#I have been so tired all day and you’ll never guess what I cannot do
Text
Being constantly tired and having insomnia is a special sort of hell that words cannot describe
#the elf talks#I have been so tired all day and you’ll never guess what I cannot do#I am exhausted from the moment I wake up until I lay down to try to go to bed#and for the next few hours I know what wakefullness truly feels like#I’m pretty sure this si some kind of medical thing but also doctors cost money so like#fuck it we ball ig#shut up lex
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi! Hi! Hi!!!
Remember me? It's the one who encouraged to do the genshin character compatibility trend i have been dying to do! Unfortunately, i couldn't find the person who i saw started this trend so here i am in your ask box doing this. So i guess you know how this thing works- like you send three characters to see your compatibility with, and then you send a little bit of info about yourself such as personality and hobbies. I love that trend so much and as much as i wanna stay sane, i wanna know if my favorites will actually match or vibe with me ehehehehe-
So anyways! Let's start!!!
Characters : Pantalone, Venti, and Diluc!!! My favorites!!!
Apperance (ft. Picrew) :
About me : So technically, i am currently a drained out student (and help me school starts soon), but i am studious and hardworking! My problem is, i cannot seem to focus on one topic at a time and i ended up forgetting things. I don't socialize much, yet i would always greet people with a smile. But i never had anyone else to share what i have on my mind (usually books and my own ideas) and i tend to overshare and sometimes change the topic that it gets all too confusing. I only have two hobbies, reading and listening to music. And i pretty much wanna stay indoors all the time and then be alone in a pretty, fairy-tale like place in nature sometimes. I am very much clingy, and somewhat get attached way too easily. And yes i do require headpats and cuddles because i never got any affection. And i get easily irritated and when i am pissed i get too far, sometimes. Yet i just want cuddles and affection because i am lonely, lol. Oh and i love stuffed animals and books and sweet-scented perfume as an addition. Also i have a fear of spiders, i pray at least someone can get rid of them for me. That is all ✨️✨️✨️
Author’s note: Heyya! Sorry it took a couple days, I got my nails done and can’t type as fast as before! We changed Pantalone with Welt from HSR, because for some unknown reason I can’t write him. Anywaaay, I hope you’ll enjoy this! Sending all my hugs to u. <3
Venti
I have a strong feeling that his outer persona is your inner one, so you sort of complete eachother in a way none of you really expected.
Although it would take a while to get used to his extrovert self, since you seem to be pretty much introvert, the moment you decide you are comfortable enough you’ll see a big change. Meaning - EXPECT UNENDING AFFECTION AND CUDDLES!!!
I swear Venti wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of you - always needs to give you reassurance and to have you close to him. Would totally do the thing where he squeezes your hand three times to silently tell you he loves you.
Would show you the most beautiful views in Mondstadt, he knows every place worth seeing and knows which one will leave you absolutely breathless.
Whether you like it or not, he will sing to you all the time. You like a certain song? Expect to hear to it singed by Venti for the next two weeks, until you physically can’t listen to it anymore.
A small issue would be that he constantly need to be around people, to interact and be present, which you’ll find a little tiring. Loves to annoy you too so he could get a reaction out of you. Don’t worry tho, he will never cross your boundaries!
Overall, on a scale from one to ten, I’d give your compatibility an 8.5 .
Diluc
The moment I finished reading about you I immediately thought that Diluc is the one.
It’s just that the two of you are fairly similar, both in the way you are around others (although you are quite a pleasant presence, Diluc is just more grumpy) and in the way you share the same wish in your heart - to be loved by someone, held amd cherished despite your flaws.
And I can say that the two of you do a pretty good job at that. Main love language between you is physical touch, since both of you are touch starved. When you are around others PDA is kept to the minimum, but when the two of you are alone HE WILL BE ON YOU ALWAYS! Holding your hand absolutely everywhere you go in the Dawn Winery and around its domain, random back hugs and normal hugs, headpats whenever he sees you around the house.
Also kisses on the crown of your head and forehead (they are Diluc’s favourite form of intimacy), which make you feel so special and seen.
He will always find time for you despite his busy schedule. His favourite activity together is reading in silence next to eachother, shoulders touching, but each doinh his own thing. He is the type of person that would put your legs over his during this to help you sitt mor comfortable. You will absolutely fall asleep in his lap like that.
Carries you to bed when that happens - no one can change my mind !!!
The two of you strike me as that couple that doesn’t really fight and not because you ignore your problems. You really don’t have reasons to fight.
Did I mention you will never have to worry about bugs again? :)
He is THE MAN - 10/10 compatibility.
Welt
Loves to take care of you in any possible way he can. Mans just trying to make you feel as safe and as comfortable as he can. He loves you too much to have you feeling bad about yourself or lonely.
Indulges in all your little habits such as going rants whenever you find something you love. He’s listening to every word carefully, absorbing information. You will maybe think he doesn’t care, but in the next couple days you will find a lot of things related to your new book or idea in your room on the Astral Express.
He’s more mature and a big stand-offish, so expect cuddles only when you request them or really really need them. Doesn’t really initiate this kind of things. You will however have your hand held and head pat by him at all times.
Saved you more than once from Himeko’s bad tasting coffee.
His main love language would be quality time, you will find yourself sitting next to him anytime, anywhere, each doing his own thing.
Whenever the Astral Express stops on a new planet for a trailblazing expedition, he will take you on cute dates and a walk in the nature.
He gives me a 7 vibe. Maybe 7.5-8.
And little note to u : all of them would find you absolutely beautiful because, honestly, who wouldn’t?
#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail#venti#venti x reader#diluc ragnvindr#diluc x reader#welt yang#welt x reader
40 notes
·
View notes
Text
Traintober Day 8: Squawk Shock
Written By: SparkArrester
Bill & Ben were feeling put-upon. A large order of china clay had caused them to be put in overtime, and the worst part of it was that they couldn't pull any jokes, japes, or good natured tomfoolery in days! Their manager tried to keep them calm and entertained, but as time went on, the urge for mischief grew in the twins.
“It’s terrible Bill!” Began Ben one night, “It took every pound of metal in my body not to reverse under the hoppers!”
‘I know!” Comforted Bill, “Life’s been so boring these past few weeks! It's a good thing there’s only a week or two of hard work for us! I’ve got a bucket-list of good stress relievers…”
“But Bill! I don’t think I can wait much longer! I have to do something!”
“...yeah, I definitely cannot wait anymore. We’re going down to Brendam tomorrow, but that begs the question: who shall be the victim…?”
The twins smiled deviously as they went over their targets. But as they went down the list, those smiles dissipated faster than a wisp of smoke. Timothy would be too easy, Marion would be oblivious to anything and everything, Cranky was low-hanging fruit, and BoCo would probably murder them. That left only one possible candidate without heading to the main-line.
“Are you sure Bill?
“Positive.”
“But when was the last time we got him?”
“The day we arrived.”
“That was 3 decades ago!”
“All the more reason to get him!”
The twins simply couldn’t fall asleep after that, and they stayed up all night, planning on a way to get Edward the Blue Engine.
The next morning, Edward was sizzling happily at the harbor station. He was just about to come off of his train and get to the sheds when, creaking and groaning, a line of trucks came crawling past him, with no engine to move them! Timothy, who was on the other line, yelped and banged into some wagons, but Edward just laughed.
“It’s been a while, you two! I can see you’re bringing your A-Game into this!”
Bill and Ben came out of their hiding place and snorted.
“Us, play tricks on you? Don’t be silly Edward.”
Of course, the expression on Ben’s face and the deadpan delivery betrayed everything.
“Come on you two, you’ll get a rest in a week or two! Surely you can wait that long!”
“No. No we can’t”
“So all bets are off then?”
“Yes. Yes they are.”
Edward just smiled.
“Ah well. Good luck to you two!”
“Thanks Edward!”
“Ben, shush!”
The twins tried all sorts of tricks. They tried adding more wagon’s to Edward’s trains. They tried hiding themselves on his trains with their brakes hard on. They even tried making him a middle engine! But nothing seemed to work. Worse still, each of their schemes took a while to prepare with their workload, so half the time, Edward could guess what they were doing anyways. The twins weren’t the only ones on edge however. Edward was beginning to get tired of always being on guard for any of the twin’s tricks. It got to the point of affecting his work.
“You should stand your ground Edward.” said BoCo a few days later, “Or else it will never end!”
“I know BoCo… but”
“But nothing! I get that the twins need to let out some stress, believe me I’ve gone giddy seeing them scurry round, but boundaries must be set!”
As the two engines were discussing, another pair of engines were also scheming in the night.
“Should we do it?”
“Why not Ben?”
“It seems unfair to weaponize his weakness”
“And your point is…?
“...Nevermind. But what about the clay pits? We left the work-half finished!”
“Eh, we can do it later! Now let's get some sleep!”
The next day, Edward was once again at the harbor station as he heard the whistles of Bill and Ben. He sighed and prepared for any tricks, but he was surprised to see something else.
“You two, what on earth are you doing?!”
Bill and Ben were not only pushing the train, but the train was unbraked with no brake-van and dangerously out-of-date stock. It seemed like they were desperate enough to just want a reaction. In that department, they certainly succeeded. But they were heading for trouble. With the trucks in front, they couldn’t see BoCo on their line!
“Watch out!” Shrieked Edward in an uncharacteristically shrill voice.
But it was too late, as both trains collided with one another!
Lucky for them, they didn’t hit BoCo, but rather his train, and being at the back of their train helped them escape any serious damage. But they had something else to deal with. Edward came up to them, but instead of yelling at them, he began belting out unintelligible hoots and squawking! It was a while before he started to speak actual words, and even then, he laid into the twins until they had the paint blistered off of them! BoCo just sat back in awe.
The twins had to stay and clear up the mess. They were looking forward to a nice rest back at the clay pits, but their manager immediately put them to work with the backlog they had left. I think it’ll be another three decades before they even think to play games with Edward again, don’t you?
#ttte#ttte edward#ttte bill#ttte ben#ttte boco#traintober 2023#woooo I was able to do something!!!!!#I always liked the idea of engines taking on the animal traits of their nicknames#and birds squawk!#spark writes#traintober2023 prompts#traintober#general rws stuff
17 notes
·
View notes
Note
16 + sebchal (vos rebloggeas un prompt game y yo me materializo en tu ask box)
send me a pairing and a number and i'll write a short fic for you!
um, this went way off road. tw mystery / horror i guess.
You’ll put together the pieces yourself, maybe.
It sits on the kitchen floor, the half burnt piece of paper that fell from his hand and he refused to pick up. There is dirt pilling up on it, dust and grease, but the words are as bold as the day he first laid eyes on them.
You’ll put together the pieces yourself.
Maybe.
He’d left him like he came into his world, silently in the dead of the night, his rusty pickup truck parked far away on the field, the rows of planted land unyielding to his gaze as he tried to pry what had happened, what he did wrong. Why did he leave like this?
Charles had not asked for the silence, nor he had asked for words to be written down in sharpie somewhere in between the sex and the take off, like he had a plane waiting for him and he couldn’t wait for him to wake up and tell him the end was nigh.
He should have seen it coming, he tells himself. There are pieces scattered all over, Charles knows he didn’t lie in this. It is just so insignificant now, when he’s curled up on the floor, watching the piece of paper flicker as the slow moving blades of the ceiling fan send waves of lukewarm air all over the space. The kitchen floor is dirty, Charles’ hands hurt and he is sure to need to get up and make some calls and hire someone to take care of the field work because he can’t do twenty acres of land on his own (he couldn’t do it when he was around either, they hired day laborers and while Charles helped them dust off their bust, he would make them a hearty meal and ask for anecdotes of their long weary travels cross country searching for land to care in exchange for a roof and a meal).
He could spend all his hard earned savings and hire one of those fancy detectives to put together the pieces. Charles has a knife carved with a number, a swirly five near the base, a book written in a language Charles had never seen before, a vintage compass with his name engraved at the bottom and a bunch of memories he cannot help but run through his mind like a movie he’s getting tired of seeing.
Three nights before he left he’d been wary, four days before he left he’d been tense, irked by the most inane of things, five days before he left he’d said ‘you need to know loneliness to truly yearn for company’, chewing tobacco as the dip of his back soaked in sweat, seven days before he left he’d taken him to church to say a prayer for the soldiers who never came back home. And a day before he went away, a duffel bag stolen from Charles’ wardrobe, a haphazardly written note left on the dinner table, Charles had asked for his real name, tired of pretending it didn’t take two ‘Simon!’ before he looked his way, and Sebastian Vettel had said ‘you’ll find out once I leave’.
The engraved compass told him he needed to keep something a secret, look for something, find truth in something. The pieces
You’ll put together the pieces yourself, maybe.
Charles digs his teeth into the meat of his meal, the flesh tastes sweet and a bit like chicken, but the tear through it is rougher. He’ll hire a day laborer in the morning and ask if he knows a man with blue eyes who sells puzzles in exchange for a home for a season.
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝓑𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓼: 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝔀𝓸
A Ballad from The Venus Lounge
Warnings: Violence against women, swearing
The Dreaming
He finds her first in the dreams of her mother. Thalia, the joyous one. He remembers her laughter, suspects he will never forget it. But her dreams grew sombre with the birth of the child, the colour slipped from them, the silence,
profound.
In these dreams the child is an infant, red faced, squalling. Then a little older, dark haired, toddling. He delved deeper and deeper, searching for a name, but even in sleep Thalia is careful not to speak it, calls the child; her baby, her pet, her beauty.
There is one nightmare however, a sky on fire, unspeakable horror. She whispers the child’s name over and over, then the skein of Thalia’s life is cut.
But he has found her.
The Waking World
Cassie drops into the bar stool beside Belle with a contented sigh, she fishes in her clutch bag, pulls out her lipstick and begins to touch it up using the back of a spoon as a mirror. Evelyn, who had been drying off the cutlery strewn across the counter with a towel snatches it back.
Cassie gives her a sweet, reproachful look, but knows to pick her battles, so she turns to Belle, “Sweetie you’ll never guess what I saw outside.” Cassie is beautiful and her enthusiasm is infectious, Belle can’t help but smile “Go on, tell me.” Even Evelyn is dawdling in her work, just to catch the story.
“A pervert bird!” Cassie laughs. Belle wants to ask what she means, but they hear Venus’ car pulling up outside so they each endeavour to look busy.
Venus had been christened Mary Patricia Bernadette O’ Malley and this had been her greatest misery in life. The day she turned eighteen she had the name expunged from all public records and had it replaced with Venus Lovelace, which was equally ridiculous, but far more evocative. She affected a French accent at all times and was immaculately groomed. She was as out of place in shabby little Pleasance as it was possible to be and that was exactly how she liked it. A single candle shines all the brighter in a darkened room.
She bought the local dive bar on a whim, with money from her most recent (and most successful) divorce and transformed it into The Venus Lounge. The clientele were still the same old tired faces and there was nothing to be done for the dank stench of loneliness that lingered in every room but Venus worked hard to give the place a rarefied air. She liked her girls (her staff, all female, all pretty) to be talented, she wanted writers, dancers, singers, artists. Venus felt that their wide eyed hopefulness might brighten the place up a little.
