#anyway i thought this dialogue would fit these two PERFECTLY

[the-crow-binary]

Trevor: Dracula, you have declared war against humankind... Dracula: This is not a war. This is pest control.

[inosukijiro]

𝗚𝗜𝗬𝗨𝗨 𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗦 𝗧𝗢 𝗖𝗥𝗢𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗧

𝙨𝙮𝙣. ━ giyuu decides its time to tell you how he feels.

━ 𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨. this is part two. or not, it really doesn’t matter if you read the first part. loved this idea bc i love crochet. currently making a giyuu amigurumi doll atm, so yay me ig

━ 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨. im so sorry for being gone for almost two months. i was burnt out. but i have lots of prompts / plot ideas written down and just have to finish them. also also!! season 4 was crazy, i loved every minute of it but that ending – im so not ready for the final arc. anyways, thank you for the support as usual, luv u besties

━ 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨. fluff. use of swear words (not a lot, but they are there). giyuu-centric. modern reader in kny. mentions of crochet and amigurumi. gender-neutral reader. also very poor dialogue probably, i avoid talking irl so yk. 1.9k words.

first part (optional); giyuu has a crush

Giyuu is about to have a stroke. He’s alone in his room late at night. He should be sleeping, but he can't imagine doing so. The moon light is coming through his window and all he can do is stare at the crochet hook in his hand as his fingers remain still. He is hunched, hovering over a ball of yarn in his lap. He can't shake the feeling of inadequacy that heavily weighed on him because he really has no idea what he’s doing.

You had this habit of making him gifts. Cute little amigurumi things and it had become a habit of his waiting when you’ll show up with one just for him. They’re almost always an animal or some sea creature, maybe even a small plant that he has sitting on display in his room somewhere. They are always so adorable and tiny, always fitting in the palm of his hand. It's almost like clockwork at this point, and Giyuu is always so flattered to receive them.

He remembers the little tiny baby sea turtle you have made for him. Its flippers rested against the palms of his cupped hands; its eyes and lids sewed on so perfectly along with the rest of it. It’s so intricate, he almost thought it was real. He remembers bringing it up to his face, staring at it in its tiny face, because for some reason this time he really didn’t know how to act.

He remembers you giggling, quickly explaining that you really didn’t know what to make him this time – lies, you have so many patterns. You just care too much about his opinion and his likes. Honestly, you could make him anything you wanted and he would be happy.

❛ And then I thought, ‘well you are the Water Pillar after all’. And I thought the sea turtle was kinda cute too, so I wanted to make it for you. Now you have a little friend to keep you company on your mission! ❜

Now here he was, with little idea of what he was doing. A frustrated sigh left his lips. He began working the yarn along with the hook – all his movement completely hesitant and fumbling. It would be a lie to say that he had never been skillful with his hands; he is a swordsman after all. However, it was clear that he wasn’t as skillful as you regarding this, and it makes sense. He had never picked up any knitting or crochet hooks until tonight at this ungodly hour.

Sure, he could have just crafted a wooden figurine. It is something he vaguely knows how to do, and seems like a more appealing thought now, plus, he knows that you would love it either way. But all he wanted to do was something special. He wanted to convey his feelings to you through what you love doing the most and give you something that he knows you would like. And for about a moment he wonders if this is a good idea. Then decides that he doesn’t care anymore. This is going to make or break him. He procrastinated this long enough.

Though hours passed and Giyuu is shocked to consider it done. He hoped it was. He glances over at his window and the sun is barely over the horizon. And as much as Giyuu loves you, he can't do this again. No, that is also a lie. He would if you asked. But he couldn’t help but feel disgruntled. He didn’t even know what he made. It is some type of plushie. It has a big body with some stubby legs. Its arms are almost the length of it too, if not longer, making them seem like large floppy paws. Its head; he is unsure if it's too big as it’s the same size as the body, but it’s a bit too late now to do anything about it. He made small ears on the top, and added some type of embroidery to make the eyes – as no buttons seemed to look right to him. There was no nose or mouth either, because Giyuu couldn’t figure out how to add them without making it look worse than it already does.

He frowned at the finished product, before hanging his head. It was done, yes. But to him, he knows that he could have done a much better job. And the pang of disappointment didn’t help. Because surely you deserve something better than this crude attempt at a gift.

However, for some reason Giyuu was oddly excited. Maybe it was the ice cold water he almost drowned himself awake to. But he really didn’t pay it any mind. Maybe he just didn’t care anymore. Maybe he just wanted to get it over with. He was afraid, so very afraid because this was the first time he was outwardly seeking your validation. But he was also anticipating the interaction. Because you were so nice. And he shouldn’t be afraid.

So here he was now, standing in front of you. And suddenly, he can't remember why he was so afraid in the first place. You looked so delightfully happy just like he had hoped. He watched as you took the plush from his hand, your fingers just barely brushing against his. And he felt his palms get clammy again. You were so delicate with it, and honestly, if you had asked Giyuu, perhaps you were a bit too delicate. He didn’t think that it deserved such care. He watched as you brushed your thumb over the soft yarn. Your eyes staring intently at it, and Giyuu couldn’t place the look you were giving.

“Giyuu, it’s adorable!” Your eyes sparked just a little bit when you looked back up at him. The plush is pressed against your chest right now. So softly, almost protectively and Giyuu actually can't believe it. Truly, he is in disbelief. You actually liked it? You really must’ve, because you’re going on about the plush; gushing over it and completely unfazed by any of its imperfections. You asked how he made it and when he had the time. It was nice, until you asked him why. And he got all nervous again.

Well… He responds. “You make me such nice things all the time. And I wanted to make you something as well. To show my appreciation.”

Oh! You are a little taken aback by that as a light blush starts to burn on your cheeks. You were definitely feeling the appreciation. You just never really anticipated Giyuu to make you something. Not because you thought he was incapable, or anything like that. You just… liked making things, and if that happened to be for Giyuu more than others you weren’t going to deny it. It made you happy to do so. And you never really expected anything in return. But for him to make you something, the gesture kind of made you feel special. It was so sweet!

“Of course, I’m glad you like it. You… mean a lot to me you know. Um…” He stops because he's a bit flush. He wants to confess so badly and he doesn’t understand; why is it so hard. Just say it. It's like you are waiting for him to – and you are – but you are so completely and utterly patient with him that sometimes he wished you weren’t. “Ngh, don’t look at me like that.”

You giggle softly. You can’t help it. Why is he so cute? “I’m sorry,” You say sincerely, still hugging the plush to your chest. “Please continue.”

His heart is beating out of his rib cage. He feels like he is going to die. He has never expressed his feelings so openly before and as much as he wants to say that he is uncomfortable, he's only half way there and he only needs to get the words out. He's been afraid of rejection for so long that, even deep down knowing the possibility of you loving him exists, he can’t help but worry about it. The words are on his tongue and at some point, he has to come out and say it.

“I… I love you.” Finally. “I’ve loved you for a while now. I just didn’t know how to tell you. You don’t have to say or do anything, I just… I just wanted you to know.”

“You love me?” You had a big, stupid smile on your face, which made the question you had asked seem hopeful to him. If you had been home, you might have thought he was pulling a joke on you, not that he would know to assume that. And you, yourself are having a good time telling the small voice in the back of your head to fuck off because – yes, Giyuu Tomioka just confessed his love for you and you were not going to let the universe take it back.

He nodded, silent. The smallest, timid, smile pulled at his lips as he waited for you to continue. “Giyuu, I love you too. Actually, I..” you stopped before you started tripping over your words and let out a deep breath. Your grasp on the plush tightened, clutching it closer to your body in an attempt to ground yourself. “I… may have been in love with you for a while, too.”

He stares at you for a moment, another dumb look on his face. It's like the gears are turning in his mind. That yes, just like you had, are realizing this is all actually happening. And if he promptly pulls you into the softest, brain melting kiss you've ever had – that's between the two of you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤᘡ ۫ 𖨂 𓈒 🦑 ۟ ៹ 𓂂

Of course, now it’s later and Giyuu is watching you show off the plush to the rest of the Hashira. You had grabbed his hand in a rush, so excited and happy. He let you tug him along, squeezing his hand so tight; never minding the clamminess. He watched as you shoved the crochet piece in Rengokus face, telling him with pride that Giyuu was the one that made it for you. ‘I see that,’ he says and lets out one of those joyous laughs, almost amused.

You tug him along, going from Hashira to Hashira. Giyuu vividly remembers you shouting at Shinazugawa from across the training grounds about ‘Look at what Giyuu made me! Suck it you fuck face’ before running off and taking him with you again. He remembers in the background the Wind Pillar shouting, something about how it was ‘Ugly as fuck’ and a few other things but Giyuu ignored it.

Others recognized the effort Giyuu put into it, much like Rengoku. He gets a ‘That's kinda flashy’ from Tengen, and surprisingly Shinobu didn’t really poke at him too much, but maybe that was because you were there. Mitsuri squeals about it. She thinks it’s the cutest thing she's ever seen, and Giyuu makes sure not to look at Obanai at all. Otherwise, the man might force Giyuu to teach him. Or force himself in between you and him to teach him, and Giyuu doesn’t know if he can handle that.

The afternoon passed by after that and you both ended up back at his estate, just like always. This time, you were much closer to him than usual, not that Giyuu minded. He watched from over your shoulder as you continued your own little crochet project. He had half a mind to join you, but instead opted to enjoy just being with you; resting his head near yours and wrapping his arms around your waist. Though, somewhere close by the little turtle and the plush were laying together where you had placed them. It was almost like they were watching you, like they were proud of him.

Thank you once again for reading!! ໒꒰ྀི ˃ ∩∩ ˂ ꒱ྀིა

[the-meme-monarch]

hopping on the kr/alsei hate train. the theme of being Forced Into Circumstances (Romantic Or Otherwise) is very prominent with the two of em, but especially with Kris. it's basically the entire game. every single one of the options to be "romantic" towards Ralsei are a choice on the player's behalf and nothing to do with what Kris wants.

hugging Ralsei is so sweet from our pov. until you recall that Kris doesn't like hugs. this is plainly stated by Asgore if you visit him in Chapter 1, and VERY telling by the way they don't reciprocate Toriel or Asgore's hugs. Kris does not make the decision to hug Ralsei - to do so goes against their personal boundaries.

some of the dialogue choices in the Acid Tunnel of Love are such polar opposites. the "nice" options, however, are incredibly presumptuous of Kris' feelings towards Ralsei, having a stark contrast from the "mean" option being silence or shutting Ralsei down. of course the player will pick the kinder one, even if it's odd.

I do want to mention that this lends itself to the notion/theory of the narrator being a seperate entity (as they were in Undertale) who may have the goal of keeping Kris and Ralsei together. for what purpose I have no idea, but it makes sense why one choice for dialogue ("Is it strange to say it's nice spending time with you alone like this?") is either shutting Ralsei down completely ("It's strange") or assertively reciprocating ("I feel the same way"). the narrator entity understands there is a third party, and they understand how to make us work for them without even realising it.

this isn't even getting started on how Ralsei's feelings towards Kris are incredibly idolising. Ralsei tends to be subservient to Kris and Susie, and talks about his sole purpose as a Darkner being to assist the Lightners. "It's the only way we can feel truly fulfilled."

not to mention, Ralsei has been alone for his entire life. he very reasonably wouldn't be able to understand the difference between his feelings for others, nor would he ever have experienced someone caring for him in a platonic or familial manner.

Ralsei saying "it's nice spending time alone with you" is not an inherently romantic sentiment. It is, however, probably the first time he has expressed any such sentiment. Of course he's flustered about it! He doesn't talk to other people, and this is someone he looks up to and admires as a hero from a legend. Kris has thus far fit into Ralsei's narrative perfectly - of course they're his favourite.

For Kris to reciprocate the sentiment is unique and new for Ralsei, which he even acknowledges. ("I mean, e-everything's a first for me, but... Hearing it from you, um... It... it means a lot.") Ralsei has idolised Kris, and as long as Kris continues to play the part forced by the player, nothing good can come of it.

I'm not saying Kris doesn't care about Ralsei. But it's an incredibly toxic dynamic regardless of the whole almost-siblings shenanigan (which is terrible enough to put me off from this ship anyway.)

TLDR kr/alsei sucks get better <3

NODDING AT THIS i don’t have anything else to add i think you verbalized everything i had thoughts on

[heart4gyu]

just for show || ‪mc!heeseung x mc!reader

note: this is a little angsty ?? idk i’ve been thinking about this for a while and thought i’d just finally do something with it… lmk if i should continue this blah anyways ENJOY ^_^ (not proofread, maybe a little rushed)

PT.2 HERE!!

you were nervous, of course, when you were asked to host with heeseung as your partner. i mean, who wouldn’t be? but you also couldn’t reject the opportunity that you had been waiting for for so long.

when you first met him, you just tried your best to keep your distance and still be polite. after all, you didn’t want to upset his fans or even send the wrong message about yourself.

though, you were really good at being an mc, a natural talent if you say so yourself. the jokes always hit, the dialogue was smooth, and people said that both of your visuals just fit each other perfectly.

the more time passed with you two as partners, the more comfortable you became. you were a great duo from the start but the addition of soft smiles and eye contact really added to the effect. not to mention the media reaction was great, the fans loved seeing you together.

“their chemistry is unmatched”

“don’t they look like the perfect pair”

“i need to see them do a dance challenge”

“their vocals are meant to be together”

the compliments from fans went on and on. even managers and producers would point out how great the two of you worked together. you loved all the praise and you could tell heeseung did too.

it wasn’t until he started being extra kind towards you that you started to get all the more excited for filming. he would hold the door open for you, bring you your favorite drink to set, even holding his hand out for you while you came down the stairs.

he was a gentleman. he made your heart… skip a beat… except your heart was not supposed to skip a beat for your coworker. not in this industry. but you couldn’t help it. you couldn’t help but think that if he was doing all this then maybe he felt the same.

you couldn’t ask though. the thought alone was risky enough. you pondered on these thoughts for a while, and felt yourself grow more attached to him as the days went on.

the two of you began to talk more. during hair and makeup, when you were choosing matching stage outfits, even on break, the two of you sat and talked about anything. you didn’t mind getting closer to him even if he wasn’t feeling the same tightness in his chest for you.

then one day, you both sat in your makeup chairs scrolling on your phones. “look at this,” he said, leaning over to show you something on his phone.

the video was taken by a fan. it was heeseung helping you adjust your mic pack. you remembered that day. there was technical issues and everyone had to switch out their mics and since you had already gone back on stage you were trying to fix it yourself when he helped you.

you caught a glimpse of the caption before he was returning back to his chair. ‘always so caring when it comes to her’ or something along those lines. you didn’t know, you didn’t really care either because why was he showing you that random video?

“they really love those kinds of things,” he added before you even had time to ask.

“w-what do you mean?” you stuttered, your mind suddenly starting to piece everything together.

“i mean the fans, they love our interactions,” he said, as if what he was trying to say was obvious.

“so everything you do is only for the fans to see and for you to look good?” you said, rushed and just above a whisper.

“what? y/n i didn’t mean-,” heeseung started but you were already standing up. you excused yourself to your team and quickly found the closest restroom.

you didn’t want to believe it, couldn’t bear thinking about all the sweet things he did when you thought the cameras were off. you had no reason but your heart felt like it was broken.

heeseung searched for you but by the time you came back your team was rushing to finish getting you ready for stage. you went on like nothing was wrong, performed perfectly for everyone to see.

he was worried about you the whole time. he wanted to talk to you but the second the recording finished you rushed back to your wardrobe room to change. then you and your team were gone without letting him get in another word.

you had to get out of there, because of course he would try to talk his way out of this. and you might have just believed him… you weren’t sure how you’d face him again the next day but you knew that things between you and heeseung were no longer going to be the same.

[brionysea]

wait do you maybe have a post about proper vision hints/foreshadowing post s3e3 or would you maybe want to talk about it more? bc I'm super curious about that!

i've mentioned it before, but this is a really good idea so i'm gonna do it here! thanks!

on top of all the ominous foreshadowing talk about "losing mike" and how obviously not okay he is in season 4, there are a lot more subtle signs. it really starts getting more noticeable with bringing the question of why to our attention in that episode, but it's being disguised through will's perspective so that it doesn't really register as being about mike because everyone's so busy being annoyed by the shippiness of it all (in regards to both el and will) and forgetting that he's like, a person, with thoughts and feelings of his own that undoubtedly affect his actions

mike has so many parallels to max it's kind of insane, but this one always gets me. will and lucas are both pointing out that mike and max are acting different, and mike and max are both trying to brush it off as normal when it's obviously not, and lucas knows something is wrong when what's wrong is that max is cursed. there's also the fact that after this, mike bikes all the way to will's house to say that he was right

but backing up a bit, remember that scene where will woke lucas and mike up by blasting music?

hm. that's a worrying thing to say (twice!) when music is what saves you from vecna. there's also probably something there with will refusing to even turn it down, since mike might not want to save himself but will isn't taking no for an answer (paralleling season 1 mike not taking no for an answer when it comes to will being alive, i suppose)

anyway, what really grabbed my attention in this scene is how it looks like mike has a headache. he's almost shielding his ears from the noise, and then pinching the bridge of his nose (which, as far as i'm aware, doubles as a method of trying to stop both a headache and a nosebleed — and those two have been connected in canon through patrick and max both getting a headache immediately before a nosebleed, one of which mike witnessed after specifically being placed in the scene when he really didn't need to be unless it was some form of foreshadowing), plus some really conspicuous dialogue here from "will the wise" in relation to mike showing very late symptoms of the curse months before it's even a thing, which seems to imply that his experience with it is going to be very different

for more signs that he's experiencing curse symptoms: nosebleeds

headaches — really bad ones that won't go away, hence why it followed him all the way to suzie's house (and mike's scary good at hiding pain/downplaying his own feelings, which is why several examples are from things literally being thrown at his head or when he's been awake for 0.5 seconds and music is IMMEDIATELY being blasted into his skull, so that he's caught off guard enough to show it)

seeing things/having visions

trouble sleeping

mike's perspective is way too guarded past season 1 for us to see his nightmares, but with how much he's been through (and especially at such a young age), there's no way he isn't getting them. my evidence for this is how perfectly he fits the show's definition of PTSD, which includes nightmares, and also confirms that mike canonically, according to the show's own rules, has past trauma (and present trauma, and future trauma, and probably trauma that exists outside of time itself... he really can't catch a break)

[theminecraftbee]

This isn't really related to anything specifically but one of my favourite things about your writing is how you manage to incorporate the way different characters are friends with other characters and how they can tell how they feel.

In some fics it's just "these two are friends" and that's about it and thats fine but in your fics I always like how much. Thought you put into how other characters think of eachother, and that won't always align up to how they respond? The characters you write can call back on previous attempts and notice habits and really think about what's going on.

I think that's also partially it? That you give characters time to think? Even if its very dialogue heavy. And it never feels like the characters are trying to get an A* in therapy.

Idk basically I'm saying I like your writing and it's super inspiring, especially how you always tend to twist the conversation in a slightly different way than I expect.

oh, this is really sweet! yeah, i do try to go a lot for "characters who know each other well can know what they're getting at without having to spell it out for each other all the time", and also for the classic "these two guys are having a conversation about one thing but do not actually talk about that thing, they are talking about something else". sometimes because they know each other well sometimes to Avoid Talking About a Thing They Don't Wanna. and like, yeah, filler dialogue can be important, as long as you're using it for a good role! like, it doesn't all have to be extremely plot-relevant it's just gotta fit the vibes, you know?

and like, i don't know if my dialogue is always realistic. the pacing of it is normally a little intentionally what sounds good to my ear but not NECESSARILY how two people would actually talk? like, i think i've said this before, but the way people interrupt each other in my dialogue is more like a play than it is like most real conversations. however it SOUNDS nice and you can normally get the point of it, which is what i am really going for - perfectly realistic dialogue is hard, dialogue that gets my idea across is better, i think.

and like, yeah, people call back to each other's habits and body language in conversation! actually if you want to get the "give characters time to think" across i can't recommend enough 'character A notices/thinks about character B's body language' as like, a replacement for where you'd put 'beat' in a script, in order to give the dialogue a 'pause' where you need it. if that makes any sense.

anyway this is just me rambling about my dialogue thank you this means a lot to me i like my dialogue

[chompsloudly]

So some character placements for my au plus explainations.I accidentally went on a rant at one point

Error-muffet

Ink-flowey

fresh-burger pants

Dream-asriel

Nightmare-chara

Horrortale sans-cannibal/butcher grillby

Dust sans-dustbelief papyrus

Geno-either muffet or undyne

King multiverse-asgore?

Blue-underscramble mettaton

Killer sans-killer sans

Sci sans- alphys

core frisk-core frisk

lust-idk

fell-idk. Possibly fell mk? Mad mew mew

epic- maybe undyne

Cross-I have no idea

Time kid- monster kid

Error explanation

Strings, threatening, muffets already kinda out of it if you read her genocide dialogue. Add an eternity in a white void and you get destroyer muffet

Ink explaination

It makes since for flowey to be ink since they both have no soul. I would've made asgore the protector but he doesn't do much protecting. Plus flowey seems to be capable of some range of emotion, which is better than nothing

Fresh explaination

Fresh is canonically a parasite and I randomly thought it would be funny to have him possess burger pants and it stuck

Dream explaination

Asriel is perfectly suited for the role. Just look at the fluffy boi. Kind, sweet, sunshine, helpful. I honestly don't know why there isn't any dream-asriel, well, anything.

Nightmare explaination

Chara is asriels sibling, and they're the more malevolent of the two. Also it only makes sense.

Horror explaination

Made a new au for this grillby since I couldn't think of a good one for the in-code cannibal role. Grillby was the best fit since he already owns a bar.

Dust explaination

I was lazy

Genocide

I'm not sure whether to use muffet again or undyne. It would make sense to use muffet due to errors backstory, but undyne literally dies due to being too determined, which makes her the better candidate. But then that might result in an error undyne, so I'm not sure which one to do

King multiverse explaination

I didn't know where to put king asgore so I made him king multiverse. Admittedly I don't know anything about king multiverse at all, so I'm not completely sure

Swap explaination

Underscramble mettaton is my favorite when it comes to the 'excitable human catcher' role. It was the only character I considered and I can't think of any better anyways

Killer explaination

Unfortunately I can't leave sans out comepletely so I let my favorite of the sans au's stay. He's got a good reason to be a sans that isn't just sans reskin

Sci explaination

I'm going to be very honest when I say that I hate the fact that sci's a sans and not an alphys. Y'know, the literal royal scientist. So I decided to fix that by doing what should have been done in the first place. On a less rant-ish note, I'm kinda tempted to make her a fell alphys

Core explaination

The goal is to reduce the amount of sans aus, so changing core would be pointless. Plus core's a good character

Lust explaination

I have no idea who to use for this role.

Fell explaination

I originally didn't know who to use, but then I remembered mad mew mew existed. I actually want to use a mad mew mew fell instead of a sad mew mew fell though. Anywho I gave mad mew the fell role since she's knows for being angry in the first place.

