we fall in love every weekend and swear it's forever
It’s a once-a-year-every-year summer-esque relationship they have going on. Taeyeon knows close to nothing about Sunny—she’s pretty sure, though, that Sunny knows more about her than she shows. They always cross paths at the week-long festivities at the small coastal city, being it completely accidental
(It’s the second time Sunny’s ever been to the festival at this city, Taeyeon’s glad she’s able to spot her in the middle of the crowd. She has an awfully improvised, falling apart mermaid costume; her face, shoulders and belly: all fully bare and full of silver and blue glitter, blue cellophane envelops her legs—Taeyeon knows everything will fall apart within minutes as she dances in the middle of the street, Sunny also knows this, she’s wearing a bikini top and shorts to prevent further problems.
Taeyeon lets the crowd lead and take her to Sunny. They fall into place, bodies glued and dancing together, too close than normal and without sharing a word, save for the lyrics being screamed from the top of their lungs. It’s all it takes before they fall again into their strange weekend-only once-a-year relationship where they exclusively kiss each other and spend their time together in Taeyeon’s small apartment and sharing her bed before going back to the street party and live shows.
However, every time Taeyeon sees Sunny so free in the crowd, dancing and singing with a cold beer in hand and sweat falling from her neck, she can’t help but wonder who she truly is outside of this context—Sunny’s day-to-day life, if she works or studies, works and studies—and every time Taeyeon forgets to ever ask about private lives, too busy enjoying the moment and each other.
By the last day, when Sunny enters the transfer bus to go back to her city, Taeyeon feels empty as she walks alongside the shore, regretting everything she couldn’t find it in herself to ask—phone number, social media accounts, if she likes her back—, only hoping to see her the next year.),
or programmed beforehand
(“Next year,” Sunny says, laughing a tad bit too drunk to remember even the next day. Pink-glittered body glowing under the moon and streetlamps at two in the morning, music still bumming behind them at the main square. It’s their last night together, walking side-by-side back to Taeyeon’s place, “let’s meet at the bar we first met. But only at the third day.”
Taeyeon can only laugh at Sunny’s slurring, she stopped doubting Sunny’s memory not long ago—after they met by chance at the fourth day and, in a drunken haze, saying she waited for her for two hours. She laughs bitterly now, meeting on third day means having their fun before the annual pretend relationship for two days.
It always reminds Taeyeon they’re strangers.
“Are you sure about it?” Taeyeon’s less inebriated, sober enough to not slur her words, drunk enough to talk without thinking, “You can always come before the carnival begins and we can spend time together.”
Sunny falls to her knees from laughing, holding her stomach as she tries to grasp the new idea, “But what’s the fun in it? We should enjoy the carnival as much as we can!”
They’re too drunk to properly think about it, Taeyeon only laughs, “You’re right, let’s just enjoy the moment,” they might forget about this night tomorrow, or at least pretend they never had, “How long has it been since we met?”
“Five years?” Sunny says as she opens her hostel’s door, they share a quick peck, “Or four, I don’t know.”
They wave goodbye and Taeyeon goes back to her small apartment alone.).
It’s always the same situation sooner or later: Sitting at the beach together, sharing a moment before going back to their respective lives and forget about this relationship. Their cosplays are falling apart around them, white feathers are missing from Taeyeon’s costume and sprinkled all over Sunny’s shoulders and stomach, sitting side by side on the sand.
They’re tiring faster, drinking less than what they used some years ago, it means more time being just the two of them without screams around. Taeyeon’s looking at the waves softly coming to the sand, all the sweat and glitter making them shine strangely. Sunny thinks about taking the feathers off her, but her arms hurt too much to make any effort.
“You’re not from here.”
Sunny’s brows furrow, “You already know that.”
“No, I mean,” Taeyeon stumbles, “where are you from? The big city?”
“Yeah,” Sunny answers, Taeyeon feels Sunny’s stare on her, she wonders if they’re going to kiss now, “why, though?”
They won’t, Sunny’s already on edge.
“I don’t know, curiosity,” Taeyeon pretends nonchalance, “you live in the capital, then?”
Sunny’s just confused now, “How do you know?”
Taeyeon draws shapes on the sand with her fingers, “You don’t know how to walk in the sand, it’s funny to watch you run.”
“Is it that obvious?” Sunny laughs along.
“A lot, actually!” Taeyeon raises from her place and dusts herself, “I’m tired, we should head back and sleep. I’ll have work tomorrow.”
