#I cannot express to you guys how surprised I get every time I touch another Sonic property/adaptation and find primo content of my otp

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Reading the fleetway Sonic comic now and

I'm convinced that Tails is his special little guy??

I mean, he's an asshole, no doubt, but he passes up a party (mind you, he loves being celebrated as a hero so much) to go looking for Tails

He goes looking at his "favorite place" and literally dons shades and a worse attitude at learning Tails was taken

He genuinely cares about him as his buddy? Sure he complains about him or insults hin fairly often, but he clearly likes having Tails around enough to want him back??

Are we gonna talk about how Tails breaks free from Robotnik's control because he can't bear to keep hurting Sonic, because he cares?

This scene too reminds me so much of that scene from Fang the Hunter issue 1 where Tails called for Sonic and Sonic bid himself to be patient and not lash out because Tails is his friend. Like again, Fleetway!Sonic is an asshole, but he's holding back when it comes to Tails even a little bit

There's just constant proof whenever Tails is put in danger or captured that Sonic cares about his well-being. In fact he cares so much he just kind of is just indifferent about those he puts in danger by zeroing in on saving Tails (and those he saves he doesn't necessarily save with intent to). In this issue specifically, Sonic, the animal companions with him, and an unconscious Tails get washed away in a current of water, and rather than worry about his own well-being or those of his companions, he yells at them to keep ahold of Tails in the water so he can take care of the badnik.

Personally I feel like this sequence speaks for itself? Although Sonic is fairly confident, he risks his life on the chance that he can steer the Death Egg off course (and we're not even factoring in whether he can escape in time), and sends Tails away in the only escape pod. He literally gambles his life on this act of saving Emerald Hill and worries first about securing Tails', even if only Tails may end up escaping.

There's also the setting? Tails crying for Sonic and calling him the bravest hedgehog he ever met, Sonic reacting like he didn't just narrowly avoid death and that Tails is just stating the obvious, the two of them floating down in the escape pod during the sunset

I don't have the picture space to show it, but there's also another part of this issue where Sonic continuously nags Tails to stay out of danger and to let him handle everything alone, and then (after falling into a trap), starts talking to himself about how glad he is that Tails wasn't around to see him make such a rookie mistake. It's easy to read as Sonic always leaving Tails behind because he doesn't think much of him or thinks he'll be in the way, but I don't think that's completely true! I get the idea that Fleetway Sonic likes having his buddy around just as much as he wants his buddy to be safe. So he brings him around everywhere he can, but he forces him to hang back during the dangerous bits. And that's not to mention how this issue showed just how much Sonic values Tails' opinion of him.

And BOY does this scene get me

It's like

This is the first time Super Sonic ever appears in StC. Are we going to ignore that Fleetway!Super Sonic stops attacking and reverts back into regular Sonic because of Tails?

This is like Mecha Sonic in Archie's Mecha Madness special all over again, except Fleetway!Super Sonic is under no one's control. He stopped attacking because Tails bids him to remember them.

There's just so many little things about them in my reading so far that I almost can't believe it (and would hit the tumblr photo limit a number of times if I were to show it off)

If I had to label their relationship in StC, I'd say that, to Tails, Sonic is someone he admires greatly. He doesn't seem to be fond of Sonic's attitude (largely when it's aimed at those other than himself), and he expresses criticism as to how vain Sonic is and his eating choices, but ultimately he cares about Sonic enough to stick around with him and go on adventures from time to time. For Sonic, I think Tails is someone he secretly likes having around. He often criticizes him, and depending on his mood he'll do it whenever he gets an opening, but he's also just...bad at feelings. When Tails is in danger, he'll zero in on saving him, almost above all else, and then when he saves Tails he's going off about how he can't trust Tails to be alone, angry and annoyed. He's a jerk, but a jerk who cares more than he lets on about Tails. Tails isn't just some admirer, he's important to him, and at the same time, Tails' is someone whose opinion of him he values. Ahsjsjs and....he's also the kind of guy who would say something like "Hey, that's enough! Only I get to bully Tails!"

Is their relationship healthy? No😂 But also in StC it also comes off like...they're both choosing this. Despite everything they choose to be buddies

Idk I'm fascinated so far😂

The Sonic the asshole and his special little fox

#sonic the hedgehog #fleetway sonic comics #stc #sonic the comic #sontails #unbreakable bond #tails the fox #miles tails prower #fleetway sonic #fleetway tails #i just be ramblin #I cannot express to you guys how surprised I get every time I touch another Sonic property/adaptation and find primo content of my otp #This happens with Archie too‚ but as I've been reading fleetway Sonic it's been hard not to be surprised that no one talks about it #Also after reading Fleetway Super Sonic's debut I kind of hunger for some Fleetway SS/Tails you know? #I'm still crazy about that short scene #It also gets me that fleetway Tails has dealt with Super Sonic before #makes me laugh that his initial reaction is 'Yeah he's gonna destroy stuff and get ticked off easily. just keep your head down and wait #it out' #stc issue 1 #stc issue 2 #stc issue 3 #stc issue 5 #stc issue 6 #stc issue 7 #Idk there's so much I can say so far #I actually kind of agree with both StC and Fang the Hunter's characterization of Classic Sonic the most right now

[theold-ultraviolence]

Three, six and the last two for canon and modern Aemond please?

Aemond Targaryen x reader • NSFW ship ask game

How often do they have sex?

Canon Aemond: I really wanna say nearly daily, at night, when all duties have been tended to. When you have it this often, it’ll only last for like one round, and at most you’ll cum twice. OR, if things are hectic, I’m thinking maybe 3 times, and he makes it up with the amount of rounds/orgasms. If things are really, really busy and tiring for him, 1 day, but it’s a day where neither of you will be leaving your shared rooms at all, not even to eat.

Modern!Aemond: For some reason I don’t think he’d do it daily because unlike canon!Aemond, I don’t think he’ll see sex as something that’s also part of a routine/meant to produce heirs. He’ll enjoy it more. So I’m thinking he won’t do it as often in the week because when he does it he wants to be as present as possible, and take his time. Except for the ocasional quickie during the week to relieve stress. So I’d say, maybe 3 times out of the week, but they’re really really worth it because you go for as many rounds as you want during the day — literally the entire day is mostly dedicated to it.

What’s foreplay often like?

Canon!Aemond: he likes to kiss every spot revealed as he disrobes you, and he’s very reverent about it. He prefers to give you oral rather than letting you do it first — if you take him by surprise and drop to your knees before him, he’ll combust. For him, foreplay is this sacred, intimate ritual where he expresses his devotion for his partner as thoroughly as ever, because he wouldn’t be worthy of them if he didn’t do it. In his mind only savages and lowly men take their partners selfishly.

Modern!Aemond: less dramatic than in canon but just as passionate. He wants to make you cum on his tongue and fingers at least two-three times before fucking you, both because you deserve nothing but the best but also he just really loves to do it. He loves to feel you writhing underneath him, feel your thighs tensing and wiggling as he keeps them down with his hands; loves it even more when you suffocate him between your thighs. There’s just something very special about seeing you like that, and to know he’s responsible for it. It scratches the possessive itch in his brain. And also he’s also more than happy when you go down on him — lets it happen way more often than canon!Aemond. Another difference between them is I think canon Aemond would take all the time in the world to really kiss and touch every inch of his partner’s body, while modern!Aemond would skim through your body (but just as lovingly though) to get to your pussy.

What would each member say their favorite thing about the other(s) is?

Canon!Aemond: Aemond literally cannot chose, he loves every inch of you. But if he had to chose, he’d say your hair because he likes to pull it or caress it when he’s fucking you, your thighs and your tits and your neck, because he loves to wrap his hand around it, seeing your pulse racing as he licks it and kisses it, and loves seeing it arching back when you cum. For the reader I suppose it is very open to each of our interpretations, but speaking for myself, HIS LIPS, HIS NOSE, HIS face!! His hands!!! His height!!!??? I love him

Modern!Aemond: lmao modern Aemond would first and foremost give a regular guy’s answer and say your tits. Which is true, he fucking adores them. But he loves how your waist feels in his hands when he’s caressing your body, or just, wrapping his arms around it from behind at any time of the day, as well as to grab it for support when he’s fucking you. Also loves that valley going up to your ribs and the underside of your tits — one elegant line he can trace, from your waist up towards your tits, literally a whole map going from one of his favorite places to the other. For the reader, I’d say, same thing with canon but I’m taking those Ewan pics from The Face photoshoot as canon to say modern!Aemond has chest hair and 😫😫😫😫😫 yeah. I want to lick it and bite his nipples 🤭

Any headcanons not touched on?

For both versions, but mostly for Modern!Aemond…Man I hope I can write something like this soon because the thought hasn’t left my brain. Modern!Aemond loves mutual masturbation with his partner, just both of them laying side by side and watching each other pleasure themselves. Although I think I did mention this in another hc.

Also for modern!Aemond, I can’t help but imagine that sexting with him would be a whole experience lol. Like at first he’d feel so lost as to how to go about it, but soon he’d find it very practical for when he’s at work or he has to go away on work-related stuff.

This kinda applies for both, but for canon!Aemond it would be drawings. He has nude drawings of his partner (idk if he’d commission an artist for them, though I don’t think he would because he’s possessive and very private. He draws them? The reader draws them? Anyway). And modern!Aemond has nudes and videos on his phone, but also a really fancy black and white professional photos and polaroids too.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen hcs #aemond targaryen headcanons #reader insert #headcanons #hcs #hotd #house of the dragon #modern!aemond #ewan mitchell #my writing

[oh-saints]

Alphabet nfsw Rúben dias

you ask nicely and therefore you shall receive, dearest <3

please dni if you're not 18 yet! i really wouldn't if i were you bcs even i felt so hot as i wrote this lololol

(request is still open & you can drop them here)

A for after care

while rúben is such a sweet and caring boyfriend off the sheets, he’s insanely a beast on the sheet so it doesn’t come off a surprise to you that he leaves behind the cum he shot into you to dry. in his opinion, nothing’s sexier than waking up to that sight.

B for body part

rúben loves his hands and probably envies the organ because they can reach places where his tongue and nose and lips cannot. he loves to see and ignites a lot of your body reactions from his touches—your squirms, your arches, your shivers—so it comes naturally for him to love every inch of your body. although if he has to pick, he’s definitely a boob person.

C for cum

as exhibited under point A above, nothing is sweeter than the sensation of him being engulfed by your insides like a lover’s hug after a long seperation, therefore his favourite place to shoot his cum is inside of you.

D for dirty secret

you always wear something that’s easy for his hands to do as he pleases with you—open back dresses, skirts with slits, no bra, thongs…—and it pleases rúben to no end knowing you’re always ready for him.

E for experience

you’d like to think rúben is much more experienced than you but it turns out he only knows as far as things he like to do. it’s kind of a knowledge sharing between you two sometimes.

F for favourite position

while missionary cannot be replaced whatsoever for how much he loves to see your most honest expressions, he cannot eliminate some other risqué positions either. no, not the doggy style kind of thing but more like standing or when he carries you off from one place to another because he can slide into you much more easier and deeper that way.

G for goofy (e.g. are they always serious in bedroom or are they not?)

between the two of you, you’re much more relaxed in terms of personality. so most of the time, it’s more like a session where he shuts your mouth to get on with it.

H for hair

do we need to go through this? like, have you seen him with his shirt off? he definitely takes a good care of himself, which includes leaving his happy trail unshaved because you like it so much every time he lifts of his shirt.

I for intimacy

he takes things seriously, sex is no exception. he thinks the sensual activity is actually important because it’s the only one that can bring you two closest without space in between you. and sex with rúben is heaven on earth for you because he always takes a good care of you, like he always does off the sheet.

J for jack-off

he’s not a big fan of doing his own work because you ruined his perspective of hand and blow jobs for him. damn it.

K for kink

he’s silently into breath play but never pulling off more than slight pressure into your neck. he’s not a sadist to begin with, but you’re not complaining because it’s always so hot to hear the words he breathes onto your ears while he’s holding you still by the neck.

L for location

depends on the mood, to be honest. if either of you is aiming for comfort zone, then it’s definitely your room or the big, plushy sofa in the living room. but if it’s the otherwise, then it can be anywhere that’s stable enough to hold both of you—I mean, look at the (literal) size of that guy. the kitchen island’s lucky they’re made of marbles.

though, deep down, rúben holds a soft spot to the floor-length window of your vanity.

M for motivation

when his girlfriend looks like you, rúben doesn’t need to find a motivation to initiate sex. but there’s always something about you lifting your shirt off your head as you walk into your closet…

N for no (as in what turn him off or something he’d most likely reject)

anything that makes your uncomfortable, period.

that, and anything that requires him to show you off to people while doing sex.

O for oral

while you taste absolutely divine, he prefers to receiving heads from you because he loves seeing the glint in your eyes as you feel powerful going down on him. as a bonus, he likes to hear your grunts and see your determination as you try to fit all of him inside your mouth, wanting to please him like a good girl you are.

P for pace

despite claiming he’s not a sadistic earlier, he loves torturing you by going in and out of you super slow, taking in the sight of your pussy swallowing his girth good and feeling his bulge on your lower stomach underneath his palms, while he sees you losing your sanity bits by bits.

Q for quickie

it’s not often rúben loses his head but there was one occurrence where he came with you for your bridesmaid fitting and you looked so good in that dress that it drove him wild. because he certainly couldn’t rip the dress out of you this second, he chose to fuck you wordlessly in the VIP fitting room like there wasn’t any staffs waiting beyond the curtain. you’d never come so fast in your life that day.

R for risk

living up to his reputation of man of routine, it’s mostly you that hints or coaxes him to try somethings with you. who is he to say no anyway, as long as it’s not something that crosses his line?

S for stamina

do not ask about this thing to a man who runs back and forth on a pitch for a full 90-minute. you even have to hire your own professional trainer to keep up with his energy, or else you’d only last for an hour before passing out without giving back pleasures to rúben.

T for toys

your bunny vibrator was actually your only best friend, until you met rúben. but being a good boyfriend, he likes to indulge your friends, always, and that includes the rubber bunny. you’re certainly not complaining when it makes your orgasm intensifies from both the sensation of rúben’s balls slamming against your skin and the vibrating machine combined.

U for unfair (e.g. how much they like to tease?)

going this far, it’s pretty safe for us to conclude that he loves to tease you endlessly. if not, he wouldn’t have kept the happy trail unshaven or asked you to leave your underwear behind during one christmas dinner with his family. and once in a while, you’d love him to get a taste of his own medicine because you know that a sexually frustrated rúben dias is the best side of rúben you can ask for.

V for volume

his voice is naturally deep so whenever he grunts dirty words while you sink down on him, the vibration reaches your clit and brings you closer to the edge faster than you’d like. but he’s more on the silent type because he likes to hear your moans and whines and gasps.

W for wild card (a random headcanon)

rúben’s most memorable moment of you two having sex was that one summer night on your vacation, both of your heads dizzy from the fizz drunk but enough to push rúben to—at first—tease you by peeling off the black sundress you were wearing, the pads of his fingers kissing your skin as light as his lips peppering down kisses on the trail of his fingers. your broken gasps fuelled his adrenaline more as he caressed your clit with a hand, while the other slithering upwards to the direction of your neck. your hot breaths steamed off against the mirror in front of you as you felt his large hands going from your belly button, to your ribs, to the middle of your ample breasts, until they settled well on your collarbone. you could feel your right boob folded nicely but carnally in the inside of your elbow, and you had never experienced something so sexily raw.

X for xray

I’m sure even we all recognise the size of his delicious cock ghosting over his pants on several of his steamy photoshoots. yes, we’re talking about the nike underwear one.

Y for yearning (i.e. how high is their sex drive?)

not that high, compared to normal people. once or twice in a month due to your busy schedules, but it’s always worth the mornings you’re being reprimanded by your boss.

Z for zzz (i.e. how quickly they’ll fall asleep afterwards)

going back to the exhibition under point A, rúben isn’t one to fall asleep fast because it’s always a cuddle session after a damn good sex for you both. but between the two of you, of course you fall asleep faster (cue point S) and when he’s in the mood, he stays awake longer so he can wipe off all the dirt of your body so you can sleep comfortably.

#anon asks #oh-saints answers #oh-saints writes #oh-saints writes requests #ruben dias #rúben dias #ruben dias smut #ruben dias blurb #ruben dias blurbs #ruben dias drabble #ruben dias drabbles #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias imagines #ruben dias fic #ruben dias fanfic #ruben dias fanfiction #footballer smut #footie fic #footie fanfic

[fisshindasea]

—dads of the year—

"your dad hasn't been around the house for a while and neither were you really able to talk to him much. you were already used to the distance, and so in the midst of a quiet house, you snuck off at night to meet someone without a clue to the little surprise you'll have when you get home."

—gn!reader x Dad!Barou Shoei and Dad!Itoshi Rin

—this is for the last request I got xsjsiwjd im sorry its so late :<

—high chance that theyre ooc, and also this is as best as I can do in terms of making it funny 🤧

barou shoei:

— i dont think barou breathed at all when he heard your little sister yell from the balcony thinking something bad happened, and then seeing you outside kissing a guy on a motorcycle like??

— imagine coming home, wanting to rest and see your kids again then find one of them missing having snuck out and then when they do come home they have a boy with them and kissing them???

— instead of barging out the door like how you'd imagine, he just waits for you to get inside, with his arms crossed, literally standing right in front of the door and glaring at the guy behind you before he drove away.

— and youre obviously a little scared because one, you snuck out and got home at what, almost midnight? two, your dad is home and from his facial expressions definitely saw you kissing someone. and three your dad is unreadable. absolutely cannot even tell what he's thinking about.

— "who was that?" barou asks, he hasn't even let you step foot into the house and still has you in front of the door after you've already taken your shoes off.

— "uhm.." you're nervous, you know your dad has never really raised his voice at you, nor has he had a tendency to be mean. but in this situation, all odds are against you and honestly you're ready for the moment your dad just decides to ground you for life.

— "I don't mind you having a boyfriend, but the least you can do is stay home at a time like this." he deadpans, just absolutely diminishes whatever torturous punishment you had in mind (the punishment was just getting grounded if worse comes to worst)

— "Yeah! and you didnt even get us anything!!" yells your siblings who copied your dad's own stance, just less intimidating.

— you grin and pull out a large paper bag inside of your bag and immediately they grab it and run off to the kitchen excitedly.

— "i hope you know i'm not mad." barou, true to your experience, didn't raise his voice. in fact, it's the softest you've ever heard it coming from your father who's looks say otherwise.

— "sorry i didn't tell you. you've just been.. kind of hard to talk to these days." he knows you meant the way he left the country more often than before. he sighs and pats your back, leading you to where your siblings are with a hand on your back.

— "hey, i'm happy as long as this guy makes your life even better." he smiles at you "and im sorry too, i'll try to be more in touch and in reach for you guys."

— "but im not kidding. this guy does something to you, im taking him out of the country and im not letting him get back."

itoshi rin:

— i dont think rin would leave his children while he's in another country but for the sake of the story he did, and because he did leave you, the oldest, with your siblings he'd have put a lot of trust in you to be responsible and mature and yk big sibling-like.

— when he gets home and you're gone, he's not exactly furious, but he is a bit disappointed but at the same time he kind of understood that to some degree you're still a teenager going through your slightly rebellious stage so he kind of calms down because he trusts that even if you snuck out you still have your head on you to lock every door and window.

— anyways

— he's happy when he hears you outside the house because that meant you were safe and sound

— but what's that? another voice is talking to you. a man??? and a motorcycle is outside the house???

— he doesn't let it show but the aura he lets out around your siblings is their signal to kind of just... shut up

— bc i imagine rin being very soft and quiet as a dad to all of you, but the moment he's not happy about something it tends to be obvious with his aura

— so the moment you open the door, rin is just standing there as well but his face is like .. blank?? and he's just staring behind you too at the guy that took you home.

— obviously you're surprised bc you didnt know your dad came home early, and you don't know if he noticed you and the boy kiss.

— and then his head snaps to you and he's like "next time introduce me to him" in a really calm voice??

— he has a lot of trust for you, but he still expects you to tell him things.

— you're like "you're not mad that I didn't tell you?"

— "is there a reason I have to be?" he glares at you and you shake your head no quickly.

— "then im not mad, but I expect you to tell me these things whether im out of the country or not, and ill do the same too. now go to the living room, i have gifts." he gives a small smile and you feel relief wash over you as your siblings get to the pile of gifts first.

#i write like a fissh #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock x gender neutral reader #bllk x reader #bllk #x reader

[ashersanity]

Look, I know that Johan is a red flag made up of other red flags. I know logically that I couldn’t make him better, rather he’d make me dead. But I still want to consensually hold him tightly and tell him that what happened to him wasn’t his fault, that he deserves so much better, that he should be allowed to torture and murder Whitney without any legal repercussions.

YOU CAN’T DO THIS. YOU FUCKING CAN’T JUST LEAVE THIS SHIT IN MY INBOX AND EXPECT ME TO BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS, NOO.

THE ANGST AND THE COMFORT?? FUUUCKKK.

Think the truly sad part about it would be Johan’s reaction to your actions and words, having gone through his whole life, wearing this mask on his face. All smiles, gentle expression on his soft features, dead, hollow eyes that betrays what the truly lies underneath. Would probably stare at you with that exact face for a good few seconds, wondering if you’re actually joking or not, if this is some sort of sick trick to get him to be vulnerable again. Before, well, eventually, those lush pink lips of his, always slightly quirked up to form a smile slowly falters into a straight line, tightly pressed together. He’s not used to receiving such treatment and wouldn’t know how to react, nor would he exactly feel anything either.

Sorry to break it to you guys, he cannot be saved, not after what happened nor can he be redeemed with what he plans on going through with. Like a fallen angel that’s lost his wings long ago, banished to the burning pits of hell or whatever shit, man, I didn’t read the lore. He was fucked up from the start to begin with, just that Whitney hit a string deep within him that shouldn’t have been touched to begin with so now he’s after him.

Random Johan lore below, fucking scroll if uninterested, thanks!

Johan and Whitney actually go a long way back, knew each other as kids, fitted clothes forced onto their smaller frames that barely fit them, stubbed fingers hidden beneath the oversized sleeves. They were not friends, nor were they enemies, they were just sort of.. there. Y’know, crossing each other’s paths at times by pure chance, never really taking a second flitting glance back to look at the other. Well, Whitney did but that’s something for another time.

Johan could be as you call it, a model student, the kid next door that your parents bemoan and complain about how you should be more like him, impossible standards supposed to be met. The kid that everyone can’t help but be drawn to, pretty face and angelic features, scrunch of his cute nose whenever he doesn’t get the texts in the advanced books he reads, whenever someone were to tease him about his appearance, “adorable thing” they’d call it. “Your boy is quite the looker, bet he fetches for a high price.” They tell to Bailey who simply doesn’t respond, too busy, hung up on other things that need taking care of. Basically, a perfect angel. You would’ve never expect anything bad out of him because oh, how could he do any wrong, how could he commit such atrocities such as Whitney?

Whitney, the snotty, noisy brat that’s always out to cause trouble wherever he goes, probably bringing his little gang with him that he’s already formed lmfao. Tanned skin littered in bruises and bloodied cuts from fights, tumbling out on the park’s ground, from being too reckless and impulsive as usual. Overall, he’s a fucking little shit and I wouldn’t be surprised if every adult that came across him were itching to spank that nasty, potty mouth out of him.

Either way, they did know each other in a way. Though there was one thing that Whitney knew about Johan that other kids did not. He is not fucking sane in the head, fucked up little guy. I forgot to talk about his psychotic tendencies, didn’t I? I don’t remember what entirely, but pretty sure killing animals for fun as a kid or at whatever age is a sign of sociopathy or psychopathy. Not sure which, maybe both. Johan did that, did it to satisfy those urges that’d cloud his mind deep in the night, pristine, unblemished skin on his fingers, tainted in the blood and flesh of the animals he’d find in the forest, ripped to shred.

Poor Whitney who just happened to stumble upon him at the worst of times, one eye covered by his fringe as he gazes back at the other’s bloodied hands, dead animals corpses held in the palm of both his hands. Oh. Oops. It’s true, Whitney does do fucked up shit at times like uhhh, bullying other kids and harassing them but nowhere was he at the level of Johan who’d calmly dissect these little critters, peel the flesh off their bones as if it was just an orange.

Long story short, the bully was horrified and probably started a whole rumour about how Johan was some freak who liked to torture animals for fun. Not that he was wrong though who is he to accuse the boy of such things? That’s right, no one believed him in fact. Johan, innocent little Johan that eagerly attends the sermon every Sunday, clasped hands in a prayer, the boy who cheerfully helps everyone out in a time of need. How could he do any wrong?

Surely Whitney was lying.

Surely so.

#went on a ramble there #but what do you expect #genuinely never thought anyone else but my mutuals would be interested in my ocs #I already got 3 of them obsessed and it’s funny watching them fangirl over it #unless.. you’re one of my mutuals too? #ANON THANKS FOR THIS FUCKING ASK #LORD #COMFORTING JOHAN #IT HURTS SO DAMN MUCH #dol #degrees of lewdity #dol pc #dol pcs #johan the disgraced #whitney the bully #bailey the caretaker #I guess? #asher mutters incoherently under his breath #asher rambles #asher gets asks

[foxes-that-run]

Question...?

Question..? track 7, is the most clearly directed at Harry on Midnights so I will start there. In the vein of Style, Two Ghosts or Perfect there is no attempt to hide the muse here. To me, these songs are intended to draw attention. It was the surprise song on the 20 May anniversary.

This post also has more on Question

This timeline suggests it may have been written late 2021

Lyrics

[Intro] I remember

Firstly, Remember is a reference to Wildest Dreams and she samples Out of the Woods. 2 words in and we know it's Haylor, Taylor is being clear, she's referencing 1989.

[Verse 1] Good girl, sad boy Big city, wrong choices We had one thing goin' on I swear that it was somethin' 'Cause I don't remember who I was Before you painted all my nights A color I've searched for since But one thing after another Fuckin' situations, circumstances Miscommunications, and I Have to say, by the way I just may like some explanations

Good Girl/Sad Boy is a matured reference to Style, where she was a good guy. He was also a bad guy in Blank Space.

'Painted my all my nights a colour I have searched for since' is one of my favourite lyrics, because Harry gets all of the colours, it also touches on the theme that are are irreplaceable to each other.

Miscommunications are also a key theme for their songs to each other. They do not communicate in words what they can in song.

[Chorus] Can I ask you a question? Did you ever have someone kiss you in a crowded room And every single one of your friends was makin' fun of you But fifteen seconds later, thеy were clappin' too? Then what did you do? Did you lеave her house in the middle of the night? Oh Did you wish you'd put up more of a fight, oh When she said it was too much? Do you wish you could still touch her?

This is often thought to reference New Years Eve which is a sad event to me. I think it is less literal, referring to how people are both thrilled and aghast that they were together.

The second half refers to the events of Say don't go to me.

In a 2013 vanity fair article swifts rep said:

“After Swift ended the relationship, he pursued her for the better part of a year until she finally took him back. “But the whole time she says she feels like he’s looking at every girl,” the source continues. And then when they were in London together he “disappears one night and after that it was like he just didn’t want to keep going.” Styles’s rep, Benny Tarantini at Columbia Records, said that all of Swift’s source’s claims are “undeniably false.””

[Verse 2] Half-moon eyes, bad surprise Did you realize out of time? She was on your mind with some dickhead guy That you saw that night But you were on somethin' It was one drink after another Fuckin' politics and gender roles And you're not sure and I don't know Got swept away in the gray I just may like to have a conversation

The bad surprise refers to an event in 2016 which I think played a role in her disappearance.

The dickhead guy is Calvin Harris. In Ready for It...?, Illicit Affairs, Woman and Delicate talk about that period as well as other songs.

Gender roles in politics is a beautiful line, she explores this more in Slut!, The Man and what makes them beautiful muses for each other is they are both purposeful with their gender expression.

[Bridge] Does it feel like everything's just like Second best after that meteor strike? And what's that that I heard? That you're still with her? That's nice, I'm sure that's what's suitable And right, but tonight

'Does it feel like everything is second best' reflects a theme that no one compares to the other, in particular:

Ready for it: Every lover known in comparison is a failure, and

As it was: "Seems you cannot be replaced / And I'm the one who will stay."

#haylor #midnights #question...?