Epic explanation

Im not completely sure, but undyne seems like a good fit. From what I've seen of epic while he seems laid back he is also a protector. Naturally undyne seems like the best fit. But now the geno problem shows itself again.

cross explaination

I have absolutely no idea who to use

Time kid explaination

A last minute thought, I only gave them this position due to time kid being a kid. Like king multiverse, I don't know anything about timekid. This position is most likely temporary at best

I still don't know where to put all of the characters on this list as I'm not completely sure of the sanses they'll be replacing. Or I can't decide between two characters. Still don't know where to put napstablook. Or gaster. And I want to give toriel a better role cause nim dies immediately.

overall I need help and any criticism is appriciated. Let me know any characters I forgot or would be better suited for another role.

[razorblade180]

Played and beat Arrowfell

Let me get the two extremely petty part out of the way. I’m very surprised this entire thing isn’t voiced acted. Like even if a person may have been busy, voice matching would totally be fine with how few lines a majority of the characters have.

Second petty thing. All these cool and unique weapons/semblances that fit a narrative and yet no one thought of a decent idea for ironwood ever.

Anyways, I honestly wasn’t sure what to expect going into this but the best way I can describe this game is this: If RWBY had 24 episodes a season, then Arrowfell would be the canon filler arc. And I don’t mean that in a bad way.

It’s no secret RWBY has no real fluff and sometimes goes a little too quickly for it’s own good. This entire game is their first big mission as licensed Huntresses and that means exploring the kingdom, meeting different cultures, casual dialogue with Ace Ops, and instances of someone teaching them ways to use their skills better. Ya know…all the things that build a world and character relationships. Like I’m not gonna say everything in here is perfectly done but having all of this before the apocalypse hit in V7 and V8 would’ve made them hit harder in my opinion.

I don’t know if I missed a piece of dialogue or something but JNPR isn’t in this game at all and don’t know if they had an excuse. There’s plenty of NPCs asking for help or trying to give you something so I don’t really know why 4 of them can’t be the team. Not mad about it, just confused.

The game itself is pretty engaging for the most part. Levels have areas you’ll eventually go back to with better upgrades and for the most part the map design is pretty easy to understand where you are especially when what kind of enemies are located in them. Game took me 5 1/2 hours and that’s me getting 97% of everything so it can definitely be faster but at the price of missing out on level up points you really want to make things not take forever.

I am going to be brutally honest and hopefully someone can answer this for me. There was never a time a I thought “I should use Yang” outside of puzzles. There are so many situations where it makes sense to use or combine abilities between the other three. Never Yang💀

The best characters literally go in name order. Everyone exists to support Ruby and it shows she’s the only one who can dodge, highest normal attack damage and has the best reach. I leveled everything on her before anyone else because of this. Weiss is really good for crowd control and Blake had great uses for stationary targets and bosses because her clones attack/distract with the rest of the team. They should’ve given Yang a counter but they didn’t. Just a heavy ground pound that isn’t even the strongest attack in the game. Weiss has the strongest single hit but it costs the most aura but ya know, things die.

Last part is the music. Maybe I miss RWBY music, but this soundtrack is pretty good in my opinion. This might be a testament to how much the show is influenced by video games because every track felt like the show, but completely at home in the level it was in at the same time. Even when certain game mechanics are at play to make this a competent game, my brain went “this could exist or happen in the show.” And the more outlandish parts of Arrowfell that exist for game design has the characters go “well this doesn’t feel normal” which I thought was funny.

I payed 30$ for this and honestly I had a very good time with it. I think the price is pretty reasonable considering how this looks and the few regular animation scenes. Some new characters have semblances and others have weapons that will make OC creators go “go damnit I did that.” (Myself included) but it’s alright. This game will completely break your legs if you’re not paying attention but feels pretty rewarding when you’re handling ambushes easily.

I say there’s only 3 parts about this game is one specific jump that thankfully only has to be made once. Rooster Teeth continues to do the same thing when it comes to their women antagonist any time they introduce a man. Also the fact everything happening here and everyone you meet do not matter at all because Atlas doesn’t exist anymore. Who the hell knows if any of those people are alive.

8/10

[txxfiles]

i’m just a girl who loves video games

hello!!!!

i feel like Magnolia summed up what we are doing pretty well, god bless, but fitting in with the genre of Magnolia’s post i might just ramble about video games. i love video games. i’m watching a video game play through as i type this actually (jacksepticeye i love u) and two games in particular have taken over my attention at the moment, well 3 but we’ll get there.

i was going to talk about my week, but i don’t wanna have my first post be negative u know? not that it’s been the worst week of all time but it’s definitely not the best. too many uncertainties in my life atm. also it’s too cold.

anyway, video games!! i recently moved our old tv and my games consoles into my bedroom, never had a tv in my room before which is hilarious considering my age. but, i wanted to be able to play more this year and not be in anyone’s way so i’ve been very comfortably screaming at my tv from my bed as i try not to die.

the first game i played this year which i have been waiting for for months is

God of War: Ragnarok

i played the first one on recommendation from a boy (ew) and fucking LOVED it. i blasted through it so fast and wanted to get ragnarok immediately but unfortunately, i am poor. i got it for christmas however and couldn’t start it as soon as i wanted bc i had to work but once i did boy let me TELL YOU IT’S SOOOOOO GOOOOOD. i am not good at video games really, i struggle to remember combos and to use my shield and to dodge and basically just button smash until the enemy or i die. works better than u would expect tbh even if literally everyone judges me for it. i am good with a bow and arrow though and my aim has gotten so much better since i’ve been playing fortnite (shut up.) so obviously i’m playing give me story. of course i’m playing give me story have i ever played a video game on anything other than easy mode. i did find out that i was wearing a bad armour set just last night tho, so hopefully i find it a little easier to fight shit now, guess we’ll see. but fuck me is it good. obviously no spoilers but shits heating up atm and i’m really genuinely scared about where the story is going to go. i’m worried kratos is going to die but he’s immortal! he’ll be fine! but i don’t trustn anyone or the game or anything anyone says to me ever bc WHY would they make such a point of fate and prophecy if it’s not going to happen???? mega stress but 10/10 what a beautiful game! my screenshots on my playstation is mostly just the scenery at this point bc wowowowowow.

so you would think the other game i’m playing is chill and nice and something i can relax whilst playing right?

WRONG!

Disco Elysium

stress.

so much stress.

i’m laughing but the stress that is coarsing through my veins is as thick as lava and i’m struggling to breathe as i try desperately to pick between 3 options with awful dialogue that will most definitely end up with me in the shit or a slave to capitalism in game as well as in real life which really isn’t ideal.

i got a achievement for being the ‘most apologetic cop’ the other day, i think that perfectly sums up how i’m playing. i just want to help but that seems to be LITERALLY IMPOSSIBLE TO DO. i really love choice based games but this one is on a level of intense and confusing that i’ve never seen. it’s a masterpiece. every line of dialogue is beautiful and hilarious and insane and the world building is incredible and lieutenant kim kitsuragi is the love of my life. i have no idea what’s truly going on with harry, like i literally cannot work it out and i also don’t know who committed the murder, i thought i did and then i fucked up so SO badly that i had to quit the game and go calm down bc i was so mad at myself. like, literally fuming. i could never be a police officer.

i finished the game in between me first writing this and finally posting and again, i won’t say much bc spoilers but i cried and haven’t stopped thinking about it since. i’ve added about 40 video essays to watch and will definitely be playing it again and going down a different path (basically trying to be less of a wet blanket.)

everyone should play this game, it’s genuinely one of the most incredible games i’ve ever played. the hyperfixation is brewing and if u see me deep in the harry/kim tag on ao3 in about a week no u didn’t!

i’ve also been playing

Star Wars Battlefront 2

for some reason.

we know the reason. same reason i started playing fortnite. no more explanation needed.

i’m very bad at it. mostly bc idk what’s going on and the man i am playing it with is not very good at explaining things in a way that makes sense to me so i just kinda run around and try not to die. but then you need to die to be able to get better characters? such a weird mechanic. it’s very pretty though and i’m on a star wars hype atm so i am enjoying myself but i like fortnite more. i actually kinda love fortnite, don’t tell anyone.

my biggest complaint is that i don’t just get to use a cool character straight away like i don’t want to be a stormtrooper i want to be kylo ren what do u mean i don’t have enough points??? wild.

also an honorary shout out to undertake/deltarune, i’ve been rewatching dan and phil and jacksepticeye play them bc i’m hoping for new deltarune this year but no pressure toby pls take ur time i’ll wait forever if i have to.

i’m not sure what new games are out this year otherwise, i’ve got to finish assasins creed odyssey after god of war and i keep being bugged to play red dead redemption 2 which i probably will after AC. i think the new concernedape game comes out this year, which i will definitely be playing bc stardew valley is one of my fave games ever. it’ll be nice to play something gentle for once, i’m glad i got into more ‘serious’ games over the last year or so but i do miss my cosy games, i feel like i’ve abandoned them.

anyway, i think i’ve talked enough. one honorary shout out to kieran culkin for all his award wins! that’s my boy!

big love to my girlies, this has been so fun i’m excited for next weeks!

mwah mwah,

eucalyptus

[mywrittings]

destiny / geralt of rivia

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: Staying at Kaer Morhen was an unexpected event in your life. After getting a room assigned you realize the room actually belongs to someone whom you'd often see by chance... or because of destiny?

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 4.5k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: 18+ ONLY! dirty talk, kissing, pussy eating, handjob, riding him, him fucking you... basically smut

a/n: hello everyone! I have been writing this for a while now but I have finally finished it! This story has a lot more dialogue and I hope you don't mind that. Also for anyone that is still waiting for my next chapter of lust series, it's coming! I am still in the process of writing it. Anyways hope you like reading this one!

Vesemir had called up on you to come stay at the Kaer Morhen for a while. Since it was winter time most of the witchers returned to this place to refuel and relax, your job was to keep the order and help with making elixirs. It was a sudden decision from Vesemir, an emergency to be precise. With many more blood hungry monsters, he wanted to make sure that all the right elixirs would be ready by the time winter is over, so naturally you were the best mage that knew how to make them without needing any recipes.

He showed you to your room where you would be staying for the next upcoming weeks. All the rooms at this place seemed the same but for some reason this one was way bigger than the rest. It had a lovely window that overlooked the training station outside, a large bed that looked comfortable, a fireplace to keep you warm and a small wardrobe. It almost felt like this room did not belong to Kaer Morhen but rather an inn.

‘’Get some rest, tomorrow I’ll tell you what you’ll need to do.’’ Vesemir said his goodbyes to you as he closed the door behind him

You had a long journey ahead of you today as you also made some stops in between, hence why your muscles were aching. You were desperate for a bath but weren’t so sure where you could find one. Also since it was winter outside, the weather completely changed. Snow took over the entire property, the leaves fell off the trees and the once green grass was covered in its entirety.

Stepping out of the room you walked along the many hallways that lead to different rooms while others lead to other rooms that had equipment. With each door you opened you kept getting more and more upset - there was nothing. All there was, was just a bunch of random stuff that didn’t really have a place or a pile of junk. 

Feeling even more devastated than before you decided to return back to your room. The night by now has fallen, as the lamps lit up the place, making it feel more cozy. The chatter coming from downstairs was still up and about. After all it was the first day, when most witchers returned to their home, so it was only fitting for them to catch up with one another. 

As you open the door to your room you suddenly scream out loud, while covering your eyes.

‘’What are you doing in my room?!’’ you exclaim at the figure that was standing by the bed, with their shirt off

‘’Your room? This is my-...’’ and in that moment you recognize his voice as he does yours

‘’Geralt?’’ you put your hands down but still keep your eyes closed shut

‘’What on earth are you doing here?’’ Geralt asks as you hear him make a step

When it comes to Geralt, you very well knew who he was. The greatest witcher of all times. The best hunter for monsters. Most of the time alone or accompanied by his friend Roach. He always did what he had to do and he did it perfectly.

But when it comes to you two, often your destinies would collide with one another and whenever you’d see each other, there would be tension between you too. You've always thought you did something to him since he gave you the strangest look when you first met. As a result, you automatically did the same to him.

‘’Just put on a shirt first!’’ you extend your arms out, as a way to prevent him for coming further even though he only made a step to turn to you

‘’Why would I? You are in my room, you barged in here.’’ he argues back and you hear the shirt shuffling in his hands

‘’Excuse me?,’’ you let your hands down ‘’Vesemir had told me this was my room while I’m staying here.’’ you point to the ground as you hear Geralt snicker

‘’Staying? Are you staying here?’’

‘’Yes? Did you not see my stuff I put in the wardrobe?’’ your eyes were still closed shut as you hear the door of the closet creak open

‘’Why are you here?’’ he asks, closing the wardrobe ‘’And also you can open your eyes, it’s not like I had my-...’’

‘’Okay!’’ you squeal quickly, opening your eyes to see Geralt wearing a black linen shirt that was tucked in his pants

‘’Do you mind leaving now?’’ you gesture to the door

‘’No? It’s my room.’’ 

You really did not have the time to argue with him but you did not wish to give up the room under any circumstances. If this was someone else asking for their room you’d give in already but since it was Geralt that was off limits.

‘’Geralt, I do not care if this was your room it’s mine now.’’ you point to yourself 

Geralt huffs in annoyance, throwing his head back as his hands were on his hips. You now understood why this bedroom was his. He was the best witcher out there so I guess it was only fair to give him best of the best, as he caught many monsters and dealt with different quests. But you knew how other rooms there were. Most had a small bed with no fireplace and there were even rats around as nobody really took care of that. 

‘’Then we share it.’’ he suggests and your eyes open wide

‘’Share it?’’ you were in disbelief that he even said that

‘’I’m afraid all the other rooms are occupied.’’ as he says that you peek your head out to the hallway and notice that sure indeed all the rooms were full as light came from each of them under the door

When the winter comes around all the witchers return back to this place to have some rest as there aren’t many monsters at this time. And when they do return this place is full of chatter, laughter and them sharing stories among one another. But you did not understand why Vesemir gave you this room if he knew it was Geralts.

‘’Can’t you sleep somewhere else? You could share a room with another witcher?’’ you look back at him as he gestures ‘no’ with his head and that’s when you thought that maybe it was unfair of you to just kick him out of his room that he earned fighting along many different creatures. However you were still going to stay in this room no matter what.

‘’Fine but what about the bed?’’ 

‘’I’ll take the floor.’’ he answers as he rushes past you out of the room

You watch him leave unsure as to where he was headed but in the meantime you decide to get ready for the bed. You took the duvet off and quickly jumped in, tucking yourself in afraid he was going to change his mind.  

Soon Geralt was back in the room with a pillow, a duvet and a fluffy carpet. He closes the door before throwing everything he held on the ground. The carpet he placed on the floor which you realized it was for him to lay down but given the fact he was tall and bulky, the carpet practically disappeared underneath him. You watch him fiddle with the pillow and the duvet, tossing it one way and another, he was getting frustrated. 

‘’Geralt.’’ you call to him and at first he doesn’t acknowledge your voice

‘’Geralt.’’ this time you said it louder and finally grab his attention

He whips his head and pierces his eyes into yours. You knew this wasn’t a way for him to sleep, especially because you did not know how long you were going to stay here. It was weird as you had some pity for him but then despised him, still you knew how hard they work and how desperately they need their sleep to recharge for the next season.

‘’We can share the bed.’’ you offer as you scoot over to one side and he just looks at you confused

‘’Just a few minutes ago you didn’t wish to share a room with me and now you want to share the bed?’’ 

‘’I do not have time to bicker, take this side of the bed or have fun sleeping on the creaky wooden floor.’’ you turn your back to him, taking half of the duvet covering your body in it

For a second there it was quiet, there wasn’t a single sound to be heard until the floor slowly creaked from behind you. A ‘Hmm’ left Geralt’s mouth before you felt the bed dip, the weight of the bed shifts as the other part of the duvet is being thrown to you. 

‘’I got mine.’’ he shortly says as you hear his covers shuffling before he settles in the comfort of the bed

The setting was strange, sharing a bad with someone you did not like. Every little move he would make with his body the bed would creak but that didn’t bother you as the weight of your eyes took over you and you fell asleep.

Somewhere in the middle of the night you began tossing and turning as you were starting to get cold. The fire in the fireplace burnt out and the room suddenly changed temperatures. The duvet wasn’t doing you any justice as well at that point. Your body was freezing underneath it and because of that you were unable to sleep even though you were exhausted. But you weren’t the only one that couldn’t shut their eyes.

‘’When do you think you’ll stop?’’ you hear Geralt’s raspy voice

‘’When I get warm.’’ you didn’t even turn around to him, instead just mumble that under your breath. You wanted to start the fire in the fireplace but you didn’t have the will to get up and get even colder so instead you decided to shut your eyes and tried not to think about the coldness and eventually the sleep took over you.

Some point a little later in the night you had to switch sides and you had completely forgotten that you were sharing a bed with Geralt. It wasn’t until you opened your eyes slowly to find his yellow golden gaze staring at you. He didn’t say anything once the two of you met each other's gazes and suddenly the only thing you could hear in the room was you two breathing.

‘’Why are you looking at me?’’ you whisper, as your eyes were half open now, holding onto the duvet in your hands

‘’You are the total opposite when you sleep.’’ he remarks in his low voice

‘’What do you mean?’’ 

‘’You don’t say much. You’re quiet.’’ Geralt said while you narrow your eyebrows at him

‘’Fuck you.’’ you lift your head off the pillow as you say that, Geralt just snickers back at you

‘’Such pretty lips saying all that filth.’’ he all of the sudden says and you widen your eyes at him. His were fully focused on you now, wavering around your eyes to your lips. You could feel your heart beating faster and faster and you weren’t sure why you were having these thoughts.

‘’Huh?’’ 

Geralt quickly closes the distance and places his lips on yours. It was such a gentle kiss, without any strong pressure. He let his lips remain on top of yours for a few seconds whilst you closed your eyes, unsure how to respond. 

His lips leave yours before he returns, significantly stronger this time as he removes his hand from beneath the covers and softly places his thumb beneath your chin. You now respond by spreading your lips as he leans in and you kiss him back.

He moves himself closer to you as his hand begins traveling down from your face to the back of your head before pausing at your lower back. You too took your hands from beneath the covers and delicately touched his face with your fingertips. You could feel his rough skin along with his stubble he had not shaved. His hair tickled at your skin once he deepened the kiss by slipping his tongue in your mouth evoking a moan out of you. His tongue danced with yours, every now and then he’d pull away just to kiss you again before going back in to bite on your bottom lip, everything was becoming more heated.

‘’Geralt…’’ 

‘’Yes?’’

‘’What are we doing?’’ you confusingly ask once you two stopped kissing

‘’Kissing each other.’’ he replies, as his thumb traced your lips

‘’But I hate you.’’

‘’Oh you do? Show me how much you hate me then.’’ he says quietly, his eyes were yearning for more you and the desire inside of you, it was like a spark that was waiting for a while before it ignited, that’s when you swiftly remove the duvet and straddle him

Your legs were on the side of him and he immediately put his hands on your hips. But first he assists you in removing  your dress as you help him get rid of his linen shirt. Your breathing hitched once you felt something hard underneath you, poking at you but it felt good.  You lower yourself to him, just inches away from his lips hovering over.

‘’Kiss me.’’ he orders before you close the gap and kiss him hard. Geralt’s hands came back at your hips, aiding you to move and you felt your pussy getting increasingly wetter and wetter each time you’d feel his cock twitch underneath you

"For someone that was visibly annoyed by me, your hard cock is saying otherwise." you add in between kisses.

That’s when he backs up and within seconds he moves you away from himself. He gets out of bed but turns around to face you, his knees slamming into the bed frame. His massive cock jumps out as he quickly takes his pants down. As you were on your knees, staring up at him, he drew you closer and grips your neck.

‘’Open your mouth.’’ he urges and you don’t even think twice because you wanted him, you needed to taste him in your mouth and you didn’t care about anything else

You do as he says and he shoves his cock in your mouth, while keeping his hand on your neck.

‘’That’s more like it you fucking cunt. Got you all quiet now huh?’’ his dirty talk had your pussy throbbing and you wanted so badly to touch yourself but Geralt had a different idea

‘’Put your hands behind your back.’’ he instructs, eyes watching you as you keep taking him in your mouth

Geralt began moving his hips back and forth, as you bobbed your head to the pace he was instructing. Your eyes were looking directly at him as he threw his head back once he placed his hand to the top of your head. 

‘’You take this cock so fucking good,’’ he growls as he takes his dick out of your mouth ‘’stick your tounge out.’’ you obey him as he slaps his dick on your tongue, repeatedly before putting it back in your mouth

He was fucking your mouth, his head went back once he pushed it all the way and that caught you off guard. Your entire body was in a state of euphoria, that feeling of him completely within your mouth was driving you mad. You loved his taste.

‘’Fuck, that feels so good.’’ he purrs as he takes his cock out and a trail of saliva comes out of your mouth. Your lips were red, swollen from how much he pounded his dick in your mouth.

His face lowers to you and he crushes his lips on yours while making sounds. He tugs and licks at your lips, his hand resting on your face and you couldn’t keep your hands away from him. You had to touch him. So you tug at his hair as your other hand pulls him closer, causing him to collapse on top of you. He didn’t seem to mind that as he began slowly grinding on your pussy.

‘’Look how fucking wet you are cunt.’’ he says mid between kissing you as you feel his hard cock, grazing over your wet pussy. Both of your hands were now in his hair, his were at the either side of your body, holding himself up as his cock was drenching in your juices.

‘’Geralt…’’ you mutter his name 

‘’Mmm, yes princess?’’ you feel his finger on your pussy and you jolt in your place

‘’What did you want hm?’’ he asks, his voice so sinful, wishing you to have more of him but you couldn’t make up any words. It was difficult to talk while he was playing with you, a cocky expression on his face knowing he had every inch of you he desired.

‘’You need to tell me princess, so I know what I need to do to make you feel good.’’ he leaves a trail of wet kisses along your jawline as your eyes roll back from the feeling

‘’I…I want your…’’ you gulp and lick your lips as Geralt watches you with hungry eyes ‘’I want your mouth on my pussy.’’ you finally croak out and he kisses your lips before going down to your legs.

‘’You want me to lick your pussy?’’ he opens your legs further apart, getting access to your exposed dripping cunt. His arms wrap around your legs holding you in place before dipping his head and licking a strip up your pussy.

‘’Like this?’’

You nod as he snickers and goes back in, flicking his tongue repeatedly, up and down in any direction he could think off. His tongue was velvety making you fill up with pleasure. He looked so handsome this way, the window from the roof was shining just enough on him, outlining his back and arm muscles. His hair was falling at his face and his eyes would occasionally peek up at you.

As you glance further down his body you could see his hard cock, jerking every time you’d moan or call his name. Just thinking about him being inside you made your body melt, you felt tingles from your spine traveling throughout your body. 

Geralt seemed to take notice of your eyes as he smiled in your pussy ‘’Do you want something else, I can give it to you.’’ he removes his tongue off of your cunt and retrieves his body back to yours, as he licks his fingers before locking his lips back to yours. 

‘’Yes.’’ you whisper, unable to control yourself

‘’Do you want my cock?’’ he says as he glances down and reaches for his cock, taunting you with his tip at your pussy

‘’Yes.’’ you were pleading by this point now

‘’Do you want me to fuck you?’’ 

You bit at your lower lip, he was driving you insane. His tip alone was enough to make your brain dizzy, let alone his deep voice, which sent shivers down your body every time he talked to you dirty.

