#as if the concept of moving on is non existent to them

[neverendingford]

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[rin-enjoyer]

anyways does anyone ever think about rin welcoming obito to the afterlife. ugh.

[hyperlexichypatia]

As I keep shouting into the void, pathologizers love shifting discussion about material conditions into discussion about emotional states.

I rant approximately once a week about how the brain maturity myth transmuted “Young adults are too poor to move out of their parents’ homes or have children of their own” into “Young adults are too emotionally and neurologically immature to move out of their parents’ homes or have children of their own.”

I’ve also talked about the misuse of “enabling” and “trauma” and “dopamine” .

And this is a pattern – people coin terms and concepts to describe material problems, and pathologization culture shifts them to be about problems in the brain or psyche of the person experiencing them. Now we’re talking about neurochemicals, frontal lobes, and self-esteem instead of talking about wages, wealth distribution, and civil rights. Now we can say that poor, oppressed, and exploited people are suffering from a neurological/emotional defect that makes them not know what’s best for themselves, so they don’t need or deserve rights or money.

Here are some terms that have been so horribly misused by mental health culture that we’ve almost entirely forgotten that they were originally materialist critiques.

Codependency What it originally referred to: A non-addicted person being overly “helpful” to an addicted partner or relative, often out of financial desperation. For example: Making sure your alcoholic husband gets to work in the morning (even though he’s an adult who should be responsible for himself) because if he loses his job, you’ll lose your home. https://www.nytimes.com/2022/07/08/opinion/codependency-addiction-recovery.html What it’s been distorted into: Being “clingy,” being “too emotionally needy,” wanting things like affection and quality time from a partner. A way of pathologizing people, especially young women, for wanting things like love and commitment in a romantic relationship.

Compulsory Heterosexuality What it originally referred to: In the 1980 in essay "Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence," https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/doi/abs/10.1086/493756 Adrienne Rich described compulsory heterosexuality as a set of social conditions that coerce women into heterosexual relationships and prioritize those relationships over relationships between women (both romantic and platonic). She also defines “lesbian” much more broadly than current discourse does, encompassing a wide variety of romantic and platonic relationships between women. While she does suggest that women who identify as heterosexual might be doing so out of unquestioned social norms, this is not the primary point she’s making. What it’s been distorted into: The patronizing, biphobic idea that lesbians somehow falsely believe themselves to be attracted to men. Part of the overall “Women don’t really know what they want or what’s good for them” theme of contemporary discourse.

Emotional Labor What it originally referred to: The implicit or explicit requirement that workers (especially women workers, especially workers in female-dominated “pink collar” jobs, especially tipped workers) perform emotional intimacy with customers, coworkers, and bosses above and beyond the actual job being done. Having to smile, be “friendly,” flirt, give the impression of genuine caring, politely accept harassment, etc. https://weld.la.psu.edu/what-is-emotional-labor/ What it’s been distorted into: Everything under the sun. Everything from housework (which we already had a term for), to tolerating the existence of disabled people, to just caring about friends the way friends do. The original intent of the concept was “It’s unreasonable to expect your waitress to care about your problems, because she’s not really your friend,” not “It’s unreasonable to expect your actual friends to care about your problems unless you pay them, because that’s emotional labor,” and certainly not “Disabled people shouldn’t be allowed to be visibly disabled in public, because witnessing a disabled person is emotional labor.” Anything that causes a person emotional distress, even if that emotional distress is rooted in the distress-haver’s bigotry (Many nominally progressive people who would rightfully reject the bigoted logic of “Seeing gay or interracial couples upsets me, which is emotional labor, so they shouldn’t be allowed to exist in public” fully accept the bigoted logic of “Seeing disabled or poor people upsets me, which is emotional labor, so they shouldn’t be allowed to exist in public”).

Battered Wife Syndrome What it originally referred to: The all-encompassing trauma and fear of escalating violence experienced by people suffering ongoing domestic abuse, sometimes resulting in the abuse victim using necessary violence in self-defense. Because domestic abuse often escalates, often to murder, this fear is entirely rational and justified. This is the reasonable, justified belief that someone who beats you, stalks you, and threatens to kill you may actually kill you.

What it’s been distorted into: Like so many of these other items, the idea that women (in this case, women who are victims of domestic violence) don’t know what’s best for themselves. I debated including this one, because “syndrome” was a wrongful framing from the beginning – a justified and rational fear of escalating violence in a situation in which escalating violence is occurring is not a “syndrome.” But the original meaning at least partially acknowledged the material conditions of escalating violence.

I’m not saying the original meanings of these terms are ones I necessarily agree with – as a cognitive liberty absolutist, I’m unsurprisingly not that enamored of either second-wave feminism or 1970s addiction discourse. And as much as I dislike what “emotional labor” has become, I accept that “Women are unfairly expected to care about other people’s feelings more than men are” is a true statement.

What I am saying is that all of these terms originally, at least partly, took material conditions into account in their usage. Subsequent usage has entirely stripped the materialist critique and fully replaced it with emotional pathologization, specifically of women. Acknowledgement that women have their choices constrained by poverty, violence, and oppression has been replaced with the idea that women don’t know what’s best for themselves and need to be coercively “helped” for their own good. Acknowledgement that working-class women experience a gender-and-class-specific form of economic exploitation has been rebranded as yet another variation of “Disabled people are burdensome for wanting to exist.”

Over and over, materialist critiques are reframed as emotional or cognitive defects of marginalized people. The next time you hear a superficially sympathetic (but actually pathologizing) argument for “Marginalized people make bad choices because…” consider stopping and asking: “Wait, who are we to assume that this person’s choices are ‘bad’? And if they are, is there something about their material conditions that constrains their options or makes the ‘bad’ choice the best available option?”

[etheries1015]

Fem!MC X platonic Twst - missing the "girly" things.

General warnings: Fem reader, very Self-indulgent. If you don't relate, please keep scrolling along <3 not very proofread. No pronouns are used, but the concept of "girliness" and "girlhood" is very strong.

The boys have noticed their prefect act a bit different lately...a cloud of loneliness hovered over your head. As the only girl of Night Raven College, it was incredibly easy to feel left out and miss the things you were once interested in back in your world. You held a strong façade of prestige and uncaringness, but what happens when that mask begins to crack? How will the boys of NRC put your woes at rest? ...with a wonderful slumber party, of course!

First coming to Twisted Wonderland, not many could tell you were well-versed (Or at the very least, incredibly interested) in clothing, face Care, and jewelry. Although your personality screamed more or less "Gremlin" at times, and were a "well-known and respected honor student" all the same- you had a rather "girly" side to yourself.

However, you had limited options on having a non-existent budget, but a few of the students took notice of the longing in your eyes whenever you passed by something you desired to have back in your life. The cute earrings, the pretty dresses and skirts, the headbands...a mix of classy and modern, things of that nature.

The first time you were able to get your hands on a half way decent outfit that suited your tastes and you wore it out, others stared in shock. You were still the cheery and "weird" gremlin prefect that had crude humor and silly dance moves, yet something about seeing you in such...frills and 'flamboyance' was not what they were expecting. It suited you, though.

You soon found yourself being handed such outfits. Vil had taken it upon himself to gift you expensive brand outfits that he saw your eye when walking around town, Malleus gifting you a few outfits from Briar Valley that he felt would suit your tastes, Kalim gifting you the cutest earrings he had ever seen (little fruit charms, bows, all sorts of colors and unique charms). Even Riddle introduced you to tea cups that fit your aesthetic to decorate your kitchen with!

Though, the more they saw this side of you, an influx of confessions also came in toe. You were revered as the only female in school (who also managed to stay at the top of the score board, despite your magicless disposition). This came with the struggle of being pursued, more so after they could see just how cute you could dress yourself up.

Despite all these new changes, you felt a tinge of... sadness. You were happy that they were all willing to accept you with open arms and indulge in your desires such as gifting you the cutest of plushies, clothes, jewelry, decor... that didn't stop you from missing fun slumber parties, girl talk with friends, giggling about your love lives, sharing clothes and doing each others makeup and painting nails. You confided all of this to the number one group you could have possibly spoke to about these issues of yours.

the pop music club.

A knock came upon the door at odd hours of the night, upon opening it in your nightgown, you revealed quite a sight. Cater, Kalim, and Lilia along with a few other choice students were all in gorgeous nightgowns, their hair done up, holding blankets and pillows with hands full of bags of what you could tell were snacks, makeup, nail polish, and other slumber party commodities. With a bright smile on your face and a giddy giggle, you let them in gushing about their cute appearances. You all lay out the blankets and pillows in front of the TV in the lounge (kindly gifted to you by Idia) and pulled out the snacks and lay them out for everyone to grab at in their leisure.

"We aren't girls," Lilia pointed out, "But at the very least we can enjoy the things you mentioned before! Oh how I love a good love story, shall we share our love lives?"

"We can do that while we put on these face masks! Look, this one is a panda!" Kalim exclaimed, holding up a large bag of face masks and other types of...random things he thought would suit the party. (He pulled out one of those toe dividers for nail polish, he had no clue what it was but Jamil told him he would need it for later.)

"Oh, I brought you this super cute and frilly nightgown (y/n), Trey said one of his sisters didn't wear it anymore and he thought it would look good on you. Go! Try it on, Then we can take a BUNCH of magicam photos. Don't we look like pretty dolls?!" Cater gushed, handing you the night gown. You took it with grace and skipped away to your room, giddy and unable to hold back your excitement.

It wasn't long for more guests to arrive in frilly pajamas and cutesy hair accessories. A string of familiar faces entered, and you soon found yourself braiding the hair of Leona, Vil, Idia, Malleus, Silver...You were shocked to see even Epel made an appearance simply to make you happy.

"I learned how to braid a little bit," Silver smiled gently at you, "And a few other hairstyles. I would be happy to try them on you," He said. You looked at Silvers' perfectly French braided hair and makeup that made him look nothing less than an angel, you nodding in immediate trust. You soon had hair that was done so elegantly, adorned with flowers and gems.

"Let's be clear, I ain't a girl!...but.." Epel blushed, "I-if it'll make you happy...i'll let ya braid my hair. Just this once!"

Floyd and Jade even came along with their faces caked with makeup and the most flamboyant nightgowns you have ever seen, laughing away at their silliness.

"Look Floyd," Jade pointed at your makeup which was lightly placed on by his hand, "I told you these colors perfectly suits (y/n)'s skin." Floyd boo'd and insisted to take off the colors Jade had chosen, holding out the most...vibrant and interesting color palate to exist. You only laughed and backed away, shaking your head and begging floyd to leave your precious face alone.

They truly indulged in everything you had missed out on, even if they weren't your "girlfriends," they were so adamantly ready to try, simply to see you smile once more.

It was a night of snacks, makeup, nail painting, chick flicks, karaoke, gossiping, and frilly fun. You truly underestimated just how much the boys took a liking to you and wished to ease your worries and make you feel a little more at home, and you couldn't have asked for better friends than them.

[writingwithcolor]

How can non-Jewish writers include Jewish characters in supernatural stories without erasing their religion in the process?

Anonymous asked:

I have a short story planned revolving around the supernatural with a Jewish character named Danielle (who uses they/them pronouns). Danielle will be one of a trio who will be solving the mystery of two brides' deaths on the day of their wedding. My concern with this is the possibility of accidentally invalidating Danielle's religion by focusing on a secular view of the afterlife. At the same time, I don't want to assume that Jewish people can't exist in paranormal stories, nor do I want to use cultural elements that don't belong to me. So, how do I make sure that Danielle is included in the plot without erasing their Jewishness?

Okay so to start with I think we need to ask a question about the premise: what is a secular afterlife? I’m not asking this to nitpick or be petty, but to offer you expanded ways of thinking through this issue and maybe others as well.

A Secular Afterlife

What is a secular afterlife? To begin with, I get what you mean. The idea of an afterlife we see in pop culture entities like ghost media owes more to a mixture of 19th-century spiritualist tropes drawn from titillating gothic novels than to anything preached from the pulpit of an organized house of worship. Yet those tropes--the ominous knocking noises from beyond, the spectral presences on daguerrotype prints, the sudden chill and the eerie glow, all of those rely on the idea of there being something beyond this life, some continuation of the spirit when the body has ceased to breathe. For that, you need to discount the ideas that the consciousness has moved on to another physical body and is currently living elsewhere, and that it was never separate from the body and has now ceased to exist. Can we say that this is secular?

More so: Gothic literature, as the name suggests, draws heavily on Catholic imagery, even when it avoids explicit references to Catholicism. Aside from the architectural imagery, Catholic religious symbols permeate the genre, as well as the larger horror and supernatural media genres that grew from it: Dracula flinches from a crucifix, priests expel demons from human bodies, Marley’s Ghost haunts Ebenezer Scrooge in chains. The concepts of heaven and hell, and nonhuman beings who dwell in those places, are critical to making the narratives work. 

The basis also draws from a biblical story, that of the Witch of Endor. The main tropes of Victorian spiritualism are present: Saul never sees the ghost of Samuel, only the Witch of Endor is able to see “A divine being rising” from wherever he rises from, and her vague description, “I see an old man rising, wearing a robe,” evokes the cold readings of charlatan mediums into the present (Indeed, some rabbinic sources commenting on this assert that this is exactly what was going on).

While neither of these views of its origin define the genre as the sole property of Catholicism--or of Judaism for that matter--it would be hard exactly to categorize them as secular.

A Jewish Perspective on ghosts

However, it’s not the case that ghost media is incompatible with Jewishness, assuming that it doesn’t commit to a view of heaven and hell duality that specifically embraces a Christian spiritual framework. 

Jewish theology is noncommittal on the subject of the afterlife. The idea of a division between body and soul in the first place is found in ancient Egypt, for instance, earlier than the earliest Jewish texts. In Jewish text it’s present in narratives like the creation story, in which God crafts a human body out of earth and then breathes life into it once it’s complete. It also appears in our liturgy: the blessings prescribed to be recited at the beginning of the day juxtapose Elohai Neshama, a blessing for the soul, with Asher Yatzar, expressing gratitude for the body, recited by many after successfully using the bathroom. 

Yet it’s not clear that this life-force is something separate than the body that lives beyond it, until the apparition of the Witch of Endor. The words we use to describe it, whatever it is, evoke the process of breathing rather than that of eternal life: either ruach (spirit, or wind) or neshama (soul, or breath): neither is a commitment to the idea that it does--or that it doesn’t--go somewhere else when the body returns to the earth. 

Jewish folklore, however, leans into the idea of ghosts and other spiritual beings inhabiting the earthly plane (and others). Perhaps most famous is the 1937 movie The Dybbuk, in which a young scholar engaging in kabbalistic practices calls upon dark forces to unite him and his fated love, only to find himself possessing her body as a dybbuk. It appears that he is about to be successfully exorcized, but ultimately when his soul leaves her body, hers does as well. 

More relevantly to your story, a Jewish folktale inspired the movie The Corpse Bride. In the folktale version, a newly-engaged man jokingly recites the legal formula he will soon recite at his wedding, and places his ring on the finger of a nearby corpse--a reference to a time when antisemitic violence is said to have gotten worse not only at Jewish and Christian holidays as it does still to this day, but around Jewish weddings as well. The murdered bride stands up, a corpse reanimated complete with consciousness, and demands that the bridegroom honor his legal obligation. 

In the movie, the bride gives up her demand willingly: her claim on him is emotional rather than legal, and she finally accepts that he has an emotional connection with another person, that he doesn’t love her. In the folk tale, the dead woman takes him to court to decide whether their marriage is legal, since he spoke the legal words to her in front of witnesses as is required, and the court rules that the dead do not have the right to make legal demands on the living. In this version, the moral of the story is that a legal formula is an obligation; that when he jokingly bound himself to the corpse, he not only disrespected the dead but also the legal framework that structures society, and by so doing risked being obligated to keep his side of a contract he never intended to enact. 

This speaks to the ways that a Jewish outlook can differ from a Christian-influenced “secular” one. Christian-influenced cultural ideas can often focus around feeling the right thing, while Jewish stories will often center on doing the right thing. Does the Corpse Bride leave because she realizes she is not the one he loves? Because she--or he--learned a valuable lesson? Or because she loses her court case? It’s not that the boy’s emotions are irrelevant to the story--the tension, the suspense, the horror of the story takes place primarily within the boy’s emotional landscape--but emotions on their own are not a solution. The question “should he marry her” can be answered emotionally, but “has he married her” can only be answered by a legal expert, and once it has been the deceased bride may not have changed her emotional attachment to him, but she no longer has legal standing to pursue her claim. 

Centering legal rectitude over emotional catharsis isn’t a requirement for having Jewish characters in your story, but it’s worth thinking about what is and isn’t universal, what is and isn’t actually all that secular. 

Meanwhile, back at the topic:

Where does any of this place Danielle?

Well, unless you’re positing a universe in which Christian or other deities or cosmologies are confirmed to exist (See Jewish characters in a universe with author-created fictional pantheons for more on that topic), there’s no reason why they shouldn’t be perfectly fine interacting with whatever the setting you’re building throws at them. 

My wishlist for this character and setting runs more to the general things to consider when writing fantasy settings with Jewish characters: 

Don’t confirm or imply that Jesus is a divine being. That means no supernatural items like splinters of the cross, grails, nails, veils, etc. There’s nothing particularly powerful or empowering about this one guy who lived and died like so many others.

Don’t show God’s body and especially not God’s face, or confirm that any other gods or deities exist, whether that’s Jesus, Aphrodite, or Anubis, or someone you made up for the context. 

Don’t put Danielle in a position where they’re going to play into an antisemitic trope like child murder, blood drinking, world domination, or financial greed. If you have to, name it and let Danielle express discomfort with or distaste for those actions both because Jewish values explicitly oppose all of those things but also because Danielle as a Jewish character would be painfully aware of these stereotypes as present and historical excuses for antisemitic violence. 

Do consider what Danielle’s personal practice might look like. What does Danielle do on Shabbat? What do they eat or refrain from eating? What are their memories of Jewish holidays and how is their current holiday observance different than their childhood? I know I say “Jewishness is diverse” on every ask, but it is, and these questions--which also underscore how very much Judaism is rooted in one’s actions during this life--will help you develop how Judaism actually functions to inform Danielle’s character, even if you don’t spell out the answers to each of these questions in text. 

Do let Danielle find joy, comfort, and identity in their Jewishness not just in contrast with Christianity but simply because it’s part of the wholeness of their character. I know the primary representation of Jewishness is a snappy one-liner in a Christmas episode followed by the Jewish character joining in the Christmas spirit, blue edition, but make room for Jewishness to inform how Danielle approaches the events of your story, or why they decide to get or stay involved.  

-Meir

Hi it’s Shira with some Jewish ghost story recs written from inside–

When The Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb (deliriously good queer YA Jewish paranormal, mainstream enough that it’s got a good chance of being at your local library and won all kinds of awards)

The Dyke and the Dybbuk by Ellen Galford (sorry for the slur, warning for a paragraph of biphobia in the book but it’s an older book. I read this right before my divorce so my memories are super fuzzy but it’s about this modern day lesbian who gets possessed by the ghost of a different lesbian from hundreds of years earlier in Jewish history.) Nine of Swords Reversed by Xan West z’L of blessed memory - another queer Jewish paranormal.

The general plot is that two partners are struggling with how to be honest with each other about the effect disability is having on them. It’s got a very warm and fuzzy cozy vibe but kink culture is central to the worldbuilding so if that isn’t your vibe I didn’t want you to go in unaware.

The Dybbuk in Love by Sonya Taaffe. I don’t remember the details but I remember loving it, it’s m/f and romance between possessor and possessed.

I wrote a really short one called A Man of Taste where a gentile vampire woman and a Jewish ghost/dybbuk get together.

~S

[amongussexgif]

Howdy folks. I’ve said I’d make a rant about this for a while. It’s time.

Let’s start with the basics. Mesopomatia is the earliest known human civilization. Humans existed before them, but this was the first “city”. They also made the first writing. This rant also kinda covers Sumerian tuff, because the two groups had a bit of a merging.

You know what transgenderism is. You’re on tumblr dot com. Chances are you are a transgenderist yourself

Transphobes often say that transgenderism is a “new concept” and that “nobody was trans 20 years ago”. For the record, you don’t have to go as far back as Mesopotamia. There’s Greece, Egypt, Hawaii, and tons of others I fail to remember. But yeah, we date back to The First City.

The First People believed in many gods, one of which you’ve likely heard of. Today’s subject: Inanna/Ishtar, The Queen of Heaven (I’ll be calling her Inanna, as it’s her original name). She was the goddess of Sex, War, and Justice. The most notable things she was believed to do were changing people’s genders and being an absolute queen. Like fr she slayed-

Anyways, the “transgender power” as I’m gonna call it because it's funny, is well documented in poetry fragments, with the direct quote “To turn a man into a woman and a woman into a man are yours, Inanna.” This was written by Enheduanna, Inanna’s High Priestess from Ur (Ur is a city).

Speaking of Inanna’s Priests and Priestesses, they were actually known for their androgyny. Poems and Dedications to Inanna often included them, with the direct depiction of the goddess transfer-ify-ing them. It’s unknown if these and the Gala are the same priests, so I’ll add a little space and talk about them for a bit.

The Gala were priestesses for Inanna created by the god Enki (who is really fuckign cool for non-trans reasons (might talk about him sometime)) to sing for her. Mourning Rites previously sung by women got taken over by the Gala, and as men joined, they adopted ALL societal roles and expectations of women, switching to female names and singing in the Sumerian eme-sal dialect, which was reserved for women trying to render the speech of female gods. The Gala looked after the sick and poor, and were highly respected by the rest of the Mesopotamian peoples.

Time to talk about the Pilipili! They were a group of cultic performers who worshiped Inanna, with the name coming from a person named Pilipili. They were raised as a woman (according to Mesopotamia’s gender roles), and were blessed by Inanna and given the name Pilipili. Inanna gave them a spear, an item associated very heavily with masculinity “as if she were a man” and they are only referred to as “The Transformed Pilipili” from that point on. “Spear'' is also thought to have phallic meaning here, which is even more directly saying that Inanna trans’ed Pilipili’s gender.

How about we move beyond the cult on Inanna now? A statue (or technically statuette but honestly whatever) found in the city of Mari depicts a singing woman. But wait! The name of the depicted person is “Ur-Nanshe”, a masculine name! This might mean nothing, but honestly, you’d assume transgenderism too if you met a woman named Steven. The statue has a soft face with traces of makeup, and it’s got tiddies!

A statue in the British museum (which for the record should not be in there. give it back) has a label translated as “Hermaphrodite of Inanna”. Hermaphrodite has a different meaning now, which a different translator, Cheryl Morgan, recognized, stating that “person-man-woman” would be more accurate. We don’t know specifics about their gender, but clearly this was a person outside of the gender binary who was not only significant enough to have a statue of them made, but also assumedly well-liked!

So, to summarize, Ancient Mesopotamia viewed genderqueer individuals as:

often blessed by the Queen of Heaven

transgender-ify-ed by said Queen of Heaven

well respected enough to be priests

said cult of trans priests was also said to be made by another god in devotion to Inanna

significant and well-liked enough to have statues of them

sounds like we should take some notes from our ancestors, huh?

[dollfaceksj]

the pink pill | myg version (m) — “no one else”

➥ banner by @jkndigo.

➥ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: In each of these universes, you find yourself consuming what is known as the pink pill. This pill is essentially a drug that enhances your libido to the max and you’ll quite literally never experience arousal like you do when you’ve taken this pill. Thankfully, in each universe, there’s a man that’s ready to help you explore and reach your peak of sexual euphoria.

➥ GENRE: smut ⋆ porn with plot ⋆ exes

➥ CATEGORY: one-shot [part of the pink pill series]

➥ WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, angst, exes but also idiots, degradation kink, unprotected sex (dont be like them), rough sex but also love-making??, did i mention a bit of angst, multiple positions guys yoongi is catching up for missing u all those times likeee, spankingggg, making out w tongue, overstimulation, claiming/possessiveness, multiple orgasms for reader, extremelyhorny!reader, cocky exboyfriend!yoongi…. yeah., hes a sick son of a bitch but thats why we like him besides he’s pretty tame in this i have worse yoongi’s up my sleeve this is nothin, neither of you have moved on, mutual pining but mutual STUBBORNNESSSSS for fucks sake, filthy words, creampie, oral sex (f. rec), embarrassingly quick climaxes likeee, minors DNI

➥ WORDCOUNT: 9.8k

a/n: and at last, yoongi’s ver of the pink pill is finally out!!! thank you for loving jk’s version! i hope you enjoy yoongi’s. beware of a bit of angst and complicated feelings<33

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⋆ MASTERLIST & CONCEPT VIDEO ⋆

Your trembling thumb hovers over the blue arrow next to your unsent message, eyes scanning over the message over and over again. Your heart might implode in your chest the moment you hit send, which is why you’ve been staring at the message that would cause more cons than pros for the past 5 minutes.