[munchmemes]

melanie martinez lyrics, portals edition

❛  my body has died but i'm still alive.  ❜

❛  your words mean nothin' so take 'em back.  ❜

❛  you're always on my mind, i cannot help it.  ❜

❛  i don't wanna be carrying the weight on my shoulders.  ❜

❛  death has come to me, kiss me on the cheek and gave me closure.  ❜

❛  i won't say goodbye, i'm right by your side.  ❜

❛  i'm back from the dead.  ❜

❛  i know it's morbid but we all die one day.  ❜

❛  there's rotten things left in me injected by society.  ❜

❛  i cannot bear my sorrow.  ❜

❛  i hate who i was before.  ❜

❛  i fear i won't live to see the day tomorrow.  ❜

❛  look at the mess i've done, there is nowhere to run.  ❜

❛  like a priest behind confession walls, i judge myself.  ❜

❛  my eyes are staring at me and they seem so damn unhappy.  ❜

❛  collect my fickle insecurities and turn them into beauty.  ❜

❛  yeah, you can look but you can't touch. i'm not just anybody.  ❜

❛  thought the cherry would be better than the pie, you're like that. that's your demise.  ❜

❛  it's obvious what you're after but i'm more than that.  ❜

❛  i saw that trick fall out your sleeve.  ❜

❛  you hum a tune i don't believe and it ain't working.  ❜

❛  crossing my heart, i'd rather die than be the needle in your eye.  ❜

❛  it could've been more, now we'll never know.  ❜

❛  i know how to make you go crazy every day.  ❜

❛  if you wanna run with the magic, lose sight of the gravity of home.  ❜

❛  i've been the boys and the girls and everyone in between.  ❜

❛  you are the light i've been searching for forever.  ❜

❛  my past grew mold around my heart.  ❜

❛  all my anger, sadness, regret disappeared. it's madness. ❜

❛  i'm not used to all this love, it's true. but you made me want to plan out my last days on earth.  ❜

❛  i was surprised to see heaven in your eyes.  ❜

❛  i never once was treated right.  ❜

❛  you're what i'm missing in my life.  ❜

❛  let's run into another dimension, you make me feel like i'm on drugs.  ❜

❛  i wish to not be perceived, i didn't ask for this dangerous visibility.  ❜

❛  i'm feeling too scared to sleep.  ❜

❛  i'm flexing like pricks with their stolen power.  ❜

❛  you're/they're feeding off our highs and lows. curious to see us struggle.  ❜

❛  the center may seem like a gift. once you arrive, it'll strip you of your life and you'll wish that you never did.  ❜

❛  how much blood can you draw with your claws from a flesh that's not yours?  ❜

❛  you used all your words for a quick game and blew it all before you won.  ❜

❛  they talk without thinking and they bark while they're shaking.  ❜

❛  i'll be silent 'til you cross the line.  ❜

❛  don't you battle with my larynx tonight.  ❜

❛  call all your guys in the dive bar, they'll give you the validation your daddy could never bestow you.  ❜

❛  i'm done doing backbends.  ❜

❛  you got me like a bad tattoo, always under skin even when it gets removed.  ❜

❛  i never got a chance to undo positions that you forced my way into.  ❜

❛  why you always act so serious?  ❜

❛  it's so scary how my aura got him howling at my moon cycle.  ❜

❛  i don't gotta act, i'm a theorist.  ❜

❛  i could win a fight on my period. matter of fact, right now, i could build a pyramid. you're messing with my cycle, that is dangerous.  ❜

❛  i won't lick your wounds today but i'll throw you in the ring, get you with my suffering.  ❜

❛  i'm not crazy, i'm not wild. you're just a stupid, little child.  ❜

❛  get your image off my back, i'll give you a heart attack.  ❜

❛  i will not suffer and cry under covers. i'm not your mother. ❜

❛  i won't be ashamed for loving you so honestly. ❜

❛  i used to miss your kiss. now i'm hop-skip jumpin' over narcissists. ❜

❛  i never knew what it meant to be content with you. ❜

❛  everything i expressed and professed, it never quite made it through. ❜

❛  they said it's all in my head whenever i spoke my truth. ❜

❛  no, i won't defend you to all my friends. this time, i refuse. ❜

❛  take it to the grave if you wanna play pretend. ❜

❛  i won't be mistreated, please call me conceited. ❜

❛  lovin' you was lethal, guess that makes me evil. ❜

❛  every time you tell a lie, i'm praying that you choke. ❜

❛  hope you never cope, hope you slip on soap. ❜

❛  not safe but i'm sound. ❜

❛  all of the planning yet i still feel unprepared. ❜

#lyrics rp starters #lyrics starters #lyrics meme #lyrics rp meme #roleplay meme #rp starters #rp meme #sentence starters

[unethicalmorals]

Tumblr crashed on me while I was writing all this and I was like 5 paragraphs in🫠

Anyways-

I'M SO CURIOUS ABOUT THE SCARS ON BISHOPS FACE YOU HAVE NO IDEA. THE ONLY REASON I DON'T HASSLE YOU ABOUT IS CUZ I KNOW YOU'LL JUST GO ":)" YOU CHEEKY SHIT (I love you still though <3)

MAX GRRRRRR I AWAIT YOUR RETURN MY BELOVED

TRANS ORANGE YEAAAH 🩵🩷🤍🩷🩵

When it comes to writing orange honestly I'd suggest you approach it the same way you'd approach writing smut for any other character. It would depend on whether or not she's had bottom surgery obvi, but overall she shouldn't be treated very differently from other characters! At most someone might be surprised if she whips out her dick (Then again, Lethal Company takes place in the 2500's, people probably don't care as much by then [hopefully])

TALL ROBIN YOU'RE REAL TO ME‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

God Wrench my fave piece of shit (I'M FUCKIN LYING EVERYTIME I SAY I HATE WRENCH...... I'M A FRAUD, HE'S TO FUNNY FOR ME TO GENUINELY DISLIKE😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 PLUS HE'S LITERALLY ME SOMETIMES I CANNOT DENY WE HAVE SIMILARITIES)

ALSO I *****SEE***** THAT LITTLE SKETCH OF RABBIT AND DOVE KISSING. I AM LOOKING *DIRECTLY* AT IT👁👁👁👁

HYBRID AU HYBRID AU GRRRRRR

I keep putting your little guys in situations..... I love them too much💚🧡❤️🤍🖤🩷🧡 (there's like 2 other au's I have in mind that I haven't even talked about yet)

Hybrid au Bishcky(?) Is soooooo so good to me because i think Bishop is like, 10x worse at acting like he isn't into Lucky. He is so obvious it's painful for other people to watch

You know how cats rub themselves against you in order to scent mark you? Bishop keeps doing that to Lucky, all the damn time. Whether it be making sure to rub up against Lucky when they pass by each other, lending him his clothes every chance he gets, or just blatantly rubbing his face up against Lucky (Lucky hate-Loves the face rubbing. It's cute until Bishop runs his face against Lucky's and then Lucky is painfully reminded about Bishop's beard) Lucky just assumes this is a weird way Cat people express their friendship towards others (He does not notice that Bishop does this to exclusively him)

Lucky will find out eventually, and when Bishop is confronted about it he becomes worlds #1 gaslighter like HELL he'd admit to what is essentially putting a big sign on Lucky that screams "THIS IS MY BOYFRIEND" To literally everyone within radius

Lucky doesn't really mind though, he's flattered honestly, and maybe a bit flustered too

Though.... it is a bit rude for Bishop to just leave his smell all over Lucky without even telling Lucky about it first, practically claiming him.... it's only fair if Lucky gets to "Claim" him as well in his own way, right?👀

(I'M JUST SAYING...... GROWER LUCKY + KNOT??????? I'M GOING CRAZY)

(Thinking about the knot process..... Lucky holding Bishop so so close to him as he gently grinds into him.... giving Bishop sweet praise [I saw the damn Bishop likes praise comment] and cuddling him and kissing him as he waits for his knot to come undone.... Bishop takes him so well- *EXLPODES*)

ALSO I SAW THAT BISHOP LIKES CUDDLES COMMENT.... FROTHING AT THE DAMN MOUTH GRRRRRRR

Thinking thinking thinking about Lucky and Bishop entangled in one another on a cold night, Lucky having his tail draped across the both of them while Bishop purrs so loud Lucky can feel the vibrations in the taller man's chest.... UGHH💚🧡💚🧡💚🧡💚🧡💚🧡💚

And Lucky being a Squirrel-Dog (Squog💀) is so fun because I think he'd have to keep himself from getting to excited while in public..... the amount of times he's accidentally knocked tables over because his big-ass tail started wagging is too many times to count and each time is more embarrassing than the last😭😭😭

Also thinking very heavily about the Avians and wing preening

Avian wings are sensitive, especially at the base. Most of them only ever let people they trust preen their wings, let alone touch them in the first place

Dove obviously let's Rabbit take care of her wings. It's one of the rare moments you'll find Rabbit so gentle and focused on her task, delicately realigning her feathers, removing any dirt or grime caught up in there. Rabbit likes to tease Dove on occasion, gently rubbing the base of her wing, feeling how Dive shivers under her touch, letting out the faintest of moans 🤍❤️🤍❤️🤍❤️

Robin loves Wrench.... she really does.... but oh my god she does not trust that guy to preen her wings, at least not before excessive training. If Robin needs her wings looked after she will most likely go to Lucky (his hands are so small! He's so precise with his work) and if not Lucky she'll go to Max or Captain 1.0 (All 3 of them often help Robin with her wings on hangout days)

The first time Robin finally trusted Wrench with her wings he was so nervous! He tried to play it off he really did, but Robin was able to see right through him, and honestly she found it cute. Wrench honestly did a good job his first time! He's not as good as Lucky, but with more practice he'll get there eventually!

Captain almost never gets his wings preened. He's not keen on asking for help, and he doesn't fly around that much anyways. So it's fine. Probably.

That's a lie it's NOT FINE‼️‼️‼️‼️ Dove was the one who noticed that Captain had blood feathers. BLOOD FEATHERS‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ the moment she spotted them she was dragging Captain back to her house and forcing that man to sit his ass DOWN so she can fix up his wings

It takes a loooooong time since Captains wings are so big, but she eventually cleans him up properly. It becomes a routine for them (reluctantly on Captains part), Captain comes over to Dove and Rabbits and allows Dove to clean up his wings, making sure he doesn't get any infections. Robin eventually joins in to quicken the process for all of them

Pink wants to preen Captains wings SO FUCKING BAD IT MAKES HIM LOOK STUPID‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ FUCK

He promises he won't purposely touch the base of Captains wings he pinkie swears that he won't poke and prod at him in all the right places that'll get Captain riled up he SWEARS on his life he won't lean in and kiss the base of Captains wings just to see how he reacts HE SWEARS HE SWEARS HE CAN BE TRUSTED TO PREEN CAPTAINS WINGS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GOD FUCK-

DIVERSITY WIN!!!!! THE ASSHOLE CREWMATE IS NONBINARY🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉 (also they're kinda uhhhhhhh👀👀👀👀👀 errmmmmmmm👁👁👁👁👁 I am certainly looking at Jay)

Also the Killer Lucky au is coming along👍🏽👍🏽👍🏽👍🏽👍🏽 turns out there's uhm... a LOT more that I'm writing down than I originally intended😅😅😅 (I'm basically making a fanfic at this point, this is the first time I've had to write something down in the notes app before I sent it to ya XD)

-Watcher

NIGHTMARE SCENARIO OHNOO‼️‼️‼️ 😭😭

Yeah :)

I have to force myself to not think about Max and the rest of the old crew (the other two that fill out the crew,,, ahgrrgrrrgr) Obviously I am not doing a very good job at that 😌🤭

AHH THANKS!!! 🧡🩵🩷🤍🩷🩵🧡

I'm already updating the height chart just for her✍️😌

Wrench just has that undeniable rizz that makes everyone love him hasjdknl; ((I've accidentally made Wrench incredibly relatable - I see this as an absolute win!!)

👁👁 My little yuri magma sketch? 👁👁

❤️🤍❤️🤍(Seconds away from smooching~)❤️🤍❤️🤍

ALSO THIS ONE IS FROM BY FRIEND!!!

Anyway-- I love the Domestic AU and the Hybrid AU with all my heart,, oughhh they are so happy 🥺🥺🥺 Just a bunny rabbit and her birdie~ 💖

Please keep putting them in situations,,, I'm in love,,, 🥺 I want to write a oneshot or two so bad-- (LOOKING- PATIENTLY WAITING- LOOKING- LOOKING THROUGH THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE--)

Oh god, this fool can't NOT be obvious about it! I don't think he knows the word subtle,, (Maybe Lucky just makes him go-- 👀👀)

SCREAMING AND CLAWING AT THE CARPET AHGRRR!!! Have I told you how much I love your mind?? Because oh my god,, 🥺🥺 Kitty Bishop rubbing his face all over Lucky,,, oughhh-- (the feel of beards can be so very hit or miss sometimes 😔) HE DOESN'T NOTICE‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ OH MY GODD ‼️‼️‼️‼️ Oh, Lucky,, 🧡🧡🧡

I'm giggling so much with a big smile on my face reading this,, (I keep reading this ask a lot,,, ggrrr) 💞💞💞

Bishop can try,, he'll be great at it too until Lucky pushes just a little bit more,, he won't need to say anything when his face is already giving away the answer~

(Grower Lucky + Knot is an insane combo and it makes me weak,,)

👀👀 I am looking,,, incredibly,,, disrespectfully👀👀 💥🧡💥💚💥🧡💥💚💥🧡💥💚💥🧡💥💚💥🧡

BANGING MY FISTS AGAINST MY DESK, HNUHNBJyhu7 ohmygoddd,,,, WATCHER YOUR MIND--- RHGRJRR ‼️‼️‼️‼️ LOVE LOVELOVE BITING BITING (affectionate) BITING BITING 💞

Lucky's big-ass squog 💀 tail knocking over anything and everything is fucking hilarious 😂 Poor guy can't catch a break 🧡🧡🧡

👁👁 Avian wing preening 👁👁

Dove and Rabbit being so gentle and soft with each other,,, OUGHHHHRGRGRG GR!!!! THESE TWO,,, ‼️‼️ ❤️🤍

Wrench would try his best for her,,, which is unfortunately NOT that great 😶😶😶 but at least it's not too bad,,, (Robin needs to put this man through a wing-preening boot camp)

Also-- the crews hanging out together,,,, ahhhh 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 They are all friends!!! They are all taking care of each other!! <3

CAPTAIN IGNORING TAKING CARE OF HIMSELF AHGRGRGRG!!! (I am actively exploding reading everything here,, I keep coming back to read and I just explode again 💥💞💝💞💥💞💝💞💥) AND BLOOD FEATHERS?? NO NO NO!! I'm so happy Dove is dragging this oversized bird brain and getting him some much-needed help!! (Imagining Dove dragging Captain while ranting about how important it is to preen the wings and practice self-care,,, she's so small compared to Captain that it's actually comical <3)

WE ALL KNOW PINK IS UP TO NO GOOD, ESPECIALLY WHEN HE'S ALLOWED TO BE SO CLOSE TO CAPTAIN-- HIS HEART IS HAMMERING SO FAST,, HE'S SO EXCITED!!

🎉🎉DIVERSITY WIN!!🎉🎉 (👁👁 Porsha's designs are so so good,, hehjeehe 👁👁)

Waiting so, so, SO patiently 😌 I'm over here sitting on my hands, kicking my legs in the air and swing from side-to-side 🤭🤭 I AM SO SO SO EXCITED WHEN YOU'RE READY TO SHARE IT AHGRGR 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

#ask #watcher #tsitd #hybrid au

[rin-itoshi]

mc’s departure | obey me

summary: how the brothers would react to MC returning to the human world after a year in the devildom

contains: fluff , angst , ?!!!!&;@;&:idk

♯ LUCIFER

he’s the one to see you off, reminding you of the many things he had taught you so that you’d never forget.

his pride is much too large to admit that he will miss you to death and that he loves you dearly.

after you’re gone, he’s gone for hours at a time, holed up in his room with as much as work as he can take on.

he overworks himself with the intention of getting rid of the heavy emotion on his heart.

everything reminds you of him, even the paper clip on his desk that you had once found under his bed.

he gets easily irritable, feeling rather empty now that you’ve gone and left him alone in this now quiet house.

barely leaves his room, only works.

never cries but gets quite emotional when he finds a belonging you left behind.

♯ MAMMON

he cried every single night up until your departure but never showed you that side of him once

after you left, he cried non-stop, not caring if he looked like a cry baby in front of his brother’s who watched him with pitiful eyes.

once his eyes dried up, he soon never returned home as he partied all day and night.

he forced himself to attend parties after parties in order to forget about you.

it never works because everything reminds him of you.

sometimes he sits in his car and just stares into space, wondering what you’re doing now that you’re back on earth.

literally cannot stand the mention of you or your name or he may break down.

pretends to be okay but can’t go a day without getting upset about your absence.

money soon becomes pointless when he realizes no amount of cash will bring you back to the house of lamentation.

♯ LEVIATHAN

curled up in his bath tub and cried himself to sleep.

stopped leaving his room in general, continuously playing games all day and night.

couldn’t look at his ruri-chan figures because they somehow reminded him of you and how much you used to admire them with him.

every inch of his room has your touch on it and it makes his heart ache painfully.

struggles to attend online school but manages to make it through the day by zoning out in class.

claims he doesn’t care about a normie like you but genuinely misses you

sends you messages, forgetting you can no longer contact him without your D.D.D

writes about how much he misses you on his blog fully aware you’ll never see it.

♯ SATAN

reading. that’s all he does.

he hides in his room and reads every single book he has stacked up along his room, even rereading them if he finished everything.

uses books to get his mind off of you—or more so the lack of you.

will sometimes get excited about a stray cat he sees but stops himself when he realizes he can’t tell you because you aren’t here.

gets angry. a lot.

the smallest things set him off and he can longer feign a smile when he hears your name or anything related to you.

he misses you so much that he wants to tear out his hair and rip apart all these book page by page.

his room is in shambles and he can’t seem to think straight anymore.

♯ ASMODEUS

loses his interest in everything.

forgets his skin care routine and lets himself go without caring about it.

forces himself to go to parties and tries to sleep with someone to feel better but when it fails, he stops sleeping around in general.

like mammon, he doesn’t come home often to avoid seeing the house he had lived in with you happily.

cannot forget about you no matter what he does, and that frustrates him the most.

wishes he had done something to stop you or at least slept beside you one last time.

neglects himself for a while.

♯ BEELZEBUB

poor bby isn’t hungry for once.

can’t seem to eat now that you’re not sitting beside him, giggling about something he had said.

spends a lot of his time doing weight training and exercising to get his mind off of you.

misses all the meals you used to make on the nights you were in charge of cooking.

sometimes forgets you’re not around whenever he’s about to go downstairs to eat dinner.

clings to belphie in hopes to fill the gap in his heart.

accidentally broke down your room door in an angry fit when your absence finally set in.

♯ BELPHEGOR

either he sleeps even more or somehow gets less sleep.

no matter what, he feels sluggish and blank.

locks himself in the attic, almost as if he was never released in the first place.

even though he hated humans, your absence affected him the most after he had grown to love you as a human.

nearly went demon mode on diavolo when he found out that you were being sent back to the human world.

partially wishes he never met you but cherishes his memories with you too much to ever wish for that wholeheartedly.

sleeps in your bed often to hold onto your lingering scent that was fading quickly.

complains to beel that you were nothing but a stupid human who turns their backs on demons like them, but he never means anything he says.

“Why is it so quiet in here?” Diavolo asks as he opens the front door of the House of Lamentation with Barbatos at his side. The man’s golden eyes scanned the entry hall, noticing how it was so eerily dark and quiet that it almost felt like something out of a horror movie. It felt like no one had lived here in over two thousand years. “Hello?”

Upon receiving message from Diavolo, everyone had exited their rooms for the first time in a while, looking like they were dragged through the mud. The state they were in made Diavolo jump with surprise, shocked to find that even Lucifer looked like he was ill. “What happened to you guys?!”

“What is it that you need, Lord Diavolo?” Lucifer asked as he ran a hand through his hair to compose himself a bit in front of the red haired man. “If is nothing important, may I kindly ask you to leave and return another time?”

Diavolo sighed, shaking his head lightly as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t know what’s up with you guys, but I brought everyone’s favorite person along with me so sing your praises now!”

Mammon huffed, “If ya’ talking about that butler of yours, ain’t nobody care right now! We got bigger things to worry about!”

Barbatos simply smiled, taking no offense to the sly insult thrown his way.

Diavolo cocked a brow in confusion. “What? Of course not! It’s-“

The person stepped out from behind Diavolo, catching the attention of every single male in the room. The seven brother’s choked, staring at the one person they had longed for these past few days.

“[y/n]!” They shouted in unison, practically flying down the stairs to get to you. Mammon was the first to reach you, wrapping his arms around your entire body as he tackled you to the floor. The other brother’s climbed on top of you two, hugging you so tightly that you feared this would be where you’d die. “You’re back!”

Diavolo chuckled boisterously. “This is amusing! You lot are acting like you didn’t know they’d return today!” His laugh came to an abrupt stop when he saw the flat expressions coming from each and every brother. “Oh- Did I not inform you?”

“Obviously you didn’t.” Belphegor scoffed with a roll of the eyes, burying his face in the crook of your neck to inhale your scent. “[y/n]...”

“Ya can’t ever leave again! I’ll seriously get angry at ya if this happens again! Ya either go to the human world with me or ya don’t go at all!” Mammon snapped, cupping your cheeks while getting dangerously close to your face to yell at you.

“I’ll severely punish you if you ever leave this manor without giving me a heads up as to where you’re off to. You’re not just an exchange student anymore. You’re special.” Lucifer explained, a panicked glint in his tired eyes as he reached out to pat your head gently with his gloved hand.

Satan sighed, pressing his forehead against your back. “If you leave again, I don’t know if I’ll be able to control my emotions, so don’t leave.”

The avatar of lust whined loudly, “my beautiful self can’t handle a life without you! Don’t ever go anywhere without me again!” He clutched onto her waist tightly.

“Don’t... Don’t go anywhere.” Leviathan said with a sad frown on his lips as he held your hand, bringing it up to rest against his cheek. “It’s so empty without you.”

“Let’s eat dinner together, [y/n].” Beel suggested, his voice full of emotions as he drooled at the thought of dinner with you.

A million emotions ran through your veins as you sat there, basking in the warmth of their touch. It was overwhelming to receive so much love all at once but it was amazing.

A smile slowly crept onto your lips as you leaned into their touch, enjoying the way they clung to you as if you’d disappear any moment now. “I missed you guys, too.”

“What a lovely reunion!” Diavolo exclaimed happily, snapping a view blurry photos on his D.D.D to send to the group chat later.

After the heartfelt moment, they quickly disappeared upstairs to fix up their appearance before rushing downstairs to the kitchen where you stood. They clung to you like bugs to a light, hounding you about your sudden departure, only to find out that you had gone up there with Diavolo and Barbatos to help the man experience human world activities he had never gotten to try before. Diavolo was sure he had told them that but seeing as they were genuinely distressed, he assumed the message never reached.

Even though they were beyond pissed with Diavolo and his carelessness, they were just glad you were back. Them being here with you really was their idea of a perfect life.

a/n: UH YEA K GOODNIGHT

#beel x reader #Lucifer x reader #leviathan x reader #leviathan #Lucifer #beelzebub #belphegor #asmodeus #satan #mammon #obey me #mammon x reader #asmo x reader #belphie x reader #satan x reader #obey me fluff #obey me shall we date #HEADCANONS #obeyme HEADCANONS #obey me x reader

[fortuositywritings]

I Said No (Wanda x R): Pt 6

Summary: You kissed Wanda. Where do you go from here? Camping. You go camping is where.

Challenge: Take a shot of preferred drink (water for you youngsters, stay hydrated) every time you read "s'mores".

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5

Wanda is beyond frustrated. It has been eight hours since you kissed her on the ferris wheel. Eight painful hours of rewinding the moment in her mind over and over again, wondering what it means because you haven’t said anything about it. You acted no different when you met back with everyone else. No different when Laura asked with a knowing smile how the view was from the top. No different on the car ride home nor when you said goodnight to her like you did to everyone else even if she had lingered behind a little longer in case you maybe wanted to say something while no one else was near.

It’s like it never even happened and now she’s wondering if she’s somehow messing with her own mind. 

No, it definitely happened. Maybe there’s a reason. Maybe you’ll explain. Maybe she needs to sleep. 

She can feel Nat stirring beside her, signaling her to close her eyes and feign sleep.

“I know you’re awake, Wanda. You’re going to have to do better than that,” Nat says. Wanda huffs. She should know better than try to pretend in front of the spy. “What’s wrong? You’ve been tossing and turning all night.”

Wanda doesn’t think Nat would like to hear the reason for her restlessness, but she also knows she can’t get away with lying, so she chooses to say, “I don’t think you would want to know.”

“Wanda,” Nat sighs, almost defeatedly, “I know I have my reservations about you and Y/N but I meant what I said. You are both adults who can make your own choices and if this is really something you both want then I’ll be here for you and her both. I know you might not believe this, but I’d much rather be here to help you prove me wrong than you two go and prove me right.”

Nat is lying on her back now staring at the ceiling waiting patiently for Wanda to say something. Wanda follows Nat’s lead and stares at the blank ceiling trying to get her thoughts in order. Wanda doesn’t like talking about her feelings. She’s one to figure things out on her own but if she doesn’t get answers soon, she is going to go insane. Nat knows Y/N well enough. Maybe she knows why Y/N acted so indifferent. So Wanda decides to trust Nat. “She kissed me.”

Wanda turns her head to see Nat’s expression. Nat’s face remains stoic. “Are you mad?” Wanda asks warily.

“No, but I am surprised,” Nat says with what Wanda could swear is amusement. “I didn’t think she had it in her to go against anything Clint or I say.”

Wanda smiles, “You don’t give her enough credit.”

“Maybe. I think I also give you too much credit. I thought it would be you to do it. You Maximoffs tend to be relentless until you get what you want.” Wanda chuckles acknowledging that sometimes she and her brother annoy the rest of the team until things go their way. “So she kissed you. What’s the problem?”

Wanda’s good mood comes back down as she falls back to reality. “I don’t know if there is a problem is the problem,” Wanda groans in frustration.

“You’ve lost me.”

Wanda can’t have this conversation lying down so she sits up. Nat does the same, giving Wanda her full attention. “It’s just, it’s so push and pull with her. She flirts and I flirt back. Then she says she can’t so I let it go, but later she pulls me in again but then reminds me we can only be friends only to kiss me at the fair. And now she’s acting like it didn’t even happen and it’s all so frustrating,” Wanda vents.

Nat takes a moment to process everything. “You have to keep in mind that Y/N doesn’t do the whole relationship thing. She tried it once and well it didn’t work out. Now when things get serious, she likes to ignore them or as I’m sure you’ve noticed she likes to joke her way out. So if you want to work this out, you’ll have to find a way to talk to her without her freaking out,” Nat advises. 

The mention of a past relationship piques Wanda’s interest. “Y/N’s been in a relationship before? She’s never mentioned it.”

Nat smirks shaking her head, “Of course out of everything I said, that’s what you got. Tell me, have you told her about the robot boyfriend you had not too long ago?” Wanda looks down at the bedsheets in embarrassment. Nat wants to laugh but decides to give Wanda a break. “Look, if you really want to know you can ask Y/N later, okay? Now get some rest. You shouldn’t let guy, girl, or robot problems keep you from sleeping,” she finishes chuckling and gets up from the bed. 

“Where are you off to?” Wanda still goes to lie down but looks up at Nat with tired eyes.

“Going to go for a hike with your girl,” Nat teases as she grabs her clothes and clothes for you.

“She’s not my girl,” Wanda says, tucking her head into her pillow to hide her blush but Nat still caught it. She also catches when Wanda mumbles, “yet.”

“And there’s that bratty Maximoff attitude. I see you’re feeling better now,” Nat laughs and leaves the room without giving Wanda the time to respond, not that Wanda was planning to because Nat was right. Wanda was feeling better now having talked it out with someone. She’ll do as Natasha said and ask you later. With that she closes her eyes and tries to get some sleep.

You didn’t fare too well last either, much like Wanda. You were trying so hard not to think about your kiss with Wanda, but it’s all you could think about. You don’t know what possessed you to do it, but you know you should not have done it. You should not have done it because now all you can think about is doing it again, about doing it again and letting her kiss you back. You shouldn’t have kissed her because you don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up, including yourself. It’s happened to you once before and you’re scared because it is happening to you again. 

So, you tried to play it cool. If you act like it was a friendly kiss that didn’t really mean anything, then Wanda will take the hint and when she inevitably goes, so will your feelings. No harm done. Friends kiss sometimes, right? At least that’s what you’ve been trying to convince yourself all night until you fell asleep.

You awaken from your two hours of Wanda-filled dreams by gym clothes smacking your face. You groan, “No, please. Not today, Nat. I barely got any sleep last night.”

“Oh, not you too,” she comments, rolling her eyes at you. You lift your head at that to look at her confused by what she meant. “Come on, some exercise will take your mind off whatever kept you up,” she continues with a knowing smile as she takes a sip of her coffee.  You narrow your eyes at her but eventually give in. Maybe she’s right and it will help you take your mind off of Wanda for even a moment. 

You still need the energy though, so you steal her coffee as you pass by her with your clothes in hand.

The one time you actually hoped Nat would be right, she wasn’t. You’re an hour into your hike and your brain has no vacancy for anything other than Wanda. You want to scream. Instead you push yourself harder. Another hour goes by and your head is still spinning, except this time it might also be because of the lack of oxygen reaching your brain. You go to lay on the dirty ground and attempt to catch your breath. Nat stops, not hearing your footsteps behind her. 

She looks at you a little worried. You are heaving and you are sweaty and you are frustrated and it’s official; a pretty girl named Wanda Maximoff broke you. You start chuckling and soon a full resounding laugh comes out of you like you heard the funniest joke. Nat goes to sit by you warily but doesn’t say anything.

Your laughter dies, replaced by a solemn attitude. You sit up, your shoulder touching Nat’s. She still doesn’t say anything and you’re thankful for that. Without looking at her, you tell her earnestly, “I really like her.”

“Yeah, I know,” she sighs.

“She told you,” you say, no surprise in your voice. You were clued in this morning with Nat’s knowing smile. Nat hums in confirmation. “I know you and Clint warned me, but-”

“But we were wrong,” Nat cuts you off. That has you looking at her, your eyebrows raised in shock. You never thought you’d hear her admit being wrong so blatantly. She laughs, “Don’t get used to hearing that. Seriously though, you don’t need someone telling you what you can or cannot do. It wasn’t right for us to try. So, I’ll tell you what I told Wanda, whatever happens, I’ll be here if you need me.”

“Aww, look who’s taking accountability. Little Romanov is all grown up!” you joke. She rolls her eyes and nudges you saying, “I guess serious talk is over.”

She knows you too well. You smile anyway in appreciation. You both get up and start making your way back to the car. You feel lighter after that conversation. On your walk back, you begin to think, maybe you can give it a shot with Wanda now that it seems Nat and Clint are giving into the idea of you two together. You smile at the thought of you and Wanda together. You can make it work, you think. That is if you can allow trust in yourself to not hurt her and trust her not to do the same. But you have time to work on that. 

When you reach the car, a daunting thought stops you. You don’t have time. “She’s leaving soon.”

Nat opening the car door simply says, “Yeah, guess you have to decide what you want to do quickly.” 

“I’ve decided,” Clint says to everyone at breakfast. When you and Nat had gotten to the house, almost everyone was still asleep. You and Nat only saw Sam and Laura up in the kitchen. You’d guessed the fair wore everyone out yesterday. You and Nat helped Sam and Laura make breakfast. Well, Nat helped. You had been told to sit at the table and let the adults do the cooking. How were you meant to learn if they didn’t let you? At least Wanda had let you help.

Wanda, as if summoned by your thoughts, had appeared then. You saw her hesitate walking into the kitchen. You knew you messed up by ignoring what happened between the two of you. You gave her a smile and patted the seat next to you hoping to alleviate the tension. Luckily for you it seemed to do the trick. You two were back to your usual selves though you both knew you would have to talk about what happened at some point.

Everyone came downstairs one by one and when breakfast was ready, you all headed into the dining room to eat together. Everyone was having their own side conversations but they all hushed down when Clint spoke up saying he decided something.

“And what did you decide?” Laura asks him. You try hard not to laugh, recognizing the same tone she gave you two days ago when you told everyone you were going to the fair. Wanda sees you try to hide your amusement and pinches your side to get you to stop. Being ticklish, you nearly squeal but hold it in. By the way Wanda’s eyes spark up, you know she noticed. You give her a warning stare and mouth “no”.

“My sweet, beautiful wife,” Clint begins sweet talking your cousin, but you’re not paying too much attention as Wanda is trying to tickle your side discreetly with one hand and you are trying hard to keep it away. Across the table, Pietro is not paying attention to Clint either, instead watching you and Wanda interact. He feels so dumb for not noticing it before, but seeing you bring out the playfulness in Wanda, which he hadn’t seen in the longest time, you could make him feel like the dullest bulb in the box and he wouldn’t complain. All three of your attention is brought back to the subject at hand when Clint says, “I’ve decided we’re going camping today!”

The kids, Peter, Sam, and you let out a cheer. You squeeze Wanda’s hand that you managed to catch in yours. You don’t feel any excitement coming from her so you turn to her. She looks discontent at the thought of camping. “Oh, come on. Don’t say you don’t like camping.”

“Pietro and I have not gone camping but the thought of bugs and sleeping on the ground does not sound appealing,” she says tentatively.

“Thank you. She gets it,” your cousin says and Nat nods her head in agreement.

“Don’t listen to the two buzzkills. They never want to do anything.” You ignore the scoff and “excuse me” they give you to instead try to convince Wanda. “I promise it’s going to be fun,” you look into her eyes, practically pleading with her. She huffs, closes her eyes, and says, “Fine.”

“Yes! What about you Pietro?” you ask her brother though you already know where one twin goes the other follows. “Yeah, let’s see what camping is about. Maybe we can share a tent,” Pietro flirts throwing a wink your way, mostly teasing to see his sister’s reaction. You ignore his last comment and start chanting “Camping! Camping!” until Peter, Cooper, and Lila chant along. You don’t notice the glare Wanda throws her brother or said brother trying to hide his smirk.

You take two cars like you had yesterday. This time you ride with Nat, Sam, Wanda, and Peter. Cooper and Lila refused to let Pietro ride in Nat’s car, wanting him to ride with them. Nat is driving with Sam sitting in the passenger seat after having called shotgun. You sat in the middle between Peter and Wanda, having offered her the window seat. The ride to the lake where you usually went camping isn’t long, only about an hour and a half away, but you find yourself falling asleep twenty minutes in when Wanda rests her head on your shoulder to take a nap. 

You and Wanda wake to the car door slamming shut. You both look out the window and see you’ve arrived and it had been Nat who stepped out of the car. From the car, you can see her stretch and take in the view with a disgruntled face. 

“Well someone’s excited,” Sam said sarcastically, having noticed Nat’s attitude toward this trip also. All of you in the car watch her as she sprays a ton of bug repellant on herself while grumbling, “Stupid Clint. I should be relaxing somewhere with AC. But nooo, Mr. ‘I’ve decided we’re going camping’ and Ms. ‘I promise it’s gonna be fun’ want to go camping. Fun my ass.”

