#because I have missed quite a few days hahahaha…

[avatar-anna]

I swear I could read prof y/n content all day longgg!

Could we get an angst moment? Love a bit of drama hahahaha 🤪😂

prof and h angstttt plsssss

enjoy! xx

The Professor Series

Harry knew Y/n. He knew her favorite authors and composers; he knew her favorite constellations, how she liked to sleep curled up into a ball when she had stomach cramps, and how she took her tea; he knew she wore mismatched socks, that her Southern accent returned when she was tired or tipsy, and that she had a little freckle on her hip; he knew she worked really hard but wanted to try to take herself less seriously sometimes; he knew the things that made her laugh and what she got excited about; he knew what places to kiss to make her blush and that she appreciated when he listened to her lectures before she gave them, even if he didn't quite understand.

It was safe to say Harry knew his love, inside and out.

But the person he was faced with now he almost didn't recognize.

It wasn't uncommon for Y/n to be asked to consult on particularly difficult cases that local police departments were struggling with. Y/n often looked over the case files and any other bits of information as it came in, gave her profile, and that was that. Each case lasted about a week, maybe more, but they always had successful outcomes.

Harry had been away on tour while Y/n was teaching in Cambridge. They missed each other obviously, but Harry started to worry when he didn't hear from her for almost two weeks. A few days wasn't out of the ordinary, mostly because Y/n forgot to respond to texts or answer a phone call, but she usually got back to him within a day or two; if she was working on a particularly difficult case, maybe more.

But this was a whole two weeks. They’d never gone that long without talking to each other. There had been no fights or disagreements that would warrant a silent treatment from Y/n, so it couldn’t have been on purpose. But Harry couldn’t come up with a reason that was good enough for Y/n to not speak to him.

So, despite the pushback from his management team, Harry rescheduled a couple shows so he could fly home and see what was going on. They didn't want him to leave, but Harry couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Harry arrived at Y/n’s townhouse late at night. The door was unlocked, which was almost as unusual as the mess he found in the front room when he came inside.

He'd never seen Y/n's home in such disarray before. Books were scattered everywhere, takeaway cartons and half finished mugs of tea and coffee littered every surface in her kitchen and living room, and all the curtains were drawn closed, casting the whole space in a stuffy gloom. Harry almost couldn't believe his eyes. Y/n scolded him when he didn't use a coaster, and now there was week-old food sitting on her coffee table.

Y/n was nowhere to be found, though, which meant she was in her bedroom. Harry worried about what he would find on the other side, but whatever was going on with her, she needed him.

She was sitting at her desk, her back to him as she bent over it and read something. She didn't even flinch or turn around when the door opened, like she hadn’t even heard Harry come in.

“Y/n, darling,” he said.

She turned, tired and unfocused eyes landing on Harry without much emotion. “Oh. You’re here. Did you call?”

Harry had never seen her so out of it before. He suddenly realized that Y/n wouldn’t have known what day it was let alone the last time they’d spoken. He felt completely out of his depth, but he tried his best to tread lightly.

“No. No, I wanted to surprise you. How—How are you?”

“Busy,” Y/n said immediately. “I have this really difficult case, so I can’t talk right now.”

He guessed as much, but even difficult cases Y/n had worked on in the past never reduced her to this. Her hair was a tangled mess at the nape of her neck, she only had one sock on, and he was pretty sure she hadn’t changed her clothes in days. Harry was suddenly glad he listened to his instincts and came here.

“I know it's important, love, but so is taking care of yourself,” he said. “Why don’t you take a break and clear your head? We can eat and watch a documentary or something.”

Harry rested his hand on her arm, but he quickly realized that was the wrong move. Y/n wrenched her arm away from him, her eyes lit with irritation.

“Take a break? I can’t take a break! There is no time for breaks,” she yelled. Harry was immediately stunned. Y/n had never raised her voice at him, or anyone else for that matter. “Young women, someone's wife or daughter or sister is dying, and they will continue to die if I can't figure this out, don't you understand that?”

“I know, that, Y/n. Of course I understand, but you’ll have a clearer head if you—”

“Don't baby me! I didn't ask you to be here, so just leave me alone. I need to work, I need to figure this out, I need...”

She ignored him after that, and Harry could tell that he'd been dismissed. He also knew there was no use reasoning with Y/n when she was this upset, so he left her to her own devices and left her alone like she'd asked.

Going back into the living room, Harry began to clean. He picked up and straightened stray books, folded blankets, threw out old food. He found comfort in doing something rather than just twiddling his thumbs while he thought of some way to reach Y/n like this.

Because the truth was as well as he knew her, he'd never seen her like this before, and he didn't know how to be there for her, or how to bring her out of this darkness she seemed to be in. He knew how much these cases meant to her, how much she valued helping people, but this was different. It seemed almost personal.

By the time Harry had swept the floors and washed all the dishes and fed the Emperor and Faye Winter, who had been lounging on their cat tree—they at least seemed unaffected by Y/n’s unusual behavior—Y/n still had yet to come out of her room. Harry knew then that she wouldn't be coming out at all, and that he should probably get comfortable on the couch.

All night he worried about her. Every couple hours or so, Harry would hear Y/n pacing her room or cursing quietly or throwing what sounded like sheets of paper around after crumpling them up. She was frustrated, that much was clear, but all Harry could do was lay on the couch and listen. In the morning, Harry decided to keep giving Y/n space and went about his day like he normally would when he stayed at the townhouse. He sat and read some emails while the cats cuddled him on either side, he went into town to restock Y/n’s fridge, and he kept cleaning up.

And nothing. Y/n didn’t make an appearance the whole day. Not to eat or acknowledge that he was there or say hello to the Emperor and Faye Winter. Harry could hear her shuffling around in her bedroom like she'd done all night, but she never came out. By the time the sun was going down, he started to worry more than he already had been.

The problem was he didn't know what to do. Harry had never dealt with anything like this before. He thought he had a grasp on reaching Y/n and understanding what she needed and how, but she shut him out so fast and lashed out so intensely. This obviously wasn't a typical case, something must've happened to make her react this way, but Y/n wasn't going to tell him anytime soon.

And there was no one who could give Harry insight either. For all intents and purposes, he was Y/n's family. She didn't have relatives she spoke to regularly, not many close friends, no one who might have ever seen her act like this way before. And her mother certainly wasn't an option; Harry didn't want to give her the satisfaction of having to call her at all, and he didn't think she would know anything about this anyway.

All night Harry stayed up brainstorming. He wracked his brain for someone who might know Y/n and how to help. And when he did, he went to work on tracking them down. Harry had decided on contacting one of her old professors after recalling Y/n speaking fondly of one a couple times. It took time figuring out where he was and how to get a hold of him, but he eventually did. Harry called every ten minutes and left message after message with some secretary until he eventually got through.

“This is Dr. Moore.”

He sounded old, but Harry didn’t take the time to wonder what this person looked like. “Hello. My name is Harry, and I believe you know a close friend of mine. Y/n L/n.”

“Ah yes,” Dr. Moore said. “I haven’t heard from Y/n since she only had one PhD. How is she?”

“N—Not great,” Harry said. He proceeded to word-vomit the whole situation, his stress and anxiety about his love's well-being pouring out of him over the phone. “I—I've never seen her like this before and I'm not really sure what to do. She won't talk to me or leave her room. I was just hoping you might know something or had seen her...behave like this before.”

The professor didn't say anything for a while, hopefully gathering his thoughts. “She's rather well-adjusted for someone who has seen and experienced so much,” he finally said. “But you have to understand that she's...different from the rest of us. She has a gift that no one else has or can really make sense of.”

“She’s more than her intelligence, Doctor—”

“I don’t mean it like that, Harry,” Dr. Moore said softly. “She's a genius, she's brilliant, but that doesn't come without its faults. Many brilliant minds suffer from a little madness, Y/n is no different.”

It was like Harry could hear what Dr. Moore was saying, but he didn't want to believe him. “Y/n isn't crazy.”

“I didn’t say she was. But she has a tendency to be obsessive, loses track of time, hyperfocuses on a singular subject. Surely you've noticed that.”

“Yeah, but...It’s never been this bad, I mean, this is extreme.”

Harry didn't like the professor's insinuations, or how helpless he was making him feel. Harry knew Y/n, he knew her. She wasn't mad, she wasn't sick, she just needed a little help.

“I realized quite early on that Y/n never took failure...lightly. For someone like her, being wrong is a tough pill to swallow. Perhaps start there?”

“Right, thanks,” Harry muttered. This phone call was a bust. All it gave him was more stress.

He was about to hang up the phone when Dr. Moore spoke again. “Harry, Y/n is exceptional, and that doesn't come without its own bevy of...adversities. But Y/n is strong, and she has a good head on her shoulders, even after everything she's been through. I imagine just showing that you're there for her will be enough. Don't crowd her, but be close enough to catch her when she falls, as you've already done. Her family was never patient enough to love her the way she needed, I hope you can be that for her.”

Harry hung up after that, not having anything to say to the professor. A glance at his phone told him it was three in the morning, but he got up from the couch and chanced going into Y/n's room anyway.

She was pacing and muttering to herself incoherently, but Harry didn't let that bother him. Y/n noticed him but said nothing, and neither did he. He just got into bed, picked up a book off her nightstand, and began to read.

Y/n was quiet for a moment, and Harry could feel her gaze on him, but he kept quiet, and she eventually went back to pacing. It wasn't easy, but Harry did his best to just ignore her, have his presence known without talking to her directly like Dr. Moore suggested. He hoped that Y/n would come to him in her own time.

His eyes burned, begging him to finally go to sleep, the words on the book in front of him blurred. He was exhausted, but he was determined not to lie down. Not until Y/n was in bed next to him.

“You know, sometimes I find it helpful if I talk about things out loud.”

An invitation to open up, a small one after about an hour of silence. He didn't really expect Y/n to take the bait, but she did, kind of.

“What do you mean?”

Setting his book down, he said, “Well, all your thoughts are swirling around in your head. It might be helpful to just say them out loud, like bouncing a ball against a wall.”

“O—Okay.”

She began to explain in loose terms what she was working on and what her thoughts were about the case. And once she started, it all came pouring out of her. “I—I failed. I gave a profile, they arrested someone, but it was the wrong person. I’m—I’m never wrong.”

“It’s not your job to make the arrests,” Harry said gently.

“People are relying on me! Women are continuing to die at the hands of some monster because I can’t—because I couldn’t—”

Y/n shook her head and went back to her desk, shuffling pages around. Harry sighed. He knew what the problem was, but now he knew for certain that Y/n wasn't going to rest until she fixed her mistake. He didn’t bother trying to convince her that this wasn’t her fault, that would be useless right now. But he had to do something.

Getting up from the bed, Harry trudged over to the desk. He rested his hands on either side of her and rested his cheek on top of her head. “Are you so sure that you were wrong and the police weren’t?” he asked.

“They would’ve found the right person if I was right. I must’ve missed something,” she said, shaking her head.

“More than one person can fit a profile, can’t they?”

Y/n exhaled harshly through her nose. “That’s what I tried to tell local police, but they wouldn’t listen. I’m—I’m missing something.”

Harry kissed the top of her head and began to knead the tension out of her shoulders. “Did you think you were right before?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Give me a percentage.”

“Ninety four.”

Whistling, he said, “I’d take those odds.”

“These are people’s lives, Harry, not a craps table. Lives are being lost because—”

“Because terrible people exist,” Harry interrupted. “You didn’t kill those people, Y/n.”

She wiped at her eye harshly. “I can’t help but feel responsible,” she sniffled.

“I know,” he said. “But I believe in you. I believe you can figure this out. But not by running yourself ragged. You can’t work like this.”

“I can’t sleep,” she said, voice trembling. “I won’t. Not until—”

“Okay,” Harry said.

Harry made himself comfortable on the floor beside Y/n’s desk. He was exhausted, his back hurt from his night on the couch, but he couldn’t go to sleep. Not until she did.

“What are you doing?” Y/n asked him, brows furrowed curiously.

He tilted his head back and gave her a sleepy smile. “You stay up, I stay up.”

Y/n looked like she wanted to say more, but her focus was quickly pulled back to the papers on her desk.

Harry didn’t remember falling sleep, but one minute he was watching Y/n work at her desk and providing noncommittal hums as she bounced ideas off him, and the next he was blinking his eyes open, his body stretched out on the floor. There was a pillow under his head and a blanket strewn across his body, an extra pillow beside him. Y/n was sitting in front of him with her legs crossed, a mug in her hands as she watched Harry sleep.

“Wha—What happened—”

“You fell asleep around 5:15,” she said, taking a sip while Harry sat up. His back popped and strained, clearly not a fan of another sleep on something that wasn’t a bed. “I would’ve carried you to the bed, but you’re a bit heavy for me.”

As his head cleared, Harry noticed that Y/n’s hair was wet and her eyes were clearer. She was in a fresh set of clothes and her desk seemed relatively put together.

“Did you figure it out?” he asked, his voice still scratchy with sleep.

Y/n nodded. “A little while after you fell asleep. I got an email about an hour ago. They arrested the right person.”

“That’s good,” Harry said, squeezing her knee. “That’s good, right?”

“Yeah, I just, um, I just got a different email. From an old professor.”

“Oh.” Well, that didn’t take long. “What did he say?”

“That he had the most interesting conversation with a close friend of mine,” Y/n said. Setting her mug down, she tugged her knees to her chest. “I know what you’re thinking.”

Harry could barely focus on anything but his stiff neck, but he tried to shake his head. “I’m almost positive you don’t.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” she said. “I—I don’t need to be fixed.”

“That—That’s not what I’m thinking,” Harry said frowning. “I don’t think that at all, Y/n.”

“Then why did you call him?”

Harry rubbed at his face tiredly. “I wanted to help you. I didn’t know how, so I asked for some help of my own.”

“I don’t need to be handled like some child.”

“Two weeks, Y/n,” Harry said, voice sharpening the slightest bit. Because for a moment, Y/n had frightened him. Not because he thought she was crazy or mentally unwell, but because he didn’t know how to reach her, and he always knew how to get through to her. “I didn’t hear from you for two weeks, and I come back here and the house is a mess, you’re not eating, you’re driving yourself—”

“Don’t say it!” she blurted. “Don’t say that I’m crazy, Harry. I’m not. I just...get a little sidetracked. I’m not—I’m not crazy.”

Harry could see it in Y/n’s face, then. The fear. She didn’t want him believing what she already believed about herself to some degree. He wondered how many times someone had told her that she was, or implied it. Harry had a feeling no one had ever taught her how to fail, or accept failure. Y/n was exceptional, but she wasn’t perfect, no one was, but she’d been brought up believing her knowledge had no bounds. She was taught how to fly, but no one taught her how to fall, and when she did, they blamed her for not figuring it out herself.

“I don’t think you’re crazy, because you’re not,” he said. “But I do worry when I you don’t come out of your room for a few days. I’m allowed to worry.”

Y/n had been looking down at her lap, but when she finally looked at him, there were tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Harry let the corner of his mouth curve into a smile. “For making me sleep on the couch yesterday? Water under the bridge.”

Y/n’s responding grin was small, but it was there, and Harry found himself wanting to make it bigger.

Joining him on the floor, they both laid back down. Y/n rested her head on Harry’s chest while he wrapped his arms around her. For a few minutes, they didn’t say anything, but before he fell back asleep, he found himself saying, “You know, I know I’m not as smart as you or anything, but I do know a thing or two about work ethic. I can help you find a balance.”

Y/n gave no indication that she agreed or disagreed. For a moment, Harry thought she’d already fallen asleep when he felt her nod. “I’d like that. But I think...I think I need to take some time off. Maybe just focus on teaching for now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want to,” Y/n yawned. “I want to scale back. Just teach, travel, maybe get a Master’s degree.”

Harry laughed. Only Y/n would think going back to school for another degree would be considered “scaling back.” But he couldn’t be prouder that she was taking the right steps to treat herself better.

“I think that’s a good idea,” he said. He kissed the top of her head as he waited for her to respond, but she didn’t. Y/n kept quiet, her breaths keeping time with his until he realized she was asleep. Breathing a sigh through his nose, Harry stared up at the ceiling and hoped she had a dreamless sleep.

#harry styles #harry styles x professor yn #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles angst

[jimlingss]

two years!! :D it’s been two years since my final curtain call and seven years since Jimlingss began! Seven years!!! Now that’s a crazy yet meaningful number!

Hello to everyone reading this message :D hopefully you remember me (it’s ok if you don’t) and for those who care, hopefully this is a treat! just a quick update on my life — I successfully completed my first year of law school and what a whirlwind it’s been. 

I’ve had so many ups and downs in the past year and I honestly feel like I’ve changed a lot. like evolved from pichu to pikachu. It was my first time moving away from home, away from my parents, and making so many friends. it’s been 20% bitter and 80% sweet. overall, I feel like I’ve learnt so much about myself and became a lot more stable in who I am.

school is hard but completely manageable. luckily, I don’t think my choice was wrong. there are days I quite enjoy what I’m learning. I got 2 years left in the game. soon (hopefully) I’ll be making the big bucks $$$ and I’ll be able to fund my sugar baby dreams (except I’ll also be my own sugar mommy). Although my dating life is as stale as always with 0 movement, I’ve become close with a handful of folks that I hold dearly to my heart. guess I’m in my friendship arc hahahaha

funny enough, I actually came back to this blog out of my own volition 2 weeks ago and re-read some of my stories. I feel so nostalgic. some of my stories really slap ngl. anyway, I really miss creative writing so much. Fortunately, there’s a few extracurriculars at school that allow me to write creatively so it’s somewhat of an outlet for me. it’s not fully satisfying but it’s something!!

I regularly come back to tumblr to check messages and do plagiarism checks lol. Speaking of which, I’ll take this time to answer some messages in my inbox.

unfortunately, i don’t have any socials that anyone can follow me on. my socials are pretty private and only the people who i’m close to, I follow and vice versa. but no worries because I will always come back to this blog to do a yearly update so you’ll hear from me! I will satiate your curiosity if you’re every curious about what I’m up to!!

for anyone who ever messages me compliments to my stories and/or missing my presence, no worries, I read them all :) your messages and feedback is never lost! it’s very sweet and always warms my heart.

if you can’t reach my masterlist, it’s here lol

I’ve kind of fallen off my fic reading game so if you ask me if I know a specific fic, I won’t be much of help unfortunately ://

if my fics ever help you through hard times, then I’m super glad!!! life can undoubtably be downright terrible. life can really really suck (understatement). but I think it’s comforting to know that everyone at some point thinks the same. it’s a universal sentiment - and in that, you’re not alone.

anyway, that’s it for now! you’ll hear from me again!

