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honeyypotato · 1 year

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Restart

A Reiner Braun x gender neutral reader fic

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“This chat is twenty years overdue,

Let’s have a seat and tell me your news.

Something about you is different,

I feel at ease when you talk.

Each painful knot is untwisted,

You’ve matured more than I thought.

My destiny is knocking,

This is what I’ve been wanting.

When did our eyes get soft?

I wanna be here, wanna be yours so hard.”

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Four years ago, before his betrayal, you’d been Reiner’s love. But now, after you both survived the rumbling, could you go back to how things were?

[Lyrics and title from the song “Restart” by Veela and Mod3no]

No warnings! Go crazy! Read to ur heart’s content friends!

Tags: lots of fluff, Reiner is soft, kinda spoilers if ur new to the show, post-canon AoT things, awkward ex-couple moments, happy ending

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WC: 3210

AN:

I mean…I would take this man back in a heartbeat. He could step on me and I’D be the one to apologize…you get it.

I took a break from writing my usual super-long fics to bring you this one! I came across the song this is based off of the other day and…my adhd is eating it up, so I have been listening to it on repeat.

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Once more, your gaze locked with golden eyes as you sat in the library. It was a lazy spring afternoon, one which you should’ve been enjoying. Instead, you were hiding indoors, attempting to distract yourself from your emotions once again. That is, until Reiner had walked in on the opposite side of the room.

You watched from over the top of your book as he exchanged a few words with Mikasa and Armin, who were doing some research that you didn’t have the heart to join in on. Then he turned around, and his eyes found you again, and for a moment you thought you could see him consider walking over. But after a heartbeat, he leaves you alone once more.

“You two can’t keep just staring at each other from across every room like this.”

You were shaken from your thoughts by a voice. It had been three months since you’d all returned from fighting Eren, and your relationship with Reiner was…a stalemate. Four years ago, before he’d left, you’d been his. From the moment you’d walked onto the training field as a cadet, he’d practically attached himself to you at the hip. You had never been sure of what the blond saw in you, but whatever it was caused his eyes to glow a little whenever he looked at you. Soon enough, that warmth had grown into full-blown love; your hands intertwining before missions, curling up a little too close when it was cold, sneaking kisses underneath the stars.

Your heart shattered into a million pieces when he left, but it was more because he was leaving you, not because he had revealed himself as your enemy at the time. You couldn’t care less if he was a titan shifter, or if he’d been keeping the entire rest of the world a secret. Each morning that you were forced to wake up alone took a little piece of your soul away from you. You were long past convincing yourself it would get better with time; you’d accepted you would feel like this forever.

You looked at the source of the voice, tearing your eyes away from the empty spot where Reiner had been standing.

“I don’t even know what I’d say to him, Jean,” you murmured as your friend sat down next to you.

“The way you look at each other says you both have a million things you want to say.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start. Besides, he’s better off not having me in his life to hold him back.”

“Now that’s just ridiculous,” Jean scoffed. “Neither of your lives are going anywhere as long as you keep up this weird…orbiting dance you’re doing.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Orbiting dance?”

“Yeah, you’re both too afraid to get too close to the other, even though that’s exactly what you want. So you both just keep your distance, circling around each other, hoping something will knock one of you off your path and into the other’s so you don’t have to do it yourself.”

“You learn that in therapy, or something?” You sighed, and replaced your bookmark back into the page. You wouldn’t get any more reading done.

Your remark earned a chuckle from Jean. “No, I learned it watching two people not bothering to hide their emotions at all.”

Dropping your head in mild embarrassment, you knew you’d never been good at keeping your emotions under wraps when it came to Reiner.

“Talk to him. Please,” Jean moves to stand up from his post beside you. “You’ll both feel better when you do.”

“I’ll try, Jean. But I can’t promise anything.”

Reiner knew you’d been spending your afternoons in the library, but as much as he was trying to give you all the space you needed, Historia had asked him to relay information to Mikasa and Armin. Of course they were doing their research in the library, and of course he couldn’t keep his eyes off you for two seconds when you were in the same room. It was obvious that you’d both changed; he could tell from the small conversations you’d had during the Rumbling. But hell, did he know that he still loved you. You’d grown from that rambunctious, sweet, and slightly awkward cadet into a true soldier and adult. You were level-headed and mature, a deep thinker, kind and gentle…He could tell you’d retained some of your youth, too, from the way you and Conny threw jokes at each other during meals.

But what did you think of him? He was the one who’d torn you to bits, left you alone on the island while he returned to the safety of his country. When he wasn’t with you as a Scout, he’d spent his time figuring out ways to break the news about himself to you gently, and ways that you’d be able to stay together while he completed his mission. It had all happened so fast, though, and by the time he had Eren in the palm of his hand it was too late to explain anything. Through the titan’s eyes, and through yours, he had seen the shattered pieces of your heart. That memory had resurfaced a hundred too many times while he was back in Marley, the way you’d looked at him. As badly as he wanted to pull you close now, to try and fix everything he did and put all the pieces of your heart back together, he continually convinced himself he’d just break your heart all over again. So, he kept his distance. But when the two of you were in the same room, you were so beautiful, so perfect to him, he was pulled toward you like a magnet.

You tried to talk to him, you really did. But you’d gotten one good look at Reiner after dinner and had turned on your heel, marching straight back to the solitude of your room. Now, you laid face down on your bed at three in the morning, cursing yourself for being cowardly yet again. This wouldn’t even be the first time you’d talked to him since he left, you’d exchanged words with him throughout the Rumbling. Hell, you fought side-by-side. But now that the fighting was over, everything was…different, and you couldn’t bring yourself to speak with him. There was just too much between the two of you.

Knowing it was going to be yet another sleepless night, you dragged yourself out of bed. Throwing on a pair of old sweatpants, it was time for yet another nighttime stroll around the building.

Despite the fact that you were exhausted, your–what had become nightly–walks were rather peaceful. The entire city was almost silent, and you could exist in your own mind and world for a bit. Pacing through the halls, you found yourself wishing for what you always did; that he was close.

Passing the library, you had the fleeting idea that you’d read a little more of your book, so you tugged the heavy door open. But when you settled down on one of the plush couches, book in hand, you couldn’t bring yourself to read a single word. Sitting in the silence, you stared out the window into the night sky, lost in thought.

A shifting of the couch seat next to you brings you back to the present. You had been so deep in thought you hadn’t heard the door open, but before you could conjure up a reason why you were sitting in the dark library at three in the morning, you saw a pair of eyes you hadn’t dared to be so close to in a long time.

Reiner watches fear dart behind your eyes, immediately regretting his decision to sit next to you. He hadn’t been able to sleep, as usual, so he decided maybe some fresh air would help. But when he saw you, he became so lost in the pain of the fact that you were probably doing the same as him, walking around to try and get through another sleepless night, that he forgot to glue his feet to their spot. Before he knew it he had planted himself firmly in the seat next to you, studying every inch of your face.

“Hi.” Your voice is barely a whisper, and after a heartbeat your eyes snap back to where your hands had curled tight around the book in your lap.

His face softens. “Hey.”

Your mind swirls in a panic, trying to find something–anything–to say.

“Um…What are you reading?” He asks, causing small cracks to appear in the ice that had formed between you. His voice is deep, warm, and familiar, and you feel at ease when he speaks.

“A fantasy novel.” Daring to meet his eyes once more, your heart beats picks up when you see the warm, almost smiling expression he wears.

“Didn’t know you were into those.”

“It’s a habit I picked up. From Sasha.”

“Ah.”

You went back to cursing yourself for making it awkward.

But now Reiner is fully smiling, gently, as he gazes out the window into the starry sky. “Remember when she used to tell those stories, during missions?”

“The ones where all the characters were named after different foods?”

“Heh. Yeah, those were something else.”

“She knew how to make long horseback rides a little shorter, didn’t she?” You chuckle as that odd mix of happiness and sadness washes through you once more. Silence washes over the library again.

“I’m sorry. For everything–”

“Reiner. Don’t.” Feeling your throat tighten, you look up at him, closing the book on your lap and placing it aside.

“I–”

For the first time in years, you hold his gaze. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I hurt you.” You can hear the pain in his voice. There are tears in his eyes, glistening in the moonlight.

“You were doing what you believed was right. You always have. I would have done the same.”

“What we believe is the right thing isn’t always the right thing.”

“You did what you could, with the information you were given. We all did. I could never hate you for what you did.”

“Then what do you hate me for?”

Your face twists slightly, shocked, and this time you’re the one with tears in your eyes.

“I-I mean, you have to hate me for something.” Reiner watches your expression.

But your face changes, and a soft smile takes over your lips as you gaze up at him. “Wouldn’t that be childish of me?”

At your smile, he relaxes into the couch slightly, leaning a little closer to you. “You’re allowed to hate people as an adult, silly.”

“Hate is born from not understanding. I understand why you chose to do what you did, so how could I possibly hate you?”

“I hate myself…for what I did.”

“The choices you were forced to make weren’t easy, Reiner.”

“They should’ve been.”

He pauses for a moment.

“How could I leave the person I love more than anything else in this world?”

You blink in surprise. Then, warmth floods through your veins. You lean into him, pressing against his arm and resting your head on his shoulder.

“Even if I had known what you were going through, I still would have let you go. It was life or death for you,” you murmur.

“I should have found a way to live. I would have. Shit, I’ve been stabbed and shot and bombed more times than I can count.”

“You fought in a war, Rei. It must’ve been awful.”

His hand slides into yours. “It was. But I’d fight a million more just to see you for one more day.”

“You don’t have to. And if you did, I’d be right there at your side.”

You feel him sigh, leaning his head against yours and pressing his lips against your forehead.

“Reiner…” That familiar warmth blooms in your chest, something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers. “I wished you were there with me every day…but also I was glad you were somewhere safer.”

He missed you…You shift in your spot to look up at him, pressing a hand to his cheek. You’re no longer so afraid to look him in the eyes. “I missed you too. But I’m here with you now.”

“You are. And I’m here with you,” he echoes, as if he’s afraid it’s all a dream, and speaking it aloud would cement the two of you in reality.

And then he shifts, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his lap, pressing his forehead against yours as your arms loop around his shoulders, tangling in the hair at the back of his head. His hands grip tightly at your waist before sliding around you completely, pulling you as close as humanly possible as your noses brush. For a heartbeat, you linger against each other, letting it settle into your minds that the other was here, until neither of you can hold yourselves back any longer, and you collapse into each other.

The familiarity of his lips against yours overwhelms you, memories of the night he first kissed you surfacing in your mind. You were both sitting on patrol, joking about something stupid, and he suddenly pulled you close. In this moment, time seems to loop back on itself, the two of you kissing in the same way you had all those years ago. Even though you’d both grown as people, he still felt the same…because the love you had for each other had never changed.

The kiss breaks when Reiner tries to somehow get you even closer, and you giggle at his effort before sliding off his lap and pulling him with you to lay down sideways on the couch. He’s nearly surrounding you completely as he lays half on top of you, crushing you slightly but you couldn’t care less. He peppers kisses across your nose and cheeks and down your neck, lingering a little longer on each one and relishing the way you laugh when the stubble on his chin tickles you.

The warmth of the moment overwhelms you, turning your laughter into soft sobs as you pull him close, burying your face in his chest.

“I love you, Reiner. It’s good to have you back.”

“Oh, baby. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” he whispers against your skin. But you can feel the tears running down his cheeks too.

There’s a few moments of comfortable silence between you two, that couldn’t be more unlike the awkwardness of the past few months. Your fingertips trace over the contours of his face, occasionally wiping fallen tears off his cheeks, simply enjoying being so close. He tightens his arms around you, a rare soft smile appearing across his lips.

“You know, I got so scared when I saw you during Eren’s invasion, in Liberio,” he murmurs, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. “That place wasn’t safe for you at the time.”

“I wasn’t afraid for me. But when I saw the titans fighting, I was a little scared that you’d get hurt…” you trail off, getting lost in the way the moonlight reflected in his eyes. “What was life like, in Marley?”

He chuckles at your question, sinking into the couch next to you. “It had its moments…but overall, not great. I guess things like cars, photographs, and electricity were normal for me though. I probably grew up in a nicer environment than most people here.”

“Your mother did her best for you, I’m sure of it.”

“Heh, she definitely did something. I guess I get it from her.”

“What?”

“The drive to do absolutely anything for the people I love.”

“That’s one of my favorite things about you, actually.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Really? That’s what you like about me?” He was confused; that trait had caused the deaths of so many people. He’d always preferred not to think about it at all. But it was obvious that you didn’t see it in that way.

“Yeah, I think it’s sweet. It’s what’s kept you alive for so long.”

“No, that’s not it,” he sighs, “What kept me alive was you.”

“I wanted to live…so I could see you again too. I wanted it all to be over so we could be here, like this.”

The emotion behind his eyes is a mix of melancholy and nostalgia as he gazes at you. “How were things, after I…left?”

“Rough, at first. But eventually, we got rid of the rest of the titans, and took over the port. We met Yelena and her crew, and they brought us up to speed.”

“How nice of her,” he muses, causing you to snort out a laugh.

“I think we’re just about on par with Marley now, in terms of development.”

“Eh, it’s way nicer here. Besides, here is where you are.”

“Aw, I kinda wanted to live in Liberio for a bit…” you trail off, giving him a dramatic look that turns to laughter at his expression. “I’m kidding!”

“Heh, you better be,” he laughs, pulling you close once again.

You move your hand to rest it against his chest as his nose slides against yours, lips fitting together like you were made for each other. His tongue presses against yours slowly, drinking in every breath, every heartbeat…every shred of evidence that you were alive and okay and in his arms. This was everything both of you had wanted since you returned from fighting. Tilting your head, you try to get closer to him, wrapping a leg around his waist as his hands slide under your shirt and up your back. But after an especially deep kiss, he pulls away slightly, his lips ghosting over yours.

“You know, we should probably head to bed before someone wakes up early and finds us making out on the library couch.”

“Aww.” You sink into the couch a little more in protest.

He sits up halfway, still leaning over you. “I promise, my bed is comfier.”

Blushing at his words, you’re thankful it’s still dark in the library. You’d half expected him to send you back to bed in your respective rooms. Who were you kidding, though? This was the man who climbed through your window as a Scout so you could sleep in each others' arms. Hell, he’d seen you naked more times than you could count. But that was so long ago, everything felt new again.

Reiner leads you back to his room, your hand in his, and you can’t hide the smile growing on your face. Not an hour ago this was something you’d only wished would happen; but now your wish had come true. When he pulls you into his room, finally into privacy, you lose track of how many kisses he plants across your skin. And as you settle into his arms under the blankets, sleep washes over you faster than it had in years.

You wake up with your head resting against his chest, one of his hands tangled in your hair and the other around your waist, and only one thought in your mind: you were glad you talked to him.

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#reiner fanfic #reiner #aot fanfiction #aot reiner #snk reiner #reiner braun #reiner x reader #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun x y/n #reiner braun x you #reiner fluff #reiner x y/n #reiner x you #heavy breathing #I love him so much #honey writes #attack on titan #aot x you #shingeki no kyojin

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magicalrocketships · 1 year

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tagged by @janinaduszejko

relationship status: this soul is an independent one, I like living by myself.

fav color: look, on the one hand I always want to DROWN in a really dark green, but I've also spent the last couple of months being OBSESSED with that kind of desert art duo of pink and pale blue teamed with a white or dark green (think Miami track colours for those people who can follow that specific thought process through, or the kind of colours you get if you google palm springs desert art).

song stuck in ur head: Let Me Drown by Orville Peck / Dwight and Duley by Cris Williamson (at first it was admiration // he found a friend in something less than good // he comes on the regular // he comes on the regular now) - I think it's actually a song about a horse during lockdown but as no lyrics exist on the internet for it then I'll just make my own assumptions thank u

last song u listened to: Funeral by Phoebe Bridgers

3 fav foods: Look, I like pretty much everything so narrowing it down is hard but Ken Hom has a beef green curry with aubergine in his old Ken Hom Cooks Thai cookbook and it's by far the best green curry I've ever had outside a restaurant, so. That. There's a place near me that does a breakfast bao, which is basically a sausage patty and egg and hash brown and sriracha in a bao and I don't want to throw down the location pin too specifically but if you know, you know. And my mum's lasagne with her bechamel sauce is my favourite thing to eat and it's always my first choice for my birthday meal (however close that falls to my actual birthday).

last google: um. well. before sriracha so I could figure out how to spell it, it was 'anatomical penis diagram' for this Max/Daniel fic I'm writing (don't ask), except my unexpected learning was that dicks have a muscle called the bulbospongiosus muscle, and -- aside from sounding like a pokemon -- I didn't know THAT existed before, so we've all learned something today.

dream trip: Right now I am too sick to travel, which sucks, particularly as I have a LOT of air miles from some judicious use of an air miles credit card for the whole of lockdown + beyond BUT the fantasy would be a) come hang out with friends in America again, it's been too long, and too many plans got put on hold years ago, b) some ridiculous train journey out of a mystery novel, like the Orient Express or whatever, some fancy sleeper cabin where porters carry my luggage about, and c) I'd love to go back to Dubrovnik, I loved it there even though i was very kidney-sick through that whole trip and should probably have been at home in hospital (jazz hands). That trip was years and years ago. It would be nice to go back (less sick this time). And like a million more trips because the world outside is fascinating.

anything i want right now: Be less unwell would be nice (and obvious) but other than that, the sky outside is SO pink and pretty right now, super lovely sunset. Unfortunately no one told me that moving so close to the sea would mean you had to wash your windows so fucking often because of the salt build up, so I'm looking at this incredible sunset through the grainiest, blurriest window. Magically salt-free windows. That's an achievable one at least.

tagging @easterwings (because I owe them an email and this might remind me to actually press send), @astorytotellyourfriends, and @allwaswell16, my goblin buddy.

#waffling on about me

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vibrantlifeboringdeath · 1 year

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Tag Game to Better Know You

tagged by the very lovely @zozobruh thank you SO much for thinking of me <3

What book are you currently reading?

it WAS Time is a Mother, the poetry collection by Ocean Vuong, but it's currently lost on the london subway :( next on the list though is Secret History, my friend got it for me for christmas and I really wanna start!!!

what’s your favorite movie you saw in theaters this year?

I'm ngl I don't think I've been to the cinema yet this year!! But I'm very excited for Asteroid City (which I might get to see this week) and Barbie. I am becoming very unhinged about Barbie tbh-

I will say though, I REALLY wanna see Banshees of Inisherin that u mentioned in ur own post!!!

what do you usually wear?

monochrome (with the occaisional splash of red or blue), short skirt & long jacket (like the cake song), lots of jacket pins. I wore a dress on saturday that was a bit risky in terms of my dysphoria but i FUCKING LOVED IT ACTUALLY. I also adore my new barbie crop top-

how tall are you

5 foot 10-ish I think??

what’s your star sign? do you share a birthday with a celebrity or a historical event?

I'm an aires and I have the same birthday as Nathan Fillion, Mariah Carey, Christine Sydelko from Vine & apparently a bunch of tiktok stars I've never heard of lmao

do you go by your name or a nickname?

my name, Envy. A couple of people have tried V against my will, I hate it tbh

did you grow up to become what you wanted to be when you were a child?

When I was a child I did not even know I was a girl lmao. I wanted to be a rockstar and I *am* in a band though, so????

are you in a relationship? if not, who is your crush if you have one?

oh boy lmao (I'm single and mostly fine with it. I think I need to figure myself out a bit before I think too much about this one)

what’s something you’re good at vs something you’re bad at?

I am good at playing guitar. Not great, competent. I lack the focus to really grind out the practice to break the barrier into being Really Really Good at something. So I guess I'm bad at learning??? But my actual answer to that is I'm bad at picking up on social queues/figuring out where I stand with people

dogs or cats?

I love them both, I love going to someone's house and they have a dog, but I'd personally rather live with a cat

if you draw/write, or create in any way, what’s your favorite picture/favorite line/favorite etc. from something you created this year?

A lot of what I've written this year are song lyrics that are NOT ready for anyone else's eyes lmao. You can have this little snippet from an Our Flag Means Death fic I'm working on though:

The dull Toronto sky barely seemed real as Ed stared gloomily out of his studio apartment window. The whole city felt fleeting, a hastily-painted backdrop to an imitation of life that looked as if it could start peeling away at any moment. He remembered coming here with his mother as a teenager, resenting the city’s skyscrapers for blocking his view of home, all the friends he had to leave behind. It was childish to feel that way again, Ed thought, but he also knew he couldn’t help it. Stede made him happier than he’d ever thought possible, and everything that came between them was cruel in its indifference. They hadn’t arranged when to see each other again – that was normal, Ed needed to know his schedule before he could commit, and he normally called from a payphone once he had something to offer. But the wait until then didn’t make it any easier.

what is something that you’d like to create content for?

I want to make a video game lmao. I started designing a top-down shooter a while ago to see how it felt and I. It activated all the special interest neurons in my brain I want to make game mechanics and spend ages making little pixel art icons bc I will get v obsessive about the art style and- but that's not really what the question was lmao. Uh. I've only recently started getting into writing fanfic and stuff, I'm writing for Our Flag Means Death right now but I had some ideas in high school for Doctor Who fics that I might dust off at some point-

what’s something you’re currently obsessed with?

