised herself to keep her guard up, especially around her heart. Her parents’ relationship was toxic enough, their marriage fuelled by arguments and spite and cold disdain, and she’d always sworn to herself that she would never end up like them. There was a reason why she had no intention of going back home for Thanksgiving or the Christmas break. But being here with Jake right now? Tucked under his arm with him holding her against his chest after all those sweet words? It was dangerous, for her emotions and her resolve.

If she didn’t get this under control soon, there was no telling the damage this crush could do.

~~~

June 2017.

Gracelyn had been dreading June 23rd ever since she learned how significant the day was. Significant to Jake, anyway. Today was the first day of the 2017 NHL draft, and she already knew that Jake was predicted to go decently high in the first round – Gracelyn Davis of Fayetteville hadn’t a clue about any of this but Gracelyn Davis of Boston now knew all too much – so she could only imagine how stressed he was today already. Over the rest of freshman year, she’d gotten more and more into watching hockey, mainly because of Jake asking her to come to games as his ‘good luck charm’, so she knew that scouts had been following him for quite some time still. Spending so much time with him this year – including studying, brunches, parties, and campus events, on top of all the games she’d gone to – hadn’t lessened her crush in the slightest, but things were definitely much more manageable. She knew what she could and couldn’t handle, and it helped that she knew Jake had no idea how she felt either, so their friendship had only gone from strength to strength.

Today could change everything. She didn’t know if she was ready for that.

While Jake and his family were in Chicago ready for the draft day, Gracelyn was at her summer job – administration at the West Virginia Science Adventures summer day camps, right there in Fayetteville. She worked 9-4 every day, helping to make sure that everything ran smoothly, and it meant that she was out of her house essentially all day, which could only ever be a good thing. That, and it also allowed her to surreptitiously listen to the broadcast of Jake’s draft day while she was typing up the stock request forms that her supervisor needed from her.

She took her time typing, making sure everything was meticulous while she listened to the draft picks start getting called.

And then came the 26th pick, from the Dallas Stars.

“From Boston University, Jake Oettinger.”

There it was. He’d done it! The first goalie of the 2017 draft was picked, and it was him! She couldn’t stop the happy squeal that left her lips, glad that no-one else was in the office cabin right now, especially since she couldn’t help the stupid smile on her face or the tears in her eyes.

Jake had been drafted to the NHL, just as he’d always dreamed. It was everything he’d ever wanted, and he deserved it so much, and even though she knew it meant he was leaving her behind, how could she not be proud of him?

To: Jake From: Gracelyn You did it! Congratulations! I’m so proud of you! I told you that everything would pay off! I know you’re busy so don’t worry about texting back. But just know that I am so so happy for you, okay? Speak to you later ❤️

With a breathy laugh, she put her phone down, exiting out of her messages and turning off the broadcast. She didn’t care what else happened in the draft – she only cared about Jake. Now that was done, she could get on with her job without feeling guilty, even if the buzzing in her veins kept that smile on her face for the rest of her day.

It wasn’t until Gracelyn was home that she got a message back from Jake, after she’d cooked and eaten dinner by herself and was relaxing with a book in her bedroom.

To: Gracelyn From: Jake Thank you so much Gracie. I don’t think I’ve stopped smiling. This is crazy. I actually got drafted. The Stars drafted me! I’m still committing to BU, for more development, but I can’t believe they want me!

Gracelyn frowned slightly at the reply from Jake, confused. He wasn’t going straight to Dallas? He was staying in Boston? Why?

To: Jake From: Gracelyn I thought you wanted to jump right into the NHL? That’s the dream right? Don’t get me wrong, I will miss you. But this is your dream?

Gracelyn chewed her bottom lip while she waited for him to reply, rereading over the same few pages until her phone buzzed a few more times. She felt so stupid for the way her heart was beating like crazy…but this was important. This was Jake.

To: Gracelyn From: Jake Oh you’re not getting rid of me that easily, Gracie Davis. This is definitely the right thing for me right now, and I know the Stars will understand. Boston is still where I need to be right now, so you’ll see me in September! ❤️

Well if that was what he wanted, she wasn’t going to complain. Still, it would only be a matter of time before Jake took his dream in both hands and leapt for it, so she would have to make the most of the time she had with him. That was all she could hope for, right?

