astro imagines !

FANTAGIO: hey y’all, in case you wanted to know, astro is having a comeback

AROHA:

FANTAGIO: ok so here’s the EXACT dates and times for EVERY release leading up to the comeback. photos, teasers, the music video, no surprises here! we’ll even let the members leak spoilers! you can have it all!

FANTAGIO: really, try not to f r eak out, k?

AROHA:

FANTAGIO: seriously, are you sure that you’re ready???

AROHA:

FANTAGIO: ok then, here goes! here it is! here it comes!

 FANTAGIO: *releases stuff*

AROHA:

FANTAGIO: ?? i mean…… we told you already that th–

AROHA:

FANTAGIO:  oh come on, we already told you ALL the details and ALL the dates and on twitter they–

AROHA:

FANTAGIO: WE TOLD YO–

AROHA:

if astro were things that felt like home, mj would be the wind chimes. he’s the soft ringing of the bells in the gentle breeze, humming its favourite tune when you slide the windows open. he’s the playful flutter of curtains dancing in the sun and the crackling of the old radio singing his favourite love songs, and the way you’d dance and hum along to the melody as you go about with your chores.

jinjin would be the paintings that hang on your walls. he’s the one with the sea painted a soft, calm blue and the other a house covered in snow. he’s all the picture frames holding your best memories, and the polaroids you’ve scribbled on and hung on a flimsy red string. jinjin is also the feeling of sleeping in on a saturday morning, where your tired bones sigh in relief and you finally get to breathe.

eunwoo is your old bookshelf standing tall and proud in your room. he’s every book lined up neatly on your little wooden shelves, paperbacks worn and happy from being read many times over. he’s also the notes and stationaries strewn across the desk tucked in a corner, pushed up against the wall right underneath your window. eunwoo is every post it you’ve slapped onto your walls and every scribble you’ve made in blue and red ink, and the forgotten cup of coffee that had gone cold as you work away diligently.

moonbin would be the glow-in-the-dark stars scattered across your ceiling, and the light from the moon or street lamps shining in faintly through your windows. he’s the crack in the door your mother used to always leave open for you, the slither of light that falls across your sheets and the sense of security that it gives you. he’s the murmur of a goodnight’s kiss and the quiet whispers on nights you wake up from a bad dream.

rocky is the feeling of wrapping up in warm blankets on cold, rainy mornings. he’s the cup of hot chocolate you cradle in your palms as you watch movies and wiggle your toes, tucked into a corner of the couch, warm and cosy and peaceful. he’s the smell of your mother’s cooking wafting through the walls of your home and the smile she gives you when you peek into the kitchen. rocky is the cheeky grin you give when you steal a bite and manage to get away with it.

sanha is the laughter that fills in the gaps and the lull of conversation in the air. he’s the doodles on fogged up windows where you make raindrops race, and the flowers arranged randomly in pretty flower vases. sanha is the chirping of baby birds greeting you good morning and the bunch of old plushies on your bed you refuse to throw out, and the secret box you keep little odds and ends in tucked away in your closet.

if astro were things that felt like home–