I’ll be back! And I hope you will too! :>

#also more updates I guess - I did indeed travel to Japan this year! #it was a blast #in terms of the book writing process #my brain has not been operating in that way so I still am at a standstill #I actually had a dream recently that I couldn't even write a poem #hahaha my book writing dreams haven't died tho - I'LL DO IT ONE DAY #on another note - I haven't been keeping up with BTS that much #other than knowing that Jin and Hoseok have headed off to the army #which imo is a good thing cause that makes us one day closer to an ot7 album again #also Jimin's solo slaps #Like Crazy and Alone are on my playlist woooo #what bangers #I hope everyone has been doing well #I am manifesting success and money and love for everyone who reads this WOOOOOOOOOO #Jimlingss

[pix3lplays]

Can you do hsr boys with reader watching classic disney movie?

Yes I can! Thanks for the cute request!

Dan Heng: what you watch: the Little Mermaid Dan Heng isn’t much of a moviegoer in the first place, but you’re still shocked to hear he’s Never seen a Disney movie. That’s OBVIOUSLY gotta change. So you choose a classic, turn it on, and keep an eye on him throughout the film, making Sure he’s actually watching and paying attention. You see why he’s not much of a moviegoer. He’s just not that in to movies. He’s more interested in his phone than the film but eventually you tell him to leave it alone and watch the movie and he actually has a fun time. He liked it! But he doesn’t really…express that. He’s just: “that was fine.” and then moves on with his day. But you hear him humming a few of the songs to himself later on… Let’s just say he wouldn’t object if you want to watch another one sometime.

Gepard Landau: what you watch: Sleeping Beauty He’s watched a few of the classics as a kid, so while he’s a bit surprised you’d choose a kids movie for your movie night, he also recalls liking them so hey! Maybe it’s just as good as he remembers. You make lots of comments about how he’s like Prince Philip, and he must admit he finds it very flattering to hear you say such things. You see him as your knight in shining armor?! That…means a lot to him. He tries. He has fun watching with you, even if you’re a bit of a chatterbox during it. He’s definitely down to watch another one with you, on the condition he gets to pick the next one. (He really wants to watch Mulan.)

Jing Yuan: what you watch: The Lion King (He definitely misses his lion after this one.) He’s just happy to spend time with you, he’s never really cared what movie you pick. He’s probably gonna just talk with you the whole time anyways. But to your surprise, his eyes light up when you mention this one and he’s all: “ah yes, I remember when this one released. I am quite fond of it.” Which is great news for you because that means he’s going to Actually watch the movie with you instead of talking the whole time! He has a great time. He even surprises you by knowing a few of the songs. I don’t know, you thought he was a little…old for Disney movies, but you’re just happy he enjoys himself. You even get to learn about his old lion after the movie. He feels a little…nostalgic.

Welt Yang: what you watch: Fantasia It’s the perfect Disney movie for an animation fan like him, and oh my gosh does he have a Lot to say about animation and the process that went in to making the movie and- It’s cute to see him so passionate about something. He hopes he’s not ruining your experience by talking too much, but he’s excited to be sharing something he’s so enthusiastic about with you. He knows a lot too. It’s actually pretty interesting to hear what he has to say, it honestly makes the movie a lot more entertaining. Afterwards you thank him for sharing all his knowledge with you, and he’s already planning your next movie date. Yes he’s very impressed with Disney, but he’s even more excited to share with you what he knows about some of the less famous animation companies. Maybe you watch movies he’s worked on, too.

Sampo Koski: what you watch: Alice in Wonderland. (Imagine Sampo selling bootleg Disney movies hahahaha.) It’s hard to explain, but Alice in Wonderland just…reminds you of him. He’s the kind who has a hard time sitting still, even if it’s to relax and watch a movie with someone he loves, but he does his best for you. He…doesn’t pay attention the entire time, but meh, he’s trying. He also talks during the movie, but in a much more annoying way than the other men. He just has dumb questions because he wasn’t paying attention, or he talks about something completely unrelated. You love him but gosh is this scoundrel hard to watch movies with.

Blade: what you watch: Beauty and the Beast He thinks you’re trying to say something to him when you insist you watch this movie in particular with him. He gets it. You’re a beauty, he’s a beast. But he eventually realizes you didn’t mean anything by it when you actually start watching with him. Turns out you just wanted to snuggle and watch a cute movie with him. He’s not really one to watch movies. He only watches with you. And you always choose something cute, like Disney. He’s becoming quite familiar with the classics, thanks to you. You’ll probably never learn if he’s actually a fan of the movies you make him watch, but at least he’s quiet and pays attention.

thank you so much for reading~

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #dan heng #dan heng x reader #hsr dan heng x reader #Honkai star rail Dan Heng x reader #gepard landau #Gepard landau x reader #hsr Gepard x reader #honkai star rail Gepard x reader #Jing Yuan #Jing Yuan x reader #Hsr Jing Yuan x reader #Honkai star rail Jing Yuan x reader #Welt Yang #Welt Yang x reader #hsr Welt Yang x reader #honkai star rail welt yang x reader #Sampo Koski #Sampo Koski x reader #hsr Sampo Koski x reader #Honkai star rail Sampo x reader #Blade #Blade x reader #hsr Blade x reader #honkai star rail Blade x reader

[ghoulangerlee]

okay so this was supposed to be a quick little drabble but this ended up being 5 thousand words instead hahahaha

i was going to edit this but there's a loud 4 year old in my house and i can't focus im sorry

warnings are: main character death but copia is brought back, rain is a little mean, death is discussed during this, throughout this fic copia deals with nightmares and is relearning how to be alive again. It's a process for him.

-

Sunshine

Sunshine can always tell when Copia is having a bad day; his skin is paler now, ashen as if he were always on the brink of death, and the bags under his eyes more pronounced now even when he's wearing the papal paint; but neither of those things are any indication.

No, it's the way his eyes dart back and forth, going between any and everything, as if looking for a threat only he can see, only he can hear.

She's heard before, how dangerous it can be to bring someone back, when humans do it, it can be messy and explosive, leaving more harmed than helped.

Ghouls doing the resurrection ritual...there wasn't much information on that in any of the ministry's libraries.

But, it had to be done. Even in Copia's now sort of stilted voice, he'd expressed his thanks for bringing him back, his eyes vacant, his irises as pale as they'd been when the ghouls finally found him, dead and bleeding out in one of the hidden hallways.

"Copia," Sunshine says suddenly, stepping into his office and out of the shadows, "Cooping yourself up in here on a nice spring day isn't good for you."

The panicked look that had been building behind his eyes sort of fades and Sunshine can feel a hesitant tapping into their bond. She trills softly and pushes back against it like a big, happy cat.

"Sunshine," Copia greets her, and though he doesn't say it out loud, she can hear the thanks in his voice, the relief that someone had come to save him, even if he knew most of it wasn't even real. "I believe Aether invited me for lunch," he continues, slower now, careful, like his time on the other side had taken his knowledge of spoken language. "But you'll have to uh...I seem to have gotten caught up in." He stops short and waves his hand towards the paperwork spread across his desk.

"No worries, Aether sent me to get you. You know how he is, if he would have come, he'd be in here helping you do paperwork instead of bringing you to eat lunch with us."

Something in Copia's face twitches but she's not as attuned with human emotion to really decipher it.

Aether had taken Copia's death the hardest and had worked the hardest and channeled the most of his magic into the ritual, wanting to make sure that when the time came, Copia would come back to him. To them.

And he feels guilty, Sunshine knows, like he'd done something wrong maybe, like he'd pushed too much and that's why Copia came back with a large chunk of his memories missing.

So in ways now, he'll over compensate on things, he'll work himself just as hard as Copia does until Cumulus snaps him out of the rut and reminds him that it's still Copia, just because he doesn't remember us, doesn't mean we've forgotten him.

It helps, and the cycle happens all over again, but these days it's getting less and less, with Copia not quite gaining some memories back, but building new ones.

Falling in love with everyone again.

Even now, the strange emotion on Copia's face had melted away into something more familiar to Sunshine, and she watches as he stands up, hand resting heavily on his desk as he slowly navigates himself around it, steps slow and careful.

"You are entirely too sweet to me," Copia says, coming to stand in front of her, his hands resting heavily on her shoulders as her own come to a natural rest on his waist, "My lovely ghoul," he says, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he leans his head in to rest against her helmet.

She hates the extra barrier now, but only in very few places does she remove her helmet, and his office is not one of those, always hyper focused on making sure no one else would come after Copia now. Too public. If someone were to try and attack him here...

She purrs then, clearing the heavy thoughts from her mind when she feels a gentle tug at their connection, Copia's concern flowing in through it.

"Let's get you to the others. Swiss and Rain say we're having the best lunch yet even though neither of them will say what it is," she says, easily moving her hold to wrap one arm around his waist.

Copia makes a small noise of agreement, letting her take some of his weight, walking had come sort of easy to him after all was said and done, but the best that everyone can guess is that him being dead for two weeks had caused him to lose muscle memory for the most basic things, and though things were mostly good now, relearning to walk also had it's bad days as well.

"I think I heard Rain say something about fish," Copia says, though he's looking down at the floor, watching each step he takes, "Well. Heard." He tries to clarify, frowns a little just a few seconds later. "I don't think he wanted me to hear but. Rain is very loud."

Sunshine hums at that, tightening her grip around Copia's waist, "The first ghoul you summon and bond with is always going to be the one you hear loudest," she says gently. She's told him this before, but in the process of his body relearning how to be alive, things like memory and language aren't as high priority as basic body functions like movement and breathing.

Not that she minds, though. She'll gladly repeat things hundreds of times if it means that she's able to have him close like this again.

Not in some glass coffin in a cold mausoleum.

"That does sound right," Copia murmurs in agreement, though his focus is more on getting them down the hallway and towards the courtyard and not quite on the conversation at hand.

Luckily, the walk from Copia's office to the courtyard isn't that far, though it takes more time now than before, not that she minds, and soon she's pulling away from Copia to hold the door open for him, her hand resting on his lower back for support as he passes her and steps out into the open air.

He stops just shy of the steps leading down into the yard, right in the center of a sun patch and closes his eyes, tilting his head back to just bask in it for a moment.

Sunshine closes the door behind her and stands back, waiting, letting him take his time. The lines of his face look relaxed like this, when he's outside in the sun, when it's easier to see that he's alive again. That he can enjoy the mundane things like standing in the sun and listening to the chirping birds in the distance.

The toll of his death and then his reanimation had taken a lot out of everyone involved, but by far, it'd taken the most out of Copia, who had to live now, day by day, with missing memories and skills and though he's gaining the skills back and building new memories, none of it had been easy.

"Sunshine?"

She pulls herself from her thoughts again to Copia, who's standing by the steps, head tilted to the side with a confused look on his face, "Yes Copia?"

He blinks at her for a moment, no doubt trying to find the right words, "Are you alright? You're..." he trails off, waving in her direction, and then quickly cuts his eyes over to the space beside him. There's frustration on his face that she can read, but not aimed at her, aimed at himself no doubt, for not being able to actually ask what he wants.

She smiles and strides forward, looping arm around him when she gets close, "I was just admiring the view," she says a little coy, purring when he wraps an arm around her shoulders.

A huff comes from Copia then and he shakes his head, "That was terrible," he says, but there's a flush on his cheeks and Sunshine feels warm happiness through the bond, adoration, love.

If she didn't have her mask on, she'd lean in and kiss him, on the cheek for now, right over the red of his blush; but she can't, so she just pushes back an answering echo of love and happiness, all of her fondness for him bubbling up beneath her skin like lava.

"We should get to the others," Copia says, quiet and content, "I...think I may be hungry..." he says the words carefully, as if they're foreign on his tongue.

Sunshine perks up a bit, "Yeah?" she asks, "Does your stomach feel weird?" She's not sure what exactly goes into humans being hungry, but she's heard other siblings complain about weird feelings in their stomachs so she starts there.

"I'm...not sure. I think?" Copia's got this almost distressed look on his face, his other hand coming up to rest on his stomach, "Feels. Empty?"

"Alright, alright," Sunshine says excitedly, and she squeezes Copia's waist in a show of comfort, "Let's go then, let's get you some food."

-

2. Rain

He still remembers the sharp, stinging pain, the way he'd fallen to his knees in the middle of a random ministry hallway, gripping uselessly at his chest as if that would ease the pain up any.

It didn't.

There was emptiness shortly after, loud and cold, a buzzing in his ears getting louder and louder until it was the only thing he could hear.

A sob, clawing its way out of his throat.

He's dead. A voice whispered, Gone. Alone.

It had taken him a few days to come out of the comatose state that the others had found him in. He was cold, all over, shivering and shaking as if sick with something.

He couldn't talk, couldn't make himself form words, his one tie to humanity gone, and with it, his ability to parse emotions in a less demonic way.

He wanted to kill. To murder. To hurt the person who'd taken Copia away from him.

And he would have too, he would have gladly given up his place on this earth, banished back to the pits if it meant the person who had caused this faced punishment for their crimes.

After all, without Copia around, what were they to do now? Who else would they give their lives to? Aether, Dew and Mountain had already experienced this once, now again.

Rain never wanted to follow another human. Would never do that again.

And, in the dark of night, the eight of them curled together on the bed in Copia's chambers, taking solace in the last place they'd all been together, happy, did he have an idea.

"What if we bring him back?" his voice was rough with disuse, he didn't talk much in the days after, his words thick and heavy and unfamiliar on his tongue.

"Bring him back?" Cumulus.

"What do you mean?" Dew.

Rain moves, dislodges Mountain and Swiss from him and sits up, "We could bring him back. We need to bring him back. He didn't deserve this. He needs to live."

Silence stretches thickly around them then, "Rain...bringing someone back is..."

"You don't understand!" Rain lashes out, his words an angry growl, pained, "He died alone and in pain. He died without us." He blinks back angry tears, "This wasn't supposed to happen."

A sharp inhale, but no one says anything.

"If you're not going to help me, I'll do it myself." Rain says, and then he's pushing his way out of the bed, out of the pile even as the bond he has with the others sings out in sorrow, "I refuse to live a life up here if it means I'm without him," he says hotly, "I refuse to not at least try to bring him back." He inhales, and steadies the monsoon of emotion within him, "I can't live with myself knowing that I just let this happen and didn't do anything."

He'd left the room then, needing to get away, to distance himself, he knew he was being irrational and that fighting with his pack wouldn't solve anything but he couldn't just sit around and do nothing.

Dew finds him a little bit later, he'd retreated to the library, used his access as the standing Papa's ghoul to go into the archives, where all the good books were kept, the ones used for rituals during black mass.

"The others sent me to check on you," Dew says, coming to stand beside Rain, scanning the shelves in front of him.

Rain doesn't say anything to him or acknowledge him.

Dew exhales loudly and fits himself in between the shelf and Rain, grabbing his shoulders when Rain makes a move to step away from him, "Listen to me," he says, firm. "We are all mourning him right now, we're all nervous about what could happen to us now that he's gone." He squeezes Rain's shoulders tightly, "But throwing yourself into a half cocked plan to bring back the dead isn't the answer to this."

Rain narrows his eyes at Dew, "I'm not going to change my mind about wanting to bring him back, Dew."

Dew just rolls his eyes, "And I'm not here to change your mind, numbskull." he says, "I'm here to say that you need to be smart about this. That you need to mourn first, because bringing someone back from the dead is hard. He could be different. He could be too far gone. You need to prepare yourself for all the possibilities."

Rain stares at him for several long moments, blinking rapidly before he crumples forward into Dew, pushing him back into the shelf behind him. "I feel so lost." he whispers, pressing his face into Dew's neck, wetting the skin there with his tears. "Empty."

"I know, I know," Dew whispers, wrapping both arms around him tightly, "We all do, but it's worse for you. It always is, when you've bonded so strongly with him." He tips his head to the side to rest against Rain's, "But Rain, I promise, none of us are giving up on him, okay?"

A nod, slow and careful and Rain's fingers dig into Dew's back, "He was so alone when he died," he whispers. "He didn't want to go. It wasn't right."

Dew just holds him close, lets him cry until the tears are dried and his eyes ache.

Two weeks later, Rain kneels beside Copia's lifeless body in the circle drawn on the floor, he's dressed in his Papal robes, freshly pulled from the mausoleum, face paint pristine and perfect.

The others surround them and Rain feels their pack bond sing as they pour magic into the ritual, his hand gripping Copia's own gloved one oh so tightly.

And at first, when the wind dies down, when the crackling of Aether's magic finally fizzles out, there's nothing but stillness. Quiet and stillness.

And then, a sharp inhale.

Copia's hand squeezes Rain's.

-

3. Cumulus

Quiet had always been her friend, even before, when she'd find herself in Copia's office while he worked, she'd sit quietly while he muttered and bitched to himself about numbers, about measurements and whatever the Clergy had done that day to piss him off.

It was, in a way, relaxing for her. She didn't need to contribute to the conversation, the low cadence of Copia's voice as he talked mostly to himself, and to the room about any and everything set her sometimes frazzled nerves to ease.

These days, in the after, they call it, when she lets herself into Copia's office to sit with him while he works, he's quiet and focused.

Sometimes she catches him mouthing things, but no words ever come out.

He'll speak when spoken to, of course, but he doesn't mutter things under his breath, he doesn't complain about the Clergy.

(Not that there's a reason to complain about them. They'd made sure that the Clergy understood what would happen if they messed with one of their own again. Even Sister was more cordial towards Copia. Somewhat doting now. If they weren't around to fill the silence, Sister was. It seemed, Copia's death had shaken her up as well.)

"Cumulus, dear?" Copia's voice breaks her out of her thoughts, drawing her forward to the present and not into the dark places of the past. "Can you come here for a moment?"

Cumulus makes a soft noise and stands from the couch, crossing the short distance between there and the desk, she can feel the cautious push of him over their bond, questioning.

When she's close enough, he reaches out and takes her hand, his skin is cooler now, post resurrection, and it had taken her many days to fight back the urge to flinch at his touch, once warm but now marred by the cold kiss of death.

He smiles up at her, its a slow, hesitant thing, like the muscles in his face haven't quite figured out how to move properly. "I know that...things are different now..." he murmurs, taking his time to get all the words out properly. "I'm not the same anymore." He rubs his thumb over the back of her hand, slow and gentle circles into her skin.

"Oh, Copia," Cumulus whispers, lifting her other hand and resting it on his cheek, "You're still my Copia, still ours," she says fiercely, "Nothing changes that. It's because we love you so much that we were able to bring you back to us."

There's a brittle sort of look on his face, his eyes glassy, "Sunshine doesn't take her helmet off when she comes to see me," he whispers, "Aether's guilt is so overwhelming I can feel it through the bond," he swallows heavily, "You come in here and I know you want me to...to..." he trails off, overwhelmed now. "I'm so sorry."

"We love you," Cumulus says, and gently dislodges her hand from Copia's so she can instead cup his face between her palms, drawing his darting gaze towards her instead, "You dying was not your fault. We don't blame you for that," she says firmly, "Sunshine and Aether, they will be okay, we've been working on it, working with them. We lost you and it hurt us all, but none of this has ever been, or will ever be your fault, darling." she leans down, rests her forehead against his.

