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nctsworld · 3 years

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the yuletide boyfriend

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ your one wish this year is to not be single during the holidays. yangyang, as your best friend, takes it upon himself to be your temporary boyfriend. soon enough, both parties begin to wish this new arrangement could last beyond the holidays. // part of the x-mas in ncity collection WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ implied ‌anxiety attack (during the first part of dec 24th – skip if need to), smut, mutual m*sturbation, couch s*x, angst, miscommunication, swearing RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ mature TAGLIST ⇾ @infnteen

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ this is my longest fic to date and also... might be my worst b/c i feel like the angst plot points don’t really make sense... but i hope y’all still enjoy!!!

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t share or repost without credit!

NOVEMBER 30th

“So, anything special on your wishlist this year?”

Your best friend, Yangyang, asks you as you two sit next to each other on one of the many plush lounge couches in the Psychology building. It’s the usual lunch spot where you meet with him during your break between lectures.

The Psych building held much sentimental value for both of you because you met in Psych 101 during first year. Fast-forward three years later, neither of you expected to be the close friends that you are today.

Chewing your sandwich, you ponder on his question for a bit. Through the transparent glass walls leading to outside, you see the trickle of students heading towards the building since class is about to start for the noon round of lectures. A couple, you assume by the tight hand-holding and nose kissing, giggles as they enter the building, glued to one another by the hip.

“Not really.” You drop your head downward to your lunch container, smiling to yourself. “I’m honestly just happy to have Mark in my life, especially at this point in the year.”

Yangyang nods in accordance and smiles too, understanding the story behind your sentiment.

The boyfriends you’ve had since first year have always broken up with you before the holidays, right before the end of November. Since you only became close during second year, Yangyang’s been around for two out of three of your cursed holiday break-ups.

To have Mark, your latest boyfriend, be with you and it being already December tomorrow, it was truly a blessing for you and a silver lining that maybe this was the year to break the curse. Yangyang was grateful too, wanting you to have the utmost happiness.

You take another bite of your sandwich and tilt your chin toward the ramen eater.

“You?”

Yangyang slurps a few more noodles before he answers.

“I mean, the new Playstation would be nice,” he hums, mouth full.

Pointing the tip of your sandwich, you joke, “I’ll get it for you, but only if we share custody over it.”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head during a mid-slurp. “You know I can’t promise that.”

Both of you laugh in unison, living in the calm before the oncoming storm.

DECEMBER 5th

The E-Sports club for the university is hosting a party tonight and because Yangyang’s on one of the professional teams, he asked a few weeks ago if you and Mark wanted to attend. Of course you accepted; Mark also had some friends in the club.

However, when you text Yangyang in the afternoon, stating a change of mind, he knows something’s off.

Half an hour before the party starts, Yangyang decides to visit you. Thankfully you both lived on campus, but even if you lived across town, he’d still bus out to see how you were doing. He does it all the time to visit his family, anyway.

In the living room, the two sudden knocks at your door startle you. Peering through the peephole, you see the usual sight of your best friend, his lips curled upward and thumbs tucked in his pockets as he rocks on the balls of his feet.

It feels like an eternity for him when you unlock your door. The hinges squeal as you open it hesitatingly, your face barely appearing through the agape crack.

Immediately, his smile dissolves. Your face is drained and blood-shot eyes avoiding his own confront him.

Yangyang has only seen you cry twice in the three years he’s known you:

Once, when you were freaking the fuck out over potentially failing a course (but, on the upside, you ended up passing the final to save your grade).

The second time was at his house for a family dinner, when his mom accidentally added too much hot chili sauce to her homemade beef noodle soup (let’s just say you weren’t the only one crying that night).

Those were tears of dread and physical discomfort.

But this… this was crying he’s never seen from you before. His chest collapses inward, fearful of the reason behind your tears.

His voice shakes as he asks, “What happened? Are you okay?”

Neither of you are major huggers and only exchange them on the rare occasion.

However, this situation screams the necessity of it, so Yangyang lunges towards you, the collision swinging the door out of the way. His arms embrace you like a large, warm blanket. Comforting and safe.

Despite the affection, emptiness has taken over your body. Tonight, you’re a dead, empty shell of who you normally are.

You feel weak to the bone, but you muster up enough energy to scarcely raise your arms over his back to return the hug. Your eyes are dry from all the crying you’ve done all day, but apparently you have more tears left in you to spare.

Your eyelids snap shut and your jaw clenches.

“Mark broke up with me.”

Your words are muffled into his shoulder, but Yangyang hears it crystal clear.

You break down, sobbing out of control over the statement.

As aforementioned, Yangyang’s been around for your last two, now three, break-ups. Sure, he’s aware of how grumpy and distant you can get, but you never cried in front of him. You made an effort to never have him see you at your lowest point.

And yet, here you are, drowning him in your misery. Guilt washes over you for drenching his bomber jacket, but Yangyang couldn’t give two shits. His arms squeeze tighter while he rubs your back tenderly.

After several minutes pass and your waterworks abate, you peel away from him. You sniffle and rub your nose with the back of your hand.

“Sorry about cancelling last minute.”

“Hey, no need to apologize,” he whispers soothingly.

“I’m just… so fucking frustrated.”

With fatigued eyes, you drag yourself back inside your apartment. Yangyang discreetly closes the door behind him and hurriedly uses his feet to push off his shoes. As he does so, your mouth begins to run off while you slowly pace around aimlessly.

“Fucking done with boyfriends, especially when they think it’s so fucking awesome to keep breaking up with me right before the holidays.”

He kicks off his last stubborn shoe and catches you raking your hands through your hair, pulling it back firmly. Your lips are trembling, along with your entire frame.

“Like I get that I’m horrible and needy and emotional—”

His mouth opens, wanting to cut in to disagree with you with all his heart, but he clamps it back shut and swallows, allowing you to blow your steam off.

“—but can’t they wait until the fucking new year? I don’t know, or maybe just don’t date me in the first place! I don’t know, I don’t fucking know anymore. I’m just cursed, Yangyang...”

You flop down onto the couch and sink into the ocean of shiny pleather, shutting your eyes and trying to stop crying for the nth time. The deep sting behind your eyelids pain you, but it pains Yangyang more to watch the events unfolding ahead of him.

Unsure of what to say, Yangyang walks around the room. His gaze falls on your laptop screen and he frowns at the mostly bare Word document that stares back at him:

“WISHLIST: -KEEP ONE (1) FUCKING BOYFRIEND DURING THE CHRISTMAS SEASON!!!!!!!! GOD FUCKING SDKMFLDS”

There are a few more lines below it with more profanities and keyboard smashing. He quickly darts away, a pang of guilt striking for invading your privacy.

Then, he turns to you on the couch again. You’re now covering your eyes with your forearm, pressing your lips together. His chest twists and his throat is arid as a desert.

You’re in shambles and he’s dying to pick up the shattered pieces of you, wants to glue you back together. On a regular basis, Yangyang’s a talking machine and can talk your ear off for hours, but right now, he doesn’t know what to say to you in your current state. He second-guesses himself, wonders if he’s even that great of a friend if he can’t comfort you in your worst times.

Blowing out a long sigh and removing your arm, you speak aloud, “You should get going to the party.”

Like awakening from a deep slumber, you rise up sluggishly and sit up on the couch, slouched over. The other figure in the room steps closer to you.

“Sorry about your jacket, by the way,” you say. Your body is still, but your glazed eyes move to the dark spot on the middle of his shoulder. He glances at it and shrugs.

“It’s better like this anyway,” he says with a gentle smile, and the tight knot in his heart softens at the flicker of your own smile, albeit a small one. Unfortunately, it fades in a few seconds. “I don’t want to leave you like this, though.”

You stare at the used, crumpled balls of tissues scattered on the living room table. Some also ended up on the floor. Break-ups are shit and 98% inevitable, but you know you’ll eventually get over it. You always do.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

He raises an eyebrow, as if asking, “Are you sure?” The lack of a worded reply causes you to notice the question written on his face.

“Go,” you plead with a feeble laugh. “Have fun for me.”

Both of you head towards your front door again. Crossing your arms, you lean your head against the door frame and attempt a smile for your best friend.

“Thanks again for checking up on me.”

Yangyang nods with a half-smile, half-pout, “Of course.”

You give him a departing wave prior to sealing your door.

Usually, Yangyang would bus from your place to the student union building, where the party is being held. Instead, he zippers up his jacket and stuffs his fists into his pockets, opting to bear the early winter chill to walk his thoughts off. His blazing self-doubt burns at first, but he overcomes it by focusing on ideas to fix your accursed dating rut instead.

Halfway through the walk, a light bulb moment occurs. A plan begins to brew on the surface of his mind and he thinks on it for the rest of the week.

DECEMBER 11th

It’s been almost a week since you last saw Yangyang.

Finals started already, so classes were done for the semester and thus, your lunch meet-ups halted too. On top of that, since you were simultaneously moping and studying, you hadn’t really texted him much, nor had he, besides the occasional check-up text on how studying was going and random memes. Yangyang knew you preferred time alone to heal and he respected that.

He also thought six days was enough time to get yourself back on your feet.

Yangyang’s at your front door once again, but this time with two bowls of his mom’s beef noodle soup in tow.

“Long time, no see,” you greet. Your tone is chipper, but your eyes look heavy, which could be partially from studying, Yangyang thinks. His smile deepens, content that you seem a lot better than the last time he visited.

“Delivery for two,” he raises the bag in his hand.

“And if I told you I already ate dinner?” you playfully retort.

The boyish man shrugs defeatedly, “Then I’ll tell my mom you hate her cooking—”

“You didn’t say it was your mom’s, Yangyang. Oh, my God,” you gasp, half-mockingly. You rush to grab the bags out of his hand and stroll towards your tiny kitchen. “Start off with that next time.”

As you remove the containers from the bag and onto the granite countertop, Yangyang shuts the door and takes his shoes off.

“So, I’m gonna be upfront and say that I may have come here with a proposal.”

“Changed your mind about the shared custody of the Playstation?”

“I’m still considering that one.” Finally in his socks, he slings his backpack off his shoulder and plops it onto the couch along with his jacket. He stands next to you by the counter. “But it’s on the same page as that. Remember that day we were talking about wishlists?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum as you rip off the lid of one of the bowls. Blatant wisps fly upward and you inhale the savoury aroma, followed by a heavenly sigh.

“Last time I was here… I might’ve seen what you wrote on your laptop.”

Your expression immediately changes into full-on cringe. You bring a palm over to your face.

“Oh, God. Let’s not talk about that. That was just weepy, lonely me talking.”

Yangyang pops off the lid for his bowl and steps into your kitchen, rummaging through your drawers for chopsticks. “So you’re telling me you don’t want a boyfriend for Christmas?”

Your hand flies off your face. Eyes widening, you spew, “Do you have a boyfriend in your pocket, ready for me to have?”

In your open hand, he places a pair of chopsticks into it. “Well, actually, I was thinking—”

Sternly, you point the chopsticks at him. “Don’t you dare set me up with your friends.”

He counters and points his at you, “Even better than that.”

With your interest piqued, you slide yourself onto the counter stool and mix the noodles around, anticipating to hear Yangyang’s fantastic plan. Your friend sits on the other stool, facing you. He pauses for a second, taking a deep breath.

“Why don’t I be your boyfriend for the holidays?”

You freeze, and the noodles’ drips above your bowl are deafening to both individuals. Laughing awkwardly, you break your frozen state to drop your chopsticks and turn your head to look at him.

Sputtering, you say, “What?”

Unnerved, his mouth pinches to one side, thinking maybe he shouldn’t have even said anything in the first place. This was stupid, so stupid, but it’s out in the open and Yangyang already dug his grave—he may as well lay in it.

“Well, for one, it’s something on your wishlist that I can easily get,” he pauses mid-sentence, glancing upward in thought. “Well, really, fill? Is that a better way to put it?”

He continues, eyes back on you, “And two, I’m not setting you up with a stranger or someone you wouldn’t be comfortable with. I assume you know me well enough that you’re comfortable around me?”

