#GOD DAMN I LOVE IIT

[fuckedliar]

will i always but im a cheerleader? yes

[tojisun]

I just thought of an au.

I was watching old F1 clips and the 141 as race car drivers makes me insane.

Like ghost with his black helmet sprayed to have a skull on the front, he argues allot with other racers butting helmets with them (literally). Soap can be quite reckless, has blown his tires and gasket too many times to count. Price is an iconic older driver, knows his way around a track and can drive just about anything. Gaz is new on the scene, young, confident and full of competitiveness. Kinda like lightning McQueen lmaooo

idk enough of f1 to add my lil silly drabbles but i fuck w this so hard i started yelling !!!

okok but— (and bear w me)

ghost butting helmets with other racers but someone on tiktok overlayed a cunty music on top of the video so now them butting heads turned out to look homoerotic LMAOO

when soap does burn through his tires and everything, i just imagine him snapping his helmet off and throwing it on the ground in his frustration, before looking at his car forlornly and, if you get a good angle of his face, you’d see how he just looks so heartbroken oh the poor lad :( like full on pouting

BUT ALSO mmmxmndj him whipping his helmet off and people are blessed with the sight of his overgrown mohawk and his flushed cheeks and his angry furrow and pout— HHHHH

price def would be that man who starts trending because of a properly-timed post of a mini-montage of him dodging things on the tracks, showing off how quick his reflexes are and how topnotch his reaction time is. like he’s just so damn fluid in the tracks, it’s addicting to see him race

LIGHTNING MCGAZ OH I ADORE god yk im just imagining gaz being dismissed when he debuted because yk people expected a little bit of flunking and even minute crashes, or even exploding tires, etc. and he started off slow, trailing about third in the lineup, so people weren’t that awed. but no one hinged on the possibility that he has more to give and gaz ends up winning his first race (and multiple more after that) through diabolical overtakes. HHHHH i can see it so vividly im frothing

god i love this sm </333

@talooolaaloolla @iite-cool babes look!!

[almalvo]

STAR TREK: DISCOVERY | S1E2 "Battle at the Binary Stars"

[I will react to each episode individually and in full, raw reception and then post as is unrevised here onto my tumblr for the full span of every and all NuTrek episodes and series that have been and will be released. If this falls under your field of interest - I welcome your company in joining me. Enjoy the ride.] -------

god this show looks so fucking juicy with all its colours and shapes and resolution … BURNHAM IS SAREK'S WARD??????? bro bro is she a sibling in upbringing with spock or something. everyons so fucking pretty ugh these sounds i really want this uniform LMAO THAT LOOK SARU GIVES BURNHAM AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA saru is so good looking UGHH THIS INTRO I CANT I CANTTTT LOOK AT IT ITS SO PRETTYYY i love the feeling DISCO gives me im so happy for star trek getting such a massive visual and all around production upgrade also i just realised since old-trek's Star Trek Enterprise series, we have been inching closer and closer to the one that started it all. Star Trek ENTERPRISE > DISCOVERY > STRANGE NEW WORLDS…

does this… mean we are…. just possibly……… heading into a reprisal of some kind of "Origins" production in the future non-AOS?

if so i know it will never be a replacement of what is irreplacable. but im actually EXCITED to see something like that. if even it were to be a bad project, it would still be such a tickling spectacle - an experience that reminds us of where we came from.

but also.. to see what came before to be such a modern topic to discuss and potentially (i fucking wish) revive the world with its gravity and vision - all eyes on Star Trek once again……… it would be so worth it. it would be. everything.

anyways back to the episode LMAO UGHHH look at the way all the united federation ships warp in among their brethren ughhhhh ughhhhhhh takes my breath awaayy i like klingon whats odd is it sounds so slow in this rendition man the amount of work it took to get this pronunciation right ughhhh everything looks so pretty in this literally movie quality for a TREK series

no but also one more thing - back to the idea about the future of modern trek, since the movie saga has fallen flat, if we head into a modern revival of TOS, featuring AOS cast as a different universe/mirrorverse or seomthing cameo in TV/STREAMING EPISODIC FORMAT would be just… JUST-

...

i am so curious as to how and why burnham and sarek are even existing together simultaneously ugh damn look at the damage on the ship the detail i love saru's eyes hearing this as the ship's computer voice is so odd to me because im so used to Majel's voice but hey its smooth what is happening also oh my god this mind meld scene is so pretty oh my god im so curious how Burnham and Spock's dynamic even IS THE FUCKKK?? what would that even BE??? i only know spock exists because that is one of the few spoilers ive seen of this show - i KNOW hes in DISCO. as well as pike but thats it. what purpose they serve and why? no idea. and how burnham becomes captain?? god im so curious iits so intersting to hear statements as familiar as "weapons disabled" being said in such a new setting. with such a new sound for somehting so classic. tractor beam WHO WHOS EUROPA? WHATS ON THAT SHIP WHOOO

the human and klingon transmission will never be in peace… until far into TOS's timeline.. man this is so INTERESTING. HEARING KLINGON TERRAN. I CANT LIE i miss their fabulous long locks of hair bro klingon ship is fucking knifing through this ship dude that is so hardcore but also devastating af oh my god this antimatter explosion looks so fucking pretty admiral is gone the chian of command shifts how does this go phillipa doenst become admiral does she? then burnham as captain i doubt its this easy nah its so weird to hear klingon so spaced t'kuvma is such a cool name ughhhh lok at all the WARPPPING SHIPSSSS hearing klingon accent is cool love how smart the ship is oh god burnham you MADLAD yo they goin hard the klingon attire is so victorian english inspired not too keen on that ahha ughhh saru is sooo NICE TO LOOK AT such nice features this ready room is very reminiscent of what is to become enterprise internal design i mean, of course. but i just cant help but hype over it all thats interesting, to have a human taught as vulcan. hmm a subtly different circumstance than that of spock. the visual aberration effect is working well in this series ahaha DISCO has a very…. odd feeling from since its first episode that continues into its second one - it doesnt feel super episodic at all? it feels all like a really long montage. the sets are so pretty whoa those armoured vests though? touch screen energising ughh the gold animation of the energising effect is lovely those klingons dropped so fast and easy from those phasers dude these are some of the sexiest phaser designs ive ever seen. the klingons are just dropping like nothing whoa burnham's yell when the klingon grabbed her was so not her XD it didnt sound like her oh wow we are actually seeing the short handheld klingon knife OH SHIT well i see that this is how phllipa is usurped by burnham.. BRO YOU JUST LEFT HER BODY THERE hmmm interesting the pacing of the first two episodes is very… fast

t'kuvma is dead already?? i think its this pale klingon that ive seen on the comic cover whoaaaa all these shuttle/escape pods leaving like baby toads off momma's back XD (if you know, you know.) its so montagey very consistently - i guess THIS is where we start the series as it is to be? i really like this chiaroscuro lighting hm. its over already huh idk if its me - but apart from the visually and audially beautiful presentation - it has an odd feeling to it i cant lie. i think it must be because of this 2-episode montage. i hope it is.

i guess ill find out.

[psi-iioniic]

fuck me now iits diirk route tiime :,33

got to driink to prepare for thiis fuckiing mess (flavored water salute emojii)

"talk iin meatspace" iis an iinsane liine

AHHHHHHHJBVASJCFBHVAUJHYDFA HAL HAL HAL HAL HAL HAL HIIII HALLIHDFGIHAKEFA

LIIL HAL KJAKBAUDFKUFA JOY WHIIMSY EVEN ABFKUAFA LIIL HAL LIIL GUY II LOVE YOU SLASH P

thiis iis by far the siilliies iinteractiiion yet omg the fiistbump thiis iis so peak omg jahvfjavudyajkef

god diirks haiir iis so siily good lord

jesus diirk iis such a massive dork oh em g33

"leave the katanas for the biig boys" fuckiing okay nerd emojii

ULT DIIRK TIIMEBBY JAHVFJAYFIAGUYFEIGUYAIFYUGA II LOVE U UILT DIIRK LKSZJKBSGIV

OH ULT DIIRK IIS SO SAD HE MAKES ME SO SAD DIIRKASLFKLBAKFIA

ult diirk ur hurtiing my heart plz dont be mean to bby you hsibgfsyhgfaf

THROOWASSKBSJGS TTHROWS UP ULT DIIRK ON SCR33N HELP HELLOOUAYFGYAGFAF THE THEME SONG HELP HELPAIFJAUGFYGAFA

ult diirk iis liike a piissy cat

CANDYT DAVE HUGGIING DIIRK OASUFBGAUJYFUTA7UFA

VIICORTY ENDIING SJGHVAFJHFVYFA KAY EM ES IING WHY IIS DIIRK SOSFIYUSGBFYGWE HE MAKES ME SO SAD AOIFAUBJHSA

OH SAO THE GAME JUST CLOSES THATS COOL

oh cool tiimes two iit closed agaiin

fuck well game end wtf ii h8ed that fuck fuck????

ii stiil have a coupleother parts of the route to do but damn :((

oh abandon at sea iidk why ii thought that would somehow be a better endiing

ALSO IIS THE STARTER MUSIIC JUST PERMIIN8LY CHANGED NOWJAHDFVUY

welp

thats hs perster quest fiiniihsed

jesus these fuckers are sad

and they make me sad

god ii love the striiders

[aztecxviii]

IIT Kharagpur, WB:

"Meenakshiiiiii.... " Anjali shouted, running down the hallway, pushing students and (unfortunately) professors out of her way. Who cares if she might get any notice for disciplinary actions? With speed matching that of hanuman when he crossed the ocean, Anjali caught up to her friend and pushed her aside, away from the praying eyes of the other students. After all, the image of the topper was not something to be played with, especially when their future live was completely dependent on their lives in collage.

"Meenakshi... " Anjali gasped breathlessly "Rudraksh.... He wants to meet you"

"Why? " Meenakshi growled "is he done chasing and teasing other girls that he now wants to care about the mother of his child" She finished with a low whisper as her hand unconsciously went to her abdomen. Her pregnancy was beginning to show.

"Meenakshi... Please, I know he is kind of a playboy but please give him a chance. I know he is serious cause I can see it. Trust me he was looking down when talking to me and his face was damn serious" Anjali insisted.

"Ok" Meenakshi signed. No matter how many times Rudraksh messed up she had always loved him, and he loved her as well, he was always there for her, yes he was a playboy in a sense but he was a responsible father, she could tell that, her gut told her that. "Where will he meet me? "

"At the Sita Ram temple near campus" Anjali said before running off.

"Rudraksh.... " Meenakshi whispered with a hint of surprise in her voice. The night was host to a thunderstorm, the traditional kal baisakhi. And Rudraksh, that stupid boy, was waiting outside the temple, without an umbrella, his clothes soaked and eyes red due to the wind and cold. "You idiot..... Why didn't you go inside" Meenakshi said as she brought the umbrella over his head. "Are you stupid or something"

"I am... For you. I could not have waited inside without worrying about you" Rudraksh answered as meenakshi wiped his head and face with her dupatta.

"Seriously? You spend day and night teasing and chasing other girls and want to prove your love for me by getting ill?" Meenakshi asked

"I know.... I know that I am not a perfect or good man........ but Meenakshi, trust me, no matter how many girls I be with you will always rule over my heart. Please.... "

Meenakshi signed. Rudraksh was showing his emotions through his eyes. Those eyes were not wet due to the rain of the skies but by the rain of his eyes. "What do you want? " She asked finally.

"Come inside, I will tell you" Rudraksh answered.

Inside the temple, Meenakshi saw a small arrangement, a few people (her and Rudraksh's close friends) and the priest.

"What is all this for Rudraksh" Meenakshi asked. In her mind was a thought, which if true meant that her prayers were heard by the heavens.

"I arranged what I could..... It's small but it's honest" Rudraksh said before turning to the priest "Panditji.... Please start"

"Not without the bride's consent" The man answered. As all eyes turned to Meenakshi, she unconsciously placed a hand over her abdomen and said "Rudraksh if we are going to tie the thread of eternal life with each other.... I give my consent" Meenakshi looked at Rudraksh in the eye, a strange bond, so much like Shiv and Shakti was between them.

"Then by the blessings of Lord Ram and mother Sita, I shall start the ceremony"

Meenakshi did not know what was going on, what the priest was chanting, what was going outside. She was thinking about Rudraksh and their unborn child. Perhaps Rudraksh was thinking the same.

"Please apply sindoor on her and the ceremony shall conclude" the priest told the garland clad couple.

Rudraksh looked at Meenakshi and smiled a little before reaching out to the forehead and applying the sindoor. Meenakshi was silent throughout her eyes closed as the sensations of Rudraksh's hand hover over her, bits of the red powder falling over her face.

"And now, in the eyes of god, you are a couple. Remember son, she is your other half, your Arthangini, your Shakti, your laxmi, always keep her happy. And dear daughter, he is your Shankar, your Ram. Be his Shakti, be his Sita" the priest said as he blessed the couple.

"Rudraksh... " Meenakshi could hardly whisper, her eyes showing tears which threatened to fall. "Meenakshi, please allow me to love you.... To be in our child's life" He took her hand and brought it to her abdomen "I shall be a responsible father and husband..... I shall never let you suffer, never shall I see another one as good as you.... Please" He was crying freely now, his hand around his new wife protectively.

"You do not have to bear it alone my love" Meenakshi said " I will always be with you..... I will never leave you. I promise "

As the outside world roared and thundered, the new couple embraced each other, their love protecting them from the Kurukshetra that they were to enter.

[send-asks2sendak]

SENDAK THISIS ZARKON LOTOR GAVE ME YOUR PASSWOROD SO I COULSD SAY WHAT DOO YOU MEAN YOU WJOULD NOT MATE WITHME? I AM VRERY MATEABLE HAGGGAR TELL HIM. MY OFSPRIG AARE TOP NOTCH, IF SLIHGTLY SOFT IN THE EMOTIONKLE AREEA BUTR IM WORKIG ON TAHT! TEGH ONLY RASON YOU WLL NEVER MATE WITTH ME IS BECUASE I WULD NVER MATE WIT YOU SO HA!

edit: this is Lotor and I regret everything but mostly giving my papa Sendak’s password after a night out. I changed it again, but don’t worry Sendak, I’m sure you will be able to figure it out. I’d take this down completely, but I think papa needs to see it because I’m worried he’s developing a drinking problem.

Besides, I’m salty about that comment. I am not soft. I’m just smart.

[transmascnepetaleijon]

i am

so fucking touch starved.

[wincore]

atlas | kim dongyoung

pairing: doyoung x reader

words: 15.4k

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

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

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

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

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

song rec(s): playlist here !

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

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

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

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

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

“And then what?”

“Fuck.”

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

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

(Fun doesn’t.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you yell back.

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

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

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

“Loser.”

“No, you.”