Sunny accepts Taeyeon’s hand, and they organize their stuff to walk together, Taeyeon to her apartment, Sunny to her hostel. it’s close to each other, but Taeyeon makes the effort of walking three more blocks just for the company.
Taeyeon takes a deep breath as they near Sunny’s stop, “Don’t you think it’s time we share phone numbers?”
“If we meet tomorrow, we can,” Sunny turns to her, lazy smile on her face, “I’m not with my phone now. You know where I’ll be.”
“You’re not gonna invite me in?” Taeyeon jokes a little desperate—she knows, if they don’t sort whatever they have by now, Taeyeon will not be able to reach Sunny after her work, and another year will pass and they’ll only meet next March, and it’ll stay the same as the past years, “Don’t you wanna spend the last night together at least once?”
Sunny smiles sweetly. She looks down at the sidewalk, understanding everything that Taeyeon wants, “Do you really wanna have a long-distance relationship? I like how it is, a carnival fling.”
“But what if we want to take it somewhere else?”
Sunny gives her a sad smile, “This is just a carnival thing, we don’t need to make it something big, we enjoy each other every year and stay like this.”
“It ends here, then?” Taeyeon doesn’t know what she expected, she feels a void in her stomach, but there’s nothing of the raw feelings that tear her up from inside.
“You know that if I ever find someone, I’ll stop showing up.”
“Okay,” Taeyeon’s voice is strangely small, “it ends here, then.”
this is an old fanfic i wrote once, loosely based on Jão's song amor pirata
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Song Fic Drabble Game (#1)
Rules: Create both a playlist of 10 songs and a list of 10 pairings. Put the songs on shuffle. For each song, write a drabble starring one of the pairings on the list. (One song = one pairing with no repeats.) The catch is you only have until the end of the song to finish writing. When the song ends, you stop writing. Ready, set, drabble!
(Me and @bigtiddymatthew played this game together! We did the same 10 songs but with different pairings and wildly different interpretations so please check hers out and give it lots of love! And let me know which of these is your favorite so I can try and continue it until a full fic!)
Be Alright by Dean Lewis – Hoseok/Hyerin
“You’re texting her again?” Jimin asked.
“Hope, put your phone away,” Namjoon ordered lightly, nodding his chin to the end of the couch where Hoseok sat with his knees pulled protectively to his chest like his legs could somehow keep his heart from breaking.
“Fuck off,” he muttered.
“Ah, you heard the man,” said Jin. He was sitting on the floor, XBOX controller in his hands, more focused on the game than he was Hoseok’s pain and suffering. “Can we get back to it?”
“I know you love her but it’s over, Hoseok,” Taehyung said. He was in the armchair by the kitchen, high as a kite and covered in spicy Dorito dust. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it. You loved her and she slept with someone else and that sucks but you deserve better. You deserve someone who loves you and only you, right?”
“Fuck off,” he repeated, words dripping venom as he scrolled vengefully through her Instagram.
“Let him grieve, gentlemen,” said Yoongi from the kitchen. He and Jungkook were mixing drinks, waiting for the Pizza Rolls to finish cooking, listening to them try to console him. “If he says to fuck off, let’s fuck off. It’s almost time to eat.”
Namjoon slapped his shoulder, then nodded along with Yoongi’s sage, slightly cryptic wisdom.
“You’ll be alright, buddy,” he said, then took the second controller from where he’d left it on the coffee table. “Don’t worry. You’ll be alright.”
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Invisible by 5 Seconds of Summer – Sehun/Suho
One bag was all he’d brought with him. Suho figured travelling light was his safest bet. It’d be easy to slip into the crowd, easy to avoid detection, easy to blend in with the background.
But, then, Suho had never had a trouble going undetected.
Invisible was the word he’d always used to describe himself. Invisible was how he felt.
Would anyone notice he was gone?
Would anyone care that he was missing?
Sehun would but that was kind of the point, wasn’t it?
Sehun loved him but Sehun didn’t love him and after twenty-six years of barely existing, twenty-six years of rejection and loss and grief and invisibility, Suho was done being a ghost. He was done living a life that had never really felt quite like his in the first place.
And so he packed a bag, bought a ticket, boarded a bus and never looked back.
No warning, no note, no regrets.
He left a pot on the stove, a charger plugged into the wall and a soccer game playing on the small TV in his kitchen.
He was gone but did it matter?
He’d been gone for years.
Maybe this time, people would finally miss him.
Maybe this time, someone would notice.
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11:11 by Taeyeon – Sunny/Taeyeon
It was 11:10 PM.
