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thisbrokenmask · 3 years

Text

V for Vivian

pairing: female reader x Kim Seokjin

genre: angst, romance

word count: 5,409

warnings: nothing explicit, but there are descriptions of a toxic relationship

summary: certain that your ex sort-of boyfriend won’t turn up to taehyung’s new year’s eve costume party, you go ahead with your half of the couple’s costume you’d planned.

a/n: I need to stop writing 5k+ ‘drabbles’ in 24 hours, but I wanted to get at least a line of my @btsholidaybingo card completed before New Year! I have two left to do tonight, so hopefully I’ll get them in before the clock ticks over to 2021 here in the UK. Somehow my ‘Costume Party’ prompt became this 5.4k word story, but hopefully it’s okay. Massive shout out to @hereinyourarmsforever for putting up with me sending her these at all hours of the day - couldn’t do it with you ♥

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea~” Namjoon singsongs from your bed. He’s lying on his back staring up at the ceiling, the same position he’s been in for the last twenty minutes while you’ve been getting ready. His feet are hanging off the edge to keep his shoes from getting on your sheets, even though they’re brand new and basically clean, especially considering they’ve only touched the floor outside when he’s gotten in and out of his Uber to your apartment. “You know he’ll think you did it for him.”

“I still don’t think he’ll be coming~” you sing back as you adjust your wig, a blonde bob that frames your face. You decide to bypass pinning it tonight, knowing that it will be held on by your hat until you decide to take them both off later. “Besides, if he turns up, he’ll just look like any other guy in a suit,” you sniff dismissively as you pick up your large gold hoop earrings. “I, however, will look hot as fuck whether he’s there or not. See?”

You turn and pose for Namjoon, who looks up just as you’re pushing your red painted lips into an exaggerated pout, blowing him a kiss.

You laugh when his jaw actually drops and he stares at you unabashedly, blinking at you from behind his wire-rimmed glasses. His eyes rake across your frame, taking in the large cut outs in your dress, the skirt of which finishes way above mid-thigh, and dropping all the way down to the black, knee-high boots on your feet, safety pins instead of zips for added effect.

“No?”

Namjoon’s eyes snap upwards, mouth still gaping like a lost fish.

“Huh?” You smirk at the way his voice catches in his throat as he adjusts himself on the bed, not so subtly trying to adjust himself in his khaki cargo pants at the same time. At least they give him some breathing room, you think to yourself deviously, wondering if you’ll have the same effect on everyone else going to the party tonight.

“Hot as fuck, or?” You turn on the spot, shimmying your hips to make sure your exposed waist draws attention, grabbing your paperboy hat from your dressing table as you go. With a pointed look at your long-term friend, you pinch the bill of your cap between your fingers and pull it down over your wig, relying on it to keep everything secure for at least the first hour of the party. “Or not so much?”

“Definitely hot as fuck,” Namjoon agrees, nodding as vehemently as he can without taking his eyes off of you. “Yeah, screw Seokjin-hyung,” he declares after a few more seconds of inspecting you. “You’re wearing that whether he’s going or not.”

“I’m glad you agree, kind sir,” you laugh, preening under his attention and performing a curtsey that pushes your skirt even higher up your legs. You try not to spare too much thought to the brief mention of your sort-of ex, too many complicated feelings thrumming under your ribcage at the thought of him. You grab your coat, a cheap red one you found on eBay and super-glued some fake black fur cuffs onto, and your favourite black purse as you usher Namjoon to follow you. “Because I have nothing else.”

Part of you really doesn’t want to see Seokjin, still mad at the way he easily brushed off any talk of commitment one too many times. Everyone thought you were together, your friends referred to you as one of the couples of the group, and yet he would always make a point of saying you weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend - you just… went together.

Another part of you, though, wants him to be there. Wants him to turn up at Taehyung’s apartment in his stupid suit that makes him look like he walked right off the runway, just so he can see you dressed in Julia Roberts’ knockout opening outfit from Pretty Woman. You could probably have a few guys eating out of your hands with just a bat of your eyelashes to prove a point to him, too.

You don’t need him, not if he doesn’t want you.