Finally you nod and he pulls you closer to him as he enters you, slowly at first, filling your insides. He was big, you could feel every bit of him, stretching out your walls. You gasp out loud, your back arching, clutching at the sheets as Geralt muffles your sounds by kissing you. 

‘’Shit. Such a tight little pussy huh?’’ he asks, as he moves in and out of you. You were clenching around him, he knew where to find the right spot, your moans were the response to his movements.

The room was filled with sweat, moans and Geralt’s grunts as he began moving faster. He leaves your lips and grabs at your legs, placing them around himself as he was on his knees. As he’s holding at your legs, he keeps going faster and faster. His body was glistening with his sweat, his perfect v-line flowing down to his cock, while he pummeled into you, flinging his head back.

You were still grasping at the sheets, closing your eyes in between, nobody has ever made you feel this good. You could feel your pussy pulsing from his cock around your walls, his cock fit perfectly in you.

‘’Come here.’’ he suddenly says as he pulls you to himself and smother’s your face with his lips. He was kissing you all over your face, his tongue was licking at your cheeks, it’s like he wanted to devour you from head to toe - you tasted sweet to him.

Geralt then lays down on the bed and has your back facing him. He helps you as he eases you onto cock,holding you and fucking you again. Your hands were trying to support you but because of him you didn’t need to do so. You didn’t mind this position, the only issue is that you couldn’t see him and the sight of him in this state made you wet all over again.

He leans you back into him, your back now colliding with his chest as his head pops across your left side, where he turns your head and kisses your lips. His lips were hot, as he sucked and pulled at them. His hand slithers down your body to your pussy. You had no idea it would make you feel even better, but it did. He began circling around it, driving you insane.

‘’Geralt…fuck.’’ you moan unable to control yourself

‘’Only I can fuck this pussy, you understand?’’ 

‘’Mhm…’’ 

‘’Say it.’’ he demands as he kisses you again

‘’Only you can fuck this pussy Geralt.’’ you repeat and he smiles into the kiss

‘’Make me cum with this pussy.’’ he says as you squeeze your pussy, knowing it would drive him over the edge and you were right

‘’Cum with me.’’ he lastly says before you feel his heart beating faster

Geralt’s hand is continuing playing with your pussy as you feel him twitch inside of you. His cock was pulsating as you felt yourself getting filled with his warm cum. His lips were pressed to yours, he was groaning in your mouth, you moaning back into his. Both of your bodies went to a new state. Your vision went black once you reached your high and the sensation overtook your entire body. 

‘’Fuck.’’ you cry out, biting your lip while arching your back

His heavy breathing slowly came at ease but your body was still buzzing from the orgasm he just gave you.

‘’You’re shaking.’’ Geralt says as he takes his cock out and quickly places you at his side, wrapping your body with the duvet. He pulls you close to himself, wrapping his arms around your frame to keep you secure and in place.

‘’Geralt, did we really just fuck?’’ you mumble and feel his hands caress your back

‘’We did,’’ he takes a moment to look at you ‘’do you regret it?’’ he asks, his eyes speaking to you

‘’No, I don’t. Do you?’’

‘’No. I always wanted to be inside you.’’ 

You playfully bump your head onto his chest and giggle as you see a smile on his face as well. He removes a strand of your hair away from your face and places a soft kiss on your lips.

‘’So all you needed was to fuck me and suddenly you don’t hate me anymore?’’ you say, as you trace the features on his nose

‘’The only thing I hated was that this pussy wasn’t mine. Until today.’’ his hand moves to your ass where he slaps it and right after squeezes it

‘’When did I say it was yours?’’ you joke but he slaps your ass again making you jump in your place

‘’This pussy is mine. Only mine.’’ he kisses your nose before nuzzling you back into him rocking you with his body

It felt so good laying with him like this, the warmth wrapping around you and hearing his breathing was the perfect combination to make you fall asleep but not before he said ‘’Our destinies always seem to be colliding Y/n.’’ that made you think of all the other times you had seen him. Sometimes you’d see him in random places, unturned areas yet and he’d be there. Each time you’d see one another, each time your eyes would be different. But it never came to your head that this all was in fact destiny. It never came to you that the feeling you had was true - you wanted him to be yours.

‘’You are right. Maybe we belong to one another after all.’’  you reply and his hands came to your face, lifting it up

‘’Not maybe, rather yes, we do belong to one another.’’ the sides of his mouth lift upwards and he leans in kissing you but with the biggest passion yet

“I never hated you.” he suddenly says as he keeps his hands around you and takes his eyes up the window on the roof “I wanted you, each time I’d see you I felt something in me, it was pulling me in to you.” he licks his lips before continuing ''But I always thought to myself 'Why would someone like her wish to be with someone like me'.” he looks back at you, his eyes were heavy and sleepy

''Someone like you?'' you scoff and sit up ''Do you know how strong and amazing you are Geralt? You are the most powerful witcher out there,'' you point to the window ''there is no one that could beat you.''

Geralt takes your hands in his lap and sits up with you ''That's all I am Y/n. I kill monsters and get their blood all over me. I reek of their smell.''

''You are protecting us. Protecting the people. Without you, this world would have eaten us by now.'' you boop his nose with your finger and he grabs your hand, placing it himself on the side of his face and the weight of his head falls into your hands

''You are such an extrodinary woman Y/n. I'm sorry if I was...''

''Grumpy? Annoying?'' you cut him off and snicker

''Yes. I was trying to push you away for my own being which was a very dumb decision...'' he wavers off, he was troubled by this

''I mean I did the same to you, only you did it first to me and then I did it and then I thought 'what did I do wrong' because you were always so mad when you'd see me and I-...'' Geralt stops you from talking as he smashes his lips onto yours, breathing in your scent

''You're mine Y/n. That's all that matters to me now. I have you.''

[a-kaash-me-outside]

𝐢 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

ᴀᴛꜱᴜᴍᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ~ 5613 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ~ // nsfw (minors dni!!), lil angsty, f!reader, cheating, teasing, choking, crying, daddy kink, hate fuck -> kinda toxic soft fuck, brat taming, oral m!receiving, good dialogue shitty writing

i wrote this in 3 hrs bc hyperfixation (song i listened to) like its smut but is it the type of smut u get off to? probably not.

i don't understand, whats a girl gotta do to get a good lay around here???? thx

11:14 PM • 07/01/21

your tweet was not a rhetorical question. your tweet was supposed to get a few fun dms. your tweet was supposed to blow up just a little bit. your tweet was not supposed to entice your ex-boyfriend to message you for the first time in over a year, and it definitely wasn't supposed to lead to him texting your number that you thought he no longer had, and it absolutely positively 100% was not supposed to lead to you hooking up.

not that it was an issue for you, but it probably would be an issue for his girlfriend.

//

the dm shocked you, because how could it not after going so long only knowing about atsumu through the news and social media? his girlfriend was the entire reason two of you stopped talking when you did, but it wasn't even her doing. atsumu chose to break off contact all on his own, some bullshit about trust and her being really good for him.

and they were still together, you saw their anniversary post less than a week ago. and yet there he was.

and yet there he was texting back and forth with you for the better half of an hour before making the short drive over to your place.

and yet here he is, one hand ghosting over your lower back, other hand bracing the under side of your thigh, hot breath on your collar bones despite the fact that he had a girlfriend and despite the fact that you shattered his heart into a million pieces

//

he’s made small talk, asked you how you’ve been with an unease that he didn’t try hard enough to hide, leaned against the couch, but hasn’t actually sat.

“hey, calm down or i really will call your brother, always the calmer one.”

“and, yet, ya didn’t date him,” he quips back. the air is still for a moment, settling alongside the realization. you’d acknowledged it through text, but this was different. it slipped out easily, an impulsive rebuttal to a joke made numerous times before, a passing recollection and acknowledgment of the very reason he shouldn’t be here in the first place.

“well, no, obviously not, i’ve got a thing for blondes,” you shrug and he laughs, short and breathy. it feels almost humoring, but then you watch his shoulders slump, laxing into a normal state for the first time since he’s been here.

“a thing for blondes who actually sit down on the couch instead of leaning against them,” you gesture towards the middle of the sofa.

“what about you?” he asks, abiding anyways and taking a seat perfectly where your eyes landed, not enough room on either side of him for you to fit.

“where do you expect me to sit?” you ask right back, raising your eyebrows, stepping towards him anyway despite your teasing adversity.

he only glances down at his lap, lifting his hands from their clasped position, and motioning towards himself. you crawl into his lap, one knee dipping into the cushion on either side of him.

“what, did you miss me that much?” you tease, placing your hands overtop of his, pulling them lazily along until they're resting on your ass, fingertips tucked politely under the hem of your underwear. there's hesitance in his movements even with your guiding help.

"you don't have to be gentle with me, y'know." you tilt your head to the side, pushing backwards until you can feel resistance, until you can feel his fingers spread apart, taking as much of you into his hands as he can and digging his dull fingernails into your flesh. "i know you've probably gone soft a bit, huh? with your girlfriend and all"

his entire body tenses, some sort of backlash bubbling up in the discomfort, and you know that backlash is probably in the form of a shitty comment at your expense.

so you don't let it leave his throat, closing the gap and slipping your tongue into his mouth, sliding it against his before he can make an excuse or put you down. you did it to catch him off guard, but he tastes so good, so familiar even though so much time has passed that you can't help but moan into the kiss.

and fuck is his hair softer than you remember. his hands are bigger than you remember and his stomach is more rigid than you remember and he's stronger than you remember, and you pull away from the kiss now because you're out of breath and it's probably been enough time for him to swallow whatever shitty thing he was going to say and he's so much fucking prettier than you remember.

when did he get this pretty?

the softness of your eyes is mirrored in his, a reflection of rediscovery, relearning things that you don't remember forgetting. and there's this feeling that's burning in your core, a mixture of emotions, one of them you can't put your finger on, but you know you want to ignore.

"can you please take your shirt off, i haven't fucked anyone as ripped as you in a while and i kinda miss it." fingers running along the hem, you tug upwards gently.

"is that the only reason i'm here?" he jeers, but leans forward anyway.

"you know why you're here." before you've thrown his shirt into a crumpled pile on the floor, he's already wrapped both of his arms around your waist, picking you up only momentarily before sitting you down on the edge of the couch.

"i do," he says, and if you weren't you, if you hadn't known atsumu for as long as you have, you wouldn't have been able to recognize him after that drastic change in tone with that sultry look in his eyes as he drops to the floor, nudging your legs apart and smirking up at you. "i know exactly why i'm here, which is why it's kinda weird that you've had such a bitter, snarky mouth all night."

if that damned smirk and stupid tone didn't warm you right up, this would've done just fine on it's own. instead, it just added to the involuntary reactions you were feeling all over your body, cheeks burning, fingers restless against the muscle of your thigh, peering down at atsumu as he toyed with your panties, softly, abruptly, there and then not as his grasp moves to the hem of your shirt, pushing the fabric up as far as he can reach, running his palm over freshly exposed skin.

you finish the motion, brushing your fingers over his as you throw your shirt onto the cushion next to you.

"why don't ya ask nicely if i'll eat ya, princess?"

he kisses the insides of your thighs and you wonder if he remembered how sensitive they are or if it's just a coincidence.

but it doesn't matter how badly you want it, how many nights you've spent lying awake thinking about his stupid fucking tongue, wishing that there was some sort of toy that could replicate how disgustingly good it felt, because the question enters your mind and you want so badly to knock that smirk off his face.

"do you call her princess too or is that reserved just for me?"

and it does, knock the smirk off his face that is, but only for a moment. he tsks, shaking his head as he pushes himself up from the ground. regret is already seeping in as you squeeze your thighs together. your pussy is already soaked and you were about to get everything you've been missing for the past 3 years.

now, instead, atsumu is towering over you palming himself through his shorts and talking down to you in a way that makes you even wetter, "we gotta do something about that ungrateful little mouth of yers, don't we?"

"if you're not going to eat me out, won't you at least answer my question?" you ask, digging yourself deeper into this disobedient hole you're finding yourself in.

he reaches out so quickly that you almost flinch, but you trust him too much for that. he laces his fingers into your hair forming a tight fist at the base of your head, directing your eyes to him as he steps forward between your legs, spreading them apart with his shins. "the answer would probably just go to your head."

absolutely nothing could stop the smile that spread across your face, corners upturning and spanning as far as possible as you greedily think of this pet name saved just for you.

"what else did you save only for me, tsumu?" you ask, scooching forwards, legs spreading wider, pressing against the outsides of his calves. you're far too excited about the effects you've had on him and his relationship. as the sentence leaves your mouth, as the nickname falls so easily off of your tongue, you see his strong exterior falter for a fraction of a second. "she doesn't get to call you tsumu?"

the fist in your hair gets tighter, so tight that you can feel his hand start to shake and there's a darkness in his eyes that wasn't there before, a darkness that tells you he's been timid up until this point, a darkness that you probably shouldn't provoke, but it's been a long time since you've had this much fun.

"been awhile since you've had a brat to tame, hasn't it?" you whisper, blinking away the tears that have collected in the corners of your eyes.

"i think yer beyond being brat at this point," he huffs, no longer waiting for your next move. he uses one hand to push down his shorts, keeping a tight grasp on your head, not letting you move an inch and then guides your head towards his cock. "put yer mouth to good use or i swear to god you won't be able to talk for four days."

it sounds like an option, but it's not. he doesn't give you the chance to misbehave again. he drags the head of his cock on your bottom lip, precome smearing against it before he presses the tip into your mouth.

you're staring up at him because you've missed this so much, the concentration on his face, this control that he has over you, this underlying distain for the way you act out. he's not even looking you in the eyes, staring past you at the way his cock disappears between your lips.

"fuck, take it," he grunts, thrusting in and out of your mouth slowly, spit drooling down your chin as they start getting faster, head prodding at the back of your throat.

your mouth feels so full, head bobbing with his wreckless thrusts until he pulls you completely onto his cock, your lips wrapped around the base, the length of his fat cock perfectly surrounded by your tight throat, and then he holds you there. seconds tick by and your eyes flutter closed and the only sensation you can take in is the light throbbing of his cock.

"isn't this so much better? actually being useful for once," he sneers, but you can barely hear him as you focus on just staying conscious. his fingers skim over your neck, wrapping around the bulge he's created, balls twitching against your chin. you bring your hands up to his thighs, fingers digging into the muscle as you reach your limit, head fogging and throat burning.

he pulls you off of his cock and you only catch a glimpse of how satisfied he looks as you gasp for air, swallowing just to feel your throat void of something. "god yer lucky i wanna be inside of ya so fucking bad now or i would cum down that pretty throat of yers so fast."

you're still regaining your composure as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, dragging them down your thighs, cock throbbing as he watches the string of wetness connecting your pussy and your panties. he presses harsh, rushed kisses into the side of your jaw, trailing down until he can’t reach any further.

you want to say something, anything to put him back in his place, to make him flustered again, but you just can't think, still drunk on the feeling of choking on his big fucking cock.

the only thing that comes out is, "please, fuck me."

he laughs, honest to god, throws his head back and laughs as he lines himself up with you, rubbing the tip between your pretty slick lips and pressing his hips forward just enough to feel your hole start to stretch for his head. "not so bratty, now, are ya?"

you shake your head because it doesn't matter anymore how much you missed acting out just so he would put you in your place, you were there. you were exactly where he wanted you and fuck, did you want him.

"ask nicely," he taunts, a shit eating grin plastered on his face as he pushes his luck as far as he can take it.

you roll your hips, desperate to feel any part of him. "please, daddy."

"f-fuck," he stammers, grin completely gone, precome leaking from the slit of his twitching cock, harsh resolve crumbling over a single word. "fuck, again." he presses his hips forward, sliding inside of you inch by inch.

and it hits you.

"she doesn't call you daddy, either?" you ask, narrowing your eyes, some sort of clarity replacing these pathetic thoughts.

when you were with him, you used the name religiously, in and out of the bedroom. sometimes to get what you wanted and other times just to watch him tense up. and now his life was void of the weight that name carried and that didn’t sit with you right. poise and bite fill you almost as quickly as it left you, "you saved a lot of things just for me, didn't you?"

he doesn't reply, silent as he places a hand on your shoulder and thrusts completely inside of you, hips pressed against the insides of your thighs as the breath is knocked completely out of your lungs. he's trying to prove that he has control over you still, digging into you so brutally that he knows you'll think of him later. and it feels so fucking good and you feel so fucking full and it would be so easy to just shut your mouth and take it, but it wouldn’t be nearly as fun.

“fuck, there’s no way that you’re this rough with her,” you almost laugh, settling on a telling smirk instead, “mmm but there’s also no way that you get this hard for her.”

each time he fucks into you, the sound and the sting of his hips smacking against the insides of your thighs gets harsher. you know that he’s doing it to shut you up, to make you forget about whatever it is that’s on your mind and focus on how good it feels or how much it hurts, but it’s really just proving your point.

his hands are roaming, moving from place to place, trying to find a permanent spot to root, one that gives him the most control. in the process, he’s leaving marks all over you, red spots, crescent-shaped indents, freshly forming bruises, and the thought of finding them in the coming days is driving you insane.

you can feel the stretch, closing your eyes to savor the feeling, quiet for a moment, the sound of your dripping pussy clenching around him filling the room. you don’t want to admit it, how quickly he’s gotten you so close, but you’re sure he can feel it in the way that you’re gripping onto him even tighter.

you snake your hand down between your legs, rubbing sloppy circles into your clit as he continually pounds into you. you’re so fucking close, can feel that familiar heat rising to your core, your body growing more sensitive.

“makes sense you wanted to come fuck me,” you mumble, “bet you haven’t gotten off really good in a long time, right, daddy?”

he’s unapologetic in the way he lets it affect him this time, grip getting tighter, cock slamming into you, not because he wants to teach you a lesson, but because he can’t help it.

“not without my tight cunt and dirty mouth, huh, daddy?” it’s somehow fucking with him even more as your voice gets scratchier, needier, softer from how close you are. “rub my messy pussy, daddy, gonna cum.”

your arms are weak as you hang them around atsumu’s neck, holding onto him desperately because you know you’re going to need it while you cum. his calloused fingers replace yours, rougher, thicker, harder, faster rubbing over your swollen clit. “cum all over daddy’s cock, princess.”

god, you’re just as fucked as he is hearing that name bounce off the walls and right back to you, that name that’s just for you. you wrap your legs around his lower back, pulling him into you because you need to feel every fucking inch, wanna coat his entire cock with your cum, have to, cumming from how deep he is inside of you, and then from the thought of her unknowingly tasting you on it.

“good girl, fuck, yer tight.”

you stare up at him with half-lidded post-orgasm eyes and an innocently dopey smile on your face, “tighter than her?” you look so fucking cute, sensitive walls hugging his length, so fucking happy and blissed out that the answer slips right out.

“yes, fuck, missed yer cunt so much.”

you move to sit up, push your hand into his shoulder and motion to the couch. when he moves, you move with him, not wanting to feel empty for a second longer than you have to.

seated completely on his cock, he’s even deeper inside of you and you want to feel this full forever. you don’t even want to move, resting your forehead against his. “tell me something, tsumu, and be honest.” he doesn’t offer any sort of reply, verbal or otherwise.

“do you think of me sometimes when you fuck her?” you start moving, sitting up straight as you pull yourself off his cock almost completely before slamming back down. “do you wish she was me? do you almost say my name when she cums because she almost gets as tight as i am?”

“you don’t need to answer, tsumu, can see it all over your face,” you continue, hand placed firmly on his chest for leverage as you fucked yourself harder on his cock.

“yer a fucking bitch. ya haven’t changed at all,” he breathes, and it hurts way less than it probably should, the tone of his voice and the shock on his face, but you can feel him inside of you, you can feel his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath your palm. he’s throbbing with every shitty question, twitching at every mention of how much better you are than her, grunting under his breath whenever you point out one of his slip ups. he fucking loves it and you know him too well not to notice it.

“no, i have, it’s just not exactly what you wanted when you texted me. you wanted a tight brat to bruise and choke, didn’t you?” you ask, tilting your jaw upwards, exposing your neck. “fucking do it then, but don’t whine about the fact that this little brat is better than your girlfriend.”

his hands are still planted loosely on your hips, guiding your motions, helping you set a pace. he’s not reaching for what you’re so graciously offering him.

“don’t fucking kid yourself. you can’t get off to a nice girl who gives you exactly what you want, can you, tsumu?” you glare down at him, no longer on display, leaning towards him so you can talk through gritted teeth. “i’m a fucking bitch because it’s exactly what you want, none of that ‘really good for you’ bullshit.”

he lifts his hips, thrusting up to meet you as you slide down his cock. it’s brutal, the slapping of your tender skin against his toned thighs, and it feels so good, hurts so good that you don’t even remember what you were saying. and he doesn’t slow down. he keeps getting faster, keeps going deeper, and you’re starting to think that he’s realizing how much he likes it, the shitty way that you talk to him, that he actually missed it.

“fuck you.”

“am i wrong, baby? that’s why you’re with me right now and not her.” it leaves your mouth without much thought. you can’t think much about anything with the way he’s fucking you.

“i didn’t come here to talk about my girlfriend all night,” he bites.

“right, but-” you’re stopped in the middle of your sentence, two hands wrapping around your throat, long fingers pressing into your windpipe. his eyes are deadlocked on yours as he squeezes gently, testing the waters.

you rest your hand on his wrist, smiling as best you can, hoping you look pretty enough in his grasp as you push your neck further into his hold and the look on his face is one that you want to capture forever. it proves your point even further, this notion of atsumu and his nice sex life and his girlfriend that’s really good for him, because when’s the last time that atsumu has been with someone who just wanted to be treated like shit?

when’s the last time that atsumu’s been treated like shit?

you roll your eyes back in your head, chin towards the ceiling, lack of oxygen only heightening every inch of your skin that’s in contact with him before bringing your line of sight back down to his peering eyes.

your voice is choked, hoarse, sparse as the words struggle to leave, only strong enough for him to hear if he’s really paying attention. “fuck, atsumu, you’re so fucking big, so fucking perfect, you’re a fucking god, fuck me so good, thank you so much, i wish i never broke up with you.”

he doesn’t say a word, swallows whatever noise or comeback was coming up his throat, and blinks at you. fucked out expression, gasping for the return of the air you just spent, but it’s all worth it. his fists are closing, squeezing to stop you or to dare you to fight back, you’re not completely sure, but the second that your lungs have filled up just enough to mutter three more words, you do.

“is that better?”

you wait, assured and confident that whatever he does next will be some dramatic act to prove something to you and to himself, to make you regret your outlash, to make you actually believe the sarcastic statement you just spewed.

atsumu always did surprise you.

“it is,” he grunts, hands placed back onto to your waist, but they’re delicate now, tender almost as he runs the pads of his fingertips over your hipbones. “tell me how much you missed me, doll.”

there were so many ways you could fuck with him, so many things you could say to keep up this shitty charade, you know there are, you know they exist, but you can’t think of a single one. you open your mouth and nothing comes out save for tiny, quivering breaths and noises that were beyond your control.

“tell me.” harsher than before, but with an underlying care that made your heart flutter.