A soft sniffle, and Cumulus feels a gentle dampness against her palms, tears sneaking their way between where their skin makes contact. "I just want to be like I used to be..."

Cumulus pulls back a bit and presses a gentle kiss to his forehead, "You are still our Copia," she repeats the words against his skin. "We love you, even now. It hasn't been easy, because we've all been through something traumatic. Even you." she adds when it looks like he's about to cut her off and protest. "But having you fall in love with us again? Making new memories with you?" she tilts her head, smiling down at him, "It's all worth it."

Copia nods, a small and careful movement of his head, and he doesn't protest when Cumulus hauls him up out of the chair, letting her pull him over to the couch with her and rearranging them until she's tucked up between him and the back of the couch, resting her head on his chest to listen to the sound of his heart.

"Thank you, Cu," he whispers a few minutes later, his hand resting on her side, just on the side of too cold, but still comforting.

-

4. Aether + Dew

Sometimes, Copia gets a strange look on his face when he's tucked up between Aether and Dew, just as they've always done. Like he's trying to remember something, like there's something he wants to say.

He never does though, just shifts until he's comfortable, pushing away the strange feeling of deja vu so he can instead, focus on the quiet vibrations of Dew's voice as he talks to Aether.

A retelling of what had happened earlier, when Copia and he had left the ministry to go to one of Copia's physical therapy appointments.

In a way, it was surprising how easy it was to forge the paperwork and come up with a reasoning behind him losing his motor functions that wasn't related to him dying.

"They're saying that he's been making good progress," Dew's saying as he combs his fingers through Copia's hair, "They're hopeful that within a few more months he'll be able to walk without any sort of aid. But of course, we'll keep it around anyway."

Aether hums from behind him, where he's got his head resting on Copia's side, eyes closed as one of Copia's fingertips carefully trace the bumps and ridges on one of his horns. "I'm glad," he murmurs, "You're making such good progress, C," he presses a kiss to Copia's side, feeling Copia's finger twitch at that.

"Cirrus and I have a running theory that right now his body is trying to repair both his motor function and his memory, so if we help it out a bit, then there's a higher chance that things will go smoother than if we were to just...leave it be." Dew says, looking down at Copia, who's hyper focused on the main ridge of Aether's horn. "Isn't that right, Copia?" he asks loud enough for Copia to hear, not really expecting a response.

Copia huffs quietly, "And here I thought you were just taking me to that damned man to enjoy his torture on me," he mumbles into Dew's shirt.

Both Aether and Dew freeze for a moment, looking at each other with wide eyes.

"What?" Copia asks, his finger stopping its movement as he lifts his head enough to look at Dew, "Did I say something wrong?"

"Oh no, no, no no," Dew says quickly, snapping out of it and going back to running his fingers through Copia's hair, "I just didn't realize you'd heard me, that's all."

A hum, low and lazy, "My hearing seems to be getting better," he says, "At least in one side," he adds after a moment, I don't know if that's related to...everything or if my body is just." he stops speaking, but the rest of the sentence is pretty simple to fill in.

Aether shifts his head a little bit, nudging his horn into Copia's hand, "I think it's because you've put a lot of work into everything since coming back," he says softly.

"I know everything is...different now, and things are uh. Hard." Copia starts, groaning quietly as he shifts his tired body around, dislodging Aether from his spot, "And there are bad days. Really bad ones but." He reaches out to cup Aether's face in his hands, "I'm glad I'm back. I'm glad I get a second chance." He drags his thumbs along the apples of Aether's cheeks, "Thank you for all that you've done for me, in this time and while I was...dead."

Aether flushes a little, his eyes fluttering closed at Copia's touch, "It was a group effort," he whispers. "We all wanted you back. We all needed you to come back. Rain pushed for it first and he was the one who got us all on board to do it."

"Cirrus told me that you used the most magic," Copia says, but doesn't say much else after, as if he was unsure where to take the rest of the sentence.

Finally opening his eyes, he looks at Copia, "It's in my nature. Life and death are kind of my thing, yeah?" he keeps it light, and before, he'd lean forward and kiss Copia before he could continue, distract him from paying more compliments than deserved; but since everything, Copia saying anything was something to be celebrated, even if it was a misguided compliment of some kind.

Copia stares at him for a minute, silent, his eyes since returning have had this strange look to them, going from duller in color to something brighter, as if they were coming back to life. In a way, Aether hopes that means something and that one day in the near future this whole thing wouldn't come back to bite them in the ass.

"Still, thank you," Copia says, and then he leans in, slow and careful, telegraphing every single movement as he comes in closer and closer before finally pressing his lips against Aether's in a closed mouth kiss.

The sound of Dew inhaling sharply behind them is on the edges of Aether's radar, but right now all he can focus on is Copiaiskissinghimaftereverything.

He pulls back, just on the side of too quick, a flush on his cheeks, "I hope that wasn't...bad." he says, "Or too much. I didn't uh. I should have asked? Maybe?"

Clearing his throat, Aether turns his head a bit and nuzzles into Copia's palm, "It was fine, it was perfect," he whispers, a small smile on his lips.

"You just seemed so...sad," Copia says slowly, "And something in my head was screaming at me to kiss you." He licks his lips, nervous, "Are you still sad?"

Yes. Always. I'll always be sad, I'll always feel guilty about losing you even if I brought you back.

Aether shakes his head and presses a kiss to his palm, "The kiss helped," he says instead of the tumultuous thoughts swirling around his mind. "I love you," he says, gently moving Copia's hands away from his face so he can lean in and bump his forehead against Copia's gently.

"I love you too." Copia whispers back, and then his eyes go wide, "Oh, oh," he shifts around, dislodging Aether, "Dewdrop, Dew," he says, half laying on top of him now, chest to chest, "I love you as well," he punctuates that by a quick kiss to the corner of Dew's mouth, for once initiating the affection.

Dew makes a surprised little chirp, his hands coming up to steady Copia, "Hey, hey, C," he says, "I love you too, I do," he smiles at him, petting his sides gently, "No hurt feelings because you kissed Aether," he says with a little laugh. "We're just glad you feel safe enough to."

Copia makes a noise in his throat, "It just felt right," he says, "Being with you two...it feels right? I uh. I used to be affectionate, didn't I?"

Dew and Aether look at each other, and Aether chooses to answer for them, "At first, you were hesitant to really touch us, and it took months for you to initiate any ah...intimate contact. The affection came much later in the relationship, having to wait until you reach that point again? Such a small thing on the grand scale."

"And what's the big thing on this scale?"

Another shared look and Dew grins, "You," he answers. "Having you back."

-

5. Mountain & Cirrus & Swiss

These days, at least three of them sleep in the same room as Copia, curled up together in Copia's still too small bed; before his death, he'd been in the process of trying to get a new one, moving expenses around so he could budget a properly built bed, one to comfortably hold nine bodies.

Of course, in the rush of the assassination and the subsequent two weeks of planning to bring him back, it'd sort of fall to the side.

Even now, Copia finds himself squished between Cirrus and Swiss, warm, finally warm, with Mountain lying under the three of them, his legs hanging off the end of the bed.

He's drifting to sleep, with Swiss already snoring in his ear and the gentle rise and fall of Cirrus's chest under his head; Mountain must already be sleeping because there's a deep bass of a snore echoing through the room, calming, oh so calming.

His eyes close and he sighs, nearly asleep when he feels the cold, cold clutch of something grab at his throat, as if something is trying to pull him under, the whisper of voices, getting louder and louder and louder.

"Copia," he hears among that echo of voices, "Copia, breathe for us, it's a dream, it's just a dream," the voice continues, a warm hand settling on his cheek. "Open your eyes for us, open them."

His eyes flutter a few times in an attempt to open, he feels more than he hears a deep, deep bass of a hum and he grabs onto that, focuses on that sound, on that feeling of safeness.

"--do we need to get the others? I've never seen a nightmare like this."

It's Swiss's voice, and there's an undercurrent of panic to it that makes Copia ache.

The cold grasp around his throat tightens, tightens, tightens...

Copia's eyes fly open and he sits up suddenly, dislodging the ghouls, grasping his chest as he gasps for air.

"Copia, hey, C," Cirrus says softly, her hand reaching out to cup his cheek, "Are you back with us?"

His eyes are wide as he looks at her, his own hand coming up to grip her wrist tightly, "I, it felt so real, the cold grip, it felt like death was trying to get me."

Swiss crowds into his other side, purring lowly as he bumps his head against Copia's, "We won't let anyone come get you," he whispers. "Death or even Satan himself would have to get through all of us first."

Copia leans into Swiss, leans into Cirrus, feels the warm embrace of Mountain wrapping his arms around the three of them.

"I'm sorry for waking you," Copia finally whispers when he's able to find his voice, weak and waning, thick with sleep and something else.

Cirrus shushes him, brushing his hair from his face, rubbing her thumb gently against his temple, "None of that," she says, "None of that, C. It's fine," she whispers as Copia's eyes flutter closed. She leans forward and presses a kiss against each eyelid. "Do you want to lay back down or do you need to stay up for a little longer?"

It takes him a few moments to respond, and when he does, his voice cracks a little bit, "I think I need to get up, I need to take a walk."

There's shifting and moving until Copia's able to get up and out of bed, a nervous energy filling him as he comes to a stand beside the bed, shaking the sleep out of his limbs.

"Want some company?" Mountain asks, getting out of bed as well, offering his arm to Copia, something to lean on.

A sense of relief washes over Copia and he allows himself to be vulnerable, sliding his arm through Mountain's, "Just to the end of the hall and back, I think," he murmurs. "Just to shake off the rest of the dream."

Mountain looks over at Swiss and Cirrus who are curled up together on the bed watching them, and then back at Copia, nodding, "To the end of the hall. If you still can't sleep when we get back I can make some tea for you. Something to help you relax."

Copia hums and nods, allows Mountain to lead him out of the bedroom; their walk from one end of the hallway and back to the bedroom, though brief, has Copia's eyes drooping by the time Mountain is closing the bedroom door behind them.

Back in bed, Cirrus wakes up from a light nap, Swiss snoring away beside her, she shares a smile with Mountain and together they get Copia back into the bed with Mountain curling up behind Copia and Cirrus coaxing him to rest his head on her chest.

"Sleep, C," She whispers, pressing a kiss into his hair. "We'll protect you from your nightmares."

#the band ghost fic #nameless ghouls #ghost bc fic #aether ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #swiss ghoul #cirrus ghoul #cumulus ghoul #sunshine ghoul #mountain ghoul #rain ghoul #polyghouls and copia #my writing

[polarisbibliotheque]

Little Updates! + Music-Fics-Requests

Hello my dear angels, devils, humans and in-between creatures of the day and the night, I hope you are all doing wonderfully :)

So. I'm still behind on my writing/posting schedule because, to put it very mildly, I've been going through a breakdown hahahaha last month, it was my birthday which I don't quite enjoy, and a few days later my dad suffered an accident - and that, my dear cryptids, triggered chaos and crisis in my life HAHAHAHA

I used to be a skeptic of the earth-shattering powers of Saturn's Return when you reach your 30s, but lo and behold, it didn't take Saturn even a WEEK to make itself known

My dad is fine health-wise, but it was quite traumatic for me and I'm still trying to figure things out regarding the repercussions of everything that happened. So, things have slowed down a LOT when it comes to EVERYTHING in my life while I'm trying to put it all back into place.

I'm tip-toeing around the details 'cause I really don't want to openly talk about it, like I said, still going through the motions

I DO WANT TO WRITE THOUGH, I MISS IT.

I've said it before, writing is my therapy. I'm finishing last year's Vergil Halloween special, and I will be posting soon, I hope.

But I've been wanting to do the music writing thing again! SO!

For now, I'm gonna take my last year's Spotify Wrapped playlist as I've done before, but I want to add some songs didn't make the cut last year Ghost I'm staring at you, so I'll just make a playlist for writing here, with a bunch of songs I think would be nice/fun/interesting for the Spardaverse HAHAHA

SO! HOW ARE WE GONNA DO IT?

Just send me an ask, with a number and a character - just remember, I write Dante and Vergil with y/n s/o and Nero with Kyrie.

For now, I'll be doing just the three of them, but if you are an unhinged little fella and suggest something with another character that ends up having an interesting song attached to it, I might write it as well, ask at your own risk *side eyes*

Let the memes come

That's it. I just wanna go back to having a little fun with writing again and once I'm stuck again in survival mode after all that happened in the last couple of weeks, this little music game might help ^^

And it might be fun for you too! Oh, do put something like "hey, it's for the music-fic ask" so I know what's about as well! I might get lost on my asks forgive me

Hope to write a lot more so I can get back onto my bigger projects soon, like Nemesis and Survivor's Blood! I won't give up on them, I just need some ~time~

Hope to see you guys on my asks!!

#polaris speaks #update #life update #writing update #music fic requests #I've to come up with a better name for that #also don't worry too much about me #I don't do well with feelings and oversharing them or even sharing #so the best thing I can do for now is getting back into writing I think #eventually I hope I'll figure things out #(that dean line 'if someone else asks me how I'm feeling I'm gonna start throwing punches' is real) #(this man raised me to be tough and go through the motions when I was a teen HAHAHAHA he's here for a REASON xD)

[purity-town]

It’s been a very long week with a lot of stuff happening, so I didn’t have the time to finish the next page, but I did finally get ask responses typed up, so the inbox should be all cleared out again!

I haven’t really decided if/how I’ll work in town pets/slimes! They’re fun, though -- I might try to work them into the background in places?

To answer your question about Andrew knowing about King Slime, though- Andrew is very aware of what happened to his brother, and it’s stuck with him as a lesson about how becoming flippant or secure in your power can lead to something as unassuming as a few slimes being able to unexpectedly defeat you.

They relationship wasn’t always the best even back before all that, but they still cared about each other.

(And thank you! I will!)

Firstly: I’m glad to hear it’s gotten you back into your playthrough! I really ought to start a new proper playthrough this summer...I haven’t played a whole much since shimmer got added! And thanks for the kind comment on the backgrounds :) I can’t always put as much detail into them as I want to due to a mixture of time constraints and my general ability as an artist, but I do enjoy making them look nice.

As for the other NPCs: I want to get more NPCs worked in here! I honestly didn’t mean to exclude them, as I meant to add them into the backgrounds of earlier chapters where characters were walking through town or at the tavern. But again, due to time constraints, that didn’t happen, because adding in any additional characters to a scene just ups the complexity a ton. But others will be joining!

…You know what? Yeah, you’re right, hahaha! Spot on. Heather’s view of the situation was that she knows Andrew used to be much more of a traveler before finding himself in Purity Town, and she knows he’s under some sort of strange, magical curse, based on the strange circumstances under which his injuries appear and how difficult they are to heal. Andrew’s also generally quite knowledgeable about Hell and its workings -- putting all of it together, it makes sense that he once either went to Hell himself and was cursed by a demon, or maybe came into contact with a cursed item another adventurer obtained there, or similar (for obvious reasons, going to the Underworld as a living mortal is a big deal -- it’s dangerous, it’s deep -- but it’s not impossible to think someone, somewhere has done it).

Thus, kill the demon → end Andrew’s curse! It’s foolproof! Unfortunately, while it’s a theory that makes sense, it’s not quite so simple in reality.

Hahahaha, I would highly recommend you not think too hard about individual background objects…I try to keep things at least a little consistent, but it’s never perfect. I was mostly intending for Andrew to have just dropped the apple and knife on the cutting board, but then forgot to draw the cutting board. His counter is also rather barren/inconsistent/missing some things it should have. At the end of the day I only have so much time to work on backgrounds, and sometimes detail is lost.

Pshhhhhhhhh, hahahaha, I can’t imagine why! What a crazy coincidence...

1) It’s variable, but in the current day (that is, Terraria has recovered to the point of resurrection being possible) it’s fairly quick. Resurrection is a strange process, with the target’s life flashing before their eyes before they’re suddenly pulled back into a mortal form, and thus it roughly correlates with how long someone has been alive. It would take much longer to resurrect Andrew or the Dryad compared to, say, Becca or Heather.

2) It’s not an exact science, but those who are resurrected tend to appear someplace close to home. Not necessarily in their bed or something to that capacity, but always in the general vicinity. Their body doesn’t physically reappear until just before they reawaken, and it can be a disorienting process.

3) Relief, lots of crying. Resurrection isn’t unheard of, but is usually reserved for those who die a truly wrongful death before their time, local heroes, and Guides. It is never a given that someone will be brought back to life, and is in fact rather uncommon.

Those closely linked to Terraria are well-used to being tugged whichever which way for whatever business. Chris got it to a more extreme extent, with a strong pull and weird dreams, while someone who’s more in-tune to Terraria’s will such as the Dryad will intuitively know and follow.

Andrew didn’t have any particular business. Rather, he was pulled to go there, and when he came, he saw many potential reasons why, including the whole “cult” thing (and the Lunatic Cultist in particular), the local Corruption, particular placement relative to certain structures in the Underworld, and so on. He even went around the region looking for anyone who fit the bill of a hero, best he could tell, but found nothing promising until Chris showed up.

Yep!! At the moment I’m planning to introduce her in the next chapter? We’ll see!

Corruption isn’t uncommon, but there are few regions that are being actively threatened by it: it’s rather stable and reserved in its growth, so beyond encouraging folks not to go to such areas, it’s mostly ignored. Most patches are also relatively small; if anything, it’s a bit larger in the area by Purity Town just because the region is relatively unsettled and has been left unchecked for years and years.

There probably is some

Pre-Cthulhu/War, the Corruption was far more common and spread more aggressively, but there were also hundreds of Dryads who could cure it with a wave of their hand to keep it in check. That isn’t...really an option, anymore, for obvious reasons, but since with most of the ancient spirits locked away the Corruption isn’t nearly as dangerous as it once was, it’s not a world-ending concern by any means.

For why Andrew came to town, see a few asks above!

I’m not sure if I’ll have Chris go through all of the optional boss fights! Maybe in a boss rush montage? Ultimately it’s just a lot of time to dedicate to something, so I would prefer to be selective in what we focus on...maybe in an addition to the ficlets series?

As for your second question -- assuming slimes are able to channel magic/absorb the power of the things they contain, then I like the idea that they can specifically hold/maintain items in them to achieve a particular effect. Such as the Queen Slime with a crystal, and smaller slimes with creatures such as zombies. So perhaps he’s more so merged/been incorporated into King Slime? Very dead, but his abilities remain.

Take that with a grain of salt, though! It’s very late and I haven’t thought it through a whole bunch.

There’s quite a list to go through, including a lot of NPCs that I haven’t thought up a lot of lore for, but to generally summarize, it’s a mix of things! The region containing Purity Town (and a smattering of smaller villages within the different biomes) is relatively new, in the sense that it hasn’t had a significant modern settlement until recently. So most of the locals have moved there to get out of their hometowns, experience something new, and so on!

