#did they ever even have a relationship? was it just a complex blend of unhealthy and protective and yearnful feelings?

[maddenleftchat]

I am so sorry 👑 anon! I deleted the original request! So I'm gonna try my best to stay along the lines of the original request!

(a/n) this is going to be a little bit out of my normal set up, because I'm a dumb and messed up the request)

YANDERE GANG LEADER X GN!READER

Triggers: obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, stalking, unwanted attention, superiority complex (?), Extremely unhealthy obsession, unhealthy habits, mention of being kidnapped, mention of being followed, unhealthy relationships, toxic relationship, and heavy yandere like behaviors. Please be careful when reading.

Enjoy.

Yandere Gang Leader

~Desire~

(this is what he looks like btw)

Desire, a feeling that can suffocate one's lungs. It strings along their inside's, slowly corrupting the entire being. It's threads sews it into the thoughts, creating a patch work mural of the desire's end goal. Desire ties itself to the neck of one's neck, choking them with greed. Desire climbs into the heart, slowly infecting the innocents. Desire is a dangerous creature. One that no mortal weapon could ever kill. A creature that infests every breathing thing on the earth. Desire is a very dangerous thing.

~

Cars flew past with exhaust of their loud engines filling the once clean air. The clatter and chatter of the world around you was drowned out by the blasting music in your ears. You were stuck on another planet of your imagination with your dream life. Sure, your current life was not that bad, you had a nine-to-five, and an apartment in New York City. But things were boring, it felt as if your days had begun to blend together. Almost as if the days were just small pieces and strokes of profound colors only made to be blurred together to blend in with a brown background; with the dry brush dragging them on longer than needed.

But it had been a long day, the sun's setting beams stretched to your cheeks. It's warm, barely able to be felt, as it's graceful touch merely grazes your soft skin. But it's brightness was more than enough to greet your gaze. It's blinding gold light causing you to squint. With the loss of parts of your vision it was hard to see the incoming man towards you.

It seemed as soon as the impact took place, time slowed. Your wide eyed expression seemed to slowly appear on your face, as you collided with the taller man's chest. The impact could be the equivalent to a tsunami hitting a huge stone wall. The both of you and the man ended up on the ground. With the sun no longer invading your eyes, you could properly see the situation. The surrounding people's eyes stared at you and the man, their gaze felt like daggers piercing through you. You were quick to look down at the man laid under you, his weight suit scuffed with the wet dirt from that day's previous rain. He was wearing sunglasses, a smart idea, and they now sat on the side walk a few feet away from his face. The lenses had popped out, and they looked expensive. At this point, your heart pounded to the point it was almost like it was going to jump out of your chest. The feet that have carried all these miles then decided it was time to get away. So that's what they did, you quickly stood up. And right when you were going to make the grand escape, a large calloused hand grabbed your ankle.

And a deep voice spoke, "Aye, help me out here! It's fucking rude to not help, do you not have any manners left?!"

Turning your head to the voice, the man had sat up and rubbed the back of his head.

With your heart dropping even farther than you thought it could, it took you a moment to process his words. Hell, you were still processing the entire ordeal.

"Hello?!" He spoke once again, you were quick to answer this time.

"Oh-..y-yeah! Here!" You said quickly, the feeling of anxiety leaked into your tone.

With adrenaline still pulsing through you, you grabbed the man's hand, and pulled him to his feet. This was highly unexpected on his part, how the hell were you that strong?

You then scattered over to the expensive sunglasses. You ran to them like a chicken was looking for food. In the state of your anxious panic, you failed to notice his amused smirk.

His whole mood just went from irritated to amused. You were quite the interesting thing.

Once your hands finally got a hold on the glasses and their missing lense, you shamefully brought this over to the man. You were blushing from how embarrassed you were. People were still watching you, some even recording. You so badly wanted to rip those phones from their hands and destroy the devices.

The man then held out his large hand from the glasses, that smirk quickly disappeared into a scowl once more when the glasses were placed in his hands.

"You're kidding me right?" His voice was wrapped with anger.

"I-I'm so sorry sir! I'll buy you a new pair! I promise!" You said a bit too loudly.

The man straightened his suit and stared down at you, "Fine then. Do it, I'll show you which ones I want."

The man's immediate words in actions took you off guard. "Wait- what? Like right now right now?!" You were quick to follow the man, but he walked fast.

"Yes right now, right now." He said not even bothering to give you a second glance.

"Well can I at least get your name?" You sounded exhausted.

As you asked this question, you were currently standing behind him, and the question itself caused the man to slow down. Since you stood behind him, you couldn't see the smirk creep on his face again.

"Edmond. Edmond Carlo." He said picking up his speed again.

Though you kept up this time and smiled, "Oh, well, I'm (Name)."

"I didn't ask," Edmond spoke coldly.

You went quiet after that. Though this quiet gave you a moment to finally process the man in front of you. His entire vibe was pure intimidation. He was tall, muscular, with dark hair. His shoulders were broad. His facial expressions seemed to hold nothing, but a resting bitch face and irritation.

Edmond walked with long strides full of confidence, making the people in front of him move. It was a bit hard to keep up, but you managed. Edmond walked with his head held high, while you walked with your gaze down at your feet. And within the little amount of time you had spent around Edmond you just now realized how self conscious he made you feel when you were around him.

The man's entire vibe screamed nothing less of confidence, and power. He seemed so young, but had his entire life together. While you were over here in your late 20s/early 30s working a stupid 9-5.

After being lost in thought for so long, you didn't even notice when Edmond stopped in front of you until you bumped into him... again.

"Watch it, woman." He spoke in a warning tone.

Just as you were about to talk back, he glared back at you. It was quick to shut you up.

As your eyes dragged away from Edmund you looked in front of you, only the relies you stood at a store's entrance. Though it wasn't just any store. It was an expensive looking store, a place where you could only dream to shop…

"Let's just get this over with…" You mumble walking into the store, not hearing the amused chuckle from Edmund behind you.

As you walked into the store you were greeted with the smell of pure wealth. You looked around and it was surrounded with designer purses, expensive jewelry, designer clothing, and things of similar taste. Dreads spilled over you at this point, you were just now realizing the reality of your situation. You would likely walk out of this place spending hundreds of dollars on a pair of fucking sunglasses for this man you didn't even know. But it was better than being jumped by Edmund's possible goons. As you glanced back you were greeted with the sight of Edmund looking at you.

"Well what are you waiting for? Go pick out the pair you want." You mutter yet again.

Edmund scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Quit muttering and mumbling so much. It'll make you seem like an even bigger loser."

You so badly wanted to retort back with a clever and snide comment, about your logic over took you when you realize that would just be even a stupider of a decision. So you remain silent leaving your disagreeing thoughts to yourself. As you followed Edmund around the store you were constantly looking at your watch. You fiddled with your fingernails impatiently and made a habit of looking at your watch, looking at Edmund, and looking back down at your fingernails to fiddle with.

And you would soon find out that this greatly annoyed Edmund. As he quickly turned to you with a frown and spoke in a low whisper, as to not make a scene, "What the hell are you doing? You're gonna drive me insane… what is so important that you have to keep looking at the time?"

You jumped slightly at his sudden stern tone, and moved your gaze to his frowning expression, "I just have a cat that I need to get home to."

Your response to Edmund was only met with yet another scoff. But he did seem to quicken his pace slightly. Soon after he picked up a pair and placed them on his face.

"These. What do you think?" He asked, turning to you.

You studied his face for a moment gathering an opinion. "To be honest, I like the other pair of you." You said pointing to the pair he has previously tried on. They were a classic wire style with golden frames.

"Really?" He asked, grabbing the golden frames and examining them, "You don't think they look tacky?"

You shook your head before speaking, "No. They fit your eye shape nicely." You complement and notice the small nod he gave you.

He put down the pair he had previously on his face, and called over an employee. The employee took the golden framed glasses and walked over to the checkout desk, with you and Edmund following close behind. You sighed and grabbed your credit card already imagining the big dent this is going to put in your bank account. As the employee rang up the glasses the grand total ended up to be 212$ (USD). Reluctantly you handed your card to the cashier, and Edmund wore a victorious and amused smirk. Oh how badly you wanted to wipe it off his face…

After the transaction was complete the cashier bagged up the glasses after putting them in their casing and handed you the bag. You took the bag and handed it to Edmund. Then made a quick exit, with a tomato red face. Though you did have your "new friend" quickly follow you out.

You then turned to him and spoke once more, "Once again I'm really sorry for breaking your glasses, but I have to leave now." You said turning away and not giving Edmund a chance to respond, to his displeasure.

But, not to worry, you two would have plenty of time within the coming future.

That night you made it home just in time for your cat's feeding, but you were really too tired to do anything else. Least to say you collapsed in your bed that night and had a good night's sleep.

~

As months pass you slowly begin to forget about the situation. Your mind began to be occupied with other more important things. Such as friends, work, family, and of course your wonderful cat. You couldn't allow yourself for that little situation to take up your entire life. Though you could not be lying to yourself, That situation did take up a good portion of your paycheck. But nothing a little overtime couldn't fix.

Throughout the next month you felt you were busier than ever. Your boss made you work later nights, and your friends wanted to hang out with you more. But you couldn't really complain, it made you happy that your life was beginning to feel full again.

Though no matter how much you worked, or how much time you spent with your friends you couldn't shake this feeling. This feeling of constantly being looked at. The feeling of constantly being watched. The feeling of no privacy. The constant feeling of being uncomfortable, and sometimes even dreadful. But every time you feel like you were being watched, and every time you looked around, there was always nothing. Nobody was ever looking at you. Nothing was out of the ordinary, everything around you looked completely normal. Were you just going crazy after all this time? All this time spent in this big city with no silence? Maybe that was the case. Or at least that's what you chopped it up to. It's the only logical thing you wanted to think about especially after things started going missing. They weren't big or expensive by any means, as a matter of fact they were small things. Maybe like an old shirt you haven't worn in months and you just completely forgot about. And the only reason you noticed it went missing is because it was the only shirt that went with your outfit that day. Or that one pen you always use to write down quick notes because it's most convenient. Or maybe it was even a flower from the bouquet that you keep by your bed. The flowers usually help brighten up the room…

You were too scared to even think of the possibility that somebody might be doing this. You really tried your best to convince yourself that you were just doing all these yourself. Maybe you just got rid of the shirt because you thought you would never wear it again. Maybe you just lost the pen among the clutter. Maybe... You just threw the flower away because I was wilting? These were the only logical things that you could come to. It's not like you could go to the police... You didn't have any proper evidence. For all they could know you could just be drugged up and so high that you've been doing all this yourself and driving yourself to paranoia.

But a small part of you knew. A part of you knew that this wasn't your own doing…. But oh well, life goes on and you have to go with it. You didn't have time to think of these things.

Though while you had been focusing on other things in your life, he hadn't even moved on. After you left him without a response in front of that store he was locked in. His infatuation with you was confirmed. He didn't know what it was about you. Maybe it was your strong want to talk back to him, but you were too submissive to actually say anything. Or maybe it was your strong want to be held responsible for your actions. He always did appreciate people that took responsibility. Or maybe it was just your doe eyes, the way they sparkled with innocence. You didn't know any other way of living, other than the middle class 9-5. And he loved that about you. He loved how you were so unaware of the thousands of other ways to live, and he loved how you picked what you were comfortable with and stayed with it.

The moment after you left his site after that situation, he called one of his men to come and pick him up. But he didn't end that call before asking his men to dig up any and everything they could find on you. And trust me... They found a bunch of stuff. It Doesn't even matter if you use social media or if you are famous or not, anybody can find out anything on anybody if they have the right resources. And lucky for him he did. And so he watched you and watched you for the coming months. And prided himself with taking little souvenirs. Like an old shirt of yours. You wouldn't know what's gone. Or that one pen you always use when in a rush, maybe you'll notice that's gone and it'll make you a bit weirded out. And a flower from your room. He needs to know your preferences.

To be honest, he didn't know what sparked his obsession. Maybe it was the fact that you gave off such a motherly vibe, unlike the one thing his own mother could provide for him. Or maybe it was just because he was lonely being at the top, and he needed a little plaything to keep him entertained. Hell he may never even know what started this; But he does no one thing. He knows he needs you.

Edmond watched you through many ways. Whether it be ordering his own men to watch you, or watch from the camera's he has placed in your apartment. It didn't matter, as long as he got to see you, and see the little scared reactions from you. Edmund had the right to scare you all he wanted. You are his after all.

~

It had been about 6 months since the feeling of being watched started. No matter what you did you can seem to shake it off, but you didn't want to tell anybody about it either. They might think you're crazy... But you would soon learn that would be your biggest mistake.

~

It was a late night on a Thursday. It was about 11:00 at night, while the streets weren't empty they weren't exactly crowded either. You usually like to take the back roads so you can get home faster. And tonight was no different.

You walked at a fast pace with your bag on your side and your coat wrapped around your body. You were aware of all of your surroundings, and we're ready to defend yourself if anybody decided to mug you. You could never be too safe in this big city. Though it was when you began to let your guard down did they strike. You were just approaching your apartment building, when a black van pulled up to the side of the road by you. You didn't even have time to process it before you were being pulled into the van with a bag placed over your head. Then everything went black and you lost consciousness.

The humming of an old light bulb woke you up. Your eyes' lids refuse to open for a few moments. It felt like dumbbells were hanging from them, they were so heavy. A little groan escaped you, as you shifted around in your uncomfortable seat. It didn't take you long for you to register that your ankles and hands were tied. Your angles were tied to the legs of the chair and your hands were behind you. The rope was rough and itchy, it hurt to even move any of your limbs. Your head pounded it felt like a bunch of jackhammers were going off inside of it. Your head swayed lazily from side to side as you tried to gather your surroundings, it was unsuccessful.

"Ah, are you awake?" You heard a family familiar voice speak.

The voice was coming from in front of you, so you lazily swayed your head in that direction.

A slurred, "huh?" was all you could muster to get out at the time.

A chuckle came from the familiar voice, "Oh, maybe they used a little too much... Well, that doesn't matter. As long as you can hear me things will be fine. Can you hear me?" The voice asked.

The voice sounded like it was echoing in your head. The room began to spin and you felt like you were gonna throw up, but still you nodded.

A deep sigh left where the voice came from as a black gloves hand placed itself onto your cheek, to keep you from swaying your head.

A click of the tongue came before the words, "My poor baby. All drugged up and no idea what to do with themselves… That's alright. I'll take care of you from now on. As long as you promise to take care of me too."

That's when the source of the voice showed itself.

It was him, Edmund. Your drugged out eyes widened as much as they could.

Edmund simply let out a light chuckle, "Surprised? Well..I would be too.. I would love to explain myself, but I can't. It is not that I don't want to. But I can't, I do not know why I took you here. I do not know why I stole your belongings. And I do not know why I have such a...desire for you. But my heart aches for yours, my love. You fascinated me the day we met… You had such an innocent air about you, I could not watch the world crumble it." He stopped speaking for a moment. Within the moment he brought his face closer to your own. He's lips grazed yours, as his lidded eyes looked deeply into your distant gaze.

Yet another amused expression would paint his perfect features. "So I watched you. And watch you. So much to the point where I know all of your habits. Now...you might be asking, how? Well.. simple. I hired my men. You see my beloved, you can escape me now that you've gotten my attention so don't even try. I have connections everywhere, It's just part of being such a big mafia boss. Though I don't mean to brag…" He said, placing his lips onto your own. Though it ended about as quick as it started He continued once again, "Don't you see (Name)...I have fallen for you. I have a need for you. I have an unsatisfiable love for you. An ever growing desire…."

Word count: 3.6k

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Thanks for reading!

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #stalking #my 6 fucking attempt at this because i keep either posting it on accident or deleting :)

[sooibian]

Catch These Hands

Pairing: Baekhyun x Fem!Reader

Description: Living with Baekhyun comes with its own challenges

Themes: Fluff (surprise!!!!), established relationship, make up artist and masseur Byun, a little bit of byuntae, and one (1) Eminem reference lol

Prompt: @/notyourenglishprofessor : You SAY you didn’t eat in bed but these crumbs say differently.

A/N: Happy Birthday @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt​ !!!! here’s your biggest pet peeve woven into a bbh fic! Hope you enjoy it XD

Word count: ~ 1.7k

Nights out have never agreed with you. It’s 2 a.m. and your feet hurt from the heels, your head hurts from the drinks, your little black dress (your best friend sure does have a penchant for party clichés) is mocking your food baby, your makeup feels clumpy - maybe you overused the setting powder but you wouldn’t know because the complex art of blending cosmetics has always eluded you. How do they make it look so easy in YouTube tutorials?

As you’re keying in the passcode to your apartment, despite all the malaise, a sudden surge of comfort courses through your veins at the thought of your adorable boyfriend asleep in a clean, cozy bed, engulfed in warm and fresh sheets that exude the fragrance of a spring meadow - courtesy of your brand new laundry detergent. You imagine he is dressed in his snuggly pajamas, with his lips slightly parted, dark hair tousled, and your ostrich plushie clutched to his chest. Ever since you started living with him, you’d never spent a night away from home but the one time you returned after a weekend long Neuroscience conference, you found your plushie resting in the comfort of his arms. The next morning he insisted that he didn’t know where it came from.  

‘Time to catch him red handed’, you smile to yourself.

Kicking off your heels and scraping your hair up in a bun, you tiptoe to your bedroom and the faint melody of Baekhyun singing in a highly expressive croon falls upon your ears.

Tell me you’ll love again, come back to me again..

He should’ve been long asleep and while you can’t wait to crash out either, you allow yourself the pleasure of eavesdropping on his heavenly vocals that always sound especially sweet when he’s wrestling sleep. Until..until you hear it.. the sharp crunch of plastic which sends you barging into the bedroom with exasperation painted across your features. 