Yangyang lifts an upturned palm and raises an eyebrow, waiting for a response to his assumption. Petulantly, you shake your head playfully and stick out your tongue at him.

Rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze drops down to the floor for his last point. His voice lowers.

“And, I don’t know, we’d just hang out like we usually do during that time, except we’d do more couple-y things.”

Realizing the implication of his words, he widens his eyes. “I mean, we'll do whatever you’re comfortable with, obviously. We don’t have to do any of the physical stuff—”

You burst into a giggle at his rambling and hold a hand out, cutting him off. “Okay, Yang. I get it.”

Yangyang watches your next moves carefully. You’re peering off to one side and picking at the tips of your fingers. After a minute that feels like forever, you nod slowly.

“I guess you have a point. We are sorta like a couple already.”

Your best friend sighs in relief, grinning that you’re not outright rejecting the idea.

“So,” you meet his eyes and bunch a shoulder up towards your ear. “We’ll just be a couple until what, New Year’s?”

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugs indifferently. “Whatever you want. It’s your Christmas wish.”

You chuckle and shake your head in disbelief that you two are actually making an agreement for Yangyang to be your temporary, holiday boyfriend.

Honestly, it’s a little crazy... but maybe it’s the perfect thing to get your mind off of Mark and the handful of holiday exes hanging above your head.

“Okay, since my last final is on the 21st, let’s start ‘dating’ then and we’ll play everything by ear, see how it goes.”

Yangyang bobs his head eagerly. “Sounds good, soon-to-be girlfriend.”

He sticks a hand out for you to shake. You take it firmly, sealing the deal and flashing him a grin.

“Soon-to-be boyfriend.”

Although the night goes on like usual between the two of you, you couldn’t deny how ecstatic you are to finally have a boyfriend during the holidays, even if it was technically your best friend as a stand-in.

DECEMBER 21st

Tonight’s your first date with Yangyang.

That sounds weird to say, you admit to yourself, but it’s the truth.

After you stroll out of your last final of the semester, Yangyang’s waiting for you inside near the main exit of the building with several layers on, including his hoodie over his head and a knitted scarf underneath. His attention leaves his phone and he stuffs it into pocket as he notices you heading over.

“Hey, girlfriend,” he welcomes you, beaming.

You snicker at the unfamiliar label. You wonder if you’re going to get used to this, even if it’s only for two weeks.

“Hey, boyfriend,” you grin harder as the word falls from your lips, trying your best not to outright burst into laughter. “Where we heading off to?”

Although you said both of you could play the dating by ear, Yangyang’s been keen on scheduling plans for the upcoming days. You told him he didn’t have to, however, he insisted by saying that he wouldn’t only be a horrible boyfriend, but a horrible friend if he couldn’t make the next weeks fun for you.

Yangyang was anything but a horrible friend, and the fact that he was willing to be your holiday boyfriend to make you happy proved it further. Nevertheless, you gladly let him take the reins.

“I was thinking the movies tonight? See the latest Marvel film?”

Concurring to the idea, you scurry towards the bus stop and are movie-theatre bound to the nearest one off-campus. Arriving at the theatre, Yangyang and you buy your tickets and a popcorn to share, then head into the respective auditorium where the movie is playing. Since the movie’s been running for a couple of weeks, the auditorium is fairly empty, giving you two the chance to snag perfect middle seats with nobody else is in the row.

Up to this point, aside from the name-dropping of boyfriend and girlfriend, this feels less like a date and more like any other hang-out with him. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing awkward.

But that changes during a third of the movie.

You’re both so immersed by the screen that neither party notices the other’s hand when both of you reach for the popcorn in Yangyang’s lap at the same time.

A jolt runs through as your hands brush together. The duo’s eyes tear away from the screen and flit to the action happening in real-time. The touch lingers for several moments.

“Sorry,” you quickly mumble, drawing your hand back slightly, but still hovering over the popcorn.

“Uhm,” Yangyang licks his lips and visibly gulps under the screen’s bright glare.

He whispers, his voice almost cracking, “As your boyfriend, can I hold your hand?”

Okay, this is just your best friend, acting as your temporary boyfriend, asking to hold your hand. No big deal, no big deal at all.

Yet, the thunderous knocking in your ears, louder than the explosions blasting through the theatre’s speakers, suggests otherwise.

You don’t even register it, but you’re already nodding in response. Your breathing slows to the rate of Yangyang’s hand inching over. At the anticipated contact, you gasp softly. His smooth fingers clasp over yours. Since the arm rest in the middle of you is positioned upward, there’s no obtrusion and you relax, letting your hands mingle in between the empty space.

Without looking at one another, both of you smile bashfully to yourselves as you try to continue to focus on the screen.

After a while, because you aren’t exactly holding hands, you spread your fingers, hastily doing so because you don’t want him to think you’re breaking the interaction, and twist your palm to properly interlock hands with him. You give Yangyang’s hand a warm, gentle squeeze. He does the same and even strokes his thumb against your skin.

Talk about playing everything by ear. Who knew you’d be hand in hand on the first date?

You attempt to not think much on it, but Yangyang’s hand in yours feels... so right, like your hand was made for this, for his to hold. Like you should’ve done this way sooner.

And if Yangyang’s thoughts could be heard, he’s thinking the same.

Despite the mutual fear of sweaty palms, neither of you desire to let go, so much that you not only hold hands during the rest of the movie, but throughout the bus ride back to campus and all the way until he escorts you to your front door.

With a certain charge in the atmosphere, you exchange sweet good-byes. That night, after the culmination of stress from finals and your worries of your holiday exes, you finally have a peaceful sleep, looking forward to your date with Yangyang tomorrow.

DECEMBER 22nd

“Babe, how do I look?”

“Very pretty, honey.” A bundled up Yangyang winks at you from behind his phone.

The second date is an evening at a Christmas light festival at a botanical garden on the outskirts of town. The lights illuminate so strongly; there was a glowing dome-like hue over the location that seemed to reach the dark sky as you got off the bus.

When stepping foot into the garden, all the encompassing lights mesmerize you. Lights on the various greenery, lights as decorative art pieces, lights lining the pathways. Different shades of colours and shapes engulf the massive area.

Yangyang’s currently in the middle of taking your photo near an arch tangled with dark blue, gold, and white bulbs. All night long, you’ve been mockingly using endearing terms, but, despite the frigid air, your cheeks heat up over something else he just said.

“You think I’m pretty?” you genuinely ask, breaking your pose.

He lowers his phone a bit, his jaw dangling.

“Uh, I mean,” he giggles awkwardly, nodding softly. “Yeah.”

Yangyang never told you, but he initially sat near you in Psych 101 because he thought you were the most stunning girl in the class. And sure, he was a little disappointed at the time to find out you had a boyfriend, but that didn’t mean you two couldn’t still be friends. Other than the first few weeks he had a crush on you, he’s never thought of you as more than a friend.

But those feelings are resurfacing, hitting him in the chest like a bag of bricks, due to moments like this one—you’re batting your eyelids, gaze straying elsewhere, and adorably chewing on your lower lip.

“And you’re not just saying that as my holiday boyfriend?”

Pouting to one side, he shakes his head cutely. “Mm-mm.”

On the flipside, the beginning with Yangyang for you was strictly platonic. You were dating Haechan at the time you met him. When Haechan broke up with you later that fall, you kept a distance from dating for a while, heartbroken from the high school love gone sour. During that period, you never told him, but you did run through the possibility of dating Yangyang since you got along so well... until you met Jaemin earlier the next semester, who stole your heart. Ever since then, you’ve never seen Yangyang under that light again.

Despite that, you can’t deny how attractive he is, and now that you’re single and technically dating him, you embrace the fact with open arms.

Beaming as bright as the lights, you tug him by the end of his puffer jacket’s sleeve to bring him closer to you.

“C’mon, handsome, let’s take some pictures together.” Prickles rise under Yangyang’s cheeks from the off-hand compliment.

Holding your phone up in the air at about an arm’s length away, the side of your heads touch to prepare for a few selfies. When you finish capturing them, Yangyang’s hovering over your shoulder as you scroll through to glance through the photos.

“We look good together,” you comment. “Don’t you think?”

In sync, your heads turn to meet each other. Your eyes waver from the blatant clouds of your breaths and over to his lips. The clouds become rapid bursts as you begin to lean forward. So does Yangyang.

“Do you guys want a picture together?” someone suddenly asks. The abrupt voice drags you both apart instantly, crushing the moment into pieces.

“Sure,” you peep, fumbling to hand your phone over to the stranger.

Posing, Yangyang’s hand rests around the middle of your back, which is the norm when you take pictures with him, but he pulls you in snugly. You smile even wider, relishing in the new-level of intimacy and allow yourself to be truly content among his presence.

“You guys are such a cute couple,” the stranger gushes while they return your phone prior to walking away.

“I guess we are, huh, babe?” you jut your tongue out in jest at him. This time, you indulge in the endearing term without a sliver of mockery.

Yangyang copies you, jutting his tongue out further than yours, and seizes your hand to continue the tour around the gleaming garden.

The almost-kiss isn’t mentioned for the rest of the night, nor is it acted upon, but both individuals dwell on the near occurrence before sleep that evening, staring longingly at their bedroom ceiling.

DECEMBER 23rd

For the third date, you find yourselves at the campus’ dedicated ice rink arena to partake in ice skating.

You’ve skated a few times in the past, but you’re by no means a pro. On the other hand, this is apparently Yangyang’s first time, and he’s already skating circles around you.

“Show off,” you grumble as he does another lap past you. Your gloved hands are splayed out in front of you, careful not to fall flat on your face.

Turning on his blades, he rebounds over to you.

“Sorry,” he pants. His raised cheeks glow an adorable shade of pink. “This is really fun when you get the hang of it.”

Yangyang intertwines his fingers with yours before you can say anything. “C’mon, take my hand.”

At first, it was sweet to skate alongside your holiday boyfriend, notwithstanding the few times you almost trip. As the minutes pass, you think you’re getting the hang of it, but suddenly, Yangyang unleashes your hand and glides ahead of you, abandoning you to slide at a swift pace that is definitely out of your comfort zone.

“Yangyang, what the fuck?!” you screech, completely disregarding the handful of surrounding parents with their kids, the former sending daggers your direction. Your ankles struggle to make a T-shape to stop, but the struggling only somehow makes you move faster.

As he spins to face you, now skating backwards with ease, he says, “See, you got the hang of it-oomph—”

Air’s struck from his lungs when you crash into his body. Thankfully, Yangyang skids his blades harshly against the ice and is able to steady and support you within his arms.

“You little fucker,” you gripe, lightly punching him in the arm.

He chuckles blithely, “Sorry, but it was kinda funny, you gotta admit.”

You breathe a large huff, which makes you note how your hair is falling over your face after the catastrophe. You’re about to lift your hand to rearrange the strands, but Yangyang beats you to it and is in the midst of tucking them behind your ear.

The knocking in your ears reappears with a vengeance and the physical source of the knocking is thrashing violently against your chest.

Your scorching breaths fuse in the refrigerated rink as Yangyang eliminates the inches of space between, his plush mouth ultimately converging with yours.

You have to constantly remind yourself to breathe under Yangyang’s intensity, and remind yourself that you’re in a public space and shouldn’t be making out like this.

But everyone’s skating around the couple, daring to not disrupt the affectionate display.

God, you don’t know when was the last time you’ve been kissed like this. Have you ever even experienced a kiss that was a fraction of this? Yangyang daintily cups your cheeks like you’re glass, but his lips press ruggedly into yours, inflaming your entirety and melting any existence of your figurative fragility.

You ignore the echo in the back of your mind that reminds you he’s your temporary boyfriend.

The Talk will inevitably occur, but your future self could deal with it. Presently, you’re too caught up, drowning in Yangyang’s embrace.

DECEMBER 24th

On Christmas Eve, Yangyang decides to bring you to an outdoor Christmas market.

Understandably, since it’s the day before Christmas, the place is absolutely packed. For the first fifteen minutes or so, it’s joyous being immersed in the Christmas spirit with the assorted little shops and their respective products. You’re holding Yangyang’s hand tightly, pointing and half-shouting over the bustle about the items that catch your eye.