Staring at the clock attached to her cable box, Taeyeon pretended to think of a wish in preparation for 11:11 but the truth was she’d been making the same wish twice a day for the last two months, three weeks and four days.
Sunny had been every bit as bright, positive and warm as her name suggested but there was always something extra, something dark, something distant that had always caused a small rift, a tiny disconnect, the most miniscule of cracks in their otherwise sturdy romantic foundation.
But they’d been in love once, Taeyeon was sure of it. They held hands wherever they went, took photos to document their best days, kissed under streetlights, made promises to each other, sweet, hushed words that only they could hear.
But the thing about miniscule cracks is that they inevitably grow larger and more substantial. A small, seemingly innocuous crack, a hairline fracture, could grow exponentially, causing larger, more jagged breaks that ultimately end in something shattering.
And that something, unfortunately, had been both their once great, once beautiful relationship and Taeyeon’s heart.
11:11
She made her wish. She closed her eyes, tried not to think about Sunny’s smile, about her laugh or about her body or about the way it felt to sleep beside her, and she made her wish.
I wish I could get over you.
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Gotta Get Out by 5 Seconds of Summer – Dino/Jun
Dino wasn’t sure what it was.
Aliens? A natural disaster? Terrorism?
It didn’t matter. No matter the cause, the goal was the same – get out.
It was hard to navigate the streets that day. There were too many people, too many obstacles.
He held Jun’s hand as they ran, squeezing his fingers so tight that Jun couldn’t feel his thumb. But he couldn’t lose him. Not like this. If they stayed together, they’d be okay. It didn’t matter what had caused it. The sky was falling, the streets crumbling, people screaming, buildings burning, sirens sounding. What was that in the distance? Was it gunfire?
It didn’t matter.
They had to get out.
They’d keep running. They’d get out of the city. They’d get to safety. They’d stick together and they’d be okay.
“Dino!” Jun shouted over the chaos but Dino couldn’t slow down, couldn’t take the time to stop and talk. Not now. Not yet.
“Keep running!” he yelled back. He squeezed his hand even harder. “Don’t let go!”
But Jun wasn’t letting go. He was just as afraid of losing Dino as Dino was afraid of losing him.
But they’d get out. Dino was sure of it.
There wasn’t any other choice.
Come hell, high water, aliens, terrorism or natural disaster, they were going to get out.
And they were going to do it together.
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Tequila by Dan + Shay – Ten/Hendery
“Can I get a drink?” Ten asked.
The bartender turned on his heel and nodded his chin.
“What can I get you?”
“Surprise me,” said Ten.
“Tequila?” the bartender asked, already reaching for the bottle on the second shelf.
Ten’s stomach turned.
He hadn’t had tequila in over a year, not since that wedding he’d gone to with Hendery, the one in Colorado with the terrible deejay and super terrible food.
Hendery had done shots with the bridesmaids and gotten shitfaced before they’d even cut the cake. But Hendery had never been able to hold his liquor. No matter where they went, Hendery would order tequila and two drinks in, he’d regret it. But he was a cute drunk, cuddly and clingy and affectionate. At the wedding, they’d danced the night away, Hendery a mess of red cheeks and giggles, and then walked back to the hotel, hand-in-hand, singing pop songs from the 90s and stopping to make out whenever the mood struck.
Ten didn’t drink tequila anymore. Without Hendery, it was too bitter. Nothing tasted as good as it had with him, and nothing ever felt as good as it used to. And now, every time he tasted tequila, he thought back to the biggest love of his life, the biggest mistake he’d ever made and the one that got away.
“Anything but tequila,” said Ten, grimacing, preemptively feeling the hangover that would no doubt seize all of his senses in about twelve hours. “Literally anything else.”
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Nobody’s Fool by Miranda Lambert --- Yoongi/Hoseok
It was Yoongi’s favorite bar long before he’d met Hoseok and that was what made all of this so unfair.
He was out with friends from work (though friends was a bit of an overstatement) and all he’d wanted to do was drink beer and throw darts. He hadn’t expected to see anyone he knew, least of all the man who’d broken his heart (or whose heart he’d broken depending on who you asked) six months before.
Did Hoseok know that Yoongi would be there? Had he gone just to twist the knife? Or had he innocently forgotten that JJ’s was Yoongi’s favorite place?
Knowing Hoseok, a kid whose mind was a steel trap and whose most driving emotion had always been spite, Yoongi suspected the former.
He was loud, boisterous, greeting people, slapping hands, flashing smiles, asking girls to dance.
Yoongi excused himself from the game, handing his darts off to a woman from payroll, and returned to the bar for another drink.