“How clever.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You furrow your brows, heaving a deep sigh.

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

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

“Yeah.”

And the deal’s done.

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

Well, sort of.

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

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

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

God forbid you find Doyoung attractive during daytime.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In front of a wall?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s even better when he’s annoyed.

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

Funny.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Three,” he answers, to your surprise.

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

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

“One.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s a virgin?”

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

But Doyoung is a fucking fairytale.  

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

He’s right.

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

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

“Well, of course it is. I had your—”

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

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

“Where were you last night?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How much lon—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No way.”

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

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

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

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

“You seem to like him though.”

“Who said that?”

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

“We’re not.”

“—or fucking—”

“Ten.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, we’re not.”

Ten shrugs. 

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

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

“No.”

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

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

“It’s neither, promise.”

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“Oh, speaking of which, Hyungmin—”

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

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

“That sounds good to me.”

“Shut up. I’m not done speaking.”

You roll your eyes.

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

“What am I, your chemistry experiment now?”

“Well, you and Doyoung seem to be—”

“Don’t complete that sentence.”

“I was going to say something funny.” 

Ten flashes you a blinding smile and you sigh. By now, you’re about to get kicked out of here so you stand up discreetly while he packs up his stuff. You hug your jacket close to you as soon as you leave, shivering at the evening breeze. The sky is inky, but with a faint sort of ink—deep blue and light, all at once. From the crowd, you can tell classes just got over for quite a few people, eclectic chatter filling up the street.

“Fine. I’ll bring Eunji,” you tell Ten after some contemplation. “And whoever else responds to my text first. Areum never leaves the room. You know that.”

“Thanks, (name)!” he messes up your hair. “I would give you a kiss but someone will end up punching my pretty face.”

You furrow your brows. “Well, you’re not my type anyway.”

“I’m too good for you,” he responds in a sing-song manner, waving at you before running off and disappearing into the university crowd.

There’s always a sort of buzz in the air you can’t quite describe at college parties.

Even if this is a relatively small one, you feel an oncoming headache the moment you enter Ten’s new apartment, which you’re sure had a ‘no parties’ rule in the rental contract. You spot Kun, Ten’s roommate from the dorms and he flashes you a quick smile in greeting before he’s swept up by a doting crowd. Apparently, a cute guy in animal sciences is rare and it makes him rather popular.

Eunji disappears from your side the moment she spots Johnny, and the number of eye rolls you’ve given her haven’t warned her off him yet. You suppose it takes heartbreak to change a person. Sighing, you make your way to the kitchen only to be greeted with the strange sight of Yuta trying to balance Jaehyun on his back so they can imitate some anime formation and back out immediately. Living room, it is, despite its populous space. (You don’t really want to think of bedrooms right now.)

The apartment is quite big for what Ten told you the rent was. The hallway to the two bedrooms is narrow but you suppose something has to be sacrificed for space. You furrow your eyebrows at the two bedroom doors. Ten never said he was getting a roommate. You shrug it off, sitting down on the rather stiff couch. The lack of furniture, apart from the couch and a coffee table, makes the place look even larger and people sparse. You like the beige walls; Ten’s always loved warmer colours but something makes you think he’s going to be ruining them in a few days with garish green paint before he comes crying about that to you.

“Hey.”

You look up to the familiar voice, heart rising to your throat.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Doyoung remarks before sitting down beside you and offering you a cup of god-knows-what.

“I don’t take drinks from strange men,” you say, biting down your smile and crossing your arms.

“If you didn’t take drinks from strange men, we wouldn’t be fu—”

“Doyoung!” you hiss before looking at him with careful suspicion. “Are you drunk?”

“No. A little bit. Not enough.”

You sigh. “How will you get home now?”

“I live here, idiot.”

“You’re- You’re Ten’s roommate?” you sputter.

“Yeah. New one,” he responds. “He used to live across our room in the dorms, I can’t believe I actually agreed to this.”

“I can’t believe it either. I’ve seen cats and dogs friendlier with each other than the two of you.”

Doyoung laughs. “He’s surprisingly one of the better people to room with. I’d rather eat my own blanket than room with Yuta again.”

You laugh at his irked expression, eyebrows furrowed so cutely. The line of his brow bone to nose to lips, it seems a little too perfect to belong to someone. He relaxes his shoulders a little, leaning back on the couch as he looks somewhat lost in thought. (“You think too much,” you’d told him once. “And you think too little.”) If only that were true, you smile to yourself.

“Are you sure you can hold parties here?” you as when the music suddenly rises in volume.

“Well, it said student-friendly,” Doyoung responds, looking visibly disturbed. “Not sure if I want to test the limits of that so early.”

There’s a pause, filled in with loud pop music. You don’t think Ten, your dear introvert, would have agreed to such a party but there’s a chance Johnny or Jaehyun had something to do with this. You don’t know who to suspect when it comes to their group of friends.

“I still can’t believe you’re rooming with Ten.” You look at Doyoung.

“Well, that makes, what, eleven of us, I guess?”

You laugh, feeling conscious all of sudden. Maybe you should listen to Ten’s advice.

“Doyoung,” you call, looking at the cup in your hands a little too passionately. “What’s your major?”

He looks at you with eyes widened ever so slightly, and a pause over his lips.

“Linguistics,” he answers.

“Oh. You said something about it once,” you mumble, recalling something vague about an assignment of his. “You know mine?”

“Yeah,” he answers, eyes cast on his watch.

“Well, that makes me feel a little guilty,” you mumble as softly as you can.

“You should be,” he says. “You never listen to anything I say.”

You scoff. “You just complain most of the time.”

“Really now?”

“Yes,” you snap, looking away.

You look back again when you hear the sound of Doyoung’s laugh, a distinct brightness in it. Sometimes, you wonder if you really are as awful as you’ve made yourself be.

“You’re cute,” he says. “No wonder everyone is so in love with you.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you.

“Everyone?” you laugh. You don’t care about everyone. It’s burdensome.

“Everyone. They hate you too, by the way.” He smiles to himself. “Heard you’re going on a date with that dimwit. Hyungmin.”

You feel a sudden discomfort in your being. Taking a sip of the drink, you try to shake it off as best as you can. 

“Yeah, I- I don’t think I’ll go,” you say, waving it off. 

Why are you lying? You left it hanging on a maybe. Part of you wants to tell Doyoung; he is your friend after all and you tell friends stuff like this. The other part tells you this is cheating; lying and pretending everything is okay—it feels like cheating. 

“Oh.” He looks lost before he focuses on you. “Why not?”

“Why do you care?” you ask, trying desperately to calm the uprising in your chest.

He stays quiet for a few seconds and then shrugs, looking away from you. It makes you feel a little guilty to dismiss the situation so quickly, another item to add to your troubles. You sigh.

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right.” You can see his Adam's apple bob up and down.

“I’m not,” you say. “I’m wrong. I really didn’t mean it.”

He looks at you all at once, his gaze so gentle that it makes you think he wants to kiss you, or do something equally affectionate. Instead he sighs, downing whatever’s left of his drink before a wash of sudden looseness does away with the tension in his body.

“You have any more questions for me?” he asks, smiling. “What's it like to be student body president—or, or what instruments can I play? My favourite animal? Colour?”

You smile back. “What is your favourite animal?”

“I don’t have one. Don’t like them. Unless it’s a soft toy.”

“No way. You’re lying.”

“Now, I answer your questions and you call me a liar? Makes me a little hesitant to answer the next.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, next then. Why didn’t you join the frat? All your friends are in it.”

“Hurts my ego.”

You laugh. He’s still probably an honorary member. There is no way he’s apart from friends for too long with all those feelings of fraternity he has, no matter what he says. It’s the same as you. Affection leads nowhere though; just to short-lived moments of comfort.

You realize, through the course of the night, that you never asked. How he got into the student council, what his classes are, what he does for fun—you never asked. It’s almost like you didn’t want to know. 

How sad, you muse to yourself, to be this way. To be so wrapped up in your own problems that you fail to see people around you. Pity, however, isn’t something to feel at a party. You talk with Doyoung for the rest of the night till the sound of his voice makes you feel certain ghosts of butterflies, and till you have to take Eunji home before she does something she regrets. This is what it really means to have the price tag of ‘youth’ strung across you perhaps—when you feel old and immature all at once, and in between, when you feel nothing at all.

Doyoung is too old to mistake love. Or too young. 

Labels don’t define anything, especially when it comes to relationships—so even if he calls it love, whispers it to himself at midnight when he’s sitting alone on his bed while his friends are passed out drunk on the floor, it is empty. And then there’s you. The heat of your skin, the curse of your smile and that cheeky laugh you do to get on his nerves. He wants all of it and he’s not ashamed—but he’d be a liar to say he can shout it to the whole world. He’s not that kind of man, and what is his can remain his without the rest of the world prying its damn fingers in. The first night, no, the second—third? He can’t remember which night it was but something pent up in him exploded and he didn’t try to control it for once.

“Ow,” he mutters.

His throat burns from the whiskey. He hates drinking alone but you’re either asleep or with friends and he can’t think of anyone else but you. He tugs at the turtleneck collar, getting uncomfortable by the minute, and then proceeds to take off his coat.

For a moment, he considers getting back to the living room. There were more than enough people with lingering touches against his shoulder and longing gazes—they’re not you. He leans back onto his bed. Another hour and everyone will be gone; why did he even let them hold a party in the first place? Parties just remind him of you—he takes a whiff and smells summer and lemon vodka all of a sudden. A deep sigh leaves his lips.

You might not seem to find yourself especially sad, but Doyoung finds something oddly touching about you. Maybe it’s the way you say his name, he muses, like you’re desperately trying to fill the gaps. But it can’t be him in particular, of course—it’s a lover, any lover.

He hates long nights, just as he hates winter but lately, they haven’t been feeling too cold. Isn’t it ridiculous the way he’s running after you? Doyoung was never meant for this. It’s fucking pathetic and it makes him want to tear all his hair out but there he is, still and quiet in the same place. A certain agony makes its way through him. His hands are freezing and yet his insides are burning—nothing makes sense and right now, he doesn’t want it to. He presses his cold hands to the warmth of his cheeks and a laugh erupts from his mouth.

He must be going crazy to laugh like this in an empty room. The car lights from the window travel slowly from wall to ceiling, the only thing moving in the stagnant of his room.

Inevitably, he thinks of the end. It should come quick; in fact, he’s never been one to do this. He’s always been someone to get attached to people. He doesn’t know how the end will come because this shouldn’t have begun in the first place.

Doyoung’s out of breath.

“Crazy bastard,” he mumbles to himself, followed by a groan when he lifts his head up. As if on cue, the door opens and shuts with a bang. Ten walks in looking drowsy, running his hand through his hair with a disgruntled face.

“I hate to say this,” he slurs. “But you’re right. We can’t have extra furniture and parties. Gotta choose one.”

Ten lays down flat on the bed. “I vote out that ugly ass clock you bought. Why do we need it? We have phones and laptops.”

“It was a gift,” Doyoung mutters.

“Oh. Uh. Actually, someone already, uh—”

“Leave it. We’ll talk about that in the morning.” 

Doyoung massages his forehead, groaning at the pain when Ten suddenly decides he’s all up for cuddling. 

“Ew,” he says, scooting away from Ten. “Get away from me.”

“You don’t mean that,” Ten whines, trying very hard to pull Doyoung into a hug. Of course, his attempts are blocked by Doyoung’s palm against his forehead.

After a few more seconds of trying, Ten huffs and turns away, crossing his arms. “I don’t like you anyway.”

“I know,” Doyoung mutters.

Ten erupts into laughter, sounding more like a psychopath than a close friend of his.

“You do that every time you like someone?” he asks in between fits.

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “I just said—okay, yeah. Whatever.”

There’s a much needed silence and Doyoung wonders if he can just fall asleep without kicking Ten out.

“You should tell (name),” Ten says all of a sudden, Doyoung’s heart stopping at your name.

“What?” he whispers.

Ten looks at him as though he’s talking to a particularly stupid child. It makes Doyoung scowl but there’s too much alcohol in his system to know if he really means it.

“You don’t- you’re- everyone in this goddamn building knows,” Ten explains, exasperated. “Jaehyun knows, and he’s the densest kid I’ve ever met. God, if you like (name), go for it.”

Doyoung blushes so deep, he considers pressing his palms to his cheeks again. He thinks for the next few moments. Ah well, if they had to find out, he’s glad he didn’t have to declare it himself.

“Whatever, just ask (name) out. It can’t be that complicated.”

Except it is. You don’t have to spell it out for him—he knows the way you feel. The two of you only ever wanted one thing out of this. But if there’s something Doyoung isn’t good at, it’s keeping his mouth shut. He wonders how many times he let it slip, wonders if you even care enough to notice. God, it’s starting to sound pitiful for him.

“Ten. How much did you drink?” Doyoung asks, raising his head.

“Nothing. None. I’m not drunk.” Ten shrugs. “Just sleepy.”

A ‘wow’ is all Doyoung can respond with. He still isn’t quite finished figuring out what sort of horrific planet Ten stumbled from. A notification ding distracts him from kicking Ten off his bed and he has half a mind to toss it onto the bedside table but it’s still half. He softens almost immediately.

It’s a text from you: a ‘u’ followed by a smiley face and then a meme he can’t quite read through hazy eyes. He finds himself smiling anyway and sends a barrage of emojis, whatever he finds because he likes the way you get annoyed at them. Sighing, he decides that’s enough. He’s not in the right state of mind for conversation.

Doyoung shuts his phone off, attempts to push Ten off the bed one last time before closing his eyes and dozing off.

Not every day is meant to be fun—you know that in your twenties—but it’s still somewhat disappointing to have bad days. Like youth is meant to give you some sort of happiness daily. That’s what they make it sound like.

You groan, rubbing at your back. Sitting at your study desk for so long does not have good long term effects. At least, your temporary, meaningless assignments are done. You scowl at the text on your laptop screen; the more you look at it, the more you hate it and so, you shut it off. It’s not like your pissy professor is going to be impressed by anything you do. However, you like the orderly certainty of schoolwork.

Break time consists of guilt and sugary snacks. You’re done with most everything and you suppose leaving the final review of things to a later date can’t hurt. In fact, it sounds rather appeasing. A few more moments pass in making a decision.

You get dressed. The apartment feels eerie all alone, and you’re sure as hell not going to spend the rest of your evening here. You shiver, quickly striding out the front door and locking it before taking out your phone.

People misunderstand winter. Winter is only the end of things; and sometimes, the beginning. It isn’t cruel or crushing, it’s just taking its course. However, you have a tendency to blame seasons for all that happen in it. For instance, you shouldn’t be missing summer when you really miss the first night with Doyoung. 

He picks up after calling thrice. You wonder what he’s even up to, if Saturday evenings are also booked full for such a guy.