YuGiOh, our flag means death, whatever Ryan Gosling has going on right now

what’s something you were excited about that turned out to be disappointing this year?

my year has NOT been going how i expected it to at all and some of it stings a bit, I won't lie, but that's unfair of me because things are really, really good when I get over myself and really think about it. I am happy, I'm just a little bit insane, but I'm leaving the place that is making my mental health tank in about a month so things are looking up!! and they were already good, I just!!!

what’s a hidden talent of yours?

I am good at So Few Things, I would not hide a talent, I am trying to seem like a good hire

are you religious?

No, but I think the sense of community and catharsis and connection to something so much bigger than myself I get when I see my favourite artists at a concert is close to the feeling I think a lot of people are chasing, and can feel, when explorign their faith. I would say I'm some kind of spiritual but I think that feeling just comes from Us, not because there's something Bigger out there

what’s something you wish to have at this moment?

A reason to leave this island Right Now I'm moving up north to be with my friend in a month and I could NOT be more excited but this is going to be the longest month of my life lmao

going to tag @school-marm-charm if u fancy sharing!! No pressure though <3

#Good luck with your thesis and I LOVE the poetry you shared!!!!

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misqnon · 6 months

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hi, i just read all of ur posts tagged as misqnon's one piece liveblogging and it was so much fun T-T. im here to rant about one piece and im sorry.

i really love seeing people react to content i am caught up with and hold close to my heart.

i got into the 800s in the anime and stopped watching, took a break and then read the manga up to around 1060. but last month i decided to read the whole thing from the beginning and it is genuinely SO WORTH IT.

after u have caught up completely its super rewarding to go back and look at previous chapters bc its constant "oh my god look what was foreshadowed here??" and "now i understand the context behind this!!!" and "this interaction is so much more meaningful now that i know their relationship!!". yes it did take me a whole month of nearly nonstop reading to catch back up but i have 0 regrets.

wano and the arc after it are both super fun and interesting and i think ur gonna love it. the lore is crazy. i hope u dont see any spoilers bc going into it completely blind will probably be way more exciting, especially with the most recent arc since its kinda suspenseful and mysterious,,.

anyways thats all i have to say how do you end these things.. take care!!

AAAAA ANON THIS IS SUCH A FUN MESSAGE TO RECIEVE THANK YOU...

I ended up talking a lot so I'll put this under a cut lol

I used to be the person who said I would never watch one piece 😭😭 I've been into anime since I was like 12 and I'm almost 24 now (fuck . That's like half my life) and obviously it's always been on my radar but I always thought it was 1. Too popular 2. Too Long 3. Hated how oda draws women lmao so I was fine ignoring it and only knowing the basics from just Being On The Internet

I think sometime early on I caved and attempted to watch it- I got to alabasta and stopped bc the anime pacing wasn't doing it for me (though I liked it up until then, but didn't LOVE it)

cut to high-school where a couple of my good friends liked it but we never really talked about it, it was a lifelong interest for one of them bc he'd started reading it on like 4th grade

Well I'm still friends with them (shoutout to sam and seb) and they convinced me to watch one piece film red with them in like July or August of last year bc they were showing me the songs and I, ado fan bc I'm a retired weaboo and a vocaloid Stan, was like "haha that sounds like ado" and they went "IT IS!!!!??" so I had to watch it for her.

again, I was like oh this is fun I like this :^) but no IMMEDIATE interest, more of a passive thing... until the live action came out a month or so later and I watched it just because and DAMN I FELL IN LOVE FAST

I went back to the anime and rewatched the beginning, then skipped back to alabasta where I had left off years and years ago and now I'm Here 🧍

I watched up through part of dressrosa before I started reading the manga, and now I'm doing that while watching certain episodes of just the parts I really wanna see animated

It's been. So Fun

I am now that person who's like Hey You Should Watch One Piece. I get it now. I so get it lmao. And you know the weirdest part is that with it being divided up into arcs like it is I find myself thinking it really doesn't feel that long!?!? Am I insane,

anyways. It's been a while since I was in an active fandom or even in a fandom at all - ESPECIALLY such a big one!?! (I was in college for 4 years and Busy).

but it's. Crazy. I'm writing fanfics and joining discord servers and I've never done that before. it's been very fun and rewarding tbh...I don't like a lot of things about oda and aspects he included and ofc one piece isn't perfect or unproblematic but it IS a really awesome epic of a story about friendship and found family and anti authority and its just.

I'm also a person who's always loved reaction videos or just even seeing otherppl react to things I like so I RELATE AND IM SO GLAD I CAN BE THAT FOR U...

I'm ngl as I've been reading I've been wanting to look up some old one piece forums dated the time certain reveals happened bc I want to see how people felt as this shit came out holy Shit....

it's additionally funny bc this blog is about 10 years old and has amassed a decent amount of followers over the years who were just into some of the other random stuff I've been into but I know a fair amount of them were thinking we were on the same page of not being into one piece and now here I am. Ruining that. And with the pervert character as my favorite no less. lmao SORRYYYY YALL <3

I'll leave u with this message I sent into the discord I share with some friends the other day, none of which really watch op, when asked to explain something about the show. In fact, I think the reasoning for this message was BECAUSE I was explaining to a friend just how much oda foreshadows things!! jinbei, kaido, haki, sanjis backstory, ALL being mentioned by name or referenced DECADES/YEARS BEFORE APPEARING ON SCREEN...HUNDREDS OF CHAPTERS APART....I could rant on more but I'll stop for now.

thank u for the message and feel free to dm me to talk about this silly show anytime bc its sunken its claws into me 😭

#ive been saying since like thriller bark how excited i am to get caught up andYea. its even stronger now #misqnon's one piece liveblog #im going to be going insane as we enter wci and posting more reactions most likely so.#hope u emjoy that 👍#microphone effect #replies #asks #march anon

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nihiltism · 11 months

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oh boy I finished (citation needed) a new game time to add to the veedia tag again

metal: hellsinger (ps4)

this game is Lovely. this game is so fun. I cannot aim to save my god damn life. metal hellsinger accomplished a major feat in having the only possible setup in the entire world to encourage me to play a first person shooter (being, really good metal and rhythm mechanics) and to that I applaud it because I consider fpses to be sort of my mortal enemy? right next to mmos and fighters? im gonna go into it more let me not take up ur entire dash.

the gameplay is Lovely. i did play on easy mode but ough the. shotgun cocking effects to the beat of a good metal song. there is Nothing Like It. the difficulty is Honestly Not Bad ** given some practice time and its very much a delight to play. well. save for one part but ill get to that. its a darkly lit game which is a problem but all of the enemies are color coded, glow, and have their own sounds and that alleviates it a bit.

i will say that the game is. Not Optimized to PS4? it is. Quite Glitchy and while I don't mind most of them i know some people do and there were a few that very much got in my way (i posted the acheron boss glitch a couple hours ago). also sometimes enemies just get stuck in the floor and youre waiting for them to pop up so you can move on. thats fun. also the bug enemies suck. the shield enemies also suck. those arent glitches i just hate them.

as for plot uh. this game was not made for plot. i accept this. its kinda Just Okay but it doesnt really need to be more than that. you play a scary demon lady who wants nothing more than to rip the devil limb from limb. whats better than that. youve got a troy baker skull. the plot there is admittedly pretty cute especially if you try to analyze the lyrics but i am also very much a sap and it hit a specific genre of Relationship In Media That Is So (Kinda Just There) Its Not Even A Subplot which is one of the few genres i can actually stand. i will say i feel i got a bit beauty and the beasted at the ending but like. eh. it wasnt that much. anyway. next point

theres no bad songs in here. my favorite is this devastation easily. ost introduced me to arch enemy which is a band you can all tell I'm normal about. the lyrics only kick in when youre at max multiplier so being able to hear a good drop is a good motive to get decent and not get hit. i think my ranking of songs is this devastation - no tomorrow - burial at night/stygia - dissolution and then everything else is kind of at the bottom in no particular order. not to say i dont like them but theyre all the same level of like. also serj tankian is there. he is lovely. he does the final boss theme (no tomorrow) that I wish I could fucking hear him over damage sound effects and myself swearing. yeah now we get to that

** The Final Boss Is Bad. yeah my main problem (and kinda only Real Problem) with this game is uh. i dont think i can actually finish it? there is an Enormous difficulty spike at the final boss to the point where my first run of lasted a solid Two Minutes if that and i am on easy mode. my friend described it as (game is touhou now) and yeah i can see it. first person touhou. nobody wants to play first person touhou. i dont want to play first person touhou. i didnt actually beat the game i just watched the ending and resolved to get back to it when i feel like it (never) and do better things with my time. like draw unknown in little outfits.

anyway thats My Thoughts. its a good game and i will probably keep playing the levels over n over. for people who dont replay these games over n over it is definitely not worth the money as you can pretty easily slash through all the levels in one sitting if you know what youre doing but i am easily entertained and love rhythm games. stay tuned for doodles of the unknown with my general fashion sense. listen to the two best tunes also. maybe listen to the whole ost after if u like it.

youtube

#veedia 2023 #vee shut up

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cladestine · 2 years

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request: could i request angsty jennie x reader wherein reader feels insecure cos of jennie and v dating rumors? reader distances themselves from jennie cos of this!! endings purely up to you, thanks so much love ur works hehe

genre: a little bit of angst, fluff

note: requests? link in my bio

You are not the jealous type. You understand that her line of work unfortunately includes fans shipping her to any male idols. Besides, you don't have any problems with the shipping and rumored dating issues that are always coming her way—well, you shouldn't be, since you're not her girlfriend in the first place. She doesn't want to label anything that you have as of the moment—she wants the both of you to enjoy the now, and frankly, you are okay with it.

You're scrolling through your Twitter and you've seen that Jennie is trending once again. For the past couple of days, Jennie's name has been on the trending list—it may be because of a dress she wore, a leaked snippet of her solo song or another dating rumour, but right now, it is the latter. These V and Jennie dating rumours are getting out of hand. The rumours started when an edited photo of them was posted on Twitter, and since then, the rumours have never stopped.

"I wouldn't be surprised if the dating rumours are true," Lee Jung said. You are in YG's dance studio. You're there with the other dancers. Your friend, Lee Jung, is in charge of Blackpink's comeback, so here you are, wearing a big " Jisoo" name tag and practicing some dance moves before presenting it to YG and the girls. " Jennie and v would be a power couple, both are rich and good looking," another dancer continued. "She should be with someone like V. It's such a downgrade if Jennie were to date a normal guy. That's a bummer," Simeez gushed before urging everyone to practice.

Even after that little gossip escapade with the dancers, you cannot erase the fact that they do have a point. Good-looking people should stick together, right? You try not to be bothered by it because, one, you're not the girlfriend, and second, you are definitely not the girlfriend.

It would be a lie when you say that you were not affected by the conversation that took place four days ago. The conversation that took place in the studio is an eye-opener for you that a woman like Jennie is way out of your league. It all makes sense to you why Jennie doesn't want to label anything. She doesn't see any future with you—and thinking about that makes your heart sink a little.

"Y/N, can you help me? I'm kind of confused about the dance, " Jennie said. You're a little bit skeptical about her question since your choreography is focused more on Jisoo, but still, you approached her and asked which part is confusing.

"Are you okay? You haven't been answering my texts and you have rain checked on me four times in the past two weeks. Are you avoiding me or what?" Jennie said once you approached her. Her voice sounded so demanding and it irritated you a little bit—for a no-label relationship, she sure acted like one.

"Busy. A lot has been going on. Which part again did you find confusing? " you said. The tone of your voice sounded plain and robotic. You don't want to deal with this type of Jennie right now. You don't want to further the conversation, because if it did, it would be a burst of confession coming from you.

"Lee Jung, can I borrow Y/N? There's this part that I need help with. I can't focus here since there are a lot of people doing different dance moves. Do you mind? " Jennie pleaded. Lee Jung laughed and showed a thumbs up. Jennie then proceeded to drag your arm to the next practice room.

"I missed you," Jennie says as she kisses you. It was greedy, rushed, and passionate. You responded with the kiss, but your head is in a different place right now, and Jennie seems to notice it.

"What the hell is your problem? You didn't look at me in the practice room, didn't answer my texts, and now you can't even fake how excited you are to meet me? " She said, angrily. If you are not in a sulky mood, you will find it scary, but your thoughts are only consumed by the fact that she is way out of your league.

"It's just that, I don't know. Whatever this is. We should stop" you said. Jennie looked at you dumbfounded. "Where did that come from?" Jennie stated irritably. "I don't know what happened, but you're becoming unreasonable right now. You're being selfish, Y/N. Your reason is "I don't know." Really? Are you fucking kidding me?" she continued.

Unreasonable and Selfish— You completely lost it when those words came out of her mouth.

"Jennie. Stop acting like we have something going on. You demand it as if we were girlfriends or something. You don't want to commit, remember? So you don't have the right to say that I'm unreasonable and selfish because it's you—you are the unreasonable and selfish one, " you spitefully said. "You deserve someone that you can proudly be with, Jennie. Clearly, there will never be an us. You deserve someone who is on the same level as you. Kai, V, G-dragon, and me? Your standards are falling, lady. Save yourself until you can." You jokingly said. Jennie is frozen at her spot, and you can't seem to read her mind. You decided to squeeze her arm and say goodbye. Just as before you leave—you heard the most unbelievable words from her mouth.

"I love you. " Jennie said. "I am afraid that I'll ruin something good. You're the first person whom I completely trust. I feel safe with you. You make me do things that I don't particularly enjoy doing in the first place. Y/N, I don't listen to Taylor Swift, but when you suggested that I should listen to her since you told me that her songs reminded you of us, she's the only artist I've been listening to for months now. I despise Captain America, but here I am, binge watching the fuck out of MCU so I can make small talk when you come back to my apartment. I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. It was never my intention. Give me a chance. Let's sort this out. I promise that I'll make it right this time" Jennie said with much sincerity.

You approached Jennie and kissed her. It was the most passionate and genuine kiss you had experienced in your whole life. Kissing her was the only thing that mattered right now. You hugged her and whispered to her ear, "I would love to start over. Let's make this journey worthwhile," you said.

#blackpink x reader #jennie #jennie imagines #jennie scenario #jennie x reader #spilled poetry #jennie kim #love poem #jennie kim x reader

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neocrush · 3 years

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— the girl groups enhypen’s gfs are in !

genre: fluff (angst on jungwon’s part) + established relationship (eventually lol)

pairings: idol!enhypen x fem!idol!reader

note: idk how to title this pls i thought of it while showering

tagging: @jeminiepabo @strwberrydinosaur

you just finished performing and your members were in need of water bottles

but fucking mnet didn’t provide any inside of your dressing room??

so yves told you to ask for some from the artist in the dressing room next to yours

you knocked on the door without looking at the sign that showed who was in there

you asked for some water bottles and heeseung went “i’ll go get it!” and ran off to go get get them

jungwon just chuckled and went “hyung’s a really huge fan of your group, he kept on singing star on the way here”

you nodded at the younger one, impressed at the fact that you were popular among idols

the tall boy came back with a whole box full of water bottles

“there’s 12 of you here right now so i figured why not get a whole box” he chuckled nervously

you giggled and smiled at the nervous boy

“thank you heeseung-ssi, i’ll take this to my members” you took the box in your hands but was taken aback on how heavy it was

“don’t worry i’ll carry it for you”

long after that you started hanging out and boom you became his gf

you couldn’t resist the charms of lee heeseung

once it was revealed that you were a couple, orbits and engenes went INSANE (in a good way ofc)

“wait so y/n DOESNT hate men????”

★ jay - aespa

OMG OMG LEMME TELL YOU ABOUT THIS BBY

you both met at school after you both debuted

everyone was gossiping around about how you were in the same class with the enhas

so like... monster rookies class

usually idols aren’t seated together but the teacher seated you and jay next to each other

causing a bunch of “oooohhhs” from your classmates

there were times were you and the enhas would leave school early due to practice or schedules

and on the way to the school gate, jay would always spark up a conversation with you

you assumed he was just very friendly

long story short he had a massive crush on you

so a few months into your friendship (which the both of you were very open about with your fans), he confesses

you were like “WAIT SO IT WASNT ONE SIDED THE WHOLE TIME”

y’all were just really blind lol pls read between the lines

anyways on to ur lovely bf !!

he’s so bold and brave around you but so shy around your members and seniors

we all know how he really respects nct (along with other sm artists) bc he covered the 7th sense with sunghoon on iland

so one day you were like “oh btw i showed taeyong sunbae you and hoon’s t7s cover”

he was like 😟 to 😧 to 😯

got all shy and was like “oh what did he say..”

you don’t know why he was acting as if he didn’t body that whole performance ????

anyway you told him that taeyong said that he and hoon did really well and that he liked how jay did his part

hid his face on the crook of your neck

“baby we should come say hi to them next time you go to sm”

“NO i will make a fool out of myself”

speaks english and japanese with giselle a lot when he isn’t occupied with you

sometimes you’d even have to ask nct’s shotaro to translate

your seniors (especially exo’s kai) adore him so so much pls protect the boy at all costs

★ jake - everglow

he was an active viewer of produce 48 and (like me) was really attached to the yuehua trainees

especially you

so when you got eliminated just before the last episode, he was devastated to say the least

he awaited your debut and when the time came he supported everglow !!!!

LOVED BON BON CHOCOLAT SO MUCH

does the killing part choreo in his room when no one’s watching lol

dies everytime you do the little “everglow” in songs

right so when he debuted in enha, he looked forward to meeting you as an idol and not a fan

when you shared a dressing room at kcontact, he couldn’t help but introduce himself to you

he mentioned he was a big fan and your heart warmed

cute boy is a fan of you? omg heart go brr brr

your members tease you and you just shake it off

that day when you got back to the dorms, you watched a bunch of enhypen videos bc you were interested in jake

you weren’t aware of how popular you were among people - let alone idols so you were surprised

you fell in love with his personality and started saying hi to him whenever you meet backstage at music shows

not long after, you develop feelings for him

you thought it was just a puppy crush but as you saw him even more, it got serious

you never actually confessed but aisha accidentally spilled the beans when he was passing by

“cmon y/n just tell him you like him because he clearly feels the same !!”

“you like me?”

“AISHA”

“that’s my queue to leave”

so she leaves you two to pour your hearts out to each other

you two become a couple and forevergenes (such a cute name omg) LOVE you two

you’re both the puppies of your group so that makes your relationship 103892x cuter

you met his parents and they adore you and even asked for your autograph

“jake used to talk about how great you are after every produce 48 episode”

“okayyyy i think that’s enough embarassing me mom”

his parents love you like their own daughter but does layla love you?

you were so nervous to meet her and was actually scared she might not like you - knowing how important layla is to jake

at first layla ignored you and jake was like “she’ll come around”

you were convinced she just doesn’t like you, until this one time you were cuddling with jake on the couch and layla comes in

you expected her to snuggle up with jake but she came to you :D

now layla is super fond of you and mrs sim would even send you pictures and videos of layla getting excited whenever you were on tv 🥺

★ sunghoon - itzy

you and the girls were at isac

the six of you were just waving at your fans and making heart signs with your hearts

on your left you saw yeji making hearts with ryujin so you wanted to do that with another member too

you felt a presence next to you and assumed it was someone from your group

spoiler alert: it wasn’t

sunghoon and sunoo were waving at engenes who just happened to be seated next to midzys

so you turned to who you thought was an itzy member, making half a heart with your hand

until you realized it wasn’t 💀

you bowed and apologized when you both looked at each other, you were scared you crossed a boundary

you bowed and apologized to the engenes who were there too

sunghoon and sunoo reassured you it was all good

after that, sunghoon couldn’t help but keep his eyes on you the entire event

when the day was coming to an end, he pulled some strings and ended up having some alone time with you ...in stray kids’ dressing room

don’t ask

ofc skz already left so it was just you two there

fast forward, you both hit it off and he became your bf <3

midzys and engenes love you both sm and love bragging about you two to other fandoms

you two were even named the king and queen of 4th gen kpop

oh also

you already know where this is going

“SUNGHOON HOW COULD YOU NOT KNOW NOT SHY’S PROPER TITLE IT’S YOUR GIRLFRIEND’S SONG” - jay

brags about how he can do the shoulder dance in wannabe

ofc it’s bc you personally taught him

sends you pics of jyp as reaction pics

so you send pics of bang pdnim to him

every once in a while he reminds you of that video of jay why pee trying to hit a high note

“lmao that’s your boss”

PLS you always get super embarrassed so ofc you bring up that vid of hitman bang

“rAp dAncE-“

★ sunoo - stayc

you were his seatmate at school predebut

you came from the same town, same school, same neighborhood, etc

the two of you were extremely close and both shared the same dream

when highup entertainment accepted you, the both of you were over the moon

he was so happy for you

but sad too bc that meant you had to move to seoul :(

you promised him to do your best and that you hoped to see him again but as an idol

and hopefully when he’s an idol too

well what you hoped for came true !!

although you couldn’t see him much as a trainee - which made you quite sad - you got to follow his journey on i-land

you even asked your fellow trainees to vote for him

anyways now that you both debuted, you became close again and became really open with your fans on how close you were

you recommended his songs to swiths and he did the same to engenes

he even memorized the choreo to so bad and asap and lemme tell you this

he BEGGED you to teach him those choreos

“sunoo you can watch the practice on youtube”