“Bonjour mes enfants!” She trills, her heels play a rapid staccato across the tiles. The women mumble their hellos. Venus is plotting something. She scans the room.
Evelyn, Cassie, Belle.
Belle.
Mais oui.
Venus click-clacks towards the table Belle is wiping. “Ma chérie, I would speak with you. In private.” Evelyn and Cassie toss her a look.
Venus’ office is decorated with pictures of herself. There is a plate of macarons on the desk, either fake or very ancient, Belle cannot be certain which, but refuses them immediately when they’re offered.
“Ah ma chérie, I am going to ask you a favour” Belle begins a mental audition of viable excuses.
“You will of course refuse, but that is why I will give you this now.” Venus slides a sizeable stack of cash towards her “and this after.” She waves a larger stack in her left hand, just out of Belle’s reach.
Belle wonders how illegal this favour is likely to be.
“What do I have to do?” She asks, she cannot keep the suspicion from her voice. Venus sighs. “Jane, she has left. I have no singer.”
Jane had been threatening to leave for weeks, she wanted to marry her boyfriend Donny a former patron of The Venus Lounge, but he wouldn’t agree to it as long as other men leered at her. It didn’t seem to bother him that not six months earlier, he had been one of the men leering.
“Venus, I don’t sing.” Venus waves her hand as if she is swatting flies “Nonsense, everyone sings and besides, I don’t even really need you to sing, I only ask that you hold the microphone and look pretty.”
It is a lot of money, enough to leave Pleasance, which has been proving more difficult than Belle had initially thought.
“Why not ask Cassie or Evelyn?”
Venus makes a vague noise, her gaze trained on a portrait of herself done in oils, hanging above the door of the office.
“So they said no?”
Venus bristles “Yes, but I wasn’t going to pay them half as much as I’m paying you!”
Belle picks up the money, feels the heft of it.
“One week Belle and then I’ll find a replacement for Jane, unless you like it of course…” Venus is smiling now, she knows Belle will agree.
“One week” says Belle and pockets her escape route.
The Dreaming
Dream’s Raven shifts uneasily from foot to foot, glancing up at The Dream King with a look, that had he been human, would have expressed extreme discomfort.
“So… This is a kidnap mission?”
Dream of the Endless is affronted “Matthew we are retrieving the Siren from The Waking World and bringing her to safety in The Dreaming”
“But you’re not going to explain any of this to her? You’re just going to do your sand thing and bring her here?”
“I doubt an explanation will make the situation any less… Unexpected”
That may be true Matthew thinks, but Dream of the Endless’ threshold for the unexpected is likely to be a hell of a lot more expansive than the average human’s.
“Sir, maybe just try? Talk to her first? I mean it can’t hurt.”
Dream sighs. “Fine.” He is pouring out his sand and then they are moving, falling, twisting through worlds.
The Waking World
“There’s the bird!” Cassie shrieks, gesticulating wildly to the high window of the ladies toilet. The bird in question is a raven, who to his credit and the women’s delight, has the decency to look almost mortified at being caught spying on them and takes flight immediately. “Stop squirming” Evelyn chastises, slapping Cassie’s head gently with the back of the hairbrush. She is working Cassie’s hair into a bouffant that on any other person would look comical, but on Cassie looks like a golden halo.
Venus peeks her head around the door.
“Vite, vite, mes enfants! It is busy tonight.”
Evelyn and Cassie hurry towards the door, not bothering to clear away the mess behind them. Women don’t come to The Venus Lounge, the ladies toilet is their impromptu personal dressing room.
Belle, stands for a moment, surveying herself in the mirror, gathering her nerve. She would have sung for a lot less, but Venus doesn’t need to know that.
She doesn’t hear him come in, but she sees his reflection in the mirror. Their eyes meet in the glass and she turns, heart pounding.
The most important thing, the thing you must remember in these situations is not to be afraid, fear is blood in the water. Whatever happens, do not give them your fear.
She puts her hands on her hips, hopes he doesn’t see them shake. There is a weight to his gaze that makes it hard to meet his eyes but she does it anyway. “You’re not supposed to be here” she smiles, in a voice she hopes is casual, sweet, mollifying. He doesn’t move, he opens his mouth as if to speak but closes it again
Venus’ head pops back around the door. “Belle they are waiting!” Belle, still shaking, hurries to the door, “Sorry Venus I was just talking to-“ she turns to gesture to the dark haired stranger, but, he’s not there.
~
In the alley beside the bar Dream of the Endless is giving his raven a dressing down. “Your plan is too difficult.”
Matthew squawks. “I never said that you should approach her in the ladies room! What did she say when you told her? Did she freak out?”
Dream is silent and in a small voice he murmurs “I did not tell her. I felt.. Uncertain”
“You’re not sure it’s her?” Matthew flaps his wings anxiously, Dreams lack of confidence perturbs him.
“It is her, there is no doubt. But, it suddenly seemed like a terrible burden, this knowledge, and I-“
Dream sighs heavily “At any rate she has not used her powers.” Dreams coat flaps in a breeze that tumbles old newspaper down the alley. “How can you tell?” Matthew asks.
“All magic leaves a mark, it lingers on the user like a scent, if she had used her powers she could not stand in that bar without risking being torn apart.”
“Fuck.” Matthew sighs “So how would she use them, her powers I mean?” Dream casts his eyes over the flashing neon sign of The Venus Lounge. “Through song”.
From the bar comes the screech of microphone feedback. “Uhh, boss, maybe you should go back inside.”
~
Cassie and Evelyn have planted themselves behind the bar but Belle, thinking of the money in her duffel bag, moves further towards the makeshift stage in the centre of the lounge.
Venus is standing under the flickering spotlight, microphone in hand, the patrons look up wearily. Belle wonders why Venus bothers, all they want to do in here is drink and forget. But now she’s introducing Belle as The Venus Lounge’s very own Nightingale and folding herself elegantly in front of the piano.
Belle ascends the stage to half hearted claps and a giddy whoop from Cassie.
Venus whispers to her “Sing something sweet dear, I’ll follow along!”
Belle clears her throat, trying to think of ‘something sweet’. Mimi had been sweet. Mimi sang a song about a rodeo and a rock and roll band and a kiss. The song made Chester cry.
Remembering them feels like choking. She wants to climb down off the stage and hand back the money, but she has to get out of Pleasance by Summertime or she never will.
So she sings.
Had singing always felt like this? She doesn’t know, she hasn’t sung since she was a child when she would sit in the bath with the woman called Mother and their voices would bounce against the tiled walls.
Singing feels like… Like nothing else, it feels warm and good and right. It feels like jumping from a pier, like the first drag of a cigarette, it feels like being held and loved. It feels like standing exposed on a hilltop, it feels like everything.
Belle does not notice that Venus is not accompanying her, that the woman is simply staring, not quite at her, but through her almost, as if she is trying to see inside Belle to where the music was coming from.
Cassie and Evelyn are holding each other, having dispensed entirely with the charade of being anything other than madly in love.
The patrons are staring too. Some of them are weeping, some of them are on their knees but all of them have their eyes fixed on Belle.
Dream of the Endless watches too, tries to think through the song but the music is quicksand.
The song ends.
Everything happens all at once.
Venus leaps up from her stool, her hands reaching for Belle’s throat, the men rush the stage en masse, their hands open and grabbing and Evelyn and Cassie are twining their fingers and leaving through the front door. The man from the bathroom is moving towards the stage and he has something in his hand.
Silence falls, the men’s eyes have rolled back in their heads but before Belle has time to scream the man has grabbed her wrist and she is spinning, falling and rising in a whirl of sand.
Authors Note: Thank you for reading, feedback welcome!
PS. For anyone who’s interested, the song referenced in this chapter is Papa Was a Rodeo by The Magnetic Fields, I do have a playlist for this fic, which I’m happy to share if people would be interested!
#dream of the endless fic#dream x reader#dream of the endless#the sandman#the sandman fic#the sandman x reader#morpheus#morpheus fic#morpheus x reader
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
its another playlist post, this time: jeremy heere playlist and the lines that made me put the song on there
loser boy - joseph dubay
hold your breath, little loser boy // one day you will find your therapist
weightless - all time low
but i’m stuck in this fucking rut // waiting on a secondhand pick-me-up // and i’m over getting older
warm regards - penelope scott
it doesn’t fucking matter if i don’t wanna go // to college or to heaven or to anywhere alone // nothing really matters from my point of view
brand new city - mitski
i think my life is losing momentum // i think my ways are wearing me down
better than me - the brobecks
every girl from here to soho // loves to tell me things i don’t know // beautiful and smart and not good for me // at all
sophie - the altogether
sophie, your friends all think i’m lonely // but they don’t really know me // i guess i’ll have to work on that
good morning sunshine - the narcissist cookbook
you can’t stay in bed forever, remember the deal // bed is for sleeping and masturbating // and you’ve had about as much as the human body can take of either of those things
it will be chloe - a. j. holmes [ not about chloe valentine LMAO ]
if i ever kiss a girl, it will be chloe // if i ever hug a girl, it will be chloe // if ever in my life i get to taste the romance // of a dance with my hands placed gently around someone’s waist // it will be chloe!
player 2 - rory webley
save yourself // as long as you’re the one having fun // must be nice being player one // must be nice being player one // i’m so done with you // and being your stupid player two
montreal - penelope scott
and then on top of all the everything, assuming i survive // another 90 day summer’s gonna take my fucking life // and i would rather die
lonely dance - set it off
but i’m okay with missing // out on the social anxiety // out on the phony friends i don’t need
happy pills - weathers
but where i leave the lights on // it’s obvious that my life’s pretty plain // i take my pills and i’m happy all the time
twin size mattress - the front bottoms
it’s no big surprise you turned out this way // when they close their eyes and prayed you would change
deadweight - fernway
i took a shot of self-esteem in small doses // let it go straight to my head // and i’ve been making bad choices // that you’ll never understand
what do you want from me tonight? - sidney gish
now i’m stuck losing my mind // while everyone else just thinks that i’m really shy
how i survived bobby mackey’s personal hell - lincoln
you left some holes in the plotline // i left some holes in your clothes // and we can argue semantics over who left who first // but one thing’s for sure, i needed you most
solitary confinement - everybody’s worried about owen
you cannot isolate me past the walls that i have built // so send your condolence cards // thinking i’ve been held against my will
be nice to me - the front bottoms
there is very little left of me // and it’s never coming back // there are certain things you ask of me // and there are certain things i lack
sweet hibiscus tea - penelope scott
and i am not your protagonist // i’m not even my own // i don’t know anything // i don’t even know what i don’t know
saturn suv - fredo disco
and i’m always tired, but i can’t fall asleep // thinking about the things i wanna be but i will never be
15 notes
·
View notes
Note
Sorry to hear you've been sick, dearest one! Let me kiss you better, my boy, my sweetest boy! Autumn is wonderful in many aspects but the common cold is, well, common in those months. I've yet to suffer through one this year, but i'm quite sure it will come sooner or later. I always have The Cold once a year, after all.
I see you've had an intense day, politically wise! I can only laugh, filled with confusion, as british politics is quite crazy to me. I also think the cat should become the next PM.
I'm glad I didn't get misunderstood with the flatmate thing! Serious discussions after a couple of drinks can be very helpful and I'm sure your friend appreciates your help and willingness to listen!
I had a dream about you the other night! I completely forgot to tell you, but I woke up all confused, so sure it all happened and yet wondering how it was possible. We were by the river somewhere, on a sandy patch under the tree. It looked similar to the place my father used to fish in, but much more english - I guess my imagination cannot picture you in scenarios that aren't the English countryside. You wanted to get to the other side of the river and I suggested we go to the bridge nearby, but you simply walked into the river. I chased after you and I think we must have reached the other side safely because the next moment we were in the middle of a small town, looking for a shop where we could buy some very particular spices - you insisted whatever we were going to make would never taste good without that spice. As it is usual in dreams, we could not find any shops at all, they were either closed or just gone - empty places between buildings. It also didn't help that it was the middle of the night.
It was a confusing dream, I admit, though not more confusing than the usual ones I have - but I woke up thinking "wow, it doesn't make any sense, I can't remember finding that spice with Lamb, why would I go home and go to sleep before that? I'd never give up like that"
Yet again I am rambling about unimportant things; you must forgive me, but I am in a rambling mood now. Perhaps it is because I am quite tired today, my mind forcing me to get some odd scenarios out of my head. Hope the story made you smile at least, my most treasured wild river-crosser of my dreams! - HWA (sorry if this letter seems all over the place - it's been a weird day, I can't focus on things, but I didn't want to leave you without a letter either)
dear one, you must forgive me for yet another late reply!! thank you, sweetest forest-spirit. you’ll be glad to hear that i’m coming out of it again now, at least as far as i can tell— a small mercy, really, as some of my flatmates have had it much worse. yes, you’re right, it’s one of the strange things she brings on her fingers, one of the icier gifts intermingled with frost and fruit. i hope it isn’t too severe when you do get it, lover 💓 please know that i’ll be right here to nurse you as best i can, as you have done for me!! and it certainly is a curious time for politics…. things have gotten even more bizarre in the last day or so, i’ve gone back to making myself a hermit from the news, haha. a dream, you say, most sacred one? what an honour, to show up in the dreamscape of my companion!! and how odd, that you saw a patch beneath a tree and by a river. you see, there’s a place i know well that matches that description entirely, in the town near my village— where i spent many happy, sometimes drunken afternoons with my friends when i was about sixteen or seventeen. perhaps it’s a sign from the gods, that we both hold a place like that dear enough to meet there!! and it does sound right, that i’d simply walk into the river…. we spent many odd hours in the water there in exam season after we were done for the day, still in our uniforms. i think my friends might have even conducted a mock-pagan, half-serious baptism on me with that water once, sometime in the last summer before i came away to university. oh, sorry for rambling, lover, i simply can’t believe a dream came with so many sacred signs!! i can see how the other aspects must have been confusing, that’s often the way. i hope you’re able to find some rest soon, beautiful one 💓 wise dreamer, the sunlit spirit who travels to me across fields and furrow guided by the gods— it made me more than smile, i promise, it’s a blessing i’ll treasure
0 notes
Text
Poly!MC Who Constantly Loses Their Phone
Okay! Hello! Thank u for reading!!
I have a couple questions!! Should I continue using Poly!Mc or should I switch over to Polyam!Mc? What is preferred and if we do choose Polyam is it okay for me to just slowly edit my older works to fix them? Thank you!
Also!! I am currently writing a one-shot. That is why this is a kinda short kinda quirky headcanon. I know the majority don't care for my like, actual writing, so please know I'm trying to post stuff for all my readers still!!
Lucifer
Modern problems require magic solutions
He'll probably cast a spell on your stuff, making things easier to trace or impossible to loose. This isn't perfect though.
Lucifer can only cast so many spells. Something is eventually going to slip through the cracks. When you get a new phone is probably when he forgets to replace his spell.
Nothing is worse then watching Lucifer storming throughout the house looking for your device, up-turning furniture, threatening his siblings, and using that same "mom" tone as he scolds you when he eventually does find it.
