#the online intensive begins and idk what to expect

[asvterias]

𝖱𝖾𝖽 𝖫𝗂𝗉𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖲𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌 ~ 𝖲𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖣𝖺𝖼𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖺

summer masterlist

helping palestine 🇵🇸

warnings: just some cursing!!

pairings: summer dacosta ✘ black!fem!reader

summary: desperate to cure your boredom, you convince your girlfriend summer to initiate a bet, both negotiating the consequences for the loser. much to your surprise, you won the bet and summer isn’t quite frankly enthralled as you.

genres: touch starved!summer, reader and summer are cute chaotic couple goals asf!!, reader is indecisive (LIKE ME Y’ALL), summer has a morning voice (OMG) reader kinda easily forgets things, summer is a sneaky little minx to reader, consent is sexy, there is very little breast foreplay (fully clothed), making out scene, hickeys, seductive suggestions (again NOT SMUT; just making out)

word count: 5.3k+

tag list: @xanasaurusrex @star-girl69 @nvirskies @novastarrs @sh1nnryuu @yourmom-25s-blog @matchmalonee @missingaevelynhugo @karslyn @symp4nat @marvel8169 @lyzsaphrodite @babyzzlove @shark1008 @rztaros @oceaies @oceean @slaggylemon @sleighingstella @f4riedimples @kt88

author’s note: a little blurb i thought was cute because i think summer is an underrated dior character who deserves recognition too! officially i’m not sure that i’ll begin writing for summer as yet, so i’ll just see how this one goes! next, i know absolutely NOTHING about makeup! also, i didn’t expect this oneshot to be this long, but the longer; the better, right?! for some reason, i kinda felt like this oneshot was mediocre in a way, but idk.

The following night was a lazy one, Summer’s parents went out grocery shopping with her siblings, the errand probably taking the whole day. It was around 7pm when her family left, and you were beginning to get bored of rewatching your favorite TV series. Fueled by boredom, you made a bet with your girlfriend; who would last longer without social media. It wasn’t a fair bet, you realized that, but there were no other challenging bets in mind right now.

You won the bet and your beloved girlfriend Summer lost as you rummaged for the makeup products on her bureau, leading up to your current position. To be exact, you straddled her lap, keeping her secure from escaping from your grasp, as you applied makeup onto her face. Annoyed by the turn of events, Summer kept her irritation silent, eyes settled lovingly onto you as a wide grin overtook your face.

Truth be told, you knew you were going to win, just by your patience and capability alone. To your knowledge, you took an interest in many hobbies so you weren’t glued to your phone, unlike your girlfriend. Since the day you started dating, you hadn’t fully comprehended her obsession with her phone, a constant need to update her followers about her everyday life. But as months passed, you learned to tolerate it, because of the love you held for your girlfriend but her addiction to her phone is very unhealthy. It was time for her to detach from the online world and reconnect with the real world.

As previously stated, the terms were that if you lost, you create a ‘get ready with me’ routine on YouTube and if she lost then she’ll allow you to put makeup on her. She hardly uses makeup, preferring to be all-natural, observing intensely when you do it yourself. You were quite enthusiastic about the outcome, but Summer not too much.

Her face was already cleaned and moisturized, ready for your magic hands. “You lost the bet, deal with it,” you squinted your eyes at the curly-haired girl as you added the concealer, and applied the powder across her cheek with the brush. Natural makeup was more simple and much less of a hassle Summer was preparing to make.

“It wasn’t a fair bet,” she huffed, slightly squirming under the brush’s touch.

“You can’t go on without your phone for an entire day?”

“What else is there to do?”

“Literally anything else, find a hobby and pursue it. Your phone isn’t everything.”

“This phone is my life,” she continues, holding the device tightly in her hand, and you send her a rhetorical look, “Besides the literal love of my life,” she attempts to reinstate herself but miserably fails at doing so.

“Nice try,” Summer meets an unimpressed look.

“Do you wanna blog this? My fans will love our wholesome moments.” She picks up her phone, ready to record.

You block her back camera screen with your hand, which her smile deflates and a pout forms on her face.

“Hmmm not tonight babe, social media just twists up every wholesome thing and makes it poisonous.” You closed the powder compact, discarding it in the heap of makeup supplies, and searched for your next item; the blusher.

“A lot of words just came out of your mouth that I didn't understand,” she deadpanned.

“Let me put it in much simpler terms, you are not blogging this, put your phone away and enjoy the real world, not everything has to be on social media.”

She nods reassuringly, placing her phone face forward on the desk beside the bed. You smile in appreciation of the action, finally discovering the blusher, matching with Summer’s undertone, returning to the task at hand.

“Well I apologize for doing that, I just want the world to see how beautiful my girlfriend is so they can be jealous.”

You laugh, “It’s not like I banned you, babe, just no internet today. Just both of us alone.”

Rolling your eyes playfully, throwing the blusher away as you picked up the eyeliner item.

“I’m not arguing with that.”

You flick the eyeliner tube onto her forehead, causing Summer to wince. “Keep still, babe,” you demanded the girl below you who shuffled. Very carefully, starting with her right eye, you drew in the eyeliner and hurriedly completed the other one.

“You know you’re really pretty,” Summer confesses, squeezing your hips, and making you squeak out in surprise. Summer was lucky that she didn’t get jabbed by the eyeliner pencil, or else this would have taken a different toll, involving sudden cries and pleas of apologies. The heat rushed to your cheeks, very grateful that blushes weren’t visible on your melanin skin, but rather by your frantic and flustered actions.

“Are you trying to make me lose focus?” you quirked an eyebrow at her, almost accusing her of such treachery.

“Why would I do that?” your girlfriend asks, slightly tilting her head, “It’s the truth, you are really pretty.”

You grin, staring at Summer, and planted a small kiss beside her lips, intentionally aiming for a faux kiss. She opens her mouth to protest, but you are faster, mentally prepared for your next words.

“Complain and you’re on a kissing ban.” Yep, you knew her real weaknesses, so just use the right timing and it was the perfect ultimatum. Your girlfriend immediately closes her mouth, letting you get back to work.

“No pouting,” your hand squeezes her cheeks, forcing out a fish lips imitation. She looks down at her gleeful expression, eyebrows furrowed as she stares up at you. “I don’t like seeing my girl sad of any sort.”

Once she nods, you let go and grab the mascara tube as her fingers roam down your thighs, lightly brisking the soft flesh.

“We’re halfway there, my love. Are you still gonna be patient with me?”

Upon your kind request, she nods enthusiastically with a half-lipped smile so you can apply the mascara. You chuckle, opening the mascara cover, and leaning towards her face, your breaths intermingling as one. She traces small shapes in your thighs and you bite down your lip in full concentration, a firm grip on the mascara as you begin to skim on her eyelashes.

“You’re really cute when focused.”

“How? You could barely even see me right now?”

“Because I know my lovely girlfriend from the heart.”

By now, her makeup was nearly completed, only the eyeshadow and lipstick needed to be done. You told her to open her eyes, showing her an eyeshadow palette consisting of sorts of shades.

“What color do you want?”

“Any color to your liking.”

“I’m indecisive as fuck be so serious right now.”

“Go with your instinct,” she attempts to narrow down the options.

“Hmmm…well, the red makes your eyes pop, but so does the green. Red, I’m choosing red!”

“Attagirl,”

“Close your eyes.”

She sighs heavily, doing as instructed. “Stop being overdramatic, that’s my tactic.” You retort.

Good thing, eyeshadowing felt like a breeze to you, and Summer’s patience allowed it…well for the most part. “Are you almost done yet?” she whined, her mouth astray and her eyelids began to flutter, ruining your technique.

“Stop moving your eyes, babe.” you gritted through your teeth, gently grabbing her face, carefully keeping it in place.

“It’s ticklish.”

“I know, my love, but please stay still.”

“You know if you wanted a kiss, all you had to do was ask, my kisses are unlimited to you, just like my unconditional love for you.”

“Sweet talker, sounds like you’re the one desperate for a kiss,”

“Fine, you got me!” her sweet tone disperses, tone dropping a few octaves, pleading with her doe eyes, “Now please, can I get a kiss?”

“Not with that attitude!”

She exhaled quietly, reinforcing her statement, careful to avoid getting on your bad side, “Can I please get a kiss from you?”

You grinned at Summer and planted a small kiss on her lips, very similar to a soft peck.

She protests in annoyance, “Hey what was that?”

You leaned closer, noses hardly glazing as Summer’s breath hitches and the couple shared immediate eye contact. She thought you were going to kiss her, but she thought wrong, observing the coy smirk resting on your lips.

“It was a kiss, my love.” you leave a wet kiss on her nose, smiling softly as you pull away. Summer was so flustered that it was adorable, urging you to continue.

“Hardly even a kiss!”

“Be grateful!”

She huffs, crossing her arms, frustration reflecting on her facial features.

“Still wasn’t a real kiss…”

“You didn’t specify which kind of kiss,” you inform her, “Details are very important.”

“Yeah, I know that…” she whispers, avoiding eye contact and her fingers thrum against your hips.

“And, yet?” you hinted.

“You know I prefer real long kisses.” she babbles on, connecting her eyes onto yours, giving you a pointed look, “Where they’re sweet and passionate and not haste and torturous like that kiss was!”

“How about after I’m done with your makeup, with no more complaints than we can makeout. How does that sound, babe?”

She begrudgingly nodded slowly, seemingly understanding the deal, and relaxed her head further into the pillows. Finally, you’re doing the lipstick, that part Summer actually enjoys. Your girlfriend kept you under a keen eye, analyzing your movements, and thinking about what to do next. An idea popped up in her mind, an irking thought just to witness your reaction as you close the lipstick lid, and a devious smirk forms on her face.

Very swiftly, she brings her face towards yours, hastily pressing a large sloppy kiss onto your lips, the red smudge visible as Summer smirks smugly.

“Babe…” you send her a warning look, lips pursed and an eyebrow raised, trying to process what she just did. “Please tell me you didn’t do what I think you just did— Summer!” You looked at her, blinking as if that would turn back time. Maintaining eye contact, as you stared in silence, stealthy of the other’s movements, drowning out the music playlist Summer’s stereo was playing.

Muah! Another red kiss mark at the left corner of your lips.

“Stop–“

Muah! Another red kiss mark at the right corner of your lips.

“Doing–“

Muah! Another red kiss mark on your nose.

“That!”

Muah! This kiss lasted longer for some reason, her lips landed on your neck, eagerly waiting for another sloppy kiss but it never came. Instead, multiple sloppy kisses were littered all over your neck, the red lipstick mark, leaving faint residue wherever her lips touched.

You grabbed her face, halting her actions any further, “What was the point of it?”

“Sorry, not sorry, babe.” she grinned proudly, “I couldn’t resist your alluring charm any longer.”

You felt flustered underneath her gaze, hanging your head down slightly, avoiding eye contact with her as you released her face from your hold.

“All that for endearment?!”

“It wasn’t for nothing if we’re being honest.”

“Please enlighten me then.”

“Well for starters, this is more fun.”

“I love you,” you murmur, caressing her face.

“And I love you too.”

She could kiss you a billion times, and that still wouldn’t suffice for you, Summer made sure you know that on numerous occasions, often being the one to overextend your kisses. You felt your girlfriend’s smile in the kiss as she deepened it, her grip on your waist tightening.

It was one of those slow and steady kisses that you cherished with her. There was no need to rush your makeout, a calm chaste kiss sealed the deal and got the point across. You missed her dearly throughout the first school semester during face-time calls and so did she. Summer was just drowning in your lips, radiating her 3 months of yearning for you, putting all of her passion into these kisses, just like she promised to achieve in those phone calls she’d make daily for you.

Yes, to others, it could be acknowledged as small, passing it off as nothing, only to be forgotten. But not for you.

You adored the tiny detail that Summer attempted to improve for both of you, mainly for you. Seeking the desperation of needing your approval of her kissing techniques. She was persistent in making you know that she cared about passion and intimacy, just as you did. She practiced, and over time she majorly progressed, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world and Summer could still feel it when you kissed her. Other times, you’d found her hot in her enraged state, mindlessly admitting that, engaged in the intense make-out, which only boosted her ego, yet calmed her down.

Sucking in a breath as the kiss intensified, one of Summer’s hands traveled to your lower back as the other remained on your hips, lightly squeezing the flesh there. You moaned in the kiss, spurring your girlfriend further on as she tugged at your lower lips, biting down gently, hardly enticing any discomfort from you.

Summer gave you time to adjust yourself again as she stared at you in contentment. Your hand teasingly runs down from the crevices of her breasts down to her toned abdomen and her breath hitched at this. However, she gains dominance as her hands grip the flesh of your thighs, squeezing down on them as you shuffle slightly.

She couldn’t go on with another minute without your loving kisses. Those kisses shared with you, your soft and sweet lips, were like nicotine to her, a special type of drug, stupidly yearning for your lips even more. Insanely addicted to your lips making her act crazy, practically begging on her knees for an ounce of your attention, wondering if you saw her in the same light she perceived for you.

Eventually leading up to where she can get insanely high, and resist the temptation to become sober. Never take the risk of being sober if it means that she gets to be high off of you every day, obsessed by everything you achieved. Like hell was your girlfriend was gonna waste the chance of losing your touch once more, she’d be crazy enough to beat those allegations.

The Dacosta girl was known for her stubbornness, nothing certainly new there, even timing you with barely a minute to spare.

As a matter of fact, she hastily grabs your face, with a decent amount of force, connecting your lips with hers, creating another powerful kiss. With one hand lightly caressing your face and her other hand still squeezing your thighs with much added force. Taken by surprise, your eyes slightly widened and ferociously captured her lips again in a luscious manner. Summer’s back crashes on the bed, dragging you down with her, not breaking a sweat, keeping you close and connected with her.

Just like that, her lips found yours and it was another competition between the two except it was more than friendly. Both of your lips were swollen but neither of you chose to acknowledge it, wanting more of the other in your presence. Deepening the kiss, Summer slid her tongue into your mouth and explored inside of it.

Before things could have highly escalated, your girlfriend pulled away, stared at you lustfully, and attached her mouth to your jaw, smearing some lipstick residue there. Soon after, she switched to your neck, eager to produce markings, only meant for her intentions. You moan lightly in response, gripping the back of her head as she sucks harshly on your neck, creating hickeys.

The next day came quickly, the sun peeking through the bedroom curtains as you stirred gently, annoyed by the sunlight, shoving your face into Summer’s chest. Entangled up in each other’s arms, you lay on top of Summer as the couple slept soundly underneath the soft comfort of the bed sheets.

Your ears perked up at random shouting, but you shrugged it off, hoping it’d just bypass. You were so wrong, so very very wrong, instead of the shouting getting further and lower, it became louder and closer. The abrupt sound of vague footsteps halts when you feel another weight collide on your bed, jumping onto you and Summer. You groaned, shuffling as two other weights crashed onto the bed, ruining your sleep. Unfortunately, the sunlight didn’t wake you up, it was your friends who did.

“Y/N!” the group of three shouts in unison, yanking the bed sheets off of you. Summer stirs awake slightly before fluttering her eyes open, tightening her grip on your waist.

“What the fu—“ Summer hoarsely questions, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, “When did you guys get in here? Why are you guys here?”

“For Y/N, of course.”

“She isn’t available right now,” she advises them, pulling the sheets over you two. “Come back in a few hours or even better, come tomorrow,”

Once again, the bedsheets are harshly yanked off, landing on the floor. Now, you had no choice but to wake up. Sighing heavily, you got up from Summer’s warm chest and sat upright as you hazily stared at your friends, scratching your braids through your bonnet.

“When did you arrive?”

“How was the plane ride here?”

“Is Canada still cold as shit?”

“How long did you plan on hiding her from us?”

“She’s my girl,” Summer states, staring at you and placing her head into your neck, “I’m obliged to keep her all by myself.” You noticed her face was clean, she probably woke up earlier to remove it, refusing to sleep with makeup on.

“Ugh, you two in love are so cute,” Leo smiles.

You and Summer share a glance and she lovingly kisses you on the cheek, feeling her calloused hands wrap gently around your waist.

“I’m so jealous, why can’t this happen for me too?

“It will someday,” Kayla tries to remain optimistic for her friend.

“You saying that is like Ferris’ chances of getting with his crush.”

“Uncalled for.” Ferris rolls his eyes.

“Hey, Y/N,” Kayla starts, peering closer at your face, presumably your neck.

Your eyebrows furrow, seeing Kayla’s curious eyes meet yours, “What’s wrong Kayla?”

“Y/N you got a little faint stain on your neck,” she touched your neck, lightly tapping on the designated area before observing closer and squinting her eyes, “Wait a minute is that a hickey?!”

“Hold up, did we interrupt something?” Leo asked, “I was fine with being unaware.”

“Damn….Summer, I didn't know you were on some type of vampire shit.” Ferris jokes, gesturing to your neck. From the corner of your eye, you felt Summer’s shoulder tense up as did her grip on your waist.

“You can’t keep your mouth shut for shit, I swear,” Summer cursed at her friend, harshly slapping his shoulder, making him yelp out in pain and jump out of the bed.

“You’re fine..you’re fine…” Leo brushed his friend off with a soft pat on the back.

“Her hits really hurt, Leo!” Ferris whines, cradling his right shoulder which your girlfriend took a huge swing at. Kayla and Leo shake their heads as Ferris sits between them, observing Summer’s movements, cautious of receiving another hit.

You sharply turned your head to her, glaring at her as your hand scrambled for your phone, hoping Ferris was just joking. You were very, very wrong! You gasp in astonishment, observing your neck which consisted of multiple red lipstick stains and a newly formed hickey, both courtesy of your girlfriend.

“Summer Dacosta!” you yelled, dropping your phone on the soft sheets. “Look at my neck!” you exclaimed, pointing to your neck as if it were the most obvious thing.

Remaining quiet, she stares at you, uneasiness rising in her eyes. “Relax, babe, it’s not that bad.” She exhales.

“Not that bad?!” You backtrack, “Come again, did you say: Not. That. Bad.”

“Never mind, I take that back, babe.”

“Look at my neck, you did this!”

“And I did a great job.” She answers calmly.

“This isn’t funny at all!” You chastised her, crossing your arms, “I look like a vampire’s appetizer.”

“Darling, we both know that if I truly had my way with you, people think you’re dating a vampire.”

“Wouldn’t be such a bad thing!”

“Trust me, I know.”

You turn to your friends, who seem highly invested in your conversation, almost forgetting their presence. “Guys, can I talk to Summer…alone?” Although it sounded like a question, it wasn’t one, but a kind demand of telling them to get lost or be caught in the crossfire. Obviously, there was no choice but to avoid being caught in the crossfire for them.

“Yeah, that’s no problem at all. Bye, guys!” Leo, Kayla, and Ferris exclaimed in unison, scrambling off the bed and sprinting towards the door. They certainly didn’t want to face your wrath as Summer is about to endure. After all, you were Summer’s girlfriend so she can deal with you all by herself, without any support from them.

“Traitors!” Summer shouted after them, only to get the door slammed in response.

“That was so embarrassing, babe,” you whine, slightly throwing your head back. Annoyed by the circumstances, you held your head up, further examining the mark on your neck, gazing at your neck. “I can’t believe you did that to me.”

“My beautiful girl, they’re our friends, embarrassing moments are meant to be made with them.” she defended, lazily getting off the bed and walking towards you.

“When did you— How did you?” you groan exasperated, holding your head in a worrisome manner, “Why can’t I remember when you made a hickey?”

“That’s a secret I’ll never tell,” She shrugs her shoulders, “And besides…” her arms wrap around your waist, lingering on your stomach as she rests her head on the crevice of your neck. Going off on pure instinct, your eyes fluttering shut as you leaned back slightly, embracing her body as yours, comforted by her warm touch. Lightly pressing soft kisses against your shoulders further soothing you in her embrace, tracing irregular patterns on your stomach. “You know you like it, baby,” she smirks, eyes shining in amazement watching you remove your hand from her wonderful creation, displaying it proudly to the mirror. “There’s no shame in denying it, you know?”

Her fingers gently traced the outline of your hips, sending goosebumps all over your skin, causing your mind to spiral, simply because her touch was too overwhelming. Even with her lightest touch, you’d be wincing at the contact, wondering how your girlfriend has such a sensational touch on you, containing such a powerful control over your body. It was like your body wasn’t your own, rather it was Summer’s, based on her control, and you were the puppet, oblivious to her power. Maybe you liked it…you liked Summer having control over your body, unwilling to fight against her. Perhaps, it was the dominant nature Summer held that kept you grounded, that same power kept you submissive to her entire being. Left defenseless and vulnerable to her words was your mechanism, but it would be a shame to resist her. God, you’d have the horrid option to resist her touch, her words, her affection, her love and you were incapable of doing so. You were too addicted to your girlfriend, and she’s clearly aware of it too, using it to her advantage, having you putty at her commands. She loved gaining the power and you loved giving her the power.

“Show the world your pretty neck and maybe I just might mark you up again, only somewhere where nobody else can see but me.” she squeezes your waist, breathing in your scent, lovingly staring at you through the mirror.

Bringing her phone out, she takes a picture of your neck, all red lipstick stain marks surrounding the hickey, and shoves the phone in your eyesight as you view the photo.

“Don’t worry, baby, this is for my eyes only, nobody else is gonna be blessed with this beauty.”

“But you know..” you whined, “That I’m yours.”

“As much as I am yours.”

“Summer….”

“I promise to be careful…” she huskily whispers in your ear. You inhaled deeply when her hands started to travel upward, but it stopped right above your stomach, “Do you want me to continue?”

You whimper, throwing your head back, and resting on Summer’s shoulder.

“I need words, princess.” She kisses behind your right ear, biting down slightly on your outer ear.

“You can continue…” You whisper breathlessly, her touch on your skin was electrifying, tingling at the slightest movements. Slowly but surely, her hands travel upward until they hover over your breasts. Gripping them both lightly, and squeezing them gently, enticing a small moan from you, spurred on Summer’s reaction.

“That’s my girl…” she pecks your lips, releasing her soft grip on your breasts.

“Now come on, let’s get dressed and meet up with our friends, otherwise they’ll think we’re busy, continuing our rendezvous from last night. and despite that thought is really tempting, our hunger is insatiable, and we both tend to get quite bitchy when we’re lacking food.”

You shake your head in irritation, knowing she’s right but not admitting it out loud. God, Summer was a piece of work but you were utterly obsessed with your piece of work, one of a kind and all yours to cherish.

“You’re a fucking tease, Dacosta!”

“Only for you, my beautiful girl.” she throws you a wink, dodging when a pillow is thrown at her face. She laughs boisterously and makes her way to the bathroom for a shower.

“We’re definitely continuing this later!” you assure your girlfriend.

She peaks her head out, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,”

“And I'm returning the favor.”

“Oh, I would like to see you try!” she chuckled, a light tone of a smile curling at her lips. “Don’t be shy to admit it, babe, you always know I take control.“ she uses a sultry voice, checking you out from behind. “Wasn’t last night a prime example of it?”