Baekhyun clamps his mouth shut. 

Instead of jumping out of bed to wrap you in his arms, he uncharacteristically stays burrito-ed in his duvet, fixing you with an apologetic gaze. Elbow crushing the pillow underneath him, shoulders crouched, lips pursed, hair dishevelled, pajama bottoms scrunched up to his calves, he tries to blink away the very apparent guilt in his eyes. Your ostrich plushie lay on your side of the bed as if its neck had been snapped like a popsicle stick. 

As you loom over him, lower lip wobbling, he pushes his weight further down the pillow but the tail end of the red Orion choco pie wrapper teasingly peeks from underneath it, glimmering in the cozy golden lighting of the bedroom, already chuckling at the drama that is to ensue.

You’re too tired for this.

Without a word to him, you grab a bunch of blankets from the dresser, shut it with a loud bang and stomp out of the room while Baekhyun’s bearing is that of a frozen frame. As you’re questioning your life choices and are about to vent your frustration on the irreproachable couch, your weary gaze finds the bane of your existence again - crumbs. White, inelegant fragments of food conspicuous against your tan sofa.

They say the more you try to avoid something, the more you create it. This was unequivocally the worst quote you’d ever read. You created nothing! You were not the one to leave this slew of crumbs on the sofa neither did you leave a pile of crumbs on the bed! It was all Baekhyun! 

You’re way too tired for this.

Drowsy, you lie down on the floor, curled up in the many blankets, although still cautious as your piercing eyes doggedly probe for more evidence of Baekhyun’s insolence. Surprisingly, the rug was clean-ish. It was almost as if he had planned on you sleeping on the floor tonight. This thought fuels the rage bubbling in the pit of your stomach so you force your eyes shut to avoid a shouting match this late in the night. 

The shuffling sound of footsteps grows closer and you’re determined not to give him the satisfaction of even a glance. The sound comes to a halt and you feel a gentle caress of warm fingers ghosting over your cheeks which is quickly replaced with a smooth and cool touch of a cotton pad against your eyelids, cheekbones, jaw line, with a distinct scent of micellar water wafting in the little to no space between Baekhyun and you.

You continue to play dead as he’s quietly and deftly taking your makeup off while delicately holding you up by the back of your neck and you coyly move your face from side to side to allow him better access to every inch of your skin.

“Too much setting powder”, he whispers.

Darnit!

“Still so pretty”, he remarks in his dulcet voice. Your head now rests in his lap and he’s gently moving his thumbs in tiny circles under your brows, working his way from inside out and continuing the movement all around your eyes and ending back at the bridge of your nose, almost lulling you to sleep.   

At this point every cell in your body is waging a war against your now weakened spirit that’s continuing to disregard him yet you find yourself revelling in his mellow affections.

“It’s a rookie mistake. Not to worry, baby, I’ll help you get it right the next time.” He reassures, planting a soft kiss on your pout.

“Right”, eyes still wilfully shut, you chastise him, “maybe when you find the time from eating in bed.”

“Yah! Don’t be like that.” Baekhyun whines, prying your eyes open with his fingers, not-so-gently.

You smack the back of his hand and sit up cross legged facing him. He stretches his hand out to pat your head and you smack it again invoking a look of pure confusion in Baekhyun’s soft features. His hand is now barely an inch away from your lips and he commands with a raised brow, “Now kiss it better.” 

“Ew!” Your hand strikes the back of his, again. “How many times do I have to tell you not to -”

“Not to eat in bed!” Baekhyun completes your sentence with a deep sigh, “I know and I wasn’t -”

“Do not lie to me Byun Baekhyun!” Warning him, you wag your finger as annoyance betrays your voice, rendering your pitch shrill. Dusting the corners of his mouth with the pads of your fingers, you sneer, “These crumbs say otherwise. You know I hate it when you eat in bed! It’s ...It’s….disgusting! And -”

“And?” 

“You always ignore my post-its!”

Baekhyun huffs and runs a hand through his hair. Letting on a forced smile, he reasons, “We’ve been living together for three years now. I think it’s time you stopped leaving ‘do not eat’ post-it notes on everything you buy!”

Tilting your head to the side, you explain animatedly, “First of all, you won’t let me buy snacks on our grocery runs because they’re unhealthy or whatever and you want to bring about a stupid dietary reform in the household which, by the way, is failing miserably - ”

“Yah!! We’re still in January, don’t be such a pessimist!”

“Do not interrupt me! The few that I do manage to sneak into the cart are mine and mine alone!”

“It’s just that..the ones that you buy taste better”, he mumbles, unveiling the most powerful weapon in his artillery - the pout.

“That is the most ridiculous thing that’s come out of your mouth today aside from the crumbs! I imagined you’d be...”, it’s nearly 3 a.m. and you’re starting to descend into a fugue state, “you’d be...curled up in bed like a...like a... cooked shrimp with a plushie clutched to it’s chest!”

Visibly offended, he flicks your forehead and bellows, “Cooked shrimp!? It’s called the fetal position. Look it up!”

“I know what it’s called!” Your livid expression eases into a rather ill meaning smile, “My apologies, I took you for a grown man.”

“What in the world - I am a grown man!” His lips stretch into a wide grin and the tips of his fingers tease the sensitive spot on your neck, “would you like to see?”

“You’re disgusting, Byun Baekhyun! A grown man does not eat in bed!” You smack the back of his hand. Again.

“Strike four! You’re obligated to kiss it better now!” 

Tears start to well up in your eyes at the sight of his hand dangling so close to your face. “I’m tired”, you cry, burying your face in your hands as exhaustion and exasperation take over, “I really need you to stop eating in bed.” 

“Babe, I -” His eyes grow into large brown circles at the sight of your distressed state and he freezes.

“I feel like the crumbs will, like, turn into ferocious ants and nibble at my skin while I’m asleep”, you break into full blown sobs and Baekhyun takes you in his arms, holding you tight against his warm and comforting frame and patting your head to calm you down.

“Hush, baby”, he sing-songs, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! You go get changed into something comfortable and I���ll dust the bed, okay?”

“Can you change the sheets instead?” Sniffling, you ask him with wide, pleading eyes, a sly smile playing at your lips.

His eyebrows shoot upwards and he exclaims, “It’s three in the morn-”

“Please?” You sing-song, a little too loudly.

He lets out a deep sigh, “Okay! I’ll change the sheets.”

With his slightly dispirited face sandwiched between your hands, you ask cheerfully, “And you promise to never eat in bed again?” 

“I promise to never eat in bed again.” A dejected Baekhyun says to his knees. 

“And you won’t steal my snacks?”

You had now started to push your luck with him, but it was a risk you were willing to take.

He flicks your forehead a little harshly this time making you squeal. “Can you stop with the stupid post-its, already?”

Rubbing your forehead, you surrender and get up. “Fine! I’ll go shower now.”

Baekhyun wraps his arms around your waist. Nuzzling your neck, he coos seductively, "I’ll join you.” 

“Byun Baekhyun!”

#exowritersnet #bbh-net #exosnet #exo fluff #baekhyun fluff #exo #baekhyun #exo oneshot #baekhyun oneshot #baekhyun oneshots #byun baekhyun #exo x reader #baekhyun x reader #exo x you #baekhyun x you #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun fanfics #exo fanfic #exo fanfics

[kaepop-trash]

IM SHOOK? SHAKEN? CHANGED??:&:9 PUSH AND PULL IS SO GOOD??:&:@; AAAA. I LOVE YOUR WORK.. LITERALLY OBSESSED ... i was wondering if it had a part 2 BUT THE CLIFF HANGER .. GOD INSANITY.. UR SUCH A GOOD WRITER AAAAA

There was a time when I had considered writing another part for it, but truly there was just one scene I really wanted to write. When I saw this, I felt compelled to write it. Consider it an apology for the cliff hanger I left the fic on. Not that this is any better.

I was intrigued by this dynamic when I wrote this fic and I continue to be even now. So consider this more self-gratification than anything else. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it.

Tw: unhealthy relationship dynamic, hints of obsession and violence if you squint.

_

This was strange. She was allowed to think that. The restaurant was a good one, she was dressed as well as she always was.

Kim Doyoung was in a white shirt and dark jeans. His eyes were focused on the menu in his hand, brows stitch together in concentration. The other hand ran through his hair, an honest effort to push it out of his face. But it was long and fell over his eyes just as soon as he let it go, the only difference being a few strands that stuck up.

She looked down at her fingers, nails now cleaned of the blood from his scalp. He had very soft hair too, she could remember the feel of it against her palm. She could remember the other parts too.

"Have you decided what you want?" His voice made her look up. He was watching her with careful calculation, the gaze of a panther assessing his prey. He was a fool to think she wasn't herself a predator.

"Sure." She slapped the menu close, the sound sudden and loud.

He just nodded, "Okay." His eyes coloured with amusement. She clenched her fist tight, impatient and irritated. "Are you usually this quiet?" He sat back in his seat.

"I speak when I want to, Mr. Kim." Her voice was curt.

He gave her a heinous smirk, "I had my tongue in your cunt, (Y/N). You can call me Doyoung." He reached for his glass of water.

His words made her shift in her chair. Her body reacting against her will was what made the last thread of courtesy snap.

"Other people have done more than that. Physical intimacy isn't grounds for familiarity, not with me." She settled back into her chair. When his jaw flexed, she smiled. At least now they were both annoyed.

"What is grounds for familiarity with you?" His voice was sharper, gaze narrower.

"Why do you care, Mr. Kim?" She snapped. "I'm not interested in being familiar with you."

"Why not?" He furrowed his brows.

"I'm not interested in being familiar with anyone." It was the first honest thing she'd spoken in a while.

"Scared?" He looked intrigued.

"Indifferent." Her frown twisted further.

He hummed, considering her words. "I could make a compelling case."

"It would be a wasted effort. I'm sure you'll find someone more suited to your demands elsewhere." She reached for her glass of water, confused and displeased by the way this was going.

Yet a part of her clawed with intrigue, wanting to know why he was seemingly undeterred. It stopped her from walking out the door, "Can we order?" She questioned. He gave her an unbothered smile, nodding in answer. She wanted to pry open his skull if it told her what he was thinking.

"I don't understand why you're being so persistent. I'm not trying to be coy, I'm not interested in anything beyond sex." She told him once the waiter left with their orders.

"We can have sex." He said it like it was a consolation prize, one he only considered in hindsight.

She crossed her arms over her chest, "What do you want, Doyoung?"

He licked his lips, eyes grazing the skin over the low neckline of her dress. "I started a painting the night I first met you. I haven't painted anything in three years." His eyes glazed over at that, clearly not present at the table anymore. "The second time I met you, the image became clearer, I could picture the colours of it." His eyes focused again, honing in on her. Her stomach flipped. "Last night I thought of a different painting I will paint after this." He gave her a look of conviction, "I must get to know you better." It wasn't a question.

"I'm not keen on being used." She brushed it off.

"Being somebody's muse is a privilege, (Y/N)." His tone flares with offense, "It's being immortalised in memory. I want to capture you in between my brushes and commit you to canvas. I want to make you art." He frowned at her, confused by the rejection.

"Privilege?" She laughed, the sound light and melodious. "It sounds to me like I'm the one doing you a favour. It's your privilege, Mr. Kim." She laughed a little more.

"I don't care what you think." His words didn't match the look on his face, "I haven't had inspiration in years. I'm losing my touch. If I don't create, I cease to be." Anger seeped into his eyes, burning bright red.

She sat back in her chair, "What do I get in return?" She couldn't believe that she was actually considering it.

"What do you want, (Y/N)? Other than an artist's devotion."

She scoffed at his words, "Let me display your art. Anywhere, anytime. If you want to use me, I want to be the only person who gets to use your paintings." She saw the gears grinding in his head at her words.

While it would be a good deal to have, a part of her was sure he'd never agree to it. She knew his reputation. Kim Doyoung did not like sharing what was his.

"Fine." It was his lack of hesitation that caught her off-guard. “But I have a single condition instead. It’s not up for argument.”

She nodded, the possibility of having the exclusive right to display the art of one of the most coveted artists alive worth anything he could demand. He smiled like he was aware of that.

“I want you to myself. No other people.” His eyes bore into her, his gaze the most intense thing about his presence. She clenched her fist so tight that her nails dug into the skin, her palm stinging.

She wanted to slap him.

The demand was a clear sign of control over her. She knew artists, knew the extent of their obsessions. She also knew they tended to fade fast.

“Alright, Doyoung.” She bit her lip. “Have your way with me.” Despite herself, she felt her chest stir at her own words.

-

He flicked the light on, the large empty space illuminated with harsh white light. She looked around, the studio mostly empty save for a single canvas that rested against the wall. The smell of paint thinner in the air told her that he had been at it recently. Doyoung stood by the door as she walked towards the piece, the click of her heels echoing in the space.

The canvas was a messy blend of colours: red, orange and white. In the centre of ot sat the outline of a couch. “This is what you made?” She questioned, the perceptive eye of someone acquainted with art observing every detail.

“Don’t like it?” He spoke from across the room.

She focused on the blend of colours; despite the bold mix of red and orange, it was the white strokes that felt aggressive. “It’s confusing.” She shifted her weight between her feet.

She heard his footsteps approach her, “Have you ever felt rage, (Y/N)? Blinding rage that you cannot control? Only channel?” His words bounced off the walls.

“I’m not sure what I did to deserve your rage.” Her voice was softer.

“You seduced me, (Y/N).” His footsteps stopped short of her heel. “You were using every dirty trick one could do it. And you were so blatant about it.” He groaned.

Her lips tugged, “I’m known to go after what I like in the moment.” She swallowed.

“You’re shameless.” He spat the word like an insult. She clenched her jaw, “And it makes me furious that I can’t stop thinking about you.” There was a crack in his calm voice, it made her breath falter for a second.

“You aren’t the first." She scoffed, "You don’t have to be hard on yourself, I know what I’m doing. Your reaction is to be expected.” She tried to keep her voice level, not giving him the priviledge of seeing her own rage. Rage was an admittance of effect and she would not let him see his effect on her.

She gasped when his finger brushed up her thigh. “You don’t know anything about me." He mumbled, still maintaining the last few inches of distance. "I don’t play games, I don’t collect conquests.”

She laughed, her head falling back. He took a step closer, pushing her head to the side to brush his lips over her neck. “I know people, Doyoung. I especially know men. You want to believe you’re complex,” He bit down on the smooth skin, she moaned. “But lust is never complicated. It’s deceptively simple. You’re currently playing a game with me, one you want to win. You just don’t know it, which is your loss because you don’t have a prize in mind.” He licked the skin he just ruined, purring into her throat. He bit down the same place again, harder. She whimpered.

“I know my prize.” His nose brushed up her jaw, his breath heating her skin.

“I’m not a trophy to be acquired.” She took a step back, pressing into his chest.

Doyoung sighed, hand reaching around and tugging on her waist, “Who said I was talking about you?”

She clenched her jaw. “What is it you hope to win then?” His hand brushed up and grabbed her jaw, tilting her head back further.

“Let me show you.” His lips brushed against her cheeks. He gathered her dress in his hands, hitching it higher. “Lift your arms.” He whispered. When she did, he pulled the material off.

His fingers made quick work of the rest of her garments. Once she was completely bare, he turned her around. His smile was deceptively gentle, “Do you enjoy being a whore, (Y/N)?” He took a step back, looking her over with detached scrutiny.

“Very much so.” She stepped out of her underwear. When he looked up with a sharp gaze, it was her turn to give him a sweet smile.

“Will you enjoy being my whore?” He brushed his index finger on his lips. Soft, pretty lips that she made a note to destroy.

“That is to be seen.” She breathed out.

He smiled wide, pointing behind him. “Sit on that sheet.”

She gave him a skeptical look. When he added no further explanation, she did what she was told. She walked up to the large white cloth that lay flat on the floor, ready for whatever he had planned. She bent over, deliberately slow, and took her heels off. Walking over to the centre of the sheet and sitting down, bringing her knees up to her chest. She sat patiently.

“Such a pretty picture you make.” He hummed, walking over to a table littered with paint and brushes. He picked up a few bottles, coming up to stand in front of her. Her heart beat so fast with anticipation that she was certain it was echoing against the walls.

He kneeled in front of her, “Give me your palms.” His eyes stayed on her face, his voice still dispassionate. She lifted her hands and laid them out for him. When he looked down at them, she glanced at his features. Without his dark gaze, his face looked almost delicate. She felt thick liquid on her palm, looking down to see him squeeze blue and green paint on each palm.

He looked up when he finished, “Lust isn’t simple. It’s like being on fire one second and being drowned the next. Put your hands behind you and lean back.” She took in an unsteady breath, sitting back.

The paint squished between her palm when she pressed them on the sheet, coming out from between her fingers. He sat back, unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes didn’t leave hers the entire time.

“Which one of us will drown?” She breathed out, words mixed with soft pants.

He unbuckled his belt, smirking when she squeezed her legs. “That is to be seen.” He repeated her own words back, grabbing her knees to open her legs again. He stood up, pushing his jeans off. Once he did, he squeezed the green paint onto his knees. Her breathing was ragged now, bouncing off the walls and filling the space with the admittance of her eagerness.

He walked around to her back, leaning down. “Sit up.” His voice was lower, and to her victorious realisation, afflicted. When she did, his knees pressed into the small of her back, paint rubbing against her skin. She couldn’t explain why, but the rudimentary action made her moan. He brushed her hair up, tying it up on her head with a tie she didn’t know he had. Everything felt meticulously planned.

