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╱       crucntus‌

          SHE HAS FOUND HERSELF MORE and more distracted as time has passed. there is a long list of things meiying dislike and on the very top is not knowing — everything she feels is information she’ll never get her hands on is viewed as a challenge, and challenges fueled her to do better. 

or even if it not better, it at least fueled her to do something.

mei has attempted to calm down the entire evening, seeking out sejoo as he seems to be the only one able to get her thoughts off of just how human and fragile she is — sejoo is the same, and yet he feels solid and secure and lasting. it is all she can ask for in a companion. 

she rolls over in his bed, still naked beneath his sheets, still feeling the imprint of his fingers on her body. she lets out a soft moan as if to gather his attention once more, but sejoo is getting dressed, probably out to run his duties, diligent and good as he is, and mei gets up from her spot to close the distance between them, paying no attention to the sudden cold air against her bare skin. «sejoo,» she coos, arms embracing his waist ( she has woken from a brief slumber and her restless blood is running impatiently now ). she feels bad for what she’s about to ask, but she knows she should — she has to if she wants to end her insatiable hunger for knowledge.

«my sweet angel boy,» she adds, knowing he’ll see right through it, but she bats puppy eyes at him regardless. «say i wanted access to the library’s restricted area .. would you know someone who could help me with that ?»

closed ⤷ @hevrtbreaks​.

——           he has never felt completely free, even though freedom was all he had his entire life. this is the catch about secrets, you are shackled to them, a prisoner of something that, sometimes, it isn’t even yours -- and in sejoo’s case, he had centuries and centuries grounding him to the ground and impending  him to flee. 

he wanted to do such thing, but a burden that wasn’t his curved his back. 

and that he had became something he never thought he would, in the first place. a young boy with yards of green fields unfolding ahead of him -- the backyard of  his own house. friends, those friends who could never play with him under the morning sun or swim in the lake when the summer heat is at its peak. friends, that would not feast with him. friends. and secrets. 

and so he became a deposit for those -- friends and secrets. 

what is it about him that people so want?

( so many things, but never him. ) 

most of the times, she could be found wrapped in his sheets -- like many other girls before her, few less after; but only she takes up that much space, both in his bed and his head, and perhaps, that was the first mistake of it all. he had been advised, instructed by his own mother -- there were many issues involving meiying, and he should keep distance. 

not for his own good, though. 

and most of the times, she asks for things he cannot give. from his time, to his thoughts, to gently nudging at the secrets he has to keep with his own life. 

he tries to fight against her warmth that irradiates like heat waves, he tries to ignores her arms around his waist as he looks for his tie, left hanging somewhere in the mess that was the two of them together -- and tries to ignore her face, looking up at him. 

but then she speaks, and even though his heart briefly flutters, it sinks a little inside his chest -- for what she wants is not him, but what he keeps. “ and what for? ” he tries to speak, nonchalant. bored. “ it’s restricted for a reason, i doubt you’d manage to get it anywhere, love.” he adds a shrug of his shoulder, eyes back to scan the room -- not that she will see the lie he’s about to tell, he’s pretty good at hiding those, but she’ll see something else. “ even i haven’t been there before. ”

[astcrs]

crucntus‌:

          THIS IS TREASON, HE thinks silently to himself as he makes way from his own house to find ahin. even siwon, submissive as he is ( diligent, loyal to a fault, always ready to make himself a sacrifice ), needs his space — he is not a robot even if he can play that part well enough, and distance is the only thing that keeps him from breaking. this is him, distancing himself, finding company with someone else.

that someone else, without strings and complications, always seems to be ahin. their friendship has become an odd one, an escape from a reality that siwon normally did not mind at all. but fact is he feels tired: he feels lonesome in his struggles, and whilst that is the way it is supposed to be he wonders if it has to be. 

ahin is an escape from a reality he has made himself. he is in no position to have regrets.

he knocks on the door — once, twice, thrice. he can’t tell if he’s shaking in the attempt to pull himself together or not, but the silence of the wait is almost deafening. the door, finally it seems, cracks open, and siwon allows himself to exhale when he sees her.

«let’s go on an adventure.» the words leave him before he can think twice and maybe that’s the beauty of it. «let’s do it now before i change my mind.» he hopes she won’t let him — if anyone can see what he’s thinking, needing, craving .. it has to be her.

closed ⤷ @hevrtbreaks​.