“Why do you take so long to pick up?” you complain. “Do you not get days off?”

“I’m busy,” he hisses. 

Something’s wrong.

You pause, unsure what to do. It’s not his voice but the one in the background that catches your attention. 

Inviting him somewhere. 

Rather sensually.

Your ears feel hot and you drop the call. Of course. Of fucking course. You’re the idiot thinking it was a thing. This whole thing is casual—feeling sorry wasn’t in the contract. Fucking around was.

It’s not like you’ll be heartbroken by something like this. Of course not. Of course. Doyoung and you never had a beginning so there isn’t an end, really. It’s fine. It’s fine. You take a deep breath and browse through your phone. With the onset of Christmas holidays, you have around three options left. Ten (yikes), Jaehyun (no way) or the latest addition, Hyungmin.

Well, you’re dressed. You have to go somewhere. And your statement about Hyungmin being the hottest guy on campus still stands.

You send two texts to the boy before deciding that’s apparently enough time waiting. He picks up after a few rings, voice groggy from what you assume to be a late afternoon nap.

“You up for a drink?” You cut to the point.

“Uh? Oh, uh, now? I am, of course- I just need—”

“Twenty minutes. I’ll text you the address.”

Nothing cheers you up like your favourite bar. Or friends. Or people who respond to calls.

Hongdae is as busy as ever. You knew the bar would be packed but not this packed. Still, you managed to grab a seat at the bar table. With the oncoming night, the smell is just going to get worse—so there’s nothing wrong with treating yourself to some lemon vodka (and its refreshing scent).

Hyungmin arrives exactly four minutes early, and the mussed up hair makes you think he must have been in a hurry. For what, you can’t be sure. 

You can still see the inklings of Hongdae nightlights on his hair right before he enters, and in the fallacy of that moment, you think it’s going to be Doyoung. You sigh. This isn’t the time for that.

“Sorry,” you say, gesturing to the bar table. “All the tables were booked.”

“No, no,” he responds quickly. “I actually prefer it here.”

He’s tall, not that it’s the first time you’re noticing, but even when he’s sitting, he’s at least two heads taller than you are. His shoulders are accentuated by the mocha coat, no doubt part of the latest trend this winter. As a fashion student, he hits the mark and more. 

For a moment, you feel bad for knowing his major. Ten let it slip about him and yet still, you feel guilty for remembering it. You’re not supposed to go into unnecessary detail about people that don’t matter. Does he matter? 

“Surprised you could make it,” you joke half-heartedly. “Aren’t you lot always busy with something?”

He laughs. “The student council? Oh, we’re busy alright.”

Busy. Right.

“What about you? Aren’t you part of like three different clubs?”

“So what kind of busy?” you ask, ignoring his question. You’re part of two, now that you left the music club last semester. It’s not like small talk matters though.

“Uh,” he hesitates. “You know- attend meetings and events, coordinate committee work, supervise stuff, etcetera etcetera. So busy, yeah.”

“Busy on Saturdays too?” you ask, before thanking the bartender for the drinks.

“Yeah, I guess. Doyoung has it worse than me honestly. Even now, he has to take care of stuff because of me. Hah…”

You gulp down your drink making Hyungmin raise an eyebrow in concern. “Stuff? Because of you?”

“Yeah.” Hyungmin scratches the back of his head. “He’s with the girls.”

“Girls?” you ask, playing with the glass. You’re starting to feel annoyed, red lining your vision.

“Yeah.” He makes no notion of clarifying his statement.  

“Must be quite the president,” you say, resting your cheek against your palm.

“Oh, he’s a nightmare.” Hyungmin laughs. “He has to control everything.”

You try to mask your scoff. You know what he can be like when you’re working beside him. 

“Oh, and the guy has no sense of humour,” Hyungmin laughs, the sound easy on the ears.

You blink.

“I think he’s funny,” you say quickly. You swear you have no idea why you sound so defensive.

He hums in response and you consider biting your tongue, telling him you’re only here for one thing and forgetting the uncomfortable churning of feelings inside your chest.

“Forget I- I’m a little confused today.” 

Is that an acceptable explanation? You can’t think straight enough to decide. The silence on Hyungmin’s part, however, worries you. The crowd around you fills in for the next few moments as your companion seems to debate something with himself.

“Look, I know you and Doyoung are… I don’t know, something.”

You huff in irked amusement. “God, does everyone seem to know?”

“Not until late actually.” Hyungmin takes a gulp. “He’s been acting weird. Doyoung.” 

You look away, breathing shallow. You don’t like it, the way things seem to be getting out of hand. All this time, the world seemed to be in the palm of your hand and now, it’s spilling everywhere; the sand in the hourglass is already up to your knees and you don’t know what happens when it fills.

“Do you actually like him?” he asks, leaning back just a little. You know where this is going. “Are you guys dating?”

“No,” you respond, checking your watch.

“Oh.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation in him but you’ve seen that look before. You know that look.

“Then we can- uh- we can—”

“Fuck?” you ask.

He gulps. “I mean, you can say no any time—”

You pull him by the collar and kiss him, hard enough to melt away your hovering thoughts. He kisses like you expect him to, not how you want him to. You know this sort, and somehow, that makes you feel comfortable. Knowing what you’re getting into is easing but it doesn’t lessen the weight of it.

It’s sickening. The way you’re pretending it’s Doyoung.

Hyungmin pulls apart, panting heavily. “Oh, okay.”

“Tell me you drove here.” 

He holds up his car keys in response.

You’re not the type to sleep with strange (semi-acquainted) men, but it’s better than falling in love with them.

So you follow a lover to a hotel room and try to feel something. Some time, when he’s kissing you against the hotel room walls, he pulls apart and asks, “You’re thinking of someone else, aren’t you?”

You know the answer; it just won’t leave your lips.

“It’s okay,” he says with a weak smile, “Let’s just have fun.”

And every time his mouth was on yours, every time you saw stars, you felt the ghost of Doyoung and his haunting touches. It was strange and unfair and unlike you—or at least, unlike the you that you built over the past few years. You feel as though you’ve misplaced something—like something was supposed to be there when you reached out but instead, it was empty space.

The night ends as it should and you leave right before dawn with an apology text you couldn’t put half your heart into.

Most winter nights, you wake up with pain so profound, it’s seeping into your bones.

It never made sense. You never tried to make sense of it. So you let the aches push you down by the shoulders, lodge itself into your neck and back; and you tell yourself, it must be what you deserve. It’s cold and you’re walking barefoot on frozen ground.

You gasp. The weight of who you are and who you have to be—it has its knee on the back of your neck, shoving you into the damp earth. There’s no particular reason to it; it makes it seem as though it’s insignificant. Unimportant. Irrelevant. But that’s the problem—the weight of the world on your shoulders makes no sense. Whose world are you even carrying? Whose approval are you trying to win? You scramble to get up, messing up your bedsheets in the process, and pull your blanket around you. Your own warmth surrounds you and it makes no difference. You frown.

You remember your phone call with your mom, and your lips tremble. You shouldn’t have told her about how crappy your finals went but it slipped. You tried to explain that you did work for them, that you gave it your best but sometimes things don’t work out. She didn’t have to say it out loud for you to hear her thoughts. 

You’re disappointing. 

You wipe at your eyes, feeling annoyed at the emotion. If you could let the ground swallow you whole, you would. In a heartbeat. You don’t even know what you’re doing most of the days despite that pretty planner of yours.

You get out of bed, pull on your cardigan beside the bed and grab your lighter and pack. The tiny balcony makes for a great smoking spot and while you would scold any of your friends for committing to this, you do it yourself. Hypocrite.

For all you try to shove into yourself—hobbies, student clubs, actual clubbing, friends—the more you feel less than enough, as if everything just vanishes into thin air inside you. As if you aren’t enough and never will be. You play by the rules and you lose, you break the rules and you lose. 

Maybe it’s because you let yourself be filled by the intricacies of other people that they like you. And thus, you cannot stop for fear of loneliness.

Just as you’re feeling crushed again, you picture Doyoung against your back, placing his nose in the crook of your neck—something he has never done—and you wonder why it helps. 

Sucking in air too fast, you cough. You shouldn’t have let it go on for so long.

It was fun—harmless fun. You shouldn’t even be thinking of taking a step in some other direction. You’re friends, barely, but you like where you are. If Doyoung was that important, you wouldn’t be going about this all backwards. You sigh, though it comes out jagged. The room is quiet and that’s the way it should be at four a.m, of course, but you crave music all of a sudden. Doyoung and you are just a temporary fix; and you let that thought relax you.

When you think of his chin on your shoulder, however, it feels feather light.

“Why are we doing this?” you ask. 

The atmosphere is warm and toasty, just like you expect it to be in a bakery with light pink doors and a collection of plastic potted plants on display. The decorations aren’t an eyesore here and somehow, it makes you feel better. It’s a little far but you decide it’s worth it.

Doyoung shrugs, sipping his hot chocolate. “It’s Christmas, and we’re both here.”

Your eyes follow the hanging lights over the counter, wrapped in pine tree stickers and eventually to the neat display of a ‘Season’s Greetings’ menu, the contents of which are currently at your table. A Christmas song by some singer who’s been popular lately plays, tunes light and dancing. You hate the end of the year solely because of the extra pressure January brings. Nothing you can’t handle, of course. Nothing you can’t handle.

You sigh. It’s been a little difficult lately.

“Doyoung, really, why are we doing this?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Are you- uh- are you not enjoying this? I could—”

“No! No, it’s not that. I feel better, actually.” You bite your tongue almost immediately after. It’s not like he’s supposed to know the sort of hell week you’re having. A poorly received term paper, finals that weren’t up to your expectations, crippling loneliness without friends and, oh, the self-doubt—you are at the lowest you can be in college. The only sweetener right now is in the hot chocolate and the way Doyoung’s looking at you. 

You feel something close to guilt.

“Good.” He smiles. “You seemed… You seemed a little down.”

The sliver of warmth between your ribs makes you think this is unreal. It feels uneasy to be so affected by someone but you let it slide, turning back to your hot chocolate.

“Why didn’t you go home this time?” you ask, sipping your drink.

“Oh, I didn't really want to face my parents,” he says before leaning. “Didn’t do too well this semester. And my brother’s going to be there with all his achievements.”

You chuckle in disbelief. “You don’t like your brother?”

“I love him to bits. Just can’t stand my mom’s nagging when he’s around.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” You cross your arms, smiling triumphantly. You feel like children squabbling but it’s so lighthearted, you want to laugh.

Doyoung raises a pointed finger, about to retort but nothing comes out. He puts his hand down.

“I guess you’re right.”

You shake your head. “I’m sure she’s proud of you too.”

“I know that,” he says, laughing. “Of course she is. I don’t keep myself busy for nothing.”

You gulp, a sudden sourness rising at the base of your tongue. 

“Busy, huh? Didn’t know spending saturday evenings with girls also counted as busy,” you mutter against the cup, half-hoping he doesn’t hear you.

“What?” There’s a perplexed look across his face.

You wave your hand in dismissal. “Oh don’t mind me.”

“Are you talking about me giving a tour to the fresher girls?” Doyoung leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Hyungmin does that usually but Mr Man was sore from soccer practice and Friday fucking.” 

You blink. “Fresher… girls?”

“What, did you think I was at a brothel?” Doyoung laughs in amusement.

You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “No! No, of course not.”

You wave your hands about for a few more seconds, trying to come up with an explanation. This makes things rather embarrassing.

“Sorry,” you say finally. “I jumped to conclusions.”

Doyoung laughs, rather deep and heartily, and you wonder if your apology really did sound as stupid to him as it did to you. 

“You do that a lot,” he notes.

“Thanks,” you quip, cutting the pastry with your fork a little too forcefully. His laugh follows. (You hate it so much. It sounds like pure adoration.)

The next few moments consist of scrolling through your phones (because Doyoung says his ‘mouth hurts from talking to you’) and you would’ve been in a better state of mind if everyone wasn’t posting pre-Christmas photos with their families. 

“You know they’re opening that park. What’s it called- Winter Wonderland or something. You said you wanted to visit.”

You look up at Doyoung amused.

“Let’s be honest. You want to be in bed, Doyoung,” you say. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care,” he answers, looking at you with his doe eyes. “About you. You sulk when you’re upset.”

“I don’t sulk,” you reply but your smile is obvious when you exit the cafe. 

It’s like a date. The more you think of it that way, the more it makes you smile.

The evening is perfect—orange and pink and loving and happy. Doyoung trails behind you as you tread over the sidewalk with cheeky remarks about his speed.

“I’m in the track club, you know?” he huffs, finally tired of your jabs.

“As what, the start point?”

A fake, sarcastic laugh leaves him. “I wouldn’t get to see you if I walked ahead.”

You feel warmth creep up your face. You mumble, “that’s cheesy.” It’s too weak though, and it goes unheard. 

For the first time, you notice his eyes are a little like yours in what they reflect. You love them. 

So this is where the crowd went. The amusement park, or whatever you call it, is buzzing with a faint sort of excitement, mostly in the children that didn’t get to go on a vacation elsewhere. It’s quite the wonderland though so you can’t see them complaining.

“Do you think they’ll kick us out if we make out on the Ferris wheel?” you ask, smiling at Doyoung.

“I’m not making out with you on the Ferris wheel,” he replies, making a face.

You do end up making out on the Ferris wheel, and you get butterflies from it. It’s like a teenage dream but Doyoung looks even better. You pass on the cotton candy because frankly, you’ve had enough of sweet things. You sit at the frozen wooden seat, hoping it warms up while Doyoung brings the two of you some fries.

Your phone buzzes with a notification. Your eyes light up at the mail from your professor. You had turned in the term paper three days ago, weeks ahead of schedule and were particularly proud of the way it turned out. 

You look at the email and zero in on the word ‘redo’.

Your shoulders sag immediately. You spent four weeks on that—and it’s not good enough? You search frantically for how it could have gone wrong and come up with none. That’s not supposed to happen. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong. The week’s exhaustion swallows you up again.

When Doyoung returns, he looks at you concerned before quickly setting the fries on the table.

“(name). Is something wrong?”

“Huh?” Your voice sounds so weak and squeaky, you feel embarrassed. It’s embarrassing that after all these years, you still don’t know how to handle failure. 

Because it’s not supposed to happen. You tell yourself that over and over and it makes things worse.

You feel dirty, underneath all that dust and crumbled rock dangling in your hair. Whatever rests on your shoulders is cracking and collapsing, and you’re pushing in the wrong direction to make sure it all stays up. 

He reaches out his hand but you avoid it.

“No,” you mutter, weakly shaking your head.

You rub at your nose and eyes, hoping you can hide behind your forearms. Doyoung shouldn’t be seeing you like this, he doesn’t deserve to see you like this. You turn away from him, your palm gently pushing against the soft material of his shirt. 