This is super kind of you to share; I’m super super happy you’re enjoying this comic so much! I’ve said it before, but like -- the whole point of this is me getting excited and having fun with my ideas for NPCs, so it makes me really delighted that other folks are enjoying it too.

I do apologize for being on and off with updates as of late, but I’ve been very busy with school. Good news is that the semester is over in less than a month, and then I’ll be fully free for the summer and can work on things more!

I genuinely am so excited for those two fights in particular. Lunatic Cultist fight will have so much in the way of complex angles and spell effects...I probably wouldn’t be able to make it happen tomorrow, but we’re still quite a ways out from there, so fingers crossed that by the time we get there I’ll have had plenty of practice with all of the other boss fights!

And then the WoF fight...considering how this whole comic started because I wanted to draw my favorite NPC (Guide), if you can imagine, that whole scene has been written and re-written and planned and added on for the entirely of the time I’ve been working on this comic so far, and I can’t wait to finally get to draw it.

We’ll be getting into this more soon enough! But the short of it is that he’s always had a bit of magic to him, got involved with the dungeon cult, fell in too deep, and is now facing the consequences.

As a side note, while checking over the Old Man’s wiki page I noticed that apparently he specifically can’t drown. I’m not sure if that’s intentional or just a consequence of how Terraria is coded, but that alongside the whole ladybug luck mechanic interacting uniquely with the Clothier/Guide is now one of my favorites of the “random trivia facts that have lore implications” collection.

Well, Chris knows that there’s something up with Andrew -- and from his talks with Malik/Heather/Becca last chapter, he knows that Andrew suffers from burns that are in some way strange/inexplicable, supporting the theory that Andrew suffers from some sort of curse. Everything beyond that is…circumstantial at best.

Beyond that, Chris doesn’t want to agree with Malik’s theories that Andrew is some sort of monster -- Chris has put a lot of trust in Andrew’s character since he’s following Andrew’s guidance through all of this, and agreeing with Malik would call that advice into question.

It’s also possible that there’s a fairly benign explanation for Andrew’s current behavior; he’s honestly not acting all that strange right now. All Chris knows is that Andrew left in a hurry earlier, didn’t intend to be out for so long, and didn’t expect Chris to notice, and while coming off the heels of the previous night it’s a little questionable, Chris is more concerned than anything.

#pt asks #not an update

[hoist-the-colours]

The Performance of Theo Sharpe’s Life

The young man was not only skilled at his trade, but skilled with his words. A persuasive and charming player of the good ol’ verbiage.  

The disgraced old Baron MacUmber, with his 200 year old lineage to the highlands still held against him. Dirty gael. The pirate. The radical. The heartbreaker. The day he finally left the Ton was the most relieving day of his life.  

Theo and him got on well when the Baron was about town, ranting about classism and eating the rich from his soap box, buying his fellow radicals food and wine with the money he made from his own businesses. Other than treating his good friends and lovers, and their good friends and lovers, he detests lavishness just for the sake of it.

Theo finds him in the perfect spirits to explain, “I have found the love of my life, and I need your help to get into a Masquerade ball...”  

The Baron’s eyes light up-

“...on Mayfair.” Theo finishes.

“What?!” The Baron bursts out in his horse-laugh. “What are you doing trying to court a girl on Mayfair?”  

“Losing my mind, sir.” Theo admits, with a soft humour.

“Rightly so...” The Baron sits there, waiting to find out that he is being jested with, but Theo’s face only gets more serious, and he continues to explain:   “I just want to have one evening in which I can walk into a ball, surrounded by nobility, and have none of it matter outside our masks. I want to walk through a crowd toward her, and ask for the honour of a dance with her...”  

The Baron’s horse-laugh bursts from him once again, interrupting Theo’s romantic rambling.  

“What’s the name, kid? Of her family. I need to know before I make the decision, because if they’re a group of cunts then absolutely not, but-”

“It’s Bridgerton...”

“HA. HAHA. HAHAHAHA. Fine.” The Baron agrees.  

---

The drunk Viscount Bridgerton and his drunk artist brother have found a very compfy, drunk home on a velvet couch, people-watching the party they only have the capacity to view from the side. But they are having great fun regardless.  

They see a young man, strange to them, even besides the mask.  

“I wonder who’s heart that tall, dark fellow is on his way to break...” Benedict comments.

“Or steal,” Anthony, still high on an extended honeymoon-phase with his own ladylove, says with an uplifting tone. “He is on quite a mission, isn’t he?”  

“Let’s see what happens.”  

-

[your choice of background music for this part]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cCBbBfZKFxM

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_XeUEoDEc00

-

Theo Sharpe can see Eloise Bridgerton through the crowd, and his heart feels like it is dropping and uplifting and beating out of his chest at the same time. He takes a glass of champagne, and downs the entire thing in one gulp.  

Anthony and Benedict cackle from their couch.  

Theo wades through the crowd of flailing drunk nobility and their many fabrics. With his final few steps towards her he breaks through into his new character, ready to give the performance of his life, projecting the temperament and manners of the most Lordly Lord of Lordington.  

Anthony and Benedict are finding the journey of this stranger riveting, holding their breaths, ready for him to face an embarrassing rejection from their infamous sister.  

“Good evening, Ladies,” Theo interjects, softly, but still so suddenly that Eloise almost chokes on her drink and begins coughing. Daphne pats her back, but Francesca is curious about the boy... “Are you alright, miss?” Theo asks Eloise, as if he did not know her.

She is horrified and astounded and full of ecstatic joy. “Yes, yes, I am alright, how are you? What... are you...” She has no idea what to say to him. She must not already know him, but she also must not reject him.  

“Theodor MacUmber, my Lady, and I have travelled from far away, across the room, from over there, to come over to here, to ask you if I may have the honour of knowing your name, and perhaps a dance as well, if you would like.” He offers his hand to her, in the most Lordly of movements.  

Eloise is speechless, staring at him, unable to believe that this is really happening. When his letter read something along the lines of, “Do not be surprised if one day I find you at one of those obnoxious balls and ask you for the honour of a dance with you...” she thought he was joking.

Daphne and Francesca’s mouths are open and their eyes are widened at how awestruck their sister is.

Eloise snaps out of her state suddenly, falling all over herself to put her hand in his and say, “Eloise Bridgerton, my name, it is... sooo nice to meet you-” This comes out much more flirtatious than she intends.  

“-Mr....” Eloise leans in towards him, with questioning eyes, trying to remember the fake name he gave her.

Her sisters are trying to not screech at each other.

“MacUmber, son of the Baron MacUmber.” Theo gestures to the Baron across the room, who is explaining to some confused young people that the royal family are actually lizards.  

Anthony and Benedict have found this journey took a turn they did not expect, as they watch Eloise be.... into him?  

Eloise leads Theo to the dance floor, and then she is thrilled as he lovingly pulls her to him, holding her firmly in his lead, as they begin a rather messy, perfectly imperfect waltz.  

Daphne and Francesca run off to their Mother. They apologize for interrupting a conversation, but it is of the upmost importance, as she must witness Eloise happily dancing with a man she visibly fancies. 

A gallery of Bridgertons gather to bear witness. They are blinded by their delight in seeing her smiling, laughing, and dancing with a young man. From their perspective, it seems to be love-at-first-sight for the both of them. Like two people who have been in love for years, meeting for the first time.  

They do not know about the year of pining, the letters that were pages of words that never said enough to truly satisfied either of them the way his skilled hand on her waist and the gleeful squeeze of her hand on his shoulder are...

Eloise finds their eyes on them is embarrassing, but Theo tries to distract her with jokes and conversation. They are hyper-aware of their hands... modestly on each other, and actively trying to not pull in closer, or creep around too scandalously. They conclude that as long as they keep dancing, song after song, then nothing else had to matter, until they decided to stop.

#theloise #theo x eloise #eloise x theo #bridgerton #theo sharpe #eloise bridgerton

[panelshowsource]

it seem so 😔 it's amazing to hear he's recovering well enough to write a whole show and do a whole tour! i have a feeling it won't be filmed, so it would be great to hear any of your experiences if you get a chance to see the show. (maybe you can send me a summary? i'm sure he'll talk more about it all then, given the synopsis for the tour :')) off the back of sean, rhod, and janey godley, i was just thinking about how the generation of comedians i grew up with are hitting more vulnerable years, which is very sobering, but i digress...

here are the tour dates for anyone who missed the announcement!

here on panelshowsource? because i was busy and not online :)

sorry anon, you sent this a couple days after his bday and i don't think i'll do belated posts. i actually wanted to do something for it, but i was just busy with life and didn't get enough of a head start (i usually need 2–3 days prep time). next time!

yes i totally agree! i like daisy on the show because she clearly loves music (the way she's always hyping up the identity parade artists is honestly really wholesome and appreciated) and she is a riot — even if she's exaggerating, better that someone is exaggerating having fun than not. i guess that's where daisy and jamali balance each other out, some episodes lmaooo greg is a textbook ham, so daisy getting such a kick out of his RIDICULOUS jokes — which makes greg so happy — plus greg and noel already having such a comfortable (and often silly) rapport makes them such a solid 3. greg and jamali have definitely gotten more comfortable with each other, too. they're a fucking random bag of people but i think it works! that show is a hot mess of good, goofy vibes

yeah, sometimes! just depends on the interviewee. last new one i listened to was probably ed byrne? i was just listening to a john kearns one since (spoiler alert for this ask post) someone asked for a collection folder for john — it's a sweet one. to be fair, john is just a sweet man. i'm not crazy about richard herring — he's fine — so sometimes i'll quit mid-way if richard is making it too much about himself or complaining too much (you know how he is). but in general i don't think i've missed anything significant bc i got bored or skipped an ep. do you recommend one?

sure! they're honestly one of my faves ever. obsessed with them. i was just thinking about what chaos jimmy + jon + joe + roisin are, generally the episodes when joe is filling in for sean. jimmy already loves a derailing, and you can tell he gets such a kick out of both joe and roisin (same way he gets a kick out of rob beckett, honestly), and jon really lets loose with those three — they're SO stupid hahahaha like this has to be one of the most random, stupid episodes ever i love it so much

it will be my pleasure doing research for such a gifset 😈

i have added him to the collection folder!

linked to some typical panel shows + added his radio 4 series, his latest radio dramedy with tim key and his sitcom top coppers (both added to the secondary masterpost), a couple sketch things, a couple youtube things :) i also collected his podcasts + a few random episodes i don't host on drive and added the links in a doc which i added as well (i'll go back and do that for the existing collections this weekend!)

enjoy!

ps. working on nish, mike wozniak, and david & victoria folders

—

WATCH LINKS MASTERPOST / FAQ / TAGS / ASK

#a

[buddhajesuschrusthole]

Hey everybody on tumblr (or whatever this damn fucking app is called ) - I am not a hip youngster anymore I am 25 years old and have never used this shit!

But anyway - hello!

I will be sharing today - one of my favorite things - advice on manifesting what you want to happen for you in this lifetime!

So! Without further adue- (is that how you spell it, French people?) Here is my blog on the subject! (At least for tonight haha, today is November 17th , 2023!)

So - manifesting! Have you heard of that term? It means - “bringing into reality / making your dreams come true!”

Manifesting your dreams therefore means - you guessed it - bringing your dreams from the dream realm - into your real life realm! (Turning your fantasy into reality!)

I’m serious, dawg! It’s happened to me - so that’s how I know! - So I don’t want to hear it! Lol! Jk - but I mean it tho!

So - I have manifested many-a-thing. Including - my dream boyfriend! (YES , I mean it - like he is the LITERAL GUY I wanted for SO LONG - the man I fantasized about in bed - before it actually happened! OMG - crazy - right!? NO! Because it’s fucking real! Now listen dawg…)

So here’s the story - so - years ago - I had wished for a guy with long hair down to his ass - a gorgeous one - that I literally would marry!

(We didn’t get married yet but that’s not the point!)

Years after I wished for that (YES, YEARS AFTER), I met this guy at work - named Devon (I literally remember thinking in bed one day - years before this happened - that his name would start with a damn D?!! WTF!!) - and was soooo cute! I loved him aaaaaaaaaaa! He was literally so adorable, I can’t even tell you!

But anyway - he was my type - shy - quiet - an asshole! Hahahha - just kidding Devon, I love you! No, but - maybe a lil bit. Lmao! (Sorry baby - I love you!)

But anyway he looked exactly like the kind of guy I would want to date tbh! So ummmm, so I talked to him as much as I could, even though he scared the shit out of me! He just had this intense stare of like - hate towards everybody - lmaooo! I can’t explain it but - if you experienced it before - then you probably know what I’m talking about haha!

He was just like - very anti-social and quiet - but I liked him anyway! Every time I talked to him - he was always nice to me! So that’s good haha!

Except for that one time at work - where I asked him where the cheese was during a rush (we worked in a kitchen at BDubs) - and we went in the walk-in fridge and he started kicking shit out of anger - and then I cried because I was scared that he hated me (he didn’t see that tho…) Oopsie Devon! You bitch! Lmao! Jk - I still love you!

Except for that one time - he was a really nice guy! Ummmm, so far hahaha!

But then after two weeks of working with him he walked-out and quit! Oh no! Fuck! He was the hottest guy at work and then I was so disappointed and mad tbh, lmaooo! Mostly because I had to do his job and mine - two weeks into my new fucking job - ahhhh!!!!!

I didn’t even know how to make nachos - and they still had me do it - all by myself - even in a rush! WTF!!! I had just started!!! Those bastards couldn’t hire someone!? Fine! So I did it all by myself!!!! (I’m serious - I was so mad wtf!)

But anyway - a few months go by - then I walk out too! Cuz I’m tired of working two peoples jobs - when I literally asked them to hire my two friends - and they just wouldn’t! WTF!

So yeah! That’s why I quit that one~! Hahahaha…

But! I think a few more months go by - or weeks!? I don’t even remember hahahaha I’m so sorry - but - it wasn’t too long…

But one night - I was thinking about Devon - in bed - by myself - and I was like damn - he was so cute! I miss him! - and I was taking out loud to myself and I went “Well, if he liked me, I’m sure he’d let me know!”

AND I SHIT YOU NOT!!!! I SHIT YOU NOT - he literally followed me on my instagram - THE NEXT MORNING! LMAOOO!! NO FUCKING WAY!

Yes, it’s true - this is the fucking facts of my life y’all! It’s literally all over my old YouTube channel!

That moment is what you’d call a serendipitous synchronicity! A moment of WTF and mystery - and a moment of - how the fuck is this even happening right now!? (It kind of felt like a dream I’m NGL!)

And the rest I’m going to keep from you - because it took about a year for us to get together - but I blocked him two weeks after he followed me - because I messaged him and we started taking but then he pissed me off - so I blocked him and cried about it!

But yeah - before that happened - me and him planned to meet at the park - but we couldn’t find each other (and I had to walk there.) But that’s not why I blocked him, so - blocked him because he pissed me off because I told him I liked him - and then he told me he wasn’t ready for a relationship right now (he kept talking about his ex gf and how much he missed her prior to this - and told me that he was crying blah blah blah.) (That was his only gf so I am giving him a fucking break in this one, but still - goddamn bitch!)

They had broken up a few years prior to that so I was like - wow. But they were together for three years and I can’t even imagine being in a relationship that long - so I can’t sympathize 100 percent… but I tried, goddamn it!

But yeah - I blocked him because of that ( even though I probably shouldn’t have told him I liked him the day after he cried to me about his ex gf, I think he just needed a friend tbh - but I wasn’t being a friend - I was being a thirsty bitch! Hahaha goddamn it!)

But to be fair he was flirting with me and it really mad me angry! So yeah! Kudos to past me! Muahahahha!

But anyway - even though he was a beautiful guy - I blocked his ass and cried about it immediately after - because after I blocked him - I unblocked him but then found out that he blocked me, too. (To be fair , after I told him I liked him I went ahead and told him I would just go fuck this other guy instead (he was hot too…))

Goddamn, maybe I was a damn bitch….oh well.

But anyway!

Me and that other guy met one time (I think it was a few days after or something, but we never saw each other again, and no we didn’t fuck, just hung out and shit, didn’t even kiss the guy.)

But yeah. So that’s why I blocked him ~!

But then! After that second guy kind of hurt me because he didn’t text me back after we hung out (maybe it’s because I pointed out this girls choker in his fucking car!?) IDK if he had a gf or what but - ew.

I was like sad and shit - but then I was like - fuck men! So I stayed single after that.

I just wanted my soulmate tbh.

But honestly - the dating sites weren’t working - and I was bored.

So I messaged Devon on his Facebook account like (two to four) months after I blocked him hahaha!

He didn’t reply for two weeks - but then he saw it and replied ( I think he didn’t see it because we weren’t friends - either that or he was ignoring me but idc I understand tbh!)

But he messaged me back and we started talking - I tried not to be clingy this time - but when I wanted him to message me first - he didn’t. So I was like wow, why should I message you first if you don’t message me first!? The fuck!

But I don’t think that technique worked… because I went a few weeks without messaging him - and then I messaged him once after that and I saw that he had blocked me.

I was like “NOoOoOooO!!!” And I cried - I’m sorry I’m just a sappy lil bitch tbh - even though it’s my own fault cuz I blocked the guy first!

Hahahhaha oh lord.

But anyway - I cried for a few days because I still had a crush on him and all that… but after that happened - I told myself that he just needed time. I told myself that he was going through something and wouldn’t just block me out of nowhere for nothing. (Which ended up being the truth - he was indeed going through something.)

So - months and months and months go by - maybe six months? Seven months? I don’t know how many! Maybe five? I’m not good at math nor time - sorry folks.

But anyway - months go by - and during those months - I was vigorously masterbating to him.

Yes, I mean every damn day!

I mean it.

But anyway - I imagined him massaging me in my bed with lotion all over my back - making it nice and relaxing and romantic.

I imagined him eating me out and plowing the shit out of my vagina hole.

And I mean it, too!

Anyway - I told myself not to worry - and that if he really liked me that much - that he would unblock me eventually.

Low and behold - the day comes - I’m browsing my Facebook messenger - and I see his bubble was online!

I was like - why would his bubble be online to me if he has me blocked still - that seems dumb.

So I clicked on his bubble and it took me to his profile - which wouldn’t happen if you’re blocked. (IK you already know this, ladies and gentlemen, hahaha jk!)

But anyway - I clicked on it and I was so happy because I was like OMG no way - he finally unblocked me after how many months!?

So I didn’t message him that day - I waited for him to do - which was unrealistic and he didn’t end up doing anything - so like a week or two goes by and then I decide to message him!

I was like “Hey Devon - so - why did you block me - I thought I told you that I was going through some emotional stuff and I thought you had forgiven me for that already?”

Then he said something like “Yeah I’m sorry - I don’t really know why I did that.”