He squeezed more paint onto her spine, rubbing it around with precise fingers. He remained unnervingly silent, getting up and coming back around to face her again. “You’re so beautiful.” He gasped.

The words made her smirk, chest heaving with quick breaths. “I know.”

He smirked back, “I’m going to make you divine.” He put his knees on the sheet, the blue and green rubbing together. She stared at the traces, for a moment mesmerised by the mark it left.

She yelped when he grabbed her ankle and tugged her, her wet palms slipping. Her back landed on the sheet, her head stinging a little from the sudden contact. He parted her legs with his knee, she looked up to see him squeeze white paint into his palm. He rubbed his hands together, before using them to hover over her. “You’re going to display the very manifestation of your lust in museums all over the world, (Y/N). We’re going to commodify your sin. That’s my prize.” His hands slid across the sheet and grabbed her waist.

She reached up and grabbed his throat, the smooth white skin tainted blue and green. “It’s going to be our sin, Doyoung.” She dragged her eyes from his eyes to his lips.

“I was under the impression that you didn’t want familiarity.” His hands rubbed white paint up her sides, brushing under her breasts. Both their breathing matched in impatience.

She pulled him closer, resting her lips on his. “If you’re going to immortalise me, I will own you.” She promised. He smiled against her lips, kissing her.

_

Send me an ask about a character from one of my fics in a scenario and I'll write a drabble.

Character from: Push and Pull

#doyoung smut #nct smut #doyoung scenarios #doyoung drabble #nct doyoung #doyoung #kim doyoung #nct drabble #miscellaneous #push and pull #nct scenarios #nct 127 #nct 127 smut

[pompompurin1028]

Oh my God!! I had never thought of it that way, that’s awesome! Good catch, Kat :o

That is so true, we read Yozo’s life and deeds completely through his own eyes therefore we can’t treat it as an objective narrative. When this is combined with all the analyses you made yesterday, it’s all coming together and this is the best feeling ever, when I first read your response I went crazy with euphoria😭

And exactly! We can definitely distinguish these two narratives -Yozo’s and the woman’s- in the last scene under the sunset. Dazai, for some reason, always denies his good intentions and is “blinded to his better side” as you said and I totally adore this way of putting it. I really hope Atsushi will be able to bring him back to reality😔

I mean, of course he’s not the most snow white person out there, he still has really gray morals, but isn’t this already an incredible step considering that he was born in pitch black? He needs to see how much he’s achieved since then, but he still feels guilty and this totally blocks the good parts of his journey in his mind, which is probably why he always has that façade to keep him from breaking down. Just like how Yozo had this façade of “clowning” even though he was feeling empty inside all while entertaining people and seeming so cheerful. This clowning thing was a really beautiful parallelism between BSD Dazai and Yozo.

Exactly😭 For someone as traumatised as Atsushi, that poor cinnamon roll is really so precious with his amount of trust and kindness🥺 And yeah… There’s no way I would be able to 100% restore my trust for him -if I had it in the first place, of course, you never know with Dazai😂-, I would question constantly if he’s planning new things with several villains “for the sake of the city”, and this is just what Atsushi says, he denies this as well like what- then why😭 He owes a really good explanation to the ADA, tbh. I hope they treat this subject in S3 or I’ll get really mad if he just gets away with it as if people didn’t die because of his shenanigans😤

And oh my God! I never knew that! This is really intriguing, I’m totally on Dazai-sensei’s side on this matter, Run, Melos! will be so interesting to read :o And as always, I’d love to read your analysis on it😌

And that’s so true😞 His plans are always so complex and detailed that if the littlest thing goes wrong, it would all be over, I mean, trusting that Chuuya punches him in the face or he’ll die?? He’s really walking on thin ice there haha. Which, of course, comes with great stress. And omg I LOVED THAT ANALYSIS THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SHARING💕 I reblogged it privately to come back to it whenever I start having doubts or feeling bad about Dazai which happened way too often even before Dead Apple, I just couldn’t keep a healthy relationship with him like I do with Kunikida I have no idea why this will really be a useful thing to come back to 💫 It pains me to see that how much he suffers in reality yet he’s not even able to acknowledge that it’s not his fault😞 (you can gimme all your analyses don’t be shy👀)

I’m planning on reading this one, it has several chapters and they all seem really explanatory. (I hope linking system works in asks🤔)

Exactly, I honestly used to miss all these about Akutagawa and just overlook him, consider him as a mere invincible rabid dog with an unhealthy obsession, whose ability is just to murder. But that’s not true at all, he’s more than his ability. To be honest, I think this movie made this sentence valid for everyone, especially if the ability is too strong, one always tends to consider them as their ability and nothing else, but that’s not true, their abilities are a part of them but they don’t assure their existence. Each one of them is more than their ability and I loved seeing that, I even felt sad when Aku regained his Rashōmon😭

Haha, always!!❤️ Never hesitate to share anything about any theory/headcanon you have, I love discussing them🥰

These asks and responses are getting longer and longer but I’m not complaining😂

Thank you so much!🥺 That makes me really happy that you said that!

And yes exactly! We have to make note that the novel is written in an I-novel narrative, and like all first person perspectives, they are unreliable. And "crazy with euphoria", that makes me so happy to hear😭💕

But yes, we can clearly see the distinct difference between how Yozo sees himself, vs how the woman sees him. (Side note: And one of the reasons why I love this book despite its dark themes and narratives, is that it talks about the goodness of humanity that still exists in even the worst people. Dazai-sensei's narration of Yozo is written in a way that almost makes us hate him. But we have to always be reminded that despite this, there are goodness, even in people like Yozo, which I felt is an amazing reminder) And his own blindness to his better side is obviously self-destructive, as seen in the novel, and I believe that if Dazai continues to see this way, he will not be able to heal despite following what Oda wants him to do. No, he first has to face his past, and as you said he has to recognize how far he has come, even though he is still learning, he is still changing. Like all other characters in Dead Apple, Dazai is also facing his past, or more so an introduction to having to face his past, as I believe that Atsushi had also said that he hopes that Dazai can put his past behind him or something similar to that. And I personally feel that Dazai would have a happy ending because unlike in the novel, he has someone (Atsushi) to remind him of his goodness, the fact that he can go beyond what he is in the past. I just love Dead Apple so much😭

And the clowning part breaks my heart too... In addition to being a facade to stop others from seeing how empty he is inside, which would deviate himself from being "human". It gives me a saddening understanding that Dazai is keeping everyone at a distance. Although he wants others to understand him, and his whole existence is basically a cry for help, he fears being hurt, or at least that's what I believe how Yozo thinks. And it should be noted that the act of clowning, can also be seen in The Setting Sun as well, which he once again uses a mask to attempt to blend into society, yet knowing that he'll still be different from the rest of them

Also one thing I also realized as I am writing this is how Dazai-sensei intentionally in a sense villanizes himself (as it is semi-biographical) as well as Yozo in No Longer Human, and I can't help but wonder if this is another parallel to Dead Apple?🤔

But unfortunately, the consequences of him making that meticulous plan which endangered everyone will not be resolved, as it should be noted that this is a sort of spinoff from the main storyline. But in a sense I like the ending it gave us, as it allows open interpretation. And I feel that it also might symbolize the fact that all the main characters in the movie are still growing, are still learning and are continuing on their paths to face their pasts... And what I think is also quite important to note that is there's also a sense of trust Dazai gives to the people involved in his plans, he trusts them to make that exact move to make his plan whole. And also, what also makes me sad is that Dazai seems to be asking for forgiveness for what he did during dead apple, at least that's what it sounds like to me as he said: "Atsushi what I did earlier-"

And I totally agree that it is impossible to restore full trust back to Dazai. That itself is impossible, for it is a disillusionment, it is a stage you cannot go back to. But and I agree with Dazai-sensei, I believe that this could help Dazai see the better parts of humanity like when he said to Oda, that the good side is really more beautiful.

And I'm so glad to know that you want to save it🥺 It can definitely be hard to see Dazai's good side at times, he is quite confusing and is easily misunderstood ngl. But sometimes I think he intentionally does that so no one can see through his true intentions, to keep himself at a distance, while at the same time wanting others to see through him, to help him😔

And oo thank you for the analysis! I'll definitely have to read it soon☺ Also if you have any analysis that you'd like to discuss or want me to know, feel free to drop them in my ask box as well!

And yes exactly! That about Aku is so beautifully said.

And honestly I'm not complaining either haha. These have been quite fun🥰

#asks💌 #Req🎻 #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu #dead apple #bungou stray dogs analysis #bsd theories #kat rambles #I have a lot to say about no longer human and it shows haha

[laceymorganwrites]

Is it snake of snack (14)

Word count: 2,217

Pairing: Daishou x fem!reader

Warnings: child abuse, self harm, childhood trauma, anxiety/panic attack, swearing, hurt and comfort, Bokuto is a good friend

A/N: this is basically just an angsty dragged out chapter of the last one, please read the warnings and skip this if you´re triggered by any of this. 

Listen to: Dying in a hot tub - Palaye Royale

Taglist: @samuthots @doggonudez @pepperful-qt @sandwitchsthings

Daishou didn´t mean to send that last text… he really didn´t. He always kept his feelings to himself. And for a good reason, he didn´t want to bother anyone else with it.

Besides, from his experience, nobody even cared. And you only told people what they wanted to hear. That was what he got taught.

Or rather punched into him by his father, the same man who yelled at him that he should disappear, that he couldn´t do anything right, that he was a waste of breath and that he should shut up at all times or next time he wouldn´t make it out alive.

His mind was a dark place, he knew this and tried to avoid it at all costs, he found healthy coping mechanisms with you, you were also the only person he trusted with his inner thoughts.

After your break up however, he reverted back to his old self, closing off and falling into the oh so familiar path of self deprecation and destruction.

He hasn´t cut himself in a while, not even scratched, but he could feel the itch in his skin, right underneath those ugly scars, which were signs of weakness. Daishou knew that it was unhealthy and bad, he knew that he shouldn´t do it, that he was truly fucked up to do so.

But then again, he was fucked up enough already before, so why stop when it helped? Even if only for an instance?

Current pain inflicted by himself was much better than reappearing suppressed memories that cut deeper than any blade ever could.

The good thing was that he could control the depth of the wound, he felt oddly safe when cutting, hyper fixating was always the thing that helped most, yet it was also the most dangerous thing to him.

Especially when he got so deep into his mind that he couldn´t possibly get out of it alone.

“Alright, I´m going to the bar with you!” he announced after hurriedly throwing on something to make him look presentable and leaving his room to join the others.

Kuroo was nervous, Daishou could tell, he also knew that he tried to hide his crush on their neighbor and bartender, but never pressed the matter.

“You look good” he stated, nodding at him approvingly.

It felt weird being complimented like that, Daishou never believed he looked alright, not even close to it, he was a mere insect unworthy of any attention.

But still his heart leaped in ecstasy as soon as those words left Kuroo´s mouth.

He didn´t style his hair today as the decision to go out came rather spontaneous.

You always thought he looked incredibly cute like this, he missed the way you´d look at him, the way your eyes sparked when you caressed his cheek. He swore he could still feel your warm hand.

His heart ached for you, he missed you terribly.

Sure, you were friends now, but Daishou was greedy, he wanted more.

Now that he has had a taste of what love could feel like, he didn´t ever want to feel anything else, he felt so safe with you, but more than that he needed you like the air he breathed.

Daishou simply didn´t function without you.

“I think you should stay home, Daishou” Bokuto said, looking at him with a worried expression.

Soon after moving in and being at a state of not hating each other, Daishou forced himself to open up a bit, if only to avoid his major trigger: alcohol.

Luckily his roommates were very supportive and respectful and so alcohol became a prohibited good in their apartment.

When Bokuto or Kuroo went out, they made sure not too drink too much and when they arrived home, they went straight to bed while being as silent as possible.

It worked well too, but Bokuto was always more perceptive than Kuroo in regards to mental health, he just picked up on the small things that Kuroo wouldn´t usually think about.

Not because he didn´t care, but just because the two had a very different way of thinking, Kuroo being more logical and Bokuto emotional.

“I´m fine, it´s okay. We´re not gonna stay long anyways. I just need some fresh air” Daishou said, his voice not even convincing himself, but he wasn´t ready to unpack the baggage that he carried currently.

And so the three of them walked out of their apartment, Bokuto already made up a plan in his head to let Daishou stay outside while he quickly delivered Kuroo.

He tried to minimize the time he had to spend in the company of drunk people as well as thinking about what to get for take out later.

But things never went as planned, did they?

As soon as they arrived at the bar, Daishou´s eyes diverted to the floor, he stayed frozen in place next to the entrance, trying his best to blend in with the wall, making himself as small as possible.

Others wouldn´t realize that something was wrong, they didn´t even spare a glance at him, which didn´t make the situation worse, but still, Bokuto could feel his heart clench in empathy.

Kuroo dragged him inside with him and when Yuuji saw them, he found himself in a conversation that felt like it would drag on forever.

He needed to get back to Daishou before he did something stupid, he knew that look in his eyes.

Also he felt like he was third wheeling and it made him very uncomfortable.

When things got too intimate for him, he just slipped away and hurried outside.

Daishou was still in the same spot, but he looked aghast.

Bokuto´s alarm bells rang all at the same time, he scratched the idea of getting take out for dinner and approached Daishou, apologizing loudly for being so late not to scare him.

He once tapped him on the shoulder in such a state before he knew how it made him feel and Daishou almost jumped out of his skin.

He kept quiet the whole walk home, sternly looking at the ground while Bokuto made conversation to distract him as best as he could.

As soon as they arrived at the apartment Daishou retreated to his room, sitting down on the floor, crouching down and resting his head on his knees.

Bokuto was quick to follow with a glass of water and whatever snack he could grab the fastest.

He sat down next to Daishou who was shaking and sobbing, clearly trying his best to keep quiet.

Just as he was taught.

Every time Daishou cried as a child, which was often, his father would tell him to shut up, hitting him hard across the face, most of the times leaving bruises.

To this day, Daishou still got jumpy when someone touched him without him seeing it, even something simple as just tapping his shoulder.

It made him cower in fear.

If he obeyed, he wouldn´t get hurt, it has always been this way and even after the divorce, even when he knew that he´d never have to see this horrible man again, he still saw his image in people he passed on the street.

Just like he did earlier.

His father was an alcoholic, making sure to tell Daishou what a mistake he was every time he got the chance to, his words left deep scars in Daishou´s mind and to this day he still felt unworthy.

His inferiority complex showed most in the way he played volleyball, not trusting his skills enough until he played for the uni team.

Kuroo and Bokuto helped more than he liked to admit, they were able to calm and silent his mind when he couldn´t and they became precious friends to him, a truly unlikely friendship.

He wanted to believe in himself like they did just one time.

Daishou had told Bokuto about his father in depth before, Kuroo only knew the gist of it all.

So Bokuto could only imagine what he must be going through right now.

“Let it all out, man. Don´t hold it in” he said and promptly Daishou´s crying got louder, but also more controlled.

He remembered when he had hyperventilated once before and how scared he was for him, how helpless he felt.

Ever since that incident Bokuto made sure to read into the topic of mental health and how to help properly.

He waited patiently until Daishou was done crying and then offered him the water and the snacks.

Daishou was grateful for his presence, Bokuto made him feel like it was okay that he wasn´t, like he had nothing to be ashamed of, like he was free.

“Thanks...” he said, his voice hoarse, finishing the glass and putting it next to him.

“That´s what friends are for. You´re not alone in this, we´re always here for you and if you want to talk about anything, you can unload it on me. I´m here to listen and to help” Bokuto told him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder and this time Daishou didn´t flinch, he only looked up at him with swollen eyes and a grateful smile.

“Can I tell you something stupid?” Daishou asked, sniffling to which Bokuto nodded.

“I don´t want to be just friends with (Y/N). I´m too dependent on her, I miss her too much… I don´t think I ever loved someone as much as I love her and I don´t think I will ever love anyone else…” he admitted out loud for the first time. It was something that he always knew to be true and yet it sounded so unhealthy, so toxic that he didn´t want it to be.

“It´s not stupid. Feelings are never stupid.” Bokuto said sternly and in such an earnest voice, it made Daishou chuckle.

He felt at peace until someone knocked on their door.

Bokuto got up and opened it, finding your distressed face.

“Kuroo told me what happened, is he alright?” you asked out of breath. Just a few minutes ago, Kuroo and Yuuji entered your apartment, lips locked and limbs entangled.

They only had to mention that Daishou came with them to the bar to make you hyper aware of the consequences. You acted on instinct as you did so many times before, no matter your relationship status right now.

Bokuto couldn´t really react in time and just stepped aside to let you in, pointing to Daishou´s room.

It was strange. In Daishou´s mind you hated him, from his perspective you wanted nothing to do with him, you were just with him out of pity.

He held you in such high regards that he never once thought about your feelings from a realistic point of view.

Bokuto had to smile, it was so clear to him that you loved Daishou just as much as he loved you.

“Sugu? It´s me… I´m coming in” you announced your presence, refraining to knock because you knew loud and sudden noises scared him.

Slowly you opened the door and found him sitting on the floor, in the same miserable position as before, looking up at you with pleading eyes, eyes that said ´I´m sorry I´m a mess, a failure´, ´I´m sorry that I can´t ever be good enough´.

You sat down next to him, just close enough for him to know that you were there but not too close to make him uncomfortable.

“Code red?” you softly asked, it was your secret code to make sure he didn´t cut.

He shook his head, reaching out his arms for you so you could check, it was routine, it made him feel safe rather than ashamed and embarrassed.

You slowly rolled up his sleeves to inspect his scars, the freshest were about a few months old.

Nothing changed. Your heart still ached when you saw them, you felt somewhat responsible for them and guilty as well.