Well, would it, though? It’s just a favor. You need a favor.

It’s like your brain is talking directly to your heart. Your brain is telling you how bad of an idea this is whilst your heart is just rolling its non-existent eyes at the nagging, as if your heart isn’t about to slide up your airways into your esophagus, travel straight up your burning throat and launch out of your mouth. You need to calm down.

The aggravating lump in your throat doesn’t let up.

And that’s when the pad of your thumb impulsively hits the damn blue arrow that’s been mockingly staring at you for the past few minutes.

[11:12PM]

from: You

to: Ignore

can you come over

Once the small letters that say ‘delivered’ pop up under your blue message, you internally scream into the void. Your eyes stay glued to your phone, the back of your phone is becoming slimy in your grasp due to the sweat your palms are rapidly producing.

You barely blink as you stare at the screen, your lips twitching as you wait and attempt to ignore the anxiety bubbling in your chest.

Your gaze slowly shifts upwards on the conversation, rereading old messages. The last you heard from him was 4 months ago. The two of you broke up around 9 months ago but still slept together for a good 2-3 months after.

The last message between you two from 4 months ago was you asking him when he could come pick up the rest of his shit. He came, picked up his shit and that’s when you last saw him. You barely exchanged any words. You had anticipated having sex one last time but he just wordlessly collected his stuff and left.

So, it’s understandable why you’d be so worried about asking him to come over and… well, ask him if he can fuck the shit out of you.

Your heart plummets into the pit of the earth when you notice the ‘delivered’ has turned into ‘read 11:13PM’.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

He’s not responding.

Why is he not responding?

One minute passes. Two minutes pass. Three minutes. Four.

You’ve been staring at your phone the entire time and not once did the bubble that indicates he’s typing pop up.

What if he doesn’t even want to talk to you?

Fuck.

What the fuck were you even thinking?

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

After cleaning up the coffee table that was covered in snacks and empty cans that you used to take your mind off the excruciating arousal pooling in your core, you start heading into your once-shared bedroom with your head held down. It’s been 12 minutes since you sent that message and you haven’t gotten a response.

You’re a damn loser.

You plan to start slipping out of your plain shirt and shorts, cringing when you realize you’ve completely soaked through your cotton shorts. How fucking embarrassing. What the hell is in that pill?

Right as your fingers tuck under the hem of your shorts to pull them down your legs, you hear a rhythmic knock on your front door.

What? Who could…

Wait.

It possibly couldn’t be.

The lump returns to your throat at lightning speed as you start heading down your corridor, sluggishly dragging your feet across the floor.

You press your hand flat against the door in an attempt to gather your thoughts and collect your breath before you slowly start opening up, his familiar feline eyes staring at you with an agitated look pooling in them.

“What do you want?” He doesn’t even have the decency to greet you, he just stands there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants.

You quietly swallow as you cross your arms over your chest, stepping to the side to wordlessly invite him in. When he gives you a raised eyebrow in confusion, you say, “I don’t need my neighbors hearing my business.”

The exasperated sigh he lets out slightly stings but he walks in nonetheless. You close the door behind him but he’s showing no intentions or moves to take his shoes off. He just stands in front of the door, annoyance draped over his features.

You silently stare up at him, hoping he doesn’t notice your strange demeanor.

“So? Are you gonna tell me what you want or are you just gonna stare at me and continue to waste my time?” His words are blunt and brutal—the bitterness that he still holds in his heart for you hasn’t left him, it seems.

You finally find the courage to speak up and quietly say, “I need a favor, Yoongi.”

He blankly stares at you for a few moments. Humorlessly laughs at your request. Drops his head. Shakes it from side to side in disbelief.

You can’t help but glare at his reaction, fighting the urge to roll your eyes and spew insulting words at him. This is kind of selfish of you.

“Why would I do you a favor?” he asks once he’s stopped laughing, staring you down with hooded eyelids and no traces of mock amusement left on his face.

“I’ll owe you,” you say, failing to hide the clear annoyance in your tone. You want to strangle him.

“You already owe me.” His response is almost immediate, leaving you speechless for a few seconds as you stare up at him with a frown etched onto your brows.

“Excuse me? What the fuck do I owe you?”

He tilts his head to the side with an irritated look on his face before he says, “I don’t know, you wasted 3 years of my fucking life?”

You exaggeratedly roll your eyes at his words, shaking your head in exasperation. “I could quite literally say the same to you.”

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, his intense stare down never letting up.

He decides to ignore your remark and repeats, “What do you want, Y/N?”

You swallow again, looking to the side to avoid his penetrating gaze as you think about how the fuck you’re going to ask him what you want to ask him.

How do you even begin to ask?

Hey, you haven’t heard from me in months but could you fuck me real quick?

“What? Do you need money?” he asks in a neutral tone, although you can sense the concern tinged in his words.

“No,” you mumble, the collar of your shirt is starting to feel like it’s closing in around the perimeter of your neck with the goal of suffocating you.

He continues, “Then what? An alibi?”

You throw your head back in exasperation as you groan, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

It’s quiet for a moment and it makes you look at him. You notice he’s staring straight at you like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on and what you aren’t telling him.

“Need some lovin’?” he asks with a certain humorous tone, the joke causing you to glance up at him through your lashes with big eyes.

It seems like only then that he takes notice of your swollen lips, your dilated pupils, the thin layer of sweat on your forehead and the quickened breathing with the way his eyes scan your entire face and the frown on his brows slowly disappearing when the realization dawns on him.

He narrows his eyes at you and his hands leave his pockets, swiftly moving to cross over his chest as his lips twitch, something you can only describe as him trying to stifle a smirk. “You actually asked me to come over so I could come fuck you?”

Your mind travels at incomprehensible speed to come up with an answer, leaving you scrambled and almost stuttering. You blurt out, “It’s your fault.”

This makes his brows pinch together in utter confusion. “How the hell is it my fault?”

A deep sigh pushes past your lips as you drop your arms from your chest, hands resting on your hips as you look at the floor in shame. “I was cleaning shit up and I came across that dumb pink pill you bought that you wanted me to try but never got the chance to,” you explain, peeking up at him through your lashes momentarily before averting your gaze again.

“Pill? What pink pill?” he repeats, the frown on his face deepening further as the word leaves his mouth.

“Yes, that stupid pink pussycat pill, Yoongi. We bought it as a joke to try on our anniversary but then we had that stupid fight.” You try to get him to recall the events of a year ago, the quick wince on his face at the mention of your anniversary fight doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “Anyway, I didn’t want it to go to waste and I was wondering what it might feel like or if it even works. So, I took it earlier today, for shits and giggles.”

He slowly nods to your words as the memories come back to him, seemingly remembering how excited he was for you to take that pill. “So, I reckon the pill is doing what it said it would?”

You merely grunt in response.

He’s silent for a few seconds before quietly chuckling, shaking his head. His chuckle is so deep and sultry, it shoots a tingle right down your soaked panties.

You huff, “What’s so amusing, you dickhead?”

He glances at you through his brows for a moment before averting his gaze, his eyes roaming his surroundings as he looks around your once-shared home. “I’m just flattered, is all.”

“Flattered?” you repeat, a disapproving frown on your features. He’s turning this entire thing into a compliment for himself.

You really can’t fucking stand him.

“You could’ve flaunted that pretty face out at some bar and gotten someone to fuck you without needing to offer any favors,” he explains, giving you a glimpse of his thought process, those words making your body heat up all over again.

Damn him.

You know Yoongi has always found you insanely attractive but him so nonchalantly reminding you has set your insides aflame.

“You know I don’t do that stuff,” you mumble with a shake to your head.

His bitter, humorless chuckle booms in your ears. Why does it sound like he’s literally inside your head? “That’s exactly how we met, you dirty liar.” He reminds you of how his hips were slamming into yours an hour after you met him and no rebuttal comes to your mind.

You silently stare at him, bringing your hand up to wipe some of the sweat off your hairline with the back of your index finger.

“Yeah, you know what? I don’t know why I even texted you. You can leave,” you say, a surge of anger coursing through your veins as you reach for the door handle but Yoongi is quicker than you.

His hand quickly reaches for yours, fingers wrapping tightly around your wrist. “I can tell you why you did,” he quips, cockily.

You glare up at him but make no effort to remove his hand from your skin, the single touch of his skin against yours sends lava down all your veins and every single one of your nerve-endings. Fuck, you wish you could pounce him right fucking now. You finally gather your thoughts and say, “Oh, please, do enlighten me.”

“You asked me here because you don’t want all that arousal to go to waste on someone that doesn’t know your body like I do.” He starts closing the gap between you two, face closing in on yours. “They won’t do the things you like.”

Your throat tightens at his proximity and his words, your lungs seconds away from imploding in between your ribcage.

“And you’re too shy to tell them because you know you like filthy things.” He moves his other hand up to trace the shell of your ear with the tip of his index finger, his eyes glued to how his finger glides down your skin.

If he noticed his touch instantly awoke the goosebumps on your skin, he doesn’t comment on it and continues to play with your ear, fingers coming down to rub your earlobe in between the pads of his thumb and index finger.

“No one knows your body like I do, no one else.” He drops his hand from your ear to trace the collar of your shirt, the tip of his finger occasionally grazing your neck. “No one knows how filthy you are. How needy you are. How you like to be touched and kissed. That’s how I know,” he concludes.

He adds, “You clearly haven’t moved on.”

He was doing so well, too.

Haven’t moved on? Son of a bitch.

“Yeah, well, what about you?” you blurt out. You watch as his thick eyebrows scrunch together in smug mockery.

“What about me? Don’t turn this on me, sweetheart. You’re the one asking me to come fuck you.” He starts to take off his shoes, kicking them aside like he used to do.

Cocky asshole.

“You showed up 10 minutes after a simple ‘come over’ text, no questions asked.” You remind him of tonight’s events and his face slowly turns into a scowl, his usual quick witty comebacks suddenly nonexistent.

“So what?” he mumbles, not in the mood to fight you for this any longer because he knows he’ll lose.

“Just admit you want this as bad as I do instead of being smart about it,” you say, rolling your eyes as you take a step back to create some more distance between you two. You hadn’t realized he’d gotten that close.

He shrugs his shoulders with an air of nonchalance, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “I wouldn’t say as bad as you.”

Right, because you took that pill and your arousal is off the charts.

He must think he’s sooooooo funny.

“You’re a lia–”

Before you can even finish speaking, he takes a step closer and it inevitably traps you in between his body and the wall behind you. He arrogantly adds, “Want me to push my fingers into your panties and check?”

Fuck.

He shouldn’t still have the ability to knock the oxygen right out of your lungs with just silly words. He shouldn’t.

You stare up at him with a furrow in your brows, eyes wide and lips almost quivering, simply at the thought of him touching you. Damn him.

And he knows.

Because his gaze drops to your lips before back to your eyes, the corners of his own lips curling up at something he’s thinking about.

“What?” you grumble, your voice barely coming out and leaving you for dead in your time of need.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head and adds a shrug to his shoulders for extra nonchalance. “I just think after you ran your mouth like this, it’d be more fun to make you beg for it.”

Your hands come up to his chest, pressing flat against him to push him back but he doesn’t budge an inch because there’s no real strength behind the push and he knows it.

“I hate you,” you quietly say, hands still pressed up against his chest with the tiniest bit of pressure to make it seem like you don’t want him.

Unfortunately, Yoongi knows you too well.

“That’s fine, as long as you’re good to me.” The words leave his mouth in a breathy chuckle that drapes over your lips as his face closes in on yours, plump lips grazing the skin of your jaw. “You were always so good to me.”

“Why did you leave me, then?” Your voice comes out a bit choked, a big gulp following your question and it’s almost like you’re attempting to swallow the words back down. You can’t believe you just blurted that out. Is one of the side effects of that dumb pink pill being emotional as hell?

He freezes for a few seconds before pulling away and searching for your eyes. His expression is decorated by a frown and his pretty lips are pressed into a thin line.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, just lets the deafening silence settle around you. Stares at you as if one of the world’s greatest unsolved mysteries is being revealed to him and the answer is in your irises. Watches as you idly blink at him and it makes his lips twitch. Seems to be in deep thought and you can’t figure out what’s going through his mind for the life of you.

Then, he speaks.

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

His words paired with his intense gaze sends a jolt of electricity down your spine, leaving your legs to wobble like they’re made of jelly.

You both stare at each other for a while in complete silence. His familiar, black, feline eyes staring into yours so intimately summon a vine that wraps around your heart, digging its sharp thorns into your most beloved organ until it bleeds out all over your insides.

He’s right.

You clearly haven’t moved on.

“Let’s just,” you pause and shake your head free of those thoughts. You don’t bother to finish your sentence as you wrap your fingers around his wrist, leading him toward your once-shared bedroom and he simply lets you.

As soon as you walk in, you let go of his hand and reach for the hem of your shirt. You yank it off your body without a second of hesitation before tossing it somewhere on the floor and it makes him chuckle for some reason.

You turn to glare at him. “Something funny?” you snark, arms crossing over your chest like a child that wanted the purple lollipop instead of the yellow one.

He stares at you from the entrance of your room, an amused smile still on his pretty lips. His eyes scan the walls and the furniture as he slowly makes his way in, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “I see that you’ve changed the entire room.”

Your eyes follow the direction of his gaze, scanning around the room as if you’d forgotten what you changed about the place. “Yeah.”

He struts toward you, getting so close that he’s practically pressed up against you. His onyx eyes stare you down, one of his infamous unreadable expressions plastered on his face. “Trying to act like I never existed?” he asks, hands still buried in his pockets and fuck, how you wish he would just give in and touch you.

You simply blink up at him, your eyes pingpong-ing between his eyes from left to right continuously as you try to think of a way to answer.

Should you lie? Should you just be honest?

As if on cue, your question is answered when he lazily places his right hand on your hip, pulling you even closer to him.

Be honest.

“No.” You shake your head slightly, never breaking eye contact with the enticing man in front of you. “I was never going to forget about you if everywhere I looked just reminded me of you.”

His hand tenses on your hip, a muscle in his jaw tenses up and your eyes are just in time to catch the way his Adam’s apple bounces up and down.

You shift your eyes back up to his, blinking your eyelids at him so innocently yet so full of temptation. He slowly starts nodding his head as if he just had an epiphany and then moves his hand from your hip to your waist.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, thumb rubbing circles onto your bare skin.

You shrug your shoulders smugly. “Thought you’d never ask.”

He doesn’t need anything else. His lips are on top of yours the moment the words leave your mouth, teeth clashing at how quickly he lunges at you.

His mouth devours you like a man starved as his other hand grips the back of your head to keep you in his grasp, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth.

Several soft moans resound in your throat that he simply swallows, hand balling into a fist on the back of your head, gripping your hair at the root.

You mewl, your hands coming up to squeeze his biceps as you try to grind your hips into his. Fuck, you’re like a fucking animal in heat.

“Fuck, I’m barely touching you and you’re this needy,” he whispers against your open mouth before shoving his tongue back in.

Your insides are set ablaze when he starts pushing you backwards with his own body until your calves hit the mattress and automatically makes you fall backwards, dropping onto your bed.

He wastes no time climbing on top of you, lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down the column of your throat to the strap of your bra as he gently starts tugging them off your shoulders.

You automatically arch your back off the mattress, encouraging him to unclasp your bra and he does.

Whilst he unclasps your bra, he coats your collarbones in soft kisses and absentmindedly throws your bra to the side as he brings his hand back up to fondle your breast in his large hand.

“Fuck,” you whisper, every single inch of his touch electrifies your body and sets your soul alight. Damn, you’ve missed this.

His thumb gently teases your erect nipple, rolling it around whilst he continues to nibble on the skin of your neck.

Your hips involuntarily buck upwards into nothing and you almost flinch at the way his breath grazes your neck when Yoongi softly chuckles, clearly finding your extreme level of arousal amusing.

“Can you just stop teasing me?” you whine, legs spreading wider and wider without a second thought.

“You’re gonna have to ask a lot nicer if you want me to do that, sugar.” He lifts his head off your shoulder and closes in on your other breast, wrapping his lips around it whilst his hand slowly travels down your stomach to your clothed sex. He starts sucking on your nipple and the effects of that pill makes it so it feels like he’s touching you all over, on every part of your body, on every inch of your skin. Causes you to squirm and moan under him like a fish separated from a body of water.

“Fuck,” he chuckles, “I should’ve made you take that pill so fucking long ago. Look at you.”

You simply grumble, “Fuck you.”

He lifts his head off your breast to stare at you directly in the eyes and you instantly regret running your mouth. “Yoongi, I just want–”

Smack!

“Ow!” you cry out, the warmth of the slap on your pussy spreading through your skin like wildfire. You instantly whimper, “I’m sorry.”

The apology means nothing to him, though.

He shakes his head. “Always running that fucking mouth of yours.” His fingers tuck under the hem of your shorts and he slides them down your legs before tossing them aside like he has personal beef with the article of clothing.

“Holy shit,” he whispers as he glances at the massive wet patch on your panties and all the slick smeared around your inner thighs, eyes practically bulging out of his eye sockets.

You can’t help but frown, though. “What?”

“No wonder,” he says, seemingly answering his own unspoken question. “You are completely soaked. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this fucking horny.”

You whine, tucking your thumbs under the hem of your panties to drag them down your legs and he doesn’t even try to stop you, just simply stares at you in awe but your panties don’t budge an inch when you stop and decide to just give in, in hopes he’ll fall for your tricks.

“Please, just,” you yelp, “fuck me. Please. I think I’ll die if you don’t.”

He throws his head back as he laughs, his gorgeous neck on full display for you. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Yoongi,” you pause, “I’m so fucking serious. I’ve been thinking about you fucking me all day. I need you to. Please.”

He searches your face and seemingly takes note of the desperation and earnestness in your eyes. Shortly after, he drags his gaze down your exposed body, simply staring at your naked figure.

Sprawled out on your bed, lips swollen, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin, pupils dilated, breasts bare with nipples standing at attention and your arousal that has already started dripping onto your sheets.

He slowly starts to nod his head and in the blink of an eye, he yanks his own shirt off.

The view of his bare chest brings back so many memories, all the times he fucked you good come rushing back to you and it isn’t fucking helping your case.

A persistent lump forms in your throat that refuses to disappear but that’s when you realize that it’s not just a lump but words. The words ‘I miss you’ are forcing their way to the tip of your tongue, threatening to spill.

But you absolutely refuse to let that happen.

Just bite your tongue.

“All day, huh?” he muses, talking more to himself. He quickly ditches his sweatpants in the meantime and tosses them off the bed. “What took you so long to text me?”

You silently watch as he crawls back over to you in just his black boxers, settling right next to your body and supporting his own weight with his elbow while his other hand returns to your panties. Teasingly plays with the hem. Presses his lips against your neck. Inhales your scent.

You stay quiet for a few moments, eyes shut tightly at the tip of his fingers brushing against your pelvis. So close yet so far. “My pride,” you finally reply.

He simply chuckles at your words and slowly tucks his fingers under the hem of your panties, groaning when the back of his knuckles brush against the sticky patch of your arousal on the inside of your panties. “I don’t think I’ve seen this amount of wetness. Not even in porn.”

His skin finally makes contact with your sex, running right up your wet slit and collecting all of your arousal on the tip of his finger. “Holy fucking shit, Y/N.”

You mewl, hips already thrusting up into his hand but he simply uses his palm to press down on your pelvis.

“Stay still.” The demand makes your insides twist into a wringed out shirt and makes your pussy clench around nothing.

“I can’t,” you whimper, legs shaking at the simple touch of his fingers smearing your arousal all over your sex. “I’m trying to but I can’t.”

It’s like you have no control over your body whatsoever. You just want to be fucked.

“Why can’t you?” he quips as he plunges two fingers right into you, groaning when your slick walls tightly hug his fingers. He already knows, he just likes to push your buttons.

“Because I want you,” you breathe out, moaning at the sensation of his fingers slowly pumping into you. Your sensitivity is off the fucking charts, just his fingers being buried in your pussy without any movement whatsoever could have you cumming in no time.

“I can tell,” he cockily chuckles. His sultry laugh is so full of mockery, the type that would usually piss you the fuck off but in this moment turns you the fuck on. “I just need to prep you, baby. Can’t be hurting you simply because you’re writhing like an animal in heat.”

You quickly shake your head. “I don’t need any fucking prep,” you moan as his hand picks up in pace. “Please, just fuck me. I’m already wetter than I’ve ever been. You literally just said it yourself.”

He lifts his head off your collarbones and searches your eyes for a moment, a stern frown on his brows. “Are you sure?”

Yoongi’s always been into manhandling you and being rough but only when it’s pleasurable for you. He’d usually go down on you or work you towards an orgasm using just his fingers, in hopes it’d have you ready to take him.

So, no, he’s not used to just jumping in and fucking you.

You quickly nod your head. “Never been more sure.”

He stares at you for a moment longer but the sincerity in your eyes is prominent. He then simply spreads your folds with his sticky fingers, smearing your arousal all over your sex before pulling his fingers out of your pussy, the sounds leaving your sex almost embarrassing you.

He slides his hand out of your panties and glances at his hand, eyes scanning his fingers coated in your pussy slick.

“Fuck, look at that,” he whispers but doesn’t even grant you the time to look when he immediately shoves his fingers into his mouth, sucking all your arousal off his digits.

“Yoongi,” you whine, clenching around nothing as you watch him.

“Fuck, princess,” he grunts as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth. “It’s been too long. I’m gonna need to eat that.”

You want to protest but he’s already pulling you toward him by your thighs, settling in between them as he’s now face to face with your slick-covered panties.

“I want to be fucked,” you whine, staring down at him between your legs but his eyes are just focused on your panties.

He replies, “And I want to fucking eat you out so you’re gonna have to be patient, you little brat.”

You don’t have the time to whine any more when he pushes your panties to the side and the single action could have you coming undone, right here, right now.

He idly stares at your glistening pussy like he’s Monkey D. fucking Luffy and he found the One Piece after years of venturing the seas.

“Why are you staring like that?” you quietly ask, unfortunately not possessing enough strength to close your thighs out of self-consciousness.

With a simple shake of his head, his face closes in on your sex and he licks a long stripe up your pussy, collecting a great amount of your arousal in a single swipe of his hungry tongue.

But you’re oozing so much wetness that he simply keeps going, licking all around your sex before focusing on your swollen, angry clit. He wraps his lips around your sensitive pleasure nub and starts sucking, coating his entire chin in your juices.

“Fuck!” you cry, reaching over to pull on his roots, fingers tangled in his soft black locks.

The sensitivity you’re experiencing is too much. “I’m gonna fucking cum, Yoongi.” You’re not even joking.

“Already?” he hums in mockery before wrapping his lips around your clit again and sucks some more with no regard of overstimulating you.

You quickly nod your head and within the next few seconds, you’re cumming all over his tongue and around his mouth. A cry rips through your throat and you’re sobbing at this point, pulling so hard on his roots that it causes him to hiss in pain.

Grinding your hips up into his face, into his nose, into his mouth. You can’t believe how quickly that stupid pink pill has you levitating off the bed, it’s like you don’t even belong on Earth anymore.

The orgasm hits you like none ever before, leaving you even more sensitive. You came within barely, what? A minute of stimulation? Two? Oh, you’re so done for.

You push against Yoongi’s head in hopes he’ll stop and he does—after giving your swollen clit one last slurp.

“Holy shit.” You can’t believe that just happened.

“That was really fast. What was that? A minute? A minute and 30 seconds?” he laughs as he sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“It’s that fucking pill,” you mumble defensively, trying to catch your breath.

A low chuckle leaves his mouth before he glances down at the bulge in his boxers. “Well,” he pauses, “you should take that pill more often.”

You roll your eyes with all the brattiness you can muster, hoping it annoys him as much as he annoys you. “This is the last time I’m even letting you in here, I hope you know that.”

His eyes shift back up to yours and he tilts his head to the side in question, blinking at you with a glimmer in his eyes that you can’t quite describe.

You stare back, trying your best not to look fucked out right now but you know you’re failing horribly at it when he simply shakes his head and lets out a bitter chuckle.

“You just wanted to use me one last time, hm?” he scoffs as his fingers tuck under the hem of his boxers, sliding them down his thighs and tossing them off the bed.

A surge of guilt spreads through your chest when you realize how that must’ve sounded to him. “You know that’s not what I meant, Yoongi.”

“No?” he muses, placing his hands on the back of your thighs before pushing them all the way against the mattress on each side of your body. You know your body isn’t supposed to be able to do this, apparent by the strain in your inner thighs but for some reason, it doesn’t bother you as much.

“No,” you whimper as he uses his own weight to keep your thighs spread, sliding his rock hard dick in between your folds handsfree, but not entering you just yet. It has you squeezing your eyelids shut, trying to focus on the feeling of his rock hard cock—all the ridges and veins on his dick—rubbing so good against your swollen clit.