“I’m sure Taehyung wouldn’t complain if you went naked,” Namjoon ponders, and you can tell by the slightly dreamy tone to his voice that he’s definitely thinking about it. You lightly elbow him in the ribs as he follows you out of your front door before you turn to lock it and he laughs, adjusting his glasses.

“You look good, by the way,” you tell him as the two of you turn to the building’s elevator. “Who are you again? Mike?”

“It’s Milo,” Namjoon whines as he steps in behind you, tapping at his phone for an Uber. This is the fifth time you’ve gotten the name wrong and by now he’s certain you’re doing it on purpose.

“Ah, yes, Milo. From Atlanta-”

“Atlantis.”

“Right, right,” you grin as the doors open and you step out into the lobby. “Atlantis.”

Taehyung’s apartment is significantly bigger than yours, easily hosting at least 50-odd people for his New Year’s costume party, and you happily let yourself in like it’s your name on the buzzer. Namjoon follows, your hand wrapping tightly around his fingers to keep him close as you start to make your way through the throng of people. He keeps his expression as blank as he can when he eyes any guy who gives you a double or triple take, fiercely protective of you despite your assertions that you can handle yourself.

He’s known you long enough, though, to know that there’s only so much attention you can enjoy before you get overwhelmed. He knows large crowds panic you, which is why you’re gripping onto him so tightly, scared of getting separated from the people you’re comfortable with. You may bask in the attention of flings and passersby, but you are really only happy to spend time with those you know well.

You spot Taehyung’s mop of dark curls through the gaudy costumes and head straight towards him, dropping Namjoon’s fingers. You know he’ll be right behind you no matter what. You move as fast as you can without pushing anyone over, a grin already plastered on your face before you reach the evening’s host.

“TaeTae!” you call out and he whips round, completely forgetting whoever he was talking to as a wide boxy smile takes over his face at the sight of you. He scoops you up when you jump, his arms around your waist as he spins you round in a hug. He puts you down just as Namjoon makes his way into the little pocket of space that always seems to form around Taehyung.

“Hey, kitten,” Taehyung croons into your ear and you flush at the nickname that only Taehyung calls you. There’s always been an unspoken attraction between you and Taehyung, unspoken only because it’s so blatantly obvious that neither of you actually need to say it. You’ve never acted on it, both gluttons for the excitement of dancing around each other and having someone decent to flirt with at parties. The number of ‘almosts’ with Taehyung are too many to count and, still riding the wave of confidence Namjoon’s reaction gave you earlier, you’re sure tonight will be another almost-notch on the bedpost. “You look great.”

His nose brushes against your ear before he pulls away, turning to greet Namjoon, acknowledging the older man for the first time.

“Who are you meant to be?” Namjoon and Taehyung ask each other at the same time, staring at each other with critical gazes and you burst out laughing between them.

Taehyung’s brow twitches as he takes in Namjoon’s brown boots, his khaki-green pants and his cream sweatshirt, a light jacket thrown over the top (that you know Namjoon will hide away in Taehyung’s spare closet so he doesn’t lose it). You join Taehyung in his scrutiny of Namjoon’s outfit, but you rather admire how his chest fills it out, how his styled hair sits perfectly above his wire-rimmed glasses.

Namjoon eyes Taehyung’s military-style jacket in return, brow furrowing at the frilly black cuffs peeking out at the end of his sleeves, the white ruff at his neck and the two red stripes of face paint across his cheek in return. You love Taehyung’s outfit and you must admit you’re impressed with the level of detail he’s been able to achieve, down to his black painted nails. You’re pretty sure no part of his outfit came from eBay.

“You’re meant to come in a costume,” Taehyung says, eyes zoning in on the book in Namjoon’s hand. “Not your normal stuff.”

Namjoon stares back at him blankly.

“Do you literally ever see me dress like this on a normal day.”

“I mean-”

“It’s a costume.” He insists, and Taehyung snickers.

“He’s Mike from Atlantis,” you supply, Taehyung leaning closer to you to listen, an arm snaking under your coat and curling around your waist. You suppress a shiver at the heat of his palm against your skin, his fingertips sinking into the curve of your waist.

Namjoon’s eyes quickly flicker down to watch the movement before he levels his gaze at you, his jaw clenching when he arches an eyebrow at you. You can see the playful glint in his eyes and you’re trying just as hard not to laugh as you bite your lip to keep your giggles in check, clinging onto Taehyung’s jacket as he looks on in amusement.