You scowl in the mirror, blatantly ignoring the butterflies in your stomach based on her voice alone.

Still, you looked in the mirror, staring intensely at the hickey on your neck, the same red lipstick-stained hickey that refused to come off. The faint red lipstick stain was still visible, fading away slowly, most likely to disappear at the end of the day. Your fingers linger over the mark, blushing at the thought of the red lipstick-stained hickey, a good reminder of Summer’s devotion to love carved beautifully on your chocolate brown skin.

All of a sudden, familiar footsteps brought you out of your stupor. From the moment you shared a quick glance at Summer, a knowing look etched itself onto her face and you bit down on your lower lip.

“Well if I’d known how much you’d be admiring my work of art onto my lovely girlfriend, I would have created more, much more hickeys, no doubt about it. What do you say we skip out on breakfast and get back down to business?” she seductively suggests, grabbing your arm and pulling you in closer.

“Summer!”

“Yes…?!” she coyly replies.

“I like your way of thinking.” her eyes widened at your statement, clearly not expecting that answer.

“Wait? What?” Her confidence simmered down at your response. Normally, you’re the one who complies with her, not the one being in charge.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting shy now?!” You let out a dry laugh, incredulously asking her as you crossed your arms, “After all that hard talk you had, you’re getting flustered over something I said!”

“I’m-…I’m not…” she stammered over her words, “You just took me by surprise is all.”

“There’s always time for a new change,”

“I don’t like this change!” she grumbled below her breath.

“What’d you say, babe?”

“Oh nothing,” she whistles.

“Are you gonna stay true to your word or are you just a phony?”

Her eyes sharply met your gaze and you gulped down the fear, almost instantly regretting your previous words. Walking condescendingly towards you, her hands find your waist too easily, pushing you backward by your hips, not stopping until your back hits the wall. You squirm underneath her intense gaze, aware that she’ll never do anything to hurt or make you feel uncomfortable. She’s too much of a lover girl for you to reach those certain boundaries.

“I’m anything but a phony, and now I’m gonna prove to you that my sentence stands firmly.”

“What are you waiting for?” You stammer out, intensely shrinking when she glowers at you.

“You have such pretty brown skin, flawless even, the perfect shade, every outfit compliments your skin. I don’t want you to ever forget it,” Her face relaxes, tone sickly sweet and she tilts her head slightly.

You stared at her taken back, partially appalled and confused. She was prepared to completely dominate you, show you who’s truly boss, and suddenly she has time to compliment you?! You relaxed at the compliments, Summer was huge on compliments, showering you with them almost every day. Usually, when complimenting you, she genuinely means it, settling for nothing less but to support you. Yet this tone sounded passive-aggressive, and that truly scared you.

“Oh…umm thanks.” You still were hesitant about where this conversation was heading.

“….too bad, it’s gonna look unrecognizable when I’m finished with you.” She finished her sentence with a wicked grin. You felt your heart drop, a pit in your stomach forming massively, whether it was from an undeniable excitement or an unspoken fear, you didn’t know. Either way, you wanted to remain unaware and live in the moment, the adrenaline pumping through your veins, your thoughts running wild, and your heart pounding against your chest.

You wanted to spur her even further, push her to the tipping edge, want her to lose all self-control, and have her way with you. Fortunately, the perfect statement swiftly came to mind, and all that was needed was to confidently assert it.

“Well…what are you waiting for?”

She fell right into your trap, as her lips met yours once again in a more fierce manner, hands clawing at your waist, clutching tightly.

Safe to say, you two were occupied with something far more important, not making it to breakfast, shooting a text to Kayla, briefly informing her.

“Guess they got caught up with something,” Kayla shrugs, flipping her phone down, and continues to eat her pancake.

“Yeah,” Ferris grumbles, picking at his scrambled eggs, “Too busy sticking their tongues inside each other’s mouths.”

“Thanks for the visual,” Leo shudders.

“It’s the truth isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but don’t say it out loud!”

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

© asvterias, 2024. please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works onto any other platforms without my permission.

[lettuce-seize-the-day]

I'm so anxious abt this week and also this summer ;-; and also my life and future in general but Especially tonight bc tomorrow is kinda like.......the beginning of my career

[pascalpanic]

Begin Again (Marcus Pike x f!Reader)

Inspo: Begin Again by Adam Melchor

Summary: Dating apps never pair you with the right people. Until you come across the profile of a handsome, pancake loving FBI agent named Marcus.

W/C: 4.8k

Warnings: lots of talk of food, language, late night deep conversations, some sadness at the end but nothing intense? reader has a pet cat, is that worth a warning? idk

A/N: HI GUYS this is my first full length Marcus Pike fic! I really hope you like it!! thank you so much to @theteddylupinexperience and @sanchosammy for being my best editors and proofreaders and idea givers!!!

note: PLS listen to the song before/after/while reading! it’s one of my favs and it really goes along with the story

Over the course of your adult years, you’ve become convinced that dating apps are complete and utter bullshit. The algorithms never work right, never pair you or any of your friends with anyone worth seeing in person. Maybe that’s just the problem; maybe it’s not the apps but the people. Whatever the answer is, whatever reason you’ve never found success in the endless swiping, you’re through with it.

That was before last week. The rainy Tuesday night left you in your apartment, alone, to succumb to the cold spring dreariness. Over a cup of hot tea, you’d downloaded the app again. Might as well try, right? You have nothing to lose. If worst comes to worst, catfishing an annoying guy is always a blast. The good news is that this app requires you as the woman to make the first move. That’s kind of a downside- you never know how to start conversations- but at least you can’t get unsolicited dick pics right off the bats. Life is full of tradeoffs, you suppose.

You begin again. The app becomes your favorite pastime. Bored at work or home? Dating app it is. Left. Left. Left. Boring man after boring man. One labeled himself super-straight: absolutely fucking not. One holding a fish: nope. A man who describes himself as a gym rat: not your type. It’s a boring way to spend your lunch break, you’re aware, but the entertainment value is fun if nothing else. There are a lot of strange men out there.

After a few days, your luck seems to turn around as the photo of a man with brown hair and warm brown eyes pops up on your screen. He has a scruffy beard and wavy hair, and the way his smile tugs at the corner of his lips makes your heart flutter. He’s really cute, you have to admit. You read the bio next.

Marcus, 35

❗️ Washington, D.C.

Got forced into making this, but optimistic. Lover of art, dogs, and time to relax. Always down for breakfast for dinner and cuddling. Looking for someone with a sense of independence, love of travel, and a sleep schedule equally fucked up as mine. Must love pancakes.

Must love pancakes. That’s absolutely adorable. You immediately think of your cat, named Pancake, and you laugh and swipe right, hoping the man already thought the same of you. Your eyes widen with excitement and you almost laugh out loud from your giddy state when you see the little logo indicating it’s a match.

The first message you send him has to be perfect. You ponder your options for a minute, frowning and furrowing your brow as you think. You don’t want to come on too strong; you’re not trying to sound like you want a hookup. A simple one-word greeting wouldn’t be enough.

You could comment on something from his bio, you realize as you read it again and again. Maybe ask him about his dog? No, that’s too awkward. You want it to be about him, something that can draw him in. Talk about traveling? No, you don’t want to sound like you’re bragging about the places you’ve gone in your life.

Pancakes. Pancakes are good. You love pancakes. You think for a second more, debating what to say, before inspiration strikes and you send off the message before you can stop yourself.

-

Marcus Pike has essentially felt the same as you. He’s a somewhat charming man. He’s had his fair share of relationships, but they never quite work out. His ex-wife, now long gone and blocked from his phone, was an absolute failure of a relationship. He’d gotten close to what felt like true love with Teresa, another FBI agent, but she flaked at the last second.

Maybe the constant here was that he met them in person. When Marcus falls, he falls hard and fast, down an endless spiral of emotions with no escape. Maybe if he met someone online, it would be different. His best friends had all encouraged it, and on a night out not long after Teresa left him, Pike set up his own profile. He liked that the app didn’t require him to make the first move. It’s refreshing.

Marcus had seen your profile hours ago, on a mindless phone break from his work. He’d swiped right too, stunned by your smile and the lovelines you radiated even through the phone. He crossed his fingers for a good part of the day, hoping you’d swipe right on him too.

His day is busy, leaving him no time to fiddle with his phone and distract himself. He eats in the cafeteria, checking up on his phone. After lunch, he’s walking back to his office when his heart flutters as he sees the dating app indicates he’s had a match. He looks at it and swallows hard before stopping, moving to the side of the hallway to allow others to pass. He’s breathing hard, and his heart speeds up when he sees that you are the one that matched with him.

He knows how this app works. He has to wait now, to let you make the first move. He can’t even write a message until you send one. So he pockets his phone again and continues on his walk.

He’s determined on his walk, rushing back to his desk so he can sit and be thoroughly enthralled in waiting for or receiving your response. His phone buzzes several times with notifications, one of which he prays is you. When he finally sits, he opens the app ceremoniously and has to hold back a genuine laugh when he sees your first message.

Blueberry or chocolate chip?

Marcus shoots back a text nearly immediately. Sorry, what?

Your bio. “Must love pancakes”. Blueberry or chocolate chip?

Marcus is absolutely beaming as he leans back in his chair, crossing his legs. Blueberry. Always. I hope that’s the right answer :)

Unfortunately, it’s not, but you’re cute so I’ll let it slide

You called him cute. It makes Marcus’s heart flutter. Come on. There’s nothing like the warm blueberry popping in your mouth.

There is. It’s when the chocolate chips are all melty and creamy.

God, Marcus is already painfully into you. You know what… at least you love pancakes. I’ll let it slide. You got a favorite place?

Anywhere I can get ‘em. You seem like quite the connoisseur, do you have one place in mind?

Jane slams down a stack of files on Marcus’s desk. “Paperwork overflow, Pike. Can you get these done tonight?”

Marcus is the fastest in the office with paperwork, which often leads to him being the one that flies through the files in the place of the people who actually filed it. He nods. What else is there to do? “Sure.”

Jane claps him on the shoulder and wanders off. Marcus watches him in slight annoyance. The best place in D.C. is definitely Sandy’s. Hey I gotta go, text ya later?

I’d love that :)

-

It didn’t take long for your texting to move from the dating app to actual texting. It happened within the same day, in fact.

Marcus messaged you some hours after the initial conversation. Your phone buzzed while you were doing yoga in your apartment, your cat curled into a ball beneath your stomach as you held a downward dog. You nearly collapsed on top of Pancake as you fumbled to sit cross-legged on the end of your yoga mat.

The message from Marcus is bright on the top of your screen. Hi. Sorry that took so long. Work stuff.

Smiling, you take a swig from your water bottle and lean back against your couch. Not a problem. Understandable. What do you do for a living? It’s a loaded question in D.C.; they could range anywhere from politicians to their rich sons to artists and athletes.

I work for the FBI, actually.

Your eyes light up in excitement. That’s the coolest shit I’ve heard. What do you do? Are you an agent?

The man’s responses don’t take long at all. He must be waiting in the chat to respond. The idea makes your heart flutter. Yep, I’m an agent. I work in international art crimes.

You certainly didn’t expect that for an answer. Wow, okay, that’s even cooler than I thought. I was about to call you Agent Pancake but I think my girl would be disheartened...

Snapping a photo of the way Pancake is nuzzling into your side, meowing for snuggles, you have to laugh as you send the photo his way. Funny you love pancakes so much. This little muppet is named Pancake.

Marcus responds with a barrage of heart-eyes emojis, which makes you laugh aloud and scoop Pancake into your lap, stroking her strawberry-blonde fluff. She’s an absolute angel. Like her mother, I’m presuming.

Your cheeks flood with warmth and you can feel the tips of your ears turning hot too. You’ve never even met me, Agent…? You trail off the text, asking for his last name.

Pike.

Agent Marcus Pike. What a nice sounding name. It sounds official and strong and you really like it. Cute last name. Might steal it from ya someday ;)

You don’t normally flirt this shamelessly, but he’s so goddamn cute and funny. You cross your fingers behind your back that this isn’t just a facade, that this is Marcus himself texting like he would to anyone else. You got a phone number?

As you laugh, Pancake paws at your chest to grab your attention, nails nearly digging into the stretchy fabric of your yoga tank top. “Watch it,” you scold her softly and remove her paw from your chest, picking her up and giving her a kiss on the head. Sure do. You want it?

Yes please.

You send your number his way and moments later, your phone pings with a text from an unlabeled number.

Maybe: Pike: hey, it’s Pike :)

You: hey… dammit, I really want to call you Agent Pancakes, but I think my fluffy little heathen would be offended. I don’t know what to save you in my phone as...

Agent Pancakes: Save me as whatever, I suppose. Not my problem, right?

-

The texts became more frequent. Over the course of three weeks, you’d stay up late talking like teenagers, knowing you need to go to bed but unable to bring yourself to do it.

You learned that his middle name was Mauricio, that his mother wanted him to have at least something a little more Latino in his name. You told him the story of how you’d adopted Pancake as a kitten from a shelter and she woke you up one morning with her claws entwined in a snarl of your hair. He told you about his ex-wife and ex-fiancée, Teresa, and you responded that he deserved something better than that. You can already tell that he’s a good man.

At the end of three weeks, you shot Marcus a text. Things seemed to be going pretty well.

You: Hey, you want to do a video call sometime soon?

Agent Pancakes: I’d love that! I’m free tonight if you are.

You: Always free. Shouldn’t you know that?? Doesn’t the FBI spy on us through our phones and whatever?

Agent Pancakes: well, I do work in art crimes. Even if we did, it would be a totally different thing

You: Good.

An hour later, you fidget with your hands as you sit on your couch, the laptop propped up across from you and ringing for a video chat. Marcus’s profile picture bobs on the screen as you wait for him to pick up.

Marcus’s face and apartment fills your screen, and you automatically grin. “Hi,” you giggle and wave, absolutely enraptured by how cute his real smile is, not the forced one in the photos.

“Hey. Nice to kind of-finally meet you,” he tells you and waves back. The wall of his apartment is nothing exciting, but his facial expressions already have you falling. Those big brown eyes compliment natural but ridiculously pink lips, and his brown hair is neatly done. It looks like he’s wearing a tie and a dress shirt; probably his work gear, you suppose.

“You too!” You tell him, unable to stop smiling. “You shaved.”

-

Marcus’s heart jumps out of his chest when he sees you ringing him. He barely has time to flop on the couch and turn it on, propping up the camera across from him.

God, you’re so gorgeous. Your giggle is infectious, making Marcus laugh softly at god knows what. Your grin is equally as contagious, making him smile back. He rubs his jaw in response. “Yeah, yeah. I tend to keep it clean there. Stubble takes too much maintenance, and I have this little patch where it never quite grows,” he tells you as he juts his chin to the camera, touching the spot where his beard can’t grow.

“I like it either way,” you assure him, shrugging a little. “How was your day, Agent Pancakes?” Your voice is the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard, even with the granulated audio over this shitty app. Agent Pancakes makes his heart flutter. “No, not you!” You groan as Pancake climbs onto your lap. “Hi. Your twin wants to say hi.”

Marcus’s smile widens. “Oh my god, hello cutie pie,” he chuckles, launching into baby talk. “What a pretty girl. You make a good Pancake.”

You smile and rub her fur, grinning. “She’s my baby,” you chuckle and set her aside. “Yeah. I’m busy. Leave me alone.” Pancake meows in protest. “Shut up, I’m on a date,” you whine.

Marcus’s ears perk up. “This is a date?”

Your eyes widen as you turn back to him. “I… yeah?” You ask, wincing a little.

He grins back at you. “I like it. And I’m really in love with the idea of seeing your face when you talk.”

“I like your voice,” you flirt back, but you mean it. “It’s so pretty. Do you sing?” You ask mindlessly, studying the way his brow furrows and his eyes convey exactly what he’s thinking.

He chuckles softly. “I used to. I haven’t in a long long time.”

“You’ll have to sing for me sometime.”

When he shakes his head, his neatly gelled hair tries to break free. A strand does, falling in his face. “You don’t wanna hear it, I promise.” He removes his tie, and you can’t help but watch the movement. It’s incredibly sexy.

A mischievous smile makes you bite the inside of your cheek. “No, I really do, I really think I do.”

Marcus rolls his eyes. “Only if you try the pancakes at Sandy’s sometime. I promise you, they’re the best pancakes in the District. I’ve never had the chocolate chip pancakes, but if they’re anywhere near as good as the blueberry, they’re fantastic. And they’re open 24 hours. I go there a lot for late night case work.”

You smile at that, getting cozy on your couch and hugging your blanket. “That does sound nice. I love a good all day breakfast,” you say with raised eyebrows, the teasing in your voice. “Okay, human Pancakes. How was your day?” You ask him again, intent on hearing his answer. Not only is his job fascinating, but he’s adorable when he explains things.

Marcus frowns, and that makes you instinctively frown too. “Well, it’s been good. We’re tracking a huge smuggling ring right now, but since we’ve pinpointed a stock house for them, I might have to travel for a while.”

You frown. You’d been hoping you could have a real date soon, at least. “How long is a while?” You ask him curiously, sipping from your water bottle that sits next to you.

“Couple weeks. No less than a month, probably. I’d… well, I might have to go undercover, which means we couldn’t talk for a while.” His eyes are apologetic, showing that he hates this news as much as you do. “And… I’d leave maybe tomorrow or the day after.”

Your heart sinks. “So soon,” you say with a sad smile, a desperate and lonely chuckle. “Well, if you want to come home to me, I’ll be here.”

Marcus’s smile perks up just slightly. “You would be the best thing in the world to come home to. And I’ll have the scruff back by then.”

“Yes!” You exclaim and laugh, pumping a fist in the air. “I think you’re really cute anyway, but I really love the scruff,” you shrug shyly.

“Maybe I’ll grow it out just for you.”

-

The adrenaline from his first technical-date with you prevents Marcus from sleeping. The call lasted hours, the two of you covering almost everything important in your lives. You talked about your favorite television programs and politics, your parents and your favorite pizza toppings. Talking with him was like nothing you’d ever experience, a connection you’d never thought a dating app could offer.

After several hours, during a lull in the conversation, Marcus suggested the two of you log off. It was around 11 P.M. now, and, even though Marcus has a sleep schedule like a raccoon, he figured you should sleep. He blew you a kiss through the camera, which you pretended to hold to your chest and grin at him.

But now it’s an hour later, just past midnight, and Marcus is antsy. He doesn’t sleep much anyway, but your face is running through his mind like it owns the place, and at this point, maybe you do. Marcus sits up in bed and sighs. He knows the proper remedy for this: Sandy’s. Throwing on a rare pair of jeans and a leather jacket over the white v-neck he wears, he slips on his shoes and makes his way to the tiny, 24-hour diner.

-

The adrenaline is coursing through your veins too. You text any of your friends that will listen, rambling about how beautiful Marcus’s face is and how wonderful it was to finally hear his voice. You pace your apartment, petting Pancake as you pass her perch on the arm of your couch. You try to do a little yoga to calm down but you can’t stop smiling. Marcus occupies too much room in your brain to try to think about anything else.

When it’s just after midnight, hunger strikes. You realize you never ate dinner, too preoccupied with talking to the handsome man to even consider microwaving something from your fridge. Talking with Marcus has instilled you with a love for pancakes, and you think to yourself that maybe Sandy’s would be worth a shot. It’s open late.

So you toss on a jacket and pick up your purse, slinging it over your shoulder and leaving your apartment. You toss the book you’ve been reading into your bag, planning to read it while you sit and eat. Pancake gives a sleepy meow of protest but you just smile and lock the door behind you.

The diner is just as small as Marcus described it to you: just a short line of booths along the windows and a smattering of tables in the middle. There’s a colorful, warm-toned tile floor that juxtaposes the warm green of the walls and the smell of fresh coffee and pancakes wafting through the air. Quiet classic swing music filling the atmosphere. You can see why he likes it: it automatically makes you smile.

You sit in one of the booths, facing away from the door, and the kind waitress takes your order: chocolate chip pancakes and an English breakfast tea. The air conditioning is blasting, making you chilly. You tighten your jacket around yourself and sip the tea when it arrives, adding cream and sugar.

Cracking open the book, you cross your legs and lose yourself in the book. The restaurant has a calming aura, and you can feel the tea warming you from the inside. It’s fitting that Marcus loves this place, you think to yourself.

When the pancakes come not long after, you take a bite and almost groan in happiness. It’s absolutely delicious: Marcus was most definitely right. Disappointingly, you have to go to the bathroom about three bites in.

Even the bathrooms are cute, you discover. When you return, someone else sits a booth away,  another lone diner at this godforsaken hour of night, facing the door. You can see the back of what appears to be a man’s head, neatly trimmed brown hair and a brown leather jacket over their neck and shoulders. Sitting back down, your back to the other customer’s, you return to your book and continue to eat your chocolate chip pancakes.

The customer and waitress are talking, but you don’t pay much attention, too enraptured by your book. It’s quiet again after the man puts in his order, and you enjoy the soft jazz music that makes you tap your foot in time against the tile.

There’s a buzzing and the melodic sound of a phone’s ringtone; one of the defaults that a phone provides. Your heart skips a beat as you hear the man pick up. “Agent Pike.”

That can’t be your Agent Pike, can it? You turn and listen and realize it’s definitely him, from his voice and the way he holds himself and the stack of- of course, blueberry pancakes and a hot coffee set in front of him.

“Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Sounds good. Let me write that down.” Marcus types something into his phone. “See you then. At the office? Good. Alright, see you.” He hangs up.

Standing, you tuck your book back in your purse and put the bag over your shoulder. With one hand, you grab your plate of pancakes, and the other grabs your tea. You set them down across from him and slide into the booth, grinning. “Huh. Agent Pancakes, here, in the middle of the night. How unusual.”

Marcus’s tired face lights up in excitement. “What?” He laughs, his eyes scanning your face. “Why are you here?”

You shrug and take a bite of his pancakes, sighing. “Had to see if they were worth the hype. I couldn’t sleep, you got me so excited.” The blueberry pancakes are absolutely fantastic, just as good if not better than the chocolate chip ones on your plate. “Damn, you were right.”

“Hey,” he laughs and pulls his plate closer to his chest. “Don’t touch my pancakes.”

You make pleading pouty eyes, frowning a little. “Can’t we share?” You tease. It already feels like you’ve known him for years, even though this is your first time seeing him in person.

Marcus sighs. “I suppose,” he says and rolls his eyes in sarcasm, pushing his plate back out so you can access it.

-

Marcus is beyond stunned, absolutely enraptured in how beautiful you are in person. If he thought he fell on that video call earlier, he’s now reached the very bottom of that cliff, the impact of your everything stealing the air from his lungs. God, he wants nothing more than to kiss you right now, on those lips coated in blueberry juice and maple syrup.

The two of you spend quite some time so there, just talking and continuing the conversation where it left off before. The waitress refills Marcus’s coffee twice and your tea once. “So who called you when you were sitting alone?” You ask him as you bring the white porcelain mug to your lips, sipping at the creamy tea.