Probably doesn't trust you with anything important now.
Price to pay, you guess.
Mammon
He's been known to loose his phone before too.
Definitely gets more angry with you for losing yours though.
"What if you got hurt MC?!"
^He's a hypocrite, and can be even worse than you seeing as more often then not his phone dies before it can be found, so it's hard to even track it with an app.
(^Tbh you're lucky he's there to take the heat off you. Otherwise everyone would always be on your ass for this mistake.)
Probably really good at finding your phone but might even forget to give it back to you after finding it. Thus prolonging the cycle.
Leviathan
He tries a lot of things to make you remember your phone.
At first his thought process is that if he makes you reliant on your device in some way, shape, or form, you'll never forget it.
Levi was very wrong.
Despite needing it for contacting the demon brothers, it doesn't really matter. You're rather unbothered by the risk.
Or at least, unbothered enough to still forget your phone.
Probably resorts to putting a retractable string on it’s case. That way at least if you walk away, it will come behind you.
Actively makes sure to backup your apps at least once a week so your game data won't be lost when you inevitably need a new phone.
Satan
He loses stuff pretty often himself but honestly it makes him more mad that you lose things.
If Lucifer doesn’t do it first he’ll definitely put spells on your stuff to make sure you absolutely cannot lose it.
Also he downloads a tracking app on both your phones. Mostly as a backup plan, but also because if he loses his own phone it’s nice having yours right there to find his own.
Might tweak the spell to make it unable for his siblings to find your phone. He’s an ass.
Asmodeus
Tries desperately to get you to remember your phone without means of magic, because it’s rather apparent you forget other things as well and Asmo is SICK AND TIRED of looking for your shit MC.
He made you earrings and you lost them in a day!! What the heck babe??
50% the time he actually knows where your stuff is at. He’s just waiting for you to notice to actually give it back to you.
Asshole but not as bad as Belphie.
Beelzebub
Loses non-food related items pretty easily as well.
Never gets really upset about it though. Everytime he finds something he lost he probably genuinely forgot he even lost it.
Tends to find your things a little more often, simply due to his wild searches for food in the middle of the night.
You’ll often wake up in the morning to a pile of lost things on the dining room table. Sometimes he writes notes for you laughing about where you left something.
Sometimes your things come back to you chewed up, and truthfully, you’ve lost a few phones this way.
Belphegor
He’s such a fucking little asshole.
If you lose something around him, he isn’t telling you unless you ask, and he might deliberately hide shit from you when possible.
If it’s your phone he’s definitely going to mess around on it so when you get it back you’re all confused.
Pictures are full of photos taken by Belphie, texts harrasing Lucifer and Dia have been sent in the masses, and your background is most certainly a picture of you and him together.
“You know you’re going to have to give that back to the, eventually, right?” -Beel, after Belphie spent all day spamming your Devilgram with images of your favorite brother(s)
#Obey me beelzebub#obey me!#obey me x mc#obey me x reader#obey me lucifer#obey me leviathan#obey me belphegor#obey me asmodeus#obey me satan#obey me mammon#poly obey me
387 notes
·
View notes
Note
How about relationship headcanon’s and yes there’s cute stuff but what about realistic shizz? The good, the bad, the ugly. The stubbornness that with time one learns the art of compromise for.
I've only ever been in one relationship and tbh it was very like relaxed??? We never argued much so I hope this isn't super unrealistic.
Leonardo:
Never tells you why he's upset. It's always a guessing game and the worst part is half the time he is not upset with you
He'll have an argument with Raphael and give everyone the silent treatment while he's huffing (and it is huffing) and you spend an hour trying to figure out what you did wrong
Leonardo's confrontational about things that Do Not Matter but avoids conversations about things that are actually important
Like yeah he'll tell you if some silly habit kind of annoys him but it takes a long time for him to confess that PDA makes him a little uneasy
That's another thing: PDA is a minimum with him. Yes he will put his arm around you, yes he will hold your hand. But please no kisses in front of his family he just doesn't vibe with it
He's very nervous about a lot of things, very nervous about going on dates, doing things with you for the first time. You do have to take things slow with him and it takes a while to perfect the art of reassuring him without making him feel patronised
His love language is acts of service and quality time.
Sometimes that quality time is napping because he's prone to overworking himself
Adores it when you take control of things. LOVES being babied and taken care of
Call him something like "sweetheart" and he becomes putty in your hands
His ideal date is he makes dinner, you buy dessert. You both do the dishes together and watch a movie afterwards 💙
Raphael:
Hahaha get ready to rumble.
King of arguments, fool of never being able to apologise
You will bicker about everything to the point where everyone is like 👀👀 but the second anyone else says something? You are both wildly protective of each other
"God you're such a prick" "Yeah screw you Raph" "Casey I swear to god if you ever say anything like that ever again I will kick you so hard in the dick you'll give yourself a blow job" "Raph you're s/o is scaring me" "Casey I'm going to put your head through the wall."
Raph likes to pretend arguments just Did Not Happen. He doesn't expect you to apologise either so at least you can't call him a hypocrite, but he just prefers moving past things. It's over now. Don't bring it up again.
And yes this does cause more conflict sometimes. But you cannot date Raph and not be stubborn. If you put your foot down firmly enough he will give in and do his best to talk about things. He doesn't necessarily like doing it, but you're both stubborn and both very much in love and he's always willing to try
Much more into PDA than Leo. Likes to hold you against him, leans on you, plays with your hair. He just constantly likes to be touching you in some way, even in front of everyone
You can pull the "because you love me" card at any time
"Can you make me some coffee?" "I'm in the middle of playing a game, why would I make you coffee?" "Because you love me."
He doesn't mind it as much as he pretends to
His love language is physical touch and acts of service: lots of cuddles, he holds all your stuff, walks you to and from work
His ideal date is just him trying to teach you how to fight
Lots and lots of gym dates, exploring sewer tunnels and the city together, him letting you win at wrestling ❤️
Donatello:
Leonardo's bad at confrontation sometimes, but Donnie? If you stabbed Donnie he wouldn't complain
Donnie is very insecure in his ability to please. So he works overtime and stresses himself out. If something is bothering him you will never find out because he would rather suffer in silence than even risk upsetting you by bringing it up
His thought process is something along the lines of he interrupts you once so he thinks he just shouldn't speak. He has not connected the dots but he's certainly jumped to conclusions
It takes a very very long time for an argument to actually happen because if you try to talk to Donnie about something he will just Immediately Agree With You, even if he doesn't
But when an argument does happen he says a lot of mean things to get under your skin and you will play the very same cards when things get heated
As time goes on you both get better at having discussions rather than arguments. But when a fight happens you can go days without speaking to each other
Very protective. Likes to know you're safe. Yes it's doting and sweet, but it's also a little annoying having text him "yes I'm still at work darling" every hour
Donnie is also an "actions speak louder than words" kind of guy. No saying sorry, but he makes you a little gift and slides it across the table. No words exchanged, but you know he's sorry for what he did
Mixed feelings about PDA. Sometimes he's more than happy to let you sit on his lap, other times if you try to hold his hand he flinches
Baby is a little touch starved. He gets overwhelmed very easily and shuts you out. Some days are better than others but again, he just doesn't tell you
His love language is gift giving and loves making you little trinkets and toys to put on your desk. But he adores receiving words of affirmation
His ideal date is both of you info dumping in your room while eating pizza. It's so simple, it's so easy. Usually whenever he starts to ramble he forgets a lot of his insecurities with touch and will let you hold him 💜
Michelangelo:
King of communication. He just does not like to argue, fighting upsets him and when you're angry with him he gets a little afraid
Even if you are very frustrated he takes you by the hand and sits you down. He has it down to a routine, there's no problem you can't solve together
It takes a good while for you to break down his walls. He puts up a very fun loving, easy going front to please everyone and even when you start dating it's difficult for him to be completely open
But when he shows you his deep emotions once he's very comfortable showing them to you again and again
Needs lots of reassurance, not with regards to relationships but with regards to himself. His brothers still treat him like the baby of the family, still make him feel stupid. You treat him like he's capable of whatever and he just bursts into tears because you have complete faith in him
You do, however, understand that his brothers treat him like the baby because sometimes he acts like it
He can be a little too high energy and sometimes you just need space and he doesn't understand that it's not his fault, you're just tired.
You have a code for when he's being too affectionate. He loves PDA to the full but it is overwhelming: a squeeze on his knee tells him to calm down a little
He's such a people pleaser that you have to make most of the decisions with everything. Where you want to eat, what you want to do, it would be nice if he took control a little more.
His love language is yes and. Jk jk he praises you 24/7, pet names, compliments, worships you. Loves physical touch as well obviously
His ideal date is something arty. He takes you to find a blank wall in the tunnels and you both just spray paint 🧡
#tmnt 2014#tmnt 2k14#tmnt 2016#tmnt 2k16#tmnt bayverse#tmnt#tmnt leo#tmnt raph#tmnt donatello#tmnt michelangelo#tmnt leonardo#tmnt raphael#tmnt donnie#tmnt mikey#tmnt x reader#tmnt headcanons#tmnt imagines
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
JJK Boys + Their Sexual Specialty
Pairing: Yuuji x Reader, Megumi x reader, Inumaki x Reader, Yuuta x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Yaga x Reader, Geto x Reader, Toji x Reader, Naoya x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Mahito x Reader, Choso x Reader
Reader Type: AFAB, Gender Neutral for the most part (there may be some fem nouns. I couldn’t find any while editing though)
Rating: M/E
Word Count: ~800
Warnings: 18+, vaginal sex, anal sex, fingering, condom use, stealthing mention, toxic relationships, dubcon mentions, cunnilingus, shibari/bondage, stuffed animal abuse (if you get this reference then you’ve been here a while and I thank you), dacryphilia, degradation, misogyny, unsafe sex, abandonment, some yandere mentions, marking, knife play, blood, sex toys, bad aftercare, good aftercare, pregnancy mentions (no breeding), abuse mentions, cream pies, cum...idk there’s a lot going on here.
Notes: Haven’t posted any writing since December. Haven’t actually written much since then either. But um...have this shitpost ig. These are obviously my opinions and if you don’t like it then you can leave. If you can guess which of these are based off of life experiences then you can have a virtual high five and suggestive “niiiiiice”.
Adult Itadori Yuji
Stamina. Man can go for days if you let him. He can cum an endless amount of times and still be ready to go again in a snap of your fingers. Will only take breaks to carbo load but will definitely burn the pasta because he got distracted by thinking about what he was going to do to you next. You’ve gone through so many pots and pans because of this man. At least he has the decency to replace them?
Adult Fushiguro Megumi
Cunnilingus. I touched on this in my last shitpost but uh...Man’s tongue game is immaculate. Can have you cumming in under sixty seconds. Technique is absolutely flawless. His tongue and jaw never get tired from overuse. If your clit was a sour skittle he’d make his tongue bleed by how long he’ll suck on it. In combination with those gorgeously long fingers of his? You’ll be seeing stars for days.
Adult Inumaki Toge
Makes you cum on command. Will 100% do this during an argument in order to distract you and make you forget what you were pissed off about. Definitely orders your ass around in the bedroom but it’s completely consensual and details are always discussed beforehand so you know what to expect. Will stop everything the second you say a safe word or even look mildly uncomfortable. His specialty is aftercare. Will absolutely dote on you like you’re royalty.
Adult Okkotsu Yuta
Attachment issues throw him into yandere territory so I guess it’s a good thing that you like his dick? I better stop there before people come at me for my unpopular opinion. Will at least treat you nice as long as you promise to be his and only his.
Gojo Satoru
When I say this man’s stroke game is better than any other penis wielder on the face of the planet? I mean it. He’s oddly flexible for a guy his size but it comes in handy because the depths he can reach are unimaginable. Swift, fluid, hard. Favorite position is definitely the mating press so he can watch his long pretty dick disappear inside of you over and over. Not interested in actually impregnating you but will definitely bitch about wearing a condom, will stealth you if you say no.. Kinks include cream pies and hate sex.
Nanami Kento
Shibari expert. Rope bunnies line tf up because Nanami is a gd master at tying your ass in any position you want to be in. He has a huge collection of rope, but only natural fibers in this house because safety is key and rope burns are the worst. Jute, hemp, or cotton, it’s dealer’s choice. Color coordinates his rope with whatever your outfit. Amazing eye for detail. Will never put you in harm's way because he knows his shit backwards and forwards.
Yaga Masamichi
You cannot tell me this man does not have a giant stuffed animal with a strap on it that he makes you ride while he fucks you in the ass. That’s all I have to say about that.
Geto Suguru
Soft dom of the century. Master of degradation but make it sweet™. Somehow makes calling you a cocksleeve a compliment. Delivery is nothing short of perfection. Will let you play with his hair if you’re a good girl. Has a huge thing for dacryphilia so making you cry from over-stimulation is just everyday foreplay to him. Will 100% whisper very naughty things to you in public.
Fushiguro Toji
Mean daddy dom. Rails you as hard as he can because he knows you can take it. Zero remorse for making you beg for his cock when he ignores you for weeks. Gotta leave some bite marks on you just so other guys know you’re off limits even if he’s busy fucking off somewhere else for an unpredictable amount of time. Toxic asshole but damn can he make you scream. You’re just his dumb baby. A stupid slut. A whore who’s only good for getting him off and he’ll make sure you know that. Will definitely make you cry on purpose. Will also promise commitment just so he can hit it raw and then leave if you get knocked up.
Zenin Naoya
Sorry, anything I have to say about this soggy banana peel will veer into dark content territory and I’m trying not to do that on this particular post. Hence why I rewrote Toji three times. In short: Needlessly mean? Yes. Brutal degradation? Yes. Terrible misogynist? Yes. Predatory asshole? Yes. Would I still fuck him? Yes.
Sukuna Ryomen
Knife play but with his nails instead of blades because man has a set of claws that could rip your throat out if he had any desire to. Can’t get hard unless there’s blood involved. Enjoys sinking his fangs into your thighs. Would totally brand a bitch for life so everyone knew who they belonged to.
Mahito
Not totally convinced this man has a penis (which is totally okay, not all men do). Will rock a strap though and has very skilled fingies. Anymore elaboration on this would definitely be too dark for this post. Take that as you will ig.
Choso
Man is aroace. He doesn’t want the pussy and he doesn’t want you touching his dick. But he will cuddle you like a man-sized teddy bear. Best person to snuggle up into bed with even though it does nothing for him. Will definitely appreciate how good your hair smells though.
Checked pinned navigation post for blog info. It’s oudated af but w/e. If you’re been following me awhile or we talked outside of tumblr or in dms, please note that my pronouns have changed.