“Wasn’t he called Milo?” Taehyung asks and you see Namjoon’s eyes literally light up.

“Yes! Thank you,” he excitedly claps a hand on Taehyung’s shoulder, jostling the two of you slightly but he’s so happy to hear someone get the name right after all the times you’ve said it wrong that you can’t help but smile.

“And Tae is clearly Adam Ant,” you say, pressing your hand to Taehyung’s chest and smiling up at him. “Gotta brush up on your 80s rock bands, Joonie.” Taehyung stands taller, chest pressed forward into your palm, clearly glad that someone has picked up on his costume first try.

“Yeah, Joonie,” Taehyung grins, knowing Namjoon won’t hurt him, especially not in front of you.

“Drink, Valerie?” Namjoon asks, purposefully getting your name wrong in a failed attempt to annoy you. You grin.

“Yes please, Joonie.”

“Usual?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You got cherries?” he asks Taehyung, who looks offended that Namjoon even had to ask.

“Of course.”

With a nod, Namjoon heads off to the kitchen before stopping himself, looking back to Taehyung. “Look after her,” he warns, voice dropping low. Taehyung pulls you closer with a nod, hand slipping onto your hip as Namjoon starts to pick his way through the crowd.

“So,” Taehyung hums when Namjoon finally leaves you alone together, guiding you by his grip on your hip to the edge of the room. Several partygoers vacate the sofa pushed up against the wall when Taehyung approaches, allowing the two of you to sink down into the velvet together. “You look great, Victoria,” he teases, leaning in close with his hand still firmly on your hip.

“Thanks,” you cross one leg over the other, your boot brushing against Taehyung’s knee as his gaze drops down to the skin of your thighs. “Pretty Woman is one of my favourites, and this was probably my favourite look in the whole movie,” you say, repressing a shiver as he lets his free hand ghost against the side of your thigh. His eyes are dark and hooded but he’s still attentive, listening intently. You’re pretty sure you could talk about the colour of his ceiling right now and he’d be just as enraptured.

“Mine too,” he says, voice low enough for only you to hear. His fingertips ghost the hem of your skirt, barely inches from a heat that always grows when you’re near him. “Especially on you.” He pauses, gaze dark as the hand on your hip climbs back up to your waist and keeps rising, drawing light circles across your ribs. “Although that scene in the bath is a close second.”

“Want me to badly sing Prince songs to you, Tae?” you tease, reaching up to finger the gold detailing on the lapels of his jacket. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest under your fingers.

“If you’ll be wet and naked and covered in bubbles, you can sing whatever you want,” he grins. “Want me to go fill up the tub?”

“Maybe later,” you say, and it’s not entirely a lie. You’re pretty sure you wouldn’t turn down a bath with Taehyung given the opportunity, but you doubt either of you will remember this conversation within the hour. “This was supposed to be a couples costume, you know,” you sigh, letting the jacket drop back off your shoulders to pool on the sofa. Taehyung watches the material fall, absentmindedly licking his lips when his eyes rove over your newly-exposed skin. “But no way was I passing up wearing this outfit just because we weren’t coming together.”

“Very good choice,” Taehyung says, pressing his lips to your shoulder in a lingering kiss and you feel heat curl in your abdomen. “I would have had to kick Seokjin out if you’d come in something else because of him.”

He feels you tense under his hands and presses another quick kiss to your shoulder, his wandering hands pausing, relaxing to be more comforting than exciting.

“So he did come, then,” you mumble, refraining from turning to search through the crowd and focusing on fiddling with Taehyung’s buttons.

“He did.”

“Is he-?”

“Dressed as Richard Gere?” Dark umber stares back at you when you meet his gaze, soft around the edges. “Yeah, he is.”

“Goddammit,” you huff, letting your body drop into the back of the sofa. You were hoping he’d at least come as something else, if he was going to come. It wasn’t like Seokjin didn’t look good in a suit, very much the opposite actually, but without you dressed as Julia Roberts on his arm, you figured he’d switch to a different costume that could be recognisable on its own. “Where is he?” you ask, picking at the hem of your dress while Taehyung puts his hand on your knee, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb. His other hand slides across the back of the sofa and you lean your head against his forearm.