He sighs. “Guy I work with, his name’s Patrick. He’s a douchebag, I can’t lie,” he says with a chuckle, and his heart flutters at the way you give a soft laugh back. “Just telling me the details. I leave in about 6 hours. I’ll be in Singapore for a couple of weeks.”

“Singapore?” You exclaim, eyes wide as your fork clanks against your plate. “You better be able to contact me.”

He shakes his head. “I told you, I’m going undercover. I can’t.” He sighs, and he dares to reach out and touch you, to reassure you that he’s there and himself that you’re real, that you’re right there. “Will you wait for me?”

Your heart melts, from an already slush-covered river to a rushing rapids. “Of course, Marcus.” It makes his heart skip a beat. You’ve called him lots of nicknames, but never his real name. Something is painfully intimate about it. “I like you a lot; why wouldn’t I?” You ask, shrugging as if it’s the simplest thing. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder.”

When you finish your meals, Marcus picks up both tabs, despite your protesting. “Can I walk you to your place?” He asks as you both stand and adjust your jackets.

You nod and take his hand. The lights of the city are seemingly extra dim tonight, leaving the street lights to illuminate your beautiful face as the two of you stroll along. You have all the time in the world, don’t you? It’s 1:30 in the morning. You’re both already evading sleep desperately. A little more time together can’t hurt.

His hand never leaves yours, his fingers lacing through your knuckles. You chat quietly, as if you could wake the sleeping city from the peaceful blue drone of a weeknight morning into its daily splendor of horns and hordes of speedy pedestrians.

Marcus bumps your shoulder with his, making you stumble a little to the side and laugh as you look up at his gorgeous face. His face reflects the love you’re both feeling, almost giving the city around you a pink glaze of warmth from the rose-colored glasses you must have placed over his eyes.

The walk draws to an end, as you stand at the entrance to your apartment building. Marcus’s body looks so soft and inviting, and you dare to wrap your arms around his neck and hug him to your chest. “I don’t want you to go, Agent Pancakes,” you murmur into the soft skin of his neck, which is starting to get a shadow of stubble.

Marcus kisses the top of your head. He doesn’t move either, prolonging this time you have together before he can’t see you. “I don’t want to go. I’ve never wanted to stay here more than I do now, but I have to.” His arms wrap around your waist, strong and safe.

Lifting your head, you look up at him, your noses practically touching from the proximity you share. The world feels like a bubble around you two, like some impenetrable one-way material that makes it so if Marcus leaves now, he can never come back. “Well, it’s gonna be a long time, a month or two,” you say with a sad smile. “We’ll have to begin again.”

Marcus shakes his head, his brown eyes almost welling with tears. “There’s no one else I’d want to begin again with.” With that, he looks in your eyes, the question hanging there. Wait for me?

Always, you respond silently by pressing your lips to his, kissing him slowly in the orange glow of your apartment building’s entrance. He kisses back, his lips tasting of coffee and maple and blueberry, yours tasting like chocolate and tea.

You squeeze your arms tighter around him, getting on your tiptoes to be as physically close as you can to him. He has one hand on either side of your rib cage, holding you there as he kisses back with all of the passion and love he has.

It can’t last too long or he’ll never leave. He won’t be able to. He breaks away after a few moments, his lips close to yours. He presses your foreheads together, arms encircling you again. “I have to go. I have to be at the office in an hour.”

You lift your head and your brow furrows in confusion. “Then why did you take so long to walk and eat with me?” You laugh quietly.

Marcus shrugs. “Didn’t want to leave you yet,” he admits, his eyes trained on yours. He gives you one last painfully gentle kiss. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you more,” you say with a sad smile. “You’ve been my distraction lately. Whenever I’m bored, I text you.”

He sighs, the confession increasing his frown. “I’ll be in an entirely new place, without you.”

“But I’ll be here, in my same old life without you in it.”

The words punch a hole through Marcus’s heart. It’s true; he’ll have new distractions, new things to do. You’ll be here with a Marcus Pike-shaped hole in your heart. He kisses your forehead, the wheels turning in his head. “If you get a call in the next few weeks from an unknown number, be sure to answer it, okay?”

You nod and smile softly. “You need to go. Go.”

He nods and his hand squeezes yours. “I can’t wait to begin again with you.” With that, Marcus Pike, Agent Pancakes, whatever you want to call him, the man you’re highly suspecting might be your soulmate, walks off into the slightly chilly D.C. night.

-

taglist:

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[ushiwakaa]

𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐄

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : you’re a pre-med student working the closing shift at your part-time job when you find an injured gangster by the dumpster.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : ushijima wakatoshi x gn!reader

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : fluff

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : gun induced injury, ( potentially ) graphic description of said injury

𝐚/𝐧 : sometimes idk if i do this fic thing right !! anyway !! this is dedicated to the brave captains of my ushijima harem , @from-left-to-write​ and @bubbleteaa​ 

While your parents give you what they can, it’s barely enough to pay tuition and living expenses while you’re off at school. Picking up a part-time job gives you some pocket money and something to take your mind off of studying.

The coffee shop you work part-time at is a tiny, yet bustling spot in the heart of the financial district. As one of the few university students that work there, you get the privilege of working morning shifts. This means, you plaster on your brightest smile at six in the morning to laugh kindly with business men who deign to pick up their own coffee and grouchy interns who are dissatisfied with getting their boss’.

On instinct, you smile brightly at the chime of the door.

“Good morning, Washijo-san! How are you?”

The regular at your store was grumpy old thing with a stubby nose and bushy brows. His suits were befitting of his location: impeccably pressed. While he appeared to be perpetually unhappy, you knew that was a lie. You swore to all your coworkers that there was a heart underneath his gruffness.

The elderly gentleman gives an endearing huff, ignoring your question. “Small black.”

You don’t let it deter you as you beam at the man. “Anything else, Washijo-san?”

“Ushijima—” the man grunts— “do you want anything?”

The man on his left silently shakes his head.

“That’s all.”

“Coming right up!” You chime.

Washijo hands you crisp bill — significantly more than his total. When you hand him the change, as he does with every visit, he promptly dumps it into the tip jar. Your heart jumps in guilt but, as a struggling student, you swallow your tongue.

“Thank you!”

Washijo waves you off flippantly as he takes a seat. In his stead, the young man waits stoically by the counter. As you ready the man's coffee, you watch his companion from the corner of your eye.

While you had many questions for the old man, the most interesting mystery of all was the string of bodyguards who followed his every whim. While you’d gotten used to the anxiously eager Goshiki and his oatmeal chocolate chip cookie, your interest was piqued by latest guard by his side. He was strong jawed with a stern look to him — broad shouldered and serious. Like his boss, his well-tailored suit was befitting of the bankers in the area.

“Ushijima-kun, right?”

His eyes are far more intense than you anticipate. Lightning runs up your spine when he raises his head. He nods.

A second is lost on you as you try to compose yourself. “Um… Do you work with Washijo-san?”

“He’s my boss.”

Your heart almost stops. His voice is a deep timber, gravelly from lack of use. His words leave a resounding echo in your ears despite the low volume.

…Is this love? The dopey grin on your face grows.

“You must work around here then!”

He nods.

“Very nice!” You place the steaming cup of coffee on the serving counter before wiping your hands on your apron. “It’s a great place to walk around during your lunch break. Before I got a job here, I worked at the hospital around the corner. I could never decide where to go for lunch.”

Reaching for the coffee, he asks, “Why did you leave the hospital for a coffee shop?”

“It was just a summer internship program!” You reply as you begin plating a pair of sugar cookies. “I’m studying pre-med, actually.”

He gives a hum and you place the cookies in front of him. He frowns.

“We didn’t order those.”

“Don’t worry about it.” It was a feeble attempt to balance out the ridiculous amount the elderly man had supplied to your tip jar over the last year. “You should come by with Washijo-san more often, though! It’s nice to see new faces.”

—

It’s sort of like speaking a curse aloud. You don’t see Washijo, or the young man for a handful of weeks after that. While your tip jar remains fairly healthy thanks to your charming customer service, you do miss the endearing demeanour of the grouchy old man.

Shamefully, you can’t say that you don’t hope to see Ushijima, though. While you don’t share the same rapport with him yet, you would like to. There was something endearing about his quiet personality. He was like a sleeping volcano. There was something hidden just below the surface.

Without noticing, you find yourself grinning into the pages of your anatomy textbook.

After cleaning steadily throughout the night — all you have to do at this point is empty the pastry case and take out the trash. With nothing else to do, of course you spend your free time studying. It’s a boring way to pass the time, but it trickles away quickly.

The clock uneventfully strikes one and you flip the welcome sign.

As you’re looking out of the glass, watching a cat cross the sheet — two men run past the storefront, one taunts their tail with a daunting tune barely muffled through the glass. It sends a shiver up your spine.

Quickly, you lock the door before retreating further into the store.

You definitely prefer morning shifts, but with the younger part-timers out of school for the time being — you had no choice but to pick up the closings for fairness sake.

A sigh escapes your lips as you lament your tragic life as a university student. You push open the back door with your shoulder, lugging along a large garbage bag. It’s a struggle with your weak arms, but you manage to heft it into the garbage dump in the back alley.

As you give yourself a congratulatory pat on the back, you find yourself jumping six feet into the air.

Tucked behind the dumpster is a man, his long legs barely hidden behind the length of the trash heap. While you’d really like to run back inside, shut off the lights and lock up for the night, your morality wins.

“Are you okay?” You ask, coming to his side.

He groans in response.

“Do you think you can stand?”

He shakes his head.

You help him into the back of the store and lead him to sit at your makeshift break table. In the light, you can finally see his face.

“Ushijima-kun,” you gasp, kneeling at his side.

You can see two bright spots of poppy-red blossom into the white of his dress shirt. You stiffen your gasp with the sleeve of your sweater before inspecting his wound. The buttons of his shirt come undone with a touch of your nimble fingers. You swallow back a second gasp. Though you saw a hint of his wounds through the poplin fabric, you’re not ready to stare directly at the angry pucker of red skin in his red pectoral.

“I—” you pull away, patting at your pockets in search of your phone— “I need to call the ambulance. This… This is more than I can handle. Well, actually this is — this is entirely more than I know how to handle but—”

You’re startled out of your panic by the warmth of his touch on your arm. He says nothing to you but shakes his head instead.

“No ambulance,” he appeals.

Your hands drop to your sides. “Okay. No ambulance.”

When you move to your feet, he tights his grip on your sleeve. His sharp eyes, previously wary, watch you desperately.

“I’m just going to wash my hands.”

His grip goes lax.

With the first aid kit hung on the wall and your mediocre knowledge of dressing a gunshot wound, you do your best to treat his wounds. You’ve yet to learn how to clean a gunshot wound specifically but you’ve always been good at guessing games. Applying what you know from the pdfs you stole off the online library: you clean, you dress, and you bandage.

When the silence of it all gets unbearable, you croak, “You know. This isn’t what I meant when I told you to come by more often.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It’s okay,” you reply, disinfecting the wound. You offer an apologetic smile when he winces. “I’m just glad to see you, really. I haven’t seen you in weeks.” A weak laugh escapes you. “I mean, you and Washijo-san, obviously. He’s one of my favourite regulars. I was worried.” You can’t seem to look away from the gunshot. “I mean… I guess it was for good reason.”

He says nothing, lulling the two of you into another bout of silence. You mask your disappointment as you move away from him — reaching for a dressing pack in the first aid kit. As steadily as you can, you apply the dressing to his chest wound.

Perhaps you’re distracted by his chiselled pectorals, or maybe you’re exhausted past the capabilities that your brain can handle at one in the morning — regardless, your startled gaze meets his intensity when he grunts.

For an infinity confined within the limits of second, you can feel his heart beat within his chest.

“This is an occupational hazard.”

They’ve said that lightning doesn’t strike twice, but here you are: silent in an aftershock.

“…This?”

He stares at you for a hard moment. “This.”

“Getting… Shot?”

“Yes. Similar to how an athlete expect injuries, I too expect injuries.”

Your lips press into a frown. “I don’t know many people who would take a bullet for their job.”

“As I mentioned, this is an—”

“Occupational hazard,” you cut him off with a roll of your eyes. “I heard. I guess this means that finding men hiding in my trash is also an occupational hazard.” As you fix him with your sternest glare, you simultaneously smooth down his dressing. “Should I expect more injured men outside my store at one in the morning? Because you should know that I rarely close and I should really pass along the message.”

He has the sense to look embarassed but it doesn’t look quite right on him.

“I couldn’t go anywhere else.” Then, quietly, he adds, “I hoped it would be you.”

A list of places come to mind, but rather than chew him out, you fix him with a stare. You stare at him until you’re sure he can see the questions overflowing from your ears. One glaring question stands above the rest, but for some reason, you can’t manage to ask it. Instead, you stand, putting a comfortable distance between you two.

“Do you want a cookie? I forgot to empty the pastry display.”

—

Other than a handful of students huddled on the couch in the back corner of the café, the store is virtually empty in the last fifteen minutes to close. After that encounter with Ushijima ( who a couple weeks later grunted and said, “Call me Wakatoshi.” ), you began to pick up closing shifts more often. While Washijo lamented this fact to your manager, you decided you liked having Wakatoshi walk you home after your shift more than the tips. 

As you doodle absently in the margin of your textbook, the café door slams open. Wakatoshi isn’t usually so flamboyant, but you’ve learned to control yourself when startled.You look at the clock pointedly, then at your boyfriend. 

“Toshi,” you whine, “you’re — oh. What happened to Tendou?”

The redheaded man hangs limply, upright only thanks to your boyfriend’s support.

“I — believe it or not — got shot!” In spite of his pale face, he’s scarily gleeful.

“Crazy,” you cheer weakly, coming to support him on his other side. “Why don’t you tell me more about it in the back.”

On noticing the injured redhead, the group hightail it out of the store — leaving behind their dirtied plates and mugs. 

“Have a good night!” You call after them.

Tendou rolls his head back. “Have a good night~!”

Over his head, you give your boyfriend a pointed look. He meets your look. While his eyes still smoulder, you can see the tiredness in his movements as well. You give a sigh. 

Biting the bullet, you decide not to chew out your boyfriend for letting his injured friend bleed allover you freshly swept store. Instead, you apply the same care to Tendou as you do when you do when treating your boyfriend.

“You’re better at this than Shirabu,” he says with a contented sigh, munching on the sugar cookie you had set aside for Wakatoshi.

You smile at the compliment. “Thanks, Tendou. Really, I’m still in school though.”

“Don’t diminish your talents,” Wakatoshi proclaims, pausing in his sweeping.

You give him a glare. Without a word, he continues. 

“Rest here for a bit, okay, Tendou? I just need to finish closing up the store and then we’ll figure out what to do after.”

Tendou’s already humming under his breath as you walk back to the front. Wakatoshi, apparently finished sweeping, is behind the counter taking out the trash. He stops when he sees you, coming to your side. Immediately you pout.

“I’m sorry for bringing Tendou.” When your pout doesn’t go away, he takes matters into his own hands and draws you carefully into his chest. “I know it was supposed to be just us, but—”

You sigh. “It’s okay, Toshi. I’m not mad.”

While you’re still encircled in his arms, he pulls away to peer at your face. “You aren’t? You look mad. And, you’re not saying anything. That is an indicator that you’re not okay—”

“I’m upset because that could’ve been you, Toshi. You’re still healing from your last injury. You’re in absolutely no shape to be getting in more fights!”

You smack him lightly on his chest but he quickly catches your wrist. You try again and he catches you, again. You glare at him. He stares at you. You wind back your leg. Before you get a chance to kick him, he wraps his arms around you and hoists you off the ground.

You gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Put me down!”

Rather than listening to you, he hugs you tighter. 

“Babe!” 

Now, he’s walking.

“Toshi!”

When he releases you, the both of you fall into the worn pleather of the back corner couch. The fall is sudden enough to surprise you out of your anger. Still, encaged in his arms, you look up at your boyfriend moodily. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

The gentleness of his words relax you and all you can hear is his heartbeat. 

“I know it’s an occupational hazard, but I can’t help but worry about you.”

His hand moves from your waist to gently pat your hair. “Thank you for caring about me.”

You melt in his arms — there’s something beautiful his softness. 

“Toshi?” You murmur, squirming in his arms to look into his eyes. “You know I love you, right?” 

He gives you a gentle smile, leaning in to give you a soft peck on the lips. “I love you too, baby.” 

—

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @akaashichigo​ @drainedjaz​ @haikkeiji​ @annalyn-annalyn​ @mlkytobio​ @sosugasweet​ @cali-writes-sometimes​  @simping4ratsumu​ @shishinoya​ @ushiwakaa​ @from-left-to-write​ @akaashit-baeji​  @kxgeyamasmilk​ @agaassi​ @hanibuni​ @cupofkenma​  @kawanisshi​ @milkandc00kiez​ @thiccbokuto​ @shinsukestan​ @sufiawrites​ @wakaitoshi​ @skyguy-peach​ @fern-writes-ig​ @briswriting​ @airybby​ @kawaiikraykray​ @bubbleteaa​ @miyuswriting​ @raevaioli​ @ouikarwa​ @hakueishirei​ @pineapplekween​ @estherwritess​ @keiji-n​ @achoohq​ @badlywritten-hq​ @mochibeaa​ @hanzwrites​ @chxrry-wxne​ (  cheese cult taglist  )

[astralsweetness]

I can’t be honest (but neither can you) || Changkyun/Reader (m)

➣ I cannot believe this is my first contribution to Monsta X, this is really how I’m entering the writing side of this fandom OTL Also hello idk how to write short summaries?? I proof-read this at 4:30 AM so please tell me if I missed something lol. Fair warning I switch P.O.V.’s often in this and with absolutely no regard to any writing rules

➣ Changkyun/Reader | Angst[?] with a surprisingly happy ending that I didn’t mean to write | Showcases some bad coping mechanisms from both he and the reader | Mentioned Wonho/Reader, but it’s purely platonic in a sexual way | Smut warnings include: mentions of choking, pegging, fingering, mentions of a ruined sexual scene, sort of self-imposed edging if you squint, hair-pulling, facesitting

➣ It’s been almost a year since he called off the relationship and your name still tastes like a mixture between sugar and ash on his tongue when he says it, your picture is still saved in his camera roll, and he’s taken the plunge these last few months to reach out to you to be friends again. His hyungs tell him it’s a bad idea, and he tells them he knows, because he does, really, he swears he does. It’s just that his heart soars when he gets to talk to you and he can’t remember why he was ever scared of letting you in past that last wall he’d put up, and he’s going to your place and he hates himself because instead of “I love you” he says “please fuck me” and even now he can’t be honest to you about his feelings.

“I want you to fuck me.” He’s standing at your door, speaking in English with that deep voice of his, and you just blink blankly at him - he hadn’t called or texted to say he was coming over, and to be completely honest you hadn’t seen him in over a week. The silence is uncomfortable, but his eyes are intense, and he refuses to shift shyly under your blank stare.

“..well, come in I guess.” You invite him in with raised eyebrows - he goes easily, knowing your apartment like his own home. It’s been almost a year since you two broke up, but he hasn’t forgotten anything. That same stupid plant he hated was still on your table. He had no idea how it was still alive.

“So.. we aren’t together anymore, we haven’t hung out in a while, but you decided I’m the person you want to fuck you. Suddenly.” Your tone of voice conveys your lack of belief - this sort of feels like some very strange joke, but you have no idea who’d ever come up with one like this.

“You fuck Wonho-hyung all the time, and you aren’t dating him, so why can’t you fuck me?” His words are said in a rush, the first sign of nervousness, and you cross your arms and cock a hip. It’s your default power-pose, lets you feel like you’re in control when you have no idea what’s going on.

‘Is that really all it is?’ you want to ask, but you stay silent. He doesn’t seem aware that when you’re with Hoseok it’s more for the other man’s emotional well-being than it was just to get laid. Sometimes people needed to be broken apart and pieced back together lovingly just to feel okay. For Hoseok, you were a friend he trusted enough to let break him and then take care of the pieces that remained shattered on the floor.

“If you tell me why then maybe.”

“I’m not doing shit for a maybe.” He fires back instantly, gaze narrowing. His shoulders have tensed and he’s widened his stance, an unconscious reaction to the way your own body language had changed. Whether he actually felt it or not, at a subconscious level he believed he was being threatened.

You step forward and snag him by the forearm - the fight goes out of him instantly, replaced by pure innocent confusion as you lead him to your bed. He notices dully that you’ve redecorated your bedroom - though it makes sense considering he was the one who had helped you liven it up before.

“Sit - and try to relax. All the muscles in your shoulders are tensing up.” Your words have the opposite affect you wanted them to have - he tenses more, seemingly thrown off by your care, your notice of his minute actions.

You watch the way his gaze drifts over your room – it catches and lingers on a group picture of you and the rest of his group, tucked safely into the frame of your vanity mirror.

It’s a nice picture, though you really don’t remember taking it. You’re fairly certain everyone was drunk though, since you’ve got your arm thrown around Minhyuk’s shoulders in it, pressing your cheek against his.

It’s cute, even if looking at it is bittersweet. You can see the question on his face, the ‘why did you keep this?’.

“It’s not like I stopped being friends with them just because we broke up.” You feel defensive over your choice, face heating – you weren’t even near him in the picture, on completely opposite sides in it. He just murmurs a soft “oh” that sounds dejected, and you desperately don’t want to think about it.

“Anyway –“ You’re desperate to move on at this point, and he seems to feel the same because his attention snaps back to you. “You’re not really in a position here to argue and make demands, but fine -“ It was just sex, right? For you, anyway. “I can’t literally right now, I have a class in 30 minutes, but if you tell me why then we can negotiate.” You feel like some sort of fucking dealer.

He seems vaguely surprised you’ve agreed so easily, but he works his jaw and tries to figure out how to explain his reasoning to you - whatever it may be. You let him think and go in search of your computer bag. Online classes were a pain, especially those that required attendance in the form of a webcam. The bag has been thrown into a corner of your room, and you sigh and bend down to begin your annoying search.

“Well, we’re not together anymore, so..” You crane your neck to look at him, even as you continue to rummage through your backpack for your computer cord. Damn thing was in there somewhere, you knew. “I don’t have to worry about what you think of me anymore?”

He finishes his statement with an accidental upwards inflection that turns it into a question, and your hands pause before you turn back around and continue searching, mulling over your word choice carefully. ‘You never had to worry’ sits on your tongue, something that is desperate to be said, but you swallow it back down. He wouldn’t believe you and it’d cool the current mood.

“I see.” You finally settle on, standing and popping your vertebrae back into place as your prize - the fucking charging cord - dangles from your hands. Your two words could convey many meanings, and you can see from your peripheral that his brow has furrowed. It’s not the answer he was expecting, though you think he probably didn’t know what he’d been expecting in the first place. “Then - what is it you want?”

“For you to fuck me.” He answers again, and then swallows as he notices your blank stare has returned.