“sometimes, i do miss you,” you admit, and that’s exactly what it is, an admittance, something that’s circled in your brain but has never left your mouth, not even to the empty walls of your room. an absurd part of you hope he picks up on the lack of past tense.

he’s known you for too long, listened to you too well, gotten too deep despite the fight you put up to not hear how genuine this senseless little sentence is coming out of your mouth. “really late at night, lonely in my bed, wondering why i let you go.”

and, fuck, it’s so stupid, not what you bargained for at all, but you want to feel closer to him, need to feel him completely against you because his skin is warm in a way that you’ve haven’t been able to replicate and maybe this is just a long-winded ploy to make you regret this attitude you’ve adopted for the night, but it’s working and you don’t care.

you’d like to think that he could see it on every feature, in every movement and action, this overwhelming need of yours for him to hold you, to be closer than he is right now even as he’s buried inside of you, because he does. he runs his hands up your back, crosses them over one another and braces you with his arms, mouth against your ear, “tell me more, pretty.”

and you listen. not because he’s fucking you into submission or because he has this caustic influence on you, but because you want to and because he deserves to know these thoughts of remorse and guilt that have been weighing heavy since the minute you left.

“think about you a lot,” you mutter into his chest, “was really shitty to you, couldn’t stop thinking about the version of our break up that you told everyone, and now i see you on my feed and think about if that were me celebrating an anniversary with you at some gross fancy dinner.”

your muscles have relaxed, movements ceased, leaning fully into atsumu as he thrusted up into you leisurely, focusing instead on the snap of his hips and closeness between the two of you. “wanted to reach out to apologize or to fuck you or just to hear your voice, but i didn’t.”

it’s heavy and not necessarily the dirty talk that you thought would be coming out of your mouth tonight, but it’s also not stopping and he’s not telling you to stop. “missed your voice and your face and your hands and your warmth and how good you are to me. and i really fucking needed this, tsumu, fuck i needed you so bad.”

you hope, with everything in you, that he’s understanding everything you’re saying, that he’s perceiving it all as the truth, that he’ll see that you actually have changed, finally ready to tell him all of the things he wanted to hear back then, all the things he tried to get out of you before you broke his heart. but have you really changed? are you saying these things so that he’ll know the truth or so he won’t be able to stop thinking about you while he’s with her?

your chest feels tight, heart racing, air leaving your lungs as shaky as your limbs, in desperate need of some sort of redirection. you’re silent for a few moments, letting the room fill with his shallow breaths and striking skin, composing yourself and fixating on atsumu’s steady pace.

curling your fingers against his stomach, you move in time with him once again, lifting yourself as he pulls away and slamming down as he thrusts upwards. you don’t know if you’ve really changed or what the real motivation behind inviting atsumu over tonight was, but you know exactly what you’ve been craving, not just in these last few hours, but for years.

you brush your cheek against his, leaning forward to whisper directly into his ear so that the feeling of your breath and the soft cadence of your voice never leave his memory.

“does she let you cum inside, tsumu?”

his response is visceral, instinctive, hips stuttering, failing to smoothly meet the backs of your thighs as his head collides with your shoulder, too heavy with swarming thoughts and poor self control to make any audible noise that’s not an almost animalistic grunt.

kiss after soft kiss is pressed into his jawline, down his chest, fingers interlocked behind his neck, pulling yourself closer and closer until you can feel his destructive heartbeat combatting your own.

“does she let you pump her full of cum, daddy?”

he can’t form a verbal response, groaning into your shoulder as he fucks into you with abandon, no longer as a power trip or a control tactic, just using you to get off. you wanted him to use you to get off. he’s so fucking wrecked beneath you, eyes screwed tight as he moves on compulsion alone, but you knew how pretty he sounded when he was about to cum, whiny and grateful and you refused to let this moment slip away.

“i know how much you loved filling me with your load, tsumu, feeling my pussy get all creamy, milking your fat cock into my greedy little hole. you went crazy for it, would always pump your thick seed into me until it spilled out all over your cock, made me feel so full, so pretty,” you ramble into his skin.

“baby, do you still get to feel that? does she let you unload so deep, tsumu?” your questions are coming out more haphazardly than anything else you’ve said and you know the answer, but you’re craving the sound. “or did you save that all for me too?”

“saved it for ya,” he mumbles, throat hoarse, cock pulsing against your walls, needy, sloppy kisses placed wherever he can reach.

“yeah? tell me, baby, saved it all for me, couldn’t cum in a pussy that wasn't made just for you? needed me, right, baby?”

“needed you, fuck, only you, need only you,” he moans and it’s so perfectly desperate and everything you need it to be.

“gonna cum, baby, gonna cum for you, will you cum for me? will you cum inside me, tsumu, please?” you know he can tell how close you are, can feel how tightly you’re squeezing him, how dripping wet you are, can hear your incessant, thoughtless ramblings.

“i’m gonna fill you, pretty, wanna feel you cum on my cock while i fill you, okay?”

you nod against his chest, core tight, waiting, waiting, his hips driving upwards faster, slamming you down harder until his movements stutter, a guttural groan falling upon your ears before feeling his cock pulse inside of you, rope after rope of thick cum painting your insides, and, fuck, you missed this.

you let go, collapsing against atsumu entirely as you cum around his cock, pussy clenching as he lazily thrusts into you, driving you through your orgasm and fucking his cum deeper inside of you, coating his entire length.

when his movements stop, when his hips stop moving and the grunting is replaced with shallow breaths that turn into normal breaths, neither of you move. your chests are rising and falling in time and you’re starting to feel gross the longer you sit in it, but you don’t want to move. you can’t move. the things that you’ve said might feel too real if you move from this position. and that doesn’t make any sense, but you don’t want to chance it. you feel gross, but also better than you have in a while and then he rubs a small circle into your lower back just gently enough for you to notice, just softly enough to send shivers up your spine, and you know that you can’t be in this position another second.

//

being in the same bathroom as atsumu, legs spread, sitting in your bathtub, cleaning up the mess he’s made while he uses crumpled up pieces of toilet paper to clean up the mess you’ve (mostly he’s) made is weirdly domestic in the most comforting way. it’s not awkward, but some part of you wishes it was because the seconds keep ticking on and the regret isn’t seeping in, not just about tonight, but about anything you’ve said.

it’s mostly silent save for atmospheric noises that couldn’t be helped and you wish that you were wishing someone would say something.

but you clean without a word and so does he and when you stand up, he offers you a hand to step over the lip of the tub and he passes you a dry towel from where you keep them under the sink. he uses your toothbrush without even asking and then preps it for you to use and you thank him when he hands it to you.

you walk back with him to your room and he’s one step ahead of you because he could find your bedroom blindfolded and you get changed in front of him and it’s not one of those moments where you get embarrassed and then feel dumb about getting embarrassed, you just feel at home.

“i meant it, by the way, i miss you sometimes,” you shake your head, “no, that’s a lie, i miss you a lot.” you’re starting to feel antsy now, missing the comfortable silence because now you’re talking about uncomfortable feelings while they’re not mindlessly spilling out of you.

your fingers are tingling, heart furiously beating in your ears as you continue, “and nights like tonight make me miss you more than i thought was possible, more than they probably should for how long i’ve been without you, but i think you bring out a really shitty side of me.”

“i think i don’t have to,” he says, rushing to get it out of his throat before he’s too scared to say it, “i think i remind you of how you used to be, but that’s not how you are now.” you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything. “i think we could try again and i could show you that it’s not true.”

“you don’t...,” you start, voice diminishing into silence, because what do you say to that?

“because you’re right, why else am i here with you tonight and not her?” he asks, closing the gap between the two of you, not touching you, just getting closer.

“tsumu…,” you start again, voice diminishing into silence again, because what do you say to that?

“i don’t let her call me that because i couldn’t bear the sound of it not coming from you.”

you take a step back, head spinning from a single sentence despite only solidifying a conclusion you had already come to all on your own. “i think maybe you should go home to your girlfriend before she notices you’re missing.”

“let me stay the night,” he blurts, hand spanning out to grasp your shoulder, your arm, wherever his reach would land.

it comes out of your mouth like a warning, imploring him to tread careful, “tsumu.”

but he just keeps pressing forward, faster, harder, recklessly, heedless and senseless, “please, yn, please, if this is the last time i ever get to talk to you, to see you standing in front of me where i can do this,” his hand floats up, fingers caressing your cheek, curling against your jaw and you melt into how inviting and warm his touch is, “then just let me savor it.”

the thought of this being your last night together hits you, hard, like you’ve been run over by a train, and you didn’t expect it to hurt this bad. you’re convinced it feels worse than when you left him the first time. you don’t want it to be the last time.

“last time, huh?” you ask. with how close he is and the hold he has on you, you know that he can feel the instability in your voice, see the hesitance in your features.

“i mean,” he pulls you into him, arms wrapping tightly around you so that you can feel the vibrations of his laugh, “how well did that work last time?”

“if i see you again, i’ll want to see you again, and again, and again,” you admit, soaking in the discomfort of vulnerability before asking, “is that okay?”

“that’s all i want.”

[lovesung127]

14 days to fall in (out of) love-l.ty

this is part of "the leftovers collab" by @tenderfrailty. please also go and check out all the other works by all the other writers. this is a valentine's day themed fic. so happy vday y'all <3 and if you are single like me then let's celebrate by reading my fic (bahaha shameless self promo) and drowning our sorrows in chocolate!!! hope you enjoy :)

Taglist:@aedreamzy

Summary: You and Taeyong are best friends, have been since childhood. But with the amount of time spent together, you eventually develop feelings for him. This is your story of falling in love with Lee Taeyong and the consequences attached to it.

Paring: taeyong x fem!reader

(jeno, mark, jaehyun, jennie, yeri,seulgi,nayeon,johnny are other characters in this story )

Genre: best friends to almost lovers, tried to make this more realistic, one sided love except that can be debatable, fluff, angst, unhappy ending,

Warnings: grammar errors(haha grammarly can only do so much), mentions of underage drinking(y/n does not participate tho)(don't underage drink guys! be smart), alcohol, kissing, mentions of the word "kill' but no one dies, unhappy ending, uhh lots of dialogue (if that counts as a warning lol)I think that's it tell me if i missed any

Word Count: 7,540

Disclaimer: I am in no way claiming this is how these celebrities mentioned in my story behave in real life. This story is all fiction.

just a heads up when 🏶 that symbol occurs it will shift to taeyong's pov until the next break. it will make more sense when you read it

This my original work so please do not copy or repost. Reblogging is perfectly fine tho <3

T-MINUS 14 DAYS

There are two weeks left until Valentine’s Day. During this time, every store decorates its walls with pink, red, and white. They fill every shelf with heart-shaped candies and Dove chocolates. You can’t really say you hate this holiday. It’s just it never held any importance to you. No one ever confessed their undying love for you. Likewise, you never confessed your undying love for anyone else. Well…there was one person you wanted to confess your “undying” love to…but you knew it would never work out.

Introducing your crush since seventh grade, Lee Taeyong. He is also known as TY, Yongie (to you), and the school’s heartthrob to everyone else. You've known him since you were five, and have been friends with him since you were seven. That’s all you have been: friends. Well, it’s not like you cared from the ages of seven to twelve. You never understood the concept of crushes. I mean how could you fathom liking any of the smelly boys in your class. The idea of crushes never crossed your mind. That was until you were at sleepaway camp the summer before seventh grade. The other girls in your cabin started to gossip about who they liked.

“There is this one guy in my math class, and oh my god he’s just so perfect,” Abby, your cabinmate, swooned.

“Ooohhhh, there is this guy in my science class, who I sit behind who is so nice to me! We talked like three times last school year!!!” Jessie, your other cabinmate, fangirled.

“What about you Y/N? Do you like anyone?” Abby turned to you.

“Oh…Uhm…I don’t think so?” You replied.

“You have to be lying! There must be someone you like!” Jessie pushed.

You thought long and hard about it. There weren’t many guys you liked, let alone any that talked to you. You could count the number of guys you found tolerable on one hand: Taeyong, Mark, and Jaehyun. Jaehyun is more so Taeyong’s friend than yours. You had no reason to dislike Jaehyun, so you guys were on good terms.

“Is there any guy that you get like sad when someone else talks to him?” Abby asked.

You thought about that and realized that maybe there was one guy who fits that description. Before that thought could solidify, you wrote it off as “not wanting to share your best friend with anyone.”

“Nah, there really isn’t anyone,” You responded.

“Ah…okay then. Anyways, who wants smores,” Just like that the moment dissipated. But ever since that day, the concept of crushes clung to the back of your mind.

T-MINUS 13 DAYS

You realized that you had a crush on Taeyong on Valentine’s Day in seventh grade. Over the summer break, Taeyong grew taller and lost some of his baby fat. This immediately drew the attention of many girls in your grade. So that was when you first witnessed someone giving Taeyong a Valentine’s. To say that you didn’t care that someone gave Taeyong a heart-shaped box of chocolates, would be a complete lie. Except you didn’t know why it would hurt. You and Taeyong are just friends. Why should it matter who gives him chocolates? Why should it matter whose chocolates he accepted?

After the girl left, you walked up to Taeyong.

“Yongie! Who was that?” You asked as you unlocked your locker that happened to be right next to Taeyong’s.

“Oh, that was Jamie. She just wished me a Happy Valentine’s Day,” Taeyong replied while opening up the box of chocolates.

“Did she say anything else besides that?” You asked while unpacking your backpack.

“Yea… she said she likes me…” Taeyong trailed off while trying to pop one of the chocolates into his mouth. Your heart clenched uncomfortably when he said that.

“Well… do you like her back?” You asked while looking up into his eyes.

You now know why you cared so much about a girl giving Taeyong chocolates.

“Oh… uh no. I told her I didn’t like her back.”

You like Taeyong.

“Oh… that must have been awkward.” You slammed your locker shut.

“Ah, it’s fine. Do you want a chocolate?” Taeyong extended the heart-shaped box out to you.

“Won’t it be weird for me to eat those chocolates? They are meant for you,” You said with a slight twinge of jealousy.

“I can’t finish this entire box! Come on, just take one.” You reached out with one hand to grab one of the chocolates. You bit into the candy and it oozed out caramel and raspberry filling.

You guess you can’t be too jealous if you also get to eat Taeyong’s candies.

T-MINUS 12 DAYS

You made many new friends when you entered high school. You and Taeyong were still close but naturally, you drifted apart into your respective friend groups. You still constantly hung out with Taeyong, so you can’t say that you were unhappy. Unfortunately, your crush on Taeyong did not fade. During your hugs with Taeyong, you found yourself clinging onto him a little longer. The years passed by, and it reached a point where sharing a bed with Taeyong was considered weird. Your weekly sleepovers slowly dwindled into once-a-month sleepovers. Which made you quite sad, because it meant you spent less time with him. You never really told anyone of your crush on Taeyong, but your new friends managed to figure it out.

You were sitting at your lunch table when Taeyong approached you. Ever since you guys sat at separate tables, he rarely ever approached you.

“Y/N are we still meeting up after school today? You promised you would come with me to buy a new game console!” Taeyong asked as he slid in next to you. Your friends Yeri, Seulgi, and Nayeon stared at the scene unfolding.

“Yea, I’ll meet you at the front entrance,” You replied with your mouth full of your sandwich.

“Okay, see you then!” Taeyong ruffled your hair and went back to his table.

You continued to eat your sandwich but felt someone’s eyes on you. You looked up and were met with the intrigued expressions of your friends.

“You like him don’t you,” Nayeon blurted out.

“What?!” You nearly choked on your sandwich.

“You like Taeyong?” Although it was a question, Nayeon said it more like a statement.

“Is it that obvious?” You sighed.

“Well, the heart eyes kind of gave it away for me,” Seulgi laughed as she ate a forkful of her pasta.

“And the stiffness when he sat next to you gave it away for me,” Yeri chimed in.

“Yea, I like him. I liked him since seventh grade, but he sees me as solely a friend. So, it makes no difference,” You sighed.

“Stop, that’s so cute omg! This is like one of those classic best friends to lovers trope!” Yeri squealed.

“Yea, except I don’t think he likes me back.”

“Y/N, how do you know? Try confessing to him!” Nayeon suggested, ever the bold one.

“Yeah, I rather not. I don’t want to ruin a perfectly fine friendship.”

T-MINUS 11 DAYS

You were finally a sophomore! How exciting! Not. Nothing changed except you now have harder classes and more homework. Taeyong, on the other hand, changed a lot. His voice got deeper, he grew much taller, and he was now even more attractive than before. His skin got clearer, and he got slightly more muscular. With these changes, it’s obvious that his fan club is only going to grow. Now his locker is filled with so many Valentines that he can’t even close it and needs to store some in your locker. Luckily, you still get to eat his chocolates.

T-MINUS 10 DAYS

Taeyong's new attractiveness led to his increased popularity. This led to him getting invited to parties. You don’t know why he dragged you to the current party you were at. You felt like it was more out of obligation. You wore a red corduroy dress with a white turtleneck underneath and white sneakers. You picked this outfit to fit the Valentine's Day theme of the party. You also decided to dress up since this was your first party ever. This is Taeyong’s third party, and it’s clear in the way he maneuvers around the venue as if he knows where everything is.

“Come on, let’s go get something to drink,” Taeyong took a hold of your hand and dragged you towards the kitchen.

You couldn’t help but stare at your hand intertwined with Taeyong’s. You couldn't help but feel that your hands fit perfectly together. This is so cliche Y/N; oh my god.

“Here you go. Remember to never leave your drink unattended! You don’t know what bad guy may try to slip something in there. Try to keep your drink close and cover the top, so people can’t put anything in,” Taeyong advised as he handed you the cup.

You brought the cup to your lips and immediately scrunched your nose in disgust. “Taeyong…is this alcohol?”

“Hmm yeah,” Taeyong answered while gulping his drink.

“Isn’t that illegal? We are underage,” You said while holding the red solo cup far away from your body.

Taeyong grabbed the cup from your hand and set it on the counter, “Yes, Y/N it is illegal. But come on have some fun! Everyone around here drinks.”

“I am not succumbing to peer pressure thank you very much,” You scoffed.

Taeyong chuckled at your comment before taking his free hand to grab yours to guide you towards the fridge. Taeyong handed you an unopened water bottle from the packaging inside the fridge. “Here you go, pure water.”

You took the water from him and your fingers slightly brushed against one another. You felt your cheeks grow hot. You thanked him for the water and took a sip. The ice-cold water ran down your throat but did little to cool your body down.

Taeyong held onto your hand again and led you into the crowd with your drinks. You planned to spend the whole night glued to his side. Sadly, plans don’t work out for you because Taeyong let go of your hand and got lost in the crowd. You spotted Mark with his friend Jeno and decided to join them. Instead of spending your night with Taeyong, the one who dragged you to this party, you spent it at Mark and Jeno’s side. Not that you minded. Jeno and Mark were nice company. Although, slightly tipsy Mark was quite a handful to deal with.

T-MINUS 9 DAYS

You have no idea how Taeyong managed to drag you to yet another party, but here you are. This time you opted for pants and a shirt instead of a dress.

“Taeyong,” You eyed your intertwined hands, “you aren’t going to ditch me like last time right?”

“Hey, I didn’t ditch you!” Taeyong defended himself.

“Yeah sure,” You rolled your eyes, “just please don’t leave me again. Last time I spent the whole party making sure “Tipsy Mark” didn’t accidentally break anything.”

“Oof, okay fine I’ll stay with you,” Taeyong held onto your hand tighter and dragged you deeper into the party.

You don’t mind this. If going to parties means you get to stay by Taeyong's side while holding his hand, you might actually come to like parties. Taeyong remembered from the last time you were here that you don’t drink alcohol, so he handed you a bottle of water. You thanked him, and he led you over to his friend group. You only knew Jaehyun, who you greeted, and the rest of the faces were a blur to you.

“Where’s Mark?” You asked no one in particular.

“He didn’t come today, he has a chem test to study for,” Jaehyun responded.

“Oh,” You nodded. Well, that’s great. The only people you knew here are Taeyong and Jaehyun. You would have asked Yeri, Nayeon, and Seulgi to come with you, but they all had tests to study for.

You stuck to Taeyong’s side and tried to make conversation with his friends, but you soon realized that you don’t fit in. They were talking about future parties, who they were dating, who they like, how often they got wasted, etc. The only thing you could talk about with them was the difficulty of your classes. At least, Taeyong was next to you.

“LET’S PLAY SPIN THE BOTTLE!” some voice screamed over the blaring music.

“Come on, Y/N let’s go play!” Taeyong eagerly dragged you over to the circle that was forming. You did not want to play. This whole spin the bottle and seven minutes of heaven thing seemed so dumb. You didn’t know any of the guys in the circle except Jaehyun and Taeyong, and you only wanted to kiss Taeyong. You were shocked that people actually played these types of games. You always thought it was just some made-up thing you would see in movies and TV shows, but here you were.

“Who wants to spin first?” some unnamed girl asked.

“I do!” Taeyong dropped your hand and lurched for the empty beer bottle on the floor.

You honestly did not want to be here. You were sitting between Taeyong and Jaehyun waiting for the bottle to stop spinning. Maybe the gods would be on your side and the bottle would land on you.

The gods were not on your side.

The bottle landed on Jennie Kim; she is another girl in your grade. Seeing how Taeyong immediately becames shy and let out a soft “yes”, you knew that Taeyong liked her. It made sense that Taeyong would like her: she’s pretty, popular, and as far as you know really nice. You honestly can’t even be mad. They both got up and went into the tiny closet amidst the hoots and hollers of the partygoers.

“You know, you should tell Taeyong you like him before it’s too late.”

You jumped at Jaehyun’s voice, “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your crush on Taeyong. You aren’t very subtle,” Jaehyun whispered back not that it would matter since the party was so loud.

“I don’t like him, Jaehyun,” You deadpanned.

“Huh, oh well. I’m just telling you better do something fast,” Jaehyun shrugged before turning back to the circle.

At that moment, Taeyong and Jennie emerged and they both had huge smiles on their faces. You could see, even from where you were sitting, the pink glow on Taeyong’s cheeks and Jennie’s smudged lipstick. You felt your heart drop.

You take back what you said. You hate parties.

T-MINUS 8 DAYS

You saw it unfold right in front of you. You walked into school on a regular Tuesday morning, wanting to be anywhere but in this building. You saw Taeyong standing close to someone near your locker, but you couldn’t make out their face. Even in sophomore year, your locker was still near Taeyong’s. You walked closer and realized they were holding hands. Your eyes slowly panned up from the intertwined hands to stare into the eyes of Jennie Kim. Your eyes moved from her face over to Taeyong’s.

“They’re dating. I found out yesterday,” Nayeon said as she linked your arms together.

As Jennie's lips touched Taeyong's cheek, you felt the familiar feeling of your heart sinking to the soles of your feet. He didn’t even tell you first. You had to find out yourself. Your friend who isn’t even close to him knew before you did. You heaved a sigh and walked to your locker to unpack your stuff.

Not only did you lose your crush, but you felt like you also lost your best friend.

T-MINUS 7 DAYS

Taeyong and Jennie became the campus couple. Everyone knew they were together and everyone supported them. Taeyong's Instagram feed contained photos of him and Jennie and vice versa. They looked so happy and perfect together that you felt guilty for still liking Taeyong. He’s taken for crying out loud and you are still pining after him.