Unfortunately, someone accidentally bumps against your arms and your hand is gone from his.

Swivelling your head, searching through the crowd, it occurs to you that you officially lost Yangyang.

Your feet come to a halt as your hand attempts to dig into your jacket pocket to pluck your phone out, but the moving crowd forces you to constantly follow the stream.

You yell for him, but words can’t materialize. Your windpipe tightens. Your breath is becoming shallower and shallower. Blood pulses in your ears alarmingly, blocking out the clamour from around you. Your mind’s running everywhere without control.

Where is your boyfriend?

No, scratch that, he’s not your actual boyfriend—where is your best friend?

Did he leave you? He would never.

Right?

But what happens when all of this is over? Will you still have your best friend?

You’ve avoided The Talk long enough, but you didn’t expect to catch feelings for him. Not like this.

Maybe you’re just destined to be alone.

Is this how it feels to actually lose him?

Tears fight your vision. You hear a faint call of your name, but you can’t urge yourself to turn around, sinking only further into the sea of anonymity. You’re just a face in a crowd, all alone, with no one who cares—

Yangyang grasps you by the arm and maneuvers you aside to a less busy area behind one of the vendor stands.

“Oh, God, thought I lost you there—”

You cut him off, hugging him with all your might and stuff your face in his chest cushioned by the downy layers of his winter jacket. Yangyang immediately drapes his arms securely around you, reading your uneasiness.

“Hey, I got you. I got you,” he soothes, running a hand through your hair. “God, not my best idea. Sorry for bringing you here.”

You shake your head, wordlessly informing him that it’s okay. You’re just glad to be with him again.

“Wanna go home?”

You nod solemnly, and Yangyang zips you out of there in minutes with his arm tucked by your side, ensuring he doesn’t lose you in the crowd again.

Fortunately, the jitters mostly disappear when you arrive at your place in the late afternoon. You’re in the middle of rummaging through your keys to unlock your door.

“Sorry I didn’t have anything else planned for today,” he mumbles, leaning with folded arms against the wall.

“Did you...” You insert the correct key and turn the lock, clicking the door open. Your gaze lifts to match his. “Did you wanna maybe have dinner with me tonight? I was thinking of ordering pizza in.”

The grin that reaches his eyes is a sufficient answer for you.

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He hangs his arm around your shoulder and plants a kiss atop your head.

After chomping down pizza and playing a few rounds of Super Smash Bros. on Yangyang’s Switch, you peer over to him on your living room couch while he’s figuring out which character he should play next.

The little mental voice in the back of your mind prods you, reminding that you should really, really have The Talk soon. The Talk that you swept under the rug at the start by saying you’d play everything by ear.

Four dates later, and the thought of this ending scares the living daylights out of you. This not only including the interim relationship, but the dire possibility of the friendship itself too. Is it possible to go back to how you were, flipping it off like a light switch?

But the internal voice is smothered as you’re drawn to his pouting lips in thought. His pouting, oh-so kissable lips. Following the ice skating kiss yesterday, you only shared a good-bye kiss when he dropped you off. Since then, you’ve been itching to have his lips on yours again.

Yangyang eventually detects your lack of focus and finds you gawking at his mouth. Your gaze dashes to his eyes, blinking innocently, but then his eyes flicker to your mouth.

The tension in the room snaps. You two carefully throw the Switch controllers off to one side and attach yourselves together. Unlike the crashing of your bodies at the ice rink, this one is purposeful. Deliberated, as his forehead presses into yours and his tender caress carries your cheek. Your body plummets backwards until Yangyang pins you completely into the couch.

Initially, the lip-locking is gentle and mild. Your fingers lay in the vicinity of his angular visage and sturdy upper frame, in contrast to his hand curling around your waist in a light squeeze.

Soon, hands traverse to other regions—his back, your thigh, his stomach, your ass. Each touch seeking, craving, whining. Tongues slinking and dancing with appetite. Your bodies buzz for more.

Open-mouthed kisses transition from the damp lips to each other’s necks. The touches dig deeper, thriving with hunger. Your back bows, body curving into his. Grinding ensues and his robust desire is blatant against your own pulsing passion.

“You don’t happen to have any condoms on you, do you?” you groan upwards to the ceiling.

He retracts from your neck to swing his head side to side, grumbling a “Sorry, we can stop...” yet you interrupt his apology by cupping his covered length. The guttural groan he exhales into your lips makes you shiver with pleasure.

“Doesn’t mean we still can’t have fun with our hands...” you say slyly.

“Fuck yeah,” he rasps, smirking, before diving in again to taste your mouth.

Clothes are stripped with the assistance of each other, leaving you with only your bra on while Yangyang opts to be completely bare. He tops your body in the same position once more.

On the couch arm rest, your head is perched with his hand clutching the space next to it for leverage. Both figures are too scatter-brained to delve into the exquisite nudity of one another, hands flying desperately to your respective arousals.

Your pretty fingers wrap around his possession almost exactly when he dips two digits into your warmth. In unison, two sharp, quiet gasps pierce the room.

“Shit, you’re so wet,” he hisses observantly. You’re so overwhelmed by the bliss that you can’t assemble any sort of response.

Your mouth’s parted to one side, chest soaring with each plunge. Through his clouded vision, he ambles over your curves and lines and yearns to see your breasts, but he respects your choice of keeping it on and opts to ambush the expanse with kisses. Your chest is launched further into his mouth and Yangyang assumes you’re enjoying this.

Fearing friction burn, you drop him from your grip momentarily, swiping a few licks over your palm. When your hand pumps him again, now drenched with saliva, grunts reverberate against your skin.

“Yangyang?” you whimper, causing his face to pull away from the temple of your body.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’m-I’m close.” And he can attest to it; the contractions around him are increasing, harshly squeezing his fingers.

“Same,” he pants.

Your best friend flicks his wrist with ignition, securing your waves of elation. You attempt to do the same, but it’s difficult when he’s also sloppily thrusting himself into your fist, so you simply clench your grasp harder. His features pinch and choppy moans dribble as he yields to his climax, gushing himself over your stomach.

Still sucking in lungfuls of air, Yangyang kisses you tenderly before removing himself to clean up the mess he made.

Following the clean-up, while putting on your clothes, Yangyang expresses how he should get going since it’s getting late.

“Did you wanna stay the night?” you pipe up.

His mind races, debating on whether to leave or not, anxious to blur the lines of your relationship even further.

Sure, he’s your temporary boyfriend, thus staying over at your place shouldn’t mean anything. But this agreement is ending next week, and he’s questioning if you two can stay just friends after this, knowing that he’s going to want more. Yangyang has had a taste of the what if, and it’s now irrevocable.

He wants you all for himself. Selfishly, but deeply.

For the sake of keeping this a great thing for you, he shoves his thoughts aside. This is all about you and for your benefit, anyhow.

“Uh, sure, I can take the couch like I always—”

“Yangyang, you just put your fingers inside of me,” you snicker, snagging him by the hand to your bedroom. “C’mon.”

The rest of the night is relatively chaste with some kisses and touches here and there. Eventually, you fall asleep facing each other with your fingers interlocked, excited for the big day tomorrow.

DECEMBER 25th

Normally on Christmas, Yangyang and you spend it with your respective families, but coincidentally, both of your families, your parents being retired and all, ended up vacationing this year, leaving the two of you to spend it with each other.

After getting up around noon, Yangyang heads to his place to grab his gift. He takes longer than you expected because, as it turns out, he also went home to grab baking goods he bought beforehand since he wants to make butter cookies with you today.

The cookies end up fine, but the mess is another story. Besides the chaos on the counter, your faces and aprons are splotched with flour (you swear he started it, but he disagrees and stands his ground that you’re the perpetrator). With a damp cloth, Yangyang aids you to clean, but not forgetting to wipe your face and giving you pecks over your cheeks and nose.

The baking and aftermath occupies most of the afternoon, so dinner comes in the form of fancy, romantic instant ramen for two. Afterwards, you two sit in your living room and start to exchange gifts.

Yangyang hands his over to you first. From the size of the gift and the crumpled, oddly-shaped wrapping, you already can guess it’s a stuffed plushie of a cute animal to add to your never ending collection. You hug it tightly with a large smile.

“It’s so cute, thank you!” you squeal, but you change your expression in an instant to a serious pout. “But you can’t steal this one like you did with my Ice Bear plushie.”

“Hey, I didn’t steal Ice Bear, I just forgot to give him back.” You roll your eyes sarcastically and he laughs. “I’ll bring him over tomorrow, if it makes you feel better.”

Then, when it’s your turn, you head into your bedroom and come out with a large, white shopping bag. His eyebrows raise, unsure of what could warrant a gift this size.

“For being my holiday boyfriend,” you grin, placing the bag in front of his feet.

Despite the hugest smile on your face, his heart sinks at the label for a second, but he blinks and wills himself to look inside the bag.

His eyes shoot open, so much that you’re scared you might have to stuff them back into his sockets.

Yangyang slips the box out of the bag with precision and stares at it speechlessly.

It’s the new Playstation.

He shifts his eyes toward you. You’re swaying on the couch, pleased by his reaction.

“Your parents paid for most of it, so I can’t take all the credit.” Sticking a finger in the air, you add, “You just gotta promise to share custody with me though—”

A hand behind your head yanks you into a deep kiss. He’s not the only one left speechless on the couch. He places the top of his head against yours.

“You’re crazy, but I love—” He quickly catches himself from saying something he might regret. “—I love it so much, thank you. Now I feel bad for getting you only the stuffed animal...”

You shake your head softly, brushing your thumb against his cheekbone.

“Thank you for everything.” Your eyes twinkle. “I couldn’t have asked to spend the holidays with anyone else.”

Carefully, like a newborn baby, he safely situates the boxed Playstation to one side and nabs your lips with his again. The scene feels like repeat of last night as your bodies wrestle passionately on the couch.

“Not to be presumptuous,” he mutters between the kisses upon your neck. Your eyelids flutter at the sensation. “But I also grabbed condoms from my place when I stopped by.”

His words sends the two of you leaping towards your bedroom. Under the dim lighting, you fall into the bed as Yangyang pares your layers off, one by one. With each peel, his lips roam the revealing bare skin. You swear he has kissed you from your literal head to toe when you’re fully nude in front of him.

Your companion drags his shirt over his head, throws it off to your floor, and immediately targets in onto your nub with his mouth, finally satiating his craving from last night.

Fingers thread into his hair and over his flexed back. His tongue swirls and his teeth lightly tug on your perkiness, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. And he still isn’t even inside you yet.

After leaving love upon your other bosom, Yangyang fumbles with the condom, forgetting which way it should go on. Giggling, you perch yourself onto your elbows and assist him. Rolling it over his possession, you recline yourself back and spread your legs for him.

Pensively, he sticks his tongue out as he adjusts himself between your sex, easing himself into you, and upon the full impact, you meet his gaze head-on. His stare makes you feel vulnerable and exposed beyond the physical plane.

But, unlike the others you have been with, you trust him with everything, like you always have, and be free with him. Losing your inhibitions and submitting to your whims, you entangle and become one with Yangyang.

Behind his hazy vision, Yangyang’s simply thinking how beautiful you are, how he can’t imagine anyone else under his touch but you, how he is willing to give up anything to make you smile.

Well, in this case, he’s willing to give up anything to make you pleased.

However, it doesn’t seem like he needs to do much because you’re howling his name and clinging onto his skin and the sheets in a frenzy, like you’re about to die of exhaustion.

You perish a few times under him before he finally reaches his little death himself, convulsing into the sheath.

When air’s replenished into your bodies, you rest on his chest under your blanket. Glancing up at him, you move some of his tousled hair off his sleek forehead.

“Merry Christmas, Yangyang,” you whisper, snuggling him with a satisfied smile.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” he whispers back, giving you one last peck before you both drift into a deep slumber together.