Daishou didn´t deserve to suffer like this…

“You know you´re not alone, right?” you softly asked.

He nodded.

“Bokuto and Kuroo… they help a lot” he said, making you relax your worried expression a bit.

“Don´t let them win, the voices in your head. They´re not real, always remember that. Something that isn´t real doesn´t have any control over you, but you have all the control over it. Use it. You´re stronger than you think, Sugu” you still held onto his arms without realizing it, softly tracing your fingers over them.

“I miss you…” he quietly said, averting his eyes, before speaking again.

“I don´t wanna be just friends” as soon as those words left his mouth you pulled him into a tight hug, your hands caressing his back.

Daishou immediately relaxed into your touch, hugging you back desperately.

“Good, because I could never see you as just a friend. I love you too much for that” you told him, your hands wandering through his hair as he let himself be calmed down by your touch.

“I love you too…” he mumbled into your chest and slowly loosened the hug.

You two looked at each other for a while, warm and gentle smiles plastered on your faces as you slowly leaned in to kiss him.

Daishou kissed back eagerly since he´s been waiting so long and when your lips connected it felt like coming home.

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu daishou #haikyuu smau #daishou suguru #daishou x reader #daishou imagine #daishou scenario #daishou oneshot #daishou smau #hq #hq imagine #hq oneshot #hq scenario #hq daishou #hq smau

[sugar-petals]

bleeding hearts and happy days [m.]

❖ pairing. | dom!reader x sub!taehyung x sub!baekhyun

❖ summary. | you meet up with two escorts in an abandoned hotel room. 

❖ a/n. | tumblr doesn’t like my sad horny shakespearean fic right here, this is a reupload. random parts of the story disappeared without a trace, so here we go again. 

❖ word count. | 7.1k

❖ genre. | smut, angst, prostitution au, drama — starcrossed lovers

❖ warnings. | major character death implied, polyamory, threesome, bdsm, bondage, femdom, noona kink, cigarettes on skin, smoking kink, harnesses, ball gags, riding, pregnancy kink, crying, slapping, bruises, lace & mesh, tattoos, bj with teeth, lactation kink, aftercare, tae doms baekhyun briefly, hair-pulling, neck pain, spanking, unhealthy relationships, infertility, medication, alcohol, mentioned abuse, jealousy/rivalry, motorcycle accident

❖ masterlist

It’s so late that the reception is long closed. Nobody in this hotel bothers with anything, really. But he has Room 31′s rusty key and a little note with your name on it.

Determined to find the right corridor fast since his watch says he’s running late. Fifteen minutes past the usual time.

The client earlier had simply been a pain, but that’s just life. He moves on, takes the money. One bruise more or less won’t make him any more shattered at this point.

Finding the floor isn’t so difficult. As he suspected, the Incheon Royal is a small hotel indeed despite its big name.

Everyone knows the Royal's heyday has already passed.

It’s harder to tell from the outside because of the neighboring houses that blend into the building complex. All of them are ugly as shit. So Baekhyun would not spend too much time looking at them. He would rather rummage in his red bag to see if he didn’t forget anything.

He’d rather look at you, no matter how bitter-sweet the feeling in his chest is.

That’s why he agreed to do all of this in the first place.

31 is halfway posh judging by the door, but still quite a tiny spot in the very last corner of the house, first floor. Most of the lighting here is defunct, so he uses the brightness of his phone screen boasting a holiday picture from Osaka. He’s glad he got the keys. Knocking would feel so weird, you’ve never done this before.

Fucking each other in a hotel, that is.

You usually meet Baekhyun at his place, or the place as he always says. Which is cozy because he knows how to decorate it with lights and fabric. Who knows who taught him all that. His little space there is great. Unlike the shabby wall that welcomes him here in Room 31′s little hell. The door’s appearance has been deceptive enough. There’s no stench coming from somewhere dodgy in this apartment, gladly. But that’s a very low standard, isn’t it?

And who had the idea to rent this — Kim Taehyung, that handsome motherfucker.

Baekhyun promises himself to smoke five cigarettes later.

He turns to find you in the bathroom trying to detangle your hair after a busy day. The sixth album of The Doors is on repeat in the living room. It makes him hum to the beat, he’s heard it so often. You’re rolling down your stockings when he enters, laughing.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry, this is—”

“Quite perfect, pretty messed up.”

And you’re certain about this. No other spot in the outskirts of Incheon City would be better. Taehyung is not as naïve as literally anyone at the place thinks.

“He booked it with good reason.”

“You sure?”

Baekhyun puts down the key, his bag, and joins you at the sink. He apologizes with three, four, five kisses that it took so long. His lips are chapped.

Every minute stolen hurts each time.

You tousle your hair a bit more.

He strips down and steps into the shower with only his lacy top on — because he knows you like it. It hides some scars, too, ones that he still feels shameful of. There are little roses and thorns embellishing the areas, it’s a lace pattern you haven’t seen on him yet. It’s new.

You’re glad that your money does find its way even if his debt eats it all up. He got himself a new motorcycle as well. Not the fanciest one, but it does the job. It’s parked behind the hotel, he says.

The shower is quick and shallow as not to smudge his makeup. There's already a silent arrangement, it’s your job to do that. He does sing, proud that he gets the more difficult notes right, and says that you don't have to bother with the brushes and combs. You know he'd have your head between your legs by now, but today's different.

Baekhyun continues to belt out more, whatever comes to his mind, and you can almost forget that it's Room 31 you're in.

You want to show him the towels when there’s a hastened knock on the door. He's huffing.

“The sucker's here!”

Baekhyun hurries outside the bathroom, leaving wet blotches all over the carpet on his way. Not that anybody in this hotel would care. Who knows when this carpet has been inspected for the last time.

You hear Taehyung’s agitated, happy voice alternate with Baekhyun’s scolding in the entrance room after the door creaks open. You think your hair won’t get any better no matter what you try anyways, and peek out of the bathroom door grinning.

“I like it here. It’s got antiques, they’re just really dusty.”

“See!” says Taehyung who currently leans an umbrella against the wall. “Knew she likes places like these.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. But he won’t say anything now. Taehyung pulls off his trenchcoat smiling. You point at his umbrella.

“It really rained?”

“Was just a quick shower, the weather isn’t bad. Did he have it worse?”

Taehyung cocks a brow up at still-wet Baekhyun.

“Washed up, you just interrupted. The question is, are you clean?”

“Cleaner than a senior getting naked for a client faster than it’s normal.”

Baekhyun bites down hard on his bottom lip. You pull both of them into the living room where the TV is on, showing Cher’s greatest hits or something. It’s just the music channel. Taehyung instantly starts swaying to the beat while Baekhyun remains stiff.

In any other case, he’d probably swallow it up and act like it’s nothing. Clients pay more for a threeway than when he just shows up solo.

But it’s you.

He has learned that he can be himself. Good and bad sides. The latter he has many of. Maybe more of. Taehyung would agree.

To be fair, Baekhyun bears the brunt of questionable clients at his place so you don’t resent him for it. You don’t know about Taehyung. He’s probably not seen the dark side of the business yet. It’s his second time with you and Baekhyun is joining.

In fact, Baekhyun first recommended him to you for an individual session.

Cher keeps on singing, almost taunting while Taehyung flings his mesh jacket to the side and gets into position. You’ve thought a long time about how you’d do all of this, but you got the details down. And everyone agreed. Baekhyun never hesitated.

“Baek, can you pass me the bag?” Taehyung wriggles on the tacky sofa.

“Hey, uppity. It’s not yours. I’ll do that.”

And Baekhyun goes to get the bag and a towel to dry up a bit. The lace top sticks to his chest like a second skin. You can see how he moves his torso differently because he wants to show it off to you.

He returns with two ropes, two polished red ball gags.

Taehyung actually does stay perfectly still when Baekhyun starts making his usual chest harness. Loop here, strap there. It’s astounding how much more serious he is when Taehyung is with him.

You’d pay the world for them, even if Baekhyun once said he’d do it for free because he loves you. He had one bottle too much back then.

Cher switches to Barbra Streisand.

Taehyung grins weirdly once the gag is in place, provoking your smile. He knows he fucked you so good last time that you figured two times the bliss was a good idea. He still has a bruise that's rather colorful.

You proceed to fixate Baekhyun in a similar bondage style. It only takes a bit longer. His hair has dried up a fair bit; the spikes of his bangs almost get into his eyes.

He whispers once you have to bend down closely next to his head.

“Missed it too much. Y/N. They fucked me up.”

You suppress an urge to cry by pulling the rope tighter than usual where you would keep it deliberately loose. All the frustration in the world goes into this one rope. Maybe if you knot him up extra hard, he’ll forget about the days when it’s not you screwing him at the place but another oily, bearded scumbag peeing on him or some priss with gnawed off nails.

“No condoms, as usual?”

He always asks without failure, no matter how often he’s said it. It must have been a hundred times. Your answer is always the same, too.

“Wish something could actually grow in there.”

It’s never easy to say. But the look that follows in Baekhyun’s eyes has never ceased to gleam.

“Don’t you ever worry about it, Noona.”

You can’t reply for long.

“And him?” is all that comes out.

“Taehyung’s tested as well, doc came in on Friday. Seokjin can be strict on us if he really wants it. He can’t risk losing another regular.”

Seokjin, head of the place. You do like him, much more than the majority of other boys that Baekhyun sometimes has to recruit. Taehyung being one of them was a stroke of luck. You still prefer to ride Baekhyun for the night, and have the rope do its job.

But Taehyung does look beautiful tonight with his glossy lips and shiny red pants. When he peels them off, even failing to get it right once or twice, the feeling in your chest is less numb.

Baekhyun's tense, but hard enough for you to slip down on. It’s less than graceful, but you do manage somehow, fingers intertwined with the harness. The pace is raw. You're not wet enough, and he can't get it upright completely. Today’s different.

It's too much effort. Taehyung mires with big eyes and groans away when you bring Baekhyun alive with a couple thrusts. Harder than usual. Little goosebumps loom under the cover of his lace top. Taehyung’s still moaning and grinding, trying to get some friction from the rope that would lend the pleasure he is longing for. But it only hurts. That’ll do, too.

Whatever body spritz Baekhyun is always using, now that it’s gone you can smell the real him. Any shower in the world could not clean him from the way people have treated him for a few dimes, but he’s happy knowing you like his scent as it is.

It’s very sweet naturally, not rich and balmy like any perfume in his collection, nor dusty and rosy and all sandalwood, whatever they use to make it smell really thick. He’s just Baekhyun how you adore him. Vulnerable. Bound underneath you, breath so heavy, inside of you at the mercy of your hips.

A slap to the cheek only makes him harder. Taehyung struggles next to you trying to touch himself.

“Selfish boys get two.”

And you slap Taehyung twice. Three times for good measure. So strong, your own palm hurts. Even if he shakes from the impact, he still scrambles for more and tries to reach his cock. You spit on his face and turn to focus on Baekhyun again, leaving Taehyung red and sulking, even more eager.

You know exactly who taught him how to be so insatiable.

It’s easy to peel off the lacey hem at Baekhyun’s abdomen. You didn’t use too much rope to cover the area. It’s deliberate. Between your fingers blooms the tattoo that he got for your anniversary. The day has been kept secret, although people knew Baekhyun went to the parlor in a more lofty part of town.

It's a fragile stem with a row of bleeding hearts. Some opened, some still buds.

The ink’s crimson color is more vibrant than ever. How he smells like could very well be the scent of flowers, or at least you imagine it to be like that.

The tattoo marks the spot where Baekhyun is the most sensitive. It’s not enough to bounce hard on his cock until he thinks you’ll rip his foreskin right off, it’s not enough to tighten around him, making feel he suffocates just by that.

No, only the bleeding hearts make a difference.

“Who are you to me?” you say, and face the truth looking into his eyes.

“I’m your, your bitch.”

“And what does a bitch do?”

“Give you the best seed I have.”

“Then breed me good, bitch!”

Your thumbs circle in to stroke the tattoo. Not much is needed until he chews on his lip again. Baekhyun's skin is so soft in that spot, you think he went out of the way not shaving it to keep a few of his thin little hairs there.

The blood pressure pops a vein or two in his eyes when you shove your fingers into his mouth and half down his throat. He’s coughing. You keep your hips still for Baekhyun to shoot you up with his dripping release, and continue to bounce taking all the hot cum deeper.

Whenever he stopped counting the positions you tried, you gave up wanting to make it all stay inside.

Taehyung’s gonna sneer over how everyone knows it anyways.

That you’re creaming Baekhyun’s dick without protection every time, and probably have fifteen of his samples in your gyno’s basement freezer. Or your own. He once joked that you’re probably mixing it with a milkshake every morning just to be sure. He knows it tastes good.

When Baekhyun’s semen comes dripping out, you free Taehyung from his ball gag hoping something good and uplifting would come out of his mouth.

“Ever tried using his tears instead, Y/N?”

You were wrong.

The ball gag goes back. You cover the tattoo while Baekhyun’s chest finds its normal rhythm again. As an only solace, the moldy air in the hotel room is now tinted with Baekhyun’s sweat through and through. You say the words as you always do without exception.

“You’ll be my baby father so soon. We’ll be lucky this time.”

“Am all yours.”

Taehyung just sighs, wriggling more again.

"Cheesy fucks can't help it."

Click. Click, click. The lighter has been used so often, you need to give it a go three times until the flame remains standing.

They don’t bother. The hotel. Who knows if they have ever seen the day that the smoking ban was announced back in, well. Many, many years ago. Baekhyun’s jacket had left you with a vast variety to pick from.

And so, he smokes. No hands, you’re the one to tap off the ashes on Taehyung’s chest. In the hopes that it will leave some painful traces. Taehyung hates being a rookie. If there’s something that brings in cash, it’s that he’s experienced and it shows.

Even if he winces every time, or a tear comes from the corner of his eye, he doesn’t make a single noise. His cock stays down, what else would it do, he’s getting burned alive. Baekhyun smiles with the cigarette between his teeth, inhaling a bit deeper each time. The smoke mingles at the ceiling where a broken chandelier dangles back and forth.

He knows how much it hurts, you’ve done it to him twice. Or maybe three times because you’ve asked to do it again. Of course, Taehyung has seen what refused to heal on Baekhyun’s arms and shoulders for weeks. Maybe in the showers. He got jealous, that’s all you know.

“Thighs? Looks empty on there.”

You flick the cigarette from Baekhyun’s mouth again. Taehyung nods, but regrets the decision when you stub the glowing end right in the middle of the curved leg. It’s the spot where he takes care to wax the most. He’s crying, and Baekhyun laughs again.

“Now you’ve got what you wanted. That’ll stay,” he says.

Taehyung opens his mouth for the first time to speak through the tears. The gag leaves its place. The glossy lips part, more demure than ever.

“Thank you, N— noona!”

You reply pinching at Taehyung's loins. The cigarette is back between Baekhyun’s teeth.

“That's what got your dick up, didn’t it.”

Taehyung can only mouth a little Yes. He exhales, averts his gaze. No more eye contact. Just a whimper. You know it's Baekhyun who taught him that.

The cigarette smoke is denser now that you dedicate all of your attention to Taehyung. The grip on his shaft is harder than the first time he came to you. When you thought he'd be so fragile, being new to the game. But you found out he can take a whole lot. Much more than Baekhyun if you’re being honest about it.

Your clit is where the tip of his cock belongs, and where it is abused. Rubbing it, poking it, sliding it back and forth reckless abandon. Smearing Baekhyun’s cum all over the place until it feels all grimy and cold, making its way down your inner thighs. They both observe it drip, and things get hazy in the smoke.

Your fingers give Taehyung tough love in another tight seize so no pre-cum dares to peak out. It’s only until you shake him back and forth that it gets to a level where you feel at least some stimulation. Pressing him against your clit feeling how he trembles from the friction. His little noises amuse you each time.

More whimpers. You continue with a firm hold on his shaft, hoping to find out how far he can please you. He’s getting a taste of what it’s like when you grow your nails out. And shake him more. The feeling becomes stronger. Maybe he can satisfy you today. Work’s been tough, it's deeply needed.

You take a deep breath to inhale the cloud of nicotine that’s been building all around, and ride the wave it brings. Baekhyun will get you hooked on these, fuck him. But you’re breathing it with Taehyung’s dick grazing between your legs.

It's providing at least a bit of heat now that you've gone cold. Making you feel something Baekhyun increasingly won’t manage to fulfill. Well, unless he keeps whispering “I’ll knock you up, mommy” with his cock balls deep up your ass. Because by now, you both believe it’s likelier that you get pregnant this way. Taehyung on the other hand just has to mumble anything to turn you on. His voice is so raspy and deep. Everything about his body feels vital, and voluptuous, so pretty, so fertile.

Baekhyun knows that.

And if that’s what will get you going, he’ll watch like this.

With you cumming all over Taehyung’s cock. It’s such a beautiful icing. The relief is not only physical, but mental. You still chafe him across your labia with no end in sight, because those are the seconds you pay for that Baekhyun can’t give you. Taehyung is glad to be so hard, otherwise he’d break like a straw. You love how thick his girth grows, it likes your hands and their pressure, and you coating him with a fresh creamy glaze.

If Baekhyun is your bitch, Taehyung is your personal joystick to drip on.

You don’t pay him as well as you would like to, but he’s ridiculously cheap. Seokjin won’t let him take tips unless he fucked his way up, it’s how it is. He’s not made a name for himself yet, but the orgasms he gives you leave a special feeling for countless minutes after. It’s probably how much cash Baekhyun makes that causes Taehyung to work so much harder. You can see it in his eyes. But if all goes well, he won’t get money to clear a dozen figures debt like Baekhyun does. That’s what keeps him going. Or maybe he just has a magic dick.