“I don’t believe you,” he says, watching as you squirm from the slightest bit of friction that he has full control over. It makes you want to smack that grin right off his face.

“I swear,” you sniff, not even being able to thrust your hips up for more friction because Yoongi’s weight and strength keeps you restrained.

He simply hums in response, continuing to slide his dick over your slit, completely coating his shaft in your slick. “If you want me to believe you,” he pauses as his eyes shift up to yours, “you’re going to have to beg and convince me. Tell me how what you just said isn’t true.”

“Please,” you say, no hesitation. “Please, I didn’t mean that. I��just fuck me. I swear I don’t want anyone else to be in your position right now, I only want you. No one else knows me like you, no one.”

He continues to simply watch your face twist in borderline agony from the lack of friction, the sensation you so desperately crave.

“That so?” His tone is filled with so much arrogance that it makes your veins burn with lava.

You merely hum in response and finally crack your eyelids open, just to see him staring into your eyes with that familiar glint in his. Fuck.

“Ready?” he whispers, lining his tip up with your hole and cockily chuckles when you eagerly nod your head.

He abruptly freezes. “Ah, fuck, wait.” His dick is not on your slit anymore and it makes you frown at him.

“What?”

He groans, “I have no condoms.”

For fuck’s sake.

“I mean,” you start, “you’re the last person I had sex with. Did you have sex with anyone after me?”

You’re not sure you even want to hear about it but in this moment you’d do anything to just have him finally fuck the shit out of you.

He avoids your gaze as he keeps it glued to his dick sliding up and down your slit. “I have.”

Oh.

“But it was protected, always,” he adds with a quickness, tone calculated and quiet.

Oh.

Okay.

That’s good but it doesn’t make you feel any better.

You have to swallow your emotions at this moment because your pussy is basically screaming at you to just swallow your pride. “Okay, then just do it without.”

He peers up at you through his thick brows with a frown. “Are you sure?”

You mumble, “For fuck’s sake.” Your hand quickly reaches for his shaft but he slaps it away just as quickly.

“I know you’re horny as fuck but I need you to be 100%,” he pauses when he sees you glaring at his dick. “Look at me, dammit.”

Your eyes shift to his and you childishly groan. “Yes, Yoongi, I 100% consent to letting you fuck me raw. Now, will you please just–”

He doesn’t even let you finish talking as he slides his dick right into you, bottoming out completely. You yelp at the intrusion, your slick walls stretching around his shaft so well, like it always has.

“Holy shit,” he whispers with closed eyes, the disgusting squelching coming from your sexes is proof of your arousal and the moans falling from his lips as your pussy tightly hugs him sounds like a choir of angels sustaining a high C.

You try to keep quiet, you try not to squirm, you try not to say the craziest things right now. Like ‘I love you’, or ‘I’ve missed you so much’ because you’re just horny and dumb.

“Move,” you whimper, needing more than he’s giving you right now. He hears you loud and clear, sliding out of you and right back in. The disgusting squelching reaches your ears but you can’t bring yourself to care at the moment, not when Yoongi finds it hot and throws in occasional ‘fuck, listen to that’s and ‘you’re so fucking wet’s.

You cuss, eyes rolling to the back of your head when your sensitivity reaches its peak. A few more thrusts will already have you cumming, you’re sure of it.

He continues to thrust, slowly starting to pick up his pace and he finally cracks his eyelids open. His eyes find yours as he stares at you—scanning your pretty face that he loves to look at—especially when it’s twisted in pleasure like that.

Brows furrowed, lips swollen, pupils dilated, mouth agape, a thin layer of sweat draped over your forehead and building up in your hairline.

Somewhere along the line, the eye contact becomes too intense for you. Your hand snakes around the back of his head, closing the distances between you two by pulling him closer to you, licking and sucking on the honey tinted skin of his neck.

After a while of sucking and nipping at his neck and his thrusts never coming to a halt, your orgasm starts approaching you rapidly again. “I’m gonna cum,” you cry, tears pricking in your eyes from the pure pleasure that’s setting all your insides ablaze.

“Already?” he murmurs as he leans down, kissing away the tears that have subtly started rolling down your temples. “But I have yet to ruin you.”

Fuck.

“Whatever, though. I guess you’re just going to lose count of the amount of orgasms I’ll fuck you through.” He states it so nonchalantly because he knows only he could ever make you feel like this, make you desperate like this, make you a needy mess like this.

His hips continue to harshly snap into yours, the indescribable sensation of being fucked at this angle and pace has your thighs clenching. Unsurprisingly not long after, your orgasm hits you full force once again.

A sob rips through your throat, your trembling hands grab at his shoulders, nails painfully digging into his skin as he fucks you through your high. His low chuckle rings in your ear, breath hitting your throat as he lowers his face into the crook of your neck.

“Cumming all over my dick and sucking marks on my neck. Are you trying to claim me again?” he whispers, knowing how possessiveness was big a turn on for the both of you back in your relationship.

You simply cry under him, the orgasm lasting longer than any you’ve ever had before. His dick kisses your cervix repeatedly, your breasts bounce continuously from the momentum of his thrusts and the sound of his skin slapping yours only increases in volume the longer he fucks you.

“I asked you something,” he says, lifting his head off your shoulder to stare down at you. “Where’d that bratty mouth that I love so much go?”

You simply grunt in response, teary eyes glaring at him as you slowly come down from your high. The corners of his lips curl up in a twisted smirk at the sight in front of him, you know he enjoys seeing you in this state and him being the sole cause of it pleases him greatly.

The overstimulation is starting to catch up to you. Your hand basically moves on its own, pressing flat into his lower abdomen in order to get him to slow down.

However, it means nothing to him. He simply continues to thrust into you like he’s got something to prove. “Answer me, Y/N. Do you want to claim me again?” he repeats.

You mewl, sinking your cranium further into your soft pillows, exposing more of your throat and neck to him as tears continue to pour out of your eyes.

“Fuck you,” you whimper, digging your nails into the skin around his belly button but it doesn’t elicit a single reaction from him.

He simply chuckles at your snarky comment as he lowers his lips onto your throat, sucking and nipping at it. You know he expected you to say that. No one else knows you like the back of their hand like he does.

“There’s my girl,” he mumbles against your skin. His words paired with the simple act of kissing your neck has all your insides clenching and twisting with something you can’t quite describe.

Butterflies?

Something you’re not going to admit out loud.

“I don’t appreciate you talking to me like that, though.” With one more thrust, he pulls out of you and harshly flips you onto your stomach. You don’t even have the time to react when he gently grabs your hips yet roughly hoists your ass up off the mattress.

A sharp sting spreads through your asscheek and that’s when you realize his rough hand came down on your bum, spanking you hard.

“Ow!” you screech in pain yet pleasure, every vein in your body pumping blood faster and faster as you anticipate exactly why, of all people, you called Yoongi over.

He doesn’t even give you the time to come down from that spanking before he gives you another one. And another one. And another one.

“You ask me to come over after not talking to me for months, then beg me to fuck you. I give you what you want and you still have the audacity to be so rude to me?” He clicks his tongue loudly and immediately after the scolding, spanks you yet again. “Biting the hand that feeds you. Tsk. I should cum in that filthy mouth of yours for talking to me like this.”

He shoves his dick back inside without a warning and continues to assault your poor asscheeks, rough palms continuously coming down to your ass in loud smacks.

You hoarsely cry out under him, most likely from the embarrassment because thanks to that damn pill you might cum from just being spanked at this point.

As if he heard your thoughts, the spanking comes to an end and his hands are now flat on your back, keeping you pressed into the mattress with his weight while he starts fucking into you again. “You like getting fucked from the back, right?”

Your ass bounces back against his hips with each thrust, adding more and more sensations to your body. You’re not going to last for very much longer.

He mumbles, “No, that’s not it.” He leans forwards, pressing his chest into your back, lips grazing the shell of your ear and he places his hands against the mattress on each side of your waist, supporting his own weight. “You just love being fucked like a slut.”

Fuck.

“Isn’t that right? You don’t care in what position you get fucked in, as long as you’re getting fucked, hm? Like the horny slut you are.” He remembers exactly what you like and it’s embarrassing. “My slut, though. No one else’s.”

And you admit that yes, you wouldn't just want any stranger to talk to you like this.

It only works with Yoongi because he knows you. Because he understands you. Because he loves you.

Or he did once, at least.

But him showing up at your front door, no questions asked, 10 minutes after you asked him to, might be proof of something you both are trying to deny. Not like it matters.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you moan. You’ve already lost count but it doesn’t matter, not when he’s fucking you so good.

“Cumming so quickly from just being talked to like this. I bet you’ve missed my filthy mouth just as much as I missed yours,” he whispers into your ear, pressing soft kisses to your skin in a way only a lover should. “I fucking love it.”

The soft kissing and the low volume of his voice are a stark contrast to the rough pounding of his hips and the degrading words leaving his lips.

And you can’t help but love it.

“Tell me I’m right,” he demands as he picks up the pace, snaking one hand around to wrap around your throat and pull you up until the back of your head collides with his shoulder. “Tell me it’s true.”

Now with your orgasm approaching, he knows you’d do anything to get there.

He knows you too well.

“Fuck, I love it!” you cry as your nth orgasm washes over you, your body violently jerking under him from the overstimulation you’re experiencing.

“I know you do,” he chuckles as he fucks you through your orgasm. “That’s my girl. My fuckin’ girl.”

Fuck.

He has no idea what those words do to you.

Well, it’s Yoongi. He definitely knows what it’s doing to you.

Because you are not his girl. Not anymore.

But you don’t have the energy to correct him nor do you want to. Because at this moment, it feels like the two of you never separated. Like you never spent a day apart. All of the nostalgia, love and hate comes rushing back to you. Surely it’s that stupid pink pill’s fault.

He pulls out in a swift motion and turns you onto your side before he lies down behind you on his side as well, chest pressed into your back as he pulls you closer.

Fuck, how many positions is he going to fuck you in? Is he making up for all the time you spent apart?

Now that you’re in spooning position, he gently places his hand under your thigh and lifts it up to spread your legs. His hand leaves your thigh as he uses the same hand to guide his dick to your pussy again.

Your thigh almost wants to give out and drop, your chest still dramatically rising and falling as you chase your breath.

Another cocky chuckle rumbles in his chest at how you struggle to even move now, his hot breath draping over your neck and his hand returning to the same spot on your inner thigh as he lifts your leg again and pushes into you.

Your head falls back, falling deeper into his embrace and he welcomes that by pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. “I don’t know how I survived all those months without y–” he pauses, “your pussy.”

Hmph. He’s the pussy if he doesn’t want to admit he misses you.

But then again, he was never that type. Yoongi was never the type to show his love through words but rather through actions and services, he had difficulties expressing his affection with words.

Like when it took him a year to say ‘I love you’ yet everyday after he came home from an exhausting day at work, he’d pull your feet into his lap and massage them in hopes of offering you some kind of relief.

Or when the topic of wedding vows came up and he said he finds them useless yet he’d buy you a fresh set of bouquets every week until down to the very week you broke up.

Or when he’d place a glass of water on your nightstand everyday when he left for work, whether he fucked the shit out of you the night before or not.

Yoongi always just showed you.

And now that he’s balls deep in your pussy, now that the effects of that pill are clouding your mind, now that his proximity is distorting your mind and setting all your nerve-endings alight again, you have to consciously stop yourself from asking him to come back home—back to you.

Your mind is so distorted that you don’t even recall the bad moments or the reason for your break up right now. You just miss him.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers in your ear, thrusting his hips into you at a considerably slower pace but by no means lacking in strength and passion.

“Like I’m fucking floating on a cloud,” you mumble back, body almost falling limp at his proximity and his dick rubbing your walls so deliciously.

He simply chuckles, “That’s what I like to hear.”

He continues to fuck into you, occasionally groaning and fondling your breast. “Fuck,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to the back of your neck.

“Yoongi, I–”

“I know.”

You don’t even know.

You don’t even know what you were going to say.

But his confident ‘I know’ proves to you that he knows.

Thanks to his slow pace, it takes your orgasm a little longer to approach and thank fuck for that.

“I’m gonna cum soon,” he tells you, rubbing your tummy from the back. “Where do you want it?”

“I don’t care where you cum as long as you kiss me during it.”

Damn. Why the fuck would you say that?

Great. He just abruptly stopped thrusting. You’re such a fucking idiot.

You would have never been able to admit this if you didn’t take that stupid pill or even if you weren’t facing him with your back.

He swiftly pulls out and wraps his fingers around your bicep to turn you around, making you face him now. Still in spooning position but this time facing each other, he pulls you close, lifting your leg onto his hip as he guides his dick back into you and propping your head up on his bicep.

His hand finds its way back to your asscheek and squeezes the soft skin in his rough hand as he pulls you even closer, pressing your chest right into his.

“Cum with me, baby. You’re doing so good.”

He’s so mean for doing this. So mean for the things he says, so mean for fucking you exactly as you like it, so mean for making you feel like you still belong to him. Like he belongs to you.

He thrusts his hips into you faster and sure enough, the effects of the pill get to work because your stomach starts twisting from the inside immediately after the change of pace and his request of cumming together.

Your fucked out eyes meet his determined ones, staring into those black bottomless pits of his as he chases his own release.

He simply stares back, eyes occasionally dropping to your lips. In this moment, his eyes are everywhere you look, his breath hits every inch of your skin, his hand on your hip holds you so tightly that you think be might crack your hipbone. He’s inside your head. He’s everywhere. He’s everything.

It seems like he wants to say something but his attention gets disrupted by the sound of something buzzing on the nightstand behind you.

It’s his phone.

He tears his eyes away from yours, reaching for it whilst still being inside of you and by the guilty look on his face, it doesn’t take a genius to decipher it must be someone whose arms and bed he found comfort in after separating from you.

When he thinks you must’ve realized, he tosses his phone off the bed and returns his attention to you.

But he doesn’t owe you anything. Not an explanation. Not an apology. Not even love.

It’s quiet for a few moments, just your occasional soft moaning and his heavy breathing as you close your eyes to avoid his gaze.

Until you crack your eyelids open again and find out he’s been staring at you the entire time. Your walls tightly clench around him again, indicating your orgasm is close. “Just call me your girl again,” you whisper, allowing the vulnerability to escape your system once again.

Dumb bitch.

“You are. You are my girl,” is all he says before pressing his lips against yours as promised, grabbing a handful of your asscheek as he snaps his hips into yours and forces his tongue into your mouth.

You let his tongue force itself past your swollen lips, crying into his mouth as another orgasm sends electricity down all your limbs, making your brain explode with ridiculous amounts of dopamine and launching you straight to your Utopia.

You murmur some shit into his mouth that even you don’t understand, voice coming and going whenever it pleases, more and more slick gushing out of your completely drenched pussy. Tears continue to escape and roll down your temples, your nose is runny, your voice is hoarse.

A soft moan resounds in Yoongi’s throat when his own orgasm hits him, thrusts getting inconsistent and rough as he starts painting your walls with his warm cum, groaning loudly into your mouth which you happily welcome.

This is otherworldly.

Nothing will ever feel like this moment right here and you’re not sure whether you’ve accepted that yet.

He fucks both of you through your orgasms, pumping his load into you like it belongs inside of you and fuck, have you missed the feeling.

With a few more sloppy thrusts, creating a mess everywhere, his thrusting comes to a halt yet he never stops kissing you.

He curls his arm so your head shifts on his bicep even closer towards his face, keeping his dick buried in you, eliciting a simple sigh in content from the ex-girlfriend in his arms.

After an extra few minutes of nonstop making out with a man that was once yours, you’re the one that pulls away. Your stomach clenches with something you can’t describe when you watch him still chase your lips until he realizes you’ve pulled away, making him slowly open his eyes.

Is it guilt? Is it desire? Is it regret?

Fuck. Fuck. This whole idea just wasn’t smart.

You did your best to rid yourself of the stain he planted on you, closing the mark where he sunk his fangs so deeply into your skin, into your soul. You’re letting him reopen it and you’re so damn fucking stupid for it.

And you don’t understand why he’s the only one you want. No one else.

He stares at you for a moment before pressing his forehead against yours, still trying to catch his breath.

You stay unmoved for a few more moments before he delicately pecks your lips again and gently pulls his softening dick out of you, your nose scrunching when his load starts to leak out of you and onto your sheets.

He doesn’t say much else as he gets up from your bed, eyes searching the floor for something before he hunches over and slides his boxers back up his legs.

He leaves your bedroom without another word, making you simply frown at the ceiling but he quickly reappears with a glass of water and a damp towel.

He hasn’t changed a bit.

He takes care of you like nothing’s changed, cleaning your body up, changing the sheets while you don’t move a muscle, tucking you under the fresh covers and making sure you drink your water before opening the windows in an attempt to get some fresh air after you’ve fogged up the windows in the room.

He sits at the edge of your bed, gently tracing your hairline with the tip of his finger. “How are you feeling?”

If only he knew.

Your mouth slightly curls at the corners, a lazy smile plastered on your lips. “I feel amazing.”

Another sultry chuckle leaves his mouth as he nods his head in agreement.

This is nice.

But your mind changes when you silently watch him rising to his feet and slowly reaching for his clothes.

Ugh.

You’ve been vulnerable enough.

You asked him to come do one thing and he did it. You can’t ask much more of him.

But your heart works faster than your brain.

“Can you stay the night?” you quietly ask, fidgeting with your fingers under the sheets, relieved that he can’t see.

He glances at you over his shoulder, a frown on his brows. It seems like he thinks about it for a moment before parting pretty his lips to say, “What?”

Fuck.

Your voice goes even quieter, thinking of a way to reformulate the question. “Do you want to stay the night?”

He idly blinks at you, eyes staring straight into your soul as if you just asked him the most absurd question that you could’ve asked him. “Do you want me to?”

The neutral tone of his voice simply makes you shrug your shoulders in response, avoiding his intense gaze that always makes you feel like no one else exists in his mind but you.

Stupid.

“Y/N,” says Yoongi, quietly. Your eyes twinkle up at him, the clear look of a dilemma plastered on your face. He closes the distance between you two, hovering over your body before repeating his question with a bit more bluntness. “Do you want me to?”

Your swollen bottom lip is trapped between your teeth, veins pumping with anxiety and anticipation.

You sniffle a bit in hopes that it makes the tension and silence less awkward. “Yeah.”

Your eyes trail his features, remembering how gorgeous he actually is. How could you ever forget? His thick brows, his sharp eyes, his plump lips, his soft nose, his beautiful hair.

The next few words that leave his mouth rip you right out of your thoughts.

“Then I’ll stay,” he pauses, “for however long you want me to.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

⋆ MASTERLIST & CONCEPT VIDEO ⋆

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

— enjoyed it? you can always show your appreciation by buying me some coffee if you want ☕︎♡

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[theatrum-tenebrarum]

Misunderstanding Lucifer from the Sandman series and why Gwendoline Christie is the right choice (an art historian and occultist's opinion)

I am writing this post as I'm absolutely baffled by the issues people seem to have with the portrayal of the character of Lucifer in the Sandman series. For some reason people find it problematic that the fallen angel is played by Gwendoline Christie, a powerful and androgynous-looking woman, but there is seemingly no problem with Lucifer being played by a black-haired man in the nightclub business (Tom Ellis in the Netflix series 'Lucifer'). Don't get me wrong, Tom Ellis is entertaining and wonderful to watch, but that particular version of Lucifer is neither canon when it comes to the comics nor does it have anything to do with the actual angel Lucifer.

Angels are genderless beings and they have always been portrayed as androgynous in the history of art. Multiple literary sources, including grimoires (books with supposed instructions on how to summon these beings and many others), state that angelic beings as well as demons are able to change their appearance. Many of those forms they might take aren't even humanoid and they can choose not to show any physical form at all. They aren't corporeal beings, the fact that they do take on any resemblance of a physical form is just so humans can understand them better. That's why we've been painting them as human-like ever since the early times of human civilization. What we make to be similar to us is what makes it comprehensible. Portraying beings from other dimensions/realms as human-like but with androgynous features is a way to show they don't belong in the physical dimension, as gender is likely a non-existent concept in other realms of existence. Androgyny of mythical beings, therefore, emphasizes the fact they are different than physical beings such as humans.

Therefore, when portraying an angelic being in art, or in any type of media, making them androgynous is making way for their essence to come through. In a way, the same applies to the way elves are portrayed as ethereal and androgynous since they don't have to be corporeal beings at all, at least when it comes to folklore. I know this opinion might not be understandable to others or it might sound controversial, but I believe that not portraying an angelic being as androgynous and not showing any signs of their divine origin (these include mannerisms that emphasize their etheriality for example, a cadence in their voice that is different etc.) is a huge missed opportunity that might rob these interesting mythical beings of what they are. Not making angels feel like angels beats the point of having an angel character (in a movie, series or video game for example) in the first place.

This is why Gwendoline Christie is the right choice. At a height of 6′ 3″ (1.91 m), captivatingly pale. androgynous with a powerful specific sort of grace and presence - a perfect 'vessel' for the Morning Star. What's more, she understands the importance, complexity, grandeur and the mythical dimension of the figure of Lucifer, as well as the whole 'spirituality' of the Sandman universe which is rather evident from her approach to this role and the interviews she has given so far. I might go so far to say that, even though the Sandman series isn't even out yet (though there is some footage available already), the casting of Gwendoline as Lucifer feels right just as the casting of Lee Pace as Thranduil in the Hobbit felt right and I consider the character of Thranduil to be the best portrayal of a humanoid mythical being on TV. Lee felt like an elven king, moved like an elven king, spoke like an elven king and radiated an energy of the dimension the elven king might have come from (I'm talking about the folkloric 'Otherworld' where elves supposedly live). I feel the same might apply to Gwendoline and Lucifer.

As an occultist, art historian, anthropologist and someone who is rather fond of the figure of Lucifer, I am looking forward to seeing how Gwendoline interprets him. Finally, we might get something completely different from a frequently portrayed 'demonic' side/version of this important mythical character. We might just see the Light Bringer who has not forgotten his divine origin.

- Heidi (@theatrum-tenebrarum)

Gwendoline Christie as Lucifer (The Sandman series on Netflix, out 5th August 2022)

[4dbarbie-archive]

4dbarbie remix: You're dreaming from memory

4dkelly notes: This could be a good introductory pointer for those new to non-dualism. Probably my last remix for a while because they always start off as a fun or great idea that ends up taking way too much time and mental energy lol. Also I know it says 4dbarbie remix and it's because I extracted all the text from her posts but almost half of this adaptation post is made with direct or adapted excerpts from the book I Am That by Nisargadatta Maharaj as she often incorporated his words into her posts so it might be more accurate to call it a 4dbarbie and I Am That remix. I've marked extracts that are from the book with an asterisk (*). My highlight colour key: key concepts are in pink, action points in purple, really important points in red, my notes (which are minimal) in blue

There is nothing that exists. Only you do. 1 The only thing you know for sure is: 'here and now, I am'. Remove the 'here and now', the 'I am' remains, indisputable. The world exists in memory, memory comes into consciousness; consciousness exists in awareness and awareness is the reflection of the light on the waters of existence. 2*

The person is a very small thing. Actually it is a composite, it cannot be said to exist by itself. Unperceived, it is just not there. It is but the shadow of the mind, the sum total of memories. Pure being is reflected in the mirror of the mind, as knowing. What is known takes the shape of a person, based on memory and habit. It is but a shadow, or a projection of the knower onto the screen of the mind. 3*

You (Self) are projecting this very moment live. Nothing is happening to you, I mean literally. Nothing is out there. 4 Everything you see and experience is only a mental condition, a dream-like state, easy to dispel by questioning its reality. It's you imagining it as real and fighting it with all your might that keeps it alive. In this dream, you imagine yourself to be a process, to have a past and future, to have history. In fact, we have no history, we are not a process, we do not develop, nor decay. 5*

When you sleep at night, you think the world you're dreaming of is real. You wake up in the morning and you go on living in a different world, which you also think is real. But while you were in the first dream you had no memory of this world, did you? You come into the waking state and forget all about that dream (because you dismiss it as unreal & imagined so you have no reason to care once the experience is over). You're present in a second dream, and you deal with this one because now that's "what is real". But there is no difference between sleeping and waking, awareness is the background of both. You just think the waking state more real because you've dreamt it over and over and reinforced your belief. They're equally imaginary. 6

Each and every moment is projected on your consciousness but in reality, there is no link or cause between them. Memory gives the illusion of continuity and repetitiveness creates the idea of causality (e.g. I have blue eyes because I take after my mom). When things repeatedly happen together, we tend to see a causal link between them. It creates a mental habit, but a habit is not a necessity.* Drop it. You, now, even if recreated completely from memory and appearing the same, are still doing the creating/projecting live. It is all memory carried over into the now. You never move, your mind does. You don't arrive anywhere, you've always been there. You don't become, you already are. 1

Memory seems to being things to the present out of the past, but all that happens does happen in the present only. It is only in the now that phenomena manifest themselves. Thus, time and causality do not apply in reality. You are prior to the world, body and mind. You are the sphere in which they appear and disappear. You are the source of them all, the universal power by which the world with its bewildering diversity becomes manifest. 7*

You recreate the world every day from memory. There is no yesterday but your memory of it. There is no tomorrow but your thought of it. You are moving from now into now, and nothing has reality but in your mind. In deep sleep you are no one, no thing, you are not aware of being anything. You are just aware of being. There is no world, no one, not even 'yourself'. 8 In the absence of the mind, even the sense 'I am' dissolves. There is no 'I am' without the mind. All experience subsides with the mind. Without the mind, there can be no experiencer nor experience. 8*

Consciousness creates the mind which projects the world, built of memory and imagination.* You create a world, then you create an ego in it that is desiring some thing - look at it, you are doing that now. Stop the urge to create and recreate worlds of desires. 1 You don't have to live by memory. You can see the world as it is, a momentary appearance in consciousness. 7*

See all as a dream and stay out of it. While it lasts, the dream has temporary being. It is your own desire to hold on to it that creates the problem. Let go. Stop imagining that the dream is yours. 5*

Realize your true being, all else will follow and take care of itself. You will no longer feel the need to manifest or get things, because you see you are the one imagining the things. You already are, and if you want to observe yourself as 'something', you can. After you rid yourself of your belief that you are the ego, you no longer feel compelled in any direction whatsoever. You do not feel like you need to be the body you imagine you were born with (because you were never it in the first place), or watch Sandra's from afar. You’re free to do or not to do whatever you want; you are dreaming, and you know you are dreaming, there is nothing to fear or fight, because all is yours. The thing to do is to establish that permanently, for all time. Then you can play any part you so desire, and be totally unaffected by it. 3

Free from memory and expectation, you are fresh, innocent and wholehearted. Needing nothing, you are unafraid. Whom to be afraid of? There is no separation, we are not separate selves. There is only one Self, your Self. 1*

Become aware that the waking state is just a dream and life will forever be a breeze. 6 When the world is real, it is heavy. When the Self is real, the world is light. 3#

References

4dbarbie posts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

* Text excerpts from I Am That by Nisargadatta Maharaj

# from Keys to The Ultimate Freedom by Lester Levenson

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

I’ve been simping over your ‘human’ Nomicon design since it came out in Ninja-November. If you have any headcanons about them, would you please share?

ah, a fellow monster/eldritch horror enjoyer I see! thank you! <3 tbh that Nomicon design was like an one day revelation, because while I love all the human!Nomi designs I've seen over the years (and there are some banger ones, man), it hit me that we as a fandom really underutilize all the uncanny aspects Nomi possesses. So ye. I do have a couple hc.