——           she is one famished creature, true to her nature. song ahin has matured into a woman who only knew how to consume. from her childhood, where she had been spoiled rotten, to her golden days -- and those may last forever -- she knows of one thing only, the utmost pleasure, the fulfilling of her hunger; didn’t matter what kind that happened to be. 

she lived in a world of woven dreams -- the ones she had crafted herself. for someone with enormous void within oneself, being blessed with the ability of manipulating of what other might or might not see had only played on her side -- and so she sat on her throne of illusions and broken hearts to rule the entire world, untouched; unless she wanted to. 

and she always wanted to. 

a knock on a door means permission -- asking for it. a knock on her door meant more than that; and so she would take her time, with spraying her perfume, with checking if her lipstick was still intact, with the hair strands that fell perfectly framing her face. 

with savoring the scent that she knew well, coming from the other side of the wooden barrier, and the heartbeats that she could no longer count -- desperate.

but her wickedness quickly washes away as soon as she faces him -- just like her, he was a famished creature, but his was a different hunger. one that she could never quench, one that no one could ever, one that only loneliness were acquainted with. 

siwon’s  warmth irradiates from him through her, and makes her shaken, makes her wonder. “ an adventure? ” her words were deliberately slow -- picking the right pace that would make his heart quieten, that would make him hesite. her siwon is a man of thin boldness, of wide assurance; the unknown was never a choice.

“ are you sure you wanna go on an adventure? ” fingers came to brush his hair away from his forehead, making her shudder softly as she touches his skin ever so gently. “ with me. ” her hand comes down, hovering over his own fingers, testing -- if he was truly bold that night, if he was daring.

[astcrs]

we've got like 0 stuff for them planned SDFDFFD but 👐 for taeoh & jinri

👐 – hugging them

 ——           it’s timeless, uncountable, unreachable.

it ticks slowly on the wall, it speeds up when she is near, it spreads in front of you.

there are a lot of shes in your life; which one makes the pace of your heart quicken?

( all of them. )

you are – stuck in time, hair falling across your eyes in an unstylish manner, way-too-long stares, silence beyond belief. fumbling with books, fiddling with wrinkled paper notes that you keep in your pocket. alive, because she wants to, your eternity in the hands of the other half of you.

( if she is wicked, are you made of the same matter or a contraposition? )

you try not to think about it.

you are – sitting across from her, with a steaming cup of tea in between you two and your handwriting contrasting against your pale skin, scribbled, scribbled scribbled. she is not looking at you, her eyes drift away from the conversation that was poorly held, scanning the grounds of the school, looking for something.

that something could never be you.

( you never stop clinging to those who would never choose you, you were born this way – quite literally. )

why can’t you?

why can’t you?

wind rustles outside, meaner than it was once before, making windowpanes moan under its sudden drop of pressure. it rips leaves from trees, it makes the surface of the nearby lake ripple violently – it twists and turns and makes birds fly in a desperate motion and the dogs cry out until your mind commands them to stop.

but they cry louder, because you can’t, you can’t, you can’t.

( she had fed you untarnished neglect until it dripped down your chin and tainted all of you – and that raw power, the one you were unworthy of, the one that corroded your system, sits there, unsure of its extension, just like yourself, whole. )

she is – wickedness.

she is – void.

but she is – warmth, prospect, comfort, broken pieces that made into art herself, your fear of disappointing, yet again, coming to life whenever she’s around.

which one makes you heart pace quicken?

( all of them.

but she does it best. )

you are – suddenly standing, facing the window in which her eyes were before glued on. heels of your palms pressed against your eyes until you see fireworks exploding behind the darkness of your closed eyelids. the wind howls outside, birds – which then stopped trying to flee, decided to sing instead.

you wonder – why, why, why. you try to count to seven, a holy number. you try to remember the words scribbled on your hands, dendrobatidae, phyllobates, urodela, hwang jinri, does she like rain?

( black ink is probably smeared all over your face, she is probably gone. )

and you feel – her heartbeat against the middle of your back, breath held, arms strongly wrapped around you. you feel. your mind, twirls once again – and hushes.

birds flee, the anger of the winds dies out.

a perfect summer night.

she stays – for a few minutes more. this time, she inhales deeply, letting go of the air inside her lungs in a excruciatingly slow manner. her hands are still sprawled across your chest, right over your heart.

( is this a threat, or a reassurance? )

and she does that same ritual – breathes in, breathes out. your hands come down to rest on top of hers, the knots on your back become undone.

( can she feel the scent of your fears, and the earth, and the raindrops against your skin? and she feel the scent of how much you want, and how much you don’t know how? )

she lets go – just as quickly as she held. there’s also a change of pressure there, and you feel unbalanced, unsure. you turn.

and she is gone.

the cup of tea as grown cold.

your wrinkled papers left untouched.

ink pen bleeding all over the table top.

and she is gone.

the door clicks behind her, locking the words that die in your throat, leaving her scent behind.

warmth, prospect, comfort. a brokenness that now she knows you both share. her fear of not being what you need.

mixing with your fear,

with the realization,

of scaring her away.