“Dunno,” he says without even looking at the crowd around you. “Don’t care, to be honest. I’m just glad you still came. But I’ll keep him away from you, if you want.”

You smile up at him, knowing that he’s just as protective over you as Namjoon. You’re well aware that the two of them both have feelings for you, a cause of contention between them as they both feel the other isn’t good enough for you. Whether it’s simply lust or something more, you’re not sure, but you’ve never been able to say wholeheartedly that you felt the same about either of them and so you never allowed anything to happen. Taehyung is fun to flirt with, and he knows the limits he’s allowed to dance around with you, whereas Namjoon is your best friend, for years the two of you have been each other’s go-to dates for work events and other things you’d rather die than go to alone.

You’ve made it clear where you stand with both of them, and they respect those boundaries.

Seokjin, however, had been incredibly confusing for you. He could be incredibly sweet, even domestic when you’d spend weekends in his penthouse with him and you’d quietly become exclusive without a conversation. He’d never said so himself, but you knew from whispers on the socialite grapevine that Taehyung kept you tapped into that he wasn’t seeing anyone else.

You’d had a few flings over the years, nothing too serious but at least they were willing to publicly claim you were seeing each other. Seokjin had never done that for you, but you’d been more like a couple than any other relationship you’d ever had before. He was definitely the first person who made you feel so fiercely you feared your chest would burst just from him looking at you. The first man to make you feel like you wanted to be with someone long term.

You haven’t seen him since he let you walk out of Jimin’s Halloween party, although ‘party’ may be too casual a term for the events Jimin throws. Halloween had been an elegant masquerade ball in an old theatre uptown, every room lavishly bathed in purple and silver, from the drapes to the wait staff’s outfits.

You’d been drawn into yet another conversation about the nature of your relationship when Jimin’s latest flame had asked how long you’d been together, although Jimin had quickly dragged her away with the lure of more champagne to avoid the impending argument.

You’d jokingly suggested that maybe you should put a label on whatever it was between you and Seokjin, if anything to make those conversations easier, but he hadn’t agreed. Oh no, he’d told you to stop trying to fit other people’s expectations rather than doing what you wanted for yourself. When you’d shot back that maybe you did want to put a label on it, he’d told you firmly, again, that he’d never agreed that would happen. You accused him of giving you whiplash, of treating you like he loved you one minute then acting like you were nothing more than a fuck on speed dial the next. At least Jimin acted like he liked his flings, could bear to be seen with them in public and admitted to the connection, however brief. Seokjin had fallen into stony silence instead of replying, sipping his champagne as he watched the party, making it clear the conversation was over without walking away.

So you did, instead.

You found Jimin, who protested profusely when you pressed a kiss to his cheek as you said goodbye, and walked out without looking back.

You have only heard from Seokjin once since, a single text that you’d refused to answer, and when he hadn’t tried again you’d assumed that, whatever it had been between you, was over. You weren’t going to be the one to extend the olive branch this time, tired of waving a tattered white flag and being the first to break the silence. If he’d wanted you, he’d known where to find you, known which circles you ran in and which friends he could scout out.

But he didn’t.

Fuck him, you thought, shaking off the growing ache in your chest and forcing a smile to your lips as you considered Taehyung’s offer.

“Don’t worry, Taetae, I’m sure he won’t be seeking me out any time soon.”

“If he does, you come find me, okay? Or Namjoon,” he adds, and you can tell it almost pains him to suggest you go to someone other than himself. “I don’t want him ruining your night.”

“I won’t let him,” you say resolutely, although neither of you quite believe your words.

You’re not quite sure how it’s happened, but you’re still wearing your hat two hours later despite having lost your wig from underneath it. You have a vague memory of Jungkook dancing around with a blonde bob, but you’ve had several more Cherry Bombs following the first one Namjoon had made you earlier. He had been making them for you, but when you’d figured out he was skimping on the rum, you stopped telling him when your cup was empty, much to Taehyung’s amusement.

That’s where you are now, in the kitchen making your next drink in a daze, popping a cherry in your mouth as you go through the motions.