And I was like “Sure you do, buddy! I know I blocked you first and I know it’s my own fault - but I’m very sorry and I hope you understand that I liked you and wanted to be your friend - I was just going through a lot emotionally at the time.”

And he told me he understood, and he told me something along the lines of “I think you are a wonderful person - I am sorry if I hurt you - I didn’t mean to.”

And inside I felt so happy because I thought that was sweet…

So we talked - and talked - and talked - and then every day after that - I messaged him - not caring who was first to do it anymore. I guess I just liked him that much or something haha. But he always messaged me back and didn’t leave me on read or anything.

So that’s good.

So I think a month of that goes by - and then I finally ask him if he wants to hang out with me - and he says yes.

(Remember when I told you I couldn’t find him at the park? He thought I stood him up - and I thought he had stood me up, too. That was also before I told him I liked him. Probably not a good plan to tell him after that , and the fact that he cried about his ex the night before. But whatever - I was thirsty - he was hot - what can I say? LMAO And guys - he did tell me he thought I was very attractive (before I blocked him and before he blocked me lol) - so I know he didn’t think I was ugly so that’s definitely not it.)

So here is another weird coincidence : also called a serendipitous moment - also called a synchronicity - meaning that we are synchronized!

Before the day we hung out - I had asked myself - “what would that moment be like?”

So, I had imagined that moment - and guess what? The very thing I had imagined and hoped for - became the ultimate reality that day that we hung out.

To the very T.

(Which is also why it weirds me out a little - but it’s also very beautiful - if you ask me~!)

I mean to the damn T - the energy was the same - and before we hung out I hoped that he would ask to buy me a coffee (which he did ask me if he could get me one one day!) Plus - I had hoped that he would hang out with me every week after that (which he had said to me - something along the lines of: “We should make it a tradition to see each other every week, or something.”)

But yeah now we’re dating.

(We didn’t get to see each other every week after that - but we did see each other - and I am very happy that he’s a blessing in my life now. He is a dream come true and I have told him this - and he had also told me that he had sex dreams about me and about us dating before it actually happened.)

We were friends for a few months after we first hung out - and then I told him: (“What are we doing here? I like you. And I need to know if you like me too. And if not , tell me now.”)

Then he told me he was confused too and then we talked about it - and then I invited him to a sleepover. The rest is personal - but honestly we’re dating now. So the rest is history.

However, he does remind me of a character I made up in my head, whom I said had long dark hair, and who would be my husband one day.

Like I said - this was so many years ago - probably about four or so years ago that I made up that fantasy.

And I told myself he’d like to read too - which he does! Which is crazy to me! Now all I have to do is make him gothic and he will literally be the exact match to my fantasy many years ago. (He does like gothic stuff so I don’t think that’ll be too hard.)

But yeah that’s the story of me and my boyfriend - omg I missed a detail!

I remember - the day after we officially got together - the next day Devon had told me that his brother had got an engagement ring for his girlfriend and that he was going to ask her to marry her!

I just thought that was significant since - like I said - this guy reminds me of my fantasy that I had of a husband. LMAOOO!

But yeah! Thanks for reading and listening to my story! Leave a like and follow for more manifesting stories - I have lots - even scary bits! :D

Also look up my YouTube if you’re interested - Buddha Jesus Chrusthole (Infinite Butthole Jesus)!

#manifesting #synchronicity #stories #crazy #cool stuff #meditation #social media #makeup #the mandalorian #kpop layouts #i am drinking your milkshake #portrait #poetry #photography #personal #blogger #bd/sm blog #basketball #yandere #2010's 2019's anime #black and white #landscape #harry potter #gay #ryan gosling #london #love #romance #so true #truth

[aylinaliens]

Hi Kay! What are the EAW WIPs you currently have!! Hahahaha gosh, the brainrot is so bad for me too, that I currently keep having ideas pop into my head at random times LOL

hi 💙💙 okay so i have an unhealthy amount of EAW WIPs i seriously have a problem help. all of these will most likely be one shots (or very short multichap fics). in no particular order here they are:

kwon minwoo and the horrible, terrible, very bad, no good day: i think we all need a fic where minwoo gets 👊 a few times. i can’t believe he didn’t react more to finding out junho is dating youngwoo he’s literally so obsessed so i’m writing a little fix-it fic where he gets the karma that’s coming for him.

loving you is like the ocean (it goes for miles in all directions): youngwoo is sad that she can’t go on her yearly whale watching trip because she’s pregnant so junho + the rest of her protection squad decide to bring the ocean to her instead (aka they quite literally turn the nursery into an underwater oasis). quite literally just pure married whale couple fluff with a heavy dash of the found family trope

i had the time of my life (fighting dragons with you): geurami + youngwoo centric fic because their friendships gives me so much joy. the simplest summary would be ‘the three times guerami smacked a bitch for youngwoo & the one time youngwoo smacked a bitch for geurami’

untitled: junho meets youngwoo’s dad. yes it’s awkward and hilarious and oddly wholesome bc i’m saying no to toxicity

touch me like you do: youngwoo and junho show each other *exactly* how they like to be touched 😳

everything will be alright (if you keep me next to you): suyeon + youngwoo centric fic set during law school. i know we probably won’t get a flashback of it so i wanted to explore their dynamic in the early days

untitled: i’m combining two different prompts from the same person (youngwoo jealous & junho getting in to an accident) because. cannot do pure angst for these two nope no thank you

why break up?: our whale couple is going to say peace out to that kdrama curse on their jeju island trip and actually communicate 🥰 miss geurami said ‘besties just use your words it’s that simply’

untitled: post ‘conflict’ fic where our lovable dorks express how they feel and maybe kiss a little 🥺 (this one will hopefully go up sometime today)

untitled: youngwoo catches guerami watching a very spicy drama and makes the execute decision to try it out for herself

untitled: no thoughts head empty just a bunch of short little drabbles of all the different kisses youngwoo and junho share

hold me close: aka junho has a bad day so youngwoo offers to be his personal hug chair

we’re dancing around the kitchen in the refrigerator light: youngwoo + junho decide to skip out on the traditional first dance during their reception (too loud and busy !!!) so instead they waltz together in the middle of the night…yes in the refrigerator light <3

untitled: youngwoo + junho beach wedding!! except it’s really just a small gathering & very non stressful & relaxed. + their proposal too because 🥺 they <3

untitled: youngwoo + junho honeymoon shenanigans listen i have multiple fics planned in the ‘whale couple wedding cinematic universe’

untitled: junho finds out youngwoo fell down the stairs…worried junho has me weak (@akuyuukai i told you i was going to do this 👀)

untitled: youngwoo quits hanbada and works to work with ryu jae-sook. not at all angsty because she makes the decision on her own. i just need more women supporting women and youngwoo flourishing professionally

listen i was not kidding when i said the eaw brain rot was real. this drama has me by the throat ajdjsjd and these are technically not even *all* of my WIPs. these are just the ones that i’m actively writing right now. yeah perhaps i do have a problem 😬

#extraordinary attorney woo #kay answers #saw fics #kay writes eaw #youngwoo x junho #there is also a attorney jung/suyeon fic in the works but 🤫 you didn’t hear that from me #kdrama #kdrama fics #eunbunnys 🐇

[madamebaggio]

Notes: Previously...

DONE!!! hahahaha

I planned on posting this earlier, but my aunt that lives in Australia and is currently here, came for a visit, and I couldn’t miss seeing her,

Anyway...

Here comes the smut ;)

***

Just make out, no sex!

Masturbation (Make it mutual, or make it a show to each other.)

Oral sex (extra point if it’s 69!)

Missionary (it’s important to revisit the classics!)

Cowgirl (make it reverse for extra points!)

Chapter 10

Jon couldn’t stop grinning the next morning. He probably looked like a lunatic.

Even as he went about his day -he was off work for the next three days -he couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened the night before. He never saw himself as particularly prideful, but knowing he’d make Sansa feel that good, when her exes had failed? Yeah, he was feeling proud as fuck.

To him, it still seemed bloody ridiculous that Sansa could even think she was ‘bad at this’, as she’d said it. The more he heard about her exes, the more he hated them -and he didn’t even think that was possible.

Sansa was a passionate woman, with much to offer. She was kind, charming and funny, she deserved much better than those assholes.

Perhaps this thing between them would be good for her. She’d realize she deserved more, better, and she’d choose her next boyfriend accordingly.

Because Jon knew -very well -that at some point, that was exactly what she’d do. Sansa was the type of girl who had long relationships, and she’d soon find someone else.

This was temporary.

There were 31 items left on that list, and she’d cut quite a few of them. Their time together was limited, and Jon had agreed to it.

There was nothing to do, but enjoy it now -which he planned on doing.

Hours later he was in his workshop, already working on more chairs for her, when his phone vibrated.

It was a message from Sansa, asking him what time he’d go to her house.

He started grinning again.

***

“So… Giddy up?”

Sansa snorted, unable to help herself. “Very romantic, Snow.” She shoulder-checked him, as they were sitting side by side on her bed, their feet touching the ground.

He grinned at her. “You know I’m joking. Have you ever done this?” He wasn’t judging, he just thought it was better to know.

“Being on top? Yeah, a few times.” She sighed.

“Hey.” He rubbed her back. “What is wrong?”

“It’s just that…” She shook her head. “Nothing. I feel like a broken record.”

“Sansa.” Jon called softly. He put his arm over her shoulder and pulled her flush against his side, tucked in. “We’re supposed to talk about this, remember?” He dropped a kiss to her forehead.

“I know. And I know you said it’s fine, but honestly…” She sighed again. “I just keep waiting for you to get tired of my bullshit. You could be with anyone.”

“First of all, it’s not bullshit.” He admonished her gently. “Your feelings, your worries, they’re valid. I want to listen to you, and I want you to enjoy this as much as I do. And second… While I do appreciate your high opinion of my charms, I don’t want to be with anyone. I want to be here, with you.”

“Damn, Snow. That was so smooth.” Sansa chuckled softly.

Jon laughed too, hugging her tighter. “I have my moments.”

“Somehow they all seemed to happen in this very specific situation.” She teased.

“Stop trying to distract me.” He kissed her nose. “What is the problem with being on top?”

“It’s not as bad as you may be thinking.” She looked at him. “I just feel weird, uncomfortable. I can’t get in the moment.”

Jon hummed. “It’s not physical discomfort, then?”

“No, I just feel exposed. I’ve always felt odd being on top.”

Jon hummed. “Would you like to skip this one? We can revisit it later.”

Sansa considered it for a minute. “I know we haven’t done much, but I’ve liked everything we did together. I want to try this too.”

Jon cupped her face. “My brave girl.” He dropped a peck to her lips. “We can try, and if you don’t like it we can stop.”

Sansa nodded, suddenly feeling sure about this. “Let’s get naked.”

Jon barked a laugh. “Let’s get naked.” He repeated, still grinning.

The thing about Jon that always made Sansa feel safe in this was his patience. Even when their kisses became firm and messy, he never seemed to be actually in a hurry to get it over with. He appeared to truly enjoy the kissing and heavy petting as much as he enjoyed everything else.

So she wasn’t surprised when they fell back on her bed and started making out like teenagers. By the time their clothes started to actually be taken off, they’d been kissing for a good while -enough that her lips were tingling.

Once she was naked, Jon kept his slow pace, kissing her all over until he put his hand between her legs and teased her clit. He fingered her until Sansa was moving her hips and begging him for more.

“You look really pretty when I’m making you cum.” He told her with a smirk.

“Oh my god!” Sansa let out a startled laugh. “Jon!”

“It’s true.” He dropped a kiss to her collarbone, his hips between her legs. “Should we keep going?”

“Yes.”

“Great.” Jon turned his body, suddenly under her.

“Jon!” Sansa giggled.

“Up.” He told her.

Sansa was confused, but she started raising her body, until she saw that Jon was sitting up. She was left straddling his thighs, while Jon was sitting on the bed, both of them chest to chest.

“I don’t think this is the right position.” She told him.

Jon chuckled. “You said that you feel exposed because you’re on top. So we’ll start like this, then we’ll see what happens.”

“Oh.” She put her arms around his neck. “I like this idea.”

“Trust me.” He kissed her softly. “I love this idea.”

“I can feel that.” Sansa teased, pressing herself against his cock, which was trapped between their bodies.

Jon gave her a long slow kiss, his hands rubbing her back. When they pulled away from each other, he gave her a soft smile. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

He reached back for the condom they’d left by the pillow, and Sansa watched with a certain fascination as he rolled it down his cock. Jon helped her get him in place, then put his hands on her waist. “Take your time there.”

Sansa knew what he meant, so she slid down slowly, taking him inch by inch. Jon’s hands weren’t helping her move at all, just holding her. She looked at his face and saw him biting his lips, so she couldn’t help but kiss him again.

They kissed while she lowered herself, moaning into each other’s mouth, until Jon was fully inside her. Sansa gasped against his lips.

“Feels good?” Jon asked, as breathless as she was.

“Hm.”

“How good?” He teased, kissing her neck.

“No way.” She chuckled. “You’re already smug enough.”

He laughed, but didn’t deny it, dropping more kisses to her neck. “Try moving.” He said, his hands caressing her back and sides. “See what feels good.”

She frowned. “Don’t you mind?”

“A hot woman using my body for her pleasure?” He pretended to think about it, then sighed. “I don’t know how’ll survive the torture.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Funny.”

“Just take your time, San.” He kissed her again. “Figure out what you like.”

She put her hands on his shoulder, then she rose a bit -a tiny bit -before lowering herself again -slowly. The next time she moved, she rose a bit higher and came down a bit faster.

“Oh.”

Jon let out a strangled laugh. “Yeah… Oh.”

She started moving with more purpose, a bit more speed. Jon’s hands seemed to be all over her; legs, ass, tits, squeezing and caressing her. Her breath became labored, her rhythm became demanding.

And in all of that, she could only see Jon’s face. He was flushed, breathing hard, his lips abused from all their kisses.

She sank her hand in his hair, grasping at his curls, her mouth taking his like she was taking his body. She undulated her hips and Jon groaned into her mouth.

Before she even realized what she was doing, Sansa pushed him down on the bed, their lips still fused, so she followed him down. She bit his lower lip, sucked at it, then broke the kiss.

“I think I’m starting to see the appeal.” She told him breathlessly.

Jon grinned at her, laying on her bed like a debauched lady, and Sansa had to sit back to see that better.

And yeah, she could definitely see the appeal. Because Jon sprawled on that bed, under her?

It was hot as fuck and hardly as awkward as she’d thought it’d be.

“You’re fucking gorgeous.” Jon said, his voice wrecked.

Right. She really needed to fuck him properly then.

She leaned back, putting her hands on his thighs for support, and moved. There was very little finesse left on her at this point, and she felt as if she was taking and taking and taking… But Jon didn’t seem bothered by it at all; his eyes were glued to her, his hands reaching for whatever part of her he could touch.

And Sansa wanted to look at him. She wanted to look into his eyes, because he was looking right back at her as if she was the most beautiful thing on earth. He made her feel like a goddess, taking what she wanted.

It was intoxicating.

“Jon.” She whined. “Here.” She grabbed his hand, guiding it to her clit.

Jon didn’t need to be told twice, his thumb working her clit immediately, just the way he’d noticed she enjoyed it the most. Sansa was bouncing on his cock, a sense of urgency taking over, closer and closer.

Then, with a flick of Jon’s fingers and a particularly hard move from her part, she came, screaming his name as her body convulsed around him.

“That was great to watch.”

Sansa snorted and leaned forward, until her breasts were brushing against Jon’s chest. “We’re not done.” She kissed her lips. “It’s your turn.”

“Sansa…” She quieted him with her mouth, her hands gripping at the pillows.

She resumed moving, even as aftershocks of pleasure rippled through her body, making this feel almost like too much. Jon’s hands grabbed her ass roughly, his heels digging into the mattress as he looked for leverage to fuck her back.

“Sansa.” He groaned into her mouth, pulling her down hard on him, as his own orgasm took him over. His fingers squeezed her ass one last time before releasing.

“Wow.” Sansa grumbled against his neck.

Jon’s chuckle was a bit strained. “Yeah. I’ll be right back.” He kissed her temple, then gently moved her to the side, so he could deal with the condom.

Jon wasn’t sure if this was allowed, but once he came back, she seemed so comfortable and soft on the bed, that he decided to lay down.

It turned out to be a great idea, because as soon as he was beside her again, she turned to him. He had no choice but to cuddle her to him.

“This was great.” Sansa told him, her voice sleepy.

“It was.” He agreed easily, his hand making lazy circles on her back. He needed to tell her something, and he wanted to do it before she fell asleep. “Sansa?”

“Yes?”

“I never did apologize to you, did I?”

“Hum?” She was frowning. “What for?”

“For how I reacted when I got your text.”

Sansa didn’t move, her head still tucked under his chin. “You started to, then we got distracted.”

“We did.” The memory made him smile. “I’m sorry for how I reacted. It wasn’t fair to you, and I had no right.”

“Why were you so upset?” She asked quietly.

“I was shocked at first, but then your message put this image in my head…” He sighed. “I felt bad for thinking about you that way, and I took it out on you, which wasn’t fair.”

Sansa was quiet for a while. “Do you still feel bad about it?”

“Not at all.” He admitted.

Sansa hummed. “Good.”

Yeah. Good.

#madame baggio #crackship #modern au #gifs not mine #jonsa fanfiction #posted on ao3 #game of thrones #Sansa Stark #jon snow #sansa x jon #jonsa #a special bucket list

[threenorth]

At the end of my work day I'm completly exhausted, to much brain focus not enough calories, and shit food is expensive....

Now I know we said future focused but, there's so much glimmer of you, it's really difficult to know exactly but none the less...

Ryan, Pink,

You make me feel like there is something worth living for a reason I slave at my desk everyday trying to get forward in a world that wasn't made for me and the reason why I still breathe but y'know mainly coming home to you would be something worth the suffering at my job (just over broke), my brain remembered but I think I said it but I gave you an anchor I told you, because you calmed my sea, not to weight me down.

Logan,pale pink.

I'm glad you feel better, I don't know what you went through but I'm always here, unless I'm battling myself... And we're just take turns... And if we're both up shit Creek at least we have each other, and...probably the same psychologist. Jokes a side, I hope you know that no matter what you say, nothing is going to make you sound,less or look less beautiful that you think you might be.

L, pale pink.

I think for me, was the day I was pushed down the hill at primary (elementary), that thing is vicious and I think it's awful to have it in a school ground even for kids under our 6th 'year 6' (10-11 yrs) to your '5th grade' our kindergarten is pre primary, and Secondary School is also called college as I went to Northcote college, but there are people and places like Westlake boys High-school. And then with tertiary our college is university...but either that or the good old toilet bowl, I believe it I recall you said.. You need to name your trumas, haven't had that talk yet but I think you said yours was and I'll take it, abe.

Aspen, green.