Since Taeyong has a girlfriend, the two of you spent less and less time together. You didn't notice right away since you were entering your junior year and with that came the influx of work. Occasionally, when you had free time, Taeyong would invite you to hang out with him. Sadly, the hang-out was always accompanied by Jennie. You don’t know why Taeyong asked you to hang out with him only for you to third wheel on his date with Jennie.

Taeyong must be incredibly cruel and blind to drag you on these dates. Everyone knew you liked him, heck, even Jennie knew. Yet he still brought you to what he calls “my best friend and girlfriend should bond to get along” dates. You wanted to decline his invites every time to save the inevitable third-wheeling, but you couldn’t say no to Taeyong.

“Y/N! Join us over here,” Taeyong called you over to where he was sitting on the picnic blanket with Jennie. This looked too much like a date. They were even matching outfits. You looked down at your plain hoodie and jeans and took a seat awkwardly at the edge of the blanket.

“I don’t want to intrude. This looks like such a cute date. You really don’t need to keep inviting me on these "hang-outs" with your girlfriend,” You told Taeyong.

“Yea, I agree.” “No, it’s fine. These are not dates; we do those at different times!” Jennie and Taeyong said at the same time.

Well, at least you know that Jennie doesn’t approve of you hanging around.

“Taeyong, really it’s fine. You don’t have to keep squeezing in time to hang out with me. We are friends and always will be even if we don’t hang out every week. You two have fun! I’m going to get going,” You wiped the dust off your butt and waved goodbye to the couple. Jennie looked glad that you finally left. You turned your head before you were able to catch the look of longing on Taeyong’s face.

After that, Taeyong stopped contacting you as frequently. This made you sad, but you decided it would be for the better. If you saw Taeyong and his girlfriend less, your heart could stop cracking. Maybe this distance from Taeyong would finally cause you to lose feelings.

~

It is a late Sunday night when your cellphone screen lit up with a call. Strange no one calls me. You don’t recognize the number, but something in your gut tells you to pick up the phone.

“Hey Y/N, it’s Jaehyun,” Jaehyun’s voice broke through the phone.

“Uh hey… why are you calling me?” You asked confused.

“It’s Taeyong. He drank too much and for some reason won’t go into Johnny’s car,” Jaehyun explained. Johnny’s name rang a bell. He was one of the seniors in Taeyong’s friend group.

“Oh…uh, what does that have to do with me? I can’t drive,” You twirled a strand of hair between your fingers.

“He keeps saying he wants to walk home. But he won’t walk home with me. I tried to get him into my car but he won’t budge either.”

“Okay…but once again what does this have to do with me?”

“Can you come over and walk him home?” Jaehyun asked exasperated.

“You want me to what? It is literally midnight. If I leave the house now my parents will kill me.”

“Can’t you just sneak out? Help your best friend out?”

“We’re not really best friends anymore,” You muttered under your breath.

“Huh? What did you say? Anyways I’ll text you the address, it’s not too far from your house. I know Taeyong lives a couple of blocks down from you.”

“How do you have my address?”

“Ah, stop asking questions and just get here.” Your phone pinged with a text notification from who you could only assume was Jaehyun.

“Jeong Jaehyun if I get mugged or attacked on my way there you will never hear the end of it.” You huffed as you checked out the address. Oh, it was only the next street over and two blocks away from where Taeyong lived.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah thanks so much Y/N,” Jaehyun replied before he hung up.

What is the best way to go about this? You have never snuck out before, so you had no idea what you were doing. The front door would be the quickest, but also easiest way to get caught. Exiting from your bedroom window is one way, except if you fell you would break your leg. You could always just walk out. If your parents asked where you were going just explain it to them. They knew that you and Taeyong are friends. They won’t mind you helping him, right?

You decided to go with the third plan and just walk right out. You get dressed and grabbed your phone. Surprisingly, your parents didn’t catch you. You have no idea how you did it, but you were out. Thankfully, it was springtime so it wasn’t too cold. You arrived at the location shortly after. You saw Jaehyun and Taeyong sitting on the curb.

“You’re lucky I made it here in one piece Jaehyun.” You said as you walked up to him.

“Y/N! Thank you!”

“How did you get my number?” You asked as Jaehyun transferred Taeyong over to you.

“Taeyong gave it to me,” Jaehyun answered.

“In his drunken state?” You questioned.

“Yea, he asked me to call you through my phone because you are ‘mad at him.’”

“I’m not mad at him though. Also, why is he even this drunk? Shouldn’t his girlfriend, Jennie be taking care of him? Why didn’t you call her?”

“You haven't heard?” Jaehyun raised his eyebrows at you.

“Haven't heard what?” You asked confusion lacing your tone.

“Jennie was seen kissing some other guy at school, and Taeyong caught them. She ended up dumping Taeyong.” Jaehyun explained. Great. Once again, you are left out of Taeyong’s important life updates. “Taeyong decided to come to this party to forget about the breakup, but then he saw Jennie with her new boyfriend. So he decided to drink his sadness away.”

“Oh,” You looked over at Taeyong and saw that he was sleeping on your shoulder. You yanked his arm around your shoulder tighter. "Dang, I knew that he liked her a lot.”

“Yea, but Y/N this is your chance!” Jaehyun urged.

“My what?”

“Your chance, you can show Taeyong how you are the person he should be with!”

You looked over at Taeyong again before lifting your eyes to meet Jaehyun’s “there’s no point. I’ve accepted that I will be nothing but his friend.”

Jaehyun wants to tell you to keep trying because you never know but holds back. He bid you goodnight and drove off. You tightened your hold on Taeyong and began walking to his house.

“Y/N?” Taeyong opened his eyes.

“Hmm? You better have a good reason for having me come at midnight to pick you up.” You teased. Taeyong nudged his head deeper into your shoulder. You tensed up and felt your heartbeat pick up speed.

“I missed you! I haven’t talked to you in so long! I missed hanging out with you! We haven’t had one of our sleepovers in so long!”

“Yea, I missed you too.”

“Are we going to your house for a sleepover? We can watch your favorite movie and eat popcorn!” Taeyong looked at you with hope brimming in his eyes.

“Yongie, you are drunk. We are not meeting up for a sleepover. I’m here to take your drunk butt home.” You picked up the pace with your walking.

“You haven’t called me Yongie in so long,” Taeyong said his eyes in a daze. The way Taeyong kept looking at you made it hard for you to focus on holding him.

“Sorry, I guess.” You saw Taeyong’s house not too far from where you were standing. “We are almost at your house Taeyong. Do you have your keys on you?”

Taeyong fished out his keys from his pockets and placed them in your hands. Your fingers touched when he did that and your cheeks grew red. Taeyong took one of your free hands and intertwined them with his.

You held tightly onto his hand the rest of the way there. “Okay, Taeyong we are here! Do you need to sneak in or is dropping you off at your front door enough?”

“You are so pretty.”

“Taeyong do you need me to—wait... what?” You couldn’t have heard him right. Did he call you-

“Pretty. You are so pretty. Did you style your hair differently?” Taeyong ran his fingers through a couple of strands of your hair.

“I-I-I didn’t do a-anything to my hair,” You stuttered as you removed your hold from Taeyong’s waist and removed his arm from your shoulders. “Okay you are home now, please go in-”

Taeyong grabbed you by the waist and pushed you flush against his chest. Now you are certain your heart is going to leap out of your chest. Taeyong’s eyes drifted from yours to your lips. He started to lean in and before you could comprehend what was happening, Taeyong’s lips touched yours.

You physically stopped breathing for a moment. Is Taeyong kissing me? Taeyong is kissing me?

Taeyong is kissing me. Your body went into overdrive, and you kissed him back. You don’t know how long you’ve been kissing him. It must have been long enough for your fingers to slip in his hair and for his hold on your waist to tighten. You pull apart first. You might scream for joy. “O-Okay, Yongie you need to go inside now.” Taeyong nodded his head and gave you one more peck on your lips and entered his house. You stayed standing outside of his house for a couple more minutes. Taeyong just kissed you. You kissed Taeyong. You just had your first kiss, and it was with Taeyong. On the way back to your house, you couldn't stop smiling.

You fell asleep replaying that moment in your mind.

T-MINUS 6 DAYS

It is the next day, and you woke up with a big smile on your face. You remembered Jaehyun’s words from last night: Y/N this is your chance. Maybe it is your chance. Taeyong even kissed you! That has to mean something right?

You walked into school side by side with Yeri, “Oh my gosh, something really exciting happened last night, and I need to tell you!”

“Yo, what happened?” Yeri asked with excitement in her eyes.

You saw Taeyong standing by your locker and called out his name. You turned to Yeri, “I’ll tell you later.”

“Y/N! Hey! Jaehyun told me you dropped me off last night thank you so much!” Taeyong said.

“Oh yeah, I mean it wasn’t a big deal. Other than the fact that I had to leave my house at midnight and walk alone to pick you up.” You sarcastically said.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Taeyong rubbed the nape of his neck.

“It’s fine!” You smiled at him. Your mind kept replaying the kiss from last night.

“I wasn’t too much last night, right? I wasn’t a burden or anything right?”

“You don’t remember anything from last night?”

“Ah no, all I remember was seeing Jennie with her new boyfriend. Everything else is blurry,” Taeyong explained.

“Oh,” You felt your heart drop.

“Oh? That can’t be good. Did I do something stupid?” Taeyong asked worriedly.

“No… Uhm you didn’t do anything stupid,” You felt tears prick the corner of your eyes, but you forced them away. You looked up into Taeyong’s eyes. “Do you really not remember anything from last night? What about when I dropped you off at your house?”

“Ah, not at all. My head hurts so much, and I quite honestly can not even remember how I got to my house without Jaehyun telling me.” Taeyong replied.

You couldn’t believe it. He didn’t remember. He has zero recollection of that kiss. The kiss that meant so much to you was so insignificant to him, and he doesn’t even have a clue that it happened.

“Y/N? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Taeyong looked back at your watery eyes.

“It’s- how could- you know what? It’s fine. Forget about it. I hope your head feels better.” You whipped your head around and stalked off.

You pushed open the bathroom doors and stared into the mirror. You felt so dumb. How could you have thought that after that kiss everything would work out for you? People drunk kiss all the time. It probably meant nothing to Taeyong. You blinked back your tears. You decided that Jaehyun was wrong. It is not your chance and it never will be. On this Monday morning, you conclude that you hate Lee Taeyong.

T-MINUS 5 DAYS🏶

Taeyong hasn’t talked to you in a while. He kept trying to reach out, but his invites were always met with a “busy” or “I’ll see if I can come” (you never do come). Taeyong isn’t too sure if you are purposely avoiding him or if you really are just that busy. After all, you are both Juniors and you are taking 3 AP and 2 honors classes. He also can’t help but feel that something is wrong. You don’t seem as open to him as you used to be. He can’t figure out if it was his fault or something else.

He just left the bathroom and was walking back to class when he saw you standing by your locker. He was about to approach you when he saw that you weren’t alone. He saw one of Mark’s friends, who he thinks is Jeno, standing next to you. He knows it’s wrong to eavesdrop but he wanted to know what’s going on with you. You don’t have enough time for him, but you seem to have enough time to talk to Jeno. You should be in class right now not talking to some random person. (He knows this because you both showed each other your schedules.)

“Hey Y/N,” Jeno greeted you with his signature eye smile. Taeyong looked on from afar.

“Hey, Jeno, what’s up?” You smiled back at him.

“Uhm, I was wondering are you free this Saturday?” Jeno asked while nervously looking around.

“Hmm, yea. Why?” Wait, you told Taeyong that you were busy this Saturday.

“I was wondering if…Uhm… you would like to…Uhm… go out and get ice cream? I know we aren’t that close, but I was wondering if… Uhm we… could get closer?” Jeno asked.

“Wait is Mark going to be joining?”

“Oh…Uhm…er… no. It would...uhm…just be us two.”

“Oh… Yea. I would love to go!” You responded with a smile. “When should we meet up?”

“That’s great! Here let me give you my number,” Jeno handed you his phone.

Taeyong couldn’t believe it. You really are ignoring him. Why would you though? Did he offend you somehow?

Taeyong can’t help but feel a bit upset. He has no reason to though. You are both just friends. Why should it matter if some other guy asked you out on a date? It shouldn’t matter.

Right?

T-MINUS 4 DAYS

Your date with Jeno went surprisingly well, but you guys decided to remain friends. Plus, you may or may not have let it slip that you like someone (Taeyong). Then proceeded to rant all your problems over ice cream to Jeno. You still haven’t talked to Taeyong. Taeyong has tried multiple times to talk to you. Each time you either blatantly ignored him or lied and said you had other plans. You don’t think your heart and mind could handle being around Taeyong. Especially, since he doesn’t even remember the kiss you shared. Maybe you are overreacting, but that was your first kiss ever. It was a kiss shared with the one guy you have been crushing on since middle school. To think that it meant nothing to him kind of hurts.

You were on your way out of the building for lunch when the one person you have dreaded seeing for the past two weeks called your name.

“Y/N! Wait up!”

You didn’t even turn your head; you just tried to walk faster because you were not in the mood to talk to Taeyong.

“Y/N,” Taeyong called as he caught up with you. “How have you been? We haven’t talked in so long!”

That’s the whole point, idiot. You didn’t turn your head and continued walking.

“So uh…are you free this Saturday? Johnny is hosting a party, and I was thinking we could go together.”

“I don’t want to go to a party Taeyong.”

“Oh…uh… maybe we can do something else! They opened up this bubble tea shop downtown.”

“I have plans.”

“Do you really have plans or are you just trying to avoid me?”

You whipped your head around to look at Taeyong, “I’m busy.”

“Doesn’t seem like it? You told me you were busy last Saturday when I asked you to hang out.”

“Well, because I was.”

“Then how come I saw you accepting to go on a date with Jeno?”

“I-”

“Y/N, why are you ignoring me? Did I do something to offend you? Recently, you seem to want nothing to do with me.”

“That’s because I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“What? Huh? Why?”

“You really don’t remember, do you? Not even a little bit?”

“What? Y/N-what are you talking about? Remember what?”

You sighed, “just as I thought.”

“What is going on Y/N? Did something happen?”

“It’s nothing, forget it,” You tried to push past Taeyong, but he grabbed your shoulders.

“Can you please just tell me?” Taeyong looked down into your eyes. You wanted to tell him, but what if it just made everything worse? You don’t want to lose your best friend.

“I-” You looked away, “if I tell you…I’m scared it will make everything worse.”

“Huh? We are best friends. You can tell me everything and anything.”

“That’s the problem. We are just friends.”

With that, you slipped out of Taeyong’s hold and walked out the door. Taeyong felt like his heart was breaking, but he had no idea why. Seeing you walk out like that hurt more than when Jennie cheated and broke up with him. He was not just going to let you walk out like that.

“Y/N! Come back,” He ran out the entrance to try and find you. Thankfully, you haven’t walked too far. “Y/N!”

“What is it Taeyong?”

“Please just tell me what I did. I can’t stand you not talking to me. I miss hanging out with you, and these past few weeks have been so boring. Even, these past few months! I know we haven’t been as close since I started dating Jennie and then when we broke up. But please, just tell me what’s wrong! I miss my best friend. I miss you, Y/N,” Taeyong grabbed your hands.

Best friend. Of course. “Am I just really just your best friend?”

“Wait-what? What else would you be?” Taeyong’s eyes reflected worry.

“I can’t be anything more?” You pressed. This is probably the closest you will ever get to confessing.

“Anything more? Y/N-don’t tell me you li-” Taeyong’s grip on your hands tightened.

“Forget I said anything Taeyong,” You scoffed.

“What really happened the day you dropped me off at my house? I know this has something to do with it. Did I say anything out of the ordinary to you?”

“Taeyong, it’s fine. I’ll go with you to Johnny’s party. Please just drop it.” You tried to remove your hands from Taeyong’s, but he only held onto you tighter. It was almost as if he was scared you were going to disappear.

“No. Y/N tell me. Did I say something mean? Did I do something embarrassing? Did I get you in trouble? Did I kiss you or something?”

Kiss. “What do you think happened Taeyong?” You just wanted to go eat your lunch.

“Did I say that I like you or something?” Taeyong blurted out.

“What? You…like me?” You questioned hope growing in your tone.

“I-I-I d-don’t know,” Taeyong looked down.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” You felt your voice break.

“I…all I know was that I was jealous seeing Jeno asking you out on a date. I know that it was not the jealously that friends should feel.”

“What do you want me to say to that?” You were almost running out of patience.

“I’m not sure.”

You could not take this anymore. One minute Taeyong treats you like a boyfriend would, the next he places you in the best friend box. Standing in front of your school, you conclude that you still hate Taeyong.

T-MINUS 3 DAYS

It is currently senior year, the last year before you are off to college. It also happened to be a day before Valentine’s Day. A holiday you never really cared about. All Valentine’s Day meant to you was getting to eat the candy that Taeyong received from his admirers.

You scanned the pink, red, and white decorations lining the walls of your local grocery store. You walked over to the candy section and saw the pink holographic packaging that was so familiar to you. It is the exact heart-shaped box of chocolates Taeyong got all those years ago in seventh grade. You picked up the box.

“Huh, it seems much smaller than I imagined,” You placed the box into your basket.

Over the past year, you and Taeyong worked out whatever problems you were facing. You never told him about the kiss because you never worked up the courage. Plus, deep down you knew it would make no difference. Instead, you and Taeyong went back to your original dynamic. The only difference was that now Taeyong acted a bit more like your boyfriend. He held your hand often, gave you regular hugs and back hugs. Your movie nights and cuddling sessions increased. You never kissed again. Taeyong continued to send you mixed signals. You would walk into school holding hands, and he would leave with his arms around another girl. Fear consumed you too much to try and push past this barrier Taeyong put up. What if you pushed too far and lost a potential relationship and important friendship? You were content with how things were. Taeyong was yours only for the short 5-minute interactions throughout the day. He was yours to hold in those brief minutes, but those minutes were enough. You will just follow Taeyong’s pace. Maybe if you do, he will fall for you the same way you fell for him.

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day; you sit at your desk prepping your gifts for your friends. A box of candy hearts for Yeri. A box of candy hearts for Nayeon. A box of candy hearts for Seulgi. M&Ms for Jaehyun. M&Ms for Mark. M&Ms for Jeno. A heart-shaped chocolate box for Taeyong.

“It’s now or never Y/N.”

T-MINUS 2 DAYS

“Yeri! I got this for you,” You handed Yeri her gift. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

“Omg! Thanks! Dang, that’s a big bag. Did you buy something for everyone?” Yeri pointed to the bag in your hands.

“No problem! And no. I only bought stuff for my friends. The bag is so big because I have no other bags.” You laughed as you waved Yeri goodbye.

“Nayeon, Seulgi! Happy Valentine’s Day!” You handed them their gifts.

“Aw, thanks!” Nayeon side hugged you.

“Thanks, babe you're the best!” Seulgi hugged you too.

“No problem guys, I’m going to hand the remaining gifts out. See you guys at lunch.”

On your way to Taeyong’s locker, you ran into Jaehyun and Mark. “Guys, happy Valentine’s Day!”

Jaehyun received the candy with a raised eyebrow, “shouldn’t you be giving this to Taeyong? You know the guy you like?”

“You like Taeyong?!” Mark asked shocked as you placed the gift in his hand.

“Yea,” you sighed. “And I did prepare a gift for him.”

“I’m rooting for you Y/N!” Jaehyun cheered.

“Me too!” Mark smiled “Even though I just found out today.”

You maneuvered your way through the school’s hallway.

You finally stood in front of Taeyong’s locker. He had no lock on. He did this every Valentine’s Day. One could say he’s cocky for this, others could say that he’s thoughtful. You let out a laugh as you opened his locker.

“Dang, he is still just as popular as he was before.” There are already tons of gifts stacked up in his locker. After a quick survey of the gifts, you realized yours is the only one with a separate note attached to it. “Well, at least I’ll stand out.” You shut his locker door and made your way to your next class.

~

Ding Dong Ding Dong the bell rang.

“Y/N, are you joining us at lunch?” Yeri asked.

“Yea, I just left my lunch in my locker. Plus, I still need to give Jeno his gift.”

“Oh, Jeno told me he’s sitting with us at lunch today. I think he and Mark are coming!”

“Oh that’s great, just let me get my lunch!”

“Got it, I’ll see you there.” Yeri turned in the direction of the cafeteria while you left to go to your locker.

From afar you saw a figure standing near your locker. You soon realized that it was Taeyong. You were about to approach him when you saw that he was inspecting his Valentine’s gifts.

🏶

Wow, I got a lot of gifts. Taeyong started to sort through the various things he received.

“Is that a cake?” Wow, that is new. A certain pink holographic packaging caught his eyes.

“That’s odd didn’t Jamie transfer schools? Is this another random confession?” He picked up the box and saw that there was a note attached to it.

People never leave me notes.

thought I should make up for all the times I've eaten your chocolates throughout the years. I’m glad one of us is popular bc at least we get free candy out of it lol. also happy vday's. ig you can figure out from the box what I'm trying to say?

Y/N? Did she send me this? Is she trying to confess-

~

Oh. He picked up my box. From your vantage point, you could not read Taeyong’s expression. You started to walk closer.

“Yongie I-” You called as you walked closer to him. But before you could catch his attention, you saw someone else walk up to him. You are not familiar with the girl who is standing in front of Taeyong right now. She slipped her hands into his and leaned in to kiss him.

She just kissed Taeyong. She kissed Taeyong, and he did not push her away.

Taeyong happened to be facing you, and you could see the way his eyes lit up.

His eyes never lit up like that when he looked at you. At that moment, it hit you that you were too late. You have always been too late.

“Oh Y/N!” Taeyong called your name.

You snapped out of your daze and walked over to the couple.

“Hey! This is my girlfriend, Rina. We started dating yesterday. Rina this is Y/N, my best friend.” Rina waves at you and you wave back.

“It’s nice to meet you,” You smiled at her. She was taller than you, but a couple of inches shorter than Taeyong. She had long black hair with blonde tips and bangs. She had a heart-shaped face and a pretty figure. She seemed to fit Taeyong’s type perfectly.

“I also received your chocolates! Thank you but erm sadly I can’t-”

“Taeyong, it’s fine. I’m so happy for you guys! Happy Valentine’s Day!” You flashed a smile.

“Y/N wait-” Your name still sounds so pretty coming from his lips even after all the times he hurt you.

You turned around and made your way to the cafeteria.

Ugh, I forgot my lunch in my locker.

T- MINUS 1 DAY

It’s the day after Valentine’s Day. Your desk is littered with the wrappers of the candy your friends gave you. Your phone lit up and the time read 7:00 PM. Your nap lasted longer than you expected. You threw on a sweatshirt and decided to go for a drive.

You ended up pulling into your town’s grocery store. As you grabbed a cart, you noticed that all the decorations have been taken down. The walls are no longer filled with pinks, reds, and whites. All the candy hearts, chocolates, and teddy bears have been removed from the shelves. Just like that, the holiday is over.

People sure move on fast.

Just like that, a year's worth of memories including hand holding, fake dates, and movie nights that turn into cuddling sessions thrown away. All flushed down the drain. Taeyong has a girlfriend and once again you are alone.

T-MINUS 0 DAYS

You realized that you can’t make Taeyong fall in love with you, but Taeyong can make you fall out of love with him.