The kitchen is pretty much empty by this point, most of the partygoers having collapsed into plush sofas around the apartment or filed out to the balcony ready for the fireworks. You know both Taehyung and Namjoon are out there waiting for you, although your head is a little fuzzy on who you would rather be standing next to when the clock ticks over.

You’re pondering if you’d be capable of convincing them both to kiss a cheek each at the same time when someone else enters the kitchen. You don’t notice the footsteps coming toward you until you get a strange feeling down your spine, but you just figure someone else is waiting for something you’re using.

“I’ll be done with the rum in a second,” you say cheerfully, finishing your pour and putting it out to the side for them to grab, but they don’t move.

“I don’t drink rum,” a familiar voice murmurs, sending a chill down your spine that’s definitely not coming from the ice cubes in your hand. “You know that, Y/N.” He takes a step towards you, not close enough for your bodies to touch but you’re definitely aware of his presence now. “Or should I say Vivian?”

“Seokjin,” you breathe out, turning to see the man in question stood in front of you looking just as handsome as you feared he would. Despite several hours of the party having passed, he doesn’t look anywhere near as dishevelled as most others are, but you assume that’s due to the scotch you recognise in the crystal-bottomed glass he’s holding. He’s always been one for sipping something stronger to keep his buzz rather than drinking to get wasted, and tonight is clearly no different. He’s not wearing a suit jacket, probably hung up somewhere to keep it safe, but he’s still wearing his dark blue waistcoat and the sleeves of his white shirt are rolled up to expose his forearms. His hair has retained its style for the most part, only a few strands having fallen out of place across his forehead.

“You look good,” he says, holding your gaze, and you know without asking that he doesn’t need to look down at your outfit because he’d have memorised it within the first half hour of seeing you. You consider your words carefully, knowing that this is much more than him simply coming to pay you a compliment.

“I know,” you turn to grab your drink and make to leave, but his voice still has the power to stop you in your tracks.

“You still wore it,” he states, and you’re surprised to see his eyes are softer than you expected despite the slight smirk on his lips.

“Of course I did. It’s a good costume.”

“It is,” he agrees simply, looking down at his suit with a frown. “I just look like a rich asshole without my Vivian.”

“Nothing new, then,” you mutter into your cup and you’re surprised to hear him laugh.

“I guess so,” he says, and if you didn’t know him better you’d think he sounded sad. He takes a sip of his drink and you can’t help but watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. The kitchen falls quiet between you. It’s awkward and heavy but neither of you make to leave. This is the closest you’ve knowingly been to him all evening and you’re torn between wanting to leave him in your wake and wanting to stay close to him. As much as he hurt you, you’re still drawn to him, still feel pulled towards him by the rope around your heart that neither of you ever severed.

“What do you want, Seokjin?” you ask, wishing you were in between a bickering Taehyung and Namjoon right now instead of here with him. At least you know how everyone feels when you’re with them.

Seokjin falters slightly at your question and your own nerves grow, a thickness in your throat that even your rum can’t cut through. Seokjin never falters. Something’s wrong.

“I just… I wanted to apologise,” he says, not quite meeting your eye, neck flushing red. You subtly take a sniff of your drink, making sure you haven’t accidentally slipped in something stronger, but the sweet cherry scent is exactly as it always is.

Seokjin notices your shock and chuckles to himself, embarrassed, but he’s been going over what he wants to say to you for weeks and he’s not about to back out now. Steeling himself, he puts down his glass and turns to you, his expression sincere.

“I really am sorry, Y/N-”

“For what?” you interrupt, curious whether he actually knows what he did wrong or if he’s just trying to butter you up. He doesn’t falter this time, as if he’s been expecting a third degree interrogation from you, but he doesn’t bristle either. The more you watch him and the way he accepts your sharp tone with resignation, the more you realise he is genuinely apologetic. It’s such a strange concept to you that you briefly wish he would go back to being an asshole to you just to feel a bit more familiar.

“For everything,” he says, continuing before you can berate him for such a cop-out answer. “For never treating you properly, never treating you like you deserve to be treated.” He slips his hands in his pockets as he takes a few cautious steps towards you, keeping an eye on your reaction to make sure he doesn’t overstep. “I know I hurt you, when I told you I never promised I’d call you my girlfriend. I know I hurt you a lot of times.”