You can’t help but laugh when she mocks you and Clint, and everyone in the car joins in. Nat turns to glare at all of you through the windows. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. Just don’t come crying to me when you can’t stop scratching your legs tomorrow. Now chop chop. We’ve got things to bring out.” 

She leaves to help Laura out of the family car that just pulled up beside Nat’s own. She’s always so grumpy when you go camping. At the thought, a joke pops in your head that you can’t help but repeat out loud, “Yeah, she’s never really been a happy camper.”

“Did you just? Nice one!” Peter gives you a high five. Wanda and Sam shake their heads at you but you can see Wanda trying not to smile. Sam catches it and throws his head back groaning, “Bad puns? Really? I gotta start writing things down.” He pulls out his phone and goes to his notes to start a list. “Okay, confident but geeky, talk about Star Wars, bad jokes. Am I missing anything, Wanda?”

You and Peter look at her confused. You are especially intrigued to know what Wanda has to do with whatever the hell Sam is talking about when she flushes and kicks his seat. “We should go help now,” she says, opening the door and hurrying out. You follow behind asking, “What’s he talking about, Wanda?” 

She ignores you. Peter reaches you and says, “I thought it was a good joke.”

Everyone helps out setting the tents, Clint wanting to get that out of the way first. No matter how much of a downer Nat can be on camping trips, you’re always glad she’s there or no tent would stand a chance holding upright. There are three sturdy tents set up a little ways away from the dock by the time you finish. Peter, the kids, the twins, and you run over to the dock in excitement, you pulling Wanda along with you. None of you are in the proper attire to jump in as Laura points out. “Hey, go put on your swim suits if you want to get in!” she shouts from where the rest are setting up everything for grilling.

You all turn back around to put on your swimwear. Best not to anger the pregnant lady. Before you can take a step forward, you feel like someone sweeps you up in their arms but it happens too fast to be sure and suddenly you are falling into the water. Everyone turns back around at the sound of you hitting the water. When your head springs from the water, you look for the culprit and see him smiling at you next to Sam. You do the only thing you can think of as revenge. You pretend to drown. “Help! I can’t-” you spit water everywhere waving your arms hysterically. You can hear footsteps running on the dock but ignore them to see Pietro’s reaction. His eyes widen and in a blink he is gone. 

You hear a splash. Correction, you hear three different splashes. You knew one had to be Pietro and you’re right. He pulls you into him with one arm, saying, “I got you. I got you.” 

You turn in his arm and say, “No, I got you.” He looks confused and you take the opportunity to wriggle loose and dunk his head in the water. The second and third splashes had come from Peter and Wanda, you note, when you hear them behind you say, “Y/N!” and “Are you okay?” You can’t answer because the sight of Pietro coming back up spluttering has you cracking up. 

“I thought you couldn’t swim,” Peter says. This time you do answer, “I told you guys, I was learning on the job.”

Peter starts laughing then, swimming towards Pietro, who took it easy laughing as well. “She got you so good. You should have seen your face,” Peter chuckles. You grin, but that smile falls when you look at Wanda and find her glaring at you.The joy on your face morphs into confusion. You ask, “What’s wrong?”

“That wasn’t funny, Y/N.” She leaves you there with your mouth agape and heads to the shore without another word, swimming past Peter and Pietro who are basically water fighting. You float there for a second wondering what just happened. You don’t know what to do but you think you have to fix it somehow. 

You swim after her. Pietro and Peter stop splashing water at each other, turning their bodies to look at you as you pass by them now able to touch the ground with your feet. Pietro teases, “Oooh, someone’s sleeping on the couch tonight.” 

You wanted to point out that you have been sleeping on the couch the whole week and that technically you’ll be sleeping in a tent tonight. Instead you splash some water at him behind you and try to walk faster against the water to catch Wanda. When you are close enough, you reach out and pull on her wrist to get her to stop walking. You walk around her to stand face to face. She pulls her arm free from your hold and crosses her arms in front of her body looking everywhere but at you. You see her clenching her jaw in irritation and if you’re honest with yourself, you find this angry Wanda pretty attractive, but you remember she’s mad at you and you focus on the matter at hand.

Unbeknownst to you both, everyone’s watching. “Oh, she’s mad mad. Let’s see Y/N try to joke her way out of this one,” Sam says chuckling. Clint and Nat turn to him, Nat smirking and Clint chuckling. Laura is preoccupied putting sunscreen on the kids to be aware of what is going on.

“Oh, come on. Sure, Y/N is smooth but I know Wanda, and that girl is stubborn as hell,” Sam says confidently, remembering the time Wanda had not spoken to her brother for three days because he went to a party with some of the guys forgetting he was supposed to go to the movies with her. 

“Want to bet?” Clint says. 

“20, easy.” Sam shakes Clint’s hand. Off in the water, Peter and Pietro are having a similar conversation. Peter asks if Wanda is actually mad. Peter doesn’t live on the compound and has not had much interaction with Wanda, so it makes sense to Pietro why he would ask. Pietro laughs, “Oh, yes. One time I forgot to go to the movies with her and she did not speak with me for days. She has the same face now.”

You don’t really have a plan here, so you start the way you always do, using humor. “Wanda, are you actually mad? Am I in hot … water?” you flick some water for effect. She doesn’t find it amusing. She scoffs at you, but at least she’s looking at you now. “The water’s cold and jokes won’t get you out of this one.”

“We’ll just have to sea about that,” you try again. You didn’t think she could look more peeved, but look at you making the impossible happen. She says, “It’s a lake,” unamused, and she moves to go around you. So humor is a no go in this situation.

“What did I tell you,” Sam boasts, seeing Wanda look more irritated. “Easiest 20 dollars, I made.”

“Just wait,” Clint says. Laura goes to sit beside him and asks, “What’s happening?”

“Wanda is mad at Y/N. Sam bet Clint 20 dollars that Wanda will stay mad at her,” Nat explains. Suddenly, Sam doesn’t feel so confident when Laura shakes her head at him like he just got played and says, “Oh, Sam.”

“Okay, wait, wait, wait.” You step to the side making sure Wanda doesn’t leave. “I’m sorry. It was just a dumb way to get back at Pietro. I didn’t mean to upset you or freak you out,” you say, pulling her arms apart from where they are still crossed. “The last thing I want to do is make you mad or sad or any of the -ad’s.” You see her tense shoulders loosen up so you add, “You already know how I feel about Brads.”

You know you made the right choice when you hear her giggle at your last comment. You smile and tug on her arm. “So are we good? Or do I have to pull out the famous puppy dog eyes?” you jest and she gives you a real laugh when you actually go for the puppy dog eyes along with a pout. She shoves you playfully and you nearly stumble backwards but you hold onto her arms and pull yourself forward. In consequence you end up closer to each other and Wanda takes the opportunity to pull you into a hug. 

“Just don’t do it again,” Wanda says. You wrap your arms around her waist, welcoming in her hug. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Now let’s go swimming,” you say quickly. She barely catches what you say before you pick her up and take off back in Peter and Pietro’s direction, Wanda laughing the whole way.

“What the hell was that?” Sam refuses to believe what he just saw. 

“Easiest 20 dollars I ever made,” Clint chuckles.

“No, see she’s gotta have some kind of persuasion powers or something. Why isn’t that girl on the team? We could just give her a microphone before we go fight and have her convince the bad dudes to turn themselves in,” Sam says as he reluctantly takes out a twenty dollar bill and gives it to Clint.

Pietro is very much on the same boat as Sam. He decides he needs to learn your secrets. Peter says, “Maybe the movie she wanted to watch was really good?”

You have your fun in the water, especially when the kids and Sam join you deciding they want to play chicken fight. Cooper goes against Lila and despite her being younger and smaller, she manages to push Cooper off Sam’s shoulder. Pietro holds Sam up as he goes against Peter. Sam cheers when Peter falls backwards into the water. Most would be surprised by the win but it was mostly your fault, not having a good stance when trying to hold Peter on your shoulders. 

You go to fight against Wanda next; she takes Sam’s place on Pietro’s shoulders and you sit on Sam’s shoulders. Cooper and Lila count down and when they yell go, you and Wanda are pushing each other’s shoulders. Wanda removes a hand from your shoulder and reaches for your stomach, but you catch her arm quickly. “Not today. You’re going down, Maximoff!”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that-” Wanda begins but doesn’t finish. You can feel her grip loosen on your shoulder when she gives you a look of befuddlement. “Actually, I don’t know your last name.” You smirk, taking this as your opportunity, and say, “Good. Now you can see how I felt.” Then you push her shoulder and she loses her balance. You can smell the victory, but the smell wafts away when you see what looks like a red mist coming from her and hurling towards you. You are practically flung from Sam’s shoulder into the water. 

You resurface, spluttering water. You look around for the person of interest and head towards her when she gets up beside Pietro. “You cheated!” you yell. You’re not actually mad but you are a sore loser. She sees you coming toward her and Wanda can’t help but laugh at how silly you look trying to stomp over to her intimidatingly when you are moving so slowly against the water. “I thought you and I had agreed on no powers.”

“No, you said no more mind reading,” she corrects you with a pleased smile on her face. 

“Well new rule, no powers in general and wipe that grin off your face, no one likes a smart-ass,” you huff. She replies whilst giving your cheek a poke, “Then wipe that pout off your face. No one likes a sore loser.” You shake your head to get her finger off your face, making her laugh again.

Pietro challenges Wanda next and before either of them have a chance to decide who will be carrying them, you dive under Wanda and between her legs, making her yelp in surprise as you lift her up on your shoulders. You hold on tight to her thighs and then reach for her arms to keep her steady. She giggles when she looks down not able to see you behind all the hair in your face. She helps you out and pulls your hair back out of your face. You look up at her, who keeps her hands on your head, and smile in thanks.

You look at Wanda’s opponent. Pietro, who is situated on Sam’s shoulders, is already looking at you like he’s thinking something over. Then he looks above you at Wanda and challenges, “If I win, you have to tell me what Y/N said to not make you angry anymore.”

Sam under him adds, “Yeah, I wanna know why I lost 20 dollars!” You give him a look of bewilderment. Wanda thinks it over and decides, “Okay, but if I win, Sam has to stop trying to be geeky like Y/N and Peter.” You pinch her thigh and Peter shouts “Hey!” at being called geeky. She ignores the two of you, continuing, “And you have to stop flirting with Y/N.”

“Why? Are you jealous, Wanda?” her brother baits her. Your ears perk up awaiting her response.

“No, you’re just annoying,” Wanda says trying to sound nonchalant, but Pietro knows her well. He continues badgering, “Well, what if Y/N likes it?” 

You decide to partake in his teasing her and add, “Yeah, Wanda. What if I like it?” You look up at her with a cheeky smile and find her already looking down at you with an eyebrow raised and her tongue poking at her cheek, a look you feel says “you don’t want to test me”. Gut feelings shouldn’t be ignored, you think, so you look back to Pietro, “Sorry, I guess I don’t like it.” You follow with a dramatic whisper, “Totally jealous.” She tugs your hair in retaliation for your comment.

“So, is it a deal or not, ‘cause my shoulders are starting to hurt,” Sam says. The twins agree and you are thankful Sam got the ball rolling because you didn’t know how much longer you could hold up Wanda. Peter counts down this time. It’s over in less than 3 seconds. It seems Wanda likes to cheat. Everyone sees the red mist fading after Pietro falls into the water. 

“That’s not fair. You used your powers. That’s cheating,” Pietro says when he comes back up and Sam nodding in agreement while Wanda defends herself saying they never said they couldn’t use powers. You tell Wanda to take a breath and close her nose and then fall backwards to get her off your shoulders. Another few minutes of swimming pass by before Clint yells for all of you to get out and go eat. You all head to the little cabin that has the restrooms and showers. Laura meets you there with towels. Those of you that jumped in the lake enter the showers with clothes and all to wash away the lake water and then head outside to rinse off. 

Clint watches you hand your towel to Wanda for her to dry off first. You say something that makes Wanda let out a resonant laugh and in turn makes you smile vibrantly. He’s only ever seen you look at someone like that once. He grimaces at how that turned out. And Wanda he’s actually never seen act like this, so jubilant and lively, playfully rolling her eyes and pushing you away after you make a stupid joke. It brings a smile to his face despite the voice in the back of his head saying this can’t end well.

As everyone eats, they unintentionally group off to have different conversations. Clint, Sam, and Peter stand by the mini grill, Laura and Nat sit in some camping chairs complaining about the bugs, the kids are drawing things on the ground with a stick they found, and you, Wanda, and Pietro are sitting on other camping chairs.

Pietro and Wanda tell you stories of when they were children, both their eyes seem to almost glaze over as they reminisce on fond memories. Though their storytelling styles differ, Pietro with his animated gestures and Wanda with her attention for detail, they both have you captivated. You offer them a few stories of your own childhood, including the ones you found embarrassing like the three different times you called one teacher “mom” and the time you walked straight into a pole talking to your crush in middle school.

“So you weren’t always so smooth as I hear you are,” Wanda comments through her laughter.

“Nope, this awesome personality took years in the making,” you joke, making Wanda shake her head at you. Pietro comments, “Yeah, not everyone can be born with it like I was.”

Wanda laughs at this, which offends Pietro and soon the twins are bickering much to your amusement. Wanda recounts times Pietro was very much not so smooth with the ladies including things he’s done that caused certain girlfriends to leave him, Pietro obviously having excuses as to why something happened. He fires his shot at her when he tells her she can’t begin to talk about relationships when she’s only had one and it was 3D printed. 

You tune them out after this due to shock and confusion. You’re shocked that Wanda’s only ever dated one person. You never really thought to ask about her exes because you thought it might bring up some bad memories knowing she had just gone through a breakup not so long ago. So you also find it shocking that she was so brazenly forward about wanting to try something with you if she doesn’t date like her brother does-like you do which you don’t even consider dating. You kind of want to smile thinking about it. You just know that she has people left and right who would kill for a chance to be with her, but she likes you. You are trying hard not to let it go to your head but can already feel your ego growing in size. The confusion comes from the 3D printed comment. You’ll have to ask about that later.

“-ask Y/N.” You bring your attention back to the conversation when hearing your name.

“She doesn’t do relationships. She’s too busy playing the game and winning,” Sam chuckles standing between the twins’ chairs. You hadn’t even noticed when he joined you three. You don’t know where they were in the conversation and don’t want to explain what you were thinking about if you ask them to repeat the question because you were distracted, so you decide to go along with Sam. You fake a laugh and say, “Yeah, tried it once and it wasn’t for me.”

“You? In a relationship?” You nod at both of Pietro’s questions. “With who?”

“Her name’s Skye and no, she doesn’t live here so don’t try going around town asking about her. I may not have known you for long, but I can just tell you’re both nosy.” You point at Pietro and Sam.

“Then don’t leave us wondering. What happened?” Sam asks. From the look in his eye, you know he won’t let it go. You don’t feel like recounting the details of how you were falling for someone who left you saying they couldn’t do relationships because they were distracting her from trying to do something important. It was a blow to the gut then; you’re sure your face would show it. You don’t want to be a drag. 

“Nothing exciting. She told me relationships weren’t for her at the time,” you say nonchalantly,  shrugging your shoulders like it doesn’t still hurt to think about.

“So you decided relationships weren’t for you,” Wanda speaks up, her stare hard on your profile like she’s trying to figure you out. You think she reads you too well already, there can’t be anything you hide that she won’t find.

“If you can’t beat them, join them,” you say, trying to look unfazed by it all. It seems to work because the guys move on, Sam joking saying that was the reason you partnered with Wanda after you lost the chicken fight. Wanda, however, is still staring at you, trying to decipher your words. You try not to focus on that. The guys laugh when you say that technically you won because Wanda cheated using her powers.

“So it is cheating! If you say you won, that means Sam and I won, so Sam can try to be geeky and I can flirt with you and you have to tell us how Wanda’s mood changed so fast,” Pietro says matter-of-factly. Now this gets Wanda to quit staring at you. Instead she turns her head to Pietro to give him a glare when he mentions flirting with you. You don’t know too much about Wanda’s powers but you would not be surprised if one was killing someone with a look; Pietro would be pulverized from being on the receiving end of her glare and you from how attractive you found it. 

But now is not the time. As much as it hurts your ego that has now flown through the roof, you reach your foot over to loop your ankle around Wanda and say to Pietro, “Okay, then I didn’t win. It was a draw.” Wanda turns her attention back over to you when she feels your ankle against hers.

“Oh, come on! Just tell us how you did it,” Sam says. 

“Guess she just likes me more than you two,” you offer with a cheeky smile. You miss Wanda blushing when Sam says, “That’s for sure.” You didn’t even catch that because the smell of marshmallows roasting called you. You look over Sam’s shoulder and see Clint helping Cooper and Lila make a s’more. You notice Peter talking to Nat and Laura sitting around a small makeshift fire pit starting to poke marshmallows on the ends of some steel sticks Clint must have bought. “Um, what the hell, guys? Was no one going to call us for s’mores?” you yell more so towards your cousin. 

Everyone turns to look at you but your group who look over to see the reason you were yelling. Your cousin gives you a well-job-done look when Lila says, “Ooo, Y/N said a bad word.” As your group heads over to the rest, you give your cousin your don’t-worry-I’ll-fix-it look you’ve given her countless times and tell Lila, “Yes, I did but you can’t. Not until you’re ten.”

“Y/N!” Both Clint and Laura yell while Nat actually tries to fix it and says, “Y/N was just being funny. Don’t listen to her.”

“But you say Y/N is never funny,” Cooper chimes in. Everyone stifles a laugh when you scoff. “That’s because your Aunt Nat wouldn’t know a joke if it bit her in the ass,” you say the last part directly looking at her. You hear Clint say something like “not this again” while most are saying “oooh” including the kids but they say it to point out you said another bad word.

“I don’t know about that one. Why don’t you bite mine and I’ll tell you?” Nat comes back at you and so do the oohs from everyone and a bonus “burn” from Sam. You reply, “No, thank you. Wouldn’t want to accidentally bite into the stick stuck up there.”

“DAMN!” Sam says and before Nat could respond from what you’re sure would be what ends you tonight, your cousin cuts in. “Enough! I thought I would be raising 3 children. I didn’t sign up for 5. Lila, don’t listen to Y/N about the bad words and if she and Aunt Nat keep arguing,” your cousin threatens, “neither will be having s’mores.”

Both your and Nat’s eyes go wide at that. One thing you and she will never argue about is how s’mores are one of the greatest contributions the US has given the world in terms of culinary delicacies. 

“That got them quiet very fast. How good can s’mores be?” Pietro asks. You and Nat gasp so dramatically one would think Pietro insulted your mothers. “You’ve never had a s’more?” you ask both him and Wanda who shake their heads.

“Why was I never made aware of this?” Nat reprimands them as if it’s the twins’ fault they’ve never had s’mores. “Someone get these two a stick and some marshmallows ASAP,” Nat snaps, and you fetch four sticks and the bag of marshmallows, handing Nat, Pietro, and Wanda a stick each. 

“Prepare to have your mind blown,” you say dramatically. Wanda finds your passion for s’mores adorable. She gives you a smile in thanks when you stick two marshmallows at the end of her stick. Pietro is excited to try s’mores after you and Nat having raved about them; he can’t help but wiggle the stick back and forth while you are trying to put some marshmallows on it. You and Nat are helping the twins make their first s’mores when Wanda asks, “Why don’t Lila and Cooper call you Aunt Y/N?” 

“Because children recognize children,” Nat jests, but your cousin says her name as a warning anyway in case you two started up again. You call over Lila and Cooper for them to answer the question for you. Together they recite verbatim what you had told them to say when someone asked. “Aunt is for when you are old, boring, or married and Y/N is young, cool, and single.” You mouth along and give them a proud smile after.

“Exactly! Thank you, critters.” You give each a high five and they run back to their dad. Wanda looks impressed as do the rest. Nat, on the other hand, looks ready to argue again. “Excuse me, so which of the three am I, huh?”

“Well, you’re not married yet, so you take your pick between the other two choices.” Your eyes shimmer in merriment when she says nothing, opting to glare at you. Sam laughs and asks, “How long did it take them to remember that?”

“A whole summer two years ago. I told them I’d buy 4 pints of ice cream to whoever memorizes it first,” you explain. Everyone enjoys their s’mores, Pietro eating too many for his own good, as the sun disappears below the horizon. It’s not too long before Nat starts complaining about the bugs again. She’s cut off by her phone ringing. She stands off to the side to take the call. You joke around with Wanda saying it’s Bruce calling and you play out the conversation you think they’re having. Wanda laughs at your terrible attempt to mimic Nat and Bruce’s voices.

Nat comes back with news. “So, Rodgers can’t pick us up this weekend. He was called on a mission and had to take the jet, but Tony arranged for two agents named Bobby and Daisy to pick us up in 5 days.”

“You’re staying longer?” Lila asks and when Nat nods, she runs to hug Pietro cheering. You and Wanda look at each other after the news, both trying to see the other’s reaction. You give each other a shy smile. Wanda is happy to have more time with you. She was not ready to leave so soon not knowing when she would be able to see you next. You didn’t really know how you felt. You’re suddenly aware of your heart pounding aggressively against your chest. You were dreading your time with Wanda coming to a close but you were also somewhat prepared to hang on until the weekend without messing anything up. Hearing she’s staying for longer is a relief but you are not sure how long you can go without breaking and kissing her again, getting both your hopes up only for it to all come crashing down when she inevitably leaves. 

Nat interrupts your internal turmoil by ways of complaining again about the bugs. “Okay, this is not gonna happen. Clint, let me see your keys.” Clint tosses her his car keys. She pulls the house key from the key ring and tosses the car keys back to Clint. “Cool, see you all at the house tomorrow. Whoever wants to sleep on an actual bed and not in this AC-less mosquito infested site, you are welcome to tag along.”

Laura stands up way too quickly for someone who is pregnant and says she’s going with Nat. Lila tags along, apparently not wanting to sleep here without her mom. “What a baby,” you say shaking your head as you watch Nat’s car’s lights disappear. 

“Well at least now you’ll have more privacy in the tent,” Sam says, smirking at you and Wanda pointing out that you’ll be alone with Wanda in the tent, which you hadn’t put together until this moment. If your heart wasn’t beating like a drum before, it sure is trying to beat out of your chest now. You gulp at his insinuation. Maybe it isn’t too late to run after the car. 

“Ew, I don’t want to hear anything,” Pietro says, Sam and surprisingly Clint agreeing by nodding their heads. Wanda rolls her eyes at him and Peter on the hand is blushing, trying not to look at you or Wanda like he’s already seen something. You’re suddenly aware that all of them are heading to their tents. The fire had been put out and all the leftover food had been put away sometime while you were watching Nat’s group drive away. Pietro and Peter share one tent and Sam, Clint, and Cooper another. 

Wanda stands and looks down at you expectantly. You see she’s holding the lantern Lila always uses cause it’s in her favorite color of blue. “Do you plan to sleep outside?”

You roll your eyes and stand up to follow Wanda into your tent. There are three sleeping bags rolled out in front of you. “Guess we won’t be needing one of those,” Wanda comments behind you. The comment itself should make you nervous but what actually does it is the sound of her zipping the entrance closed. You gulp and can only let out a simple, “Mhm.”

If that alone had you acting this way, you didn’t want to find out what actually looking her way would do to you, so you quickly move, back hunching, to the back pack you brought. You kneel to comfortably search it. You gave her a better answer, clearing your throat. “Actually, Nat was right about the hard ground. You could use it as a double layer.”

“Or we could share it?” Wanda suggests. You stop digging in the bag as your breath catches. You reply, your voice an octave higher, “No, that-that’s okay.” You clear your throat when you notice your pitch and hope Wanda hadn’t. “I’m used to it, but I wouldn’t want to give you a bad impression of camping.” Wanda had. You are back to searching your bag for the sweats you had brought to sleep in.

Wanda notices you seem a little tense, having dug around that bag for awhile. She walks up to you and places a hand on your shoulder. Your body stiffens like a board under her hand. She has to ask, “Are you nervous?”

“Nervous? Pft, why would I be nervous?” You finally find your damn sweats. “I’ve done this a million times.” You are quick to change the subject when the only clothes apart from Nat’s you find beside your sweats are some pyjama shorts and a tank top. “Is this all you brought to sleep in?”

“I didn’t think we were going to be camping when I packed,” Wanda replies to your inquiry but she still has questions of her own she’d like answered. For example, why are you so nervous and what did the kiss yesterday mean for you two. “Y/N, we need to talk.”

“Luckily, Nat left her stuff so you can wear her clothes. Here.” You hand Wanda Nat’s sleepwear. She can obviously tell you were avoiding the conversation. “You can change. I’ll face the other way.” You turn around and change into your sweats. You would have to leave your top on not having planned for it to have gotten wet. You try not to let the sound of Wanda’s quick intake of breath make you blush knowing you didn’t give her any warning. You try really hard not to guess what Wanda is doing based on the sounds you’re hearing when you think she begins changing but your mind tends to wander especially when it comes to the girl behind you. 

“I don’t see why you have to turn around. I’m sure you’ve seen plenty of women undress.” The sound of clothes falling to the ground makes you gulp. You are never so nervous and it’s killing you. You try your hardest to find something funny to say but come up empty. Wanda is still waiting on a response, so you say facing a tent wall, “None of those women are you.”

Your words spark something in each of your heads- a decision. You decide to take a chance with Wanda because you do believe it in your heart. Wanda is not like any of the other women including Skye. Even though she has to leave in five days, you can make it work. Wanda, however, is reminded of how she isn’t like other women. She is reminded of what Nat had said before. She decides maybe Vision was right.

As much as you wish you could avoid a serious talk, you know you owe it to her. They do say the secret to a good relationship is open communication. The term relationship usually makes you want to run for the hills but when you think of it tied to Wanda, a flutter tickles your stomach. It’s a feeling you never thought you would welcome again and you have to suppress a smile.

“Okay, you can turn around now,” Wanda says. She notices you hiding a smile and she’s wondering what brought it on. Wanda watches you move Nat’s sleeping bag under the one meant for her and then settle into your own. Your kind consideration makes her smile weakly, thinking of all the things she’ll miss such as you opening doors for her or letting her have your blanket and remain sitting still for the sake of her comfort. You stare up at Wanda who you see is lost in thought but staring in your direction and finally manage to act like yourself. “I’m sure the view is nice from there, but I can assure you I look good from all angles,” you joke and pat her sleeping bag beside you. 

The sound of your hand patting her sleeping bag brings her out of her head and when she processes what you said, she rolls her eyes at you. She grabs the lantern, setting it a little aways from both of you once she gets into her sleeping bag. Both of you turn onto your sides placing your hands under your heads to face one another. You stare at each other for a while before a question pops up in your head. You ask, “What did Pietro mean by 3D printed?”

“Sorry?” Wanda looks confused so you clarify. “When you and your brother were arguing, he said your last relationship was 3D printed.” A light bulb goes off in her head, now knowing you were referring to Vision. “That was just Pietro being a jerk,” Wanda says and then she goes on to explain her relationship with this synthetic being to you. You try really hard not to let the fact that this ex-boyfriend of hers quite literally has a connection to her because how were you supposed to compare to that. 

You shake that off and scrape every corner of your mind for any trace of confidence and gather that to work up the nerve to say, “Off topic, or maybe on topic, but I feel like we need to talk about yesterday on the ferris wheel.”

Wanda sees you struggle trying to start a serious conversation. Trying not to have you freak out, as Natasha had implied would practically be impossible, Wanda meets you in the middle. She tries a bit of humor, something you are more comfortable with. “You mean our friendly date?” She adds in a chuckle so you would know she is kidding with you.

You smile, appreciating her trying to make it easier on you to talk to her. If she’s trying for you, you can try for her, you think. You sober up and a more serious expression falls upon your face. You want Wanda to know you mean everything you are about to say next. Wanda, however, misreads the intent behind your expression. What she sees is you finding the words to let her down slowly again. You had said relationships weren’t for you and talk of past flings proved that, so she took a page out of your book- if you can’t beat them, join them. She can play nonchalant too.

“Yeah, about that. I’m sorry I acted so weird after, like it didn’t happen. The truth is I tried to ignore it, but I can’t because it’s constantly replaying in my head. All I can think about is doing it again and I know I said we could only be friends, but-”

“You were right.” Wanda cuts you off early. “What?” you ask thoroughly confused. She continues, “When you said we should just be friends, you were right. It was silly of me to even suggest anything. I mean I’m leaving in five days, so what is the point right?” Wanda reasons with you and as you are about to rebut to say you can make it work, she continues, “I mean I’m probably not in the right headspace to start anything serious. Vision just broke up with me like a month ago.” 

You are starting to feel like you were gathering up courage for no reason, Wanda not letting you speak and stepping on every butterfly that had flapped its wings in your stomach with every word she says. “I came here to take my mind off of it and like magic, you appeared at the door- the perfect distraction.”

That is the blow to the gut you thought you could forget. You thought Clint was the one with perfect aim but Wanda impresses you with her accuracy, choosing the exact word that kills the last bit of hope left in you. On her side of things, Wanda thinks she is doing the right thing even though it kills her to push aside her feelings. Wanda thinks she is sparing you from having to turn her down again and sparing her feelings from having to hear you reject her once more. 

“So don’t worry about the fair. I can definitely say I was not thinking about Vision on the ferris wheel. You are most welcome to do it again anytime.” Wanda forces out a laugh. You didn’t think the sound that would always make you smile would ever make you want to cry. No, you were not going to cry about a girl, especially in front of said girl no less. 

You are angry with yourself. Angry for being so silly as to think this wouldn’t happen. You really played yourself here believing she would be nothing like Skye. It’s not Wanda’s fault. You know this. Still, you can’t help but place some blame on her, her and her stunning smile and her witty remarks and her gorgeous hair and her soft hands that would hold yours or playfully punch you when you joke around. You are angry and upset, and there are normal ways to deal with those emotions. You could yell, you could cry, you could mope and eat all the ice cream you wish, you could even, god forbid, go for a run, but all of those options are too rational for someone with impulsive tendencies. 

Instead, you blink away the tears that were forming, from anger or sadness you don’t know, and move exceptionally closer to Wanda reaching out to run your fingers through her hair. Her breath catches as she watches your eyes take in every inch of her face with a look she can’t quite place. Her heartbeat paces quickly when she catches your eyes glancing down to her lips and then coming back up to peer into her eyes.

“Friends kiss friends all the time, right?”

You hardly give Wanda any time to nod before you crash your lips onto hers. This time you give her time to respond and the second you feel her kissing you back, you push her to lie on her back. 

If a distraction is what she wants, you’ll show her just how distracting you can be.

______________________________________________________________________

One eternity later... je suis retournée! Thank you kind person who asked about me. I’ve been busy with school stuff but I’m done and graduating in two days so I finally have time to get back to this. So next update will probably be Sunday or Monday. Two more chapters left. 

Next chapter: ;) (aka writer struggles to describe things having no experience of doing such things)

Taglist: @madamevirgo @marvels-writings @gayarchnemissis @myperfectlovepoem @purplemeetsblue @magicallymaximoff @b0mbdotc0m @helloalycia @ironscarletwidowsoilder @cantcontroltheirfear @trikruismybitch @your-my-mission @imagine-reblog @fayhar @idek-5 @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo @bemyvitamin

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you

[wincore]

atlas | kim dongyoung

pairing: doyoung x reader

words: 15.4k

summary: kim doyoung has a lot of titles. student body president, music club president, favourite student of every professor who’s blessed enough to have him. in other words, he’s not your type and never will be. at least he’s a good kisser.

or, you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and you do not know how to hold things as delicate as glass.

genre: college au, fwb au, hurt/comfort, angst, some fluff 

warnings: very suggestive content, making out, language, smoking, alcohol, mentions of sex under influence, me being pretentious,,

prompt: anonymous said: slippery + doyoung + "you can rely on me, you know." from the first dialogue link! LOVE YOU ❤️

song rec(s): playlist here !

a/n: yes it’s me experimenting out of my comfort zone again. yes you are required by law to listen to keshi while reading this hahahaha anyway writing this was painful. <3 (aka today i tried writing very complex human emotions and failed again. classic.)