Nomicon is an entity that doesn't have its own face and voice.

Whenever Nomicon talks to Randy it uses proxies in form of art/images/drawings/scribbles/writings. It gives strangely non-verbal vibes for something so cryptically eloquent! And whenever it does use a voice, its voice of the First Ninja (or more accurately his VA xD) , its first owner/wielder. When it uses a face, its usually the static/unmoving marble-like faces of Art or silly pen scribbles - both of which hold that uncanny valley look of something that looks human but really isn't. Not to mention the fact that it once literally stole Randy's face/body to teach him a lesson.

I like to think that Nomicon has a library of faces/visages/voices it can take on, but all of them are creepily unsettling because - what would a book know about how to be human? It's face moves wrong, the eyes are too wide open, its body is creepily still, the voice uses inflections like its copying someone else (and sometimes voice warbles and changes/overlaps with other voices because it has so many).

All of it gives these fae/cryptid vibes of creatures that steal voices/faces to trick people, but in this case Nomicon collects those faces/voices from its owners along with their memories (which is another messed up thing we collectively forget is very creepy lol).

Nomicon is an entity that doesn't have a body, and most importantly - hands.

The reason I gave Nomicon so many shadow hands is because, well, Nomicon is a book. Hands hold those books, so the hands are very important to Nomi. All those shadow hands? Are memories of all the hands that held it (mostly previous Ninjas, but also the Creep and some others). It remembers everyone who held it.

The fit- the hat and the cape are kind of obvious, it look like center of the cover and the cape looks like covers on either side with pages underneath. The weirdest addition I made - is the spaghetti noodle-doodle 'hair'.

It constantly fascinates me that Nomicon, besides the Greek Key/9 motif, has those sort of concentration circles that are also present during Mask/Suit transformation. It gave me thought of sort of weird halos i guess?? Which adds to creepy vibe, but in this case its biblically accurate angel / holy deity type of vibes.

Nomicon has very basic understanding of humanity.

For all the experiences/memories/personalities it was created from and it absorbed over the years, human things are a rather alien concept for the book. It's the reason Nomicon is so bad at its timing whenever it buzzes Randy. It just doesnt care that you are at school Randy, its trying to teach you how to be a better ninja!!! In some sense, it absorbed the most prevalent quality of First Ninja - the dedication to duty, the whole reason for its existence - to serve Ninjas to be the best they can. So, such human/mortal things as good grades/video games/a good nights sleep are very nebulous concepts to it.

Less of a hc but more of an observation/gripe but-

COME ON ITS NAME??? Ninjanomicon as in Ninjanecronomicon??? Because lets be honest its not just a book/guide for Ninjas its a book full of DEAD NINJAS??? LIKE??? In some sense all previous Ninjas, when they go through Ultimate Lesson, 'die' in the real world (because they are no longer Ninjas) and are preserved in Nomicon. And First is like deadass dead? (Plop plop too lol). So I feel like there should be more creepiness about that.

Anyway thats basically most of it, and sorry for silly doodles but i cant really draw creepy stuff xD

[saintsenara]

Thoughts on remadora?

thank you very much for the asks, anons!

while they are by no means my otp, i really enjoy remadora as pairing - and i think they’re fully up there among the canon couples in terms of being an amazing vehicle through which to explore all sorts of questions about life and love - which i am aware is a sufficiently controversial statement that it involves an immediate engagement with some discourse…

because remadora girlies [gender neutral] get an enormous amount of shit within the fandom, particularly from fans who consider wolfstar to be a more plausible pairing for lupin than tonks. i have seen remadora shippers called homophobes for simply enjoying the couple, justified with the bizarre idea that it disrespects remus' relationship with sirius [so... the non-canon one?] to put them together. i have seen tonks turned into a pathetic shrew who is trying to keep remus from the real love of his life by trapping him with an unwanted baby. i have seen remadora shippers get a lot of the usual stuff that people who prefer the canon-endgame couples do [that to ship a canon pair is boring, that it is indicative of a lack of talent, that it indicates an uncritical support for jkr] magnified to eleven because tonks has the temerity to be a barrier to remus’ relationship with the fandom’s favourite hot and brooding man.

obviously, this is bullshit - primarily because its unreasonable and cruel to invest so much time and energy being mean to people because of their harry potter shipping preferences [fandom should never be that deep].

but it’s also a disappointment to me personally because it means that it can be very hard to find the sort of remadora i like without looking like i’m coming to contribute to the pile-on. because where many remadora fans and i don’t see eye-to-eye is that i have absolutely no interest in thinking about them as a relationship which is actually functional. and, all too often, i find myself sifting through fics which do prefer to interpret them like this - as romantic and passionate and stable - largely, i think it’s fair to say, as a defensive move against the tide of “urgh, imagine shipping that” nonsense - even though all the evidence of canon is that they are… very much not.

i am aware of the pottermore article which smoothes the edges of lupin’s canonical reaction to tonks’ feelings for him in half-blood prince - but, while i read this as something of a retcon to make the relationship more palatable, i also don’t think that assuming that both tonks and lupin’s attraction to each other was sincere precludes them being as dysfunctional as they canonically are. i don’t go in for the common anti-remadora argument that tonks “forces” him into a relationship with her - it’s clear in half-blood prince that it’s not only her who has discussed her feelings with molly and arthur weasley, lupin is definitely flirting with her when they pick harry up in order of the phoenix, lupin is an adult man [no matter other power imbalances between him and tonks - such as the fact that she is an agent of the state which oppresses him] who possesses the capacity to refuse her advances, and - since teddy’s conception is not immaculate - he has no issue with enjoying a sexual relationship with her even if he then wants to run away from the product of that.

instead, what i like with remadora is that they reveal something which goes against the grain of the rest of the series: that love is not always enough. throughout the seven-book canon, we see time and time again the idea that love - and, crucially, love-as-noble-suffering and love-as-sacrifice - is enough to overcome any problem. entire civil service collaborating with a terrorist regime? don’t trouble yourself, love has won. your mother dying in childbirth leaving you to be neglected in a state institution? your own fault you’re not interested in love.

i understand the genre reasons for this, but i also love the way in which lupin especially exists on the margins of these genre conventions [just as he exists on the margins of wizarding society!]. i’m always struck in deathly hallows that he’s the only person who’s actually realistic about the demands of war - particularly when he tells harry that it is breathtakingly naive for him to think he can get through the fighting without having to shoot to kill - and that part of him having to be shuffled out of the way when harry tells him to return to the pregnant tonks is because, were the story focused on realism, the idea that a wanted man who is considered an unhuman by the state fleeing in order to guarantee the safety of his wife and unborn child becomes eminently reasonable and harry's defense of the nuclear family embarrassingly unradical.

and so i like the idea of lupin seeing tonks - and tonks seeing lupin - initially as just a bit of fun, as the two of them being just two chill single people who think the other is hot and interesting and want to bang because of it.

[which is something fandoms in general really struggle with as a concept. we like epic love stories - and you won't find me objecting to that! - but we're less good at thinking about casual sexual attraction or transient friendships, and how these can be transformative and meaningful without having to end up going any sort of distance.]

and i then like the idea of the relationship being forced into a profundity it doesn’t really have the juice to sustain by the sheer avalanche of grief which besets the two of them - sirius, dumbledore, mad-eye, ted - and by the pressure of the war and the fact that the order is scrambling and the hangover of remus' self-destruction in half-blood prince which makes each cling to the other as a life-raft. i like remadora as something codependent and messy and strange and sad, and i don’t think this prevents it being sincere and fun and based in mutual attraction, but instead that these positive qualities can exist in conjunction with the fact that, without the war, it would have been a summer of fucking and that was probably it.

on tonks herself, i don’t think i can say it better than @evesaintyves in this meta on her character. i’ve been really uncomfortable with quite a lot of stuff i’ve seen recently which has taken against the idea that tonks can be meaningfully read as queer on the basis of what we find in the text, above all because it so often comes with the implication that one cannot imagine her in her canon endgame pairing and presume that she’s something other than straight or cisgender. eve sets out an excellent case for tonks as bolshy and liberated and in tune with herself and fun and confused and in flux and still figuring stuff out about who she is and where she’s going - and this translates, may i say, to an astonishingly beautiful way of writing her, lupin, and the dysfunction inherent between them which i highly recommend you read.

[lebrookestore]

sixteen | l.dh [part i]

Pairing: Lee Donghyuck x reader

Themes: strangers to lovers, highschool! au, coming of age, lovers to exes, exes to lovers to ??, producer! donghyuck (very lightly explored), roommates! au but with a twist, second chance romance, slowburn, angst, fluff, romance, PG 15. (moodboards: i | ii)

Warnings: profanity, heavy ANGST, kissing, food, underage alcohol consumption and alcohol consumption in general, drug use, smoking (vaping, cigarettes and weed consumptions), crude humour, teenagers doing dumb shit as teenagers do, cheating, betrayal.

Word count: 21.6k

Summary: Youth is always accompanied with a fragile glimmer of hope, with you and Donghyuck viewing the world through the rosiest of glasses. But as the ephemeral days of teenage foolishness bleed into the harshness of adulthood, the rosy hue begins to diminish, and you learn that for some people, it just isn’t meant to be.

Playlist: here 

Notes from brooke: hello hi, it's been literally over a year since i posted a full length fic so view this one as something of a peace offering for my inacitivity. it fully started out as a joke drabble concept i thought of out of the blue one day but as i always do, i got carried away and here we are with another angst monster 😭 i wanted to post it as a oneshot but tumblr is a bitch as usual, so here's part one. there were a lot of complications with this fic, but i'm extremely proud of how it turned out and it took a lot of hard work and time to get done so i'm really fucking nervous to put this out there lmao but i hope you guys like it and if so please leave some feedback!! (format of this fic is heavily inspired by forever, interrupted by taylor jenkins reid)

➳ read part ii here!!

prologue – then.

There was something enchanting about the boy with the headphones at the back of the class.

You didn’t think you had seen him before today, which was noteworthy considering your town's excruciatingly small geography. The students in your class were the same ones you had gone to preschool with, and you hadn’t seen a new face within the four yellowed walls of your classroom for all the sixteen years you had lived.

This begged the question - who was this foreign yet beguiling creature that took up one of the ever-sought-out back benches of the dull classroom you inhabited every day of the week? Moreover, you wondered how he had the audacity to have his listen to music while the class was in session.

“Miss L/n?”

Snapping your head back to the front, you bit the inside of your cheek to top yourself from visibly cringing at the shrill voice of your teacher, who was presently eyeing you with an extremely disapproving expression. Much to your displeasure, all eyes were on you within seconds of that unfortunate moment, making you wish you could sink further into the wooden seat you currently occupied.

“Yes?” The moment the word left your mouth, you regretted it. Faking ignorance had never been your strong point, and it wasn’t about to come through for you now.

“Would you like to tell me what you find so interesting at the back or answer the question I just asked?”

You desperately hoped no one could see the warmth infiltrating your cheeks as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, shaking your head as solemnly as possible.

“Sorry Ma’am.”

The teacher shook her head in retirement, as if she was used to picking on you, and moved on to picking on another student, leaving you to slouch in your seat and let out a sigh of relief. You had always hated being the centre of attention, especially in embarrassing situations such as this one, and recovering from them gracefully– just like your non-existent nonchalance– wasn’t in your skillset either

You looked to your side at your classmate who delivered the answer with ease, looking frankly quite bored as she did so. It was the topper of the class– Eunsook– the girl that always seemed to be ahead of everyone else in every class possible. Her words blurred together as your eyes once again wandered to a certain stranger in the back.

Except for this time, he was looking right back at you.

This was somehow much worse than being put on the spot by your teacher, because this? This meant you had been caught on a much more personal level. 

And then, as if to make things even worse, the side of his mouth quirked upwards in acknowledgement of you, and he brought a hand up to your view, waving it a little in your direction.

Positively horrified, you immediately looked away and made a mental note to never glance in his direction ever again, deciding that pretending to be paying attention in class was a good enough cover-up. 

However, this proved to be quite the task, partly due to the fact that economics wasn’t the most exciting subject, and because his face had been imprinted in your mind, from the intensity of his stare to the slightest of smiles that danced on his lips while he looked at you as if you had amused him in some way.

Your teacher's frown deepened upon seeing the interaction and she cleared her throat, giving you a pointed look. 

Brilliant. 

“Mr Lee, please stand up.”

Oh thank god, it wasn’t you this time. Maybe you had just been imagining her looking at you.

You heard the scraping of the chair legs against the wooden floors and glanced over in its direction, only to realise that it was him she had been called upon.

Well. At least this time you had a good reason to be staring.

It gave you the opportunity to truly take him in all at once, rather than in the pathetic little increments you had to previously resort to throughout the class, sneaking a peek here and there. You studied the boy– dark brown hair that fell into his eyes, which currently wore a look of mild annoyance, striking features etched into his honeyed skin and–

Oh.

He was really cute. 

“Would you care to explain why you were distracting Miss L/n?”

Fuck. You had been naive to think that you would have been let off the hook so easily, especially by this particular teacher. If you had caught her attention for the wrong reason even once, you would be the one she put on the spot for the rest of the class, and this time you had the displeasure of being her guinea pig. The worst part about it was that it was absolutely your fault.

Once again, his line of sight travelled to you, before flickering back up at the oh-so-despised teacher and shaking his head.

“It won’t happen again.”

His voice cut through the expectant silence of class and right through you, deep and with a certain patronising lilt to it. It was a stupid thought, but you thought that it suited him perfectly. A pretty voice to compliment a pretty face. 

“It better not,” the teacher warned sternly. “Since the opportunity has so conveniently arisen for us, I will now introduce you to the rest. Students, this is Donghyuck, and he’s new to the class.”

A pregnant pause hung in the air for a moment before she motioned for him to sit back down. 

Just as she was about to resume her teaching, the bell rang and saved you from any further humiliation. The rustle of books closing and backpacks being unzipped carried through the room, and you joined in, collecting your things and getting to your feet in preparation to leave. 

The light patter of footsteps closened in, followed by a voice. “Hey.”

You looked up from arranging your books, fingers digging into the material of your bag when you realised it was him who had approached you in all his glory– this time up close. It also gave you the opportunity to take note of his outfit, a graphic shirt lazily tucked into jeans, and although it was nothing special, somehow the air he held made it seem a lot more special than it was.

Like something about him made the ordinary feel extraordinary.

“Hello,” You managed to get out, putting a hold on that thought as you met his gaze for the third time. Immediately you regretted not having cleared your throat first, despising the hoarse undertone that accompanied the singular word you had uttered. You had hoped that your second impression would surpass the first, that being extremely unfavourable, but it seemed like the world was not on your side when it came to this boy.

This new, mysterious boy you had no right to be so oddly fixated on. A smile painted itself upon his mouth as he did a once over of you, causing you to feel as if the pale blue shirt you had worn that day was much too hot under the collar, and you had to resist the urge to reach up and unbutton the top to cool yourself down. You wished you could tie your hair up among other things, and tucked your hands behind your back, playing with the hair tie you always kept on your right wrist nervously, expelling some of that anxious energy that had invaded your body while keeping him in the dark about it.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Donghyuck.”  His name sounded infinitely better when he pronounced it, its two syllables ringing in your ears. Nodding carelessly, you lifted your backpack off from the table and slung one strap over your shoulder.

“I heard.”

That answer earned you an expectant raise of his eyebrow.

Right. It seemed that the manners your mother had drilled into your very psyche had finally come to fruition as you realised he was waiting for you to introduce yourself back.

“I’m Y/n.” Your fingernails dug into the strap of your bag, the sweat accumulating in the palm of your hand brushing off against it. This position was one you had never been in before, nerves all over the place over an attractive stranger, but his unabashedness had unnerved you immensely, leaving you with no choice but to grasp for your words. “It’s…nice to meet you too.”

If the option of the ground opening up beneath your feet and swallowing you whole was available, you would have taken it without any hesitation. You detested the awkward pause you had inserted in the middle of your statement, it made you sound flighty and moronic, as if you couldn’t put together basic conversation phrases.

He didn’t seem to mind though, the slightest twitch of his lips being the only indication that he had noticed your scatterbrained state– an indication you had missed on your end. 

“I’ll see you around.”

And just like that, he sauntered off. You watched as his figure retreated through the doorway as you stood there, dumbfounded at the nature of the interaction. More importantly, a singular question lingered in your mind, the question of how he had managed to get away with using his headphones in class.

It would go unanswered.

i] now.

There was something so distinctly you about the woman that sat across Donghyuck.

He focused on the different items displayed on the menu he held in front of him, refraining from glancing at the woman for the third time in thirty seconds. He was supposed to have chosen what he wanted to order a solid five minutes ago, but his composure had been completely thrown off and decision fatigue was quickly setting in.

“I’ll have the steak.”

Her name was Kim Yeonmi, twenty-four in age just like him and very pretty. An elegant dark blue dress donned her figure, her dark, wispy hair tied up into a bun with a few strands of hair let loose at the sides to effectively frame her face. Perhaps it was a little too much to have a first date at a fancy restaurant such as this, with its ostentatious ambience, but he wasn’t too sure of how dating worked at all. 

There was just one person he had experience with.

She looked like she was enjoying the extravagance though, bobbing her head to his choice as she gave the menu another once over. “Just give me another minute.”

He smiled politely. “Take as much time as you need.”

She looked nothing like you, but the way she muttered the names of each dish back to herself under her breath had thrown him back in time, reminding him of how you used to do the very same. 

“It makes it easier to choose when I say them out loud”, you had explained one day to him. “The one that sounds better is the one you pick.”

A foolproof strategy according to you, one you defended with all your might no matter how many times he teased you about it being ridiculous. He recalled the way you’d glare at him, hands resting low on your hips and an exasperated look on your face, the one he had grown so fond of. It was something he’d tease you about, how he loved the pissed-off look you’d give him even though he was the culprit for its showing pretty much every time. 

He missed the dish Yeonmi finally settled on, snapped out of his thoughts and nodded, gesturing the waiter over to place the order. When it came to her order, he let her speak for herself, a good save.

He had to get his act together. 

“So,” he began, leaning back a little in his seat in an attempt to relax. “What do you do, Yeonmi?”

The woman took a sip of the wine that they had previously ordered before answering, “I work in finance.”

The information barely latched into his memory, an absent-minded nod from his end to make it look like he was genuinely listening. Like he wasn’t observing the delicate messiness of her hairdo– messiness that was clearly intentional, done for the illusion of being effortless. It reminded him of how your hair always seemed to be half out of your ponytail, but it shouldn’t have, because that had never been intentional. 

Donghyuck didn’t like the way your memory haunted him so insistently at such an inconvenient time, and he didn’t understand why it did either.

“I’m a music producer,” he informed her, a simper making a show on his face at the mention of his occupation. It was a thing of pride for him, the amount of work he had put in to say those words in the same sentence as the word ‘successful’ was astronomical, but it had all been worth it in the end. Music had been his life's blood ever since he was a child and the fact that he now was able to work with it every day and it was the reason he could take care of his mother meant the world to him. 

New York baby, it made dreams flicker to life. The move he made at merely eighteen had been the best decision he had ever made.

It hadn’t come without its sacrifices though. After all, no risk, no reward.

The food arrived, piping hot and delicious enough to act as an excuse for his distant demeanour. He was present enough to make light conversation, doing his best to store all the little bits of information about Yeonmi in the back of his mind on the off chance of this first date turning into a few more. 

And maybe, hopefully, he’d be less of an ass about them. Maybe this could go somewhere.

The two walked out of the restaurant, Donghyuck holding the door open for her while she exited. A light pattering of pink dusted the woman's cheeks at his consistent shows of gentlemanliness, but it went wholly unnoticed by him, who refused to let her catch a cab from the busy streets of the city, and insisted he drop her back to her place of residence.

How could one not fall for Lee Donghyuck when he was just so charming even when he didn’t intend to be?

Pop songs played at a low volume through the radio, the typical ones that played on a Friday evening to make the daily evening commute a little easier for those coming back from their workplaces, but heightened by the fact that the weekend was at large. The ride was a pleasant one, the music allowing the silences in conversation to be comfortable. Yeonmi snuck a shy glance at Donghyuck through the rearview mirror, noticing the way his long eyelashes framed his eyes that were focused on the road before them. 

His fingers drummed on the steering wheel rhythmically, humming along the song that played as Yeonmi spoke about how she had been obsessed with that very one a few weeks ago. She seemed to be infinitely better at traversing the treacherous waters of conversation, seemingly not even noticing how withdrawn he seemed to be. 

Her chattering also reminded him of you, though a little less interesting. It was a tad comical, how he had the audacity to compare every little thing about her to the one person he had pushed away. 

“That’s my apartment complex.”

He parked the car and got out of it, circled the vehicle to get on her side, and opened the door for her, causing a pleased smile to appear on Yeonmi’s face. Then, he walked her up to the lobby of the building, exchanging pleasantries and goodbyes with a muttering of a hopeful ‘see you again’ thrown into the mix for good measure. 

And with that, she was gone, and Donghyuck was alone once again. The sky was a dark blue, splattered with a few glimmering stars amidst its midnight canvas, the moon hiding behind the misty clouds. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers and let out a sigh he didn’t know he had been holding in, shutting his eyes and counting slowly to ten.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

It had been eight years.

Eight years since he had let go of you, opened the palm of his hand and watched as yours slipped right through his fingers. Sometimes, he could still feel the ghost of your skin linger on his fingertips. 

Eight years was a hell of a lot of time, and time was said to heal all wounds. Time should have let him focus on his date instead of thinking of you and the little habits you had that had burned themselves into his memory. 

Time was a fucking liar. 

It was pathetic really. He had managed to not think of you for six of those years, save for the occasional moments when he had had one too many drinks and the alcohol had scrounged up cherished moments of the two of you from the vault of his mind. 

But he was completely and utterly sober right now, almost too sober, he thought, for the wine he had consumed earlier hadn’t done much at all. The cold air nipped at the exposed skin of his face and face, grounding him to reality with its sudden harshness, another reminder that too much time had passed for him to be doing this. He had let go of the right to do so. 

And yet, he found himself thinking of the only girl he had ever loved that windy Friday eve, her smiling face washed into the indigo skies.