“I know that, you said that. I meant what specifically are you looking to get out of this?”

“I want it to hurt.” His words make your breath catch in your throat, emotions swinging between vaguely turned on and worried. Sure, he’d had some masochistic tendencies in bed before, but - “I mean - I don’t – not physically -“ He’s switched to Korean in the wake of your silence, a comfort language, and you wonder if he even realizes he’s done it.

“Okay.” You respond simply in Korean back and he stops his rambling, just blinks at you. You see the tension finally start to drain out of his shoulders and switch back to English purely for your own sake, because it was easier, definitely not because you wanted to be able to hear his voice speaking your native language. “So long as you promise to use safewords, I won’t ask. I’m not your therapist and I’m not -“

“My girlfriend.” He finishes your sentence quietly, back to English as well, and your mouth goes dry.

“And I’m not here to judge you.” You remedy - you weren’t going to mention anything about your past relationship, and he looks away quickly at that realization. “You mentioned Hoseok -“ His hand twitches at his side when you call his hyung by his real name, but you mercifully don’t call him on this. Maybe this was a bad idea, but you’ve gone this long purely on the denial that he regrets breaking up with you, and it’s too late to stop that now. “- so I’m going to treat this situation exactly like that.”

“Okay?” Changkyun has no idea what that means, his fingers curling into your bedspread. You check the time - 20 minutes until class.

“I’m your friend, and I want to help you. This doesn’t change anything between us, this doesn’t add some extra dynamic, some extra layer.” Your voice has gone business mode and he’s stiffened his back at it, an ingrained response from being in the music industry for so long. “I’m not doing this just because I want sex - if you are, that’s fine, but I’m just doing this to help you out. Is that clear?” He nods once, eyes wide. You think he’s cute. You’ve always thought he was cute, and it reminds you of how cute turned into smitten and smitten turned into perfection and perfection turned into love and love - well, he ended love. “Changkyun - do you promise this is just about sex or release of some kind and nothing else?”

Your tone had softened, and he’d been let out of whatever thrall your no-nonsense voice had put him into. The question hangs in the air heavily, dripping of a nectar so sweet it’s sickening.

“Yes. I promise.” His voice is hoarse, cracking and quiet - and you think he’s lying.

But you’ve held on to your denial for so long. He had said before that the spark was just gone - and what were you supposed to say to that? It wasn’t his fault; people fell out of love all the time. You could barely believe he’d ever been interested in you from the beginning and you refused to believe you were worth falling in love with for a second time. The fact that you had managed to remain friends is more than you could have ever hoped for.

“Okay.” You repeat his assurance, more for your own benefit than his. The room is quiet, and thunder rolls in the distance. Fuck - a storm meant spotty WiFi for your class.

You check the time again - 15 minutes.

“We can use the stoplight system -“ His gaze has blanked so you take the time to roughly translate it into Korean, explaining until his brow smooths out, and then you’re back to English. “Aside from that, though, I need to know what you’re interested in, what you want to happen or don’t want to happen. You can hang out here if you want during my class, or leave, I don’t care - but take the time to think over what it is you want in this session.” Your words are too clinical, you know this, but you can’t keep yourself from doing it that way. You know most of the things he’s into and not into, but if you don’t take this route then it all feels too intimate. Besides, he’d always kept a very careful hold of how much control he’d let go around you before, never wanting to slip too far into subspace, always wanting to seem in command, even when subbing for you. You wonder if that’s changed. You certainly don’t remember him ever blatantly asking outright to have something done to him before.

Memories flash across your mind eye, his back covered in your scratch marks, the way he moaned brokenly when you pulled on his hair, the way he came when you pressed your fingers to his throat. But he never asked for any of it - you had to ask if it was okay to do to him, and he always brushed off any of your attempts of aftercare.

You swallow again, feeling vaguely sick. Things had been broken in your relationship long before he called it off, but neither one of you wanted to admit it. Your heart hurts for multiple reasons, but when you glance at him out of the corner of your eye you know the biggest one: ‘I hope I didn’t hurt him by not talking about it’.

But he didn’t talk about it either. Did he care about whether it hurt you?

“Is that okay?” He’s been talking to you, and you startle out of your thoughts - a half-formed little smirk dances at the corners of his lips, one eyebrow quirked in amusement. He knows you well enough to know when you’ve been drifting. “I said, I’ll stay here if that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah, it’s fine - sorry, was just.. thinking.” It doesn’t really surprise you that he’s decided to stay - he’s confident to a fault, it’s true, but there’s a slash of shyness that strikes through his character, and you know that if he left he might not be able to come back. The thunder rumbles in agreement.

You half-watch him as you set up your computer on the coffee table – he’s looking around your apartment with thinly veiled curiosity, though you don’t really blame him. It didn’t really look anything like when you two had been together, and yet.. you felt it still had his subtle touch all over it. You wondered if he noticed that.

The class is boring, as it usually is – you’re watching the screen but your mind is far away, listening to your admittedly enthusiastic professor talk about the hyoid bone and articulations while your focus is on Changkyun. He lingers around you with a nervous type of energy, clearly not feeling allowed to roam around your apartment (it’d be kind of weird if he had, you admit) but also not feeling comfortable enough to sit on the couch next to you, even if he would have been off camera.

It’s almost like it was before, and you half expect him to sit down next to you anyway and throw his arm around your shoulder, always just off-screen, sitting next to you during your classes while he amused himself with his phone, just so he could be near you.

You’re just about to be able to feel the phantom warmth from the memory of his arm around you before he coughs and you startle, eyes snapping to him – he looks back wide-eyed, not understanding your surprise but murmuring a quiet apology anyway.

God you were so fucked.

.｡..｡.

“So?” The instant your class had ended you’d snapped the computer lid shut – you hadn’t retained a single thing said, what a complete waste. It wouldn’t have mattered if you’d skipped and focused on Changkyun in the end after all. “Did you decide on what you wanted?”

You’re so flippant with your question that he feels like he’s being asked about what it is he wants to eat instead of how he wants to have sex – the entire hour of your class he’d been nervous, and those nerves had by now tightened into a very tight ball at the base of his spine that periodically sent white-hot flames licking along his muscles.

“I –“ His mouth is so fucking dry and he hates how small he suddenly feels – he’d never felt like this around you before, but usually it had always been you asking if you could do something to him, hadn’t it? “I said it earlier. I want you to fuck me.”

He watches your reaction with pin-point precision – the small widening of your eyes, the way your gaze darts to the side like it always did when you were thinking something over – it wasn’t like you hadn’t ever fucked him before, but he’d never asked you to do so, and you clearly hadn’t expected him to come out with something like that so easily.

Why the hell could he say something like that and not something as simple as ‘I love you’, or even ‘I miss you’?

“Okay.” You’ve wrested your thoughts back under control – it wasn’t fair of him to say something like that, looking so utterly and effortlessly attractive. “As long as there’s no kissing I’ll fuck you any way you like, Changkyun.” You were over him and he was over you and this was just sex.

If you said it enough you’d start to believe it, right?

Changkyun just nods at your terms, looking a bit despondent – you can’t help the strong surge within you that says to fix it, fix whatever upset him, but you have a feeling you knew already. He’d always been a bit fixated on kissing you, but you knew if you let him this time then it’d all be over.

“I don’t remember you ever falling this far into the ‘submissive’ side of things, Changkyun.” You’re desperate to regain the upper-hand, and he flushes a bright red at your comment, grumbling out a weak “shut up” that has you smiling.

“Have you been experimenting?” You’re still teasing him but he bristles at the insinuation that he would have been with anyone after you – you had no reason to think he hadn’t been but the mere thought of being with anyone other than you makes him ache deep in his chest, in his soul.

“No.” He tries to keep his voice calm, but it wavers still and he digs his fingernails into the soft leather of his belt, pausing. “I haven’t been with anyone since –“

He can’t say it, but you understand regardless – he doesn’t like how surprised you look, ducks his head and lets his hair obscure his view of you as he refocuses on undressing. It’s not that you’d been wrong to be surprised with his decision for today, either – before you, he’d never really definitively considered himself particularly dominant or submissive, happy with having the choice to be either at the drop of a hat. That changed with you though – you had been so uncompromising with your power, beautiful and self-assured, and he knew without a doubt that if you so much as even hinted at it he would be on his knees for you every single time.

Not that he had ever told you that, of course. He’d never told you anything he really wanted to. Even now, with you looking at him softly, trying to see if you’d crossed a line with your little teasing jabs, the words ‘I’m happy being this for you’ get stuck in his throat and all he can do is tug his shirt over his head wordlessly, fingernails clicking nervously at his belt as he undoes it. You pretend not to notice the way your heartrate accelerates as he reveals his body bit by bit to you, slender waist but powerful figure, beautiful skin, beautiful body.

“Well, then – lie down.” You gesture to your bed and he swallows down the stupid fucking butterflies he gets at the gesture – he’d been on your bed before, he’d been in this position before, there was absolutely nothing to be nervous about.

And still, despite his nerves, a pleasurable chill runs down his spine when he hears the cap of the lube being clicked open, and he forces himself to exhale as he shifts and tries to get comfortable on a comforter he no longer recognized, in a room that had no trace of him in it anymore.

You look at him with a level gaze, always so calm, and he ignores the erratic beating of his heart and nods his assent for you to begin, immediately shifting his gaze to your ceiling.

Why the fuck was he so goddamn nervous?

(He tries to forget the way he instantly whimpers when he feels your finger, slick with lube, probing at his rim, tries to forget the way he gets hard in under a minute from your heavy gaze and one finger alone, and god he aches for more, aches for anything you’re willing to give him.)

“You’re taking this awfully well.” The teasing comes out unbidden, spilling past your lips before you can even think about the words – but it’s true, for someone who had claimed to not have been with anyone since you he was taking your fingers incredibly well.

“My own hands – fuck – exist..” His snarky response turns into a shaky moan halfway through when you decide to carefully – but quickly – add a third finger. There’s something erotic (and interesting) to you about that, thinking over the fact that Changkyun had been finger-fucking himself ever since you two broke up.

“You look good like this.” It’s an attempt to make up for the previous teasing but all it does is cause him to groan and throw a forearm over his eyes, legs spreading wider when you hit that spot deep inside.

“Fuck, jesus – fuck..” It’s a broken sob instead of an actual sentence (though he manages to stick with English), a familiar feeling already building deep in his gut. He’s not sure if it’s because it’s been so long since he’d been fingered by someone else or if it’s because it’s you doing it, complimenting him while doing so, or if it’s a combination of everything, but his back arches against his will and he knows he is seconds away from coming undone already.

“Stop – stop, oh my god –“ At his desperate plea you stop moving completely and he wants to sob as the pleasurable feeling slowly ebbs away, an almost painful drag as it settles back into a dull burn. He’s gasping, tiny whimpering sounds as he sucks breath back into his lungs, chest heaving – his eyes are wide, fingers curling into your comforter. He looks frantic, frightened almost, and even if it wasn’t your responsibility you knew you’d be desperate to fix it.

“Changkyun, ar –“

“I’m fine.” He bites it out angrily, doing his absolute best to look like he had been anything but moments away from an orgasm five minutes into.. whatever this was. He’s shutting you out again, before anything even begins, and it fills you with such an irrational anger that you have to suck in a breath of your own to keep from lashing out, taking gentle care to extract your fingers even as your blood boils.

“Stop fucking lying to me.” You can’t keep the ice from your words, even if you manage to control the volume and pitch – his dark eyes snap from the ceiling to you in surprise. There’s a panicked feeling bubbling up in his chest, because he really doesn’t know if he can handle you calling him on his true feelings for you right now, doesn’t want to have to admit he still loves you while he’s naked and so vulnerable.

“I’m not –“

“Stop it.” His mouth shuts with an audible click of his teeth, so sudden is your cut-in. Your brow has smoothed out, no longer angry, instead immensely sad, and he’s not sure this is any better. “You said you wanted to do this because you didn’t have to worry about my opinion. So why are you still doing it?”

He can’t breathe, and the lube is drying sticky on your fingers, and for a moment neither of you are aware of the position you’re in, the way the thunder has become your constant background music – he’s looking at you unblinkingly and you’re staring back, and it’s too intimate, too much, but neither of you look away.

“Please stop.” He speaks and it’s barely a whisper, the sound of someone’s heart breaking louder than his voice. You don’t know what to say but open your mouth anyway.

Lightning flickers outside your bedroom window and then your apartment is shaking from the resounding thunder, the power flickering and then plunging the two of you into darkness. Suddenly you can breathe again, and you’re quickly trying to slide out from in between his legs because he said ‘stop’ and he was fully coherent even if he hadn’t said ‘red’, because he said ‘stop’ and you have only ever wanted him comfortable.

“Wait –“ He is frantic, grabs your forearm with frigid fingers as he leans half off your bed to catch you from retreating too far. It’s hard to see him but you get flashes from the light outside your window, electricity reflecting off his dark eyes in starbursts.

“You said to stop.” Your voice is broken and you feel so powerless, sick inside because while you rarely manage to ruin a scene it still tears you up inside each time, and Changkyun wouldn’t let you try to fix it with aftercare and you don’t know what to do anymore.

“I meant –“ Stop talking, stop laying me bare and open, just fuck me and make me forget everything, stop being you so I can stop loving you. “I just want to be ruined.” He says instead, and his voice is so low but so weak that you barely recognize it.

“I can’t do that if you don’t let me.” Your clean fingers curl around his and gently pry them from your arm – but then you keep holding them, and you want to let go but you can’t remember how to tell your body to do so. “Will you let me, Changkyun?”

The air is still and silent aside from the rain slashing angrily at your windows – there is no thunder, your own heartbeat loud enough (or maybe it was his, you didn’t know anymore).

“I want to.” He answers instead, voice quiet but a bit stronger than before, and your eyes have adjusted so you can see the features of his face vaguely now, follow the line of his brow to his cheek to his lips, and you’re leaning in and you hate yourself because you had promised this was the one thing you wouldn’t do.

“Let me wreck you then, baby.” And oh that nickname was a mistake but you’d said it anyway, a ghost of a whisper against his lips, a proposition and a plea all in one. He moves forward the last centimeter and connects your lips as an answer, a sound that is almost one of pure relief being ripped from his throat.

It’s like he’s been waiting years for this moment, doesn’t even fight as you grip his jaw lightly and angle him into a better position so you can scope out the inside of his mouth with your tongue, relearning things you had known long ago but had thought were forgotten.

There’s a flighty feeling in his chest, one of nervousness and expectation – he doesn’t want to give you control so easily, he doesn’t want to be opened and laid bare in front of you, he doesn’t want you to see something you dislike in him – but more than anything he wants you to touch him and keep kissing him and god he fucking misses you, has missed this. He’d asked you to ruin him, you’d asked to wreck him, but he knew he was already both ruined and wrecked just from being near you again, from having your lips on his own.

You try to slide your hands back down his body but he stops you, continues to kiss you as his fingers curl around your own, and the act is so intimate it almost feels wrong.

“Just – hurry up, I’m ready enough.” He manages to say scattered between four different kisses, never apart from your lips for more than a few seconds. You hate yourself for not even trying to stop him, leaning into them each time.

“You can stretch yourself some more while I get ready.” You have to pull away from him completely to say this, and he follows you like you’ve got some magnetic pull on him before you’re off of the bed and the connection is broken.

Even with your eyes adjusted it’s hard to properly get the harness on, fingers fumbling with the straps but managing in the end. You can hear him breathing harsh, anticipating – you can tell from the sounds alone that he hadn’t taken your advice, but you’re not surprised. Always your little pain slut, even if he had never wanted to admit it.

When you approach him again his eyes are wide, brow furrowing as he notices you’re still fully clothed – he keeps his mouth shut tight though, gaze darting in the dark. The storm still rages on outside but neither of you even notice it anymore.

Your fingers on the inside of his thigh startle him – he jumps, trying to close his legs, but you force them back open again. Something about that simple action makes a moan trickle into his throat, but he swallows it back down stubbornly.

He can’t conceal the next sound he makes when you press the blunt tip of the strap-on to his opening, though, a rasping whine as you push in slowly, so fucking slowly. Even with all the lube he knew you’d slathered over the toy it still takes a bit of work to get it into him, and every slight stretch makes him grit his teeth in a masochistic type of pleasure, feeling so full by the end that it makes him so painfully hard his head spins. It hadn’t taken long to get him worked back up, but he’s not really thinking about that right now.

All he knows is that he wants to be close to you, wants to feel good, wants to make you happy – he wants so much that he doesn’t think he can even begin to put any of it into words. It always ends up at ‘I love you’ and he already knew that was a phrase that lodged in his throat like knives.

“Please.” This he can say – you don’t know what he’s begging for but he’s begging all the same, the word ‘please’ becoming a chant that slowly shifts back into his native tongue when teeth mark his throat, fingertips pressing insistently into his hips as you fuck him hard and rough. He hopes, distantly, that it bruises. He wants to be able to remember this for as long as possible.

If he was present enough in the moment he might have been embarrassed by the sounds he was making – his naturally deep voice has transformed completely into high breathy whines, all trace of his ‘savage rapper’ persona gone when you bite his lip hard enough it throbs before you’re flipping him, pushing his shoulders down into the bed with one hand.

The feeling of your palm, small but blindingly warm on his back, makes him weak enough that his thoughts stutter, head a chaotic mess of fractured thoughts and sensations. His eyes are open but unfocused – it’s dark in the room anyway, but he’s unaware of it, cognizant only of your presence and his, that warm fuzzy feeling in his chest competing with the white-hot fire you were stoking lower in his pelvis.

You want to cry at how beautiful and perfect he is for you, the way he arches his back instinctively, presents himself as your own personal plaything – but he wasn’t yours, you had to remember that, remind yourself over and over that this was just sex. (If you repeated it enough it started to stop sounding like real words, and that was equally as dangerous as forgetting them in the first place.)

The head of the strap-on teases his entrance and he groans, clenching his fists into your pillow – you’d taken it out when you’d flipped him and he was fighting against every fucking urge and want and need his body was screaming at him to just take the plunge and force himself backwards. (But another part of his brain is telling him to wait, to make you happy, to draw this out as long as fucking possible because he has no idea if he’ll ever get to experience it again.)

“Can you tell me what you want?” Your voice is soft as silk, quiet, and a fluttery feeling rises up in his stomach at the sound, at how you’ve modified an order to be a request. He doesn’t know how he feels at the realization that you were taking it ‘easier’ on him verbally, that you had at some point come to understand he was having trouble letting go completely.

“I –“ He tries, he really fucking does, but like always the words get stuck in his throat. He just can’t seem to bring himself to admit what he really wants out loud and it is destroying him. One of your hands smooths down his side, lingering at his hip, and he feels like you’ve left behind a line of pure fire on his skin, almost burning away the shame and hatred he feels at himself for his fucking inability to be vulnerable, his cowardice.

“Just fuck me.” He says instead, defeat coating his words – and he can feel you hesitating, because it was obvious he’d meant to say something else and hadn’t.

He opens his mouth to say something, though he has no idea what, at the same instant you decide to slide the strap-on back into him. Whatever he’d been planning to do is gone from his mind instantly, his world reduced to just the dull burn, the frustratingly slow drag against his innermost walls, the way you manage to somehow brush up against the spot that has him trembling and dropping to his forearms. He curses in a strange mixture of Korean and English and you laugh softly at the sound, even as you slide out and thrust back into him hard enough that he jolts forward.

He feels, in a sense, like he is being broken in all the best ways – all he can focus on is you, all he can feel is the way you’re fucking him, grabbing at his hips. His breath is caught in his throat and he just knows he is going to ache later, bone-deep and satisfying.

But it’s not enough, never enough – you’re not asking to do more to him like you had in the past and he can’t manage to tell you what he desires most (though, at this point, he’s not totally sure he could say anything coherent anyway). He reaches back with one hand, groping – your fingers wrap around his and he drags them up to his hair, a wordless plea. He hopes you understand what he’s asking for.

A broken moan is ripped from his throat when you fist your hand in dark strands and pull backward, forcing him into an arch – his mind has blanked into varying shades of white, electricity on his skin and molten lava running through his veins, your heat against his back overwhelming.

You know it’s a bad idea before you do it, but you lean down and press you lips to his shoulder anyway, teeth scraping over feverish skin – the hoarse whine he gives at the feeling makes wetness pool between your legs, uncomfortable and wrong because this was just sex, this was just supposed to be for him.

The urge to mark him up is so strong it’s almost distracting – your hips falter in the bruising pace you’d set as your mind drifts, Changkyun groaning at the sudden shift in speed.

“Let me –“ He’s gasping, feels like he’s been running a fucking marathon or drowning (and oh, he has, drowning in you, in his expansive and terrifying feelings for you) but he knows your hips have to be sore by now and to be completely honest he is just downright greedy, wanting to feel you deep inside, wanting to –

He just wants so much. He reaches back to press at you gently and you let him move you instantly, trying to figure out what had bothered him – as soon as you realize he just wants a change in position you’re grabbing at his hips again, tugging him over your legs. His cock drags against the fabric of your shorts and he nearly sucks in a breath, trying to focus on lining himself up instead of the way it throbbed (or the way you were looking at him, hair splayed out on the pillow and yet so in command still).

He thinks he should feel more in control like this, on top of you, hands braced on your shoulders – but he doesn’t, not at all, and he knows instantly that he isn’t when you snap your hips up to meet his and he falls onto you, moan vibrating against the skin of your neck. He can feel your fingers in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp, can feel the infuriatingly teasing way his cock is rubbing up against your fucking shirt you never took off. It’s gone untouched for so long that it’s absolutely aching by now and he thinks he might actually be able to orgasm like this – but he doesn’t want to, not yet, even with how border-line painful its become. He doesn’t want this to end, doesn’t want to have to go back to a world without you in it.

His hips stutter on top of yours when you tug on his hair again, grinding hard against the strap-on, and you lift his face high enough you can press your lips to his, all hot breath and panted moans. He tastes of honey and heartbreak and you want nothing more than to make him cum and fall apart, trembling, on top of you.

“Am I ruining you properly, baby?” Your voice is dark red and sinful, and he trembles at the sound and tries to seek out your lips again, a whine lodged in his throat when you tighten your grip on his hair and keep him in place, rolling your hips languidly up to meet his frantic movements. “Tell me.”

“Fuck..” He responds instead, deep and rough in his chest – it cracks into a high moan when you punish him with a harsh upwards thrust, fingers curling into your shoulders. Your soft laugh, amused or delighted he’s not sure, makes a feeling like electric butterflies break out across his skin. If you had let go of his hair he’d have buried his face into your neck again to hide his expression – but you haven’t, and he knows you can see everything, every part of him, every expression he makes.

He thinks he must look stupid, embarrassing – but all you see is pure beauty. His brow has furrowed and sweat drips down to his collarbones, bruised lips parted slightly, glistening from where you’d kissed him earlier. Hazy eyes try to look anywhere but your face failingly, allowing you to see the foggy galaxy residing in their darkness. You’re not sure if what you’re seeing is his pupil or iris, but you find it gorgeous all the same, intoxicating.