“Hey,” said one of his colleagues, a tall, clumsy man with blonde hair and dimples. He nodded his chin to the dance floor where Hoseok was twirling an attractive redhead in a tight dress and asked, “Don’t you know that guy?”
Yoongi glared, his lips pressed to his glass.
“Yeah,” he grunted.
“Who is he?” his coworker asked.
In that moment, he could have sworn he and Hoseok locked eyes.
Yoongi downed the rest of his drink, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “Nobody. Let’s get back to the game.”
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The Breaker by Little Big Town – Yuta/Jungwoo
Yuta recognized the irony but never appreciated it.
It had been three months but the guilt was eating him alive, the memory of Jungwoo’s face when he’d finally come out and said it, the way he’d cried, the way Yuta knew, right then and there, that things would never be the same.
He wanted to be Jungwoo’s friend. He wanted to stay in his life. He wanted to rescue him when his car broke down, wanted to see movies with him, wanted to ask him about his day.
Even now, in the midst of it, he wanted to call him. He wanted to check up on him, wanted to make sure he was eating and sleeping.
But Yuta had broken his heart. He’d shattered him. He’d let them go on for months, let Jungwoo believe everything was okay, let Jungwoo think he was in love with him.
And goddamn, he’d really wanted to be in love with him. He wanted to love Jungwoo the way Jungwoo loved him. Because Jungwoo really felt it. He believed it. He believed with all his heart that Yuta was his hero, his savior, his personal reward from the universe, the thing that made all of his past suffering and past heartbreaks worth it, truly believing that Yuta had swooped in and rescued him from loneliness, from pain, from sadness.
He believed Yuta was the hero, the one who had finally saved his heart.
How was he supposed to know how wrong he was?
How was he ever supposed to know that Yuta wasn’t the one to save his heart, that he wasn’t the hero but, instead, the breaker?
He knew when Yuta told him.
When Yuta sat him down and told him it was over, told him that he didn’t feel the same way, told him that he was never going to feel the same way.
When Yuta shot the stars right out of his sky, ripped his heart from his chest, shattered his hopes, mangled his dreams, then tried to stick around and make sure he was okay.
And now all Yuta had of him was a few t-shirts, a broken phone charger, a green toothbrush and a million memories. He stalked his Instagram, tried to get information out of their mutual friends, spent every minute of every hour of every day worrying about him, wondering if he was okay, wanting to fix it, wanting to hold him, wanting to be the hero that Jungwoo had always believed him to be.
But he couldn’t.
He was cut off, isolated, banished from the heart of the man he’d love but hadn’t loved enough.
But that was the fate of the breaker.
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Junkyard by the Zac Brown Band – Taehyung/Jin
Jin had always been curious about the junkyard.
He figured that all the stories he’d heard, the rumors about the man who owned it, the whispers about the kid who lived inside, the schoolyard musings about the monsters and machines that came alive during the night, were all exactly that – just stories.
But he was curious. It was his nature. He liked to know things. He liked to be sure.
What was he supposed to do?
It was July. One more month and he’d be an adult. (Not officially, of course. He wouldn’t turn 18 until December but he would start community college and that, in Jin’s mind, was enough to make him an adult.) He was a child for just a short while longer and with childhood came curiosity.
He had to know. And that was why he’d climbed the fence.
As soon as his sneakers hit the dirt on the other side, he had regrets. As soon as he smelled it, Jin began to consider worst case scenarios.
What if the man who owned it was armed? What if he didn’t take kindly to trespassers? What if Jin found himself staring down the barrel of a shotgun? What if the monsters were real? What if the machines, the cursed, Frankenstein-esque machines that kids speculated about weren’t just scary stories but a twisted, unlikely reality? (Jin had heard these stories his whole life, the most popular of which suggested that the owner of the junkyard, a brilliant but mean-spirited man, spent his days tinkering and toiling away, taking different pieces of machines and fusing them together to create unholy, mechanical monsters capable of great destruction.)
He walked carefully, observing careful towers of garbage, interesting mounds of scrap metal and springs, piles upon piles of boxes and tires and cardboard, all of it stinking in the heavy summer sun.
It wasn’t long before he saw it, a shack in the middle of all the trash, sticking out like a sore thumb because of its apparent practicality. Did someone really live here? It was as dirty as everything else but still… out of place and that was what got Jin’s attention.
He needed to prop himself up on something in order to see (he chose a trash can, naturally) and when he did, he regretted it for what Jin saw (or, rather, who Jin saw) was far, far worse than anything he and his friends had speculated about on the school bus and suddenly, Jin found himself longing for both the days of childhood ignorance and the far-off world of adult safety.