~~~

September 2017.

“See, I told you I’d come back.”

Gracelyn jumped at the familiar deep voice, her friends just cackling at her reaction to Jake silently creeping up behind her, but she found herself smiling at him as she turned around to face him properly.

“One of these days you’re going to give me a heart attack with this sneaking up behind me,” she mused, hands on hips.

“Well we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Jake grinned.

With that, he slung his arm around her shoulder, tugging her into a hug which she returned happily, hiding her blushing face in his chest slightly before pulling away. Jake didn’t drop his arm from over her shoulders though, making Maddie smirk at her, and Gracelyn could only be grateful that Jake seemed not to notice.

“Alright superstar, let’s get some food,” Gracelyn said, sighing dramatically.

“I missed you too, Gracelyn Davis,” Jake laughed.

I missed you more, Jake Oettinger.

“WELCOME BACK PARTY AT THE HOCKEY HOUSE!”

The crowd around them whooped, Luisa and Daisy looking particularly happy about the potential frivolity, whereas Gracelyn just smiled at the interruption.

“You and Maddie are still rooming together this year, right?” Jake murmured, leaning down so only she could hear him among the ruckus.

He remembered them talking about that?

It was true though – Gracelyn and all her friends had decided to move out of freshman dorms and get neighbouring apartments in the dorm buildings available for Sophomore students. Maddie and Gracelyn had decided to stay sharing a dorm, whereas Luisa and Daisy were roommates now, as were Chanel and Jenny. It was an arrangement that worked perfectly for them, and she couldn’t wait to actually have all of her friends living together.

“Yeah we are, why?” she said softly in return.

“Well I know that you’ll definitely be coming to the party if your girls are there to persuade you,” Jake teased.

She rolled her eyes playfully. “I would’ve come anyway.”

“You would?” Jake asked, surprised.

There were so many things she could’ve said in that moment, both innocent and incriminating, but in the end she chose just to shrug. It was the safest option.

“Food! Let’s go!” Maddie said cheerfully.

As her roommate linked their arms together, Jake’s arm slipped off her shoulders, making Gracelyn look up at him properly. “Are you coming, Jake?”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, nodding quickly.

After eating lunch and hanging out for a few hours, Jake and some of his lingering friends went back to the team house to set up for the party, leaving Gracelyn and her friends to get ready. Just like freshman year, their first party of Sophomore year was going to be at the hockey house, so they spent their time getting all dressed up in pretty eye-catching dresses (with a little pregaming, thanks to the stock they’d all brought along from home), and by the time they arrived at the hockey team house the party was in full swing.

Gracelyn spotted Jake easily, and he waved enthusiastically at her from across the room, making her friends laugh and pull her into the kitchen to get drinks of their own. Over the next few hours, Gracelyn and her friends alternated between drinking in the kitchen and dancing on the make-shift living room dancefloor, celebrating the return to college and the start of the new school year. It was everything she’d missed about Boston, having fun with her friends, finally feeling like she was back where she belonged.

Soon enough though, Gracelyn needed to make a trip to the bathroom, leaving her friends where they were in the kitchen and heading upstairs to the nicer of the bathrooms that Jake had always let her use. But on her return trip downstairs, her path was blocked in the front corridor, by a guy she didn’t recognise. He was taller than her, bigger than her, and much drunker than her – she could smell the beer on his breath from a few feet away but even more so as he stepped even closer.

“Well hello. I haven’t seen you around before,” he drawled.

What the hell?

“I’m a sophomore. I’m not new,” she frowned, confused.

“Shh, sweetheart, don’t talk so much. Why don’t we get to know each other a little better, hm? That ass of yours? Damn.”

What the actual fuck.

“Don’t talk to me like that. I’m not interested,” Gracie said shortly.

“Don’t be like that baby, I’m a real nice guy,” he grinned.

The sleaze dripped off of his words like oil, making her recoil, but it was as she moved to step around him that he grabbed her arm, holding her in place. Fuck. Oh fuck.