FIN

A/N: hey y'all it's annie! i was planning for "see you around" to be my first full fic but I ended up finishing this one sooner. so i guess this fic counts as my first full fic! if you read this far oh my gosh thank you so much. leave any feedback you want and i hope you enjoyed reading this fic as much as i enjoyed writing it! see you guys in my next fic! stay safe and healthy<3 and happy vday💕💕💕

[wincore]

atlas | kim dongyoung

pairing: doyoung x reader

words: 15.4k

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

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

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

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

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

song rec(s): playlist here !

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

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

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

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

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

“And then what?”

“Fuck.”

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

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

(Fun doesn’t.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you yell back.

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

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

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

“Loser.”

“No, you.”

“How clever.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You furrow your brows, heaving a deep sigh.

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

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

“Yeah.”

And the deal’s done.

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

Well, sort of.

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

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

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

God forbid you find Doyoung attractive during daytime.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In front of a wall?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s even better when he’s annoyed.

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

Funny.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Three,” he answers, to your surprise.

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

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

“One.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s a virgin?”

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

But Doyoung is a fucking fairytale.  

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

He’s right.

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

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

“Well, of course it is. I had your—”

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

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

“Where were you last night?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How much lon—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No way.”

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

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

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

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

“You seem to like him though.”

“Who said that?”

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

“We’re not.”

“—or fucking—”

“Ten.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, we’re not.”

Ten shrugs. 

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

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

“No.”

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

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

“It’s neither, promise.”

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“Oh, speaking of which, Hyungmin—”

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

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

“That sounds good to me.”

“Shut up. I’m not done speaking.”

You roll your eyes.

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

“What am I, your chemistry experiment now?”

“Well, you and Doyoung seem to be—”

“Don’t complete that sentence.”

“I was going to say something funny.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No. A little bit. Not enough.”

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

“I live here, idiot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Linguistics,” he answers.

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

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

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

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

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

“Really now?”

“Yes,” you snap, looking away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No way. You’re lying.”

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

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

“Hurts my ego.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Ow,” he mutters.

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

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

You might not seem to find yourself especially sad, but Doyoung finds something oddly touching about you. Maybe it’s the way you say his name, he muses, like you’re desperately trying to fill the gaps. But it can’t be him in particular, of course—it’s a lover, any lover.

He hates long nights, just as he hates winter but lately, they haven’t been feeling too cold. Isn’t it ridiculous the way he’s running after you? Doyoung was never meant for this. It’s fucking pathetic and it makes him want to tear all his hair out but there he is, still and quiet in the same place. A certain agony makes its way through him. His hands are freezing and yet his insides are burning—nothing makes sense and right now, he doesn’t want it to. He presses his cold hands to the warmth of his cheeks and a laugh erupts from his mouth.

He must be going crazy to laugh like this in an empty room. The car lights from the window travel slowly from wall to ceiling, the only thing moving in the stagnant of his room.

Inevitably, he thinks of the end. It should come quick; in fact, he’s never been one to do this. He’s always been someone to get attached to people. He doesn’t know how the end will come because this shouldn’t have begun in the first place.

Doyoung’s out of breath.

“Crazy bastard,” he mumbles to himself, followed by a groan when he lifts his head up. As if on cue, the door opens and shuts with a bang. Ten walks in looking drowsy, running his hand through his hair with a disgruntled face.

“I hate to say this,” he slurs. “But you’re right. We can’t have extra furniture and parties. Gotta choose one.”

Ten lays down flat on the bed. “I vote out that ugly ass clock you bought. Why do we need it? We have phones and laptops.”

“It was a gift,” Doyoung mutters.

“Oh. Uh. Actually, someone already, uh—”

“Leave it. We’ll talk about that in the morning.” 

Doyoung massages his forehead, groaning at the pain when Ten suddenly decides he’s all up for cuddling. 

“Ew,” he says, scooting away from Ten. “Get away from me.”

“You don’t mean that,” Ten whines, trying very hard to pull Doyoung into a hug. Of course, his attempts are blocked by Doyoung’s palm against his forehead.

After a few more seconds of trying, Ten huffs and turns away, crossing his arms. “I don’t like you anyway.”

“I know,” Doyoung mutters.

Ten erupts into laughter, sounding more like a psychopath than a close friend of his.

“You do that every time you like someone?” he asks in between fits.

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “I just said—okay, yeah. Whatever.”

There’s a much needed silence and Doyoung wonders if he can just fall asleep without kicking Ten out.

“You should tell (name),” Ten says all of a sudden, Doyoung’s heart stopping at your name.

“What?” he whispers.

Ten looks at him as though he’s talking to a particularly stupid child. It makes Doyoung scowl but there’s too much alcohol in his system to know if he really means it.

“You don’t- you’re- everyone in this goddamn building knows,” Ten explains, exasperated. “Jaehyun knows, and he’s the densest kid I’ve ever met. God, if you like (name), go for it.”

Doyoung blushes so deep, he considers pressing his palms to his cheeks again. He thinks for the next few moments. Ah well, if they had to find out, he’s glad he didn’t have to declare it himself.

“Whatever, just ask (name) out. It can’t be that complicated.”

Except it is. You don’t have to spell it out for him—he knows the way you feel. The two of you only ever wanted one thing out of this. But if there’s something Doyoung isn’t good at, it’s keeping his mouth shut. He wonders how many times he let it slip, wonders if you even care enough to notice. God, it’s starting to sound pitiful for him.

“Ten. How much did you drink?” Doyoung asks, raising his head.

“Nothing. None. I’m not drunk.” Ten shrugs. “Just sleepy.”

A ‘wow’ is all Doyoung can respond with. He still isn’t quite finished figuring out what sort of horrific planet Ten stumbled from. A notification ding distracts him from kicking Ten off his bed and he has half a mind to toss it onto the bedside table but it’s still half. He softens almost immediately.

It’s a text from you: a ‘u’ followed by a smiley face and then a meme he can’t quite read through hazy eyes. He finds himself smiling anyway and sends a barrage of emojis, whatever he finds because he likes the way you get annoyed at them. Sighing, he decides that’s enough. He’s not in the right state of mind for conversation.

Doyoung shuts his phone off, attempts to push Ten off the bed one last time before closing his eyes and dozing off.

Not every day is meant to be fun—you know that in your twenties—but it’s still somewhat disappointing to have bad days. Like youth is meant to give you some sort of happiness daily. That’s what they make it sound like.

You groan, rubbing at your back. Sitting at your study desk for so long does not have good long term effects. At least, your temporary, meaningless assignments are done. You scowl at the text on your laptop screen; the more you look at it, the more you hate it and so, you shut it off. It’s not like your pissy professor is going to be impressed by anything you do. However, you like the orderly certainty of schoolwork.

Break time consists of guilt and sugary snacks. You’re done with most everything and you suppose leaving the final review of things to a later date can’t hurt. In fact, it sounds rather appeasing. A few more moments pass in making a decision.

You get dressed. The apartment feels eerie all alone, and you’re sure as hell not going to spend the rest of your evening here. You shiver, quickly striding out the front door and locking it before taking out your phone.

People misunderstand winter. Winter is only the end of things; and sometimes, the beginning. It isn’t cruel or crushing, it’s just taking its course. However, you have a tendency to blame seasons for all that happen in it. For instance, you shouldn’t be missing summer when you really miss the first night with Doyoung. 

He picks up after calling thrice. You wonder what he’s even up to, if Saturday evenings are also booked full for such a guy.

“Why do you take so long to pick up?” you complain. “Do you not get days off?”

“I’m busy,” he hisses. 

Something’s wrong.

You pause, unsure what to do. It’s not his voice but the one in the background that catches your attention. 

Inviting him somewhere. 

Rather sensually.

Your ears feel hot and you drop the call. Of course. Of fucking course. You’re the idiot thinking it was a thing. This whole thing is casual—feeling sorry wasn’t in the contract. Fucking around was.

It’s not like you’ll be heartbroken by something like this. Of course not. Of course. Doyoung and you never had a beginning so there isn’t an end, really. It’s fine. It’s fine. You take a deep breath and browse through your phone. With the onset of Christmas holidays, you have around three options left. Ten (yikes), Jaehyun (no way) or the latest addition, Hyungmin.

Well, you’re dressed. You have to go somewhere. And your statement about Hyungmin being the hottest guy on campus still stands.

You send two texts to the boy before deciding that’s apparently enough time waiting. He picks up after a few rings, voice groggy from what you assume to be a late afternoon nap.

“You up for a drink?” You cut to the point.

“Uh? Oh, uh, now? I am, of course- I just need—”

“Twenty minutes. I’ll text you the address.”

Nothing cheers you up like your favourite bar. Or friends. Or people who respond to calls.

Hongdae is as busy as ever. You knew the bar would be packed but not this packed. Still, you managed to grab a seat at the bar table. With the oncoming night, the smell is just going to get worse—so there’s nothing wrong with treating yourself to some lemon vodka (and its refreshing scent).

Hyungmin arrives exactly four minutes early, and the mussed up hair makes you think he must have been in a hurry. For what, you can’t be sure. 

You can still see the inklings of Hongdae nightlights on his hair right before he enters, and in the fallacy of that moment, you think it’s going to be Doyoung. You sigh. This isn’t the time for that.

“Sorry,” you say, gesturing to the bar table. “All the tables were booked.”

“No, no,” he responds quickly. “I actually prefer it here.”

He’s tall, not that it’s the first time you’re noticing, but even when he’s sitting, he’s at least two heads taller than you are. His shoulders are accentuated by the mocha coat, no doubt part of the latest trend this winter. As a fashion student, he hits the mark and more. 

For a moment, you feel bad for knowing his major. Ten let it slip about him and yet still, you feel guilty for remembering it. You’re not supposed to go into unnecessary detail about people that don’t matter. Does he matter? 

“Surprised you could make it,” you joke half-heartedly. “Aren’t you lot always busy with something?”

He laughs. “The student council? Oh, we’re busy alright.”

Busy. Right.

“What about you? Aren’t you part of like three different clubs?”

“So what kind of busy?” you ask, ignoring his question. You’re part of two, now that you left the music club last semester. It’s not like small talk matters though.

“Uh,” he hesitates. “You know- attend meetings and events, coordinate committee work, supervise stuff, etcetera etcetera. So busy, yeah.”

“Busy on Saturdays too?” you ask, before thanking the bartender for the drinks.

“Yeah, I guess. Doyoung has it worse than me honestly. Even now, he has to take care of stuff because of me. Hah…”

You gulp down your drink making Hyungmin raise an eyebrow in concern. “Stuff? Because of you?”

“Yeah.” Hyungmin scratches the back of his head. “He’s with the girls.”

“Girls?” you ask, playing with the glass. You’re starting to feel annoyed, red lining your vision.

“Yeah.” He makes no notion of clarifying his statement.  

“Must be quite the president,” you say, resting your cheek against your palm.

“Oh, he’s a nightmare.” Hyungmin laughs. “He has to control everything.”

You try to mask your scoff. You know what he can be like when you’re working beside him. 

“Oh, and the guy has no sense of humour,” Hyungmin laughs, the sound easy on the ears.

You blink.

“I think he’s funny,” you say quickly. You swear you have no idea why you sound so defensive.

He hums in response and you consider biting your tongue, telling him you’re only here for one thing and forgetting the uncomfortable churning of feelings inside your chest.

“Forget I- I’m a little confused today.” 

Is that an acceptable explanation? You can’t think straight enough to decide. The silence on Hyungmin’s part, however, worries you. The crowd around you fills in for the next few moments as your companion seems to debate something with himself.

“Look, I know you and Doyoung are… I don’t know, something.”

You huff in irked amusement. “God, does everyone seem to know?”

“Not until late actually.” Hyungmin takes a gulp. “He’s been acting weird. Doyoung.” 

You look away, breathing shallow. You don’t like it, the way things seem to be getting out of hand. All this time, the world seemed to be in the palm of your hand and now, it’s spilling everywhere; the sand in the hourglass is already up to your knees and you don’t know what happens when it fills.

“Do you actually like him?” he asks, leaning back just a little. You know where this is going. “Are you guys dating?”

“No,” you respond, checking your watch.

“Oh.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation in him but you’ve seen that look before. You know that look.

“Then we can- uh- we can—”

“Fuck?” you ask.

He gulps. “I mean, you can say no any time—”

You pull him by the collar and kiss him, hard enough to melt away your hovering thoughts. He kisses like you expect him to, not how you want him to. You know this sort, and somehow, that makes you feel comfortable. Knowing what you’re getting into is easing but it doesn’t lessen the weight of it.

It’s sickening. The way you’re pretending it’s Doyoung.

Hyungmin pulls apart, panting heavily. “Oh, okay.”

“Tell me you drove here.” 

He holds up his car keys in response.

You’re not the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men, but it’s better than falling in love with them.

So you follow a lover to a hotel room and try to feel something. Some time, when he’s kissing you against the hotel room walls, he pulls apart and asks, “You’re thinking of someone else, aren’t you?”

You know the answer; it just won’t leave your lips.

“It’s okay,” he says with a weak smile, “Let’s just have fun.”

And every time his mouth was on yours, every time you saw stars, you felt the ghost of Doyoung and his haunting touches. It was strange and unfair and unlike you—or at least, unlike the you that you built over the past few years. You feel as though you’ve misplaced something—like something was supposed to be there when you reached out but instead, it was empty space.

The night ends as it should and you leave right before dawn with an apology text you couldn’t put half your heart into.

Most winter nights, you wake up with pain so profound, it’s seeping into your bones.

It never made sense. You never tried to make sense of it. So you let the aches push you down by the shoulders, lodge itself into your neck and back; and you tell yourself, it must be what you deserve. It’s cold and you’re walking barefoot on frozen ground.

You gasp. The weight of who you are and who you have to be—it has its knee on the back of your neck, shoving you into the damp earth. There’s no particular reason to it; it makes it seem as though it’s insignificant. Unimportant. Irrelevant. But that’s the problem—the weight of the world on your shoulders makes no sense. Whose world are you even carrying? Whose approval are you trying to win? You scramble to get up, messing up your bedsheets in the process, and pull your blanket around you. Your own warmth surrounds you and it makes no difference. You frown.

You remember your phone call with your mom, and your lips tremble. You shouldn’t have told her about how crappy your finals went but it slipped. You tried to explain that you did work for them, that you gave it your best but sometimes things don’t work out. She didn’t have to say it out loud for you to hear her thoughts. 

You’re disappointing. 

You wipe at your eyes, feeling annoyed at the emotion. If you could let the ground swallow you whole, you would. In a heartbeat. You don’t even know what you’re doing most of the days despite that pretty planner of yours.

You get out of bed, pull on your cardigan beside the bed and grab your lighter and pack. The tiny balcony makes for a great smoking spot and while you would scold any of your friends for committing to this, you do it yourself. Hypocrite.

For all you try to shove into yourself—hobbies, student clubs, actual clubbing, friends—the more you feel less than enough, as if everything just vanishes into thin air inside you. As if you aren’t enough and never will be. You play by the rules and you lose, you break the rules and you lose. 

Maybe it’s because you let yourself be filled by the intricacies of other people that they like you. And thus, you cannot stop for fear of loneliness.

Just as you’re feeling crushed again, you picture Doyoung against your back, placing his nose in the crook of your neck—something he has never done—and you wonder why it helps. 

Sucking in air too fast, you cough. You shouldn’t have let it go on for so long.

It was fun—harmless fun. You shouldn’t even be thinking of taking a step in some other direction. You’re friends, barely, but you like where you are. If Doyoung was that important, you wouldn’t be going about this all backwards. You sigh, though it comes out jagged. The room is quiet and that’s the way it should be at four a.m, of course, but you crave music all of a sudden. Doyoung and you are just a temporary fix; and you let that thought relax you.

When you think of his chin on your shoulder, however, it feels feather light.

“Why are we doing this?” you ask. 

The atmosphere is warm and toasty, just like you expect it to be in a bakery with light pink doors and a collection of plastic potted plants on display. The decorations aren’t an eyesore here and somehow, it makes you feel better. It’s a little far but you decide it’s worth it.

Doyoung shrugs, sipping his hot chocolate. “It’s Christmas, and we’re both here.”

Your eyes follow the hanging lights over the counter, wrapped in pine tree stickers and eventually to the neat display of a ‘Season’s Greetings’ menu, the contents of which are currently at your table. A Christmas song by some singer who’s been popular lately plays, tunes light and dancing. You hate the end of the year solely because of the extra pressure January brings. Nothing you can’t handle, of course. Nothing you can’t handle.

You sigh. It’s been a little difficult lately.

“Doyoung, really, why are we doing this?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Are you- uh- are you not enjoying this? I could—”

“No! No, it’s not that. I feel better, actually.” You bite your tongue almost immediately after. It’s not like he’s supposed to know the sort of hell week you’re having. A poorly received term paper, finals that weren’t up to your expectations, crippling loneliness without friends and, oh, the self-doubt—you are at the lowest you can be in college. The only sweetener right now is in the hot chocolate and the way Doyoung’s looking at you. 

You feel something close to guilt.

“Good.” He smiles. “You seemed… You seemed a little down.”

The sliver of warmth between your ribs makes you think this is unreal. It feels uneasy to be so affected by someone but you let it slide, turning back to your hot chocolate.

“Why didn’t you go home this time?” you ask, sipping your drink.

“Oh, I didn't really want to face my parents,” he says before leaning. “Didn’t do too well this semester. And my brother’s going to be there with all his achievements.”

You chuckle in disbelief. “You don’t like your brother?”

“I love him to bits. Just can’t stand my mom’s nagging when he’s around.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” You cross your arms, smiling triumphantly. You feel like children squabbling but it’s so lighthearted, you want to laugh.

Doyoung raises a pointed finger, about to retort but nothing comes out. He puts his hand down.

“I guess you’re right.”

You shake your head. “I’m sure she’s proud of you too.”

“I know that,” he says, laughing. “Of course she is. I don’t keep myself busy for nothing.”

You gulp, a sudden sourness rising at the base of your tongue. 

“Busy, huh? Didn’t know spending saturday evenings with girls also counted as busy,” you mutter against the cup, half-hoping he doesn’t hear you.

“What?” There’s a perplexed look across his face.

You wave your hand in dismissal. “Oh don’t mind me.”

“Are you talking about me giving a tour to the fresher girls?” Doyoung leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Hyungmin does that usually but Mr Man was sore from soccer practice and Friday fucking.” 

You blink. “Fresher… girls?”

“What, did you think I was at a brothel?” Doyoung laughs in amusement.

You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “No! No, of course not.”

You wave your hands about for a few more seconds, trying to come up with an explanation. This makes things rather embarrassing.

“Sorry,” you say finally. “I jumped to conclusions.”

Doyoung laughs, rather deep and heartily, and you wonder if your apology really did sound as stupid to him as it did to you. 

“You do that a lot,” he notes.

“Thanks,” you quip, cutting the pastry with your fork a little too forcefully. His laugh follows. (You hate it so much. It sounds like pure adoration.)

The next few moments consist of scrolling through your phones (because Doyoung says his ‘mouth hurts from talking to you’) and you would’ve been in a better state of mind if everyone wasn’t posting pre-Christmas photos with their families. 

“You know they’re opening that park. What’s it called- Winter Wonderland or something. You said you wanted to visit.”

You look up at Doyoung amused.

“Let’s be honest. You want to be in bed, Doyoung,” you say. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care,” he answers, looking at you with his doe eyes. “About you. You sulk when you’re upset.”

“I don’t sulk,” you reply but your smile is obvious when you exit the cafe. 

It’s like a date. The more you think of it that way, the more it makes you smile.

The evening is perfect—orange and pink and loving and happy. Doyoung trails behind you as you tread over the sidewalk with cheeky remarks about his speed.

“I’m in the track club, you know?” he huffs, finally tired of your jabs.

“As what, the start point?”

A fake, sarcastic laugh leaves him. “I wouldn’t get to see you if I walked ahead.”

You feel warmth creep up your face. You mumble, “that’s cheesy.” It’s too weak though, and it goes unheard. 

For the first time, you notice his eyes are a little like yours in what they reflect. You love them. 

So this is where the crowd went. The amusement park, or whatever you call it, is buzzing with a faint sort of excitement, mostly in the children that didn’t get to go on a vacation elsewhere. It’s quite the wonderland though so you can’t see them complaining.

“Do you think they’ll kick us out if we make out on the Ferris wheel?” you ask, smiling at Doyoung.

“I’m not making out with you on the Ferris wheel,” he replies, making a face.

You do end up making out on the Ferris wheel, and you get butterflies from it. It’s like a teenage dream but Doyoung looks even better. You pass on the cotton candy because frankly, you’ve had enough of sweet things. You sit at the frozen wooden seat, hoping it warms up while Doyoung brings the two of you some fries.

Your phone buzzes with a notification. Your eyes light up at the mail from your professor. You had turned in the term paper three days ago, weeks ahead of schedule and were particularly proud of the way it turned out. 

You look at the email and zero in on the word ‘redo’.

Your shoulders sag immediately. You spent four weeks on that—and it’s not good enough? You search frantically for how it could have gone wrong and come up with none. That’s not supposed to happen. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong. The week’s exhaustion swallows you up again.

When Doyoung returns, he looks at you concerned before quickly setting the fries on the table.

“(name). Is something wrong?”

“Huh?” Your voice sounds so weak and squeaky, you feel embarrassed. It’s embarrassing that after all these years, you still don’t know how to handle failure. 

Because it’s not supposed to happen. You tell yourself that over and over and it makes things worse.

You feel dirty, underneath all that dust and crumbled rock dangling in your hair. Whatever rests on your shoulders is cracking and collapsing, and you’re pushing in the wrong direction to make sure it all stays up. 

He reaches out his hand but you avoid it.

“No,” you mutter, weakly shaking your head.

You rub at your nose and eyes, hoping you can hide behind your forearms. Doyoung shouldn’t be seeing you like this, he doesn’t deserve to see you like this. You turn away from him, your palm gently pushing against the soft material of his shirt. 

Doyoung doesn’t move. Instead, he gently tugs on your wrist so you have no choice but to face him with your red-rimmed eyes. You’re not sure if it’s embarrassment or pity, but the concern in his eyes makes you cry harder. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he whispers. “You don’t have to find a place to cry.”

For the first time in adulthood, you learn what it’s like to lean your forehead against someone’s chest this way. Doyoung wraps his arms around you and the sound of his breathing soothes your near-erratic heart. 

“I worked really hard on it, you know?” you mumble against his chest. “My term paper.”

“I know,” he whispers.

Doyoung strokes your head delicately, fingers running through your hair with airy touches. Eventually, you let go of a final sigh and look up to his lips.

He seems surprised at the kiss but it’s all you can think of now. It’s gentler than usual and Doyoung moves cautiously though he seems to like it all the same. His arms feel comfortable around you. When he pulls apart, he looks at you yet still with careful concern.

“We can- we should stop if you want,” he says, and he means it. 

You shake your head. Night is creeping in overhead, deep and quiet and slow.

“I like you, Doyoung,” you say finally. “I really, really like you.”

Doyoung’s eyes widen, as though a rabbit wary of the traps it might set foot on but he eases into your touch almost immediately.

“I like… I like you too.” His lips waver but he looks away and takes a deep breath. “I like you so much.”

You smile and think that maybe everything is set right now, with his chin against your shoulder and your arms around him. 