Baekhyun knows the answer. He’d pay Taehyung to get you off himself if only Seokjin allowed it. But, as far as you know, the place has plenty of rules.

Baekhyun can’t stop grinning, but you don’t. Your high faded when he ogled the pack of cigarettes again. There are only few of them left inside, all in shambles.

“Your lungs are tar black already. Before your heart is...”

A few last puffs swirl to the ceiling when you take the cigarette to the center glass table where it fades out. The smell still lingers. You return to flip him around on the spot. A series of firm slaps find their way to Baekhyun’s ass. Every strike buries him deeper in the pillows face down.

“That’s for laughing. If someone laughs, it’s me. Did you get that, babe?”

“I apologize!”

“Don’t do it again.”

“I won’t!”

“His pain is mine to enjoy. Not yours.”

Another smack.

“I promise, I won’t do it again, Noona, please! I won't!”

“Taehyung even said thank you. When will you ever say that, bitch?”

“You know I’ll never be ungrateful, you know it.”

"Mean it, baby?"

"Really do."

Baekhyun is crying. With a bright red ass and makeup completely smudged into the pillow. These are possibly the only two things he has not given up being vain about, and you love ruining them. At the end of the day, it’s what he finds enjoyable about his profession. You’re the only one who is allowed to do it, after all.

“Been a while since I could see you blush. Not just in the face,” you poke his left buttcheek, eliciting a little sniff. “Pity that you cake it on, you always have to cry for me to get that shit off.”

You get to loosen up Taehyung’s rope now. It left deep traces, but it looks good on him.

“The day he wears no makeup is the day he dies,” Taehyung twirls at Baekhyun’s hair, and they both have to smile through the tears.

“At least he’s self-aware,” you drag up the lithe body from the pillow to cry at your chest. You’ve got a white shirt on, but who cares. “Why not cry a bit more for me, baby?”

And maybe Taehyung was right with tears.

Baekhyun has a hard time swallowing up Taehyung’s cock the way you want it. Every tug and shove at the back of his head makes him want to throw up more. All over the place like a decoration for Taehyung’s abdomen, but there’s nothing in his stomach that could possibly come up beside some bitter pulp and a pill. But he keeps on shoving himself down to the rhythm dictated by your hand in his hair, and hopes for the best.

Don’t puke, don’t puke, don’t puke today.

Who knows how often he’s done that. Maybe it’s the only thing his throat is ever useful for. If he's fucked up, he's vivid. Talk's worthless, there is no sense in it. Throwing up on someone's balls at least makes him feel that there's still a bit of life somewhere in his gut. But he'd rather keep it down for the sake of the other.

Food he’s given up on. But if he’s fed cock by you, maybe he feels better about himself. With a little practice, Taehyung is good breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He’ll consider blowing him some other time, maybe with a camera and client involved for some extra cash. Nothing’s for free. Gagging and taking it on the face gets him a bonus, too. Deepthroat is where the money is.

The pain at the back of his neck won’t be getting any better, but his tongue can’t complain. Taehyung did clean himself up just like he said. He could make it far, further than Baekhyun himself, with a huge waiting list at the place. But one thing he can’t do is choke so violently like this. One day, Taehyung might learn even that. A fast learner, isn't he? Yet as long as he gets a cock big enough rammed into his skull on the daily, Baekhyun's the best out there, and the worst in its best sense. If his brain comes out one day, he won't complain either. One less thing to worry about.

Bitches are dumb, that's what they are. Dumb as fuck. They give their mistress good semen instead. And get over neck pain.

The pace is vile. He knows that your arm won’t give up thrusting him down anytime soon. Baekhyun imagines how it must be like having your eyes. How it would be like to see it. Him trying to handle Taehyung’s dick with just a small mouth, good cheeks, no teeth, and a little courage. Gagging and drooling spit all over the place and half unconscious because it’s so good. You love his glossy eyes. They’re always so gorgeous. Baekhyun must be the most beautiful boy in the whole world when he does that. But he's too fast stuffing himself.

Of course, he throws up. Who wouldn’t, you have both of your index fingers hooked inside the corners of his mouth to keep him open wide, and Taehyung just keeps on thrusting his hips upward. The bitter taste alone makes Baekhyun vomit again, this time on the carpet. He’s so dizzy. He needs more cock to feel full and healthy again. You want to give him a minute, but he’s faster than that. Though less swift than Taehyung who knows that once Baekhyun’s stomach is already empty, he can pound away and fully destroy him. But both of them have to obey your pacing.

And this time, your tugging at Baekhyun’s hair is slow and gentle. So Taehyung follows that, too. Baekhyun’s lips look blurry, so crimson all around, and you make sure to hold his head down entirely to swallow Taehyung’s balls. Fucking his neck up entirely so his next client will be desperate in trying to use it, and failing. It's the only way he'll ever be yours. Taehyung's balls inside of him or not.

As far as he can judge with the bitterness in his mouth, they do taste good. Hallelujah, what a day. It’s just that his throat can only handle so many, and cracked lips are hell on earth. Gladly Taehyung has brittle stamina, especially because it’s Mister tightest throat alive sucking him off. At least that’s how the other boys call Baekhyun at the place. He keeps on sucking with that in mind, but the tug at his hair leaves no room for contemplation, nor does Taehyung's growling.

You've heard it before. It's so needy, but deeply hurt. Baekhyun bites down on him at the tap of your finger on his little wrist. The signal.  

Taehyung blows up all messy and sticky until it drops out of Baekhyun’s nose. It's less bitter. How long did he have blue balls? It must have been more than an hour. You do the signal again for Baekhyun to unclench his jaw and bob his head again, to get at least a bit of Taehyung’s semen down. Because ultimately, the more you make him move, the more he has to cough and swallow. Breathing is hard now, but he’ll manage for the remaining seconds until you let go of his hair. He gags down the rest, even with vomit. His eyes are empty, but his cheeks glow.

“My baby did amazing.”

You wipe your sleeve at his nose. It wets almost immediately. Baekhyun sniffs and declines the sleeve, which you retreat. He's exhausted.

At least he doesn't do coke. He does cum.

Baekhyun pops off scrambling at your t-shirt almost immediately, and you curse yourself for not getting rid of it earlier. Even if Taehyung and literally anybody else at the place thinks it’s a little bit silly despite it being so standard, Baekhyun loves to suck your tits to calm himself down. For half an hour, well if he can, attaching to one breast at a time with both hands and his rosebud mouth. If they’d give him even one drop of milk, he would swim the entirety of the Pacific and back to drink it.

Taehyung giggles along while you pull off your shirt and have a clumsy go at it — Baekhyun’s too dizzy still, so he misses the mark as it usually happens. Although Taehyung is easily shushed, it still feels awkward. So you ask him to join. They alternate between sucking and kissing each other, having Taehyung taste his own cum and lubricating Baekhyun’s lips with it. What’s all over the carpet doesn’t really matter. It’s just the smell that makes you want to switch rooms. It’s all over Taehyung, too. So you decide to have the boys finish quite early into today's new fourty minute goal, suavely parting from your breast. The side where Baekhyun had led feels like it was about to tinge, but then again, just leaves a tense aureola for once. Next time, you ponder, would be a good time to admonish him. It's not like sucking dick where you get more for the heavier sucks. It's like love where there is a fine line between trying too hard and doing it just right.

The cubicle of the shower is calcified and rustier than the key to the apartment itself, nor do three people really fit inside the entire construction to begin with. But the showerhead works, so you use that one to get at least a bit of water rain down, and manage to get the grime off the boys and your breasts. Taehyung looks happy when you use too much soap on him, and tries to mess with Baekhyun’s hair so it’ll stand up vertically. With limited success, but Baekhyun is at least trying to retaliate getting Taehyung’s bubbly hair in a mess.

He’s not as sleepy as he usually is, which turns out to be a good sign as you think of it. Baekhyun has probably been rejecting one or two late-night clients recently. He never used to do that. For the sake of his rep, his wallet, his peace of mind because his perfectionism wouldn’t let him off the hook to have a good night’s sleep instead. But he’s not been busy so often in the last three weeks, you can tell by his social media updates and his texts. It’s rare that he gets a break or has the financial backing for it. Then again, it’s only been two clients or so. The ones who’d rather make him unable to go on working, so it would be counterproductive to spread his legs for them. Or maybe it was just Seokjin who made him take a day off out of necessity.

“You stole three of my clients!” Baekhyun goes on shoving water into Taehyung’s direction. “This is what you get for it!”

And there it is. You were wrong again.

“Can’t help being popular,” Taehyung replies ever so nonchalantly by taking the showerhead from you and spritzing Baehyun down head to toe until all the soapy mess is gone. “Clients aren’t deaf to house gossip, they pick new favorites each week.”

You snatch the showerhead back from the braggart and turn it in his direction at full blast. He ends up squealing and dancing in circles to avoid the water where it goes, but soon falls into Baekhyun’s arms because the shower floor is too slippery. Baekhyun flinches a bit when Taehyung rubs against him by accident.

"The tattoo?" Taehyung asks. You rummage with the soap again.

"Never had a day where it didn't feel sensitive," Baekhyun says.

"I want something like that, too, Noona!"

"Tae, you don't have a weak spot as far as I know."

"Really?"

"At least to this degree."

"What was getting it done like?"

"He fainted outside the parlor."

"No way!"

"He didn't drink and eat enough that day and it was boiling hot. The pain was only pulling the trigger on him."

You turn off the showerhead and towel down Baekhyun — save his face of course. He clings to the rest of what’s on there come fire or high water.

Before you can dry up Taehyung, the power is down in the hotel. Only the street lights illuminate the bathroom where you go by their silhouettes to finish up. You can’t tell whether it’s Taehyung, Baekhyun, or both kissing you quick in the dark. It's wet, it's cold, everything spins. A bad feeling in your gut lingers past their sloppy mouths that the night is over, and you're nowhere near the same as before. None of you is.

By the time Taehyung gets his phone to lighten up the hallway, power is back.

“I put some beetroot in the fridge. Go get yourself a slice or two, baby.”

Baekhyun shuffles into the corner, takes a tablecloth to open the fridge because the handle is crusty and yellow. The inside it halfway clean, especially since you put some plates in there earlier. And beetroot. It’s one of the few things he actually likes. It tastes disgusting, leaves red and violet blotches everywhere, and won’t ever make him full. That’s precisely why he likes it. You buy it because of whatever vitamins it has. Taehyung just thinks its weird and sometimes leaves cookies in the hallway for Baekhyun to chew on after he took two clients or so.

“There’s noodles, too. From Mr. Kim’s delivery. If you eat half of it, maybe mommy gives you a kiss on the forehead.”

You’re half joking. Or maybe not. Baekhyun considers the plate at least, removes the wrap, and smells at it. He picks up a fork wordlessly and stirs the meal. Since he doesn’t like being watched while eating, you and Taehyung sit down in the other room to have some chicken. The door in between is shut not to distract him with the smell. You do hear the fridge open and close two times while eating with Taehyung.

He says you did a good job. His chest still hurts. And Baekhyun really bit down hard blowing him so he can still feel it. His Friday clients will appreciate how it'll look like. He’s gonna have his asshole ravaged so hard, some unnerved doc has to stitch it back in. But now’s not the time to think about it. The chicken is delicious and you look so beautiful. He could get used to this. One day he might even have enough money to buy you some elaborate seafood dish from the luxury restaurant opposite to Mr. Kim. Be a good boy to you, get a big tip and a nice fuck. Life could be a dream and chicken is a splendid glimpse of it.

After more rummaging noises in the kitchen, Baekhyun returns with a little soy sauce showing around his mouth. He looks so downcast. You ask how he feels.

"You already know," he mumbles.

"Baby, sometimes even I can't read your mind."

"Hm."

"If you don't want to say it, that's okay."

"Noona..."

"Yes?"

He slumps down next to you, having the corners of his mouth wiped by Taehyung, who also wants to poke his cheeks but retreats his hands when Baekhyun doesn't react.

“Am just an A-class whore," he rubs his neck. "With nowhere to belong. Not worth a dick or dime.”

His voice is hoarse. You kiss his shoulders where the rope wasn't too tense.

“No, you’re mine. Don’t forget that.”

“I—”

“You belong here,” you lay your palm flat on your lap. Then below your chest where the heart is, “here. And here.” You finally place Baekhyun’s little hand at your forehead. “You already know you’re in there all the time, fucker. I'm thinking of you.”

“Some days I...”

“Hush, no more. Off with you to get some sleep.”

"Are you satisfied, Noona?"

"More than words can say. Now, come."

Taehyung guides Baekhyun into the corridor by the hand, checking his own rope marks before covering up. They have half faded, but the ones at his hip remain prominent and still burn a bit too much. Taehyung mumbles something about "cream later" and stuffs his top into the hem of his trousers. Baekhyun says that there's some stuff in his bag to mend it, but Taehyung declines.

“Well look at your makeup,” he coos and wipes down Baekhyun’s cheeks as if he didn’t see him cry.

It’s mostly sweat, isn’t it.

“Hotel Room service got a job tomorrow,” Baekhyun fastens his belt.

“It would be a surprise if that’s even a thing here. I thought you looked around?” you twinkle at him.

“I only see you.”

Taehyung huffs at that with an eye roll, phone out to text Seokjin. He gets a fast reply. He does watch out for his darlings every way, doesn’t he. You’ve met him countless times, he always does your bookings, too. You're sure he'll take care of Baekhyun tonight so he can sleep well.

“You don’t go home?” Taehyung blinks at you.

“I’m staying overnight, it’s convenient. Namjoon arranged a meeting with the team in the city centre tomorrow, just a five-minute walk so I don’t have to commute.”

“At least don’t sleep close to one of these dusty moldy things, Noona,” Baekhyun mumbles.

He nods his head in the direction of the almost decomposing stereo where The Doors are still playing.

“Says my baby hypocrite who’s gonna chain-smoke two packs when he’s out the door.”

You kiss him on the nose. It’s tender.

“Three if I can,” he smiles.

“Ugh, just go and pull a Shakespeare,” Taehyung snorts. He takes his umbrella and shakes it dry. “He’d spew some better jizz without the cigs anyway. That's why your eggs are done for, too. Fucking passive smokers complaining.”

But Baekhyun already picks up the red bag. He’s got the little note with your name on it tucked in at the side. It’s still from the first time you came to him. He did his best to keep any crease out of it. Taehyung looks down realizing that neither of you will talk about it, closing his trench coat. You kiss his forehead and make a silent promise to yourself to invite him again sometime, in a better hotel than this one.

A less pretty messed up place.

Wet drops from the umbrella are the last thing lingering on the carpet when you hear their voices blur in the distance of the corridor. Baekhyun pops a pill before turning the key in at the reception by placing it on its little bronze hook between Room 30 and 32.

Taehyung says he’ll take the car to pick up some groceries at the other end of the main street, and going to Mr. Kim’s to stock up. In the dim light of the backyard, they say goodbye and Baekhyun fastens his leather jacket. He gets out his gloves climbing the motorcycle parked in the corner with a deep exhale. Everything hurts. His ass feels like it could fall apart any second just sitting. All the dirty makeup has come off entirely by now judging by the tired reflection of the side mirror. His lace top is sticky against his chest underneath the jacket already. It’s cold sweat dripping down to his abdomen. The hearts are truly bleeding now.

Epilogue: Osaka

All of the streets are empty like his mind. He’ll get fucked up with another bottle later while Taehyung appeases some late-night clients. Probably by charming the bouncer a bit more than usual and telling him that Baekhyun took a lot of pills. Which won't be a lie. Your next time is already scheduled. Until then, Baekhyun hopes nobody finds drugs in the wrong spot or they let minors in by chance and the press picks up on it. The place is just too corrupt to prevail for a long time either way. Maybe he can move in with you next year if he isn’t done for by then. Enjoy a July afternoon in Seoul downtown, an iced coffee, an evening on the terrace opposite Mr. Kim's where there's live music. Pay the bills because it’s romantic. Pay the taxes because it's what a good citizen does. Quit smoking, retire from the place and earn money elsewhere. Eat healthy and get a proper sample for the fridge. Prepare to be a good father if you’re lucky that time. Be less deadbeat and more alive. Forget about everything. Maybe one day you’ll have fucked him so much, you pretty much bought him whole and he’s free. No debt left, no memories. That's why he hates to eat, it puts him as far away from that state of mind as possible: An everlasting blank slate. The final solace that never really came.

Recently, he has been wondering if that time ever comes. He coughs up blood, he can’t sleep, his lungs are so tense when breathing. Only more smoking can ease the pain, right? He’s so stupid. A bright red Friday circle brightens up his calendar in three weeks, that’s good news. Around the hours when you plan coming home from work. You’ll be meeting in your flat for the first time. There will be coffee, not iced, but not any more bottles and power down every two hours. Seokjin agreed he can go there as long as he does what he’s supposed to do, and brings back the money he’s supposed to get. But three weeks are a long time. Those are many clients out the door with his dignity on the line, and how many missed meals just to have a waist more lithe, how many hours of being wide awake? He doesn’t care. Been there, done that.

It’s almost spring, which means you’ll travel back to Osaka together. Watch the cherry blossoms, visit the temples. Send Taehyung cute postcards the old-fashioned way even if the stamps are expensive. Kiss and pose for selfies because it’s a better life together. And never touch nicotine again before his insides fade to black. Blot and blur. Much like the road, the street lights. They're on the brink of day, but melting past his eyes like a spiraling void. Baekhyun's so cold, it's not just the lace top. Nothing feels meaningful anymore when he imagines the future, and he's content. There's nothing of importance in this moment except that. The road of life carries on whether he follows it or not. The street lights warp into a pulsating vortex, it's a heartbeat. Everything he likes about you passes before his eye. The way you carry yourself. How you put a little heart at the bottom of the note, and told him he's handsome. The habit you have, getting up at 5:30 am to send him a text if the shift was okay. How you smile and make everything a little better. Everything feels liberated when he thinks about it. It's a feeling taking over each and every limb, the sweetest anesthesia. Maybe you can be his blank slate. Close the vortex once and for all. He doesn't hit the breaks for the turn the alley ahead, he just falls. It doesn't matter. Baekhyun is sure about it, and that's the only bit of peace he can ever have. You would have been happy one day. So, so happy.