“Let’s try again, hm?”

“No,” she said shakily.

“No-one says no to me. You should be nicer to guys that show you interest, you know.”

Gracelyn just froze in place, mind blank and body stiff. This had never happened before, being confronted like this, and it didn’t matter how much advice she’d been given over the years, it all had flown away in the moment.

She took a deep breath, ready to yell out for help, when a familiar large body appeared by her side. Jake. She felt like crying in relief, even more so as her friend easily knocked the drunk guy’s hand off her arm.

“She’s not interested. Move on, bud,” Jake said firmly, stepping up close, making the guy look up at him with a glare.

“Back off man, I was here first,” the creep slurred.

What the actual fuck. She wasn’t prize cattle at an auction.

“I said no,” Gracelyn repeated.

With her desperate glance up at him, Jake clenched his jaw and his fists, drawing himself up to his full height as he pushed himself between Gracelyn and the creep.

“Last chance. Fuck off,” Jake said angrily.

It was all she could do to clutch at the back of his tshirt, hands shaking and heart racing.

“Whatever man, she’s ugly anyway,” the guy scowled.

She inhaled sharply as a pang of hurt ran through her chest, only to gasp out louder as Jake lurched forward, pinning the guy to the opposite wall with his forearm across his throat.

“Apologise, asshole. You’re not worth the air she breathes,” Jake all but growled.

The creep choked a little, trying to get Jake’s arm off him, and it was only then that Gracelyn noticed the crowd that was starting to form around them.

“Hey, Jake, he isn’t worth it. Don’t get in trouble because of this scumbag,” she pleaded, resting her hand on his shoulder.

Jake looked down at her with pursed lips, waited a beat or two, before nodding. She let out a shaky breath as Jake shoved the guy into the wall one last time before stepping backwards, still standing himself in front of her.

“Stay away from her, you hear me?” Jake demanded.

“Whatever freak,” the guy muttered, storming off.

Jake’s frame tensed but Gracelyn just reached for his forearm, desperate for Jake not to follow after him. The last thing she wanted was for her friend to get into a fight because of her. The creep wasn’t worth it. She wasn’t worth it.

“What was that all about?”

Jake turned around to see his captain frowning behind them as the crowd dispersed, and scowled again.

“That guy wouldn’t leave Gracie alone when she told him no. Was making her uncomfortable, a real fucking creep,” Jake muttered, clenching his hands for a moment again.

“Oh shit, for real? Damn, Gracelyn, sorry about that. I’ll make sure he’s kicked out,” Jake’s captain frowned.

What?

But before she could voice her confusion, the Senior walked off, leaving Gracelyn and Jake alone.

“He’s got a no tolerance policy for sexual harassment,” Jake murmured.

Well…that explained a few things. But still…

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“I think so? I just…I froze. Everything about that guy screamed at me to run away and all I could do was freeze,” she sighed, running a shaky hand through her hair, “I feel so stupid.”

“Hey, no, it’s okay. So not stupid at all. I hate that you ever experienced this at all, you know? You should never…”

She could see his anger rising again and did the only thing she could think of. She quickly wrapped her arms around his waist in a hug, burying her face in his shirt, just letting herself breathe and willing him to calm his anger back down. Jake froze briefly in surprise before quickly hugging her back, clutching at her firmer than she’d anticipated.

“Thank you, Jake. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t there,” she murmured.

Jake stiffened at her words before nodding, squeezing her body before letting go to look down at her properly.

“I’m glad we never have to find out what could’ve happened. I’m pretty sure you would’ve snapped and decked him, Gracie Davis, just as he deserved, but I’m glad I could at least help,” Jake said firmly.

She laughed softly but shrugged. “You did more than help. Superstar and knight in shining armour? I’m glad you’re in my life hey?”

Jake huffed out a laugh and slung his arm over her shoulder as usual, guiding them both into the kitchen towards the beer keg.

“I told you you’re not getting rid of me that easily. I meant it,” he said, smiling sweetly down at her, “So let’s get back to the party as it should be, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’d like that. I think Maddie’s about to kick some ass in beer pong if you wanted to watch?” she mused.