DECEMBER 26th

Last night took so much out of the both of you, you don’t get out of bed until about the middle of the afternoon. Yangyang doesn’t have anything planned for today since it’s Boxing Day, since the crowds might be crazy wherever you go, so it’s officially a chill, rest day for you both.

When you step out of the shower in fresh clothes, from behind the couch, you watch Yangyang gaming on his Switch.

The little voice in your head looms, prompting that now is the time to have The Talk, and speaks up on your behalf.

“Do we have to end things next week?” you croak.

You see Yangyang’s shoulders stiffen, then he pauses the game and turns around to face you. His gaze follows you as you step closer to the couch, opting to stand.

“Uhm.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he shrugs. “It’s up to you, it’s your—”

“Yangyang, that’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking what you think, how do you feel?”

His lips press together and he’s staring at the floor. You can tell the gears are moving, but you can’t read his expression clearly.

“I’m down for whatever you want to do,” he says slowly, eyes still averting yours.

That’s a I’m-your-best-friend answer, you deduce. Not a I-want-to-be-your-actual-boyfriend answer.

He adds, stuttering, “I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing this a little longer if that’s what you want—”

Your face scrunches in annoyance. “Did you just sign up to be my short-term boyfriend so you can fill my empty heart?”

His eyebrows crease with confusion. “I mean, I never want to see you unhappy.”

“So it’s pity dating then?” you lash, raising your voice.

“No, I—” Yangyang bites down on his tongue, almost letting the one word slip out again. He blows out a lengthy sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “I care about you, so much. I’d do anything to make you happy.”

You’re defining his words as an affirmation of friendship and as an underlying rejection of your love.

You need to know for certain.

“Do you love me, Yangyang?” you blurt. “As more than a friend?”

This is it, Yangyang thinks. This is your chance to let her know how you feel.

But the distress written on your face makes him wonder if he should even go through with it, and it’s intensifying with every passing moment that he’s not speaking.

If only he knew your distress was deepening because you took his hesitance as absolute rejection.

Your heart is breaking because of him, and he technically wasn’t even yours to begin with.

You smack your lips together and gulp a few times, trying to make the huge knot in your throat disappear.

“You know what, maybe let’s just forget this arrangement and leave it all behind and forget about the sex and—”

“You wanna stop this?” he utters quietly.

The word “this” hangs heavy in the air. This, carrying the weight of not only being the temporary agreement, but also your friendship.

“Yeah,” you whisper, tears beginning to blur your eyes. “I think I do.”

DECEMBER 28th

Two days have passed since you last saw Yangyang.

That day before he left, Yangyang, feeling guilty for how events unfolded, wanted to give back the Playstation, but you insisted for him to keep it. In spite of everything, it was a Christmas gift to him from you and his parents.

But both of you weren’t sure if the shared custody promise was going to be held up.

In hopes that things would eventually get better and heal itself, Yangyang thought it’d be best to leave you alone for a while, like how he usually did.

And maybe he was right to do so, but this time is different.

Because he’s on the other end of the stick now; he’s the one who broke your heart.

Under regular circumstances, whenever you needed space, he was always ready to be there by your side.

But Yangyang’s uncertain if you’re going to let him comfort you this time.

And you’re uncertain if you even want him to.

DECEMBER 30th

Today, Yangyang finally makes the move to get in touch with you, texting you to call him, but you don’t, so he leaves a voicemail later in the evening.

“There’s a New Year’s party I’m going to tomorrow,” he starts off, then spews the specific details.

There’s a pause and you hear shuffling in the background. You assume he’s pacing around.

“I know you ended our agreement, but I wouldn’t mind fulfilling my end since New Year’s is the last day tomorrow. I’d be really glad if you came to the party with me, whether it be as my friend or my girlfriend.”

Another pause.

On the other end, Yangyang rubs his palm over his face, considering whether or not he should say it. If you picked up the phone call, he was going to do it anyway, but this just felt improper. He wants to say it when he knows you’re listening in real-time, so he ends off the message with:

“I miss you. So much.”

DECEMBER 31st

It’s 8:40PM. Before Yangyang buses out to the party, he’s back at your front door for one more shot. His fist taps at your door, cognizant that you wouldn’t be elsewhere since your other friends are out of town for the holidays. Despite that, you don’t come to the door. Nevertheless, he speaks to you through the wooden barrier.

“Hey, I know you want to be left alone, but I just wanted to see if you changed your mind about the party.”

Still no answer. He lets out a sigh and prays the following will incite a reaction from you.

“About the question that you asked me that night...”

He closes his eyes and allows his mouth to carry him.

“I do. I do love you. As both my best friend and more. I’m sorry if I hurt you that night by not saying anything, but I love you so much and I think we should give us a shot.”

Still no answer. Yangyang continues.

“Look, I know it’s scary and crazy to date your best friend. I’m scared too, but you know what? I’m okay with being scared. I’ve watched you gone through those assholes over the last few years and maybe you’re scared I’ll end up like one of them, but unlike them, I don’t think you’re horrible or needy or emotional—you’re beautiful, intelligent, and strong for putting up with all those fuckers.”

He leans his forehead gently against the door.

“And even if we ever do break up, and this is a big if because I’ll always try my hardest with you to make it work, I’ll still be your friend. I promise. You won’t lose me ‘cause I need you in my life. I gotta keep my end up for the custody of the Playstation, right?”

A smile breaks over his face from his joke, but still. Radio silence.

“Can you at least say something?” he begs.

After a few minutes, realizing he needs to probably give you more time to be left alone, he departs and heads to the party.

Originally, you actually were planning on attending the party to see Yangyang to make-up with him.

Unfortunately, out of all the days you had to take a late afternoon nap, it had to be today.

And you overslept. Big time.

At 10:55PM, you scramble awake, realizing you’re absolutely late to the event. Since the party’s downtown, you know calling an Uber or Lyft there would be fast, but tonight’s the worst night for any share riding service and there aren’t any available drivers. Thus, you have to manage with busing there.

It’s 11:40PM when you finally reach downtown, but the bus can’t take you all the way to the core centre where the party is; hordes of people are out on the streets and traffic is dreadful. God, you’re going to be cutting it close to midnight, but you make a run for it.

You’re grateful the party is on the second floor of a small building because you slide in right through the entrance at 11:58PM. You rush to call Yangyang’s phone, hoping he’ll pick up as you try to find him in the scattered groups of people.

You begin to holler for him in hopes he can hear you, but the countdown is happening, drowning out your voice. Thirty seconds left until the clock strikes for the new year.

When his number finally goes to voicemail, you redial his number. Suddenly, a hand grasps you by the wrist.

Yangyang looks at you, dumbfounded.

“When did you get here?”

The harmonious chanting around you floods your surroundings.

“Ten, nine, eight...”

Getting closer to him, you practically scream into Yangyang’s face, trusting he’ll hear what you’re about to say.

“I know Christmas is over, but I want to change my wish.”

“Seven, six, five...”

“I know you might not feel the same and I know things might not work out.”

“Four, three, two...”

”But I wish to date you past New Year’s until whenever, however long we last.”

“One...”

“I love you, Yangyang—”

The one you love snatches you by the waist and your cheek, stealing your lips at the last millisecond before midnight.

“Happy New Year!”

A wave of noisemakers, clappers, and hollering erupt around the room. After it dies down a bit, Yangyang shocks you with a scolding.

“Why didn’t you say anything when I came over?!”

Confusion rushes over you. You realize he probably came by when you were sleeping.

“You came over?!”

“Yeah, I confessed my love for you.”

“Wait,” you blink blankly, unsure if you heard him correctly. “Your love?”

“Yeah,” he nods, giving you his cheesy, adorable smile. “I love you.”

“As more than a friend?” you clarify.

“Babe,” Yangyang’s thumb caresses your cheek. “I don’t think I could ever go back to wanting less with you.”

Your lips tremble with relief as your gaze melts in his.

“And, anyway, who else am I going to share the Playstation with?”

“Well, I mean, you do have Hendery, Xiaojun, Winwin...” you start to count his infinite list of friends on your fingers.

“Yeah, but I need you so I can constantly beat your cute little butt at games.”

“You do not constantly beat my cute little butt at games, I’ll have you know that I beat you at—”

Yangyang shuts you up with another kiss, the one of many for the rest of the night.

JANUARY 2nd

It’s your second morning at Yangyang’s place. You’ve only done it a few times now, but you realize that waking up in his arms is one of the greatest feelings in the world, second only to his kisses.

In his bed, spooning you from behind, he grumbles into the nape of your neck, “Morning, girlfriend.”

Half-awake, you mumble back, “Morning, boyfriend,” and sink deeper into the curve of his body.

Content, you finally broke your string of cursed holiday break-ups for good.

And all it took was to be with the one who was in front of you all this time.

2K notes · View notes

btxtreads · 3 years

Text

Silver Nights

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: WISHLIST

↳ Pairing: Choi Beomgyu x Reader

↳ word count: 1.7k words

↳ rating: G

↳ genre: fluff? angst?

Y/N whimpered, back pressing against the tree bark as she shivered from the cold breeze passing through. Her hands clenched on the cold snow beneath her fingers as she gulped. From the corner of her eyes, she can see Beomgyu turn his horse around.

Is he seriously leaving her?

Y/N bit her lip as she heard the growling of the wolf grow louder and louder. She scrunched her eyes closed, praying to whatever deity was above that the wolf decided her wasn’t hungry anymore.

Before she or the wolf can do anything else, there were loud and fast crunches of what sounded like hooves on snow. Beomgyu broke through the woods, smoke blowing out of his mouth due to the cold weather as his hands clutched onto an airgun.

The wolf, upon sighting a bigger and better prey with the horse, turned its attention to Beomgyu. Immediately, Beomgyu held the gun up to the sky and pulled the trigger—producing loud sounds that caused the canine to flinch and saunter off in rapid speeds.

“Go, shoo!” Beomgyu said frantically, sighing as he ran his hands through his hair and turned to the girl on the snowy forest floor. “Are you alright?”

“Peachy.” Y/N smiled, dusting herself off as she stood up. “Thanks, Beomgyu.”

“I told you, it’s just Gyuu.” Beomgyu smiled. “Are you cold?”

“Who wouldn’t be in this weather?”

Beomgyu chuckled, shaking his head as he grinned and offered his arm out.

“I’ve got somewhere warm in mind.”

Y/N found herself sitting in front of a fire, in the middle of a gigantic wooden cabin in the middle of the woods. From her position, she can see Beomgyu move in the kitchen. Y/N smiled to herself and pulled the blanket closer to her body as the prince emerged out of the kitchen once more with two large, steaming mugs in his hands.

“This is for you.” Beomgyu offered one of the mugs, a smile on his face as he sat next to her.

Y/N smiled, taking the cup from his hands.

“What’s this?”

“Hot Chocolate, royal recipe.” Beomgyu grinned. “Dad taught me.”

“Yeah?” Y/N grinned, taking a sip and wincing at the strong taste. “It’s good—but what is it made of?”

“50% Cocoa and 50% Alcohol.”

“Perfect.” Y/N giggled, taking another sip.

There was a beat of silence, the prince and the girl sitting side by side and getting warmer as the seconds ticked by. Beomgyu softly set his mug on the coffee table in front of him as he shuffled in his spot, turning over to the girl.

“So, why did you follow me?”

“I didn’t follow you.”

Beomgyu only smiled, tilting his head as he waited for her to reply.

“I-I wanted to know you,” Y/N sighed, setting her mug down next to his. “I wanted to find out who you really are—past the spotlight, past the crown. I want to know Beomgyu.”

Beomgyu nodded softly, eyes falling back onto the fire.

“Sorry to say, I really don’t know him.”

“I think I’m starting to.” Y/N said, grinning when a soft smile appeared on his face. “So, mind telling me where we are?”

“Oh, it’s the royal cabin—of sorts.” Beomgyu shrugged, thumbing the print of the couch. “Yeonjun-hyung, Taehyun, and I used to go here all the time when we were little.”

“Ah, so regular kids have treehouses and you three have a nice, big three-bedroom cabin in the middle of a cozy forest.” Y/N teased.