#jjk#jjk headcanons#jjk imagines#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#gojo satoru#itadori yuji#fushiguro megumi#fushiguro toji#jjk drabbles#geto suguru#naoya zenin#jujutsu kaisen choso#i dont remember at all how to tag things lmfao
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
sanctuary: seven
summary: the absence of you is a void that they never thought they’d have to experience again. they were fine before they met you. but the sky would fall before the boys would be fine after you’ve gone. 8.03k words.
genre: mafia au, ANGST, poly au
pairing: ot7 x reader
warnings (READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION) : toxic and dysfunctional familial relationships, mentions of domestic abuse (physical and verbal), swearing, ptsd & trauma, poor mental health, mentions of anxiety & panic attacks, eating problems, alcohol abuse, abandonment issues...
rating: NC17
author’s note: okay I lied there’s going to be another part! I just couldn’t fit all that I wanted and I figured it was better to give you guys something now instead of making you wait another century for me to wrap up the story. please let me know if I forgot anyone in the taglist! please let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoy!
♡ series masterpost ♡
Just leave.
Just leave.
Just leave.
Like a cruel rhythm or a drum that keeps on beating in your chest to remind you of the pain that rips through your heart.
You’re such a fool, Y/N.
Should you blame them for growing tired of you? Even snapping at you like they did, or did you deserve it? It was so easy for you to wither back into the mindset your father had trained you to adapt at the slightest intrusion. Now, after that massacre in the kitchen with the people you trusted with your whole being, you weren’t sure if it was possible to think otherwise.
Through the warm tears that have clouded your eyes, frantically stuffing the little belongings you have into a backpack is otherworldly difficult. Your heart hurts. Your soul hurts. Your entire being hurts and you can only wonder how many times a person can be pushed aside and unwanted until they just completely break. You wonder how close you are to that point.
There’s anger running through your veins, cocktailed with devastation and confusion, but you’re not sure what it is you’re angry at. Were you angry at them? Could you ever be angry at them, even after they did something like this? You weren’t sure what to feel anymore, but that wasn’t important.
There was one objective in sight: pack up and get the hell out before you let anyone else completely destroy you.
But even then, you can’t help but to think about how they hadn’t even bothered to come after you. None of them did. And it ignites a different fire of pain that you’re finding harder to ignore. You’re halfway through shoving your shirts into the backpack when a soft voice sounds from your doorway. Jun is standing there, fiddling with her apron and warm sympathy on her face.
“Y/N, sweetie, they’re just...maybe give them some time. Please don’t go”, Jun sighs.
“No, Jun. They don’t want me here anymore”, your voice cracks at the realization. “I’m not going to stay and be unwanted. I won’t do it again. I-I can’t.”
When the last item is tucked into the pocket of your bag, you swing it onto your shoulder. The weight of the backpack feels as though it’s pulling you deeper into the ground. Like you are sinking and there is nothing you can do but wait until your head is submerged.
“Jun…” you breathe out, wiping away a warm stray tear, “could you...could you tell them that I’m sorry? I-I’m not sure what for, I guess for everything. But could you just tell them?”
Jun nods solemnly, though the reluctance is clear on her expression. Even she can recognize that you have nothing to apologize for. “I will, honey. Are you sure about this?”
“I have no choice, Jun. I love them and I-” you cut yourself off.
This is the first time you’ve been able to say it out loud. You love them. You’ve fallen in love with them and the timing could not be worse. But all in all, you consider yourself lucky. There was no way you would have recovered if you confessed and all seven of them inevitably rejected it. Perhaps this fight just saved you the great pain of knowing they cannot love you back.
“And I need to go.”
You’d have to leave before dinner. Through the back door. The one that no one thinks you know about but as always, no man gives you nearly enough credit as you deserve. You’ll tell the guards you’re going out for a walk and pray they don’t question the overstuffed backpack you’re hauling. You’ll just open it and run and…
Find a new home? A new life? Find a new set of souls that will cherish and care for you and make you feel like you’re actually meant to be in this world?
You love them. That much you know is true. And perhaps people like you weren’t meant to have love in this world.
“You’re excused, Lee. Be grateful you’re still here.” The venom in Namjoon’s voice remains clear as day, even after your ungraceful departure from the kitchen. You had left so abruptly with so few words that they weren’t able to even try and stop you.
They still can’t see straight through the searing anger that pulses through their entire being. Anger at the world, and the traitors, and the idiotic rookie that lost them thousands in shipments.
But the anger at you had faded a long time ago, the moment you bolted out of the kitchen and up the stairs. However, the boys were nothing if not stubborn. Why did you have to get in the way of their business? Why couldn’t you just remain kept away, for them to keep safe and away from the dangers of the outside world?
Jimin is the first one to make a move to the staircase, up to where you were packing, trying to be stealthy until the leader catches a glance of him.
“Jimin. Stop. Just let her cool off”, Namjoon sighs, pinching the space between his eyebrows to relieve his tension headache. He was usually the sensible one. The leader of the pack telling everyone to keep their cool. But the load on his shoulders has been getting far too heavy and you were the light breeze that caused it to collapse.
“You should wait to calm down before you talk to her, anyway. That vein in your forehead might pop out of your skin”, Hoseok snidely remarks.
Jimin scoffs, running a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time that day.
“Everything we’ve been doing has been for her best interest. Why is she making this so difficult?”, he exhales, frustration still licking at every word. But with a mere glance at Jimin, anyone in the room could tell that he truly held no antipathy towards you. That his words were coming from an unresolved pool of anger that had been bubbling away for ages.
“You don’t think she means it, do you?”, Taehyung mutters, eyebrows still creased in intensity. “The leaving part?”
“Where could she go Taehyung? We’re all she has at this point”, Yoongi speaks. A layer of irony coats the room as Yoongi remembers the words he had spat at you in the heat of the moment. A vicious declaration to tell you to leave, and he feels a string of guilt twining itself around his lungs. He numbs it away, of course. As he does everything else.
Jin takes a deep breath. “Listen, we’re all stressed and sleep-deprived. Why don’t we just calm down separately and talk it over at dinner? I’m sure by then, this whole thing will be completely forgotten.” His words sound sure and steady. Jin hopes they don’t notice the worry that bleeds into his voice.
A chorus of agreements and hums quietly sound across the room as the seven of them shuffle out of the kitchen and slowly saunter into their respective rooms. And as they tiptoe past your bedroom, where your door was shut tight, the boys can’t help but feel the rationality that has begun to trickle back in. The logic and reason that had abandoned them during the fight had slowly returned, and the thought of you on the other side of that door made them all want to barge in and hold you again.
Maybe they overreacted. Maybe they were wrong. Pride, however, was a stern mistress, and the potential consequences of their actions hadn’t yet reached their thoughts. They hadn’t realized the poison of their words.
They would wait a bit longer.
Everything would be okay after dinner.
The first thing you realize after leaving is that you chose the wrong pair of shoes to attempt an escape on foot. Of course, you had to be wearing the new ones that the boys just bought you that hadn’t been broken in yet. The heel was digging into your skin painfully, undoubtedly leaving red marks and calluses. Your feet ached with every step, but you had to soldier on. At least until you found somewhere to rest for a bit and figure out where the hell you would go.
A glance down at your phone has you eternally grateful for your past self for remembering to charge it. Hopefully it would last you until you found somewhere for the time being.
There was no more family in the country besides your immediate ones. And you’d rather swallow knives than go back to that. The thought of them makes you sad though when you remember Soyeon.
You wonder how she’s doing. The things she’s been up to. Is she shopping as much as she always does? Is she happy? Does she miss you? The train of thought makes you scoff at your own patheticism. Even after everything, you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate her. You would always love your sister.
The Bangtan manor hadn’t been as far away from the city as you had thought. On the other hand, you weren’t exactly paying attention to the time. Just let your feet carry you where they wanted to and stared blankly at the passing ground, trying to empty your thoughts as best you could. The sky was beginning to darken and the wind blew a bit colder but you refused to let it slow your pace. You couldn’t let yourself feel. Not yet, anyway.
The first motel you see is the one you enter. It’s not grand by any means; more of a fixer-upper. The wallpaper was peeling, the carpet reeked of age and dust, and the receptionist was chewing gum and scrolling absentmindedly on her phone. The place was a dump compared to what the likes of you tended to live in. But you had limited cash, and this would have to do.
It takes you three times clearing your throat for her to notice that a customer was at the front desk.
“Hello. I’d like a room with one bed, please.”
She doesn’t hide her blatant scrutinization of you, visibly looking you up and down with something akin to disapproval. Her phone is tossed on the counter annoyedly and she snaps her gum, wheeling her chair closer to the computer and clacks away on the keyboard.
“ID and payment, please”, she drones, holding out a hand without sparing you another glance. When she looks at the card you have placed in her palm, there is a spark of recognition. The Yoo family name. She must have seen your name in the paper or something. The ambassador’s daughter. In a place like this?
You are eternally grateful when the receptionist says nothing; just hands you back your card and dangles a key from her red-nail polished index finger. You two exchange no more words. The only sounds in the lobby are the clinking of the metal key, the padding of your footsteps on soft carpet, and the smacking of the bubblegum between her lips. But it is enough to begin to allow the loneliness in. The fear of it all. The uncertainty and utter devastation that you have left behind the one place that had just started to feel like home.
When the door of your motel room closes, and it is just you...
You with the clothes on your back, the necessities in your bag, and all the feelings you have kept bottled up for weeks on end. It is more than easy to collapse in a cathartic heap as soon as the lock clicks in place.
Who cares if the walls are paper-thin? You scream it out on the undoubtedly dirty floors. The agony of being so close to happiness only to have it ripped away from your hands. The pain of knowing them, only for them to push you out of their lives.
You don’t weep for anyone else. Not the seven boys you loved, not Soyeon, not your father, not Jun.
You cry for Y/N.
You cry for the realization that maybe the thing you’ve been chasing your entire life is simply not in reach. That peace was something you had to fight for, completely alone. That they don’t love you back, or even nearly as much as you loved them. If they did, you wouldn’t be here, desperately trying to hold yourself together for what seems like the billionth time. If they loved you back, well...you reckon that reality only exists in your surreal dreams.
There were distant cousins. In the states. And if you could get a hold of them, you had faith they would be willing to fly you over. You could spin an excuse at the drop of a hat. Maybe something about wanting to see America for a while and get away from your normal routine in Seoul. Something about needing space or enjoying time with missed relatives. They’d believe it. You’ll leave as soon as you can, hopefully in the morning.
Naturally, this night is sleepless and you swear the sky is darker than usual. It’s starless, and even the moon is nowhere to be seen, hidden behind overcast clouds and you want to cry even more. Because after everything, is it still too much to let you feel the light? Is it still too much to let you rest under a gentle nightscape?
You make a promise to yourself. To Y/N.
You wouldn’t let her chase after pipe dream happiness anymore. You wouldn’t let her be so naive, so hopeful for something better. You’ve had your chance at finding it, and after more bumps and bruises, have come to the conclusion that maybe it merely does not exist for you.
You promise her a lifetime of loneliness and solitude. But those are familiar things. Comfortable things. And you would take that over a broken heart any day.
As soon as they fell onto their respective beds, all seven of them had drifted off to sleep. It seemed that days of constant work, chugging black coffee, and pulling consecutive all-nighters had taken its toll, and the boys finally caught up to the pure, unadulterated exhaustion.
The seven of them slept through the night, plans of dinner completely forgotten as they glued themselves to the comfortable bedding. Unfortunately, with needed rest came a clear mind and the realization that they had been completely and utterly horrible to you ever since it all went down.
Jungkook is the first to wake up. He brushes his teeth and slips on an outfit with a rapid fervor, ready to put everything behind him and just...hold you. Because he realizes it’s been weeks since he actually has, and maybe that’s just the thing he’s been needing. To feel your frame in his arms and hear your soft breathing.
“Taehyung! Get up!” Jungkook pounds on the door of his hyung’s room. He hears shuffling from the other side, and a rustled bedhead emerges from a dark cavern.
“What Jungkook? It’s too early for this”, he grumbles, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
“Hyung we all slept like the dead through dinner. I’d rather not let this whole thing with Y/N marinate for any longer. Get up and let’s talk it through, I know you miss her like crazy too.” Jungkook does his best to keep his voice down since you were still sleeping in the room beside Taehyung’s. He has to round up all of them first before asking you to come out.
So he does. Sweeps his floor and the one above to awaken the other six men. Jin and Namjoon were the only others who were dressed and ready to tackle the day. The rest of them moved like zombies to rid themselves of the sleepy fatigue.
Somehow, they all manage to congregate in front of your door, nervously staring it down while the tension in the air choked them. It’s unnerving. The radio silence coming from your room. You must be really upset, and reasonably so. Hoseok clears his throat, twisting his hands together out of nerves, and glances at the others.
“Well? Should I knock?”, he whispers. The other six nod solemnly, glaring at the door like it might combust at any moment.
He steps forward gingerly and raps on your bedroom door thrice. The seconds trickle by like molasses, even slower when there is no sound from your end.
He knocks again.
Nothing.
A third time.
Complete and utter silence.
“Y/N?”
Hoseok’s eyebrows deeply furrow, and with trepidation, he twists the doorknob and swings it open. The bedsheets are made, duvet untouched and pillows stacked neatly against the headboard. The curtains are drawn and everything looks fairly clean. Almost as if there was no one in there in the first place. Now that he looks closer, the only sign of you being there was the vase of brown and wilting peonies on the bedside table. The ones they had gotten for you months ago. Even your scarce amount of belongings were nowhere to be found.
In the ache of the silence, nothing can be heard but their utter shock. Their minds jumping to the worst conclusion but still in denial because there’s no way that you would do that. No way they could have lost you when they all loved you so much.
“M-maybe she’s in the basement. Or the library. I’m sure she didn’t….she hasn’t….”, Jimin cuts himself off as he drifts off into all the terrible possibilities. Namjoon yells at the guards downstairs from the second floor, and the sounds of their rushed footsteps to find you in this giant house is the only noise that reaches their ears.
“Jun!” Taehyung hollers down below, where she is undoubtedly fussing away in the kitchen or slaving over a boiling pot. The woman calmly emerges upstairs with a sharp gaze, head held high and shoulders stiff in her posture. There is no emotion on her face, except the faint disappointment as she stands in front of the seven men.
“Where is she?”, Yoongi growls, stepping forward like a huffing beast, but Jun remains unbothered.
“Where is who?” Jun monotones.
“Don’t play dumb, Jun. Where is Y/N?” She scoffs at the concern dripping in Yoongi’s voice. How ironic that the very person who maliciously told you to leave was now in pieces at your absence.
“I was surprised you even noticed. It’s not something you’ve been doing as of late. Noticing”, Jun calmly retorts. She’s never been one to be afraid of them. Never scared to stand up to them, because though they were grown men, they often still needed some mothering.
“What the fuck does that even mean?” Jungkook spits, frustratedly gripping at his hair.
“Is it not true, boys? Y/N’s been practically invisible to you these past few weeks. Who knew it would take a mere fight to finally get you guys to pay attention to her.” Jin’s reflex is to immediately respond with an argument. But the words die on his tongue when he realizes the truth in Jun’s statement.
The seven of them stare at her in silence, still high-strung on stress and anger, but intent to listen to her words.
“She left.”
The two words that they had been so desperate not to hear sound like a death knell when they fall from Jun’s lips. Their blood runs cold, and the temperature in the house drops to subzero. A moment frozen in time and all they can do is be forced to come to terms with their actions . The room immediately explodes into desperate questions and exclamations to their head housekeeper.