“I’m going to make you cum, Kyunnie.” He shakes at your dangerous words, your knife-sharp gaze. You’re aware he never responded to your last question. “You’ll fall apart up there, ruined, just like you asked to be.”

Your words wrap around him, coiling tightly like chains – he feels caught, trapped, and he wants nothing more than for you to make good on your word, even if it sends a sharp trill of fear through his stomach.

The grip on his hair lets go suddenly and he sags forward, as if your pull on him had been all that was keeping him upright. He’s left a mess of pre-cum on your shirt, flushes a dark red when you drag your fingers through it thoughtfully.

“Messy boy..” You muse, heat spreading through you when you see the way his cock jerks at those two simple words, so red and aching, so fucking beautiful and desperate.

Fuck, you wanted so badly for him to be yours.

One of his hands flies to your wrist when you finally wrap your fingers around him – more of his weight is on you now but you can’t find it in yourself to mind, not with the way he’s breathing hot and wet against your neck, the way he doesn’t stop you when you move your hand, just clings to your arm desperately like he’s not totally sure he wants to be touched yet.

A choked sound leaves his mouth, lips bitten bloody, and you turn your head so you can breathe against his ear, let him press his face further into your neck. “Such a little whore..” You murmur, and he sobs open-mouthed against your skin and thrusts weakly into your fingers and then back onto the strap-on, unsure of which feeling he wanted more of. “So beautiful. So perfect.”

A part of him feels like he’s dying, unsure if he was really okay with being so vulnerable with you – but another part of him, the larger part, feels like he is fucking soaring, like this is all he had ever wanted and more. There are flames licking at his body, coiling tighter and tighter in his stomach, and he’s not sure how much longer he can last like this.

“You can fall, Changkyun.” Your voice is in his ear, like the sound of silk sliding over skin, fingernails tracing lightly along the back of his neck. He hates the way he reacts so viscerally to it, climax surging forward at the sound, at the way your fingers slide wetly over the head of his cock pinned in between the two of you. “It’ll be okay, you can fall to pieces. I’ll catch you.”

He orgasms with a wail that makes him flush a dark red, and he would have been mortified at the sound if every nerve ending in his body wasn’t currently sparking, his muscles spasming as he tries to keep thrusting into your fist even as the lightning bolt sensations turn from overwhelming to painful. He doesn’t even realize tears have slipped from his eyes until he feels your lips kissing them away, and he is hit with such a wave of emotion that he can’t breathe all over again (and it is just pure emotion, he couldn’t identify a single one of them if he tried).

After you slowly pulled out and settle him on the blankets he watches, distractedly, as you slide the straps down over your hips, leaving it on the floor to be dealt with later. Impulsively he reaches out to catch the edge of your shorts when you try to head to the bathroom, tongue sliding over chapped lips when you turn that powerful, beautiful gaze of yours on him. One of your eyebrows has raised, appraising him as he slowly tugs you back to the bed until you’re resting on your knees next to his waist. Sweat is drying sticky on his skin and he’s trying not to feel like he’d done something wrong, reacted in some undesirable way that you’d remember and relate to him for the rest of your life - but above all that, he wants to taste you. It’s the only consistent thought running through his mind, more prevalent than the lingering unease at having bared so much of himself to you.

“Please.” Again, it’s all he can say, eyes so dark and wide, pleading – his fingertips rest lightly on your hip, over the waistband of your shorts, lips parted ever so slightly. It’s so obvious what he’s asking for, and you want to say no. You’re pretty sure you need to say no. “Babe –“

You surge forward to cut him off mid-sentence with a brutal kiss and he gasps – you didn’t want to hear that, and you can tell from the way he’s frozen that he hadn’t meant to say it, even as his body returns the kiss on pure muscle memory alone. This entire experience had been a mess, a mistake, and yet –

“Okay.” It’s more a breath against his mouth than a word, but the way he smiles at your soft agreeance makes your heart hurt. You were in so deep, had fallen so far – how foolish of you to think you had been over him. How fucking stupid you’d been.

He wastes no time, pulling your shorts and underwear down like he’d done it hundreds of times before – because he had, you note dully – fingers wrapping around your thighs. When you sink down onto his face a tension drains out of his body that neither of you had even noticed was still lingering.

All he can smell is you, all he can taste is you – you surround him and this is all he’s ever fucking wanted, to be possessed by you, to be as close to you as possible. He’s not even totally sure what he’s doing aside from the fact that he’s putting his absolute all into it – he’s just trying to taste every inch of you he can, tongue delving as deep as possible before switching to suck on your clit. There’s no rhyme or reason to his method and it has you letting out a quiet sigh that borders on a gasp. He tries to memorize the sound instantly – any sound he could get out of you was a treasure in itself, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to hear them again after this.

There is no particular build-up to your orgasm – it’s at first lingering briefly bone-deep and then suddenly it is upon you in streaks of lightning, hips grinding against his face but mouth stubbornly shut. You can’t let this be any more intimate than it already was. (And yet you instinctively reach down and lace your fingers with his, and his thumb smooths across the back of your hand as he continues to mouth at your cunt, drink up your fluids. You are so utterly and completely stupid, your heart in your throat.)

There is a moment you want to carve out afterwards, a small bubble in time where the two of you could just bask in the afterglow and pretend like nothing had changed from a year ago – but you can’t let yourself do that, pushing yourself up off the bed even as every fiber of you begs to remain beside him for a moment longer. His fingers remain holding yours a moment too long before dropping to your bedspread, defeated.

Your heart suddenly felt like it was three sizes too big for your body, filled to the brim with love for a man you knew you’d have no second chance with, and you clench your teeth tightly to keep it from oozing out between your teeth like bittersweet sugar.

He’s still panting when you return with a damp cloth, reaches for it as if he really expects you to make him clean himself off. You scoff and catch his hand with your own, setting it back down on the bed as you begin to clean off his face first. Whether you wanted to avoid intimacy or not there were things you simply refused to throw to the wayside just because you wanted to remain distant, and one of those was taking care of him after sex. (He’s more receptive this time than he used to be, not fighting you and claiming he was fine, letting you dote on him with a sort of hesitant and soft acceptance. It makes your heart hurt all the more, the pure ache and want almost unbearable.)

“You’re always so messy..” It’s meant to be a light comment but the two of you accidentally lock gazes when you say it, your hand stalling in its motions. He looks like he wants to say something, lips parting – your breath catches in your throat, waiting, but he ultimately just shuts his mouth, gaze darting away from you. Your breath leaves you in a small burst. “Just relax, Kyun, I’ve got you.”

It’s the typical words you say to a sub after an intense session (with an accidental affectionate nickname that you bite the inside of your cheek for), but you mean them, and you don’t want to, but you do, irrevocably. You know that if he needed it, if he asked for it, you would let him stay here for as long as he wanted. You knew that tonight you wouldn’t be asking him to leave. And for that you are so, so incredibly fucked. (You wonder if he is too, judging from the way his eyes widen at the nickname and his breath stutters – but you crush that thought instantly, don’t dare to get your hopes up.)

He’s surprised that you take the time to clean him up, bring him water and a change in clothes – they aren’t his but they’re clearly a man’s, and he wonders if they belong to Hoseok considering the size. Something deep in his chest hurts at that thought. He’s even more surprised when you pull on an oversized shirt instead of telling him to leave – he faintly realizes that he recognizes it, a soft violet that hung down to your lower thighs and always felt soft against his chest when he’d hold you – crawling into bed next to him after changing into it, though he’s automatically moving to accommodate you, perfectly content to throw the thick comforter to the floor to be dealt with in the morning.

“Is.. this okay?” Your voice is quiet, so tentative and soft and hesitant, and all he wants to do is tell you yes, this was more than okay, this was everything he had ever wanted.

“Yeah – I mean, it’s your bed, so..” He hates himself for the way he responds, swallowing hard but taking the initiative to slide his arm over your side, nose in your hair. He can feel the way you tense, but you don’t say anything against it or try to pull away. “And.. this? It’s okay too?”

“…it’s okay.” It’s a small response but he inhales deeply in relief, drinking in your scent half by accident. It’s the same smell he had missed for so long, the one he’d dream of and wake up thinking there was a chance it still lingered on his pillow, heart dropping through his ribcage when he realized it wasn’t.

Despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach you fall asleep fast, mentally drained and physically exhausted - his fingers trace the line of your shoulder, head pillowed on his own arm as he watches you sleep. There is a purely warm and happy feeling trying to spread through his body, but it doesn’t make it very far before the remembrance that you still weren’t his and he still wasn’t yours freezes it in its tracks. He feels like his heart is melting, dripping through his ribs and oozing into his stomach and making him sick.

He’s shaking your shoulder before he even knows what he’s doing, and you’re half-awake and groggy but so fucking beautiful and every single one of his nerves feels like a live wire underneath his skin, buzzing and loud and painful, and he is so scared, but he is also tired. Tired of hurting, tired of missing you, tired of the way Kihyun will be talking about you but stop awkwardly when he notices Changkyun listening, tired of the way he smiles so big his cheeks hurt when the two of you talk on the phone, tired of how he swallows down the words “love you” every time you hang up – and he’s fucking tired of being scared most of all.

“Changkyun, you better be fucking dying..” You’re angry, always angry when woken suddenly, and he just wants to kiss you.

‘I love you, I’m stupid, I was scared, I always loved you, I never fucking stopped, did you know I would dream of you? Did you know that you were the only thing on my mind? On plane rides, in the vans, backstage, all I could think about was you and my hyungs all told me I was just hurting myself and I knew that but I still hoped that somehow you and I would end up happy together.’

Like always he can’t say any of it. It sits on his tongue and he just utters a quiet ‘fuck’ instead, throat tight. Why couldn’t he fucking do this?

“..Kyun?” He’s sitting up now, and you are too, side by side – your expression is open, sleepy but worried, and he has a sudden urge to take your face in his hands and kiss your eyelids.

The scariest part of telling the truth, of laying yourself bare for someone, of letting them in, was that they could take one look and never come back. And maybe he’s not afraid of loving you – maybe he’s never been afraid of loving you, with your eyes that hold the only stars he ever wants to look at. Maybe he’s been afraid of not being loved back.

He swallows hard, reaches for every bit of confidence and courage performing has ever given him, forces himself to be brave the way the industry has taught him to be. Moonlight filters in through the window and he thinks your eyes might actually house the milky way in them somehow.

“I love you, still – always. I never stopped.”

He can’t breathe because you’re just looking at him, stunned and disbelieving, tears collecting on your lash-line but not falling, never falling, and he feels like the fucking worst for telling you now, this way, this bluntly – but he knows if he didn’t say anything he would have never said anything, and he’s not sure he could have survived that, so the words had fallen from his lips hard and heavy and desperate to be said. (And a part of him is still surprised he even managed to say them at all, rushed and frantic as they were.)

“I –“ Your brow is furrowed and your voice is thick, but when he reaches to brush your tears away you let him and his lungs start to tentatively fill themselves with oxygen again.

When you smile it is watery and weak but it is there, and he feels like sunlight has reappeared in the lining of his skin, bright and blinding and warm.

[acedesigns]

High Expectations [FF7: Rufus/Reader]

A/N: May continue with this, idk.

Dedicated to @the-temple-pythoness​ for wanting more Rufus/Reader fanfic, ‘cause same.

Word Count: 2474

You honestly had no idea what the hell the last secretary was doing. There was no organization. No rhyme or reason as to where anything was. Honestly, you thought the secretary was trying to get fired. It was more like the secretary was trying to get their boss fired as per the order of their boss’s boss.

That was unacceptable in your book. Especially now that the boss’s boss was dead and now the boss was the boss. You shook your head knowing that only made you sound like some insane rambler. But it made sense…To you. Maybe your boss, too. He fired the last secretary the moment he was promoted via inheritance.

“Why are there sticky notes everywhere? I don’t even know if they’re relevant anymore,” you grumbled and ran a hand through your hair. You held a sticky note up to the light to try and determine if the ink had faded at all.

“How’s it goin’?”

You jumped and dropped the pale pink sticky note and glanced over. There was a Turk with spikey red hair. Sitting up straight, you cleared your throat. “I’m doing well, thank you. How may I help you?”

He dismissed you with a wave of his hand. “Just checkin’ on the boss’s new secretary. Heard you came in early. Last one sucked and was always late.”

“Yes, well.” Your eyes jumped around on every bit of torn paper on the desk. “I can see that. Did they know how to operate a computer?”

“She knew how to work her cellphone,” he chuckled. He grabbed a chair and dragged it over to your desk. “Other than that, she wrote down messages on something she would tear out of a notebook and leave it on her desk.”

“My god,” you groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose. Just by glancing at the pieces of paper, they were so incoherent with the sloppiest of penmanship that you couldn’t understand a single thing she was trying to say.

“But hey, at least the bar is set low.”

“No! It’s not set low!” you protested with a pout. “I have to exceed the bar I set for myself. Which is high, by the way.”

The man chuckled. “You’re a fiery one, aren’t you?”

“More like dealing with constant anxiety,” you muttered under your breath. “Anyways, I’m [Y/N]. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Reno,” the man replied. He watched with amusement as you started to sort the scraps bit of paper. There was a pile of what you were sure were actually scribbles and no real words, a pile where there were just a couple of words and then scribbles, and a pile of what looked like could be an actual message. “Watcha plannin’ on doing with that?”

“I’ll be scanning and uploading them onto the computer, based on my best estimate as to what they actually say, and about what order they were written,” you hummed in reply. Once they were sorted, you stood and hurriedly made your way over to printer/fax/scanner/time machine.

“You could just toss them,” Reno suggested.

You stiffened at the idea. “No, there could be something important!”

“If there was something important, she wouldn’t have written it down.”

“Still,” you sighed and started the long process of scanning every tiny bit of paper. Of course, you couldn’t just put multiple sheets through the scanner to make it automatic. You had to put it on the scanning glass, one-by-one.

“Excuse me?” a voice sounded from the office’s entrance. There was a soft knock on the door frame. You looked over and saw a woman holding a vase filled with white lilies, roses, daisies, and mums. “I have a delivery for [Y/N].”

“Yes, thank you!” You hurriedly took the vase from the woman and dismissed her, having had already tipped her online.

“What are those fore?”

“His father just died,” you muttered and scrutinized the bouquet for any imperfections, there weren’t any. “I was told he didn’t really care for his father, but I figured it’d still be nice to give him something.” You walked towards where his desk was. It was nearly empty, allowing you to place it with ease.

“Have you even met him yet?” Reno quirked an eyebrow up.

“No.” You returned to your previous position at the scanner and glanced at your watch. You had approximately thirty minutes before you were required to be at work. You were going to be paid by the year, so getting there early didn’t hurt anything.

“Well!” Reno clapped his hands on his thighs before standing up. “I need to get goin’. If you need anything, just holler. I’m sure we’ll see each other a lot.”

“Thank you.” You nodded your head but didn’t redirect your attention away from the pieces of paper you were scanning. Once the green light was done going back and forth nearly a dozen times and the files were sent to your computer, you gathered the pieces of paper to file later. There were other things you needed to prioritize.

Your fingers sped across the keyboard while you searched for any appointments that the president could have. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing for the past few years. You scrunched your nose up in confusion. Even the part-time hourly workers had more meetings than that.

“Did she seriously not schedule a single thing?” you whispered in astonishment at how far she went to suck at her job. “Well, nothing to back up, then.” You wanted to cry from the feeling that you were doing something wrong, but there was nothing you could do.

The elevator dinged. You glanced at your watch. It was about time for the president to show up. Ten minutes early, you noted. Staring at the elevator, you held your breath as the doors opened. A man in a white suit exited the elevator. Quickly, you stood from your seat and bowed slightly as he entered the office.

“Good morning, President Shinra.”

The man paused in his steps and looked over at you. There was a firm frown set on his face. You felt some sweat build up on the back of your neck from his intense stare.

“It’s President Rufus,” he corrected sternly. “I will not be mistaken for my father.”

“My apologies, President Rufus.” You were crying on the inside. Absolutely crying.

“I need to you schedule me a flight to Junon. I need Heidegger to be with me. We’ll most likely be traveling from there. We will need a substantial amount of security personnel without alarming the public as to why their streets are flooded with military.”

“Yes, sir!” you responded quickly and turned towards your computer to start orchestrating the trip.

Rufus nodded before continuing to his chair. He stopped in front of his desk and looked at the flowers. He glanced over his shoulder towards you before taking his seat and taking care of business he didn’t finish the night prior.

“A military parade!” you suddenly exclaimed with a wide grin. Then, you paused and covered your mouth with a slightly fearful look towards Rufus. “Sorry.”

“If the idea is worthless, then apologize. What is your idea?”

“Well,” you paused and swallowed your nerves. “One way to move a large number of soldiers would be to hold a parade. It’d be a way to gather support for Shinra, for you to clearly establish yourself as president, and demonstrate the extent of Shinra’s power to those opposed.”

“And would you be able to organize such a thing in less than a week?” Rufus’s steely gaze scrutinized your form for any imperfections.

Your hands formed into tight fists. “Yes.”

---

It was day three into planning. The first night, you gathered changes of clothes from your home and temporarily moved into Shinra Tower. You were in the office before Rufus arrived and well past when he left.

There was only the point of getting a chartered flight to Junon that met Heidegger’s preferences. Nothing was good enough for that man. To make matters worse, most air carriers were under their annual maintenance. Why they were all scheduled for the same time was beyond you.

Opening your e-mail, you prayed there was something saying that you got a flight. There it was. The Highwind was available. But just barely. It’d be going into maintenance almost immediately after its arrival to Junon. With a rush, it’d take three days to be completed. If that wasn’t good enough for Heidegger, you would actually murder that man yourself.

There was another e-mail with a file containing and a newly composed song for Rufus’s parade. You opened it and turned up your speakers. Music, that wasn’t half-bad given it was written in only a day, played.

“What are you listening to?”

You jumped and looked up at the president with wide eyes. Quickly, you paused the music. “I-I,” you stammered and took a deep breath to calm your nerves. “I commissioned a composure to create this for your parade. The infantrymen will do a small performance to it during the Welcoming March.”

“I see, and what else have you planned?” There was no indication as to how Rufus was feeling. You couldn’t tell if he was pleased, angry, or anything.

“Well, we have banners created with your signature created to be draped down the front of each building on the route. There will be two on each building, actually. Heidegger will be at the front leading a squadron of Soldiers. Then, you’ll follow in a car. If there’s a situation, the car can create a shield and get you out of there quickly. Of course, with the security measures in place, that shouldn’t happen. But you can never be too careful.”

“And what do the banners say?”

“Uh,” you hesitated. “New Age. President of Shinra, Rufus.”

A slight smirk appeared on Rufus’s face. “Very good.” He turned to begin to head back to his desk. “Oh, and we will be needing to cross the ocean to Costa del Sol after I give my speech.”

You froze. “Y-Yes, sir!” You wanted to cry knowing that getting an airship to cross the ocean that day would be impossible. It would have to be a traditional boat or submarine. A submarine was too risky and too cramped.

You stood up with your legs shaking ever so slightly. Slowly, you walked over to the president’s desk. “Excuse me, sir.” He looked up at you and motioned for you to continue. “All of Shinra's aircrafts will be undergoing maintenance on the day of your speech. Would a ship suffice?”

“That’ll be fine.”

You let out a breath you were holding and gave a weak smile. “Thank you, sir.”

“Relax, [Y/N],” Rufus spoke once you turned to head back to your desk. “You’re exceeding expectations.”

You felt your cheeks head up at the praise. “Th-Thank you, sir!”

--

The alarms were blaring on the ship. You looked around in fear. Red lights were flashing. Though you were informed on what to do, your nerves were screaming and you were forgetting. You just needed to get somewhere safe, but where was safe?

“Take a deep breath,” you whispered to yourself to try and stop yourself from having a panic attack.

You looked over to Rufus and Heidegger. Heidegger was running around screaming at his men. You could have sworn he had just punched one of them. Rufus was looking around at the windows and his hand went towards where his shotgun was.

“Sir!” You ran over to Rufus. “We need to get you out of here. There’s a safe room set up for you.”

He nodded towards you as you exited the control room. Soldiers were running down the hall with their guns close to their chests. Some were yelling about a man in a black cape and some sort of monster below deck.

“Multiple casualties!” one yelled as he ran past you.

Your heart hammered. As you led the president down the hall. Your eyes kept clanking behind your soldier to make sure he was still there. In a couple of minutes, you paused in front of the door and swiped your security card.

“Here, sir,” you stated and stepped aside so he could enter the room.

“After you,” Rufus stated.

You scrunched your nose up in confusion. “But sir, your safety--.”

“You will not be a hindrance to my safety by being there.”

Nodding a brief thanks, you entered the room and started to make sure everything was secure. There was an emergency generator, a first-aid kit, and supplies to last a few days. The Turks spared no expense in ensuring the president’s safety and comfort.

The door shut and locked behind the president and he went towards the couch. He moved his shotgun and placed it on the floor next to him. He watched you stare at the door for anyone trying to intrude.

“Relax, [Y/N]. Nothing will happen to us so long as we’re in here.”

“But--.” “The Turks never fail their missions. Their mission is to protect me.”

“With all due respect, sir. Their mission was to protect the late president.”

Rufus chuckled slightly. “It was just the opposite. They were to not be near my father at the time of his assassination. Why do you think Sephiroth was in that building that night? Or how do you think I knew to show up at that tower shortly after my father was killed?”

“I…” you paused in shock. “You hired Sephiroth to kill him?” Rufus didn’t answer, but the smirk on his face said enough. You staggered back to the wall and leaned on it, fearful that your legs would give out from under you. You knew Shinra wasn’t the most ethical corporation, but there wasn’t a single ethical one under capitalism. And you needed the money. But this…Was beyond what you thought you were signing up for.

“Didn’t you know that my father and I didn’t get along?”

“Mmm,” you hummed and nodded your head. “I knew that.”

“Then, why did you give me flowers?”

You looked up at him. Looking back down to the floor, you slid down against the wall until you were sitting. “I know you didn’t like your father. But that didn’t mean you were still upset by it. You might not miss the person, but you might miss the role he could have filled. That you’d never have a good father. They were more for the role you lost, not the person.”

Rufus hummed while thinking. He stood up from the couch and made his way towards you. You watched with slight curiosity, some fear that he was going to kill you. He turned and slid against the wall next to you until you were sitting side-by-side.

“You are by far the best secretary I’ve ever had.”

[akajustmerry]

are we valid for feeling uneasy that there are more likes than reblogs or it's not supposed to be deep? i feel bothered that instagram like-and-consume-and-you're-done culture is everywhere now

sure, ur valid for that!! i know a lot of artists struggling to get their original art out there, but when it comes to gif makers??? (this is just my opinion and I know its an unpopular one)....