Beomgyu laughed, shaking his head. His black hair bounced as he lifted his shoulders in a small shrug. The firelight reflected so perfectly in his eyes as he pointed over to a framed photo by the mantle.

“See that? He’s my father.” Beomgyu shared. “I was told he stayed here a lot when I left the country.”

There was another moment of silence. Y/N’s hand landed on his, a sympathetic smile shot towards him.

“Why did you leave?”

“I didn’t want to be king—I knew I wasn’t ready.” Beomgyu sighed. “But he wanted me to be.”

“What happened?”

“I came to him one day and I said I just wanted to be the prince—you know? Not the king, never.” Beomgyu shook his head, hand turning to interlock his hands with the girl’s. “I told him to just give the throne to Yeonjun-hyung. He didn’t like that very much. There was a big fight and I just—left.”

“Oh.”

“Tae and hyung were angry at me for quite some time. I went around the world with nowhere to go—my girlfriend at the time, Eunjae, found out I wasn’t going to be king and broke it off.” Beomgyu explained.

“She was your ex?”

“Yeah, it was a nasty break-up.” Beomgyu snorted. “She sold me to the press and said some fake stories, and that started the whole playboy thing. Now, I can’t even get food without people thinking I’m about to go on a one night stand.”

Y/N frowned, gears turning in her head as she shuffled in her spot.

“So, what now?”

“Now?” Beomgyu shrugged. “Mom wants me to be king, and I still don’t know what to do because I’m still not the guy dad wants me to be.”

“Screw that, everyone can be whoever the hell they want to be.” Y/N pursed her lips, trying her hardest to uplift the boy. “What’s on your wishlist this year?”

“Wishlisht?” Beomgyu giggled.

“Come on, just give me this one.” Y/N laughed, making the boy hum.

“Maybe, to finally own up to what my father thinks I’m worth.” Beomgyu shrugged, turning to the girl. “You?”

“That you finally realize that you’re already way more than what you think you’re worth.” Y/N smiled, making the boy giggle shyly.

Suddenly, he shrugged off the blanket on his shoulders and stood up. He walked over to a nearby desk and pulled a small notebook from a drawer.

“Hey, my sister told me you’re really great in English? You’re a writer, apparently.” Beomgyu asked, flipping the notebook open.

“Yep,” Y/N smiled nervously. “You can say that.”

Beomgyu shot her a small smile and waved her over. The girl shrugged the blanket off her shoulders and followed the prince, head tilting down to the messy scrawl on the pages.

“Can you help me decode this?”

“What is it?”

“It’s a poem—from my father—apparently he was meant to give it to mom this year.” Beomgyu said, eyes scanning the pages.

Y/N scrunched her eyebrows, eyes reading the poem really fast.

On a shooting star, the first sight I lay

The answer to everything I pray

Pandora’s box, the key nowhere to be found

The secret will keep the throne safe and sound

“That’s beautiful.” Y/N smiled.

“Yeah, but hard to understand.” Beomgyu shot the girl a small smile. “Poetic but what does it mean?”

“Maybe it’s something that only they understand?” Y/N said, fingers passing through the dried ink on the page. “It’s beautiful.”

Y/N smiled, turning over to the prince—whose face was close to hers. Y/N’s heart stuttered in it’s wake, eyes falling onto Beomgyu’s lips. The prince let out a soft breath, head inching forward and forehead leaning on hers. Y/N can feel his hair brush against her forehead, a small smile on her lips as his begin to brush hers. She closes her eyes, hands reaching up to cup his face and crash her lips against his when a shrill tone cut through the silent cabin.

Oh my my my, oh my my my

You got me high so fast

Ne jeonbureul hamkkehago sipeo

Both of them flinched, turning to the coffee table where Beomgyu’s phone lay. The prince only sighed, frowning as he leaned his forehead on hers.

“I’m sorry,”

Y/N only smiled, running her thumbs through his cheeks.

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

Oh my my my, oh my my my

You got me fly so fast

Ije jogeumeun na algesseo

“You should take that.” Y/N said, finally pulling away and leaning on the desk.

Beomgyu sighed in frustration, sauntering over to pick up the call.

“What the fuck do you want, man?… Yeah… We’re at the cabin…Tell Taehyun to—… Well, hold her back?… Whatever, hyung. Fuck off… Yeah, yeah, we’re on our way back… I hate you.” Beomgyu groaned in frustration as he hung up the phone, returning to the girl with a shy smile. “I should go get the horse ready.”

“You should.”

Beomgyu grinned, hand softly landing on her waist as he leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

“Thank you for listening.”

Y/N’s heart panged when she remembered the reason why she listened, but for this time—she deluded herself to believe that she’s there for him for no other reason that to just be with him. However, as she watched Beomgyu’s figure disappear behind the closed door of the cabin, she knew she had a job to do.

Immediately, she turned. Grabbing her phone out of her pocket, she rapidly snapped a picture of the poem. Assessing its readability, she nodded to herself and opened drawers upon drawers trying to look for something.

While she did find a lot of things—an airgun, a photo of the three boys when they were young, multiple blank notebooks—Y/N didn’t find anything all that interesting.

Not until she bent down to rummage through the bottom drawer and finding a secret compartment at the underside of the table.

Opening the compartment, Y/N was able to retrieve a long brown envelope—a single paper inside. The document was signed by both the late king of Argenti and the current queen of Argenti—Beomgyu’s parents.

Another paragraph that read “he shall be named Choi Beomgyu, crown prince of Argenti.” This was placed under a big title reading “Certificate of Adoption.”

The statements “BORN March 13th, 2001. Adopted March 13th, 2001.” seemed to be mocking her.

“Oh my god,” Y/N gasped, shaking as she heard footsteps outside—indicating Beomgyu’s return.

She moved fast, shoving the document back in it’s envelope and hiding it behind her back as soon as Beomgyu opened the door once more and shot her a bright smile.

“The horse is ready.”

Y/N only smiled, hands tightening on the envelope behind her back.

“I’ll be right out.”

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chillpills320 · 4 years

Text

Hard || Corbyn Besson

Summary : kinda based on wdw’s hard (if you haven’t heard the song yet it’s basically Corbyn likes his best friend, but she’s oblivious and is in a relationship, and one day her boyfriend hurts her so she goes to Corbyn for comfort)

Warnings : slight hint of sexual abuse, but other than that it’s just some Corbyn fluff

Word Count : 1.9k

A/n : Yeah so I really like their song hard, I think it’s nice to have someone who got your back, and gives you a shoulder to cry on, plus I’m a new limelight, so I’m like writing this and waiting for their comeback,,,,

Also this kinda involves their cover of Adele’s make you feel my love, because I went to heaven after I heard their cover, and you should really hear it if you haven’t

~~~

November 25th (as you all know) is Corbyn’s birthday.

He was your best friend, and of course you wanted to be the first ever person to wish him happy birthday, so you called him at 11:57pm the night before even though you were dead tired.

“Heyyy Corbone,” you said to the phone when he picked up at the third ring.

“What’s up y/n? Wait.. Aren’t you supposed to be in bed now?” Corbyn asked, he knew that you take part-time jobs at a nearby cafe after school to support your college fees and he knew how exhausted you probably were.

“Whatttt, and miss being the first person to wish you a happy birthday? No thanks,” You teased.

“Really? Aww,” the boy answered, a bit flustered. You could literally hear his smile over the phone.

You chuckled, and you talk about the most random of things until the clock ticked 12:00.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!” You practically screamed to the phone. “You’re 20 now, you dork. Go get a girl or something, don‘t wait till you’re too old for crushes,” you egged him on.

You’ve known Corbyn for your whole life, but have never seen him date any girl. You were the one close friend of him who is a girl, and you were honestly worried about his sexuality as he has not shown any interest to any other girls OR guys, which u concluded after (half) stalking him on the campus, wondering if he was gay, which is honestly super fine if he was, but yeah.

“You say that every yearrr,” Corbyn complained.

“Wait I still haven’t got your birthday present because I don’t know what you want, so just tell me if there’s anything on you wishlist?” you asked.

“Oh, sure thanks,” the blonde boy replied.

“Wait, um do you want to hang out tomorrow?” He continued, crossing his fingers wishing that you’d say yes.

You, on the other hand, oblivious to Corbyn’s wish, rejected politely because you promised that you would spend more time with your boyfriend.

“Sorry Corbs,” you shrugged into the phone. “Right, gotta sleep. See you tomorrow, birthday boy,” you said and hung up.

Corbyn’s heart panged with bitter sweetness. He was touched that you called him to be the first person to wish him a happy birthday, but he also knows that that would probably be the last time he will see you on his birthday, since you two don’t exactly have the same friend group.

You used to hang around with Corbyn a lot, just the two of you, but soon your boyfriend appeared and you had to spend time with your boyfriend too. Plus, college caught up and you were both too busy to spend time with each other.

It wasn’t that Corbyn’s not interested in girls, it’s just that he has fallen for his best friend, who was oblivious to his feelings AND not available. All Corbyn’s ever wanted for his birthday present is you, but who could get him that present?

~~~

The next day, Corbyn hung out with Jonah and Jack. He wasn’t exactly popular in school, unlike the social butterfly you were, making friends here and there.

Right now you were seated at the middle of the cafeteria with a table of friends, your boyfriend’s arm wrapped around your figure. A friend of yours shared something and made you laugh.

“Hey, have you told her yet?” Jonah asked, snapping Corbyn out of his trance.

“W-What?” Corbyn asked.

Jack sighed. “Of course it’s a solid no, or else why wouldn’t y/n be sitting here with him.”

Corbyn blushed at the mention of your name.

“Ugh, I’m just sick of Corbyn always staring at y/n while she doesn’t even notice,” Jonah groaned. “She’s your best friend. How could she be so oblivious?”

“I mean... she has a boyfriend,” Corbyn said, defending you, though his heart sinked a little at the mention of the champion who won your heart.

Jack shook his head in sympathy.

“Hey cheer up, it’s your birthday afterall,” Jonah said, lightening up the mood. “You wanna go to the arcade after school?”

At the mention of Corbyn’s favorite place on Earth, his eyes lit up.