Hearing him say the words you’d wanted to hear for so long, actually admitting that he knew he’d hurt you and apologising for it, is enough to make your throat sting with the rising sensation of tears. You stare into your cup but you don’t see the cherries and ice cubes swimming in your rum: your attention is solely on him.

“I’m sorry I let you walk out of that party without telling you how I feel about you, about us.”

Your gaze snaps to him, feeling like all of the air is being squeezed out of your lungs. Seokjin never spoke about his feelings or spoke about the two of you as an ‘us’, only ever referring to you as two separate people who just happened to go to events together.

“The last couple of weeks, I’ve… thought about you, a lot. I’ve really fucking missed you, Y/N,” he chokes out, closing his eyes tightly and you grip your cup. You’ve never heard him cry before.

He looks up at you, eyes red, and you almost step towards him before you catch yourself. You’ve missed him, too, and not just for the way he leaves you weak in the knees the morning after. Despite his reluctance to put a label on your relationship, Seokjin was more domestic than he was perhaps capable of admitting. It had touched you when he’d learned your coffee order within a week, always had your favourite snacks stocked away in his penthouse kitchen and even bought you a small wardrobe’s worth of clothes.

But it was the occasional evenings spent on his sofa that you remembered fondest, a bottle or two of red wine split between you while you watched TV together. He would always lay your legs across his lap, gently massaging down your calves while your chosen film or documentary played out in front of you until he was pressing circles into your feet with his thumbs. He always said he didn’t care for TV so he’d let you choose, but he’d be just as engrossed as you by the end of the night, insisting on one more episode before you dragged him to bed. It was those moments of intimacy that you missed, when he seemed like he could actually be your boyfriend if only he wasn’t so reluctant.

You’re not sure if you can bring yourself to believe him, given how easily he threw it all away.

“Sure, you did,” you roll your eyes, sarcasm dripping from your voice to mask the hurt you can’t swallow. “My phone’s barely stopped ringing.”

His gaze hardens, but a flash of hurt crosses his face.

“I texted you,” he bites out. “You didn’t reply.”

“You asked me what I was doing for the holidays, Seokjin. You didn’t apologise, you didn’t say anything about what happened. You didn’t give me any reason to talk to you.” You put your cup down on the counter behind you, the temptation to throw it at him growing every second.

“I didn’t know what else to say,” he says quietly. “I’m not used to…” he trails off, unsure how to phrase it. “I’m not used to being the one to fix things.”

You laugh hollowly; you can’t help it. It’s bitter, the reminder that you were always the one to crawl back first, but it’s true.

“It’s not nice, is it?” you ask, letting him see your own teary eyes as you look up at him. “Waiting for someone else to give you what you want.” His features fall and his shoulders drop, the meaning behind your words as clear as day: you waited for him to give you a relationship and he kept teasing you with it, pulling you along like a fool.

“No,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not. But I’m ready, I think.” Seokjin takes one more step towards you, his hands still buried deep in his pockets, arms tense with the restraint it’s taking him not to reach out and touch you.

“Ready?” you ask, head spinning, heart pounding. “Ready for what?”

“To give you what you want,” he says gently. “I’m ready to give you a relationship, if you still want one… still want me.”

You’ve waited months to hear him say those words but now that you’re hearing them you’re struggling to understand. Your eyes search his features and you see that he looks tired, like he hasn’t slept properly for a while.

You’re conflicted. The disbelief of hearing those long-awaited words sits level on the scales of your emotions, balanced out by the sting of too many rejections in the past. You’re tired, too. Tired of waiting for him, of having your hopes raised by tender touches only to be dashed by the sharp words claiming you’re nothing more than his friend. You don’t want to fall for his words only for them to come back and cut you later on, but you also don’t want to miss out on the opportunity to at least try having everything you’ve ever wanted with him.

It’s too big of a decision to make in one moment, even when you’re sober.

“I do,” you say hesitantly, careful with your expression. “I do still want you, but-” you put your hand out to stop him when he takes another step closer, hands withdrawing from his pockets to reach out for you. They hesitate in mid-air at the touch of your fingertips to his chest, fingers curling in on themselves. “But I can’t just say yes to this, not tonight. I need time. I need you to prove to me that I can trust you, and that you mean this, Seokjin.”