“but i want to learn it from you”

he never really realized his feelings until he saw you getting shipped with his other members

you were both on weekly idol and the hosts really seemed to like how you and jake looked next to each other and they just teased you both the whole episode

that made sunoo feel uneasy and he thought it was only bc he was an overprotective best friend

turns out he had feelings for you (wow shocker)

so one day he asks you to come to hybe

after slightly getting lost, you meet up with him in a practice room

he confesses bc he felt like not telling you about his feelings would put a wall between you two

you appreciate his honesty and tell him you’ve felt the same way every since you were classmates

he scolds himself for not seeing it all those years but you just laugh it off bc you were pretty good at hiding your crush

you both agree to secretly date, until you both announce it on your five month anniversary

fans were really shocked at first... but they support you !!!!

engenes will not hesitate to come at anyone who talks bad about you and swiths feels the same way about jungwon

he gushes about you every single time you’re brought up

and you can’t help but love your adorable boyfriend

★ jungwon - iz*one

okay so

he was just an average high schooler when you were introduced on produce 48

his deskmate was watching your audition video and it was the part where you were doing this freestyle

he was SO amazed and he secretly followed your journey on produce 48

always made sure to vote on time and watch the episodes live

once the debut evaluation came around, he asked everyone he knew to vote for you and even bought tickets to see the show live

almost cried when he saw that you were center

ACTUALLY CRIED when you got into the top 13 😭

fast forward to him debuting in enha

he wasn’t able to catch up on you since he was busy with trainee life, then i-land, then debut preparations

but somehow in the middle of promotions he ran into you and BOOM love at first sight

fast forward to you finally dating, he couldn’t believe he was dating the y/n of iz*one

wizones make those “ladies and gentlemen, y/n’s man” edits and engenes make those “ladies and gentlemen, jungwon’s woman” edits

both fandoms love you two so dearly that the only hate you two got were from the delusional ones (who clearly aren’t actual fans)

when your last concert came around, he couldn’t bare seeing you cry when you said “this has been iz*one’s y/n, thank you everyone!”

he got flashbacks from when you cried during the final episode of produce 48 and he’s just.. sobbing bc he couldn’t be there to hold you

so the next day he rushed to your dorms with snacks and emotional support bc you were emotionally exhausted from accepting the fact that your journey with iz*one is finally ending

you felt extremely lucky to be in his arms and he felt extremely lucky too that he’s able to make you feel a little better

★ riki - weeekly

you were both on weekly weeekly idol together

and both you and riki being main dancers, you were asked to do random dance together

a few popular songs played and the both of you did the choreos

until after school started playing and the boy did the chorus’ choreo and you were like “woah???”

bc he was so INTO ITTTT

the song was basically made for him to cover it

and the mcs saw your reaction so they asked him to do it once again but this time with the whole group

after filming, he came up to you and was like “i’m a huge fan of yours” and you’re just like ):&/£]>\**_£]

“woah really???? i rooted for you on i-land”

and his face just lights up bc his huge crush on you developed even more

you became besties since then but he didn’t ask you out until your birthday

he took you out to a puppy café, knowing you were obsessed with dogs

you’d ask him to show you pictures and videos of bisco

“i better meet bisco once we go to japan together”

melted at the thought of traveling to his hometown with you

anyways

once you left the café, he kissed you in front of your dorms

and somehow he became your boyfriend <3

riki as a bf isn’t really a very public person

he’s the “this is our relationship, not the public’s” type of person

he doesn’t wanna risk companies wanting to exploit your relationship

although he doesn’t talk about you two much, he loves to brag about you when given the chance

whenever variety show hosts would fawn over you he’d just look them in the eyes dead and go “she’s mine”

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batarangsoundsdumb · 3 years

Text

guess fucking what? my inbox is so fucking full right now i'm unloading all of this shit in one post.

For the 11th gotham memes: gothamites react to bruce being jacked in a tiktok he made with kids, like super yoked, ripped as hell

fucking hilarious thanks. i think i did it in one meme post, but i genuinely don't remember which one

i dunno which of the batfam would do this but one time i was sleeping over at a friends house and ended up on the floor bc the bed was so very small and i just stayed there because the rug was soft

that's a drunk jason move i don't know what to tell you

tim and jason are "i listen to pop punk" solidarity. whenever jason highjacks the batmobile theyll go on long ass car rides blaring mcr and paramore and then never talk about it again

as they should!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! tim: no jason it's my turn using the aux cord i gotta put on my jams jason: don't you dare put on weird shit tim: don't worry, you're gonna love this *plays fearless (taylor's version)

hear me out hear me out, red hood stans 🤝 nightwing stans t h i g h s

holy shit yes.

SNL au: Bruce breaks character when pretending to superman and says something like "I'm not superman! You've seen his gps!! It's from 2001!!!" @sabeanybabe

superman flies past the snl building the next day just to say 'actually it's from 2005, i'm not a heathen'

does your back hurt from carrying the batfam fandom

it hurts more from the exotic rock collection i keep in my backpack, but thanks for the concern.

I love your posts by why would you always leave the best parts in the tags?

as a treat for the people that check the tags ;) (and also because i'm committed to the short post aesthetic)

somehow your playlist was everything i never knew i needed. i mean it. this is my new favorite playlist.

and don't you dare get a new favourite playlist!

babe ur stoner tim playlist is exactly too perfect, earth is literally blessed by ur existence

babe thanks so much! i love my stoner tim playlist because it's just my usual playlist but people think it's an artistic choice that i put taylor swift and britney spears in there, when it's just what i unironically like listening to

JANDKSKDK BILLY RAY CYRUS ON THE STONER TIM PLAYLIST I LOVE IT IT

again it's not even an ironic choice, i know every single word and i genuinely like the song

The last chapter of Fundamentals of Casework has me crying at work. Thanks I love it @dudelookitsalesbian

oh babe, i'm sorry, but also, not sorry i love chapter 4 so much it's my lovechild with the 'mental illness' tag

soooo....stumbled on your tumblr by some stroke of fate??? read your DC fanfic first. which is PHENOMENAL btw. then found all the batmemes; the funniest thing EVER bc everyone forgets about regular old gothamites. kept scrolling and your blog pops up as recommended. clicked on the ao3 for shits and giggles and waddaya know?!?!? it's YOU!!! you're LEGEND!!!! ever seen that meme? it's a video of a cat that got into a baseball field and the two announcers get really invested in his escape attempt and start giving a play by play of the cat instead of the game. memeable moment: "GREAT stuff from the Cat!!!"

i seriously think about this ask every single day and it's so fucking funny to me that i've never seen the meme you're referencing, but i still find myself going 'GREAT stuff from the Cat!!!' whenever i see something funny. but wow i'm glad you liked this steaming pile of garbage

Fav dc character overall? And fav batfamily character?

don't ask me to pick between the loves of my life, but i can tell you i've cried about every single batfamily member and also wally west (my beloved)

What's your opinion on fans having a problem with batfam being "too big"? And some even claim that batfam is just "Bruce Alfred Dick Damian" and the rest of them are just "friends and allies" (source: reddit) Personally, I like batfam because of this reason but idk

stupid. a family can never be too big. i'm not that big a fan of like huge batfam stuff with everybody from every single universe, because as much as it's funny for bruce to have like 30 kids, it just feels a little too OOC for me.

This is the best tag I've seen involving the batfam, thanks for thinking of it

This is canon now @nctxrejects

lmao yeah i think at that point alfred has had to sit through like at least a dozen coming out talks and just has a pride flag collection in the attic that he pulls out whenever a kid comes out

idk why batfam hits different as compared to any other superhero family

bc it's found family and usually the other superhero families are almost all genetically related in one way or another

I don't know if you watch the umbrella academy but I saw your last post about batcest and saw the similarities. But the thing is (although I think it's weird) in TUA, they addressed it by saying "they were raised as weapons, not siblings" or something along those lines, which is simply not the case with batfam.

yeah i watched tua but i also thought it was ridiculous and they still treated each other as siblings so i didn't like the luthor/allison thing, and am glad they stopped doing that shit bc it fucking sucked.

Hot take: Batcest shippers are the same people who believe adopted siblings are not actual siblings

smoking hot take: batcest shippers are the people who watch 'my sister got stuck in the washing machine' porn

Duke was adopted by Bruce?

not technically no, but do i, tumblr user batarangsoundsdumb, look like i care?

True story but I had to change my freaking name because it used to be "Damien" and most people would go "OH LIKE DAMIAN WAYNE" like please I'm just tryna live

true story, but i don't actually think of damian when i hear the name damian, literally the first thing that pops up is damian darkh like bruh what?

apparently dc comics company supported comic stores by giving out new titles and stuff during the beginning of the pandemic to help them run and I just think that's wholesome

ah yeah that's so fucking cool, still don't like dc, the company, because this world is a capitalist hellhole and we're all owned by warner brothers or disney with no in between.

ayo looking at tumblr head canons and finding out bruce is actually a terrible father is a punch in the gut

lmao yes, in like 50% of comics bruce is a terrible father and it gives me whiplash

oooh I just saw the jason todd vs winter soldier post and the real question is: batman vs iron man

while iron man has like hundreds of cases of armor, batman could throw out an emp and have the guy dropping out of the sky in 2 seconds.

dickfast = fastdick = quickdick = quickie

magnum hot take

hey bata(?) just thought I'd let you know I have copied the obnoxious emoji and Billy Ray post for use on simping men going forth

thank you 😘🌷 (@spacebarsidecar)

why would you do that to your followers???? i get why i did it, but why would you???

what is scarecrow made the nightwing funko pop himself, like those diy-ers that paint over other ones

oh god no, horrible take, horrible take, that's a disgusting thought oh no

I see your HC that Bruce and Oliver fucked and raise you this: Dick and Roy ALSO fucked

yes they did and it was a horrible moment for jason to find out dick has fucked both of his best friends

"at this rate bruce adds like 1 child to his family every decade or so" Duke is introduced in 2013, Damian as Damian, not as an unnamed child, in 2006. And he is already 14 years old, Robins rarely remain Robins after 16 😬 It looks like a new Robin and Batkid will appear in a couple of years

i mean i can't wait? but somebody will probably die first tho, we're due for another major character death. my money's on either cass or duke this time.

BRO you're so right all of your Bruce's ex headcanons are amazing but they aren't ships, that's kinda wild. Like I don't want any peeks into how their relationship was I just want to see everyone make fun of them

lmao YES it's just i love bruce being a slut, like good for him.

I am in love with your posts your honour thank you

omg thanks are we like,, gonna kiss now?

The justice league needs to have a meeting to discuss how many of their members/partners have slept with bruce. Because through a combination of cannon & fannon (if DC wasn’t homophobic) we have AT LEAST: 1) clark 2) lois 3) oliver 4) dinah 5) john

Thats not counting villains or random civilians @dudelookitsalesbian

yes yes yes, they'll have a yearly meeting about how many of their collective exes could be out for revenge and batman's list just keeps getting longer.

tim was like "i'm drake now" and everyone was like ahh so your fursona is a dragon and tim was like pffffft no. ducks.

and what about it?

when steph's fighting livewire and she zaps her with lighting and nothing happens and then they both just. stand there awkwardly for a second and talk. yeah i couldn't stop laughing at that batgirl steph is the BEST

oh yeah that was fucking hilarious and i think it would be so cool and sexy of dc to give steph a little comic series,,, as a treat

Hi I absolutely adore all of yours "Bruce and Oliver very badly pretending they didn't fuck each other" memes

lmao i do too

I need you to know that “Bruce Wayne had frosted tips” is one of my favorite Bruce takes of all time it’s so galaxy brained. you’re right and you should say it

he also painted his hair blonde once when he was travelling and in conclusion, this is why he's being blackmailed by the gotham gazette.

you know my thing about gordon being branded as the only good cop in gotham is its a load of shit like arguably he's a good person and not working to screw people over or anything but the fact that he also works w. batman makes him a shit cop. like yea batman is better than the mob but its still illegal its still an abuse of power he just not making bank

babe, all cops are bad cops. (but yeah youre absolutely right, working with vigilantes makes you a shit cop, but also working against vigilantes just makes you an asshole cop yanno?)

ruh roh i think i’m about to add “so not yeehaw” every time i don’t like something

that's a very good vocabulary upgrade

somehow i feel like steph already knew. like babs obviously knew but i feel like bruce got high/drunk in front of steph and started telling his boarding school stories and steph was just like “oh you fucked up i’m never gonna forget this”

steph and bruce have weird uncle/rebellious niece dynamic and they just hang out sometimes and bruce will be like 'i once broke my arm when i tripped over a hedge when i was drunk so oliver drove me to the hospital on an electric scooter' and steph will just have to sit there with that knowledge in her head.

Hello I just wanted to tell you you are So right in all your steph opinions bc she is, in fact amazing and I think that's very sexy of you. Ps. Your Bruce/Oliver fic is hilarious

babe, thank you so much and yes steph is amazing and i love her and she deserves the world and she's the best member of the batfam hands down. also thanks

In Supersons we see a couple of kids that are implied to be Damian and Jon's children and the boy has laser eyes and can fly, so I asume he's not adopted. The girl, who calls Bruce grandpa, can also fly, btw. So it's canon (probably by accident) that Jon can have kids and he must have married one of Bruce's kids. (I'm hoping for Damian, mostly because any other of his children would be waaaaaaaaaaaaay too old.) @artemisa97

lmao that was probably an accident seeing as jon is a 17 year old superhero in the year 3000 (by the jonas brothers)

You know, I'm a die hard fan of your memes, but I gotta say one thing: if Gothamites actually took gas mask everywhere with them, then the Scarecrow would just be a weird dude in a weird costume, and not a villain oh so scary. DC really should just takes notes from you.

bold of you to assume there's no gothamite anti-maskers

How does it feel being the funniest person on this app?

horrible, next question.

I can't listen to Green Day or Billy Joel without thinking of your post about how Bruce got arrested at a Billy Joel concert @nightwings-kid

yeah that's your mistake, i on the other hand can't enjoy billy joel without thinking about the glee rendition of 'uptown girl'

I've FINALLY been watching the Batman animated series and I gotta say, after watching "the gray ghost" I am CONVINCED that Batman is a closeted super hero geek who was 100% freaking out the first time he met Superman and is just REALLY good at hiding it.

superman: so what do you do in your free time? batman, thinking about the superman fanfiction he's writing on the batcomputer: i have no free time

bruce and oliver be like boyfriends to co-workers 401k (do the justice leagues get 401ks??? not that bruce and ollie would need them, but-)

lmao yes just 400 thousand words of bruce realising 'oh dip oliver is such a fucking dumbass' (also i don't know what a 401 k is but i assume they don't?)

Gothamites would totally boo superman as he saves Gotham while batman is out. @meenje

he's like 'okay think about that next time you want to be saved from an alien octopus'

I just took long break from dc comics and I come back to see ric grayson ??

i think it's very cool and sexy of dc to see dick and just think 'you know what? let's just give him a traumatic brain injury' and then didn't develop his character in any real way

SPEAKING OF RIC GRAYSON, gothamites making confused memes out of ric grayson is much needed

'dick grayson is my taxi driver? can anyone explain what the fuck happened he looks like an italian plumber?'

i hate to say it but batfam are def "marvel characters" in that sense they are characters who are human but become superheroes unlike most dc characters who are gods trying to be human maybe this is why I like batfam

fair enough

#this is only like half of it #but at least you can get like a few answers #yanno fuck it #bataranswers #ask #asks #anon

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satoruvt · 4 years

Text

for a moment i forget to worry

pairing → xu minghao x reader

word count → 3196

genre → fluff + angst, college au ↳ tags: strangers to friends to lovers </3, college kinda sux, ROOMMATE CHAN MAKES AN APPEARANCE OR TWO, dance major minghao, reader is completely lost but its ok who isnt, lots of cute couple stuff, pov ur entire relationship with minghao. thats it, a sad break up scene, a solid amount of crying

summary → there’s something about minghao. maybe it’s the way he dances, vibrant and youthful, or maybe it’s the way he loves you. based off of hunger by florence + the machine.

warnings → i hint at sex but its pretty vague, i also mention a breakdown type deal (revolving around school/life after school)

a/n → first of all this was NOT supposed to be 3k words i dont know how it happened. second of all i’m only kind of happy with this HAHA i feel like the story itself isnt bad but i wanted it to match the song more ... idk :/ i hope u guys like it regardless !!!

pieces of you masterlist

The first time you see him is by accident.

Really - all you’re doing is trying to find Chan. You’re passing by the practice rooms, looking into them in hope he’ll be there, stopping to gaze at decorations and medals and trophies lined up on the walls. It’s when you approach a room that music plays from that you think you’ve found Chan, but when you gaze in, it’s definitely not him.

You don’t know who it is, but he moves like nothing you’ve ever seen before.

It’s hypnotizing, almost makes you want to drop your things and dance with him. There’s a sense of youth that comes from him and it’s almost overwhelming - but it’s not in energy, necessarily, but rather from the precision of his movements, the technicalities that he seems to both follow and break at the same time. Something vibrant seeps out between the seams of his body, colors you can barely recognize as they splash against anything they can reach. It’s almost tangible.

You watch him long enough for him to finish his performance (an unknowing one) with the last notes of a song you forgot was even playing. His eyes meet with yours, slow as he completes an eloquent turn, and at the same time, a hand meets your shoulder.

A small wave of embarrassment washes over you, and you turn towards whoever touched you, effectively breaking eye contact. “What are you doing here?” Chan asks, hair still wet from what you assume was a shower.

“Looking for you,” you tell him, following as he starts to walk towards the exit. “I wanted lunch, and you owe me for that time I took your British literature quiz for you.”

Chan groans but agrees to pay, and you laugh, though the world seems a little paler than it did a few moments ago.

The second time you see him is by chance.

(Maybe.)

You’re waiting for a lecture to start, tapping your fingers against your laptop idly as you watch students trickle in last minute. It’s not a strict course, but it does start at nine in the morning, and most everyone shows up with a coffee.

You look down to brush a stray hair off of your table, and when you look up again, the dancer from before walks through the door, then looks right at you.

You feel a blush heat your face and it’s like he wants to make sure that you know that he knows, because he almost refuses to look away. You break eye contact first (like the last time, you remember for no reason) but still watch as his figure moves up the stairs, past the rows, and you hope he’ll just move past you too…

He doesn’t. He takes the empty seat right next to yours, and you don’t say anything, instead finding the peeling sticker on your laptop incredibly interesting. The professor comes in and decides that today he’ll take extra long to set everything up, apparently, and you want to scream.

“So,” the dancer says, voice quiet. It takes your breath away, the way he sounds. “Mind if I ask why you were watching me the other day?”

You cast a glance at him - not too long, you don’t think you could handle more than five seconds tops - and finally open your laptop so it makes you look busy. “I was waiting for a friend.”

“And?”

The smile in his voice is palpable. You’re already exasperated.

“You…” you start, finally deciding to look at him as some sort of subconscious power move. “You’re a beautiful dancer. It was hard not to watch.”

Beautiful doesn’t even cover half of it, but you figure he already thinks you’re weird for watching him, so you hold back the thoughts of youth and vibrancy and color. The dancer looks at you, almost blank for a moment, before a soft smile draws itself on his face. It makes your heart beat a little faster. He says “thank you” with a gentle tone, sincerely felt.

The class starts, and the two of you don’t speak throughout the next hour and a half. You type out notes on your laptop and you see him write down names of the paintings being shown on the projector, little thoughts and notes written afterwards.

By the end of class, your professor assigns an optional partnered project, and you’re more than prepared to head back to your apartment and start on it yourself. The dancer stops you before you leave, however, asks if you’d like to be his partner.

(And he says it like that, would you like to be my partner, polite and somehow sweet.)

You know your answer. “I don’t even know your name,” you stall, standing from your chair.

“Minghao,” he tells you. “I’m Minghao, and I’d like for you to be my partner.”

You say yes easily, put your number into his contacts even easier. The sky is blue when you leave the lecture hall, trees dotted with pink and purple flowers, and it is all so bright that you forget it wasn’t this way in the first place.

The third time you see him is for school.

Underneath the excitement of giving Minghao your number, there is the knowledge that it’s for the sake of an assignment. He texts you the day after to ask if you’re free to meet up to work and you tell him sure.

(Sure is what you send back, but he doesn’t have to know that you burst into Chan’s room immediately after, plunging face first into his bed just to scream into his pillows. Chan had sighed, turned around in his desk chair to look at you, then asked what happened. He gave you two minutes to rant and then kicked you out, back to your own room.)

You and Minghao agreed to meet at the library on a day that neither of you had any afternoon classes, and you get there early, spend some time working on other classes. You have somewhere around thirty minutes to freak out to yourself before you see Minghao come in, dressed like he knows what he’s doing to you (which is really just a hoodie and jeans, but you think it’s the cap that really pulls the whole boyfriend look together), smiling when he finds you at a table in the corner.

“How are you?” is the first thing he says when he sits down, and you pull down your laptop screen a little to see him better.

“I’m good,” you say, feeling your heart pound. “What about you?”

Minghao sends you a kind smile. “Really good. Should we get started?”

You lose count of how many times you see him after that.

Meeting up to work on the project soon becomes just meeting up, and after the project’s done and turned in, it happens even more. You hang out and get lunch, send each other texts and stupid videos, take walks around campus together. The weeks pass, summer mellows into fall, then into the early days of winter. You develop a genuine friendship with him, finding comfort in his presence, looking for him wherever you go.