In the beginning, there was no beginning. Ergo, this isn’t really a thing.

You shouldn’t be thinking of summer in Introduction to Latin. You are a good (perhaps great, if your ego allows) student after all. Here you are, though, listening to the ticking of the clock and wondering if you sigh loud enough, you won’t have to construct another sentence with the word for ‘death’. You pause to tell yourself that you shouldn’t be thinking of summer out of class either. Unremarkable; that's what it was and you don’t like unremarkable things.

When two people end up alone together, there’s not much to make of. 

“You know,” he had said, locking eyes. “We should get out of here.”

“And then what?”

“Fuck.”

So here’s the thing: this isn’t and won’t be a thing.

Doyoung has never been subtle when drunk, you found out, and he’s not as gentle as he looks. You flip the page of your notebook absentmindedly. You don’t like where your thoughts are going; the clinking of ice against glass rings in your ears again. It’s been far too long (one whole month) and you’re craving a bit of fun. You may forget yourself but you’re reaching your fingertips a little too far to call him again. More excuses pop up. See, in your world of perfection, there’s a hierarchy of things; men rank rather low. 

(Fun doesn’t.)

Here’s another thing: you forget yourself quite often. You know very well that you’re the one who continued this not-thing and now you’re daydreaming of Kim Doyoung in class hours. 

And under grey bed sheets with a tired smile, Doyoung is hard to forget. 

It was a party, it always is. That time, however, was the first party of the year Doyoung and you happened to be attending at the same time. You can’t remember who hosted it—the frat probably—but it was at a bar called the ‘The Meeting Place’ which had too many people you didn’t care about. Doyoung was there, in his laid-back glory, and you were drawn in far too easily. Being single did not help your case—and the alcohol certainly didn’t. You’re not sure if it was the gentle touches against your wrist or quick words that left his mouth or the attractive all-black get-up. All you know is that it was your mouth against his by the end of the night in a small booth, hot and impatient. Once, twice, thrice and you didn’t even need parties anymore. 

It’s not like you weren’t aware of what you were doing; it’s just that you were quick to give in—like you didn’t want to resist in the first place. And now, summer smells like Doyoung’s perfume. 

The first night had given Mr. Student Body President a near-stroke. You weren’t the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men at parties either so the morning had been full of awkward explanations to each other till you’d kissed him to shut him up (much like in a disgusting romantic comedy, minus the feelings) and somehow, it worked. He didn’t refuse and if you recall, he’d eventually pulled you closer by the waist.

You huff, twirling your pen. He’d never admit it.

You didn’t kiss so sloppily after that, unless it was to make out against a wall or while fumbling with the keys to your apartment. The lack of alcohol can bring wonders. You were a little surprised that he’d agreed—he is the Doyoung you’ve known since freshman year after all; blunt, rude, cares more for his grades than he’d ever for you. How laughable. He’s almost the same as you.

Here’s one last thing: Kim Doyoung is not and cannot be your type. 

You had the same part-time job in your second semester at a local fast food joint, and to summarize, your interactions were less than friendly. You can’t possibly count the number of times he yelled at you for trivial mistakes, and the number of times you sent angry, clipped sentences his way. So, yes, neither of you have told anyone—just acting friendly got you enough eyebrow raises.  If there’s anything worse than contradicting yourself almost directly, it’s having to explain that to your friends. So, you kept it a secret and so did he, for his own reasons.

You massage your forehead. If you think any more of this during class hours, you’re going to have to classify this as a terrible, terrible problem; like you don’t have enough already. You tune in to the lecture again, hoping it drowns out the rest of your thoughts. 

You tap your pen against the desk till you’re asked to stop by the professor. There goes your last resort. It isn’t the first time, but you breathe a sigh of relief at the hands of the clock. Casual means casual—you know it better than anyone. Maybe it would be easier if you could be more open about it. But you can’t. Your own problems aside, Doyoung would kill you if his reputation went down, even a nick. Men like that are so difficult, you curse to yourself. 

You run into Ten in the hallways, brightening at his absurdly wide grin. In fact, you haven’t seen him remotely upset since freshman year, when he couldn’t join the dance club, not because he failed the audition but because he mixed up the dates and missed it entirely. (It’s okay; he got in the next year.)

“Guess what!” he yells before you’re even in conversation range.

“What?” you yell back.

“No, guess,” he says, when you’re close enough.

You roll your eyes. “You scored a date?”

Ten deadpans. “No. I don’t even want one.”

“Loser.”

“No, you.”

“How clever.”

Ten flicks your forehead with no provocation whatsoever, making you yelp in pain. After a minute of cursing on your part, he squishes your cheeks to bring you back to reality—like he wasn’t the cause. You bite your lip to keep yourself from scowling. His hair is still light brown from the bleach, and you fix his bangs out of habit; your dumb friends are all you have at the end of the day. You sigh. They all lean on you unwittingly.

“Anyway, the news? I’m not guessing anything else,” you warn, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Well,” he draws out the syllable. “I heard- know you’re into the smart type. You know, student council kinda guys? So…”

You choke, the coffee leaving your mouth just as quick as it entered.

“Who told you that?” The laugh that leaves your mouth is forced and certainly fake but it’s the best you can do.

Ten rolls her eyes, still smiling. “I was thinking if you would be interested in a certain Park Hyungmin.”

Oh. Student body vice-president. He’s most definitely your type, with a gifted body and equally strong academic prowess—not to mention perfectly maintained tan skin and the most radiant smile you’ve ever seen in your life. 

“Oh, yeah, he’s hot,” you nod in agreement. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“He likes you. Like, totally has the hots for you. And I owe him so please help me out here.”

You furrow your brows, heaving a deep sigh.

“You...want me to go on a date with him?” you ask. 

You can oblige. Park Hyungmin is the hottest dude on campus (probably). It’s a win-win situation—in fact, it’s even better. A certain bitter taste finds itself in your mouth. It must be the coffee. You swallow it. 

“Yeah.”

And the deal’s done.

It was casual commitment, like most things you do for fun. You don’t think much of it, and the thought takes its final bow when you run into Doyoung himself.

Well, sort of.

You turn heel when he appears in your line of sight, pretending to fix your hair against a damn wall. You aren’t quite ready to face him yet, considering the coffee hasn’t kicked in—it’s not healthy how much you depend on it. Dependence is different, however, from consciously drowning yourself in it. 

See, Doyoung is anything but tolerable without a few shots of vodka. Or after sex. Or when he’s mumbling in his sleep. And you can’t erase any of those scenes. This is you trying to save yourself (and Doyoung) from embarrassment and a whole lot of explanation.

His coat looks expensive and you’d rather he had it on instead of on his arm. The tucked-in sweater and pants combo accentuates the line of his waist and the colour—you wonder where he found a teal so fitting—looks serene in the crowd. He’s wearing his glasses though, looking a little less put together than usual. Still, no one seems to notice and he continues to explain something to his group of friends.

God forbid you find Doyoung attractive during daytime.

His lips are chapped but pink as ever, the hair messed up by either the wind or his friends—you should stop staring by now. You give in. You’ll text him to book a hotel room tonight.

Sometimes you wonder how he has that large a friend circle, and always, the question answers itself. Eloquence, wit and regrettably, good looks—what does he lack? Maybe if he lost the habit to nag people around fifty-six times a day, he’d be the perfect man.  

An arm slings over your shoulder, punting the soul right out of your body.

“Fuck, Johnny, don’t do that,” you hiss, placing your hand over your chest involuntarily. 

The head of the photography club apparently spends his time terrorizing everyone he remotely knows. You make a foul expression but iIt’s not like he ever minds your scowling. He says he’s had enough practice from teasing Doyoung (and you’ll admit, it’s the only time you feel sorry for him). You were certain Doyoung would have filed him for harassment sometime in sophomore year. 

“What are you even looking at?” Johnny asks, raising an eyebrow at the plain offwhite expanse of the wall in front of you.

You feel hot at the neck. “I was fixing my hair.”

“In front of a wall?”

You click your tongue. “Do you not have class?”

“Oh, don’t be so quick to send me off.” He places a hand over his chest in mock hurt, fingers stretched delicately. 

To your dismay, the rest of his friends gather around giving you happy greetings—greetings only carefree college boys are capable of delivering. To your further dismay, Kim Doyoung arches an eyebrow at you, the same way he does on nights you’re doing things less than appropriate to think of in broad daylight.

“Hey, Doyoung, don’t you have anything to say? Or were you too drunk to remember?”

You bite down on your lip a little too hard. Doyoung, on the other hand, looks like he’s just seen God, stammering out a “what?” nevertheless.

“Weren’t you supposed to buy (name) a drink for driving you home that night?”

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat.

Oh, he’s bought you a drink enough times. Summer has waned but whatever thread you tied around your wrists hasn’t. Right now, your guess is that Doyoung has been ensnared in the common ritual for college boys to walk around campus and declare their friend is single just to embarrass him (or by some miracle, score him a date).

Everything, apart from the way you look at Doyoung, feels like a charade. You shake your head with a quick laugh, smacking Johnny in the arm and pay your condolences to Doyoung—keep it light. You’re good at it, or pretending you’re good at it, at the very least.

Doyoung’s gaze on you lingers for a moment and then you breathe. You’re going to be late for class—you offer the classic excuse and you’re out of there. In a way, it’s exciting. You’ve always wanted to have a secret relationship, even if this isn’t a real one. 

Doyoung is like the summer breeze, and you’d like for him to stay that way.

The next time you grace each other’s presence is when Doyoung’s tongue is in your mouth and his hands are running up under your shirt. 

He’s quite a pretty sight—messy hair, red lips and rosy cheeks. He moans into the kiss as he has quite a few times now and there’s the lovers’ high running through either of your minds. When he presses his lips to your neck, a soft restrained sound escapes you, not quite prepared for the sting of electricity through your skin. He moves to your collarbone and shoulders and then even lower, hands gripping your waist tight. The walls do not have ears here; these hotels are cheap but they’re built for privacy and maybe you’ll let yourself believe for once that you can belong to someone.

“Why did you text me in the middle of the goddamn night?” he mutters against the base of your neck.

“You want reasons now?” you whisper, hands running through his hair.

Doyoung has pretty fingers, pressing at the right places and prettier eyes that look at you with something akin to, dare you say it, love. He kisses you like he hasn’t had enough; and it makes you feel important.

He’s even better when he’s annoyed.

You wake up at around five in the morning. Propping yourself up on one arm, you take a moment to look at your partner. It’s easy to make out the line of his nose against the pillow, and if you focus, you can see his lashes against his cheek and his dark mop of hair clinging to his forehead. However gentle the moonlight is, it is kindest on a lover. 

Funny.

Too tired to sneak out, you go back to sleep.

“All I’m saying is that you have too much coffee,” Doyoung complains, slipping on his loose black sweatshirt. “It can’t be good for your health.”

You shake your head, scrolling through your phone as you lay on your belly. You’ve seen this view enough times—his back to you and sitting at the opposite edge of the bed, his incessant complaints and opinions about something that happened recently, running his hand through his hair when he sighs. You press on the calendar app and type in a note labeled ‘x’. Keeping tabs isn’t a bad thing; especially if you like order. Spending too many nights with someone is going to land you in trouble. That said, if you could trap love in a bottle, you would.

“You taste like coffee,” Doyoung adds with reddening ears.

Sometimes, it’s easy to ignore what he says if you listen to the sound of his voice instead. You sit up, scooting closer as Doyoung shoots you an alarmed look. He’s so cute like this; something about all the painted fences he puts up around him makes you want to lean in closer.

“So,” you poke his side. “How many relationships have you been in? Proper ones.”

“Three,” he answers, to your surprise.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “That’s more than I’ve been in!”

Doyoung furrows his. “How many have you been in?”

“One.”

He seems equally surprised but doesn’t probe further. After all, the price sticker that spells ‘youth’ clings to his forehead just as it clings to yours. 

“How many people have you fucked?” you ask suddenly, enjoying the visible flush across his neck.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he notes, flicking your forehead.

“Ow!” You place your palm against your forehead. “Okay, I get it, you have nothing to brag about.”

He shakes his head, an exasperated sigh leaving him. “I just don’t think you have to know. I like privacy.”

“Wait.” You gasp. “Don’t tell me- That night- don’t tell me you were a virgin—”

Doyoung squishes your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, a laugh erupting from your mouth. 

“Who’s a virgin?”

Nothing about this, you find yourself realizing, is complicated. It’s easy, gentle, natural, like a breath of fresh air—everything but complicated. Even under dim lights and within the depths of night, Doyoung is warm and uncomplicated. His chest, his hands, his lips—they are warm, as are his words. 

But Doyoung is a fucking fairytale.  

Even after these few months, all you know about him, in the definitive format, is that he plays the keys for more hours than he sleeps. What he does for fun, what his classes are, how he became student body president—you could play guessing games all night.

“Do your friends know where you spend your nights?” you ask, leaning back against the pillows.

“They know what I’m doing, not who I’m with,” he responds, running his fingers through his hair.

You purse your lips. It’s nothing hurtful but you don’t like the hush-hush in his tone.

“Why not?”

“Because this is a secret,” he responds as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Do you want them to know?”

He’s right.

“Ah, whatever,” you mutter, a stream of curses following when your elbow collides hard with the edge of the bedside table. 

“Your mouth is filthy.” He looks away to his phone. “I don’t swear as much.”

“Well, of course it is. I had your—”

Doyoung presses his palm against your lips with a tired sigh. “Please. Don’t speak. For the sake of my sanity.”

You smile under his hand and he returns it; and the November morning warms up.

“Where were you last night?”

You were expecting the question. Areum is the worst possible candidate for a roommate if you want some privacy. You don’t think she ever sleeps; sometimes, you wonder if she even showers because all she does is stare at her laptop screen and adjust her designs. Her lips are always chapped and her hair is always in a simple low ponytail but somehow still messy. You’ve never met someone so exhausted yet so full of life at the same time.

“Who were you with last night?” Eunji yells from the bathroom, before the two of them laugh.

You knew you shouldn’t have stayed the morning. You have the nosiest roommates anyone could (not) ask for. But they’re still your friends, you tell yourself begrudgingly. You would tell them about Doyoung if it weren’t for Eunji’s big mouth and Areum’s lack of common sense. And if it weren’t for the inherent comfort of privacy.

(Some part of you wants to keep him to yourself. You don’t care about student council president Doyoung or his friend group’s everything-regulator Doyoung or always-has-his-shit-together Doyoung. The one in your bed is the most loving.)

Areum adjusts her glasses, narrowing her eyes at you. “So? Any answer?”

You break out of your daydream at her voice, feeling a flush creep up your neck.

“I don’t have to explain anything,” you retort, snatching the coffee she brewed from the tabletop. “It was a Friday night and the two of you like Netflix more than me.”

“That’s mine,” Areum mumbles out a weak complaint.

“But don’t go out alone,” Eunji whines. “It can’t be safe.”

You laugh. “You know me. I don’t do anything too dangerous. Besides, you guys have that tracker app.”

They shrug, offering you a thin smile. A part of you is happy that they trust you but another part wonders what it would be like to be worried over. Maybe getting nagged isn’t so bad. 

You take a sip of Areum’s coffee and almost spit it out right back. 

“Did you add salt?” you ask, wiping at your mouth and hoping the taste disappears.

“Uh.” A reply so intelligent, you wonder if she ever pays attention to anything she's doing. 

You take a moment (a few), sigh (several times) and make your way to the shelves. Grumbling, you make her a proper cup of coffee before you leave.

Classes don’t wait for you (even if you think they should) and the world doesn’t wait for you (again, you think it should wait for people) so you’ve made it a point to understand the whole deal about rules. If everyone followed the rules, it would be quite a pretty scene; messing up is only valid if it’s done prettily. You laugh at the thought. That’s near impossible. The bus ride to the campus consists of music and thoughts of bleak tomorrows—an average commute for college kids, you think. You sure hope you aren’t alone in this.

Doyoung smiles at you in the hallway today, and despite your best efforts, it makes your day smell a little fresher.

Your day: classes, coffee break, classes, complaining with Ten, assignments, ‘me’ time. For someone who pretends to be laid back, you use your planner as though for survival. There’s no sticky notes or colourful sketches (except on occasion); just good old fashioned to-do lists and a calendar marked with time you’ve spent on productivity. Every day is a list to be completed. If people call routine a man-made cage, instinct is the biological cage. You’d rather be in control of the cage you’re in. You’d rather be in control of yourself. It’s scary otherwise.

So you know how to get the job done—it’s ingrained into you the same way you would place your hands over your ears at loud sounds, or the way you would run to your bed in the dark after switching off the lights.

It never occurs to you that the reason your world is so perfect is a sad one.

Sometime next month, it’s going to snow. Not yet though, and it’s still too cold.

The inside of the cafe helps the slightest, the heaters situated far back from where you sit. Christmas decorations are up already and the combination of red and green meshes delightfully into the form of an aching headache. The wood paneling on the walls are worn at the corners, the garlands hardly covering them, and the barista behind the counter seems as gloomy as the decorations are bright. You wouldn’t be noticing all of this if you weren’t stuck in one position.

You lean your cheek further into your palm and sigh, only this time Ten asks you to, quote, ‘shut the fuck up’.

He pulls up his sleeve and reaches for another pencil. His cryptic process continues, as it has been for the past half an hour and you feel yourself getting impatient, trying to not bounce your leg and get another bout of quibbling from your half-mad artist friend. You don’t usually run low on patience; but Ten has a special pass to test drive it.

“How much lon—”

“Shh!” He hushes you quickly. You can’t remember why you agreed to being his portrait study subject but you sure as hell regret it.

Around fifteen minutes later, you take a (permitted) breath. You have neither the energy nor the neck strength to glare at Ten but you make sure to show your displeasure by snatching the cookies from the table with a particularly sour look. He gets up and pushes you to the side of the small worn-out couch offered by the equally small booth.

“God, that chair was uncomfortable. My butt is frozen solid,” he lets you know, and you roll your eyes.

“You know, if we weren’t friends in high school, I would never be friends with you,” you state.

Ten tilts his head to the side, a mocking pout over his lips. “I would die without you, (name). Really.”

You smack his arm and he yelps, smacking your arm right back. The sound attracts some attention and giggles, and you make a gagging gesture to let them know you are in way or form in a relationship. The low-volume music changes to something with a more distinguishable beat, the sound of doors opening and closing almost every two minutes accompanying. Arriving on time is an accomplishment, especially arriving before rush hour on Fridays at the only decent cafe on campus, but both of your classes end early and there is no way you aren’t taking advantage of that. Leaving, however, is mostly done when you’re being glared at by the waiters and waitresses.

“Doyoung asked about you,” Ten says, all of a sudden. “Kim Doyoung.”

You try to not show concern, but raise an eyebrow. “What? So? He’s not my type or anything.”

You bite your tongue. That was too quick a response, too obvious. Your cheeks grow hot. Ten doesn't say anything, however, and for a moment, you think you’re in safe waters. 

“Are you guys… into each other or not?”

You cough, trying to show your surprise at something so outrageous. “Why would you think that? Does he look like someone who dates around?”

“Actually, he’s been on quite a few dates.”

“No way.”

You know that. He’s told you about it before, in vague references, but you know about them nonetheless.

“Isn’t one student council guy enough?” you mumble. “Why are we talking about Doyoung?”

He shrugs, a familiar feline smile on his face. “Just asking. He talks about you sometimes. Actually, we forced it out of him but whatever.”

You shake your head. “You’re all terrible.”

“You seem to like him though.”

“Who said that?”

Ten sighs, ignoring your question. “If you guys are dating—”

“We’re not.”

“—or fucking—”

“Ten.”

“—you should learn a thing or two about him. The guy’s not as annoying as he looks. Or stuck-up. He’s really nice but don’t tell him I said that.”

“I know that,” you snap, feeling warm at the neck all of a sudden. “I know him.”

“Oh, you do? Tell me what his hobbies are then. Or his major. Or the clubs he’s in, apart from the student council.”

“He- He likes to sing and he’s- he’s—god, what is this? An interrogation? I’m not going to meet his mom for dinner.”

Ten gives you an ‘I knew it’ look before leaning his elbow onto the table. “You’re sleeping with a guy you don’t know anything about. Serial killers would love you.”

You massage your forehead. “Look, I know he’s a good guy, okay? And he’s sweet- and- and—wait a minute. Oh my god, you tricked me.”

Ten lets out a snort. “Hey. Okay, look, the other guys might be dumb as shit but I have, you know, a working set of eyes. I can tell. It’s not that hard.”

You grumble but the cat’s out of the bag anyway. You should’ve known Ten would figure it out—he’s a nosy little shit, and he’s been that way since high school.

“Whatever. As long as Doyoung doesn’t start panicking about his tarnished reputation or whatever.”

“Oh, I think he’s desperate to let everyone know.”

“To you, Ten, everything seems obvious. It’s annoying.” You mess up his hair.

“No, I mean, I thought you were dating.”

“Well, we’re not.”

Ten shrugs. 

“And I don’t like him,” you add. “I like the- the thing that’s going on because there’s no feelings attached.”

He looks somewhat pained, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, but doesn’t respond to your explanation. “Can I ask for a favour?”

“No.”

Ten sighs. “Come on. You didn’t even hear me out.”

“You’re going to say something stupid. Or insulting.”

“It’s neither, promise.”

You run your hand through your hair, breathing shallow. “Fine. I don’t have to agree though.”

Ten purses his lips. “It’d be better if you did.”

You hum in response, biting into the cookie and trying to ignore the glare from the nearby waitress. It’s about time you left anyway.

“Get to know him, dude. Don’t break his heart.”

“What?”

“Just kidding. There’s a party tonight. Hosted by yours truly. Finally moved out of that stinky dorm room. Bring over some friends but not more than three. And lend me some money for a juicebox.”

“That’s a lot,” you mutter. “You ask for a lot of favours.”

“Oh, speaking of which, Hyungmin—”

“He already asked me out on a date. Am I supposed to say no? You never mentioned he has such an attractive voice.”

“Oh, I’m not telling you to not go on that date. You have to, actually. I’m going to be in a lot of trouble otherwise.”

“That sounds good to me.”

“Shut up. I’m not done speaking.”

You roll your eyes.

“But if you didn’t, I could draw some conclusions.”

“What am I, your chemistry experiment now?”

“Well, you and Doyoung seem to be—”

“Don’t complete that sentence.”

“I was going to say something funny.” 

Ten flashes you a blinding smile and you sigh. By now, you’re about to get kicked out of here so you stand up discreetly while he packs up his stuff. You hug your jacket close to you as soon as you leave, shivering at the evening breeze. The sky is inky, but with a faint sort of ink—deep blue and light, all at once. From the crowd, you can tell classes just got over for quite a few people, eclectic chatter filling up the street.

“Fine. I’ll bring Eunji,” you tell Ten after some contemplation. “And whoever else responds to my text first. Areum never leaves the room. You know that.”

“Thanks, (name)!” he messes up your hair. “I would give you a kiss but someone will end up punching my pretty face.”

You furrow your brows. “Well, you’re not my type anyway.”

“I’m too good for you,” he responds in a sing-song manner, waving at you before running off and disappearing into the university crowd.

There’s always a sort of buzz in the air you can’t quite describe at college parties.

Even if this is a relatively small one, you feel an oncoming headache the moment you enter Ten’s new apartment, which you’re sure had a ‘no parties’ rule in the rental contract. You spot Kun, Ten’s roommate from the dorms and he flashes you a quick smile in greeting before he’s swept up by a doting crowd. Apparently, a cute guy in animal sciences is rare and it makes him rather popular.

Eunji disappears from your side the moment she spots Johnny, and the number of eye rolls you’ve given her haven’t warned her off him yet. You suppose it takes heartbreak to change a person. Sighing, you make your way to the kitchen only to be greeted with the strange sight of Yuta trying to balance Jaehyun on his back so they can imitate some anime formation and back out immediately. Living room, it is, despite its populous space. (You don’t really want to think of bedrooms right now.)

The apartment is quite big for what Ten told you the rent was. The hallway to the two bedrooms is narrow but you suppose something has to be sacrificed for space. You furrow your eyebrows at the two bedroom doors. Ten never said he was getting a roommate. You shrug it off, sitting down on the rather stiff couch. The lack of furniture, apart from the couch and a coffee table, makes the place look even larger and people sparse. You like the beige walls; Ten’s always loved warmer colours but something makes you think he’s going to be ruining them in a few days with garish green paint before he comes crying about that to you.

“Hey.”

You look up to the familiar voice, heart rising to your throat.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Doyoung remarks before sitting down beside you and offering you a cup of god-knows-what.

“I don’t take drinks from strange men,” you say, biting down your smile and crossing your arms.

“If you didn’t take drinks from strange men, we wouldn’t be fu—”

“Doyoung!” you hiss before looking at him with careful suspicion. “Are you drunk?”

“No. A little bit. Not enough.”

You sigh. “How will you get home now?”

“I live here, idiot.”

“You’re- You’re Ten’s roommate?” you sputter.

“Yeah. New one,” he responds. “He used to live across our room in the dorms, I can’t believe I actually agreed to this.”

“I can’t believe it either. I’ve seen cats and dogs friendlier with each other than the two of you.”

Doyoung laughs. “He’s surprisingly one of the better people to room with. I’d rather eat my own blanket than room with Yuta again.”

You laugh at his irked expression, eyebrows furrowed so cutely. The line of his brow bone to nose to lips, it seems a little too perfect to belong to someone. He relaxes his shoulders a little, leaning back on the couch as he looks somewhat lost in thought. (“You think too much,” you’d told him once. “And you think too little.”) If only that were true, you smile to yourself.

“Are you sure you can hold parties here?” you as when the music suddenly rises in volume.

“Well, it said student-friendly,” Doyoung responds, looking visibly disturbed. “Not sure if I want to test the limits of that so early.”

There’s a pause, filled in with loud pop music. You don’t think Ten, your dear introvert, would have agreed to such a party but there’s a chance Johnny or Jaehyun had something to do with this. You don’t know who to suspect when it comes to their group of friends.

“I still can’t believe you’re rooming with Ten.” You look at Doyoung.

“Well, that makes, what, eleven of us, I guess?”

You laugh, feeling conscious all of sudden. Maybe you should listen to Ten’s advice.

“Doyoung,” you call, looking at the cup in your hands a little too passionately. “What’s your major?”

He looks at you with eyes widened ever so slightly, and a pause over his lips.

“Linguistics,” he answers.

“Oh. You said something about it once,” you mumble, recalling something vague about an assignment of his. “You know mine?”

“Yeah,” he answers, eyes cast on his watch.

“Well, that makes me feel a little guilty,” you mumble as softly as you can.

“You should be,” he says. “You never listen to anything I say.”

You scoff. “You just complain most of the time.”

“Really now?”

“Yes,” you snap, looking away.

You look back again when you hear the sound of Doyoung’s laugh, a distinct brightness in it. Sometimes, you wonder if you really are as awful as you’ve made yourself be.

“You’re cute,” he says. “No wonder everyone is so in love with you.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you.

“Everyone?” you laugh. You don’t care about everyone. It’s burdensome.

“Everyone. They hate you too, by the way.” He smiles to himself. “Heard you’re going on a date with that dimwit. Hyungmin.”

You feel a sudden discomfort in your being. Taking a sip of the drink, you try to shake it off as best as you can. 

“Yeah, I- I don’t think I’ll go,” you say, waving it off. 

Why are you lying? You left it hanging on a maybe. Part of you wants to tell Doyoung; he is your friend after all and you tell friends stuff like this. The other part tells you this is cheating; lying and pretending everything is okay—it feels like cheating. 

“Oh.” He looks lost before he focuses on you. “Why not?”

“Why do you care?” you ask, trying desperately to calm the uprising in your chest.

He stays quiet for a few seconds and then shrugs, looking away from you. It makes you feel a little guilty to dismiss the situation so quickly, another item to add to your troubles. You sigh.

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right.” You can see his Adam's apple bob up and down.

“I’m not,” you say. “I’m wrong. I really didn’t mean it.”

He looks at you all at once, his gaze so gentle that it makes you think he wants to kiss you, or do something equally affectionate. Instead he sighs, downing whatever’s left of his drink before a wash of sudden looseness does away with the tension in his body.

“You have any more questions for me?” he asks, smiling. “What's it like to be student body president—or, or what instruments can I play? My favourite animal? Colour?”

You smile back. “What is your favourite animal?”

“I don’t have one. Don’t like them. Unless it’s a soft toy.”

“No way. You’re lying.”

“Now, I answer your questions and you call me a liar? Makes me a little hesitant to answer the next.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, next then. Why didn’t you join the frat? All your friends are in it.”

“Hurts my ego.”

You laugh. He’s still probably an honorary member. There is no way he’s apart from friends for too long with all those feelings of fraternity he has, no matter what he says. It’s the same as you. Affection leads nowhere though; just to short-lived moments of comfort.

You realize, through the course of the night, that you never asked. How he got into the student council, what his classes are, what he does for fun—you never asked. It’s almost like you didn’t want to know. 

How sad, you muse to yourself, to be this way. To be so wrapped up in your own problems that you fail to see people around you. Pity, however, isn’t something to feel at a party. You talk with Doyoung for the rest of the night till the sound of his voice makes you feel certain ghosts of butterflies, and till you have to take Eunji home before she does something she regrets. This is what it really means to have the price tag of ‘youth’ strung across you perhaps—when you feel old and immature all at once, and in between, when you feel nothing at all.

Doyoung is too old to mistake love. Or too young. 

Labels don’t define anything, especially when it comes to relationships—so even if he calls it love, whispers it to himself at midnight when he’s sitting alone on his bed while his friends are passed out drunk on the floor, it is empty. And then there’s you. The heat of your skin, the curse of your smile and that cheeky laugh you do to get on his nerves. He wants all of it and he’s not ashamed—but he’d be a liar to say he can shout it to the whole world. He’s not that kind of man, and what is his can remain his without the rest of the world prying its damn fingers in. The first night, no, the second—third? He can’t remember which night it was but something pent up in him exploded and he didn’t try to control it for once.

“Ow,” he mutters.

His throat burns from the whiskey. He hates drinking alone but you’re either asleep or with friends and he can’t think of anyone else but you. He tugs at the turtleneck collar, getting uncomfortable by the minute, and then proceeds to take off his coat.

For a moment, he considers getting back to the living room. There were more than enough people with lingering touches against his shoulder and longing gazes—they’re not you. He leans back onto his bed. Another hour and everyone will be gone; why did he even let them hold a party in the first place? Parties just remind him of you—he takes a whiff and smells summer and lemon vodka all of a sudden. A deep sigh leaves his lips.

You might not seem to find yourself especially sad, but Doyoung finds something oddly touching about you. Maybe it’s the way you say his name, he muses, like you’re desperately trying to fill the gaps. But it can’t be him in particular, of course—it’s a lover, any lover.

He hates long nights, just as he hates winter but lately, they haven’t been feeling too cold. Isn’t it ridiculous the way he’s running after you? Doyoung was never meant for this. It’s fucking pathetic and it makes him want to tear all his hair out but there he is, still and quiet in the same place. A certain agony makes its way through him. His hands are freezing and yet his insides are burning—nothing makes sense and right now, he doesn’t want it to. He presses his cold hands to the warmth of his cheeks and a laugh erupts from his mouth.

He must be going crazy to laugh like this in an empty room. The car lights from the window travel slowly from wall to ceiling, the only thing moving in the stagnant of his room.

Inevitably, he thinks of the end. It should come quick; in fact, he’s never been one to do this. He’s always been someone to get attached to people. He doesn’t know how the end will come because this shouldn’t have begun in the first place.