His gaze softens and his hands slowly close over yours, holding your palm to his chest.

“I understand,” he says, hands holding yours tightly. “I’m willing to wait. I think it’s only fair, I’ve made you wait long enough.”

“Too right,” you say, pushing him gently on the chest and his cheeky smirk falls into a grin.

“Start the new year with me,” he says, gradually bringing you closer until he can press a kiss to your hair.

“Okay,” you whisper, wrapping your hands around his torso and relaxing into the planes of his chest. You’ve missed being held by him. “Let’s go outside.”

You retrieve your glasses and head out onto the balcony together hand in hand, taking the alcohol with you more to keep you warm than to keep any lingering buzz going. Namjoon smiles when you come up beside him, almost wrapping his arm around your shoulder when he catches sight of your hand entwined with Seokjin’s. His expression falls slightly but he recovers, meeting your gaze to silently ask if everything’s okay, and when you nod his smile returns, although it doesn’t reach his eyes. You know he’ll have questions and you’ll answer them in time but, for now, you’re happy to watch as colours explode in the sky above you all.

If you’d like to read any more of my writings, please visit my masterlist ♥

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milofuckedup · 4 years

Text

Questionnaire; task 2

read more about my boy under the cut

Basic Character Questions

First name? Milo

Last names? Blevins

Middle names? Dean

Nicknames? Mi, Mimi, Spacey

Date of birth? September 9th 1996

Age? 23

Physical / Appearance

Height? 6″0

Build? Athletic, lanky

Hair colour? Honey Brunette

Hair style? Mess of locks across his head

Eye colour? Blue

Glasses or contact lenses? Neither

Scars or birthmarks? cigarette burns across his arms, a scar above his right eye

Tattoos? none

Physical or mental handicaps? none

Type of clothes? thrift store chic. He lives in light washed jeans and old button down shirts

Race / Ethnicity? caucasian

Mannerisms? fidgety, stuttery, always rubbing his lips

Personality

What words or phrases do they overuse? “im sorry” “lets play a game” “can we go home?”

Do they have a catchphrase? No

Are they more optimistic or pessimistic? pessimistic

Are they introverted or extroverted? VERY introverted

Do they ever put on airs? no

What bad habits do they have? smoking, drinking, running away

What makes them laugh out loud? just about everything

How do they display affection? gently nuzzling his head into you, resting his head on your shoulder, holding your hand. He likes to be touched softly

How do they want to be seen by others? like a nice person, someone who loves deeply and genuinely

How do they see themselves? as actual human garbage

Strongest character trait? sensitivity

Weakest character trait? sensitivity

How competitive are they? not at all

Do they make snap judgements or take time to consider? he over things EVERYTHING

How do they react to praise? awkwardly

How do they react to criticism? crying

What is their greatest fear? spiders

What are their biggest secrets? he is sure that everyone in his life hates him, they all want him gone, so he works with everything that he has to try and get people to stay

When was the last time they cried? right now, he is probably crying this moment.

What haunts them? his father

What will they stand up for? his friends, his loved ones, never himself

Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy? indoorsy

What is their sinful little habit? chainsmoker

What quality do they most value in a friend? honesty, loyalty, wont leave him

What do they consider an overrated virtue? Dignity

If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be? his inability to speak about what he wants, what he likes, what he needs from someone

What is their obsession? reading

What are their pet peeves? people biting their nails.

Friends and Family

Is their family big or small? Who does it consist of? hes all alone.

What is their perception of family? that it isnt who you are born with it is who you chose.

Do they have siblings? Older or younger? none

Describe their best friend. Luna Olsson she is selfless, and thoughtful and has picked Milo up more times than he can count, she is the on person on this planet he trusts enough to live with, he loves her more than he thought he could, he has let her in more than anyone else.

Ideal best friend? See Above

Describe their other friends. Hudson the person he always turns to when life gets too tough. Tanner the man that he can always have fun with, turn his brain off with and just let himself breathe with. Rion someone who has always been perfect and loving and gentle with him.