“Just like when we met a year ago. Perfect,” Jake grinned.

~~~

March 2019.

Jake didn’t leave for Texas in Sophomore year. Didn’t sign an entry level contact, didn’t leave Boston, didn’t leave the Terriers. Didn’t leave Gracelyn. All throughout the school year, they only got closer and closer, somehow spending even more time together than they did previously – any time that Gracelyn wasn’t with her friends or studying (and even then, sometimes she was studying with Jake), the two of them could usually be found together. It seemed like the welcome back party of Sophomore year triggered something protective in Jake, and he always made sure that she was okay wherever they went, even to the point of scaring off guys regardless of whether they were being creeps or not. Her friends – especially Maddie – called Jake a cockblock, but it wasn’t like Gracelyn protested at all. Her crush on Jake hadn't lessened at all, so why would she be interested in other guys? Especially if Jake wanted to be by her side.

He was always her partner in study groups, in beer pong, in video games, and he always sat next to her when they went out for food, to the movies, to campus events. She was even pretty sure that some of the freshmen on his team thought they were actually dating, considering how often they asked her where he was if they couldn’t find him.

As she said, she wasn’t going to complain. She had Jake in her life in ways that she never could’ve hoped for – and the longer he didn’t leave Boston to sign a contract with the Stars, the more her confidence built, waiting for a moment when she felt sure enough to actually tell him how she felt. It was a lofty goal, but each day that passed, she got a little closer.

When Jake was named an alternate captain prior to the 2018-2019 season, her hope soared.

Throughout the start of Junior year, Jake’s responsibilities to the team kept him longer at practices, longer in team meetings, but that didn’t mean he didn’t put in the extra effort with Gracelyn still, even going as far as to stay behind in Boston with her for Thanksgiving to spend that time together that they hadn’t really been able to. Her friends all thought she was nuts for not just confessing, but she was still too scared. So scared to lose him, the most important relationship in her life, the most important friendship, so she continued to stay silent, just grateful for whatever time that her friendship with Jake could afford her.

She knew that he appreciated her – he always made sure she knew it – and she knew that she wouldn’t trade what they had right now for anything, unless she knew for sure that it wasn’t going to all blow up in her face.

She had to know, before she took that risk.

Before Gracelyn knew it, it was the beginning of March, with Spring Break coming up right around the corner. Maddie was out to lunch with her boyfriend Jackson (business major – a little dry, but adored her friend), so Gracelyn was finishing off a paper in her room alone, having spent some time with her other girlfriends that morning over coffee. She was just finishing off her last editing readthrough when her dorm door was knocked on, in a familiar pattern that made her smile.

“Come in Jake! The door’s unlocked!”

Gracelyn hit save on the word document before closing her laptop, Jake walking into the room quickly. The serious look on his face made her heart clench a little, even more so as he sat down next to her on the bed in silence.

“Hey Gracie, I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

“Of course not. What’s up?” she asked, worried.

“I just…I wanted to tell you before I told anyone else. Well, other than coach, but yeah.”

She knew it.

“Tell me what?” she asked as lightly as she could, feigning ignorance as he sat down beside her.

“I signed a three-year entry level contact with the Stars last weekend. And I’m heading to Texas to play in the AHL in a few days time.”

She was too late.

“Oh Jake that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you! But it’s happening quick, no?”

Jake huffed out a laugh, nodding as he smiled weakly at her. “It happened a lot faster than I thought. But my agent said this is the best option for me, to start my hockey career off. I’ve got to follow my dream, you know?”

Even if it meant leaving her behind. She’d been prepared for this for a long time. That didn’t make it hurt any less. But this wasn’t about her – this was about him, and everything he’d worked for, and everything he still had to work for in the future.

“Of course you do, Jake. Anyone that tells you differently is an ass. Follow your dreams and don’t look back, hey?”

It was only then that he noticed the tears in her eyes and quickly shook his head. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Gracie Davis. You’re one of my best friends, and I’m not losing you. I can’t.”

She choked out a wet noise, half laugh half sob, and just shook her head.

“You go and be the superstar that you are destined to be, okay?” she said, smiling sadly at him, “The rest of us will figure out the rest.”

Jake pulled her into the tightest hug he ever had done, burying his face in her dark hair.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you in my life.”

Gracelyn just stayed silent, letting her tears fall.