(Although the crush is still there, potent and patient, stubborn in a way you’ve never experienced before. You wonder if it’s a sign of some sort.)

You’re in one of the practice rooms with him, sitting in the corner. You had a class nearby and he’d wanted to practice a little more, so you told him you’d work on your own stuff while he finished up and then the two of you could grab something to eat.

But you made a small error on your part - the dancing. You’d forgotten the way he moves (you haven’t seen him dance since that first time) and in no time at all you’re letting your screen go dark in front of you and watching him. Honestly, it’s not your fault, you really can’t help it.

But of course he notices.

Minghao meets your eyes through the mirror and raises his eyebrows at you, and all you can do is look away, desperately try to get your laptop up and running again so at least it seems like you weren’t watching him for too long.

“You’re staring,” he says, long after you’ve looked away.

“Sorry,” you tell him anyways, immediate, quick.

Then he says, “I never said anything about stopping.”

In a second, you look up from your laptop and up at him. He moves closer, crouches in front of you. His eyes are kind - they’re never not - but you think you see something a little more in them. “Sorry, I think I missed that last part,” you respond, blinking. Minghao smiles like you’re endearing.

“I said I want you to keep looking at me.”

You think you’re barely breathing when he shuts your laptop for you, slides it off of your lap and onto the floor (gently, with care, and it’s a wonder to you how he can focus on that right now). He practically crawls over you, one of his hands eventually reaching the junction of your jaw and neck and holding there. “I’m gonna kiss you now, if that’s okay,” he says, but doesn’t move. You nod as soon as his words reach your brain, eager and quick.

And the next few hours get a little wound up in your head, a little mixed in with the feeling of his body - that moves so youthfully, with so much vibrancy that it reaches everything around you - melting into yours and the sound of him asking you to tell me what you need, honey, and the still-playing slow jam music he was practicing to.

You watch him sleep next to you, hand curled around yours against his pillows, and think that nothing bad could ever touch him.

The two of you… come together, after that.

Neither you nor Minghao use any proper labels, but you both seem to know. No labels are needed, really. You have each other and that’s all there is to it. And everything is really good.

You work together and laugh together like you’ve always known each other. He tries to teach you to dance with him when you’re in the practice room with him, pulls you up by your hands and guides you through your giggles. He was the first person you called when you realized that you had no idea what you were working towards, didn’t have a clue what you actually wanted to do with your life. He gets along well with your friends and you text his because they’re basically yours, now, too.

Winter turns back into spring, slow and easy. Vibrant and youthful. You’re not able to meet Minghao’s parents, but he meets yours (and you’re sure a quick introduction to his mom over a FaceTime call has to count for something). The two of you take advantage of the newfound warmth of the season and try to get out as much as you’re able to, with picnics and city dates and anything you can think of. A drawer in his dresser is reserved for your things, you bought an extra toothbrush for him to use when he stays over.

You watch him dance. It still feels like the first time, like color and breathlessness. You tell him he’s beautiful every time, feel yourself fall a little deeper when he still gets bashful amidst his comedown. You tell him you love him for the first time after he gets done with a performance - a proper one, for a showcase of the dance club he’s in. He says it back.

You think he put all the stars in the sky just for the two of you to gaze at them together.

Things shift the beginning of your junior year.

Minghao tells you about a program he’s applying to, a proper dance academy in New York that could really kickstart his career. Training under some of the best choreographers and performers in the world.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask him after he tells you, and he shrugs, leaning back in his chair. You’re studying at his apartment tonight.

“It’s just…” he frowns. “It’s so far away, you know?”

Oh. You hadn’t even thought about that, too caught up in the excitement of him being able to apply at all. A quick sigh leaves your lips, and then you reach for his hand, hold it between both of your own.

“That’s okay,” you tell him, though now that you’re thinking about it, you feel nervousness in the pit of your stomach. “We can work something out, though, when we get that far. We’ll figure it out.”

Minghao nods, a fond look in his eyes. He pulls one of your hands to his lips. “We’ll think about it if I even get accepted,” he says.

It’s bittersweet, but a promise nonetheless.

Fifteen minutes after you get a call from Minghao, there’s a knock on your door.

You wouldn’t necessarily say you’re worried, but, well. Everyone’s experienced the jump of anxiety when they get hit with the “I want to talk to you about something” line. Nonetheless, you stand from the couch to open the door, mentally preparing yourself for any and everything.

“Hey,” you greet when you see Minghao, opening the door to let him in. His face is unreadable. “Everything okay?”

He walks a few steps into your apartment, waits for you to close the door before turning back around to face you. Then he holds up a piece of paper, the creases from where it was folded still bending. You send him a confused look.

“I got in,” he says, a grin breaking on his face, and you blink, then feel your jaw practically hit the floor. Minghao only nods like he understands, and before you know what you’re doing, you launch yourself at him, holding him close.

“Oh my god, Hao, that’s amazing,” you say into his sweater, then step back to get a proper look at him. Youthful, vibrant. “I’m so proud of you.”

He seems to soften at your words, pulls you back into him again with a gentle kiss to your head. “Thank you for believing in me,” he tells you, tenderness palpable in his voice. All you can do is squeeze him tighter.

Minghao spends a lot of time away from you after that.

You’re not really hurt in any way - even though he got into the academy in New York, he still has to practice. You get it, this is important. He doesn’t text you as often, isn’t able to stop by as much, and you miss him, but you know how much this means for him. But it gets… weird, almost, after a while. Strange, even for him. It feels weird that he’s set to leave at the end of January and it’s December and he’s distant.

Both of you are laying in your bed, looking at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling, when you decide to bring it up. “You’ve been… kinda far away lately,” you start, nudging him with your shoulder gently. “Everything okay?”

His eyes stay on your ceiling, but you feel the way he sighs. “It’s about the program,” he says.

“Okay.”

“And about… you and me.”

Oh. That doesn’t… sound the best. “About, like… what we’re gonna do?”

Minghao nods.

You say, “I wouldn’t mind visiting every so often. It’d be hard, but I’m sure we could find something to work.”

Minghao shakes his head, says, “no.”

You pause, and when you look at him he’s already looking at you. What does he mean by no? Does he want you to move with him? Or does he -

He reaches for your hand and you think oh.

His eyes are a little glassy. You feel the tears come, too.

“Oh,” you say out loud. Minghao squeezes your hand. “So this is… this is it?”

Your room is suddenly cold, and you want to crawl under the covers and stay there. The person in front of you is blurred into something unrecognizable, but you can’t be bothered to blink away your tears.

“I think so, love,” he whispers back to you. “I think it has to be.”

The two of you cry like that for a while. In your bed, loosely intertwined and broken. Even the way Minghao cries carries a kind of vibrancy that’s overwhelming, makes you think of the first time you saw him so long ago, and now -

When you manage to get a better grip on yourself, you ask him if you can still see him off at the airport. He says, “I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t.”

Then you ask if you can kiss him again. He responds by kissing you first.

And it’s sad, it tastes like salt and sorrow and you feel like the promises you never got the chance to make are broken. It feels like the most beautiful blue you’ve ever seen, and you know it’s only a branch of Minghao’s color.

He leaves soon after that, pulls on his shoes and his coat and turns around at the door to give you a tired smile. After he’s gone, you drag yourself to Chan’s bedroom, and once he sees the state you’re in, he offers up one side of his bed. Neither of you say anything, but the friendly reassurance of his hand in yours says enough.

You don’t fail to notice that everything seems to be washed out, a blandness you’re not used to.

The last time you see him is at the airport.

It’s a cold day, despite being sunny. The airport offers little warmth, but you figure it doesn’t matter. You won’t be here for long.

It doesn’t take you very long to find Minghao - you still look for him wherever you go, even if you’re not looking for him. Even then, it’s still so easy for you to find him, to pinpoint that vibrancy, that youth. He’s talking to a few others, you think you met them. Soonyoung and Jun.

Minghao meets your eyes and you freeze, but then he waves you over with a gentle smile. You follow like you think you always will.

You greet Soonyoung and Jun and the four of you talk, albeit a little awkwardly, even when Soonyoung tries his hardest to lighten the mood. Eventually he has to leave, and Jun follows with a shy goodbye. They both hug Minghao before they go.

You’re not sure what to say, but after a minute, you find words. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you,” you tell him, a little selfishly.

Minghao says, “you’ll do good. I know you will. I’m not worried about you.”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time, and you think he’ll give you a stiff and sad goodbye, but he steps a little closer to you. Looks at you the way he used to.

“Maybe…” he starts, then pauses. “Maybe we’ll meet again.”

Maybe, you think. Maybe.

“I hope so,” you tell him, then watch as he leaves.

#caratwritersclub #kdiner #kpopscape #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt imagine #seventeen imagine #the8 x reader #the8 imagine #svt the8 x reader #seventeen the8 x reader #svt the8 imagine #xu minghao x reader #xu minghao imagine #svt minghao x reader #seventeen minghao x reader #minghao x reader #minghao imagine #pieces of you

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soobasaur · 4 years

Note

can i request a cute seungmin au? maybe based off the song loving is easy by rex orange country? just smth super fluffy 🥺

i (skin) care about you

— a seungmin x reader au

kim!seungmin x gender!neutral reader established relationship!!

« masterlist

before you started to date seungmin you had labeled him as a big tsundere

always giving you an uninterested look as you walked past or initiated conversation with anyone next to him

later you figured out you just had to knock on his shell before out tumbled a soft seungmin

and after a couple months of dating you both had figured out one another’s favorite activities

and for seungmin that was skin care

the boy loved a good spa day

the first time you had went over to his place you were instantly hit my the aroma of mango and citrus

and when you stepped into his bathroom the shelves were stuffed to the brim with multiple products

out of the two of you seungmin wore more makeup then you

often trying out eyeshadow looks on you

he even taught you how to perfect your eyeliner

so it wasn’t a surprise to you when he wanted to relax he would put on some soothing music and a face mask

but recently he started getting you to tag along

and seeing him wearing a cute face mask??

sign yourself tf up there’s no way your missing that

he would never admit to it but seungmin absolutely adored taking care of you

he found more enjoyment in carefully applying masks to you then himself

and don’t get him started on nails!! he loved doing ur nails

and sometimes you guys even had matching nails :’)

it was a great way for you guys to catch up and talk while he tried out whatever new design he had been thinking of on you

he’ll even do your hair for you >///<

you were like his little test subject sjjdjk

and his hands were always soft when you held them since he took care of his skin

and hIS LIPS

were so fucking soft omg

seungmin always said he wouldn’t kiss you if you had chapped lips

but what better way of moisturizing your lips other then kissing your boyfriend !!

spa days also meant taking baths together~

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

he always had bubble bath lying around and didn’t waste time dumping it in

blowing bubbles into your face to annoy you was his favorite hobby ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

sharing kisses while he washes your hair <3

he also was a god at giving massages

you tried to repay him with the same gesture but he always insisted he should be the one doing it

candles,,,

candle shopping was one of his addictions

you couldn’t go to the mall without him dragging you to the nearest bath & body works and having you smell every single candle with him

flashback to the one time you tried lighting a candle in his house and almost dropped it onto the floor

you were never trusted to again :[[

you always went home with more candles then clothes

he had an whole closet dedicated to storing them

and don’t even try getting him a candle for his birthday

he probably already owns them all (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

(ur totally not speaking from experience)

all in all, dating seungmin comes with automatic clear skin

fr he was like ur dermatologist

“how is my skin so clear ?!?”

“cus of me,” insert seungmin doing jazz hands

but seungmin always reassured you that you were beautiful no matter what

don’t think otherwise !!

having acne is completely normal :]

seungmin helped you love yourself more everyday and in return you fell harder for him everyday

it was perfect

and one day you’ll get seungmin to admit he loves you more then his fruity scented candle

(⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃

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imaginethathaikyuu · 3 years

Text

tis the damn season

atsumu miya x fem reader

the first fic in a series i like to call “Me Writing Whatever The Hell I Want” (a working title) hope u like it or dont idk im not ur boss!!!!!!!!!!

synopsis: Running away was easy when you were chasing hazy dreams of a big city that was destined to be yours, when your rear-view mirror showed nothing but your hole in the wall hometown. But now it’s all waiting tables and failing auditions. You were still running, but somehow, these winding roads always lead you back to Miya Atsumu - a man you’ve loved and left, until you return home for the holidays.

tags: friends to lovers, exes to lovers, angst without a happy ending, established pre-relationship, friends with benefits, reader lives in Undisclosed Big City lmao who has celebrity dreams, atsumu is ur good ole southern boy (sort of), canon divergent, not edited, light nsfw, beginnings of sex but isn’t very detailed

word count: 4220

song inspo (tis the damn season by taylor swift)

i won’t ask you to wait if you don’t ask me to stay…

. . .

The soundtrack of this early morning replayed in your head as you made a hazy drive to the neighborhood’s hardware store, cutting left onto the correct street and forcing the car’s back tire over the curb you couldn’t miss.

The replay of events looping in your mind? A whirring, then a splashing, then your father’s booming voice shouting curse words at anyone who could hear them. Your name was laced in there somewhere with demands for you to get to the kitchen, and you couldn’t tumble down the stairs fast enough to see what in the hell was going on.

It was your first day home for the holidays, and already it was a catastrophe.

Somehow your dad had busted a pipe underneath the kitchen sink and a strong stream of water was spraying halfway across the room because of it - your feet landed in a shallow pool when you finally reached the first floor. You didn’t have time to think of any questions before the man at fault, who was on his knees with his head hidden under the sink relentlessly trying to turn the water off, sent you out the door with more shouts, telling you to go to Miya’s Hardware and buy… something.

“A connector?” You were talking to yourself, thinking out loud as you finally parked, but it didn’t help you remember. All you could do was walk inside the store and hope someone knew what you needed.

It’d been years since you had been in this shop, but it looked just the same as when you were following your dad through its isles. You didn’t even bother browsing now, though - you went straight to the back of the store to the counter, expecting to see a familiar, perhaps older, face eager to help you.

That isn’t what you found.

“Well, hey stranger.”

That voice rang in your ears like you’d just heard it through a megaphone pointed directly at you. Something about it was so warm, but it left you with a shiver down your spine and goosebump ridden skin. You could feel the hair on the back of your neck standing up, and you hadn’t even turned in the direction the words came from.

But you didn’t have to look in order to know just who it was. “Atsumu.”

“What in the hell are you doing back in town?” His voice rang with excited confusion; it carried the same inflection as anyone who’s happy to see you. Like nearly forgotten family members at a reunion before it all goes to hell, or the way the tone of your father’s voice changes when you tell him you’re doing well and mean it. People don’t speak that way often.

He pulled you in for a hug and you gladly reciprocated, already forgetting that you were supposed to be in a hurry.

“Home for the holidays. How have you been?”

“I’ve been alright,” he replied. “I’ve missed you.”

His voice felt more like home than your four bedroom walls did, the charming drawl and depth in his words immediately reeling you in. It was familiar. You had spent a long time trying to forget about that familiarity; too long learning how to straighten out your words and lose any hint of the small town you came from. But Atsumu - he sounded like the epitome of this place.

He didn’t give you time to reply, for one reason or another; instead he decided to push you back by your shoulders and get a good look at you. Up and down and up again, likely noticing every change you had made to your appearance in your time away.

“Are you still wearing your pajamas, or is this a new… trend?”

You looked down at yourself, “Shit,” and closed your jacket tight over the old graphic t-shirt you wore, but nothing could cover your pink polka-dotted pants. And you’d have been hit in the face with embarrassment if the image of your dad and the broken sink and a flooded kitchen didn’t smack you first. “Shit, no, um… I need something to fix a broken sink. Are you… do you work here now?”

“I do - and you’re gonna need to be more specific.”

“I don’t know, Atsumu,” you laughed, slowly realizing the bizarreness of what you were about to tell him. “I woke up to my dad shouting and water shooting out from under the sink, literally flooding the kitchen. He told me to get a part for the pipe… a connector, or a couple, or something - I don’t know.”

“...A coupler?”

“Yes!”

“...He didn’t happen to tell you what size to get, did he?”

The look on your face must have been a good enough answer for him, because he took off into a random aisle and left you wondering just how many sizes of couplers there could be.

“This one will probably do the job,” he said as his path rounded the counter. “If it doesn’t, then, I can ignore the return policy for you. Just this once, though.”

“Thanks, ‘Tsumu.” You made your payment and he slid your product over the counter as his elbows landed on it, leaning down to make himself comfortable. Like he thought he’d be there awhile.

“How long are you gonna be in town?”

“Two weeks. Why do you ask?” You knew why - you just wanted to hear him say it.

“We should catch up.”

He was grinning and shrugging and fidgeting with his fingers, just like he always did, and you would never turn down any offer he made you.

“We should. I’ve got to get home, but are you free tonight?”

“We close at six,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” you said, meaning every word. You wondered if he knew that.

“So will I,” he replied, and then you made your way out before you convinced yourself to stay.

It’d been three years since you last spoke to Atsumu. In that time, you had done a lot that felt like nothing, living in a different city that felt worlds bigger than this town - that city was a place you had once convinced yourself was all yours. You had pulled off running away effortlessly.

But it didn’t matter how much time goes by between your meetings with Atsumu. There was something there that you could never shake, the hold you had on each other was anchor tight. Ten years could pass and you would speak to each other like it had only been one day. You’d have world ending fights and one of you would always come crawling back, letting the other win as long as it meant things would go back to normal.

You couldn’t describe it. You never tried, you didn’t need to. The unspoken acts between the two of you didn’t need to be explained. It was something akin to a best friend with all the benefits included and most of the strings attached - confusing and nerve wracking but still so comforting.

Atsumu was the closest thing to home you had in this town, and somehow every road always leads back to him. With a few detours on your part, of course, because you just couldn’t stay away too long. Even moving across the country didn’t change that - not like you thought it would.

You just barely missed the turn into your driveway, being so distracted by your thoughts. So much was rushing back, so much that shouldn’t be - it isn’t a big deal, it’s just Atsumu, but it felt grand, like this was some massive reunion.

But it wasn’t. You were only here to celebrate Christmas with your family. You weren’t even planning on seeing Atsumu, let alone meeting up with him or rekindling any kind of flame that was once there.

And it was such a rush that you couldn’t even question why he was working at his father’s store - or why he was even in this town at all. What happened to the dreams he was chasing?

For what felt like the first time in your life, you had questions for him. But you’d have to wait all day to ask them.

. . .

You were thankful to come home to a dry floor and a calmer father - he finally figured out how to turn the water off and decided to fix the pipe later. You knew he’d inevitably be paying someone more qualified to repair it, but your mind had no space for that problem.

You were still trying to figure out how you’d meander the night with Atsumu by the time he was picking you up, and when the two of you arrived at his home you still hadn’t found your answer.

Easing into this would be best, and once alcohol was introduced to the equation it would turn into a slippery slope.

Nothing was hard with Atsumu. You knew that - that’s why you couldn’t figure out why you were having such a hard time talking to him.

A lot had changed. Not between the two of you, not exactly. You were right back where you were three years ago: on his couch, sitting too close to him, laughing at something he had said that was only funny because he said it.

But your lives had changed. Your worlds had changed. His mind had very obviously changed, and because of it all, you couldn’t keep pretending that the two of you were teenagers again.

You had to bite the bullet and ask the question that was on your mind, completely knowing that he could throw a hard hitting question back at you.

It came out more effortlessly and lighthearted than you expected. “So… what happened to playing volleyball?”

Atsumu scoffed. “You still remember that pipe dream? Nothing happened, it was just childish.”

You didn’t like his answer, so you pressed him. You worked up the courage to start this conversation, so you were going to get to the bottom of things. “You said you wanted to catch up - I know you, Atsumu. You get what you want and you wanted to play volleyball. You were going to be a pro, you were good.”

“I know you know me,” he said, and the smirk on his lips didn’t go unnoticed by you. “I wanted to get drunk and chat, not start up a fucking therapy session.”

You sat patient and waiting, eyes on him, refusing to go without the answer to your question. You were teasing, really, eyeing him up and grinning as you watched him struggle. The problem was: you didn’t expect the answer you’d get.

“I - I had the chance.” There was a scratch in his throat that wasn’t caused by the whiskey he’d just swallowed. “I was being scouted and playing my ass off and there were talks of being on an Olympic team one day, but… shit happens, and that’s it.”

“What shit, Atsumu? You didn’t just give up, did you? Were you scared or something?”

You didn’t realize how close you were to him until his hand came down to rest on your knee, and both of you focused on that touch as his next thoughts became words. “Dad got sick. And ‘Samu had just opened the restaurant, and… there were bills to pay and the store to run. Even though I wasn’t his preference, Dad had no choice and left the legacy of Miya’s Hardware to me, so - that’s where I am.”

“Oh. I… I had no idea - I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. You were already long gone by then - don’t say sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, and you hugged him without thinking, but he hugged you back all the same. “I’m sorry, ‘Tsumu.”

“It’s okay,” he told you, but you didn’t feel okay. You were sure he didn’t, either. “It’s not your fault.”

You pulled away from him just enough to look at his face, and you hadn’t noticed the distance in his eyes until just then. As you looked at him, you realized it was only familiar to now. It wasn’t there years ago, when you got to look into those eyes every day.

“I should’ve been there for you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, but his words were dangling on an edge. He didn’t quite mean them. “You were off in your own dream. I got through it.”

You only nodded. You weren’t sure what else to say after that.