Yeah I too miss that but y'know if you want depending on your schedule on my Saturday the whole day we can hang I got 100gb of data monthly now, you can come to the supermarket... Or the gym... Or whatever.

Just as long as you keep me, posted or informed with if A) your tired. B) your mental health getting a little worse. C) what you need to do around the house as chores as we can multi task... Hopefully. IE you dust the kitchen or some shit, and I run on the treadmill.... Speaking of. Treadmill the respotiry instuite called today to say the specialist I was planning to see has quit, and my appointment was rescheduled for. December 11th, so I'm looking on our medical platform database to see what other people might be able to investigate and or to what equipment they have or possibly experience or if they can use my insurance provider...adhd meds wore out so... Hahaha.

Rowan, green.

Distance makes the heart glow? I don't know to me, distance makes it difficult but I don't know if you or I can afford it yet, maybe soon... Ish... We're talk about this in due course...but distance sucks, but at least now there's long distance ergh 'toys' they seem intersting...

Good old aunty Google (nz expression) says 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'(source)

It's a little depressing but we can try watch movies or TV shows via discord or something, we're find something to do until... Hopefully not too long... But there's a few balls. I'm trying to understand currently... Long tale. Called having mental health issues and trying to do work and a degree... Yeahhh f--king kill me. 😂

Keith, red.

My heart always wonders its way back to you.

Keith, purple.

Anytime.... Unless... Oh romance, I got a meeting in the office and I don't pick up but I might see it try hussle my way out, I'm often listening to music on my phone via headphones anyway but best time to get me is 12-1 and if I'm working at home but not wensday afternoon but if I'm at home I can have you on mute throughout some meetings...

Oh and maybe if I got my cynical psychologist... Next Tuesday 5th the whole day is awful hahahaha...Dentist, hygieninst, and othorodonist... 9-12. Then 3-4pm is my shrink.

Yknow what how about your Friday depending when you wake up and if you have the whole day off I'll get up early on my Saturday... But we need to take some turns about who's one either getting up early or staying up late...

Cooper, tan.

You don't need a sign when you know my thoughts or where to find my latest thinking about you.

Regarding a text message? I don't know if I'll ever find your number in my many files I have especially one I tried hiding from myself after the last time I used it, my us cell phone VoIP redirect I posted a couple days ago... Sooo maybe just use Skype? Instagram? Facebook?

😂 You know how to find me, contact me.

Cooper, purple.

You didn't really leave me, per say.

But I would of hoped you would of tried to reach out - non anonymous, I left my Skype open for a few months and I also never blocked you, just - slightly peacefully 'forcefully' removed you out from my life,but you still had message access, I think I didn't change my Kik till maybe 2015? As my phone reset? I can't recall but I remember we had two or. Maybe one Skype call, one when I got angry at you about the prayer flags, and the other I think when something bad happened and you asked me come online...I'm so sorry that's a bit of a blur for me the years since 2014.... Some of it rock soild, others quite vague..

[jellophoid]

I keep touching this, I’m not gonna render this any further SO !!

Happy birthday Stanley !!!!

#jellarts #jello art #obey me #happy birthday satan #redrew a card #blacktober #because I have missed quite a few days hahahaha… #happy birthday catboy I hope you have a good one 💖 #please look at this this took a while to do *dies* #📕

[twopoppies]

Hi! I hope it’s not too annoying of a request but I was wondering if you or your followers can think of any fics that are kinda inspiring academically, especially regarding British literature, if that makes sense? I just finished rereading Come As You Are and every time I read it, it motivates me to read more and practice my writing because I want to be more like Harry from that fic hahaha and I’m looking for more fics which evoke this feeling since I’m starting my masters in October and I need all the help I can get. Thank you so much! (I absolutely love your master post and its my go to couple times a week!)

Hi sweetheart. Hmmm... I just reblogged my Dark Academia fic rec, but other than that I think it would be fics where one or the other are writers/poets etc. Not all of these are heavy on the writing/poetry, but they're all great fics.

Make Your Words A Weapon by @helloamhere (E, 36K) I recently read this a second time and it’s even better than I remembered. I love everything this author writes. This one just really hit me hard for whatever reason. Maybe it’s the way they explore Louis’ anxiety and coping mechanisms and pain and the way he pushes people away and protects himself, but also wants someone to push back just a bit and love him despite all of that. And the way Harry is the perfect foil for all of it, while also feeling like a fully developed character himself. Yeah, it’s probably all of that. Plus soul marks! (Musician Harry/Music Journalist Louis)

Our Lives, Non Fiction by @indiaalphawhiskey (E, 114K) this is, quite literally, the best fic I’ve read in years. It’s so well written, clever, funny, emotional, and sexy. Its draw you in immediately and you’ll end up falling in love with these characters before you know it. Don’t miss this one. Harry and Louis are both authors.

An Invincible Summer by Brooklyn_Babylon / @twopoppies (E, 45K) this one is mine, I hope you like it:

Never content to stay in one place for long, a few months down south researching for his novel seemed like an idyllic, slow-paced summer to Louis. He wasn’t ready for the blistering heat, the backbreaking work of watermelon picking, or how stifling the attitudes in rural Georgia would feel. And he definitely hadn’t anticipated falling in love with the farmer’s son.

The summer of 1946 would turn out to be everything worth writing about. Farmer Harry / author Louis

Mine Would Be You by @crinkle-eyed-boo (E, 115K) Beautifully written, flawed characters and an emotionally engaging and ANGSTY plot. Super hot smut that made me cry like a fool. Banter, OT5 friendship, and the gritty realness of New York as a backdrop. Loved this one. Artist Harry / Author Louis

where your lips land by BriaMaria / @briannamarguerite (E, 12K) Ok, I’ve recommended this one a few times and I really do love it. Anyway, I love fics where the two of them are both artists of some sort (Louis is a poet in this one, Harry is a photographer) because it allows for another layer of understanding and connection and support. I particularly love the way Louis’ tattoos are woven into this story with layered meaning. And, as always, just beautiful writing.

you’re writing lines about me by snazzyasalways (T, 4K) This is gorgeously written on that Dreamy, poetic style I happen to love. Louis is a blind poet, Harry is a baker, Harry falls in love with Louis’ words, then with him.

another hazy may by deLILah (M, 41K) Another author who writes great fic after great fic. This one has that dreamy quality I love and there’s also something about it that, at times, reminds me of a little bit of a Raymond Chandler novel. I know that’s weird...but, yeah, it does. Anyway, I love this one. Such a good read.

I would name the stars for you (I would take you there) by orphan_account (M, 91K) This is just beautifully written. Angst. Mutual pining. Dumb boys. Beautiful descriptions of art and creativity and fame and beautiful poetry.

Little Technicolor Things by scary_crow (M, 72K) This is truly one of the most beautiful pieces of writing I have ever read and it is an absolutely travesty that it’s not being talked about every day. This fic is gorgeous and poetic and romantic and heartbreaking and an explosion of metaphoric images and everything I never knew I needed but now that I have it I want to read it over and over and over.

But If This Ends by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense (E, 107K) This author referred to this fic as their “depressed vampire” fic while they were writing, and it is that. But it’s also a unique story with beautifully fleshed out characters, plot twists, and super hot smut. Go check it out! Vampire Harry / Writer Louis

24K Magic by @justalittlelouislove (E, 33K) FINALLY a category in which I can rec this author! I love everything they write, but this was the first one I’d read and it’s just great. Smooth dialogue, sexy smut, great description of character growth…just a really fun fic.

the best part of me (was always you) by @moonshinelouis-archive (E, 6K) Gorgeous writing. The descriptions of heartbreak and missing someone and still loving them were really well done. And I cried. Of course.

'Sup by MediaWhore (GA, 7K) Divorced, awkward Harry pining for silver fox Louis is a trope I never knew I needed, but I love it so much.

I Will Never Rust by stylez (E, 38K) I must have read this at least 5 years ago and I honestly don’t remember details, but my notes say “gorgeous, sad, sexy” so... I’m crossing my fingers that old me knew what she was talking about. It’s frat boy Harry so that could go either way. LOL! Student/Poet Harry.

Loyal Knight and True by rainbowninja167 / (E, 52K) Really original story, mystery and magic, great characterizations. All around a very good read!

Turning Page by purpledaisy (M, 68K) This author does a wonderful job with their characterizations which makes their fics such a pleasure to read. This one really has you rooting for curmudgeonly Louis and skittish/secretive Harry to figure their shit out and fall in love. If you like this one, make time to read this author’s fic, Walk That Mile – it’s one of my all time favorites. Sports journalist Louis.

Black with Autumn Rain by Whimsicule (T, 93K) This author is a favorite. If you like intense, creative stories, with complex characters and tight dialogue, you should read all of their fics. This one has the flavor of a Daphne du Maurier novel – dark, creepy, and moodily romantic. Plus a supernatural edge. It’s so good. Journalist Harry.

That Sounds Fake But Okay by dancingontheceiling (E, 113K) This one has a little bit of everything: Enemies to lovers, fake relationship, famous/not famous... plus, really good writing and some sexy smut scenes. Actor Louis / journalist Harry.

Sing When You're Winning by hazmesentir (NR, 91K) another one I read ages ago, but I always like this author’s writing and the premise of newly out footballer Louis and journalist intern Harry who somehow snags the interview, is such a fun one. And I don’t know why it has an NR rating, there’s plenty of smut.

feel the chemicals burn in my bloodstream by togetherwecouldbealright (M, 123K) I read this one so, so long ago that all I remember is that I loved it, that there’s some really romantic and sweet moments, and that my notes from way back when only say, “OMG this one is so good! And I’ve barely gotten to the smut!” HAHAHAHA! Journalist Harry/prince Louis (this fic has been deleted, so the link is to a download).

#writers and poets #my fic rec #larry fic rec

[wincore]

atlas | kim dongyoung

pairing: doyoung x reader

words: 15.4k

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

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

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

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

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

song rec(s): playlist here !

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

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

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

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

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

“And then what?”

“Fuck.”

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

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

(Fun doesn’t.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you yell back.

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

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

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

“Loser.”

“No, you.”

“How clever.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You furrow your brows, heaving a deep sigh.

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

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

“Yeah.”

And the deal’s done.

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

Well, sort of.

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

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

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

God forbid you find Doyoung attractive during daytime.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In front of a wall?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s even better when he’s annoyed.

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

Funny.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Three,” he answers, to your surprise.

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

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

“One.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s a virgin?”

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

But Doyoung is a fucking fairytale.  

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

He’s right.

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

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

“Well, of course it is. I had your—”

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

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

“Where were you last night?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How much lon—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No way.”

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

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

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

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

“You seem to like him though.”

“Who said that?”

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

“We’re not.”

“—or fucking—”

“Ten.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, we’re not.”

Ten shrugs. 

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

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

“No.”

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

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

“It’s neither, promise.”

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“Oh, speaking of which, Hyungmin—”

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

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

“That sounds good to me.”

“Shut up. I’m not done speaking.”

You roll your eyes.

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

“What am I, your chemistry experiment now?”

“Well, you and Doyoung seem to be—”

“Don’t complete that sentence.”

“I was going to say something funny.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No. A little bit. Not enough.”

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

“I live here, idiot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Linguistics,” he answers.

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

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

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

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

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

“Really now?”

“Yes,” you snap, looking away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No way. You’re lying.”

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

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

“Hurts my ego.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ow,” he mutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Doyoung’s out of breath.

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

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

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

“It was a gift,” Doyoung mutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” Doyoung mutters.

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” he whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m busy,” he hisses. 

Something’s wrong.

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

Inviting him somewhere. 

Rather sensually.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Busy. Right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you respond, checking your watch.

“Oh.”

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

“Then we can- uh- we can—”

“Fuck?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

“Tell me you drove here.” 

He holds up his car keys in response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re disappointing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are we doing this?” you ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feel something close to guilt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I guess you’re right.”

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

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

You gulp, a sudden sourness rising at the base of your tongue. 

“Busy, huh? Didn’t know spending saturday evenings with girls also counted as busy,” you mutter against the cup, half-hoping he doesn’t hear you.

“What?” There’s a perplexed look across his face.

You wave your hand in dismissal. “Oh don’t mind me.”

“Are you talking about me giving a tour to the fresher girls?” Doyoung leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Hyungmin does that usually but Mr Man was sore from soccer practice and Friday fucking.” 

You blink. “Fresher… girls?”

“What, did you think I was at a brothel?” Doyoung laughs in amusement.

You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “No! No, of course not.”

You wave your hands about for a few more seconds, trying to come up with an explanation. This makes things rather embarrassing.

“Sorry,” you say finally. “I jumped to conclusions.”

Doyoung laughs, rather deep and heartily, and you wonder if your apology really did sound as stupid to him as it did to you. 

“You do that a lot,” he notes.

“Thanks,” you quip, cutting the pastry with your fork a little too forcefully. His laugh follows. (You hate it so much. It sounds like pure adoration.)

The next few moments consist of scrolling through your phones (because Doyoung says his ‘mouth hurts from talking to you’) and you would’ve been in a better state of mind if everyone wasn’t posting pre-Christmas photos with their families. 

“You know they’re opening that park. What’s it called- Winter Wonderland or something. You said you wanted to visit.”

You look up at Doyoung amused.

“Let’s be honest. You want to be in bed, Doyoung,” you say. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care,” he answers, looking at you with his doe eyes. “About you. You sulk when you’re upset.”

“I don’t sulk,” you reply but your smile is obvious when you exit the cafe. 

It’s like a date. The more you think of it that way, the more it makes you smile.

The evening is perfect—orange and pink and loving and happy. Doyoung trails behind you as you tread over the sidewalk with cheeky remarks about his speed.

“I’m in the track club, you know?” he huffs, finally tired of your jabs.

“As what, the start point?”

A fake, sarcastic laugh leaves him. “I wouldn’t get to see you if I walked ahead.”

You feel warmth creep up your face. You mumble, “that’s cheesy.” It’s too weak though, and it goes unheard. 

For the first time, you notice his eyes are a little like yours in what they reflect. You love them. 

So this is where the crowd went. The amusement park, or whatever you call it, is buzzing with a faint sort of excitement, mostly in the children that didn’t get to go on a vacation elsewhere. It’s quite the wonderland though so you can’t see them complaining.

“Do you think they’ll kick us out if we make out on the Ferris wheel?” you ask, smiling at Doyoung.

“I’m not making out with you on the Ferris wheel,” he replies, making a face.

You do end up making out on the Ferris wheel, and you get butterflies from it. It’s like a teenage dream but Doyoung looks even better. You pass on the cotton candy because frankly, you’ve had enough of sweet things. You sit at the frozen wooden seat, hoping it warms up while Doyoung brings the two of you some fries.

Your phone buzzes with a notification. Your eyes light up at the mail from your professor. You had turned in the term paper three days ago, weeks ahead of schedule and were particularly proud of the way it turned out. 

You look at the email and zero in on the word ‘redo’.

Your shoulders sag immediately. You spent four weeks on that—and it’s not good enough? You search frantically for how it could have gone wrong and come up with none. That’s not supposed to happen. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong. The week’s exhaustion swallows you up again.

When Doyoung returns, he looks at you concerned before quickly setting the fries on the table.

“(name). Is something wrong?”

“Huh?” Your voice sounds so weak and squeaky, you feel embarrassed. It’s embarrassing that after all these years, you still don’t know how to handle failure. 

Because it’s not supposed to happen. You tell yourself that over and over and it makes things worse.

You feel dirty, underneath all that dust and crumbled rock dangling in your hair. Whatever rests on your shoulders is cracking and collapsing, and you’re pushing in the wrong direction to make sure it all stays up. 

He reaches out his hand but you avoid it.

“No,” you mutter, weakly shaking your head.

You rub at your nose and eyes, hoping you can hide behind your forearms. Doyoung shouldn’t be seeing you like this, he doesn’t deserve to see you like this. You turn away from him, your palm gently pushing against the soft material of his shirt. 

Doyoung doesn’t move. Instead, he gently tugs on your wrist so you have no choice but to face him with your red-rimmed eyes. You’re not sure if it’s embarrassment or pity, but the concern in his eyes makes you cry harder. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he whispers. “You don’t have to find a place to cry.”

For the first time in adulthood, you learn what it’s like to lean your forehead against someone’s chest this way. Doyoung wraps his arms around you and the sound of his breathing soothes your near-erratic heart. 

“I worked really hard on it, you know?” you mumble against his chest. “My term paper.”

“I know,” he whispers.

Doyoung strokes your head delicately, fingers running through your hair with airy touches. Eventually, you let go of a final sigh and look up to his lips.

He seems surprised at the kiss but it’s all you can think of now. It’s gentler than usual and Doyoung moves cautiously though he seems to like it all the same. His arms feel comfortable around you. When he pulls apart, he looks at you yet still with careful concern.

“We can- we should stop if you want,” he says, and he means it. 

You shake your head. Night is creeping in overhead, deep and quiet and slow.

“I like you, Doyoung,” you say finally. “I really, really like you.”

Doyoung’s eyes widen, as though a rabbit wary of the traps it might set foot on but he eases into your touch almost immediately.

“I like… I like you too.” His lips waver but he looks away and takes a deep breath. “I like you so much.”

You smile and think that maybe everything is set right now, with his chin against your shoulder and your arms around him. 

Doyoung discards the jacket once you’re in your apartment, kissing you fuller now. Every other thought leaves you; you beg him to make you forget the rest of the world. The walls are comforting now that he’s here, and it’s warmer, hotter.

“Can we- Can we go a little slower?” you mumble, his arms still gentle when they wrap around your waist. He parts his lips from your neck to look at you momentarily before nodding.

You suddenly understand why he always makes you feel so good. There’s a certain fondness to his touch and warmth to his kisses. There’s no one quite like him, really.

“I love digging graves, especially if it’s my own,” you mutter against the pillow.

Doyoung laughs. “What did you do this time?”

“This time? Excuse me? Do you think I’m some sort of trouble child?”

“Hm. Let’s see. Yes.”

You pause. Why do you hesitate to tell him you slept with Hyungmin? It’s not like you were cheating—you weren’t dating Doyoung. Besides, that night with Hyungmin didn’t mean anything. A horrid feeling snakes around your throat, heavy and piercing. You resort to changing the topic.

“I’m… I took another course beyond my understanding.”

“That’s it?” he asks.

You nod.

No, no, no; it’s all backwards now and you don’t know how to reverse it.

Doyoung takes your hand in his, delicately and yet firm. His chest is against your back, bare and warm. When he presses his lips against your knuckles, the warmth that flushes through you makes you want to believe in something else entirely. You feel weak. 

A part of you argues that you feel honest—in a moment of clarity you don’t think you deserve. Neither vodka nor whiskey can make you this clear in the head; you struggle to breathe straight. How awful it is to feel warmth and not believe in it at the same time.  

“You can rely on me, you know?” he whispers.

The knot in your chest makes you want to cry.

You feel lonely and the opposite of it all at once. Doyoung is too much for you—too kind, too pretty and too true. He makes you realize too many things at once.