~~~

May 2020.

She never did tell him how she felt. He never did find out how much she loved him. Maybe it was for the best, when their texts slowed over the summer of 2019, because by the time Gracelyn had started up her final year of college in the September of 2019, she’d hardened up her heart enough to make it through the year without him.

She hadn’t realised how much of Boston she associated with Jake until he was gone.

The pizza place where she and her girlfriends would meet up with the hockey team after a winning game. The coffee cart they always picked up a coffee to go before lectures or study sessions or hangouts on the quad. The amazing smoothie bar that didn’t actually overcharge students and gave decent portion sizes. The little independent cinema that always smelled like burnt popcorn and only ever had two films running at one time. The Terriers ice hockey games in general. Even the yoga classes where Jake would maintain – and show off – his flexibility had become a no-go for her, which felt ridiculous the more she thought about it.

Gracelyn particularly avoided ‘their spot’ near the Hatch Shell along the Charles River, the place they’d gone to at least once a week for nearly two and a half years, unable to get all of the time spent relaxing there together out of her head, the time they would just sit and watch the world go by.

Two and a half years of friendship, gone with the wind – and she never expected to see him again. How was she supposed to cope with that?

She knew all of her friends worried about her, hated how she retreated into her shell throughout the whole of Senior year. Gracelyn did try to keep up her life as it had been before, going to parties like she used to, hockey games with her friends, but after a particularly awkward party at the hockey house in November, Gracelyn was done.

After a mild intervention before the winter break with Maddie, Luisa, Jenny, Chanel, and Daisy, following a couple of weeks of complete hermit behaviour, Gracelyn made a compromise – she would no longer go to parties or have anything to do with the hockey team, but would still go to everything else. She just couldn’t – she and Jake had always found their way together, talking off to the side away from the chaos of that side of her old social life, and for all the parties she’d attempted to go to in September to November, she’d struggled more than she’d expected – so that was her bottom line, it had to be a big no.

So life went on – Gracelyn went to all the fun campus events she used to, still went out for lunches and dinners and girls nights and all the things she’d always done with hers friends, but for her own sanity she had to stop the major things that she associated with Jake. It was the only way she was going to get through her Senior year, the only way she was going to get through her heartbreak that wasn’t even really heartbreak.

At least studying for her final papers, her final exams, gave her all the genuine excuses she needed not have that social side of herself any more anyway.

When it came to finishing off her final week of exams in May, Gracelyn was drained. She pushed herself to her limits, maybe even further than she should’ve done, andby the time she stumbled back to her dorm after her final exam, it was all she could do to collapse onto her bed into a much-needed nap.

It wasn’t until hours later that a gentle hand shook her awake, the smell of Thai food filling nose.

“Wakey wakey sleeping beauty, I’ve brought dinner,” Maddie grinned.

Gracelyn blearily opened her eyes, sitting upright with more difficulty than she expected, accepting the offered food with a thankful groan that just made her friend laugh. The two of them ate quietly, the open window giving them the ambience of campus, and Gracelyn found herself smiling as she relaxed for what felt like the first time in ages.

“You’ve finished your final exam now, right?”

Gracelyn just nodded, smiling through the noodles in her mouth, making Maddie laugh. She knew that her roommate had finished two days ago, seeing as Gracelyn’s exams were some of the last of all the Seniors.

“So…there’s a hockey house party tonight…”

Gracelyn stopped chewing, narrowing her eyes, to which Maddie just laughed and held her hands up in surrender.

“I know you haven’t been to parties all year. Not since…he left. But this is our last big blow-out, you know? And you shouldn’t let a dumb boy ruin the last big college party, right?”

Gracelyn huffed out a breath, setting her food down to the side, just running a hand through her dishevelled hair. Parties just hadn’t been the same since Jake left in Junior year, especially not ones at the hockey house – she’d stopped going to them for a reason.