Doyoung’s out of breath.

“Crazy bastard,” he mumbles to himself, followed by a groan when he lifts his head up. As if on cue, the door opens and shuts with a bang. Ten walks in looking drowsy, running his hand through his hair with a disgruntled face.

“I hate to say this,” he slurs. “But you’re right. We can’t have extra furniture and parties. Gotta choose one.”

Ten lays down flat on the bed. “I vote out that ugly ass clock you bought. Why do we need it? We have phones and laptops.”

“It was a gift,” Doyoung mutters.

“Oh. Uh. Actually, someone already, uh—”

“Leave it. We’ll talk about that in the morning.” 

Doyoung massages his forehead, groaning at the pain when Ten suddenly decides he’s all up for cuddling. 

“Ew,” he says, scooting away from Ten. “Get away from me.”

“You don’t mean that,” Ten whines, trying very hard to pull Doyoung into a hug. Of course, his attempts are blocked by Doyoung’s palm against his forehead.

After a few more seconds of trying, Ten huffs and turns away, crossing his arms. “I don’t like you anyway.”

“I know,” Doyoung mutters.

Ten erupts into laughter, sounding more like a psychopath than a close friend of his.

“You do that every time you like someone?” he asks in between fits.

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “I just said—okay, yeah. Whatever.”

There’s a much needed silence and Doyoung wonders if he can just fall asleep without kicking Ten out.

“You should tell (name),” Ten says all of a sudden, Doyoung’s heart stopping at your name.

“What?” he whispers.

Ten looks at him as though he’s talking to a particularly stupid child. It makes Doyoung scowl but there’s too much alcohol in his system to know if he really means it.

“You don’t- you’re- everyone in this goddamn building knows,” Ten explains, exasperated. “Jaehyun knows, and he’s the densest kid I’ve ever met. God, if you like (name), go for it.”

Doyoung blushes so deep, he considers pressing his palms to his cheeks again. He thinks for the next few moments. Ah well, if they had to find out, he’s glad he didn’t have to declare it himself.

“Whatever, just ask (name) out. It can’t be that complicated.”

Except it is. You don’t have to spell it out for him—he knows the way you feel. The two of you only ever wanted one thing out of this. But if there’s something Doyoung isn’t good at, it’s keeping his mouth shut. He wonders how many times he let it slip, wonders if you even care enough to notice. God, it’s starting to sound pitiful for him.

“Ten. How much did you drink?” Doyoung asks, raising his head.

“Nothing. None. I’m not drunk.” Ten shrugs. “Just sleepy.”

A ‘wow’ is all Doyoung can respond with. He still isn’t quite finished figuring out what sort of horrific planet Ten stumbled from. A notification ding distracts him from kicking Ten off his bed and he has half a mind to toss it onto the bedside table but it’s still half. He softens almost immediately.

It’s a text from you: a ‘u’ followed by a smiley face and then a meme he can’t quite read through hazy eyes. He finds himself smiling anyway and sends a barrage of emojis, whatever he finds because he likes the way you get annoyed at them. Sighing, he decides that’s enough. He’s not in the right state of mind for conversation.

Doyoung shuts his phone off, attempts to push Ten off the bed one last time before closing his eyes and dozing off.

Not every day is meant to be fun—you know that in your twenties—but it’s still somewhat disappointing to have bad days. Like youth is meant to give you some sort of happiness daily. That’s what they make it sound like.

You groan, rubbing at your back. Sitting at your study desk for so long does not have good long term effects. At least, your temporary, meaningless assignments are done. You scowl at the text on your laptop screen; the more you look at it, the more you hate it and so, you shut it off. It’s not like your pissy professor is going to be impressed by anything you do. However, you like the orderly certainty of schoolwork.

Break time consists of guilt and sugary snacks. You’re done with most everything and you suppose leaving the final review of things to a later date can’t hurt. In fact, it sounds rather appeasing. A few more moments pass in making a decision.

You get dressed. The apartment feels eerie all alone, and you’re sure as hell not going to spend the rest of your evening here. You shiver, quickly striding out the front door and locking it before taking out your phone.

People misunderstand winter. Winter is only the end of things; and sometimes, the beginning. It isn’t cruel or crushing, it’s just taking its course. However, you have a tendency to blame seasons for all that happen in it. For instance, you shouldn’t be missing summer when you really miss the first night with Doyoung. 

He picks up after calling thrice. You wonder what he’s even up to, if Saturday evenings are also booked full for such a guy.

“Why do you take so long to pick up?” you complain. “Do you not get days off?”

“I’m busy,” he hisses. 

Something’s wrong.

You pause, unsure what to do. It’s not his voice but the one in the background that catches your attention. 

Inviting him somewhere. 

Rather sensually.

Your ears feel hot and you drop the call. Of course. Of fucking course. You’re the idiot thinking it was a thing. This whole thing is casual—feeling sorry wasn’t in the contract. Fucking around was.

It’s not like you’ll be heartbroken by something like this. Of course not. Of course. Doyoung and you never had a beginning so there isn’t an end, really. It’s fine. It’s fine. You take a deep breath and browse through your phone. With the onset of Christmas holidays, you have around three options left. Ten (yikes), Jaehyun (no way) or the latest addition, Hyungmin.

Well, you’re dressed. You have to go somewhere. And your statement about Hyungmin being the hottest guy on campus still stands.

You send two texts to the boy before deciding that’s apparently enough time waiting. He picks up after a few rings, voice groggy from what you assume to be a late afternoon nap.

“You up for a drink?” You cut to the point.

“Uh? Oh, uh, now? I am, of course- I just need—”

“Twenty minutes. I’ll text you the address.”

Nothing cheers you up like your favourite bar. Or friends. Or people who respond to calls.

Hongdae is as busy as ever. You knew the bar would be packed but not this packed. Still, you managed to grab a seat at the bar table. With the oncoming night, the smell is just going to get worse—so there’s nothing wrong with treating yourself to some lemon vodka (and its refreshing scent).

Hyungmin arrives exactly four minutes early, and the mussed up hair makes you think he must have been in a hurry. For what, you can’t be sure. 

You can still see the inklings of Hongdae nightlights on his hair right before he enters, and in the fallacy of that moment, you think it’s going to be Doyoung. You sigh. This isn’t the time for that.

“Sorry,” you say, gesturing to the bar table. “All the tables were booked.”

“No, no,” he responds quickly. “I actually prefer it here.”

He’s tall, not that it’s the first time you’re noticing, but even when he’s sitting, he’s at least two heads taller than you are. His shoulders are accentuated by the mocha coat, no doubt part of the latest trend this winter. As a fashion student, he hits the mark and more. 

For a moment, you feel bad for knowing his major. Ten let it slip about him and yet still, you feel guilty for remembering it. You’re not supposed to go into unnecessary detail about people that don’t matter. Does he matter? 

“Surprised you could make it,” you joke half-heartedly. “Aren’t you lot always busy with something?”

He laughs. “The student council? Oh, we’re busy alright.”

Busy. Right.

“What about you? Aren’t you part of like three different clubs?”

“So what kind of busy?” you ask, ignoring his question. You’re part of two, now that you left the music club last semester. It’s not like small talk matters though.

“Uh,” he hesitates. “You know- attend meetings and events, coordinate committee work, supervise stuff, etcetera etcetera. So busy, yeah.”

“Busy on Saturdays too?” you ask, before thanking the bartender for the drinks.

“Yeah, I guess. Doyoung has it worse than me honestly. Even now, he has to take care of stuff because of me. Hah…”

You gulp down your drink making Hyungmin raise an eyebrow in concern. “Stuff? Because of you?”

“Yeah.” Hyungmin scratches the back of his head. “He’s with the girls.”

“Girls?” you ask, playing with the glass. You’re starting to feel annoyed, red lining your vision.

“Yeah.” He makes no notion of clarifying his statement.  

“Must be quite the president,” you say, resting your cheek against your palm.

“Oh, he’s a nightmare.” Hyungmin laughs. “He has to control everything.”

You try to mask your scoff. You know what he can be like when you’re working beside him. 

“Oh, and the guy has no sense of humour,” Hyungmin laughs, the sound easy on the ears.

You blink.

“I think he’s funny,” you say quickly. You swear you have no idea why you sound so defensive.

He hums in response and you consider biting your tongue, telling him you’re only here for one thing and forgetting the uncomfortable churning of feelings inside your chest.

“Forget I- I’m a little confused today.” 

Is that an acceptable explanation? You can’t think straight enough to decide. The silence on Hyungmin’s part, however, worries you. The crowd around you fills in for the next few moments as your companion seems to debate something with himself.

“Look, I know you and Doyoung are… I don’t know, something.”

You huff in irked amusement. “God, does everyone seem to know?”

“Not until late actually.” Hyungmin takes a gulp. “He’s been acting weird. Doyoung.” 

You look away, breathing shallow. You don’t like it, the way things seem to be getting out of hand. All this time, the world seemed to be in the palm of your hand and now, it’s spilling everywhere; the sand in the hourglass is already up to your knees and you don’t know what happens when it fills.

“Do you actually like him?” he asks, leaning back just a little. You know where this is going. “Are you guys dating?”

“No,” you respond, checking your watch.

“Oh.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation in him but you’ve seen that look before. You know that look.

“Then we can- uh- we can—”

“Fuck?” you ask.

He gulps. “I mean, you can say no any time—”

You pull him by the collar and kiss him, hard enough to melt away your hovering thoughts. He kisses like you expect him to, not how you want him to. You know this sort, and somehow, that makes you feel comfortable. Knowing what you’re getting into is easing but it doesn’t lessen the weight of it.

It’s sickening. The way you’re pretending it’s Doyoung.

Hyungmin pulls apart, panting heavily. “Oh, okay.”

“Tell me you drove here.” 

He holds up his car keys in response.

You’re not the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men, but it’s better than falling in love with them.

So you follow a lover to a hotel room and try to feel something. Some time, when he’s kissing you against the hotel room walls, he pulls apart and asks, “You’re thinking of someone else, aren’t you?”

You know the answer; it just won’t leave your lips.

“It’s okay,” he says with a weak smile, “Let’s just have fun.”

And every time his mouth was on yours, every time you saw stars, you felt the ghost of Doyoung and his haunting touches. It was strange and unfair and unlike you—or at least, unlike the you that you built over the past few years. You feel as though you’ve misplaced something—like something was supposed to be there when you reached out but instead, it was empty space.

The night ends as it should and you leave right before dawn with an apology text you couldn’t put half your heart into.

Most winter nights, you wake up with pain so profound, it’s seeping into your bones.

It never made sense. You never tried to make sense of it. So you let the aches push you down by the shoulders, lodge itself into your neck and back; and you tell yourself, it must be what you deserve. It’s cold and you’re walking barefoot on frozen ground.

You gasp. The weight of who you are and who you have to be—it has its knee on the back of your neck, shoving you into the damp earth. There’s no particular reason to it; it makes it seem as though it’s insignificant. Unimportant. Irrelevant. But that’s the problem—the weight of the world on your shoulders makes no sense. Whose world are you even carrying? Whose approval are you trying to win? You scramble to get up, messing up your bedsheets in the process, and pull your blanket around you. Your own warmth surrounds you and it makes no difference. You frown.

You remember your phone call with your mom, and your lips tremble. You shouldn’t have told her about how crappy your finals went but it slipped. You tried to explain that you did work for them, that you gave it your best but sometimes things don’t work out. She didn’t have to say it out loud for you to hear her thoughts. 

You’re disappointing. 

You wipe at your eyes, feeling annoyed at the emotion. If you could let the ground swallow you whole, you would. In a heartbeat. You don’t even know what you’re doing most of the days despite that pretty planner of yours.

You get out of bed, pull on your cardigan beside the bed and grab your lighter and pack. The tiny balcony makes for a great smoking spot and while you would scold any of your friends for committing to this, you do it yourself. Hypocrite.

For all you try to shove into yourself—hobbies, student clubs, actual clubbing, friends—the more you feel less than enough, as if everything just vanishes into thin air inside you. As if you aren’t enough and never will be. You play by the rules and you lose, you break the rules and you lose. 

Maybe it’s because you let yourself be filled by the intricacies of other people that they like you. And thus, you cannot stop for fear of loneliness.

Just as you’re feeling crushed again, you picture Doyoung against your back, placing his nose in the crook of your neck—something he has never done—and you wonder why it helps. 

Sucking in air too fast, you cough. You shouldn’t have let it go on for so long.

It was fun—harmless fun. You shouldn’t even be thinking of taking a step in some other direction. You’re friends, barely, but you like where you are. If Doyoung was that important, you wouldn’t be going about this all backwards. You sigh, though it comes out jagged. The room is quiet and that’s the way it should be at four a.m, of course, but you crave music all of a sudden. Doyoung and you are just a temporary fix; and you let that thought relax you.

When you think of his chin on your shoulder, however, it feels feather light.

“Why are we doing this?” you ask. 

The atmosphere is warm and toasty, just like you expect it to be in a bakery with light pink doors and a collection of plastic potted plants on display. The decorations aren’t an eyesore here and somehow, it makes you feel better. It’s a little far but you decide it’s worth it.

Doyoung shrugs, sipping his hot chocolate. “It’s Christmas, and we’re both here.”

Your eyes follow the hanging lights over the counter, wrapped in pine tree stickers and eventually to the neat display of a ‘Season’s Greetings’ menu, the contents of which are currently at your table. A Christmas song by some singer who’s been popular lately plays, tunes light and dancing. You hate the end of the year solely because of the extra pressure January brings. Nothing you can’t handle, of course. Nothing you can’t handle.

You sigh. It’s been a little difficult lately.

“Doyoung, really, why are we doing this?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Are you- uh- are you not enjoying this? I could—”

“No! No, it’s not that. I feel better, actually.” You bite your tongue almost immediately after. It’s not like he’s supposed to know the sort of hell week you’re having. A poorly received term paper, finals that weren’t up to your expectations, crippling loneliness without friends and, oh, the self-doubt—you are at the lowest you can be in college. The only sweetener right now is in the hot chocolate and the way Doyoung’s looking at you. 

You feel something close to guilt.

“Good.” He smiles. “You seemed… You seemed a little down.”

The sliver of warmth between your ribs makes you think this is unreal. It feels uneasy to be so affected by someone but you let it slide, turning back to your hot chocolate.

“Why didn’t you go home this time?” you ask, sipping your drink.

“Oh, I didn't really want to face my parents,” he says before leaning. “Didn’t do too well this semester. And my brother’s going to be there with all his achievements.”

You chuckle in disbelief. “You don’t like your brother?”

“I love him to bits. Just can’t stand my mom’s nagging when he’s around.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” You cross your arms, smiling triumphantly. You feel like children squabbling but it’s so lighthearted, you want to laugh.

Doyoung raises a pointed finger, about to retort but nothing comes out. He puts his hand down.

“I guess you’re right.”

You shake your head. “I’m sure she’s proud of you too.”

“I know that,” he says, laughing. “Of course she is. I don’t keep myself busy for nothing.”

You gulp, a sudden sourness rising at the base of your tongue. 

“Busy, huh? Didn’t know spending saturday evenings with girls also counted as busy,” you mutter against the cup, half-hoping he doesn’t hear you.

“What?” There’s a perplexed look across his face.

You wave your hand in dismissal. “Oh don’t mind me.”

“Are you talking about me giving a tour to the fresher girls?” Doyoung leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Hyungmin does that usually but Mr Man was sore from soccer practice and Friday fucking.” 

You blink. “Fresher… girls?”

“What, did you think I was at a brothel?” Doyoung laughs in amusement.

You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “No! No, of course not.”

You wave your hands about for a few more seconds, trying to come up with an explanation. This makes things rather embarrassing.

“Sorry,” you say finally. “I jumped to conclusions.”

Doyoung laughs, rather deep and heartily, and you wonder if your apology really did sound as stupid to him as it did to you. 

“You do that a lot,” he notes.

“Thanks,” you quip, cutting the pastry with your fork a little too forcefully. His laugh follows. (You hate it so much. It sounds like pure adoration.)

The next few moments consist of scrolling through your phones (because Doyoung says his ‘mouth hurts from talking to you’) and you would’ve been in a better state of mind if everyone wasn’t posting pre-Christmas photos with their families. 

“You know they’re opening that park. What’s it called- Winter Wonderland or something. You said you wanted to visit.”

You look up at Doyoung amused.

“Let’s be honest. You want to be in bed, Doyoung,” you say. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care,” he answers, looking at you with his doe eyes. “About you. You sulk when you’re upset.”

“I don’t sulk,” you reply but your smile is obvious when you exit the cafe. 

It’s like a date. The more you think of it that way, the more it makes you smile.

The evening is perfect—orange and pink and loving and happy. Doyoung trails behind you as you tread over the sidewalk with cheeky remarks about his speed.

“I’m in the track club, you know?” he huffs, finally tired of your jabs.

“As what, the start point?”

A fake, sarcastic laugh leaves him. “I wouldn’t get to see you if I walked ahead.”

You feel warmth creep up your face. You mumble, “that’s cheesy.” It’s too weak though, and it goes unheard. 

For the first time, you notice his eyes are a little like yours in what they reflect. You love them. 

So this is where the crowd went. The amusement park, or whatever you call it, is buzzing with a faint sort of excitement, mostly in the children that didn’t get to go on a vacation elsewhere. It’s quite the wonderland though so you can’t see them complaining.

“Do you think they’ll kick us out if we make out on the Ferris wheel?” you ask, smiling at Doyoung.

“I’m not making out with you on the Ferris wheel,” he replies, making a face.

You do end up making out on the Ferris wheel, and you get butterflies from it. It’s like a teenage dream but Doyoung looks even better. You pass on the cotton candy because frankly, you’ve had enough of sweet things. You sit at the frozen wooden seat, hoping it warms up while Doyoung brings the two of you some fries.

Your phone buzzes with a notification. Your eyes light up at the mail from your professor. You had turned in the term paper three days ago, weeks ahead of schedule and were particularly proud of the way it turned out. 

You look at the email and zero in on the word ‘redo’.

Your shoulders sag immediately. You spent four weeks on that—and it’s not good enough? You search frantically for how it could have gone wrong and come up with none. That’s not supposed to happen. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong. The week’s exhaustion swallows you up again.

When Doyoung returns, he looks at you concerned before quickly setting the fries on the table.

“(name). Is something wrong?”

“Huh?” Your voice sounds so weak and squeaky, you feel embarrassed. It’s embarrassing that after all these years, you still don’t know how to handle failure. 

Because it’s not supposed to happen. You tell yourself that over and over and it makes things worse.

You feel dirty, underneath all that dust and crumbled rock dangling in your hair. Whatever rests on your shoulders is cracking and collapsing, and you’re pushing in the wrong direction to make sure it all stays up. 

He reaches out his hand but you avoid it.

“No,” you mutter, weakly shaking your head.

You rub at your nose and eyes, hoping you can hide behind your forearms. Doyoung shouldn’t be seeing you like this, he doesn’t deserve to see you like this. You turn away from him, your palm gently pushing against the soft material of his shirt. 

Doyoung doesn’t move. Instead, he gently tugs on your wrist so you have no choice but to face him with your red-rimmed eyes. You’re not sure if it’s embarrassment or pity, but the concern in his eyes makes you cry harder. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he whispers. “You don’t have to find a place to cry.”

For the first time in adulthood, you learn what it’s like to lean your forehead against someone’s chest this way. Doyoung wraps his arms around you and the sound of his breathing soothes your near-erratic heart. 

“I worked really hard on it, you know?” you mumble against his chest. “My term paper.”

“I know,” he whispers.

Doyoung strokes your head delicately, fingers running through your hair with airy touches. Eventually, you let go of a final sigh and look up to his lips.

He seems surprised at the kiss but it’s all you can think of now. It’s gentler than usual and Doyoung moves cautiously though he seems to like it all the same. His arms feel comfortable around you. When he pulls apart, he looks at you yet still with careful concern.

“We can- we should stop if you want,” he says, and he means it. 

You shake your head. Night is creeping in overhead, deep and quiet and slow.

“I like you, Doyoung,” you say finally. “I really, really like you.”

Doyoung’s eyes widen, as though a rabbit wary of the traps it might set foot on but he eases into your touch almost immediately.

“I like… I like you too.” His lips waver but he looks away and takes a deep breath. “I like you so much.”

You smile and think that maybe everything is set right now, with his chin against your shoulder and your arms around him. 

Doyoung discards the jacket once you’re in your apartment, kissing you fuller now. Every other thought leaves you; you beg him to make you forget the rest of the world. The walls are comforting now that he’s here, and it’s warmer, hotter.

“Can we- Can we go a little slower?” you mumble, his arms still gentle when they wrap around your waist. He parts his lips from your neck to look at you momentarily before nodding.

You suddenly understand why he always makes you feel so good. There’s a certain fondness to his touch and warmth to his kisses. There’s no one quite like him, really.

“I love digging graves, especially if it’s my own,” you mutter against the pillow.

Doyoung laughs. “What did you do this time?”

“This time? Excuse me? Do you think I’m some sort of trouble child?”

“Hm. Let’s see. Yes.”

You pause. Why do you hesitate to tell him you slept with Hyungmin? It’s not like you were cheating—you weren’t dating Doyoung. Besides, that night with Hyungmin didn’t mean anything. A horrid feeling snakes around your throat, heavy and piercing. You resort to changing the topic.

“I’m… I took another course beyond my understanding.”

“That’s it?” he asks.

You nod.

No, no, no; it’s all backwards now and you don’t know how to reverse it.

Doyoung takes your hand in his, delicately and yet firm. His chest is against your back, bare and warm. When he presses his lips against your knuckles, the warmth that flushes through you makes you want to believe in something else entirely. You feel weak. 

A part of you argues that you feel honest—in a moment of clarity you don’t think you deserve. Neither vodka nor whiskey can make you this clear in the head; you struggle to breathe straight. How awful it is to feel warmth and not believe in it at the same time.  

“You can rely on me, you know?” he whispers.

The knot in your chest makes you want to cry.

You feel lonely and the opposite of it all at once. Doyoung is too much for you—too kind, too pretty and too true. He makes you realize too many things at once.

There are a few things in the world that can stifle loneliness. Like the notes Doyoung plays on the piano, like the songs he hums in the morning till you place open-mouthed kisses against his neck.

You realize, all of a sudden, that Doyoung really is your dearest friend.

And yet, you don’t think you deserve it. You’ve never loved, you believe, but you have. You don’t remember it well enough. The lovers’ touches you kept searching for led to this. Hypocrite. You wanted a lover’s touch and you rejected the love that came with it. What a complicated bundle of emotions. You weren’t always this way.

You loved your first cat when you were six, all the way till it died a warm death in your bed. You loved your mother even when she yelled at you for skipping your chores. You loved your middle school friends when you talked about comics and movies you saw for the first time. 

It’s hard to love the same way now.

You suppose sympathy needs a little backstory. Nothing is unconditional. 

It had all started when your heart had broken into two clean pieces. You put a bandaid on it and called it a day. No one taught you to ask for help.

Your friends know someone broke your heart; you tell them everything. Friends, friends—you wanted them so bad and yet, you keep them as far from you as you can. You pretend to be paper-thin and so shallow, sometimes you wonder if that’s all there is to you. But for all they know, they know next to nothing. It wasn’t just the aftermath of reckless puppy love. 

The first time your heart broke, it was watching your mother cry in the living room for a reason you didn’t understand. You wondered who committed the crime, who should be charged—and you found no one. A loveless marriage is cruel, yes, but you cannot point fingers. It isn’t just cruel; it’s infuriating.

The second time, the two pieces of your heart broke into a few more. It was a boy with an inviting smile and flags whose colour you couldn’t quite discern. They must have been red, but everything else was too—hearts, cheeks, lips, and the threads around your wrists. And eventually, he guided you to the conclusion that you are undeserving, unworthy, unloved. 

You were strong, however. It was easy to collapse on the bed and feel the weight of the world settling in, but you stood up again on shaking knees and you told yourself to have fun; you can have fun without feelings. You know better than to attach meaning to fun—you might hate insignificant things but it’s only fun if it’s pointless. You’re not letting go of this place you’ve worked so hard to arrive at, with all the shattered pieces in your hands.

It’s better to offer nothing at all than offer broken pieces.

“Can we stay like this?” Doyoung’s arms tighten around your waist, his breath shallow against your shoulder. “Just for a little bit.”

His voice is beautiful as always, but for a moment, it strikes you as sad.

Everything’s twisting up into knots and you are frantically running your fingers over them to straighten it all out. You know what it’s like to let things rot; and you are tired of it. Why can’t everything disappear for one moment? Why can’t you just let it be the two of you?

You sigh in response, nodding. 

“I might not know what’s happening in there,” he starts, drawing circles on your chest with his finger, touch comfortably light. “But…”

I’m here and I get it.

Is that what he wants to say? You don’t think you’ll get to know. You’re not exactly voicing yourself either. 

Stay the night. You want to say it but your lips are frozen.

Instead, you rub your thumb over the back of his hand, fitting into each other as perfect as a lie. You would tell him, you try to convince yourself, if you could say it with enough conviction. There’s no point to saying things that are half-meant, that are true but only just enough. You’re a coward.

And now, this has gotten complicated.

An end.

Tapping his pen against the desk, Doyoung grows increasingly annoyed. The council's next  meeting agenda isn’t going to finish writing itself but he can’t bring himself to either. Besides, Ten’s pacing outside his room is starting to get on his nerves.

“Ten!” he yells. “Can you quit it? You’re making too much noise.”

His disapproval is met with silence. For a moment, he spaces out and reflexively thinks of you, only to feel a confusing sort of emotion. It’s normal, he tells himself, and that it’ll sort itself out.

Doyoung feels like a glass box more often than not. If he breaks, who picks up the pieces? Who gets cuts all over their fingers?

‘Whoever breaks him’ should be the answer. But that’s wishful thinking. It’s not that simple. 

He’s so see-through that it’s painful. He used to tell Taeyong he’s wrong but he’s never been able to prove it. He is easy. It’s embarrassing.

But then again, part of him likes it when it comes to you. He likes it when you kiss him after a particularly heated disagreement, he likes when you get on his nerves just so he’d fuck you and most of all, he loves the push and pull. Fun is just that. He doesn’t know what he’d do if that heart of his he placed so gingerly into your palms falls and shatters.

The line between hate and love is thin; and he’s enjoying walking it too much.

He has nothing to offer but himself. He laughs at the thought and shakes his head. It’s somewhat dirty, and not just in the sexual sense.

“Ten!” he yells again. “Stop pacing!”

Getting up from his seat, he strides over to his door, swings it open and finds Ten scratching his head and glancing at his phone in repeated action. 

“Ten?”

He’s so in a trance that he hasn’t noticed Doyoung. He is the lovable sort of idiot if he ever chooses to be so. Most of the time though, he’s just a smartass.

“Oh, oh no, I’m a bad friend,” Ten mutters to himself, his pacing growing more restless. He scratches the back of his head, eyebrows furrowed and too inside his head to notice Doyoung. He wants to ask but something tells him he shouldn’t. 

Turns out, his apprehension isn’t strong enough these days. 

“Whose date did you crash?” Doyoung asks, more than annoyed already.

When Ten looks at him, Doyoung feels rather shriveled and freezes on the spot. Call it instinct but Doyoung respects fear and pain. Ten has a mixture of the two, amplified when he looks at Doyoung.

“Doyoung. Hey,” he says, trying to tone down the distress in his voice.

Doyoung still hasn’t recovered from the initial surprise of Ten looking that way.

“Did you fuck up? Did someone fuck up? Why do you look like that?”

Ten sits down on the small couch. “Long story… I guess. Too many details, you- you know? Just—”

“What the fuck happened?”

Ten still can’t look him in the eye. “The group chat’s a little…”

“Ten,” Doyoung snaps. “Cut the crap.”

“No, that’s- that’s what I’m- You’re going to be upset.”

Doyoung straightens, furrowing his brows. “I think I can fucking handle it.”

“You know that date I set up for (name) and Hyungmin?”

“You set that up?”

“(name) slept with Hyungmin.” 

Doyoung quietens. The silence seems to make Ten uncomfortable as he shifts in his seat, getting up when Doyoung speaks.

“So?”

Ten blinks. “You’re not upset?”

“Just what kind of loser do you think I am?” Doyoung mutters.

Glass shatters just that easily. Maybe he wanted you to shatter him. Maybe he was already cracking at the edges.

“Doyoung, you don’t have to—”

“Stop,” he exclaims a little louder than he intended. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m a grown man, I can handle shit like this.”

It still hurts though. You lied to him and he let you in. You lied to him. Doyoung sighs, returning to his room with a realization he should have had long ago. His night ends with more deleted drafts than he’s supposed to have and eventually, with increased discomfort, he delegates the job to Park Hyungmin himself with the excuse of sickness.

Doyoung does feel sick. He felt this way once, in highschool, but it had turned to red, hot anger ready to lash at anyone and everyone, spilling from his lips as easy as it was to breathe. And Doyoung can never feel that way towards you. He was different back then too, of course, but you—you’re unlike anyone he’s ever met. He loves the comfort of you, and something like that is hard to come by. 

He feels like laughing again but instead he finds tears on his cheeks. Silly boy, he can hear his mother tell him. You don’t give your heart to heartbreakers. 

So Doyoung falls asleep to the sound of upbeat music in his earphones, music he hates even just to pass the night. Morning will come and he will have to become stronger. Comfort is fleeting, after all.

With everything said and done, you know very well that if you were to tell someone you love them—genuinely, truly, from the heart—it would be Doyoung. It’s not a sudden realization, like the sky falling apart or a tidal wave crashing against the shore and sweeping away the city. It is like the gentle lapping of water, though, or the way the clouds change shape—natural and anything but alarming. You want to stare at it forever, and you want to believe that’s how it will be forever. 

“You told everyone we had sex?” Your voice is boiled to a shout. 

Hyungmin looks torn, lips moving but no explanation making its way out. “I- I told my friends, not everyone.”

“And you forgot that your friends talk? Everybody talks, Hyungmin, what were you thinking?”

He sighs before taking a step towards you. “Why are you so angry about it? As far as I remember, you had no trouble talking about whose pants you got into.”

You scoff. “With friends, not the whole campus.”

“That’s exactly what I did!” 

You cross your arms, feeling so upset you might cry and unsure as to why. You’re usually good at dealing with stuff like this, keeping things in the right place.

“It’s because of Doyoung, isn’t it?” 

You snap your head to Hyungmin. There’s a serene sort of look to him despite his unkempt appearance, and a look of understanding.

“I’m sorry. Really. But if you were so into him, you shouldn’t have called me that evening. It might not matter to me but…”

You broke his heart. All that devotion he had towards you led to this. 

“You’re right.” You choke on your words, leaning against the wall. “Fuck… Fucking…”

You turn around, making your way out of the hallway and hope the tears on your cheeks dry faster if you run.

You can’t remember the last time you ran. Your world didn’t need running from, it was right in the palm of your hands. Now that you look back, the world was always on your shoulders and heavy as it can be. Maybe you liked it—the weight. You could’ve shrugged it off any time; you didn’t need all those caging schedules or careful, elegant steps.

No. Atlas couldn’t shrug because his punishment was his existence. To have weight is to have meaning; and that is how you intended to live out your life.

Doyoung makes you see it differently. To love so fully even if it seems cautious—you, who has never loved at all, couldn’t comprehend it. And because he makes you see it differently, the box is now open and all hell is loose. 

For once, you don’t want to live in the world you crafted. You want more love, more hurt and you want to open the doors. You don’t mind hell if it’s for him.

You ring the bell to Doyoung and Ten’s apartment and pray the news hasn’t reached him yet. He said he was busy this weekend; maybe he was detached enough from his phone for once. You just want to be the person to tell him. It’s not a perfect apology otherwise.

Doyoung opens the door with pursed lips and cold eyes. There’s a sense of ease over his shoulders and arms but he won’t look at you and panic rises to your throat.