“Where is she? Did she say where she’s going”, Hoseok tearily yells.
“Did she leave a note?” Jungkook chews on his lower lip until it bleeds.
“When did she leave? She couldn’t have gotten far.” Jimin grabs Jun by the shoulders, forcing her closer as if he could look in her eyes and pretend she was lying.
“Excuse me if I am speaking out of turn, Sir”, Jun clears her throat, “but what did you think was going to happen?”
The seven of them are stunned into silence, swimming in utter confusion and worry about where in the world you could be. If you were in danger at all.
“She’s been left by herself for weeks. In this big, cold house while you all were wrapped up in your business. Tried talking to you so many times, but you all pushed her away.” Jun sighs disappointedly.
Her words ring with truth, and perhaps that is the most painful part about it all. The boys can’t do anything but stand there and listen. You were dear to Jun, and she wouldn’t let the fear of standing up to her intimidating bosses keep her from saying the things you didn’t have the courage to.
“Y/N, she...she’s been struggling. Did she tell you that? Wouldn’t sleep for days, so I sometimes snuck melatonin into her afternoon tea. But still, she’d come out of that bedroom with dark circles that almost looked painful. I’m surprised you didn’t hear her toss and turn all night, Taehyung.” Jun spares him a glance. Not malicious or accusing. Just genuine curiosity and it makes Taehyung want to burrow himself into the ground.
Namjoon’s heart drops as Jun continues speaking. How could they have been so oblivious to everything? So out of touch and wrapped up in other priorities that they seemed to completely forget about you? Arguably the most important person in their life.
“Sometimes, she even refused to eat. Couldn’t even stomach a cup of soup, and she’s gotten so thin, I had to tailor all her clothes.”
Jin’s eyes widen at the statement, his throat in knots and the sinking feeling in his gut only magnifying. Like ice water to warm skin. That’s how Jun’s words felt to their system. Like they had been so blind this entire time, so distracted by everything else that they forgot someone who had become one of the most important people to them.
“Forgive me for speaking my truth, sir. But I’ve never quite felt such disappointment when I heard the things you said to Y/N yesterday. A-And I don’t condone her decision to leave. But can you blame her?” Jun sighs, exasperated as her worry for you seeps into her consciousness.
Jimin pushes away the tears that have clouded his eyes, looking down at the marble floors so that no one sees the gloss that wasn’t there before Jun started speaking. He pretends not to notice the way Jungkook’s tremulous and shaky breathing, or the way Yoongi’s fisted hands have turned completely white from the tension. All he can think about...all they can think about...is you.
Hoseok coughs, clearing his throat and steeling his voice to not show emotion. “Did she tell you where she was going?”
Jun shakes her head solemnly, twisting her apron in her hands. The boys begin to make their way downstairs, tension in the air thicker than ever and only one priority clear in their minds.
“However…”, Jun’s small voice stops them in their concentrated footsteps. “While she was packing, she told me to say one thing to you all.”
It’s expectant. They almost don’t want to hear it at all. Hearing it would affirm that they are completely undeserving of you. That you are an angel among beasts whose love language is to destroy and wreck. That maybe leaving them would be the best thing to happen to you.
“She told me to tell you she’s sorry. For everything.”
Everything is what you deserved. Everything is what they would do to prove that to you.
Korea from the view of your aunt’s private jet was a bittersweet revelation. It was beautiful. So achingly and hauntingly beautiful with the ghosts of your past and the shattered promises for the future. If you squint, you could still make out remnants of the Han River. Traces of a place that seemed to cry for you as you left for the states.
You didn’t want to be truthful to yourself. You didn’t want to admit that you wouldn’t miss Korea because of the people or the landscape or the weather. You’d miss it because they were there. That home had been so close you could nearly taste it.
The trip was a chaotic blur. You faded in and out of sleep, in a hypnotic trance that proved to be your body’s self-defense mechanism to repress every emotion you had felt since you left. Stewardesses offering you flutes of champagne, drivers loading and unloading your luggage, the words of everyone around you flowing in and out like a stream of water that you ignored.
“I trust everything is to your satisfaction, Y/N? Really, you must come visit more often. Your uncle and I have missed you terribly.”
Your aunt had always been a kind woman. She was from your mother’s side, and like everyone else, so oblivious to the true nature of the Yoo family. How sinister things truly were behind those closed, gold-plated doors. Their house was grand, large enough so that you could make yourself scarce and wouldn’t be a disturbance. Though you couldn’t help but to notice the lack of boyish voices drifting down the hall, or the rhythm of Taehyung’s hands on the keyboard in the room next to you.
You offer a kind smile to the butler, who gently sets your singular backpack on the plush bed that screamed out your name.
“Thank you so much for everything, Aunt Kim. I promise I’ll transfer over the money for the plane fees and carry my weight around here for the time being.”
Your words make you nearly wince with the uncertainty of your wobbly plans. Where would you even get the money? Ask your father? Ask them?
“I....I promise to be out of your hair as quickly as I can”, you shakily breathe, failing to convince yourself. Yet your aunt only holds a kind smile and a warm gaze.
“Stay as long as you want, dear. It’s the least we could do to repay everything your family has done for us over the years. Especially your father.”
You know you cannot blame her oblivion. Not when it is such a well-guarded secret. Yet her words douse kerosene to the fire in your chest. Tugs at the stitches of the subconscious wounds you have yet to heal. It makes you remember them. Your boys. How they would burn at hearing such words, grit their teeths and spit poison at anyone who held your father’s name in a high regard.
Or would they? After everything, you’re not so sure anymore. Painful or not, it makes you miss them even more.
So you smile. Bite your tongue, hold your fists at your side, and thank her again for the kindness she has shown you when you had nowhere else to run. America felt different. The air itself seemed like a culture shock. Being the ambassador’s daughter had prepared you for fluency in English and how to carry yourself diplomatically, but the journey ahead was bound to be rough.
For the first time in your life, you would be the only one you had to care for. Not Soyeon, not your mother, not Bangtan. You’d have to do this by yourself, now, and though all the emotions you have locked away will inevitably return to confront you, this sanctuary for now would have to be enough.
You were surprisingly more difficult to find than the boys had expected. Traveling alone with no clunky belongings meant you were able to move more quickly than they had anticipated and the motel you stayed at was paid for in all cash. However, nothing in the city could really happen under Bangtan’s watch, and here you were. Video footage displayed on the screen of their basement office, and they can only feel heartache as they watch you through the screen.
“She checked out in the morning. Got picked up by a gray SUV and taken to the airport.” Taehyung drones, eyes still glued to the screen. Like looking at your pixelated face would bring you closer to him somehow. He missed you. They all did.
“The plane’s not registered with any public company, so I’m guessing it’s a private one belonging to her family.” Taehyung adds on, leaning forward in his chair to rest his elbows on the table. The air was tense with frustration. Anger at themselves and at each other for letting his happen. For making you run away.
“Any idea where it’s going?” Yoongi quietly murmurs from the end of the long table.
“America.”
America. You felt so discouraged and hurt by them that you had to go all the way to America. They did this. This is their fault.
“So? What are we waiting for? Tell the guards to prep the jet to America. We’ll bring her back”, Jimin gawks at Namjoon, who nurses a glass of scotch like it’s his lifeline. The room falls silent awaiting their leader’s course of action, but the six of them are left speechless when Namjoon himself starts laughing. The kind of laugh that sends chills down their spines. So raucous yet emotionless. So full of hidden pain. Namjoon tips the rest of the glass down his throat, looking at them all with a hopeless expression.
“What makes you think she wants to see us? After what we put her through? Hell, I’d be surprised if she lets us within a 10 foot radius.” Namjoon’s words are cruel, but they can’t help but to believe it to be true.
“N-No. She’ll understand that we were stressed. I-If we just explain everything, I’m sure she’ll-”
“Don’t you remember what happened in the kitchen? What Jun said? She’s been withering away for weeks, Jimin, and none of us gave enough of a fuck to notice. We made her feel invisible.” Namjoon chuckles, but there is only pain in his tone. One that he drowns out with another swig of top-shelf whiskey.
“We can fix it. We can go to America and fix it”, Hoseok stares down the leader, insistent on making efforts.
“No we can’t Hoseok”, Jin’s brows furrow, eyes lighting with fire, “Jun said she didn’t sleep. She didn’t eat. I wouldn’t take us back either.”
The boys know better than to take it personally. They were all heartbroken in the wake of your leaving, so desperate to get to you yet ashamed of themselves, apprehensive of if they even have the right to chase after you.
Jungkook leaps up from his seat, chest huffing and hands raking violently through his hair. He paces back and forth, eyes swimming in hurt and frustration until it all seemed to combust through his body, flinging his office chair to the side to find any form of catharsis.
He spares a poisoned glance over to Yoongi’s direction, who still sits with his eyes glued to the floor, as if ashamed of his mere existence.
“You.” The malice in Jungkook’s voice is crystal clear.Yoongi’s shirt collar is acquaintanced with Jungkook’s fisted hand, and he grips onto the older man like a viper to its prey. As if blunt force could make you come back. The other five boys could only watch.
“You did this. You told her to leave. Now she’s gone. I loved her, Yoongi.” Though Jungkook’s words are pumped with antipathy, the sheer devastation is heard most through it all. Yoongi doesn’t fight back. Doesn’t even make a move to push the younger off or shield himself from oncoming hits. Just sits passively with a monotone expression, staring into Jungkook’s eyes with a blank gaze.
“You’re not faultless. You yelled at her too.”
No, none of them are faultless. And perhaps Yoongi’s words were the nails in the coffin, but they all had part in pushing you to that brink. Jungkook’s eyes gloss over with defeat, and the grip he had on Yoongi’s shirt loosens. He steps away, unable to meet any of the gazes of his older brothers or the footage of your distressed face on the flat screen monitor. Leave. That’s all he’s known to do.
“Jungkook?” Yoongi holds no anger in his voice. It stops Jungkook in his tracks as he waits for his hyung to finish.
“I loved her too. We all do.”
They can only pray they’ll get to tell you.
The diner two blocks away from your aunt’s apartment complex is the last place anyone would expect Ambassador Yoo’s eldest daughter to be, much less employed at. You had spent the last two weeks scouring the area for a place that would take a girl with no prior work experience, a pending student visa, and no contacts or references. But here you were, working a minimum wage job and saving every penny to make something of yourself in this entirely new country.
It hasn’t been easy. Trying not to think about the seven boys that you left back home. The seven boys that you love so desperately and hopelessly, and foolishly thought they felt the same. It’s in the wee hours of the night that you toss and turn, closing your eyes and imagine yourself back at their manor. You will your brain to manifest the clacking sounds of Taehyung’s keyboard from across the wall or the footsteps of Yoongi’s bulky shoes when he walks past your door every night.
You miss them compulsively so. And perhaps they do not deserve your thoughts or heartache, but it belongs to them. Even after everything, you still belong to them. But you won’t give yourself the luxury of thinking you mean more than someone who they took pity on.
The days are the same. You get up early in the morning, put on a pot of coffee by yourself much to the disapproval of the housekeeper. Though it’s baby steps, you feel more independent this way. The coffee is terrible, of course, but it’s the thought that counts.
You leave before your aunt even leaves her bedroom, dedicated to your full-time job and earning money whenever you can. The pay is almost humorous, and a week’s worth of your labor probably equates to what Soyeon spends in a day. But it is your work. Your money. And though everyday starts and ends with heartache and longing for a life you once had in your grasp, it feels refreshing to learn to only need yourself.
“Y/N”, your manager sighs as you stumble through the door with frazzled hair and painfully dark under eyes. “You’re late.”
“I know, I know, I’m so sorry. Traffic was insane this morning. It won’t happen again.” Your hair is expertly swept back into a haphazard bun, fiddling with the apron around your waist before jumping to the orders that have begun to get cold on the counter.
The work was simple. Slow. But it was honest and enough for you. The diner was calm; a refreshing environment from the one you had in Korea.
“Here you are, sir. Black coffee and a side of toast”, you muttered in a sugary sweet voice, fake smile stretched on your face to hide the perpetual pain in your chest that has not went away since you left the Bangtan house. It’s easier these days to just not think about it. To completely repress the trauma of your father and the boys and the failed therapy. The smile drops as soon as you turn around to walk back to the counter.
“Rough morning?” Lina’s voice is gravelly, rough from the coffee and 15-minute smoke breaks she takes every lunch.
“Something like that.” You collapse onto the cashier counter, holding your head in your hands to will away the pounding ache of your temples.
“First it was me completely sleeping through the morning alarm. Then it was the bus detouring and making five extra stops they usually don’t”, you huff.
“Y/N?”
“And don’t get me started on the fact that I decided to drop my phone in a puddle when I was running here.”
“Y/N.” Lina’s voice cuts through your venting monologue. She stares past you, as if there was something behind you captivating her attention.
“I think someone is staring at us from across the street.” Your brows furror at her words, whipping around to the window. When you see him. The air in the diner thins until it completely disappears, and the breath is stolen from your lungs.
Your paled face and shaking hands is what he sees from where he’s standing, clad in a black hoodie that covered his head, but you could recognize him in your sleep.You are both frozen in time and chaos, staring at each other like you both did not belong. Eyes glued to the other like you are both too good to be true.
Are you imagining it? Through the tears that reflexively pooled in your eyes and the way your body quivers, are you finally going insane and imagining a person who has been plaguing your mind for weeks?
Your feet carry you into action when your mind is still stuck in shellshock, bursting out of the diner doors with desperation on your tongue, hands reaching out as if it would span across the streetlight and bring him closer.
“Jin?” You are not quiet. You scream his name across what feels like a chasm, but is only just a couple meters away. Your legs usher you into the open street, and cars veer and honk to avoid your form, frozen on the crosswalk.
It takes you one second to blink and him one second to disappear into the crowd. Like he was never there at all and your mind was playing cruel, evil tricks on your already crumbling soul. A ruse that Lina was in on, just to torture your decimated spirit.
Could you allow yourself the luxury to think that he had come to see you? You didn’t know if you even wanted him to, didn’t know if you had it in you to forgive and forget.
“Jin.”
It comes out as a shaky whisper under your breath. A broken voice that longs for something she cannot have. Something that was so far in space and time it now felt like a figment of your imagination. You allow a tear to fall, your heart to crack a bit more, and return to the diner.
“Where have you been running off to these days?” The words are snide. Coated in feigned concern and curiosity and meant to be a jab at Jin’s recent absence in Bangtan activities. They are easy to fall from Yoongi’s lips as he steals another swig of the McKellan whiskey he’s been saving up for a special occasion or a rainy day. What more fitting than to mourn the space in his heart where you used to be.
Jin stays silent, only giving the intoxicated Yoongi a heavy eye roll and trudging past him. To say that the seven men were in terrible shape after your departure is a gross understatement. But Yoongi’s onset alcoholism seemed mild compared to how the rest of the boys were faring.