There are a few things in the world that can stifle loneliness. Like the notes Doyoung plays on the piano, like the songs he hums in the morning till you place open-mouthed kisses against his neck.

You realize, all of a sudden, that Doyoung really is your dearest friend.

And yet, you don’t think you deserve it. You’ve never loved, you believe, but you have. You don’t remember it well enough. The lovers’ touches you kept searching for led to this. Hypocrite. You wanted a lover’s touch and you rejected the love that came with it. What a complicated bundle of emotions. You weren’t always this way.

You loved your first cat when you were six, all the way till it died a warm death in your bed. You loved your mother even when she yelled at you for skipping your chores. You loved your middle school friends when you talked about comics and movies you saw for the first time. 

It’s hard to love the same way now.

You suppose sympathy needs a little backstory. Nothing is unconditional. 

It had all started when your heart had broken into two clean pieces. You put a bandaid on it and called it a day. No one taught you to ask for help.

Your friends know someone broke your heart; you tell them everything. Friends, friends—you wanted them so bad and yet, you keep them as far from you as you can. You pretend to be paper-thin and so shallow, sometimes you wonder if that’s all there is to you. But for all they know, they know next to nothing. It wasn’t just the aftermath of reckless puppy love. 

The first time your heart broke, it was watching your mother cry in the living room for a reason you didn’t understand. You wondered who committed the crime, who should be charged—and you found no one. A loveless marriage is cruel, yes, but you cannot point fingers. It isn’t just cruel; it’s infuriating.

The second time, the two pieces of your heart broke into a few more. It was a boy with an inviting smile and flags whose colour you couldn’t quite discern. They must have been red, but everything else was too—hearts, cheeks, lips, and the threads around your wrists. And eventually, he guided you to the conclusion that you are undeserving, unworthy, unloved. 

You were strong, however. It was easy to collapse on the bed and feel the weight of the world settling in, but you stood up again on shaking knees and you told yourself to have fun; you can have fun without feelings. You know better than to attach meaning to fun—you might hate insignificant things but it’s only fun if it’s pointless. You’re not letting go of this place you’ve worked so hard to arrive at, with all the shattered pieces in your hands.

It’s better to offer nothing at all than offer broken pieces.

“Can we stay like this?” Doyoung’s arms tighten around your waist, his breath shallow against your shoulder. “Just for a little bit.”

His voice is beautiful as always, but for a moment, it strikes you as sad.

Everything’s twisting up into knots and you are frantically running your fingers over them to straighten it all out. You know what it’s like to let things rot; and you are tired of it. Why can’t everything disappear for one moment? Why can’t you just let it be the two of you?

You sigh in response, nodding. 

“I might not know what’s happening in there,” he starts, drawing circles on your chest with his finger, touch comfortably light. “But…”

I’m here and I get it.

Is that what he wants to say? You don’t think you’ll get to know. You’re not exactly voicing yourself either. 

Stay the night. You want to say it but your lips are frozen.

Instead, you rub your thumb over the back of his hand, fitting into each other as perfect as a lie. You would tell him, you try to convince yourself, if you could say it with enough conviction. There’s no point to saying things that are half-meant, that are true but only just enough. You’re a coward.

And now, this has gotten complicated.

An end.

Tapping his pen against the desk, Doyoung grows increasingly annoyed. The council's next  meeting agenda isn’t going to finish writing itself but he can’t bring himself to either. Besides, Ten’s pacing outside his room is starting to get on his nerves.

“Ten!” he yells. “Can you quit it? You’re making too much noise.”

His disapproval is met with silence. For a moment, he spaces out and reflexively thinks of you, only to feel a confusing sort of emotion. It’s normal, he tells himself, and that it’ll sort itself out.

Doyoung feels like a glass box more often than not. If he breaks, who picks up the pieces? Who gets cuts all over their fingers?

‘Whoever breaks him’ should be the answer. But that’s wishful thinking. It’s not that simple. 

He’s so see-through that it’s painful. He used to tell Taeyong he’s wrong but he’s never been able to prove it. He is easy. It’s embarrassing.

But then again, part of him likes it when it comes to you. He likes it when you kiss him after a particularly heated disagreement, he likes when you get on his nerves just so he’d fuck you and most of all, he loves the push and pull. Fun is just that. He doesn’t know what he’d do if that heart of his he placed so gingerly into your palms falls and shatters.

The line between hate and love is thin; and he’s enjoying walking it too much.

He has nothing to offer but himself. He laughs at the thought and shakes his head. It’s somewhat dirty, and not just in the sexual sense.

“Ten!” he yells again. “Stop pacing!”

Getting up from his seat, he strides over to his door, swings it open and finds Ten scratching his head and glancing at his phone in repeated action. 

“Ten?”

He’s so in a trance that he hasn’t noticed Doyoung. He is the lovable sort of idiot if he ever chooses to be so. Most of the time though, he’s just a smartass.

“Oh, oh no, I’m a bad friend,” Ten mutters to himself, his pacing growing more restless. He scratches the back of his head, eyebrows furrowed and too inside his head to notice Doyoung. He wants to ask but something tells him he shouldn’t. 

Turns out, his apprehension isn’t strong enough these days. 

“Whose date did you crash?” Doyoung asks, more than annoyed already.

When Ten looks at him, Doyoung feels rather shriveled and freezes on the spot. Call it instinct but Doyoung respects fear and pain. Ten has a mixture of the two, amplified when he looks at Doyoung.

“Doyoung. Hey,” he says, trying to tone down the distress in his voice.

Doyoung still hasn’t recovered from the initial surprise of Ten looking that way.

“Did you fuck up? Did someone fuck up? Why do you look like that?”

Ten sits down on the small couch. “Long story… I guess. Too many details, you- you know? Just—”

“What the fuck happened?”

Ten still can’t look him in the eye. “The group chat’s a little…”

“Ten,” Doyoung snaps. “Cut the crap.”

“No, that’s- that’s what I’m- You’re going to be upset.”

Doyoung straightens, furrowing his brows. “I think I can fucking handle it.”

“You know that date I set up for (name) and Hyungmin?”

“You set that up?”

“(name) slept with Hyungmin.” 

Doyoung quietens. The silence seems to make Ten uncomfortable as he shifts in his seat, getting up when Doyoung speaks.

“So?”

Ten blinks. “You’re not upset?”

“Just what kind of loser do you think I am?” Doyoung mutters.

Glass shatters just that easily. Maybe he wanted you to shatter him. Maybe he was already cracking at the edges.

“Doyoung, you don’t have to—”

“Stop,” he exclaims a little louder than he intended. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m a grown man, I can handle shit like this.”

It still hurts though. You lied to him and he let you in. You lied to him. Doyoung sighs, returning to his room with a realization he should have had long ago. His night ends with more deleted drafts than he’s supposed to have and eventually, with increased discomfort, he delegates the job to Park Hyungmin himself with the excuse of sickness.

Doyoung does feel sick. He felt this way once, in highschool, but it had turned to red, hot anger ready to lash at anyone and everyone, spilling from his lips as easy as it was to breathe. And Doyoung can never feel that way towards you. He was different back then too, of course, but you—you’re unlike anyone he’s ever met. He loves the comfort of you, and something like that is hard to come by. 

He feels like laughing again but instead he finds tears on his cheeks. Silly boy, he can hear his mother tell him. You don’t give your heart to heartbreakers. 

So Doyoung falls asleep to the sound of upbeat music in his earphones, music he hates even just to pass the night. Morning will come and he will have to become stronger. Comfort is fleeting, after all.

With everything said and done, you know very well that if you were to tell someone you love them—genuinely, truly, from the heart—it would be Doyoung. It’s not a sudden realization, like the sky falling apart or a tidal wave crashing against the shore and sweeping away the city. It is like the gentle lapping of water, though, or the way the clouds change shape—natural and anything but alarming. You want to stare at it forever, and you want to believe that’s how it will be forever. 

“You told everyone we had sex?” Your voice is boiled to a shout. 

Hyungmin looks torn, lips moving but no explanation making its way out. “I- I told my friends, not everyone.”

“And you forgot that your friends talk? Everybody talks, Hyungmin, what were you thinking?”

He sighs before taking a step towards you. “Why are you so angry about it? As far as I remember, you had no trouble talking about whose pants you got into.”

You scoff. “With friends, not the whole campus.”

“That’s exactly what I did!” 

You cross your arms, feeling so upset you might cry and unsure as to why. You’re usually good at dealing with stuff like this, keeping things in the right place.

“It’s because of Doyoung, isn’t it?” 

You snap your head to Hyungmin. There’s a serene sort of look to him despite his unkempt appearance, and a look of understanding.

“I’m sorry. Really. But if you were so into him, you shouldn’t have called me that evening. It might not matter to me but…”

You broke his heart. All that devotion he had towards you led to this. 

“You’re right.” You choke on your words, leaning against the wall. “Fuck… Fucking…”

You turn around, making your way out of the hallway and hope the tears on your cheeks dry faster if you run.

You can’t remember the last time you ran. Your world didn’t need running from, it was right in the palm of your hands. Now that you look back, the world was always on your shoulders and heavy as it can be. Maybe you liked it—the weight. You could’ve shrugged it off any time; you didn’t need all those caging schedules or careful, elegant steps.

No. Atlas couldn’t shrug because his punishment was his existence. To have weight is to have meaning; and that is how you intended to live out your life.

Doyoung makes you see it differently. To love so fully even if it seems cautious—you, who has never loved at all, couldn’t comprehend it. And because he makes you see it differently, the box is now open and all hell is loose. 

For once, you don’t want to live in the world you crafted. You want more love, more hurt and you want to open the doors. You don’t mind hell if it’s for him.

You ring the bell to Doyoung and Ten’s apartment and pray the news hasn’t reached him yet. He said he was busy this weekend; maybe he was detached enough from his phone for once. You just want to be the person to tell him. It’s not a perfect apology otherwise.

Doyoung opens the door with pursed lips and cold eyes. There’s a sense of ease over his shoulders and arms but he won’t look at you and panic rises to your throat.

“We’re not fucking tonight, (name),” he says.

“That’s not- That’s not why I’m here.” Your voice is so meek, you wonder what happened.

Doyoung steps back, crossing his arms. He’s still looking at his feet and you feel the urge to reach for his face.

“I wanted to tell you- I… I just—”

“That you’re fucking other people?”

“God, Doyoung, stop with the fucking. I don’t care about that right now.”

“Really?” His voice is so sharp, it digs into your skin. “You were just in it for that. That’s the fun part in your stupid life, isn’t it?”

You feel a sharp pain in your nose and forehead. “You’re- Now that’s- Doyoung. I’m sorry. That’s what I wanted to say.”

“After—” His voice chokes up. “After everything is done? Stop with the excuses and face it for fuck’s sake. You aren’t made to fall in love. That’s why you dance around it all the time.”

Although he says that, he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds defeated.

“It’s not like you aren’t cautious,” you retort, throat feeling heavy. “You said it yourself- you don’t want to care too much.”

“I was wrong,” he says, voice hoarse. “I care about everything more than I’d like to admit. I care about you more than I’d like to admit.”

“The Hyungmin thing didn’t mean anything, okay? You were busy and—”

“So why did you lie?” He strains to not raise his voice. “Of course I knew our little thing didn’t mean shit to you. Why did you pretend it did? Last week, you said- you said—”

“Doyoung, last week- last week I- I wasn’t pretending, I swear.”

“You could’ve just saved yourself the trouble and the dignity.” A short, humorless laugh leaves him.

You feel your lips tremble, the explanation not quite made its way out yet. He looks so innocent like this, rabbit-like eyes watery and full of pain, pure the way they have always been. This is your mistake, isn’t it?

“Doyoung, please,” you manage to say. “That was wrong. I couldn’t clear up my head. Please don’t—”

“No. I was an idiot. Or you see me as one.” He frowns deeper, lips trembling. “I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have. We shouldn’t have been at the same fucking party and I shouldn’t have drank so much. You’re- I’m not that kind of person.”

You bite down your lip. “What kind?”

Doyoung laughs, the sound raspy and empty. “The kind to not fall in love with you.”

It damn near breaks your heart to look at him. You have to say something, it shouldn’t end like this. You’re desperate and all you think is that you don’t want it to end at all.

“Please, I thought of you as a friend, that’s why—”

“And this is what you call being a friend?” he cuts you off.

You feel the sting in your eyes and nose, making you turn sharply to the side. You wish he’d just make you cry. It makes you feel the rancid guilt all the more.

“Make Hyungmin your friend for all I care. Let’s stop this.”

You stare at your feet, unable to respond. 

“You can have every boy in the world, (name). Don’t come to me.”

“Can you just stop talking about everyone else?” you yell, desperate. “Do I talk about your exes? Seungjae or- or what’s-her-name—” 

“That’s different!” He looks distraught, breathing heavily and with a painful red flush over his nose and cheeks. He runs his hand through his hair, tousling it further. “You lied to me, (name). You lied.”

Your cheeks are wet and the look that flashes over Doyoung makes you think he wants to step right out to you. He stays frozen in place, however, looking away to the side.

“Did you notice?” he asks softly. “Even once? How much I cared?”

You can’t answer, letting the tears drip down your face. It’s getting colder and colder. 

Doyoung bites down his lip before parting them. “All we did was have sex anyway. So please just- just leave.”

You take a long few moments but nod, hugging your coat closer and stepping out of his apartment. You think you hear Ten’s footsteps but it’s followed by the bang of a door—this is how it ends then.

The line between hate and love is thin; and you are deserving of neither.

You perfect your next semester’s academics, and the next. It still feels empty. You go out to drink with friends and return to a messy bed you sleep in alone. You smile as always and you laugh as always. No one asks you how you are as always. You never needed anyone to ask you how you are.

Ten tries but you push him away. You don’t need to drag in other people into a mess you made. He feels sorry for the whole thing but you tell him it was you that spilled the paint, Ten just handed a dash of it to you.

You were right. You don’t deserve Doyoung. At least, you made it so that you don’t deserve him. 

‘It’s better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all’—it still hurts.

Every day is part of a list again. You doodled in some of the pages, when you thought you were starting to fall in love. There’s only a skeleton of it left now. Soon, you’ll let it crumble to dust too. 

You tear apart the planner sometime after graduation and cry and curse at yourself for doing that. No one’s good at parting with things they care about. You’re no exception.

It’s December again. 

This place is a little strange to visit right after graduating, especially with the memories flashing you by. Johnny said he booked one of the private booths (“A senior’s treat!”) but you feel your steps growing hesitant when you reach the neon signs by the stairs. It spells ‘The Meeting Place’ and smells of cigarettes just like it did the first time.

You stop midway up the stairs. For a moment, you think of Doyoung sitting there and wonder if you’ll ever be able to talk to him again. If you had the chance now, would you take it?

Of course, you wouldn’t. There’s too much to be set right and you can’t do it.

There’s supposed to be the six of you. Johnny mentioned Ten and you know Eunji’s invited too. You saw Jaehyun on the way here, still a student. You sigh. It must be him, the one they failed to mention to you. Kim Doyoung. There’s no one quite like him.

You spot him first. Looking a little forlorn as he gazes absentmindedly to the side, he faces away from you and you get the inevitable urge to run away. It’s a funny feeling. 

Your stomach is churning. You don’t want him to see you. Ten babbles on about something to Johnny, smiling like he found candy while clearing his drawers. Eunji looks tired, leaning against Johnny’s shoulder and you wonder if she already drank more than enough shots.

“(name).”

You jump at Jaehyun’s voice from behind you. 

“Hey,” you respond, giving him a wide smile.

He hesitates. “Are you okay? Not that you don’t look okay- you look really good actually. I mean, are you and… you know okay?”

“I don’t think so, Jaehyun,” you say and make your way to the booth.

It’s a little cramped for the six of you and Doyoung gets up before you can even greet him. It’s not like you deserve it anyway but it tugs at the wound.

“I’m going to go take a drag,” he mutters.

“You don’t smoke,” you say, looking up.

He stares at you momentarily and you look away. You think Ten and Johnny glance at you with pity but you don’t really care. 

 “Can I come with you?” you ask, barely a whisper.

“Sure,” he says, to your surprise.

The smoking area is so small, you’re surprised it’s even there. A glass structure overlooking the neighbourhood, there’s barely any light within. The only thing nice is how warm it’s in there. 

Doyoung lights his cigarette and then offers to light yours. It’s quiet, the music from inside numbed to the cold doors. You really can’t take it. You stub the barely consumed cigarette and throw it into the bin.

You’d rather just stay quietly in his presence.

“You’re not smoking,” he notes.

“It’s a bad habit.” You look out through the glass.

Doyoung chuckles. “You were a collection of bad habits.”

“And good ones too,” you quip. “I was a perfect student. I was perfect in most everything actually.”

Doyoung’s smile widens. “You were. You certainly were.”

A few more moments pass in silence, your eyes traveling over the outside scenery which seems to be growing duller by the second. City lights have never felt fainter.

“It was an accident, right?” You say suddenly. “The whole thing? Us?”

Doyoung hums. “Yeah. I fell in love by accident.”

You smile weakly. “Right. I never got to apologize.”

“I loved you on purpose.”

You look up at him. There’s not a lot of people who say what they mean. He looks the same as he used to under your grey blankets, with a warm blush over his cheeks and kind, wide eyes. 

“You’re so damn pretty,” he murmurs, “even now.”

You scan his face for signs of lying.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” you ask finally. 

Doyoung blinks before easing into laughter. “You- You’re- You’re the same as ever.”

You let yourself crack a smile.

“Doyoung I- I really am sorry,” you say quietly. “And I did- do care for you.”

Doyoung stubs out his cigarette and discards it before looking you in the eye. You notice he’s wearing his favourite black turtleneck in the proximity, the grey plaid coat covering most of it. You really liked that look on him.

“I’m sorry,” you say once again. “I want you to know that. I didn’t want to hurt you and I promise I won’t ever do it again.”

You mean it. You’re never going to hold glass again. He doesn’t deserve it.

“That’s a problem,” he responds, breath mingling with yours. “I want you… I want you to hurt me. If you really do love me, I’ll take it.”

“Doyoung,” you whisper, turning away despite your whole body screaming at you to give in. “I meant it. I can’t hurt you.”

Doyoung cups your cheek with one hand, glancing at your lips for a moment.

“You’re warm,” he says.

He’s warmer.

“I want to kiss you,” he says.

You want to kiss him too.

“We went about this all wrong, didn’t we?” he asks.

“We did,” you answer, voice barely above a whisper. “I did.”

Doyoung pulls back. “Then let’s start again. I’m Kim Doyoung, I majored in linguistics. I was student council president and I made a mistake.”

You smile. “We don’t have to do that.”

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “After all the trouble I went through to make a good introduction?”

The two of you laugh, and it gets warmer. 

“I’m (name),” you say. “I was a top student and I made a bigger mistake, Kim Doyoung.”