“We’re not fucking tonight, (name),” he says.

“That’s not- That’s not why I’m here.” Your voice is so meek, you wonder what happened.

Doyoung steps back, crossing his arms. He’s still looking at his feet and you feel the urge to reach for his face.

“I wanted to tell you- I… I just—”

“That you’re fucking other people?”

“God, Doyoung, stop with the fucking. I don’t care about that right now.”

“Really?” His voice is so sharp, it digs into your skin. “You were just in it for that. That’s the fun part in your stupid life, isn’t it?”

You feel a sharp pain in your nose and forehead. “You’re- Now that’s- Doyoung. I’m sorry. That’s what I wanted to say.”

“After—” His voice chokes up. “After everything is done? Stop with the excuses and face it for fuck’s sake. You aren’t made to fall in love. That’s why you dance around it all the time.”

Although he says that, he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds defeated.

“It’s not like you aren’t cautious,” you retort, throat feeling heavy. “You said it yourself- you don’t want to care too much.”

“I was wrong,” he says, voice hoarse. “I care about everything more than I’d like to admit. I care about you more than I’d like to admit.”

“The Hyungmin thing didn’t mean anything, okay? You were busy and—”

“So why did you lie?” He strains to not raise his voice. “Of course I knew our little thing didn’t mean shit to you. Why did you pretend it did? Last week, you said- you said—”

“Doyoung, last week- last week I- I wasn’t pretending, I swear.”

“You could’ve just saved yourself the trouble and the dignity.” A short, humorless laugh leaves him.

You feel your lips tremble, the explanation not quite made its way out yet. He looks so innocent like this, rabbit-like eyes watery and full of pain, pure the way they have always been. This is your mistake, isn’t it?

“Doyoung, please,” you manage to say. “That was wrong. I couldn’t clear up my head. Please don’t—”

“No. I was an idiot. Or you see me as one.” He frowns deeper, lips trembling. “I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have. We shouldn’t have been at the same fucking party and I shouldn’t have drank so much. You’re- I’m not that kind of person.”

You bite down your lip. “What kind?”

Doyoung laughs, the sound raspy and empty. “The kind to not fall in love with you.”

It damn near breaks your heart to look at him. You have to say something, it shouldn’t end like this. You’re desperate and all you think is that you don’t want it to end at all.

“Please, I thought of you as a friend, that’s why—”

“And this is what you call being a friend?” he cuts you off.

You feel the sting in your eyes and nose, making you turn sharply to the side. You wish he’d just make you cry. It makes you feel the rancid guilt all the more.

“Make Hyungmin your friend for all I care. Let’s stop this.”

You stare at your feet, unable to respond. 

“You can have every boy in the world, (name). Don’t come to me.”

“Can you just stop talking about everyone else?” you yell, desperate. “Do I talk about your exes? Seungjae or- or what’s-her-name—” 

“That’s different!” He looks distraught, breathing heavily and with a painful red flush over his nose and cheeks. He runs his hand through his hair, tousling it further. “You lied to me, (name). You lied.”

Your cheeks are wet and the look that flashes over Doyoung makes you think he wants to step right out to you. He stays frozen in place, however, looking away to the side.

“Did you notice?” he asks softly. “Even once? How much I cared?”

You can’t answer, letting the tears drip down your face. It’s getting colder and colder. 

Doyoung bites down his lip before parting them. “All we did was have sex anyway. So please just- just leave.”

You take a long few moments but nod, hugging your coat closer and stepping out of his apartment. You think you hear Ten’s footsteps but it’s followed by the bang of a door—this is how it ends then.

The line between hate and love is thin; and you are deserving of neither.

You perfect your next semester’s academics, and the next. It still feels empty. You go out to drink with friends and return to a messy bed you sleep in alone. You smile as always and you laugh as always. No one asks you how you are as always. You never needed anyone to ask you how you are.

Ten tries but you push him away. You don’t need to drag in other people into a mess you made. He feels sorry for the whole thing but you tell him it was you that spilled the paint, Ten just handed a dash of it to you.

You were right. You don’t deserve Doyoung. At least, you made it so that you don’t deserve him. 

‘It’s better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all’—it still hurts.

Every day is part of a list again. You doodled in some of the pages, when you thought you were starting to fall in love. There’s only a skeleton of it left now. Soon, you’ll let it crumble to dust too. 

You tear apart the planner sometime after graduation and cry and curse at yourself for doing that. No one’s good at parting with things they care about. You’re no exception.

It’s December again. 

This place is a little strange to visit right after graduating, especially with the memories flashing you by. Johnny said he booked one of the private booths (“A senior’s treat!”) but you feel your steps growing hesitant when you reach the neon signs by the stairs. It spells ‘The Meeting Place’ and smells of cigarettes just like it did the first time.

You stop midway up the stairs. For a moment, you think of Doyoung sitting there and wonder if you’ll ever be able to talk to him again. If you had the chance now, would you take it?

Of course, you wouldn’t. There’s too much to be set right and you can’t do it.

There’s supposed to be the six of you. Johnny mentioned Ten and you know Eunji’s invited too. You saw Jaehyun on the way here, still a student. You sigh. It must be him, the one they failed to mention to you. Kim Doyoung. There’s no one quite like him.

You spot him first. Looking a little forlorn as he gazes absentmindedly to the side, he faces away from you and you get the inevitable urge to run away. It’s a funny feeling. 

Your stomach is churning. You don’t want him to see you. Ten babbles on about something to Johnny, smiling like he found candy while clearing his drawers. Eunji looks tired, leaning against Johnny’s shoulder and you wonder if she already drank more than enough shots.

“(name).”

You jump at Jaehyun’s voice from behind you. 

“Hey,” you respond, giving him a wide smile.

He hesitates. “Are you okay? Not that you don’t look okay- you look really good actually. I mean, are you and… you know okay?”

“I don’t think so, Jaehyun,” you say and make your way to the booth.

It’s a little cramped for the six of you and Doyoung gets up before you can even greet him. It’s not like you deserve it anyway but it tugs at the wound.

“I’m going to go take a drag,” he mutters.

“You don’t smoke,” you say, looking up.

He stares at you momentarily and you look away. You think Ten and Johnny glance at you with pity but you don’t really care. 

 “Can I come with you?” you ask, barely a whisper.

“Sure,” he says, to your surprise.

The smoking area is so small, you’re surprised it’s even there. A glass structure overlooking the neighbourhood, there’s barely any light within. The only thing nice is how warm it’s in there. 

Doyoung lights his cigarette and then offers to light yours. It’s quiet, the music from inside numbed to the cold doors. You really can’t take it. You stub the barely consumed cigarette and throw it into the bin.

You’d rather just stay quietly in his presence.

“You’re not smoking,” he notes.

“It’s a bad habit.” You look out through the glass.

Doyoung chuckles. “You were a collection of bad habits.”

“And good ones too,” you quip. “I was a perfect student. I was perfect in most everything actually.”

Doyoung’s smile widens. “You were. You certainly were.”

A few more moments pass in silence, your eyes traveling over the outside scenery which seems to be growing duller by the second. City lights have never felt fainter.

“It was an accident, right?” You say suddenly. “The whole thing? Us?”

Doyoung hums. “Yeah. I fell in love by accident.”

You smile weakly. “Right. I never got to apologize.”

“I loved you on purpose.”

You look up at him. There’s not a lot of people who say what they mean. He looks the same as he used to under your grey blankets, with a warm blush over his cheeks and kind, wide eyes. 

“You’re so damn pretty,” he murmurs, “even now.”

You scan his face for signs of lying.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” you ask finally. 

Doyoung blinks before easing into laughter. “You- You’re- You’re the same as ever.”

You let yourself crack a smile.

“Doyoung I- I really am sorry,” you say quietly. “And I did- do care for you.”

Doyoung stubs out his cigarette and discards it before looking you in the eye. You notice he’s wearing his favourite black turtleneck in the proximity, the grey plaid coat covering most of it. You really liked that look on him.

“I’m sorry,” you say once again. “I want you to know that. I didn’t want to hurt you and I promise I won’t ever do it again.”

You mean it. You’re never going to hold glass again. He doesn’t deserve it.

“That’s a problem,” he responds, breath mingling with yours. “I want you… I want you to hurt me. If you really do love me, I’ll take it.”

“Doyoung,” you whisper, turning away despite your whole body screaming at you to give in. “I meant it. I can’t hurt you.”

Doyoung cups your cheek with one hand, glancing at your lips for a moment.

“You’re warm,” he says.

He’s warmer.

“I want to kiss you,” he says.

You want to kiss him too.

“We went about this all wrong, didn’t we?” he asks.

“We did,” you answer, voice barely above a whisper. “I did.”

Doyoung pulls back. “Then let’s start again. I’m Kim Doyoung, I majored in linguistics. I was student council president and I made a mistake.”

You smile. “We don’t have to do that.”

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “After all the trouble I went through to make a good introduction?”

The two of you laugh, and it gets warmer. 

“I’m (name),” you say. “I was a top student and I made a bigger mistake, Kim Doyoung.”

“Oh? I wonder what it was.”

“Kind of a long story.”

“I’ve got all the time for you.”

You smile and start. He responds with gentle kisses. You’re piecing your world back together again; but this time it’s feather-light and fits right in the palm of your hand. 

#kim doie perfect man bye #doyoung x reader #nct x reader #nct doyoung scenarios #nct scenarios #nct imagines #doyoung imagines #nct fanfic #doyoung fanfic #nct angst #doyoung angst #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 angst #nct college au #moonwrites #okaaay idk what this is either #if you get annoyed midway thru the fic you are perfectly valid <3 #i will literally never write smth like this ever again 🤡🤡🤡 #if you notice inconsistency in character no u dont #(i had to fix up some earlier inconsistencies but it gave more inconsistencies maybe i should give up writing for good)

[namfinessed]

a lil bad - m.yg.

genre: fluff, angst (11.3k) e2l

summary: you hate min yoongi the most so how the fuck do you end up in his tattoo shop? (fools!universe)

masterlist         series masterlist

you don’t know how it happens in every single party, but you always end up next to yoongi, grumbling and complaining but still with him beside you and even after several incidents of pouring drinks on each other and pretending it was a mistake, or just plain insulting each other right to your faces, or ruining dates for the other by fake flirting, you always end up next to him.

you never really understood your hatred for min yoongi, but it’s always been there, whenever you see him, you always either leave the room to not be around him at all or you start bickering with him until the day ends, it’s usually always the latter, he knows just how to rile you up, he knows just what to say to piss you right off, and you always give in to his stupid arguments.

and apparently, even right now, with all your friends dancing and enjoying themselves, you stand in the corner while idly mixing your drink slowly, and it takes everything in you to not roll your eyes when yoongi catches your eye across the room and starts his making his way over to you.

“what are you doing here, doll?” he asks, hands in pockets, his ever-present smirk settled nicely on his face, the nickname that falls from his mouth makes you roll your eyes, he’s been calling you that forever, no matter how many times you’ve complained and hit him for it.

you notice his tattoos peeking from the collar of his leather jacket which mirrors the one on your body. it is hard to not do a full head to toe scan when yoongi manages to look this good even as he’s half drunk.

you hate him but you’re not blind, you know that he is attractive and he knows it too, he knows it all too well.

“none of your goddamn business, min yoongi, get back to your friends.” your bitter reply is no surprise to him and that becomes evident with how he laughs at you and pulls himself up on the table you were resting on, looking down at you with pure amusement dancing in his eyes.

“they’re shit drunk, and i don’t want to deal with anyone vomiting all over me” he shrugs as he takes another swig and you turn to look at his friends who were falling over each other and laughing for no reason at all.

somewhere in you, you know that he’s lying, he wouldn’t mind if his friends vomit over him, he wouldn’t care even when he’s going to be the one who will drive them home after this and make sure that they’re safe but yoongi doesn’t need to know that you know about him.

“such a good friend” you dryly muse and walk away from him, only for him to jump off the table and follow you, you stop in your steps and he does too, making you grit your teeth and look at him with an evident glare in your eyes.

“what do you think you’re doing?”

“none of your goddamn business, doll.”

yeah, you hate him. you take back every nice thought you’ve ever had about him.

he gives you an innocent smile and it takes everything in you to not strangle him. you swiftly turn the other way and speed walk till you’re outside the house, taking a deep breathe now that you’re free from the obnoxious people and music. just when you stretch your legs out to settle there for a bit, you see someone barging their way out, almost hitting your arm, you turn to curse them out just to see jimin come out from the same way, following the previous person.

you only know jimin because he works in namjoon’s bakery, and he’s in one of your classes, you’re friendly enough to greet each other but that’s it, so when you see him fighting with the person who barged out first, and the fight showing no signs of calming down, you roll your eyes at how stupid they sound, why can’t they just kiss already? you can literally feel the sexual tension in the air and they seem to be in absolute denial about it, but deciding that it was best to leave them alone, you unwillingly tip toe your way back into the house.

the party is still raging and loud and you can’t really distinguish who is who anymore, so you just push your way through the crowd, murmuring excuse me’s and curses to people who push you, only to find yourself in the living room where all your friends are gathered. they immediately perk up at your entrance, drunk smiles gleaming even in the darkness and you hate to admit that you sense some mischief in the air.

“i was looking for you, come here, sit down” jennie smiles as soon as she sees you and pats the seat next to her, you hesitantly sit and warily eye the bottle in the middle of the circle you’re sat at.

“what’s going on here?”

“we’re playing spin the bottle because we literally have nothing left to do” jisoo complains from opposite to you and you throw your head back with a groan, at the corner of your eye, you see yoongi walk in with his own friends and you don’t even want to look up again.

“how bored are you guys?” you complain but get comfortable in your seat anyway, it’s not like you were any less bored than they were.

“just say you’re too much of a wimp to play and leave already.” yoongi’s voice is crystal clear even with the loud music and everyone starts ooh’ing at his sentence, all of them were already used to your endless bickering and they always act like they know something you both don’t, you never cared enough to ask them anyway. you rolled your eyes before setting them on him with a bored expression.

“you’re still standing min yoongi, so who’s the real wimp here?” and now, everyone’s ooh’ing at you, he looks up at you with the same smirk that always annoys you and cocks an eyebrow before sitting directly in front of you, then pins you with only challenge clear in his eyes.

“okay, so the rules are pretty simple.” you look away from him and focus on listening to chaeyoung as she explains what exactly are the set rules.

“so when we spin the bottle, the people at the ends of the bottle either kiss each other or one of them gets to give a dare to the other, and the other cannot refuse” jisoo smiles at you as she plays with the bottle in her hand and you know what’s going on in her little head, she’s always been convinced that you have a crush on yoongi but you were close to vomiting on her when she told you that, she hasn’t backed down though and if you know her, she’s probably thinking this is some magical way to get you to kiss yoongi but you would jump into a well before that happens.

“the only person i want to kiss in this room is you” yoongi wears a wide, confident grin as he points to the random girl he’s been talking up since the beginning of the party and you watch with raised eyebrows as she blushes and buries her face into his shoulder.

poor girl, you wince to yourself.

and yoongi’s drinking up the affection, cooing at her and wrapping his arm around her shoulder, not letting her go even as the bottle spins speedily and lands on taehyung and some girl you’ve seen around the campus, you have never really looked at her but she does seem a little out of place in the party, and you make a note to yourself to talk to her later, you hate that feeling of being isolated and you wouldn’t want her to feel that way.

everyone watches them with excited and curious eyes, taehyung has a huge smile on his face as he wiggles his eyebrows at the girl who looks like she wants to run away, but then taehyung reaches over and whispers something into her ear and everyone erupts into cheers when he reaches for his hoodie on the floor and drops it on their heads, the hoodie comes off to reveal one flushed face and taehyung who is positively beaming. though the kiss is over, at least you assume it is over, everyone’s gaze lingers on the quiet girl who all but is biting on her lip and averting her gaze to the floor.

“stop making her uncomfortable and spin the bottle already” you say plainly as you leaned back on your hands, you could tell she wanted anything but attention, she just had a stiff posture and this was clearly new for her, so you decided to help her out. she flashed you a quick grateful look and you gently smile at her.

and the bottle kept spinning, most opted for the kisses, and each time someone would kiss, the entire room would be chaos, with people whooping and waving their hands, you bury your head into your hands each time that happens because you can’t believe most of these people are well in their 20’s and are still this excited over seeing their peers kiss but you enjoy the energy in the air, it’s familiar and being around your friends is something you’re always grateful for.

“wait wait yoongi didn’t spin the bottle” lisa points out along with chaeyoung and they both have happy smirks on their faces as everyone nods in agreement, soon cheering him on to spin it already and yoongi surrenders with raised hands.

the bottle spins and you hold your breath because you would do anything to not be at the other end of it.

you exhale in relief when it lands on who yoongi wanted it to land on, the girl who’s been around him all night, he just looks at her with a smile and she leans forward with sparkling eyes, and you look away just when the sound of smacking lips fills the air, immediately everyone starts shouting and that’s when you understand that maybe the kiss wasn’t innocent at all, you almost do a double take when you hear a silent moan in midst of all the chaos, looking back when the shouts die down to see the girls with pink cheeks and yoongi who had a proud smile on his face.

and you don’t know why, but at that moment, your annoyance for him touches the roof.

maybe because he was oozing confidence always?

maybe because it sounded like he was an incredible kisser?

maybe because he’s got someone blushing right next to him with just a kiss?

you don’t know and frankly you also don’t understand why you stand up from the circle right then, everyone’s eyes lands on you and you shift on your feet, you hate attention, and you particularly hate yoongi who immediately looks at you standing.

“i just need a refill, i will be back, you guys play” you gesture towards the kitchen and leave the living room with fast steps, you only let out a breath of relief once you’re in the kinda empty kitchen, it still has like 10 people but not one of them gives a fuck about you, which is exactly what you need.

you spot the tequila bottles but they are empty, making you groan out loud in frustration and you want to throw a chair into the window, because how the fuck do these people drink so fast? last time you were here, there were 10 huge, full bottles and they’re just gone now.

“fucking great” you mumble and squeeze your eyes shut as you lean back on the counter.

you don’t even want to go back to the circle and see yoongi’s face or the girl that he’s with who seems to blush about everything like who’s going to tell her that yoongi will probably drop her in a week?

you stomp your way back to the living room, and sit down with a huff, not looking at anyone, just letting the game continue around you and zoning out until someone asks you something.

your eyes don’t leave the bottle in the middle of the circle, staring as it spins and claims its victims, and you only snap out of your thoughts when jennie nudges you, you are a little startled when she pushes the bottle into your hand with a small smile.

“it’s your turn, spin it” she gently instructs, and you almost just want to cuddle her and go to sleep because she’s always been so nice to you and maybe it’s because you’re half-drunk and you’re mildly irritated by everything, but you feel so grateful to her soft voice.

but her words also make you pause, it’s your turn after god knows how many turns and you want to skip it, there’s no one in this room that you want to kiss.

“see, i told you, she’s a wimp” you glare up at yoongi as he stares you down, and with a grumble, you snatch the bottle from jennie’s hands and give it one rough spin. you silently pray that it lands on anyone but yoongi.

your heart almost pauses when it seems to slow down near yoongi, but then it tilts right at the last second, you feel lighter as you look up to see jisoo at the other end of the bottle, who has a cheeky smile on her face, you lean back with your won smile because you could just kiss her, it’s no big deal.

“so, kiss?” you raise your eyebrows at her and she narrows her eyes at you playfully, looking you up and down and you giggle at her fake horny expression.

“as much as i love kissing, i have a dare for you.” you eye her cautiously as she says this, why isn’t she just opting for the kiss?

“i’m not stripping down naked if that’s what you’re going to say” you deadpan, to lighten the tension in the room and everyone laughs, taking swigs of their drinks and someone yells party pooper.

 “why can’t we just kiss and get it over with?” you whined when she stayed silent and jisoo shook her head happily as everyone’s ears and eyes focused on what would leave jisoo’s mouth, she smirks a little at their enthusiasm and your slightly scared expression.

“the dare is” she pauses for dramatics and you throw the bottle cap at her making her jump and giggle.

“okay okay, the dare is, you have to get a tattoo in yoongi’s shop by yoongi, he gets to choose which one too.”

she did not.

“i’m sorry, did i hear you right?” you leaned forward with a cocked eyebrow because jisoo wouldn’t do this to you.

right?

“i’ll go easy with the needle on you, doll” yoongi chuckles from his spot.

“shut the fuck up, min yoongi” you snarl at him and fix your gaze on jisoo again as she shrugs with a delighted smile on her face.

“hey, i could just kick you out from my store, you know that right?” you ignore his words with a roll of your tongue against your cheek and run a hand through your hair, this is far from how you wanted your night to go.

“are you going to back off from a dare, y/n?” chaeyoung raises her eyebrows at you and it feels like thye’ve definitely planned this shit from the start but the mocking in her tone doesn’t allow you to say no.

“fucking hell, i’ll do it.” you give in because again, you are never one to back off from a challenge. even if you’re really scared of needles, you can do this.

“who said i’m doing it for you?” he questions with narrowed eyes and everyone in the room breaks into scattered giggles.

“i’ll give you a month y/n, convince him and get it done.” jisoo says, triumph clear in her face and tone as she calmly hands the bottle to its next victim.

again, this isn’t how you wanted your night to go.

-

convincing yoongi, as it turns out, was the hardest thing you have ever tried to do, and you take history in college.

not only is he insanely stubborn, but it also feels like he seriously gets off from pissing you off every single time, because the minute you start to get somewhere with convincing him, he would say something stupid, you would curse him out and you’re back to square one with your mission.

it’s been a week since the party and you’ve got no progress on him.

“okay, i can do this, it’s just stupid yoongi” you encourage yourself lightly by tapping your shoulders in butterfly position, because there’s nothing else that calms you down from the inevitability of having to talk to him.

you’re not sure why you are doing so much for a dare, but it feels like this is the chance to prove to your friends that the only feelings you have for yoongi is hatred, you cannot have them thinking you like him when even the thought of him annoys you to the core.

but you’re still here, with a bag of tempura shrimp and fried rice because apparently that’s his favorite food, and as the old saying goes, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.

now, if you were reached his heart, you would probably rip it out but you’re doing what you can to get the dare over with. you ring the bell and stand back, but nothing prepares you for the sight in front of you.

a girl in just a t-shirt, most probably yoongi’s, who’s definitely not his girlfriend.

didn’t they say the girl at the party became his girlfriend afterwards?

well, at least the girl looks just as surprised as you do, and she even starts getting teary eyed and that’s when you realized what this looks like, you brought him food, pretty early in the morning, you’re dressed up well because you just like to look good, and she could be assuming that she just slept with a taken man.

“doll, is that you?” yoongi’s voice comes from behind her and you grit your teeth in annoyance at his presence.

wait, where the fuck is his shirt?

you immediately avert your gaze from his bare skin and look at the girl in front of you who’s trembling, why the fuck did he call you doll with her right beside him?

“look, i know what this looks like but i’m not his girlfriend, i honestly hate him the most out of everyone i know, so you two are still fine, and gosh just wipe those tears please, i hate making people cry” you mumble the last part as the girl sniffles and nod while wiping the tears off her cheek, yoongi coos behind her and gives her a small kiss to the top of her head which makes her grin again.

he has a girlfriend, what is he doing?

you try so hard to hide the deep scowl on your face as you watch the sickeningly sweet exchange in front of you and tap your feet impatiently as you wait for them to finish.

“come in” yoongi says simply and disappears down the hallway with the girl, and you step in sheepishly, you look around the apartment and it’s surprisingly cleaner than you thought it would be, not knowing what to do with both of them gone, you enter the kitchen and plop down on a stool.

“i’ll call you later okay” you hear yoongi whisper and you slam your head on the table in front of you because that is a very sad attempt at a whisper, his whisper is loud as fuck, and it travels all the way to you, and you’re not a liar, his voice sounds hot, it’s husky, low and if someone whispers to you like that, you know that you will melt into a puddle.

you also hear the loud smack of a kiss and it takes everything in you to keep your ass planted on the stool and not run away from here.

the girl appears near the doorway of the kitchen and gives you a bright and happy wave, you wave back at her because as much as her tears surprised you, she still seemed friendly.

“so, what’s in that bag?” yoongi walks into the kitchen, thankfully with a shirt on, and you place the bag on the counter, not saying anything and letting him look through by himself.

“tempura shrimp and fried rice, are you trying to get me to ask you out?” yoongi chuckled as he pulled out the boxes and you frown at his statement.

“don’t flatter yourself” you mumble and pick your phone up to scroll as he sits down to eat, you notice him place a plate in front of you and look up in confusion.

“go on, serve yourself, i’m not doing that for you.” he gestures to the boxes with a wave of his hand.

“this is for you, more precisely for the tattoo.”

“i know doll, just eat the food.” if you aren’t wrong, you can hear some disappointment in his voice and he doesn’t even look at you as he says that, so you just shrug and take a box to fill half your plate with the food and continue to glance at him weirdly from time to time.

this feels strangely domestic, there is nothing but silence as you two eat but for once, you don’t want to strangle him to death, he doesn’t say shit to piss you off either, and the silence is comfortable, you thought it would be awkward to be in his apartment but you don’t feel that way at all.

“i’m still not doing your tattoo” yoongi says and the door shuts in your face as you stand outside his apartment with mouth agape and slumped shoulders.

then why was he being all nice just 10 minutes ago?

you kick the door with your foot and huff out in frustration because you really cannot think of anything else that could convince him.

what are you going to do now?

what could you possibly do now?

wait a minute.

his girlfriend.

“jisoo, are you sure that the girl from the party is still his girlfriend?” you almost yell into the phone to try and make your voice heard even with the loud traffic beside you and jisoo winces from the sound.

“yes, i’m sure, she was bragging about it in class today” you can hear how annoyed jisoo sounds though the phone and bingo!

you know just how to get yoongi to do your tattoo.

-

you get drowned in your own assignments the following week and don’t bother to look for yoongi, and honestly, you forget about the dare until your dear friends remind you at lunch when you were just trying to peacefully eat your food.

and you don’t even see yoongi around the campus anymore, he doesn’t even show up to the one class you have in common, but his attendance is obviously taken care of because of his friends who work in student council, you’re not going to lie, you are jealous of that, you would kill to miss some classes and still have your attendance intact.

“hey seokjin, wait up!” you spot yoongi’s friend down the hallway and you don’t really care that you literally look like a homeless person with your hoodie and loose shorts, you didn’t run all the way across campus to care about how you look, you need to know where the fuck min yoongi is so you can blackmail him and just finish the dare.

“hello y/n” he faintly smiles while sipping his coffee, how does he still look good when he’s tired though? if it weren’t for the fact that he was taken, you would definitely try to get with him but your chance is over. you feel a little self-conscious with your less than appropriate outfit and his polished look, but that shouldn’t be your concern right now.

“where is yoongi? he hasn’t been coming to classes.”

“why do you want to know? don’t you hate him?” he narrows his eyes at you and you slump a little, how many people knew of the fact that you hate each other? it’s not like you can blame them, you both fight in full parties, word is bound to travel.

“i do, i just have something to ask him.”

“is it really important?” he fixes you with a more serious look and you almost feel nervous before clearing your throat and nodding fiercely.

“yes, it is.”

“he’s been hanging out at our friend’s music studio for a while now, you can find him there, i’ll text you the address” and with that, jin blends into the crowd of people around you while you stay frozen.

what does yoongi do in a music studio? you wonder silently with your head tilted as you walk to your next class.

maybe you don’t know him as well as you thought you did.

-

the music studio wasn’t too far away your campus, and you could walk there even with your heavy backpack, you huff once you reach the run-down building, staring at it with curiosity filled in your eyes.

you definitely didn’t know anything about yoongi and music, sure you knew that he was a phenomenal piano player and also that he was very shy about it, you’ve only ever seen him play once and it was only because he was pretty drunk then.

you look around to try and find the room that jin told you about, brushing past several strange looking men but they are the least of your worries, you have dealt with idiots all the time at the bar and in parties, you will beat someone up if they mess with you.

“doll, what the fuck are you doing here?” you hear his irritated voice and silently heave out in relief because you immediately feel safer than you did just a minute ago.

“i should be asking you that.” you look at him with raised eyebrows and watch as he runs a hand across his face exasperatedly, only to march over to you, grabbing your wrist and dragging you with him.

if it were any other man dragging you around like this, you would break their wrist but this was yoongi, you trust yoongi, and  as much as you hate him, you know yoongi would never hurt you.

he pushes the two of you into a room and closes the door behind him, you immediately snatch your wrist from his grip and rub at the spot he gripped too hard.

“okay, you didn’t have to do that.” you mumble while massaging your sore wrist.

“what are you doing here?” he doesn’t hesitate to jump right into it.

and you want to bring up his girlfriend but he looks pretty annoyed, you’re not sure if this is the time to push his buttons even more.

“i just, i was around but the real question is, what are you doing in a music studio?” you throw the question back to him and quickly scan the room you’re in right now, there’s a sound system, a keyboard, some speakers lying around and other equipment you know nothing about.

“i don’t have to tell you that” he deadpans and you retaliate a little, your posture faltering at his firm tone because while yoongi has always been rude to you, there’s a certain coldness to his voice right now that you just don’t recognize.

“you’re right, you don’t.” he really doesn’t. and now, everything you’ve done looks stupid to you, like taking food to his home and meeting some random girl, chasing seokjin on campus even when you don’t have any familiarity with him just to find about yoongi and even refusing to back down from a dare that you could just deny.

you don’t think you’re doing this for the dare anymore.

yoongi sighs when he sees your rigid posture and head hung low because damn it, he feels bad for being mean to you and he never feels bad about being mean to you, being mean to you just comes naturally to him but you just look so small right now, the air of pride and arrogance that you usually carry isn’t around you anymore and yoongi doesn’t know what to do.

“how did you find out?” he asks finally, taking a seat near the equipment and you don’t want to tattle on jin but you have no choice.

“just asked around.” you still tried to cover up jin’s name and yoongi raises his eyebrows at you like he doesn’t believe you.

“fine, seokjin told me” you squeeze out and you just hope that jin isn’t the type to hold grudges.

“you really went all the way to jin to ask about me?” jin is across campus from you, which explains why you don’t know him all that well but you did find out where jin is, just to ask him about yoongi.

but yoongi doesn’t need to know about that.

“don’t think too much about it, i had a class on that way.” you stubbornly lie through your teeth.

“no, you don’t” yoongi spins around in his chair to gather some notes in front of him.

“what?”

“you don’t have a class that way y/n, we both know that.” how the fuck does he know that?

“why didn’t you just ask me? or come to my apartment? you’ve already been there and i truly don’t understand why you went all the way to jin to ask about me.” yoongi’s words are softer, a lot less cold than before, and a lot more like the yoongi you know. which causes the return of your unfaltering confidence.

“i don’t know your number, and i didn’t want to intrude on you in your apartment again.” you answer honestly.

“but you think it’s okay to intrude on me in my studio?” the mocking in his tone doesn’t go past you and for a second, you don’t know what to say but if you’re talented in anything, it has to be the fact that you’re insanely good at changing subjects.

“speaking of the studio, what are you even doing in this studio? don’t you have a tattoo shop to take care of?” you huff and sit down on a nearby stool. you know that you’ve done a wonderful job at changing the topic because yoongi stills in his seat, not a sign of movement from him.

“or you know, just don’t tell me i guess” you add with a petty tone which has him sighing once again and turning in his seat.

“you’re really pushing the limit here, doll.” it sounds like he’s warning you but you have never been one to give a shit about his warnings.

besides, you always thought you knew yoongi, like really know him and as it turns out, you know nothing at all which has you craving to know everything.

“haven’t i always done that?” you flutter your eyelashes at him dramatically which draws a small smile on his face, it’s a rare smile, you’ve only ever seen him smile like that with his friends or when he’s flustered.

interesting.

“fine, i will tell you” you immediately jump in your place, leaning forward to listen with the utmost attention, eyes wide open and lips pursed because you can’t believe mysterious man of the campus (he gave that title to himself last year) is finally opening up to you.