Both Taehyung and Jungkook haven’t left their rooms since finding out you were in America, only the sounds of their computer keys, heavy footsteps, and the empty food plates left at their doors to signal that they were alive in there. Namjoon had thrown himself into work, picking up the slack of all the other boys and sometimes emerging from his office at the early hours of dawn looking like he hasn’t slept in a week. His gaunty face and the way his once fitted shirt now falls loosely on his shoulders tells Jin he hasn’t eaten much either.
Hoseok could more often than not be found in the training room, breaking and bruising himself to numb him from the pain of losing you. He takes it out on the poor gang recruits that were unlucky enough to be chosen to spar with him.
And Jin? Well, Jin spent his days away from the house. Away from the business and the drugs and the people. He never tells anyone where he’s going or when he’s coming back and they are all too drained to try to ask. The boys live together but not truly. Just exist and breathe in the same space and too resentful of themselves and the others to fix the fragments you left behind. They miss you. Long for you and burn for you like they never have for anyone else.
See, it’s one thing to not know where you are and be forced to be away from you on the basis of ignorance. But to know your exact location, have the time and resources to easily get to you, yet can’t come to you because they’ve hurt you immeasurably is a different kind of torture. A different kind of ache that haunts their souls at every waking moment. You are so close and so far away, and they only have themselves to blame for the distance.
“Jun, can you make a meal for Namjoon? I’ll take it up to him.” Jin sighs to the housekeeper, shedding off his coat on the kitchen stool.
Jun nods knowingly, fully aware of the effects your absence has had on the masters of the house. And she is not blind to Jin’s indifference or the way he is doing worlds better than the others.
“He’ll probably try to yell at me and make you go away first. But he’ll be thankful eventually.” Jin nurses a cup of tea to warm him after his journey. Ones that he takes every week and for days at a time.
Jun nods again, assembling a tray of food that Namjoon will undoubtedly leave to get cold either at his door or the end of his desk. Before he leaves, however, Jun spares the man a knowing glance and a sad smile.
“You may want to return the private jet more promptly next time, sir. The others have gotten...wary.”
Jin’s eyes widen at her words, frozen for a millisecond in his footsteps as realization strikes in that he hadn’t been as inconspicuous as he thought. He says nothing as he departs from the kitchen. Only stares at the marble floor and wonders what would be the next time he’d get to see you. Even if from a street’s distance.
It takes four syncopated knocks before semblance of a noise emerges from behind Namjoon’s closed door. It comes in the form of an angered grunt, but Jin is no stranger to his leader’s brunt. He opens the door with no further permission.
Namjoon is in worse shape than he had expected. His hair is another level of unruly, greasy and matted and looking like the man ran his hands through it a billion times. The paperwork strewn across his desk and floor reflects the mess in Namjoon’s own head. Like he is suffocating himself in his work but still finds breath in his lungs. Still finds you in his thoughts.
“You need to eat”, Jin states demandingly. Namjoon only hums in response, keeping his eyes glued to the work in front of him. Jin pushes the tray into his line of vision.
“Eat, Joon. You can’t work if you starve. Y/N would want you to eat.”
Your name makes his pen stop writing. Makes his eyes widen like he hasn’t heard it said aloud in ages. It’s pathetic to Namjoon, really. How much one person has affected him.
“How would you know what Y/N wants, Jin? How would any of us?” He sneers, resuming the scribbling on his paper. Jin sighs dejectedly, opting to leave the food on his table and not be bothered with trying to help someone who so clearly didn’t want to be helped. He turns around to leave. Until Namjoon opens his mouth again.
“Unless….”, he teeters, “you do know what she wants.” He tosses the pen and papers aside, crossing his arms and sitting back in the desk chair.
“Unless you’ve been going behind our backs to see her.”
Had he been turned around facing Namjoon, the younger would have seen the clear exposed truth on his face. The blatant and unhidden look of guilt and shame that he quickly masks once he whips to face Namjoon.
“What are you talking about?”
The responding statement is quick. Too quick. Too accosting. Namjoon squints his eyes.
“Only the several days these past weeks you’ve disappeared from Bangtan’s radar. The bills for the jet fuel sent to my directory. The pilots you’ve been pulling away from our forces in Korea to personally tend to whatever shady business you’ve been hiding under my nose.”
Namjoon’s words are rapid fire, piercing into the facade that Jin thought he had so carefully crafted. He should’ve known nothing goes unnoticed under the leader’s eye.
“Namjoon, I-”
“Just be glad I didn’t tell the others. Especially Jungkook.” The thought of the youngest makes him sigh. Jungkook has always been so volatile. A ticking, emotionally-charged and codependent time bomb hiding under that muscle and masculinity. Namjoon knew better than to expose something like this just yet.
When he looks up at the man standing in the doorway of his office, he’s looking straight past him. Through the window like it was you he saw in the sky. Observing him now, up close and with more attention, Namjoon finally gets to truly see him.
On the surface, Jin is faring worlds better than any of them. He’s clean and freshly showered, hair coiffed to perfection like it usually is. He dons a black button up; perfectly ironed without a crease in sight. But Namjoon knows him better than that. Jin looks so utterly drained it stirs sympathy in even the darkest of hearts. His eyes communicate something his words can’t: Seokjin is completely lost without your light.
“I’m sorry.” The words come out breathily. Like he’s been waiting to say it all this time but couldn’t.
“I just…”, he stares down at his hands, “I just needed to see her. See if she was doing alright after we…” Jin trails off, not able to face the truth of their actions just yet. And though there is lingering anger in Namjoon, he can’t help but to feel his distress vicariously.
“You know, she’s a waitress now. At this small, run-down diner downtown. With a cute little apron and everything”, he chuckles softly, sadness seeping in every word.
“She lives with her aunt and uncle, and walks everywhere because she doesn’t have a car, at unholy hours of the night which keeps me up every night constantly worrying about her. But that’s Y/N, isn’t it? So careless of her own safety and well-being.”
Namjoon refrains the smile that creeps on his face at the thought of you.
“She was smiling when I saw her. I could still see she was sad but she was smiling. Like she always does just so other people feel happier around her.”
“Jin, you don’t have to-”
“And she’s lost so much weight, Namjoon. She was trying to yell out for help and all we did was ignore her.”
Jin’s words are nails on a chalkboard. Vinegar in wine. It makes them both nauseous and rueful, and the oxygen in Namjoon’s office suddenly becomes all too suffocating. Your presence, or lack thereof, has left a heavy residue on the walls of the manor.
The two boys sit in silence for a moment, before the sound of thumping boots on hardwood flooring echoes down the hallway, getting louder as it approaches the office. The door is nearly taken off its hinges as it violently swings open. Taehyung stands in the threshold, sweat on his brow and chest huffing up and down like an overexerted engine. He is pale in the face, hands trembling at his side and the sheer shock in his gaze tells the two older men that the words preparing to slip from his tongue are not going to be pleasant. Jin and Namjoon brace themselves for impact.
“It’s Y/N”, his whispered voice quivers. Their hearts drop.
“There’s been an accident.”
taglist: @pinkyhim, @deolly, @loveyoongles, @drunkzseok, @hope122598, @uwunamjoon, @nomimits7, @bubblebunnylia, @aquaalanah, @juliie-ocha, @daydreambrliever, @btsbabby, @blank-et-noir, @myheartstaysinkorea, @rosiethefairy, @tiredjedi, @lovemyself-persona, @jeoncookie-bts, @annoyingpessimist, @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh, @btstxtgenre, @taesugaar, @hxsxxk-180294, @bubbletae7, @uglyratlmao, @hopetookmysoul, @supertweetycherry, @missseoulite, @barbikatherine, @jamesfrickingbuchananbarnes, @sunsetsnsirens-blog, @vanilla-smash, @lmaosani, @onionhaseyeo, @i-dumb-bitch, @euphxriajoon, @justpeachyjoon, @dabbingangels, @h5naaa, @parkmaeri, @softescapism, @bena-baby, @myjiminmychimchim, @moments-of-melancholy, @krystle1990, @chatsgotmytongue, @vi-hoshi, @unlikelylittlemiss, @rosey-roseau, @thestrugglesofateenagedirtbag, @kookiebbyxx, @thebleuprince, @dreamer95, @jinana-iactium, @holaaaf, @small-babycat, @h0bi-c0re, @katbonv, @embrace-themagic, @jiminmochee, @fanoffandomss, @mwitsmejk, @mrsfortune1306, @raadia, @kookima, @bonesfordayss, @dinoboysindahouse, @jiminie-lovely, @queenceline22, @jikooksgirl19, @somewhereinthestarss, @kookieskiwi, @lynnfanficreblogs, @vintageroses10,
#btsguild#btswriterscollective#bts mafia au#bts gang au#bts series#poly bts x reader#bts polyamory#bts poly au#ot7 x reader#ot7#ot7 x you#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#bts writing#bts angst#bts fluff#bts x reader#bts reader insert#rm x reader#namjoon x reader#jin x reader#seokjin x reader#yoongi x reader#suga x reader#hoseok x reader#jhope x reader#jimin x reader#v x reader#taehyung x reader#jungkook x reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
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)
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Greatest Weapon | Kaz Brekker
Summary: you’re Kaz’ greatest weapon, but he refuses to use you for one of his most important heists. angrily you question him for reasoning as to why and find out you’re not just his greatest weapon, but his greatest weakness too.
Warnings: fighting, slight angst, mentions of death and injuries, swears, shitty writing, little sweet at the end. readers gender isn’t specified. also please note i’m dyslexic so if there’s any mistakes please be kind about it!
let me know what you think! it’s rushed i know and probably not great but feedback is always appreciated! - parker
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Kaz sat at his desk, head resting in his gloved hands as he mulled over the conversation he’d just had about the largest mission with the crows. It was no doubt going to be a tricky one, and with your help the other were convinced it’d work. However, Kaz was not entirely too sure about that.
“I’ve said it before and I will say it again. We are not asking for their assistance.” Kaz muttered bitterly at Jesper, who was wide eyed at the suggestion of using your gifts. “But why not?” Inej pressed the matter. She’d seen you in action before, she knew you were more than capable of pulling off heists, especially one of this risk. “They’ve got talent, Kaz. Skill. We need that, especially now. Why can’t we use them?” Asked a desperate Inej.
“Because I said so!” Kaz had snapped, not meaning to come off as harsh, especially to Inej, but the subject of you had always round him up. “We are not using Y/N for this mission, and that. is. final.” The other crow members nodded, jaws slightly clenched and eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but nonetheless they listen to their boss and dropped the subject.
You, however, would not give up so easily. As soon as you had gotten to the Slat to hear the latest update on the mission, only to find out from Inej that you weren’t to be apart of it, all thanks to the ever so lovely bastard of the barrel, you saw red. Inej barely got to mutter out anything else she may have had to say, before you were stomping up the stairs to Kaz’s office.
You didn’t bother knocking like you usually would’ve, instead your soft hand met the cold metal doorknob, and ripped it open with great ferocity. The sound of intense creaking and Kaz’s name being spat broke him out of his thoughts, his cold and tired eyes snapping up to your angry ones. He stood up at once, his tall body standing still before your seething shorter figure.
“What is the meaning of this, Y/N.” He spoke in his usual authoritative edge. You scoffed. “Oh please, like you don’t fucking know exactly why I’m here. Instead why don’t you tell me the meaning of why you aren’t allowing me on this next mission? Huh? Why’s that, Kaz?” Your voice was harsh as you all but spat your words in his face, like they were venom seeping off your tongue in waterfalls.
Kaz wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t slightly surprised by your aggressiveness, yet of course he wouldn’t admit out loud or show it. Still, the spite in your demeanor towards him in this moment was like nothing he’d ever witnessed before. Sure you were as stubborn as could be, there was no denying that, and as his greatest weapon, he knew more than anyone just how fearsome you were. You’d just never directed it at him.
Until now. And Kaz could see just how much these jobs meant to you. However, regardless of the fact, his mind was made up, and that was final. You were not to be joining this mission, instead you could stay there with any medical supplies they may need ready in case anyone got injured. But he couldn’t risk you being the one in possible need of help in the unfortunate case you got hurt if you went.
And that’s exactly what he told you, not that final part of him not wanting you get hurt though of course. You let out another scoff followed by the fakest laugh he had ever heard. Actually, come by think of it, that was the only time he’d ever heard you laugh in general. What a pity it wasn’t genuine.
“Oh so what, is this a demotion? Or do you suddenly just not need me anymore, is that it? I thought I was your stupid ‘Greatest Weapon’. What changed that?”
‘My feelings for you!’ Kaz’s mind seemed to yell at him. Instead he just clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes at you. “It’s not a demotion, it’s protection.”He claimed. You rolled your eyes. “Bullshit. Protection against what exactly? You know better than anyone else that I can handle myself. Been doin’ it since I was a kid, I’m more capable than most when it comes to fighting.”
“I wasn’t talking about your protection.” Kaz hissed. Lie. “I’m talking about our protection, me and the other Crows. You’re reckless, you get hotheaded, that puts us in danger. I can’t afford you putting any of our lives on the line anymore, especially on this job.”
Another lie. You weren’t any of those things. You were one of the most skilled he’d ever seen or known, he just had to say these things to get you to back down. You however, being the stubborn pain in the ass you always were, still wasn’t buying it, even if you were slightly hurt by what he said.
“No. No Kaz I’m buying that. I’m not reckless, I never have been. I’m your best shot at bringing home the big win for this heist and you know that! Everyone fucking knows that! So tell me, truthfully, why aren’t you letting me do this? Is it punishment? Or could it be that you’re jealous? Is that it?”
Kaz drew in a deep breathe as he listened to you rant, which stopped you short in your tracks. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re jealous. Oh Saints, is the Kaz Brekker jealous of his Greatest Weapon? Is that why you don’t want me going, because you’re afraid I’ll best you?”
His dark eyes glared at the mention, but remained silent. You just smirked, thinking you had figured it out. “Well then,” you hummed. “I guess now that we’ve gotten to the bottom of this I can go, can’t I? Unless you don’t mind me telling everyone why you had such a hissy fit over me joining...”
With that, you turned to leave his office, satisfied thinking you won and could officially go. But before you reached the door, Kaz’s voice calling your name stopped you in your spot. You froze, shocked by the tone of his voice. Not because it was harsh, not because he was snapping at you, but... because the way he spoke was so soft it was like a whisper.
That was something you’d never experienced before. Kaz had never sounded so, desperate? You turned on your heals to him, your boots creaking on the floor as you came face to face with him. And that’s when the real shock of this situation set in.
In front of you was no longer your boss, the barrel of the bastard that so many feared. Instead, in his place was a boy who looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Y/N,” he began, it came out in a croak. “Kaz?” You questioned, unsure you took a few steps closer towards him.
He looked up you, with shiny eyes that looked like they burned with tears waiting to be shed. “Kaz, I- Whats going-,” you began, but he held up a gloved hand, silencing you.
“Y/N,” he started once more. “I- I’m not doing any of this out of jealousy, o-or because I think you’re reckless. I’m going this because...” his voice goes quiet, and he looks like he’s trapped in thought. “Because...?” you questioned, eagerly awaiting whatever it was he was going to say.