The scent of a corporate office clung to your clothes, carrying itself with you as you inserted your keys into the lock of your door, twisted them, and pushed them open to reveal the solace of your apartment. You entered, slipped off your shoes and trudged into the living room where you flopped down on your couch, letting your muscles fully relax for the first time in eight hours. 

“Y/n? Are you home?”

Lifting your head limply, you let your eyelids flutter open to peek over the backrest of the sofa, only to be met with your roommate standing there in the doorway of the kitchen, a smile seemingly stuck onto her made-up face. “Oh, it is you! How was work?”

You gave yourself a second to admire her handiwork from where you were sat (read: sprawled out), wishing you had the ability to do a perfect winged liner as she could. 

“Tiring,” you complained with a sigh, feeling as if your bones were going to disintegrate into dust any moment.

She tutted sympathetically, retreating back into the kitchen. You heard the water running for a few seconds, and then she emerged again, walking over to you and handing you a glass of water. “Poor thing.”

Kim Yeonmi had been your roommate for the last two years, ever since a mutual friend of yours put the two of you in contact when you had been searching for accommodation after college that fits your budget. She was a warm person, sweet and helpful whenever she could be, and the two of you had hit it off from the moment you moved in, the arrangement blossoming into a fruitful friendship for the both of you. 

“Bless you,” you took a sip of the water, straightening up your position to give her space beside you. She had even remembered to add a few ice cubes, the cool liquid revived your tired senses and cleared your mind. 

She sat down, tucking her legs under herself as she reached out her hand, resting it on the top of your head and rubbing it comfortingly. You leaned into her touch, closed your eyes and savoured the quiet moment of solitude– the first one you have had today.

Then you opened your eyes and turned to her.

“So how was it?”

A bashful smile decorates her crimson-painted lips as she averted her gaze from you in an attempt to hide the flush that was quickly making itself known on her face. She cleared her throat, answering in the most casual and non-committal way she could. “Good.”

You snickered at her response to your simple question, “Seems like it was more than just ‘good’.”

“Well….”

Yeonmi sighed, leaning back into the cushions properly as she got comfortable and thats how you knew you had her. 

“Come on, give me the details!” You disregarded your fatigue, slapping her arm playfully to convince her to spill. She laughed at your eagerness, a laugh that was laced with girlish merriment, and rubbed the back of her neck, the smile on her face not slipping from its place even once. 

“It was amazing,” she confessed, much to your delight. “God, I don’t think I’ve ever had such a great date.”

You had witnessed her stressing over this date of hers since yesterday and had caught glimpses of her nerves this morning before you left for work. To help ease those nerves, you had helped pick out her outfit, made sure to respond to every one of her manic texts to you between work and called her back during your break. You were overjoyed that it had gone well for her.

This was the first date she had gone on in an entire year after her last relationship had come to an end. It was a messy breakup, leaving you with an extremely shaken Yeonmi who, in her grief, had vowed to never love someone again. Thankfully, that phase was one she got over quickly, and you were proud of how she had managed to heal and put herself out there once again.

God knows you had tried and failed.

She began describing her evening, starting with how her extremely charming date had already been waiting at the restaurant they had agreed upon. She had met this man on a dating app- the name of which she refused to tell you unless it turned out to be more than just a dead end, and after a few weeks of talking, they had finally decided to go on a date, something she had been anticipating for a while now. You listened, squealing and giggling along with her at the appropriate times to reciprocate her evident excitement. 

“And you know what was so cute?” She continued, talking a little faster now that she had warmed up and was in the thick of describing the date. “He seemed a little distracted like he was just as nervous as I was about the entire thing, and that just put me to ease, you know? A suave guy is nice and all, and don’t get me wrong, he was confident, but that slight nervousness showed me that he liked me as well.” 

Her gushing was endearing, and you nodded with a smile. “He sounds perfect.”

“Oh he’s an absolute dreamboat Y/n, seriously, I don’t know where or how I managed to stumble upon him, but I must have done something good in my past life to deserve this.”

You placed your now empty glass on the little table next to the couch, settling in closer to her. “You always do good, you had this good karma coming.”

“Oh I forgot to tell you the best part,” She looked at you with a serious look on her face, but her eyes were practically twinkling. “He likes Taylor Swift. He was singing along to her songs when he dropped me home.”

Your jaw dropped. “Now I know he really is perfect.” You grinned, the expression quickly morphing into a yawn as your exhaustion finally caught up to you again, and in good timing, considering she had finished talking about her date. She looked over at the clock and then back at you. 

“You should go to bed, you’ve had a long day.”

You wholeheartedly agreed with this suggestion, stood up on your feet and stretched your arms out above your head. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna call it a night here.” Picking up your bag that had been strewn out across the floor, you walked to the doorway that led to your room, before turning around and facing her once again. 

“Hey, one last thing.”

She gazed up at you in the midst of removing her earrings and hummed in acknowledgement, “Hmm?”

“What’s his name?”

“Huh?”

“You never told me his name,” You shook your head in amusement. “I think you were too caught up in all your excitement.” For the past half an hour, she had just been referring to him in only pronouns, something you had just realised. 

“Oh,” her lips formed an ‘o’ shape in surprise at herself. “Donghyuck. His name is Lee Donghyuck.”

And just like that, your entire world fell apart.

It's funny how a simple name can knock the air out of your lungs.

That was an understatement. That name– his name– was anything but simple. The three syllables that constituted it stood for so much, things said and left unsaid, buried in the grave of your mind.

The unadulterated shock you felt at the name she uttered caused your already aching legs to feel even more unstable than they did, and your knees nearly gave out underneath you. You steadied yourself by leaning against the doorframe, a shaky breath escaping your lips as an emotion that you hadn’t felt so strongly in a very long time ripped through you. 

Despair.

No. No, it couldn’t be–

For a moment, you could almost see his eyes looking at you, one moment with such affection and the next with more sorrow than you could ever begin to describe. I’m sorry.

“Y/n?”

You gripped the doorframe, feeling as if the rug had been swept from right under your feet, and focused your eyes on Yeonmi on the couch, who was now staring at you in concern. “Are you okay?”

How many times had you lied while answering this question when it came to him? You had lost count, so there wouldn’t be any harm in doing it once more. Sucking in a harsh gulp of air that hit the back of your throat, you forced a smile. “Yep. Goodnight.”

You choked out the words, spun on your heel and stumbled to your door, grabbing and twisting the doorknob in haste, your entire body weight leaning on the door as it swung open. Practically tripping over your own feet, you shut it quickly, both hands fastened to the knob as you rested your forehead against the door, using it as support for your body that suddenly seemed several pounds heavier.

It had been eight years since you had heard another person say his name, the sound of it cutting through reality itself, digging into your skin and latching onto it. Perhaps that was the cause of excess weight that seemed to drag you down at the very moment. 

Fuck.

You took a minute to wonder what God was sitting above and laughing at your sorry state.

Using the door behind your back as a guide, you slid down to the ground, pulling your knees closer to your chest and interlocking your fingers in front of them, forming your very own cocoon. You pathetically hoped that it would shield you from the torrent of your own emotions.

Rationally speaking, this was most definitely a coincidence. You were sure that there were several people around the world with the first name ‘Donghyuck’ and last name ‘Lee’ – after all, it was a pretty common last name to have. The chances of this guy, Yeonmi’s perfect dreamy date being your Donghyuck were extremely improbable.

Your Donghyuck. You almost laughed bitterly. He hadn’t been your Donghyuck for a long, long time. 

You didn’t know if he had ever truly been yours to begin with. 

I’m so sorry, Y/n.

You closed your eyes and tried to steady your breathing, only to snap them open immediately when the image of his eyes once again rippled through the forefront of your mind.

This was ridiculous, you knew, the extremity of your reaction was wholly uncalled for. It had been eight years and one would think you would have been better at controlling your emotions, especially when it came to something, someone, that was so heavily stuck in the past.

It turned out that you were also stuck in the past. The way your legs resembled those of a newborn giraffe a few minutes ago was enough proof of that.

A groan escaped you, one that was a mix of frustration and distress. You couldn’t quite place the new ache that had emerged in your chest, a dull throb that felt icy cold, yet strangely familiar. You reasoned with yourself, your thoughts waging a silent war among each other as you laid out all the reasons why it couldn’t and wouldn’t be the man that lingered in your life like a poltergeist you didn’t have the energy to exercise. 

You could hear the soft padding of Yeonmi's footsteps outside your door as she made her way to her own room and the soft click of her lock as she retired for the night. Slowly, you let yourself relax and mentally gather all the strength you possessed right then to pick yourself up from the ground and carry yourself to your bed, the usually short walk feeling like a thousand steps away. The soft cotton sheets welcomed your weary body, alleviating the weight that currently sat upon your shoulders and providing you with some temporary relief.

It was late, and it never did anyone any good to think about things beyond their control in the intimidating silence of the night. Letting your eyes close for real this time, you turned onto your side and tried to quiet your mind.

But there was still a small part of you that thought back to then.

ii] then.

He liked cookies-and-cream flavoured ice cream.

You gripped the complimentary wooden spoon that came with the cup of ice cream you bought from the convenience store, staring at the slightly melted ice cream that you held with your other hand. Donghyuck was just about done with his, a triumphant smile creeping up on his face every time he glanced at you.

“I told you.”

“Don’t gloat.”

“But your reactions are so cute,” he teased, taking another spoonful of his ice cream. Your biology class had a pop quiz that day, and Donghyuck had tried to help you with an answer you weren’t too sure about. However, his answer sounded even more incorrect than yours, and he made you promise to buy him ice cream if he ended up being correct. “I told you the right answer but no, you insisted you were right and lost the mark.”

The compliment stung a little, or perhaps that was just the summer heat prickling the back of your neck.

“I’m not affected by that,” you huffed, “I’m wondering why you chose such cheap ice cream of all the ones you could have. We just got it and mine’s already melting.”

He shrugged. “It’s not the ice cream that matters, just the fact that you had to buy it for me to symbolise me being right.”

“But there's a Häagen-Dazs right down the street. Sakura and Chenle would have immediately made me buy them that.” Your protests and comparisons seemed to fall on deaf ears as he continued to enjoy his ice cream soup, leaving you to roll your eyes at his flippancy. 

“I don’t want to run you dry, now do I?” That surprised you, and it was apparent to him by the bewildered look in your now-wide eyes. Whenever you offered to pay for your other friends, they always jumped at the chance to exploit you to the best of their abilities, taking full advantage of the opportunity.

There truly wasn’t anyone like Lee Donghyuck. 

You weren’t quite sure how the friendship between the two of you had blossomed, for it had been such a natural thing that it completely slipped you by. The occasional hello turned into walking in the hallways to classes together, texting each other and hanging out after school while eating cheap ice cream. It was just so easy with him, activities you would find boring with others were enjoyable in his presence.

It was unfathomable, how everything about him was so captivating. He carried himself with an effortless aura, as if unaware of how magnetic and goddamn beautiful he was because he truly was one of the most stunning people you had ever set your eyes upon in your short life. Oftentimes, you would catch yourself just admiring the gentle slope of his nose and rise of his cheekbones, and how his hair fell so perfectly. 

And how could you forget his eyes, ones that you had the privilege of being under the gaze of, more so than others? His eyes were your favourite part of him, they left you mesmerised with their fiery intensity and simultaneous gentleness. 

“Your ice cream has completely melted,” he pointed out, nudging your side lightly with his elbow, effectively snapping you out of your self-induced reverie. You looked at your cup, the realisation that you had been aimlessly stirring its contents hitting you.

“Oh.”

“What were you daydreaming about now?” He asked, mirth lacing his voice as he looked on at you affectionately. Over the past few weeks that he had been growing closer to you in, he had started picking up on your little habits.

You bit the inside of your cheek, “Nothing.”

“If you’re going to lie, at least make it believable,” he cocked an eyebrow. “You were staring at me weirdly.”

Warmth flooded your cheeks, you had been caught due to your carelessness, and yet you couldn’t help but feel a little offended at his choice of words. “Weirdly?”

The edge to your voice gave away how you felt at that moment, and alarmed, Donghyuck shook his head, tossing the empty plastic cup in the recycle bin next to him. “No– well yes– but not in a bad way! Good weird.” In truth, he liked taking up your attention, he would sit forever to dissect the flecks of gold that appeared in your eyes when the sun's rays fell into them, and the lingering emotion he couldn’t quite explain.

“Good weird,” you repeated softly, looking away from him and letting that sink in. The apples of his cheeks were a light rosy shade now as he fidgeted, hoping he had successfully mitigated any possible insult he had accidentally bestowed upon you. He truly hadn’t meant to, there wasn’t an ounce of weirdness about the situation in the slightest, except for the muddled feeling that settled in the pit of his stomach when you looked at him like that.

“You’re the weird one,” you deadpanned finally, and he shrugged in resignment, plucking the cup out of your hands, much to your displeasure, “Hey, I’m not done–”

“There’s no point in finishing this, it’s not ice cream anymore.”

It landed next to his cookies-and-cream cup in the bin, his matter-of-fact words flying into the wind. You didn’t bother arguing, letting your hands fall limply to your sides as you looked at him again, noting how the orange glow of the sky crept through the strands of his hair, framing his head like he was a saint of some sort. 

“I’ll walk you home,” he stated, taking a few steps before stopping and turning around, waiting for you to join him. He was dependable and someone to trust, you thought briefly, biting back a smile at him. Donghyuck pushed down the fluster that was creeping up on him again.

The sunset over your little town, painting the sky in more brilliant colours as the two of you walked underneath it, knuckles silently brushing against each other as it faded to black.

Donghyuck walked into his house, a Taylor Swift song playing through the headphones that he currently had on. While he had been walking you home, the two of you had engaged in a lively conversation about the different musical artists you each enjoyed, which eventually spiralled into an entire monologue on your end about why you loved the aforementioned singer so much. He found the way you spoke so animatedly, your voice brimming with passion and insistence, extremely adorable, and clearly, you had excellent convincing abilities because there he was, listening to her.

He slipped off his shoes, placed them by the door and sighed. The hallway of his new house felt nothing like a home, but the feeling of unfamiliarity that came with it was all too customary for him. 

“Donghyuck?”

His mother's lilting voice reached his ears from where she was, and he followed it. “I’m home.”

“Oh good, good,” she came into view as he made his way into the kitchen, slipping the headphones around his neck and opening a cupboard to get himself a glass. “I was thinking we could watch a movie today. I don’t have any work right now.” 

He poured himself some water, thinking over her offer. He knew her intentions were good, she just wanted to spend time with her son and his answer should have been a yes, but he shook his head anyway. “I have a lot of homework to finish.”

“Oh.” She tried her best to disguise the disappointment that laced her voice for his sake, but he could hear it as clear as day. “Alright, I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”

He nodded, finished his water and walked upstairs to his room, taking two steps at a time to reach there as quickly as possible. Pushing the door open, he reached a hand out to the switchboard and then hesitated.

Donghyuck didn’t know which switches corresponded with anything. 

For some people, this was an inconvenience at best, but for him, it was a sentiment he was unfortunately very used to. A painful reminder of the unpredictability his life had always possessed. In his last house, he had just about figured out the pattern of which switches were for specific items, but now he was once again left feeling stranded.

And he couldn’t help but blame his mother for it. 

It was the same cycle playing out before him again, the move and the new town, the new faces that he knew would probably not mean much to him in a year when he found himself in a new place, thinking about how he wished that just once, he would be allowed to enjoy the trivial luxury of knowing the switches well enough.

One would think he’d be used to all the moving, but then again, he was just a teenager. 

He also knew it wasn’t truly his mother’s fault – she was simply doing what she needed to in order to support the both of them and being a single mother was no doubt hard on her – but Donghyuck was only sixteen. It was much easier to criticise and resent her than to try and understand for what seemed like the hundredth time. He had been so understanding for so long, that now even the concept of trying to be sympathetic sounded exhausting. 

Every year he’d walk through life without caring much for anyone he came across. Friendships didn’t mean anything to him for they were so fleeting, and the people who promised to stay in contact with him would stop calling and texting within two weeks of him moving. He had realised that letting himself get attached to someone was a waste of time and energy he didn’t have anymore, and had slowly taught himself to isolate himself so that every move didn’t hurt as much.

So why was it that for the first time in what felt like a long time, he felt a pinch in his heart when he thought about moving again?

And why was it your face flickering through his mind that seemed to cause it? 

In complete and unadulterated truth, he had never felt such a pull towards someone as he did to you. It had always been so easy for him to keep people at a distance, but with you, he forgot about having to do that. If anything, he wanted to keep you as close as possible. You were something he hadn’t accounted for.

He flicked the first switch on. The fan whirred to life.

Donghyuck would learn the pattern soon enough. 

iii] now.

The days passed quickly as they usually did, you pushed any lingering doubts about the man Yeonmi was dating to the far periphery of your mind, burying yourself in your work. You were working towards a promotion you had had your eye on for a while now, and it was more important than anything else. 

But it was hard not to notice the little things that had changed about Yeonmi, the way she smiled more and how you’d often catch her hiding a grin when she glanced at her phone. It was difficult to ignore how she’d dress up and go on her dates, especially when she so often asked for your opinion and help, and you were forced to swallow your pride and assist her.

You were being idiotic, you knew, which was why you reminded yourself that this could not have been the boy you once knew. 

You sighed, shutting your laptop and placing your hands on the edge of your desk, pushing yourself to your feet and stretching. It was technically your day off, but you were still swarmed with online meetings and a few dozen emails that you had to send out. Letting your hands fall, you pulled at the hair tie around your wrist and gathered your hair into a ponytail, walking away from your home desk and walking to your bed.  

It was getting pretty late and Yeonmi still wasn’t home. From what you knew, she had gone to a dinner party her date had invited her to, and she had warned you she would be late and to not stay up, but it was in your genes to worry. You wouldn’t get sleep until you knew she was safe and at home in one piece anyway. 

But you supposed shutting your eyes for a few minutes wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Just as you were about to slip into a slumber, you heard the faintest clicking of the door to your apartment, and along with the unmistakable peal of Yeonmi’s laughter, it woke you up. Blinking rapidly, you forced yourself to leave the comfort of your linen sheets and get to your feet, rubbing your eyes in order to wake yourself up a little bit and grabbing the robe you hung behind your door to combat the slight chill that the midnight air possessed before making your way to the living room. 

You flicked the switch on as you walked into the room, squinting in discomfort at the sudden shift of lighting, lips parting in surprise.

There at the doorway stood an extremely giggly Yeonmi, the smile on her face looking like it had been tattooed on her lips, an arm placed against the wall to make sure she didn’t fall over, the other stuck in an attempt to take off one of her heels. When she failed and almost stumbled, another giggle left her, apparently unaware of the fact she was about to fall over.

Alarm rang through you as you took a panicked step forward, instinctively reaching out to try and catch her even though you weren’t close enough to do so. “Yeon-”

“I got you”

You froze as an arm slipped around her waist, pulling her back to her previous position and steadying her, and while you were glad your roommate’s fate of faceplanting into the wooden flooring had been thwarted, it was the last thing on your mind.

The first was that voice.

You knew it like the back of your hand, and no matter long it had been, you would never forget it. Even if it had changed a little, a little deeper than it used to sound eight years ago, unfamiliar with the amount of time that had passed and yet so recognizable for you.

Faltering, you slowly shifted your line of sight up to catch a glimpse of the person, only for him to do the exact same thing, presumably as a response to you saying your roommate's name and it was like everything around you had paused just for this moment.

You knew those eyes.

Eyes that were currently filled with swirls of confusion and surprise, only to rapidly thaw into a horrified look of realisation, his arm around another girl that just happened to have been the very one you had to face every morning.

The world truly did have a cruel sense of humour. You stared back at him, unable to tear your vision away from him no matter what you did.

Lee Donghyuck, in the flesh after eight long years.

It was almost unsettling, how he looked the exact same he used to. Of course, there were differences, but they were all superficial in nature. His hair was cut slightly differently, no longer in the neater hairstyle he had kept as a teenager but a little longer at the back. He was wearing clothes you had never seen before, but that was to be expected, and he had his arm around someone that was decidedly not you.

But other than that, it was him. Those stupid, splendid eyes of his, those very features that had been burned into your memory and had stubbornly refused to leave no matter how hard you tried to evict them.

It felt as if someone was standing right on your chest, relentless in their approach and crushing your lungs, every pint of air inside it being zapped out as if it was never needed there in the first place.  You briefly entertained the idea of walking back into your room and staying there for the next ten years.

“Y/n!”

The spell cast upon the two of you had successfully been broken by your intoxicated roommate, who, in her state, had absolutely no perception of social cues at the moment, and certainly not of the thick tension that had descended upon your living room.  She broke out of his grasp, stumbling towards you without even a semblance of grace and threw her arms around your neck in a death grip of a hug, only succeeding in contributing towards your current breathing problems.

Taken aback by her rather abrupt display of affection, you awkwardly pat her back a couple of times, managing to choke out the words, “Thats me.” Your attempt at adding a jovial lilt to your voice royally failed because the only thing on your mind was something rather embarrassing.

It was how absolutely terrible you probably looked right then.

It was silly no doubt, for you to be pondering your appearance at that specific point in time. If you were morally a better person, perhaps you would have been thinking about how you were relieved that Yeonmi was safe, but the only thing you could think of was the fact that your hair most definitely looked like a nest and that you were dressed in a ratty old sweatshirt that you had owned since your freshman year of college and pyjama pants.

They had peppa pig on them. If not for the fact that they were the most comfortable thing you owned, you would have burned them after this.

“Oh, right,” she giggled when she pulled away and saw your eyes trained on the man she had brought with her, hands on your shoulders to make sure she didn’t fall, “This is Donghyuck!” 

You glanced at her and then back at him, trying desperately to swallow the lump in your throat. “Right.”

Right? You mentally cussed yourself out for that lacklustre response and cleared your throat in order to save yourself. “Nice to meet you.”

Maybe he didn’t realise you caught the split second of confusion that passed through his eyes, but you had, catching yourself before you winced out of mild guilt for putting him in such a difficult position. Nevertheless, he played along like he was in on the plan all along, straightening up and responding.

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

Two strangers by choice met again that night, heartstrings that had once been intertwined and subsequently torn apart to die out, reviving with just a simple glance and a few words. He looked at you and you looked at him, forgetting for a moment that the girl standing between the two of you was the biggest obstacle of them all.

And for just a moment there, you were sixteen.

Donghyuck left a few minutes later, once awkward goodbye’s had been exchanged and Yeonmi was safely in your care, sipping on a large glass of water in her bed. 

Being around him again, even if it had only been for a few meagre minutes, had completely shattered your self-composure. Your heart was beating too quickly, your adrenaline was on an all-time high and your ability to be discreet had evaded you entirely, resulting in times when you caught yourself looking at him a beat too long.

He seemed to be having the exact opposite reaction, barely even looking at you after the initial shock of it being you standing there wore off. His eyes seemed to be glued to your tipsy roommate, talking to her in a gentle tone as he bid her farewell and promised to message her the next day. 

The fact that he seemed so normal infuriated you a little bit. It shouldn’t have, you knew that very well, but you simply couldn’t understand how you were a certified mess while he seemed to be so composed, acting as if you weren’t even there. It was wholly childish to expect him to be stuck on you, but then again, you had suffered that very fate, so why couldn’t have he?

And so there you were, sitting on the edge of Yeonmi’s bed, wide awake as you watched her finish her water, just barely making out the emotion that had resurfaced within you- the green-eyed monster responsible for your churning stomach with every look at your friend.

Why?

Because the way he had taken care of her tonight was all too reminiscent of how he used to do the same for you.

“What do you think of him?”

Her words were only slightly slurred now, and you blinked, registering her question. She stared at you expectantly, eagerly awaiting your judgement over her date. 

“He’s nice.”

She frowned. “That’s it? Nice?”

You shut your eyes, desperately wishing you could skip over this question somehow, but when you opened them she was evidently still waiting for you to finish. You breathed in.

Now, what did you think of Lee Donghyuck?

You had thought Donghyuck was the most wonderful person you had ever met when you were a teenager, the one person who everything seemed so natural with. He was someone you thought was home, a best friend and a lover all rolled into one. But he had eyes that tortured you, a past interlaced so intricately with yours that lingered to this very day and connections to someone unbearably close to you in the present. 

Yeonmi placed her glass on her bedside table and sighed contentedly. “I really like him, Y/n.” 

You hadn’t heard her say something like that about a guy since her last relationship, and she had the same simper on her face that she did back then too. There was no way you could bring yourself to even think about attempting to ruin that.

You breathed out.

“I think he’s great,” you started, fingers curling around her cotton bedsheets and squeezing, doing your utmost best to keep your voice level. “He was really good with you tonight.”

The bitter irony of it all hit you, how the guy that let Yeonmi finally move on was the very same that made it impossible for you to do so. Her smile widened while your stomach grew heavier, dragging you down as you walked to your own room later that night, your dreams tainted with images of a boy you once loved and a stranger who looked the same.

iv] then.