As Atsumu sat back against the couch, he brought you with him, tucking you under his arm against his chest. His lips on your forehead made you close your eyes and for a second, it was like you were both nineteen again. You could’ve been, if time would only slow down or freeze or go back - what wouldn’t you give for that?

“I’m done talking about me,” he mumbled. “I wanna hear about your life now.”

You laughed, but quiet, “My life’s been fine.”

“Only fine?”

“You don’t see me on the big screen, do you?”

He laughed this time. “Not yet. One day, though. Have you gotten used to the city yet?”

“Oh… I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it, but… it does feel like home now. It’s so different from living here.”

“I bet.”

“I try not to romanticize it, but - I don’t know. It feels good, even if it’s not what I thought it’d be. The lights are pretty bright. Blinding compared to here.”

His response was a nod, and that was it. If he had any questions or comments, he held them back.

A break in the silence came soon, though. “You know,” he said, quiet, with a small laugh that was humorless, “I’m not as good at getting what I want as you think I am.”

“That’s not true,” you replied, and you were setting up an argument you weren’t ready to make. “You got me.”

“Did I?”

“What do you mean?”

Silence lingered, and after too long you sat up and looked at him, and that got him to talk.

“Nothing,” he insisted. He pulled you closer with two fingers holding your chin, and you didn’t resist. “Nothing, baby. Let’s just… just be quiet for a while.”

There wasn’t time for you to say anything else. His lips were on yours the moment he got his last word out. And even though you expected him to kiss you, it still made you gasp.

You couldn’t describe how much you missed kissing someone you wanted to, and Astumu’s kiss was like finding home. His lips were like candy, sweeter than sugar; his bite was a freezing shock that always pulled a giggle and a whisper of his name out of you. He knew how to kiss you, slow and deep with a hand on your jaw to keep you there, never leaving you wanting more because he gave everything you could ever need.

It didn’t take long for his kisses to trail down your neck, or for his shirt to come off, or for your back to land on the couch. You had already reached euphoria just seeing him hovering over you, eyes soft and hair askew; you didn’t need anything but this. You’d never want anything but this.

You did what you always did - trailed your hand down his torso, over his golden skin, stopping just after every freckle or scar or mark. This time, you were looking for something new. You didn’t find anything. You didn’t stop until your hand landed on his waist, and there, you squeezed -

“Stop, you little shit,” and he laughed, right along with you. A real and genuine laugh - you hadn’t heard that song in a long time. “Why do you always do that?”

Finally he moved down to press his chest against yours, his hips locking in place between your legs. A perfect combination.

“Why do you always give me the chance?” You were still laughing, not able to get over the cute sight. Atsumu was always so ticklish there, right on his waist, and when you made that discovery you swore you’d never forget it. And he sure as hell wished you would have. “You’re so cute. I’ve missed that smile.”

“I’ve missed you,” he replied. Somehow you just knew that he meant it.

“Don’t. I’m here.”

“You’re here,” he repeated. Like he was reassuring himself.

You took the initiative to unbutton your shirt yourself, so that there was no way for him to think that you wanted this to stop there. It couldn’t, not when you had him this close. And his eyes followed the popping buttons like stalking prey.

“And you’re still the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Fucking hell.”

You cringed - you couldn’t help the feeling in your gut when he gave you those sweet words. You knew he meant them in some way; you knew Atsumu wouldn’t lie to you. He’s never told you anything just for the sake of it. But how many times, in the last three years, had someone done just that? Told you just what you wanted to hear so they could get inside you? It was vile the first time. The second, it made you ache. But now, you’re used to it. Nobody means what they say. You’re used to it.

And Atsumu could snatch up any girl he wanted. A girl who’s used to blinding lights and expensive wine and lying - or a girl who would stay with him, who wouldn’t push his buttons, who would be effortless in her charm and wit and beauty.

You couldn’t put yourself in either category.

“You haven’t seen many, then.”

“Why would I even need to when I’ve got you? You’re a fucking dream. All I ever think about.”

You shook your head, not even noticing you were doing it. Atsumu wouldn’t have it.

“Don’t do that,” he said. “Not when you know what you do to me. You’ve got my heart beating out of my chest, for fuck’s sake - it has been since you walked into the store.”

You never knew him to be so open with his feelings, or maybe you had just gotten used to being lied to. You weren’t sure and you didn’t care - all you could think about was kissing him, so you pulled him in, and you were sure he would devour you. You’d have no problem with that.

It was desperate when you said, “I need you.”

And reassuring when he replied, “I’m right here.”

He wasn’t close enough. You didn’t think he ever could be. And it was right then, when you were swimming in desperation, that you realized you shouldn’t have been doing this. It would only make leaving even harder. Doing it the first time was hell, letting him watch you leave and be okay with it. You hated yourself for wishing he wasn’t. And you were drowning.

You hated yourself for leaving.

You hated yourself more for coming back.

And you didn’t want to be there, all of a sudden, despite the ache in between your thighs and the addicting warmth he had you trapped in. You didn’t want to be there and you didn’t want to leave, either - you only wanted something easy, but you’d never have it. Not here, and not in the city, and not with Atsumu.

You felt him freeze, felt things shift. You hadn’t even noticed the way your energy had completely dropped.

“Something wrong?” He moved up to hold your face. He noticed the tears in your eyes before you did.

It was hard to look at him but you held his gaze, and his touch hurt more than it healed but you yearned for it. The concern on his face was genuine, the gentle strokes of his thumb on your cheek weren’t forced, and it all was making your stomach turn.

He cared for you - obviously he did - but not enough to ask you to stay. Not enough to find trouble in letting you leave him. So maybe you shouldn’t have a problem with it, either.

“No,” you said through a sore throat and a locked jaw. “Sorry, just…”

“We don’t have to do this,” he told you. “We can just talk - I want to talk. If it’s too much -”

“It’s okay,” you said. You tried to mean it as much as, “I miss you, Atsumu. I want you - touch me, I miss you.”

“I know,” and he was wiping the tears off of your cheeks as he kissed your lips, “I’ll take care of you, baby, just let me. Stop thinking so much. Let me take care of you like I always do, yeah? You want me to help you feel good?”

You always had a problem with that - thinking too much. He never hesitated to call you out on it. You nodded your head, strong and fast, like you were trying to knock the thoughts right out of it.

“Please, ‘Tsumu.” You were crying for him, pulling him closer. “Need you. Make it better, please.”

“I’d do anything,” he said. “You gotta quit crying, baby. You’re acting like our first time again.”

You laughed at that, wiping your own tears and knocking his hands away. “God, that was so embarrassing.”

“It was cute.”

“It wasn’t.”

“It was kinda hot, too.”

“Atsumu!”

It was his deep grin that made you relax again, and so did another blissful kiss that took your breath in a way that you enjoyed.

“You can cry, baby,” he said, popping buttons on both of your pants, “as long as it’s because of how good I’m making you feel. That’s what you need, pretty girl. Let me show you how much I’ve been missing you - get these pants off, baby, let me see you.”

He didn’t give you the chance to cry any more, at least not in an emotional sense. Your mind was stripped with your body, filled with nothing but him, no space between the two of you left for insecurities or questions.

It wasn’t until he coaxed you into his bedroom that those things had the chance to creep back.

Atsumu was out cold, cuddled into your chest and holding on tight to your waist, after smothering you in soft kisses and sweet sleepy words. You were comfortable there, warm and safe and content, but the pit in your stomach only grew. You watched him sleep, his mouth slightly open and eyes softly closed, and you wanted to reach down and kiss him but you resisted.

It was late and you should be asleep but you couldn’t rest. You couldn’t stop loathing yourself long enough to close your eyes, and the more you thought, the harder it got to breathe. Your throat was sore again. Your eyes were watering again. And every word you wanted to say to Atsumu was tumbling out of your mouth and falling onto sleeping ears.

“Why didn’t you ask me to stay?”

He didn’t stir. It was still rumbling breaths and the whir of the air conditioner filling the silence.

“Everyone else did. But you. Why… You of all people should know I’m just as worthless there as I am here - I’ll never make it - I’ve changed everything and still…”

You sucked a hard breath into your lungs to stop a wracking sob, just barely holding it in.

“I just ended up here again. With you. I’m so alone without you but I can’t - fuck.”

It didn’t even matter what you were trying to say anymore, because you had no clue. You didn’t know why you couldn’t just stay with him regardless of his choice to let you go, but something in you made you run. Maybe it was worthless pride or a childish desire to be something more - you didn’t know.

You didn’t belong in any industry you dreamed of working in. You weren’t born to be a star. You should know by now - should accept your failure and come back home for more than just one night.

But you couldn’t.

There was still a chance, wasn’t there?

A chance to belong somewhere.

A chance to be led home.

A chance to make it. Would you die trying?

You would leave in the morning. And you wouldn’t ask Atsumu to wait for you as he started getting ready for the day. And Atsumu wouldn’t ask you to ditch your own plotted destiny just to stay with him.

But this would happen again. Every time you would swear it off and every time, you would travel roads that take you right back to this town, this bed, these arms.

Running away would never get easier, but this is all it would ever be with him. He would never stop you leaving - and you would never ask him to.

. . .

...so i’ll go back to LA

#i researched how to fix pipes for this #by research i mean i went to hope depot dot com and looked at Pipes #my friend actually busted his sink pipe the other day exactly like i wrote and our other friend (who works at lowes) said he needs a Coupler #in conclusion i dont know how sinks or pipes work. do not perceive me or my writing.#miya atsumu #atsumu miya #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #i forget what other tags i need to use lmao

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diyeoracha · 4 years

Text

fanfic recommendations

for @kittensocute bc i heard “atsukita” and “iwaoi” in reference to fanfiction and i am There

i took your “i love slow burn or slow build fics... so i like relatively shorter burn fics (20-30k). If its a 10k oneshot slow burn hELL SIGN ME UP” and absolutely ran with it.

i listed my fav iwaoi fics (17) with a longer word count (longest is 80k) that are all mostly either canon compliant or divergent with only two straight up AUs. none of them feature heavy nsfw content and most if not all are tagged as friends to lovers lmao. feel free to read the my thoughts or just go into them blind!! and they’re all in order of how much I absolutely adore them :^)

now atsukita is not a big ship *sobs* but here are some of my favorite fics (7) of them! a lot of them are shorter bc i guess that’s just. what happens when it’s a small ship LOL.

the formatting in this is fucked if you open it from ur dash but if it’s on my actual blog it should be fine!

Iwaoi

the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle

Word count: 66k

thoughts: my absolute absolute absolute favorite iwaoi fic. the characterization, the fact that oikawa’s a bastard but because he and iwaizumi are older (late 20s i believe), it feels more realistic and sad rather than oikawa being a bitch for the sake of it. spoiler alert it’s slow burn and pining and mostly oikawa not realizing his feelings. this world building is pretty cool bc iwaizumi is the professional player while oikawa is an entomology professor! also i love non-linear narratives bc of This fic. there’s mutual pining in this fic but it’s really really really subtle to the point where you dont even know if oikawa likes iwa. this made me cry like twice.

sunset towns

Word count: 33k

Summary: In the summer of 2020, Oikawa Tooru returns home from his first successful stint as captain of Japan’s national volleyball team. In one hand, he holds the undisputed weight of an Olympic medal, and in the other, his unresolved feelings for a childhood best friend.

thoughts: the tone in this is So similar to the courtship ritual that I liken this as an alternate story even though it’s still oikawa’s pov. professional player oikawa and regular guy iwaizumi and oikawa is just. bumming around at iwaizumi’s place and naturally he messes up but things happen.

told before and told again

word count: 4k

thoughts: i looked through literally all the tags i could’ve thought of for this and nearly cried when i found it agian. outsider POV!!

In damp earth my body

Word count: 15k

Summary: Onscreen, the nation’s favorite setter has arranged himself so that he’s bowing, forehead pressed to the court, like he’s thanking everyone for their kindness thus far, like he’s asking for forgiveness. Hajime thinks: shit, it’s really happening

thoughts: oikawa retires and moves in with iwaizumi and they blur the line between roommates/best friends and being fwb. this is an iwaizumi pov and the pining is obvious on his end. as a iwa stan the tone made me feel weird bc it makes it seem like iwa cares more abt oikawa than he cares abt himself but. its a good fic

i grew up, you grew down

word count: 19k

thoughts: this is also SO funny bc basically oikawa retires and moves in with iwaizumi and becomes his stay at home wife and a bunch of shit happens like people think that oikawa is dating ushijima and oikawa basically loses it every time. here’s one of my favorite quotes:

“Oikawa also bought a new ultra-strength vacuum cleaner he’d decided to name Ushiwaka out of sheer spite, because it sucked all the air right out of the room. Iwa-chan didn’t think the joke was that funny when Tooru told him, which was frankly very hurtful and insensitive.”

Mint

Word count: 19k

thoughts: iwaizumi is moving and oikawa planned a perfect last hangout and it goes to shit featuring matsuhana. oikawa pov where he pines more than iwa which is something i can get behind!! and this was written in 2015 and iwa’s moving bc of a sports medicine program so iwaizumi stans know and love him sm ;;

Almost a Stranger

Word count: 16k

thoughts: same premise as mint LOL except they’re on a trip together and there’s more non-linear narrative!! this one is a little more mature in tone than mint i would say (funny how people just like splitting them up and throwing them in different countries huh)

with every second that you could give

Word count: 9k

Summary: The journey of Iwaizumi and Oikawa going for gold.

Quote: He knows they’re too close. Iwaizumi knows it too, and they both decided to move in together anyway.

thoughts: iwaoi roommates and they’re both obviously and really pine-y for each other and everyone sees it but them. srsly. they’re sleeping in the same bed. like my god

Lost in Translation

Word count: 9k

Summary: Because misfortune come in threes, Iwaizumi Hajime starts his Thursday having a screaming fight with Shittykawa, spends his lunch break listening to the UCI women’s volleyball team gossiping about how Ushijima Wakatoshi had gone public about his longtime love affair with Oikawa Tooru, and closes out the day by drunkenly dropping his phone into a sewer grate.

thoughts: so funny. so sososoosso genuinely funny. the tone is so snappy and iwaizumi honestly just sounds like a confused teenager (which he is in this) and it gets extra points for including a lot of american culture that a lot of the other iwaoi college au ones don’t include for like. obvious reasons lol.

Something Borrowed

Word count: 16k

Summary: In which Oikawa and Iwaizumi have always been a foregone conclusion to everyone else, but a massive, unanswered question to one another.

thoughts: iwaoi roommates thats abo but it’s like. mentioned twice. whiny and possessive oikawa makes an appearance in this but it’s done really well

things that change, things that stay the same

Word count: 8k

Summary: Oikawa realizes he’s in love with his best friend; it sucks for a while. (But only for a little while.)

thoughts: high school getting together!! my second iwaoi fic ever and this one is just. so sweet. just an unsure oikawa realizing iwaizumi might be more than someone he wants as a best friend. this fic is honestly really really lovely.

galaxies, within you

Word count: 21k

Summary: Hajime and Tooru move in together at the start of university. Too bad they’re stuck with the two gremlins that haunt their apartment.

thoughts: ok this fic was so funny. theyre uni roommates and matsuhana just come fuck shit up and they all act like idiots together even though they go to different schools. and this really throws me back to university days.

Thirty Years and Change (the Games of the XXXIII Olympiad)

Word count: 19k

thoughts: pro! oikawa and iwaizumi haven’t been close for a while until oikawa invites iwaizumi to go to the games with him. there’s a lot of frustration and pining and actually talking about feelings (aka iwaizumi losing his mind and getting advice from people like akaashi)

when it starts to rain, they go inside

Word count: 33k

Summary: “Where?” starts Iwaizumi.“ My parent’s old lakehouse, silly, didn’t you hear me the first time?” OR: Oikawa takes Iwaizumi to his lakehouse for two weeks, post-graduation.

thoughts: this was actually my first iwaoi fic which is funny bc the author doesn’t even like oikawa much and i didnt even ship anything in haikyuu before i read this fic and now im in iwaoi hell. oikawa is really frustrating in this in that it’s basically a really good character analysis on how oikawa comes off as a Mean person all the time bc he’s manipulative and there’s some explicit content

shiver

Word count: 16k

Summary: Oikawa was always the brave one. Hajime just followed two paces behind.

thoughts: iwaoi roommates with oikawa admitting his feelings first back when they were in middle school and iwaizumi putting that thought on the backburner until. obviously. things happen.

Desperado

word count: 80k

thoughts: one of my favorite aus. it’s all from kyoutani’s perspective and it’s almost so au that they’re original characters (if that makes sense). basically iwaoi matsuhana are ex-grifters except iwaoi are estranged and daishou somehow brings everyone back together. excellent world building and reading the pov from someone not involved with the iwaoi drama was refreshing

sing with me a song of conquest and fate

word count: 26k

thoughts: a mythical kings au that’s just. so pretty. iwaizumi ends up becoming oikawa’s servant for some reason and the world building is a+ because you can feel the trust and frustration from both of them build

Atsukita

dreams of me and you

word count: 10k (incomplete)

my second atsukita fic that rly sent me down atskt hell ;; what is essentially post-break up when atsumu gets signed to msby and he’s just Pining and sad for the most part. but the established relationship pre-break up was written really nicely because it just fits my hc of them just being domestic and atsumu being blatantly head over heels

take me home

word count: 4k

i read this this morning and it wrecked me. domestic relationship atsukita?? sign me up

No time like the rest of my life

word count: 19k

mythology au with kita as a regular person and rest of inarizaki as fox spirits! it’s cute and the world building is absolutely lovely but it is an au so they might seem ooc but their core character values are still there

wild blue yonder

word count: 6k

literally full of similes and metaphors and it’s more of an abstract read i guess? but it’s so beautiful and soft and this is exactly how i imagine their relationship

reap and sow

word count: 8k

atsumu confesses and kita ignores him and it’s a couple years after the fact and it’s mostly just weirdly domestic almost roommate like except for the fact that atsumu makes it clear he likes kita LOL. they’re really in character for this!

weightless souls

word count: 2k

pillow talk before atsumu’s first game! the atsumu pov and voice is amazing

if we were both alone

word count: 7k

now this was actually my first atskt fic that sent me down this rare pair hell. it’s an explicit chat fic (both tropes i usually try to avoid) but atsumu types like me (except for the nsfw parts alksfjd) so i guess i like. feel appreciation LMAO.

if you do read like any of these fics pls let me know so we can discuss

♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

#iwaoi #atsukita #i added some more on friday feb 19!

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moondustaeil · 4 years

Text

anoetic ❧ kim doyoung

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ✧☾.·:·. anoetic

⠀ ⠀⠀ about

⋅ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ : breakup au ; exes to ... ; fluff , angst , suggestive

⋅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ : soloist!Doyoung x reader , composer!Taeyong , soloist!Taeil

⋅ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ : 15k

⋅ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ : numbered parts are current events , unnumbered parts titled as “summer sun” are flashbacks , alcoholism , suggestive content , guilt-shaming , hidden but exposed relationship , idol-dating drama , arguments , jealousy , inappropriate language , ...

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀

⠀ ⠀⠀ synopsis

⋅ The record is new, the songs that play old and the message overdue. Kim Doyoung, once your summer sun, now an empty silhouette draped in noirceur in your apartment. You’re his remedy.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀

⠀ ⠀⠀ part of

⋅ the neo-summer collab, hosted by @neo-cult-ure . With a chosen summer-titled song we write a fic about a chosen member: my song is “Summer sun” by Hooverphonic.

❧ ᴏɴᴇ : "ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ, ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴀꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴀɴʏ ꜱᴘᴀᴄᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴇ." ☙

The clock-like ticking of the direction indicator resounds over the song that is playing on the car radio. It is one of the love songs that Doyoung tends to play. It’s not as lyrical as his own songs due to the repeated "baby, baby," in the intro, but he still enjoys listening to the hidden sentiment in the singer’s voice. He takes the turn rightwards and turns off his indicator as soon as the turn has been made. After doing so, he places both hands on the steering wheel as he drives into the street.

The new street welcomes him almost like he's never seen it before. The street is far from unfamiliar to his eyes though. Aside from the doubled amount of cars that drive on the other lane and the modernised apartments, things look exactly the same.

He cocks his head to the side to be able to have a broader view of things he shouldn't be looking at. Something that a lot of drivers habitually do. Just like those drivers, Doyoung sets his eyes on the different buildings and white clouds that slowly move in the same direction as the car.

Almost too distraught by the outside world, he forgets the purpose of driving in this street. Until. The apartment building where you live comes in his eye-sight, he doesn't even need to cock his head to the side to be able to see the window that belongs to your exact apartment.

Something that could resemble a smile starts to form on his lips but he parts his lips to not give in to the temptations of the shown emotion. As much as he wants to smile, there is no objective meaning to do so yet as happiness has not made its introduction in today's events.

The first available parking lot is taken up by his car, neatly parking between the white rectangular lines as he learned at his driving classes ages ago. He isn't someone who bought his licence in a pack of cereal, something that apparently happened a very long time ago, but that might only be something old people say to clarify how easy it used to be in the past. After checking each possible mirror, he turns off the motor of his vehicle.