Doyoung discards the jacket once you’re in your apartment, kissing you fuller now. Every other thought leaves you; you beg him to make you forget the rest of the world. The walls are comforting now that he’s here, and it’s warmer, hotter.

“Can we- Can we go a little slower?” you mumble, his arms still gentle when they wrap around your waist. He parts his lips from your neck to look at you momentarily before nodding.

You suddenly understand why he always makes you feel so good. There’s a certain fondness to his touch and warmth to his kisses. There’s no one quite like him, really.

“I love digging graves, especially if it’s my own,” you mutter against the pillow.

Doyoung laughs. “What did you do this time?”

“This time? Excuse me? Do you think I’m some sort of trouble child?”

“Hm. Let’s see. Yes.”

You pause. Why do you hesitate to tell him you slept with Hyungmin? It’s not like you were cheating—you weren’t dating Doyoung. Besides, that night with Hyungmin didn’t mean anything. A horrid feeling snakes around your throat, heavy and piercing. You resort to changing the topic.

“I’m… I took another course beyond my understanding.”

“That’s it?” he asks.

You nod.

No, no, no; it’s all backwards now and you don’t know how to reverse it.

Doyoung takes your hand in his, delicately and yet firm. His chest is against your back, bare and warm. When he presses his lips against your knuckles, the warmth that flushes through you makes you want to believe in something else entirely. You feel weak. 

A part of you argues that you feel honest—in a moment of clarity you don’t think you deserve. Neither vodka nor whiskey can make you this clear in the head; you struggle to breathe straight. How awful it is to feel warmth and not believe in it at the same time.  

“You can rely on me, you know?” he whispers.

The knot in your chest makes you want to cry.

You feel lonely and the opposite of it all at once. Doyoung is too much for you—too kind, too pretty and too true. He makes you realize too many things at once.

There are a few things in the world that can stifle loneliness. Like the notes Doyoung plays on the piano, like the songs he hums in the morning till you place open-mouthed kisses against his neck.

You realize, all of a sudden, that Doyoung really is your dearest friend.

And yet, you don’t think you deserve it. You’ve never loved, you believe, but you have. You don’t remember it well enough. The lovers’ touches you kept searching for led to this. Hypocrite. You wanted a lover’s touch and you rejected the love that came with it. What a complicated bundle of emotions. You weren’t always this way.

You loved your first cat when you were six, all the way till it died a warm death in your bed. You loved your mother even when she yelled at you for skipping your chores. You loved your middle school friends when you talked about comics and movies you saw for the first time. 

It’s hard to love the same way now.

You suppose sympathy needs a little backstory. Nothing is unconditional. 

It had all started when your heart had broken into two clean pieces. You put a bandaid on it and called it a day. No one taught you to ask for help.

Your friends know someone broke your heart; you tell them everything. Friends, friends—you wanted them so bad and yet, you keep them as far from you as you can. You pretend to be paper-thin and so shallow, sometimes you wonder if that’s all there is to you. But for all they know, they know next to nothing. It wasn’t just the aftermath of reckless puppy love. 

The first time your heart broke, it was watching your mother cry in the living room for a reason you didn’t understand. You wondered who committed the crime, who should be charged—and you found no one. A loveless marriage is cruel, yes, but you cannot point fingers. It isn’t just cruel; it’s infuriating.

The second time, the two pieces of your heart broke into a few more. It was a boy with an inviting smile and flags whose colour you couldn’t quite discern. They must have been red, but everything else was too—hearts, cheeks, lips, and the threads around your wrists. And eventually, he guided you to the conclusion that you are undeserving, unworthy, unloved. 

You were strong, however. It was easy to collapse on the bed and feel the weight of the world settling in, but you stood up again on shaking knees and you told yourself to have fun; you can have fun without feelings. You know better than to attach meaning to fun—you might hate insignificant things but it’s only fun if it’s pointless. You’re not letting go of this place you’ve worked so hard to arrive at, with all the shattered pieces in your hands.

It’s better to offer nothing at all than offer broken pieces.

“Can we stay like this?” Doyoung’s arms tighten around your waist, his breath shallow against your shoulder. “Just for a little bit.”

His voice is beautiful as always, but for a moment, it strikes you as sad.

Everything’s twisting up into knots and you are frantically running your fingers over them to straighten it all out. You know what it’s like to let things rot; and you are tired of it. Why can’t everything disappear for one moment? Why can’t you just let it be the two of you?

You sigh in response, nodding. 

“I might not know what’s happening in there,” he starts, drawing circles on your chest with his finger, touch comfortably light. “But…”

I’m here and I get it.

Is that what he wants to say? You don’t think you’ll get to know. You’re not exactly voicing yourself either. 

Stay the night. You want to say it but your lips are frozen.

Instead, you rub your thumb over the back of his hand, fitting into each other as perfect as a lie. You would tell him, you try to convince yourself, if you could say it with enough conviction. There’s no point to saying things that are half-meant, that are true but only just enough. You’re a coward.

And now, this has gotten complicated.

An end.

Tapping his pen against the desk, Doyoung grows increasingly annoyed. The council's next  meeting agenda isn’t going to finish writing itself but he can’t bring himself to either. Besides, Ten’s pacing outside his room is starting to get on his nerves.

“Ten!” he yells. “Can you quit it? You’re making too much noise.”

His disapproval is met with silence. For a moment, he spaces out and reflexively thinks of you, only to feel a confusing sort of emotion. It’s normal, he tells himself, and that it’ll sort itself out.

Doyoung feels like a glass box more often than not. If he breaks, who picks up the pieces? Who gets cuts all over their fingers?

‘Whoever breaks him’ should be the answer. But that’s wishful thinking. It’s not that simple. 

He’s so see-through that it’s painful. He used to tell Taeyong he’s wrong but he’s never been able to prove it. He is easy. It’s embarrassing.

But then again, part of him likes it when it comes to you. He likes it when you kiss him after a particularly heated disagreement, he likes when you get on his nerves just so he’d fuck you and most of all, he loves the push and pull. Fun is just that. He doesn’t know what he’d do if that heart of his he placed so gingerly into your palms falls and shatters.

The line between hate and love is thin; and he’s enjoying walking it too much.

He has nothing to offer but himself. He laughs at the thought and shakes his head. It’s somewhat dirty, and not just in the sexual sense.

“Ten!” he yells again. “Stop pacing!”

Getting up from his seat, he strides over to his door, swings it open and finds Ten scratching his head and glancing at his phone in repeated action. 

“Ten?”

He’s so in a trance that he hasn’t noticed Doyoung. He is the lovable sort of idiot if he ever chooses to be so. Most of the time though, he’s just a smartass.

“Oh, oh no, I’m a bad friend,” Ten mutters to himself, his pacing growing more restless. He scratches the back of his head, eyebrows furrowed and too inside his head to notice Doyoung. He wants to ask but something tells him he shouldn’t. 

Turns out, his apprehension isn’t strong enough these days. 

“Whose date did you crash?” Doyoung asks, more than annoyed already.

When Ten looks at him, Doyoung feels rather shriveled and freezes on the spot. Call it instinct but Doyoung respects fear and pain. Ten has a mixture of the two, amplified when he looks at Doyoung.

“Doyoung. Hey,” he says, trying to tone down the distress in his voice.

Doyoung still hasn’t recovered from the initial surprise of Ten looking that way.

“Did you fuck up? Did someone fuck up? Why do you look like that?”

Ten sits down on the small couch. “Long story… I guess. Too many details, you- you know? Just—”

“What the fuck happened?”

Ten still can’t look him in the eye. “The group chat’s a little…”

“Ten,” Doyoung snaps. “Cut the crap.”

“No, that’s- that’s what I’m- You’re going to be upset.”

Doyoung straightens, furrowing his brows. “I think I can fucking handle it.”

“You know that date I set up for (name) and Hyungmin?”

“You set that up?”

“(name) slept with Hyungmin.” 

Doyoung quietens. The silence seems to make Ten uncomfortable as he shifts in his seat, getting up when Doyoung speaks.

“So?”

Ten blinks. “You’re not upset?”

“Just what kind of loser do you think I am?” Doyoung mutters.

Glass shatters just that easily. Maybe he wanted you to shatter him. Maybe he was already cracking at the edges.

“Doyoung, you don’t have to—”

“Stop,” he exclaims a little louder than he intended. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m a grown man, I can handle shit like this.”

It still hurts though. You lied to him and he let you in. You lied to him. Doyoung sighs, returning to his room with a realization he should have had long ago. His night ends with more deleted drafts than he’s supposed to have and eventually, with increased discomfort, he delegates the job to Park Hyungmin himself with the excuse of sickness.

Doyoung does feel sick. He felt this way once, in highschool, but it had turned to red, hot anger ready to lash at anyone and everyone, spilling from his lips as easy as it was to breathe. And Doyoung can never feel that way towards you. He was different back then too, of course, but you—you’re unlike anyone he’s ever met. He loves the comfort of you, and something like that is hard to come by. 

He feels like laughing again but instead he finds tears on his cheeks. Silly boy, he can hear his mother tell him. You don’t give your heart to heartbreakers. 

So Doyoung falls asleep to the sound of upbeat music in his earphones, music he hates even just to pass the night. Morning will come and he will have to become stronger. Comfort is fleeting, after all.

With everything said and done, you know very well that if you were to tell someone you love them—genuinely, truly, from the heart—it would be Doyoung. It’s not a sudden realization, like the sky falling apart or a tidal wave crashing against the shore and sweeping away the city. It is like the gentle lapping of water, though, or the way the clouds change shape—natural and anything but alarming. You want to stare at it forever, and you want to believe that’s how it will be forever. 

“You told everyone we had sex?” Your voice is boiled to a shout. 

Hyungmin looks torn, lips moving but no explanation making its way out. “I- I told my friends, not everyone.”

“And you forgot that your friends talk? Everybody talks, Hyungmin, what were you thinking?”

He sighs before taking a step towards you. “Why are you so angry about it? As far as I remember, you had no trouble talking about whose pants you got into.”

You scoff. “With friends, not the whole campus.”

“That’s exactly what I did!” 

You cross your arms, feeling so upset you might cry and unsure as to why. You’re usually good at dealing with stuff like this, keeping things in the right place.

“It’s because of Doyoung, isn’t it?” 

You snap your head to Hyungmin. There’s a serene sort of look to him despite his unkempt appearance, and a look of understanding.

“I’m sorry. Really. But if you were so into him, you shouldn’t have called me that evening. It might not matter to me but…”

You broke his heart. All that devotion he had towards you led to this. 

“You’re right.” You choke on your words, leaning against the wall. “Fuck… Fucking…”

You turn around, making your way out of the hallway and hope the tears on your cheeks dry faster if you run.

You can’t remember the last time you ran. Your world didn’t need running from, it was right in the palm of your hands. Now that you look back, the world was always on your shoulders and heavy as it can be. Maybe you liked it—the weight. You could’ve shrugged it off any time; you didn’t need all those caging schedules or careful, elegant steps.

No. Atlas couldn’t shrug because his punishment was his existence. To have weight is to have meaning; and that is how you intended to live out your life.

Doyoung makes you see it differently. To love so fully even if it seems cautious—you, who has never loved at all, couldn’t comprehend it. And because he makes you see it differently, the box is now open and all hell is loose. 

For once, you don’t want to live in the world you crafted. You want more love, more hurt and you want to open the doors. You don’t mind hell if it’s for him.

You ring the bell to Doyoung and Ten’s apartment and pray the news hasn’t reached him yet. He said he was busy this weekend; maybe he was detached enough from his phone for once. You just want to be the person to tell him. It’s not a perfect apology otherwise.

Doyoung opens the door with pursed lips and cold eyes. There’s a sense of ease over his shoulders and arms but he won’t look at you and panic rises to your throat.

“We’re not fucking tonight, (name),” he says.

“That’s not- That’s not why I’m here.” Your voice is so meek, you wonder what happened.

Doyoung steps back, crossing his arms. He’s still looking at his feet and you feel the urge to reach for his face.

“I wanted to tell you- I… I just—”

“That you’re fucking other people?”

“God, Doyoung, stop with the fucking. I don’t care about that right now.”

“Really?” His voice is so sharp, it digs into your skin. “You were just in it for that. That’s the fun part in your stupid life, isn’t it?”

You feel a sharp pain in your nose and forehead. “You’re- Now that’s- Doyoung. I’m sorry. That’s what I wanted to say.”

“After—” His voice chokes up. “After everything is done? Stop with the excuses and face it for fuck’s sake. You aren’t made to fall in love. That’s why you dance around it all the time.”

Although he says that, he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds defeated.

“It’s not like you aren’t cautious,” you retort, throat feeling heavy. “You said it yourself- you don’t want to care too much.”

“I was wrong,” he says, voice hoarse. “I care about everything more than I’d like to admit. I care about you more than I’d like to admit.”

“The Hyungmin thing didn’t mean anything, okay? You were busy and—”

“So why did you lie?” He strains to not raise his voice. “Of course I knew our little thing didn’t mean shit to you. Why did you pretend it did? Last week, you said- you said—”

“Doyoung, last week- last week I- I wasn’t pretending, I swear.”

“You could’ve just saved yourself the trouble and the dignity.” A short, humorless laugh leaves him.

You feel your lips tremble, the explanation not quite made its way out yet. He looks so innocent like this, rabbit-like eyes watery and full of pain, pure the way they have always been. This is your mistake, isn’t it?

“Doyoung, please,” you manage to say. “That was wrong. I couldn’t clear up my head. Please don’t—”

“No. I was an idiot. Or you see me as one.” He frowns deeper, lips trembling. “I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have. We shouldn’t have been at the same fucking party and I shouldn’t have drank so much. You’re- I’m not that kind of person.”

You bite down your lip. “What kind?”

Doyoung laughs, the sound raspy and empty. “The kind to not fall in love with you.”

It damn near breaks your heart to look at him. You have to say something, it shouldn’t end like this. You’re desperate and all you think is that you don’t want it to end at all.

“Please, I thought of you as a friend, that’s why—”

“And this is what you call being a friend?” he cuts you off.

You feel the sting in your eyes and nose, making you turn sharply to the side. You wish he’d just make you cry. It makes you feel the rancid guilt all the more.

“Make Hyungmin your friend for all I care. Let’s stop this.”

You stare at your feet, unable to respond. 

“You can have every boy in the world, (name). Don’t come to me.”

“Can you just stop talking about everyone else?” you yell, desperate. “Do I talk about your exes? Seungjae or- or what’s-her-name—” 

“That’s different!” He looks distraught, breathing heavily and with a painful red flush over his nose and cheeks. He runs his hand through his hair, tousling it further. “You lied to me, (name). You lied.”

Your cheeks are wet and the look that flashes over Doyoung makes you think he wants to step right out to you. He stays frozen in place, however, looking away to the side.

“Did you notice?” he asks softly. “Even once? How much I cared?”

You can’t answer, letting the tears drip down your face. It’s getting colder and colder. 

Doyoung bites down his lip before parting them. “All we did was have sex anyway. So please just- just leave.”

You take a long few moments but nod, hugging your coat closer and stepping out of his apartment. You think you hear Ten’s footsteps but it’s followed by the bang of a door—this is how it ends then.

The line between hate and love is thin; and you are deserving of neither.

You perfect your next semester’s academics, and the next. It still feels empty. You go out to drink with friends and return to a messy bed you sleep in alone. You smile as always and you laugh as always. No one asks you how you are as always. You never needed anyone to ask you how you are.

Ten tries but you push him away. You don’t need to drag in other people into a mess you made. He feels sorry for the whole thing but you tell him it was you that spilled the paint, Ten just handed a dash of it to you.

You were right. You don’t deserve Doyoung. At least, you made it so that you don’t deserve him. 

‘It’s better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all’—it still hurts.

Every day is part of a list again. You doodled in some of the pages, when you thought you were starting to fall in love. There’s only a skeleton of it left now. Soon, you’ll let it crumble to dust too. 

You tear apart the planner sometime after graduation and cry and curse at yourself for doing that. No one’s good at parting with things they care about. You’re no exception.

It’s December again. 

This place is a little strange to visit right after graduating, especially with the memories flashing you by. Johnny said he booked one of the private booths (“A senior’s treat!”) but you feel your steps growing hesitant when you reach the neon signs by the stairs. It spells ‘The Meeting Place’ and smells of cigarettes just like it did the first time.

You stop midway up the stairs. For a moment, you think of Doyoung sitting there and wonder if you’ll ever be able to talk to him again. If you had the chance now, would you take it?

Of course, you wouldn’t. There’s too much to be set right and you can’t do it.

There’s supposed to be the six of you. Johnny mentioned Ten and you know Eunji’s invited too. You saw Jaehyun on the way here, still a student. You sigh. It must be him, the one they failed to mention to you. Kim Doyoung. There’s no one quite like him.

You spot him first. Looking a little forlorn as he gazes absentmindedly to the side, he faces away from you and you get the inevitable urge to run away. It’s a funny feeling. 

Your stomach is churning. You don’t want him to see you. Ten babbles on about something to Johnny, smiling like he found candy while clearing his drawers. Eunji looks tired, leaning against Johnny’s shoulder and you wonder if she already drank more than enough shots.

“(name).”

You jump at Jaehyun’s voice from behind you. 

“Hey,” you respond, giving him a wide smile.

He hesitates. “Are you okay? Not that you don’t look okay- you look really good actually. I mean, are you and… you know okay?”

“I don’t think so, Jaehyun,” you say and make your way to the booth.

It’s a little cramped for the six of you and Doyoung gets up before you can even greet him. It’s not like you deserve it anyway but it tugs at the wound.

“I’m going to go take a drag,” he mutters.

“You don’t smoke,” you say, looking up.

He stares at you momentarily and you look away. You think Ten and Johnny glance at you with pity but you don’t really care. 

 “Can I come with you?” you ask, barely a whisper.

“Sure,” he says, to your surprise.

The smoking area is so small, you’re surprised it’s even there. A glass structure overlooking the neighbourhood, there’s barely any light within. The only thing nice is how warm it’s in there. 

Doyoung lights his cigarette and then offers to light yours. It’s quiet, the music from inside numbed to the cold doors. You really can’t take it. You stub the barely consumed cigarette and throw it into the bin.

You’d rather just stay quietly in his presence.

“You’re not smoking,” he notes.

“It’s a bad habit.” You look out through the glass.

Doyoung chuckles. “You were a collection of bad habits.”

“And good ones too,” you quip. “I was a perfect student. I was perfect in most everything actually.”

Doyoung’s smile widens. “You were. You certainly were.”

A few more moments pass in silence, your eyes traveling over the outside scenery which seems to be growing duller by the second. City lights have never felt fainter.

“It was an accident, right?” You say suddenly. “The whole thing? Us?”

Doyoung hums. “Yeah. I fell in love by accident.”

You smile weakly. “Right. I never got to apologize.”

“I loved you on purpose.”

You look up at him. There’s not a lot of people who say what they mean. He looks the same as he used to under your grey blankets, with a warm blush over his cheeks and kind, wide eyes. 

“You’re so damn pretty,” he murmurs, “even now.”

You scan his face for signs of lying.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” you ask finally. 

Doyoung blinks before easing into laughter. “You- You’re- You’re the same as ever.”

You let yourself crack a smile.

“Doyoung I- I really am sorry,” you say quietly. “And I did- do care for you.”

Doyoung stubs out his cigarette and discards it before looking you in the eye. You notice he’s wearing his favourite black turtleneck in the proximity, the grey plaid coat covering most of it. You really liked that look on him.

“I’m sorry,” you say once again. “I want you to know that. I didn’t want to hurt you and I promise I won’t ever do it again.”

You mean it. You’re never going to hold glass again. He doesn’t deserve it.

“That’s a problem,” he responds, breath mingling with yours. “I want you… I want you to hurt me. If you really do love me, I’ll take it.”

“Doyoung,” you whisper, turning away despite your whole body screaming at you to give in. “I meant it. I can’t hurt you.”

Doyoung cups your cheek with one hand, glancing at your lips for a moment.

“You’re warm,” he says.

He’s warmer.

“I want to kiss you,” he says.

You want to kiss him too.

“We went about this all wrong, didn’t we?” he asks.

“We did,” you answer, voice barely above a whisper. “I did.”

Doyoung pulls back. “Then let’s start again. I’m Kim Doyoung, I majored in linguistics. I was student council president and I made a mistake.”

You smile. “We don’t have to do that.”

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “After all the trouble I went through to make a good introduction?”

The two of you laugh, and it gets warmer. 

“I’m (name),” you say. “I was a top student and I made a bigger mistake, Kim Doyoung.”

“Oh? I wonder what it was.”

“Kind of a long story.”

“I’ve got all the time for you.”

You smile and start. He responds with gentle kisses. You’re piecing your world back together again; but this time it’s feather-light and fits right in the palm of your hand. 

[freddie-weaselbee]

Someone Blue//F.W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader 

Warnings: Slight language, angst, a lot of confusion, fluffy ending

Summary: Fred spots a familiar face at his brother’s wedding, and has a sinking suspicion about why she’s acting so upset during this time of celebration. 

Prompts: Enemies to Lovers (kind of) and Weddings with the dialogue prompts “you look like you need a hug” and “did you need something?”

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Day 1 of @theweasleyslut‘s 2k writing challenge 

Angelina looked absolutely ethereal, skin glowing in the shimmering lights as she glided across the grass as if it was a ballroom floor. Her white dress was slightly stained, mostly from when her now husband tackled her to the ground after their first kiss as a married couple, and yet it only made her seem all the more angelic. 

George’s feet seemed to never touch the ground. He was moving at record speeds, prancing and hopping and skipping around the dance floor, dragging his wife along with him. It was the most joyful Fred had ever seen him. 

Not when they left Hogwarts, not when they opened their shop, not even when Angelina said yes to the proposal could have compared to the happiness on George’s face. Nor Angelina’s. They were in a pure state of bliss. 

The rest of the wedding-goers seemed to match their energy. Fred couldn’t go anywhere without being bombarded with drunken laughs and horrid dancing, and the occasional congratulations or two from some tipsy guests who didn’t know that the man they were talking to wasn’t the groom. 

All in all, it was an amazing night. The field behind the burrow had become a traditional wedding venue for the growing Weasley children, so far hosting Bill, Percy, Ron, and now George’s days to remember. The tents and lights were all set up as they were with Bill and Fleur’s wedding, except this time there was no risk of Death Eaters ruining the event. Hopefully. 

However, while making his way around to talk to (and flirt with) the guests, Fred happened to notice one person who did not fit the overzealous tone. Well, he didn’t really happen to notice. Rather he’d been staring at her throughout the entire night, watching her somber mood break through her happy façade. Not that he’d ever admit that to anyone. 

You were standing by yourself, but you weren’t secluded from the action. Rather, you were right in the middle of things, on the very edge of the dance floor, staring out at the masses of bodies swinging their partners around. Your arms were crossed over your chest, a defensive position that Fred had seen so many times in you before. 

He turned away and tried to ignore it. It wasn’t any of his business if you were upset. The two of you were barely even friends anymore. You had cut him out of your life so many years ago and never looked back. To this day, Fred still didn’t know why, and it killed him. 

He wanted to walk away. To go the other direction toward a beautiful guest wearing a flowing red dress, hair done up perfectly. The stranger would be the smart choice. A fun way to spend the evening, dancing around and snogging under moonlit trees. But, against his better judgement, Fred’s heart wouldn't let him leave. 