“Sure!” Corbyn replied enthusiastically.

~~~

After spending the whole day at the arcade, Corbyn went back home.

He scrolled his Instragm feed and smiled when he saw that Jack posted a ridiculous picture of Corbyn as his birthday post. He was typing a comment when he heard a knock at his door.

Few people knew his address and it was quite late at night, so he was a bit confused, but opened the door anyway to reveal you. You, with messy hair, and disheveled clothes that seemed to be put on in a haste.

“Y/n? What are you-“ Corbyn started with wide eyes but was cut off by you breaking down. Corbyn’s eyes softened as his heart swelled at your crying figure.

He immediately pulled you inside and into his warm embrace where your sobs shook his frame. You fell to a million pieces but his hands came up and ran along your back to soothe you while whispering that it’s okay.

When your sobs subsided, he led you to the couch while he went to the kitchen to brew some hot tea.

He came back with two steaming mugs and gave one to you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, then took a sip of the tea.

He nodded and wrapped his arms around you.

“Better?”

You nodded meekly, tired from all the crying.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asked softly.

You opened your mouth, but all that came out was a sob.

Corbyn pulled you in closer. “It’s okay, you can tell me when you’re ready,” he whispered, never prodding you on if you’re uncomfortable.

You sighed into his hoodie. Your tears dampening the fabric yet Corbyn doesn’t seem to mind.

“My boyfriend,” you finally said, avoiding Corbyn’s gaze. “H-He tried to sexually abuse... me.”

Corbyn’s blood ran ice cold. How could anyone hurt such a sweet soul like you? He didn’t understand why anyone would want to make you cry so hard.

Now Corbyn’s blood boiled and his fist tightened. “I’m gonna make that bastard pay,” he said through gritted teeth, and tried to get up from the couch but you stopped him.

“It’s not.. worth the trouble,” you mumbled. “I-I mean I escaped before he began to get into it, but I was just,” you frantically explained. “I was just sc-scared when he pinned me down, he was so strong, and I couldn’t move.. and- and-“

“And it’s not the first time he’s tried that...” you whispered, broken.

Corbyn’s heart teared apart just as he teared up at your vulnerability.

“I-I’m sorry, you don’t deserve this,” Corbyn whispered as tears began to run down your face again.

He wiped your tears away with the back of his thumb. He was angry at your boyfriend for doing such a thing to you, but he also blamed himself for not seeing it in your boyfriend. All he’s ever wanted to do was to protect you, but he failed even at that.

He also blamed himself that if, he wasn’t such a coward, and had actually confessed his feelings for you, then you might have accepted him and avoided dating your current boyfriend.

“Hey,” you said softly, snapping Corbyn out of his thoughts. “Why do you look even more troubled than me?” you teased a little.

“I just... I wish I could’ve prevented it,” Corbyn mumbled. “I hate seeing you cry,” he added softly.

“Oh Corbs, you being here for me is enough,” you sniffed. “God, you don’t even know how much better you made me.”

Corbyn ran his hand down your silky hair.

“I thought... I thought you had a lot of friends to be here for you,” Corbyn admitted.

You sighed sadly. “Well.. yes, but they’re just a facade. No one but you can truly give me comfort,” you said softly. “And frankly I’d rather be with you.”

Corbyn’s heart fluttered at your words as both of you sat in the comfortable silence.

“Corbyn?” you mumbled. “Can you sing me a song?”

Corbyn smiled and started to sing with his honey sweet voice,

When the rain is blowing in your face

And the whole world is on your case

I could offer you a warm embrace

To make you feel my love

When the evening shadows and the stars appear

And there is no one there to dry your tears

Oh, I hold you for a million years

To make you feel my love

He looked over at his shoulder and saw you sleeping peacefully. He thought you looked perfect, even with messy hair and smudged makeup.

He gently carried you to his bedroom and placed you on the bed, tucking you in. He also used the makeup wipes you left over before to clean your face.

Corbyn sighed as he watched your sleeping figure.

“You know, if i hadn’t been such a coward, maybe you wouldn’t have ended up with him,” he speaked softly to himself.

“Do you know? You look so beautiful when you’re asleep, and I wish I could be the one to tell you that every day, every morning. I wish that I could tell you I get lost in your eyes everytime I look at you, and your laugh is my favourite sound in the world. My heart skips a beat everytime I look at you, but I know that you’re occupied.”

“I never showed any interest in anyone, because you were already in my mind for the longest time.”

“I wish I could be the one to protect you, to love you, to live with you... I wish that I could call you mine, or call you my baby, because that’s- that’s who you are in my mind,” Corbyn confessed, knowing that you wouldn’t hear him.

“Corbyn,�� you suddenly spoke up, your eyes fluttering open, for you have been awake for some time now, and heard Corbyn’s confession. “Do you really mean that?” A smile on your face while Corbyn jumped at your voice, cheeks flushing ridiculously red.

“I-I, yeah.. I t-thought you were asleep,” Corbyn stammered, looking anywhere but your eyes.

“You know what, Corbs, I like you too. A lot,” you confessed, cheeks turning pink as well.

“I-I’ve liked you for a long time, but I thought you didn’t show interest in anybody, so I just try to date other people to get you off my mind, but-“ you rambled, but got cut off when Corbyn placed his lips on yours.

Fireworks erupted as both your hearts swelled at the sweetness of the kiss. His lips were softer than you imagined, and his taste- God, you could taste him forever. He pulled away and hid in the crook of your neck, flushed.

You suddenly giggled at a thought.

Corbyn rose up from his position and looked at you with questioning eyes.

“Oh Corbyn, I just realized that the person I’ve spent my whole life looking for, has actually been here beside me this whole time,” you said.

Corbyn smiled as well and kissed you again, this time more passionate than the last.

“I promise to protect you better than all your boyfriends, baby,” Corbyn said, breathless after the kiss.

You smiled so hard at your new pet name.

“Can you say it again?” you requested.

“Baby,” Corbyn replied, smiling at how much happiness he can give you by saying a word.

“Baby, baby, baby, my babygirl...” he continued, kissing your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, all over your face, making you laugh at the love he gives you.

Then Corbyn laughed with you, and thought, best. birthday. ever.

~~~

So hope you guys like this post, and I take requests! So send in some requests if you want to :))

#wdw #why dont we #jack avery #zach herron #daniel seavey #corbyn besson #jonah marais #why dont we imagine #imagines #jack avery imagine #zach herron imagine #daniel seavey imagine #corbyn besson imagine #jonah marais imagine

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get-chazzed · 3 years

Note

When do you usually do most of your writing?

Pet peeves?

What is on your wishlist?

When do you usually do most of your writing?

I wake up very late because I have no self control and a really messed up sleeping schedule, so I do the writing from 1 pm onward, generally speaking. Then again, I have spent more than one day doing nothing but typing away on my keyboard for this account, so... Yeah. I'd like to say I do most of it during the daytime, but it depends: if a thread I like gets a reply at 2 am (which happens a lot because everyone seems to be living in the Americas?) you can bet I'll be typing a reply as soon as I get the notification (though I almost never post them right away, since I'm anxious about spelling, syntax and so on). It might be that I'm new to the scene and that I'm a situation in which I have little else to do, but I get really excited whenever I get a reply or an ask and will jump at the chance to start interacting with new people- which is sadly kind of hard because of how unpopular GX seems to be among the RPC. People have still been very nice to me and have been very open to testing out interactions, which I'm deeply grateful for. I am wagging my nonexistent tail of all of you, constantly. On a separate note, I do the fic writing after midnight. Always. And I hate it.

Pet peeves?

... Oof. Ok. I'll take my chance to say a bunch of things? Don't hate me for it, I don't mind any of these that much.

1) I kind of dislike writing in present tense, mostly because I find it unnatural, but I will when the other person does. I'm the opposite of picky- and it isn't necessarily a good thing.

2) Fancy formatting. It's one thing to use small text, that I don't mind one bit. But when fonts and random highlighted words are involved I get very confused? I know I use italics for emphasis and for things that are meant to be internal monologue that isn't narrated, but rather delivered by the muse himself- maybe that's annoying or distracting to someone? I bet someone out there has looked at a reply of mine and wanted to delete the post in my stead at some point.

3) Heavily edited icons. Again, icons or not, it technically doesn't make much of a difference. I personally have taken a liking to keeping my Manjoume icon folder open on my second screen- plus I'm Italian. Come on. Half my communication skills are non verbal I'm lying I suck at communicating in general. The edited icons, yes- a frame and coloured filter make icons look personal and I appreciate the work put into them, but when I can barely make out the expression I have to wonder what the point is. Aesthetics, I suppose, which is fine, of course.

4) Tumblr themes. Some themes don't allow for reblogs when you open posts on the op's blog. WHY. It's sort of annoying to have to fish for the post in order to reply to it.

5) Endless threads. Very few do this, but I think you should consider that people who are not involved in a given thread will have to scroll through it on their dashes before you reblog a thread without cropping it. That's all. I didn't know how to do it initially, but I asked and I was lucky enough to get an answer from a very kind person.

6) ... Grammar. Typos are fine and dandy. Sometimes they happen and you can't notice them because some words exist and thus are not highlighted by the spellchecker (which is on everyone's chrome, by the way). An example is 'fir' and 'for'. I can assure you there is no red squiggle under 'fir'. It's a tree, apparently. I had no clue. But yes, I am not from an English speaking country, so don't take this as like... a British dude coming up to you and bullying you because your English is bad. No. A misplaced comma is ok, I don't care. It becomes a problem when the sentences are hard to understand. That's it. (Note- if I write something that you think is an incomprehensible mess, tell me and I'll try my best to fix it.)

... I'm done. I am not angry at anyone who does any of these, believe me. Pet peeve number seven is a request. DM me for literally anything. If I do something wrong, tell me. I write a lot of extra tags to convey how I feel about what has been written and maybe it's unnecessary, but I do it so you can always know that I'm actively invested in the interaction. If I don't add tags it's solely because there is nothing to add. But if it's annoying, tell me and I'll stop immediately. That is all.

What is on your wishlist?

... This.

How very unexpected, I know.

A bunch of other things, too: I have some Jojo prints in my cart on Etsy and I know I'll never get them (sad) and a bunch of videogames on Steam and the Nintendo e-shop (which I'll never buy or play- they look neat though). On Amazon I have the last few volumes of the DM manga and the GX series (Light and Darkness Dragon, my beloved). Also also any charm that has to do with Manjoume. I haven't found any I could buy, but I want 'em all. Literally break into my house if you find one. Ah! And the matching figures of Komaeda and Hinata from Danganronpa 2! (Big Danganronpa fan, bigger Komahina shipper- I've made a fucking animatic and I can't post it because the music is copyrighted ;) ) I also have a bunch of zines I'm waiting for- some I've bought and are about to be sent out and others have only posted interest checks. 2021 was the year in which I discovered that yes, I can commission people and buy zines and it doesn't need to a big event (except I'm not rich and need to be mindful with spending of course). ... I also really want the new Pokemon games. Like right now.

... If it turns out the question wasn't actually about like... material things, but rather what I want to do with my blog and muse in the future... Well, first of all pretend I said nothing. Second, I want to find an art style I can comfortably use to make more frequent illustrations for threads and asks. I was a big fan of ask blogs as a kid (I saw them through crust screenshots and reposts only, I didn't have a tumblr lol) and I always wanted to be that cool artist that makes cool art for a given cool character. Manjoume is the coolest of characters to me, so yeah.

#(( i've written too much on the pet peeves watch me shake from anxiety for a week straight #(( but i also want to be honest so yeah there #(( it would be hypocritical to say that i love everything always #(( i want to buy a shitton of things for someone who doesn't have a job huh #(( maybe i'll try to get commissions to afford stuff... when i git gud #(( stan manjoume always #// asks #// ulri's corner #// ooc

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leaveharmony · 4 years

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The Rate My Villagers post absolutely no one asked for: post-Rocket edition (...there is no Rocket edition)

Leopold:

10/10 The best boy. Leopold was my first camper, which I have now learned means he could not have been rejected even if I had intended to, but I did actually not mean to say COME LIVE HERE right away! I was just excited to have a visitor, and also it was a Cool Lion, and he immediately reminded me of Tana. Also he was eating a doughnut, which made him even more endearing. I love his entire design, from the green Tana hair that sometimes from behind makes me think he’s just part of a tree and sometimes has resulted in me running up to say hello to an unrelated tree that is not in fact him, to his sleepy eyes, to his big broad nose, to his little wee Lennon glasses, to the fuzzy lil ears that MATCH his toe beans in a dazzling display of coordination that is the envy of people who merely match their bags to their shoes. No other lions, nor smugs, will ever be required on Kentanna because the positions are 100% filled. He has never asked to leave but if he slid the dodos seven million bells in the dead of night to fly him away they would know I’d double the fee to keep him, circle the island a few times and land back at the dock, where I’d be waiting to give him a new hat.

(Everyone else under the cut)

Big Top:

10/10 Oh my god. The first villager I chose, if I remember correctly; when the first three plots opened up after Cobb and Rocket were assigned. I don’t remember if he was the first one I found, but I do distinctly recall saying “Oh my god, it’s an elephant,” and being instantly delighted. It’s funny because almost everything that irritated me about Rocket’s design is wonderful on Big Top; wearing hats over his helmets, the little green suit never coming off...I think it’s just because elephants are inherently funny. Like the other ones on the superhero team...the cat, the squirrel, Rocket, they just look silly, but it works on Big Top because elephants can get away with anything. Love his laid back eyes and his mouth being off to one side, excellent tail, points for traditional elephant colouring. He is never leaving.

Cobb:

10/10 ok listen. Listen. I was dealt two starters by the gods, and Rocket was a disaster, but Cobb amused me as soon as I saw him. He’s a green pig. That’s fantastic! I lost my entire mind the first time I saw him sitting under a tree reading and realized that it isn’t his glasses/goggles making him look like he has blank yellow eyes...his eyes are just blank and yellow. His snout is so enormous that when he looks down I can’t see his mouth and I cannot tell you how cute it is, but I also love how wide his mouth actually is under normal circumstances. When he does his exercises, his left ear flops...but only the left one. The first thing Cobb did was give me a hat; my first hat, and he has had my sword ever since.