I think a lot of gifmakers need to be a little more self-aware that 9 times out of ten ur making gifs of media u don’t own, that u likely pirated, on software u also likely pirated, that nobody specifically commissioned u or asked u to make!! i am also a gif maker, i get that its labour intensive, but its also a labour ur choosing to do in the knowledge there is no way u can or will or should be compensated for it legally. essentially, a labour of love in its purest form!! i quote what I said in this post, which I still stand by: 

“this site is free, the content you make is free and is often made from content already copyrighted (and pirated software lmaooo), but some of yous are out here acting up like the thirst gifs you made of timoted chalemet only getting a hundred reblogs is gonna be directly responsible for your family’s future intergenerational poverty. its not that deep.....if ur spending hours making something that's not making u any financial gains to begin with (and literally never will, also its technically not legal under copyright), for a relatively culturally irrelevant website, but what you make is only meaningful to you if it gains notoriety, then maybe reflect on why it is you do it in the first place.”

I am not telling u that u can’t be disappointed or whatever u feel when ur gifs get fewer likes, especially if they’re then stolen or reposted elsewhere, but people should also understand that despite the fact that gif making is in many ways foundational to online fandom culture, there is no social or legal structure or scenario where u as a gif maker, making gifs of copyrighted content u don’t own, that u weren’t commissioned to make, are owed notoriety or credit for it in the same way that artists making totally original content are. gif usage and culture is a complex issue and it’ll be interesting to see if its ever regulated, but for me personally? 

I think it's a little strange to expect any kind of capital for essentially repackaging content u don’t own that u created by entirely your own choice. i think it comes down to a lot of tumblr users making gifs cos they think its the key to being popular or gaining notoriety and when actually its just the digital equivalent of scrapbooking, cutting out pics of your faves from magazines and using contact to stick them to your school books. maybe u feel bad about it and that's fine, but u know what makes me feel pissed?? when someone implies i am not A Good Person because I didn’t wanna reblog their fkn idk merlin gifs or some shit straight away, or at all. we’re just making gifs on tumblr.com. again, reflect why u make them if notoriety is the thing u care about most...x.

[chameli]

south indian films rec

for the lovely @curryaboo since she wants to watch more non-bollywood films. rao, i hope you enjoy these films as much as i have! 💕💖💗

i’m not eloquent at all so excuse my horrible summaries, lol.

kadhalar dhinam (1999 - tamil): i’ve seen both the hindi & tamil versions of this film but i prefer the tamil one bc of the ending. anyway, it’s the story of a cute couple who meet online and fall in love, although there are a few complications. the soundtrack is beautiful (in both languages) as expected from A.R. Rahman. i love the simplicity and innocence of the main characters and also the nostalgia? omg. also, the last shot of kunal (the hero) sitting in a field of flowers is absolutely breathtaking.

arundhati (2009 - telugu): omg. this film is intense. anushka shetty plays a fierce queen battling the evil pasupathi (the wonderful sonu sood who is terrifying in this role). pasupathi is awful and has the power of dark magic on his side. arundhati is told she can only beat him in her next birth, and is reincarnated to complete her mission. anushka shetty is a national treasure. this film belongs to her. i saw it 10 years ago but i remember it scared me (in a good way). 

baahubali: the beginning & baahubali 2: the conclusion (2015/2017 - telugu): baahubali 2 is my most favorite film in the universe so ofc i would recommend it. the first part is decent, but you need to watch it to understand the sheer brilliance of second one. the soundtrack & bgm slap, there are tons of little details and symbolism sprinkled throughout, loads of interesting characters, and devasena, whom i’d give my life for.

bommarillu (2006 - telugu): i think this was my first telugu film. the story focuses on siddhu (played by siddharth, whom i loveeee) a young man with very controlling father. however, he falls in love with the cute and spunky hasini, which goes against his father’s wishes. siddharth and genelia are just adorable. prakash raj is fantastic as the father, he and siddharth are great together. the songs are very cute too! here’s my review when i originally watched it.

darling (2010 - telugu): omg this film made me a bigger prabhas fan than i was. it was so cute and enjoyable. i loved the songs too! 

konchem ishtam konchem kashtam (2009 - telugu): another siddharth film. he looks so cute in this one too. tamanna plays geeta, a girl who comes to the city to study. she falls in love with siddhu, but her father doesn’t approve of the relationship bc siddhu’s parents are divorced. here’s my original review.

magadheera (2009 - telugu): i love this one. it’s directed by ss rajamouli (the genius behind baahubali). indu and harsha meet by chance and fall for each other, but it turns out they were lovers in a past life. indu was a princess and harsha was a warrior whose clan served the royal family. they had a tragic ending but were reincarnated, as was the villain who separated them. i’m a sucker for historical films and i loved the main leads. as always, the songs were amazing!!

nuvvostanante nenoddantana (2005 - telugu): siddharth and trisha are just the cutest. i love this film so much, it’s a classic. the plot is similar to maine pyar kiya. siddharth is a rich boy and trisha is a simple girl from a village. they fall in love, but she and her brother are insulted by his snobby family. siddharth decides to prove his love for her by living/working on their farm, far away from his comfortable life. there’s also a hindi remake but it sucks ass. my review here.

yevadu (2014 - telugu): first of all, allu arjun and ram charan are gorgeous. this film is also kinda intense. arjun’s character loses his girlfriend and is almost killed, but he wakes up with a brand new face. then, he takes revenge on the person responsible. i can’t say too much without revealing the plot, but it’s a great action thriller. nee jathaga the best song!!

sarvam (2009 - tamil): arya and trisha are SO lovely together. this film is so sad though and it always makes me cry. arya and trisha are a young couple who fall in love and plan to get married, but she suddenly dies. her heart is transplanted into a young boy, whose father is being stalked by a man who wants revenge (bc the father was in an accident which killed the man’s family). the two stories tie into each other and the characters are connected. i don’t want to reveal how bc it’ll spoil things. siragugal is my favorite song ever and i love the entire soundtrack. this is one of my fav tamil films.

mirchi (2013 - telugu): i loveeeeeee this film!!!! it stars my parents, prabhas & anushka. the soundtrack is flawless!!! it’s about two warring families and their rivalry, and how one man sets out to reform them. idk but i enjoy masala films and even though there’s lots of violence, i love watching prabhas beat up bad guys >:)

bangalore days (2014 - malayalam): it’s a lovely film about 3 cousins who relocate to the city of bangalore and the challenges they face there. i liked all of the characters, their stories, and how the director wove them together effortlessly. everyone did a wonderful job and had great chemistry with each other, especially the three leads. it was refreshing to see a film like this (especially where a disabled love interest isn’t treated like a burden and does everything on her own despite the fact she was in a wheelchair). 

urumi (2011 - malayalam): this film is very very very aesthetically pleasing. it’s directed by santosh sivan, the cinematographer for asoka (my fav hindi film ever). every frame looks like a painting. prithviraj (i love him) goes to kerala to sell his ancestral property, but finds out he is a descendant of kelu, a 16th century warrior. the story then shifts to the past. kelu wants to avenge the death of his father and kill vasco de gama. the chemistry between prithviraj and genelia is electrifying. the songs? FANTASTIC. the picturization of aaro nee aaro (idc if it’s plagiarized) reminds me a lot of roshni se. nithya menen is so so so cute as princess bala. vidya balan also has a small appearance but she’s smokin. the end makes me sob every single time. the soundtrack is also available in tamil & telugu and honestly, all 3 versions are PERFECTION.

inji iduppazhagi (2015 - tamil; size zero in telugu): anushka plays sweety, who is overweight but happy with herself. she rejects a marriage proposal from abhishek (the dreamy arya), but later becomes friends with him. however...after she finds out abhishek likes someone else, she joins a weight loss clinic. the place ends up being super shady and sweety (along with abhishek) decides to expose it. the first half started off really well. we meet sweety, who is confident despite what her mother and others say about her/her weight. but the second half fell flat and kind of dragged. even then, i still enjoyed it. anushka and arya are my favorites and pair well with each other. the songs were fun and enjoyable!! i lovelovelove kannalam. the ending song is also cute & cheeky :)

aval (2017 - tamil): there’s a hindi (the house next door) & telugu (gruham) version too, but my sister and i watched this film in tamil. bruh...it scared me but i really enjoyed it. the ambiance was just creepy and unsettling. in my opinion it was a well done horror film, which is rare bc nothing fazes me anymore. anywho, siddharth and andrea jeremiah look really good opposite each other and the entire cast did well. the girl who played jenny was awesome and i can’t believe this was her first film.

okay, i think this is good for now! i still have loads of films to watch and if y’all have any recommendations, PLEASE let me know! xoxo 💕

[unpretentiousblogging]

My first suicide note

Don’t worry, this isn’t THE note, merely me reminiscing about what WAS my first note. And anyway, starting my actual suicide note with ‘first’ would be extremely stupid and already declaring defeat...which is ironic, since, you know, suicide is declaring defeat from life in general. 

Oh god. I do this a lot. Use poor humour to deflect from my obviously concerning thoughts. But anyway, it’s fine.Back to topic. (side note; there was no humour in my first suicide note. Hmm. Maybe I should incorporate that in the next one...joke. Maybe.Hopefully. Idk)

Anyway, first suicide note. Ah yes. I was fifteen.It was..2014? I don’t really remember much of it or the details surrounding that year. Just that it was angry and sad and vengeful and full of so much...hurt.Against everyone.My friends.My enemies. My mother. 

Ah. My mother. A recurring character in every suicide note I’ve ever written. It’s not her fault. She is not per say a bad person. But more on that later. This isn’t about her. This is about my suicide note and how it ended up being the first one.

A lot had been leading up to it. I should probably avoid saying the work depressed since I wasn't clinically diagnosed, but a bitch isn’t dumb. Or I mean, she is. But not in this case. You know when you spend the better part of two months not talking to anyone and experience the crushing pressure of this giant, pressing hollowness gnawing-ness that stays there no matter what you do, that THAT isn’t normal. Or at least, it wasn’t to me.

Tbh, I don’t understand much of it. That feeling. What caused it. Why it became such a significant part of my being. I was just in a negative head space. I had suddenly become hyper aware of the farce in everyone’s interaction with me. I detested that I couldn’t study what I wanted to. I had just...a lot going on. 

And also, truthfully, I think I had been using too much Tumblr. I would see this constant downpour of emaciated, beautiful girls talking about sadness as skinny white boys with cigarettes dangling from the corner of their mouths would tenderly hold them and I guess I internalised that this was what it took to be loved and also all that life had to offer.

Love. What a funny thing I chase after.So uninterested but also so extremely curious. Sigh.

Also, funny how the very platform that propelled me into the state I was then, is what I have chosen to come back to while meandering somewhere similar to that state. Not really funny,but what did I say..force of habbit. 

Anyway, back to story. I was sad.Really sad. And angry. And the final straw was the fight with my mom. I don’t remember what it was about. Not important. Just that I realised that I didn’t want my life anymore. Any life for that matter.

So, how does a 15 year old, kill herself? Or well, try to. Because, suuurprise. It obviously didn’t work. I didn’t die. (yet) Or I wouldn’t be ‘’killing time’’ (haha) by writing this.

Well,didn’t own a gun.not smart enough to figure out how strangulation worked.House not tall enough for free falling from roof to cause desired effect. Too much of a wimp to cut veins.

The only other logical explanation was to ingest some poison. Painless. Bound to achieve results without risking grotesquely convulsing my appearance in the way that free falling or burning would do should the fail to work.

Now, we didn’t have any poison lying around the house but I remember how popularised the video of the Amanda Todd suicide was and how she mentioned drinking bleach to kill herself. So, my manic self rushed to the bathroom in search for my poison.

Unfortunately, I could find no bleach. So,I reached out for the next best thing. This anti acne product I had bought from Shams recently. It was pretty expensive and barely used but since I was going to die anyway,what was the point of me being careful with this overpriced bottle of skin care.

Yes, I decided to die by gulping down a bottle of a beautification product for my skin. Not only is that highly improbable but I think about it and snicker at the fact that is basically a twist on the whole ‘eat makeup to become prettier on the inside’ joke. I was basically annihilating all the blemishes on my inside by ingesting that bottle of toner. Pretty funny, if you think about it. Or just me?

To be fair, at the time, I didn’t think it was. I legitimately thought I was going to die.With my eyes sputtering out a tsunami of tears,I guzzled the colourless liquid from the transparent bottle and drank till there was only around 20 percent left. 

The whole thing rushing down my windpipe in one giant gulp. The second I was done with this I started freaking out. My throat burned and I felt this warm, icky wave of nausea steadily creep up on me.

You see, I stupidly didn’t wager that it would take so long.My juvenile brain had been expecting the job to be done quick and painlessly. This was neither and now my paranoid brain started whizzing like an unstoppable slot machine. I started panicking, remembering this post I had read online by this guy who recounted how his failed attempt at ingesting pills for suicide resulted in a highly painful stomach pumping experience and a life time of painful and uncomfortable digestion. I wasn’t prepared for that.I couldn’t not die and also end up with more issues on top of the ones I already did.

In a mad rush against time, I scrambled to get my phone and performed a quick Google search-what to do if you eat poison. The most frequently suggestions were to call poison control and to induce vomiting. Since, I couldn't really do the first one, I made way to the toilet and thankfully to my minor stint with bulimia (and they said eating disorders aren’t useful, pfft) , I knew exactly how to do the latter. Quickly, I shoved my fingers down my throat and attempted to force my alimentary canal to defy gravity. I alternated between this and ramming my toothbrush down my mouth and lo and behold, spurts of translucent chemical gush forth from my mouth like a faulty tap. 

At this point, I had progressed to full blown sobbing. I wasn’t able to successfully eliminate all the toxic liquid from my body and the purge had just resulted with me hiccuping incessantly and my stomach gurgling uncontrollably. Also, my mouth had a horrible aftertaste. Overall, I felt repulsive and sick and also glaringly aware of my soon to be (in my head) death.

In my misery studded mind, I made peace with my fate and decided that were I to to die, I had to make sure I hurt everyone who ever hurt me just as much as. I wanted them to feel guilty. Afterall, my death couldn’t just end with a bunch of people feeling sorry for me and the people who had done me wrong to not experience any of the anguish I had. So, I put pen to paper and began to scribble on an old English paper-my first suicide letter.

At the time, I didn’t know it was to be my first, of course. I thought it was my one and only. I dedicated this atrocious piece of writing to virtually everyone who meant anything to me in my life. Ex best friend? Obviously mentioned. Brother? Definitely to blame. Friend who cared but not enough? Special shout out.

But the star of the show, the main dedication of the bitterness fuelled literary rampage was  one person-my lovely mother. Like I said, not a bad person.  But just not compatible with me, to put it nicely. Anyway, the body of this letter revolved around her and how all the events of my interactions with her had materialised into this blame. If any one was to be guilt ridden after this entire ordeal, I wanted to make sure that it was her. 

Everyone else got a few sentences or a paragraph, but my mom, well she got pages and pages of my teen angst and venom against her. In fact, the opening of this abysmal note started off with something like, ‘’In case I don’t wake up tomorrow’’ (I wasn’t sure how effective the ‘’poison’’ would be. In hindsight, not at all), ‘’ you (mother) should know that YOU are to blame for all of this’’.

Pretty dramatic, am I right? Anyway, I don’t really remember more of what happened in the note, but basically, you get the idea of how it went, ok? 

So, yeah, after penning that intense piece of literature, I willed myself to go to sleep and hopefully die painlessly in my slumber. Or not. I wasn’t sure at this point whether I wanted to survive or not. Probably the most anxious sleep I was getting. After all, I didn’t know whether I was going to wake up the next morning or not.

Spoiler alert: I did. With relief.

And I tore up the note immediately. I think my mother had already read some of it but I am not sure if I remember entirely. I recall sitting in the car with her as she drove and a passing mention was made of it and all I said was that I had written a story in my notebook. And that was it. Did she believe me? Or did she simply not care enough? Or maybe her brain could not even begin to register that I was capable of performing such an abominable task. I don’t know. I wonder though, if she ever stays up at night wondering about what it meant. What any of it was.

I’m pretty sure she doesn’t even remember. I do. 

And that, brings to a complete, the pointless rambling of me and my first suicide note. 

good bye.

(we’ve reached the end. im not gonna go kill myself...right now. lol. maybe/ ok bye)

[julesblackthorns]

multiples of five!!

5. where do you buy books?

i buy books at waterstones (which is the Big book store chain in the uk) as much as i can, i buy books from charity shops a lot and i buy them online (usually on amazon but i mostly try not to do that)

10. do you have a guilty fav?

honestly not really? i’ve never read something that was a fav that i felt embarrassed about (tv is a completely different story tho). the closest i can think of would be ‘sofia khan is not obliged’ but i straight up LOVE that book and recommend it a load sooooo

15. recommend and review a book

i’m still out here recommending ‘troublemakers’ by catherine barter! 

i read this book two years ago and it still has SUCH a grip on me and i think it’s really underrated! i picked it up randomly while i was in waterstones and had almost no expectations going in and i was met with a wonderful book about politics, family, feminism, morality, friendship, sacrifice and grief. it follows a 15 year old girl called alena, who has been raised for most of her life by her half-brother and his boyfriend and, against a backdrop of terrorism and the rise of right wing extremism in her local area, begins to discover her political voice, as well as her mother’s life as a political activist. 

(i promise the whole book isn’t just about politics - it’s very family focused and has a memorable cast of characters and is also funny, but it explores politics in a really nuanced, thoughtful way and i!!!!!! won’t shut up about it!!!!!!)

20. what are things you look for in a book?

ohhhh idk.... i like fantasy, urban fantasy and intense, issue-focused contemporaries a lot. i like strong friendships and friendship groups and family/found-family dynamics. i LOVE romances! i live my best life vicariously through fictional ships! friends to lovers! enemies to friends to lovers! hate to love! hate to love them! lovers to friends/enemies back to lovers! i love romances in books, but i rarely look for romance books? like, i like the romance to take a bit of a back seat. side couples? sign me the fuck up. other buzzwords......... horses, competitions, swimming/near to water location and a diverse casts of characters are all things that make me want to check out a book

[fairycosmos]

So my ex and I are friends and. They're falling for someone new and I'm not like.. I am happy for them because they deserve happiness and I'm just not in a good mental state to even give myself that which is why we broke up ahdjjfjf but idk it does just feel like splinters being cracked through my heart when i see them talk about each other online ? And I'd never ever get in the way or tell my ex that because I value them so much as a friend but aaag is this stupid ???

hey. it’s not stupid at all ! it’s actually completely normal and to be expected. you still have feelings for your ex under the surface (which is fine, they don’t just go away overnight and you can take all the time you need to process/begin to move forwards.) so having to see them with someone else, having to accept your place in their life as it is now compared to what it was before - it’s unimaginably hard. let it be difficult for a while. it may feel literally almost impossible to manage sometimes, but every day that you get through it, you’re proving that you’re capable of adapting. it’s alright to grieve what has been lost and to get used being a whole person on your own, one step at a time. if you need to cry, then cry. write about it. rant about it to someone you trust. listen to sad songs. allow the emotions to wash over you, without any self hated or judgement. and let them go, over and over again. above all, don’t fall into the trap of thinking that this is permanent, because it’s absolutely not. the thing about sadness is that your brain tries and tries to convince you that it’s never going to leave, so that you don’t actually notice it’s gone until one day you just - have a moment of clarity. and you realize that it all doesn’t feel as heavy as it used to. that’ll happen for you, too. i promise. if you need to distance yourself from your ex a little, if you need to take some time to truly be with yourself, then that’s cool too. i know you said your friends, but if you really are, they’ll understand where you’re coming from. it’s not like your relationship with them will vanish completely, it just may help for the intensity of it to lessen while you recover from everything that’s happened.  you could also try using social media less, or just dont linger on a post from the for too long. it’s pointless. the urge to do so will always be there of course, but you can fight it. you can’t change what’s happened, and you can’t control what you’re going through at the moment. but you can focus on how you cope with it and how you treat yourself from here on out, right? it’s 100% easier said than done. and i cant imagine the magnitude of the pain. but you’re a lot stronger than you realize. you can and will get through this one day at a time, because you have the tools to do so, so you will. and eventually you’ll look back on the whole thing and maybe you’ll still feel a little sad, but it’ll be nothing compared to this. time and perspective is going to be kind to you. i really hope you feel better soon angel. i’ll be rooting for you ok !! let me know if you need someone, hmu anytime.

[supercantaloupe]

Meta writer asks: prime #s?

you're gonna make me do math??? on tumblr??????

2. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project - would love to someday finish Starlight but that is a looong way off (it's been a wip since 2019 lmao). would love for my motivation to write to return to me since i've been in a rut for months now...probably just need a new intense interest to jumpstart me. gotta watch some more operas or something idk. the next things on my to write list are a paper for philosophy class and a research project for music history tho so uh maybe don't expect any outstanding new fic for a while from me

3. answered

5. What character that you’re writing do you most identify with? - the abernant sisters are my most cherished blorbos. especially adaine. there is a reason i latched onto her hard as my fave PC from episode 1 and that's because we share an embarrassing number of similarities

7. What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree? - no idea how well it comes across but i try to put a lot of subtle/subtextual detail into the things i write; leave things (thoughts, emotions, motivations) implied and not stated outright. i've gotten positive feedback about my dialogue though, especially humor/quips and naturalness.

11. What do you envy in other writers? - concision. gd, i don't know when or how to shut up. have you seen how long this post is

13. Do you share your writing online? (Drop a link!) Do you have projects you’ve kept just for yourself? - my writing/fic tag is here, and my ao3 is here. there are some things that i write just for myself or a handful of close friends which i don't share publicly, but honestly if someone asked to read something i'd probably share it with them without much prodding

17. answered

19. Is there something you always find yourself repeating in your writing? (favourite verb, something you describe ‘too often’, trope you can’t get enough of?) - when i imagine scenes to write i do so very visually, including where and how each character is and how they move. and because i like to include a lot of details and i can myself very clearly visualize what's included in a scene, i think i tend to overinclude minor actions? like mentioning whenever there's a pause in dialogue, or when someone sniffs or scoffs or scowls, that kind of thing. i don't know how much that sticks out to readers but i know i do it a lot, and while i don't think it's distracting, i wonder if it would be more effective to cut back.

23. What’s the story idea you’ve had in your head for the longest? - i guess Starlight counts, since it's been in a state of wip since 2019 lmao. but more people care about my d20 content i guess so i'll tease an idea i've had for a while now (no idea if i'll ever get around to writing it) that explores what might've happened in fantasy high if adaine were discovered as the oracle at the beginning of freshman year.

[ask meme]

[praphit]

Slender Man: They hate him cuz they ain't him

It was a big weekend in movies! We were torn between two films. There was of course "BlackkKlansman" - this movie has strong acting, the amazing and quite possibly the angriest director out there Spike Lee, and even that Adam Driver guy I feel has been on the come up. Tons of social commentary: important thangs to talk about concerning race, this nations history with slavery, and the current state of our government... good stuff! Hittin all of the issues! -  BUT, that's not the movie we chose to see.

We naturally went with "Slender Man" instead.