[astcrs]

🤒 — mei & zeren

🤒 – caring for them when sick/injured

  ——           “ don’t. ” your throat dries out, it clenches, and you feel the monster clawing its way up the walls of your insides, marking you as theirs, making you one of a kind – one of their kind. hateful, disgusting. she touches you, as if it was sanctuary – and it’s holy, it’s loving. contrasting to everything you are, everything you’ve been taught you be, everything you refuse to believe. you want her to spit fire, to lash you skin with her whip-like tongue and razor words, to be brash and boisterous – but in her eyes you can see only one thing; and on her neck, you can also only see one thing. 

( a thread in blue where every pump is music to your ears, a place where you’d like to drown, a somewhere you’d entangle yourself with. )

you sigh.

a monster.

“ let me see your arm. ”

tarnished blood drips down on the carpet as you welcome the pain of the silver poisoning your system, the bullet that could kill you just as fast doing it’s work slowly; and you don’t want her to come nearer, for the torture of breathing the same air as hers is already excruciating; and yet, you crave that – the how she makes you feel existent. 

not a mistake, not a dead-man walking. 

she insists, obstinate, setting her jaw firmly and pressing her lips together – her sight weavers, but not in fear of him but for him ( does she even know what you are capable of? is it possible to feel like this, after dying and getting stuck in hell. ) 

you don’t answer, as she takes your arm, as she peels the fabric of your ruined shirt, as you takes in the sharpness of the motion as a balm to or desperate mind, making your forget that you live for the thing that runs in her veins. 

“ you will regret this. ” it comes out as a whisper, and she knows it’s not a threat, even though she stiffens beside you. a laugh escapes your lips, and through your clouded vision, you watch as your hand rises to brush her hair away from her neck, a phantom touch of your thumb that brushes over her skin for only a second, before limply coming falling back to its place.

you want to die, you want to thank her, you want to tell her you are not worth saving. 

but instead, you look out the window, and waits, not daring to look back at her face.

[astcrs]

TOUCH MEME

send a symbol for my muse to react to yours… (or add +reverse for my muse to touch yours)

VIOLENT 🔪 – stabbing them 👊 – punching them ✋ – slapping them in the face 👞 – kicking them 🎀 – pulling their hair

FLUFFY/FRIENDLY 🍭 – stroking their hair 🖐 – high fiving them 🤝 – holding their hand 👄– kissing them on their [place of choice] 👐 – hugging them 💅 – painting their [finger/toe] nails  🤧 – comforting them when crying 🤒 – caring for them when sick/injured 💃 – dancing with them 👗 – adjusting their clothes 👒 – brushing their hair

NSFW 👋 – spanking them on the booty 💋 – giving them an open mouth kiss 👅 – giving them a love bite on [place of choice] ✌️ – fingering them/jerking them off 💦 – eating them out 💫 – pulling their hair 🔥 – grinding against them 💧 – bathing them

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SEND A SYMBOL FOR A CORRESPONDING PROMPT/STARTER.

[ ☎ ] my muse calls yours in tears.

[ ✪ ] our muses are stuck in an elevator together.

[ ◐ ] my muse is having a sleepover with your muse.

[ ✿ ] my muse attempts to cook dinner for your muse.

[ ◈ ] my muse makes a drunk confession to your muse.

[ ღ ] my muse makes an attempt to cheer your muse up.

[ ✦ ] my muse pushes yours out of frustration/anger.

[ ❢ ] my muse discovers yours all bloodied and bruised.

[ ➤ ] my muse accidentally punches your muse in the face.

[ ⌚ ] my muse recalls their favorite memory with your muse.

[ ✜ ] my muse collapses in front of yours, all bloodied and bruised.

[ ☯ ] my muse tells yours that they never want to see them again.

[ ✈ ] my muse asks yours to accompany them on a trip/mission/etc.

[ ● ] my muse catches yours snooping through their belongings.

[ ☻ ] my muse wakes up in your muse’s closet the night after a party.

[ ✌ ] my muse reaches out to yours after months of no communication.

[ ☢ ] the car broke down in an unfamiliar part of town, and our muses are lost.

[ ✠ ] it’s three in the morning and my muse unexpectedly arrives at your muse’s home.

[ ☁ ] the entire city is without power due to a storm, and our muses run into each other during a supply run.

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doyoung::yestoday

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flawless, as always ✨

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i…really love him with my whole heart !!

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yves’ perfect beauty

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my heart stopped

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♡

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tags !

vi      ✕      𝖙 𝖆 𝖊 𝖔 𝖍      ╱      a small whisper is even stronger than shouting.