Doyoung doesn’t move. Instead, he gently tugs on your wrist so you have no choice but to face him with your red-rimmed eyes. You’re not sure if it’s embarrassment or pity, but the concern in his eyes makes you cry harder. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he whispers. “You don’t have to find a place to cry.”

For the first time in adulthood, you learn what it’s like to lean your forehead against someone’s chest this way. Doyoung wraps his arms around you and the sound of his breathing soothes your near-erratic heart. 

“I worked really hard on it, you know?” you mumble against his chest. “My term paper.”

“I know,” he whispers.

Doyoung strokes your head delicately, fingers running through your hair with airy touches. Eventually, you let go of a final sigh and look up to his lips.

He seems surprised at the kiss but it’s all you can think of now. It’s gentler than usual and Doyoung moves cautiously though he seems to like it all the same. His arms feel comfortable around you. When he pulls apart, he looks at you yet still with careful concern.

“We can- we should stop if you want,” he says, and he means it. 

You shake your head. Night is creeping in overhead, deep and quiet and slow.

“I like you, Doyoung,” you say finally. “I really, really like you.”

Doyoung’s eyes widen, as though a rabbit wary of the traps it might set foot on but he eases into your touch almost immediately.

“I like… I like you too.” His lips waver but he looks away and takes a deep breath. “I like you so much.”

You smile and think that maybe everything is set right now, with his chin against your shoulder and your arms around him. 

Doyoung discards the jacket once you’re in your apartment, kissing you fuller now. Every other thought leaves you; you beg him to make you forget the rest of the world. The walls are comforting now that he’s here, and it’s warmer, hotter.

“Can we- Can we go a little slower?” you mumble, his arms still gentle when they wrap around your waist. He parts his lips from your neck to look at you momentarily before nodding.

You suddenly understand why he always makes you feel so good. There’s a certain fondness to his touch and warmth to his kisses. There’s no one quite like him, really.

“I love digging graves, especially if it’s my own,” you mutter against the pillow.

Doyoung laughs. “What did you do this time?”

“This time? Excuse me? Do you think I’m some sort of trouble child?”

“Hm. Let’s see. Yes.”

You pause. Why do you hesitate to tell him you slept with Hyungmin? It’s not like you were cheating—you weren’t dating Doyoung. Besides, that night with Hyungmin didn’t mean anything. A horrid feeling snakes around your throat, heavy and piercing. You resort to changing the topic.

“I’m… I took another course beyond my understanding.”

“That’s it?” he asks.

You nod.

No, no, no; it’s all backwards now and you don’t know how to reverse it.

Doyoung takes your hand in his, delicately and yet firm. His chest is against your back, bare and warm. When he presses his lips against your knuckles, the warmth that flushes through you makes you want to believe in something else entirely. You feel weak. 

A part of you argues that you feel honest—in a moment of clarity you don’t think you deserve. Neither vodka nor whiskey can make you this clear in the head; you struggle to breathe straight. How awful it is to feel warmth and not believe in it at the same time.  

“You can rely on me, you know?” he whispers.

The knot in your chest makes you want to cry.

You feel lonely and the opposite of it all at once. Doyoung is too much for you—too kind, too pretty and too true. He makes you realize too many things at once.

There are a few things in the world that can stifle loneliness. Like the notes Doyoung plays on the piano, like the songs he hums in the morning till you place open-mouthed kisses against his neck.

You realize, all of a sudden, that Doyoung really is your dearest friend.

And yet, you don’t think you deserve it. You’ve never loved, you believe, but you have. You don’t remember it well enough. The lovers’ touches you kept searching for led to this. Hypocrite. You wanted a lover’s touch and you rejected the love that came with it. What a complicated bundle of emotions. You weren’t always this way.

You loved your first cat when you were six, all the way till it died a warm death in your bed. You loved your mother even when she yelled at you for skipping your chores. You loved your middle school friends when you talked about comics and movies you saw for the first time. 

It’s hard to love the same way now.

You suppose sympathy needs a little backstory. Nothing is unconditional. 

It had all started when your heart had broken into two clean pieces. You put a bandaid on it and called it a day. No one taught you to ask for help.

Your friends know someone broke your heart; you tell them everything. Friends, friends—you wanted them so bad and yet, you keep them as far from you as you can. You pretend to be paper-thin and so shallow, sometimes you wonder if that’s all there is to you. But for all they know, they know next to nothing. It wasn’t just the aftermath of reckless puppy love. 

The first time your heart broke, it was watching your mother cry in the living room for a reason you didn’t understand. You wondered who committed the crime, who should be charged—and you found no one. A loveless marriage is cruel, yes, but you cannot point fingers. It isn’t just cruel; it’s infuriating.

The second time, the two pieces of your heart broke into a few more. It was a boy with an inviting smile and flags whose colour you couldn’t quite discern. They must have been red, but everything else was too—hearts, cheeks, lips, and the threads around your wrists. And eventually, he guided you to the conclusion that you are undeserving, unworthy, unloved. 

You were strong, however. It was easy to collapse on the bed and feel the weight of the world settling in, but you stood up again on shaking knees and you told yourself to have fun; you can have fun without feelings. You know better than to attach meaning to fun—you might hate insignificant things but it’s only fun if it’s pointless. You’re not letting go of this place you’ve worked so hard to arrive at, with all the shattered pieces in your hands.

It’s better to offer nothing at all than offer broken pieces.

“Can we stay like this?” Doyoung’s arms tighten around your waist, his breath shallow against your shoulder. “Just for a little bit.”

His voice is beautiful as always, but for a moment, it strikes you as sad.

Everything’s twisting up into knots and you are frantically running your fingers over them to straighten it all out. You know what it’s like to let things rot; and you are tired of it. Why can’t everything disappear for one moment? Why can’t you just let it be the two of you?

You sigh in response, nodding. 

“I might not know what’s happening in there,” he starts, drawing circles on your chest with his finger, touch comfortably light. “But…”

I’m here and I get it.

Is that what he wants to say? You don’t think you’ll get to know. You’re not exactly voicing yourself either. 

Stay the night. You want to say it but your lips are frozen.

Instead, you rub your thumb over the back of his hand, fitting into each other as perfect as a lie. You would tell him, you try to convince yourself, if you could say it with enough conviction. There’s no point to saying things that are half-meant, that are true but only just enough. You’re a coward.

And now, this has gotten complicated.

An end.

Tapping his pen against the desk, Doyoung grows increasingly annoyed. The council's next  meeting agenda isn’t going to finish writing itself but he can’t bring himself to either. Besides, Ten’s pacing outside his room is starting to get on his nerves.

“Ten!” he yells. “Can you quit it? You’re making too much noise.”

His disapproval is met with silence. For a moment, he spaces out and reflexively thinks of you, only to feel a confusing sort of emotion. It’s normal, he tells himself, and that it’ll sort itself out.

Doyoung feels like a glass box more often than not. If he breaks, who picks up the pieces? Who gets cuts all over their fingers?

‘Whoever breaks him’ should be the answer. But that’s wishful thinking. It’s not that simple. 

He’s so see-through that it’s painful. He used to tell Taeyong he’s wrong but he’s never been able to prove it. He is easy. It’s embarrassing.

But then again, part of him likes it when it comes to you. He likes it when you kiss him after a particularly heated disagreement, he likes when you get on his nerves just so he’d fuck you and most of all, he loves the push and pull. Fun is just that. He doesn’t know what he’d do if that heart of his he placed so gingerly into your palms falls and shatters.

The line between hate and love is thin; and he’s enjoying walking it too much.

He has nothing to offer but himself. He laughs at the thought and shakes his head. It’s somewhat dirty, and not just in the sexual sense.

“Ten!” he yells again. “Stop pacing!”

Getting up from his seat, he strides over to his door, swings it open and finds Ten scratching his head and glancing at his phone in repeated action. 

“Ten?”

He’s so in a trance that he hasn’t noticed Doyoung. He is the lovable sort of idiot if he ever chooses to be so. Most of the time though, he’s just a smartass.

“Oh, oh no, I’m a bad friend,” Ten mutters to himself, his pacing growing more restless. He scratches the back of his head, eyebrows furrowed and too inside his head to notice Doyoung. He wants to ask but something tells him he shouldn’t. 

Turns out, his apprehension isn’t strong enough these days. 

“Whose date did you crash?” Doyoung asks, more than annoyed already.

When Ten looks at him, Doyoung feels rather shriveled and freezes on the spot. Call it instinct but Doyoung respects fear and pain. Ten has a mixture of the two, amplified when he looks at Doyoung.

“Doyoung. Hey,” he says, trying to tone down the distress in his voice.

Doyoung still hasn’t recovered from the initial surprise of Ten looking that way.

“Did you fuck up? Did someone fuck up? Why do you look like that?”

Ten sits down on the small couch. “Long story… I guess. Too many details, you- you know? Just—”

“What the fuck happened?”

Ten still can’t look him in the eye. “The group chat’s a little…”

“Ten,” Doyoung snaps. “Cut the crap.”

“No, that’s- that’s what I’m- You’re going to be upset.”

Doyoung straightens, furrowing his brows. “I think I can fucking handle it.”

“You know that date I set up for (name) and Hyungmin?”

“You set that up?”

“(name) slept with Hyungmin.” 

Doyoung quietens. The silence seems to make Ten uncomfortable as he shifts in his seat, getting up when Doyoung speaks.

“So?”

Ten blinks. “You’re not upset?”

“Just what kind of loser do you think I am?” Doyoung mutters.

Glass shatters just that easily. Maybe he wanted you to shatter him. Maybe he was already cracking at the edges.

“Doyoung, you don’t have to—”

“Stop,” he exclaims a little louder than he intended. “Stop looking at me like that. I’m a grown man, I can handle shit like this.”

It still hurts though. You lied to him and he let you in. You lied to him. Doyoung sighs, returning to his room with a realization he should have had long ago. His night ends with more deleted drafts than he’s supposed to have and eventually, with increased discomfort, he delegates the job to Park Hyungmin himself with the excuse of sickness.

Doyoung does feel sick. He felt this way once, in highschool, but it had turned to red, hot anger ready to lash at anyone and everyone, spilling from his lips as easy as it was to breathe. And Doyoung can never feel that way towards you. He was different back then too, of course, but you—you’re unlike anyone he’s ever met. He loves the comfort of you, and something like that is hard to come by. 

He feels like laughing again but instead he finds tears on his cheeks. Silly boy, he can hear his mother tell him. You don’t give your heart to heartbreakers. 

So Doyoung falls asleep to the sound of upbeat music in his earphones, music he hates even just to pass the night. Morning will come and he will have to become stronger. Comfort is fleeting, after all.

With everything said and done, you know very well that if you were to tell someone you love them—genuinely, truly, from the heart—it would be Doyoung. It’s not a sudden realization, like the sky falling apart or a tidal wave crashing against the shore and sweeping away the city. It is like the gentle lapping of water, though, or the way the clouds change shape—natural and anything but alarming. You want to stare at it forever, and you want to believe that’s how it will be forever. 

“You told everyone we had sex?” Your voice is boiled to a shout. 

Hyungmin looks torn, lips moving but no explanation making its way out. “I- I told my friends, not everyone.”

“And you forgot that your friends talk? Everybody talks, Hyungmin, what were you thinking?”

He sighs before taking a step towards you. “Why are you so angry about it? As far as I remember, you had no trouble talking about whose pants you got into.”

You scoff. “With friends, not the whole campus.”

“That’s exactly what I did!” 

You cross your arms, feeling so upset you might cry and unsure as to why. You’re usually good at dealing with stuff like this, keeping things in the right place.

“It’s because of Doyoung, isn’t it?” 

You snap your head to Hyungmin. There’s a serene sort of look to him despite his unkempt appearance, and a look of understanding.

“I’m sorry. Really. But if you were so into him, you shouldn’t have called me that evening. It might not matter to me but…”

You broke his heart. All that devotion he had towards you led to this. 

“You’re right.” You choke on your words, leaning against the wall. “Fuck… Fucking…”

You turn around, making your way out of the hallway and hope the tears on your cheeks dry faster if you run.

You can’t remember the last time you ran. Your world didn’t need running from, it was right in the palm of your hands. Now that you look back, the world was always on your shoulders and heavy as it can be. Maybe you liked it—the weight. You could’ve shrugged it off any time; you didn’t need all those caging schedules or careful, elegant steps.

No. Atlas couldn’t shrug because his punishment was his existence. To have weight is to have meaning; and that is how you intended to live out your life.

Doyoung makes you see it differently. To love so fully even if it seems cautious—you, who has never loved at all, couldn’t comprehend it. And because he makes you see it differently, the box is now open and all hell is loose. 

For once, you don’t want to live in the world you crafted. You want more love, more hurt and you want to open the doors. You don’t mind hell if it’s for him.

You ring the bell to Doyoung and Ten’s apartment and pray the news hasn’t reached him yet. He said he was busy this weekend; maybe he was detached enough from his phone for once. You just want to be the person to tell him. It’s not a perfect apology otherwise.

Doyoung opens the door with pursed lips and cold eyes. There’s a sense of ease over his shoulders and arms but he won’t look at you and panic rises to your throat.

“We’re not fucking tonight, (name),” he says.

“That’s not- That’s not why I’m here.” Your voice is so meek, you wonder what happened.

Doyoung steps back, crossing his arms. He’s still looking at his feet and you feel the urge to reach for his face.

“I wanted to tell you- I… I just—”

“That you’re fucking other people?”

“God, Doyoung, stop with the fucking. I don’t care about that right now.”

“Really?” His voice is so sharp, it digs into your skin. “You were just in it for that. That’s the fun part in your stupid life, isn’t it?”

You feel a sharp pain in your nose and forehead. “You’re- Now that’s- Doyoung. I’m sorry. That’s what I wanted to say.”

“After—” His voice chokes up. “After everything is done? Stop with the excuses and face it for fuck’s sake. You aren’t made to fall in love. That’s why you dance around it all the time.”

Although he says that, he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds defeated.

“It’s not like you aren’t cautious,” you retort, throat feeling heavy. “You said it yourself- you don’t want to care too much.”

“I was wrong,” he says, voice hoarse. “I care about everything more than I’d like to admit. I care about you more than I’d like to admit.”

“The Hyungmin thing didn’t mean anything, okay? You were busy and—”

“So why did you lie?” He strains to not raise his voice. “Of course I knew our little thing didn’t mean shit to you. Why did you pretend it did? Last week, you said- you said—”

“Doyoung, last week- last week I- I wasn’t pretending, I swear.”

“You could’ve just saved yourself the trouble and the dignity.” A short, humorless laugh leaves him.

You feel your lips tremble, the explanation not quite made its way out yet. He looks so innocent like this, rabbit-like eyes watery and full of pain, pure the way they have always been. This is your mistake, isn’t it?