And he wished he’d never hopped that fence and never, ever wandered into the heart of the junkyard.
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Saving Amy by Brantley Gilbert – Suho/Chanyeol
He’d always worn his seatbelt.
It hadn’t mattered that night since his card had flipped twice before going off the road but he had been wearing his seatbelt. Junmyeon had always been a rule-follower. He’d even asked Chanyeol’s father for his hand in marriage before proposing. (Chanyeol’s parents had melted at that. They’d always loved Junmyeon’s manners, his old school charm. Chanyeol’s dad always called him the last of a dying breed. He said it was rare to meet a true gentleman anymore and that was part of why they liked him so much. They knew that Junmyeon treated their son with respect.)
Chanyeol had said yes, of course. They’d been in love since the day they’d met. That fateful night, they’d had a lovely meal, took a scenic walk on the beach and Junmyeon had popped the question right there in the sand, too impatient to wait until they made it back up on the boardwalk like he’d originally planned.
They didn’t yet live together which meant Junmyeon dropped Chanyeol off at home and, after a long kiss goodnight, made his way back to his apartment to start planning the wedding.
But he never made it home. Drunk driver. Three-car accident. Lots of fire. Lots of blood.
Junmyeon died on impact.
Chanyeol didn’t know it was possible to cry so much.
Junmyeon would be thankful every second of every day that Chanyeol had been spared, that the accident didn’t happen until after he’d dropped him off. Heaven was difficult to navigate and God was a busy man. Junmyeon never got a chance to thank Him but he felt, with every cell of his body and every ounce of his soul, eternal gratitude.
He was so thankful Chanyeol was alive.
But Chanyeol suffered.
For the first year, he didn’t eat. He didn’t sleep. He didn’t socialize. He didn’t date. He just mourned.
He couldn’t see him but Junmyeon never left his side. He cried right there with him. He wanted nothing more than to run his hands through Chanyeol’s hair, to wipe his tears, to hold him while he cried, to promise him that everything would be fine, that they’d be together one day.
It was three years before Chanyeol started living his life again. Slowly at first, but then with more confidence. He had good friends. Kyungsoo and Baekhyun got him through it. But he never forgot Junmyeon and Junmyeon never forgot him.
And Junmyeon didn’t leave his side until he knew he was okay. Even then, he didn’t leave it entirely. He still checked in, still made sure Chanyeol was okay, still kept tabs on the man he’d loved more than anything else.
And he waited. So patiently, he waited. He waited 61 years for the day that Chanyeol came to join him and Junmyeon set up camp right there at the gates, having bribed an angel to let him be the one to welcome him to the afterlife, to be the first person he saw.
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The Black and White by the Band CAMINO – Jeno/Haechan
Jeno had never known what to call them.
Boyfriends? Partners? Lovers?
No, not lovers. He didn’t like that one. Haechan didn’t either. It was creepy, weirdly Victorian, and they’d laughed about it once, tickled by the absurdity of the term.
“Call it whatever you need,” he’d said, running his hands through Jeno’s hair which had been several shades darker at the time. “It doesn’t matter to me as long as we’re together.”
He wasn’t sure when exactly things had started to get tense but he’d known from day one that if things did ever fell apart, it would be his fault, that his own problems with intimacy and self-image and communication would soil the very thing that brought him the most joy.
“You care way too much for me,” he’d said once, drunk and cold. “And I can’t stand it.”
Haechan hadn’t taken the bait. He’d pulled him closer because he knew Jeno, knew him through-and-through, knew that he was full of shit when he said these things, knew that he did it just to get attention, did it for validation, did it so Haechan would fight for him.
But after almost two years, why should Haechan have to fight? Why did he have to keep proving himself, proving his love?
Jeno had called him six times but Haechan wasn’t answering.
Jeno couldn’t say he blamed him.
He took another shot, dialed his number and left a seventh voicemail.
“Come home,” he said. “It’s my fault. I know. I get it. I just need you to come back. I need to know that you’re safe. Please, Haechan.”
He hung up but then, in a fit of rage, hurled his phone at the wall.
It dented the plaster but didn’t seem to do much to the phone.
Japanese electronics were sturdier than they looked.
He’d really done it this time, pushed him too far, taken too much, given too little.
He knew damn sure what to call it now – over.
He even knew what to call himself – stupid, selfish, malicious, empty, alone.
What he didn’t know was what to call Haechan.
And he didn’t know if Haechan was ever coming back.
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