His silver Porsche 911 Carrera S gladly forces itself to listen to the given instructions. The overly-expensive car provided Doyoung with comfort and support during the entire ride, but Doyoung is glad that soon he will be able to get out of the car and stretch his legs. Momentarily, he leans back against the leather seat to release the tensed feeling in his shoulderblades but soon realises it won't ease the nerves that he's feeling and does the opposite of sitting in a relaxed position. He hovers forward as one of his arms lays over the steering wheel. With the other, he fishes out a piece of jewellery from his pocket. On his left hand, he places a real silver ring on his pinky. A strange action compared to what most people would do in this situation.

Not until a couple of minutes after he gets out of the car, he finally collects the courage to walk up to the familiar apartment complex. But the moment he does, he can only stand in front of the common front door like someone is willing to open it before he rings the bell. To the right, his eyes endlessly read over the many names of those who have their homes in the complex. On purpose, he reads foreign names slower even though he can read them as well as he can read the ones written in Korean. He avoids the first syllable of your name: no matter if it says your name or not, for now, he opts to move on to the following names.

What now? His slow reading didn’t help him any further. In the end, he has no other option but to leave or search for your name between the many tags and ring the bell. Before he even starts with his mission, he sighs because he knows he doesn't need to search for your name on the white-coloured tags.

A lump of unstable breathing leaves his lips as he presses his index finger to the black buzzer. That action only happens after he makes sure to move further away from the camera and microphone. You probably wouldn’t open the door or even answer if you found out it was him. The buzzer starts chanting its ringtone, a sound that makes Doyoung’s heartbeat accelerate. It seems like he might have a heart attack the moment the buzzing is replaced by your voice.

With the multiple second-lasting buzzes, Doyoung freezes in his current spot. Not because he's cold without coat covering his shoulders but because many what if's start to form scenarios in his mind. What if you don't open the door because you don't live here anymore? What if you don't open the door because you are in bed with somebody new?

The first scenario can be nullified as your name still was on the little white tag, still typed in the same font as before which meant that nothing apparently changed. It gives him hope that the second scenario is as much made up out of fiction as the first one.

"Hello?" Your voice interrupts the scenarios completely, they disappear like they never were possibilities in the first place. "Who is it?" you ask again when you don't get a proper response. You don't hear a voice responding to you, neither do you see anyone, not one glimpse that reveals someone is waiting for you to open up the door.

The tone of your voice makes Doyoung cover his mouth with one of his hands: the words don't mean anything to him but hearing your voice after such a long time shoots a bullet of sentiment to his heart. It's not an effortless task for him to stay silent while you are speaking, because even when he covers his mouth with his hand, he's obligated to purse his lips invisibly.

Wordlessly, Doyoung narrates and tells himself to leave now that he still has the chance to do so. Despite knowing you're there at home, he guesses he won't be fulfilling his goal today. From his pursed lips pushes a sigh before he turns his body away from the door.

The handful of steps form a small staircase together. Doyoung easily skips them by taking one large step until he finds himself on the public walkway. Deep inside, he wants to run towards the car, but his feet don't allow him to go faster than an average walking pace.

"Doyoung!"

Before prohibiting the action to himself, his body turns towards the apartment building. Firstly, his eyes meet the common front door of the complex but his eyes are quick to notice the light movements. He sees them from the corner of his eye and immediately looks up towards the source. Your bedroom window is opened, with you standing in the opening, chanting his name to catch his attention.

His vocal cords are taken away by speechlessness. His right hand is quick to solve the problem by allowing his index finger to point towards his silver-coloured vehicle. The hand that was in his pocket is used to unlock the doors. Momentarily, he disappears on the passenger's side of the car.

The empty-handed arrival is reversed when he appears in front of the camera. In his hand is a collection of bundled wildflowers, which he tightly grips between his clenched fist. The grip never loosens, not even when he needs to hold the railing in order to safely get up the stairs.

Each step he takes seems to resemble a memory of the times he had walked these steps. The revisited memories don't tire him out despite the long time he stands still for them. Step one reminds him of the first time that he came here on his own because you granted him a key. The step in the middle that separates one floor from the other reminds him of the tiring sighs that left his lips after long workdays. The last step reminds him of the last time he walked down from them after the breakup. One by one, heavy steps and the ones he was taking now didn't vary much in weight.

Two steps. One step.

As soon as he wants to step on the unchanging floor, he almost stumbles over his clumsy feet when the door of your apartment opens. There is still a chain that separates the door from completely opening but after re-opening your door, he can fully see you in front of him.

Almost ceremonially, he holds out the flowers towards you. You're too far away to grasp the little bouquet of nature between your fingers and even after five more tiny steps, when he's right in front of you, your fingers still don't reach out for them.

"Come in," you tell Doyoung without greeting him first, your door opening as wide as it can to let in the person that you used to unofficially share this place with. Your body doesn't completely turn as you keep on checking whether Doyoung actually follows you inside, instead of trying to flee like he did when he was outside. This time Doyoung's feet allow him to follow you inside the apartment, the only time his feet halt is when he takes off his shoes in the hallway and neatly places them on the provided rack.

Your feet stop in the living room as you expect to sit there together with him rather than an inconvenient spot such as your bedroom the kitchen, not that they were untried places, but the progressive situation caused them to become inconvenient over time.

"I brought these," Doyoung says but not until after he once again holds out the little bouquet of flowers towards you, he almost didn't say anything but noticed how you didn't seem to get the hint of having to take the flowers from his hand. You look down at his hands to see what he is holding before you focus on his face again, trying to decipher the unreadable expression.

Without sharing a response, you take the bouquet from his hand and hold them between your lightly-clenched fist instead. "Thank you," you say with a small nod out of discomfort and awkwardness even though you're grateful for the little bouquet. Whether he came empty-handed or not wouldn't have mattered to you at all, perhaps him not coming at all wouldn't have mattered either. "I will put these in a vase and get you a drink. What would you like to drink?" you ask.

"Just some water," you hear Doyoung say right before you can disappear into your kitchen. Thinking you knew what he wanted to drink, you already took the steps towards the other room. Water was his standard drink: not too cold so that it wouldn't damage his vocal cords and not too warm so that he wouldn't feel nauseous. Although you expected him to say water, another drink momentarily seemed an option but you'd rather not think about that too much.

Silence fills the apartment as each of you are in a different room right now: you're in the kitchen looking for a vase and pouring Doyoung his drink while Doyoung is in the living room and can only silently look at everything. Time seems to go by slowly but you blame it on yourself for stretching some time as you are too busy mouthing possible conversation-starters to yourself. After all, appearing stupidly inarticulate in front of your ex-lover wasn't something you want to take place.

In two turns you take the objects towards the common room: first the vase with wildflowers that are placed in the middle of the table, setting you and Doyoung apart with the decoration, after that you place two glasses of water on each side of the table.

"Thanks," Doyoung says once the glass of water is placed in front of him. His hand wraps around the glass, shoving it slightly towards the end of the table. As much as he wants to gulp it down so that he doesn't need to speak for a few seconds, his fingertips can only trace over the thin ribbles of the glass without lifting it to his lips to drink.

Over the bouquet of flowers, he can see you sitting on the other side of the table but lowers his eyes to the flowers instead of continuing to look at you. He fails to notice how you look at him for a short amount of time: starting at his hair before your eyes undergo the transition from his face towards his upper body. He still looks the same as he does in the pictures that you've kept and the memories in your heart.

Doyoung looks away from the flowers, perhaps due to the visual attention even though he doesn't realise that you were looking. Firstly, he looks towards the white walls that seem the same as they were long ago even though some patches are discoloured from the sunlight that shines in on a summer day. Next, his eyes follow the individual pieces of furniture that fill the room, one by one even though some of them form a set together. Almost like a matching lingerie set, but less sexy and more personality-revealing, but why did he even make that comparison?

"You look good."

Faster than ever before, Doyoung's head turns towards you. His eyes shifting to you after you say the words and he silently hopes you were still eyeing him, but unfortunately, your head is hung low and your eyes turned away from him. Your gaze fixated on the half-empty or half-full glass of water in front of you.

Doyoung loves the remedy of sound and the remedy of silence. Truly, it doesn't cure what is going on but it's like a placebo that gives him the feeling that things are brightening up. Perhaps rather than a remedy, he still feels stunned by the words you said and he takes them a little bit too much to heart. Hopefulness fills his heart, unneeded.

"But the hair is still stupid," you seriously add. There is no need for you to look at his hair once more before stating the comment, you can clearly recall the many colours of Kim Doyoung. From his pulchritude regular hair colour at the beginning of your relationship to the strawberry pink shade, or from the soft purple locks to an intense blue shade, and up until now where his hair was regularly black. Still, you conclude you don't like the look of his hair and if you can't blame it on the colour, you blame it on the forehead-covering bangs.

The remedy of silence seems Doyoung's accustomed placebo today. He stares at you as you let the continuation of words flow from your lips, and even when you fall silent, he opts to take a second placebo. As he looks at you, the side effects seem to kick in: memories of you and him, a new record filled with old songs.

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ꜱᴜɴ : "ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ"

"Last year it was a great honour to receive the new artist of the year award. This year, it is another great honour to be here as representer of the same award."

Your pupils are trembling as your anxious eyes are staring at the fully-brightened laptop intensely. Your eyelids urge to cover your irises due to the blinding blue backdrop. Yet, every few seconds, you widely open your eyes because you don’t want to miss Doyoung’s live speech from the award show.

Through the screen, you fail to notice little details about him: either because they are morphed away by full-coverage makeup or because your eyes have no intention to work properly at this hour of the night. Yet, you can imagine those details without having to see them on his face: out of the many people he sees in a day, only you have disclosure of the miniature beauty details.

The microphone is held towards his lips by the host of the show. His own hands are too occupied, holding the award between them to present them to the audience and the camera. He expects you to be watching from home. And he's right when he knows that you stay up until midnight and even past that. You wouldn't miss seeing his performance of his new solo on stage, and surely not the glorious moment where he receives the award.

"This year brought so many powerful new artists, I was on the edge of my seat the whole time," his speech continues with the fake set of words. He looks awfully serious while saying them. A fake smile would have given away how he beforehand knew that he was the one to receive the award. How else would his name be engraved in the little statue-like award already? His fans don't think that far ahead but no one truly does, which is the reason why grand award shows sneak off with so many viewers.

It's something you wouldn't have known either if it wasn't for Doyoung telling you how award shows truly worked. Just like how he told you about idols being each other's friends, but sometimes also being the complete opposite. Whether or not they were actual friends, it didn't change the fact they weren't allowed to talk because their agencies don't agree with such things. For example, Moon Taeil, who like Doyoung is also a great vocalist, but their interactions stay behind the scenes and unposted about. Ignoring one another on stage but behind the scenes, they plan stereotypical artist hangouts in a rented restaurant.

"Doyoung, would you like to thank someone special? Who helped you to achieve this award for the second year in a row?" The host asks Doyoung who momentarily fell quiet after his imitated surprise. Doyoung can only hum as he looks around the stage before his eyes go to the right camera again, something he studied as well so that his eyes don't meet camera number three when he is supposed to look at camera two. "I would like to thank my company for allowing me to bring out the music that I want to show to my fans, with that I also want to thank my fans who hugely supported me not only now but every single day and every step down this path."

You don't feel addressed by his words unlike his many fans do, simply because even if you love his music and voice, you don't classify yourself as a fan. Admitting to being a fan of your boyfriend would be embarrassing and almost would make you sound like one of those fans that possesses of his personal belongings and phone number after sneaking into his hotel room. But you don't possess of those things because you're a "사생팬" or a "sasaeng fan" but because you are his lover, the person that he comes home to almost every night.

"And there is one more person that I want to thank," Doyoung picks up where he left off once again. The words unnecessarily make your heart beat faster out of panic: even if you trust him, there are always chances that things slip out or that he impulsively decides to share details about his personal life. Every fan of him might possibly remember the night he did a live in his bedroom with a packet of condoms on his bedside table and you hidden away in a different room. The start of a set of rumours to which he just admitted that he was someone with sexual needs but that he was being safe, so didn't need any extra criticism from media or fans. "I would like to thank Lee Taeyong, who helped to compose and produce this track!"

A belated sigh escapes from your pursed lips as your head is thrown back towards the white ceiling. Your eyes are closing but unlike before, it's not due to the bright light but in utter relief. Your palpitating heart slowly begins to replace the rapid pulsations by a regular heartbeat, the lack of stable beats causing your heart to skip a few before things become normal again.

Your pursed lips loosen until they begin to part slowly, allowing a soft laugh of disbelief to leave your lips. "Fuck," you mutter with a deep breath that holds back all of the stress that you bottled up in a matter of seconds. As you tilt your head again towards the laptop screen, your eyes automatically open to see the bright colours surrounding your lover. Doyoung bows shortly to the host before he does the same to the people in the crowd, receiving a standing ovation and an endless tune of unmatched claps.

Even you from home, can't help but slowly start clapping both of your hands together. An inaudible applause of pride because even if you knew he would win for over a week, it doesn't stop you from boasting his self-confidence even when he doesn't see it. "Fuck you, Kim Doyoung," you scold silently as you now feel your calm heartbeat again, the shock from earlier escaping through the gaps of the closed windows to flow along with the nightly breeze.

The shining star of the evening disappears from the stage, the previously bright background suddenly wasn't as bright anymore. Artists that follow after Doyoung don't follow your recognition. You're biased by no other than your lover and everyone else seems non-existent in your world. Without an interest in the others, you close your laptop and push it further away from you.

Only your summer sun, Kim Doyoung.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

A black tailored jacket is dropped onto the single leather coated armchair that's specifically standing in the living room for lonely evening reads. The piece of furniture is unseated in so it might as well get accompanied by the expensive piece of clothing that hung over Doyoung's upper body earlier that night.

The blackened screen of the large television reflects Doyoung's full body like a mirror. The reflection reveals his tired silhouette with the help of the only source of light, the table lamp somewhere in the corner. He looks at his own reflection: seeing the white cuffed dress-shirt that stands out rather than the rest of the black-coloured outfit. He turns away from his tired appearance and lunches his body over the low coffee table. The tired expression is replaced by a small smile when his eyes immediately meet the little object he was looking for, his ring. The piece of jewellery is laying on top of some magazines that he starred in or covered on, but only the silver band catches his attention.

Between his thumb and index finger, he holds the ring with a light grip. The glacial material rests between his fingers effortlessly and he can't help but observe its little details. The medium band that is just the right in-between of thick and thin, the black engraved decorations that add meaning to the ring. He tightens the grip on the ring as he slides it around his pinky. Right where it belongs. Habitually, he takes it off before he leaves the apartment for a public appearance. Ceremonially, he puts it on the second he returns home so that he can make his appearance as human and lover. As soon as the ring is found around his finger, he spreads out his fingers. On the side of his hand is a little cut due to a fan that wanted a bit too much attention, but only the ring receives his full attention.

His back straightens painfully but doesn't prevent his shoulders from slumping forward in tiredness. It's a long-term consequence from the many hours he spends away from his comfortable home. Hotel beds aren't quite as comfortable, studio chairs are as stiff as high-school desks, the backseat of the car can be compared to the armchair in the living room. Nothing compares to the remedy of home where he can spend endless hours with you, in comfort.

"You're not coming to bed tonight?"

Despite being able to see your reflection through the black tv-screen, Doyoung turns his body towards the sound of your voice. He can't stop himself from smiling even before he sees you. When you finally come in his eyesight, that smile widens even more. Unconsciously, he adjusts the ring on his pinky with his thumb before dropping his hand next to his body.

"I am," he responds shortly. His sock-clad feet slowly step towards you, creating soundless suspense due to the darkness of the room around the two of you. "I was just taking my ring, you know I don't like not wearing it," he hums out in a softer voice as he gets closer to you.

You take the last step towards him and smile when you see that he has a wide but relieved smile on his lips. "I know, I was just waiting for you to come to bed," you say in a soft voice as you wrap your arms around his body to properly welcome him back home. The embrace starts off light but soon Doyoung tightly wraps you with a layer of thick love his arms tightly holding you in place so that he can decide when there's been given enough love.

"Let me tuck you in then," Doyoung playfully comments to your words but he appreciates that you waited for hours even if you might have drifted off a few times. You laugh silently at the words, slapping your hand over his shirt-covered shoulder before resting your head on the body part. "How many times did you fall asleep during my speech?"

The second laugh you let out is louder than before, mostly because of how well he knows you: after all, no one else would be able to tell you accomplished the unsaid goal of falling asleep during his speeches a few times, and no one would even know you watched award shows. It was obvious that no one would be able to tell, simply because only a handful of people knew about your existence in Doyoung's life. And less than a handful of people knew about Doyoung's existence in your standard life. Just the way it was supposed to be. It's better if you lay low.

"None," you say as you press a few tired kisses to the side of his neck, thanking him for the service as he starts carrying you towards your shared bedroom. From afar it could look like a gesture of love but at this hour, neither of you were in need for intimacy to level up. "I nearly had a heart attack when you started to thank 'someone special'" you quote.

This time it's Doyoung's laugh that vocalises through the apartment hallway, fading out as the two of you get to the living room and separate the two locations by closing the door. "Seems like I can make your heartbeat fast even after such a long time," he proudly states. You are put down on your side of the bed for Doyoung to rid himself of the uncomfortable suit. The formal outfit gets replaced by nothing but his comfortable sweatpants and an oversized black t-shirt.

"Yeah, you're a little shit, that's all I have to say," you declare. While he's changing, you lay your head on the pillow and watch each detailed movement he makes until the moment his body is laid to rest next to yours. "I thought I was your lover!" he protests against your words, trying his best to make it sound like he's not as tired as he truly feels. You know better than that and see through the playful facade, facing your tired boyfriend. "You're my summer sun."

The words are left responseless but they cause a white-coloured cloud of love to dwindle down upon your exhausted bodies. Doyoung presses a delicate kiss to your cheek to wish you a goodnight sleep before his arms once more find themselves around your body.

A symbolic lullaby later, the remedy of the dark takes over. Two exhausted bodies laying in each other's embrace until the late morning calls out for attention.

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ꜱᴜɴ : "ᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴀʀᴠᴇʟʟᴏᴜꜱ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀɪᴇꜱ, ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴍᴇ"

"Something effable," Doyoung requests. While his fingers are placed on the tile-resembling keyboard keys, your fingers are circled around the poetry book. Today's reading recommendation is no other than Rupi Kaur's "the sun and her flowers." You hum as your damp fingertips caress over the poem on page two hundred sixteen.

The family-related poem wouldn't be seen as effable to your boyfriend, thus your eyes travel to page two hundred seventeen: first over the fine-line illustration of a unibrow before the ode catches your attention. You place the three fingers that separate your thumb from your pinky at the gutter of the book and hold it slightly higher for Doyoung to see. "Effable enough?" You question.

"I will know if you read it to me," Doyoung responds, one hand making its escape from the white keys without leaving his fingerprint. Instead, his fingers meet with the virgin-white fibreglass. Due to the warmth of the water that fills it, the material doesn't seem as cold as it usually does, but it might just be your presence that warms up his body until his fingertips. His fingers halt as he smiles, letting time stop because the sound of your wonderful laugh fills the bathroom.

"Why would I read it to you, you didn't want to join me in the bath so I don't want to read it to you either," you teasingly protest. The book sinking more towards the surface but there's enough distance for the bottom edge to stay unembellished from water. This time it is Doyoung who fills the bathroom with his vocal sounds, just like his songs, his laugh was like a melody even if it made him sputter like an old water faucet. "I had a shower this morning and I promised to send lyrics to Taeil, Jaehyun and Haechan tonight," Doyoung sighs. After coming home, he regrets still having leftover work on his plate.

Due to the self-set deadline of the lyrics, Doyoung is sat on the floor in the bathroom whilst you take a bath. Though for once, work doesn't seem as demanding and he has hope that the lyrics will be a product of the current circumstances. Almost like a scene in a French film, the scenery is aesthetically pleasing: burning candles on the edge of the tub, dimmed lights to set a romantic mood, a book in your hands, and your beauty. Not just beauty as he would call you beautiful: the beauty in your smile, the beauty that rests in your fingertips, the beauty that coats your pure heart. Ensorcell, to enchant or fascinate someone. And yes, your beauty fascinates Kim Doyoung.

"What do I get in return if I read it to you?" You challenge. Everything in life is a give and take, but that doesn't mean you want the unreachable in return for reading a finger-countable-lined piece of poetry. "Some old-story lyrics about you, the cliché kind," Doyoung presents to you as he motions to his right hand that's still placed upon the keyboard. In consideration, you let out a hum "seems like a gift I have received a few times already, don't you have anything better to offer me?"

Unsatisfied by the unsealed deal, Doyoung puts up his thinking face. His facial expression depicted with his eyes that look upwards and his upper teeth that lightly scrape over his lower lip. "What if you just don't write lyrics today? If we go to bed early, you can finish them tomorrow morning," you suggest. It's a tempting offer that Doyoung badly wants to take, he shifts his eyes to you as though his final answer will be written over your cheeks. "That's not fair: your poem is less than half a page long and I have to stop working all night just to listen to it?"

"I stay up all night to listen to your speeches too," you playfully backlash against the words he says. You can't deny that watching him work makes you feel either way proud but also desolated on some moments.

"It's just one evening, summer sun," is all you need to say before Doyoung gives in and gives up his work for tonight. "Only if you'll let me play what I have so far as well," the deal continues before you can seal it with a kiss. Once more: life is a give and take. In agreement, you nod your head.

"Now read me the poem, dearest," before the deal is sealed, Doyoung urges you to read the poem that you've kept hidden under your water-stained hand. You doubt if the page will ever desiccate without the appearance of vein-like crumples. "Here goes something effable."