But maybe Maddie was right. Jake wasn’t here. He’d left. She was still here and she was graduating and she shouldn’t let herself feel so sour when she’d worked so hard. Fuck it. This was her last week of college – she wasn’t going to hold herself back any more.

“I’m going to need to shower. And shave my legs. And I have no idea what to wear,” Gracelyn eventually said.

Maddie just squealed, clapping her hands together.

“Go and shower now. Shave everything. Leave the outfit to me and the girls. Tonight is going to be the best night ever, okay?” Maddie said happily, whipping out her phone, no doubt to text their friends of the plans.

“Can I at least finish my food first?”

Maddie just laughed, not even looking up from where she was typing.

So Gracelyn took a shower, shaved, primped, and dressed up in clothes she hadn’t worn in months. The girls all rallied around her while they got ready too, all chipping in with her hair and make-up, making her heart clench in gratitude for her incredible friends and their love. The evening, the party, was going to be the best, just as Maddie had promised. She could feel it in her bones.

She knew that a few of her former social crowd glanced at her in surprise as their group walked through the hockey house, but Maddie didn’t give her a chance to get self-conscious in the grey bodycon dress, pressing a shot of vodka and a beer into her hands with a big smile.

“We’re graduating, motherfuckers!”

Jenny’s whoop raised a loud cheer in the kitchen, more shots being passed around quickly, and it allowed Gracelyn to relax a little in the familiar atmosphere, almost like nothing had changed at all. The whole evening passed in a blur of dancing and drinking and laughter and beer pong, Gracelyn sinking into the support of her girlfriends to let loose, finally shaking off all the tension and stress of the past few weeks of exams. Of the past year, if she was being honest.

It wasn’t until after 1am that the group separated out a little bit, Daisy and Gracelyn on the makeshift dancefloor with the other scattered through the kitchen, bathroom and outside. The two of them sang along to the upbeat Megan Thee Stallion song, dancing free and wild, until a cute guy shyly approached Daisy, dancing with her briefly before whispering in her ear and making Daisy giggle. Then her friend looked over to her, and Gracelyn knew exactly what she was silently asking.

“Go! Go make-out!” Gracelyn grinned, shooing Daisy away teasingly.

Her friend just giggled and smiled her thanks, slinking off deeper into the crowd with the cute guy, making her smile. Why shouldn’t her friend have a little fun, hey?

Gracelyn moved out to the edge of the dancefloor and glanced around the room, trying to spot Maddie or Luisa or Chanel or Jenny, but the person her eyes landed on instead made her audibly gasp. This wasn’t real. He wasn’t here. How could he be here?

What the hell. What was he doing here? Why was he back in Boston, after all this time? Why was he here right now at the same party was her?

Was she dreaming?

Then Jake turned his head and spotted her too, smiling widely.

No this was definitely a nightmare. Gracelyn couldn’t move as he walked over towards her, and it was all she could do to force a smile on her face as he stopped in front of her, towering over her as he always had.

“Hey Gracie. It’s been a while.”

Yeah no shit.

His sweet smile and gentle voice still sent shivers down her spine though.

“What are you doing here?” she asked coolly.

“I wanted to surprise everyone. I know I couldn’t finish off my degree here but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to see everyone graduate.”

Wanted to surprise everyone? See everyone graduate?

Was he even going to tell her he was there?

Obviously not.

“Well it was nice to see you, Jake. Good luck next season,” she said, smiling politely.

The confused expression on his face, paired with his flinch at her tone of voice, almost made her defensive walls crumble down – but she’d made that mistake before, letting her guard down around him. Three years she spent letting him slowly take over her heart, and she knew that if she let him in one last time that she’d never recover. She just couldn’t handle it again.

“Gracie, wait,” he murmured, reaching out towards her.

Hearing her nickname fall from his lips was almost enough to stop her, but she stepped back ever so slightly out of his grasp, enough that his confusion turned to hurt.

“Goodbye, Jake,” she said softly.

And with that, she made herself walk off, heading straight for the kitchen, hoping to find someone, anyone, because by the time she’d steadied her breathing through the house, she was done. She was so done, with the hockey house, with the party, with the whole night. It was all she could do to force a smile on her face when she found a few of her friends in the kitchen – Maddie, Chanel, and Luisa – Maddie’s eyes immediately narrowing at her expression.