Being sick did not suit you.

To say that you were miserable was an understatement. If one had to accurately describe what the situation felt like to you, they would have to include a bit about you feeling as if you were losing your mind. You did not appreciate the light-headedness that you experienced everything you stood up, or the throbbing head and blocked nose.

You definitely didn’t like being stuck in your bed practically all day. 

Slumped against your pillow and underneath your sheets, you sighed for what must have been the twentieth time that minute. At first, you had no problem with being able to skip a day of school, thinking that you would have a relaxing day of rest. This, of course, included catching up and binge-watching all your favourite shows and taking a well-deserved nap to catch up on sleep that your chemistry teacher had stolen from you via the dozens of assignments she gave out every week. 

Your glorious plans came to a stark halt when your mother decided that you needed to rest your eyes to get better, which meant that you had been forbidden even thinking about opening your laptop or staring at your phone for too long. This had left you to your own devices, and once you had slept for two hours, the ability to do so seemed to disappear.

Staring at the ceiling grew old pretty quickly.

The soft creaking of the door to your room had you quickly drop your phone and haphazardly push it underneath the blanket, plastering on the most innocent look you could as you stared expectantly, waiting for your mother to come into your view. She did, a glimmer of satisfaction appearing in her eyes at the sight of you without any electronics around you.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Better.” Your answer elicited a smile from her, and she continued, unaware of how you had disobeyed her orders and hidden the evidence.

“Great, because you have a guest.” She opened your door further to reveal your guest and there stood Donghyuck, his school bag slung over his shoulder as he looked into your room, offering you a smile and a small wave.

You stared back at him, relief and mild horror washing through you at the same time somehow, wholly displeased at the fact that he was looking at you while you barely resembled a human being. The Kleenex visible at the end of your bed did nothing to soothe your embarrassment. The relief stemmed from the fact that perhaps the only reason you had not been too pleased about missing a day of school was that you wouldn’t see Donghyuck.

Well, at least that was sorted.

“Sakura told me you were sick,” he explained as your mother left, walking into your room and looking around. Suddenly, you were ever so slightly embarrassed by the pictures you had stuck up on your wall in the fifth grade, knowing that you were smiling a toothy grin in each and every one of them. While you hoped he wouldn’t stare at them too intently, you noticed the small brown paper bag he was holding.

Seeing the raise of your eyebrow, he grabbed the chair next to your desk and dragged it towards your bed, sitting down and keeping the bag on your bedside table. “So I got you something to cheer you up.”

Your curiosity was piqued by that, and you sat up straighter, eyeing the bag even more intently now. Donghyuck bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling too hard because of how adorable you were, your nose and cheeks tinged due to whatever sickness you had been afflicted with, but your eyes were still lively. Deciding to put you out of your misery, he took out the contents from the bag, carefully watching for your reaction.

And you did disappoint in the slightest, the sides of your mouth curling upwards in joy at the fact that he had gotten you your favourite doughnut and drink. The fact that he remembered it exactly made you grin the same grin you had plastered on your walls, taking the food from him and watching as he brought out his own favourite combination.

“I fucking love you,” you declared, overjoyed at having something with actual flavour to eat that day, before realising the words that had left your lips. Quickly, you took a bite out of the doughnut to cover it up and make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. And it shouldn’t have been because friends said those three words to each other all the time. It was normal.

Right?

Of course, most friends did not feel their hearts beating rapidly every time the other person was near. 

Donghyuck caught what you said, and for a moment it felt as if there was a lump in his throat. It wasn’t a new feeling when it came to you, the hesitancy to say something came and went as did his nerves around you. Swallowing heavily, he forced out, “Oh so you love me when I get you food. Got it.”

The teasing tone of his voice helped you relax, but if you had glanced at his face you would have realised it didn’t match his expression, which was just as tense as you were due to your slight slip-up. He couldn’t help but hope there was a hint of genuine truth in the statement.

“Shut the fuck up.”

And with that, the tension dissipated. He took a bite out of his donut and you took a sip of your drink. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward by any means, but you felt the need to fill it anyway. 

“It’s not just because you bought me food, okay?” You began earnestly. “You’ve also always been there for me. I appreciate that more than you know.” Then you paused, but not for long, adding to your previous statements, “But doughnuts definitely don’t hurt, so you’ve made a sick girl very happy. Thank you.”

When you finished, you found him looking at you with an inexplicable look on his visage. The softness to his gaze had a flush rapidly rise up your neck, the simper playing on his lips laced with a hint of mirth. It was then you realised you had said a lot of nothing to him in the span of five minutes, igniting embarrassment to bubble up inside of you.

God, you would never understand how he managed to do this to you without doing anything at all. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “I’m rambling. My dad says it’s a bad habit I need to get rid of.”

You mentally chastised yourself. There you were once again, giving him even more information he definitely didn’t ask for. In fact, in the past ten minutes, Donghyuck hadn’t said a word, it had just been you speaking. Burying under your covers to hide yourself was the first thing you wanted to do, but that would have made you look like even more of an idiot.

Why did you care so much about what he thought? The two of you were friends, he was probably closer to you than your other friends you had known since the first grade, and yet you were so deathly scared of somehow weirding him out or saying something wrong. 

If only you knew what was going through his mind at that second, the sheer fondness for you that had taken over his every thought. The amount of affection he held for you was something he had never felt for anyone else before and due to that, he often forced himself to not think too much about it.

Most people had their first crushes at younger ages, but not Donghyuck. At first, he thought that he was weird, but then attributed his apparent lack of feelings to not staying long enough in one place to get attached to anyone.

Then he met you, and your existence itself rebuked that entire theory. He had only known you for a little over three months, and although this was the first time he had ever thought about someone like this, he wasn’t confused in the slightest. It was never about being able to stick around for enough time, it was just that none of them were you.

“You could talk for hours and I’d never get bored.”

The silence hanging over both of your heads was broken with that singular statement of his, melting away your nerves and replacing them with a pesky, fluttery feeling in the pit of your stomach. You blinked, processing what he had said and wondered if the butterflies in your stomach were a result of the seemingly noncommittal comment or nausea from your sickness. 

You had been a talkative person all your life, often getting into mild trouble at school for not being able to shut up. You had been told to quiet down or that your voice was too loud so many times that you had lost count, and something you had grown increasingly afraid of was accidentally boring someone by being too obnoxious on accident, leading to you apologising every time you realised what you were doing.

But not one person had ever said something so lovely to you. Never had they managed to completely dissolve that insecurity with just a few words.

“Oh,” was all you managed to get out in response. The butterflies seemed to increase in regards to the size of their swarm. He grinned.

“Somehow that made you shut up though.”

Rolling your eyes, you looked away and bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling as hard as you wanted to. “Fuck off Donghyuck,” you puffed out your cheeks slightly. “You’re so lame.”

“Oh, so you want me to leave?” He got to his feet as if challenging you, and you snapped your head back, shaking it vigorously. If you had taken notice of the coy nature of his voice, you made no motion to show it.

“No, please don’t leave me. I've been sitting here alone all day. I’m this close to going insane.” You pinched your index finger and thumb together, pursing your lips in an indignant pout to put your point across effectively. This elicited a laugh from the boy, who promptly sat back down at your request, scooting even closer than before. 

And you resumed your conversation, talking late into that evening. He filled you in on the happenings of the day at school (which was followed by your complaints about how everything fun happened only on the days you were absent somehow) and you finished your doughnuts, stealing a few bites from his as well. You bickered and laughed at his stupid jokes, going off once again into one of your famous tangents with him patiently sitting through them. Your other friends hadn’t shown up to check on you, but he had, and that was enough for you.

All you did was talk, but somehow he made you feel better by just listening.

Libraries were, in your eyes at least, magical spaces where time itself seemed to take a pause while you sat within them. The atmosphere of your local one that you visited often was unmatched, whether you were there to borrow books or to sit and study for a test. 

This particular library was absolutely gorgeous, with older design choices and architecture that gave it a more regal feel, something right out of Dead Poets Society. You could spend entire days there being productive, and every time you visited, you always left with a smile. 

The librarian was also extremely sweet and knew you by name, but that was to be expected considering you had been going there since you were ten years old. You walked in, giving her a polite wave and smile as you found your seat, settling in and arranging your study material. You were determined to tackle a particularly arduous unit of economics today in preparation for a class test you had coming up.

Your seat was towards the back of the library, next to one of the large arching windows and the optimal distance away from a fan in a corner. It was cosy enough to keep you focused on whatever you were doing that day while also giving you the best view of the library in its entirety, making it your go-to spot. 

It was due to this splendid view that you saw a certain Lee Donghyuck walk in.

He stopped in the middle, those eyes of his scanning the large room until they fell upon you. They lit up- something you could see happen even from the distance away you were and he began making his way towards your spot. 

Oh, dear. It seemed like you wouldn’t be getting any work done after all.

Donghyuck slid into the seat right opposite you, and you nodded in acknowledgment, looking back at the screen of your laptop. He looked at you for a moment before opening the book he had gotten with him.

And now for some reason, even though you were in the most optimal spot in the library that always produced productivity from you, your attention was directed away from your work and towards the beguiling boy across from you. You weren’t quite sure how you felt about him not glancing at you at all right then, or why you were so perturbed by it. 

Shaking it off, you once again turned your attention to the wonders of Alfred Marshall. Your method of memorisation was taking notes, or rather, scribbling down whatever was on the slides your teacher had put together and hoping for the best.

And it was then you heard the distinct slapping of a shutting book. “I’m bored.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to curb the smile that always seemed to make a show around Donghyuck, and raised an eyebrow in question.

In a whisper, he continued, “This book fucking sucks. I gave it a chance because Seulgi insisted I had to read it, but I really can’t get through a page without wanting to take a nap.” The droll look on his face almost made you laugh. “Do you happen to know where it belongs? I haven’t quite figured out the library yet.”

You nodded, getting to your feet and cocking your head to signal him to do the same. He fell into step with you as you led him to the fiction section in the back, and making sure to keep your voice low, you asked, “Seulgi has been talking to you a lot lately, hasn’t she?”

Every syllable of your sentence had been laced with forced nonchalance, and you didn’t dare look at him even once, turning into where you guessed the book would have belonged. He hummed lightly, following you dutifully.

“I guess so.”

Kang Seulgi was one of the more popular girls in your grade, well known for being in the cheerleading team. You hadn’t interacted with her very much, but from the few times your paths had crossed, she had always been very polite, leaving you with the impression that she was a sweet person. To tell the truth, Donghyuck was also talked about quite a bit, but you weren’t surprised about that in the slightest. He was a sight to behold, even if he didn’t know it himself.

So naturally, Seulgi had introduced herself to him and had begun to talk to him a lot more. You remembered when he told you she had sent him a follow request and then slid into his DM's, and him asking you to help him with how to respond since he had essentially nothing in common with the girl.

Now look, it wasn’t as if you were jealous or anything, truly, there was nothing for you to be jealous over anyway considering there wasn’t anything between you and Donghyuck. He was allowed to talk to whoever he wanted and take their stupid little literary recommendations.

Okay, so maybe you were a little jealous, but you really shouldn’t have been. You knew you were his closest friend, but maybe you were jealous because while you were his friend, Seulgi had approached him with intentions that were very obviously the opposite of an innocent friendship.

“Fun,” you muttered under your breath, successfully failing your own unbothered claims, stopping in front of a shelf and holding your hand out. “Book.”

He handed you the book, immediately noticing the shift in your mood, even if it was only slight. You glanced at the cover and frowned, pushing it in the gap in between all the books and staring intently at the other title,  evidently looking for another one you had just thought he would enjoy, before realising it was sitting on one of the higher shelves in mild dismay. 

The silence bothered him a little. “It really is an ass book.”

Now, although this made you feel a little better, the feeling of slight stupidity that came along with it cancelled it out.  The book you wanted to give him was just out of your reach, but you were much too proud to ask for his help after replying so curtly to him when it wasn’t necessary.

So you went onto your tiptoes, reaching out your hand in an attempt to get said book down, only for your fingers to barely brush against the wood of the shelf. This resulted in you almost stumbling a little, letting out a soft sound of frustration.

Donghyuck watched you in amusement, watching you try once again and still failing. 

“Need some help there?”

“Nope,” you said a little too quickly, jumping a little now and just about touching the book’s spine. 

He snickered to himself and moved until he was right behind you, easily finding the book and slipping it out of the shelf, making a point to hold it entirely out of your reach and asking languidly. “Are you sure about that?” 

Donghyuck knew he had bested you. He was toying with that fact, enjoying having you in the palm of his hands to play with- but not in a malicious way. 

You looked up at him, taking note of the way he was looking back at you. You took note of the triumphant look in his eyes, filled with amusement at your current struggle. That very amusement laced his lips as well, shaping them into an infuriating little smirk that had you catching your breath.

And subtlety had never been your strong suit, and it wasn’t about to start being so, much to your misfortune. Your eyes were trained to his lips, and this time, Donghyuck noticed.

He also noticed the minimal space between the two of you, and how if he just leaned forward ever so slightly…

It came to his attention right then and there, in the back of that library against the mahogany shelves, that he wanted to kiss you.

The thought had crossed the periphery of his mind before- the first time it did had taken him by abrupt surprise, seeing that he had never wished to kiss someone before. With you, the urge grew a little every day, and right then it was stronger than the last time. He was sixteen without the experience of his first kiss, and he had never thought too much about it before considering it was never in his list of priorities, but with you around? God.

And he had the feeling that maybe, just maybe, you were thinking of it too.

You were practically trapped in his embrace at that very point, pressed up slightly against the books as you stood there, your breathing going shallow in anticipation. It was questionable, just how easily he had disarmed you without even doing anything, and there you were, decidedly losing your cool for no apparent reason other than the fact that he was so close by. What was it again that he had asked you?

Oh right.

“I’m sure,” your voice came out small-sounding and meek, averting your eyes away from his face and down to your feet, gazing intently at the stitching of your shoes. “You can keep that. I was trying to get it down for you anyway.”

The spell was broken when he took a step away from you, clearing his throat in order to cut through the heavy air that had settled in between the two of you. He brought his hand down and studied the cover of the book, raising an eyebrow in question. “Why?”

“Because it’s infinitely more interesting than whatever the fuck Seulgi made you read.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, this time definitely noticing the hostile tone that came with your uttering of the girls' name. As hard as you had tried to exude indifference to the matter of the book, you had miserably failed, this being proved by your incessant need to one-up her literary recommendation. 

But he thought it was endearing, and flipped the book over, skimming the excerpt at the back. You waited patiently for his verdict, alternating between looking at him and to your side, peering out the window. 

“Okay,” He murmured, “I trust you enough to give it a shot.” 

Pleased with this, you nodded and began making your way back to your table. It shouldn’t have made you as happy as it did, seeing that he had also seemingly trusted Seulgi enough to try the book she had mentioned, but that didn’t really matter to you.

The two of you settled back down in your seats, and he opened the book up. You scoffed slightly at his newly acquired focused state, resuming your previous work now that he was occupied. Perhaps you’d be able to focus now.

Though you knew, with him around, that would never be the case.

v] now.

“Do we really need these many snacks?”

Yeonmi waved her hand in your general direction to invalidate your question, adjusting one of the bowls that contained popcorn on the small table in the middle of your living room to accommodate the one with gummy bears. 

“You can never have too many snacks,” she reasoned with you, stepping back and admiring her work. There on the table sat a selection of candy and salty-snacks, a cornucopia of unhealthy that was at the level of enjoyable. “Besides, it’s the first official time Donghyuck is coming over- any minute now, might I add- and I want it to be perfect.” 

Oh right. You swallowed to avoid any sort of reaction making itself known, walking over and inspecting all that she had gotten. Gummy bears, popcorn, mini pretzels, chips- it was leaning towards being stronger on the salty side of things. “Are you sure you want me to stay? I can always sleep over at Chaewon’s.”

Much to your dismay, Yeonmi shook her head, shutting down your offer.

“It’s fine, I want you to be around. He’s going to have to get used to you being around anyway, and I would love it if you guys ended up being friends.” Her words pricked your skin, and unaware of this fact she continued on. “I have a feeling that you would really get along.”

If only she knew. You forced a smile.

“Oh, I think we should have another flavour of popcorn. Cheese?” She turned to face you, expectantly waiting on your answer. You hummed, shaking your head.

“Caramel.” Donghyuck had always gravitated towards sweets, so you knew he would enjoy that better. Yeonmi rushed into the kitchen to arrange for said popcorn, and you sat down on the couch, staring at the blank television screen in slight retirement, wondering how life had managed to corner you into such a situation.

Ever since the day he dropped your roommate home in her drunken state, you often thought about that bitter reunion between the two of you, cringing every time at the recollection of your decision to pretend that he was a stranger. You recalled the confusion stirring in those still-starry eyes of his, before it melted into a silent understanding between the two of you. 

At sixteen you had sworn he had to be your soulmate. At twenty-four, you were forced strangers.

Yeonmi returned to the room with another bowl just as your doorbell rang, and you straightened up in your seat, mild panic taking over your system. Before she could even ask you to get the door, you escaped the living room, your feet carrying you quickly to the kitchen and further away from the door, where he inevitably stood.

Leaning against the counter, you let out a troubled sigh. You had no idea how you were going to survive the night without losing your mind in some respect, and you also had no idea how you were going to explain your bolting to your friend without some sort of excuse. Opening a drawer, you pulled out a bowl and began looking for something to fill it with, before coming across a packet of Sour Patch Kids.

You stared at the candy, slowly tearing open the packet and tossing some of it into the bowl. When you were younger, Donghyuck had always had a pack in his school bag, whipping it out at random occasions to snack on. It was his favourite candy back then, and although you’re not sure if he was still fond of it, it was still worth a shot bringing it out there.

Clipping it shut, you toss the packet back into the cupboard and steel yourself to face him once again. 

Donghyuck stared at the screen of his phone, processing the time displayed on his lockscreen. 8:30 pm. He glanced up at the sky, taking note of the stars that decorated it in splashes, before walking into your building, calling for the elevator with a press of a button.

Truly, he knew that he was a bit of an asshole, and he had self imposed this title for a plethora of reasons. He had been dating Yeonmi for a while now, and although there were no labels to their relationship, he knew it was nearing the time where they talked about plastering on said labels, something he had been now infinitely put off by. From the moment he saw you, it was clear that going any further with the girl would be absolutely fruitless.

So he should have called things off with her, and yet here he was, walking into the elevator and signalling for your floor. When she had asked him to come over for a movie night, everything inside of him had been screaming at him to simply end it then to avoid complicating things any further, but on the outside he found himself agreeing, regretfully.

That was asshole strike number two. The first strike was committed eight years ago.

Running his fingers through his hair, he used his blurry reflection in the walls of the elevator to fix up his appearance. He donned a pair of light-wash jeans and a dark blue sweatshirt today, opting to be comfy in an attempt to soothe his enervated mental state. 

Reaching your floor, he walked down the hallway and stood outside the door, sucking in a deep breath. Yeonmi had mentioned that since this was a casual affair, you would most probably be present as well, and that information had admittedly stressed him out even more than he already was.

You being her roommate suddenly made a lot of sense in regards to all those mannerisms that she possessed that reminded him of you. Living with you must have had your habits rub off on her, resulting in all the intense deja vu he had been experiencing these past few weeks. At first, he thought it was simply what it felt to fall for someone, considering he had only ever experienced it with you, but now he knew better.

The reason he had let this go on was because of how much she reminded him of you. It was like he still had you after all these years, even if it wasn’t nearly enough. 

He rang the doorbell and waited.

Yeonmi answered, her elated smile at his presence spurring some guilt from his end. After a hug, she welcomed him inside, ushering him into the living room of your shared apartment and explaining the set up of snacks and blankets that she had laid out on the couch. It was clear that she had put a lot of thought into the evening, and he gave her one of those dazzling smiles of his in acknowledgement.

She sat down in the middle of the couch, and he followed suit, taking one of the ends as she switched the television on, starting the movie. Donghyuck glanced around the room as tactfully as possible, noticing you weren’t present.

And that's when you walked in, grasping a dark blue bowl in your hands, answering his silent question of your whereabouts before he could even ask it. 

Part of him still saw the sixteen-year-old girl he had known all those years ago, the same hair and pensive expression painting your features that he had decidedly memorised. Once you had caught sight of him, you stopped in place and stared for a beat too long, looking from him to the table before him and then down at the bowl you held.  

Yeonmi turned around and the sound of your soft, padded footsteps, and cocked her head to the side in mild confusion. “Did you get something else?”

“Yeah,” your voice cut through his self-induced trance sharply, terse and quick, you switched the lights off, leaving the light from the TV as the only source of it throughout the room, and walked over and sat on the other side of the girl, grabbing a couple of the items contained in the bowl before handing it over. “I thought this would be a good addition.”

He peered over, eyes widening ever so slightly when he recognized the candy to be Sour Patch Kids that you were now slowly munching on. Yeonmi offered him some, and he slowly took it, trying his level best to not look at you in silent question at the choice of it. 

It seemed intentional, but that could have just been him overthinking it. By the looks of your eagerness to pretend he was a stranger to you, you probably didn’t even remember his emotional attachment to it when you were teenagers. The thought of that saddened him a little, especially when he thought back to the times you would always get him some every time you’d pass by a general store, or when he discovered you had an entire stash in the little drawer of your bedside table, ready for him every time he’d come over. The memory should have brought a smile to his face as he picked up one of the red candies.

The situation he found himself in was entirely ludicrous, sitting by a woman he had been dating for a short period of time and another who had everything to do with him in the past, but seemingly wanted nothing to do with him at present. 

But he really couldn’t blame you for that. 

Your behaviour towards him was more than justified, and if you hated him- well, he wouldn’t be surprised, or even blame you a little bit. No one deserved to be treated the way he had treated you, especially by someone who claimed to love you. 

One and a half movies in, Yeonmi seemed to have dozed off. It was around eleven p.m., the snacks were almost all the snack bowls had been emptied- save for the pretzels, and he couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to the television screen anymore, wholly uninterested in whatever was happening there. Instead, his gaze drifted towards your rigid figure, a little more visible now that the girl sitting between the two of you had slouched down a little due to her sleeping state. 

The light from the television gently cradled your features, illuminating your side profile in a ghostly manner that made it difficult for him to tear his eyes away from you. That was the excuse he used to justify his mildly intense staring at that moment in time because the truth was that no matter the situation, he had never been great at looking away from you.

You must have felt the weight of his imminent stare, because you swiftly turned your head to face him, eyes locking with his almost instantaneously.  The air around him stilled, he was afraid to move, as if doing so would break something- or perhaps himself. He couldn’t bear to think about doing that once more, wanting to protect you and himself from that outcome. 

But playing it safe would only get him so far.

“Y/n.” 

Your name made it out of his mouth just slightly louder than a whisper, but it had you breaking eye contact, a breath escaping you as if you had been holding it in, eyelids fluttering shut. This was the first time he had uttered your name in what seemed like forever, but he had never forgotten how to sound it out, holding it out to the wind like some sort of peace offering. Every syllable of your name was precious to him, ingrained into his memory and locked there, incapable of even the thought of escape.

“Donghyuck.”

You weren’t even facing him anymore, vision cast down to your floorboards as you responded with his name in that melodic cadence of yours, although it was currently laced with brevity. The guarded nature of your utterance did not go unnoticed either, he knew you too well to not catch onto these things, even if it had been a while. 

“I…I’m not sure what to say,” he admitted, lifting a hand up and running it through his hair- an anxious habit he had retained from his teen years. Another sigh escaped your lips, and you shifted in your seat out of discomfort at the situation at hand, glancing at your fast-asleep roommate.

“She owes me so much for this shit.” Your words were completely unexpected, but it almost brought a smile to his face to know that your way of speaking hadn’t changed much either. No matter how much time passed, the little constants of life kept him grounded- but with you it only had his head in the clouds. Finally, you spoke directly to him, “You don’t have to say anything.”

Donghyuck paused, caught a little off guard. He couldn’t have disagreed with that more, the amount of things left unsaid between the two of you was the cause of the stinging tension hanging in the air, something he was desperate to attempt to dissipate. It was unnatural, all his memories with you involved everything being exceedingly easy, this was a striking difference to what he was used to. 

It was his own fault. You held his stare, and it took him back to the first time he met you, when your ability to do the same was non existent. He recollected the nervous energy that radiated off of you the first time he ever spoke to you, the way your eyes would never stay focused at his for more than a few minutes. He had found it rather adorable. 

That day was a bad one for him, and he remembered it in perfect clarity. In classic teenage angst, he was pissed off at the world for the cards he had been dealt, those being another new town and another first day at a new school. More importantly, he was even angrier at the person who had put him in such a situation once again- his mother, of course. He had barely spoken to her before leaving the house that morning, ignoring her meek attempts at trying to hold out an olive branch. She had made him his favourite breakfast to console him, a silent apology of sorts, but he hadn’t commented on it at all.