“Doyoung, please,” you manage to say. “That was wrong. I couldn’t clear up my head. Please don’t—”

“No. I was an idiot. Or you see me as one.” He frowns deeper, lips trembling. “I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have. We shouldn’t have been at the same fucking party and I shouldn’t have drank so much. You’re- I’m not that kind of person.”

You bite down your lip. “What kind?”

Doyoung laughs, the sound raspy and empty. “The kind to not fall in love with you.”

It damn near breaks your heart to look at him. You have to say something, it shouldn’t end like this. You’re desperate and all you think is that you don’t want it to end at all.

“Please, I thought of you as a friend, that’s why—”

“And this is what you call being a friend?” he cuts you off.

You feel the sting in your eyes and nose, making you turn sharply to the side. You wish he’d just make you cry. It makes you feel the rancid guilt all the more.

“Make Hyungmin your friend for all I care. Let’s stop this.”

You stare at your feet, unable to respond. 

“You can have every boy in the world, (name). Don’t come to me.”

“Can you just stop talking about everyone else?” you yell, desperate. “Do I talk about your exes? Seungjae or- or what’s-her-name—” 

“That’s different!” He looks distraught, breathing heavily and with a painful red flush over his nose and cheeks. He runs his hand through his hair, tousling it further. “You lied to me, (name). You lied.”

Your cheeks are wet and the look that flashes over Doyoung makes you think he wants to step right out to you. He stays frozen in place, however, looking away to the side.

“Did you notice?” he asks softly. “Even once? How much I cared?”

You can’t answer, letting the tears drip down your face. It’s getting colder and colder. 

Doyoung bites down his lip before parting them. “All we did was have sex anyway. So please just- just leave.”

You take a long few moments but nod, hugging your coat closer and stepping out of his apartment. You think you hear Ten’s footsteps but it’s followed by the bang of a door—this is how it ends then.

The line between hate and love is thin; and you are deserving of neither.

You perfect your next semester’s academics, and the next. It still feels empty. You go out to drink with friends and return to a messy bed you sleep in alone. You smile as always and you laugh as always. No one asks you how you are as always. You never needed anyone to ask you how you are.

Ten tries but you push him away. You don’t need to drag in other people into a mess you made. He feels sorry for the whole thing but you tell him it was you that spilled the paint, Ten just handed a dash of it to you.

You were right. You don’t deserve Doyoung. At least, you made it so that you don’t deserve him. 

‘It’s better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all’—it still hurts.

Every day is part of a list again. You doodled in some of the pages, when you thought you were starting to fall in love. There’s only a skeleton of it left now. Soon, you’ll let it crumble to dust too. 

You tear apart the planner sometime after graduation and cry and curse at yourself for doing that. No one’s good at parting with things they care about. You’re no exception.

It’s December again. 

This place is a little strange to visit right after graduating, especially with the memories flashing you by. Johnny said he booked one of the private booths (“A senior’s treat!”) but you feel your steps growing hesitant when you reach the neon signs by the stairs. It spells ‘The Meeting Place’ and smells of cigarettes just like it did the first time.

You stop midway up the stairs. For a moment, you think of Doyoung sitting there and wonder if you’ll ever be able to talk to him again. If you had the chance now, would you take it?

Of course, you wouldn’t. There’s too much to be set right and you can’t do it.

There’s supposed to be the six of you. Johnny mentioned Ten and you know Eunji’s invited too. You saw Jaehyun on the way here, still a student. You sigh. It must be him, the one they failed to mention to you. Kim Doyoung. There’s no one quite like him.

You spot him first. Looking a little forlorn as he gazes absentmindedly to the side, he faces away from you and you get the inevitable urge to run away. It’s a funny feeling. 

Your stomach is churning. You don’t want him to see you. Ten babbles on about something to Johnny, smiling like he found candy while clearing his drawers. Eunji looks tired, leaning against Johnny’s shoulder and you wonder if she already drank more than enough shots.

“(name).”

You jump at Jaehyun’s voice from behind you. 

“Hey,” you respond, giving him a wide smile.

He hesitates. “Are you okay? Not that you don’t look okay- you look really good actually. I mean, are you and… you know okay?”

“I don’t think so, Jaehyun,” you say and make your way to the booth.

It’s a little cramped for the six of you and Doyoung gets up before you can even greet him. It’s not like you deserve it anyway but it tugs at the wound.

“I’m going to go take a drag,” he mutters.

“You don’t smoke,” you say, looking up.

He stares at you momentarily and you look away. You think Ten and Johnny glance at you with pity but you don’t really care. 

 “Can I come with you?” you ask, barely a whisper.

“Sure,” he says, to your surprise.

The smoking area is so small, you’re surprised it’s even there. A glass structure overlooking the neighbourhood, there’s barely any light within. The only thing nice is how warm it’s in there. 

Doyoung lights his cigarette and then offers to light yours. It’s quiet, the music from inside numbed to the cold doors. You really can’t take it. You stub the barely consumed cigarette and throw it into the bin.

You’d rather just stay quietly in his presence.

“You’re not smoking,” he notes.

“It’s a bad habit.” You look out through the glass.

Doyoung chuckles. “You were a collection of bad habits.”

“And good ones too,” you quip. “I was a perfect student. I was perfect in most everything actually.”

Doyoung’s smile widens. “You were. You certainly were.”

A few more moments pass in silence, your eyes traveling over the outside scenery which seems to be growing duller by the second. City lights have never felt fainter.

“It was an accident, right?” You say suddenly. “The whole thing? Us?”

Doyoung hums. “Yeah. I fell in love by accident.”

You smile weakly. “Right. I never got to apologize.”

“I loved you on purpose.”

You look up at him. There’s not a lot of people who say what they mean. He looks the same as he used to under your grey blankets, with a warm blush over his cheeks and kind, wide eyes. 

“You’re so damn pretty,” he murmurs, “even now.”

You scan his face for signs of lying.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” you ask finally. 

Doyoung blinks before easing into laughter. “You- You’re- You’re the same as ever.”

You let yourself crack a smile.

“Doyoung I- I really am sorry,” you say quietly. “And I did- do care for you.”

Doyoung stubs out his cigarette and discards it before looking you in the eye. You notice he’s wearing his favourite black turtleneck in the proximity, the grey plaid coat covering most of it. You really liked that look on him.

“I’m sorry,” you say once again. “I want you to know that. I didn’t want to hurt you and I promise I won’t ever do it again.”

You mean it. You’re never going to hold glass again. He doesn’t deserve it.

“That’s a problem,” he responds, breath mingling with yours. “I want you… I want you to hurt me. If you really do love me, I’ll take it.”

“Doyoung,” you whisper, turning away despite your whole body screaming at you to give in. “I meant it. I can’t hurt you.”

Doyoung cups your cheek with one hand, glancing at your lips for a moment.

“You’re warm,” he says.

He’s warmer.

“I want to kiss you,” he says.

You want to kiss him too.

“We went about this all wrong, didn’t we?” he asks.

“We did,” you answer, voice barely above a whisper. “I did.”

Doyoung pulls back. “Then let’s start again. I’m Kim Doyoung, I majored in linguistics. I was student council president and I made a mistake.”

You smile. “We don’t have to do that.”

Doyoung raises an eyebrow. “After all the trouble I went through to make a good introduction?”

The two of you laugh, and it gets warmer. 

“I’m (name),” you say. “I was a top student and I made a bigger mistake, Kim Doyoung.”

“Oh? I wonder what it was.”

“Kind of a long story.”

“I’ve got all the time for you.”

You smile and start. He responds with gentle kisses. You’re piecing your world back together again; but this time it’s feather-light and fits right in the palm of your hand. 

[akari-urokiri]

**~**

Spring / Twenty-three and twenty-one.

- … If there is going to be a peace between our clans – elder Saruya said with her stern and in the same time also mocking tone, her gaze never left Madara face for a moment. – we want a marriage between Uchiha main house and Senju Clan. As the show of good will to both sides. – after her sentence there was a silence and everyone was looking at the Uchiha siblings, waiting for the reaction. ‘It’s obvious that it was a slap on their face elder Saruya. And judging by Izuna body language he is the first to jump at you and destroy it… So, this was the thing that anija didn’t want to tell me, huh.’ As Tobirama though, Madara put his gloved hand on Izuna knee to calm him down and looked at the elder Senju woman with a gaze, which could kill.

- Very well then. – he started, not looking at Hashirama, his black gaze still locked on the woman, with pride of the predator. – So, please inform me of my spouse then…

Tobirama sighed, as he came back from their first meeting when the Uchiha Madara was informed that he will marry one of Senju people. And then, because he couldn’t allow his people to suffer that, he told Hashirama that he will do it. ‘I still don’t know what just got into me, to just went into his office after we came to our land and propose myself as that Omega consort!’ and he once more sighed, and stood in front of the shrine in Uchiha compound, waiting for Madara and priest to show. ‘I’m going to starts and hate the May. Maybe I could start to try and think about a new jutsu? But I’m little curious if he will show up in white shiromuku or not….’ His though stopped when he saw his soon-to-be-husband, indeed in white shiromuku and Tobirama wanted to snort at it.

- Something to say? – Uchiha asked in calm tone not looking at him and this time he snorted.

- I thought I will see you in black not in white. It’s not your colour.

- It’s good that we agree on at least one thing. – Madara informed him, his black gaze focused on the Amaterasu shrine, waiting for the priest to come and take them. – But if you forgot, Omegas always are put in white ones no matter if “pure” suites them or not. – and after he told that, Madara for the first time looked at him and Tobirama saw that he had a little make-up on his face.. and well, he saw his full face not the half of his face like always. ‘And I must say, he really is a good looking under that mop of hair. But it can be thanks to the make-up. And kimono.’ – How long do you wait here?

- Probably an hour. No one came to check.

- Really… - at this he sighed and looked at one of his people who stood in front of the shrine, because only the closed family could take part in ceremony inside the shrine and some important elders. – Oi! Ami! – and after that one of Uchiha children came to them, a girl with black hair, terminating in pink tips, tied in two tassels, wearing black kimono with a purpure butterfly motive on it.

- Haai, Madara-sama? – she asked when stopped on his right side and when Tobirama took a deep breath he finds out she was also an Omega like Madara.

- Go fecht me a priest here. Your payment will be the stay on the ceremony inside the shrine, what do you say?

- Really? – at that he nodded and the girl went to the shrine leaving them alone in silence..

 - Nii-san… Are you sure about that? – Itama asked when they packed his things, and Tobirama looked at the teen with fondness.

- Yeah.

- Bbut! Iit’s not fair that only your marriage is like that! I mean anija and Mito-nee…

- Itama, I got it. My marriage will be a hell because I nearly killed his brother, is what you wanted to say, right? – Tobirama finished and Itama nodded. – Don’t worry. He won’t kill me. Probably.

- Nii-san! – Itama said turning around to look at Tobirama and he sighed.

- Look, Ita – he started and sealed another packed inside the scroll and also turned around to look at Itama. – I know that you are worried and all, but please don’t, okay? Let’s finish with this before Hashirama finish with his work and got any stupid idea to go to kitchen and start to make a dinner for us or something like that…

Tobirama came to his sense in the moment when it was his turn for the third cup of sake. And when he was allowed, he brought o-choko closer three time to his mouth and with the three last time he drunk the sake, and then like the last two times he gave the cup to the shrine maiden who then gave the o-choko to Madara and then he also repeated the process. ‘Now will be mikushi azuke no gi, huh? Like there are any Gods who needs those stupid accessories or in this case a comb. But well…’ as Tobirama though they stood from the floor, Madara hold the comb between his hands and then both turned to face each other, before Tobirama carefully took the comb away from Madara hands and then put in on the place designated for her. ‘Now the seishi hodoku.’

- Listen Senju. – Madara told him as they waited for the priest to come and take them to the shrine. – As for the seishi hodoku..

- Don’t worry, anija gave me the letter you send and I wrote it, want to see it before the ceremony? – Tobirama asked and Omega glared at the Hyper Alpha.

- Can you be quiet and let me finish? – he asked still looking directly into his red eyes and Tobirama nodded. – Then, as I was saying, at seishi hodoku… Let’s forget about the vow we wrote. It will be better if you give me that, right now and I will turn it to the ashes in this moment. And when the times comes to tell our vows let’s go with the flow..

‘That idiot! And he really turned the vow into the ashes! Like now I can see why he and Hashirama became friends. Both are idiots, damn it!’ Tobirama glanced at his nearly a husband whose face didn’t showed anything just like his own, for which he was grateful. They moved closer to each other, Madara took his left hand and Tobirama was shocked because for the first time today he noticed that Madara doesn’t have his glows on his hands.

- In the presence on the Amaterasu – Madara started and no one dared to move or say anything, or question why the “wife” is “reading” the vow and not the “husband”. – we are grateful for this day. – ‘Not for the ceremony but the day, huh?’ – Our Goddess who like mother which watch over Uchiha Clan, with her love, kindness, silence and her anger when we do the wrong things. – his gaze came to Tobirama. – Please accept this marriage with your open and living embarrass as you done with the day I was born. And the same with this peace that will come with a love, happiness and trust. – with each word that Omega said, Tobirama felt that he couldn’t take his eyes from him. And when he finished, he knew it was his turn to go and finish the vow.

- The Goddess of the Sun, the mother of Uchiha Clan – Tobirama gaze was still locked with Madara gaze when he started and his second hand took the other one of Madara. -, I humbly ask you for accepting me into your clan as one of your children, as I’m going to marry the one you are cherishing the most. – Madara looked at him and Tobirama swallowed before he continued. – As a mere child to you, every action that was done until now was only a mere fight between children, but now – he brought one of Madara hands to his mouth and left a kiss on it. – we swear to stop it, along with this marriage and your blessing our Goddess..

***

[the-acid-pear]

Tumblr is ready to kick me in the nuts, so to avoid that, regulatory second post of this dumb liveblog! Let's go-

Chapter 211

Oh that's an insane coincidence

I'm gonna lose my fucking shit

Yujiro's fucked up anatomy is so fucking funny

He's just built different y'all let him be :/

I like how he's talking alone

Chapter 212

Erect 😳 (sorry I'm 5)

It's been so long since i saw someone open a bottle normally lol

Hehe hairy. Reminds me of Garland in a way, i miss him.