“Hey, I’m exhausted, it’s been such a long day. I’m going to head back to the dorms,” Gracelyn announced.

It was just past 2am now, so it wasn’t like she was being a killjoy. Chanel and Luisa booed teasingly, making her huff out a laugh, whereas Maddie just smiled sadly. Her best friend always knew how to read her mind.

“Do you want company on the walk back?” Maddie offered.

“No, no, it’s okay, please stay and enjoy the last hockey house party. The fresh air will do me good. Thank you though,” Gracelyn said, shaking her head.

She would always be grateful for Maddie.

“Brunch tomorrow, yes?” Chanel said, smiling as she pointed a taloned-fingernail faux-threateningly.

“Of course!” Gracelyn laughed, making the rest of the girls laugh too. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

With a round of hugs and the promise to text when she arrived back at the dorm, Gracelyn left the hockey house for the last time. She hated that tears were stinging at her eyes, closing yet another metaphorical and physical door, so she wasted no time in just starting to walk away, letting her feet guide her. By the time she’d managed to compose herself, she realised she’d somehow walked out to the Charles River, all the way down to her old spot with Jake near the Hatch Shell, and she just felt like crying for real this time.

Why here? Why now? Why did this have to be the ending of her college years?

She managed to blink the tears back as she sat down on their usual…old stone bench, just in time to hear footsteps coming towards her. Her heart clenched in her chest as she snapped her head in that direction, only to see Jake jogging towards her, his cheeks flushed and his eyes wild.

“Gracie! I was looking everywhere in the house for you. But when Maddie told me you left, I knew you’d end up here,” he said, breathless but relieved.

Maddie told him? That meddler. Gracelyn felt a lump rise in her throat at his words though. What did that even mean? What was he doing? Why did he even care?

“What do you want?” she asked, frowning.

“I wanted to see you. Wanted to talk to you. I couldn’t leave Boston again without talking to you. It’s kind of perfect that it’s by our old spot – I can’t get the memories of this place out of my head.”

November 2016.

“We should take a photo,” Jake said suddenly, digging in his coat pocket.

“What?”

“Well in that case…” she teased.

“Oh, well if you want to talk now, then go ahead!” Gracelyn said sharply.

Jake flinched again at her harsh tone of voice, looking even more confused than before.

“Why…what do you mean?”

“I haven’t heard from you in over a year. You stopped replying to my texts, you hurt me. But it’s all good now that you’ve shown up again and declared you want to talk, right? So go ahead. Talk. Tell me why you think you can just reappear in my life after leaving me alone,” Gracelyn said angrily.

The moment that the ranting words left her lips, she regretted them, even more so at the upset look on Jake’s face. Here it was, what she’d always feared would happen. She wished she could use the beer and shots as an excuse but she knew they were barely a factor after all of the dancing. She’d pushed too far this time. He was actually going to say goodbye for good. And why wouldn’t he? That’s what everyone else important in her life had always done.

Braced myself for the goodbye, 'Cause that's all I've ever known.

“I’ll never leave you alone again.”

His sudden words broke her out of her swirling thoughts.

“What?”

“I should never have left you behind, not without telling you how I feel about you.”

What the hell.

“Jake…”

“I have been such an idiot, Gracie. Such a coward. I remember how it felt sitting by the water here with you, letting the world pass by like nothing else mattered, like it was just you and me in our own little world. That first time we were here? I made you laugh, and your laugh was the best thing I’d ever heard. The smile you sent me after you’d stopped laughing made my heart beat like crazy. I wanted to kiss you right then and there, but I chickened out. Every time I looked at you after that, it was like the first time all over again. I don’t know when it happened, probably moments after I met you, but I fell in love with you a long time ago, and I wanted to tell you so many times. I should’ve told you, but I was so scared to ruin everything. Turns out me not saying anything ruined us anyway.”

His words washed over her like a wave, overwhelming in their honesty and emotion, and the more he spoke, the more Gracelyn felt like crying. This was how he felt about her? After all this time?

He was in love with her too?