“Oh? I wonder what it was.”

“Kind of a long story.”

“I’ve got all the time for you.”

You smile and start. He responds with gentle kisses. You’re piecing your world back together again; but this time it’s feather-light and fits right in the palm of your hand. 

#kim doie perfect man bye #doyoung x reader #nct x reader #nct doyoung scenarios #nct scenarios #nct imagines #doyoung imagines #nct fanfic #doyoung fanfic #nct angst #doyoung angst #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 angst #nct college au #moonwrites #okaaay idk what this is either #if you get annoyed midway thru the fic you are perfectly valid <3 #i will literally never write smth like this ever again 🤡🤡🤡 #if you notice inconsistency in character no u dont #(i had to fix up some earlier inconsistencies but it gave more inconsistencies maybe i should give up writing for good)

[soulmate-game]

Well, here is the stupid thing I was alluding to. It’s mostly a filler chapter, but yeah.

Harley’s Plea for Help, Chapter 3

“Well, that took a while,” a relatively deep female voice smoothly drawled. The plants placed right next to the window pulled away, no longer blocking the pathway inside. The two figures who were perched right outside the windowsill took the invitation and climbed inside, the shorter of the two looking at the woman who had spoken and smiling widely.

“Auntie Ivy!” Marinette happily exclaimed, making the redhead across from her grin back.

“That’s me. It sure is nice to actually see you in person, little Marigold,” she held out her arms for a hug, which Marinette instantly ran in to accept. “Video calls are never quite enough, are they? You’re so tiny! Are you sure you eat alright?”

“Auntie Ivyyyyyy,” Marinette whined, knowing full well that Ivy was just teasing her.

“So, what took you all so long?” Ivy asked Red Hood, even as she kept her arms wrapped around her soon-to-be daughter in law. “Usually you bats are all about getting back on the streets to punch people, we didn’t think you’d be bringing her in at almost one in the morning.”

Hood shrugged, thumbs hooked in his pockets. “Your little garden fairy nearly gave us the slip. Went straight out the back exit instead of doin’ anything showy like we half expected and we almost missed her.”

“I stopped as soon as I noticed who they were, I swear!” Marinette pulled away from Ivy, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “I didn’t expect Momma to send them to babysit me before our first full day being in Gotham. In hindsight, though, I really should have.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Ivy agreed with a smirk, ruffling Marinette’s hair and making her pigtails go a little crooked. “And I know for a fact that you’ve done some stunts off your balcony back in Paris, so at least I know you can be responsible and hold yourself back from doing the same here. Must get that from me, because we both know it doesn’t come from Harley.”

Marinette and Hood both had to laugh at that. Being responsible was definitely not a trait that Marinette could have inherited from anybody in her family tree, that was for sure.

“Are ya makin’ fun of me in front of my daughter?” the comically scandalized voice announced the arrival of one Harley Quinn, who walked into the room in white onesie pajamas with a poker print on them. All of the “joker” cards were crossed out heavily with red sharpie, and a few of them had black-sharpie devil horns and handlebar mustaches vandalizing them. Marinette even caught one such card with a googly eye on it, the matching eye having fallen off and leaving only a small circle of since-dried hot glue where it used to be. “If you guys are gonna be that way, fine! Ivy dyes her hair!”

“No she doesn’t,” Marinette deadpanned, clearly fighting against a giant grin. The corners of her lips gave her away, they never stopped twitching with repressed mirth. “But you do. I got the pictures to prove—- aah!” Harley tackled her daughter to the ground, attacking her with tickles immediately.

“Take it back! My hair is naturally blond!”

“Yeah, naturally— hahahahaha! Sandy blonde! You— hahaha! Have just as much brown— stop I can’t breathe! hahahaha!— as yellow!”

“Hmph,” Harley finally backed off, crossing her eyes and looking away from Marinette with an exaggerated pout. “How dare you reveal my darkest secret?”

“I was a natural redhead even before I got my powers,” was all Ivy had to say, looking all too amused at this turn of events. “Your original costume completely covered your hair.”

“Don’t worry, Harley,” Red Hood butted in, reminding the three girls that he was still here. His tone suggested that he was definitely smiling under his helmet. “We found out about your hair dye years ago.”

“I just cover up the brown parts! It’s not like I’m changin’ much,” she argued before standing up again. “Thanks for gettin’ my cupcake back safely, little birdie. Oh, that's right! I made cupcakes! Hang on, lemme grab one for your trip back!” with that, she span on her heels and ran back further into the apartment. Marinette dashed over to Hood, immediately shoving him to the window.

“Quick, save yourself! Momma can’t bake for her life!” she whispered urgently. “I’ll say you were called away for an emergency, just hurry!”

“It’s not even a lie, getting away from Harley’s baking is an emergency,” Ivy agreed, waving as the vigilante took their advice and fled. It was only three seconds later that Harley slid back into the room, nearly falling due to the feet of her onesie having pretty much zero friction. Her face immediately fell when she saw that her victim was gone, leaving her standing there with a cupcake that was about twice as much frosting as actual cake, covered in sprinkles like a kid’s craft project that was smothered in glitter. The frosting was also shapeless, just heaped on the cake like a half-melted scoop of ice cream. She sighed in despair.

“There goes my chance of giving a bat diabetes. You guys warned him, didn’t ya?”

They both nodded shamelessly. “We’re not that cruel, Harley,” Ivy defended, getting up from her spot on her cushioned armchair and wrapping an arm around her fiance’s waist before she kissed the top of her head gently. “Hood got our little Marigold back safe and sound, and he’s even started a garden at his apartment. He doesn’t deserve to be poisoned by you.”

“I thought you said he got a single cactus at the flea market last month,” Harley deadpanned, making Ivy shrug.

“Might as well be a garden for him, and it’s something he’s not likely to kill so that’s a plus to me. He’s actually taking really good care of the little baby.”

“Speaking of garden!” Marinette gently took the sad excuse of a pastry away from her mom and sat it down on a side table before ushering both of them over to the living room and onto the sofa. “My garden back home is growing so big, I don’t think I can keep everything much longer. I barely have room to walk on the terrace, with all the vines and leaves and branches. Got any ideas of what I can do?”

“Of course! Do you have pictures, Marigold?”

—*—*—*—*—*

Slipping back through her hotel window at six in the morning was risky, since it involved climbing the wall and hoping nobody saw, but her classmates were so unpredictable that it was the only way she could be sure nobody would find out that she had violated curfew and snuck out. Of course, having Red Robin waiting outside her mom’s apartment’s terrace to escort her back helped. At least she knew that no street cams would record her comings or goings, and his grappling hook made the whole scale-the-hotel-wall business much more efficient.

Once she was inside, she sighed happily. “Thanks, now—“ her apology was cut off as Red Robin held up a finger to tell her to wait.

“Hold that thought, be right back. Don’t move.”

Thinking, rightfully, that something was wrong, Marinette obeyed. She watched Red Robin leap off of her hotel balcony and disappear into the streets. Immediately, she began a search to make sure her room had been left untampered— everything important had been packed in the backpack that she had taken to her mom’s place, but still. Could never be too careful. By the time she finished checking for bugs or any signs of snooping, Red Robin landed back on her balcony.

“Here we go.”

Turning to face him, Marinette opened her mouth to ask what the problem had been— only to tear up a little and walk over to the vigilante.

“Oh, my hero. Truly, my one and only savior. Knight in shining red Kevlar. I’m running on two hours of sleep and you have read my mind!” The pigtailed drama queen eagerly took the coffee that he offered her, and he sipped from a larger cup that looked like he had grabbed it from the same place. Marinette almost instantly sighed in gratitude when the hot drink lightly scalded her tongue. This. This was the elixir of life.

To his credit, Red Robin was able to restrain himself to merely an amused smirk. Probably because he was running on just as little sleep as she was. “Sorry it’s only a small, I figured it was best to have something you could finish quickly and easily hide the evidence for. If you need more caffeine, I happen to know that Wayne Enterprises has a very good coffee shop in their main hall. You’ll be touring there today, right?” He asked, taking another sip as he waited for the answer that he already knew.

Marinette nodded absently, drinking in the euphoria of her coffee as she tried to both savor it yet finish it as quickly as safely possible. When she came up for air, she said; “Yeah, that’s right. We’re touring Wayne Enterprises for most of the day, having lunch there, and leaving for dinner after the tour. Then we have a visit to the Gotham Museum of Fine Art, and we’ll stay there until about eight-thirty before heading back to the hotel.”

Red Robin nodded, then turned and looked out the window at the slowly rising sun. Sunrise was always a bit later in Gotham, partly because of the abundance of high-rises and partly because of the thick cloud cover and ever-present fog on the edges of the city making everything seem darker than it should have been. He had to be at work soon himself, which is why he had been chosen to escort her to the hotel in the first place, but that meant that he had to be heading off.

“Alright. We arranged for a bodyguard we trust to keep an eye on your class during the WE tour, but he doesn't know who you are or that we’re the ones who asked. We’re still in the process of arranging someone to shadow you after the tour, but we’ll tell you about that once it’s solidified. Until then, follow the usual self-defense procedures if you suspect anyone of following you. You have the panic button we gave you?”

Marinette nodded, gulping down the last of her coffee and carefully putting it in her room’s tiny trash can. “Got it. Thanks, again. Seriously,” she met his eyes— or, probably did since they were hidden behind that weird white film that the whole Batfam had covering the eyeholes of their masks. “I mean it. For listening to me, for listening to Mom. It means a lot. I’ll keep the panic button on me, and I’ll use it if I think I can’t handle a situation on my own. I’ll cooperate with the people you get to watch over the class, and I’ll do my best to not get into any trouble. No promises, but I’ll do my best,” she maintained eye contact until Red Robin nodded, hiding his expression behind his coffee cup. After a second, he cleared his throat.

“Well then. We’ll contact you once we have anything to say about your intel. Until then, I gotta go. And by the way?”

Marinette tilted her head curiously as Red Robin paused for just a moment on her balcony railing, aiming a smirk back at her. “Yeah?”

“Welcome to Gotham.”

And if she couldn’t help but smile widely as he grappled off into the fog-veiled sunrise? Well, only she had to know. She wasted no time closing and locking the glass balcony door, and pulling the curtains over it completely. Once that was done, she couldn’t help but do a little shimmy of Joy. She was caffeinated, she met Auntie Ivy in person for the first time, she got to sleep next to her momma— and she was in Gotham! Technically her hometown— or town she was conceived in? Didn’t matter. Point was, even with the chaos and dark energy clouding the very air, she couldn’t help but feel like she belonged in that city. Like that was where she was always meant to end up, where she could thrive and the environment that she was made to thrive in. The environment that she was born to start fixing.

She beamed at herself in her bathroom mirror as she gave herself one more once-over. Yeah, so far her visit to Gotham was going much better than she could have hoped. Now, she just had to make sure it stayed that way.

Three businesslike raps sounded against the door to her room, just in time for Marinette to feed Tikki one more cookie and straighten her purse on her shoulder. Madame Mendelieve’s voice called out from the other side of the door in her usual no-nonsense bark;

“Dupain-Cheng! Room check! It’s time to get up, we’re meeting down in the lobby in ten minutes.”

Marinette ran up to the door, not quite able to contain her energy, and swung it open with her trademark large, beaming smile.

“Way ahead of you, Madame Mendelieve!”

Her science teacher blinked, adjusting her glasses on her nose as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

“Ah. You’re already awake and ready?”

Marinette giggled and nodded. “Yup! I was so excited for the tour that I could barely sleep! Does the hotel breakfast include free coffee?”

—*—*—*—*—*

The hotel breakfast did, in fact, include coffee. What it did not include, however, was free coffee that Marinette could reasonably stomach. Especially after the heaven in a cup that Red Robin had gotten for her earlier, the watered down motor oil in the hotel lobby had been unbearable. She had barely managed two sips before regretfully throwing the rest away. Which is what brought her to stand in line at the very same coffee shop that Red Robin had mentioned was in the main hall of Wayne Enterprises, as the rest of her class mingled and waited for their teachers to check their tour group in and their tour guide to arrive.

“Hmm. Sorry, this is my first time ordering here,” she apologized when she reached the counter, gaining a slight lopsided grin from the barista at the register. “Um, I usually like strong coffee, with a lot of caffeine, but I also like something sweet. I don’t need anything too complicated though, do you have any recommendations?”

The barista gave her a customer service smile that seemed just a tad softer at the edges than usual. “Sure! So, we can add an extra shot or two of espresso to any of our drinks, to make it stronger and give it an extra kick. If you’re looking for good sweet flavors, the classics are our white chocolate or caramel. But we also have a seasonal syrup right now that I personally love, which is our cinnamon butterscotch. Did you wanna try that?”

Marinette smiled widely. “That sounds delicious! Then, if I could have your largest size café latte, hot, with… two extra shots and that syrup? Does that sound good?”

The barista actually let loose a soft laugh, already keying in the order. “If you’re a coffee lover and a sweet tooth at the same time, then you’ll love it. If not, come back during your tour’s lunch break and I’ll make you something else.”

Marinette made a little more small talk as she handed over the proper cash for the order, and grabbed her drink after just another minute’s wait. She turned around, taking a sip of the unsurprisingly heavenly coffee and started off to join her class.

Only to realize none of them were where she had left them. She sighed, starting to reach into her purse to see if anyone had texted her about where they were going, but a heavy presence stopped her. She could feel him approaching from in front of her, slightly to her right, but she couldn’t hear him at all. On guard, she straightened up and turned to observe the potential threat.

A security guard. Marinette blinked, running over what she had been told earlier that morning. Was he..?

He seemed to notice her instinctually defensive posture because he raised his hands to show he meant no harm. “Sorry, didn’t mean to catch you off guard,” he apologized. “I’m the guard that was assigned to your tour group. I offered to stay behind until you got your coffee while the rest of your group went ahead and got the run-down on all the boring rules and whatnot of the tour. Figured you’d already know everything they had to say anyway, you’re the class president right?”

Marinette relaxed her posture, nodding and sending the man a relieved smile. “Yeah, that’s right. Well, that explains why they left without me then. Usually Madame Mendelieve is strict about following rules though, how’d you convince her to go on without me?”

The man chuckled, jerking his head to show that she should follow him as he began to lead the way to a side door. Marinette kept her guard up just in case, but wasn’t too worried. If nothing else, she was still in the middle of a super crowded building and the other security guards around didn’t seem concerned. She could easily yell for help if she needed to.

“Well, can’t you tell it was my devilish charm?” He teased, grinning. He waited until she rolled her eyes to continue; “but really, I’m like a second tour guide. She made me show a lotta proof that I’m actually assigned to you guys and not just faking it, not that I can blame her. Eventually she saw the logic in my suggestion and agreed. See, there they are,” he pointed casually ahead of them in the large side hallway they had entered. Sure enough, near the end of the hallway was her class at what looked to be the tail-end of a standard rules-and-guidelines speech from the tour guide. “By the way,” the guard spoke up again, holding his hand out. “My name’s Jason. You’ll be seeing me more often, since I’m supposed to guard you guys for all of your visits to the Tower. Call me if you need help with anything, ‘kay kid?”

Marinette grinned, now positive that this guy really was the guard that Red Robin had said was assigned to her class. She switched the hand she was holding her coffee in so that she could properly grab Jason’s hand for a shake.

“Got it, Monsieur Jason. Let’s both hope I don’t end up needing your help though, I think that would be easier on both of us,” she joked, earning a chuckle from the large man. And— yeah, now that she was relaxed, he really was big, wasn’t he? Then again, Marinette didn’t always realize when people were a bit larger or more buff than they should be. Living with her dad had seriously skewed her perception of the normal size of an adult male (which, she learned when she was seven, most definitely was not almost seven feet tall and muscled enough to make a pro wrestler jealous). But she would like to think she had gotten better in that aspect, and Jason was definitely a big guy. A little over six feet tall, she thought, and though the guard outfit hid a good portion of his physique, she could tell he carried enough muscle to do serious damage if he wanted to.

With a wave, she left him to join her class and sipped at her latte. She had figured that the Bat Clan’s criteria for civilians that they would put to guard her class had to be high, but now she had to wonder just how high. Most police officers or security guards were fit, sure, but not like Jason. Casting a quick glance back at him, she confirmed that he had quite a few faded but visible scars. Again, more than your average officer even for Gotham. Who had they tasked with her class’ safety, exactly?

An elbow in her side distracted her from her thoughts, forcing her to blink and stop her cup from going back to her lips. The grin of none other than Adrien Agreste greeted her when she snapped out of her own head long enough to pay attention to her surroundings. He jerked his head to indicate that the class was already starting to move off.

“Come on, Mari or you’ll get left behind again,” he teased. She grinned back at him, rolling her eyes but falling into step beside him as they followed at the back of their class. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were gonna marry that coffee. You haven’t zoned out that badly in years,” his tone was light and cheery, but Marinette didn’t miss the concern in his emerald eyes. She sighed, gently bumping her shoulders against his in silent reassurance.

“I’m fine. Just didn’t get much sleep last night, that’s all. But this really is good coffee. Elixir of the gods,” then, just to provoke him, she took a giant gulp of the still steaming hot drink. Adrien grimaced in pained sympathy even though Marinette didn’t seem affected at all.

“Oww, Marineeeeeeeeeette,” he whined. “Don’t do that, my throat hurts just watching you guzzle hot coffee like that,” he complained, rubbing at his neck to make his point clear.

“Wimp,” she teased, unrepentant. Adrien just groaned dramatically.

“I’m not a wimp, you’re just concerningly used to burning your throat from the inside out,” he accused. “Anyway, how’d it go?” He was being deliberately vague, but it was obvious to her what he meant. He was only one she had told about visiting her mom, after all, just in case she needed a quick getaway.

In fact, he was the only one of her friends that she had even told about her biological parents. Alix knew too, but only because of time shenanigans. Marinette was fine with it now, but still.

“It went great,” she smiled widely at him, keeping her voice low but casual. “If I have a chance, I’ll introduce you sometime during the trip. I have a feeling you’ll love Auntie Selina, but I have to meet her first. All I have so far are stories.”

“Fair enough,” Adrien agreed easily. “But you don’t have to, you know that right? I’d love to meet your family, but I’m also fine just being your pseudo-brother like I have been up until now. I know it might be a bit… uncomfortable, for you.”

“Nah,” Marinette shrugged. “Nerve wracking, maybe. But that’s also about half the things that I do in my life period, anxiety is no joke. I’ll catastrophize for a while, but I know you’ll love them and they’ll love you.”

“Sounds like they have paw-some taste,” he didn’t even miss a beat with his puns, earning a playful glare for his efforts.

“Never mind. You’re a heathen. Disowned. Who are you?”

“Mariiiiii,” he whined, causing them both to laugh for a while before focusing on the tour.

So far, so good, Marinette thought.

—*—*—*—*—*

Part 1 Part 2

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