Do they have any pets? no

Past and Future

What was your character like as a baby? As a child? he was a quiet baby, and a well behaved child, he did everything that he could to get his mother to stop abandoning him

Did they grow up rich or poor? DIRT poor

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected? neglected

What is their greatest achievement? staying alive

What was their first kiss like? awkward, fumbly, he threw up afterwards because his stomach was in knots

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved? make them feel like they were second best

What are their ambitions? maybe get his GED one day

What advice would they give their younger self? its all shit, dont even bother trying

What smells remind them of their childhood? burning tires, old gas stations, and piss under bridges

What was their childhood ambition? to stay alive

What is their best childhood memory? his 10th birthday his best friend came over with a cupcake and remembered the day while his mom was drugged up on the couch

What is their worst childhood memory? take your fuckin pick.

Did they have an imaginary childhood friend? no

When was the last time they were crushed with disappointment? every day

What past act are they most ashamed of? any time he has ever been intimate with someone

What past act are they most proud of? any time he has been intimate with someone

Love

Do they believe in love at first sight? no

Are they in a relationship? no

How do they behave in a relationship? like a lovesick puppy, very clingy, very needy, asks if they still love him every twenty five seconds

When did you character last have sex? two years ago

Has your character ever been in love? yes

Have they ever had their heart broken? yes

Conflict

How do they respond to a threat? tears

Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? his tongue

If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be? the teddy bear his grandma gave him

What do they love to hate? reality television

What are their phobias? spiders, the dark, being alone

What living person do they most despise? no one

Have they ever been bullied or teased? his whole life

Where do they go when they’re angry? on a long drive to the next town over

Who are their enemies and why? he doesnt like to have any

Work, Education and Hobbies

What is their current job? gas station clerk

What do they think about their current job? he hates it

What are some of their past jobs? gas station clerk, thief, drug dealer

What are their hobbies? reading, writing, singing

Educational background? didnt get ANY formal education

Do they have a natural talent for something? singing

Do they play a sport? Are they any good? god no

What is their socioeconomic status? lower lower lower class

Favourites

What is their favourite animal? cats

What place would they most like to visit? england

What is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen? the beach at night

What is their favourite song? halloween - hunny

Music, art, reading preferred? music: indie. Art: abstract. Reading: character studies

What is their favourite color? green

Favourite food: chicken tenders and fries

What is their favourite day of the week? friday night

Possessions

What is in their fridge: ketchup, sauces, lemons

What is on their bedside table? books, a glass of water

What is in their car? absolutely nothing

What is in their purse or wallet? his id, and his library card

What is in their pockets? a packet of gum, his phone, his empty wallet, his keys, two rings that he takes on and off

What is their most treasured possession? his book collection

Spirituality

Who or what is your character’s guardian angel? doesnt have one

Do they believe in the afterlife? no

What are their religious views? none

What do they think heaven is? a full fridge and your best friends

What do they think hell is? other people

Are they superstitious? no

What would they like to be reincarnated as? a house cat

How would they like to die? car accident or sleep

What is your character’s spirit animal? field mouse

What is their zodiac sign? virgo

Values

What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person? abandonment

When did they last lie? he doesnt really lie, he mainly omits truths

what is their view of lying? he hates it, thinks its despicable

When did they last make a promise? last week

Did they keep or break their last promise? he broke it

Daily life

What are their eating habits? whenever he can, he will eat whatever is in front of him.

Do they have any allergies? pollen

Describe their home. small, dingey, covered in books, a bed on the floor, empty fridge

Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? clutter hoarder

What do they do first thing on a weekday morning? sleep, he just finished the night shift

What do they do on a Sunday afternoon? go for a walk and take a picnic

What do they do on a Friday night? stay in and read

What is the soft drink of choice? sprite

What is their alcoholic drink of choice? whiskey neat

Miscellaneous

Who is their hero? he doesnt have any

What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween? dracula

If they could save one person, who would it be?

If they could call one person for help, who would it be?

What is their greatest extravagance? he owns an iphone 5

What is their greatest regret? hurting angel @angclhqs

What would they do if they won the lottery? buy a house, donate the rest

Do they believe in happy endings? no

What is their idea of perfect happiness? a good book, electricity on, and a cup of tea

What would they ask a fortune teller? how long until I am content

If your character could travel through time, where would they go? 2200

If they could have a superpower, what would they choose? invisibility

#crawford:task2 #crawfordtask2

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