He wasn’t saying goodbye?

“You loved me?” she managed to whisper.

Jake swallowed heavily but nodded, eyes starting to fill with hope. “Love. Present tense. I still love you, and I am so sorry for being too much of a coward to tell you last year. Am I too late?”

“Too late?” she asked, confused.

“Too late to have a chance with you?”

Oh.

“Jake, I…I don’t even know what to say. I’ve spent this whole last year trying to repair myself after you left with barely a goodbye, and now you just…you want to give us a chance? Just like that?”

The guilt that washed over Jake’s face sent a pang through her body, but she stayed silent, waiting for him to speak. She needed to know. He needed to tell her.

“I know you’ve guarded your heart. I know it’s for good reasons. But we’re not going to make your parents mistakes, Gracie. I never want to go a day without telling you how much I love you. I don’t want to spend another day apart. I don’t know where I’ll be next season – I might start down in the AHL but it’s likely I’ll be called up again. But I’ve got to know…will you come with me?”

“To Texas? You want me to move in with you in Texas?”

Her mind was swirling, even more overwhelmed, her emotions choking up her throat as her jaw dropped slightly. That was the last thing she was expecting. Was this too sudden? Was she holding back for no reason?

“Shit, I shouldn’t be asking you that at 2.30am. I’m so sorry, so stupid,” Jake groaned, running his hands through his hair.

“You’re not stupid,” she said quickly, gently pulling his hands back down, “I just…it’s a lot? Let me think about it?”

“Of course. Whatever you need, I…”

He trailed off, an old familiar look of hesitance and self-deprecation in his eyes, enough to make her heart pang. Enough to make up her mind, at least a little bit.

“I love you too, Jake,” she murmured, smiling slightly as his breath caught in his throat, “I’ve loved you for longer than I care to admit. I was trying to build up my confidence to tell you but then it was too late, you know? When you left, and slowly stopped messaging me, it broke my heart. I know you were busy working your ass off in Texas and I am so proud of you for chasing your dreams…but it still hurt so much. I spent all of this last year essentially back in the way that you first met me, introverted and quiet – tonight was the first party I’d been to since November. But I still love you. I don’t think I could ever stop.”

As she spoke, she watched his face shift from happy to sad to devastated to hopeful. She’d missed how expressive he was, especially around her, especially because of her, even if it was terrifying to share all of her thoughts and feelings with him. Things she’d never said to anyone, not even her closest friends. But here she was, confessing everything, hoping that the tears slowly trickling down her face were the only ones she’d cry over him again.

Jake stayed silent for a moment, raising a hand to wipe away her tears, letting his hand cup her face briefly, just long enough for the warmth to seep through his skin to hers before he dropped his hand again.

“I’ll never be able to make up for making you feel like this for so long, I know that. But I’m hoping you’ll give me a chance to start over, to finally start us as we should’ve always been. To show you how much I love you.”

It was everything she’d ever hoped to hear, over the three years they spent as friends and the past year alone. Was it enough? Could she trust him? Could she trust herself?

“I have no idea what I’m going to do with my life, Jake. I know I’m not moving back home, but other than that? I don’t have any job or career lined up yet. I have no idea what I’m doing with my life after brunch tomorrow with the girls. But maybe you can walk me home tonight…and we can talk tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, we can do that. I’d love that,” Jake said quickly, eagerly, “Maybe I could stay until after commencement weekend? There’s literally nowhere else I’d rather be.”

There’s literally nowhere else she’d want him to be either.

So she huffed out a laugh, nodding, heart starting to beat that little bit faster as he took one of her hands in his, threading their fingers together. She stayed silent as he stood up, hands staying linked as she stood up too, Jake just as silent as her. It was only when he lifted their joint hands to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her hand that she made any sound, a soft sigh of his name, just loud enough for Jake to hear.

It was his answering smile that gave her hope.

Do you remember all the city lights on the water? You saw me start to believe for the first time, You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter, You are the best thing that's ever been mine.

#my writing #jake oettinger fic #summer fic exchange 2k23 #jake oettinger imagine #jake oettinger fanfic #jake oettinger x oc #nhl writing #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey writing #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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