"Even if they've been separated, they'll end up together. You can't keep lovers apart, no matter how much I pluck and pull them. My eyebrows always find their way back to each other." You read out almost ceremonially even if it gets hard not to burst out laughing at the unexpected twist of the poetry. After reading the short lines, you close the book and toss it towards the floor. "That was your effable poem."

Among the numerous variations in Doyoung's laugh, there is a serious style issue in the "haha," that sarcastically leaves his lips. Yet, after the sarcastic and almost spoken laugh, a roar of laughter escapes his mouth.

You turn your body sideways slightly to look at your summer sun, unable to stop the upturn of the corners of your mouth when you see him laugh. The way he uses not only his mouth but also his cheeks and eyes to laugh makes it only more genuine and dazzling. Your hand reaches for his that is still rested on the edge of the tub, intertwining your fingers during the moment of exuberance.

The laughter slowly fades out after floating like a cloud in the sky, tranquillity slowly dawning over the room like morning dew on roses. Doyoung's gentle fingerpads stroke over the back of your hand lightly, ignoring the hindering from his dry skin that tries to smooth your wet one. "Do you want me to listen to your song now?" you ask Doyoung, leaning down to press an emotive kiss to his hand.

"I thought you wanted an evening without work-related things?" Doyoung questions as he looks towards you, his free hand moving to remove the keyboard from his lifted knees. A quick reflex of your hand causes it to land on the keyboard to hold it into place "No, I would like to hear what you wrote so far, if not, just play me the tune."

"My beloved, y/n. I'm not going to play it yet, you were right and I want to spend an evening alone with you, without my music."

As much as it pretty much breaks the deal you never managed to seal with a kiss, you nod your head in consensus. One out of three hundred sixty-five nights in a year isn't a lot, especially not when it is about Doyoung not working on his musical career. That one night of not working won't make his agency withhold a day's worth of money.

"Hm, I like the sound of that," you admit to him. Your hand finds his again in a gentle embrace, once more intertwining your fingertips for everlasting contact. "As do I," he responds with a soft smile, lightly tugging at your wrist to draw you closer to him. Halfway the small margin your lips meet for a kiss.

His lips felt soft against your mouth, the numbing feeling only making the sincerely intimate kiss more addictive. A war of tugging is created when your hand tugs at his to slender the distance between the two of you, causing his yet dry hand to sink into the warm water together with yours. As the kiss continues, your fingertips explore one another in the pool of wetness: whilst your thumb and index finger find the silver band around his pinky, his thumb and index finger messily measure your ring finger.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

The white fluffed bedding resembles what you imagine that it would look like in heaven: an unexisting property with nothing but softness and white-coloured ornaments scattered around messily. Yet, there is something that distinguishes heaven from your bedroom: in heaven, you hope to lie on a mellow white-cloud instead of the wooden floor of your shared bedroom.

If you were to associate white with some self-chosen words or feelings, you'd associate it with: peace, cleansing, calm, protection, peace, and of course purity. And if you were to associate your summer sun with a colour: it would be lilac. Doyoung endlessly reminds you of strongly-scented lavender against white bricks, the colour of an aesthetically pleasing sky, a brown-paper wrapped bouquet of lilac and white coloured wildflowers. You don't bother finding out which colour you are, for Doyoung, you'd be any hue from the Pantone colour book.

The pad of your index finger strokes over Doyoung's spine, caressing the heated skin delicately. The idiomatic expression "sending shivers down someone's spine," would be of excellent use in this situation as Doyoung's back arches momentarily at your small gesture.

Doyoung turns his head towards you, a soft smile displaying on his lips as he sees you in nothing but purity. Even though his lips are slightly parted from one another, no words fall from them like a waterfall. You prop up your body on your left elbow, allowing another body part of yours to go numb just as every part of the left half of your body. The numb tingles equal painlessness even though your bones only age by laying on the hard wooden floor.

"Do you think we will be like the unibrow from the poem?" Doyoung asks you, grasping your hand that was on his back before you manage to lay it to rest at your side. He intertwines your fingers for what seems like the first time, even though the time your fingers have been separated from one another is shorter than the time they've been symbolically glued together. "What do you mean?" you ask.

Your thumb endlessly rotates over the knuckle of his index finger, applying the slightest bit of pressure which barely makes it feel like the touch of a feather, so light. But the circular movent pauses when you hear the question. Which unibrow?

"The poem from the book you were reading earlier," Doyoung says in a softer tone, adoring the way you look confused even though you had been the one reading the poetry to him, so you better than anyone, should know what had been fonted down on the page. "Even if they've been separated, they'll end up together," Doyoung quotes faultlessly.

"Ah." You calmly breathe out as the memories come to your visual memory: not only the illustration underneath the poem but also the expression on Doyoung's face as you read the second half of the poem. Due to his quotation and the return of the memories, you forget the initial question he asked.

He leans closer to you as he sees the reflection of himself disappearing into your eyes, the universe forgotten by the termination of time. You find yourself in the midsts of the spinning earth but barely realise you stand still in the centre.

"Did you hear my question?" the warm breath dampens your face before you progress the words. His face is close enough to yours to make use of his five senses: your natural scent, the minuscule facial details, the almost peachy-soft skin of your cheeks, your calmed breathing pattern. "Hm?" you hum out silently.

"Do you think we will be like the unibrow of the poetry book?" Doyoung is obligated to question once more since you had been too lost in your lover's memory lane to hear it. This time you almost snort at the words, but it sounds more like an inward laugh. Unibrow still is an unusual word, especially knowing Doyoung is referring to the first two lines where lovers are the subject of affection rather than the hairs that grow above your eyes.

"Do you mean that we will always end up together despite being separated?" You ask in return although you're sure that's exactly what he means. Your already confirmed question just gets extra validation when Doyoung nods his head "that you can keep lovers apart," he finishes the next line of the poem with different wordings but effortlessly puts the same meaning into them.

Unibrow.

"I think no matter how much people pluck, it won't stop us from blooming towards one another," you state in a soft voice. Your finger motions seem to resemble a pair of scissors, cutting off the blooming flowers which you'd like to name Doyoung and y/n. Cutting the flowers with the unmechanical pair of scissors is something you don't plan on doing, thinking about it already makes some petals wither.

Though as you imagined earlier, Doyoung is like lilac lavender, which doesn't let its petals wither, unlike the flower that you are. Seemingly an omen but you don't let the ode write its lyrical ending for your relationship yet.

"Will I still be your summer sun in Winter?" the endless questionnaire of Doyoung drags on longer than needed. Presumably, because Doyoung wants to hear your exclamation of love and affection but the effect is reversed. The questions only effectuate insecurity and mayhaps sadness. In response, you simply hum to brush off the subject.

You love Kim Dongyoung. Your one and only summer sun: distanced by the high sky but close enough to shine his rays down upon your existence. No matter where you go in life: the sun will be there, even if each night it would die for the moon, it was out of love. Whether you walked between the bright-coloured scenery in the park or sat in your leather reading-armchair with the curtains closed. The sun was always present.

A cloud. You sigh. Symbolical to the wind that allows the cloud to float in front of the sun. You are a cloud.

The made comparisons are endless. Panic rises from the pit in your stomach, all the way towards your awaiting heart. Heartsickness goes along the agony of mind, and you can't help but isolate the thoughts from your summer sun. Your face glows as you smile affectionately at Doyoung and your fingertips go along the circle of life again by stroking over the back of his hand.

"You'll be my summer sun, for an eviternity,"

❧ ᴛᴡᴏ : "ɪ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ᴀ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ" ☙

A new record filled with old songs.

The record malfunctions. Merely halfway through one of Doyoung's favourite love stories, it starts to falter. The remaining memory-filled lyrics don't sound the same. The distortion makes it sound unpleasant.

The last audible lyric replays itself until the message is overdue: "you'll be my summer sun, for an eviternity."

The timeless music and unforgettable lyrics get replaced by memories that grow vague over time. One of the reasons why Doyoung prefers to recall memories like they are love songs: he can buy new records endlessly, no matter how old the songs are. Lyrics stay the same, memories change.

If memories were comparable, he'd compare them to the cover art of a record. The lyrics and music are the most essential but cover art can't be ignored. On good days, he can adjust the brightness. On bad days, he completely drags down the saturation until there's nothing but a monochrome illustration left.

On the cover art are never-changing elements: a shining sun, grey-ish clouds, a white wall, lilac-coloured lavender. They all play the starring role, no matter the filter that coats them. Those four reoccurring elements remind him of you, and the relationship.

The music is discontinued when he hears a voice interrupting another replay of the lyric. Even if the music is gone, he doesn't hear what the voice is trying to say. It's only one word, brought to his ears in a worried tone.

On the other side of the table, you are the person that calls out his name endlessly. Almost a handful of times that you tried to reach him in the past minutes, and even though he's opposite of you, he seems far away. Far from reality and in his own universe.

You can see it in the unfocused eyes. The brown irises seem to be staring at you without actually seeing you. It's one of the few signals that he is only present in his own world: a world that you don't see, but surely are a part of even though you aren't aware of it. Seeing him like that worries you, you can't even wonder about the images that layer in front of his sight.

"Doyoung," you call out his name once more. You have no other option but to chant his name until he returns back to the real world. It's not the first time to see Doyoung like this, something that you could label as unfortunately or fortunately. Which of the two options it is and which memories are connected to it, are things that you hold yourself back from. You would rather not let those things haunt your mind.

The effect of your chant is that lifeless human Doyoung finally makes the slightest movement. His head stiffly tilts to the side, the movement of his neck seems unnatural and painful. Yet, he doesn't show any signs of discomfort: his lips are pursed into a tight line, and his unfocused eyes are still aimed at you.

You sigh deeply at the barely visible change. "Doyoung!" You chant louder. You bet it's loud enough for the apartment next to yours to complain by banging on the walls, but luckily the hardworking couple from next door isn't home to show their protests.

Your loud exclamation seems to put a halt on Doyoung's reverie. It's not noticeable until his eyes seem to drift away from their aiming point for the first time in minutes. The imprecise staring transitions to exploring eyes before he targets them on you. He hums, which is barely audible as the haze had its effect on his vocal cords. The remains still glue onto him.

"You were daydreaming," you mention without him questioning about it. You took the hum as a sign that he was slowly getting ready to speak, and you're too uncomfortable to let the silence last much longer. "Oh," he shortly responds to your words. Though it doesn't make him realise why you called out his name, or whether it was actually you. He feels betrayed by himself and it seems like no one is willing to tell him the truth.

With a grunt out of discomfort, he moves his hand away from the glass of water. His fingertips are painfully sore from the endless twitching between the ribbles of the glass. His hand moves to his face, rubbing the haze from his facial features. Yet, the haze is like a layer of primer that seeps into his pores. Whether or not it's noticeable, it's still present, hidden behind a new layer.

Doyoung's word of realisation causes silence to fill the room once more. It's not a word that you have a response to, and you don't want to ask your ex-lover about the contents of his daydream. But you can't turn the daydream into an excuse for not saying anything, still, it's what you opt to do.

Your eyes leave the visage of the black silhouette on the other side of the table. You cast them towards the wildflowers that you've been gifted by the person behind the silhouette. When you don't look at him, he looks at you. Doyoung maintains the one-sided eye contact with you. His eyes observing you in silence, trying to find melancholy in your body language.

Melancholy. The defined emotion that he looks for in your body language surprises him, but his expressionless face won't show the self-surprise. Millions of questions could tell him the answer to how you feel, but he doesn't ask any of them. He simply longs to see melancholy and spoken words won't satisfy the lust.

The way you avoid eye-contact could be a first signal of melancholy. Your silence could be the second. The monochrome but mollitious furniture could be third on the list of signals. Whether or not they are actually symptoms, Doyoung makes himself believe that they are. Just like he makes himself believe that you want him back.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

"How have you been?"

Doyoung's question is like an excerpt from a slow-burn book that you will never read. Like the cliché line from a romantic film where the characters end their relationship halfway through but still end up together before the closing credits. But this isn't a slow-burn book or a cliché film. If anything: the closing credits of your relationship have been shown, the last page has been turned and the screen has gone black.

"How have I been?" You question as you look up from your own glass of water, but you still cast your eyes far away from Doyoung's so that you don't have to look into them. Doyoung's eyes tears from your face the moment your head moves, whether you plan to look at him or not. When he looks at you, you don't look at him. When you look at him, he doesn't look at you. Now that is a cliché, seen in films where people are forbidden to love one another. Perhaps you've both forbidden yourselves even though you try to look for love in the other's visage.

Doyoung hums lowly at your question "how you've been," he repeats his words. You wish your question would have given you some time, but the few extra seconds don't automatically form an answer. You should have been prepared for a question like that, but Doyoung coming over unannounced left you unprepared for everything. Even for a simple question like that, ex-lovers needed preparation. If there was an ex-lover who didn't need time for that question, it was because they were genuinely happy or able to brag. It's the type of question you answer with an untrue story and a fake smile. But how can you tell a story so untrue without a fakely realistic plot?

"I could tell how I've been first, if you want me to," Doyoung desperately suggests. You wish he would tell you that you didn't need to answer his question if you didn't want to. But instead, Doyoung who seems desperate to speak decided to take over from you before you made a blunder.

You simply nod. Despite realising that you don't want to lie, you allow Doyoung to go first. The sudden realisation of not wanting to lie is built up out of the reality that you should be scolding him for showing up unannounced, so he probably had more to tell you than you had to tell him. And the desperation in his voice almost indicated that he had an entire storybook ready to read. But nothing was less true than that.

"I've been good," are the only words that leave his lips. Not even sixty seconds later, you conclude that it's the only thing he has to say. The waterfall of words you expected, doesn't flow out. His lips are pursed into a stiff line to hold himself from saying anything more.

You want to scoff at his short sentence, one that isn't even long enough to start a chapter with. Yet, you keep your manners and just nod as a sign you accept the words. "You've been good?" You ask him for a continuation without using those defined words, but Doyoung avoids the hint and just nods his head.

Doyoung lowers his eyes towards his lap. Under the small table and on his lap, his two hands come together. His fingertips nervously fumble with one of his treasured objects, his ring. The silver band that belonged on his pinky, moves from finger to finger until it's between his thumb and index finger. Brown eyes follow the movements of the ring and the remains of the coldness as it moves to another finger.

"Have you sold out your voice?"

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ꜱᴜɴ : "ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪᴄᴋ ᴡᴀʟʟ ɴᴀᴍᴇᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜᴇꜱ ᴍᴇ ᴅᴏᴡɴ"

Sextilis.

The original name of the last summer month. A name given by the Roman calendars before the months January and February originated. Later Sextilis was renamed Augustus to honour the first emperor of Rome, Caesar Augustus.

What August weather typically looks like is hard to define. But at a glance, it's noticeable that hurricane activity increases, average temperatures turn cooler, and the length of daylight decreases. On rare occasions, early-August snow makes its appearance, and that fact can ring a bell to the childhood film: Nanny McPhee.

00 : 34 : 50 there'll be snow in August before that one's there when you need her

It doesn't snow. But it's August. And the timestamp of the film implies what time it was when Doyoung made his appearance in your shared apartment last night. Now, a little over eleven hours later, Doyoung is found on his soft blanket. His exhausted body wrapped in the white sheets like it's a layer of snow that covers the ground.

Whilst Doyoung finds himself asleep in a bed of snow-coloured sheets and pillows, you find yourself walking through the increased hurricane-like emotions. Your facial expression is as dark as the skies before a hurricane, yet, it's the calm before the storm.

You are still kind enough to prepare breakfast for your summer sun. On the tray you prepared is the one thing he needs the most, and the things he will dismiss. Toast neatly placed on a white plate, a Dafalgan that is effervescing in a half-empty glass of water, the silver band that connects him to you. The filled tray is what you hold in your hands when you go to the bedroom, stopping you from starting a rant the moment you walk in.

At first glance, your eyes see Doyoung peacefully asleep between empty bed-space, right in the middle like he's taking the throne. He looks like a God. Turn it around and you have Dog, which is exactly what his late-night disappearances imply. What he does at night is unknown to you. And when you reek the swallowed liquor on his tastebuds, you don't even want to know.

"Doyoung, it's past eleven." You announce. Your voice is soft, quiet before the volume increases with each time that you need to repeat the words. You don't know why you don't immediately start shouting out his name. You can almost compare it to a teacher who willingly explains the same chemical formula over and over again. Until the chemical substances provoke a chemical reaction.

Doyoung can only hum tiredly in response. He's lost in the tunnel of sleep and your voice is a little bit too far away. He's not even prepared to see the daylight, even though he knows he has to. "What time is it?" he asks.

"Past eleven. Almost noon," you address. It takes a glance at the alarm clock for you to see what time it exactly is, but Doyoung is too tired to hear the one-minute intervals. So you shorten your words enough for him to understand.

Your footsteps exceed the line that separates the bedroom from the hallway. The wooden floor is incognito from the many expensive pieces of clothes that are scattered along. It looks messy and yet the clothes are patterned towards the bed. You take the same route as the clothes lead you in, stepping over them as there is barely room for your feet to stand on the wood.

After stepping on at least two different clothing items, you reach Doyoung's side of the bed. "I brought you breakfast," you comment. Your hand pulls from the tray, trying to shove some meaningless items from the bedside table so that you can place the tray on it. That way, an empty wine bottle and some notebooks fall to the floor and the tray takes their place.

"Didn't you say it's almost noon?" Doyoung mumbles. He turns his worn-off body on his side to face the bedside table or you, but his eyes are still tightly pressed shut. At least his brain seems to connect the dots between you bringing breakfast but telling him it's almost noon.

You hum. "It is. Only nine minutes before it's noon," you say. Part of you feels happy that Doyoung is capable of using his brain, but the other half just wishes that this situation wouldn't exist. It's far from uncommon, a little too common, something that happens too often. Even though you don't know if the unknown events are similar to the others, the morning after is a replay of an old song.

"Then why are you bringing me breakfast?" Finally, his words start making sense, but you hoped for words that made you feel like you received a bouquet of flowers. Some gratefulness for nearly serving Doyoung would be appreciated, even if it only was a mumbled: "thank you,". It could be effortlessly said compared to something that sounded like what you did wasn't enough. "Because it's not noon yet."

"Bullshit," Doyoung objects to your previous words. At least he knows it's bullshit but on the other hand, he would be fuming if the actual reason slips past your lips. "You can eat toast as lunch too, you don't need to eat beef daily, Dongyoung," you say in a gentle tone. Still, the way his real name is mentioned, makes it sound more strict and serious.

"Why? Why are you feeding me lies?"

Doyoung's bare body feels hot against the snow-coloured sheets, his blood boiling out of anger or because of the liquor remains in his blood. His brown eyes are opened and intensely staring into yours. He demands an answer. An honest answer that can make his blood boil even more. It almost appears like he is purposely trying to make you say hurtful words. If he gets hurt by them, he has the chance to take off his stress on you by anger. Or so, it seems.

"You got drunk. If you eat lunch now, you'll throw up and I will be the one to clean it all up!" You say, your voice increasing as you speak. Yet, you still sound relatively calm. Like earlier: you're like the substances that eventually provoke a chemical reaction. The toxic level of concern is greater than a small number and lower than a high number. Yet to increase.

"That's not what I'm asking," Doyoung states. He sits up on the bed, grasping every piece of clothing that has been thrown close to his side of the bed last night. Unfortunately for him, his socks are the last piece of clothing he took off. His dress-shirt is near the door, where he had almost torn it off. "I'm asking you why you're lying to me."

Out of annoyance, you press your fist down upon your thumb until you hear the sound. A sound that is heard when people crack their hands before a fight. A physical fight that you're not going to have. But it has the same effect on you. Even if you want to slap him across the face, you don't. Your fights are fought with harsh words, threats to break promises and eventual silence.

"I lied about the breakfast because I didn't want to fight. I don't like fighting with you but you apparently do! All you do is nitpick, closely observe everything so that you can point out my mistakes and then use them against me."

Ah, those words. The rant that had been stuck in your throat for days. The rant you hadn't coughed up because you weren't sure if medicine could cure the cold that followed. The consequences were unpredictable, just as unpredictable as to when the symptoms would finally turn into the sickness. Today, you coughed it up.

"I go out so much so that I don't have to be around you so much."

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

"Is that truly what you think of me?" You question Doyoung. The room is empty but you still dedicate the words to your summer sun. He made his appearance without showing his silhouette. Exposure by the folded tray that rests against the kitchen tiles and the tableware laid to wash in the sink.

Unlike the high notes that he sings, his footsteps had been so low and almost inaudible. It leaves you in the dark as you don't know how long it's been since he dropped his breakfast utilities in the kitchen. Perhaps it's your fault for not hearing him. Out of anger, you refused to acknowledge his presence and focused on 'me-time'.

Stood against the kitchen counter, you realise he's been there when you failed to notice. The mess he leaves is something that typifies the Doyoung you recently got to know. You try not to think of the evolution, because it could have been you who changed. You try to ignore your initial basic-need for water and opt to clean up the mess. It's not something you do out of love, but you still do it.

"What?" Doyoung's confused voice chimes in. His low-sounding footsteps make an appearance, starting at the bedroom door but they move towards the kitchen. The footsteps halt at the doorframe, where he stands at a safe distance. Ready to either converse or flee when the argument ignites. "You mean what I said earlier?"