Miranda:

10/10. Do you even know how badly I wanted a duck, though? It was my number one wishlist item, and one day I just crawled through that tent flap and there was a fucking pink duck in there, casual as anything about being representative of all my hopes and dreams. She has apple cheeks!! She’s wearing eyeshadow! LOOK AT HER LITTLE DUCK PATOOT! It sticks out just like that no matter what she wears 😭 When she walks on stone there are little pap pap pap noises and she prefers elegant little dresses. I’d die for her.

T-Bone:

10/10. I forget in which order T-Bone came to us, but I do recall I’d just set up the plot and intended to go looking for someone to fill it when I realized it was Sold already. ‘Sold already!??’ I said. ‘How can this be, I did not authorize this! Who the hell is T-Bone! I shall have a stern word with that loose cannon tanuki!’ And then it was just like. Oh he’s a bull! And the first thing he did was compliment my dress. His place was classy, he sounds like Tenzan which is twice as funny because he’s a bull, I like the blue/grey, his minimalist eyes are very good...I just...loved him instantly? And I know there are several other valid crankies but tbh I look at T-Bone and it’s...my friend T-Bone, not some strange wolf or anteater or bear. His head is peanut-shaped and I love him more than I love my own father.

Flurry:

10/10. My first Normal villager was, and it’s kind of telling that I can never remember how to spell her name, Rhoda or Rhonda, the rhino. I picked her! She seemed cool I guess, kinda neat. She was also the first to ask to leave, and since I hadn’t yet formed an emotional attachment I decided I’d let her, so it was time to go hunting.

It was raining. Little ears appeared on the horizon, flanking a small rain hat. She had her back to me. “Yes, good,” I said. “Continue.”

Flurry emerged in the gloomy light like Athena springing from the head of Zeus. I had no idea what the fuck she was. A cub? A really short bear? Back then I wasn’t sure I could talk to them without inviting them and I wanted a Normal type, but I did not know her name. A little googling later, realization dawned.

“Hamster! HAAAAMMMMSSSTTTEEERRRRRRRR” I desperately pm’d to @breadclubrising, who justly laughed at me.

Look at her. She is so fucking smol. She has no nose! Her mouth is an inverted child’s drawing of a distant seagull. In certain moods her eyes turn white, and one time she got mad at Big Top for spoiling her book and she was just...stomping around with steam shooting out her ears in the world’s tiniest tantrum. Do you know how much effort it must take to stomp with legs that short?? That is my Flurry, full of determination.

Cheri:

10/10. Cheri preceded Flurry, which was why I thought she might be a weird cub at first. One of the initial 3 after the starters, so her house is, like Big Top and Cobb’s, all wrong on the inside. Again, I chose her on the hunt ‘cos she met the criteria of smol and adorable and a type I did not yet have. I am tremendously fond of her but I think I can let her move on to delight someone else who will also be totally unprepared for a small pink bear with anime eyes to stroll out from behind a tree and declare that they are a Friend.

Clay:

10/10. I was tired, my arm was sore, I was so, so tired of taking mystery tours. The types were all accounted for, so whoever I found would end up a secondary. Oddly, it was raining again. “Oh NO!” I said, when Clay turned around.

Another hamster. Oh my god, another hamster.

Listen I want to give Roald a shot to penguin the place up, I really do. But...the thing is...look at Clay. Look at him! That is his default poncho, actually, I think the only default outfit I have apart from Bree’s. This...hippie lookin’ golem hamster, I love him. The design is so good?? He’s a little piece of caveman pottery, only a hamster. I love his dots, and I love that the ears are such a vivid aqua to contrast with all the neutrals. The slit eyes are very good. There’s no reaction that makes him do it so I cannot demonstrate but when he sings sometimes his mouth makes a perfect round ‘o’

I have lost him 84 times because he’s short and blends in with trees and cliffsides.

Pinky:

10/10 damnit lol. Pinky was another “Ok, close enough” hunt gone terribly right. I love that she is ENORMOUS, like I think she’s even taller than T-Bone. She’s such a great vivid pink, her toe beans contrast so well with it...she’s a panda, what more do I even need to say? If I was going to keep an additional Peppy after ordering Ketchup I think it’d be Pinky rather than Cheri, which is wild considering you’d think it’d be the other way around. But I really dig how tall she is vs how tiny all the other girls are...

Bree:

9/10. I’m not gonna lie, Bree is a stopgap measure. It could have as easily been Norma or Judy or any of the other randoms I happened across before I got sick of looking for Muffy.

But as stopgaps go, she is a fucking stellar one, eh? Look at that tiny little body, I could leapfrog her if I wanted to! The size! Of the fucking ears! Just amazing. She cannot face the direction of the wind lest it blow her into the sea. Love the hair, love the big green eyes, the blush, the tail. She is just...very pleasing overall. The score is 9/10 only because her head is so candy corn shaped that hats just kinda sit on the top and it looks ridiculous; Rocket had the same problem but had none of the cute that makes up for it. If I could have like,15 villagers, I may even consider keeping her, but alas she is here only until I get my mitts on some amiibos. I will enjoy her company until then. 🥰

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mylifeasaserver · 6 years

Text

The bad deal

Yesterday we ran a one day sale to get new members.

On occasion my gym will do one day events, and we usually advertise on Facebook and our local paper for the week beforehand. We did that this time too.

It’s a pretty sweet deal for the customer (basically make a larger down payment and get a cheap monthly rate) and an even sweeter deal for me. I got a $30 commission on every new membership I sold under the deal. I had signed up 8 people, and was closing up when I got a phone call from somebody running just a little late who wanted to sign up.

So I did what any money-grubbing whore would do: I clocked out and goofed off for the 15 minutes he said it would take him to get there so I could get one more commission in before I closed up.

A half hour later, and having realized that until I get paid all this commission I cannot buy the games I have on my Steam wishlist, I decide he’s not coming and begin to close up.

AS SOON AS I CLOSE THE REGISTER DOWN HERE HE IS.

Whatever, for $30 I’ll open it back up.

He reaffirms he wants the deal for new members and...wants to cancel his current membership.

He’s already a member, so he doesn’t qualify for the deal. By his logic, by cancelling his current account and signing up again, he’d be considered new.

I tell him that he has to have been cancelled for at least 3 months to get the deal, and then I do a bit of quick math for him. With the cancel fees on his current membership coupled with the startup fees on his new membership, he wouldn’t save any money until he’d been paying for almost 2 years.

He tells me he doesn’t care how I do it but he wants the deal.

I tell him again he’s going to spend more money than it’s worth. We already had him at a decent rate, spending all this extra money was not a good deal for him.

He tells me to mind my business and “if I can’t do it call somebody who knows what they’re doing.”

Ah rudeness, how I’d missed you. I grab the calculator so I can show him exactly how raw of a deal this really is.

While I’m adding things up, he gets a phone call. I hear the sentence “yeah I’m at the gym but this guy doesn’t know what he’s doing” and I immediately lost any and all interest in saving him money.

He finishes his phone call and I tell him that I can do what he wants, but there’s a $100 account transfer fee. I had just made that up, figuring he’d see another $100 added to the already stupid-to-pay fees for this deal which was a bad fit for him and decide that it was time to walk away.

Nope.

OK fine. You want to pay all this shit? YOU GOT IT!

I get a new contract for him and write at the bottom “CUSTOMER WAIVES 7 DAY CANCELLATION POLICY” and make a space for him to initial it.

**Author’s note** we usually let people cancel within 7 days of signing up with no fees or penalties so they can change their mind if they want to and not feel like they were raked over the coals.

He asks why I put that on his new contract. I tell him it’s because once he realizes how much money he just wasted we’re not refunding it. So once he pays, the money is gone forever.

For the first time, he hesitates.

Him: Why wouldn’t I be able to get my money back?

Me: Because you’re making a bad decision, you’ve been told it’s a bad decision, and yet somehow you still want to do it. I still suggest you just walk away and not do this, because seriously, it’s a bad deal for you. But if you STILL decide you want to donate all this money to us it’s going to be 100% on you and you will get no refund. Not one cent. And I’m telling you this despite the fact I don’t get a commission if you don’t do it. So choose wisely.

Now he decides he wants to argue with me over the 7 day refund.

Me: Look, here’s the deal. You either overpay like I’ve told you that you will and accept that you can never get that money back, or you walk away. I honestly don’t care at this point, but I was supposed to close 45 minutes ago and I’m not going to argue with you. YOU ARE MAKING A MISTAKE. But it’s your life and I’ll let you decide what to do.

He stands there and puts the pen down and I think he’s going to do the right thing and go away.

Then he picks the pen back up, fills out the contract, and passes it back to me along with his credit card. I’m so fucking done.

I do what he wants (including charging him that bullshit $100 fee,) and give him a receipt and a copy of his new contract. Have a fucking great day.

I then call my manager and tell her what just went on and she’s a dumbfounded as I am that he’d do it even though I explained how stupid it was.

I’m getting a $70 commission off of it at least, and it’s going to be very satisfying when he tells pretty much anybody about the deal he got and they tell him he’s stupid. I just know he’ll be back trying to get his money...but he waived that. Moron.

I changed my mind, tornado chasing IS happening. My game room will have to wait. -J

#retail

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theloudmute-deadaccountwheee · 6 years

Text

Impulse Control

Hey! So. I haven’t written anything in a while. I’ve had something on my mind for a while and, since I haven’t been working on any stories or anything, I thought I’d get out this bit of word vomit. Like I used to back when I first started tumblr!

So yeah. If you know me or have been following me on this hellsite for a while you probably know I am just riddled with mental illness. Panic disorder, manic depressive disorder (MDD), and the REAL fun one, bipolar disorder. I take meds for all that. I should go to a therapist. I don’t. That’s another post for another day.

Now, a symptom of bipolar disorder, as described by the mayo clinic website is “Poor decision-making — for example, going on buying sprees, taking sexual risks or making foolish investments”. Going on buying sprees sounds pretty normal, right? And we all have made foolish investments from time to time. Well...the website didn’t really describe it well, like therapists have told me and my sister in the past.

See, we never referred to it as “poor decision-making”. We, meaning my sister and therapists I’ve had, have always talked about “impulse control” and how I just...don’t fucking have it. Surprisingly, I can see a positive side to having no impulse control. For example, there was one day where I was going to town to get some groceries, take care of a few things. Something in me was like, “hey. Go to the lake”. I didn’t see the consequences, but, in this situation, there weren’t really any. So I did. I drove, like, almost thirty minutes out of my way to go to the lake. It was lovely. I was by myself, I sat on the rocks, I just soaked up the sun and listen to the waves roll up to the shore.

Other times, something in me will just say, “hey, that thing you’ve been thinking about writing? We’re gonna go do that. Right fucking now.” If I’m in bed? Fuck that noise, we’re getting up and writing. Driving? I’ll pull off to the side of the road and write away in a notebook I always keep on hand. I didn’t see the consequences. Lack of sleep. Someone veering off the road and hitting me. Sadly, that hasn’t happened in while. Well. Until now. It’s like four in the morning as I’m typing this, haha. And I’m glad; I have been in bed literally all week. I guess that’s a post for another day, as well. DEPRESSION YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY

Then there’s...times when impulse control says, “hey. eat that entire carton of ice cream.” “Eat that whole bag of chips.” “There’s some stuff on your amazon wishlist. Buy a shit ton of it.” “There’s a steam sale. You need these games.” I don’t see the consequences. I see something I wanna do, and I do it.

And sometimes impulse control says “self harm. Right fucking now.”

And thankfully, I’ve learned to not listen to impulse control sometimes.

Like when it says, “drive your car off a cliff.”

One of the things that sent me to sad hospital was when dad was still alive. “When you go check on dad, go to his bedroom, grab a gun, and just do it. Right in front of him.”