Kaz inhaled heavily before exhaling, pinching the bridge of his nose and tightly closing his eyes. “Because I can’t lose you.” he finally concluded. And now it was your turn to inhale sharply, shock overtaking you once more.
“W-what do you mean, lose me, Kaz? I-I dont-,” he interrupts you. “This heist is dangerous, Y/N. It’s not like our usual ones, this one could mean certain death for some. I cannot let any of those be you. I won’t. I can’t. You may be my greatest weapon, but you’re also my greatest weakness. W-without you I- I can’t think of what I’d do without you. You’re all I have left, Y/N. The only person I’ve had by my side since I was a child that I have left and I can’t jeopardize that more than I have. So please, please I’m begging you, stay here. For me.”
Your eyes went wide and glassy as he spoke, all the words that tumbled out of his mouth hitting you at full speed while you tried to process what this meant. You rose your bowed head to look him in the eyes, they mirrored your own. Glassy and wide, but with a mix of something you hadn’t seen in ages.
Childlike hope. The same hope he had in his eyes the day you promised you’d be by his side forever when you were both children. His only hope left was to keep you safe, that’s all he wanted. And that’s when you agreed, “okay.” your voice was shaky. “Okay, I’ll stay. But just for this one, deal? As long as you promise me you’ll be okay without me. Promise me you’ll come back to me.”
Kaz felt many things in this moment of what he had just revealed, but mostly he felt relieved at your agreement. If he could ensure you’d be safe for even just an extra day, then he’d make it his mission to make sure this heist went perfectly so he could make it back home to you.
“I promise. I’ll come back to you, Y/N. I always will.”
426 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Pairing: Lee Felix x female reader
Genre: Smut
Warnings: mature content, lowkey slow burn, breeding kink, soft!dom Felix, creampie.
Word count: 2.975
You and Ashley have been friends for four years now. You went through a lot of hardships together, especially when Ashley had an unplanned pregnancy in the last year of college. Luckily, Mason, now her husband, is an amazing person, and even though it was hard, she was able to graduate. You loved her baby, Arthur, so much, like it was your little brother. You knew that their anniversary was getting closer and you wanted to surprise her.
"No way, I cannot ask you for something like that."
"You're not asking, I'm offering. Besides, you know I love spending time with Arthur," you said, holding your phone with one hand while you tried to wash the dishes you used to eat dinner with the other.
"I don't know Y/N..."
"Girl, just stop. I'm not taking a no for an answer. Spending quality time with your husband is important and I know that you have been not getting laid lately."
"You have no idea how hard it is to have sex with a one-year-old making a mess everywhere." You both laughed.
"I'll go to your house tomorrow at 7 pm. Get a reservation at a nice restaurant, get shaved and, wear your best dress. I want you and Mason to have a good time together."
"Okay, but only because it is our anniversary. I'm gonna take this as a present." Ashley sighed, knowing that she had to say yes anyway.
"Because it is, Ashley. I'll see you tomorrow, bye."
"Bye, honey."
You finished your shores and were planning on watching some videos on youtube when you heard your phone buzzing. You picked it up and saw that you had a message.
Felix, 8:45 pm: Hey
Felix, 8:45 pm: Sorry for messaging late but, are you free tomorrow?
You chuckled. Almost 9 pm wasn't late.
Y/N, 8:46 pm: Sorry, I'm going to my friend's house after work.
Y/N, 8:47 pm: I'm going to babysit her baby so she can go have dinner with her husband.
You met Felix at work, during lunch. He was new there and you have seen him sometimes walking around the place, but you never talked to him. Until one day when he dropped his coffee on you. You remembered how embarrassed he was, his cheeks were red and he profusely apologized. Ever since, you had some small talk with him here and there until one day you gave him his number, saying that he could message you if he needed help with something from work. You know it was bullshit since he was from a different department, but still, you needed an excuse to talk to him. He messaged you a few times but eventually, you thought it was a lost cause.
Y/N, 8:57 pm: Why do you ask?
Felix, 9:00 pm: Nothing.
Felix, 9:01 pm: It's silly.
Y/N, 9:03 pm: If it was that silly, you wouldn't have messaged me.
Y/N, 9:03 pm: Spit it out.
Felix, 9:12 pm: There's a convention for Star Wars fans tomorrow. You said that you loved the movies one time so I bought tickets for you.
Y/N, 9:14 pm: Why didn't you tell me before?
Felix, 9:15 pm: I didn't know if you would want to go. But it's okay, don't worry about it.
You thought for a moment. You really wanted to spend time with him. Felix was so sweet, respectful and kind. He was also very, very handsome.
Y/N, 9:30 pm: Do you wanna come to my friend's house tomorrow with me?
You looked at your phone five minutes later and saw that Felix visualized the message but didn't answer. "Congratulations, you fucked it up, Y/N," you said.
You sat on your couch and turned the tv on, planning on finally watching your favorite youtube videos, when you heard your phone buzzing again.
Felix, 9:50 pm: Sure, why not? Is it okay with your friend? She doesn't know me.
You sighed, happy that he answered.
Y/N, 9:51 pm: I'm gonna tell her but I'm pretty sure she'll be fine.
"Is he cute?" Ashley asked, putting on her earring. She looked gorgeous with a tight red dress that accentuated her curves and contrasted with her dark skin. Her curly hair was in a bun, leaving her neck and shoulders exposed. You knew Mason would love it.
"He is very cute. And he's so nice too. I only invited him over because he seems really sweet."
You went to Ashley's house one hour before she would leave for dinner so you could help her get ready, and by help, you meant to force her to wear something that wasn't a t-shirt and jeans.
"How do I look?" she turned around, facing you.
"Gorgeous as always."
Ashley hugged you tight. "Thank you so much, Y/N. You know you don't have to do this, right?"
"But I want to."
The bell rang.
"That's probably Felix," you said.
"Let's go downstairs, I wanna meet this boy."
When you went to the living room you saw Felix talking to Mason.
"Hello, I'm Ashley, nice to meet you."
"I'm Felix, nice to meet you too," Felix raised his hand so he could shake Ashley's hand but she gave him a light hug. You smiled, finding really cute how awkward he was.
"Arthur is sleeping now, he already ate, but if he wakes up, there's milk on the fridge. He usually sleeps all night so you don't have much to worry about."
"Okay, you guys have to go before you're late for dinner," you said, pulling Mason and Ashley towards the door.
"Call me if you need anything. We'll be back tomorrow morning so you'll don't have much trouble with him."
"Don't worry about it. You can take your time."
"Also, don't forg-"
"Baby, we have to go," Mason insisted, holding her hand and trying to get her inside of the car.
"Fine. Bye everyone, see you tomorrow."
You waved at them before going inside and closing the door.
"I'm gonna check on Arthur for a second, you can wait here, okay?" You told Felix.
"Sure."
You went upstairs and checked on Arthur's room. He was sleeping soundly. You felt the urge to lightly pinch his chubby little cute cheeks but you decided not to bother him. You went to the living room again and Felix was sitting on the couch.
"Are you hungry? We bought pizza."
"Uhm, not really."
"Are you sure?" you insisted.
"Okay, one slice would be good."
Felix got up and followed you to the kitchen.
"Your friend has a beautiful house," he said, admiring the place.
"She does. I mean, she's an architect and Mason is an engineer, so they were able to buy a nice place," you cut a piece and handed it to him.
"You said that you studied together."
"We went to the same college, but I graduated in graphic design. For obvious reasons, I don't make as much money as them," you laughed.
"Did you always wanted to work in a publishing company?" Felix sat on the balcony standing in the middle of the kitchen.
"Honestly, I just wanted to work with what I love. Graphic design is not something that people value but it is what makes me happy." You looked at him and Felix smiled at you, his dimple prominent on his face. He was so cute.
"What about you?"
"Oh, marketing is definitely not something I dreamed of working with. My family has a long line of people that have been working with it, so I barely had a choice,” Felix confessed.
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah." He looked thoughtful like his mind was somewhere else. "I actually wanted to work with art. I love painting."
"Really? That's so cool. Do you have a picture of a painting to show me? I would love to see it."
Felix hesitated for a while before he grabbed his phone and scrolled through his gallery.
"Please don't think I'm weird," he said before showing you the picture.
You raised your eyebrows when you saw what was on the screen of his phone. A beautiful painting of you. You realized that he used your profile picture on Facebook as a reference.
"Felix, this is amazing."
"It took me a week to finish it," he said, holding his hands behind his back, clearly feeling shy.
"I love it, really."
You and Felix finished eating. You talked more about your plans for the future, the things you wanted to do with your life, your dreams.
You were sitting on the couch watching tv when you heard Arthur crying upstairs.
"Ops, somebody woke up." You got up to go to his room and you noticed that Felix was following you. "You don't have to go if you don't want to."
"It's fine, I wanna help you."
When you entered the room, Arthur was up in his crib, deeply crying.
"It's okay," you said in a soft tone, picking him up.
"I think somebody needs to change its diaper," Felix said.
"You are right," you laughed. "Let's change this little boy."
You put Arthur on the changing mat and started to change him, but to be honest, you had no idea what you were doing.
Felix laughed. "Let me help you." Felix quickly changed his diaper, he clearly knew what he was doing.
"Woah, how do you know that?" you asked, looking at him dumbfounded.
He laughed again, amused by your reaction. "I have a small brother so I have changed his diaper plenty of times."
"Aaah, that explains a lot."
"Let's see if he wants to eat," Felix said, holding Arthur in his arms. You went to the kitchen and looked for the milk. After pouring it into a pan, you heated it up.
"We need to make sure we don't overheat it so it won't burn the baby," Felix said while he tested the milk's temperature. You put it into a baby bottle and gave it to Arthur who promptly drank it.
"I guess he was hungry," Felix chuckled.
"Do you plan on having kids, Felix?" you looked at him, completely mesmerized by how good he was with kids.
"Yes, I love kids. I plan on having two kids one day."
"That's so cute, I'm sure you'll be an amazing dad."
Felix smiled, making your heart skip a beat.
"Do you want to have kids, Y/N?" he looked apprehensive.
"Yeah, one day. I still need to find the right person."
"Of course."
Arthur went back to sleep again when he was done eating.
"Not gonna lie, taking care of a baby can be tiring," claimed said, sitting on the couch. Felix sat next to you, his knee touching your leg.
"Do you want to watch a movie?" you asked.
"Sure!"
Twenty minutes later, you started to sleep. Your head felt heavy until it fell on Felix's shoulder. He simply smiled, enjoying the feeling of you so close to him.
The sound of the bell ringing woke you up. You were laying on the couch, a blanket over your body. You looked around and Felix was sleeping on the smaller couch next to yours, with just a pillow under his head. You got up and answered the door.
"Hey!" Ashley said, hugging you.
"Hi. How was your night?"
"It was amazing. Thank you so much, Y/N." Ashley went to the middle of the living room to drop her bag on the couch, Mason following behind.
"How's Arthur? Did he behaved?" Mason asked.
"Yeah, he slept almost all of the time." You rubbed your eyes, still feeling sleepy.
Ashley turned around, seeing Felix sleeping on the couch. "You guys could have slept in the guest room," she laughed.
"I'm gonna check on Arthur. What about some breakfast later?" Mason suggested.
"That sounds great, but I think we should go home. Besides, you guys need to spend some family time with your baby."
You woke Felix up, and while he was trying to get conscious, you chatted with Ashley about dinner. Mason went downstairs with Arthur and you chatted a little more before leaving.
"Do you want me to take you home?" Felix asked, leaving Ashley's house by your side.
"No, it's okay, I'll get an Uber."
"Aw, come on. I'm not gonna let you leave on an Uber so early in the morning." You looked at him, admiring the freckles on his skin. His pink lips looked soft and you had to fight the urge to kiss him.
"You know what, okay. I'll go with you."
The drive to your house was silent, the music playing on the radio helped you to distract the thoughts on your head. The night you spent with Felix was amazing, seeing him being so sweet like that only made you even more attracted to him.
Felix stopped in front of your house. "Well, we are here."
"Do you want to come in?"
"Oh... uhm, sure, yes, that would be great."
You smiled and left the car, running to open the door for him.
"Please don't mind the mess," you said, taking some clothes that were on the couch.
"Don't worry about it."
"Do you want to eat something?"
"I'm fine, I'm still full because of the pizza from yesterday."
"Okay."
There was an awkward silence for a while and you realized you didn't think this through. Invite him over and what?
"You know what? There's something I want to eat," Felix said.
"Oh, okay. What do you want? I have bread, cereal, we can make panca-"
"You."
"What?" you looked at him, your eyes wide.
"I w-want to eat you." Felix stuttered, his face showing that he was feeling too shy to be saying the words that left his mouth.
"Oh, I'm... I-" you didn't have the chance to finish, Felix approached you and kissed you. You were still processing what was happening so you didn't kiss him back yet. Felix noticed and stopped kissing you.
"I-I'm so sorry, Y/N, I shoul-"
"No! It's okay. I just wasn't expecting."
You kissed him, holding his face and tasting his lips. His left hand held the back of your head while the other held your waist. He bit your lower lip, his tongue entering your mouth and playing with yours. He pressed his body against yours and you felt his semi-hard dick. You whined, trying to control your breath.
"Do you want to keep going?" Felix asked, his forehead resting against yours. You simply nodded.
"Where's your room?"
You grabbed his hand, guiding him to your room. Once you were inside, Felix slammed you against the door, pressing his body into yours. He started to grind his clothed cock on your heat and, this time, you couldn't hold your moans anymore.
"Felix," was all you managed to say before he kissed you again. A messy kiss that screamed how much he was longing for you, how much he desired you.
His hand grabbed your ass, pulling you closer as if it was even possible.
"I wanna taste you," he said, taking you to the bed. You laid down and he wasted no time to take off your pants, pulling your panties with them in a swift movement. Soon enough, his tongue was exploring your wet lips, savoring the taste of your arousal. Felix played with your clit, his tongue sliding against the sensitive skin. You hoped that your neighbors had already left for work, otherwise you would end up waking them up because of your moans.
Felix stopped eating you out to unbutton his shirt.
"You have no idea how much I wanted to fuck you," he said, his voice deep, making you raise your hips, craving to be filled up.
"Felix, please," you moaned.
"You want me to fuck you, baby?"
"Yes, please." It was embarrassing, you weren't used to begging. Most of the time that you had sex, you were always the one in control. But not with Felix.
"Are you on the pill?" Felix asked, taking the rest of his clothes off and pumping his rock-hard cock.
"Yeah, please fuck me."
"Anything for you," he growled, sliding his dick into your dripping pussy. Felix already started an incessant pounding into you, stealing moans from your throat. "You are so fucking beautiful."
You closed your eyes, feeling the burning on your stomach getting stronger.
"Fuck, so fucking good, Y/N. You are taking me so well."
"Please, don't s-stop."
"Turn around, I wanna fuck you from behind."
You didn't have much strength left, but Felix helped you out. He was inside of you again, hitting the right spots in this position. Felix felt your pussy tightening against his dick and he started to play with your clit.
"Fuck, Felix, I'm gonna cum," you screamed, not being able to control yourself anymore. You came, a long moan leaving your mouth.