You might say "But, John Praphit, BlackkKlansman has Denzel Washington's son, important issues, and powerful directing... what were you thinking?"

Hey, don't sell The Slender Man short - he has with him... um... Joey King! And... Julia Goldani Telles.

You say "Who the hell are they?"

Yeah, idk. I've also never heard of the production companies or the director, BUT that might only mean they haven't had their fair shot; this could be it! And maybe Slender Man is also filled with the social issues of the day; you don't know! - but I'm here to tell you:)

Let's take a look at SM here -

He's really rockin that no face thing isn't he?? See, many might try hair with the lack of a face. I think no hair is a good call. Imagine Slender Man with an afro;

he'd look ridiculous. And that suit - are you kiddin me??! YES! I mean, idk why he needs a nice suit when he only hangs out in the woods, but... he's prepared. We all have that friend who's always overdressed; though we may make fun of them, part of us kinda wants to be them. Idk what's going on with those tentacles/ tree limbs growing out from behind him... he must be self-sonscious of them though, because whenever they start to show in this film, they cut away. He's got too much style to be a horror movie monster. Perhaps this well dressed creature is simply misunderstood.

Despite his dreaminess, this movie stars more than SM, but these fine what's-their-name actresses. The movie starts off with four girls, who have been close friends for a while, who have a hangout featuring vodka, porn, and occult stuff. One thing I appreciate about this movie is that they get into the horror quickly. There's a lil build up to show how close they all are, and some family atmosphere, but then we're right into the scary.

I have to mention the family dinner :) It must be an art form to capture genuine dinner scenes, cuz this one didn't have it. One of the daughters in the dinner scene only drank water... I mean no eating of anything... she had food, why just the drinking of water... curious. And there's a dad in the beginning dinner scene who's buttering his bread for like 5 mins. I was thinking at the moment "Is anyone going to bring up daddy's butter problem?" He was just buttering and buttering and asking the kids about their days, and right back to buttering.

(the war ain't over for this family)

Sooooo, back to the vodka, porn, and occult.

THAT, my friends is a hell of a weekday (school night) hangout. The gathering around the Tv for pornography and summoning of demonic beings are to be expected - their kids, let them have fun! BUT, the drinking! - Parents, be better! Their ruined teenage livers are on you.

It's straight forward. They watch some weird vid (kinda like "The Ring") and the craziness begins. Apparently, after watching this vid, you may start to see The Slender Man; if you do he's got you. You will either end up missing or go crazy... or both, I guess. One of their friends goes missing, and they begin their search for answers. They end up asking some stranger that they met on the internet for advice, and this stranger tells them to offer Slender Man something of value to them in exchange for their friend.

Ok, so let's rewind. They follow a STRANGER'S advice to go into the woods and sacrifice things of value to some supernatural being. They do this dumb thing, but they kinda half-ass it. Their "things of value" end up being a photograph, something one of them made in arts & crafts... and like a lucky T-shirt or something. Your friend has just been kidnapped! You may want to dig a lil deeper. "Here Slender Man, let me offer you my last chicken nugget. I'm full anyway. Can I have my friend back?" 

The Slender Man must have thought to himself "Arts & Crafts? Really? These girls must be trying to punk me." He then spends the rest of the movie making them regret their poor sacrificial decisions.

When the cool and creepy gets going, it doesn't stop, and it's very effective. I love how they mess with the audiences heads with the imagery. You'll start seeing Slender Man everywhere. They don't rely on cheap gore scenes and jump scares, which I also appreciated about this movie. They even use scenes that lead you to believe something horrific is about to happen, but then it won't... not in a disappointing way, but it's intense. Well done!

The two actresses that I mentioned earlier are also good in this movie.

One of them has that glassy-I-could-cry-at-any-moment-eyes. She'll make you feel her pain.

There's another actress in here who does a good job at making us believe she's scared. It's like they gave her hallucinogens and filmed her having a bad reaction.

This is another one of those supernatural monster movies when everyone just kinda has to guess what to do. Sometimes, in these types of movies there's an expert of sorts, but the only "experts" here are strangers online.

I enjoyed this movie:)

Though, when I say they had to figure things out (and I understand that), there are things they should have known to do and to not do. There are plenty of things that the writers either didn't think about or didn't care about.

The kids for example, run out into the middle of the woods AT NIGHT to sacrifice their items, which no one told them to do. Literally, the middle of the woods! Forget Slender Man, there are all kinds of things that could happen out there. Which again, parents, you're bleeping up!

And about these parents, where the hell were they?! Some of these parents are barely around (buttering bread), while others are never around. One of your kids was just abducted! More of them are losing their minds! WHERE ARE YOU?!

There is one slight spoiler I'll throw in - one of their friends (who happens to be black)... something happens to her, and when her friends find out the state that she's in, they simply say "I knew something was up with her", and keep going! They could have helped her, but NOPE.

What about the teachers? These kids are in highschool. One of the kids actually gets lost on a school trip. No help from the school. No accountability, apparently and no concern. Some of these kids are losing their minds on school property. Those teachers just kept on with the lessons. Not even the other students help out these main girls or are even concerned. We're all just going to pretend like students are going crazy and missing?

Lastly, the police! Almost no police in this movie. No one questioned, no protection, no investigation. It's kinda like kids get screwed over so much in this town that the police have given up.

This all sounds like a lot bad writing ( and it is), but it also kinda adds to the fun. There will be those who will heavily downgrade this movie, because they are Slender Man lore purists, and apparently on that level this movie doesn't begin to measure up. Idk nothing about that, soooo I went in fresh, and enjoyed my new friend Slender Man. That's right, he's my buddy. I still say he's misunderstood. I mean, he IS out in the woods, and we DO see him coming after the kids, but what does that prove?. Maybe SM is a nicely dressed homeless man just trying to get by in the woods. Maybe these kids are just out in the woods doing shrooms (way to go, parents) and falling into holes never to be seen again. Live the Slender Man alone! The man doesn't have a face! - I'm sure his life is hard enough as it is.

Or maybe he's murdering kids out there, idk. You be the judge. Though I admit that certain pics you'll find on the internet aren't helping me prove his case.

Grade: B

Everyone who factored into this movie's 15% rating on RT are just haters. They're just jealous of my main man SM and his fly suits. They hatem cuz they ain't him.

Some of you might be saying, "But, Praphit, I'm sure this movie is aiight, but BlackkKlansman had those important social topics!"

I could argue that "Slender Man" does as well.

#1 - The black girl that her friends just kinda leave behind. I mean, seriously, what the hell? #blacklivesmatter

#2 - Lesbians - two of the friends in the group sure were close... like real close. Some may think I'm reading into things that aren't there, but I say these characters were forced to remain in the closet. But, maybe their parents found out... maybe that's why none of them are ever around. They couldn't bear that forbidden love. Apparently, The Slender Man does his thing around the bible belt.

#3 - Missing Kids! Not something I used to think about, but now whenever I go into a new town, I check to see how many kids go missing there and how often. If it's an alarming rate, I'm out! When SM is done with the kids he might start on the adults. Besides, if the cops are letting this many lost kids slide without an investigation, what else would they turn a blind eye to?

#4 Mental Illness - perhaps people we label as mentally ill are the ones in the know. Maybe we should all start listening a little more.

Y'all can come to me. I'm here for you. I'll listen. The next time you're out in the middle of the woods (because a stranger online told you to) and you notice a man with no face, wearing awesome suits, with trees growing out of his ass you can tell me. I'll listen and get you the help you need:)

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #476

“yeah, i am the brain, some say insane”

What is your favorite Pixar film? Finding Nemo. Who was the last person to send you any sort of message on social media? My sister Misty. Would you rather build a snowman or a snow fort? Why? Snowman. I think you can personalize them better. At what age do you believe children should begin having screen time? I don't know. I guess it would depend on the kid. Have you ever failed an important test? Which subject? Yes; I failed my last Algebra final and the course. Who taught you how to ride a bike? How old were you? My dad. Idr how old I was. Do you know what your ring size is? What is it? Nope. When you picture dinosaurs in your head, what color are they? Like a darkish red or green. Last candy you tried that you did not enjoy? Or one that you did enjoy? No clue. Were you a chubby or thin baby? I was your average size. What is the most outrageous thing you’ve considered doing lately? Trying to get a cubicle job. Like seriously, NOBODY wants those. I don't either, but I just don't know what other options I have that don't require a degree and I'm not flocked by other people. I'd probably have some duties on the phone, but like... I'm not going to find a job I qualify for that is perfectly reclusive. Have you ever known somebody who ran away? Not personally, no. Rollercoasters that go upside-down… yes please or no thank you? NO FUCKING THANK YOU. Can you have kids? I would assume so, but honestly I wish I physically couldn't with how intensely I fear being raped. Are you a fan of Elton John? I've never really listened to his music and know very little about him as an individual. What does your town’s name begin with? "R." Are you a seafood fan? Nooooo. The one and only seafood I enjoy is shrimp. Give me a random word in another language. Tell me what it means. "Himmel" is "Heaven" in German. Odd how that was the first one to come to me, ha ha. Which city would you like to visit- Rome, Tunis, London, Madrid or Paris? Rome. New tats in your near future? Sadly no. :/ I have to focus on more important things. Did you ever participate in beauty pageants as a child? No. I don't support those. Have you ever ridden in a limousine before? No, but I've always wanted to. :( What's the most amount of money you'd pay for a house or a vehicle? Idk, considering I'm not familiar enough with what is considered reasonable and average for either. What's the longest wait time you'll wait at a restaurant to be seated? If it was actually up to me, shit, maybe only 15 minutes. I am way too impatient, and I'd rather just go to another place than wait for a while. Have you ever been given a responsibility that you couldn't handle? Did you mean: my past three jobs? Did you ever try to start a club as a child? For what? I feel like my friends and I did before... but I remember nothing of it. Who was your favorite babysitter as a child? My sister had this friend in our neighborhood as a kid whose grandparents used to watch us. The grandpa we knew as "Uncle Donny," and he was bar none our favorite. He was such a sweet man. Have you ever cared for a stray animal before? Cats, on many occasions in the past. [TW: SUICIDE/OVERDOSE] Have you ever contacted a suicide or crisis services hotline? For whom? Yeah, for me. I tried first to reach them online in one of those private chatrooms, but I want to say I waited around 30 minutes with nobody available. I was so desperate that I tried calling too, but again, it was too busy. That's when I ODed. Is there anyone from your family that you no longer associate with? I have an uncle by marriage that's an abusive, manipulative fuck that NOBODY associates with, except his brainwashed daughters. Do you have any illnesses that reoccur frequently? I mean, I have mental illnesses that flare up now and again, but no traditional illnesses. What is your sexual orientation? Queer or pansexual, idk man. Have you ever done any drugs harder than marijuana? I've never even done weed. What is one job you would never want to have? I would, no exaggeration, rather die than be a butcher. I could never in five trillion years. Do you bite or peel your string cheese? I don't like string cheese. Who crosses your mind the most? Girt, nowadays. I know, a fucking shocker who wasn't the answer. Have you ever been on a scavenger hunt? In school, yeah. Ever been to an auction? No. Are there two colors that you just simply despise? Puke green and yellow. If you were a fish, what colour would you like to be? I wanna be the Rainbow Fish. :') Did your first real significant other change you at all? You have literally no idea. Are you waiting to have sex until you’re married? No. What’s your favorite football team? I don't like football. Or even understand it. Do you have anything autographed by a celebrity? No. What’s your favorite way to eat peanut butter? Gimme a Reese's and I'm a happy bitch. :^) What’s your favorite kind of sandwich? I'm basic, just hand me a pb&j. How are you today? Worried about my mother since she has Covid now. I'm not feeling too hot, either. Was any of your home decor inspired by Pinterest? No. What is this month’s calendar picture? I don't own a current calendar. What is your last ex-boyfriend’s or ex-girlfriend’s name? Sara Jane. I prefer to refer to her as just my best friend, though; "ex" usually implies negative feelings in some way or form, and I've none of those. Do you use Snapchat? I never have. Would you rather go out for pancakes or steak? Yum, pancakes. Are you the clubbing type? No. Clubs don't appeal to me at all. Is your ex sexually attractive to you still? I haven't seen him in literally years. I wouldn't know. What is unattractive about them? The fact he apparently can't accept a mentally ill partner. Supposedly, he broke up with the girl he dated after me for the same reason he left me: her having depression. Like bro, good fucking luck finding a girl who doesn't struggle with something. Good luck finding someone who's going to be on Cloud 9 all the time. And also, he never communicated what he was feeling. Do you have a crap load of friends to hang out with? God no. The only person I hang out with is my boyfriend. Honeymoon, where? Alaska, if it's a good time of year to see the Northern Lights. If not, maybe the Bahamas to visit their black and pink beaches. The heat and humidity put me off, though... Lipstick over the actual natural lip line, your thoughts? It's capable of being attractive if done well and it's not too extreme, unless you're only looking from a distance. It can look especially great on drag queens imo. How would your wedding bouquet look like? Depends on the time of year, really. I kind of want to say black regardless, but I think that would blend too much with my dress (which I want to be black). Maybe if it was in the fall, which I want, it'd be orange and black to fit the Halloween vibe I'd love to have as a theme, perhaps a rich red, or light pink and white... idk. That's far in the future. What kind of game would you like to play that doesn’t exist yet? Bro, give me a meerkat simulator. There's the Lead the Meerkats Wii game that I ADORE, but I think the concept could be greatly expanded upon and made more realistic. What is one thing you would never ever eat? Balut came to mind very quickly. That looks like the grossest shit imaginable. I'll never forget seeing it for the first time on GMM and wondering how neither of them literally died where they sat lmao. There are a LOT of other foods, too. I'm incredibly picky. Which character in your favorite movie do you hate the most? Every single character from The Lion King is so lovable. Which non-existing (sci-fi and such) weapon and/or vehicle would you like to own/use? Bro, I want Thori'dal from WoW. A bombin' bow with unlimited, magical arrows? That shit's dope. Could save your life, and plus I love bows. How do you think the world will end? Humanity's end will almost certainly be rooted in human action. The end of the planet itself will probably be a black hole, gamma ray, or something else supremely powerful. If you could take a pill that would cure something in you that isn’t an illness - what would you be cured of? The fact I'm fat. :^) Take it all away pls. Has anyone besides your family seen you naked? If so, who? My ex. Do you remember anyone’s number by heart? Literally nobody's. Not even my own. :x Name something you will never try in your lifetime. Hunting. What’s the best place you have ever eaten at? The Cheesecake Factory, omlllll. Are you at home right now? Yep. What’s worse: Crocs or Uggs? Crocs are so fucking ugly to me. Do you knock before you open doors? Always. Does Fred from YouTube annoy you? Now THIS is a throwback. I liked him as a kid. He'd probably annoy the shit out of me now. Anything exciting taking place today? No. Who have you texted today? My mother and Becky, the receptionist at my psychiatrist's office. I rescheduled my appointment to tomorrow with my mom being sick (she wants to talk to him, and she's in no shape to today) and me not feeling well, either. Do you like grapefruits? No. Have you ever had the Reese’s PB candy bars? Omfg, the ones that are a bar of smaller squares is my FAVORITE candy in the world. Where’s your mother? In bed. She was directed to mostly quarantine in her room away from me. Are there any pets you’re wishing for? Always. :( Do you like oatmeal raisin cookies? I HATE raisins, so guess. Is your belly button pierced? No. Do you watch PewDiePie? Not anymore, no. His content changed a long time ago and doesn't interest me anymore. Do you like "Despacito?" Omg my sister showed it to me once and I hated it. Do you have any subscribers on YouTube? uhhh *checks* I have 71. More than I expected, ha ha. What’s the first word that comes to your mind if I say: "Boop!" Booping a snake on the nose. :'3 Have you ever played Five Nights at Freddy’s? Nah. I enjoy watching YouTubers play it, and I like the franchise, it's just not my kind of game to actually play. Can you twerk? Oh god, never tried, don't want to. Do you like dabbing? It looks stupid to me. It looks like you're smelling your armpit, dude. Can money buy you happiness? You are 110% full of shit if you think it can't to some degree. I would be so, so much happier if I wasn't poor. Have you heard of Blizzard Entertainment? Well, considering they're the company that owns World of Warcraft, obviously.

[diaryofanormalkid]

I need to vent, but there is no one to vent to so here I find myself using my online diary as my source of releasing all this pent up rage I guess?

So I have this coworker and from the very first moment I met her, my intuition told me not to trust her. This is when I was still considerably new to Tim Hortons, but I’d been working there long enough to know how everyone acted and was.

So just to fill you in on my work and the people I work with, literally all of them in my section are Filipino, except 1. And currently the one who is Filipino is on vacation, so it’s basically just me there as an outsider.

Now I learned the hard way that being an outcast or “other” meant that you were automatically going to get treated differently than the rest of them since they’re all Filipinos. It didn’t matter how nice you were.

So as nice as I was and could’ve continued to be, I decided it best to distance myself from them or at least just not talk to them unless they talked to me.

Which was fine for me, it worked and all I needed to do was last through my 8 hour shift and dip. I wasn’t invested in them or creasing deep relationships with them anyways. They were very exclusive in that sense.

I didn’t see a point in trying to make deep relationships with all of them when I knew some of them didn’t necessarily like me and they could easily just talk badly about me behind my back.

They speak their language very often, which is actually not allowed in the work place at all but since they’re all Filipino, it’s not like they’re going to taddle-tale on each other, so they get away with it easily.

And if I were to ever say anything about their conduct about speaking their language while I’m in the premises, well they would get the idea that it’s only one of two people and that would expose us so I’d rather not report it.

However, they do talk about me in their language. And as of late, it’s beginning to bother me. I remember in the beginning when they would speak, they would ask me if I’m okay and if it bothered them.

They said previously there had been a different coworker that asked them if they could only speak English while at work because it made them uncomfortable when they would talk it. And it serves that person right.

I wish I would’ve said that to them at the time they brought it up because now that it’s later down the line, I regret not saying that it does make me uncomfortable. Now.

Before it didn’t make me uncomfortable because I would ignore it and I wasn’t really caught up on them. But now they speak it so often that it can even affect our productivity in the workplace.

That’s when I say it has become a problem. It’s leaves me as the only one actually doing my job and they’re all just standing there looking away from their cash where customers would come.

It’s so awkward for me because I don’t want to be ‘that person’ that tells them “can you break it up and help the customers?” But it’s not like my managers know that this is what they’re doing so idk who should be the one to tell them?

It’s really conflicting me. Sometimes I think they do it on purpose so they have less work to do. Idk, it just seems as of late they’ve been slacking HARD. I feel like I get no help and they’re just making me fend for myself.

Meanwhile they’re always helping each other. Like, sometimes I’ll be doing a whole big order by myself and I can’t help but think, “Are they purposely not helping me?”

Like before they dynamic used to be different. But as of recent, there’s been like a weird tension in the air. Almost this underlying animosity. For what? Idk. I’ve never done anything and I don’t do anything.

I am literally the most peaceful person and instead of allowing passive aggressive-ness to continue I’d rather just let things be water under the bridge and move past any misunderstandings or disagreements.

But I find myself asking between what time did I have any disagreements, misunderstandings, etc with anyone? There was only one coworker who from the very beginning didn’t like ME.

And that has nothing to do with me not liking her, she just decided as soon as I started working there that she wanted to make my life living hell. And that she was going to make there extra hard.

And look who’s not working there anymore? Her. She relocated to a different section in my work, so now I never have to put up with her. But now it appears all the others are slowly catching up to her.

Siding with her and deciding they don’t like me also. That’s what I mean when I say, they all talk about me in their language. Whether it’s outside of work or inside, it’s clear that there’s a change in the atmosphere at work.

And honestly I couldn’t care less if they like me or not, because I remember distinctly walking in there with no intentions of making friends anyways. The only thing is, if you don’t like me, don’t let it affect the work environment.

But that’s exactly what they’re doing. They’re stunting productivity because of their hatred or whatever it is they have towards me. I’m not sure when all of this underlying animosity became about, but it was recently.

I think it was all when we started getting these ‘employee of the month’ gifts every month. When that one coworker who hates me still was there, she was the one handing out the ballots of who we should vote for.

I personally didn’t like the fact that she was in charge of collecting the ballots and sending them down to where they were gonna be counted. But what completely irked me the wrong way is when she told me who to vote for.

For one, the problem wasn’t the person who she was telling me to vote for. Because I was actually in support of who she was telling me to vote for. It was the fact that she thought she could influence who i was going to vote for.

That didn’t sit right with me because I couldn’t help but wonder if she expected me to listen to her for the next vote, and the next. So I didn’t vote right away. Installed so I could go away in peace and vote for whoever I wanted.

The thing is, she kept pushing the voting thing that whole day since apparently it was the last day to hand them in. So I wasn’t going to get my time alone to vote. And I ended up just voting for who she said, which happened to be the person I wanted to vote for anyways.

So then comes the next time to vote, and y’all remember how at the very beginning of this post I said from the moment I met her my intuition told me not to trust her? Yeah her. Well this time around it was her telling me who to vote for.

So get this, she was trying to get me to vote her the whole day. It was such an awkward day for me because I felt like I couldn’t even get a word out without her saying “okay make sure you vote for me!” And then she would turn it around going “I’m just joking, britney. Vote for who you want.”

Obviously though she wasn’t joking because you could tell since she was so persistent on this matter. I was really turned off by that and instead of holding off and trying to wait until the end of the day to vote for who I actually wanted to vote for, I just ended up voting for her to shut her up.

I felt like she was watching me the whole time until I voted. The entire encounter just made me uncomfortable even talking about it. Because votes are usually private.

And the fact that all my other coworkers were there in the open hearing that I made up my mind to vote for her probably rubbed some people the wrong way. I felt like I didn’t have the privacy for myself to decide who I wanted to vote for.

The BIG sign that made me start to really watch her is one day when she made this comment like “wow, britney really wants employee of the month!” And I kinda just stopped and was like “what in the actual heck is she talking about?”

I literally had no idea what she was referring to because I wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary or doing anything extra of what I would usually do. And from that day on I realized she was watching me REALLY intensely. She had been for a while probably.

Literally though, from that day on she’s been WEIRD. Like just really passive aggressive. Watching me make my lunch when I go on break. Sometimes not saying goodbye in the evening when I leave.

Even making unnecessary remarks sometimes. Just litttle little stuff. But it adds up in my mind. And I’m watching her. Her body language and attitude has changed towards me so obviously that doesn’t go unnoticed in my mind.

The thing is, she only just now notices how much I help everyone else around the work place but before she didn’t notice because there wasn’t an ‘employee of the month’ to work towards.

Like, that pisses me off SO much because I’ve BEEEEEN DOING ALL OF THIS. I am literally the most selfless worker I think THERE aside from one person MAYBE, but even that one girl sometimes she gets caught up doing her own thing which is OKAY.

However the fact that she even called me out on my hard work as if I haven’t been doing this the whole time makes me so mad because it’s like she’s saying “oh Britney’s only working this hard because she wants ‘employee of the month.’”