"That you go out so much so that you don't have to come home to me," you paraphrase the words. It nearly feels like you are saying the words to Doyoung rather than quoting what he said to you earlier. After saying the words, you swallow the bitter feeling down with saliva.

"Oh, that," is the first response you receive back. Because you're so busy to get the symbolical bitter feeling off of the tip of your tongue, you don't hear the dry words that leave his lips. "I had a tough day and took it out on you, I'm sorry," he excuses himself. Doyoung is a storyteller, but you willingly take the words. Perhaps this is the one matter you do out of love.

You nod. You have no affair with tough days but fall for the temptation of an apology. "Sorry for saying those things," Doyoung apologises again before you have the chance to ask more questions. Not that you have many, just one: 'why?'

"Just know that I didn't mean anything I said, you have to trust me there," he adds. The more words he adds to the explanation, the fewer questions that remain for you to ask. Though it's known that liars generously overshare details, but you're not focussed on the convoluted sentence structure within the shared details.

Your head lightly moves up and down in a nodding motion, responding to his words. Even though a lie usually is told one-way, Doyoung still feels the need to hear a clear response from your mouth. "y/n, answer me. Do you trust me?"

There is a one-second gap between Doyoung's question and your answer. Something that could be seen as hesitation, but you hope Doyoung doesn't dig that far into details. "I trust you," you answer his demand after the slow-passing second.

Speedingly slow, Doyoung's footsteps approach you. Time doesn't consist out of seconds, it seems like footsteps replace the ticking instead. The preventive safe di

So fast, yet, so slow. Doyoung's footsteps approach you. Time no longer consist out of ticking seconds, replaced by the sound of Doyoung's footsteps. The preventive safe distance decreases with each step he takes towards you, each hesitating yet straightforward step. You swallow thickly as you anticipate his arrival. One step. Two steps. Three steps. Four steps.

Unexpectedly, a pair of hands brush over your shoulders. Even if you anticipated the arrival of Doyoung, the sudden touch makes you raise your shoulders quickly. "It's just me," Doyoung states. His fingertips slowly start kneading your tense shoulders until your shoulders give in. With your shoulders hunched forward, you also let your head hang momentarily. The weight of the fight is lifted off of your shoulders, but not after a numbing fall.

August snow. Right now, it's rain, it seems.

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ꜱᴜɴ : "ɪ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴅᴜᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʜɪɢʜ ᴡᴀʟʟ ɴᴀᴍᴇᴅ ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴛʏ"

Doyoung draws your attention to him with his eyes. Your own eyes ignore the reflection of the room in his eyes so that you can focus on what he's trying to tell you. You are able to decode the wordless message and translate the eye-contact into words: he wants you to follow him. As a response, you nod your head, not breaking the eye-contact.

As Doyoung walks past the circle of people and up the first few steps of the staircase, you do too in relay. You follow approximately four steps after him: enough for people to not suspect a thing, enough for you to continuously see his moving silhouette. Because you don't lose sight of him, it's easy to follow without having to check different possible directions.

In Doyoung's shadow, you shine. Taeyong's eyes fall on your distanced silhouette momentarily, not breaking the one-sided eye contact until you're out of sight. His eyes lower again and his body turns to his friend and fellow musician, Moon Taeil. "Do you know where y/n went?" He inquires. Taeil, who had been following almost every movement out of boredom, shakes his head. "Perhaps the bathroom, I thought she said something along the lines of that."

The subject "Doyoung," is one Taeyong doesn't ask questions about. First of all, because he hadn't seen Doyoung leaving the party behind. Second, because he wasn't suspicious or curious about his friend's whereabouts.

Stuffed far away in a corner, a place where Taeyong's eyes don't reach, are you and Doyoung. Doyoung arrives first and is casually leaning against the wall until your four-steps gap has been closed. Hearing your light footsteps, Doyoung silently counts the seconds until you come in his sight. His mouth not opening until all steps have been taken.

"Why did I have to come here?" You ask. Your voice is loud and clear, despite the music that almost interrupts you with each word that leaves your lips. A party is not a good place for a talk, but you're as far away from the music as you can, just as far as you are from humanity. Though, your summer sun is also human. "Is something wrong?"

Doyoung shakes his head. He responds to the latter question first, simply because he knows that you get nervous if you wouldn't get an answer to the question. "Don't worry, nothing is wrong," he says in a calming tone, but adjusts his volume halfway through the sentence. His calming voice isn't audible over the music.

"Then why are we here?"

Your curiosity provokes Doyoung to let out a small chuckle. You see the chuckle falling from his lips by the way his lip corners are tugged upwards and the change in his eyes. Though the sound itself is inaudible even if you can imagine what it would sound like. "I just wanted you to come here for a bit," he explains loudly over the sound of the music. "I haven't even been able to lay eyes on you for the past hours, let alone hold your hand."

You smile. Despite the voice not sounding so gentle, you know he means it. It's all due to the music that the words and the hue of them don't match as they should. "You want some alone-time?" You question. Doyoung greedily nods in response to your words, not wasting his vocal cords to just say one simple word.

Before your response is chanted, his arms are found around your engulfed body. One of his hands is resting on your lower back, as is the other until it removes from the mirrored spot towards your waist. Doyoung turns his head back, checking whether someone had found the unlead way to the hidden corner where you were. "Just for a few minutes," he tells you seriously after he turns his head to face you again.

Wordlessly, like before, you use your eyes to answer his question. You're aware that you shouldn't be here. The ring isn't on Doyoung's pinky, almost meaning that you're not his lover until the silver band is found around his finger again. Even though you're not his girlfriend now, you still comply with his words. The hidden thrill.

It's like an aphrodisiac, mixed with Pandora's box effect. For the first, and perhaps last time that evening, his lips contact yours. Sensually-coloured fireworks explode in the form of music, numbing all of your senses but the tingles in the pit of your stomach and the softness of his lips against yours.

The soft kiss is soon changed as Doyoung deepens the kiss. It doesn't take long for you to get used to the fiery aggressiveness of his kisses, after all, you enjoy the reasoning behind those kinds of kisses. His fingertips tighten around your flesh, grabbing your clothed waist until the localised skin discolours lightly due to the applied pressure.

"I don't think we should risk this, Dongyoung," you mumble against his parted lips. Your lips almost melt against his again, the inviting warmth making you shape your lips the same way he does. The mumbles disappear between the unheated gaps of air.

The sensuality boils in the pit of your stomach, rising up to your heart as Doyoung's tongue traces over your lips. Mapping every inch of your lips by tracing along the shape slowly, savouring the taste of liquor combined with the taste of you. Strategic touches went from your clothed waist to your bare waist, his fingertips slipping under the shirt to lightly caress over the skin. "Why?" He asks. As his words echo over the music, his five fingertips now grip onto your bare skin. "Tell me why and I'll stop."

Air leaves your lips as they part a bit more, unshaped for any prepared word or sentence. The shape changes as you try to configure the words that should be used in response. "Because," you start slowly, breathing deeply after the word leaves your lips. Seconds after the first word, the others follow. "I don't want to get caught and get us into trouble."

The words put a halt on the aphrodisiac that had been building up at a rapid pace. Your request can only make Doyoung comply, realising that without either of you knowing, someone could have seen the momentum of love. One last time, Doyoung's lips play with yours in a gentle kiss, a wordless goodbye for the upcoming hours of separation.

"We should continue this later," Doyoung says as he pulls away. His eyes reveal the hunger he feels in the depths of his body, drowning in lust for pleasure and you. When you hum in agreement, his eyes only intensify according to the peaked feelings in his body.

You reach for his hand, gently holding it in yours. The pads of your fingertip circle around each finger until you reach his pinky. Your fingertips don't spiral over the smallest finger, instead, they trace over the spot that would usually carry the silver band. Perhaps you're not his lover tonight, but, …

"Sounds like you should take me to your place, summer sun."

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Doyoung pushes his glass upon the sink, pushing away the skin products that take their limited space there. He barely hears the can with shaving dream falling to the tiled floor, so he surely doesn't hear the plastic pump bottle of handsoap dropping to the floor.

The liquor is like a whirlpool in the glass. It almost spills past the edges but luckily the sea of alcohol slowly calms down after being let go of. Doyoung stares at the amber-coloured liquid, his eyes following the whirlpool until it completely stills within the glass. When it finally stills, his eyes tear away from it.

"Shower," he tells himself quietly. It's more like a self-reminder than a command. Even though the hot water is running, he fails to notice the starting smog in the room, thus forgets that the shower water is already running. His tired limbs start taking off remains of clothing but only one item is removed from his body: his underwear.

When his brain wraps itself around the thought of his underwear, he is capable of thinking back about last night. Simply because his underwear was the last remaining piece of clothing on his skin before a drunken night of pleasure with you. He briefly recalls the flavour of liquor on your lips, even though he was the one to spread that flavour. The feeling of your soft-skinned body against his, even though he treated it far from soft.

As water flows, so do his thoughts. His thoughts are like an uncontrolled stream of water, whilst the shower-head can easily control the flow. It's an endless stream: as shower water continues running, so do his thoughts. The shower is forgotten as he listens to his thoughts and memories, trying to relive them in the order that they happened. Did he see Taeyong flirting with you after he sensually kissed you? Did he kiss you sensually after Taeyong flirted with you?

The relived memories of Teayong bring fog to his mind, clouding all other memories. Out of nowhere, he starts comparing himself to his friend: is Taeyong as wealthy as he is? Does Taeyong have as many songs under his belt as he has? Can Taeyong please someone as he does? Is Teayong as beautiful as he is?

In particular, the last question seems to haunt his mind. It's something he can easily observe by comparing Taeyong's godly-given looks to his own. Just like the artwork "김서림" or "Fogged Mirror" by Uesong Lee, his own mirror above the sink is heavily fogged.

Cloudy. That's what the mirror looks like, and the one word that could describe what the weather was like up in his brain. Memories that he could recall seconds ago are replaced by grey clouds that only provoke him to compare himself to one of his friends.

He tilts his head upwards confidently, the way of being disappearing as fast as it came. His reflection is clouded with fog, almost like the summer sun that gets covered by a thick layer of clouds. Faintly, he can make out the colour of his hair and skin, but not more than those blurry visuals.

With his flat hand, he wipes over the mirror to see a distorted version of himself. The lack of usual scraping sound is what takes his attention, keeping his hand pressed on the reflective glass. He wipes once more, only hearing the almost-squeaking sound rather than the scraping.

His eyes meet the circumjacent parts around his hand. Many scratches left behind on the glass and his hand that seems to smooth over the scratches rather than adding more. His ring. The culprit. His finger is not dressed-up by the silver band, neither is the mirror tortured with a new scratch. Why wasn't it around his finger? After twelve hours of being home with you, the connecting ring still wasn't around his pinky.

"Doyoung, are you almost done?!"

Your voice hides panic but it doesn't stop you from sounding frantic even from the other side of the door. The look on your face is almost predictable, but still at a level that's never seen before. The electronic device is tightly engulfed in your hands, squeezing so hard that your warmth radiates to the device.

"I'm almost done, why?" His voice sounds just as frantic as yours does. His fogged mind now filled with panic after the imagination of you seeing the ring somewhere laying around. If you found out he slept with you without wearing his ring or even spent almost twenty-four hours without ring, you would be mad. Would you?

Both of you swallow thickly at the same time, something inaudible to the person on the other side of the door. "Just come out, Doyoung!" You say louder, angrier. As a response, Doyoung tries his best to clean up the bathroom as fast as he can. The untaken shower is still warm when the water gets turned off, the fallen bottles are brought back to their original spots. And the glass of alcohol is back in Doyoung's left hand.

Out of the hamper, are taken some old clothes that should have gotten washed rather than worn again. But the clothes still find their way around Doyoung's skin, covering up his bare body with his own scent. On the clothes, he can smell alcohol, sweat, his cologne: dirty but nothing unusual. It's the scent of him.

Once dressed and provided with the glass of alcohol, he opens the bathroom door. When you're not standing in front of the door as he expected, his footsteps hunt through the apartment in search for you.

The living room is the place where he looks for you first, and the place where his hunt stops. After eyeing you, his gaze drifts to the ring that is on the coffee table, neatly laying where it usually waits for Doyoung's arrival. Unlike other days, the piece of jewellery looks lonely.

"What's wrong?" Doyoung inquires. Your tense figure provokes him to do the same. His shoulders straight and his finger fumbling with one another, unknowingly he imitates the signs of stress you show.

"You would know if you checked your phone," you announce. Your own phone is tightly clutched between your fingertips and if you unlock it, you'd be faced with the consequences of stupidity. "I will look for my phone," Doyoung offers as his eyes wildly dart around. His phone isn't on the coffee table like his ring is, neither is it laying on the dinner table.

"Just leave it, I'll read it to you instead!" You huff. Are you angry? Or displeased? The many underlying hues in your voice makes Doyoung wonder what emotion it specifically is, and what he should do to result in the concept of positive emotion.

"Soloist Kim Doyoung admits to dating after a surfaced picture of the couple kissing and leaving a party together."

The headliner that is worded in many different ways on even more different gossip pages. More articles are written about the discovery than over the fact that idols should be allowed to date and find happiness with whoever they fancy. Twelve hours later than the occurrences of the kiss and the pictured flee, you went from unknown to identified.

You don't need to read any of the articles to understand what they consist of, the title says it all. Neither do you need to see the reactions of others, you already know the results. People will invade your privacy, see you less as a person and more as Doyoung's shadow, spread hate-filled words about you wherever they go.

"And, what do you think of that, hm?" You loudly question your lover. Doyoung is awfully quiet, even more, quiet than he is in his sleep, but that doesn't mean he's as peaceful as he is during his resting time. The little signs that he imitated before are now individual signs of stress: plucking his nails and then rubbing his fingertips together to soothe the pain. "What do you think of that? Is that why you badly wanted some 'alone-time' with me!?"

Last night's numbing music now remind you of camera flashes, it's a sound that endlessly repeats in your mind. It starts with one camera flash but suddenly your ears are overwhelmed with the imaginary sound of cameras flashing around you.

You're pulled away from your thoughts when you hear a loud slam. When your eyes find focus, you see Doyoung's fist against the wall, painfully crumbling down the wall after the harsh contact between the materials and his bone-filled body. "Shit!" He loudly curses.

"One reason which is love, that made me promise to keep us together. But as I grow taller, I crush down due to the high wall named 'reality'"

❧ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ : "ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ꜱᴍᴀʟʟᴇʀ ꜱᴏ ɪ ɢᴏᴛ ꜱᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ" ☙

"Have you sold out your voice?"

Doyoung's eyes tear away from the silver band that he's toying with between his fingers. First, his eyes meet the wildflowers before he looks at your sitting figure on the other side of the table. Out of shock, his fingertips momentarily halt their actions, as well as the ring, ends up being held between his thumb and index finger.

Memories invade the other thoughts once more: memories of breaking points in your relationship. Multiple factors caused the breaking point to approach sooner than expected. His addiction to alcoholic beverages, the hidden and yet exposed relationship, jealousy, the lack of time. Were those valid reasons to end the love song early? Maybe not, but it still happened.

It still happened. His vision starts to portray the day the love song ended tragically, he can already hear the passage that is usually called the intro. It opens the movement or a separate piece, preceding the theme or lyrics. The intro abruptly stops when a different sound is heard.

The sound of something dropping onto the wooden floor stops the ticking of the clock against the wall. Time seems to stand still and yet the object hits the floor before the fragment is paused. Doyoung's fingertips don't intervene: the silver band falls from his fingertips and onto the floor.

If only that sound had been included in the conclusion of the song, it would have completed the song structure perfectly. A tragic downfall before all ended, the music fading out sadly once the ring had been fallen. Though the song has been written, and this only belongs to a badly-written sequel.

Doyoung's eyes are quick to follow the untrammelled movements of the ring, eyeing the trail it could take before it barrels past his eyesight. He bends over his body slightly, reaching a little further so that his fingertips reach the floor. The ring comes to a halt, throwing itself down after one more ceremonial twirl. To pick it up, he allows his thumb to assist his index finger, holding it between his digits before he brings it up.

Your eyes intensely stare at the silver band between his fingertips, your eyes feasting on trying to recognise the familiar object. After scrutinising the object from a distance, realisation hits you like a brick. The ring. The ring that was an unspoken promise of your relationship, the almost cursed object was in your apartment, held by your faded summer sun.

Doyoung notices how your investigating gaze changes to an expression of shock. His eyes never leave yours, they stay focused on you, even when he straightens his body again and straightly sits on his chair. The moment, he's properly seated again, your body indicates that you want to get up.

Despite your body preparing itself to stand up, you stay seated. "Why are you here?" You question him. The shocked expression on your face transitions into something much darker. It's not anger, neither is it confusion. Your expression displays disapprobation, disapprobation towards his presence.

It's not you who stands up from the chair as your body tells you to do, it's Doyoung who takes initiative and straightens his posture after standing up. He doesn't respond to your question with words, but seeing the silver band that suddenly is around his pinky, the answer to the question is almost screamed out.

Just a few mere seconds after Doyoung gets up from his chair, he's already standing on the other side of the table. The side where your tensed body is seated on a chair, the side that he was able to see when he stared ahead of him, the side that allowed you to look at him. He takes in your appearance briefly: your tensed shoulders that you keep raised by your arms that lean upon the table, your gaze that is fixated to the current empty chair on the other side of the table.

To receive your attention, Doyoung wraps his hand around your upper arm, tugging at it lightly so that you would shift your gaze and body towards him. Though, your body is tense, barely moving despite his light tugs.

The second tug on your arm causes you to finally interact, stopping the ignorance because you want answers. You shift your attention to him by pulling your arm out of his grip as you stand up from the chair. You turn your body to face his and look at him with the same dark expression. "Why?! Why are you here?!"

You wait for an answer. Not longer than a few seconds before you run out of patience. It's not the first time your question is left unanswered, and for once, you're not willing to take silence as an answer. If he's here to apologise, then you want to hear it from his lips. If he's here to talk, you want to hear it coming from his mouth. If he's here because he 'accidentally' passed by, you want to hear the words coming from his vocal cords.

Your question only leaves Doyoung to look down, his lips sealed like there's a secret on the tip of his tongue. All of the questions you ever asked him are left unanswered, and this one might finish that list. Even if you say you're not willing to receive silence, you let it happen. "Leave, if you have nothing to say," you mumble before pushing your body past his. Your feet are lost within the own space of your apartment: are you heading to the door? Fleeing towards your bedroom? You don't even know.

Doyoung's feet follow your hesitating footsteps. Slowly and almost inaudible as you're standing still, so there's no need to rush. He halts his own feet a step behind the line where yours are perfectly aligned. Without being granted permission, his hands are placed on your shoulders before lowering towards your waist. Engulfing you in his arms.

The embrace lasts no longer than two seconds. Your body turns towards his again, breaking the physical contact. You want to step away from him again, flee towards a location that you have yet to figure out. You almost do, but Doyoung is fast to hold you back from doing so.

His flat hands place against both your cheeks, his fingers slowly curving in the form that your face is shaped in. Sometimes his thumb twitches, which is seen as a gentle caress over your facial structure. "Look at me, my beloved," he whispers, his lips barely moving but they're parted as a signal he just spoke.

And you do.

Tear-filled eyes stare into his. You look past the reflection of yourself, staring into the black-coloured pupils of Doyoung's eyes. Compared to your rheumy-looking eyes, his eyes are filled with much more sentiment. The wet layer on his eyes makes them shine, shine like the summer sun. Summer sun, a name you would affectionately call Kim Dongyoung.

Doyoung rests his forehead against the side of your face delicately. "I'm sorry," is all that leaves his lips the moment he feels your skin against his. As much as he wants the moment to last, his feelings start to run ahead of his actions.

A first kiss is placed on your cheek, but it doesn't stop there. It rarely does. His lips are quick to return homewards to yours. It's a gentle brush that indicates what both of you have been missing out on.

With your lips connected, a kiss is indicated. It doesn't start with a gentle peck, the kiss is deepened before it properly started. Doyoung's hands are lightly wrapped around your throat and jaw whilst your hands steadily grip onto his shirt.

With each short breath in between the kisses, they evolve towards something much more emotionally charged. Many feelings pour from mouth to mouth: lust, sadness, anger, desire. Love bubbles in the pit of your stomach but you can't taste its flavour upon Doyoung's lips.

"Summer sun," you mumble against his lips before you can stop yourself. The affectionate nickname making Doyoung's fingertips tighten around your throat, tugging a strand of hair along in the process. The feeling stimulates a quiet moan to slip from your opened lips.

Doyoung's tongue grazes between your upper and lower lip slowly, begging for permission to be a part of you. Your parted lips grant him wordless access to which he wastes no time to explore your mouth.

The amorous kiss allows you to feel the warmth behind Doyoung's parted lips, just as he feels the inviting warmth behind your lips. His tongue finds yours in an overlapping moment: what used to be a battle is now two puzzle pieces being perfectly aligned. As his tongue curves, yours does too around his. The heat becoming the glue that keeps the two of you together until each unidentified spot has been explored.

One hand moves away from your throat, trailing upwards to the back of your head. You're effortlessly pulled closer against Doyoung's body, causing his lips to press harder against yours during the kiss. You're left breathless, but Doyoung uses his last breath to give you a belated answer.

"I'm here because I want you back. You're my remedy."

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