"I'm gonna cum inside of your little pussy, I'm gonna fill you up so good."
He didn't slow his pace, his hips hitting yours in a fast rhythm.
"I'm gonna put a baby in your little cute belly, baby girl," he said, closing his eyes as his dick slid in and out of your pussy.
"Fuck," you moaned.
"You are gonna look so good, all swollen, f-fuck."
A few lazy thrusts and Felix came inside of you. He kept thrusting on you for a while until you milked him out.
He laid by your side, trying to catch his breath.
Felix put his arm on his face, hiding it. He looked completely flustered.
"I'm sorry, Y/N. It was way too soon for me to let out this embarrassing kinky stuff."
"Felix, shut up. It was fucking hot," you smiled, turning around to hug him and rest your head on his chest. He played with your hair, the warmth of his skin making you fall asleep.
But sleeping wasn't on Felix's plans. "Ready for round two?"
#stray kids#skz#lee felix#felix#stayhavennet#lee felix smut#felix smut#skz smut#stray kids smut#skz fanfic#stray kids fanfic#felix x you#felix x y/n#felix x reader#felix imagine#stray kids imagine#skz imagine
470 notes
·
View notes
Text
Only for you
Summary: The children conducted a mini talent show
I read a talent show thing somewhere and my dad's been binge watching talent shows then I thought of mphfpc. And do I have unfinished stories? Yes. Will I write random stories instead of finishing those? Also yes.
Time is a precious thing, especially for Alma. Everything must be on time and not one second should not be wasted, but this does not mean not having time for amusement. This is why when Alma told you that it would be good for the children to do something fun, you immediately agreed.
During breakfast, all the children are already talking about what they plan to do for the day when Alma clears her throat to gather everyone’s attention. Before speaking, she looked at you with a little smirk on her face, then you nod to her.
“Children, miss y/n and I have talked last night and thought you might want to have more time to do something fun later this day” this was responded by excited cheers from the children which prompted you to speak with a grin “you all need not to be that excited” then the excited cheers turned to small laughs.
“Can we go to the beach, Miss Peregrine?” Olive asked
“We should have a picnic!” Claire exclaimed, then each of them shared their thoughts on what they should do instead.
Alma looked at you as if asking for some assistance which you responded with a playful shrug and a smirk. You may be considered as the second of the house, but you still leave the decision making to Alma as the ymbryne of this loop and the main caretaker of the children. You are just happy to support her in every choice she makes.
“I’m afraid that we will not have enough time to prepare for a picnic or going to the beach, I guess we can have a mini event instead” Alma said with nothing but gentleness in her voice. You really do adore seeing her being so gentle and loving towards the children.
The children agreed and talked about what they plan to do and they ended up agreeing to do a talent show. “What if we do a talent show but we can’t use our peculiarities?” Enoch voiced out which was immediately agreed to by everyone “And you’re not exempted to this, miss y/n” Enoch added with a smirk that caused another simultaneous agreement. When you looked at Alma, she was already looking at you and was failing to hide the smirk on her face and when you feigned a pout, she just shrugged as well. The two of you were the only ones to know about this small interaction of sorts and the “butterflies in stomach” never stops. This woman will be the death of you.
After breakfast, the children scrambled to finish their chores so they could plan for their mini talent show. You saw Alma in the backyard looking over the twins, you stood beside her and said “the children seemed happy with your idea” she looked at you with a smile and held your hand “you know how they can be sometimes, I am just glad to see them so happy” And you knew that you are being overwhelmed with happiness as well just by seeing her and the children happy “I cannot wait what they will be doing”.
The thing is, you will never exchange these kinds of moments for anything in this world and you may have meant that literally. Your peculiarity to feel if someone is being genuine with what they are saying allows you to pass as normal but you decided to stay in this loop after falling in love with it and to the woman sitting beside you.
After a few hours of continuing your tasks, you went to the library to have some alone moments that are needed when you have to deal with children for the whole day. Millard approached you to tell you that everyone’s already in the parlor and that the event will start any moment.
You went to the parlor and saw that the chairs are arranged the same way when they are having the movie except there is a space in the middle. Some of the children sat on the floor while you noticed that they had made a space for you and Alma to sit on the couch. Millard and Fiona stood in the center of the room, both holding a brush and using it like a microphone.
“Welcome everyone to our talent show! I will be one of your hosts for today and I am excited to showcase our talents.” Millard may be invisible but you can feel that he must be smiling widely. He was immediately followed up by Fiona “And what makes this talent show different is that, we must try our best not to use any of our peculiarities.” Millard started walking around and stopped behind you “Now, let me introduce our special guest, Miss y/n” Even though being a little surprised, you stood up and gave a wave that caused some giggles and after sitting down Millard continued “And of course, Miss Peregrine!” Alma just gave a small smile to the children, but the children seemed to be satisfied with it.
“For our first act, we have the twins!” Fiona introduced and then moved to the side. The twins performed a dance and they did it so synchronously that everyone applauded after they performed. The next to perform is Claire and Bronwyn who both sang joyfully, some of the children even sang along to the lyrics of the song. Horace followed with narrating a poem he wrote. Millard performed with his jokes that made everyone laugh not because it was funny but because of the cliche in every joke. Emma did some magic tricks that were definitely enjoyed by everyone, especially by the younger ones. Fiona showcased her talent in painting some flowers. And for the last act, Enoch, Olive, and Hugh made a skit of their everyday routines in the house, which everyone related to and laughed at.
“And of course, for our final show we have Miss y/n!” Millard announced and everyone, including Alma started applauding. You looked around in confusion but Enoch just said “we did agree that you are not exempted” then you turned to Alma to ask for some help but she just leaned to you and whispered “it’s your turn dear” you had no choice but to just sigh
You did not have any idea what to do as you stood in the middle of the room but when you looked at Alma, suddenly she was the only one you could see and it was as if seeing her again for the first time and wanting to confess your adoration towards her. And so, you knew what you could do and you started singing a song that you wrote, not looking away from Alma.
The simple thought of your name
Sends my heart to a delirious beat
And that look in your eyes,
I would trade for nothing
I was not one who understood
poems, love stories, and romance
But then you looked and smile at me,
I knew I can fill empty pages with love,
And that my soul will always remember.
After you finished singing, the children clapped and you walked slowly towards Alma feeling a little breathless as if you confessed your love to her all over again. But you’ll never tire of telling and showing her how much she means to you, you’ll never tire of seeing her look at you with so much adoration with her cheeks blushing and her eyes brighter than usual. When you reached her, she kissed your cheek that caused you to blush and it made her chuckle and the children are all smiling at the both of you knowingly. You thought that she must have been moved by what you sang, for her to kiss even just your cheek in the presence of the children is a big deal. However, you would not wish for her to take it back so you just smiled at her as a way of showing her how happy you feel.
The show ended with a standing ovation from the children and after the loop was reset, everyone turned in early. You and Alma still had to finish up some things such as tucking the children in and making sure that the house is secured. And as usual every night, you are cuddled with Alma in the bed you are sharing when a thought came up in your mind and you look at her “Why was I not exempted but you are?” which earned a small laugh from the ymbryne, she looked lovely when she doesn’t have her headmistress facade, you thought. “It was the children’s idea, my love” and you just joked to her saying “at least tell me you enjoyed my singing to make it worth it” and another small laugh from her but before saying anything, she kissed your forehead “I loved it” and you just hummed in response for you are already feeling the sleepiness.
But before you succumbed into sleep you heard a whisper from Alma “I love you”. And you may have been too sleepy to respond, but you knew that she was being genuine with her words and your heart felt full. And of course, you also knew that you love her too, with everything that she is and will be.
#miss peregrine x reader#miss peregrine movie#miss peregrines home for peculiar children#alma peregrine#alma peregrine x reader#mphfpc#miss peregrine fic
114 notes
·
View notes
Text
Relax (m)
I do not own any rights on the above image (found on weheartit).
pairing: co-worker!taeyong x fem!reader
summary: You're feeling very stressed with work so Taeyong drops by to help you relax
word count: 1,618
warnings: oral sex (receiving), fingering, office smut
a/n: just because I have this crazy idea that Taeyong gives great head! (sue me) anyways, do give me some feedback please! ❤︎
☽ ・・・・・ ☾
Swamped. That’s how you’ve been feeling in your work for the past two weeks. One of your colleagues quit her job and left the company right as you two were about to finish a big project and since your boss was having trouble finding a replacement for her it was up to you to do all the work. On one hand it was better that you didn’t have to waste time explaining the whole project to someone new so close to the deadline, but on the other you could really use the extra help. These days you felt like you barely left the office, coming in early in the morning, leaving late at night, crashing in bed as soon as you get home.
Today was the worst day of all as you’ll have to present the project on the next day, and you felt like you still had so much to do, maybe this time you will actually have to stay the night and run home for a quick shower in the morning before the meeting.
Too focused on your computer screen and the papers scattered all over you desk you barely notice the knock on your door.
“Y/N?” You look up and see a head poking through the door.
“Mr Lee.” You greet Taeyong as he steps into your office, closing the door behind him. You look at the clock in your wall and realise it’s already an hour past your regular exit time.
“Another late night?” He worried looking at your tired eyes. “You really shouldn’t be doing this to yourself, you should go home and rest.”
“Oh I can’t…” you lower your head and rub your temples. “I still have so much to do, I’m not even sure I can finish it, I’m starting to second guess every single decision I’ve made so far…”
“Hey,” he moves closer to your desk, “You’re gonna do great, you always do.”
“What if this time I don’t?” You look up at him. “I don’t want to let everybody down…”
“You’re not going to,” he smiles gently as he continues “they put you in charge of this project because they trust you, so you should trust yourself too.”
“But what if I mess it up? I can’t lose that promotion…” you look back at your papers trying to refocus on your work. This project could be your way up in the company and you’ve been working so hard for it you can’t mess up now.
“Well, if it’s up to me you’ll still get it.” Taeyong is part of the management team, although he’s not directly your boss he will have a say in that promotion you are longing for, he’s even going to attend your presentation the following day along with the other members of the board. You two occasionally saw each other in the office making the typical co-worker small talk, but over the last two weeks you got a bit closer as he usually left the company later than everybody else and you pulling extra hours every day. He always made sure to walk you to your car, doing an effort to get to know you better. You weren’t sure about his intentions but you were keen to keep your relation as professional as possible as you didn’t want to cross any line and compromise your job. Yes, he is damn handsome, but you wouldn’t dare making a move. With time you realised that behind this cool and relaxed attitude he has on a daily basis, he is a very hard working man and got where he is through his blood sweat and tears. He quickly became someone you really admire.
“Well, I want to get it because I deserve it and I did a job, not because I persuaded the board.” You smile at him, quickly looking back to your computer.
“You mean you’ve let other managers walk you to your car too? And here I was thinking I’m special!” He pretends to be hurt and offended.
“Don’t be so dramatic.” You giggle. “But, by the away, you can just go ahead today as I’ll still be here for a while.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to take a break and relax?” He gets up and walks around your desk dragging his fingers through the borders. “I could help you out.”
“That’s very kind of you but you’re not even familiar with the project.” You keep typing on your keyboard.
“I’m not.” He walks behind your chair. “But I was actually talking about the relaxing part.”
“W-what?” You widen your eyes. He cannot mean what you think he means, you’re probably just too tired and mishearing things. “W-what do you mean-”
You stop talking as he places his hands on your shoulders giving you a soft massage. You close your eyes and slowly relax your shoulders, it feels like your are being touched by an angel. As he presses into your tension points you involuntarily let a moan slip through your lips. You open your eyes again trying to understand if he heard it.
“Does it feel that good?” Shit. You’re too embarrassed to even reply so he lowers his face next to your ear and whispers “Cause I can do even better.”
You feel the warmth of his lips against your neck. A shiver runs down your spine as his hands go down to your chest over your blouse, but you suddenly come to your senses and grab his hands stopping him from going down to your breasts.
“Mr Lee…” your voice is trembling.
“You know you can call me Taeyong out of office hours.” He rotates your chair so that you are facing him now. He kneels down in front of you and snakes a hand slowly up your skirt brushing his fingertips in the waistband of your underwear. Because you were rushing to get to work this morning you didn’t even bother to put on some tights.
“T-Taeyong…” your breathing got heavier. “This is wrong-”
“My name sounds lovely coming out of your mouth.” He stops you, slowly dragging your panties down your legs as you involuntarily lift up your hips. He then pulls you to the edge of the chair pushing up your skirt and exposing your cunt.
“We really shouldn’t do this-” you spoke these words but internally you were begging him to continue.
“I told you I’d help you relax, so don’t worry, just sit back and enjoy.” He smirks as he spreads your legs, eyes never leaving yours.
You open your mouth to say something but only gasp when he lowers his head blowing some air into your pussy realising you are already wet for him. He sticks out his tongue and takes an experimental lick. You drop your head back at the feeling. Happy with your reaction he starts sucking your clit. You clench your hands around the armrests of your chair biting your lip, too embarrassed to make a sound.
Your breathing gets heavier as he circles is tongue around your sensitive bud. You’re not sure where he got his technique from but the movements he’s making are getting you too hot too fast, it’s like he put a spell on you with his saliva mixing with your own juices.
You feel a finger teasingly brushing around you hole spreading your wetness. He then slowly pushes it inside never stopping the movements of his mouth. How does one have such coordination? As he starts pumping his finger in and out, you can no longer hold the moans trapped in your throat.
“That’s it baby, don’t hold back.” Taeyong leaves your clit only to encourage your sounds and then continues his service adding a second finger inside you.
Your moans get louder and your grip on the armrests gets tighter as you feel the orgasm build up inside you. You start to squirm around, pleasure getting too much to handle, so he wraps his free arm around your thighs holding you still. He realises you are getting close so he curls his fingers on your inner walls touching just the right place to send you over the edge.
You moan his name as you come undone, arching your back off the chair. He removes his fingers out of you but continues with his tongue to help you ride off your high. This was probably one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had in your life, no one ever ate you out like that.
As you come back to reality you ear a phone ringing. Not recognising the ringtone you assume it’s his. Taeyong gives your clit a last kiss and gets up removing his phone from his pants.
“What’s up?” He answers the phone putting his fingers that were just inside you on his mouth, cleaning them up looking straight into your eyes. “Sure, no problem. See ya.” He hangs up.
You then realise you are still sitting in your chair, skirt up, no panties, legs spread, your juices dripping out of you, looking like a real mess. You quickly sit up adjusting your skirt, too embarrassed to pick up your underwear from the floor.
“Well, I gotta getting going,” he says walking to the door, “but I hope you are feeling more relaxed now. If you ever need another one of those just let me know.” He winks and opens the door.
You gulp at the possibility of having his mouth pleasuring you like that again.
“Oh and by the way,” Taeyong looks back at you with a smirk before he’s about to close the door, “good luck on the presentation tomorrow, I know you’ll do great.”
Shit, the presentation!
323 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
tooobejarabi
Little Pieces Of Me
techbasket
Untitled
lsaxx
Glasperle
enderkura
www.bedsidelighting.co.uk
mullberrymagpie
tumblr was a mistake