Sighing, Fred lifted his feet and made his way in the other direction, to the girl who couldn’t care less about him. 

You stood unmoving, except for a subtle sway to the music. People brushed by you, but you paid them no mind. You were too focused on something else. As Fred drew nearer, he was able to follow your line of sight to the people in question. The newlyweds. 

Fred bristled before softening slightly. Of course. This must be about George. Back at Hogwarts, Fred was positive you had the biggest crush on his brother. You were always tagging along with their jokes, even when they got you into huge trouble. You definitely spent more time alone with George than Fred, sharing whispers and stares at the expense of the older twin. He could never get George to break and tell him what you two talked about. George even took you to the Yule Ball in your 6th year. You had never looked as radiant as you did that night, except for maybe this moment. Fred wished he had asked you to dance at the ball, but he never worked up the courage to. He didn’t want you to internally grimace at the thought of dancing with the “lesser” Weasley twin when George was right there. 

In his recollection of memories, Fred hadn’t noticed how close he had gotten to you, and how you were no longer gazing at the couple dancing. You were now staring at him. 

“Did you need something?”

Fred was shaken out of his imagination, met with an annoyed glare but soft smile coming from you. His surprise was immediately replaced with his signature cocky grin, leaning his hand onto one of the wedding tables while keeping his gaze on you. Unfortunately, his hand accidentally dipped into a wine glass, but he quickly pulled it out and hoped you didn’t notice. You did. 

“Well, that’s not a very nice way to greet one of your oldest friends, now is it?” Fred wiped his wine-covered hand on his suit pants and slipped it into his pocket, pretending to be unbothered by his previous mistake. 

You turned your eyes away from him, once again gluing them to the dance floor. “I think it’s fitting, seeing as how you were creepily staring at me for about 5 minutes before I said something.”

Fred’s ears grew pink at the accusation. “I, umm, I didn’t realize it was that long. Or that you noticed. Sorry.” He bashfully rubbed the back of his neck, pretending to glance around at other guests who might interest him more. 

“You still haven’t answered me.”

Fred cocked his head to the side in question. 

“Why’d you come over here? Was there something you needed?”

“Ah, yes well,” Fred began smoothly, “I saw this darling beauty from across the tent and I just could not take my eyes off of her--”

“Fred,” you interrupted. You were looking at him again, your gaze piercing through him, forcing him to tell you the truth, to tell you everything about him. His fears, his hopes and dreams, what he had for breakfast this morning. He wanted to tell you it all. 

“The truth, please.”

Clearing his throat, and his mind of whatever thoughts just plagued him, Fred decided to be honest. You deserved that much. 

“You look like you need a hug,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. 

Evidently, those were not the words you were expecting to hear. You were prepared with about a dozen quips to say in response to whatever cocky joke Fred was about to make. But he didn’t, and nothing could have prepared you for what he did say. 

“I--I need a what?”

“Sorry, have you lost your hearing or was I not loud enough? It’s definitely not the second; you’ve told me on numerous occasions that I have the biggest mouth of anyone you know.”

There it was. But it still made you giggle, relaxing and gravitating closer to your companion. 

“I heard you,” you said, “just wasn’t expecting that from you, I guess.”

Fred took a half step closer, visibly glad when you didn’t move away. “Wasn’t expecting me to have noticed your behavior, or wasn’t expecting me to care if I did?”

It took you a few seconds to respond. “Both.”

He let out a sound of understanding before you both averted your eyes, looking straight ahead. Occasionally, Fred would try to look at you using his peripheral vision, and you would do the same. It became a kind of game--just an awkward back and forth between two people who used to be so close, and were now so far apart.

You game ended when one of the wedding guests decided to clink their glass, beginning a chorus of high pitched chimes to echo throughout the room. You watched as George turned to find Angelina, running to her to give her a kiss so full of love and passion that it took everything Fred had not to shout out a joke and ruin the moment. He could do that next time. 

He noticed you stiffen at the kiss, presumably because it was just another reminder of what you couldn’t have. George. 

“You know, I always wanted to be a Weasley.”

Fred was surprised that you had spoken to him, and even more surprised about the turn the conversation had taken. 

“I grew up with you guys,” you continued, not waiting for Fred to respond. “Molly was like my second mother, even though she always liked Hermione and Harry a bit more than me.”

“Join the club,” said Fred, causing you to laugh loudly, a sound he hadn’t heard from you in ages. Godric, how he had missed it.

“It’s just…” you trailed off, not knowing if you wanted to be open with Fred, someone you hadn’t spoken to in years. Chances were, you wouldn’t keep in touch much after the wedding, so you might as well. What was there to lose? “It’s just...seeing Angelina, one of my best friends, dance around, wearing that ring, getting to be an actual Weasley. It’s...it’s making me a wee bit jealous.”

Fred watched you fidget with a bracelet on your wrist and decided to push his luck just a bit more. “And you’re wishing that it could be you wearing the ring, married to a certain Weasley gentleman?”

The shock was evident in your expression. “No, no, it’s not--I mean I never…” Sighing, you decided to come clean. “Yeah, I’ve maybe been harboring feelings for a certain twin for, oh I don’t know, my entire life. No biggie though, it’s totally fine that he never asked me out.”

The ginger beside you threw an arm around your shoulder, handing you a glass of wine in the process. “Drink. It makes everything better.”

You glared at him, but took the glass anyways, chugging it down in a few large gulps. “Another, please,” you demanded, and Fred obliged. 

You started to ease into Fred’s side, as soft and comforting as you remembered it to be, before realizing exactly what it was you were doing. “Fred, can I ask you something?”

“‘Course. You can ask me anything.” The absolute last thing Fred wanted to be doing at the moment was talking about your undying love for his twin brother, at his wedding no less, but he didn’t want to leave you alone. Not seeing you for so long had had a harsher effect on him than he thought, and he didn’t want to leave your side. 

Taking a deep breath and gathering your courage, you asked him the question that had been plaguing your mind for years. The one that ate you from the inside out and kept you tossing and turning at night. The reason you had to separate yourself from your love in the first place. “Why am I not good enough?”

Your voice broke a tiny bit, but a lot less than you had been expecting. A tear did happen to slip out, and Fred quickly wiped it away, his fingertip resting on your cheek for a moment too long. 

“Y/N, love, come here.” Fred pulled you into that hug he had talked about earlier, holding you closely to his chest. If he thought you were going to appreciate the gesture, he was wrong. You pushed him away softly, refusing to let any more tears fall. 

“I’m serious, Fred. W-Why am I not good enough? I’ve made it clear for years and yet...nothing. And not even a simple rejection. I could’ve handled that, y’know. If I got a simple no, I could’ve handled it and moved on. But I never did, and it’s killing me. Why am I not good enough?”

It killed Fred to see you this upset, and it hurt him even more to see that the anger was directed at him and not at George. It was his brother that broke your heart after all, not him. “You are good enough!” Fred said, with enough truth and force that a little part of you believed it. “You’re, you’re too good! You’ve been by our side from the beginning and haven’t left it since. Well, we haven’t seen you in years, but that’s probably because of--”

You nodded, confirming what he thought. Your heartbreak had driven you away. 

“But other than that,” he continued, “you’ve been like my third arm. Any guy would be crazy to give you up, you know that?”

 A tiny smile grew on your face, but was gone as soon as it had arrived. “The timing...the timing was just all wrong, wasn’t it?” you asked. 

Fred nodded, watching his brother and his wife greet guests and take pictures that were sure to be on the mantle in the burrow as soon as the wedding was over. “Yeah, I guess so. The prick should’ve asked you out sooner.”

“Oh I agree wholeheartedly, he is a prick,” you said, poking his arm, a gesture that slightly confused him. “So, I’m guessing there’s no chance of anything happening now? No sliver of hope that maybe this could work out?”

He hated that he would be the one to crush your dreams, but he couldn’t let you keep living in false hope. “Well,” he said, “the wedding bands are on and they both said ‘I do.’ Kind of hard to come back from that. I’m sorry.”

You froze, now more befuddled than you had been all night. “I...what?”

Before Fred could say anything you reached to grab his left hand, checking his ring finger for something you knew wasn’t there, but you had to be sure. 

“Wedding bands? What in the world do you--” Realization hit you like a brick, and you wanted to slap yourself. Or Fred. Either one. But preferably the latter. 

“Frederick, my dear love, who do you think we have been talking about this whole time?” you asked, voice genuine but also teasing. 

Fred didn’t know what you all of a sudden found so amusing, but he was already doubting himself and he didn’t want you to make fun of him for whatever he had done wrong. 

“Umm, well you said a Weasley, and then you said a Weasley twin. So I thought the answer was obvious.”

“Say it,” you demanded. “Who have we been talking about? Who am I in love with after years of unrequited feelings?”

He felt like he was walking into a trap, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. He hesitated for a few seconds before your searing gaze forced him to answer. “George. We’re talking about my brother George.”

No sooner had his words left his mouth than your hand came up to slap his head. “You idiot! Are you serious right now?”

Fred stood flabbergasted, racking his brain for who else you could have been talking about. George was a Weasley twin. You said you were in love with a Weasley twin. Who else was there?

“It’s you, you big oaf!”

Oh. OH! There were two Weasley twins, and he was one of them. Which meant…

“You’re in love with me?!”

By this point, heads were turned to watch the scene and people were not-so-subtly whispering to their partners. 

You dragged a still surprised Fred through the crowd and out of the tents, finding a secluded enough area where you could talk. 

Fred’s brain had still not been caught up. “It’s me? You’re in love with me? But, but what about George?”

You furrowed your brow, wondering how Fred could have so easily mistaken your feelings for him as those for another. “What about George?”

“You’re in love with him!”

“I most definitely am not!”

“The Yule Ball!” he spat out. “You went to the Yule Ball with him when we were 16!”

“Yes,” you said calmly, “and you went with Angelina, but I don’t see you two getting married. We went as friends and I talked to him about you the entire night. In fact, most of the time when we hung out I was talking about you. Made him swear not to tell though. I was never good about expressing my feelings.”

Fred put a hand to his head, a growing throb threatening to overtake his senses. “But why were you so sad tonight? You wanted to marry George!”

“No,” you said patiently. “I was sad because Angelina and George’s relationship worked out the way I was wishing one between you and I had. They fell in love during school, dated a few years later, and now she’s a part of your family. I wasn’t wishing it was just me out there with your brother. I was wishing that it was our wedding.”

You blushed heavily and buried your face in your hands, embarrassed by your bluntness about your feelings. “Oh, Godric, I shouldn’t have said that, now it’s more awkward. I, umm, I should probably get going.”

Fred grabbed your wrist before you could leave, pulling you into his chest. His eyes were wide, mouth hanging slightly ajar as he gazed down at your muddled expression. 

“It’s me. I’m the one you love.”

He said it as more of a declaration rather than a question, but you could tell that he needed confirmation. 

“Of course, Freddie,” you said. “It’s always been you.”

His hand wasted no time in going to the back of your head, pulling your face into his and melding your lips together in your first kiss with Fred Weasley. After the shock wore off, you were hastily kissing him back, hoping against all hope that he wouldn’t pull back and proclaim what a stupid mistake this all was. But he never did. You kissed and kissed and kissed until you were the one who had to pull back in order to catch your breath. 

It took you both a few seconds to realize what had just happened, and for the first time you both were at a loss for words. “That was, umm…” you mumbled, trying to think of what to say. 

“I love you too.”

Fred’s words were rushed out of his mouth, voice deep ragged. “I mean, when you said it was me, not George, that you loved. I, well, I love you too. Always have. Guess I just thought that you had a thing for George and I had no chance. Pretty silly of me, huh?”

“Downright stupid of you,” you replied, giggling as he pushed you away with a bashful smile gracing his lips. 

“So,” he said quietly, inching closer to you once again, “is there a chance of anything happening now?” Fred repeated the words you had said earlier, making you smile wider than you had all night. 

“Depends,” you said. “Are you gonna get the courage to ask me out?”

Fred waited for a moment before answering. “How about,” he said, offering his arm out for you to link with yours, “we have that dance we never got at the Yule Ball. And then that date we never got after, and then that relationship we never got as well. Oh! And then that wedding, and then a dog, maybe a few kids, a big house in the country--”

“Woahhh, slow down buddy, you haven’t ever properly asked me!”

You took his arm and made your way back to where the music continued to blare and festivities raged on. 

“Y/N, love, may I have this dance?”

You pushed a strand of hair from his face, ruffling it up a little to give it that signature Fred Weasley style. 

“Of course, Freddie. And every dance after that.”

Tag List:

@famdomhideout @amourtentiaa

[makeste]

hello! I’ve seen some debate as to whether the 2nd meant allies in general would bolster izuku and although I do think that’s true (ofc any sort of support system that he lets himself rely on would bolster him) I feel like if that was what was meant it would’ve been made clearer? maybe instead of just katsuki showing up, the final panel would’ve had several students burst onto the scene. what are your thoughts?

agreed. and incidentally this is another big reason why it's not Toga. if it was her then Horikoshi wouldn't have devoted any time to OFA II's little hype speech. it just makes it kind of pointless, unless this whole time we've been sleeping on Toga's hidden ability to bolster Deku lmao.

but anyways, yeah. and I mean, Two's commentary here is really just acknowledgement of something we've long since known already. Kacchan is the one who will ultimately be able to reach Deku. we don't actually need a piece of dialogue to tell us this, because the manga has been showing it to us since day one. his resume is fucking stacked. I mean, let's go through it.

he is mean.

I love this you guys. I honest to god love it. because the thing is, if you ask anyone what Kacchan's absolute worst quality is, this would be the obvious answer, right? "he's an asshole" lmao.

but that's exactly what we need right now!! someone who's not afraid to tell it like it is, and won't try to sugarcoat things. someone who's not afraid to argue back and risk hurting someone's feelings. because right now Deku is walking all over anyone who can't do that. All Might tries to feed him lunch and he's like "nah I'm good, anyways bye." Endeavor tries to tell him to rest and he's all "I'm fine" and fucking hangs up the phone. nuh uh. enough of that. what we need is someone who will call him out on his shit. "hah!? don't tell me you're fine when it's obvious to anyone you can barely stand on your own two feet, dumbass."

he is stubborn.

kind of ties into the other thing, but yeah. right now we need a bullheaded asshole who won't take no for an answer if he thinks he's right. good luck trying to sweet talk your way out of this one, Deku.

he understands the situation.

this one is important, because in fairness, simply standing in front of Deku and saying "you shall not pass" isn't gonna be enough to actually accomplish anything here. ultimately he's going to have to be able to reason with Deku too. and so in that respect, it certainly doesn't hurt that Kacchan is someone who understands the OFA situation as well as anyone, and has always had clear judgment about it. he understands the threat of AFO ("they all died young"), and he understands the burden of All Might's legacy. he knows what Deku is dealing with, and that's going to give him an edge when it comes to finding that elusive-yet-critical talk no jutsu knockout blow.

he's been where Deku is now.

Kacchan knows a thing or two about burdens. granted, they've more often than not been ones that he's put on himself, but that didn't make them any less heavy. Deku right now is struggling not just with his feelings of responsibility, but also with all of the misplaced guilt that's feeding into it. AFO is targeting him. if innocent people get caught in the crossfire then that's on him. every minute that AFO stays out there getting stronger and causing more chaos is all on him, because he hasn't defeated him yet. and so on and so forth.

and Katsuki knows what that's like. because he blamed himself for what happened to All Might. that feeling of "if I'd only been stronger" is one that he's intimately acquainted with. that feeling of blaming yourself, of not being able to look someone you care about in the eye because you think it's your fault they got hurt. this is something he knows. this is a road he's already been down. and so if Deku tries to pull any "you don't understand" nonsense, Kacchan is uniquely situated to immediately shoot that shit right down.

he's immune to low blows.

lol I keep thinking of all the different counterarguments that Deku could make, and all the different ways in which Kacchan is perfectly equipped to handle them. anyway, so this particular thing is a very recent development, but very fortunately timed. so as we all know, Kacchan was a first class dick to Deku during their childhood. something which Deku, with his abnormally kind and forgiving nature, has never once confronted Kacchan about, even though he would have absolutely had the right. but anyway, so here's the thing though -- right now I fully believe that Deku can and will do or say just about anything in order to get Kacchan and the others to leave. and that includes hurting them in order to save them. so it would not surprise me at all if Deku goes as far as to throw Katsuki's old, cruel, selfish behavior back in his face as part of a last-ditch effort to get him to back down. desperate times and all that.

and maybe there was a time when that actually would have worked. but here's the other thing -- we know something Deku doesn't. namely, that Kacchan has recently leveled up emotionally and has finally unlocked his atonement quest. he finally understands that it's not all about him. which means that it doesn't matter even if Deku pulls out the big guns. he may hurt his feelings, but he's not going to scare him off, because Kacchan's focus right now is on atonement, not forgiveness. he's not doing this for a pat on the head. he's doing it because it's the right thing to do. and no amount of insults will be able to sway him from that.

he learned from the best.

I said this in another post a couple of weeks back, but yeah. Angsty Nomad Deku has nothing on early Kacchan in terms of pushing people away. early Kacchan was the motherfucking king of pushing peeps away. if you so much as LOOKED at this kid in such a way that SUGGESTED you might even be THINKING about possibly trying to save him, he would straight up throw a ten-year hissy fit lmao. Deku's "All Might, you don't have to tag along anymore"s ain't got SHIT on all of Kacchan's "STAY BACK DEKU"s and "I'D RATHER LOSE!!!"s and "OMFG HOW DARE YOU BE THE ONLY PERSON TO TRY TO SAVE ME FROM THIS RAMPAGING SLUDGE MAN WHO'S ABOUT TO SUFFOCATE ME TO DEATH"s. Kacchan is the undisputed goat here lol.

but anyway, so what this means is that he has accumulated a whole HOST of iconic lines and fateful parallels which he can throw back in Deku's face at a moment's notice. and the best part is that he learned it all from THIS EXACT MOTHERFUCKER, RIGHT HERE. what is Deku even gonna do!! argue against his own past actions?? "well, uh, I guess now that you mention it I should have just sat back and watched you die all those times" OH REALLY?? YOU DON'T SAY. THAT SOUNDS SO CONVINCING.

and so guess what, Deku -- if Kacchan was worth saving, then you're worth saving too. it's an ironclad argument. congratulations son you played yourself.

he always wins.

okay so real talk, we all know that what's really driving Deku right now is his fear of losing people. he's helpless against that. he saw Kacchan get stabbed right before his eyes and it fucked him up. he saw all these other people getting hurt and killed because he couldn't save them, and he straight up could not deal with those emotions at all. he's scared. he's more afraid of that happening again than of anything else. and AFO knows that, and that's why he's resorted to his current tactics, which have isolated Deku even further and caused him to push even All Might away.

what Deku is missing right now, and what he needs to have restored, is trust. trust is the antidote to fear. and when you're as scared as Deku is, it takes an extraordinary amount of assurance in order to ease those fears. basically you don't want to place your faith in anything less than an absolutely sure thing.

but Kacchan is exactly that. this is the exact type of situation that Kacchan's "aiming for the top" overkill confidence was made for. he's the one who never loses!! the hero who's going to surpass all other heroes!! Deku inherited All Might's compassion, but Kacchan inherited his determination. Kacchan is someone who brings reassurance. his confidence is unwavering. and in the end, I think it will be strong enough to pull even Deku back out from the darkness.

he is strong.

Kacchan is Deku's rival in every sense of the word, and I fully believe he's capable of matching him step for step even now. and so Deku can try to push him away, but Kacchan is capable of withstanding that force and staying his ground. Deku can try to run, but Kacchan still has him matched for speed. and as a last resort, Deku can even try to defeat him -- but Kacchan won't ever concede to defeat.

and all of this ties back into what I was saying about trust. because Kacchan is strong. strong enough not to die. strong enough to live. strong enough to not make others worry about him. and that's what Deku so desperately needs right now in order to finally let go of his fears. Deku needs someone who can get him to trust in others again, and to do that, he has to be able to trust in their strength.

and last but not least...

he has a secret weapon up his sleeve.

several, as a matter of fact. his hero name reveal. his apology, if he chooses to give it now (though I could see him waiting for a more sincere moment, rather than whipping it out now when it could be misconstrued as a manipulation tactic). but perhaps most importantly...

never underestimate the power of an iconic role reversal. because that's what I'm getting at here, if it wasn't clear lol. this probably would have worked better if I had a picture of him actually reaching out to Deku. but I mean, that's kind of the point lol. I don't have one because he hasn't done it yet. BUT CAN YOU IMAGINE. good luck withstanding that, Deku.

so yeah. look at all that. he really is a one-man Deku-saving army. which is not to say that the other kids won't have a part to play as well, or that it's not important for them to be there, because it is. but as far as the lead role goes, it's Kacchan. like that astronaut meme guy says. always has been.

oh and as a bonus he was smart enough to finally leave the mask at home today lol. LET DEKU SEE THE SINCERITY IN YOUR EYES. YESSSSSSS.

[bonesandthebees]

Suddenly everything makes sense. All of his behaviour until now, and the anxiety spins, it all seems to fit together. It weaves together slowly throughout the chapter with more and more being revealed but it's done so well that it hits you right in the heart.

Tommy couldn't let himself leave, because of course he couldn't, it had already claimed one person important to him. The disassociation as he went through muscle memory movements is so telling about the amount of times he's done this.

The offer for company means so much because it doesn't always work. Sometimes nothing changes and other times they slowly get back up. But Tommy does it anyway for the peace of his own mind. The soothing feeling he describes upon seeing that Wilbur was actually eating and drinking adds to that.

And from here it slides from just depression to more, neglect, and Tommy's side of the suffering. It's such a sad and unfortunate situation that existed and nobody can be blamed for it completely.

["I'm perfectly capable of getting it myself."

"But would you?"]

These two dialogues alone encapsulate perfectly what it's like to go through the motions. The little things in this chapter are really what make it so endearing and bittersweet.

Tommy draws. As a means of venting and a means of a creative outlet. It definitely also serves as a connection to Wilbur. He even comments on how hard it is to know what Tommy thinks sometimes, and suddenly I'm not very surprised about that at all.

It can be really hard.

- ❄️

I really wanted chapter 6 to be one that made the readers pause and go oh. because it reveals a huge piece of tommy as a character that i feel really shows exactly why tangerines!tommy is the way he is. all the pieces fall into place. i'm so glad I pulled it off well :D

he knows better than anyone that offering company doesn't always work. but this triggers his muscle memory, and he has to do something. he knows how to do this even if it hurts him to go through this again, and with wilbur it actually does help which definitely helps soothe tommy more

the neglect tommy dealt with bc of his mother definitely was a complicated situation on all sides. no one is really at fault but it still hurts everyone involved.

and that's dialogue exchange is kind of the crux of dealing with depression episodes like that. you know that you can get up to get yourself water. there's nothing stopping you. but you're not going to because your brain won't let you.

honey and tangerines is interesting to write because we're in tommy's head the entire time. you as the readers know what's going on with him. but from an outside POV, he's really not showing a lot of what's going on with him. i thought that bit with wilbur was a way to remind the readers that tangerines!tommy internalizes a LOT of what he's dealing with and the people around him really don't know what he's thinking unless he tells them, so his art is another way people can get into his head and understand him