God i would fucking die out of embarrassment if i was on Retsu's place 😐

4001 🥺

Utterly obsessed with mfs being able to recognize the real ppl in this manga lmao

Chapter 213

I don't know if that's a real proverb but if Retsu says it I'll buy it

GOD I LOVE THIS MAN AUGH

Get his ass Retsu 😍

Chapter 214

What is a "rule"? 🤨

I keep forgetting he's missing a leg, están todos mochos estos protagonistas

Retsu be looking like a wet puppy all of the sudden mf went 🥺

Haha i wish i could squish an arm like that ☺️

This is so damn boxing like YESSS this is how every boxing movie goes so true!!! 😍

Which makes the dramatism funny bc we know Retsu can kill

OYDIRAITWOUROYE

Someone in the comments mentioned how if feels like reading with friends and honestly that's so true 🥰

Chapter 215

I love how he has some fans already

RIGHT THESE MFS FIGHT FOR NO ONE AND FOR NOTHING JUST FOR HONOR

Yeah no if a guy like that appeared irl i too would cheer for him

Retsu is having a crisis did he really not know this was all a farse? Like dude, c'mon.

Retsu got up in this ring ready to kill lmao

IYSITITSTSIIT nahhh i trust Retsu ~

"so hairy... but so elegant."

I just realized i got the song inexplicable stuck in my head bc that was the name of the chapter lol

Chapter 216

God i love Retsu so much i have so much hope placed on him

I think Retsu has one of the best character developments in this entire franchise (at least judging by so far)

YESSSSSS KINGGG 😍😍😍

Chapter 217

God i was looking like 👁️👁️ until i realized that was a mouthguard

I just came from the hospital and I'm a bit out of the loop lol

King shit i think I'm super out of it but that was badass i think

Jgzuggdlityfoh the drivers face 😭

I wonder what he will do with 2 million dollars tho

Chapter 218

Bruh his hair got cut by thin air

Did his hair get longer?

Baki really became a "well done, son!" guy

This conversation feels so fucking weird

Oh no one understands shit in the comments either, fair

Chapter 219

Yujiro legitimately surprised by kindness 😧

HE'S SO LEGITIMATELY SURPRISED, i mean considering how Baki had been since he's 13 it makes sense

I'm losing my fucking mind, yujiro i love you but i hate you

I like how most think this Yujiro is fake, i think he isn't <3

Someone called Yujiro autistic and i can't tell if they mean it literally or as an insult, like he IS a very picky guy who always wears the same clothes and has a mad low empathy... Murder is his special interest 🥰 /j

Chapter 220

I honestly feel happy for Baki, he's so euphoric over his dad hanging out with him lmao

I miss Kureha's bangs :/

Tokugawa please stop killing urself

Obsessed this man will literally die, unironically wondering why Itagaki would do that

Mfs speaking shit of Retsu's boxer arc... Stfu it's so fun :/

Chapter 221

Isn't 36 a big number for a boxer?

I really wonder what Retsu wants the money for, dude doesn't live a wild life, he doesn't often drink, he doesn't fuck, he doesn't do drugs...

KWHWKDHSUS THE FIRST TIME SOMEONE ACKNOWLEDGES THESE MEN'S GAY ASSES

ALI SR!?

Kinda sweet how he's doing this for Baki i guess

There is a guy defending Retsu with teeth and nail n like all true bestie <3

Chapter 222

Tf is that foot? Who owns it?

OOOOH SHIBA!!! MY BELOVED 🥺

Shiba against Baki?! Iit surely can't be, he must just be taking him to Hanayama, right?

TF SHIBA? YOU KNOW NOT EVEN YOUR BOSS CAN WIN AGAINST HIM!

GET HIS ASS RETSU PLEASE

Chapter 223

We are all wondering the same, Baki <:/

Yeah it is kinda badass

Shiba please, at least Baki won't kill him so it's ok but STILL BRO PLS-

Rip Retsu 😔💔

Chapter 224

Slender?! Bro this mf mad buff

I'm so obsessed with this like Shiba didn't show up in how many chapters then randomly decides to fight Baki. Also, Hanayama is gonna die of cirrhosis :/

WITH OPEN HAND TO THE CHIN...

Chapter 225

I wonder how this will affect Shiba

Crying and shaking Retsu get up 😭

Retsu i love your monologue and analysis but you are sort of in a fight?

Holy fuck Retsu is tripping balls

Chapter 226

Shiba please

>:<

OHDIRSISTDOYHD BAKI JUST WANTS TO CHILL PLEASEEE

FUCKING BITCH SLAPPED

A gentler devil... I like that

IYDOYDITSUSITURSDUT

On god is this how Yujiro feels? Thought tbf Yujiro used to make ppl hate him on purpose ;/

Chapter 227

"i will teach you something" *breaks your jaw*

Obsessed with who i assume is young Kaku btw

SPIN?

Chapter 228

Dude the shoes :/

Aw he's so nice ☺️

"that last panel looking like he bout to drop some beats but knowing the situation he's going to ve dropping a body"

Chapter 229

Poor coach lmao

He DID move lol

OBSESSED HE'S SPINNING ON HIS PEG LEG 😭

Retsu don't lose 😢

Chapter 230

"what did he get???" OUFOOYDOTSUEAIRW 😭😭😭

Shiba... Baby, you will die.

I love how nicely he's taking it lmao

This is LITERALLY Katsumi vs Doyle

SOMEONE ELSE MENTIONED IT LMAO

Anyways good luck on Shiba and wanting to taste defeat

Reality is my phone reset on its own and i lost the last 4 chapters but that's fine, i need to take a nap anyway

[unvalley]

Number 12 from fluff 🥺

Pairings: Gray Fullbuster x Juvia Lockser | Gruvia

Prompt: ”I’m your lock screen?” ”You weren’t supposed to see that”

Matching lock screens

It was that day of the month, which meant iIt was time for yet another one of the Fairy Tail group’s get togethers.

They always took turns on who was in charge of hosting it. The evenings usually included cooking a meal together and so this time they decided to make homemade pizza. They also watched a movie and this time it happened to be a horror.  Some weren’t scared and some shat their pants. Who those people were, is up to you. A video game tournament and other fun games were also on the list.  The night always ended in a sleepover. 

However, everyone seemed to share their favorite activity.  No, not that kind of activity, pervert!

‘’Okay, ice prick. Dare or dare?’’ Gajeel didn’t really have to ask Gray, because he had picked dare the whole time they had played truth or dare so he had only assumed that his answer wouldn’t change. The guy was being awfully confident and Gajeel didn’t like it. 

‘’I’d like to see you hit me with your best shot, metal head’’ Gray answered, fully prepared for the next challenge. 

”Hm...’’ Gajeel  thought for a moment before he remembered something that had caught his eye earlier that evening. Something very interesting, yet nothing surprising. Not that he liked what he saw but he cared about Juvia, the most out of everything and everyone, so he’d do this for her. For his sister from another mister. Hopefully then she would open her eyes and finally realize that her feelings weren’t one sided. Not only that, but he would also get Gray so embarrassed, that his confidence would sink to rock bottom. It would be like hitting two birds with one stone. It was perfect and outright genius. ‘’Fullbuster, I dare you to show everyone your lock screen. Geehee’’ 

Gray never cared if he was ever dared to do things like, strip down a piece of his clothing in front of his friends or go run naked outside, for all the neighbors to see. But god damn, Gajeel was good and Gray hated him for that. He knew his weakness of all weaknesses. As much as Gray regretted this, he had no choice, because you know what they say - In for a penny, in for a pound. 

Gray grabbed his phone from his back pocket and before he showed everyone, he took a breath and made a mental note to remind himself to kill Gajeel later. 

On his lock screen was a selfie of Juvia and himself cuddling. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, as they were looking at the camera with sparkling smiles. They looked so comfortable and happy.  And not just in that particular picture, but that’s how they always were around each other and it never mattered if it was just the two of them, around friends or family. If their closed ones didn’t know they weren’t actually dating, they would most certainly think they did. From the way she sat in his lap, his hands around her, to the two of them always taking cute and silly selfies together or how they always hung out to places like, the arcade, movie theatre and ice rink. And every time the both of them would deny it was a date. Not to mention, strangers always mistook them for a couple. Can you really blame them though? It came so naturally for them.  

”W-what?” Juvia stuttered, as she was trying to process what was happening. What did this mean? Did he… did he feel the same as her? ‘’I’m your lock screen?’’ She looked at him, shocked with red cherry cheeks. 

He hated to ignore her but he couldn’t say anything to her. Instead he changed the subject and looked away, so she couldn’t see his flustered face. 

‘’Fire breath! Truth or dare?!’’

. . .

‘’Goodnight!’’ Gray and Juvia said their byes to their friends. Neither of them could sleep over due to their part time jobs, they had the next morning. So they had agreed to walk home together.

The deadly silence killed them. Especially Juvia. She had tried her best to talk to him about what happened but he had managed to avoid talking to her ever since it happened. However, when they arrived at Juvia's house, she decided to break it. 

”So, Gray… about what happened,” 

‘’You weren’t supposed to see that. Ever.’’ He interrupted, still, avoiding looking at her.

‘’Well...If it makes you feel any better,’’ Juvia started. ‘’You’re my lock screen as well’’ She got Gray’s full attention with that sentence. She showed him and he was shocked to see the exact same selfie on her lock screen, that he had on his. 

Gray really liked Juvia, a lot. But he never expected this. What did this mean? Did she like him too? 

Gray was so much in thought, the soft lips on his cheek made him jump in surprise. ‘’Goodnight, Gray” She told him, giving him the prettiest smile before disappearing inside the house, leaving a very flustered but happy Gray, outside in the autumn night. 

He had decided on two things - He wouldn't kill Gajeel after all and next time he saw her, he was going to return that kiss.

. . .

@jetblackrevival i’m sorry this was really messy, i love u 🥺💓

also i used this selfie as a reference. Just imagine how cute they’d look uGGH 

[milks-writings]

Good morning, hun! I know it's early to ask something but I couldn't sleep so I hope it's not a bother. I would like to request Kuroo, Oikawa and Sakusa (if you write about him, ofc) hcs when his s/o's hair is smelling really nice and the scent it's everywhere, like in the pillow or even when they walk the aroma it's noticable, please! My hair it's really nice today and I want some fictional boyz to appreciate it 😔✊🏼💕

✿.｡.:*☆.:*:*:.☆*.:｡.✿.✿.｡.:*☆.:*:*:.☆*.:｡.✿.

☆*.:｡.✿ 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Tetsurō Kuroo x GN!Reader ; Tōru Oikawa x GN!Reader ; Kiyoomi Sakusa x GN!Reader

☆*.:｡.✿ 𝕡𝕝𝕠𝕥: Iit’s a request :)

☆*.:｡.✿ 𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕣𝕖: fluff

☆*.:｡.✿ 𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: swearing

☆*.:｡.✿ 𝕒/𝕟: This request is really sweet asfdyfd I really hope despite you not sleeping well you got at least a few hours of sleep! :) And it’s not a bother at all!

Btw. Funfact: закуска (spoken as: sakuska) means snack in Russian and it almost sounds like Sakusa so it‘s only a proof that he is a fcking snack :’)

☆*.:｡.✿ 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

☆*.:｡.✿ Headcanons:

Kuroo, Oikawa and Sakusa having an S/O whose hair smells really nice:

Kuroo:

HE IS A SLY MF CHANGE MY MIND

Ok but since he is really observing he already would have noticed it a little earlier?

Like, today your hair is smelling really much like cherries, but he already noticed that you had a cherry shampoo a few months ago

And he fucking loves it

From the day he noticed it, every time he sees a cherry it reminds him of your soft and good-smelling hair

Since he has bedhair and can barely do anything with that, he asks you once if he could do your hair and of course, you said yes like??? exc00se me bish

If you would‘ve said no he would still do it if you fall asleep hehe

N E WAY

Once this day comes where your hair is literally smelling so much like cherries, he asks you if you want to come and cuddle over his house after practice because he wants that his pillow will smell like you uwu

He hugs you more often on the days only to get a better smell of your hair

Ok but I feel like he would buy you the shampoo you had once you started to use another one because he prefers the cherry one

“Kuroo, from where do you know that I am using this shampoo?”

“You fell asleep while watching a film once and I might have looked into your bathroom to find out”

He is kinda soft :(

BUT HE WILL ALSO TEASE YOU ABOUT IT HHHH

“I’ve heard you like cherries?“

“Kuroo I never said such a thing-”

“You hair says otherwise”

“Is that the sweet Mrs./Mr. Cherry?”

Cue Kuroo almost getting killed by you because he couldn’t shut his mouth

“Babe your hair is almost as charming as I am” wink wink ;)

“Almost?”

aslfjysfsd

If he could, he would also wash his hair with the same shampoo you had but he once tired it and somehow it didn’t have the same nice and soothing energy as your hair???

“Is your hair magical?”

“Kuroo wtf I thought we already talked about that”

“No no, really, your hair is something really magical”

Probably like this because he can’t do anything with his bedhair, while you are out there having the best hair in history

Oikawa:

HE IS ALREADY WHIPPED FOR YOU HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO HIS HEART OMG

The first time he would get to smell your nice hair he was literally dead for a second

Your vanilla shampoo got him and his dramatic ass almost in tears

He will make always a big thing out of it like literally

Iwaizumi would be the first one who knows about it

“My s/o has so nice smelling hair~”

In one day the whole school knew about your hair thanks to Clownkawa

He would buy you every week another shampoo with another scent

But its always based on the season

For example, it’s winter? He will buy you chocolate scented shampoos, maybe also candy scented shampoos

It’s spring? He will buy you mint-scented ones

It’s summer?  flower-scented shampoos

It’s autumn? He deadass buys you pumpkin-scented shampoos

“Tooru, where did you get that from?”

“It’s a secret~” Wink wink ;)

He always orders them on a personalized shampoo page

He also starts using the same shampoos like you do because matching and so on duh

He is so proud that he got the same shampoo as you do like alsjfyfsd

If you change your shampoo he will whine and pout for forever, so you are forced to go back to the shampoo you used before

Oikawa once brought you his jacket because he wanted your smell on it he thought you looked cute in it hahhahah

We all know he did it because of your hair

“Can I play with your hair?”

If you say yes, great, he will do so

If you say no, he will whine so long till you finally agree

So if you want to spare your nerves, just say yes right away

HE WILL ALWAYS BRICKER ABOUT YOUR HAIR SADLFJAYSDF

He will always make sure your hair looks good asodjyf

If something is not at it’s place he will put it into its place

Dramatic af if you tell him to stop

“but Y/N~~~~” whine whine whine

“Can I help you with your hairstyle?”