There’s this thing called “the call of the void”. It’s kinda like impulse control. Except it’s like...call of the void is one of those things that you think of and then you’re like “woah what the fuck why did I think that?!”. Say you’re on the top of a very tall building and you have your smart phone in hand. You look over the side of the building and you’re like “I could totes just drop my phone” but then immediately after you think that you’re like “what the fuck no I’m not going to do that!!!” That’s the call of the void.

Me...I don’t have that “woah what the fuck no” voice.

I just have the “do it” voice.

I don’t, uh... I don’t know how to end this or where I was really going with this. I just like talking about myself to be perfectly honest.

...um...

I love you.

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tafferling · 7 years

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How I play-

Dying Light is my most played game on steam, and I am by far not done with it. I mean, sure. I’ve finished the Campaign. And The Following. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still enjoy booting up the game and heading out to explore Harran, spend a few more hours dodging Biters, or follow Crane on another round chasing balls for the GRE and Rais.

But I am somewhat attached to my save game, and at Legend Level 60+, there’s little challenge left.

So let’s dive into how I deal with that.

Play on Nightmare

Turn off HUD (completely)

No survivor senses (night or day) except when looking for a way-point

No Grappling Hook

No Shields, Potions, Grenades

Only carry three weapons: A single mid range, one handed weapon without modifications (except durability and handling boost), the bow, the crossbow.

I haven’t maxed out Crane’s Agility tree on purpose, that means he still gets tired when I run too much.

No damage boosts (started with that too late...) in my Legendary Skill tree, and no health or stamina buffs.

And I never, ever engage Volatiles in combat and pretend they’re death incarnate.

Do not use safe zones when detected at night.

This leaves me somewhat vulnerable, and mimics some of the experience that I had when I first started playing the game, but there’s something missing. Sure, Crane gets tired still. And he’ll be exhausted quickly if I resort to special moves (Nightmare + no stamina buffs). Virals are difficult to deal with, and getting cornered is a risk, but what about Volatiles? Or the general feeling of a survival game that Dying Light very much starts out.

So, what would Taff do if she could mod the game? What is it missing?

Reset my skill points to strip some out (I know, I could just start a new save, but I that save has sentimental value to me) and introduce another difficulty:

Remove the ability to see hostiles with survivor senses.

Volatiles immediately detect Crane.

Volatiles get a large health buff and do a great deal more melee damage than they do now, making running away from them the only feasible option, especially when playing on your own.

Nights last longer.

Give an incentive to go out at night that goes beyond increased skill point gain, for example “only night time drops”.

Introduce Antizin in those drops, which is needed in order to keep stats up. Going without Antizin will lead to health and damage output drop. Maybe make Antizin available for purchase for a lot of money, because right now money is pretty useless. I mean, Crane has more than 700k on my save. He’s good to retire if he ever gets out of Harran.

Overall, I just want to get spooked again. I want to be forced to move slowly and carefully through the night so I don’t get detected, and if I do, trying to get away should be my only viable option.

So here it is is. Taff’s wishlist for her Dying Light experience ☺

#Dying Light

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jjnonken · 5 years

Link

TL;DR: Yeah, uh, bought one of these Because Reasons. Long story behind why I feel I need it. Short version: muscle memory sucks, getting old sucks, programmers suck.

So I’ve got this weird keyboard layout thing going on that I’ve been using forever, and I’m reluctant to change. Muscle memory of three decades (... OK, two-and-a-half) being difficult to retrain and all that. Especially at my age.

It started with the Doom layout and went downhill from there. At the time we were using Gateway 2000 Anykey keyboards at work, so I was able to use a cross-shaped cursor key arrangement (unlike the inverted “T” of other keyboards, which persists to this day). Since then the Anykey has gone the way of the dodo, though I snagged a few that were being binned, and still have at least one working one. For one thing, it doesn’t have a Windows key, nor any way to create one, so it’s of limited use. For another, it’s got an AT or PS/2 connector, depending on its age. My working one has a PS/2 connector; but you can’t really hot-plug a PS/2 keyboard. It doesn’t harm anything, but the system needs to be rebooted. Fortunately I have a PS/2-to-USB adapter (two of them, actually) and also AT-to-PS/2 adapters (fortunately just a form factor change; electrically they’re identical) if I want to make the other one work. Problematic, since I only have one full set of keycaps for some reason.

Yeah, so. What do I do? Well, I use the numeric keypad and reprogram the Num Lock to be “E” (and reprogram the Windows Menu key -- the one to the right of the spacebar, not the main Windows key -- to be “Num Lock”) using Keytweak. Which requires a reboot after a remap, so I can’t just casually re-tweak the keyboard layout and switch games.

Over the years I’ve managed to keep this layout by considering it a functional mapping. During my WFA years I was putting precise-fire weapons (sniper rifles) on one key; rapid-fire weapons (usually hitscan) on another; shotguns and other CQB weapons in a third; and melee in a fourth. Then there are the grenades. There’s more, including special layouts for TF-type engineer (whose emphasis is on building and maintaining machinery), but you get the idea. With a functional layout, the exact weapon that a specific player class uses for a particular purpose is unimportant; you simply determine which class it belongs to and map it to the appropriate key. If something doesn’t fit the standard then you come up with alternate mappings, but try to keep things as close to the standards as possible.

Of course, every game has its own way of doing things, and sometimes the weapons categories of a game (*cough*Killing Floor*cough*) don’t fit into my neat categories (tier 1, 2 and 3 weapons are about relative power), so over the last decade my system has been bent and beaten into various odd-looking shapes. But a few key, um, keys have always been the same.

But there’s a problem.

For most games that have a sprint function, the sprint key is a toggle. Tap it once while you’re moving forward and you start sprinting. Sprinting may stop when you a) stop, b) strafe (I don’t like that one), c) jump, d) tap the Sprint key again, e) any of a bunch of stuff, but usually reasonable reasons to stop sprinting. Killing Floor did something different, which was to let you run a bit faster when you switch to a melee weapon, which is why sometimes you’ll see me switch weapons when I’m running (I’ve got something over 2,000 hours on the game, so it’s a pretty well-ingrained habit, even years later). KF2, on the other hand, gives you a separate sprint key -- but requires you to hold it down.

Most of my other fingers are busy when I’m moving and shooting, so I tend to use the PG DN key, which is fairly convenient to my left pinky when I’ve got the rest of my fingers on the numpad home row. Which works great when it’s a tap to sprint. But when you have to hold it down with your pinky, suddenly a lot of maneuvers turn this arrangement into a game of Twister without any of the fun.

Well, I found this keyboard, a Logitech K330 (usually comes in a combo), which rearranges the home/end/etc. cluster to narrow the keyboard a bit -- and the PG DN key is suddenly next to the home row instead of a row above it. No more cramping positions!

It’s an unusual layout, though, and difficult to find keyboards that have it. So far I’ve found... basically just the K330, though there are a couple cheap wired ones out there. I think Dell or somebody ships one with their computers. Fortunately I was able to find a batch of four on eBay for cheap when my first one became a victim of the Pepsi Syndrome, so over the past few years I’ve accumulated a few extras.

Yeah, so that. But there’s another problem: not every game will let me map what I need. because everybody uses WASD, so of course I would use WASD. Only muscle memory and old age; remember those? So they’ll let me remap my keys, which of course they do, only the remapping is limited, because nobody is actually going to use the remapping function. I had a whole thing over the keyboard mapping in 7 Days to Die because they have a tremendous amount of function overloading plus fixed functionality, so I ended up having to completely unbind the mouse scroll wheel and I still can’t really use the mouse to steer my vehicles.

Num Lock was a problem for a bunch of games -- either they simply won’t let it map or tapping it would toggle the Num Lock function and make the keys work sometimes, but not others. I resolved that by remapping it as described above.

Enter is another one. A lot of programs won’t let me map that, which is kind of awkward, because that’s my Crouch button. Motherfuckers. Mostly it’s games that assume that Enter is Enter and won’t let you map the main Enter key only. There are some, though, that will let me map the Num Enter but not the main Enter, which I can live with. Philosophically I dislike it, but it doesn’t affect me directly. (But still... it should be possible.)

I’ve never played Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain, though I own a copy. Why? Because the motherfucking ratfuck bastard morons won’t fucking let me fucking remap to the fucking num pad at all. I cranked it up, tried to map my keys, gave up and uninstalled it. Will my mapping make sense in a game that has a very different control paradigm? No fucking clue, because I’m not allowed to try.

Lazy fucking asshats.

Destiny 2 is one of the “can’t remap Numpad Enter” games. There might be one or two other keys, I’ve forgotten. I was determined to try, though, so I dusted off my Gateway 2000 Anykey keyboard and reprogrammed enough keys to get it working.

It’s awkward. I’m not used to the keyboard; it’s HUUUGE; it’s heavy; and it requires rearranging my desk a bit because I kind of need the other keyboard nearby, too. Actually it’s more convenient in one way: using the Numpad with my left hand means I have the keyboard pushed waaaay to the left, which is really inconvenient for typing normally. Entering text fields usually means shifting the keyboard back and forth. So I can put my regular keyboard in front of me... only now I have to change habits, because I’m in the habit of moving the keyboard, not changing to a different keyboard.

Yeah.

So for that and some other reasons I’ve not been playing; none of my friends actually want to play with me; I could use some guidance while I learn the game, but it’s not easy when all your friends have already leveled way past you. Especially when said so-called friends have communications and patience issues. S___ tends to say something; if I ask him to repeat it because I had trouble hearing, or because I didn’t understand, he shuts up and doesn’t say anything. (And I don’t mean Snarb. Different game; really great guy.) A great teacher never ever repeats himself because, you know, repetition isn’t the key to learning, or any such shit, right? Sorry, rant over.

Once in a while I try to find a standalone programmable keypad or keyboard that has buttons in what are blank space in a regular keyboard. In other words, I want a button in the home row, immediately left of the Numpad, because that will let me hold Sprint down without (as much) cramping. A week or two ago I found the one you see at the top and put it on my wishlist. I added a set of red-and-white keycaps because, well, I’ve inadvertently started a bit of a red-and-white theme with my equipment, which I won’t go into here -- this shit’s already too long. Also stuck on my Amazon wishlist.

Yeah. So. Destiny 2 is being shifted from Blizzard to Steam in October. Meantime apparently they’ve gone to a free-to-play model, which I should resent because I paid for it? Apparently? I dunno, when TF2 did that I figured I’d gotten more than my money’s worth out of the game. Here I feel a bit more cheated, seeing as how I haven’t played it more than a few hours. But still, whatever. I went through the motions of getting it transferred to my Steam account. It should show up soon. I guess. Beginning of October.

And now my friend Blacksix (another great guy, and one of my oldest current gaming buddies, hailing back to my Urban Terror days) wants to play. Last night he texted me and said he wanted to try it, was preloading it, and encouraged me to preload it too. I went ahead and did that, reasoning that my account should migrate into that if they didn’t fuck things up, but I don’t really have anything to lose -- never played enough to accumulate any resources. Like, any. Not like, any significant resources; no resources. Just the initial playthrough on a few characters. No money or manna or coins or credits or tokens (or whatever this game uses for commerce) or weapons or, well, anything. Blacksix is going to want to do an initial playthrough anyway.

And then I had to decide: am I going to follow through with this? I found this nifty keypad that should solve all my mapping problems. But it’s $90. But I can afford the occasional $90 purchase. It may even let me play Metal Gear if I really want to try. It’ll apparently let me set up specific mappings for specific games and swap them easily.

So, I figured, what the fuck. Last night I put in an order for this keyboard (the 46-key layout, since it starts with the numeric keypad layout I’m used to and the left side is all individual keys; and Cherry MX switches) and this replacement keytop set. And while I was at it, a copy of Twice Upon a Time, because damned if it’s not one of the best movies EVAR and more than $25 entitles me to free shipping.

So now I’m all a-quiver with anticipation.

#7dtd #7 days to die #urban terror #tf2 #weapons factory #koolertron #keypad #cherry mx #programmable keypad #metal gear soild 5 #gateway 2000 anykey #doom #killing floor #destiny 2 #twice upon a time

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