“you can’t tell anyone else, you have to promise me that” the seriousness in his voice tells you he’s definitely not joking around anymore and you aren’t going to do that either, so you sit up straight and nod obediently.

“my tattoo shop, to put in one way, was a rushed decision doll, i don’t know why i thought it would be a good idea but i thought as long as it brought in money for me, i don’t have to worry about anything else but i was wrong. i was so wrong.” admitting his mistake to you, his enemy basically, takes a lot of courage and you can’t help but feel a little touched that he shared it with you. and that he’s willing to share more.

“the income was great, but it isn’t where my heart is at, you know? even the course in college right now, i don’t feel anything towards it but music, ah music makes me feel everything i’ve ever wanted to feel.” yoongi doesn’t know why he feels so comfortable telling you all this when all your previous conversations have been catty comments to each other but when he looks at you listening to him sincerely, he feels like he can tell you anything.

“you probably know that i play the piano?” you nod enthusiastically, finally it was something you knew about him.

“yeah i do, you’re good even when you’re drunk.” you beam at him and he laughs at the stupid grin on your face.

he feels like he’s the teacher here and you’re the teacher’s pet.

but he knows if he says that out loud, you will probably kick him in the leg. and yoongi hates bruises so he shoves that happy thought to the back of his head, he will laugh about it to himself later.

“i’ve been writing songs forever now doll, and i’m finally getting somewhere with it, i’m going to hand over the tattoo shop to my sister and jungkook who are more passionate about it than i will ever be.”

he looks regretful almost, like he started something he couldn’t finish but you see yoongi in a new light now, writing songs, producing music, it isn’t child’s play, you know that a lot goes into putting your emotions into words and you admire yoongi for how honest he was with you even if he didn’t have to be.

“and focus on music full-time?” you ask gently and he nods.

“that is the plan, yes.”

so, this could be why he shut the door on your face even after the tempura prawns and fried rice, he’s going to stop working at the shop soon.

“isn’t jungkook that guy who is friends with jimin?” you distinctly remember jungkook’s name from somewhere but you can’t remember where you’ve seen him.

“yeah, they work at namjoon’s bakery together.” yoongi provides you your answer easily and you snap your fingers, you saw jungkook when you went to get a muffin from namjoon, he told you he would give you a discount and you couldn’t say no to that.

“that’s where i saw him, i remember now.”

yoongi stays silent, drumming his fingers against his leg and thinking by himself, he looked insanely attractive even with that stressed look on his face, he’s even wearing torn jeans today for heavens’ sake and you feel a little hot, you pick at your collar to try and cool your warming body down.

you can’t let him know the effect he has on you.

“you don’t have to worry about me telling anyone, i won’t. your secret’s safe with me” you smile at him and he gives you a grateful look before rubbing his palms on his legs, he doesn’t know what to say anymore and he feels weird just leaving himself completely vulnerable to you but yoongi trusts you, he might hate you but he still trusts you to not be that cruel.

“so, what did you come here for?” he asks, leaning back on his chair and you freeze.

how are you going to tell him that you came all the way here just to blackmail him after he’s told you his passion-filled story?

“it’s nothing important, don’t even worry about it” you wave your hand dismissively with a nervous chuckle leaving your lips and like always, yoongi doesn’t believe you.

“it must have been pretty important if you ran to jin to ask him where i am” he points out and you hate that he’s right.

“it is not important at all.” you lamely respond and yoongi cocks his eyebrow before leaning over and grabbing your stool and pulling him towards you, so that you’re face-to-face with each other.

your heart literally stops beating when his eyes meet yours, his are filled with steely determination and you’re sure that your eyes have wimp written all over them, just what yoongi always called you and it doesn’t help that you can’t think with his breath fanning over your face in hot flashes.

“i-i told you, it’s not important” you whine lightly and yoongi has an easy grin on his face because of your stutter.

“just say it, doll.” the command in his tone is really something you can’t ignore, because not only does it make you shiver, but it also puts you on autopilot to do what he asks.

“i know that the girl that you were with, in your apartment the other day, isn’t your girlfriend” you breath out and your heart returns to its pace when yoongi lets your stool go with a frown.

“girlfriend?”

“your girlfriend is the one from the party so i’m saying that i know you’re cheating on her with that other girl.” you don’t know why you keep talking but you do, you wish you would shut up already because yoongi finally isn’t that much of a mystery anymore and blackmailing him will just put his walls up again, but you don’t shut up.

“what are you trying to do, y/n?” with the lack of his usual nickname, the sentence seems colder, just like the tone he used when you first walked in.

and that’s when you know that any and all progress you’ve made with him is gone in the dust, you think might as well just destroy it all while you’re at it.

“i will keep my mouth shut near your girlfriend if you just finish my tattoo” you have never felt more stupid in your life, because you’re doing all this while you’re fully conscious, at least when you’re drunk, you have an excuse.

“so, you would tell on me if i didn’t do that tattoo for you?” you feel even more like an idiot when he puts it that way but you remind yourself pathetically that you hate him, and you don’t care what he thinks of you, so you nod a simple yes.

“wow doll, you play a nice game, huh?” he chuckles darkly as he throws his head back and you know that while his words might be funny, his tone and expression are anything but.

you shouldn’t feel guilty about this but you do, there’s this sinking feeling in your chest that whatever you’re doing right now, is not worth it.

just when you open your mouth to take back the words you’ve said and apologize and reassure him that you see him with more respect now, that his story and secret will forever be safe with you, that you admire his passion, you don’t get the chance to when yoongi shuts you up with his.

“fine, i’ll do your stupid tattoo, now get out of my studio.” your heart sinks at his blunt words and he says them while not looking at you at all, you know that you deserve it though which is why you shamefully nod and turns towards the door, leaving him alone in his studio again.

-

the next few days are a blur, and you’re back at some stupid party.

you needed to forget.

but as much as you tried to push yoongi away from your thoughts, there’s this nagging feeling that claws at you, you don’t understand why you feel as guilty as you do, but it doesn’t go away, it increased each time he saw you in campus and turned his head away like you were nothing to him.

and you hate that you’re nothing to him, you were at least an enemy before but now, he disregards you so easily.

why do you want to be something to him?

you aren’t stupid enough to bring up the tattoo though, you just figured you would give him the chance to tell you or just not get it at all, you are not going to run your mouth again.

“oh, jin’s here, did you hear about his girlfriend? i heard she’s trouble” you hear someone mumble next to you, and you immediately look up to see yoongi with jin and some other friends you don’t recognize, he doesn’t see you though and you want to hide away, you don’t want to see him just yet.

you duck your head low, clutching your red solo cup in your hand and moving away from his line of sight, the only place you know that is safe from everyone in this party is the balcony upstairs so you inform your friends that you’re going to get some air and leave.

as soon as you open the door, you welcome the fresh air that greets you, the night is especially cold and windy but you love it, you just tug your leather jacket closer and lean your body on the railing as you think back on everything that’s been happening.

why did you open your mouth in the studio?

why did you go to the studio at all?

why are you so desperate to prove your friends wrong?

maybe your friends were right? that can’t be though, you don’t like yoongi that way. or at least, you don’t know if you do.

you bite your lip once you feel tears of frustration pooling in your eyes because you brought this on yourself and you don’t even understand why you are so mad about this like yoongi used to mean nothing to you or did you just think he meant nothing to you?

you really want to call off the dare because at this point, it’s gotten too far.

“it’s freezing here, come back in.” you stiffen at the sound of yoongi and don’t even turn around, you just wish he goes away because of how you’re ignoring him. you hear steps and you almost sigh in relief, thinking that he left but when the steps keep getting louder, you turn around confusedly only to see yoongi walking towards you. he reaches where you stand as you hold your breath and he just looks at you while you look away with flushed cheeks.

“this isn’t the time to be stubborn doll, just come in.” he lightly scolds you and you huff out in frustration.

“why don’t you go in?” you snap, finally looking at him and almost instantly shrink back down because you’re really in no position to give him an attitude. yoongi clenches his jaw, trying hard to mask his annoyance because he doesn’t understand why he can’t get his feet to just move and leave you alone like you clearly want him to.

“i told you i will do the damn tattoo, why are you still being a bitch?” his words are like a harsh slap to your face, does he really think you’re still going on about the tattoo?

“this isn’t about the fucking tattoo, yoongi!” you yell at him, throwing your hands in the air and running a hand though your hair, almost pulling too harshly at the roots.

“then what is it about?” he crosses his arms over his chest, taking more steps towards you and looks at you sternly, and you don’t know what to tell him.

“you won’t understand” you shake your head pathetically, now even more confused with the close proximity you two shared but yoongi doesn’t move, he stays right where he is, so close to you that you feel dizzy.

“you don’t know that” he fires back and up close, you can see his frown getting deeper. the tension in the air is high and both of you are breathing heavier than necessary and your eyes stay glued on each other, if you moved a little more, you would be fully leaning on him and even from your position, you can feel his body heat.

“i used to think you meant nothing to me and all you’ll ever be is someone who will drive my nail to the wall, but turns out, i was fucking wrong about that, i was wrong and i can’t stand being nothing to you and you definitely don’t mean nothing to me anymore, and i don’t even know why i’m telling you all of this when you obviously don’t give a shit.” you hold your gaze as you try to put your emotions into words, it’s a mess but you feel lighter, things are ruined anyway and all you want to do right now is pull him close to you and just hold him all night even as you’re yelling at him, as fucked up as that sounds.

“do you really want to know what’s going on?” your voice is reduced to a mumble as your eyes shift from his eyes and move towards his lips, his gaze travels with yours and his eyes land on your lips too, and before he could let another breath out, you pull his collar to you and tilt your head to meet his lips.

yoongi responds immediately, his hands snaking around your waist to squeeze your hips and pulling you closer till your chest met his, as your fingers tangle themselves in his hair, tugging lightly, just enough to make him groan lowly, and the sound sends a shiver down your body.

neither of you pull apart for air, just letting yourself getting lost in him, in the taste of him that you’ve been unknowingly chasing for so long, and every touch he leaves on your body feels like a trail of fire that burns bright.

kissing yoongi was probably the best thing you’ll ever experience in your life.

and you’re scared to pull away because you know that nothing will ever be the same again, you just want to stay in this moment for as long as you can, forever if you can, avoid reality for as long as you can.

but of course, not all of your wishes come true.

you eventually push lightly at his chest to gasp for air, fingers curling around his shirt, you don’t want to let go and he leans his forehead on yours, breathing heavily as well, his eyes are tender as they watch you catch your breath, his hands leave your hips and gingerly reach out to tuck your hair back into place, all while his eyes never leaves yours and everything feels so intimate and delicate, like it’s just you and him in this night, every sound, anyone else are all white noise.

“yoongi” you mutter as you slip your fingers away from his hair and he shakes his head, taking your hand in his and holding it to the side of his face.

“please don’t say anything” there is pleading in his tone, a wish that you owe him for all the times you’ve fucked up so you do as he says, you let him caress your hands as his forehead never leaves yours, but he isn’t looking at you anymore, you don’t complain though because this way, you can look at him all you want and he will never know.

but after a while of just letting the wind embrace you two, you decide that you can’t live in this feeling forever, especially when everything feels so confusing and neither of you have a clue about what is going on, the only thing you know is that you’re in each other’s arms and that’s it, that’s all you know.

and that’s not enough.

“yoongi, your girlfriend” you whisper painfully, your heart is caught in your throat when his fingers pause on your skin, slowly retracting back to himself and he leans away from you, hands still loosely gripping your fingers, you already miss his warmth enveloping you. but you can’t be selfish, it’s no longer only both of your hearts that are involved.

“we can’t do this.” you pull yourself away from him and wipe the corners of your eyes that almost leak your tears, yoongi doesn’t say anything, but his silence is his surrender to the situation, you take his silence to be his agreement with you, that this isn’t okay.

taking his silence and compliance as your answer, you leave before your heart breaks even more than it already has.

-

you walk around like a breathing shell around the campus, regretting nothing and everything at the same time.

you don’t regret kissing yoongi, you don’t think you ever will but you regret how it happened, you regret the situation you put the two of you in.

but he kissed you back, that’s what confuses you the most, you fully expected him to tear away from you and curse at you while wiping his lips but he didn’t, he kissed you back, like actually pulled you closer till you couldn’t feel anything but him.

you want to ask him why he did that, but you can’t. you can’t look at him without feeling complete humiliation because you might have just been another girl for yoongi, another girl for him to cheat on his girlfriend with and you feel…worthless.

and you also broke girl code, something you firmly believed in, or at least used to believe in, you want to talk to his girlfriend and tell her so that she won’t be constantly lied to but you also don’t want to get involved with yoongi again.

you push your books away with a groan and throw your pen on the desk you’re sat on; you can’t concentrate for shit and you really just want to disappear for a few days. when your phone dings, you almost throw it out the window because you told your friends that you needed space after they saw you looking dull at the party and you aren’t in the mood to party and forget even if that sounds lovely.

you grab your phone with a frown and squint at it when the bright light blinds you for a second, you curse yourself and reduce the brightness to see a message from an unknown number.

from: xxxxxxx

tomorrow, 9 in the morning, get the tattoo done or forget about it.

you just stare at the screen for a few minutes, it’s definitely him, even through the text messages, you know that it’s him, and he’s offering to do the tattoo? even after everything?

it isn’t right to go for it but you’ve got a dare to finish, right?

-

genius lab ended up being so far away from your apartment, that by the time you got to the front of it, you were heaving like a pregnant women, and you heavily grasp the handle of the shop, pulling it open with all the strength you have left. you stumble in to see a pretty empty shop, it is a working day so that isn’t a surprise, you wipe the sweat off your forehead as you look around for yoongi.

what are you even going to say?

‘hello, the kiss was great and i still feel weak from it but let’s forget that happened because that basically was just you cheating on your girlfriend?’

that doesn’t sound right.

“y/n, right?” you look up to see a younger, handsome man at the counter.

“jungkook?” he smiles and nods his head, extending his hand towards you, you shake it with a smile of your own and you really shouldn’t be smiling, considering your situation but jungkook has a very infectious aura, very bright and filled with joy.

you like him already.

“yoongi hyung is in the back room, he told me to tell you to go there” he gestures towards the other end of the room and you want to turn and run away from here, because as far as you can tell, the back rooms are private places meaning it’s just going to be you and yoongi.

your original plan was to look at other customers as you get yours done but how can you look at anything in a room if yoongi was going to be the only person in there?

“is that so? then i’ll get going in there, good luck here jungkook” you give him a nervous smile and he beams at you with a nod, eyes shining and you coo at how adorable he looks before you take a deep breath to calm yourself and slowly walk towards the room.

you’re only here for the tattoo and nothing else, you won’t talk with yoongi at all or even look at him, just let him do the tattoo and leave.

there you go, perfect plan.

you push against the door with your hip, peeking in to see yoongi with his back to you and you take a quick step back, clutching your hand on your racing heart, you haven’t even seen him fully but you’re not sure if you can stop yourself from lunging at him.

“are you just going to stand there, doll?” just as you’re about to tip-toe your way out of the tattoo shop and hopefully move to a remote island where you don’t have to worry about anyone, yoongi calls you out, with his back still to you.

how did he even know that you were there?

you clear your throat a little and step into the room, the walls are white and there’s a few boards filled with drawings here and there, and then there is yoongi who apparently has decided to wreck you by wearing torn jeans and a black hoodie.

the outfit isn’t special by any means but you already feel weak in the knees.

you decide to walk over to him with your knees still wobbly and your breath shakier than it was and look over his shoulder to see him working on a tattoo design, probably yours, you lean over to see it properly and gasp at the delicate baby’s breath drawing, your favorite flower.

“i didn’t draw it, my sister did” he mumbles as continues tracing it carefully.

“your sister is talented” you say honestly and he hums in agreement.

okay, so you two are going to act like yesterday didn’t happen, you can definitely go along with that.

“stop loitering doll, just sit down on the chair” he can’t focus when you’re walking around him with big, curious eyes and a small smile dancing on your lips, and he feels bad when you sigh in disappointment and silently walk to the big chair in the middle of the room.

but he can’t do anything about it, he expected you to be your usual self and fire back at him but you didn’t and he doesn’t have a good feeling about that.

he heads over to the chair with the tattoo design ready in his hands, he instructs you to lay down and makes sure you’re fully comfortable and his side keeps pressing against your body as he leans over to prepare things for the tattoo and it takes everything in you to not kiss him again. so, you keep yourself busy, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“you’re going to have to look at me if we’re doing this, y/n” he says and you lift your gaze to see him looking at you with a face you can’t read or decipher but you hold his stare as he circles around you to flicker some lights on you.

“where do you want the tattoo?” he asks, pushing his sleeves up, to reveal scatters of small tattoos all over his arms and you gulp at the visible veins on his hands.

“i get to choose?” you raise your eyebrows and he shrugs.

“well, it’s your body doll, i think it was cruel enough to make you do this, so yes, you do.”

you do know where you want to get it, you always thought that if ever, one day, you decide to be brave and get a tattoo, there’s one spot you’ve wanted it to be but you’re not sure if yoongi will be okay with it.

do you really want to push your luck here?

“are you sure you’re comfortable with anywhere?” you decided to ask him and he frowns at you like there’s an obvious answer.

“yes, that’s my job.”

“right” you purse your lips and nod as he looks at you expectantly.

“i want it on the side on my waist” you whisper and yoongi drops his head with a chuckle.

“doll, do you want to kill me?” and your face heats up at his tone and at the way he looks up with a smirk, nodding while putting on his gloves.

“then you will have it on the side of your waist, you have to push your shirt up by a lot, like right under your bra and hold it there, understood?” you do a double take at his straightforward tone, like talking about your bra is totally normal but you just bob your head hastily and agree to whatever he’s saying, trying to not make a big deal out of it but you’re sure that your red face is a dead giveaway.

“okay, lay on your side” he places his hand on your shoulder and gently pushes you back on the reclined seat, and you huff deeply because it’s only now dawning on you that you’re getting a tattoo done by yoongi, it’s going to be on your waist and you feel stupid for not just going for your arm. you stiffen under him and watch with wide eyes as he places the needles on the table, those look painful and you’re genuinely terrified now.

“scared of needles?” you nod numbly to his question, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to get rid of the image of those needles.

“it’s whatever, it’s fine” you breath out but your body definitely gives you away, your hands are shaking and you’re sure that you feel dizzy.

“doll, take it easy, it’s going to be over in no time and just remember to breath properly during it” when he gets no response from you, and your eyes are still closed, he realizes how scared you are.

“you want me to distract you?”

“please.” you mumble and he wordlessly lifts your shirt for you because you don’t look like you’re going to move but he keeps his eyes on your face while he does that, carefully tucking your shirt under your arm to keep it from moving away and if you weren’t as scared as were right now, you would have noticed the goosebumps that rise everywhere his touch reaches.

he gently holds your shirt in place and places the drawing on your skin, putting it flat and rubbing it slowly so that it would transfer well, and you feel weirdly hot, he’s just doing his job but you really want to just grab him and take him right there.

“okay, i will draw over this and then we will get to the actual tattoo” you actually shiver a little when you feel one of his hands tracing the design and the other slightly pulling on your skin so that it stays taut and you don’t know why the fuck you agreed to this because you’re clearly suffering here.

“what do you think of weird food combinations?” he suddenly asks once he’s done with the tracing.

“some are alright, i guess” you answer and then you hear the sound of the drilling needle causing you to let out a low whine and bury your face into the seat you’re lying on.

you should have stayed home, even the sound is freaking you out.

“which ones, according to you, are acceptable?”

“i don’t think mint chocolate is as bad as people make it out to be.” he scoffs at your response, making you frown.

“what is your problem?” you snap at him and yoongi smiles because you’re finally talking to him like you always do, he would recognize that tone of yours anywhere.

“mint chocolate is horrible, doll, i thought you had taste.” he clicks his tongue at you and you immediately go on a rant about how mint chocolate is too hated of a flavor and that at the end of the day, it’s just food and everyone has different tastes.

somewhere in the middle of your rant, yoongi looks at you fondly, you’re always so passionate about everything, even the simplest things, you make it sound and feel like how music affects him, and just as you’re almost done with your rant, he presses the needle on your skin making you yelp and you would’ve jumped and ended up scarring your skin if it weren’t for his hands holding you down.

this hurts this hurts this hurts.

it’s all you can think of as he slowly moves the needle around, looking at you every once in a while to check if you’re okay.

“i never got to tell you this but i think you following your passion with music is really cool and i really respect you for that, i hope you know that i will always support you on it.” you breath out quickly and if you weren’t here, yoongi would’ve cried because he appreciates your words so much, he pats your head in thanks, mumbling how grateful he is and it’s delicate, just like your first kiss.

it doesn’t last long though.

“you know, a food combination i like is french fries and vanilla ice cream.” your mouth drops open at his words, that sounds nasty as hell.

“why are you looking at me like that?” he laughs at your scrunched up face.

“what the fuck do you mean by french fries and vanilla ice cream?” you practically growled at him while looking at him with pointed eyes, can this tattoo be done anytime soon?

“don’t say shit when you haven’t tried it.” he smirks at your annoyed expression and you just glare at him.

“i don’t have to try that monstrosity to know that it tastes like trash.” you snap at him with raised eyebrows and just when he is about to reiterate with another comment, you unconsciously move, you hear him tut and hold you back down with a strong grip.

“sit still doll, or i might just drive this needle into your nerves and leave you paralyzed for life.” you know his warning doesn’t mean shit but you stay silent and stop moving anyways.

wait, you haven’t felt pain for the past five minutes, and you realize it’s because yoongi distracted you, he could’ve just done his job and leave you to suffer alone but he didn’t, and your heart swells a little.

that was sweet of him.

“how did you know that i like baby’s breath?” yoongi pauses with the needle but then continues like nothing happened at all.

“asked around” he casually replies and you roll your eyes, of course he would say that.

“yoongi, we need to talk about what happened in the party” you nervously but finally address the elephant in the room, biting your lip once the pain increases again.

“when i have a needle in my hand, really?” he looks up with an exasperated expression and you nod.

“with a needle in your hand, yes.”

“doll, all i’ve got to say is, i don’t know why you think i have a girlfriend” he laughs a little as he continues moving the needle against your skin.

wait what?

“what?”

“wait a second, your tattoo is almost over” you let him finish up while you are lost in your own thoughts, you are once again confused about everything and you don’t even feel the pain anymore, he places a patch over the tattoo after you get a look of it and you have to admit, he might not have passion in this but he’s surely talented.

he helps you sit up slowly, holding both of your hands firmly and pulling you forward till your legs almost wrapped themselves against his waist, he doesn’t let go of your hands though.

“i don’t have a girlfriend, and the only reason i let you go that night was because you didn’t look like yourself, i didn’t want to take advantage of you when you were that emotionally vulnerable, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you that dull.” he speaks sincerely and you know that he’s honest but you’ve still got so many questions.

“so, what about the girl from the previous party? the one where we played spin the bottle?”

“she wasn’t my girlfriend, i didn’t even sleep with her that night.” he shook his head as he said it and you narrow your eyes at him.

“well, she doesn’t know that because she’s bragging to everyone that you’re her boyfriend” you poke a finger at his chest accusingly and he chuckles.

“let her, i know who’s i want to be and it’s not her” your cheeks flush when he looks at you pointedly as he says that, you clear your throat and sit up straighter, taking this new information gracefully and doing a little happy dance in your heart, you wrap your arms around his neck and plays with the ends of his hair as he can’t help but grin at you.

“what about at the studio? you got so mad” you mumble sadly because you still remember how heartbroken you were that day and yoongi sighs, patting your cheek and rubbing his thumbs in circles on them.

“well, girlfriend or not, i didn’t like that you blackmailed me, doll. i had just opened up to you and you hit me with that so yeah, i was mad but i’m not anymore, okay? i know how stupid you can be sometimes” he adds the last part teasingly and you immediately gasp, pulling away from him and hitting his chest though a huge smile blooms on your face. yoongi laughs happily as you continue to try to hit him as he dodges.

eventually he gets tired of moving away from you, so he grabs your hands in his and pulls you closer till your lips meet his, your wrists stay captured in his hands as you kiss him back with every bit of your nerves ignited with a fresh need, you pull away from him with a small giggle while he wears a dopey grin.

“i hate you so much” you mumble against his lips with a huge grin, but like any other time, you don’t have a scowl on your face nor do you mean those words at all, he hums in agreement, pecking you one more time and cupping your face in his hands.

“trust me doll, i hate you so much more” he coos at you and you laugh at him because you know he doesn’t mean it either, you know that the word hate is just a replacement for love when it comes to the two of you, the way his eyes sparkle at you with a newfound joy tells you enough, and your laugh only gleefully extends once he starts peppering kisses all over your face as you try to swat him away.

so yes, you hate yoongi a lot, you hate min yoongi the most.

to: jisoo

the dare’s done, you can get off my ass about it! and guess who has a boyfriend now? 😉

#bts #bts series #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fics #bts fic recs #bts masterlist #bts smut recs #bts fluff recs #min yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi one shot #bts yoongi #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #bts one shots #bts drabbles #bts min yoongi #bts smut rec #yoongi fics #yoongi fic recs #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook one shots #bts masterpost

[darthmaulification]

Hey! Can I please make a request for a short Drabble where reader is Grogu’s nanny aboard the Razor Crest and Din develops a crush on her, but once he and the reader start visiting Grogu at Jedi School on weekends, Luke develops a crush as well? Doesn’t have to end up with either, but I would like to see either guy’s rivalry and slight jealousy (with Reader’s obliviousness).

A/N: ... okay so, i really got into the whole crush aspect of your request, anon, and this basically became a romantic prose piece. when i looked back to see what you had initially wanted, my product was... about thrice removed from the original prompt. 💀

i think i got some of the points??? like there’s din and luke and they’re both in love with reader and they both have a bit of rivalry with the other and basically that’s what matters??? please forgive me, anon, the ghost of sappho took my body over and forced me to write yearning love poetry!! 🙏 sis forced my hand!! 😭

though if there’s enough interest for it, i can always make a follow up for this, like from reader’s perspective, and write something a lil more in depth (once i get requests finished up that is). 😊

hope you enjoy! 💗

content: nothing but din and luke pining for reader, gn!reader (for the most part), use of she/her pronouns, fluff, but also a smidgen of angst 👁👁, perspective difference!!, kind of a commentary on mandalorian and jedi culture?? (mostly jedi culture lmao)

word count: 1,524

You’re beautiful.

He sees it now how your face lights up like candles being lit when his son succeeds at doing another one of his Jedi tricks. Joy illuminates your face like a spotlight, your soft cheers and kind praise make the whole room warmer. Din watches Grogu leap into your arms, cooing and squealing like he’s been given candy. It makes Din’s heart leap when you kiss his son on the head, and smile so warmly it’s like your lips become sunshine.

Din is infinitely grateful for his helmet in this moment, his face feels like it’s been too close to a fire. His fingers pick at a fraying stitch on his gloves, to prevent his hands from shaking in his lap. He hopes that the Jedi, who is standing casually across the room near you and Grogu, doesn’t notice. Din hopes you don’t notice what you’re doing to him.

I’m in love. 

The sentence slips through the cracks of his thoughts the way a sunrise peeks over the horizon. You look over at him, holding up Grogu triumphantly in your hands like you would a prize, and he sucks in a breath because suddenly it feels like all he can see is you. You and Grogu, you and his son.

Please be my riduur.

“Did you see that? Wasn’t it amazing?” And Din forces himself to dip his head in a slight nod, because the Jedi is also looking at him with piercing blue eyes the color of the sky. His heart pounding, and when you laugh, and it sounds like summertime when everything is good and happy.

People love, he thinks as he stares at you, and suddenly his palms are sweaty and he feels the need to tap his foot, but Mandalorians love harder.

I dream about you every night, think about you when I lie awake. You’re always holding sunflowers, and the nightmares don’t touch me then.

Mandalorians love like there is nothing else in the universe more valuable, nothing more precious, not their vibroblades, their blasters, or even their beskar.

Giving up a blaster and a vibroblade in order to save you from that hut’uun came to me like breathing, I didn’t even think about it... I would’ve given up my beskar’gam too. I still would.

Mandalorians love with their souls laid bare, they love with their entire body, they love with sacred vows, exchanged beskar rings, their riduur’s name engraved on their hal’cabur, above their heart.

When you slept beside me one night, I whispered the entire marriage vow to you in Mando’a. You looked so peaceful bathed in the light of the moon, the silvery glow making you look holy. I’ll admit, it came out mostly accidentally, but it felt so normal, natural even. I wish you hadn’t been asleep.

Mandalorians love in spite of death, they love in the face of it. They love like warriors.

I had gotten shot. All I remember is you holding me in your arms, hands pressed over the wound. I was in pain, and you were crying, covered in blood and dirt, but you were so warm. I’m still unsure if I had actually said what I think I said:

“I care about you too much to leave you.”

He wants to tell you all of this, but he’s never been much of a romantic, or much of a speaker in general, so the words falter on his tongue each time he’s tried. And Din’s tried so many times. You say something to the Jedi, and it makes a sudden, surprising fury bubble in his chest, the vile rising to his throat. Din has to bite his tongue to hold back from shouting:

Don’t talk to her, di’kut jetii! You are undeserving of her words, of her time, of her presence. Unworthy! You can’t give her what I can, shabuir.

You look over at him again, and the hot anger dies completely, leaving him powerless before you. Din felt this way each time he’s tried to tell you how much you mean to him.

I love you, cyare.

It feels like your eyes are boring holes straight through his beskar, through his flight suit, singing his skin with their warmth. Din bites his cheek so hard he tastes copper.

You smile. It’s like the dawn.

You are the sun— His sun— of his universe, and his eyes burn from the light.

Din basks in the rays, and his heartbeat starts to slow to it’s normal, steady rhythm.

Tomorrow. I’ll tell you tomorrow.

~

You’re beautiful.

He sees it now in how your entire expression blooms into one of pure joy when his padawan successfully levitates the crates. It radiates in your aura, the waves of mirth traveling further than your respectfully quiet cheers and meaningful praise. Luke watches as the child leaps into your embrace, babbling without forming any actual words. Something inside Luke lurches when you place a kiss on Grogu’s head, and when your vibrant smile dissolves his willpower.

Luke draws the Force in on himself, welcoming the sturdiness it brings. He tries to ignore how his palm has gotten sweaty, but he clenches his hand into a fist and hastily relaxes it. Focus, let in calmness like a breeze. Luke hopes that the Mandalorian, sitting stiff and looming on a far bench, doesn’t notice his moment of vulnerability. He pulls the Force closer, and hopes you don’t notice what you’re doing to him.

I’m in love.

The thought springs up in his mind the way shoots of new grass breach top soil in spring time. You glance over at him as you lift the child, and the look is as quick and fleeting as blossoms on trees, but it floats in the Force like dandelion seeds, and Luke is painfully aware of how consuming you are.

Please don’t do this to me.

“Did you see that? Wasn’t it amazing?” And Luke catches your eye, offering you the smallest smile he can afford without it breaking. You look to the Mandalorian, and Luke follows your gaze because he can’t compel himself to do much else. The Mandalorian’s visor is dark like the night, and flashes when he nods his head. Luke feels his heart sink when he senses it from him, a yearning so deep he nearly drowns in it.

People love, Luke thinks and he feels all at once envious and angry and so achingly acquiescent, because Jedi cannot.

I swore by the Code years ago, but I look at you and doubt it all. It can’t be that I’m this willing to rethink everything.

Jedi are forbidden from having attachments, they cannot pursue romantic interests. Love leads to passion, and it all is an influence of the Dark. Luke knows this. He’s fallen to it before.

I’ve spent decades forgetting how deeply I cared for him! But I am reminded daily of my father, every time I look in the mirror, I see his eyes. How dare you pull me back into this cruel trap! I can’t do this again.