© 2017-2018 submissive-bangtan. All rights reserved.  Reposts, modifications, and translations are not permitted. 

#taehyung smut #bts fanfic #baekhyun smut #exo fanfic #exo smut #sub!taehyung #sub!baekhyun #bts smut #baekhyun x reader #taehyung x reader

[taelicacy]

Monochrome Season

Genre: Fluff, future smut, angst, mental health

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4  (not yet available)

Synopsis: (Y/N) is a very reserved kind of girl that has lots of trouble connecting with people and has unresolved issues with herself. Being forced on a group date who will she meet? And how could he possibly change her future prospects?

Word count: 3k

In my eyes I’ve always been able to classify people in two categories: those who dared to live their life at their fullest and those who simply were too afraid to step out of their comfort zone to do so. However, even if I myself viewed life this way it didn’t prevent me from being classified in the latter group, for various reasons I don't dare to confront.

Those kind of people who simply follow the tide paved by society, those who blindly believe what they were made to believe is good for them, those who won’t ever wonder if there’s something beyond what they’re told to do... I like believing I'm not one of them.

If somebody asked me how to describe myself I wouldn’t really know where to begin.

Actually, that’s a straight out lie, I perfectly know who I consider myself to be, it's just that my opinion on myself is not socially acceptable. Or rather unhealthy , I'd say?

"You must smile, be positive and accept your flaws!" is what everyone preaches from behind a filter, a flawless make up technique and a superiority complex. Meanwhile, even if I tried and blend with the rest with a fakery mask on, the truth is still floating in the back of my mind, like a seed of discord waiting to be watered by negativity and self-doubt.

The truth is that I’m a coward. Such a big coward that I prevented myself from growing because of it. 

What is that? I don't know. I keep it caged in the back of my mind. It's not something I am willing to change. You should just ignore it, like I do. That way I can keep living.

This is how I begun my daily reflections as I let myself fall on my bed like a dead body, exhausted from yet another day of endless college classes and a flooded whatsapp group that made me wonder if it was even possible to feel more unattached to my friends, or any other human being for that matter.

Still, I had to push myself a bit further if I didn't want my existence to be forgotten. I couldn't let myself give in to my hermit tendencies.

I unlocked the phone. “Why do we always spend weeks without talking and then we suddenly have texting fits?” I reprimanded to no one in particular. After all I was living alone in an apartment by myself. Sounds fancy right? Not really, the smallest flat one could ever conceive.

Still, if it meant me being able to be alone it was more than enough for me. I was secretly thankful that my parents didn't oppose to the idea of me not having a flat mate. Not that they would like me being so antisocial.

The mobile phone's light blinded me a bit amidst the dark room. The group bombarding me with messages was the one that I shared with my closest friends.

My eyes quickly skimmed over the hundreds of messages. 

Break-up, was the key word that caused such a ruckus.

My eyes widened in surprise, and I ran to get my bag. 

Me and the girls were to meet up in the usual cafe, we would often go there to hang out from time to time when we managed to make our schedules match. I really liked that coffeplace. It was the perfect mixture of old and modern, isolated it was located in an alley next to a main street, bearing the perfect balance between noisy and quiet, modern and outdated. 

I took a glimpse of them sitting in the furthest table from the entrance, our usual spot, with their respective favorite mixes of coffee and my usual Frapuccino waiting for me on the table, rather seducing me to quicken my pace towards them.

As I was approaching something actually put me out of the food craving trance I was in. Kara’s expression was a mix of “Oh, (Y/N) you’re gonna hate us”, and “I’m so sorry, we are doing this to you, but we are”.

Reflexively, I frowned as I sat in the seat reserved for me. “...So, what’s up? Please don’t scare me...”.

They both cracked a smile as if I had just nailed something, pity in Kara’s eyes, as she tended to be a very empathetic person. That was reason enough to make my mental emergency alarms go off.

Mira's expression went stern again. What the heck was going on? “...I’m just gonna be direct (Y/N)… I’ve broken with my boyfriend already...”.

Oh, Ape, Mira’s boyfriend. That’s actually how me and Kara called that guy, derogatorily. Nickname well deserved, he was a brainless man that had cheated on Mira more than once and who we wanted to punch fervently. Still, she seemed pained.

“Why now, after so much time after the cheating happened?” I asked sincerely.

“I may hold affection for him, but there's no love anymore since that happened. I guess now I’m finally free”.

As we pulled each other in a hug, we kept on pressing the issue to get her to vent the most she could to forget the bastard.

“Actually… It may seem too soon, but if I’ve been able to call this relationship off it’s because I am interested in a guy” Mira murmured hesitantly as if she were afraid to seem too shallow.

“I was hoping you’d help me by going to a...” tension built up while Mira stopped to breathe deeply, squinting her eyes she quickly muttered “...group date”.

OH. Okay, it makes sense that they’d plan to carefully throw this bomb to me, since it’s obvious that I’d say no, because hell NO. These kind of social conventions were the epitome of my social anxiety triggering situations. I mean, imagine the pressure of being set up with a guy you don’t even know, who won’t want you to be his pair and having to interact with a dude forced to talk to you for the whole afternoon. Oh, yes it sounds like a dream come true!  I'm sure it won't be awkward at all and I won't want to flee and curl up like a worm into a safe position into the safety of my house! It sounded like a great idea, right?  And---

“Wait (Y/N), I know what you’re thinking, but it isn’t necessarily a triple date, it’s just us and his friends hanging out to have fun, and me trying to get closer to him while we are at it!”

"Well, there will also be as many guys as us girls, but hey, that doesn't mean anything!" snickered Kara.

“...That actually sounds reasonable… But--” I stopped as Kara actually made a pleading look to me. I had to be more reasonable. Mira had gone through a lot because of that Ape, and we didn’t want to see her like that ever again. Going could even help us see if this new guy was a threat Mira couldn’t spy, like it usually happened to her, since she tended to be too naive. Yes, maybe it was time to be less selfish and act for the sake of my friend.

Therefore, I ended up accepting and suspiciously being told the place and the date when it was happening, as if they had been planning it all along even before I accepted.

Will they were both very excited I had a gut feeling that something was gonna go really wrong.

It’s not a date, relax, understood? Understood. There is NO pressure, I don’t need to pretend to be more talkative and friendly than I am, understood? Understood. I’m just going there to make new friends and help my own, understood? Understood. Okay, then, WHY AM I STILL FREAKING OUT.

As you can probably guess I’m not a really a... people person, to put it lightly. 

If there’s something that bothers me is the awkwardness associated to meeting new people. And not only because of my deficient social skills, but the weirdness of the situation itself. The shortest silence makes my brain freak out trying to find a topic that is smart enough to stop the excruciating silence, most of the time failing and not being able to join in the conversation. It's not nice, feeling out of place.

I’d just say I’ve learnt out of trial and error that the wisest course of action is to stay out of this situations the most I can. Maybe that’s the reason why I don’t have many friends. Or maybe the reason is because I’m plainly a strange and awkward person, who knows?

Who’d say that as a college student I’d keep having the same issues as I had when I went to elementary school?

The reflection was worthy, however, the time to leave was approaching. I had already been dressed hours ago and now I was getting urges to either change my whole outfit or just pick the phone and make a shitty excuse to not go altogether.

I looked at myself in the mirror one last time. I didn’t choose anything special, just a casual outfit that I’d wear normally but that fit me and made me feel a little bit more safer and confident. The urges kept coming harder and the uneasiness growing steadily as I encouraged myself to just ignore them and crack the door open.

When I finally were approaching my all too familiar cafe, I got angry with Mira for making all of us meet there. I would probably always remember this awkward encounter everytime I went there again.

The door's bell tingled as if it was a sign that I could no longer back down from this. I noticed the usual excited salutation from Mira on our usual table, Kara timidly smiling on her right side and a guy who I suspected was Mira's interest on her left.

He gave off a warm and approachable vibe, with a smile so broad that I could tell right away why she was became interested in him in the first place. 

His name was Namjoon and despite my inherent nervousness he was able to make me feel  a bit more at peace as he hugged me in a brotherly hug after introducing himself.

"Oh, nice to meet you, my name is (Y/N)" I managed to blurt out thanks to being a bit calmer.

"You know, we were just talking about you" Namjoon said jokingly still with a soothing smile that pinpointed why Mira had her eyes on him. The guy gave off a warm vibe, that of an understanding person.

"Oh no, what did you tell him Mira!" my cool went out the window, my impulsiveness striking yet again.

"Oh Namjoon you're such a snitch!!" Mira exclaimed."We were talking about how late you always are..." 

"... and how we - as foster mothers - will have to keep you on a leash to keep you from running away" Kara finished with a smile.

I could feel my cheeks grow redder by the second as I understood they exposed my more than obvious uneasiness in social situation. Maybe explaining why Namjoon so friendly? 

"If my mothers have to be such a snitches maybe I should change families" I said as I averted my eyes and sat on a chair between Namjoon and Kara.

"...well, if it makes you feel any better at least you dared to come here. Jungkook-ah on the other hand blatantly refused to" said Namjoon with a disappointed look while I took a mental note to pat this guy’s head if I ever met him.

"And this other was just too lazy to come and that other one was just too busy cooking... well let's say that the ones we are missing are the leftovers. Expect them to be 2 hours late." 

“...Wow, okay… I guess now we’re genuinely intrigued” we muttered in unison.

The conversation fluently went back and forth. And all throughout it I became aware of the amazing people skill the guy had. He knew perfectly how to joke around without awakening further than necessary my anxiety, nor did he try to make me ‘more outgoing’ like some people would try to do as soon as they'd realize how shy I am. Honestly, he was an interesting guy to talk to, specially how he managed to make me feel comfortable.

At some point, probably after almost an hour, just as Namjoon predicted, the bell rang muffled by the complainings of a pair of boys, which I supposed were the special cookies.

My heart raced at the thought, in a mix of expectancy and anxiety to meet them.

"I told you we should have used google maps!!"complained the shorter and blond one to his tag along.

"Aigo, shut up already, you were as lost as I was" answered with little guilt the other one, with a hint of a strikingly lower voice than the first.

The blond, despite his complaints, left me in awe with how flawless his complexion was. He had plump lips and enviable fair skin, that suddenly drove me self-aware of my own skin, rougher in comparison to his.

This one walked in front of his taller and deep-voiced friend, whom had a white cap that covered his face as he lazily approached the table.

"Hyung! It was Jimin-ah’s fault all along, you know how he's always a trillion years late when he goes to the bathroom" the white-cap guy told Namjoon with a hint of real annoyance in his joking overall tone.

Namjoon facepalmed at the situation.

"AH! What are you saying in front of them!" The blond guy apparently named Jimin whined.

Probably Namjoon’s statement reminded white-cap guy of our existence, since he let out a subtle “oh” as he turned his head in our direction, letting me finally see his face. “Oh, hello” he faintly smiled to us as he seemed to realize he had made a fool out of his friend.

His dark strands of hair messily peeked from under his cap covering his thick eyebrows, and despite his low voice I wouldn’t have been able to decide whether he had a childish face or a manly one. Somehow his smile stirred a certain uneasiness on my gut that not even I understood.

"Hey! My name is Mira, and I'm Namjoon's friend from uni" she started quickly with her trademark presentation. Always a spotless smile in her face. I was always amazed by how she and Kara managed to look so lovely and draw a flawless smile on their lips with little to no effort. 

The nagging uneasiness kept on creeping, growing stronger every passing second as I watched everyone introducing themselves to the newcomers. I had no intention of being the one going next, but at one point it would be my turn right? 

By the time Kara had already started her warm welcoming it was a countdown to me pulling myself together and acting like a normal human being.

Both Jimin and cap-guy looked as if they were from a different whole different dimension from me, even I couldn't avoid noticing how Mira and Kara measured up to those stylish guys. That realization only made me more displeased with the situation. It was a given that I would look out of place.

I could hear a faraway "Nice to meet you too" coming from the newcomers mouths. That was a signal that I was out of time and all the rushing thoughts came to a halt.

By the time they were already finished and it was my turn I had realized I had to pull myself together and stood up from my seat like the others, adrenaline rushing through my whole being. The nagging uneasiness never leaving. It was always better to ignore it in such situations since trying to address the elephant took more time than the few seconds I had left.

I was ready to mask my inner turmoil with a smile, the less crooked possible, when Namjoon grabbed me by my shoulders, and I could swear that for a millisecond his expression was trying to reassure me. He directed me towards the guys and joked again "Aaand this is my new friend (Y/N)."

At any other time I'd have had time to question why was he already calling me a friend despite just having met, but I was already mentally occupied with enough things as I got shoved in front of cap-guy.

Our eyes locked immediately. His pupils were the first thing mine could find as if Namjoon had purposely planned it that way. I was captured by the guy's eyes, fixated for a few seconds they were the only thing I could look at. As if I couldn’t fight how much his eyes pulled me in. His gaze seemed to dig a hole into my soul and back, yet for some reason I wanted to keep on looking at them regardless of my surroundings. 

"Nice to meet you, my name's Taehyung!" his bubbly words, unfitting the mysterious vibes that I had been getting from his glance, burst the bubble that surrounded us. Or maybe that surrounded only me? Was it my imagination?

Still, he greeted me happily as he pulled a grin like no other I had ever seen before, adding an even new flavor to the mix of feelings I was already experimenting.

#taehyung #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff #bts fluff #bts mental health #bts depression #bts anxiety #jimin #suga #yoongi #rapmon #rm #jm #v #jungkook #bts au #bts alternate universe #bts self insert #jin #jhope #hoseok #namjoon #bts series #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung love #taehyung romance #taehyung smut

[studyaroundthetokki]

A (not so) little reminder about life

Life Goals: When you get there, you’re just starting...

TW: all the bad things

I often see posts here from younger folk talking about how they feel unable to do what they want to do. I see the depression and the struggles and the pain. From an old fart of a lady on the internet.. here’s my story about how the fuck I climbed out of the pit of misery and self destruction I was on and am finally, at almost 37, just starting the life I wanted to live.

I have always wanted to go to Japan and teach there for a while. There’s lots of reasons why I’m fascinated with the country and culture, but that’s not what this is about. My adoration is not limited to just pop culture, but to the language itself. The characters and complexity and the beauty of it (I think this of all languages, I just prefer Japanese). 

However, as a woman with very humble beginnings in a slightly dystopian rural scape in America.. I never really thought much about it becoming a reality. Through my blunder years, I stood out like a sore thumb as well. My family was a “broken” one, my parents divorced when I was 10 and.. let’s just say I grew up really fast. I think that gives enough background. I was an ‘01 graduate. So, like any up and coming gen Y: I went into English and Art and Sociology and Graphic Design at different parts of my education and nothing practical. Japanese wasn’t offered where I went to school but I did study French for 4 years.

A failed engagement, 2 cross country moves, being broke AF and a few years later in 2011, I got involved in an ESL/EFL/Linguistic Master’s program. I was already in my late 20′s but I figured that there’d be jobs available for me in the field. When I was working on my graduate thesis, companies rejected me based on my weight, my lack of experience, my rural accent and a few other things. I also had my liver rupture and a nice 2 week hospital stay where my house was broken into and my graduate thesis was on the laptop that was stolen.

I wrote that fucker over again from a few images and notes on social media and pure willpower.. and a lot of my “special blend” coffee that has enough caffeine to fly me to the moon, in about a month. By the power of greyskull I scraped through with honor’s and a diploma. My thesis defense was shakey AF.

Finally had a job lined up in Korea.. which I knew nothing about. Didn’t even know how to say the words or read it. Knew very little history as well or culture. That was a trip best left summed up as: The people were awesome outside of the job, the job was full of racist assholes. The kids? Eh they were typical students who didn’t GAF.

Oh, and I got a major tear in my left ACL and couldn’t work for a few months. SO that was fun.

By the time this had all transpired, I was 33. Queue another few failed relationships with physical/emotional abuse, sexual harassment, rape and other fun things like that. 

I moved back in with my mom from 2014 to 2018. I was on disability. I had to take physical therapy to regain motion of my leg b/c of no treatment in Korea. Ect. Queue the depression fugue and struggle with suicidal desires which turned into plans and research and almost implementation. I pushed friends away and basically became unable to function normally. When I did find people I could form friendships with, they ended up being unhealthy. My sense of boundaries was weird, and like many people who are drowning in these dark places, when I tried to talk about it: it sounded like I was a self-centric prick instead of the cry for help it really was. My communication skills became limited to type, and often lead to misunderstandings or miscommunication due to forming fast and intense friendships with people online instead of taking time to slowly open up. Basically, even when I was trying to convey something harmless my lack of awareness could make it sound pretty cutting or downright racist/bigoted/ect. 

I’m not trying to deny their feelings. I just want to take ownership of my side of things as a note: that was never the real meaning, but I will always be one to apologize for my lack of clarity in speaking. I fucking studied linguistics and communication--I feel that I should be able to avoid most of that shit.... but it’s still going to happen. I still felt horrible over it all and have guilt to this day, even though I don’t even remember ever saying anything like that. 