He had been through the routine so many times that he was tired and so he kept to himself, ears plugged with his headphones at the back of every classroom he found himself in. There wasn’t an ounce of effort to mingle with the other students from his end, his annoyances and temper getting the best of him. 

And then he felt you looking at him in one of his classes, looking at you right when you had been called out for doing so. A few minutes later, your eyes wandered right back to him, surprise and embarrassment igniting in them when you realised you had been caught. He approached you afterwards, and the interaction that followed left him with a ghost of a smile on his face despite his sour mood. 

He wasn’t sure why he had decided to approach you that day. There had been others who had tried to speak to him, others that he had blown off with tight-lipped, polite responses that hinted at him being wholly uninterested, but there was just something about you that drew him in so effortlessly. It had been easy with you from the very beginning.

Which was exactly why he needed to fix whatever was happening right now, at the present. “I think we need to talk.”

You shut your eyes, but he wasn’t sure if it was out of weariness or frustration. 

“No, we really don’t.” There was a tinge of denial embedded in your words, if not outright refusal. 

“Yes, we do,” he gave you a mildly pointed look, trying to break through the wall you had built around yourself and open your eyes to the need to get this conversation over with as soon as possible. “You know we do-”

“I don’t.”

You cut him off before he could even finish what he had to say, the finality in your tone stopping him in his tracks. The way you snapped at him told him all he needed to know: that you had no intention or desire to continue this conversation. Even so, he would have maybe pressed a little more if not for the slight tremor that accompanied intonation. 

Donghyuck pressed his lips together, knowing that he didn’t have the right to insist. A stifling silence settled between the two of you, unbroken for a few seconds too long as he sat there, stunned by your minute outburst and thus, as a result, speechless. He couldn’t think of an instance when you had ever reacted like that to him, and the realisation grounded him. 

He swallowed, the dryness of his throat making the action hurt a little. “I should leave.” He spoke up, slowly getting to his feet to avoid waking up the sleeping girl next to him, “Tell Yeonmi I said thank you for tonight and…and that I had to leave because I have an early morning tomorrow.”

You nodded wordlessly. 

The lack of anything from your end was unnatural for him, you had never been one to not talk. It had been one of his favourite things about you. 

“And…I’m sorry.” 

And with that, he left you there on your couch with the very words that had haunted you for what felt like all your life.

vi] then.

Zhong Chenle was one half of your two best friends, the other being Sakura Miyawaki, and the only male hair to his family's multimillion-dollar company. Although he had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth and everyone had his beck and call, he was surprisingly down-to-earth for someone who grew up with that much privilege. Even with all the wealth that his parents had still put him in public highschool, which you supposed said a lot about how he was raised. You had met him for the first time in the fourth grade when you had been paired up with the ever-smiling boy during P.E. 

Everyone in town knew where he lived and it was because it was the only mansion in the town, and saying that it was in town was a little bit of a stretch as well. It was situated towards the outskirts, but travelling was never a problem for him considering he had a driver appointed to take him wherever he pleased whenever he requested him to do so in one of the four cars sitting pretty in his garage.

You had been to his mansion several times over the seven years you had known the boy, and it never failed to leave you awestruck. The garden outside was enough to have your jaw drop, and the inside wasn’t any different with pristine white walls and marbled floors that were tastefully decorated. When you learned that he also had a pool, you seriously considered asking to be adopted.

It was due to this very fact that Chenle took advantage of every time his parents were out of town on some sort of business trip, having you and Sakura, along with his cousin Renjun, stay the night. 

This time, however, was different. This time, Chenle was throwing a party.

His parents were gone for five days, and this conveniently happened to line up with the weekend, resulting in the perfect opportunity. He had never thrown a party before, but they had been happening a lot more frequently now that you were in the eleventh grade, and he wanted to dabble in the fun, insisting that all three of you needed more of that in your lives. 

So you told your parents you were going to stay over at Chenle’s place for the weekend, throwing some clothes and other items that you would need into a bag and let your hair loose, hoping that it would conceal the makeup you had done for the party. When you heard the horn of Sakura's car blare at eight p.m sharp just as she promised, you bid them a rushed farewell and left your house, mild excitement admittedly drumming through your veins. 

You walked over to her car, raising an eyebrow at Chenle’s presence in the backseat. The party had technically started by now, but since you had to get ready and finish all your homework for the week before you were allowed to leave, Sakura had agreed to pick you up and go with you.

This also meant that the host was supposed to be there instead of here, a host that beckoned you to sit next to him. You obliged, tossing your bag in first before sliding into the seat beside him and asking, “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to pick you up,” he answered gleefully as Sakura began to drive away, smiling in a mixture of amusement and annoyance back at the two of you. His voice was a little jittery, and once Sakura turned into a new lane, he brought out the flask that he had presumably been hiding underneath the seat until it was safe. “Drink up.”

“This fucker showed up to my house,” your driver friend filled you in, rolling her eyes in exasperation. “Thankfully, he still had the sense to call instead of ringing the doorbell. Can you even imagine the lecture I would have gotten if my parents saw him in this state?”

“You’re tipsy,” you concluded aloud, earning a lazy smile from the boy accompanied by finger guns on his free hand. You took the flask from him and unscrewed the top, cautiously smelling the top to ascertain the contents within, before holding it to your lips and taking a swig. 

The pure alcohol hit your throat immediately, stinging it and having your features twist into a frown, but you managed to swallow it all, subsequently coughing. 

“Oops,” Chenle muttered, “Forgot to tell you it's neat. There's nothing but whiskey in there.”

“A warning would have been nice, yeah.” Your neck felt warm. “Why are we already drinking?”

“It’s called pregaming Y/n, keep up. Be grateful since ‘Kura has to wait until we reach to partake in the fun. For us lucky folks, it starts now.” He ended this with a cheeky wink, his words were a little slurred, and you could smell the hint of whatever he had been consuming before. You briefly wondered how Sakura was going to get rid of the smell before she went home. 

“I believe what you mean to say is thank you,” comes from the front of the car, laced with sass. 

This was by no means your first time drinking with the two, since all the sleepovers at his place had consisted of stealing his parents liquor and drinking it in his room, but you didn’t partake in the act very often, and this was your first official party. You took another sip, this time a little more gracefully than the last. 

“You’re the host of the party, Chenle, you’re supposed to be there. You didn’t have to come pick me up.” To this, he huffed, waving a hand in your face as if he was shaking out the truth in your statement. 

“Yeah but you’re more important, so who cares?” 

You grinned, now knowing that he was definitely a little out of it due to the drinking. He had the habit of going all sweet and mushy on the two of you when he had a little too much in his system. 

“As much as I appreciate that,” you furrowed your eyebrows, “Isn’t that a bad idea, like, who is in charge back there? Won’t it be a mess?”

“Messes are inevitable when it comes to this, it’ll be fine,” He assured you as Sakura switched the radio on. “But if you must know, I left Donghyuck in charge to make sure no one dies before we get there.” 

You decided to not point out the underlying implication of people dying after you arrived, perking up a little at the mention of your- er- close friend. “Oh he’s already there?”

“Yeah, your little boyfriend was downing a mixture of rum and coke last I saw him.” Chenle’s words elicit an immediate reaction from you, a scoff leaving your mouth as you shook your head stubbornly. 

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

Sakura snickered from behind the steering wheel at your defensiveness, looking at you through the rear view mirror. “Keep telling yourself that, honey.”

“He’s not,” you insisted, cheeks feeling hot from the teasing your friends were subjecting you to blaming it on the contents of the flask you held. Half of the booze was still left, and so you continued to consume it slowly, adding, “We’re friends.”

Even you had to admit that you didn’t sound convincing at all. “Sure.”

You downed the rest of the whiskey.

“Where’s your outfit?” Sakura asked once they were done tormenting you. She was already wearing hers, a dark blue sleeveless dress that cut off a little above her mid-thigh, accentuating everything she wanted it to perfectly, paired with silver jewellery and heels. Like you, she had gotten a bag of clothes for the night stay as well. 

Grateful for the change in topic, you unzipped the front of the hoodie you had on, revealing the top of your dress, the bottom part of which you had tucked into your sweatpants to hide it from your parents. “I’m wearing it underneath.” You tossed your hoodie to the side as you clarified, closing the top of the flask and handing it back to your friend to keep. “I’ll fix up there.”

“I’ll help.” You smiled gratefully at this offer of hers, nodding as you brought out your phone, attempting to neaten up your hair. Your enthusiasm was building by the second as Chenle babbled on about something inconsequential, arguing with the remaining two of you as usual.

About twenty minutes later, the car pulled into the driveway, and you had to do a double take to recognize the place. People you recognized faintly were walking around the gardens, holding red solo cups and talking, their chatter and laughter blending in with the music that came from inside the house- giving you an idea of how chaotic it must have been inside. 

Grabbing your bags, the three of you made your way to the front door that was half-open, something that definitely should have been a concern, but none of you comprehended that, your teenage brains ready to let loose and have fun. You barely heard Sakura's declaration to get wasted over the cacophony inside, pushing through the crowd to get to the staircase. 

“Holy shit, seniors are here too,” Chenle said triumphantly, pleased at having achieved their presence at his first ever party. “That’s sick, I’m going to go try talking to Taeil hyung.” 

With that, he disappeared, leaving you and your best friend to make the journey to the top floor alone. The chances of anyone being up there were minimal, and you were going to use the private bathroom in his room anyway, so it all worked out in your favour. 

Walking into said bathroom, you placed your bag on the counter and slipped your sweatpants off your legs, adjusting the bottom of your short, black dress. Sakura whistled in approval at your look after helping touch up your eyeliner, and you inspected your reflection in the large, fancy mirror, pleased with what was staring back at you. The dress had a certain subtle shimmer to it, but only when the light hit it at just the right angle, and your makeup brought out the best in your features, making you feel extremely pretty. 

Perfect. 

“Okay, I’m ready,” you declared, leaving your bags in the bathroom and proceeding to make your way back downstairs once you put on your heels, rejoining the pandemonium you had been so looking forward to the entire week. 

The music was so loud that you were sure you were going to lose your hearing in at least one of your ears, feeling the bass in your stomach and head as well- actually, scratch that, the mild buzzing in your head was definitely due to the alcohol you had consumed before finally hitting your system.  

This was going to be fun.

“I’m going to get a drink,” you informed Sakura, but her eyes were following someone else- Nakamoto Yuta, you realised, one of the star footballers on the team. Smirking, you gave her an encouraging pat on the back before navigating to the kitchen, almost getting lost due to the difference in how the house looked. You were used to the bright white walls and perfect interiors, the contrast of the dark lighting and cups strewn everywhere throwing you off a little. 

Finally, you emerged into the kitchen, which was a little more deserted then the rest of the mansion. You stopped in your tracks.

Because behind the kitchen island and leaning against one of the counters was none other than Lee Donghyuck. 

Glass in hand, he looked even more elusive than he already was in this light. A black shirt hung effortlessly from his shoulders, the first few buttons left open with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Jeans and a silver chain sitting around his neck, part of you was almost offended at how good he looked at that moment. 

He seemed at ease, as if he was unaware of the lawless nature of the party, taking a sip of whatever drink he had poured for himself. He looked in your direction after a few seconds, as if he had felt your stare and raised his glass up in acknowledgement, the simper that appeared on his face telling you he was pleased you had finally arrived. This broke the spell you had been under, and you walked around the island into his full view, grabbing one of the plastic cups.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, letting his eyes drag over your figure from tip to bottom and making you feel a little self conscious. You mentally chastised yourself- mere minutes ago you had been feeling extremely confident, and now that state of mind relied on his judgement, but only his. 

Donghyuck had to force himself to look at your face again, one that was very obviously awaiting his judgement, it was just too easy to read your expressions. He was taken aback by how different you looked right then. A good, no, great different even. You were beautiful, he knew this very well by now, but he had never seen you quite this dressed up, and my god did you do justice to your look. 

“You look amazing,” he commented languidly, and just like that, you were back on cloud nine. 

Feminism had said goodbye the moment you had set eyes on him, clearly. 

“So do you.” That was the understatement of the century. You almost wished you could agree to all of Sakura and Chenle’s teasing and say that he was your boyfriend, because you sure as hell didn’t want anyone else hanging off his arm right then. You glanced at the line up of bottles against the wall, a sound of disbelief leaving you. “Fuck, Chenle really went all out, huh?”

There was possibly every type of alcohol you could ever want sitting there, just waiting to be consumed. Donghyuck chuckled, the low sound sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. 

“That he did. Here for a drink, I assume?” 

You nodded. “Something a little light on the alcohol taste though, Chenle had me have whiskey neat and I need a break from anything too intense.”

He hummed in consideration of this, taking your glass. “Got you. Be ready for the greatest drink of your life.” You rolled your eyes, but waited in anticipation nonetheless as he grabbed one of the bottles, pouring about two shots into it before walking over to the fridge and grabbing a bottle and some ice, pouring the contents into your cup and gently tapping it on the counter to help mix it all. 

“It’s peach ice tea and vodka,” he informed you as he handed it over, eagerly waiting for you to take a sip and assess the taste of his creation. “I’ve mixed it perfectly, so it should give you a kick without being too overpowering.” It was just as he said, the peach tea flavour being much more palatable to your taste buds, and you thanked him with a smile. 

“What are you drinking?”

“Uhh…..rum I think. Yeah, it’s still rum,” he eyed his drink, before finishing the rest of it like a shot. “It’s the good, expensive shit, I’ve had around five of these- wait, no- six.”

You giggled, sipping tentatively at your drink and admiring Donghyuck, the pleasant buzz in your head growing stronger. A song you liked came on, the melody beckoning you towards the main area of the party with every beat that played. 

“I’m going to go dance,” you declared, finishing your drink quickly. “I’ll find Chenle out there and join him.” This was your meek attempt at trying to get him to come along with you, not particularly wanting to leave his side or be separated from him even for just a song. 

Fortunately for you, there was no way in hell Donghyuck wanted to let you out of his sight either, especially not when you looked like that.

“I’ll come with you.”

You didn’t object.

After a few more hours of drinking, dancing and partaking in activities that would make your parents consider sending you to boarding school, you found yourself leaning against one of the walls of the house. You were completely unaware of which room you were in, everything happening in front of you feeling as if it was taking place in slow motion, your eyelids feeling heavy. 

Doing shots with Sakura was the beginning of the end for you. You had spaced out the shots a little, and since they didn’t hit you immediately you had assumed that you were doing fine, and proceeded to consume a couple of Chenle’s concoctions- the worst possible decision you could have made. God knows what he had put into that cup of yours, but it was strong.

All this culminated in you attempting to keep yourself upright against the wall, fighting your drunken stupor to the best of your abilities. You felt good, and wanted to stay awake for the rest of the party, one that had absolutely no signs of slowing down anytime soon. It was probably around one in the morning at this point, and although you were having the time of your life, the smokey, dim lit setting and being surrounded by your fellow drunks was starting to feel stifling.

“There you are.” 

You slowly looked up and registered the face that had waltzed into your view, taking your own sweet time to study the familiar spaced out expression that was plastered on Donghyucks stupidly gorgeous face. His pupils were dilated (as were yours, you were sure) and his hair messy but even that wasn’t enough to disrupt his beauty.  You were about to complain about this very fact, but he beat you to it, speaking once more.

“You disappeared after the first round of beer pong, and Jaehyun made me finish the game before I left, but I couldn’t find you after that.”

His manner of speaking wasn't the sharpest either, clearly very tipsy, but in an infinitely better state then you were. You had spent most of your time at the party so far by his side, thoroughly enjoying how he would hold your hand and guide you from place to place so you wouldn’t get lost and the way he placed his hands on the small of your waist, as if having some sort of physical contact with you was important to him. You especially liked how he would dip his head down, mouth right near your earlobe so that you could hear him speak over all the noise. 

As he had said, it was while some of your friends had dragged him into playing a game of beer pong was when you had slipped away, not entertained by the game in the slightest. You found Sakura and with every shot of vodka you let into your system, signed away your sobriety. 

“Ah,” you mumbled dumbly in response, nodding absent-mindedly, the memory of how he had his hand on the small of your back while you were dancing to the music popping back into your mind.

Music that was currently much too loud for you.

Donghyucks features twisted into a look of confusion, clearly not having heard your sound of acknowledgement. “What?”

You groaned, “It’s too loud in here.”

He seemed to have picked up on that, somehow understanding what you needed without you even asking for it. “Do you want to go outside for a little? Take a break from this?”

“Fuck yes.”

You pushed yourself off the wall, promptly stumbling right into Donghyucks arms. He looped them around you and helped you regain your standing, a small laugh leaving him, the sound having you certain you had never heard something quite so magical. “Maybe we should get you some water first?”

“No,” You breathed out, shaking your head rapidly. “I just want some fresh air.” 

This was how you ended up sitting upon the pavement of the street just outside Chenle’s mansion. The cold night air had you scooting a little closer to Donghyuck, before burying your face in your hands, which rested upon your knees, as you counted to ten in your mild, trying your best to regain your bearings once more. 

Donghyuck wished he had worn a jacket so that he could give it to you, but settled for throwing an arm around you to offer some warmth. The fresh air had helped sober him up a little, offering him the slightest bit of clarity as he sat there on the asphalt.

“I don’t think I can walk,” you said faintly, evoking a snicker from his end.

“You think? You barely made it out here alive.”

The music was softer outside, much more bearable. You could hear the leaves rustle gently, as if forming their own melody. 

“Shut u-up.” Somehow, you managed to stutter on this very basic phrase, only inviting more laughter from his end. You didn’t think you’d be able to blame it on the cold.

“My God, you’re so fucking drunk.”

You looked up at him, somehow momentarily unfazed by the close proximity and with a defiant look in your eyes, ready to argue back even in your inebriated element. “It’s not like you’re a saint right now either.”

He puffed out a laugh at how adorably indignant you were. “At least I’m better than you.”

“God you’re so fucking annoying,” you whined. “I really don’t know why I like you so much.”

You barely registered what you said, the words leaving your lips without much restriction. Inebriation caused you to let your guard down a little too much. He froze beside you, blinking rapidly to try and gauge how serious you were.

“You like me?”

The question somehow pulled you back to reality, but only a little bit. You opened your mouth and subsequently shut it, heavily hesitating. Even like this, you knew the weight that it carried, and the risks that came along with owning up to this accusation that you had brought upon yourself with your own carelessness.

Perhaps it was the cold, or maybe it was the faux confidence given to you by all the intoxicants in your system. 

“Yeah.” Your heart hammered in your chest. “I do.”

“And you’re sure this is not just because you’re absolutely shit-faced right now?”

“Excuse me? I am not-”

You never got to finish rebuking that claim of his, because he pressed his lips to yours almost feverishly, as if he had been waiting to do so for a long time. You gasped against his lips, your body responded before your mind even understood what was happening, instantly leaning into him and resting a hand on his knee to steady yourself. His hand moved from your shoulder to your cheek, cupping your face ever so gently as he moved his mouth against yours slowly.

He tasted sharp almost, the remnants of whatever alcohol he had been confusing fresh upon his lips, strawberries- probably from a vape- along with a bitter undertone that you couldn’t quite place just yet, too acutely aware and focused on the fact that Lee Donghyuck was kissing you and how his thumb brushed gently against your cheekbone. 

The kiss filled you with warmth and you immediately forgot about how cold you felt previously, every sound around you fading into the background, utterly unimportant to you. You felt yourself flush under his touch, your fingers reaching out and curling into the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer.

Donghyuck could hardly believe that this was happening either, acting on impulse the moment you confirmed that you did, in fact, like him. He pulled away after a few seconds, watching as your eyes fluttered open a little later, wide is slight disbelief, your pretty peach -flavoured lipgloss a tad smudged, now also on his lips.

“You just kissed me,” you said in awe, and he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear fondly. 

“I did.”

“You kissed me,” you repeated once again, like saying it aloud would keep it real and not just a figment of your imagination, “and you taste like smoke.”

You had eventually realised what the bitterness was. He frowned lightly, trying to place why that was. “Johnny hyung taught me how to smoke a joint sometime earlier- oh fuck, did that ruin it?” 

The look of genuine worry on his face made you almost laugh, and you stared at him incredulously, almost scoffing at the notion. Your fingers were definitely wrinkling his shirt with how tightly you were holding it at that moment and you shook your head firmly- well, as firmly as you could for someone who could barely stand upon her very own two feet.

“Nothing could ever ruin it.”

When you awoke, you had absolutely no clue where you were. 

Tucked neatly into a bed, you blinked rapidly to regain your bearings, staring up at the ceiling in pure mystification. You came to the conclusion that this was one of Chenle’s guest bedrooms, but couldn’t, for the life of you, figure out how you got there. 

You attempted to sit up but did so a little too fast, a sharp pang of pain rushing to your head and making it feel as if it split apart. A strangled sound of agony left you as you slowed your movements, opting to lean against the headboard as a compromise to sitting up straight. 

And that's when it hit you.

Memories from last night rushed back to you, fractured and in hazy glimpses. You recalled holding up a stranger's hair while they puked in one of the bathrooms, awkwardly standing aside another girl who had never spoken to before as she sobbed, mascara streaming down her face, laughing drunkenly with Sakura and Chenle (that screechy laugh of his had somehow been amplified with how plastered he was) and stumbling through the many hallways of the house. You couldn’t recall anything in its entirety, having to make do with the mismash of chaotic, foggy remembrance.

But you distinctly remembered Donghyuck kissing you outside the mansion. And then once again inside, after he made you drink water, and near the staircase, and-

You placed your hands over your warming cheeks. It was quite amusing, how the only thing you remembered perfectly was making out with him. 

Carefully, you got out of the bed, gritting your teeth to bear with the pounding in your head. You were still in your dress from last night, and there was no way in hell you were going downstairs looking like this. Somehow, you found your way to Chenle’s room, which was thankfully empty, and shut yourself in his bathroom, before sighing in resignation at your reflection. Your eyeliner was smudged around your eyes, makeup completely demolished- you were sure that your skin was crying because you slept in it. 

Your bag was still there, and you removed the extra clothes you had brought along, freshening up as quickly as you could and changing. It felt good to get out of the tight dress and into a pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt, washing all your makeup off. Deeming yourself finally presentable, you began your journey downstairs. 

Downstairs, as you had referred to it as, had been completely trashed. Solo cups and bottles of alcohol were strewn everywhere, along with random shoes lying about. You grimaced at the sight that somehow contributed to your migraine, walking past it all to the kitchen, where Johnny stood near the stove, flashing you a bright smile.

“Y/n! Good, you’re awake. Take a seat, my famous pancakes are almost ready.”

Chenle was slumped over the island, sitting at one of the stools around it. He glanced up at the mention of your name, and somehow, the boy looked worse than you felt. You occupied the seat beside him, cocking your head to the side and silently asking why Johnny Suh of all people was still around, when it seemed like everyone else had dispersed.

“I threw up twelve times last night,” he offered instead, a certain hoarseness in his voice. “Johnny stayed over to make sure I didn’t die, and handled almost everything after. Somehow, he doesn’t get hangovers.” The last bit of information sounded a little like your friend was complaining over how unjust it was that he had to deal with a hangover, while the senior didn’t.

“It comes with experience,” Johnny said wisely, putting the pancakes he had made onto a plate and sliding it over to the two of you. “Leave a couple for your other friend, I think she’s still sleeping.”

You nodded, grabbing a fork and immediately dug into the breakfast he had so kindly cooked for the two of you, trying to pay attention to his speech about how pancakes were the best cure to a hangover and nod where you thought it was polite to do so, but your thoughts drifted away from him and to a certain boy. 

Donghyuck had also been pretty drunk by the end of it all, you were sure. Chances were he didn’t even remember kissing you, but that singular thought was enough to have your stomach plummet. 

“Y/n? Are you listening?”

“Yes?” You snapped out of it, biting the inside of your cheek hard.

Chenle rolled his eyes, but grinned. “The party was a success, Johnny hyung himself just said so!” Safe to say, Chenle was on cloud nine. You, on the other hand, were a mixture of anxiety and elation, which was a most confusing combination to unpack. The older boy smiled in hilarity, somewhat seeing his younger self in your friend.

“The next will be even better.”

As Chenle began planning the hypothetical future party (with a raging hangover, mind you- he truly was shameless), you stuffed your face with another morsel of pancakes, soaked in maple syrup, hoping that it would soak up the remaining alcohol in your system and help you think clearly about your circumstance.

By the time Sakura emerged from her slumber, it was around noon, and the pancakes had long been devoured.

You arrived home in the evening to an empty house and a note from your parents saying that they had decided to go on a date night. This worked out well in your favour, considering you had no energy to deal with anything after the events of last night. Johnny, being the only one completely in his senses, had driven Sakura’s car back with the two of you, making sure you reached home safely. 