“NO”

Have y’all seen his style? I would say no as well

“aww please babe~” whine whine whine

If you still say no then except him to pout for the next three years

He is so dramatic about your hair wtf it’s only your god damn hair

Sakusa: (I hope these aren’t ooc oops)

AT FIRST, HE WOULD BE LOWKEY DISGUSTED WITH THE SCENT HHHH

But soon he finds peace with it because he knows that you wash yourself often, maybe also daily and he is a little satisfied with the fact 💅🏻

He starts loving the scent omg

You know, your fragrance is so pleasing to him, and he always finds peace whenever you are with him

Since he is afraid of crowds due to his germophobia, your scent helps him a lot

So if you change your shampoo you can notice him growing nervous again in crowds

That’s why you never change your shampoo again :’)

He never tells you anything about it, but you notice it since he starts hugging you a little more often and holds your hand more often

He once even offered you his jacket, he might have not worn it afterward because germs but he definitely just left it unwashed for a few hours after getting it back because he loves the way it smells after you wore his jacket

He is very observing with the way you smell, so he can immediately tell in the hallway if you had been there or not

If you use another brand but the same fragrance, he will probably notice too but doesn’t much as he would once you use another scent

Ngl, I feel like he would love the scent of flowers the most

He starts playing with your hair, and actually sometimes give you kisses on your hairline

He once asked you if you can wash his hair with your shampoo and aosdjfoysdf

OF COURSE, YOU SAID YES LIKE THAT'S THE BIGGEST PLEASURE FOR U WTF

I can already feel that every time he sees a related thing to your fragrance he will always think about you and smile softly because he luvs u so much uwuwuwu

He barely shows that he likes your hair but you noticed it somehow because he starts getting a little more comfortable, and of course you are glad bout that

He will wash his hands after that def

“you didn’t wash your hair today, did you?”

“omg how do you know?”

“go and wash your hair” he acts disgusted but he only told you because he wants to smell your shampoo again :’)

One last thing, I feel like he would buy an antiseptic which smells like flowers because you do too and it's matching yay 🥳🥳🥳

[lobotomu5]

(Wooow! I'm actually posting something. It's been literal years since that's happened. I wanted to get into writing some Shizaya fanfics because I'm starved for content and darn it if I have to do it myself then I will. Sadly, this is an unfinished idea I had come up with at some point but completely forgot what exactly was supposed to happen and what Shizuo was even going to Izaya for. I should have probably written down some notes or something but it's too late now. Anywho, I wanted to at least share this drabble because I always enjoy the banter between them.)

It was evening when Shizuo had made his way to Izaya's apartment. The blonde had barged in as though he'd done this before, iit wasn't as though the handle necessarily had a choice considering that Shizuo had almost unintentionally ripped it off the door. 

"Izaya!" He shouted urgently, stomping his way over to the informant who was typing away at his desk.

Funny enough, he hadn't paid any mind to the fact that the other had just made his way in. In fact, he was acting as though nothing of the sort was happening at the moment, carrying away with work even as Shizuo slammed a hand onto the desk. Luckily, he had held back his strength this time.

"Hey, asshole! I'm talking to you! I, unfortunately, need your help. You see there's this thing… I-" Shizuo seemed so dead set up until he came to a point of trying to remember why he was there in the first place but for some reason couldn't remember why. It dawned on him that maybe it wasn't actually important, even though it seemed as if it had been beforehand.

Izaya, finally acknowledging Shizuo's existence, raised an eyebrow before stretching his arms a bit. He of course spoke in a rather condescending tone, one that if you weren't looking directly at him, you could just tell that there was a mocking smile on his face. "Shizu-chan, how lovely of you to drop by so unexpectedly and, well, uninvited. From what I've gathered you're basically babbling like an illiterate brute, is that correct?" 

"No, you goddamn idiot of a flea." Shizuo growled. "I was actually saying something but you clearly weren't listening!"

"Hm, who's really the idiot here? The one who can't explain themselves correctly or the one not understanding? I'd say I'd have to go with the former." Izaya grinned, leaning back in his chair.

Shizuo scoffed before reaching over to grab Izaya by his shirt collar, pulling him slightly up out of his chair. "Listen here, you little shit-"

"Hm, I'd rather not."

"Urgh… You're so damn annoying… God I hate you!" Shizuo said with a huff, his eyebrow twitching a bit in irritation.

"Well it's good to know the feeling's mutual."

"Fuck you."

"Already going there, are we?"

"… You never shut up, do you?"

"According to you."

The blonde narrowed his eyes, letting go of the other's shirt collar. "Your stench is unreasonably strong, it's disgusting."

Izaya rolled his eyes. "That's probably because you were right in my face, protozoan. But, of course, you probably didn't think of that. Also, are you really one to talk when you reek of cigarettes?"

There was silence from Shizuo's end which led the informant to smirk triumphantly. "So I guess I've got you there then, haven't I?"

His victory was cut short when Shizuo finally gave  response after a few more seconds of silence. "Huh? What? Sorry, I wasn't even listening to you… I was trying to remember what I came here for."

With a frown now on his face, Izaya got up from his chair and sighed. "… Anyway, are you ever going to actually try to explain what you needed or are you just going to act like an brash again? Because you seem to be good at doing the second option on the fly."

"... You know at this point I'm convinced that you like to listen to yourself talk"

"Quite a bit, actually. Thank you for noticing~." 

"Things always seem to turn into an endless cycle with you."

"Is that really so bad?"

"Yeah, it kind of is."

"Heh, are you saying you don't enjoy our time together? Shizu-chan, you're soooo mean."

"I really don't."

"Well, whatever helps you sleep at night. I mean, if you want to be in denial then who am I to stop you?"

With a small shake of his head, Shizuo grabbed ahold of Izaya's collar once again though this time it wasn't out of aggression. This time it was more out of mild desperation to get the other to stop with his snarky ways. "Would you just shut up already?" He grumbled, pressing his lips to Izaya's and pulling him closer to him, in an attempt to stop anymore from being said.

Izaya chuckled into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Shizuo's neck in acceptance.

Things really did always seem to go like this when it came to them. Yet neither of them would want it any other way. It was dysfunctional and unconventional but, somehow, it worked. 

Though one thing that was still nagging at Shizuo was the fact that he still couldn't remember what he was even there for, he figured he could deal with it later.

[artificialqueens]

She (Crygi) - Lily Bee

AO3 LINK

Summary: “Sorry I’m only in my underwear,” Crystal uttered, staring Gigi in the eyes. She was looking for a reaction, but Gigi wasn’t going to give it to her.

Gigi shook your head, “I have long since become desensitized to you walking around in just your underwear,” she laughed, “at first, it was distracting but nah, I don’t mind.”

“Oh, I distracted you,” Crystal teased, eyeing Gigi up. Gigi gulped, Crystal was definitely being a tease, and all Gigi wanted to do was tear those underwear off her.

“In your dreams, Crystal.”

A/N: hey guys im lily & i got a request on tumblr for this prompt: “i have long since become desensitized to you walking around in just your underwear” and got super inspired to write some crygi smut oops. it was going to be short but became a LONG oneshot.. sorry not sorry :)

Being roommates with Crystal was quite an adventure. She was a good roommate, tidy and she was a decent cook. Though, she did like to walk around in just her underwear. At first, Gigi would get a bit distracted. Okay, a bit was an understatement - she could hardly keep her eyes away. But at this point, it barely even phased her. Though, barely was a loose term. It would be a shock if Crystal was fully clothed when Gigi got home. Typically she would be in an oversized t-shirt and a little black thong. It was like she was purposely trying to tease Gigi, and today was no different.

Gigi came home from work exhausted, instantly going to her room to change into pjs. When she came back into the main room she was met with a clothless Crystal in the kitchen. "Can you help me with this, Gigi?" she asked as she reached to the top of the cabinet. Her arms stretched as high as they could, her t-shirt rising with it revealing her stomach and her underwear, Gigi lost her breath at the sight. She walked over to where Crystal was pointing up at her favorite mug that was just out of reach. Crystal didn't move, just stood next to Gigi as the tall girl easily grabbed it from the top shelf.

"Thank you," Crystal beamed, taking it from Gigi's hands, letting her fingertips linger on Gigi for a few seconds. Only Gigi would have noticed, it was hard not to for her

"Sorry I'm only in my underwear," Crystal uttered, staring Gigi in the eyes. She was looking for a reaction, but Gigi wasn't going to give it to her.

Gigi shook her head, "I have long since become desensitized to you walking around in just your underwear," she laughed, "at first, it was distracting but nah, I don't mind."

"Oh, I distracted you?" Crystal teased, eyeing Gigi up. Gigi gulped, Crystal was definitely being a tease, and all Gigi wanted to do was tear those underwear off her.

"In your dreams, Crystal," she mumbled. She had seemed to have lost all ability to speak, or try to defuse Crystal's teasing. She just stared at the ground, feeling Crystal's eyes on her still.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Crystal asked, "Do you want to watch a movie tonight?"

"Yeah sure," she murmured, "I'll make popcorn."

-

The pair settled down on their couch wrapped in a large blanket, popcorn laying in between them. Crystal searched through Netflix looking for something to watch. "Nothing looks good," Crystal complained. The pair had watched every single decent movie they could. Movie nights ending in them falling asleep on each other was not uncommon. Gigi couldn't count all the times she had offered to watch a movie just as an excuse to hold Crystal close.

"We could rewatch Titanic," Gigi suggested. They had seen the movie at least ten times but always seemed to come back to it. It was Gigi's favorite movie after all, not even for the plot but for the three hour run time. It just gave the pair more time together.

"Works for me, I know how much you love it," Crystal agreed. She searched for the movie and pressed play settling back into the couch.

The pair sat in silence as the film began, the sounds of the music drowning out their breathing. Gigi could feel Crystal's bare thigh placed ever so gently next to hers. 20 minutes into the movie and Gigi couldn't help but notice how much Crystal keeps wiggling.

"Crystal, are you okay?" Gigi asked as she moved a little to see her face.

"Mm, yeah, just getting comfortable," Crystal smiled.

Gigi seemed content with the answer as she nodded and rested her body back down. Crystal moved one last time and this time, she moved so that her ass was right against Gigi's front. Gigi's body tensed up and she could clearly see Crystal's shoulders shake from silently laughing. All that ran through her mind is two can play at that game. Gigi rested her hand on Crystal's hip and started rubbing. Crystal's laughter stopped, and Gigi waited to see if she was going to say something. Crystal's body practically melted into the couch when Gigi started to back up the movement of her hand. She let her hand run under the hem of her oversized t-shirt. Her fingers meet Crystal's warm skin. Gigi walked her fingers back down Crystal's hip over her undies and down her thigh. She rested her palm on Crystal's thigh and began massaging it. It took all her self-control to not entertain the idea of going up the inner side. They relaxed into each other as they watched the movie. Well, barely watching. Neither had any clue that they were on each other's mind.

Gigi looked up at Crystal who was already looking at her. She searched the girls eyes for some sort of an answer, but Crystal just pulled her hand away. "No, you don't have to stop," Gigi gasped. Crystal just smiled, knowing that this was the answer she was looking for.

Fuck it.

Gigi pounced on her, their lips crashing together a little too roughly. With one hand firmly on the back of Crystal's neck, Gigi kept her in place as she took the kiss she had been dying for all night. There was the slightest bit of resistance at first, but within seconds Crystal was melting against her, kissing back so sweet and desperate.

Crystal's lips moved from Gigi lips to her jaw. She peppered loving kisses along Gigi's jawline, nipping close to the pulse point just below her ear before kissing further down her neck. Gigi let a small sound escape her lips. Finally, after months of teasing, Crystal iwas finally doing exactly what she wanted her to this whole time. Crystal pushed Gigi a little further back on the couch and climbed onto her lap, straddling her thighs. One hand found its way up into Gigi's blonde hair, fingers gently combing through it as her other hand pressed against Gigi's chest. Her soft attack of Gigi's neck continued, all lips and teeth and tongue, and Gigi found her hips rocking up every so often adding to the friction

Comfortably straddling Gigi, Crystal purred into her ear "don't touch." As much as it was a command, it was also a challenge and Crystal knew Gigi wouldn’t pass up a challenge. The heat radiating off both of them was intense, suddenly Gigi was aware that they were wearing too much clothing but before she could protest, Crystal was rocking her hips ever so gently on her lap. Immediately Gigi's hips bucked up to meet Crystal's, subconsciously she went to wrap her arms around the redhead’s waist, but Crystal was quick. She grabbed Gigi's wrists with some force, her eyes now completely dark and pupils blown, "I said don't touch."

Gigi growled in frustration as she placed her hands on either side of Crystal's spread thighs, ensuring they didn't touch. She could feel the muscles in Crystal's tantalizing thighs tighten as they wrapped around her waist, her fingers digging deep into Gigi's back as Crystal used her to pull herself closer.

"Mmm." It was low and husky and it caused Gigi's body to shudder as she watched the moan spill from barely parted lips, wanting so desperately to take those lips between her own. Crystal was now quickening the pace and grinding down harder, slowly lifting and lowering herself onto Gigi's lap, conveniently using Gigi's abdomen for extra friction. Crystal's hands explored Gigi's physique over the top of her pjs; she mapped the dips of Gigi's waist and the ridges of her shoulders.

"Crystal," it's moaned with a subtle hint of desperation and it's enough for Crystal to cup Gigi's cheek and pull her in for another kiss. The deep breath Crystal took before indulging in Gigi's lips is soon robbed from her. As soon as their lips collided, both women moaned into it, sending waves of electricity through their bodies and pooling between their thighs. Still, Gigi was being well behaved, her hands wandered to touch Crystal, ghosting over her tan thighs, but she was disciplined enough to not make contact. Crystal was still comfortably rocking her hips, her gentle thrusts now in sync with Gigi's. "God, I just want to touch you," Gigi moaned as she bit down onto her own lip knowing how true that statement was. She breathed heavily now, each staggered breath revealed defined collarbones just below her neck that Crystal was eager to run her lips against.

“Do you want a touch? Do you want a taste?" iIt was almost too much for Gigi, her hands snapped around Crystal's waist like lightning, grabbing Crystal's ass, there was way too much for both of her hands and it's exactly how she liked it. Crystal returned to kissing her, her hands running through the blonde's hair, tugging and pulling slightly as she tried to strangle a moan. Gigi cupped Crystal's breasts through the t-shirt feeling her piercing.

"Can I?" Crystal nodded and hummed contentedly when Gigi barely waited for an answer, pulling the shirt over her head completely to reveal her almost naked body. All that was left of Crystal was those damned panties.

"Holy shit," Gigi ogled her up and down, "So beautiful..."

Gigi brushed her thumbs over Crystal's aching, pink nipples, playing raptly with the cool steal bars that spear through them. Childlike wonder painted all over her face, Gigi was absolutely enamored with them.

"You need to be naked, like now, so not fair," Crystal pouted, frantically pulling up Gigi's shirt. Gigi helped her, stripping until she was just as nude.

Gigi was gorgeous. No other word for it. She had this allure to her that had Crystal ready to do anything for her. Sharp cheekbones, flawless skin, and baby doll lips, it was all becoming so obvious, her breasts creamy and soft. Crystal couldn't resist, her hands flew towards Gigi's chest like a magnet. She made such pretty noises as Crystal played with her, throwing her head back in enjoyment. Crystal extended her neck to get one of those delectable nipples into her mouth. As she sucked and nipped, Gigi felt her pussy gush with more wetness. It was all too much, she was beyond aroused.