But you know? I have also learned that some people are only meant to be in your life for a while, and that’s OK. You don’t have to jive with everyone all the time. Still, I wasn’t myself. I’m still not entirely back to “me.” I’d lost my sense of identity. I’d lost my center and balance.. I’d lost so much. My head gets tight and dizzy when I think about identity too much to this day. I’m working on it though. 

Oddly enough, what saved me were 3 things at 3 different times:

My first partner, a now trans man, who brought me out to house sit while he and his wife were going on a 2nd honeymoon. We’re really tight. I was there  before he knew he was transgender and helped give support through his coming out. He knows me at my purest and his wife is the most lovely and gracious woman on the planet. They’re my center for what is healthy and good in life. I love them both more than words. 

He also asked me to read his biography, which while slightly muddled, was very flattering to the parts that had me, and drug me through the dark places he also traveled and into the light where he is now. It gave me hope. It breathed some fresh air into the cave I’d been hiding in. 

We were all very close and we shared some good memories and for the first time.. I remembered that I was not this ball of pain that I was at home. My family is wonderful and amazing. I just don’t flourish in the environment that they do well in. My needs, especially due to my health problems (more on that in a minute), are very specific and limiting. 

It was really weird. I felt pain all the time, at such great intensity, due to my health problems. While I was there at another point (a year later doing the same house sitting gig), an older friend of mine who also had fibromyalgia, let me try her medicinal weed. 

I cried really, *really* hard. I’d forgotten what it was like to not feel pain all the time and stayed high as a kite for about 2 weeks straight and got some time to think clearly and actually write also. It was during this time that I was contacted about a job in... Korea again. I decided to say fuck it and go do the interview with the owner of the private cram school.  A friend of mine also went into a downward spiral at this time and I was their suicide watch. I’m happy to say, he is still alive and is doing well and according to him: is living a fairly content and productive life now. 

I am NOT going to go into details about my job as I am still working there but I will say this: it’s better than the last one and has given me some perspective. I also was the head teacher, so it looked really good on my resume...and I will NEVER teach kindergarten again. 

On the off chance, I took a 3 day trip to Japan. It was something I wanted to do all my life and I was at a low point again. It... was amazing to do something that literally was on my bucket list. I loved everything about Tokyo. I loved the crowded streets and the lack of staring and how quiet it was and.. just I was the happiest I’ve been in many years. I was actually outgoing. I could go on and on... but I found my happy place (specifically the Nezu Shrine in Tokyo). Even now, when I think about it.. I feel the same calm and peace I felt the first time I stepped onto the shrine ground. 

I started studying Japanese again and started applying for some jobs and.. while it’s not the most fantastic job.. I got one teaching university classes. I’m not a full professor but I’m planning on trying to become one if I like it there. It’s an elective class, so the students actually want to study English, unlike the kids at the cram schools and public schools I’ve worked for. 

I’m just now starting on the journey that I wanted to do for most of my life. I’ve dreamed about going to Japan since I saw it on some kid’s show. I later became fascinated through shows like Sailor Moon, Boogiepop Phantom, Serial Experiments Lain, and .hack//sign. The last one there has a lot to do with why I want to go into translation and work in gaming... which is a far cry from working at a univ.  But you know what? I DON’T CARE IF IT TAKES TIL I’M 70! I’m going to be a localizor/translator/world developer for a game. 

And it’s going to be fuckin awesome.

[preserving-ferretbrain]

Educating Vitae

by Shim

Monday, 18 January 2016

In which choices are explored, people do things they know to be bad, blood is unhelpfully like sex, and there are altogether too many types of vampire.~

I must apologise firstly for the title, and secondly for not incorporating any song titles from Meat Loaf into this article. I already spent too long writing it.

So, only six years late, I finally finished reading Vampire Academy.

It’s quite fun. I originally wrote "really fun", but reflection on the social plot has made me a bit less enthusiastic.

The following will contain enormous amounts of spoilers, including big plot-type revelations. I should also point out that the book includes self-harm, and I will briefly mention it but not go into detail.

On Protagonists and Viewpoints

So the book is a little ambiguous about its nature. Let me cite some of the back blurb here.

Lissa Dragomir is a mortal vampire. She must be protected at all times from the fiercest and most dangerous vampires of all - the ones who will never die. Rose Hathaway is Lissa's best friend - and her bodyguard. Now, after two years of illicit freedom, they've been dragged back inside the iron gates of St. Vladimir's Academy. The girls must survive a world of forbidden romances, a ruthless social scene and terrifying night-time rituals. But above all, they must never let their guard down, lest the immortal vampires take Lissa - forever...

Huh. I don’t think I’ve seen a single night-time ritual. How misleading.

But never mind that! The point is, in this blurb and the early stages of the book, it’s not entirely clear who’s the protagonist (as discussed originally in

The Text Factor: Halloween Special: Girl Books for Girls

). The description kicks off with Lissa, and she’s the vampire, and the one affected by most of the weird events of the book. However, our viewpoint character is always Rose.

I wondered for a while whether this was going to be a dual-protagonist book with a single viewpoint character; due to blood bond shenanigans, Rose sporadically ends up in Lissa’s mind, which is a handy way to convey key information. That would have been interesting.

As the story progressed, though, I increasingly got the feeling that Lissa is more of a plot point (albeit a nicely characterised one) than a protagonist in her own right. Her early interactions with Christian, and her special status, suggest that her experiences might be the main focus of the book, with Rose there for support, observation and a bit of romance on the side. However, it soon becomes clear that Rose’s experiences are going to be much more narratively important than Lissa’s.

Introduction to the Vampire

There’s quite a lot of vampire stuff to introduce, especially for those of us not familiar with it. I’ve not idea how closely it fits folklorific ideas of vampires. However, the broad-strokes picture we get of how vampire society works seems to fit together in its own rather bizarre way. The relationship between moroi

[1]

, dhampir

[2]

and humans is clearly unhealthy, particularly their utterly hypocritical view of the people they depend on for blood.

However, Mead is careful to weave in some explanations for this. Not only are the ‘feeders’ providing food, which tends to dehumanise them; they do so willingly and eagerly, because of the intoxicating nature of vampiric saliva, making them into addicts. Society doesn’t respect addicts, so it’s easier to accept this situation. Moreover, Rose calls out the hypocrisy in the situation explicitly, while still allowing shades of it to slip into her own attitudes and words. Knowing something’s morally dubious isn’t an easy route to resolving it, after all.

They were well cared for and given all the comforts they could need. But at the heart of it, they were drug users, addicts to Moroi saliva and the rush it offered with each bite. The Moroi - and guardians - looked down on this dependency, even though the Moroi couldn't have survived otherwise unless they took blood by force. Hypocrisy at its finest.

This trait of allowing grey complexities into Rose’s voice is one of the things that pleased me about the book. Rose is quite perceptive about wrongs, injustices and ambiguities, but Mead hasn’t written her as some righteous, crusading heroine. In fact, the book is riddled with her weaknesses. You might even argue that one of the themes of the book (and, I suspect, the series) is morality, boundaries of acceptability, and the strength and opportunity to make moral choices. Let’s see if I can make a case for that.

Choices and Morality

One of the first things that happens in the book is a feeding; Rose’s vampire, Lissa, needs blood from her. This introduces the intoxication aspect, but it’s only later that we learn how unacceptable – dirty, perverted, unthinkable – this is in vampire society. However, it’s a decision they made to keep Lissa alive, and one that’s left Rose with a mild addiction.

Soon after they return to school, Rose walks into a classroom to find two high-status kids tormenting a poor kid, magically blowing his papers around the room. In many books this would be a teaching point, where Rose or Lissa stepped in to deliver justice and demonstrate their righteousness. Here, nobody does a thing.

My instincts urged me to do something, maybe go smack one of the air users. But I couldn’t pick a fight with everyone who annoyed me, and certainly not a group of royals – especially when Lissa needed to stay off their radar. So I could only give them a look of disgust as I walked to my desk.

And then the narrative moves on to another part of the plot. Although Lissa is technically high-status, and both were once socially powerful, the school has moved on in their absence. Now, the rumours about their escape – and soon about a series of associated events – greatly complicate their attempts to blend back in.

Similarly, Rose frequently does things that aren’t particularly nice, or good, or sensible. As the story is told from her viewpoint, we even hear her acknowledging these issues. She still does them, though. It’s very human.

Some tiny, tiny part of me was starting to feel sorry for Christian. It was only a tiny part, though, and very easy to ignore...

And later on:

"...between stealing [her boyfriend] and spreading those stories about her parents, you guys really picked the best ways to make her suffer. Nice work." The smallest pang of guilt lurched inside of her. "I still think you're lying." "I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a lair. That's your department. And Rose's." "We don't-" "Exaggerate stories about people's families? Say that you hate me? Pretend to be friends with people you think are stupid? Date a guy you don't like?"

All of the above accusations are, of course, entirely accurate.

A feud erupts between Rose, Lissa and another girl called Mia, apparently at Mia’s instigation. Still, both sides are determined to utterly crush their rival and exact painful revenge, which means immense suffering for both parties as their most private secrets are turned into playground gossip by the other side. It’s mutually-assured destruction, basically.

Another important decision involves Lissa’s vampiric powers. We learn early on that Lissa has some compulsion abilities, and gradually discover that she can influence both humans and vampires, which is highly unusual. When their social standing is destroyed by revelations of blood sharing, a furious Lissa resolves to use those abilities to forcibly change people’s opinions of them, catching them one by one and altering their feelings by magic. This does indeed allow them to gradually regain acceptability in the school, but Rose is deeply uncomfortable about it, with good reason.

Finally, there’s Natalie. Poor Natalie.

Natalie is the daughter of a powerful vampire, Dashikov, and she just wants to be loved. Throughout the book, she seeks social validation, but it’s made clear that above all, she wants her father’s affection, and doesn’t quite get enough. This poisonous little worm is enough to turn her into a pawn for him, and his total carelessness about her really reinforced how unpleasant he is. From spying on her friends for his sake, she’s eventually pushed into leaving mutilated animals around in an attempt to make Lissa reveal her healing powers.

Finally, when her father is captured, she takes the ultimate step of becoming a Strigoi, murdering one of the teachers to gain the power to break him out. It fails, and her death is another trivial loss in his quest for power. Once again, out come those Themes I mentioned.

Natalie breaks the bounds of friendship in the hopes of winning validation from her father, and what she’s prepared to do for his sake pushes her into the final betrayal of her friends and her entire species. Although apparently happy, she doesn’t have the willpower to withstand his influence and refrain from doing wrong on his behalf. Dashikov betrayed his duties as a father by turning Natalie into a pawn for his own sake, and manipulating her love to force her into immoral acts. This contrasts with Dimitri, who as a child defeated his vampiric father to defend his mother, and now bursts in to help Rose defeat her one-time friend.

Although Natalie was only ever a minor character, looking back, you can see hints of what’s going on in the way she casually teases out information and hangs around Lissa. I did feel genuinely sorry for her, and I was sorry to see she just got killed off at the climax. On the other hand, stories where the bad guys just hang around indefinitely can drag.

Knowing what’s best for you

It strikes me that throughout the book, I don’t think Lissa ever actually asks Rose for anything. Partly this is perhaps just habitual expectation that Rose will be there, but I feel that part of it is that Rose projects her own ideas about what Lissa needs onto her charge. The mental bond that lets her literally see through Lissa’s eyes and experience her thoughts surely doesn’t help. We never see Lissa’s side at first hand.

This is shown up most flagrantly when she intervenes to block what she sees as an unhealthy friendship blooming between high-status Lissa and the local brooding loner, Christian, whose parents were killed after going rogue and hunting other vampires. Lissa finds his company soothing and there’s a sympathetic spark between them.

Rose, who is unusually bound up in social games for a contemporary heroine, is horrified at the thought of Lissa associating with this outcast, and repeatedly takes her to task. Between her prejudice and his rather erratic behaviour, things spiral until Rose intervenes, actively lying to Christian to separate them. Naturally, both Lissa and Christian think the other party has wronged them, and things become progressively worse. She does become guilty, though, and eventually she’s forced to admit that she was in the wrong.

Nonetheless, Lissa’s story throughout the book is one of having her best interests decided and controlled by other people. Her escape from the school turns out to have been at Rose’s instigation and with no warning; they’re forcibly returned to the school; Rose patrols her friendships and tries to dictate her social interactions; and eventually, Dashikov steps in to capture her in the hopes of curing his terminal illness. Even this he tries to frame as being good for her, providing an escape from the problems caused by her unique magical abilities.

The problems are, essentially, mental illness. For some reason not yet explained, Lissa's abilities not only lead to her mental bond with Rose, but also to extremely distressing mental episodes. Her coping mechanism for this is the self-harm I mentioned above, and there are a couple of explicit scenes, including first-person perspective courtesy of Rose's bond. Her eventual hospitalisation after a particularly bad episode causes yet more social waves, but also kicks us over from the social plot to the Dashikov plot that seems likely to be the overarching arc of the series.

Interestingly, I don’t think Christian ever does this. One of the things that seems to make him a suitable friend is that he’s fully prepared to leave Lissa alone. In their first encounter he simply extends a tenuous offer of conversation, making no attempt to force it, and he gives her plenty of space. When Rose tells him that Lissa doesn’t actually want him around, he immediately pulls back (causing both plenty of grief).

He does approximately set someone on fire to end a spiteful conversation about Lissa and Rose, but in fairness it’s purely a distraction and he doesn’t really get a chance to ask whether they’d like any help. Although he also clearly thinks it’s really funny. It's sort of reminiscent of the earlier scene with the boy being bullied, only this time the observer does decide to step in and face the consequences.

Since neither Jacob nor Ralf would have set Ralf on fire, it sort of made the culprit obvious. The fact that Christian was laughing hysterically sort of gave it away too.

Coming back to my point, though, I do think his willingness to just let her be herself – tied in to his own solitude and need to just be himself – is a strong point in his favour. When he realises she’s been self-harming, he twigs immediately, says nothing, and just exudes a kind of supportiveness that Lissa finds very comforting. He’s also smart enough to realise she’s been mesmerising everyone to restore their social standing, which is another point in his favour. Admittedly, he thinks it’s hot, rather than an alarming abuse of a power she shouldn’t even have, but then he is a teenager, and she is canonically doing nothing harmful with it, so the narrative’s always going to be on her side.

What I’m saying is, basically, I liked Christian as a character. I thought he was a well-constructed love interest, even though we mostly only see him in brief glimpses through Lissa’s eyes, as he doesn’t let his guard down as much around Rose. To some extent he comes across as the conscience of the story, reminding Rose and Lissa of their moral failings.

In fact (if I can be astonishingly pseud for a moment) you could almost posit him as a jester; his outsider status, total lack of social power and uncaring badass lonerism means he can speak truth to power (and set people on fire) with impunity, having very little to lose. He's also positioned to observe the other students without much personal involvement, and thus to comment on them.

I found Dimitri appealing as well. Mead did a good job of building the connections between him and Rose – they have similar mindsets, a strong sense of dedication, they feel somewhat isolated, and they’re very physical people. In both cases, they bring an outsider perspective that gives rise to mild contempt for some aspects of vampiric society; a sort of flipside to Christian's status as scion of a family fallen to the strigoi.

Yet they’re not entirely the same. There are clear differences in upbringing: she was raised by the school and indoctrinated from birth to become a model guardian like her mother; he was raised in a tight-knit community of blood-donors. Age also creates a distinction: I can see Rose eventually maturing into a more measured person, though probably still less reserved than Dimitri.

The older lover thing is a trope, and being a trope it isn’t quite as problematic as a 17-24 relationship would seem to me in real life. Rose has also been surviving in the real world for two years, so she’s a bit more savvy than her years. I was pleased that Dimitri, and to some extent Rose, recognised and tried to deal with these issues. As well as the simple age barrier, school rules, and his pastoral responsibility towards her, there are some professional complications.

One odd observation: given how Dimitri is presented as a consummate professional, he completely misses a massive and glaring clue that something suspicious is going on, and the narrative skips right over it.

"Well, it was a hell of a lot better than the last one they tried" "Last one?" "Yeah. In Chicago. With the pack of psi-hounds." "This was the first time we found you. In Portland." "Um. I don't think I imagined psi-hounds. Who else could have sent them? They only answer to moroi. Maybe no-one told you about it." "Maybe," he said dismissively. I could tell by his face he didn't believe that.

It's not very clear to me whether this is supposed to mean "he decided Rose was making it up" or "he was deeply suspicious and pretending not to be". Either way, nothing seems to suggest that anyone actually follows up on this obviously suspicious point, even though it ties strongly into the conclusion of the story.

Changing Minds

It’s maybe worth noting that this offers one of the more accurate portrayals of manipulation and social dynamics I remember seeing. Everyone involved is aware that what they’re dealing with is say-so, rumour and gossip, and quite harmful gossip at that, but they nevertheless either spread it or at least allow it to influence their behaviour. First Lissa, and then Rose, know the other’s desire for revenge is excessive, but they don’t seriously intervene and eventually both are committed to destroying Mia (we never get to see Mia’s side, sadly).

This isn’t just about bitchy girls, either. The boys in the story don’t come out too well. Several are happy to spread damaging lies about girls to get some attention, or even to be bribed with sex. There’s petty bullying, and Lissa and Rose are regularly targets of leering remarks and speculation on their relationship. Even the nicer named boys, Mason and Christian, are hot-tempered and use violence to defend Rose and Lissa from bullying. Only Dimitri, Rose’s smoking-hot combat instructor, escapes most of this – and as a 24-year old, he’s presumably matured more than the others, though he does have one aggressive confrontation with a student.