UM NO girl, I’ve ALWAYS been working this hard. I’ve ALWAYS been like this. You’re just too self absorbed in your own language and world to notice. Like now that there’s something to work towards and compete for, NOW she notices my hard work huh?

NOW? Like girl, seriously? First of all, your claim that I even want the ‘employee of the month’ is false because 1) I don’t want it because I already know NONE of y’all are going to vote for me.

There are way too many of you Filipinos and that makes them biased to vote for their own. And they can’t tell me that that’s not true because I’ve already seen it happen with my own eyes 4 times 🤷🏾‍♀️

2) even if I did want it, i wouldn’t get it because no matter how hard I work it would just be overshadowed with a different Filipino coworker since again they’re biased and they would just vote for their own.

3) they think I’m only working this hard because I want ‘employee of the month’ yet I’ve always been like this? If you couldn’t even notice that this is how I’ve always treated you guys before, then they’re not going to ever think my actions are genuine and deserving of an ‘employee of the month’ anyways, so so be it.

Like they didn’t even appreciate how much effort I was giving before being as selfless as I am and doing things out of the ordinary to help them out, so it’s not like my same character is going to make them feel like they need to vote for me.

So I’m not bothered with never getting an ‘employee of the month’. I’ve already prepared myself to not get one and if I ever do, I’ll genuinely be surprised because there is literally only 2 ppl I can imagine POTENTIALLY voting for me and even then, I feel like it would be out of pity and not actually deserving it.

Anyways so for that specific coworker who told me to vote for her and that I said my intuition told me not to trust her, YEAH, SHES A CHRISTIAN. Idk if I should say that and make an embarrassment of my religion or expose that this is not how christians are supposed to act?

But like, yeah she literally acts like a bully and she’s a full ass grown adult. Literally 40... like they’re all pretty exclusive since they’re all Filipino, but she takes it to a different level.

Like she’ll literally start speaking Tagalog in front of me, everyone will laugh or respond and then not explain what they just said even though that’s what they used to ALWAYS do. And sometimes I’ll hear my NAME?

And I’m like in my head, “so you said my name so you’ve officially made it my business. Can you please address me directly since you wanna say my name out of your mouth?” Idk she’s soooo fake.

Also, because they’re all Filipino, they’re all supposedly really close outside of work also. So they always hang out. It wasn’t until some months back when a couple of coworkers tried inviting me out that I realized they ALL hang out together.

Like literally all of them 🙃 so when they invited me I was hesitant because 1) I was already an outsider at work so wth did I look like trying to hang out with them outside work?

2) they all speak one language that I do not, why would I want to put myself through that??? I wouldn’t even be able to communicate with them......

3) pretty sure the invitation was half-assed anyways? Like she didn’t even sound like she had plans to follow through with it but the guy did? If it was the guy asking I feel like he would’ve actually followed up with an actual date and time, but she was the one who invited me out so I wasn’t even gonna follow up on that.

So now, anytime they invite me, which I’ve been invited somewhere a total of 4 times out with them, it’s not that I decline but I feel like they already know I’m most likely gonna decline.

Either way though, sometimes I’ll hear about their weekends or times they went out with it each other and I can’t help but feel sooo left out. Like it’s the fact that I wasn’t invited that makes me feel left out.

And I find it so disrespectful when they either make plans in front of me or they talk about what a fun time they had with each other when I wasn’t there and had no part to do with it.

That’s something I’ve learned to just let go because I feel like it’s better off that I don’t get close to them since 1) i feel like half of them don’t even like me (or black ppl) anyways, 2) I don’t have plans to stay at that job my whole life 3) they’re shady anyways.

Back to the coworker who I can’t trust though , before she would be so ‘nice’ but I could tell it wasn’t pure or genuine and that any little mix up might cause drama. And I was right. All along.

I’ve BEEN telling my mom, she’s one of the iffy ones I need to look out for. I’m just glad she’s finally showing me her true colours. Because now I know not to get close to her again. Or try to talk to her anymore.

Before, like in the beginning I remember that’s how it was anyways. The only reason I started talking to her was because she started talking to me. I still don’t necessarily even start convos.

Now i only start convos if it has to do with work because I don’t care to ask about her personal life anymore. She turned me off one too many times and I think I’m about done entertaining her bullying antics.

She’s too passive aggressive. Like I remember one time I was playing music. GOSPEL music to be specific. Gospel music that she LIKES and that she’s previously played before at work.

So all I hear is a bunch of noise playing in the background of ppl taking their orders. So finally when I get a moment away from the customers after the line is gone, I’m listening and I realize, there are TWO phones playing music rn.

MINE and HERS. So here I am thinking... “ummmmm okay IK she didn’t just start turn on her music while mine is playing AND it was the same exact music. AND she’s christian? HMMMM.”

I was so bamboozled like I kid you not I just turned off my music because I was not about to get into no fight about music... 🙄 But c’mon like really how petty is she? She couldn’t just tell me, “britney I’m gonna play my music now if that’s okay?” Or ask, “can we play my music now?”

I would’ve respected that WAY more than her just deciding to play her music over mine! The thing is, her music wasn’t even different....... so like I just don’t understand why she wanted to make a conflict out of nothing. This is why you can’t just be befriending every and any Christian.

Some of them are so problematic and I actually had to question God like am I the one in the wrong because if I am then please correct me? I can’t read people’s minds and I don’t know what she’s thinking or what I did to her and why she acts like this towards me...

But anyways I’ve learned my lesson to stay away from getting close to her because she’s fishy and has been acting suspicious for months. I’m just gonna trust God and keep my faith alive and hope for the best.

Honestly like that was a goooood rant because this has been bothering me for MONTHS. My mom is on night shifts this week so I don’t see her for long enough periods of time to be able to rant to her about it. And then my sis wouldn’t care to listen

And anybody else I would even think to talk to this about would be like “that sucks” and I would literally get like half assed responses from them and then they would change the subjects onto themselves and I would have to pretend like there’s not so much more I needed to say but whatever this is the best it’s gonna get.

I’d rather vent on here than to ppl because the people I have in my life apparently don’t care enough about me to even fricking listen to me explain ONE thing that bothers me.

I swear literally any time I try to tell anyone something that bothers me in the SLIGHTEST they talk about it for 2 seconds with me and then change the subject and bring their attention to their own problems and needs

It’s not like anyone would be willing to listen to all this anyways. It’s so LONG. However it wouldn’t have to be so much for me to vent about if I could vent every now and again.

Honestly I’m soooo over everyone like I need better people in my life that actually care enough to talk to me if I need to vent like wow no wonder I have so many undealt feelings just piling up inside of me 🙄 some ppl are so selfish

[inseomermaid-blog]

An Inner Circle First-Timer’s Concert Experience In Seoul [#WINNEREverywhereTourinSeoul]

So. If you tell me freakin’ one year ago if I’d be flying to Seoul for a Kpop concert, I’d smack you for slander.

Buuuuut here we are, a week after WINNER’s Everywhere Tour in Seoul :))))) I’ve just begun to recover. Literally, it took me a week to get through the stages of mourning and to accept that it’s over HAHAHUHU

Anyway, here’s my (and Liz’s) experience in attending a concert in Seoul!

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Why we wanted to see them in Seoul (when it was sure they were gonna go to MANILA anyway):

1. It’s Liz’s annual bday trip gipp!! Or idk, this is part of the rationalization we thought of AHAHA. Initially, we were set for Singapore as it would be way cheaper for sure, but another reason came up....

2. We wanted to see them in their most “comfortable” version - Not sure if comfortable is the word, but I guess we wanted to see them how they were in their home country?? Speaking comfortably in Korean and all? We were anticipating that for other countries it would probably be just Yoon speaking most of the time (not that it’s a problem with us HAHA), and we wanted to see all them four being their natural makulit presence on stage (without them thinking about the language hinderance--even if kami yung hindi makaintindi sa kanila :)))) I know it’s a weird reasoning but :)))) And it’s been a long time since they’ve done a full concert in Seoul! We just wanted to be there in the kickoff concert. I mean, if we were willing to fly out to see them, o di todo na namin diba? Seoul it is!

--

How we got the tickets:

Here’s the thing: this is not our first rodeo. We’ve already successfully watched Coldplay in Singapore last year after (WHAT I THOUGHT WAS ALREADY) a bloody online ticketing war. Coldplay tickets were wiped out in 20 minutes, I think? But I was able to secure 7 tickets (3 VIP standing, 4 upper box tickets) after much death and resurrection.

We thought we were prepared for a WINNER ticketing war lol. We were not. Everything (or at least the seats we targeted) was more or less gone in less than 4 minutes.

There were two waves, one week apart. Both of them were intense :)))) I guess our third-world country internet cannot compete with their 5G data network?!

A HUGE HUGE HUGE thank you to Cams and Dianne for basically hand-holding me throughout the entire process of securing tickets from Seoul!! T_T Without them, we probably wouldn’t have gotten tickets. All transactions were smooth and hassle-free. There were a lot of K-ICs who also wanted G-ICs to attend the Seoul concert and thus were purchasing tickets so scalpers can’t get to them first. They also helped me with tips and advice on where to stay, where to go, etc etc as it was our first time in Korea. Sobrang bait and helpful nila as in! T_T

---

Of course that was only half of the problem:

In less than a month, we had to book flights (ANG MAHAL NA NITO SIYEMPRE), book hotel (Thank you Agoda for your occasional flash sales) and of course, VISA. We highly recommend TravelPros for your Korean visa processing needs! We spent around 700 pesos for this, and we got the visa in exactly 6 days. Super fast. Pero may drama pa kami dun sa visa requirements LORD HAHA pero hindi ko na kwento haba na nito. BASTA when we got the visa I wanted to throw a fiesta, ganung level =))

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CONCERT D-Day~~~

We wanted to get in early-ish because we were anticipating the DVD / merch line.

The train was a bit confusing for this stop!! We knew we were not the only ones because some of the Koreans were also confused where to get off haha

This ad greeted us before the exit!

Entering the Olympic Park Stadium~

Sure enough the line was at least 500m already when we arrived at around 10:45.

AAAAAND YES I lined up for 2 hours for the DVD 0_0 Under the heat of Korean summer 0_0 

Questions in my mind while in queue:

1. why does everyone look so fresh except me

2. how to spot foreigners: they use umbrellas for the heat

3. Don’t be weak

4. why am I doing this again

Anyway, tada~

Let’s just ignore the part where if we waited until 3pm, or at least when the line tapered off, I could have gotten it without the sunburn on my batok but where’s the fun in that no?

Liz and teh boyfriend lined up for merch (mercifully it was shorter) and they were able to buy 2 lightsticks (OUR FIRST ONES YAY! Hirap daw lagyan ng battery lol) and shirts (X and XL lang ang available sizes but it still works out!?? What is this Korean sizing sorcery?!)

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All the cafe / restos were full (Mamamoo was also having a concert that day!) so we had to settle for convenience store food :))) It wasn’t bad!

Met Cams and lots of other PH-ICs who travelled from MNL! You can check out #ICsPHGoesToSeoul to see what everyone was up to while in Seoul.

We got a lot of fans (as in pamaypay) from different fansites (and thus we didn’t have to line up, yay!) and actually saw the faces behind big accounts* HAHA it was surreal.

Actually, the whole thing was pretty surreal (YA THINK) in a good way. Since it’s our first time to attend a KPop concert, we didn’t know a lot of things. One of those was... lining up for freebies given by fansites. 

Girl, INTENSE. As in,  pila kung pila ang mga bagets and not-so bagets. Paano naman kasi ang cute ng freebies! Fans, stickers, photocards, etc. Looking back feeling ko dapat pumila/bumili kami BUT holehhhshit it was really so hot, and after lining up for 2 hours we wanted to just save our energy. 

Super tita namin right?! 

Also most of the masternims who were offering their freebies were all speaking in Korean (malamang) so we didn’t know if it was free or for sale... AH BASTA MAGULO isip namin hahaha yeaaaah looking back we should have at least tried BUT yun nga, it was really too damn hot to walk around talaga. Maybe next time!! (next time talaga?!)

Kill time! We just randomly sat anywhere we could #ifItfitswesits 

At some points, we could hear the sound check so medyo spoilery siya (we heard Jinwoo’s solo performance HAHA) at the same time we were like OMG 0_0

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FINALLY TIME TO ENTER! 

Our seats were 2F (as in second floor). We were initially planning to aim for 1F but giiiiiirl waley. 2F wasn’t that bad! Ang nasa isip ko MOA Arena levels where it’s too high up. This was okay (as if may choice kami HAHA). 1F would be the best seats talaga. Standing is a gamble because there’s a chance you won’t be able to see anything BUT the interactions that WINNER made with the standing group was really worth it :))))) WATCH THE FANCAMS IF YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT I MEAN

I tried to use MIXLR for the first time pala, since I wanted to kinda pay it forward. The first time I “experienced” a WINNER concert was through Cami’s Fukuoka?? mixlr concert and back then I thought, it’s amazing that someone would really try to share this experience with us that can’t make it to the concert. 

(Now that I’m replaying my mixlr, I AM SORRY FOR THE THOUSAND OMGs I SAID =)))) I swear I’m more coherent than that--except when you know, Mino was body rolling live, Hoony was lifting his shirt to reveal his perfect 6-pack abs, Jinwoo with his ethereal voice and stage presence, and Yoon’s powerful vocals and performance. Wala na talaga ako masabi kung hindi OH MY GOD =)))) So I’m not sure if I’ll ever mixlr again hahaha kasi marami naman who does it and is more pro about it??? let’s see :)))

Here are some notable thoughts I remember from the concert (sorry more Tagalog here because all the feels)

1. ANG GWAPO NILANG LAHAT. I mean, fo sure I didn’t stan them for visuals (promise talaga! It was really about the music. Sawain ako sa visuals actually) BUT hooooshit. They are different irl. I’ve seen them before in NAIA airport for like.... 10 seconds and like I knew they were really good-looking. BUT ON STAGE. IN FULL PERFORMANCE GLORY. THEIR VISUALS ARE INSANE. 

2. SOLO STAGES. WHERE TO BEGIN. I didn’t know I’d see Mino perform Body live ever (I thought he had retired the song and I’ve accepted it) BUT GOOD LORD. The “mashup” for Body and TOTL was just made to be together. The stage and performance was oozing with sexiness and charisma and my mind was just a puddle at this point. Mino doesn’t do full-on sexy very often (am I right? It’s like between deliberate sexy and swag, he’d go for more swag) so when he did this... live... the body rolling... the kinda grinding.... we died. 

3. JINWOO. Jusko. Where to start with Jinwoo. I’m rewatching our fancam of his Untitled 2014 performance and it’s the only one who made me feel goosebumps. Especially the part where he went up the stairs and the spotlight was on him, and he was singing so passionately and the audience was just in complete awe. IT WAS A MAGICAL MOMENT I CAN’T EXPLAIN. It’s like as he walked up the stairs and sang, it was like he was taking his rightful place as a superstar. Jinwoo is not even my bias but I super kaduper want him to succeed and become more confident with this abilities (I am speaking from someone who watched Who is Next haha). After his solo stage, my immediate first thought was: JINWOO IS READY TO HAVE A SOLO ALBUM.

4. YOON’S SOLO STAGE. Lol I cried. Ever since I’ve heard It Rains (his solo song), I’ve wanted to hear it live, but I didn’t expect that he’d sing it ever again--maybe he’d sing Wild and Young but not It Rains. The arrangement was “simple” but the experience was HOLY. As in, it was like angels were singing. His clear and strong voice filled the whole arena. The adlibs he did were insane. Literally it was like going to church. The lights and the background visuals were stunning. Sobrang full on drama / rocker Yoon mode! It is something to behold live. Also... INSTINCTIVELY. I also never thought I’d see Yoon perform with a guitar ever again. (Ang drama?? never talaga?? hahaha but I never know with Yoon kasi! He’s so experimental with genres that when he’s already done something already, it might take a long time for him to comeback [in this case, to his rocker roots]). When he took off his blazer... BAKLA SIGAW TALAGA AKOOOOooooo =)))) Looking at him perform like this, I can’t believe he didn’t go solo. I know he’s happier with a group (and I am thankful) but his presence as a solo artist is still very much there. I hope Yoon can release his solo album soon because Liz and I will definitely fly again to Korea when that happens!!! :)

>>>[OPEN FOR A SURPRISE]<<<

Grabe thissss pic.twitter.com/AvxeuT4Xoh

5. HOON. How so even begin writing about Deputy Lee’s stage. He performed Ringa Linga (modified with Hoon’s rap which was a cool touch I think) and Serenade (EVERYONE’S WAITING FOR THIS). I don’t know where haters get the idea that Hoon can’t dance. Like... are you guys BLIND?!?!? He’s one of the most naturally gifted dancers I’ve ever seen--because he dances to feeling**, not with just choreo. Ringa Linga was a perfect choice for him because he was able to showcase his vocals, dancing prowess and abs all at the same time. The dance breaks were insane. AND MY GOD, Hoon’s body is perfection. His arms, torso, legs... ART. 

6. The costumes, lights (LIGHTS), pyrotechnics, over-all stage design was just A++++. I don’t know why I thought it was going to be a much simpler stage but they really went all-in with everything.

7. The nebula ocean was beautiful. I keep saying in the mixlr... “I’ve never seen so many Inner Circles in my entire life” because it’s true! For some reason there is a notion that we are a small fandom and maybe that’s true compared to others... but we are not less powerful. At least 99% of seats were taken, the standing was packed. Everyone was doing the fanchants. Almost everyone had the lightstick. It was humbling and inspiring to see all the fans who love WINNER come together in one venue, screaming their voices out and singing to the songs (while still being respectful and attentive to each stage performance).

4winner 4ever 💙💙💙💙#WINNEREverywhereTourInSeoul pic.twitter.com/dKXYst03v4

8. The boys really love each other. As in, you can feel their chemistry and their teamwork onstage. Of course, I don’t understand the ments while it was going on (by now I’ve seen the translated fancams of course) but I can definitely tell from their body language and the way they regard each other that they are brothers. And they were just so happy! Running to and from the stage, taking fan’s phones, they were on FULL-ON fanservice. I could feel the love from where I was sitting.

9. I want to pick my favorite stages but I don’t know how. It was surreal to shout “Neol johahae!” for REALLY REALLY and answer Hoon’s pizza pasta so so with “YUM YUM!” =))))) Sobrang surreal na nangyayari siya sa harapan ko at hindi sa Youtube (with subtitles). Love Me Love Me stage was super cute, Moviestar was tear-inducing. Speaking of Movie Star, the fan event was so funny! They were really surprised because it happened right smack in the middle (usually it happens at the end, but they were expecting it kasi). All four of them were very confused and I feel like they really didn’t see the video as much because they were busy being... confused with what was happening. But when they understood they look like they were touched and slightly cross that we were able to fool them HAHA.

Also:

MINYOON MINYOON MINYOON

10. There were many cute moments of ICs that I witnessed. Like, before the concert started, they were playing WINNER songs on the screen. Then suddenly, Body was played. Inner Circles all screamed =))) BASTA SOBRANG FUNNY. During Mino’s kissing scene, half of ICs were turned on, half were saying “Nooooo” =))) Then during encore, we were supposed to sing We Were (as in the whole song). When it was already the second stanza, the singing became softer and softer, because it was apparent that ICs haven’t memorized the lyrics. Everyone laughed hard. IT WAS SOOOOOO CUTE T_T

BONUS:

After the concert, we kinda rushed to the back exit to wait for WINNER. Lol it took more than an hour for them to come out (of course lots of picture-taking, maybe even speeches for the team, etc etc). We saw Yang Hyun Suk (ICs began to chant his name too #insidejokefromtheconcert and sure ako labas sa ilong yun hahaha), PO, Jinwoo’s dad, Yoon’s mom, most of the dancers (Gahee my love were you there) to name a few.

Again, it was a tender moment because the van was supposed to “cover” their exit from the door, but the fans cried “Noooo” and begged security to let us see them :)) So after a few minutes, the van adjusted its position, so WINNER could walk out and wave to the crowd outside. They looked very very very happy and thankful to see us. <3

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We met with some of the PH-ICs again to talk about the concert IN TAGALOG PARA TODO YUNG FEELS :))) I can’t wait to see everyone again in November!

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Aaaaand by 12 am we were back in our hotel after getting lost in Dongmyo exit HAHA. Can’t blame us, all our braincells were left in the Olympic Park Stadium :)) It was really a memorable experience that we hope we can repeat for sure on November (WHICH IS MY BIRTHDAY MONTH). Aiming for nearer seats this time, but let’s see what the universe will give us. 

FINAL THOUGHTS:

I thought if I finally see WINNER live I’d be finally scratching an itch--like I’ve already see them live and that’s that. But NOOOOOooooooOOOOOooo. It’s completely the opposite. Now YouTube and mixlrs are not enough anymore T_T When you’ve seen them live... you just want to repeat the experience over and over again.

To all Inner Circles still reading up to this point: CONGRATS and THANK YOU:))

 Also, my god. You can forget everything you’ve read up to this point but just remember this.

SEE

THEM

LIVE.

See them live.

I am not kidding around. You should, at least once in your life. Even if it’s just General Admission ticket or the farthest seat***. It’s different when you are in the same venue and you see them performing LIVE right in front of your very eyes. In my opinion, Yoon’s voice is 10x better live---recording absolutely does not do him justice. Same with the Mino, Jinwoo and Hoon. Their vocals, dance skills, over-all charisma cannot be simply captured by the camera. YOU HAVE TO SEE THEM LIVE TO KNOW WHAT I MEAN, WHY I’M SO ADAMANT ABOUT THIS :)))) I’ve seen performers that are exactly the same live as they are in YouTube or sound the same like Spotify but I can say with complete confidence: not WINNER. I can say their true strength is live performance.

I’m sure I’ve missed a lot but this is becoming a research-paper already HAHA so I’d end it here. SO glad we pushed for this trip, so blessed that everything worked in our favor (we were the last flight out before the NAIA airport incident happened huhu) and we’re already looking forward to November in MNL****! :)

till then bye~

P.S. If you want to chika more or need me to translate the Filipino bits lol just hit me up on teh Ask :)

*we saw at least 2 big Yoon masternims that we avidly follow talaga, 2 european ics we follow (lol “european” what is dead giveaway lol) and 1 of the 3 japanese KSY fans we also like HAHA so cute T_T

** I’m not a dancer, but my boyfriend is, and I remember him saying that personally he has more respect for dancers who dance according to what he feels--because it’s one of the highest forms of expression (as opposed to just relying with choreo). It’s a testament to a dancer’s ability that he/she is able to catch the beat without “thinking” about it too much--so the dance becomes the story of the dancer, not the choreo. LOL I think I’m botching his explanation about it but it’s just I remember Hoon whenever my boyfriend and I talk about freestyle dance.

*** Of course it you can’t make it due to various reasons that’s okay, but if you have a chance to make it happen, don’t hesitate. I’d say it’s worth every penny you’d spend to see them live.