Gigi grabbed and tugged Crystal's hair by the root, her blunt nails euphoric against her scalp. She pulled Crystal off her breast to kiss her again. Gigi fully relaxed on top of her, their bodies now flush against one another. Sweat formed from their increased gyrating, hot shallow breaths bouncing back and forth between them.

Gigi crawled down the length of Crystal's body, one at a time suckling on both her rock hard nipples. She took a moment to play with her nipple piercing, taking the barbell between her lips and pulling ever so gently.

As amazing as that felt, Crystal felt her heart-rate skyrocket when Gigi kept going even lower, kissing her way down until she finally landed right in front of her drenched pussy. "Oh my god," Gigi exclaimed with excitement.

Despite Gigi's eager reaction, Crystal still gave her an out. "You don't have to," she managed to say, but Gigi shushed her.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Crystal, I've been crushing on you for a while. So trust me I fucking want this," Gigi declared firmly, not giving Crystal another chance to argue, because much too quickly her brain was threatening to short circuit. Gigi's mouth dove right in, kissing and licking at her throbbing clit.

"Ohhhh, fuck, fuck, fuck, Gigi!" Crystal moaned, burying her hands in the sea of blonde hair. Gigi moaned deep inside her, planting her hands on Crystal's thighs, making sure to keep them spread. For a short moment, Crystal felt like this wasn’t actually real life. There was no way Gigi was eating her out in the middle of their living room.

Her thoughts were interrupted with the question, "Are you gonna come?" Gigi stopped pleasuring her to speak. Her voice sounded nervous, but a good nervous.

"Yes, yes, please, yes," Crystal panted heavily, her hips thrusting up ever so gently.

"Good, then come...come for me," Gigi demanded, licking a small teasing stripe directly over her clit, before sinking back into her.

Gigi's tongue circled rapidly over that sensitive spot, coaxing Crystal's release right out of her. She 'was relentless, fucking drinking every last drop of it as Crystal screamed and seized up.

"Gigi, Jesus Christ, so good," she babbled, as she calmed down.

Crystal captured Gigi's eyes as she lazily continued to press soft, loving kisses all around the over stimulated area. "C'mere, need you," Crystal begged, heaving Gigi up towards her.

Gigi rested her head against Crystal's chest, both of them trying to catch their breath. Gigi's mind was racing; she actually just did that.

"Maybe I should only wear underwear around the house more often," Crystal giggled.

"God, shut up," Gigi laughed along with her. She definitely should.

[shyampyari]

Omg I have so much to tell you.

So, first-

JEE? Omgg dude *pats head* god that's terrible. And it's gonna be held four times and there's a change in the pattern.

Tho I gotta ask. Your dream college?

Second-

I listened to your cover and godd your voice is so calming and I was in a bad mood when I started listening and then it helped me be at peace and it was just so amazing

Not to be a mood killer, but for some reason I just don't like Hindu mythology (probably cause my parents forced me to learn it) and Vishnu/Krishna remains the one™ deity with a sense of humour. And I don't hate him for that. Also, Mahabharat is one of the things I don't hate. I actually kinda like Mahabharat. And dam your song reminded me of the good things in Hindu mythology and about the time when I actually liked listening to those stories.

-your cool secret santa

ideal college? anyone that my parents could happily mention in any and every random conversation they have with literally anyone. No high hopes tho *cough*IIt Kharagpur*cough* but seriously i cant even 2+2 wtf is IIT?

OMG IM HONORED 🥺💓I try what i try but trust me its really the love in me propagating through my voice, other than that, i ain't shit.

Aww i can understand what that might feel like. There was a brief time when someone tried to convience me i wasn't worth calling myself krishna's lover or it really is an insult to the deity for me to yearn for him, that i was impure or a literally joke. Now i can look back at these times and be thankful that they happened because damn ik EXACTLY what i am and what i want and my love for kanha only got stronger.

I am simply a lover¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[thenighttrain]

folklore first listen

pls feel free to ignore this, i just wanted to record my screaming on my blog so that i can refer back to it and laugh at myself someday x

The 1

THE PIANO OMG I LOVE IT AND I LOVE THE BEAT I looooove THIS SONG IT’S SO NOSTALGIC WHO THE FUCK IS IT ABOUT OH MY OGD IM SCREAMING also the swearing I’m living… ok seriously who is this about I am losing my mind. This is so bittersweet I’m ?!!!!!!!!!!!! I REALLY LOVE THIS

CARDIGAN

I ALSO LOVE THIS WHAT ITS’ SO NOSTALGIC and the music video is so pretty wit the green and she looks like an actual forest nymph with the piano and the water and it’s all incredible. YOU DREW STARS AROUND MY SCARS BUT NOW I’M BLEEDING???????? BITCH. THE LYRICS IN THIS ARE FUCKING INCREDIBLE WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK OH MY DISJFASLDFNSADF OH MY GDO I knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss??????? MAAM?

The last great American dynasty

SO INTRIGUING HOW SHE WROTE THIS??? WHAT IS IT ABOUT? IDK BUT I LOVE IT

Exile

BON IVERRRRRR I LOVE THE WAY HIS VOICE SOUNDS IN THIS AND THE CHORUS IS HAUNTINGLY BEAUTIFUL and the background vocals… omg. This album his the most unique thing she’s ever written I????? I LOVE HOW HER VOICE SOUNDS N THE CHORUS. ‘You were my crown now I’m in exile seeing you out’? YOU KNOW LIKE I CAN IMAGINE THESE SONGS AS THE SOUNDTRACK TO SO MANY OF MY FAVOURITE FANTASY BOOKS IM LOSING MY MIND. ALSO OH MY GOD BON IVERS VOICE AT THE END HOLY FUCK!!!! THIS IS SO GOOD THIS IS ONE OF HER BEST DUETS IM LOSING MY SHIT this song is incredible I am in LOVE

My tears ricochet

TRACK 5 TRACK 5 TRACK 5 AHH I LOVE HOW DEEP HER VOICE GOES AND THE BACKGROUND VOCALS OMG. Oh my god the chorus I am in love, I love her voice sounds so raw on this album, we haven’t heard that in years IF I’M DEAD TO YOU WHY ARE YOU AT THE WAKE CURSING MY NAME?? OMG. This is fully giving me like fae woodland imagery I just love it, the vibes of it all!  AS YOU BURY ME? OH MY GOD IS SHE A GHOST IM SCREAMING I LOVE THIS PERSPECTIVE. HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK THE BRIDGE!!!!!!!! THE LINES ABOUT SCREAMING. THE BRIDGE IS UNBELIEVABLE AND THE WAY IT JUST FADES OUT I?

Mirrorball

Omg I love the vocal effects! This is full indie pop vibes I AM DIGGING IT. OH MY GOD THE CHORUS BROOO OK I OFFICIALLY LOVE THIS SONG IT’S EXACTLY THE KIND OF MUSIC I LIKE LISTENING TO. ‘Drunk as they watch my shadow, edges glisten’ oh wow the lyrics in this album are fucking otherworldly. Oh fuck this is  agood bridge. I really cannot wait for all the analysis of this album by smarter people because I am not understanding BUT I AM LOVING IT. ALSO IDK WHAT A MIRRORBALL IS BUT I LOVE IT ANYWAY. How does she know such fancy words, I want her brain

Seven

‘I ht my peak at seven’ ok but same? HEYY SHE MENTIONED MOON AND SATURN I AM LIVINGGGGG. It’s so soft and wistful, those are the vibes of this album so far and I am really LOVING IT. PLEASE PICTURE ME IN THE WEEDS BEFORE I LEARNED CIVILITIY I USED TO SCREAM FEROCIOUSLY ANY TIME I WANTED?? IM YELLING I LOVEEEEE THESE LYRICS OH MY GOODNESS

August

ONCE AGAIN I LOVE THE VOCAL EFFECTS, I LOVE THE WAY HER VOICE SOUNDS.  Omg the chorus is catchy! I love the way she sings ‘I can see’! OK THSI SONG IS ONE OF MY FAVOURITES I MEAN JUST LISTEN TO IT? I HAVE BEEN IN A STATE OF SHOCK SINCE LAST NIGHT BUT THIS IS MAGICAL ETHEREAL GROUNDBREAKING NEVER BEFORE SEEN INCREDIBLE PERFECT. OHH GOD THE BRIDGE IS COMNIG UP- YES IT’S AJFDSNAFKJSDFAF SHE WROTE THIS SONG IITS’ SO GOOD MISDFN JASDNFLJK SO MUCH FOR SUMMER LOVE AND SAYING US CAUSE U WERENT MINE TO LOSE!!!!! OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TAYLOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is one fo her best songs ever EVER OMG AND THE BACKING VOCALS AT THE END AHH AND THE BEAT DROP TAYLOR WHAT THE FUCK YOU’VE OUTDONE YOURSELF A G A I N ??? IM NEVER GONNA RECOVER FROM THIS FUCK

This is me trying

Firstly, this song title is such a mood, especially this year. The beat in this song s so good - THIS SICK BEAT. AHH THERE IS THS COOL INSTRUMENT IS IT A VIOLIN IDK BUT I LOVE IT OMG. ‘THEY TOLD ME ALL OF MY CAGES WERE MENTAL SO I GOT WASTED LIKE ALL MY POTENTIAL AND MY WORDS SHOOT TO KILL WHEN I’M BAD I HAVE A LOT OF REGRETS ABOUT THAT II WAS SO AHEAD OF THE CURVE THAT THE CURVE BECAME A SPHERE I FELL BEHIND ON MY CLASS LATE UNTIL I ENDED UP HERE POURING OUT MY HEART TO A STRANGER BUT I DIDNT POUR THE WHISKEY! Oh god the ‘AT LEAST IM TRYING’ MAAAAM. THAT LAST VERSE FUCK FUCK FUF ASJDO FUCK THE BUILD UP. Listen I don’t know what the fuck this song is about but I do know that I love it I ADORE IT I FEEL LIKE EVERY SONG IS BETTER THAN THE LAST WHAT THE FUCK

Illicit affairs

I’m so intrigued by the title of this song! I LOVE the guitar in this song omg it’s so soft and wistful? IT DIES A MIIIILLIOON LITTLE TIMES……….. I love the little falsettos, that you picked out just for HIM! Take the words for what they are, a dwindling mercurial HIGH a drug that only worked the first few hundred times AND THAT’S THE THING ABOUT ILLICIT AFFAIRS AND CLANDESTINE MEETINGS AND STOLEN STARES they show their truth one single time BUT THEY LIE AND THEY LIE AND THEY LIE A MIILION LITTLE TIMES. LOOK AT THIS IDIOTIC FOOL THAT YOU MADE ME YOU TAUGHT ME A SECRET LANGUAGE I CAN’T SPEAK WITH ANYONE ELSE and you know damn well for you I would ruin myself a million little times. Holy fuck I have 0 words this is. Unbelievable it’s sunning I LOVE the bridge? I?

Invisible string

Oh lord I am not ready for this one. I love the way she sings the pre chorus! Were the CLUUUES I didn’t see—ee-ee. Omg this song is actually so cute. CHAINS AROUND MY DEMONS? WOOL TO BRAVE THE SEASONS? HOW THE FUCK DID SHE WRITE THIS IT’S SO GOOD IM SPEECHLESS also I LOVE the strings in this song, I love the production of this entire album tbh. It’s so chill and stripped back and it makes you focus on her vocals which sound soooo good.

Mad woman

TAYLOR SAID FUCK TAYLOR SAID FUCK TAYLOR SAID FUCK IM LIVINNGGGGG. ANYYWAY I LOOOVE THIS IM DIGGING ITTT I LOVE THE CHORUS EEEEK. the second verse omg I love the anger, the bitterness, you can HEAR it in her voice! It’s obvious that wanting me dead has already brought you two together??? EEK THE BRIDGE a spinster? What a shame she went mad… YOU MADE HER LIKE THAT OMG BITCH

Epiphany

Omg the intro build up - I love it. This sounds like a church choir? Is this about a soldier in war? What? It reminds me of Dunkirk or something omg. This is again so haunting, very slow and the piano only adds to the somber tone

Betty

WHO? IS? BETTY??????? Oh hey this is a gentle intro with this instrument that sounds familiar but idk what it is but I love it. I love the melody in this omg!  SHE SAID FUCK AGAIN SHE SAID FUCK AGAI NOGAS JDFHLDSDKFLD TAYLORRRRRR WOULD YOU TELL ME TO GO FUCK MYSELF??? IM ONLY 17 I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING BUT I KNNOW MISS YOU! BITCH!!!!!!!! This is about like a lost first love! Anyway I really looove how her voice sounds in this and the melody…. I DREAMT OF YOU ALL SUMMER LONG OMG THE BRIDGE IS INCREDIBLE!!!!! Omg awww the only thing I wanna do is make it up to you so I showed up at your party?? AHH THE KEY CHANGE INI THE LAST CHORUS EEEEKKKKKK OMGGGGG WILL IT PATCH YOUR BROKEN WINGS I’M ONLY 17 IDK ANYTHING BUT I KNOW I MISS YOU OMG THE REFERENCE TO A CARDIGAN AGAIN!!!!!!!! AND THE STREETLIGHT! IM YELLING I LOVE THE PARALLELS AND THE MOTIFS and you can just hear the childish innocence int his song, I love it

Peace

This intro is SO COOL AND I AM VIBING HARD TO IT, I LOVE THE GUITAR IN THE BACKGROUND? Ok oh god I really like this one. The devil’s in the details but you got a friend in me I— THIS CHORUS IS AMAZING I ADORE IT. Omg this might be one of my favourites. Holy fuck I cannot get over how good the lyrics in this album are!!!!!!! I TALK SHIT WITH MY FRIENDS IT’S LIKE I’M WASTING YOUR HONOUR! Sit with you in the TRENCHES? Omg! WHAT IS THIS ABOUT I AM YELLING!!!!!!!!! ‘Clowns to the west’ oh hey that’s me. EEK THE SOFT KEYBOARD IN THE BACKGROUND - YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hoax

Last song? Ma’am I am not ready!!!!!!!!! THE PIANO IN THIS OMG. The chorus….. it’s beautiful……….. YOUR FAITHLESS LOVE’S THE ONLY HOAX I BELIEVE IN OH MY GODDDD. I’m yelling I love this so much. I loooove the angst of the chorus, the resignation that this is the one love she wants, even if it’s faithless!  ‘You know I left a part of me back in New York’… THE LOUIS TOMLINSON PARALLEL DAFJKHASFKADS (I know you left a part of you in New York). ‘What you didd was just as hard’ omg what did he doooo?? MY KINGDOM COME UNDONE AHHHHH YOU HAVE BEATEN MY HEART! WHY IS THIS SONG SO BITTERSWEET IM ???????