The school principal is interesting in the little we see of her. Rose views her quite clearly as despotic and arbitrary, but I don’t think the text quite supports that. She is quite harsh with Rose and Lissa, but then she has very good reason: they have committed a serious breach of rules by running away for two full years, causing enormous trouble and worry for a lot of other people. They also appear to be habitual troublemakers (lots of illegal parties and midnight escapades) and smashed up another student’s bedroom before leaving. Of course she’s going to be strict.

Moreover, this isn’t just normal school strictness; the vampires face the very real threat of strigoi hunting them down. In the absence of a very good explanation, which the girls don’t dare to give, severe punishment is inevitable and appropriate. She does intend to expel Rose before Dimitri intervenes, but then again, she’s prepared to change her mind when he agrees to take her in hand. I thought she was pretty well-done as a character.

Social Protagonists

On that social games point – my observation (from an admittedly limited subset of reading) is that the majority of protagonists in contemporary literature, particularly literature aimed at younger people, don’t really dabble in social politics. Many are bookish nerds, particularly on the more fantastical end of the literary spectrum. Many others are simply everyteenagers; they’re averagely attractive (at least in theory), averagely clever, have an average number of friends, and so on. I can only remember seeing high-status people in more literary books, or that high-society flavour of romance a la Jilly Cooper. Historical novels seem much readier to star nobles and the socially-influential, possibly because those are the bits of history that sound most fun.

As such, it was interesting to see a story whose protagonists were enthusiastic participants in the social scene. I was a little disappointed to realise that that was going to be strictly past tense; I suppose it does make sense for things to have changed in their absence, including their own feelings. Mostly, though, I imagine the narrative called for them to have to make new friends and not have very much support, because most of this volume is about that social uncertainty, and how it leaves them vulnerable.

Oh Sole Mia

Mia was actually the aspect of the book that I thought was weakest. I liked the fact that there was an apparently-arbitrary rivalry between these girls, and was quite sympathetic to Mia. Truth be told, I still am. We learn that her family are very low-status and she’s managed to work her way into more influential circles – another example of boundary-crossing, as this seems to be viewed in much the same way as social climbing in 1950s Britain, but seems quite reasonable to me.

Later it’s revealed that the reason for the feud is her appalling treatment by Lissa’s deceased brother, which Lissa is naturally reluctant to believe (as quoted above). Again, the brother made bad choices and harmed Mia both personally and socially in the process. However, Lissa loved and had faith in her brother, and it's difficult for her to accept that he was not only in the wrong, but actively wronged someone else. The fact that she's currently in a serious feud with Mia naturally makes that even harder.

I felt like both sides were being realistically angry and vindictive, but both were also understandable and sympathetic in their motivations. Although Mia technically starts the feud, she's clearly on the defensive from the start, responding to what seems an invasion of her social territory from someone she hates both as a royal and as the sister of her horrible ex.

Later on, though, the authorial voice turns violently against Mia. She becomes increasingly desperate in the face of the nobility closing ranks against her (which is quite understandable), and resorts to trying to get Rose’s help after a fall-out between her and Lissa. This is a sort of unpardonable sin in narrative terms, trying to create a betrayal between friends, and she’s quite explicitly painted as dangerous and ruthless. Of course, this is all in Rose’s voice, but it also felt fairly clear that this was the reality.

Worse is to come, though; it turns out that Mia spread rumours by offering sexual favours to a couple of bragging lads, while in a steady relationship with someone she’s apparently devoted to. This is the point where the narrative switches from nasty-but-somewhat-understandable to, it seemed to me, depicting her as genuinely obsessive and (in Rose’s words) “well into sociopath territory”. It’s not the actions specifically, so much as how far she’s willing to push boundaries in pursuit of revenge. Rose, on the other hand, is the Sexy Spice half of the Rose-Lissa pair, but the text is careful to emphasise early on that she hasn’t had sex, despite all the kissing and “semi-nakedness” that’s brought up regularly.

The problem is, though, that this leaves us with an antagonist who is flat-chested (highlighted very early on), short, relatively unpopular (until she started dating Lissa’s royal ex, apparently), working-class, and promiscuous, who is also portrayed as nasty and sociopathic. I feel like the conflation of those things is a bit unnecessary – I’d rather hoped to see the end of Bad Common Girl when I stopped reading Enid Blyton. She’s left to contrast with a conventionally-attractive, athletic, popular, high-status party-girl heroine who’s conveniently balanced between “sexy” and “virgin”.

This increasing vilification of Mia helpfully means that Rose and Lissa never have to really reconsider their own actions or question their consciences. In fact, the final flare of this plot in the book involves Mia making yet more bitchy remarks while Lissa is in hospital, and Rose punching her in the face. The uberplot kicks off while she's under lock and key, awaiting punishment. Narratively, Mia is placed firmly in the wrong, and I think that's a shame.

Weirdly, in some ways I actually felt more sympathetic to Mia than to Rose. She’s got plenty of issues, but she had been very badly treated by Lissa’s brother, and had fought had to overcome the major social disadvantages of her background in a prejudiced society, only to have that stripped away by the sudden return of Lissa and Rose.

To a large extent I also felt she was treated badly by the narrative, with Mead making an apparently conscious decision to make her a nasty piece of work and piling sexual condemnation on top of that. I’d have liked to see an antagonist who was just someone whose interests constantly clash with the protagonist, and I feel that would have worked well, given how Rose is constantly presented as flawed.

The Sex Talk

Awkwardly, I think the book is framing a lot of the social stuff around sex. I don’t know much about the sociology or literary issues here, so apologies for the aspects I will undoubtedly miss. Essentially, there’s a slightly weird thing where blood is sometimes a sort of metaphor for sex, except there’s also sex. You know?

People who provide blood to vampires are popularly called “blood whores”, which seems to be completely acceptable terminology – the only alternative, “feeders”, isn’t much better. I’m a bit surprised there doesn’t seem to be a single official or neutral term in use, even if teenagers don’t use it. The characters conflate these with the dhampir communities who raise children, creating an impression that non-guardian dhampirs (mostly women) are basically just sources of blood or sex or both for moroi. It’s not entirely clear how accurate this is in the setting.

The entire blood-sharing issue, which is the cause of Lissa and Rose’s fall from grace, is explicitly depicted as both “dirty” and strongly associated with kinky sex. The rumours spread about them claim that Rose has been sleeping around while allowing vampire boys to drink her blood - which is, predictably, treated as only being icky on her side, because sexism.

I mean, it makes some sense. I can see that in a world where “people you feed on” is an actual thing, then taboos would quite likely arise on also having sex with those people, and that all sorts of baggage would build around this.

The awkwardness here is that half their social redemption comes from proving (well, getting those same accusers to declare) that it’s all lies and Rose never actually had sex with anybody, let alone allowed them to drink her blood (the issue of Lissa is allowed to drop). The second half comes from revealing that, while Rose hasn’t been having sex, Mia has, which makes her the slutty one, so ner ner na ner ner. More or less.

It’s all fairly believable behaviour-wise... no, wait. The responses of the teenagers to these various bits of gossip and scandal are sadly believable, though Mia’s behaviour specifically was pretty hard to credit as plausible. At the same time I found it uncomfortable, because these attitudes were also bundled with Mia being quite clearly the spiteful antagonist and also presented as somewhat unstable, and the fact that she specifically uses sex as a lever to get boys to lie on her behalf.

Broadly speaking, you end up with a situation where Our Heroine is vindicated and approved because she wasn’t having sex, whereas Our Antagonist is condemned because she was having sex. This is, bizarrely, true even though Rose and Lissa actually were doing the blood-sharing that’s the biggest part of the taboo, whereas Mia just had sex.

It’s also a bit strange that as far as I can tell, the two boys who spread vicious lies about Rose in exchange for sex are perfectly happy to admit it and don’t seem to expect any consequences. Sexual mores are messed up, but in my experience flagrant lying tends to cause social backlash – and more so considering that the targets of the lies, Lissa and Rose, were social bigshots whose popularity is now restored. As far as I can tell, they agree to come clean under threats from one of Rose’s friends, but I didn’t find it entirely convincing. It felt a bit like the writer just needed to wrap this arc up now to start introducing the series plot.

It wasn’t a huge problem for me or anything, but this Rose-vs-Mia arc is the biggest arc of the book (it’s a series, so the main plot only just gets a look in), so it seemed a shame it had this awkward aspect to it. I feel like just dropping the sex aspect and having the scandal built purely around blood-sharing would have been both neater and stronger, as well as less problematic. As it was I didn’t feel like this arc was very well written.

The end bit

I feel like I should have some kind of conclusion here, but I don't really. I'm not sure whether I'll read any more of the series; I thought some of what it was doing was quite interesting, but I've noticed how much hmming and hawing I'm doing here, especially over poor Mia. The fact that I'm even thinking "poor Mia" is perhaps an indication that this series isn't for me.

I must also confess that I've got limited tolerance for plots along the lines of "you alone have the one special magic long thought lost or legendary, which will be the key to saving the universe".

On the other hand, I liked the bits of it that weren't about Mia, and maybe with the uberplot kicking off, that won't be much of an issue? I dunno. I've got plenty more to read right now. But perhaps, as with

Fallen

, now that I've worked out what the series is doing I've got what I need.

[1]

“Vampires” who are, as far as I can tell, essentially human wizards who drink blood but not in a bad way you guys, and also don’t like sunlight. They don’t seem to be superhuman other than some elemental magic.

[2]

Half-vampires who are basically Buffy as far as I can tell, but get brought up to be fanatically loyal to their vampiric masters and dedicate themselves to either protecting moroi from attack by the strigoi

[3]

, or being “blood whores” because… why not, as far as I can tell. Maybe it’s hard to get social security numbers when your parent was a vampire? Your dad, I mean. Dhampirs are basically all the bastard offspring of horny male moroi who wanted to get some curvy human female action, because moroi are always pale, thin and flat-chested.

Canonically, the dhampirs do all this to ensure the survival of their species, which is to say, their hybrid. Given the reality of dhampir life, I’m not sure why. Basically this seems to boil down to accepting a brutal life of either dedicating yourself to being elite bodyguards for feeble moroi and under constant risk of death, or being junkie blood sources for moroi and at constant risk of abuse, or breeding the next generation of dhampirs – in order to ensure that you can have descendants who have the same kind of lives.)

[3]

Vampires who are canonically evil because they kill their victims, although I get the feeling they’re mostly bad because they feed on moroi specifically to be honest. Also their bite turns people into more strigoi. They’re presented as being incarnations of predatory evil, but from the one strigoi we meet in the book, they come across as a mixture of Character In Goth Makeup and

Character In Evil Voice

. Basically these seem to be the Buffy Vampires of the setting – basically just like they always were, except faster, stronger, more metal, cooler and probably sexier.Themes:

Books

,

Young Adult / Children

,

Horror

,

Text Factor Halloween Special

,

Romance

~

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Bill

at 17:25 on 2016-01-18

The girls must survive a world of forbidden romances, a ruthless social scene and terrifying night-time rituals. But above all, they must never let their guard down, lest the immortal vampires take Lissa - forever...

Two out of three ain't bad

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Shim

at 18:31 on 2016-01-18

Two out of three ain't bad

I... how did I miss that? *facepalm*

Also I just realised this cover is different to mine (probably the US edition?) and although it's the exact same photo, mine is very pale with black hair and red lips (classically vampiric), whereas the above is pinkish with... brown hair, I think?

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Robinson L

at 15:00 on 2016-05-24I checked this one and its sequels out, along with

Fallen

and

The Morganville Vampires

after the TeXt Factor Halloween special. I read the final book, book 6, a year or two ago, and I recently started listening to the spin-off

Bloodlines

series on audiobook. So, I obviously liked it—quite fun on the whole, with occasional forays into really fun. I'd put the series somewhere above

Fallen

, but below

The Morganville Vampires

in terms of my enjoyment/appreciation.

(I also encouraged one of my sisters to read the first book, and while she enjoyed it, she loathed Lissa and all the Moroi, because she considered them useless in their dependence upon the dhampir guardians.)

I broadly agree with your case for the themes the book explores, and I'd definitely say it carries over to the rest of the series—and the first two spin-off books, at least. Interestingly enough, despite dealing with these fairly weighty issues in a moderately intelligent manner, the books still come across to me as light beach reading; I still haven't worked out whether I think that works towards their favor or against it.

Book 2—where my sister bailed on the series—is a downgrade in quality from the first, as there's less stuff going on through most of it. However, it rallies at the end with an exciting climax, and one which redress one of my major disappointments with the climax to the first.

Book 3 is a return to form, and a solid addition to the series.

Book 4 is, in my opinion, the best of the lot: here we see Rose's internal struggle at its most intense, and Rose herself at her very lowest point in the series. I said the books feel like beach reading, but there was a point about two thirds of the way through the fourth book which got me right in the heart, and I was impressed with the depth of emotional reaction Mead managed to evoke. Plus, the Lissa subplot was pretty cool, and the resolution was both awesome and unexpected.

Book 5 like Book 3, is a really solid addition to the series, though it feels like a bit of a downgrade coming off the high of Book 4. Still, it's got a lot going for it, and while the big plot points themselves aren't to surprising, I wasn't expecting when or how they would play out.

Book 6 was a little disappointing, not because it did anything really bad, just that it wasn't quite as exciting as I would have liked from the final installment. While I like that the climax doesn't revolve around a big fight with an Arc Villain for the series, I could have done with something a

little

more epic. Plus, the villain turned out to be a very likable character I'd pegged early on as being either a villain or a victim, because they didn't fit into any other story slot. Just when I was beginning to think this was just a cool supporting character, it's revealed that person was a villain after all. Sigh.

I agree with you about Natalie, poor thing.

As I recall, the school principal is, indeed, a strict but ultimately reasonable authority figure throughout the series, whom Rose misreads because Rose's and Lissa's behavior often brings out the “strict” part of her character. Actually, that's a bit of a running theme in the series.

From what I remember of the first book, Mia does degenerate from understandable antagonist to Designated Villain, part of which involves her engaging in sex to influence someone else's behavior—rather than for love, in contrast to both Rose and Lissa* over the course of the books—and that's not good. It's probably no big spoiler to reveal that Mia is rehabilitated later in the series, but as I recall, it's a case of a reformed villain rather than both sides admitting they shared the blame equally.

*I think Lissa slept with her then-boyfriend—Mia's current boyfriend—before the events of the book because she was young and horny, which is still more “legitimate” than sleeping with someone because so they'll help you out in your evil scheme.

I also felt like the series as a whole has a disappointing lack of follow-through regarding some of the more unpleasant aspects of Moroi society. The hypocrisy over feeders (I think that

is

the common parlance “neutral” term) is brought up at times, but nobody ever really tries to do anything to resolve it, so the overall message comes across as a helpless shrug, “too bad, what'cha gonna do?”

Furthermore, the books never really acknowledge how immensely f*cking scary the Moroi's compulsion magic is, and how, in a more realistic universe, even well meaning people like Lissa would probably wind up using it for much more destructive purposes than undermining their rivals' popularity; kind of like a miniature version of the One Ring. (One character in the

Bloodlines

novels is suitably freaked by it, but this is explicitly depicted as part of their irrational distrust of Moroi and magic in general. Not once so far have we seen how easily compulsion could be abused to disastrous effect. I know Robert Jordan had a lot of flaws as a writer, but his characters knew to treat that kind of power with the respect and suspicion it deserves.)

The Moroi's institutional aristocracy and monarchy (even if it's a constitutional monarchy) also strikes me as pretty disturbing, but no one even suggests there might be something wrong with that one.

I think Mead does a better job of keeping Rose's faults and flaws as a character foregrounded, even with Rose providing first person narration the whole time, while still keeping her a likable character. One of the fascinating things in the later books is the way Rose gets into relationships which we know because of narrative convention are never going to work out, and which she has some misgivings over, but which she talks herself into anyway, sometimes multiple times, and the boy in question is so enamored of her that he keeps holding out the hope she'll commit to him for real. It's very unfair of Rose, and depicted as such, but also as completely understandable given what she's going though. It's like a total deconstruction of the Evil Girlfriend Who Toys With Innocent Boys' Emotions archetype, without ever hitting you over the head with what it's doing. (Indeed, I could be prepared to believe Richelle Mead didn't set out to explode this stereotype at all, and just happened to do so in the course of writing about a young woman caught up in an Epic Tragic Romance trying as best she can to navigate a swathe of feelings and emotions which she doesn't fully understand.)

The older lover thing is a trope, and being a trope it isn’t quite as problematic as a 17-24 relationship would seem to me in real life.

Me too—although on the other hand, one of the best matched couples I know got together at ages 17 and 30, and they're still going strong 8 years later. Funny old world.

On a tangential note, it's really weird to consider that I'm now several years older than Dimitri in the books. The way he acts, I guess I always tend to think of him as being in his early 30s, rather than early 20s.

I must also confess that I've got limited tolerance for plots along the lines of "you alone have the one special magic long thought lost or legendary, which will be the key to saving the universe".

For what it's worth, we meet a couple of other spirit users over the course of the series. Also, while Lissa's magic is, indeed, critical to the plot, it is not the key to saving the universe, as that's not really what the books are about.

We learn a lot more about Strigoi in later books, too, and they do indeed come across a lot like Buffy-esque Vampires: pretty much the same personalities, and they seem to have some sort of feelings for other people, and yet still somehow evil and uncaring, and the juxtaposition of the two is about as awkward as you would expect. (I fantasized while reading those sections that the Moroi and the Guardians might just be mistaken, and Strigoi, while alien and with very different priorities, might not be actually evil and uncaring. No such luck, sadly.)

If you do decide you want to continue reading the series, don't get attached to the psi-hounds. They get dropped so completely in later books that I was shocked to see them when the film version of the first book came out, as I'd literally forgotten they existed.

#Ferretbrain #Vampire Academy #Shim #Young Adult