Flopping down onto your couch, you shut your eyes for a few seconds, deciding that what you needed to recuperate was a calm night. Perhaps you’d watch a few movies and order pizza.

These glorious plans of yours were quickly thwarted when you heard your doorbell ring.

Suppressing an annoyed groan, you forced yourself to answer the door, your eyes widening at the sight of Donghyuck standing there. Your mind immediately scrambled on seeing him, not a single coherent thought forming, which led to a most intelligent greeting from your end.

“Uh.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing behind you and into your house. Embarrassment flared up inside of you, and you coughed awkwardly, opening the door wider and shuffling to the side. “Right, wanna come in?”

So now he was in your kitchen, and you had no idea what to talk about. “When did you leave Chenle's?”

“Early morning,” he informed you, eyes following your every move as you poured yourself a glass of water, sipping on it to curb the awkwardness in the air. He paused, studying you carefully and slowly asked. “How was the hangover?”

“Terrible,” you groaned, the insistent throbbing of your head proving this. You finished up your water and walked closer to him. “It’s still there. I’m never drinking again.” 

He snickered disbelievingly, a glint in his eyes that represented an emotion you couldn’t quite place yet. “Liar.” He seemed distracted, tapping his foot rhythmically against your floor. You briefly wondered how his hangover had dissipated so quickly, envious of the fact.

“Listen buddy, I’m a quick learner, and I’ve learned that being wasted is not worth the consequences.” 

You said this in a joking manner, but there wasn’t even a hint of hilarity on his face, a serious expression facing you instead. Panic seized you for a moment, wondering if he truly didn’t remember the kiss, or if he did and regretted it. Maybe he was here to tell you to forget it ever happened, that it was just a drunken mistake from his end and that it would never happen again.

Maybe, you were just a terrible kisser.

“You were supposed to laugh,” you muttered weakly, your anxiety clawing at your chest. If he was about to reject you and crush your heart, you needed there to be more space between the two of you, and instinctively took a step back, moving to take another right after, but you were stopped.

Donghyuck grabbed your wrist, pulling you forward until you were right in front of him, his determination crystal clear.

“I am not your buddy.”

He said the word with resentment almost, staring at you hard. You swallowed thickly, not quite knowing what to say, terrified at the possibility of this being him cutting off your friendship as well. Him not liking you romantically was bad enough, but him wanting nothing to do with you was even worse. You couldn’t imagine not having Lee Donghyuck as at least a friend. 

Pressing his lips together, he asked. “Do-do you remember everything from last night?”

The question hit you like a train, and the stutter in his voice- the hesitation, it suddenly cleared all of the terrible outcomes you were thinking of. He definitely remembered, and it seemed like he was afraid that you didn’t. It dawned upon you right then that it was quite possible that both of you were royal idiots.

You sucked in a sharp breath. “Not everything.” His grip on your wrist was gentle and warm, you could see him swallow, a flicker of dread passing through those brown eyes of his as he rephrased his question. 

“Do you remember what happened between us?”

How could you possibly forget? It was the only thing you could remember, the ghost of his kiss still lingering upon your lips that yearned for the feeling once more. Your confession was fresh on your mind, being the only thing you had thought about from the moment you awoke.

“You know I do.”

Your voice was quiet, refusing to look at him properly. His other hand rose to your face a few seconds later, fingers gripping your chin and tenderly angled your face upwards so that you were forced to, your face just inches away from his. You desperately hoped he couldn’t feel the slight tremble of your hand, feeling vulnerable without the courage that alcohol supplied to you. 

“You know what? I don’t think I do know.” The coy nature of his voice did not go unnoticed by you. “I think I might need something to refresh my memory.”

You gawked at the boy, completely in disbelief at the sheer audacity he displayed right then, purposely playing with your already extremely frazzled mind in such a manner. You released your hand from his, hitting his arm weakly in annoyance. 

“You’re so lame,” you declared, and he frowned.

“Lame? I’m trying to be smooth over here!” He genuinely sounded kind of distressed, and you couldn’t help the smile that erupted upon your face, even if you did your best to look as annoyed as possible.

“If you want me to kiss you, just say so, you idiot.”

He hummed as if deep in thought, only putting you more on edge. Slipping the hand that held your face behind your neck, he nodded softly and followed your instructions. “Fine, I want you to kiss me.”

He pulled you closer by your waist, fingers entangling in your hair as you closed the distance between the two of you. You threw your arms around his neck, kissing him almost feverishly, more than eager to experience it while sober. He smiled against your lips, which was enough to bring forth giggles from your end. 

You kissed him until you were breathless and felt flushed, dizzy from just how long you had truly been waiting for this. Pulling away, you looked at him, searching for an answer to a question that had popped to the forefront of your mind.

“We just kissed.”

“For the second time,” he added helpfully.

“Right. And you’re not my buddy?” You raised an eyebrow, almost as if you were purposely provoking him.

“Please don’t friendzone me on day one itself.” 

A laugh left you, and he let his other hand fall down to your waist, interlocking his fingers right by the small of your back as if he was securing you in place, making sure you wouldn’t disappear in that moment. Not that you wanted to anyway, being quite content with where you were currently.

“I won’t.” You promised, biting the inside of your cheek as apprehension suddenly came over you. “So then…?”

“Y/n, will you be my girlfriend?” He cut off the pointed silence with his question, one that had you nodding before you even verbally announced your answer. The shy yes that you pronounced earned you that marvelous smile you so loved, and you buried your face in the crook of his neck, hugging him tight, as if trying to memorise every detail about what had just happened.

You were only sixteen, and perhaps still hopelessly unaware of the magnitude of your feelings towards Donghyuck, but somewhere in the uncertain haze that you had to navigate, you always knew that every path would always lead you straight back into his arms. You’d figure it out with your hand safely tucked in the pocket of his jacket, intertwined with his so firmly it felt as if he would never let go. 

After all, what was love, if not the sweet promise of forever?

part i fin.

[mewwfr]

Oh my god, staff.....

This auraboa issue with the lore being (most likely) unintentionally racist is especially maddening to me, because the concept they seem to want to portray (based purely on the encyclopedia entry) is very similar to an OC I have, and so I can say with experience, it's incredibly difficult to convey! ESPECIALLY when you try to portray it inside a short story where you're cutting lines for word count (their forum reply mentioned they left out some lines to keep it short)

Instead of getting across the concept the encyclopedia entry seems to allude to, the short story just accidentally walks into like 10 racism rakes in a row and its truly agonizing for me to watch, knowing what i assume the actual lore's intent is.

encyclopedia quote: "Older generations of Auraboa existed in a constant state of communion with their fellows. They refer to this connection as The Loop. In this persistent state they perceive time and memory in a non-linear manner; their intertwined considerations for past and present events are such that it became difficult for a dragon outside The Loop to grasp the intentions of these ancient wyrms."

what seems to be the intention is that the auraboa are a hivemind that doesn't experience time the same way other dragons do- they experience past, present, and future all at once and thus cannot communicate well NOT because they have a different language, but because they aren't experiencing TIME ITSELF in the same fashion as the dragons! However, in practice, in the story, the auraboa seem to speak with words in the proper order, just haltingly, since otherwise the story itself couldn't work at all.

another encyclopedia bit: "The newest generation of Auraboa is not linked to The Loop in their waking hours. While they move through the world, they are less directly accessible and read as "silent" to Auraboa who are within the communal state. This disconnection has allowed the young Auraboa to experience time in a linear fashion, and with this new understanding they have begun to form connections with other species of dragon that have never before been possible."

The encyclopedia seems more clear about the Linear Time thing, and that being why they can actually communicate sensibly, but in the act of having a story where the older ones DO communicate with the outside dragons and get a point across, they've kind of not shown the reason why dragons and auraboa COULDNT communicate before! which is! a big thing!

If they'd implemented the auraboa speaking with everything in the wrong order instead of halting single words at a time, i feel like the intention would get across better. As it is, it just smacks them directly into the 'simple native' stereotype with a truly awful tripping into the 'having our kids be taught by outsiders' which is. a really wretched parallel, as many native people have spoken of the unimaginable violence of residential schools.

I feel like the encyclopedia entry Alone isn't nearly as awful (still not great, but not as bad) as the extremely poorly implemented story that managed to ddr dance onto a bunch of horrible tropes.

they were literally so bad at conveying the fact that the auraboa are a hivemind that is unmoored from time, that i see people misinterpreting the lore as auraboa having their own weird language that other dragons can't understand! there was not enough effort put into conveying the ideas they tried to convey, and what WAS put forward was literally chock full of the most unfortunate parallels physically possible.

[moonlit-positivity]

Lesser known effects of trauma that don't ever get acknowledged

Cw: mentions of csa, sa, despair, depression, & generally dark content that some may find hard to read. Please interact & read with care.

"bed rotting" (which I hear is gaining attention on TikTok these days) ie the process of becoming bedridden due to your body being stuck in freeze response (paralyzed w fear, too scared to move)

Needing to cut your hair bc it keeps getting matted down, because you can't shower or wash it or keep up with it anymore

Gaining weight (i gained over 200lbs in a year), losing all the clothes you once fit in, and feeling guilty when all you see everywhere all the time is fat shaming

Losing weight (and subsequently all your clothes start falling off 😭) eating disorders and struggling with body image

Existing off of God knows what at this point. Is that milk spoiled? Yeah but how many days is it spoiled? Mmm, nah, nevermind, I'll just eat air.

Losing track of time. Losing months to years of time because of extreme dissociation, fatigue, stress, and the inability to move

Brain & body "shut down" or go into sleep mode for long periods of time

Self hygiene becomes non existent. Showering? Brushing teeth? Changing clothes? Don't know her.

House cleaning becomes non existent. "If It's Not In The Vacinity, It's Not Getting Done."

Lying to everyone about what's going on because it's easier than telling the truth

Not being comfortable with having your pictures taken, go through a phase where you destroy any evidence you ever existed anywhere at all

Isolating & ghosting all ur friends periodically to make sure they're not gonna leave you (lol makes perfect sense, if you know you know)

Animal upkeep goes to shit. Litter box goes neglected for long periods of time.

Noise & light sensitivity goes haywire. Noise & light triggers get amplified especially once you start to feel any sense of "safety" and start decompressing. An alarm goes off, the stove beeps, the cat meows, anything that makes even the slightest noise in the foreground and you have a whole ass panic attack and find yourself in bed for the rest of the day

Agoraphobia. You never go outside ever again. Too much paranoia, too many eyes staring at you, too many reasons to panic and stay in bed

Life becomes so non existent that the only thing that matters is whatever you're currently doing to cope & survive. If you're addicted to something, well, it's a fucking miracle you even wake up anymore

Couch surfing and inevitable homelessness when people get tired of housing you. Having to confront the way society frames government assistance as "the lazy man's income" & hope disability goes through. Which it won't. Wait-lists out the ass, section 8 takes 5 years or more to kick in. Disability doesn't even go through bc they always deny the first time you apply. The process is littered with appeals and court dates and what the fuck, I can't even get out of bed. What the fuck. What the fuck.

Leaning into your despair because, despite what everyone on social media will shout at you about resilience and "not allowing yourself to fall into despair," they will never understand that concept that despair is there for a reason too. Youre looking at someone who was raped at 5 years old and youre telling them to "stay positive." Yeah okay.

The anger, the bitterness, the resentment at the world & everyone in it. The cold blooded urge for revenge & justice. Especially when there's nothing you can do about the fact that your abusers are still free to live and roam this world as they please.

Not being able to "talk about it." Not being able to "trust a safe space." That's bullshit. I was beat and abused my whole life, what the fuck you mean "safe space?" The absolute mind fuckery that you have to sit with and undo and learn the fact that they fucking lied to you. It is enough to kill you.

Everything you learn in therapy just pisses you off even more because why the fuck wasn't there someone there as a kid to teach you this shit???? Why the fuck do I have to learn this as an adult???? Where was this when I actually fucking needed it????

Nothing helps. Nothing soothes, because there is no soothing. There is only pain. It's like ripping your skin off.

Losing everything. Losing all your friends. Losing all your "cool status" points. Losing your reputation. Losing all the things that once brought you great joy and passion. There is nothing anymore. Pain and isolation and desolation and despair.

Learning that no one can relate. Except that's not entirely true at all. People can relate. It's just such a stigmatized topic that no one talks about it out loud, because no one else in society really gets it.

[miracledarling]

the key to manifesting

luvie, if you're tired of "trying to manifest", read this.

i get it, sometimes it's tiring 🥺

so if you're looking for the the ultimate key to manifesting, and the only thing you are missing when it comes to manifesting. or the reason why your desires aren't here yet, this is the solution 💗

the ULTIMATE secret to manifesting is...🔑

ok so heres what you need to do SIKE haha you really thought i was going to give you the secret key to manifesting? you actually thought there was a secret about manifesting that you didn't know about?

guess what, there is not secret. there is no "key" to manifesting that i can tell you. you already know everything you need to know to manifest. you know enough. i have no secrets to spill.

warning: going to be a little mean here, no sugarcoating.

[ tip: click the links🤍]

the only "key" to manifesting is YOU. nothing else

YOU decide what is the key to manifesting. YOU decide it all. YOU are the creator of the reality. but why do you need a secret technique to manifest when creation is already finished and YOU are the only one who can do it.

maybe some people assume it's the feeling that's the secret. some people assume it's their belief. some assume it's the self concept. some assume it's the repetition. some assume its just deciding

similarly, some assume the states manifest, some assume its your dominant thought that manifests

but ONLY YOU can decide it for yourself. ONLY YOU can decide it's yours. ONLY YOU can turn your desires into the reality. there's no right or wrong except what you assume

THERE IS NO SECRET.

if u genuinely came to this post to look for a "secret method," a "fail proof technique," or that i was going to say "do this and your desire will finally come" well sorry. there is none i can give you. there is only what you assume. what you assume to be true.

stop looking for that secret key to unlock the door. it's not gonna happen honey. NOT UNLESS YOU CHANGE YOUR MINDSET.

YOU ALREADY HAVE THE KEY. USE IT 🔐

you probably don't want to hear this again, but it's most likely the truth. you already know how to manifest. you know exactly what to do. you know enough. what are you even looking for at this point? why do you need to know more? why over consume? why question if you're doing it right? why not JUST DO IT?

also some of you don't realize it but it's obvious some of you aren't at all confident in yourself and it SHOWS. like why check the 3d and then waver? you validate yourself. why are you BEGGING for tarot reading every day? aren't YOU the one deciding. i see people getting desperate for just a tarot reading. the same thing as checking the 3d btw, bc you're literally giving the power away.

if you're someone who has failed in the past, trust me, i know how it feels. it's happened in the past. but don't let that affect you anymore. let it be and move on. stop beating yourself up for "failure" because failure is the only thing impossible to us limitless beings. stop accepting failure. stop accepting what you don't want. move on from the old story, it's non existent anymore.

basically slam the door on your doubts, old story, anything other than what you want. never settle for less, and never question it because it's already done in the 4d, so why question.

another thing is, i always wonder why do people spend so much money on coaching or people to manifest for them when all this info is available for FREE.

there's a reason we bloggers have masterlists. we provide this information for free so you can APPLY it.

and stop trying so hard. it should never take much effort, not even lifting a finger. it's easy. make it easy and fun for yourself, stop stressing out about something that you can do instantly. applying doesn't mean you gotta neglect yourself. stop trying to pause your life just to avoid 3d. take care of urself. also take care of your mental health too.

bc you can literally do it all urself. you can manifest it all this very second.

oh and for some of you relying on bloggers and thinking we should be manifesting for you. bitch stop asking bloggers to manifest for you if you have a shitty mindset. and then go complain that it didn't work. you're literally reaffirming that it didn't work which keeps the assumption and you'd be trapped in that cycle.

for those who are constantly going on every social media platform, every neville book, every youtube video, every blog post. STOP RIGHT HERE. you're never going to find a "secret method" that will manifest all your desires once in for all if you don't APPLY.

be for real, are you applying? are you persisting? or are you constantly being confused and going back and forth, overconsuming, and not applying?? i don't care if one blogger says states manifest and another says affirm and persist. take what resonates and leave what doesn't. don't even listen to everyone on the internet, or even youtubers, even neville.

everyone has their own set of assumptions. if someone says "robotic affirmations doesn't work," but you want to do it, go ahead. if someone says you have to "experience time lag(which is bs)" but you don't want to, then ignore. ITS UR ASSUMPTIONS. WHAT YOU ASSUME TO BE TRUE IS TRUE. if you assume doing one method works, even if some other people say otherwise, it will still work for you. but seriously, apply the law.

no like aren't you glad you even know about the law? you literally have the power to experience whatever you want and yet you're scrolling through tumblr trying to find a secret method? seriously? you can literally change EVERYTHING this very SECOND. you could be applying and persisting all that knowledge you already know and manifest everything you wanted already.

so start applying, and stop looking around. you know enough, you know exactly what to do, do it now 💙

[kirisunshineboy]

𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙥𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧 | 𝙮𝙤𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙞 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

☆ 𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: min yoongi/reader ☆ 𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: pure fluff ☆ 𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: a little to much fluff ☆ 𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1.6k ☆ 𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: Yoongi arrives home late. Again. So much time off without him has made you think that maybe there's someone else he's interested in now, and you can't bear the pain of that thought.

☆ 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦: The word apapachar comes from Nahuatl, and means "to caress with the soul". It is considered one of the most beautiful words in Mexico, and, personally, it is my favorite of all the words in my language. Btw, sorry for any grammatical errors, English isn't my first language.

You always wait for Yoongi awake. Or at least you try to. The first few times weren't that hard: you just sat on the couch in front of the front door and after twenty minutes he would come in apologizing for being late. You didn't care. It wasn't that big of a deal. 

He would come up to you and give you a kiss on the head, kneeling in front of you to rest his head on your lap as a way of apologizing. You always played hard to get, but you could never resist him and ended up accepting his offer of peace, starting to slip your fingers through his soft locks to brush them and massage his head. 

It would all continue with Yoongi carrying you in his arms to his room to tuck you in, giving you kisses with quick flutters all over your face between his every move, ending with him hugging your body gently as he traced slow circles on your back. 

"I love you" was the last thing you heard before falling into dreams. 

But that wasn't happening anymore. 

Not in a long time. 

You can't remember the last day you even saw him at a time other than him coming out of the bedroom early in the morning, leaving you alone in the big bed you share. 

In fact, you can't even be sure if you're still sharing it, as it's been two weeks since his presence in the evenings has been non-existent. 

You've almost forgotten what his soothing touch feels like on your heavy back. 

You glance at the clock by the door. 03:25 a.m.

Your eyes feel heavy and you don't think you can stay awake any longer. Although to be honest, not that that's of any use. Deep in your heart you know that Yoongi probably won't make it home tonight. Or the next. 

Work? Yeah, maybe. You know how obsessive he can be when it comes to producing music. But you're suspicious. And it's at times like this that your doubts are triggered, embracing your unconscious in a way you hate. 

You'd be lying if you said you've never wondered if there's someone else. It's normal, isn't it? And sure, you'd have your reasons for doubting, but it doesn't take you long to bury those thoughts to the back of your mind every time. 

Only this time it's different.

The back-to-back unexplained absences and the strange barrier of distance that has risen between you do nothing to dull your thoughts. 

Yes, maybe you found someone else. Someone who shares the same passion he does for music. Someone who doesn't need so much annoying physical affection. Someone he can talk to about his work without having to explain every little concept. 

You feel your eyes fill with tears and your eyes sting. 

3:50 a.m.

It wouldn't be hard for him to get someone else. You're the first to say he's the most handsome man you've ever seen, I mean, why did he pick you in the first place? Having thousands, millions, of options. Maybe you were just a passing fancy. Maybe he realized the women he could get and decided to pass you up. You wouldn't blame him if he decided to dump you in a corner at the drop of a hat. 

At this point, you're curled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped around you. Silent tears slide down the surface of your skin and land on the soft fabric covering you. 

It's okay, isn't it? 

You love him. And people who love should step aside if they are no longer reciprocated. That's the way it should be. 

You feel a blue feeling run through you from top to bottom. This only intensifies when you hear the door lock rattle heavily. 

4:10 a.m.

Yoongi arrives. 

When the door opens, you can see his silhouette walking wearily into the house, closing the door carefully behind him. His shadow moves and leaves his coat on the coat rack, sighing heavily. Yoongi moves toward you, but without noticing you yet. Not that there is any light to indicate your presence. 

You feel a new horde of tears threatening to come out and you tremble. 

Yoongi seems to notice a lump on the couch and turns on the lights just in time to see your figure writhing in spasms under the blanket. 

His face goes from tired to worried in an instant. 

"Honey, what's wrong, what are you doing awake at this hour?" Yoongi whispers as he approaches your trembling figure. His face looks alarmed as he stands in front of you. 

What Yoongi watches closely are your watery eyes and flushed nose. Your flushed cheeks and tousled hair make him fidget.

You still can't speak. Not with the lump in your throat. 

"Honey, please talk to me"

Yoongi insists, kneeling in front of you and reaching for your hands underneath the cloth. His heavy eyes are flashing an alarm signal beneath you. 

"You are late. Again." 

The words leave your throat in a wisp of a voice that Yoongi wouldn't have heard but for the silence there. 

Yoongi clenches your hands and looks down, guilty. 

"I... The job took me longer than expected, you know I've been working on the album I told you about and-"

You don't let him finish. 

"You're going to leave me?" You ask, your voice hoarse. Your tone is the complete opposite of your current appearance, which is destroyed and tearful. Yoongi looks up at you, surprised by your question. He lets go of your hands. 

"What are you talking about?"

You feel your chest tighten. You open your mouth again and try to speak, but only rubbery, unintelligible gasps come from your lips. Yoongi distinguishes a few loose things among your babbling, "You're always late," "I know I'm not as interesting as other women," and a halting, "I'll do better."

You don't know how to describe Yoongi's expression as he stands up and turns his back to you, mumbling. He holds his hair before asking you. "What woman are you talking about?"

You look up from the blanket and he turns to face you. Your eyes meet. 

"Isn't that why you're not home?"

"I'm not-"

"Isn't that why you don't hug me?"

Yoongi can swear he feels his heart melt with an acidic sense of guilt after hearing you. 

He rushes to hug you tightly, wrapping his arms around your sobbing body. 

You are like this because of him. 

It's his fault. 

You feel like you could burst into tears right there. 

"Oh, honey," Yoongi's voice sounds broken. More crying builds up in you. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..."

You allow yourself to relax under his embrace. You missed him so much. Yoongi tightens his grip on you and drowns your sobs in his chest. 

"I thought that- that I was the problem and that you didn't like me anymore-" you cry. 

"Please, please don't say that," he begs. He takes your face in his hands and removes the hair over your face to look at you. Now you can make out the dark bags under his eyes. Now Yoongi's nose and cheeks are red too. 

"I'm sorry" He says."Sorry for being away so much, sorry for not explaining anything to you, I didn't mean for you to feel this way..... I'm just- sorry for everything, honey..."

Yoongi kisses your face in messy motions, desperate to let you know he loves you, that he would never stop.

More apologies spill from his lips between each kiss. He takes special care to cover your nose and forehead with affection, mingling his own tears with yours. 

"I-I love you so much and it has never crossed my mind to have anyone else. You're all I want with me, forgive me..."

Yoongi catches you in a protective embrace. You wrap your limbs around his torso, wrapping your legs around his waist and clinging to his body. He smiles, tracing the familiar circles on your back to reassure you. Your eyes close longingly at the movement of his fingers on your skin. You had missed him so much. 

His breathing begins to soothe you, calming your crying after a few minutes. Yoongi buries his face in your hair, breathing slowly. He had missed you too. 

After a few moments that felt long, you feel him stand up and lift you with him, carrying you all the way to his bedroom. He sets you down on the bed and asks you to let go. 

"It will only take a moment, I promise. I'm not going anywhere," he says and gives you one of his rubbery smiles. You reluctantly agree, letting go to hug yourself. 

Yoongi turns his back on you and walks over to the closet to find you some comfortable clothes to sleep in. He decides to bypass your pajamas and goes straight to his part of the closet to give you his favorite shirt and a pair of shorts. He pulls out his own change of clothes and lays them on the bed next to you. 

You feel tired and it's no wonder, as it's after five in the morning. Yoongi takes off your top and puts on his shirt, kissing your shoulders before doing so. Then he puts on his shorts. When he finishes changing you to sleep he doles out more kisses on your face, leaving a soft one on your lips. 

You wait for him to finish dressing and when he does, he takes one end of the blanket from the bed and wraps it around you, moving you around until he has laid down as well. He pulls you in until you are facing his chest and turns off the light, lulling you to sleep. His arms tighten around you as he draws slow patterns on your back. 

Your eyelids feel heavy and you cling closer to his warmth, feeling yourself slowly fade away.

"I love you" Is the last thing you hear before you fall asleep.