Luke contains himself. Jedi value peace of mind, they extend the sentiment to upholding it in the galaxy as well. They do not do it out of love, but out of obligation, out of honor, because of what’s right. They are not love.

When I first met you it was like I’d seen you before, in a past life. It was like retracing my steps, following the trail backwards, revisiting something I had passed. Despite it all, I had moved forward and took my padawan from you and the Mandalorian, plucked him from you like a petal off a flower. I watched you wilt.

Luke reminds himself. Jedi do not love. Focus is key. The Force is everything.

But you are too.

Luke has to swallow in order to make sure the words never reach his mouth, and it’s like eating thorns. You turn back to him and the look in your eyes is tender like butterfly wings. The pink in your cheeks reminds Luke of windflowers.

“Thank you again, Luke,” His soul shivers when his name sounds in your voice, “It’s so kind of you to teach Grogu.”

As he replies and tells you it’s a pleasure, he almost spills everything to you, but an abruptness shifts the energy of the room. There is a lurking anger that crawls at him through the Force, entwines him like ivies. The Mandalorian fumes, the wrath trembles like billowing leaves. Don’t. Undeserving. Unworthy.

Luke forces himself to agree and squashes down everything, pushing each painful emotion into the deepest parts of him. He watches you look to the Mandalorian, your aura flowers with affection, love.

I love you.

His resolve is fading, again. Luke reminds himself, again. Jedi do not love. Jedi do not love. Jedi do not love.

You smile, and it stings his soul like nettle.

Luke forces himself to ignore that your eyes say different things when they settle on the Mandalorian than they had him. The thought feels like eating bittersweet berries.

Briefly, he revels in what could have been.

It’s for the best.

~

A/N: i thought i would add another note at the end of this to explain exactly what the heck i was saying with the word soup i just wrote.

first, din is so hopelessly in love with reader that it hurts. like physically makes his heart ache. i feel that when din falls in love, he falls in love. it consumes him. i wrote a lot of sun/light imagery to portray the overwhelming, all-encompassing love din feels for reader. you are the sun that warms him, and burns him. 

second, i purposely made luke have an even more tragic, even more conflicted crush on reader, on purpose, hahaha i am evil. 😈 he loves you, but forces himself not to. he tells himself that the jedi code means more. luke chooses to suffer because he knows that’s how it must be. there’s some plant/nature symbolism thrown throughout because that’s just the theme that i thought vibed with luke the most.

and that mention of anakin? i subscribe to the headcanon that luke really did love his dad, and just wanted him in his life, but of course, vader ultimately died. luke took a heavy blow from that, learned it hurts to love.

also, regarding the mini-rivalry that takes place, it’s through the force (if that wasn’t obvious) and it’s essentially another example of luke surrendering his own wants/desires and simultaneously din firmly declaring his love for you. it’s kinda meant to be the “understanding” between the two that clearly establishes who “wins” the reader.

... this was all one giant metaphor, huh?

#star wars #din djarin #luke skywalker #din djarin x reader #luke skywalker x reader #star wars din djarin #star wars luke skywalker #din djarin x you #luke skywalker x you #anon ask #anon #request

[squishneedsahero]

Reasons

Awesomest of Them All 2.0

Part 4 of 13

Word Count: 1809

Batman x Batmom!Reader

You know what the bat family needs? Someone to pull them together and give them all the love they deserve. Who better to do that than you? An author rising to stardom in Gotham who catches the eye of a billionaire with your standoffish attitude at a huge social gathering. You are yourself and never pretend to be more or less than that. Plus you're the most stubborn person in the world, refusing to let good things go without reason.

This is a rewrite of my story Awesomest of Them All, I wanted to see how much I've improved over 3 years.

"You're breaking up with me?" You say it like a question, offendedly and confused, from your point of view everything was going good, but apparently it wasn't.

"I am. I'm sorry y/n it's not you it's-"

"Nu-uh, Bruce Thomas Fucking Wayne you are not going end things with that cliche line," you say sounding pissed. "I love you and if you want to end things that is fine but you better as hell give me one good fucking reason why.

"But-no-were done y/n," he says, sounding confused as to why you're arguing with him. Why did you have to be so stubborn?! If anything it only made him love you more.

"No we aren't done at least until you give me a good reason. If you're going to end things with me then I deserve to at least know why when as far as I know everything is perfect according to Gotham standards," you cross your arms and pop your hip. This was the first real relationship you'd had in your life and him ending it without warning wasn't something you could handle. You needed to at the very least know why. Why had he invited you over? Why had Dick and Alfred greeted you normally? Just for him to try and end things? It made zero sense.

He looks away from you, with the angry tears in your beautiful eyes. You the first woman he has genuinely fallen head over heels for that he was currently trying to end things with. It was hurting him just as much as it hurt you, but he had a good reason. He didn't want you getting hurt because of his night job.

Both Alfred and Dick had tried to tell him you could handle it, and he knew they were right. You would be able to handle the fact that he was Batman, but he knew he couldn't handle you getting hurt. He knew that was his breaking point.

It's as you're staring at him with the tears beginning to run down your cheeks that he reaches his other breaking point. Seeing you hurting and confused, he couldn't bring himself to lie to your face another time.

"What?" You ask, seeing the slight changes to his posture and expression.

He takes a breath, "I'm trying to keep you safe y/n-"

"You're trying to keep me safe?" You ask your own expression softening. "Bruce," you reach a hand up to cup his cheek as you always had, but he catches it before you can touch him.

"Yes, I can't handle seeing you hurt. Even now, when I know I have good reasons for trying to leave you, I can't bring myself to actually do it because I can see how much it's hurting you even if you're yelling at me," his hand drops yours and comes to cup your cheek, a slight smile coming to his lips.

Your breathing hitches for a moment as he speaks, you can feel how genuine he is being, "Bruce-" actual tears begin to run down your cheeks at his proclamation of love. Your arms wrap around his torso and you lean your head against his chest, "Bruce, my love, that is the opposite of a good reason to break up with me. I hope you realize that."

His deep laugh echos through your ears, and his hand runs through your hair. "I know my dear, I can't do it. I can't bring myself to end things with you. If you had walked out after I tried the first time I would have, but I cannot bring myself to argue with you when I know deep down I'm wrong even if I like to think I'm keeping you safe."

"Well, as sweet as that is I'm glad you at least are acknowledging the fact that you're a dumbass for thinking it might work," you laugh gently and lean back to look at his face. "So, can I know what has you so convinced I'm going to be hurt if I continue my relationship with you?"

The two of you stand in silence for a few minutes just hugging each other before he says, "it'll be better for me t show you, as knowing you if I were to just tell you you would laugh and think I'm joking."

This of course causes you to laugh, "me? Laugh at you? What in the world makes you think I would do that?"

He laughs gently, "I don't know what would make me think that, dear." He doesn't wait for a real answer, instead taking your hand and leading you into the study and up to the beautiful dark colored oak wood grand father clock. He doesn't say anything as he moves the hands on the clock and it opens like a door revealing a staircase. He leads you down, still holding your hand.

You, are of course confused by this, because who the hell has a secret room in their house?! Well, billionaires, that's who. But that still doesn't tell you why he had a secret room. You look to him for an answer but he simply continues leading you down the stairs.

Once you reach the bottom of the stairs you stop, and look around amazed at the vast cave you found you were in. It's dark, and you can't see much so you revert back to default settings and ask, "you have a sex cave?"

He laughs, clearly amused with that question. The fact that he had expected any other reaction just showed him how often you surprised him. "No, y/n," he leads you a little further into the cave before letting go of your hand and saying, "wait here, I'm going to turn the lights on."

You nod, and wait as you hear him move off through the dark. Your mind was reeling, what in the world was this place? Whatever it was, it was important to him and he was trusting you with it.

It's after a few moments that the lights light up the large space. A gasp leaves you as you see on one end of the cave a huge computer screen built into the rock, on the other end a car, helicopter and a whole ass airplane. It's as you slowly turn in a circle that Bruce comes back over to you and catches you in his arms.

You were facing a taxidermy T-Rex as he leans down to softly say in your ear, "I'm Batman."

A chill goes down your spine and you know it's true, not that you could really question it when he has a bat-mobile and T-Rex in his basement. Your hands find their way down to rest on his, "I guess this would be a good reason to break up with me, if you're still wanting too."

He shakes his head, "I love you too much to do that to you. Plus, me telling you defeats the purpose of any of that stupidity," he says, grabbing your waist and pulling you into a deep kiss.

"So, this is why I couldn't spend the night?"

"Yes," he laughs softly and kisses you again as he picks you up. Your legs find their way to lock around his waist, as he carries you over to the chair in front of the computer. He sets you on the desk, kissing you deeply yet again, one of his hands traveling up your shirt to draw circles on your side.

How could he be the worlds greatest detective and also not have guessed that you, the woman he loves would argue with him when he tried to leave you? He had almost made the biggest mistake of his life that day and now all of his emotions were overcoming him, he wanted, needed you close to him.

Sooner than he wants you break the kiss and end the make out session. You gently kiss his lips one time and ask, "so, how much am I allowed to know?" You press another quick kiss to his cheek as you stand up, and say, "I love you."

He doesn't let you move far from him, sitting himself in the desk chair and pulling you into his lap. "Anything you want to know you can," he brushes your hair back from your face and tilts his head to press a kiss to your neck.

"Hey!" You laugh and push his face back from you. "I want you to answer my questions, not try and distract me!" You spin yourself to straddle him, a hand going to rest on his hip, "after questions, then maybe, I'll let you kiss me." You purse your lips in thought, "maybe I'll let you do more than just kiss me, but that depends on if you behave," you tease gently.

He laughs and shakes his head slightly, "alright, I'll restrain myself from kissing you anymore, until you have your questions answered. After that though," that smirk comes to his lips as he suggestively lets his hand go up the back of your shirt to rest on your shoulder blade.

You sigh dramatically, and roll your eyes gently, even if you were excited to see him like this. "Okay, I'll make it fast. Does this mean Dick is Robin? Is that Clark Kent guy actually Superman and that's how Dick knew him? Finally I'd like to formally apologize for doing your job that first time we met when Joker tried to shoot me and I went on autopilot and told him he had lipstick in his teeth."

Bruce laughs, "yes, Dick is Robin. I'm surprised you already put that together with Clark, usually Superman is far away so him wearing glasses works. And, my love, it is more than alright that you did my job for me. I couldn't have done it better myself, though I probably would not have fallen on top of Joker after flipping him," he teases gently and kisses your cheek, "but no, I should have known from that that you can handle yourself."

You smile and press a kiss to his lips, "well, at the very least I'm sorry for insulting you when I did thank you that night."

He laughs again, "y/n, I love every part of you and if I am honest with myself that is the night I started falling for you. You amaze me with your ability to laugh and stand strong in the face of danger, I save people every night and have never seen anyone else react like you."

You push a hand against his chest, "stop, you're making me blush."

He rolls his eyes and laughs at you again, before growing more serious as he looks at you, saying in a low, sexy, voice, "a deals a deal, y/n, I'm going to make you do more than blush tonight."

#Batman #batman x you #batmom #batmom reader #batfam x batmom #batfam #batfam x you #batfam x y/n #batfam x reader #batman x batmom #batman x batmom!reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n

[kookingtae]

falling into you (pt. 8) PREVIEW

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7

→scenario: Jungkook’s innocence is like a breath of fresh air in your wild life, and though you know you’re toxic for him, you just can’t seem to stay away.

→genre: college au, slow burn, mutual pining, shy/nerd jk + bad girl oc (mature themes)

→a/n: so i’m not finished with pt 8 yet, since it’s such a climactic chapter it’s taking a bit longer than i anticipated unfortunately BUT i dont want u guys to think ive forgotten about it!!! i know u all are waiting so patiently, and i cannot thank you enough from the bottom of my heart <3 i hope this preview keeps you excited for what’s to come!

Jungkook could never face Y/N again.

God, how could he, knowing that he’d not only finished in five minutes like a pubescent teenager, but also in his pants while she was on top of him?

Embarrassment didn’t even begin to describe the mortification he felt. He’d never wanted the earth to swallow him whole as much as he did in that moment. Sure, he was aware of his slight social anxiety, the way he was constantly looking to bolt from uncomfortable situations—but this was different entirely. This was new territory for him; he’d never done anything remotely sexual with someone else, period, much less with the girl who hung the stars, moon, and sun in his eyes. What was he supposed to do? There was nowhere to escape to in his own bedroom, no running away from his problems that made him uncomfortable. No, he had to stand there with his head down and his crotch dripping wet while he practically begged her to leave. He had never been so ashamed of himself. He had never felt so pathetic.

But then Y/N surprised him like she never failed to do: she’d given him reassurance, another kiss even, while telling him that she actually enjoyed the experience—went so far as to say it was the best in her life. Now he knew she was lying to spare his feelings. Of all the men Y/N had been with, there was no way a virgin cumming untouched in his pants was the best of them. She was cruel to make him believe otherwise, to give him false hope.

He wouldn’t allow himself to think any differently. He couldn’t allow himself to get hurt.

Which was why he made it his mission to avoid her at all costs—something he’d gotten very good at over the past few months, and the past few weeks, specifically.

But in the same way he’d learned from the patterns of her daily routine and used them as a means to remain hidden, she’d also learned his and utilized them to her advantage as well. It was the only explanation as to how he was turning a corner inside the art building (about to take the rear exit, since she usually waited for him out front) and suddenly she was standing right in front of him.

He instantly skidded to a halt, heart rate shooting to astronomical levels and eyes widening on their own accord. “Y-Y/N,” he stuttered out involuntarily, the sight of her causing every single detail of their time spent together to come rushing back to him like a tidal wave ready to wipe him out.

As if he needed another excuse to think about the moment they shared that had changed him forever, about the way her moans sounded in his ear and her body felt on his lap and the way she touched his cheek, his neck, the way her lips felt on his skin, god help him—

Already he could feel the beginnings of a blush start to rise to his suddenly hot cheeks, and he cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other to keep from springing yet another boner in front of her.

He slid his books in front of his waist, just in case.

While she usually approached him with the natural ease of self-confidence and charm, today she seemed worried, unsure. She chewed at her lower lip—something he didn’t think she really ever did, as he would certainly remember the way it stirred within him—and looked up at him beneath delicate lashes that framed her eyes.

He didn’t have it in him to keep from outright staring at her beauty.

“I… I missed you,” she finally murmured, and he felt the breath physically whoosh from his lungs to join his butterfly-filled stomach all the way at the floor.

It had been a few days since he’d last seen her, since she’d been in his room that night where they opened up about their past and confessed how they truly felt about one another and shared the most life-altering moment he’d ever experienced. He missed her too, god he missed her. He missed everything about her the moment she left his side—would picture her face in his mind as soon as she left his field of vision. But for some reason unknown to him, she was too kind to him, spared his feelings despite knowing what little experience he had. There was no way he’d be able to satisfy a girl—mentally, physically, emotionally—who could have anyone she wanted. Perhaps she pitied him. Either way, if she wouldn’t put a stop to it, then he would.

Or so he’d try, but alas, nothing ever went according to his plans where Y/N was concerned. And here she was, three simple words mumbled into existence and he couldn’t even remember his own name, much less why he’d been trying to fight this.

She seemed to expect he would say nothing—either that or she’d grown used to his silence—because before he had enough sense in him to even think about responding, she was speaking again. “How have you been?”

The question was asked with deliberate, genuine curiosity and concern; she really wanted to know if he was okay, how he was handling things after what had transpired between them. And no matter how hard Jungkook tried to fight this, fight her, fight himself, he was only human.

And so he stopped fighting.

“I– I missed you too,” he breathed out, and it was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and relocated to his gut. He tensed at his confession, mentally berated himself for his words even though she’d been the one to say them first. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, what with the way his throat locked up.

Though the second he witnessed the smile that sprang to her tantalizing lips, he felt as light as a feather floating in the breeze.

“You did?” Her eyes lit up, sparkled under the fluorescent hallway lights that still managed to capture all of her beauty despite the unflattering lighting. He didn’t think it was possible for any scenery, not even that of a dull and stuffy university building, to make her appear any less breathtaking than she always was.

“I was so worried after I left last week,” she continued without prompt. The mention of his premature finish had him stiffening in dread, though she didn’t let enough silence fester between her words for the anxiety to claw its way up his throat. “I didn’t want you to beat yourself up. I’ve noticed you tend to be too hard on yourself sometimes.” She glanced up at him with the hint of a sheepish grin dancing on her lips.

Her expression said it all: that’s an understatement.

And this shocked him to his core, because she was absolutely right.

Just how well had she gotten to know him in their time spent together over the last few months? And how? And why?

The last question would always boggle him until the end of time; he would never understand why she was interested in him. Why was he the one she had feelings for, when she claimed she never had feelings for anybody? Though he supposed he could ask himself the same thing: why did he feel things for Y/N that he had never felt for anyone else in his life? And the answer was quite simple, really: because it was her.

He didn’t know what about himself was so special to make him stand out in her mind, and as a result he still couldn’t help but be skeptical, even after her confession. But it wasn’t like he had any choice in the matter on what to do with that skepticism—not when his heart kept leading him back to her.

At some point after her accurate description of the inner turmoil that’s been plaguing his mind, his mouth had fallen open slightly. He couldn’t hide the surprise from his face even if he tried; he was speechless.

Y/N gazed up at him, not seeming in any hurry to rush the conversation along, and for that he was grateful. He’d never met somebody so patient and understanding before—just another reason to make Jungkook’s heart flutter with endearment. And it was no secret to himself anymore that he yearned to be in Y/N’s presence for as long as possible whether he was aware of it or not.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know,” she continued as if she could read his mind, and that was when he realized the way his eyes avoided hers and the fact that his skin was the color of tomatoes must’ve been dead giveaways. “I meant it when I said that was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Jungkook balked, practically choking on his spit at her forward, shameless words. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way she spoke her mind so openly without any fear holding her back. She’d gone through so much in her childhood, in her life—Jungkook not even knowing the half of it, he’s sure—and yet she was still so strong and brave and everything he wasn’t. He couldn’t help but admire the person she was today, despite all the prejudice and judgment he’d held for her when they first met.

He realized now that he was too quick to judge her, to write her off based on rumors and first impressions. He realized now that he was too quick to do that to a lot of people. Just how long had he closed himself off from others based on his skewed, morally righteous perspective? His whole life, if he had to say.

The epiphany that she was physically prying open his third eye with a crowbar, that he was now self aware and changing for the better for her—for himself—hit him all at once.

It was the most frightening sensation of his life, the introvert in him wanting to crawl back into his shell where it was safe and comfortable and dull. But deep down he knew it was also for the best.

“W-why?” He heard himself asking before he knew what he was doing. “Why do you keep saying that?”

He had to know why she insisted on standing by her statement that his mishap was not only hot, but the hottest ever. Why did she insist on lying to him, on giving him false hope? She spoke her mind in every other situation, or at least that’s what he assumed; why did she insist on sparing his feelings in this incident? Was he really that pathetic? Did she pity him that much?

She simply blinked at him once, twice, before: “Because I really like you, Jungkook.”

As if in slow motion, you could visibly see his eyes expand to the size of saucers at your words.

You would’ve found the sight comical had the situation been any different. But the way he continued to disbelieve that you could have feelings for him, that you could be attracted to everything about him despite who he was, despite his inexperience—it made your heart break in your chest. You now knew from where this inferiority complex stemmed—he’d told you himself about his family situation—and if anything, it made you want to rebuild his confidence that much more. He needed to see himself the way you saw him.

But you also didn’t want to overwhelm him, either. And you were more than willing to walk that fine line with Jungkook no matter how long it took.

“So are we on for a study sesh tonight?” You continued nonchalantly, wanting to return things to normalcy for him as much as possible before he ran away mid-conversation as he’d done so many times before. You wanted to ease his self-doubt so he’d stop avoiding you—like he’d been doing the past few days—as much as possible.

Jungkook blinked as if trying to adjust from the whiplash of your subject-change. “U–uh… if you want?”

“Of course I want to,” you replied without missing a beat, not caring how desperate you seemed so long as he didn’t question where you stood. You took a step forward, unable to help the intangible, magnetic draw you felt to him as you gazed up at him beneath your lashes. “That is… if you want to.”

You watched in agony as a gulp slowly raked its way down his throat.

“I–” his voice was hoarse before he cleared his throat. “I uh, can’t tonight. I have to study for math.”

You weren’t even sure how one studied for math, but you weren’t about to question the expert. “That’s fine! We could… do it tomorrow?”

Jungkook chewed at his bottom lip, an action he always did when he was internally struggling with something before he finally nodded his head yes in a slow, hesitant manner. “N–not in my room though,” he added as an afterthought, and when your gaze snapped to his he had a pleading expression in his eyes.

A mix of emotions rolled through you. On one hand, you were horrified at the possibility that he thought the only reason you wanted to study again was so that you could get in his pants. Which—okay, you’re not going to lie, you would love to have a repeat of last week—but that definitely wasn’t why you wanted to see him. He meant more to you than just a means to get off, which was what you’d thought of flings in the past. You didn’t want him to be just a fling, though.

You didn’t want to think of the meaning behind that fact right now, either.

But on another hand, you understood where Jungkook was coming from. Maybe it was because you’d studied him enough over the past few months to learn some of his behavior (for once you finally saw the appeal of studying), so you knew that level of intimacy was probably extremely overwhelming for Jungkook and he needed a moment to step back. Hell, it was even overwhelming for you, and that was saying something. Never had your senses, your heart, your body, your soul been attacked like that with such an abundance of emotional pleasure, and you hoped with all your might that Jungkook was feeling the same—that that was the reason he needed a breather from being alone with you, and not the fact that he just didn’t want to be intimate with you.

Unless…

Oh god, had you misread the situation entirely? Had Jungkook hated everything about that night?

Suddenly you were feeling sick to your stomach. The thought of you misunderstanding his confession—or worse, him changing his mind completely—made you want to escape to a dark and desolate stairwell and cry in the hidden nooks of the windowsill again; the irony that not only would you be pulling a Jungkook by escaping mid-conversation, but that the stairwell was also the place the two of you had your first real conversation, wasn’t lost on you.

“M–my roommate is staying in, studying for finals.” The sound of Jungkook’s voice was like a breath of fresh air whooshing into your lungs after almost drowning underwater. You blinked out of your inner turmoil, focusing on him. “So he’ll be there, i–in my room, this whole week.”

And suddenly your heart was warming with relief, hope, appreciation, like flowers blooming in the spring after a torrential downpour. Just when you thought you had him figured out, this enigma of a boy continued to surprise you. It was usually easy for you to hide your emotions—you’d been doing so for years, always wore a mask around others so that they couldn’t see the real you—and yet somehow, Jungkook must’ve sensed them anyway. He sensed the doubt, the pain, the fear that you vowed never to cage you crawling up your throat and threatening to consume you whole, and he eased it. He didn’t want you to misunderstand him. He wanted to reassure you.

If anything, that was just a testament to how Jungkook had broken down your walls—how much you had let him in, how well he was able to read the emotions you wanted to keep hidden. Your mask had begun to break, the real you showing through the cracks, and Jungkook was still standing here. He hadn’t run away.

You fought the urge to grab him and slam your lips onto his.

“Not in your room, then,” is all you managed to breathe out beneath a fluttering smile.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook scenario #bts x reader #bts scenario #i hope this is good enough for the time being!!! im sorry its taking me so long to get pt 8 posted #u guys are the best i love u <3333

[thefanficmonster]

Lucky Me (Sequel To Unlucky)

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff

Summary: You aren’t always born with luck. Sometimes, you meet people who bring it to you. In short, they are your lucky charm.

Requested: Yes, but not in a typical way. A big thank you to all the wonderful people who read, liked, reblogged and commented on part one - Unlucky.  

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  and many more ❤❤❤

They are the reason this story is being written. What was originally supposed to be an elaborate one-shot turned into the most liked piece I’ve ever written. I can’t thank you enough, guys. You are amazing and I hope you like this one just as much or even more than the previous. Love you ❤❤❤

Y/N’s POV

I’m grinning at my reflection in the mirror as I put on a pair of earrings. My face is already touched-up with a little make-up and my hair is looking on point. I can almost see my own reflection in the shine of excitement in my eyes. I take in my upper body via a quick once-over in the full body mirror opposite me, and I finally relax my muscles that I didn’t ever realize I was tensing.

��OK, now I’m ready.“ I say as a form of encouragement as I reach behind me for my phone that’s sitting on my bed.

You might be wondering where I’m going? Who I’m going with? What’s the occasion behind this many preparations and pampering?

The answer: Nowhere. No one. Nothing. I’m literally not even going to leave my house.

It might seem ridiculous to someone else, but to me, to my hypnotized mind, it’s perfectly reasonable to be getting so amped up over a FaceTime call. Yeah, you heard me correctly - a FaceTime call. 

Well, you see, this isn’t the first time we FaceTime, but it will be the first time we’ll see each other’s faces. I wanted to level the field so I didn’t let him on to what I look like, where exactly I live, etc. Basically, he only knows my name, which I am still prepared to call unfair, considering I don’t know his real name. 

A brief backstory to my first ever real interaction with Corpse: I was introduced to him by my friends. They are the ones I always turned to with all the scary shit happening in my life. Often times they didn’t know weather to comfort me or laugh at my curse. My friends suggested I start sharing it to a youtuber named Corpse Husband. You see, I love YouTube narrators and I’ve always been a fan of Mr. Nightmare and I, to be perfectly honest, always kept the idea of sending him my stories in the back of my mind. Nevertheless, I bit the bullet and checked out on of this Corpse Husband guy’s videos. And then another. And another. And before I knew it I was having a marathon after which I was too paranoid to get online, walk home alone at night, leave my curtains open etc. It wasn’t all thanks to the stories themselves. A lot of the fear factor these stories strike with should be credited to the way they are read. Let me tell you, this guy had it all figured out with the reading. Not sending him my stories would just be wrong. So I did, I sent him my first ever creepy encounter which was with a stalker from my high school and it took me only two days to forget about it. It only crossed my mind when my friends blew my phone up, demanding I watched Corpse’s new video. I kid you not, I got more scared by the story when he read it than when I lived it. That’s what settled it for me - I decided to send him each and every story.

And then one day, out of the blue, my life changed for the better in more ways than one. It got turned completely upside down, like a rollercoaster, and I just had to hold on and enjoy the ride, embrace the adrenaline rush and excitement, knowing full well that I chose to get on and there’s no way I can get off halfway through. 

I’m being too metaphorical. He sent me an email. He freaking reached out to me. And I was posed with a rough choice. Took me a minute, but I chose to reply to him, I chose to trust him, and I couldn’t just leave him on read one day simply cause I chickened out. Yes, I’m unlucky and these things don’t happen to unlucky people. I mean, they do, but they are nightmares disguised as a dream come true. I’ve lived all my life cautiously: if something sounds too good to be true it’s either not as good as marketed or not true at all. If it’s dark and late and there are no people around, FaceTime someone. If your Uber driver’s sketchy, cancel the ride. I take all the precautions and I still find myself in the worst situations. Or at least...

My thoughts are interrupted by the ringing of my phone. A simple ringtone I hear every time he calls me. A simple sound that causes me butterflies when I hear it and ultimate devastation if the caller ID doesn’t read the name I want. It always gets me excited, probably more than it should. This time is different, however. It’s scary almost. I’m nervous, anxious, scared, hesitant - all things I never feel when I’m about to answer his call. 

With shaky hands I pick up the call and find myself looking at the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. Now I know why I would have never initiated this meeting, because I know what color my face is right now. I know my voice has let me down before I even attempt to speak. I know I look like a mess. I know my obvious crush is showing.

Corpse initiated this meeting. He said he was getting too curious and he wanted one of his best friends to see him and for him to finally see her. It’s been about seven months since we first started texting and I haven’t let out a single peep about it to a single soul. It’s just between him and I. We are each other’s safe space away from the rest of the world.

“Thought you weren’t gonna pick up for a second there.“ His voice is not as confident as other times when we’ve talked. His trying to hide his own nervousness and all I wanna do is hug him and tell him he doesn’t have to. I kept telling him over and over again that we don’t have to do this if he’s not sure that he actually wants it. I even offered to show him what I look like, not expecting to see him in return but he declined, saying it was now his turn to even the field.

“I was in another room.“ I manage to say, my voice only shaking a little.

We spend a few moments just looking at each other. Admiring one another. For someone who prefers digital interaction, I am surprised to realize I wish he was actually standing in front of. I wish I could hug him. A long hug of comfort, mutual understanding and hidden feelings.

He lets out a short laugh, shaking his head which causes a few strands of hair to fall over his eyepatch, “I’m sorry...It’s just-...Fuck I’m stumbling.” He chuckles nervously, “I just...can’t believe you are real. You are a real person. And the most beautiful person I’ve seen. That’s corny, isn’t it.” He looks away from the screen, his face now a shade of red. “But I mean it. I’m embracing my corniness. You are beautiful, Y/N. Not that I’m flexing or anything, but I’m lucky to have met you.”

I laugh, feeling my eyes stinging from the tears that have suddenly formed. I don’t want to let them fall, but I don’t have much say in that. “Well, mister Corpse, I can’t begin to compare. I mean...that hair! I still cannot believe it’s you. You are not just a deep voice in my mind. You are....you are...”

“Everything you imagined and more?“ he jokes, making my whole body heat up. “I told you you could trust. I mean, if the hair doesn’t confirm I’m who I say I am, I don’t know what will.”

“Actually, I never tried to imagine what you looked like. I knew those visions...I knew they didn’t matter. Faces don’t matter to us, Corpse. I think you realize that.“

And just like that, all I’ve been keeping hidden is pouring out. I don’t try to stop it - you can’t stop a hurricane with bare hands.

“I never needed a face to imagine us. I always saw as talking on the phone, playing Among Us. Reading scary stories to each other on Discord. I never needed a face to imagine your company. To imagine what we could be...“ I trail off, letting the first tear slip down my cheek.

The most sincere look appears in his eyes, “Fuck, I wish I could hold your hand right now. Never mind, I wish I could hug you, Y/N. Hug you and not let go for a long time.”

I laugh halfheartedly, my chest burning from the intensity of this moment’s intimacy, “I can always tell you where I live.” I’m only half-joking. I really want to see him in real life, not just through a screen, but even this call is out of his comfort zone, let alone a physical meet up.

He surprises me yet again, “Saturday. I’ll bring the take out, you pick the movie.” he says with a smile that is literally saying ‘you didn’t see that coming, did you?’

“How are you sure I don’t live in a different state, or a different continent all together?“ I tease, making an attempt to put my composure back together.

He smirks, “I pay way more attention to your stories than you’d think.” I laugh, shaking my head as a pointless method of fighting the pesky tears that he has 100% noticed by this point. “By the way, just because we’re....” he thinks for a second, “in a weird zone between friendship and...something more, doesn’t mean you have to stop sending me stories. I absolutely love reading them for my audience. They love em too.”

I just realized I am yet to tell him the crazy miracle that has happened. “Well, the thing is...I don’t have any.” His eyebrows shoot up in shock which makes me laugh, “Yeah, I know, it’s crazy. Since the day we started talking I have not experienced a single scary thing. Deadass. I swear on my life.”

If I wasn’t so head over heels for this man already, the baffled expression on his face would definitely send me falling for him. He’s just that adorable. “Wow.”

“I know right.“ I nod, “Seems to me you have enough luck to share with me.“

His eyes light up at that comment, showing just how meaning full it is to him.

“You’re my lucky charm, Corpse.“

“I will never be more proud of any other title, Y/N. That I can promise you with no hesitation.“

“Deadass?“

“Deadass.“

#corpsehusband #corpse husband #corpse simp #corpse husband fanfic #corpse x reader #corpse husband fanficiton #corpse #husband #x reader #reader #reader insert #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband x reader #request #requests open #love #fanfiction #fanfic #corpse fanfiction #among us #e girls are ruining my life #unlucky